by Elle James
“Hello? Can you hear me?” Aubrey cried over the noise of gunfire and the house being barraged with bullets.
“You’ve reached 911. State your emergency.”
“Bullets are flying everywhere. We need help. Now!” she shouted.
“Address?” the 911 operator asked.
Aubrey gave it and followed with, “Please send someone soon.”
“Can you get to somewhere safe?” the operator asked.
“No. We’re in the house, they’re shooting nonstop. I’m afraid to move off the floor.”
“We have a unit on the way as we speak.”
“Better be more than one unit. There are four of them and it sounds like they have machine guns.”
“Roger. Sending multiple units. Hold tight, help’s on its way.”
Matt crawled across the floor toward her. “Get behind the sofa.” He snagged one of the overstuffed chairs and dragged it toward the back of the couch. “These might not stop a bullet, but they could slow it down.”
He had her get behind the couch, then he pulled the chair around for even more protection. When he moved away from the improvised bunker, Aubrey grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to see if I can get a bead on one of the shooters. When the sheriff’s deputies arrive those guys will disappear in all directions. We need one of them to tell us where they’re keeping the girl.”
“Damn it, Matt. They’re showering us with bullets. The odds are you’ll be hit.”
He shot her a grin. “I was trained for combat as part of the Marine Force Reconnaissance. I know how to keep my head down. Stay here and stay low.”
“Please,” she said. “Stay with me.”
“I need to do this.”
“Matt, I’d hate to think of losing another person to those bastards.” A bullet ripped through the back of the couch, just above Aubrey’s head. She shrank lower.
“Oh, and here I was thinking you cared about me.”
“I do!” she yelled, knowing she wouldn’t talk him out of taking a shot at the men pelting them with lead. “Geez! Won’t they run out of ammunition soon?” Another bullet hit an inch lower than the last one.
“Not if they came with a bunch of spare magazines.” He rolled to the side and low-crawled his way up toward the front window.
Aubrey peered around the edge of the sofa, her head low to the floor to keep from catching a bullet. She held her breath as Matt used his handgun to lift the curtain.
More bullets blasted through the broken glass, spraying shards across the floor.
Matt shook his head and crawled low to the ground, away from the window toward the hallway and the door leading to the front bedroom.
When he disappeared out of sight, Aubrey’s heart beat so fast she thought she would pass out.
In the distance, the sound of sirens brought hope for a quick end to the onslaught.
Suddenly the gunfire ceased, engines revved and moved away from the house.
A loud bang sounded from the vicinity of the back bedroom.
Aubrey gasped.
Had one of the attackers come up to the bedroom and shot Matt?
She abandoned the cover of the sofa and chair and crawled on her hands and knees toward the hallway to the bedroom. “Matt?” she cried. Grabbing a lamp from the table in the hallway, she yanked the cord out of the wall, pushed to her feet and ran the rest of the way to the spare bedroom with the gas station signs on the wall. Raising the lamp high, she prepared to bash in the head of any coyote attacking Matt.
A man emerged from the room, straightening as he entered the hallway. He caught the lamp before it crashed into his head. As he did, his face came into view in the moonlight shining from the living room.
Matt.
“Please tell me you weren’t going to use this on me,” he said, setting the lamp on the table in the hall.
She flung herself into his arms. “Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”
“Of course, I’m alive.” He grinned. “And the cavalry has arrived. But I need you to stay inside until I give you the all clear. I think I hit one of them.”
“Let the sheriff’s deputies get him,” she said.
“I can’t risk him getting away.” Matt kept moving toward the door.
“But what if he’s still conscious?” Aubrey ran after him. “He could still have his gun and shoot you.”
“I’ll be careful,” he said. “But I can’t have you following me out there. I’ll be too worried about you to keep my focus.” He gripped her arms before they left the cover of the hallway and reentered the living room. “Do you understand? I need to know you’re safe.”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll stay here. But don’t get shot.”
“I’ll do my best.” He bent and brushed his lips across hers. “And you do the same. Stay here in the hallway. There are several walls between you and the bullets they could shoot.”
Her lips tingled where he’d brushed his across them. That brief kiss had scrambled the thoughts in her head. Somehow in that one meeting of the lips, they’d crossed the line from strangers to something more.
Aubrey hunkered low in the hallway, her fingers pressed to her lips, her thoughts with the man heading out of the house where, a moment ago, four armed criminals had turned their weapons on the home Matt had grown up in. Not because of him, but because of her attack on them.
The men were ruthless. If one of them was lying on the ground wounded, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Matt.
Hovering on the edge of staying safe and wanting to go out and do what she could to protect the man who’d saved her life, Aubrey forced herself to remain in place.
Sirens wailed, moving closer to Maple Street and the little cottage on the edge of town.
“Please hurry,” she murmured.
As if hearing her quiet entreaty, the wailing grew louder until it echoed off the exterior walls of the house. Lights shone through the broken windows, giving the shattered interior of the living room an eerie glow.
Unable to stay in place a moment longer, Aubrey emerged from the hallway and moved to the front door. Rays of light shone through the bullet holes into the room, creating a spectacle like something out of a laser tag game room. She had the urge to duck beneath the tiny beams to get to the door. When she reached for the doorknob, she hesitated.
“Aubrey,” Matt’s voice called out. “All clear. You can come out.”
She yanked open the door and shaded her eyes against the glare of the headlights. “Matt?”
“Over here,” he said.
She followed the sound of his voice. The people moving about the front yard were nothing more than silhouettes against the light from the four sheriff’s vehicles. Another siren wailed nearby. Soon an ambulance pulled up behind the sheriff’s vehicles and the EMTs jumped out.
“Aubrey,” Matt said.
She followed Matt’s voice to where he knelt beside a man lying on the ground next to a four-wheeler. Sheriff Richards stood over him. Matt had his hand pressed to a wound in the man’s chest.
Anger burned in Aubrey’s heart. This could be the man who’d killed Rosa. If they didn’t need him alive to tell them where they’d taken Isabella, Aubrey would be tempted to shove a knife in his wound and twist.
“Do you speak Spanish?” the sheriff asked.
Aubrey clenched her fists and nodded. “A little.”
“See if you can understand what he’s saying,” Sheriff Richards said. “I know very few words.”
Kneeling beside the injured man, Aubrey leaned close to hear the words he was saying in a gurgling whisper. “Destruir la casa de los ángeles.” He repeated the words over and over as blood dripped out of the side of his mouth.
“Do you understand what he’s saying?” Matt asked.
Aubrey focused on the
broken words from the injured man, making the translation in her head. “I think he’s saying destroy the house of angels.” She had a hard time feeling sorry for the man lying on the ground, bleeding out. He, or one of his cohorts, had killed Rosa, a mother of two, and stolen Isabella. Aubrey wanted to shake him, to yell at him and force him to tell her where they’d taken Isabella.
“Didn’t Rosa call the cottage the house of angels?” Matt asked.
In Spanish, Aubrey asked, “Donde está la chica?” Where is the girl?
“La tienen,” he said, and coughed spittle and blood. His head fell back, and his eyes closed.
Aubrey’s heart leaped. This guy couldn’t die. Not until he told them where they could find the child. “Donde?” She grabbed his shoulders and shook the man. “Donde está la chica?”
The emergency medical technicians arrived at her side and set their tool kits and the backboard on the ground.
Matt wrapped his hands around Aubrey’s shoulders. “Let the EMTs do their job. Maybe they can save him or revive him long enough to answer a few questions.”
Aubrey struggled to break free of his grip. “He has to know where they took the girl. He has to know.”
“He’s not going to tell you as long as he’s unconscious,” Matt said. “Let the techs do what they can to keep him alive.”
Aubrey let Matt draw her to her feet. She was shaking, not from shock or fear, but from rage. “The bastard doesn’t deserve to live. But he better not die before we get the information we need out of him.”
The EMTs worked over the man, applying pressure to his wound and attempting to stabilize him before transport to a medical facility.
Matt stood with Aubrey, watching them load him into the ambulance and drive away.
Sheriff Richards turned back to the cottage. “I’m sorry about the house,” he said. “If I had any clue they’d attack you, I’d have sent a unit by to camp out in your driveway. “You two are okay? No injuries?”
“I’m fine.” Matt looked Aubrey over from head to toe. “Are you?”
Her gaze on the disappearing ambulance, Aubrey nodded. “As well as to be expected after having the house I live in destroyed.” Her brow furrowed and she faced Matt. “I’m so sorry. This was your home. The house your mother lived in. They destroyed it.”
Matt took her hands in his. “Nothing a few new windows, boards and paint won’t fix.”
Aubrey glanced at the many bullet holes in the siding and snorted. “You’re kidding, right? It’ll take a lot more than that to set this house to rights.”
He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her hair. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”
Aubrey let the tension ease out of her. When Matt wrapped his arms around her, she believed everything would be all right. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt. You took some chances.”
“None I wasn’t fully aware of,” he assured her.
The sheriff walked toward the house. “Can you think of a reason why they’d call your mother’s cottage the house of angels?”
Matt loosened his hold on Aubrey and shrugged. “My mother was a good person, but she wasn’t a saint. And she’s been gone for four years. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I know someone who might.”
“You do?” Aubrey asked. “Who?”
“One of my used parts suppliers. Juan Salazar. He knows everyone in the county.” Matt grinned. “Maybe even everyone in South Texas. The man gets around and salvages parts from junkyards and sells them to me. When I have a customer who can’t afford the price of new parts, he finds the part and brings it to me at a discounted price.”
“I know the guy,” the sheriff said. “Do you want me to bring him in for questioning?”
Matt shook his head. “No. He might get skittish. I’m not quite certain of his immigration status. He might only talk to me since we’ve done business together.”
The sheriff nodded. “If you need backup, let me know.”
“Will do,” Matt said.
“In the meantime, Ms. Blanchard—” the sheriff frowned “—do you have a place to stay?”
Aubrey stared at the house, her heart mourning it. “This place gave me a new start. I hate to abandon it.”
Matt was already shaking his head. “Ms. Blanchard will be staying out at the Whiskey Gulch Ranch until further notice.” He held up a hand when Aubrey opened her mouth to protest. “No argument. I can’t leave you here, and you can’t stay with anyone else. The ranch has security set up and enough armed men to provide you the protection you need.”
The sheriff nodded. “That Travis boy—and you, Hennessey—are prior military. They know what to do.”
“And if you try to stay anywhere else, you put those places at risk. They tried to get to you once,” Matt said. “They will likely try again. Now they’ll want me as well, since I shot one of their own. Best to keep the targets under one roof.”
He had a good point.
Another glance at the cottage helped Aubrey make up her mind. “Okay. I’ll go to the ranch. But I want to be there when you talk to Mr. Salazar.”
Matt frowned. “He might not talk to me if he thinks we’re ganging up on him.”
“He might not object if you tell him she’s your girlfriend,” the sheriff said.
Aubrey’s heart fluttered. Matt’s girlfriend.
Sheriff Richards frowned. “Unless you have a girlfriend he already knows about.”
Matt’s gaze met Aubrey’s. “I don’t have a girlfriend. He might open up if I tell him Aubrey’s my girlfriend. But he wouldn’t be as forthcoming with information if the sheriff’s department comes with me.”
The sheriff held up his hands. “I’ll leave it to you. When do you think you can get hold of him?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s bringing me a part today. I’ll just ask him to come earlier. It’s five o’clock now.” He pulled out his phone and keyed in a text and waited. The cell phone chimed. Matt looked up. “He’ll be by around seven.”
“Good,” Aubrey said.
“Do you want to go out to the ranch until then?” Matt asked. “You could clean up after the disaster they made of the cottage.” He plucked a dust ball out of her hair. “Not that you look bad or anything.”
Aubrey touched a hand to her hair. She probably looked awful. But how she looked didn’t matter as much as a little girl being held captive or sold into the sex trade. “No. I don’t want to go too far. We could get breakfast at the diner. They open early. Then we can meet Salazar at your shop at seven.” Aubrey’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think those men will shoot up the diner between now and then, do you?”
“My deputies congregate around the diner between five and seven, before shift change and after.” Sheriff Richards patted his belly. “There will be uniforms and service vehicles around the place. I’d grab a bite myself, but my wife has me on a strict diet since my blood pressure is up.”
“Breakfast sounds good. Maybe some of the locals will know more about the house of angels.” Matt nodded toward the house. “Want to grab some of your things before we go? Then we won’t have to come back later. We can go straight to the ranch.”
Aubrey nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Need help?”
“No. I’ll be okay.” Aubrey forced a smile, squared her shoulders and walked back into the house. She flipped the switch on the wall, illuminating the damage, and her heart sank into the pit of her belly. All of Lynn Hennessey’s beautiful antique furniture lay in shambles.
Just when she’d thought she was well on her way to establishing herself in her new life, Aubrey was back to square one. In need of a place to call home. That overwhelming feeling of hopelessness washed over her.
Starting over was so hard. Tears welled in her eyes. And there was a little girl out there in a worse place than she was. How was she going to
find her and bring her to safety?
Hands came up to rest on her shoulders. “They’re just things,” Matt said. “Things can be replaced.”
“I know. But they were your mother’s things. And your mother is gone.”
“She’s gone, but my memories of her are very much alive and a part of me.” He turned her around and pulled her into his arms. “The important thing to remember now is that you’re alive.” His gaze left her face and scanned the room, his lips firming. “If you look around you, you’ll realize how easily this could have ended much worse.”
She nodded, her gaze following his, her heart fluttering. “You’re right. This could have ended differently. Aubrey squared her shoulders. “I have to believe we survived this for a reason.”
“And that reason is a little girl who needs our help.” Matt brushed the hair back from her forehead. “Come on, let’s get you packed.”
“How much should I bring?” she asked.
“How much do you have?”
“Not a whole lot.”
“Then let’s pack it all. Until the windows are replaced or boarded, anyone could walk in and take what they want.”
Aubrey frowned. “Should we stick around and board the windows?”
“I’m not worried about it. We have to find Isabella. We can take care of the house after we find her.”
Aubrey nodded. “It won’t take long.”
“Let me help.” He followed her into his mother’s bedroom. “Where do you keep your suitcases?”
“In the back of the closet,” she said.
Matt opened the closet door, pulled out the suitcases she’d stored there and opened them on the bed. “Do you want me to pack the hanging clothes?”
Aubrey hesitated for a moment. The thought of Matt’s hands on her clothes sent a ripple of awareness through her. She drew in a deep breath and tried to relax. They were just clothes. “Yes. Please.” She’d liked the way it felt when he’d touched her arms or put his arm around her waist or shoulders. He was solid and safe. But more than that, he was so male and sexy.
Aubrey focused on emptying the dresser, one drawer at a time, hurrying to hide the lace panties she’d bought after her divorce as a subversive act of rebellion. Her ex would never see her in those panties. She tucked them beneath some T-shirts while casting a surreptitious glance toward Matt, wondering what his reaction would be if he saw her wearing the lacy panties.
