One-Eyed Jack (The Deuces Wild Series Book 3)

by Irish Winters

  With all the pharmaceutical ads swamping television these days, how could she not know? “You’re too young to have low testosterone, Bob.” Maybe using his name would create a link and earn her a moment of compassion. It could work. “How long had you been feeling that way?”

  “Guess I was born that way.” He grunted and tilted forward, cupping his kneecaps, but still not looking at her. “Must’ve inherited it from my old man.”

  “So your doctor gave you something to help, didn’t he?” Roxy hoped.

  “Yeah, but I hate taking pills, so…” So you know better than a physician and here we are today. “See, here’s the thing. I had plenty of suspicions before that boy in there ever came along.” His head jerked in the direction of the trailer.

  Good, good, good! Darrin’s still alive. Roxy kept her eyes forward as her mind raced for a way to help the kids her heart had already claimed.

  “Don’t take a genius to see that bastard isn’t mine, but the day he was born, she swore he was. ’Course, she swore the girl was mine, too.”

  What? The girl? Kitty’s not yours? Roxy hadn’t seen that coming. Surprise must’ve registered in her eyes, because Bob’s far off expression arrowed back to Roxy. “You didn’t know, did you?”

  “Kitty isn’t your daughter? B-b-ut…” How crazy is that? “She looks just like you.”

  “No. No, she doesn’t. That little mini-Candy in there doesn’t look a thing like me, not if you look close. But she is the spittin’ image of my old man.”

  Chester? Your father? Holy hell and damn, damn—damn! That’s the connection I’ve been missing. Garrett Randall isn’t the only one after Candace. He might want her for the five mil, but Bob wants her dead, and where the hell has Chester Bratton been this week? Does he want her dead, too? Doesn’t anyone like her?

  But what a kick in the gut that betrayal had to have been for Bob. No wonder he was depressed. Thinking fast, Roxy asked, “How can you be sure?”

  Genuine hurt shifted over Bob’s face, tightening his lips. “DNA, Officer Thurston. D. N. A. I came by one night when Candy was out, who knows where she was that time. But Kitty was glad to see me. She was just six, acting all grown up. That girl...”

  He stared at nothing for a moment, lost in the memory before he snapped out of it. “The boy wasn’t around. He might’ve been with Candy, but there my girl was, fixing dinner like a little mother, only she’d cut her finger chopping onions. She was bleeding. I was real careful to collect as much of her blood as I could. She thought I was being nice, but I wasn’t. Not really. By then I’d already caught Candy in enough lies. I knew she was using me. Fast as I could, I got out of that house, and I sent the blood off to a lab I’d heard does paternity tests.”

  ‘So you betrayed the girl you’d raised as your daughter to get back at your wife,’ Roxy thought. ‘You’re no better than Candace.’

  Bob kept talking. “It took a while. DNA tests don’t work fast like they do on all them television shows. No, I waited more than a year for the results, but the morning my bitch wife gave birth to another bastard, I already knew neither of my kids… Ha! My kids…” He tossed his head and snorted, his tone edged with anger. “Can’t believe I said that. Shit, almost sounds like I care, but I don’t. A man with no swimmers can’t make babies, not without a lot of medical help, and I’m pretty sure I’d remember that. But there I was, a fool already raising a bastard that wasn’t mine, and she wanted me to act like a proud father because she’d screwed around and got knocked up again? Uh-uh. I wasn’t having anymore of that shit.”

  “So you left the little girl who still loves you today, and who truly believes you’re her daddy—behind,” Roxy said softly.

  Bob had the grace to look embarrassed, but he asked, “Why should I stay? No man wants to raise another guy’s kid.”

  That’s where you’re wrong, Bob Bratton. A real man has no trouble loving a fatherless child. You could’ve been Kitty’s and Darrin’s hero. You could’ve been the one to buy Kitty that baseball cap and Darrin that glove, but noooooooooo. You made this all about you.

  Instead of voicing the snarky sentiment, Roxy commiserated to keep him talking. “I don’t blame you for leaving her, Bob, but do you want to know what she told Darrin when he was old enough to wonder why he has no dad?”

  Bob’s brows clashed into a slender V like maybe he’d never thought about what happened after he’d left, like maybe he still cared despite what he’d said. Roxy took that as a sign of hope. She tilted forward, but kept her voice pleading instead of letting her snark rule like it very much wanted to. No real man on the face of the Earth would’ve left a defenseless child behind, not with a woman he knew for certain was a neglectful, abusive liar. “Candy told that innocent little boy that his father, his Daddy—you, Bob—took one look at his ugly face the day he was born and couldn’t stand the sight of him. Candace told Darrin that was why you left and never came back, and that little boy’s been carrying that guilt for all of his life. He thinks he drove you away, that everything is his fault. She broke his heart, Bob. To this day, he thinks no one will ever love him.”

  “He is ugly! That bastard’s still hers, isn’t he?” Bob tilted backward, his eyes lit with an odd excitement. “Why the fuck should I care what she told him? Sounds like he asked for it. She shoulda told him to go jump off a bridge for all I care about the little prick.”

  And then Roxy knew. This conversation was over. She settled her back to the chair. “You stabbed Nugget.”

  Bob blinked as if he hadn’t expected that, and then shrugged. “You could say I learned a lot living with Candy. So, yeah, I lured the kid’s dog out of the snooty mansion you guys were hiding in, and once I taped the note to his collar, I stabbed him. Stupid mutt was easy to trick. Like you and your FBI friends.”

  She canted her head, needing to understand how she’d missed the clues.

  Like most criminals, Bob was proud of what he’d accomplished. He needed to brag. “It was easy. Garrett Randall’d already been hanging around Candy for months like flies on shit. He never knew I was always a half-block behind his sorry ass when she’d meet up with him at Mr. G’s. Sometimes she had the dog with her, but most times, she went alone. They were up to something, I could tell, so I watched. I waited. At first I didn’t know how I’d ever get back at her, but the day she hit the front page, the poor victim of an armed bank robbery…” He rubbed his palms together. “I knew I had her.”

  Bob leaned forward as if dying to share the secret Roxy had suspected from the start. “She and Randall planned the bank robbery, Officer Thurston, and I’ve got proof. He’s the one who bought her that stupid red coat for Valentine’s Day, the shithead.”

  Roxy sucked in a calculated breath. Talk about shitheads. Bob still loved Candy. That’s what this was really all about.

  “So yeah.” Bob thumbed his chest. “I took plenty of pictures every time they got together. Then I got hold of a good set of his fingerprints. Figured I could at least make sure he went to jail. Her too, if I could.”

  That explained Randall’s prints on the note Harley’d found on Nugget’s collar.

  “You sent the ‘I can get to you anywhere, anytime’ message?”

  A proud smile curled Bob’s lips. “Yeah, that was me. See, Candy and Randall trained that dog to obey his command, so I figured, if they could train him, I could, too. The mutt was easy. All you’ve got to do is give him a treat. He learned real quick to come to a dog whistle. I hadn’t decided what I wanted him to take home yet, though. A pipe bomb or dynamite would’ve been good, but then you guys showed. Almost thought I’d never get my revenge, but Lady Luck smiled on me the day Randall led me straight to Embassy Row, and” —Bob lifted both shoulders— “there you were.”

  “But you called me Doll Face, the same name that was on the note.”

  He cocked his head at her and huffed. “So?”

  “So that’s what Garrett called Candy in the bank. You couldn�
�t have gotten close enough to them to have heard that.”

  A sinister smirk twisted his mouth. “She likes being called Doll Face, huh? The bitch. That was my pet name for her when we first married because… because…”

  “You still love her.”

  “No!” he bellowed. “She’s the biggest mistake of my life! I don’t! Not anymore.”

  Bet me. Roxy lowered her head and closed her eyes, sucking in a lungful of forest air to keep her cool. She hadn’t meant to piss Bob off, but wow. Candace Bratton had ruined everyone’s lives.

  But Roxy needed the details before the opportunity was gone. She swallowed hard and bought a few more seconds for the kids. “It still doesn’t make sense, Bob. Randall slapped her in the bank. He wanted to know where the real money was and she cried when he hurt her. It didn’t look phony to me.”

  Bob huffed through his nose. His nostrils flared. “They had to make it look good, Thurston, especially once you and that FBI agent showed. They knew someone from MPD would show, but the minute the Feds rolled on scene, Randall and Candy had what they’d come for, publicity to smoke my old man out of hiding. It was never about robbing the bank, only that fifteen seconds of fame and limelight and… you gave Candy and Randall exactly what he wanted. Air time.”

  “Hurting Candy’s kids will only get you shot on sight,” Roxy told him as calmly as she knew how. Still, it needed to be said. “They’re just little kids. They haven’t hurt anyone.”

  “They’re her kids,” he roared, slapping his palms on his kneecaps again. “And they’re my dad’s kids and that rat bastard up in Boston’s kids. Don’t you get it? They don’t mean nothing to me.”

  Roxy shook her head, determined to get through to him. “I don’t believe that. You’re hurt and you’re angry, that I understand, but Candy doesn’t love them any more than she loves you. You’re better than she is, Bob. Please, think about what you’re doing. Think about those two children. It sounds like they need a break as badly as you do.”

  What little light she’d seen in his eyes faded to darkness. “Trust me, Officer Thurston. All I’ve done is think about what I need to do. First thing in the morning, the whole world will find out what she’s done. Then…” He shrugged as if that was as far as his plan went.

  “You don’t want to hurt innocent children, I know you don’t.” Roxy’d seen the gasoline cans. “You’re better than Candace. Kitty and Darrin are good kids.”

  “No, they’re not. They’re just like her. No one wants them.”

  “I do!” flew out of Roxy’s mouth in a rush. “I want them, Bob. I do! Let me loose and you’ll never see any of us again!”

  Bob huffed at her. “And that’s why you’re here, Officer Thurston. You actually care about people, and I need a witness. Now shut the fuck up.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Growling with frustration, Roxy bucked against the wood that held her fast, wishing with all her heart she could get at Bob Bratton and rip his throat out before he hurt Kitty and Darrin. He’d already tied the kids back-to-back, then wrapped long ropes around them, binding them together on two wooden chairs. The branches he’d gathered earlier lay stacked against their feet.

  Roxy could scarcely catch a full breath at what would surely happen next. The camera he’d been looking for? The dumbass had set it inside the truck bed at some point during the night, and he’d lost track of it. But now it perched on a tripod at Roxy’s right. The bastard meant to film her reaction to two kids being burned alive. The moron wanted her to monologue! While children screamed and died! And there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it from happening!

  He was inside the trailer now, slamming things, and God, please let him have cut himself. Please let him bleed out before he hurts anyone else. Minutes flew by. More banging. More cursing. At last he ducked his head out the trailer door, his eyes wild. “You seen my lighter?”

  Like she’d tell him if she had?

  “I asked you a question?” he growled.

  “No, I haven’t seen your lighter,” she shot back at him. You heartless bastard!

  Back into the trailer he went.

  “Please, God,” Roxy prayed. “I’m out of time down here. Set me free. Help me save my kids. Please.”

  But no. Bob dropped out of the trailer with a shitty grin on his face and a long-stemmed butane lighter in his hand. “Found it,” he said as if reassuring her that he wasn’t losing his mind.

  Bet me.

  Tears flooded Roxy’s eyes as he approached, whistling. “Isn’t it maddening when you set something down, then can’t remember where you put it?”

  ‘Like your brain?’ she wanted to snark, but didn’t. Riling him now would only hasten the kids’ deaths, and damn it to hell! Roxy didn’t want to be his unwilling witness to what would be an excruciatingly painful way to die. She’d trained scores of kids in self-defense over the years, and she loved every last one of them. But these two had gotten into her heart from the start and that heart was breaking.

  “Please, Bob, don’t hurt them.” She begged because begging was all she had left. “I’ll do anything. I don’t have much, but I know things. I can… I can…”

  I can what? Sell out the people I work with? Betray Isaiah and his FBI friends? Go against everything Mama and Daddy taught me? If that’s what it takes to keep these kids alive—Yes!

  Bob crouched to his haunches between Roxy and the kids. With his back to her, he unscrewed the cap on the one-gallon jug of gasoline at his feet. For now, the lighter stuck up from his rear pocket. He looked to the right and left, then to the sky. The early morning purples had turned to brilliant golds and pinks that Roxy found no joy in.

  “Don’t do this,” she spat even as tears drenched her face and ran down her neck. “They’re kids! They never hurt you! God, let me go! I’ll take them far away, and you’ll never have to see them again!”

  Bob glanced over his shoulder. “Be quiet or you’ll wake them, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Not until—”

  “Fuck!” she hissed, bucking at her restraints, but going nowhere. “Will you shut up and listen to me!”

  Pushing up from the ground, he turned to face her, then pulled a remote from his front pants pocket, and aimed it at the camera. A red light flashed above the lens, and shit. This was really going to happen. Her heart stopped even as her stomach twisted in terror. Kitty and Darrin would wake up with their clothes and hair on fire. They’d die screaming and she’d go insane watching them die.

  “D-d-don’t,” she sobbed. “Bob, please don’t. I… I love them. Burn me instead. Please. Kill me, not them.”

  “See? That’s why I like you, Thurston. You’re absolutely perfect for this part. You’re compassionate, and you honestly care about those worthless brats. I’m starting to like you, but first…” The ass pushed to his feet and didn’t stop until he stood behind her. He had the nerve to pet the top of her head.

  Roxy’s heart thumped when he tugged her braid from between her and the chair back, then stretched it tight behind her. This could go so bad, but if it kept the kids alive, she’d play along. If he needed to prove to the world that he was a big man by raping her, she’d suffer through whatever violation he had in mind, just—Please God. Let the kids live.

  “You’re not bad looking for a cop, you know that?” Bob muttered, his voice gone thick with suggestion. “You’re perfect. I might have to keep you after all.”

  He loosened her braid. Tangle by tangle, the coils unraveled until she could barely stand his touch. Her skin crawled as, resigned to endure all he demanded of her until the bitter end, she dropped her chin to her chest and prayed for the same strength that had come to her the night she’d fought Mario. That nightmare alone had proved that miracles happened, and… God, I need one now.

  Running his fingers through her hair, Bob draped it over her shoulders like a cape. Suddenly warm, Roxy refused to look up at him when he walked around her and took hold of her chin.
With his other hand, his cold fingers traced her brow, then brushed several stray strands off her face. Roxy couldn’t help it. She shivered.

  “Relax. I don’t intend to kill you, Officer Thurston,” he murmured, his head cocked and his eyes searching hers for what, she didn’t care to know. “Wish I’d met you under different circumstances. We could’ve been friends, but don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

  He said that as if he’d done this before, but Roxy was beyond rational thought. Trembling at the awful promise in his words, she lunged forward, leading with her forehead and intent on breaking his nose. But DAMN! He’d ducked just in the nick of time. The deranged smile that stretched his lips turned him into the cold-blooded killer he was. “You can start screaming now,” he said as he lifted to his feet and took the lighter from his rear pocket.

  “Stop!” she ordered, her tears let loose and her heart in her throat. “Don’t hurt them, damn it!”

  Bob crouched to the dry branches with the lighter in his right hand. He’d barely extended the black, flexed spout on the nearest gas can when he glanced over his shoulder and said, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

  His hand came up. He flicked the lighter. Once. No flame sprang to life at his command. Twice. Still no flame. Then—a growling streak of pure gold roared past Roxy and knocked Bob Bratton on his ass. The lighter flew. Thank God!

  “Nugget!” she shrieked as the big dog morphed into a vicious lion, tearing and biting Bob’s shoulders and neck. Frantic to get into the fight, Roxy struggled to break out of the goddamned cuffs!

  Bob bellowed for someone to come save him, to get a gun and end Nugget, but Roxy screamed, “Kill him, Nugget! Rip his fuckin’ throat out!”

  Bob had curled into a fetal position and covered his face with both arms. His elbows stuck out. He kicked and squirmed, but Nugget gave no quarter. He kept tearing at Bob’s ears and fingers, jerking at Bob as if he’d made a righteous kill, which he had. What a sight!