“My name isn’t Smitty, Miss Lofton, it’s actually Micah Turner, and I’m an FBI Agent. I’ve been undercover keeping an eye on Barkley and his men. Now, it’s time I need to get you home.”
“You’re FBI? Undercover? So, no one ever calls you Smitty?”
He smiled at her and shook his head. “No. It was an alias. My middle name is Smith, my mother’s maiden name, so I figured if I went by Smitty I’d remember to answer to it.”
She laughed and hooked her arm through his, but then she sobered.
“Colt?” she asked glancing up at him with hope.
Micah shook his head, and she choked back a sob. Somehow, she knew it was too much to hope Colt was undercover too. She walked to a car with Agent Turner, wishing she felt relief instead of a heartbreaking pain in her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks throughout the drive home.
Upon arriving at her parents’ home, Isabella bolted from the car when she saw her mother hurrying down the front steps to her. They embraced and cried in each other’s arms. Two men in suits came to the top of the stairs from inside the house and stood watching. She sensed more than saw Micah standing by the car.
“Daddy?” Isabella asked looking into her mother’s eyes and already knowing the answer.
“He’s gone to the cabin to meet Barkley.” When Isabella muttered a low curse followed by a ragged sob, her mother pulled her back into her arms. “Don’t worry, honey. He’s not alone. There are agents all over the place. Barkley and his men will be caught or killed.”
Isabella heard the hate in her mother’s voice. Despite her wishing the same thing, she broke down and sobbed. Colt. She feared he’d end up caught, or worse, dead. She clung to her mother as she led her up the steps and into the house. The two agents shuffled aside then followed them inside. Isabella knew they’d have a lot of questions for her.
* * * *
Mont crouched in the woods, but kept an eye on the cabin. It was quiet—too quiet. He stalked carefully through the woods toward the cabin. When he got close enough, he sidled up alongside one of the windows and peeked in. Barkley stood in the center of the room with his gun pointed at Governor Barton Lofton. Mont strained to listen so he could hear them through the glass.
“I finally have you where I want you, Lofton, with my gun pointed at your head. I should just shoot you right now and get it over with, but I want to have some fun with you first.”
“Where’s my daughter?” Lofton glared at him.
Barkley laughed and shook the barrel of his gun at the man. “Probably dead by now since my man was given instructions to kill her once I left,” he told the governor, who frowned, making Barkley smile an evil smile. “Oh don’t worry, Lofton, I’m sure he had some fun with her first though.”
Mont gritted his teeth and cursed low in his throat. Shaking his head slightly, he had to keep his head clear so he couldn’t afford to think of Isabella right now. He had to keep his mind on what was going on. He couldn’t let his worry for her occupy his mind even as much as he worried about what was happening with her. He kept his focus on the two men in the room.
Suddenly, it dawned on him that there were only two men in the room. Where in hell was Dayton? Mont scanned the room but didn’t see him. He carefully moved from that window to another one, checking each room through its window but came up empty.
Shit! Where the hell was Dayton? He turned to return to the main window when someone punched him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Mont felt woozy and shook his head. Looking up through squinted eyes, he saw Dayton standing over him, staring down at him.
“I’ve wanted to do that for quite a while now,” Dayton said with a smug smile.
He reached down to grab the front of Mont’s shirt, but he was faster and slammed his fist into Dayton’s gut, making him grunt and double over. Hitting him again, this time with an uppercut to his jaw, Dayton’s eyes glazed over for a second but he shook it off and came after Mont and together they fell to the ground.
All Mont could think was he didn’t have time for this shit and he had to finish it now. He curled his arms around Dayton’s neck, rolled to his back, and wrapped his legs around Dayton’s lower body. Dayton struggled, but Mont was stronger and proved it by choking Dayton until he took his last breath, and fell limp in Mont’s hold. Pushing Dayton off him, he climbed to his feet and shoving him out of the way, returned to the main window, where he could look in and see what was happening between Barkley and Lofton.
When he got there, he glanced in and found the men in the same spots in the room. How long were they going to stand there and stare at each other? Mont groaned with impatience. One of them needed to make a move, but Barkley seemed to enjoy toying with Lofton.
“Why would you find it necessary to kill my daughter?” Lofton yelled in anger.
Barkley laughed with malicious pleasure. “Because she’s a piece of you, Lofton, and I want all of you dead—you and your family, all dead. Once I’m done with you, I will find a way to get to your wife and I’ll take my time with her too. Yeah, I’ll have my fun, just like I’m going to do with you and hopefully the same as what Smitty’s doing with your precious Isabella.”
The anger on Lofton’s face wasn’t hard to see and he made a move toward Barkley, but he backed down quick enough when Barkley raised his gun at him. Lofton clenched his hands into fists, and Mont had no doubt had the man had the chance he would kill Barkley with his bare hands.
“Why don’t you just shoot me and get it over with, Barkley?”
Barkley walked toward him, holding the gun close to Lofton’s chin, and sticking his own face close.
“That would take all the fun out of it, and I want to toy with you first. It would be so easy to just kill you, but I don’t like easy.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Do I Dayton?” he yelled.
When Dayton didn’t answer him, Barkley yelled his name again. Mont watched as Barkley moved toward the window and looked out. He turned around just in time to see Lofton make a move on him, and pointed the gun at him. Barkley walked slowly back toward him, and Lofton stood frozen in place when Barkley pressed the gun against his forehead.
“Try it. Go ahead, I want you to,” Barkley growled at him.
Lofton exhaled slowly, and stepped back. “What are you going to do after you kill my family? Go after the jury members too? Go after anyone who had anything to do with putting you away?”
Barkley tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Now there’s a good idea. You know what they say—payback’s a bitch.” He walked back toward the window and gazed out again. When he caught sight of Mont at another window, he signaled him to come inside the cabin.
Mont cursed his seeing him. He wasn’t supposed to go inside. He didn’t want to go inside, but now he had no choice. He strode around to the door and entered the cabin.
“Where the fuck is Dayton?” Barkley snapped at him as soon as he was in the room.
Mont shrugged. “How would I know? I’m not supposed to be watching him.”
Barkley glared at him. “That son of a bitch had better not have run off. I will hunt his ass down and kill him.” He whipped his head around to glare at Lofton when the man started laughing. “What’s so damn funny, Lofton?”
“You sure plan on killing a lot of people, Barkley. I think you need more men.” Lofton laughed. “Then again, your men don’t seem to stick around, do they?”
Barkley hit him alongside his head. Lofton stumbled back, but caught himself before he fell. Even with his hand to the side of his head, he managed to pull himself up to his full height.
Barkley laughed. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d admire you.”
“Go to hell,” Lofton told him.
“I probably will, but I plan on sending you there first.” Barkley raised the gun at Lofton again. Lofton simply stared at him. Barkley lowered the gun, handed it to Mont, walked straight toward Lofton, and punched him in the gut. Lofton doubled over. Barkley hit him on the back of the neck, making him fall
to the floor. Now Barkley stood over him gloating.
“Get up. Get up you fuckin’ son of a bitch.”
Lofton pulled himself up from the floor and stood. Barkley hit him in the mouth. His head snapped back and blood bubbled out from his lip. He spit it out. When Barkley made another move to hit him, Lofton’s arm shot out and he landed a fist on Barkley’s nose. The move surprised even Mont. He watched Barkley stumble backwards toward him. He caught Barkley under the arms and shoved him back toward Lofton. Barkley turned and glared at Mont, who shrugged.
“Sorry, Jonas, I thought this is what you wanted? You know, to beat him up first.”
Barkley gave a nod, wiping his mouth before marching back toward Lofton. Lofton’s fist hit him again but this time, when Barkley fell back he grabbed the gun from Mont and shot Lofton in the leg. Lofton cried out and went down. Lying out on the floor bleeding, he looked up at Barkley.
“Is that the only way you can beat me, Barkley, by shooting me in the leg?” Lofton exclaimed with a sarcastic laugh.
“I’m tired of fucking with you.” Barkley raised the gun, his face red with anger.
Suddenly, the doors burst open, making Barkley spin around and firing his gun, but several rounds of gunfire quickly took him down. Bleeding, he fell to the floor. Every gun turned to aim at Mont. Someone shouted at him to get on his knees and put his hands behind his head, which he quickly did.
“Interlock your fingers, Raines,” one of the men shouted at him. Mont thought the voice sounded familiar so he slowly turned his head. He chuckled when he saw who owned the voice.
“Dylan Long, well, I’ll be…no wonder the look-out didn’t go too well for Gentry and Pollard.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Mont saw Barkley raise his gun to fire. Mont shouldered Dylan out of the way and threw himself toward Lofton, feeling the bullet hit him with a sear of pain. His last thought was of his beautiful princess, Bella.
* * * *
Isabella sat in her old bedroom at the Governor’s mansion looking out the window. She jumped up from her seat when she saw a line of cars entering the driveway, running down the stairs and out the front door. The agents were speaking with her mother and ushered her into a car. Isabella got to the car just in time before they closed the door.
“Mom, what’s happening?”
“Your dad’s been shot, but he’s fine. It’s all over Isabella. It’s finally over.” She started to pull the door shut but Isabella stopped her.
“Was Barkley killed?” she asked, and when her mother nodded, her heart clutched in her chest. “What about…were the other men with him killed too?”
Her mother shrugged, and gave her a quick hug. “I don’t know, dear. Ask one of the agents. I need to get to the hospital. Do you want to come too?”
Isabella told her no, but asked her to call later and let her know how her father was doing. As soon as her mother’s door closed, the car drove quickly down the driveway. She turned to go back into the house when the door on another car opened, and Micah stepped out. With an anxious eagerness, she looked to him for a positive answer about Colt. He shook his head. Her entire body began to shake, and tears rolled down her face.
“No! Please, Micah…no,” she cried feeling every bit of strength drain from her body.
Micah caught her before she fell to the concrete steps. He held her as she cried.
“I’m sorry, Isabella. I’m so very sorry.”
She clutched at him as sobs racked her body. Colt was dead. He’d been killed just like she’d warned him would happen. Just like she’d told him he deserved. How could she do that? She hadn’t meant it.
Isabella cried so hard she made herself sick so Micah scooped her up into his harms and carried her inside. One of the agents directed him to her room. With a caring gentleness, he carried her to her bed and laid her down on it. He smoothed her hair and once more told her how sorry he was. She rolled to her side and cried, wishing she could take back all the hateful things she’d ever said to Colt. She didn’t hear Micah leave the room.
About an hour later, Isabella woke, her head aching, her body feeling drained and sickly. She climbed from her bed and moved to look out the window. She put her forehead against the cool glass. Colt was gone. How would she go on without him? She didn’t want to and didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything anymore. The man she loved was dead. She choked back a sob.
Her mother called from the hospital to tell her that her father was fine. He’d be home in a day or two, and Isabella did her best to cover her sorrow, but her mother asked her what was wrong. Isabella excused her sadness with worry over her father, but she doubted it convinced her mother. She cut the call short before her mother pressed her further. How could she explain to her mother that the man she loved was dead, and that he was one of Barkley’s men?
Shaking her head in despair and grief, she curled up on her bed again. When someone knocked on her door she didn’t want to see anyone but knew if she didn’t answer, it would cause alarm. It was one of the agents asking if she wanted something to eat. She told him she didn’t, but asked him if Micah was still around. The agent told her he was gone, and closed the door.
She should have known Micah wouldn’t stick around. He was an FBI Agent and he had better things to do than to babysit her. She wanted to talk to him though. He’d seemed close to Colt, even though they had been on opposite sides of the law.
When her bedroom door burst open, it startled her, but when she saw Patsy come rushing in, she burst into tears again. Her best friend came straight to the bed, pulling Isabella into her arms. Feeling like she was drowning in grief, Isabella grasped onto her and wept.
“Oh my God! Bella, I was so terrified for you. I’m so glad you’re okay,” Patsy cried out, hugging her tight and rocking her.
An agent stepped into the room. “Miss, you’ll have to leave, you’re not supposed to be in here.”
Patsy turned and glared at him like she was Isabella’s protector. “Just try to get me out of here.”
Isabella smiled a real smile for the first time in hours. Patsy was a wild whirlwind of a woman. She may be only five foot four, but when defending those she cared about she was a force to be reckoned with. Her dark blonde hair hung past her shoulders, streaked with lighter shades. She had freckles sprinkled across her pert nose and where most would expect her eyes to be blue or green, instead they were a dark brown. She was a little thing, but she had a body and face that could stop traffic. She was a breath of fresh air wherever she went, and Isabella adored her.
She watched Patsy glare at the agent, daring him to try to remove her. In the end, he nodded in defeat and closed the door behind him when he left. Patsy turned back to Isabella.
“How did you get here so fast from Oregon?” Isabella asked her dearest friend, grateful to have her here—especially now.
“I’ve been here since you were taken. I refused to stay back there, not knowing what was happening, and worrying. I’ve been staying right here in the mansion with your parents.” Patsy sighed and frowned at her. “I was so scared for you when I heard you went with those men when they shot up the ball. Why would you do that?”
Isabella stared at her friend, surprised she had to ask if she knew what happened. “I had to, Pats. They were going to kill everyone if I didn’t. The police had already gotten Daddy and Mom out so Barkley was angry. He’d already shot one person and was going to start shooting more.” She shrugged and felt tears welling up again in her eyes. “What else could I do?”
Patsy nodded and swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry about Harrison. I know you loved him more like an uncle than a godfather.”
Isabella pulled Patsy into a tight hug and let her tears loose. Patsy rocked her back and forth trying to soothe her, but Isabella cried even harder.
“Bella, please...honey, you’re going to make yourself sick.”
Isabella pulled back and looked at her. “I loved him so…”
“I know, honey, and he loved you.�
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Isabella shook her head. “Not Harrison. I loved him, yes, but I’m not crying about him.”
Patsy frowned at her. “Then who?”
Clasping her friend’s hands in her lap, she took a deep breath and looked up at Patsy. “I fell in love with one of Barkley’s men,” she whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear.
Patsy gasped. “Are you serious?” Isabella nodded. “How did that happen? Are you sure it wasn’t that syndrome thing?” She waved her hand as if reaching for the name.
“Stockholm syndrome,” she interjected. “No, it isn’t that. I’m twenty-six years old, I’m sure I know what love is. Colt was…well, he was amazing and I will love him until the day I die.”
“He was arrested?” Patsy asked in a curious, hopeful voice.
Isabella felt a tear roll down her cheek, and shook her head, swallowing back more tears. “No…oh God, Patsy…he was…he was killed.” She choked on the words.
Patsy gasped, pulled her into her arms, and uttered soothing words as she rubbed her hand up and down Isabella’s back. Together, they held onto each other and cried.
“Tell me about him, Bella,” Patsy requested in a gentle, loving voice.
Isabella took a deep breath and wiped her eyes.
“Oh, Patsy, I knew the minute I saw him. I was feeling things I shouldn’t but couldn’t help it. He was so gorgeous, tall, and built, with the blackest hair you’ve ever seen. He has—had the most beautiful green eyes. I fell fast and I fell hard.” She stopped, covering her face with her hands wishing she would stop crying.
“Did he feel the same, Bella?”
Hearing Patsy call her by the same pet name as Colt tore at her heart but comforted her too.
“He never said it, but I’m sure he did. We were so into each other and now—now, he’s gone.”
Patsy hugged her and did what a best friend does best. She held her while listening with an open heart.
Montgomery Page 11
