by MJ Fredrick
“There’s something odd.” Peyton pointed, her heart jumping. “Nurses don’t take wheelchairs all the way to the parking lot to release patients.”
Yet a dark-haired woman in generic green scrubs was muscling a wheelchair over a curb to a truck. The man in the chair lolled to one side—unconscious and still dressed in a hospital gown. Peyton leaned closer to study the video. The woman was small, and her dark hair contrasted sharply with her white skin.
“It’s Kim!” she breathed.
Agent Devlin snapped to action. “Get the plate on the truck,” he told the guard as he pulled out his phone. “I need access to traffic cameras and activity in the past”—he leaned closer to peer at the time stamp—“forty-three minutes, from St. Patrick’s hospital. And I need a BOLO for a black dually truck with the license number KA 4354. Three passengers, two men and a woman. No idea where they’re heading.”
He flipped the phone shut and looked at Peyton. “Ready to go watch more video?”
“She risked everything to come back to him,” Peyton murmured as they walked out of the hospital to Devlin’s car. “There were no leads on her. She risked her freedom.”
“Then she kidnapped him,” Devlin pointed out, opening the passenger door for her. “You saw how he was sitting, how he was dressed. So, yeah, she risked everything, but that’s not love. That’s not real.”
“How long do you think it will take her to realize it?” Peyton asked when they got on the road. “And what will she do to Gabe when she does?”
Agent Devlin’s mouth was grim. “I don’t think she’ll take it well.” “Gabe isn’t one to make nice. We’d better find him soon.”
*****
Traffic cams were few and far between in Missoula, and black trucks weren’t. Kim and Kevin had at least been smart in their choice of stolen vehicle. Worse, all the camera footage was in black and white, so every dark-colored dually appeared black.
“We need more manpower.” Devlin returned to the surveillance room with two cups of coffee.
Peyton took one gratefully. She’d slept a bit in the chair in Gabe’s hospital room, waiting for him to wake, but she hadn’t slept in a bed since the one she shared with Gabe in Missoula. Was it the night before last now? No wonder her eyes blurred. The coffee wasn’t good, but gave her the jolt she needed. Time was too important.
“More manpower for what?” she asked.
“Most gas stations and banks have video cameras. Thing is, we don’t know which direction they’re heading, so we don’t know which video cameras to look at.”
“Get the Bear Claws,” she said, straightening.
“The what?” His brows drew together.
“Gabe and Kim’s crew. They’re not on the fire line now. Get them to go to different stores for the videos.”
“Stores aren’t going to allow that to happen.”
She thought of the man at the general store. “They will if we tell them we’re hunting for the arsonists who set the fire threatening Bounty. This is a firefighting town, Agent. People will help. And the Bear Claws will help Gabe.”
He tossed his phone to Peyton, who dialed Jen. “Jen, we need your help.”
*****
Gabe came to when his head cracked against something hard. He opened his eyes to see he’d hit it against the metal frame of a truck door. Before he could lift a hand to brace himself, he cracked it again. And then again, because his damn hand wouldn’t respond.
Right. Drugged. In the front seat, Kim—weird, dark-haired Kim—was jouncing around too, and Kevin, presumably, with a cap pulled low, was driving. Where the hell were they? The road was pitted as hell. How long had he been out? He managed to get his hand out so he wouldn’t crack his head again, and the movement caught Kim’s attention.
She turned back and smiled. “Hey. How’re you doing?”
Damn, her voice was as smooth as if they were going for a Sunday drive. Which, maybe they were. What day was it, anyway? “Where are we going?” he croaked. He smelled ash, tried to lift his head to see out the window but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate. What had she given him?
“Someplace private. Slow down, Kevin, I’m going into the back.”
The jostling slowed and Kim climbed over the seat to sit beside him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get your clothes. We kind of were in a hurry.”
He looked down at his hospital gown and felt more naked than he had in his life. If he managed to get away from the Crazy Twins, he’d freeze. These mountains got damned cold, even in summer. And between the way she studied him, kind of Little Red Riding Hood gone darkside, and his lack of coordination, he felt damned vulnerable.
“What’s going on here, Kim?” he mumbled, his lips not wanting to cooperate.
“I’m going to show you what real love is. You clearly don’t choose women very well, so I decided to show you.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “I was going to dye my hair blonde, but I didn’t want to remind you of Jen or Peyton. I want you to just see me.” She trailed a finger up his bare thigh.
He wanted to flinch away, but couldn’t. So he shoved at her with words. “You damn near killed me.”
Her eyes hardened. “I didn’t tell you to jump out of the stupid plane for the stupid girl who couldn’t stay with you when you needed her. God, Gabe, you’d think you would have learned your lesson with Jen.”
“And you’re going to teach me.”
She nodded.
“What about Kevin, there?” He inclined his head toward her brother. “Won’t be very cozy with him around.”
“I need him there till you see the light. Can’t have you running away in the middle of the night. Of course, dressed like this, you won’t get far.” She smiled, like it was all one big joke.
Christ. He didn’t have shoes. And even if he was able to overpower Kevin, the kid was little. No way would Gabe fit into any of his clothes.
He was screwed.
*****
Peyton and Devlin met the Bear Claws and the deputies at the crossroads. The road forked in three directions, two paved, one a dirt road, dusty and pitted.
“You were right,” Devlin told Howard. “We saw the video from the Exxon station. They headed this way.”
Howard rolled his eyes. “I’ve worked with Kim a long time. I’d recognize her even with the freaked-out hair.”
“The question is, which way did they go from here?”
“And how long till the road turns off?” Peyton muttered, battling despair and losing. The sun had set, not much longer before full dark, and all Kevin would have to do to avoid detection was to pull off.
“Are any of you familiar with this area?” Devlin asked.
“I grew up around here,” one of the deputies said.
“If you were on the run from the law, which way would you go?”
The deputy, a young man probably mid-twenties, whose name tag read Simpson, scratched his chin. “If I was looking to get out of state, I’d take that one.” He pointed to the road leading south. “But if I wanted to lay low, I’d take this one.” He pointed to the dirt road. “A whole lotta nada out there. A few old hunting cabins scattered around.”
“Maybe that’s something,” Peyton said hopefully.
“Something,” Devlin agreed, shining his light on the road. “A vehicle’s been through here recently. Big tires too.” He glanced back at Simpson. “You say nothing’s down here?”
“No, sir. Not a lot of traffic.”
“The rest of you split up, take the other roads. Simpson, you’re with me.” Devlin turned to Peyton. “Coming?”
Like he could stop her. She climbed into the backseat of his rented sedan and buckled in.
Gabe staggered up the steps to the hunting cabin, leaning heavily on Kim, though Kevin tried to take some of his weight. Gabe’s strategy worked better for keeping both off balance. Strength was returning to his legs, but it would do no good to reveal that now and not be able to run without shoes. He allowed Kim and Kevin to g
uide him into the shack, into a bedroom with a double bed covered with a Native American woven spread. Is this where Kim and Kevin had fled after the attack on Peyton?
“Is this the honeymoon suite?” he asked, deliberately slurring his words.
Kevin shrugged out from under his arm and pushed him onto the bed. “You bet.”
Gabe struggled to sit up. “Damn, I’m hungry. You have any food?”
Kim gave Kevin a look. He grumbled and left the room as Kim sat beside Gabe, way too close.
“I’m sorry it has to be like this,” she murmured, brushing one breast intentionally against his arm. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”
“What about firefighting?” he asked. “We can never go back to firefighting.”
She stroked his hair. “I understand how important it is to you. I’m sorry to take you away from it.”
“Peyton wanted to take me away from it and you hated her for it.”
“You won’t miss it,” she crooned, caressing his chest.
She wasn’t going to—was she? He had to stop her, push her away as her hand slid down his belly. “I will. It’s who I am.”
His sharp tone made her snatch her hand away. “You’d leave it for her.”
“I love her.”
She drew back and hit him across the face, fingers curved inward to scratch his cheek. Stung like hell, but at least she didn’t have long nails. Still, it’d leave a bruise.
“How can you say that to me?” she demanded. “After all I’ve done for you, all I’ve been for you?”
“Yeah, my own personal psycho. Gotta love that.”
Maybe not the wisest choice of words. Her eyes flared and she leapt from the bed, backing toward the door, just as Kevin came in with a sandwich. She blocked her brother from giving it to him.
“No, nothing,” she said. “He can’t have anything until he agrees to love me and never speak her name again.”
She slammed the door and Gabe found himself alone, virtue intact, and free to explore the room for clothes and shoes. He was glad they thought he was still weak, so they hadn’t restrained him. Quickly, he looked under the bed, gagged when he saw the skeleton of either a large rat or small cat, but no shoes. He opened the closet door quietly. A long jacket—well, long on some people—hung inside. It was musty, but better than nothing. No shoes on the floor, but when he stood on his toes—and caused the floor to creak—on the top shelf he saw some old hunting boots close enough to his size. The boards beneath his feet creaked again as he reached and he froze for a minute. Then he grabbed the boots—the leather was old and crumbly—and dragged them down. He turned them upside down and tapped the heels, a trick he’d learned long ago. Rarely did it yield anything, but now a scorpion the size of his finger dropped out and scuttled toward him. He cursed and jumped back, then crushed the insect with a boot.
He heard movement outside the door, shoved the boots under the bed and lay back as Kevin opened the door.
“What the hell, man?” Kevin asked, and saw the closet door was open.
Shit.
With a scowl, the younger man went to close it. “Sorry, man. No way out. Not this time.”
He opened the door again, pulled out the jacket and took it with him, locking the door behind him.
Double shit.
So Gabe had shoes, but he would freeze to death. Then he sat up and considered the bedspread.
*****
“I don’t think this is a road,” Peyton said through clenched teeth. She had to clench them— she’d already bitten the inside of her cheek twice and her tongue once.
“It is hard to see without headlights,” Deputy Simpson admitted cheerily.
“If we use headlights, they’ll see us coming,” Devlin reminded them as he maneuvered the vehicle directly from one bump to the next. “I’m on the road most of the time.”
“And when we find them? Then what?” Peyton asked. “They might be armed. They might hurt Gabe.”
“First of all, you’ll stay in the car,” Devlin said. “You will not get out, do you understand?”
But what if Gabe needed her? He’d been drugged, unconscious, and God knew what else they’d done to him. Still, she had no doubt Devlin would set her out on the side of the road if she disobeyed, so she said, “Of course.”
“The deputy and I will take care of the O’Douls, and bring out Cooper.”
“You see the fire and put it out,” she murmured, thinking of Gabe’s philosophy, and how easy it made a difficult job sound.
“Exactly,” Devlin muttered.
A few minutes later, they rounded a corner and moonlight glinted off the bumper of a vehicle.
A big black dually. Devlin immediately killed the engine, dropped the sedan into neutral and slid back about fifty feet.
“There,” he whispered, as if the O’Douls could hear them. He lifted the radio to his mouth— no cell service out here. “We found the truck, found a cabin. Lights on inside. Deputy Simpson and I are going in. We need back up.”
The call was acknowledged and the two men drew their guns. Quickly, Devlin reached back to flip off the interior light just as Simpson opened his door.
“Stay. Here,” he reiterated. “I don’t want to shoot you.”
“Don’t want to be shot,” she acknowledged, but dug her fingers into the back of the seat. How was she going to sit here while they went in for Gabe and she couldn’t see anything?
*****
Gabe heard the car out front and eased to the window. Kim and Kevin probably didn’t have accomplices, but Gabe didn’t want some innocent person who just happened upon the cabin to be hurt. No doubt the siblings would take action to protect themselves. He tried the window, but it was swollen shut.
One of the men who got out of the car wore a cap and crouched low. The other seemed familiar, but it was too dark to identify him. Still, they moved cautiously, and hope flared. They knew what to expect, they had to be cops.
Movement in the next room told him Kim and Kevin had heard the car too. Kim’s voice was soft but in her panic an octave higher than normal, and Gabe couldn’t make out her words.
He grabbed the mangled pillow from the bed, folded it against the window and shoved his elbow against it. The tinkle of glass hitting the front porch was louder than he expected. The men outside stilled, Kim and Kevin quieted, before Kevin’s heavy footsteps made their way toward his door.
Crap. The broken area of the window was nowhere near big enough for him to climb out, especially without more protection for his privates. He moved behind the door, wishing for a weapon, but only had surprise on his side.
He dove for the boots, tossed one through the broken window so it landed with a thump outside—maybe Kevin would think he’d gone out, giving him more of an edge of surprise.
The younger man flung open the bedroom door, face tight with rage, and Gabe used the other boot as a club, swinging it hard against the boy’s temple. The rage slackened to stunned as the kid dropped to the floor.
Stupid kid. He stepped over the boy’s body and into the living room, where Kim turned, holding a gun in front of her with both hands, pointing at him. Son of a bitch. He did not want to get shot.
He raised his hands and let the boot drop to the floor. The girl was too damn shaky with the gun.
“What are we going to do here, Kim?” he asked, infusing a calm he didn’t feel into his voice.
“Where’s Kevin?”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “In there. You want to check, see if he’s okay? I hit him pretty hard.”
Indecision flickered across her face. “No. I need you to go back in there so I can lock you in.”
“The cops are here, Kim. They’re just outside the door. You heard them pull up.”
As he spoke, he moved toward her slowly, cautiously, a hand extended for the gun. God, she was just a kid, a crazy kid who had made a hell of a mistake. He sensed her despair, understood the trapped look in her eyes. And damn, for all he’d c
ursed whoever had set that fire, sympathy overruled anger. She’d screwed up and ruined her young life, hers and her brother’s. She was out of options.
“No place to run.” He kept his voice as smooth as he could as his pulse pounded. “Don’t make things any worse.”
“I didn’t want it to go this far,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” And she turned the gun toward her own chin.
Jesus, not that. “Kim, no!” Time stretched. Splinters dug into the bottoms of his feet as he hurtled himself toward her, hit her arm as hard as he could, twisted it back and felt the bone snap just as the gun went off.
Peyton jerked at the sound of a gunshot, and her insides melted together. Not again, God, not again! She reached for the door handle of the rented sedan, only to find none. Stupid child locks. She rolled into the front seat and shoved out of the car, dropping to her knees in the dirt.
Devlin and Simpson ran toward the cabin, one on either side of the door. Okay, smart, stay out of the line of fire. But get to Gabe. Get to Gabe.
Devlin nodded to Simpson, who kicked in the door, and Devlin went in first, low. Peyton saw him relax, pull his gun up.
“Where’s the other one?”
He had to be asking Gabe. Gabe was all right. Thank God. She hurried forward, only to have Simpson swing on her, his gun pointed right at her head. Terror constricted her breathing, instinct froze her before recognition lit his eyes.
“Miss Michaels!”
Gabe’s head went up at the sound of Peyton’s name. He pried the gun from Kim’s slack hand—he’d broken her arm before she shot the hell out of the wall—and held it up by the grip for Devlin to take, but the agent was moving toward the front door.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
Then Peyton was in the doorway, ignoring the cop, of course, and heading straight toward Gabe. She dropped to the floor beside him. Elation at seeing her battled with wariness, and he caught her shoulders before she kissed him. Over the past few hours, he’d alternated between crippling hurt that she’d left him, and consuming anger. Neither of those emotions was present now, only a numbness, like a shield had come down in him.
