Far From Montana

by Penny Ash

  “Who are you going to call?”

  “The FBI first, then I’m going to call an old friend that lives on the Mescalero Reservation. It just might be a good idea to get a gun.”

  They rode for awhile in silence, and Dell picked up his pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and got ready to light it. Suddenly, he stopped, realizing it was the first one he’d had since their first night together. He smiled and flipped the lighter shut, tossing it back onto the dash. He crumpled the cigarette in the ashtray along with the rest of the pack and chuckled at the puzzled look she gave him.

  “You’ve been a good influence on me,” he said.

  His heart felt lighter when she smiled and laughed softly.

  “So it’s my fault you’re disgustingly perfect now?” she asked, her voice teasing.

  “Yep, all your fault. You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Do I really want to know?”

  “Oh, yeah, I think you do.” He grinned.

  “I’m afraid to ask,” she said.

  “It means you are going to have to keep me in line.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leered at her.

  * * * *

  The small gas station had a payphone, and Dell pulled up beside it after he filled the truck’s tank up. He quickly gave the information on Wilson along with their direction of travel to a grateful Special Agent Anderson, who gave him instructions to let Wilson tail him.

  “What do you mean, let him tail me? I don’t want him within a thousand miles of me, and I sure don’t want him anywhere close to Alison,” Dell said with a glance at the woman who had stolen his heart in the few days he had known her. She saw him looking at her and waved.

  “Just don’t get too far ahead of him, that’s all. We’d have had him last time, if you hadn’t dropped off the radar for nearly a week to screw around,” Anderson said sourly.

  Something cold settled in Dell’s stomach, and he felt ill. How had the feds known he and Alison had stopped to lay low? Unless they had someone following them. “Yeah, well, I see him again, I’ll let you know.”

  Hanging up, he stared thoughtfully at the phone for a moment. He had a distinct feeling he and Alison were being used to draw Wilson out, and he didn’t like it, not one little bit.

  Dialing a new number, Dell hoped his old buddy Jeff was home and not out fishing or fooling around. Luck was with him, and Jefferson Baldomero answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Jeff, you still in the insurance and protection business?” Dell asked.

  “Dell! I heard you were in prison for murder, man. Dolly cried for three days. What did you do, escape?” Jeff answered.

  “No, they let me out. They got some proof someone else did it. You remember Wilson?”

  “Wilson… The weird guy who smiles too much?” Jefferson asked.

  “Yeah, the feds have been after him for a long time, so they were real pleased when they got evidence he did it.” Dell turned to watch Alison. She was pulling her hair up into a ponytail, and his stomach gave a little lurch.

  “Well, damn, man, I’m happy for you. Why you need insurance?” Jefferson asked, his voice puzzled.

  “Because the feds gave me some money and tossed me out with instructions to call if I saw Wilson, like they were sure I’d see him,” he said. Briefly, he explained things to Jeff. “So, I need some insurance, man, because damned if I’m not feeling like bait right about now.”

  “Sounds like. Well, I’ll send one of the guys to meet you, probably John. He’ll have your policy. He’ll be wearing a butt-ugly, buffalo puke, straw, cowboy hat,” Jeff said.

  “Good, thanks, man, I appreciate it. And tell Dolly I said hi.” Dell hung up and got back in the truck. Alison smiled at him, and he leaned over, touching his lips to hers in what he intended as just a quick peck. The silky sweet flavor of her made his stomach clench, and he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue in to twine with hers.

  Pulling away from her, he sat in silence for a few minutes before starting the engine and pulling out onto the highway. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on with the FBI and he didn’t want to scare Alison, so he’d just keep his suspicions to himself for right now.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time they stopped for dinner, the sun was beginning to set, and Alison was laughing at his silly jokes and listening to his fishing stories. The little bar and grill in the small town on the edge of the reservation had sawdust on the floor and the best fries in the world.

  Dell watched the door. Finally, a man walked in who had to be John. Dell smiled slightly. Jeff had been right; the hat did look like a buffalo had puked on it. He got up and walked over to where the man had seated himself at the bar.

  “John?” Dell asked, sitting down. The man looked up and grinned.

  “Yeah?” John said.

  “Jefferson said you’d have something for me, name’s Dell.”

  “Yeah. Sorry I’m late. There was a rock slide on the road.” John motioned for Dell to pull up a barstool and sit down. He smiled and leaned on the bar, waving at the waitress.

  “You got my package?” Dell asked.

  John nodded and smiled at the bored girl who came to take his order. “Coffee, Sandy,” he told her and winked. She rolled her eyes and walked off. He turned back to Dell. “You got the payment?”

  “Yeah.” Dell watched John reach into his scruffy denim jacket. The man pulled out a box that had been carefully wrapped in brown paper. He took it and passed the ten folded one hundred dollar bills to John, who quickly tucked them into his pocket.

  “Jefferson said to tell you to be careful,” John said.

  “Tell him I will; I have a good reason to be very careful,” Dell replied. He turned and gazed at Alison, who was nibbling on a rather long French fry. Dell watched John turn and look over his shoulder at Alison.

  “Damn,” John said, his voice reverent. “She that good on other things?”

  “Better.” Dell swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He reached over and smacked John’s arm lightly. “Quit lusting after my woman.”

  John laughed and took a sip of the coffee Sandy set in front of him. “I leave first,” he said. “Give it ten minutes, and then you can go.”

  John got up and walked out of the bar. Dell picked up the package and went back to the booth where Alison was drawing spirals in the pool of ketchup on her plate with her fry. He sat down across from her.

  “Where the hell did you learn to eat like that?” he asked her.

  “Like what?” she asked innocently and sucked a drop of ketchup off her little finger.

  Dell laughed softly. “You know damn good and well like what, girl,” he said. “You got half the men in here hard.” He reached across the table and caught her hand, pulling it across the table and taking her fingers into his mouth one at a time to suck the salt and ketchup off each one. Her lips parted, and her beautiful emerald eyes darkened, locked on his.

  The waitress walked up and tossed the check onto the table. “Geez, get a room, you two.”

  Alison blushed and Dell chuckled. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Dell followed Alison up to the front of the bar and grill, resting his hand lightly on her back. He could feel the simmering current of desire coursing through his fingers straight to his groin, making it tingle pleasantly.

  “I’m going to go ahead and get in the truck,” Alison said as Dell got out his wallet and took out a twenty to pay for dinner.

  “Okay, I’ll be right out.” Dell paid the bill and picked up a toothpick.

  *

  Alison walked outside and headed toward the truck. Suddenly, she was caught in a viselike grip. A clammy hand covered her mouth and nose, cutting off her breath and stopping her scream. She dropped her purse as she was rushed toward a black El Camino and shoved into the vehicle. She started to scream when her kidnapper uncovered her mouth.

  Wilson held a large Bowie knife against her side, forcing her to slide across the seat. “Don’t even think of it, darlin
’,” he said, grinning at her. “Buckle your seat belt—wouldn’t want you to get hurt now.”

  Alison started to do as she was told, her hands shaking.

  “Relax, little lady, I have big plans for you and me. And Dell, too.” He smiled at her, his eyes lit with an unholy glee.

  Alison shivered as her blood ran cold. “If you leave him out of this, I’ll do whatever you want,” she said slowly, trying to keep her voice calm.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t want Dell to miss all the fun.” Wilson smiled again.

  She shrank back against the door. Wilson laughed and stopped the car at the edge of the parking lot. He reached over and caught her arm, dragging her across the seat and wrapping his arm around her.

  “You’re a soft one; I’m going to enjoy this.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear, giving it a quick lick. “Do you scream?”

  Alison shook her head quickly.

  “You will.” Wilson’s voice was silky as he shoved her roughly back across the seat.

  * * * *

  Dell stepped out into the gathering twilight and froze. Alison’s purse lay on the sidewalk behind his truck, its contents spilled out. He quickly picked it up and looked around the parking lot for her.

  A car horn’s honk jerked his attention to the black El Camino poised at the parking lot’s exit. Wilson grinned at him, tipped his hat, and pulled out onto the highway. Dell could see Alison in the vehicle, sitting close to the killer.

  Dell’s knees went weak, and he felt like throwing up. He couldn’t move for a long, agonizing moment, then he ran to the truck and jumped in. Starting to put the gun he’d just bought from Jefferson on the seat, he stopped. An idea began to form. If he was right about this, his friends from the FBI wouldn’t be far away. He sighed heavily and said a short prayer for Alison’s safety, then got out and went back inside the bar to find a phone.

  He thought over what he was going to say for a moment, and Alison’s face as he’d last seen her rose up before him. The terrified look on her face made his heart hurt. He picked up the receiver and dialed.

  “Get here, now,” Dell said shortly when Davis answered.

  “What happened?”

  “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy. He has her,” Dell fought to keep his voice calm. He couldn’t breathe, thinking about what might be happening to Alison while he tried to get some help.

  “What I wanted? Mr. Blackfeather, what happened?” Davis said patiently.

  “Haven’t you been listening to me? Wilson has Alison! Get your people you have following me in gear and arrest him, because I’m going after him in about two minutes, and if I catch him first, he’s dead.” Dell clenched the receiver, his knuckles white, and resisted the urge to rip the phone out of the wall.

  Davis swore. “All right.” He took a deep breath. “All right, relax. Stay where you are. Special Agent Matthews will be there in a few minutes.”

  “Matthews,” Dell’s voice was flat.

  “Yeah, he’ll coordinate with the local…” Davis began.

  “He’s taking her onto the res—you don’t need the local police, and it’s your jurisdiction.” Dell’s voice shook.

  “We still have to work with the locals. I know it’s hard, but you need to be patient. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Davis said.

  “And what about Alison? Who’s going to help her?” Dell wanted to cry. He had promised he would keep Alison safe, and he hadn’t done it. He’d let her down, and now he had to do everything he could to make it up to her. He only hoped she’d still be alive to forgive him when he got to her.

  “We are. But you need to be patient and don’t go off after them by yourself. That just might get her and you killed.” Davis hung up.

  Dell put the receiver down and went over to sit in the booth where he’d had dinner with Alison. He watched the door for the FBI Agent, tapping his foot impatiently. The waitress, Sandy, brought over a cup of coffee and set it down in front of him.

  “Sandy, right?” he asked, catching her hand.

  “Yeah,” she said warily.

  “You know Jefferson?” He was pleased when she nodded. “Do me a favor and call Jefferson. Tell him Dell wants him to keep an eye out for Wilson.” The girl nodded. “Tell him I’ll be in touch.” He let the girl go.

  Chapter Twelve

  Agent Matthews stood out like a sore thumb in his dark gray business suit when he walked into the little bar and grill. Dell watched the sharp dressed man grimace at the sawdust working its way into his shoes as he made his way over to the booth.

  “Mr. Blackfeather,” Matthews said, holding his hand out.

  Dell just stared at the young agent. Matthews dropped his hand and sat down. “I understand there’s been an incident…” the agent began.

  “An incident? A crazy, serial killer, son-of-a-bitch snatches my girlfriend out of the parking lot, right out from under your nose, and you have the nerve to call it an incident?” Dell kept his voice low and hard, letting all his anger show.

  “I had orders not to interfere with the target at this time,” Matthews said, a defensive note in his voice.

  “Orders? From who?” Dell wanted the name of the person he’d be going after if anything, anything at all, happened to Alison.

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss this case with unauthorized personnel,” Matthews said.

  Dell sighed and bowed his head for a moment. This pompous little by-the-rules butt made his head hurt. He sighed again and looked up at the agent. “Okay, fine, then there’s no reason for me to sit here and babysit you.” He stood and dropped a couple of dollars on the table, nodding at Sandy. As he walked toward the door, he heard the FBI man sputtering behind him and smiled grimly. He pushed through the door and stepped out into the soft summer evening.

  Opening the door of his truck, he ignored the sound of the bar door slamming and the urgent, hurried footsteps coming toward him. A hand caught his shoulder and jerked him around. Dell spun and raised his fist, ready to knock Special Agent Matthews into next week.

  Matthews let go and backed up, his hand going for the gun Dell could see hidden in a shoulder holster under his jacket.

  “You shoot me, you son of a bitch, you better make sure I’m dead, because if I get up, I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” Dell said, glaring at Matthews.

  “I’m a federal officer…” Matthews began, stammering.

  “Agent Matthews, I do hope you weren’t about to draw your weapon on one of the victims in this case,” a calm, deep voice dripping with authority cut Matthews off.

  Dell glanced over to see a casually dressed Agent Davis walking toward them. Davis nodded at Dell and fixed Matthews with an icy glare.

  “Sir! I…” Matthews snapped to attention.

  “Keep it up, Matthews, and you’ll be headed back to Quantico for retraining as a receptionist in the gift shop,” Davis said. “Now, go get your car and help Thomas, and try to stay out of trouble.”

  Dell watched Davis as Matthews hurried away. Davis turned toward him. “So, Wilson took Alison,” Davis sighed. “Let’s go get her back.”

  “Took you long enough to get here. She could already be dead,” Dell said, his voice cracking on the last word. He looked away from Davis and gazed at the sunset sky that was turning from orange to midnight blue. She couldn’t be gone, not when he’d just found her. They hadn’t had near long enough together. He took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to stay calm.

  “No, he won’t have done anything to her yet. That’s not how he works,” Davis said.

  “How can you be sure?” Dell asked. He wanted to believe the agent, but he was afraid to, afraid he was still being used.

  “We have his M.O. from other cases, and the profilers have done a thorough work up on him. We know pretty much what he’ll do. Now, you said he was heading toward the reservation?” Davis asked.

  “Yeah, he made sure I saw he had her,” Dell answered.

  “Fine, let’s go th
en. You drive.” Matthews walked around and got in the truck.

  Dell got in and started the truck. He noticed for the first time that his hands were shaking and clenched his fists.

  “While we have an extensive profile telling us what Wilson Long will do, we don’t know what Alison will do. You’re the key to that—you know her. Tell me about her,” Davis said, his tone of his voice calming Dell’s nerves.

  Dell took a deep breath and began telling the FBI Agent everything about Alison he could think of as he pulled out onto the highway.

  * * * *

  Alison sat, rigid and silent, while the man holding her captive chattered on about what great friends he and Dell were. She tried to look at the beautiful mountain scenery, but it didn’t really register. All she could think of was that she should never have gone out to the truck alone.

  Wilson’s constant chatter made her want to scream. He hadn’t stopped since they’d pulled out of the parking lot of the bar and grill. She shivered; it was almost like he wanted her to like him. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she saw he’d put the knife down on the seat next to his leg. Slowly, she began to form a plan.

  “Well, hell, we even share the same women, so it was quite a surprise there to see he’d found a new girl and all and didn’t tell his old pal Wilson.” He grinned at her.

  “He didn’t tell me about you, either,” she lied.

  “He didn’t? Well, that wasn’t very nice at all, was it? And after all the things I’ve done for him, helping him get rid of Tommy and then killing Elsie and all. She was more trouble than she was worth, just like all women. Ungrateful is what it is,” Wilson said. “Just as well you wanted to come with me then, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Alison’s voice was quiet. She didn’t know what to think hearing him talk about murdering someone with no more feeling than one had swatting a fly.

  Wilson looked at her, taking his eyes off the winding mountain road. She swallowed hard and glanced away from him, flinching. He laughed, an evil sound that made her hair stand on end. She shivered.

  “You act like you’re cold,” he said. “Or are you just trying to get me to let you snuggle up?”