by Becky McGraw
Chapter Twenty
The counter lady at the deli finally slid the brown paper bag back across the counter to Zack, and he snatched it up with a growl. “Y’all have to kill the chicken for my sandwich?”
“Took a bit to cut that thick crust off,” she replied with a shrug. “You order special during lunch rush, and it takes a while.”
“Thank you,” Zack said, slapping a twenty-dollar bill down on the counter. Without waiting for change, he stalked to the door. Lunch rush was one thing, but waiting an hour to get a fucking sandwich made was another, he thought, as he flung open the car door, got inside and cranked the rental car then pushed buttons to have the GPS guide him back to the hotel.
Why he had this damned feeling of tightness in his chest that started as soon as he pulled out of the parking lot of the hotel, Zack didn’t know. But he needed to get back there, and Heather was probably worried about him anyway. He’d been gone almost two hours now, and they had work to do. That list was not going to call itself, and Heather was slow because she was scared. Regardless of what Randall said, Zack might take over and help her with the calling after they ate. They needed to make progress soon, because he needed to get back home, get stock contracts for next season lined up—and deal with his fence problem.
Austin was frustrated, said the back fencing needed to be fixed soon, or he was going to have to move on. He was put out with having to get up in the middle of the night, or leave his second job as a volunteer firefighter-medic to chase bulls on the neighbor’s property. Well, when he got home Zack was going to tell Austin chasing those bulls, taking care of them for him, was his first job, should be his priority. If that couldn’t be his first concern, no matter how good he was with the herd, he was going to have to become a full-time fireman, because Zack didn’t need him or his damned bitching about doing his job. Even though Austin had saved his life at the rodeo the night that thug cut him, Zack wasn’t putting up with it.
Yeah, it was really strange, but when he arrived, Zack recognized his new ranch hand right away as the medic who had treated him in that back parking lot at the rodeo, saved his life. Zack was glad for the opportunity to finally thank him. Maybe he’d gone overboard, and that’s why his ranch hand felt so comfortable bitching to him, thought nothing of letting his second job interfere with managing the herd.
It wasn’t all Austin’s fault though, Zack knew that putting up the final strand of electric fence at the back of the south pasture would solve the problem. It was the only strand they hadn’t gotten up before the herd was delivered. Whether he could afford it or not, Zack needed to face the fact that he was just going to have to bite the bullet and pay to have someone finish it, because he wasn’t about to try it himself. He had taken the doctor’s words seriously the last time. The last thing he needed was to lose mobility in his arm permanently. He’d even brought the ball and a weight with him on this trip to do his exercises. Heather made sure he’d packed it. And he hated to admit it, but his arm was getting a lot better.
I love y—your determination. He’d been thinking about that since she said it, the way she said it and her damned eyes. Those gorgeous cat eyes said I love you, even though her words were different. Or he thought they did. Fuck, he didn’t know that for sure. It could be wishful thinking on his part. If Heather would just say the damned words, he could tell her how he felt. Because he wasn’t going there until she did. No—he wasn’t going there even if she did, until this was over. They needed their focus right now. Something very special was going on between them, but now was not the time to muddy the waters with that. When he told her how he felt, it would be the right time, and she would be focused on him. Not saving her ass.
Zack pulled into the parking lot at the hotel thirty minutes later and found Tulsa cop cars everywhere. His heart skidded to a stop as he swung the rental car into a parking spot. The ambulance parked under the canopy near the front door kept it flatlined, as he left the sandwiches to open the car door and sprint toward the front door of the hotel.
Something was wrong with Heather, he could feel it. God, please let her be okay.
He shoved spectators aside, to push through the glass doors then his eyes quickly scanned the packed lobby for Heather. He didn’t see her, so with an ounce of relief, he went to the elevator. He didn’t wait for the car that seemed to be stuck on the fourth floor, he ran to the stairs and pushed through the metal door. Taking two steps at a time he ran up the four flights then stopped on the landing to catch his breath, get his clawing fear under control.
Zack didn’t want to be freaked out when he saw her, because that would freak her out. This could be nothing more than a safety drill, but deep down in his gut he knew it wasn’t. On a final deep breath, Zack shoved the metal bar on the door and walked into the hallway. Toward the end of the hall, very close to their room, two cops stood in the hallway talking. He couldn’t see their door as he casually strode toward them, but when he did, it was standing wide open, and he knew. This wasn’t a drill, and they were here because something had happened with Heather. And he was as sorry as he’d ever been in his life. He should never have left her, not even for a minute. His stomach lurched, his heart pounded in his ears, and fear like he’d never known before flowed through his veins. Kicking his stride up to a jog, then a full run, Zack zoned in on that door.
“Hold up, buddy,” one of the officers growled, grabbing Zack’s arm as he tried to go into the room. The other cop took his right arm, jerked it up behind his back and Zack moaned as pain sliced through him, almost bringing him to his knees.
“My fucking arm is hurt, let me go!” he shouted, but they didn’t let him go.
“What’s your business here?” the first officer growled, pulling him back upright.
“Heather Morrison is my business—that room is mine.” And so is she! Zack gritted his teeth against the frustration, and the fear that was as intense as the white hot pain in his bicep. “Let my fuc—arm go, and I’ll show you my license, please!”
The first cop, the one who didn’t have his arm up behind his back, turned him loose to pat the pockets of his jeans. His fingers dipped into Zack’s back pocket, and he felt his wallet slide out. The cop flipped it open under Zack’s nose, studied his license, then flipped it shut. Zack saw him nod at the other cop whose grip eased then his arm was lowered to his side. Zack rubbed it for a second, then grabbed his wallet back and shoved it into his pocket.
“Where’s Heather?” Zack asked gruffly.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We were called on a disturbance, and the room was vacant when we got here,” the first officer informed. “We’re not sure if she was kidnapped, or if she left on her own. The hotel manager is pulling the security camera footage.”
Fear and adrenaline made a toxic stew in Zack’s blood, his knees tried to buckle, but the cop grabbed his arm to hold him up. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. We need to find that footage, and find her. She could be in danger,” Zack said shortly. “There’s some stuff going on.”
“What kind of stuff?” the cop asked, his eyebrows slamming down over his intense stare.
Zack considered his options, quickly decided that it would be unsafe and stupid for him to tell this man what Heather was involved in. Jack Thomas was a cop, and any of these men could be his friends. That could put her in more danger. He needed to find out what happened here, so he went on the offensive, instead of answering. “What happened exactly?” he asked calmly.
“You answer my question, and I’ll answer yours,” the cop replied shortly.
Chess. A game Zack had never been good at. But Heather’s life could depend on him finding her. “Family issues. She’s having some trouble with her stepfather.”
The cop’s eyes sparked with interest. “We were called because someone was trying to break into this room. A woman was inside, and a man was trying to force his way in. Think it’s a possibility it may have been her stepfather?”
&nbs
p; More than that, it was the only possibility. “Yes, I do. And if she’s gone because he took her, she could be in very grave danger, so we need to find her fast.”
“I’m on my way down,” the officer said into the mic on his shoulder. “Come with me,” he said walking toward the elevator, and Zack followed. Downstairs, he led Zack to a door on the side of the reservation counter and knocked. It was opened by a very large man, six-foot-four at least. The guy’s dark eyes met Zack’s and narrowed, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled as he brushed past him into the room where three other policemen sat at a computer reviewing grainy film footage.
“This is totally strange—there’s two weeks of footage, but that fifteen minutes is black,” the cop manning the keyboard in front of the computer said with frustration. He clicked the mouse, and the footage reversed swiftly.
Another guy in a suit leaned over his shoulder to watch the video again with him. “The parking lot is clear too—it’s like she vanished.”
“I’m telling you she’s on the run again—nothing happened. Haley is very good at fabricating lies to cover herself, and she’s a runner. We need to find her so she can be put in jail until her trial,” a very deep voice boomed from behind him, and Zack spun. It was the big guy, and Zack knew right then he was looking into that flat, black snake eyes of Jack Thomas.
It was confirmed when the cop in the suit, obviously a detective, turned to look at Jack with a frown. “Jack what the hell are you doing here? I told you a witness across the hall verified there was a disturbance. She didn’t see the guy’s face, because he had a scarf over his face and wore a cap, but she heard the yelling, saw him putting his shoulder into the door. This isn’t your beat, man—just go back to juvie and let us do our thing.”
“It’s not my beat, but that bit—girl put a knife in my side, so I’d say I have something to be concerned over. She’s on the loose, and could show up on my doorstep. I also want to see her get what’s coming to her.”
Zack couldn’t breathe he was so mad, but he knew if he put his fist into this bastard’s smug face like he wanted to, he’d end up in jail and Jack Thomas would win. Heather would be at his mercy then.
She must’ve been fucking terrified when this man showed up at the hotel room door, terrorized when he tried to rape her at fifteen. But she’d stood up to this Goliath, stabbed him, and kept him from finding her for twelve years. The fact that he was standing here right now meant that he didn’t have her, she’d thwarted the bastard again. That was the only thing that kept him from going with his urge to kill Jack Thomas. Heather was somewhere close, hiding from this man, and Zack needed to get out of here and find her.
Calmly, he turned toward the men at the computer. “I have some things to do, but I’d like to give you my cell number. I’d appreciate it if you called me if you find out anything.”
“Don’t forget you need to talk to Terrance, before you leave,” the cop who escorted him into the room said, putting his hand on Zack’s arm. “I think he needs to know about the trouble she’s had with her stepfather,” he added, and the low-pitched growl Zack heard behind him froze his heart in his chest.
He peeled the officer’s fingers from his arm, and stepped around him. “I’m leaving, because I have things to do, and can’t wait around. If he’s interested in talking to me, I can give you my phone number—outside.” Zack needed to get out of this room, because the walls felt like they were closing in on him, and so was the explosive anger he had on a very short leash. Shoving Jack Thomas aside with his shoulder he reached for the doorknob, but Jack’s beefy hand closed around Zack’s left arm.
Oh, please you son-of-a-bitch, hit me. Zack said the words with his eyes, as he grabbed the knob and waited. He held Jack Thomas’s angry gaze, also telling the man he wanted a piece of him worse than he’d ever wanted to fight anyone in his life. He might be big, but evidently he only picked on defenseless girls, because his hand dropped from Zack’s arm.
And wasn’t that too damned bad?
“Fucking coward,” Zack mumbled under his breath, as he twisted the knob and opened the door. He breathed again once he was in the lobby, but his chest didn’t loosen until he pushed through the front door. He’d not only left the sandwiches in the car a while ago, he’d left his fucking cell phone. He hoped like hell Heather had taken hers with her, and she’d called.
When he reached the car, Zack got behind the wheel, but as he cranked the car his eyes drifted up to a light pole across the street. From his vantage point, it looked like that camera was aimed directly at the parking lot. Unless Jack Thomas had a room key, he could only have gone in the front entrance of the hotel. That meant the camera would have gotten him going inside the hotel, probably recorded him pulling into the parking lot. If that video had a time on it, like the one the officers inside were looking at, then that bastard was busted.
Maybe he would talk to Terrance right now. Alone. Zack got back out of the car, and slammed the door as he headed back inside.
***
Heather was more afraid than she’d ever been in her life, even when Jack tried to rape her. The full circle that her life had taken was sickening she thought, as she squeezed her body as tight as she could up against the girder under the eleventh street bridge. The sickening smell of stale urine nauseated her, and she shivered. The swingy floral skirt, and tank top she had on definitely weren’t suited to hiding out under a Tulsa bridge in early Spring.
Tonight, she’d freeze her ass off. But at least she hadn’t slid the high heels back on—the fuzzy slippers were at least warmer, and better suited for a fast getaway if needed. Maybe once it was dark, she could mix with the others and trade the skirt and tank top with one of the women for something warmer. It would make a good outfit for turning tricks with a few slices. Another shiver racked her. No, she better keep them, because in a few days when she got to starving, she might need to turn a trick herself. The sharp sides of the cell phone dug into her palm. Maybe she could trade the phone for a coat, but it would be unlikely.
These people had nobody to call to help them. And she might not have anyone either. She’d already called Zack a few times, left messages, but he hadn’t called back. Maybe Jack had got to him, she thought, and acid balled up in her stomach, then pushed a fireball up to her throat. Her stepfather could be very convincing. Maybe he’d convinced Zack she was not worth his time. With what she knew he thought about her already, it was a possibility.
Worrying about what Zack Taylor thought about her right now was moronic. She needed to worry about surviving again, because she had no idea if or when he might show up. He might not even care now, if Jack had gotten to him. But that small ray of hope that he’d planted in her heart refused to be dimmed. We’re on that ledge together, sweet thing. You’re not alone now.
For the moment she was alone, and she needed a distraction to keep herself from forgetting those words, refuting them because she was scared, and worrying that Zack wouldn’t find her. Her phone had a full charge right now, she’d make more calls from the list to occupy herself before it died. She opened the folder in her lap, squinted to see the first unchecked name on the list and dialed. She kept dialing, worked her way through five more no answers, then she was surprised when a soft-voiced girl answered the phone.
Heather’s voice froze in her throat, as her mind searched for what she was supposed to say to this girl. “Um, this is Detective Munson’s assis—sistant, Mar—Mary,” she said through chattering teeth. It was getting dark now, and she was right, much colder now under the bridge.
“Detective Munson?” the girl repeated, her voice trembling. “Am I in trouble again?”
“No—no!” Heather croaked, trying to control the shaking in her body by thinking of herself in a summery field of flowers with Zack after all this was over. She sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out. “We’re doing a follow up on your experience with your probation officer, Jack Thomas…kind of a quality control check.”
“I d
on’t want to talk about him,” the girl said, the fear in her tone a living thing. Heather knew that same fear, and recognized it. “I finished my probation, so I don’t know why you’re calling me.” The phone when dead, and Heather’s heart raced, as she redialed the number with her numb finger. It rang and rang, but the girl didn’t answer again. A beep sounded in her ear, and Heather jumped, recognizing it as the signal for an incoming call. Pulling the phone away from her ear, she quickly answered thinking maybe the girl was trying to call her back.
“Where are you, angel?” Zack asked, his voice low and desperate.
Heather opened her mouth, but stopped. “Who are you with?” she asked quickly. Zack could be with them, and if that was the case she wasn’t about to tell him where she was. That’s the exact reason she hadn’t said where she was when she left messages on his phone. They could have taken it from him. Just like they could be making him call her right now.
Her phone made another, higher-pitched sound and she pulled it away from her ear to glance at it. Low battery. She put the phone back to her ear. “My phone’s about to die.”
“Just tell me where you are, sweet thing. Hurry!” Zack growled, and she could tell he was on the move, because he was breathing hard.
Heather chewed the inside of her cheek. The warning beeped again, and her heart sped up as fear clawed at her insides. What should she do? Should she trust him? That he wouldn’t call her, ask for her location, if they were with him? The old Heather wouldn’t have trusted anyone, but that had changed. I won’t ever let him—let anyone—hurt you again, I promise. I’d die first, baby, and I proved that to you outside the arena. And that was the truth.
“Under the bridge on Eleventh—” she started, but the phone went dead. Heather wasn’t sure if he even heard her, but prayed he had as she closed the folder, curled up tighter and waited to find out. Hurry, Zack, I’m scared.
