by B. J Daniels
Now as she watched the cowboy, she saw the way he studied the IDs in the wallets as if he hadn’t known who the kidnappers were. Maybe he was telling the truth.
But then again, he could be working for the same person who’d hired the other men. That didn’t mean he’d known their names. He’d said that a friend of her grandfather’s had sent him. That was more believable than Franklin Davenport knowing a man like this one.
As she studied him, she tried to understand why this cowboy seemed more dangerous than the men who’d abducted her. Maybe because this one seemed to know exactly what he was doing, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d taken a gun away from a woman or belted someone to a tree. There was also something about the way he moved, stealth-like. A panther on the prowl. No wasted movement. And those gray eyes. She felt a shiver. He looked at her with a calculating gaze that seemed to bore into her very soul.
She had no doubt there was a reason this man had been sent to find her. He wasn’t like the others. He wouldn’t have been piloting a plane low on gas and lost in the mountains. This man would have found the runway and collected the second half of his pay.
The thought jolted her. And now he was going to take her off this mountain—one way or another. She’d already felt how strong he was. She was at his mercy. She swallowed at the thought of how easily he could overcome her—or worse, kill her. But apparently whoever had sent him didn’t want her dead. Didn’t want Geneva Davenport dead, she corrected. At least that was her hope.
But no matter what this man said, he wasn’t some innocent cowboy who just happened to live nearby. Not the way he’d handled her so far. The man had known exactly how to overpower her single-handedly, when it had taken three men and a drug to control her in the bedroom last night.
Her head throbbed, and she could feel the ache and burn of the cut on her leg. It had started to bleed again. She’d seen enough of the wound through the tear in her jeans to know it was a nasty cut that would require a tetanus shot. That was, if she ever got off this mountain alive.
She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes. She would not go down without a fight. But she had to wait for an opportunity to turn the tables on this cowboy. Meanwhile, she had little choice but to go along with him since she had no idea where she was or how to get out by herself.
The man was right about one thing. She needed him. Temporarily.
* * *
THORN STUDIED THE woman as he considered what he’d gotten involved in. Her big blue eyes were closed, her dark lashes lying against her pale skin. She had quit trying to escape. But that didn’t fool him for a minute. The woman was a fighter. He’d have to watch her closely.
He tried to tell himself that she’d been through a lot tonight, just like she’d said. She was certainly feisty, and not bad to look at even after being kidnapped and nearly dying in a plane crash. But he was sure she knew that, and used it and her grandfather’s position and wealth to her advantage. Still, maybe he needed to take a more gentle approach.
“You all right?” he asked, worried he’d gotten the belt too tight.
“My head hurts,” she said without opening her eyes. “I hit it when the plane crashed.”
“You don’t have a concussion.”
Those eyes, the color of a Montana summer sky, opened and shifted to him. “Thanks, Doc.”
He sighed and reached for the cantina in his pack. “I thought you might like some water.”
He held it to her lips, not sure she would drink, as stubborn as she was—and as suspicious. The water was cold, straight from the spring behind his cabin. To his surprise, she drank as if she’d been lost in the desert for weeks.
“Enough?”
She took a little more before she nodded. As he started to step away, he noticed that the cut on her leg was bleeding again.
“You’re bleeding.” She glared in answer. “I’m going to have a look at your leg. If you kick me, I will be forced to further restrain you.”
“And you’re one of the good guys?”
He crouched next to her and the tree. Pulling his knife from its scabbard, he carefully cut the jeans fabric open enough that he could see her injury better. The cut was jagged and fairly deep.
“You’re not just some cowboy who lives nearby,” she said, those blue eyes intent on him as he got to his feet. “So who are you?”
“Just a cowboy who lives nearby.”
“Right,” she said in disgust. “And you expect me to trust you?” she said under her breath, and she looked away from him.
He felt the two phones he’d taken from her weighing down his jacket pocket. “By the way, which of these phones is yours?”
“Worried about the tracking device leading someone else to us? I’ve never seen either of those phones before.”
“Where is your phone, then?” he asked.
She shrugged, making him suspect she was lying. “I assume the man who took off has the phone or it was destroyed when the plane blew up.”
He studied her. She was lying about something. Her phone? Or something even more dangerous? “I’m going to have to go get my first aid kit.”
“You aren’t going to leave me like this,” she cried, straining against the belt around her.
“My first aid kit is with my horse just over the rise. Stay here.”
“Funny,” she said as he walked away.
He hadn’t heard his horse whinny, and now worried that the missing kidnapper might have found both horses and his mule. But as soon as he topped the rise, he saw with relief that all three were where he’d tied them. As he led the trio back to where he’d left the woman, the sun topped the trees, a golden orb against a cloudless summer day.
He couldn’t help but wish he were down at his cabin right now instead of dealing with this...problem.
Back at the wreckage, he removed the first aid kit from his saddlebag. “This is going to hurt,” he said as he opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol and met her blue eyes for a moment before she closed them tight again.
He poured the alcohol over her wound and saw her shudder. She bit down on her lower lip, but she made no sound. She was much tougher than he’d expected, he thought as he bandaged her leg. The cut was deep but shouldn’t need stitches, so the bandage would do for now. They would have to change it often to keep it clean, but they had to get moving.
She was right about one thing. The kidnapper could come back. But it was more likely that it would be someone looking for the plane—and Geneva. Most planes had tracking devices on them. Since this one hadn’t gotten wherever it was headed, there was definitely someone looking for it. Without Geneva, the kidnappers had no leverage, and he was betting that whoever was behind this hadn’t been on the plane.
He rose to his feet and considered the charred remains of the fuselage for a moment. This was a simple kidnapping, right? He hated going into any situation without all the information available, but especially something this high up the ladder since Franklin Davenport was a powerful man. If it had been anyone but the judge who’d asked him to get involved...
He turned to the woman. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“It looks pretty simple. You can do it, right?”
He smiled at her sarcasm. “We need to get a few things straight before I let you loose. I didn’t want to come back into these mountains after you. So I’m in no mood to put up with any more of you fighting me. I will get you out of here alive, and after that, you’re your grandfather’s problem.”
She said nothing, her blue eyes hot as a welding torch flame.
* * *
JJ WATCHED HIM go to his saddlebags, her heart dropping as he pulled out a length of rope. “You are not going to tie me up.”
He didn’t bother to glance at her. “You’ve given me no choice.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. An even colder chill tiptoed up he
r spine. “You didn’t come to save me. You’re making me your prisoner. You’re one of them.”
He didn’t answer as he came toward her.
She pulled at the belt that had her bound to the tree, but the effort was wasted.
When he reached her, he grabbed her right hand before she could swing at him again, then he corralled her left. Holding her wrists in a viselike grip, he bound them together with the rope quickly and again, with obvious practice.
She was angry and scared, but she gave up fighting even though it was second nature to her. She had to be smart, save her energy, bide her time. She told herself that if he wanted her dead, she’d already be killed. That meant they would be riding out of here together. Why else would he have brought two horses and a mule?
Still, she didn’t trust him. He’d known she’d survived the crash. He’d said Geneva’s cell phone had a tracking device on it. Nothing like Find My Phone. It would have to be something more sophisticated. Which made her wonder who’d put the device on the phone. Geneva must have known her grandfather had been tracking her via her phone. Why else leave it in her bedroom, where the kidnappers had found it?
She assumed the men had kidnapped the woman they thought was the granddaughter of media mogul Franklin Davenport for money. That was the obvious motive. Unless there was more to it, she thought. Not that it mattered. She was neck-deep in this, and right now she didn’t see any way out until she got free of this cowboy.
* * *
ALL THE FIGHT seemed to have gone out of her as Thorn finished securing her wrists. But he didn’t trust it, fearing this tactic was more like the calm before a storm. He thought about the judge and his powerful friend. Neither was going to like the measures he’d had to take to subdue this woman.
“I’m going to remove the belt, but if you give me any trouble, I will hog-tie you and throw you over the mule I brought. Your choice—ride out in the saddle or tied to a mule like a sack of potatoes. I’m good either way.”
“You skipped charm school, right?”
He smiled. “In my business, it’s not a requirement.”
“And what business is that?” she asked.
He shook his head as he pulled the belt free, expecting her to run or attack. To his surprise, she did neither as he helped her over to her horse. He figured she’d try to take off the moment she settled in the saddle, so he had a good hold on her reins.
He hoisted her up. True to form, the instant her perfectly rounded bottom touched the saddle, she gave the horse a good kick, making the mare jump forward. Still holding the reins with one hand, he jerked her off the horse with the other, and then picked her up off her feet by the front of the leather jacket she was wearing.
“You do that to my horse again and—”
“You’re choking me.”
“Nothing compared to what I’d like to do to you.” He held her in the air for a few moments longer, before he set her on the ground and gave her a shake. “If it was up to me...”
“Yes, we know what you would do if it was up to you. So do it,” she said defiantly.
He snorted. “You seem capable enough to get out of these mountains by yourself,” he said, considering her. She looked in good shape, and she definitely had the spirit and determination. “Somehow, I don’t think it would be the first time you’ve had to rescue yourself.” That alone surprised him. Then again, everything about this woman surprised him from the moment he first saw her holding a gun on him.
“There’s one problem I don’t think you’ve considered,” he said patiently. “The kidnappers. They need you. Which means they’re looking for you to make sure you don’t surface before they get their money.” He saw her eyes widen. “I thought you might have missed that part.” He looked into all that tempting blue, trying to gauge just how much more trouble she was going to be. More than he needed, that was for sure. “I will do my best to keep you safe until you are returned to your grandfather. Still want to take your chances alone with the kidnappers?”
“Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?” she said, her voice breaking. “You could be taking me straight to them.” It was the first time he’d seen a crack in her kick-butt veneer. Under all the attitude, he now saw that she was exhausted and possibly more frightened than even she wanted to admit.
He took off his Stetson and raked his hand through his hair, never taking his eyes from her or letting go of her. “I swear, you’re more obstinate than me, and that is saying a lot.” He cursed. “Look, you don’t have to trust me.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
He sighed. “So are you going out of here on a horse or on a mule?”
She looked away for a moment. He saw the stubborn set of her jaw. The damn woman would rather stay here alone than let him help her?
He waited her out, though he’d long ago lost patience with her. Whoever was behind this would be looking for the plane. He had to assume that they knew where it had gone down and would be coming soon. He could feel the clock ticking while she made up her mind.
When he was about ready to hog-tie her to the mule, she finally spoke. “You’re taking me to your cabin first?”
“To my cabin to pick up my truck, and then I’ll take you to your grandfather. You can call him from the cabin. There will be cell phone service. Ready?”
She nodded, and he helped her up on the horse. Taking the reins, he walked to his own. Swinging up in the saddle, he pulled her horse up next to his, the mule on a tether behind him.
They rode out the same way he’d come in. A thunderstorm was supposed to blow in later today. It would make tracking them harder, but not impossible.
It could lead whoever found the plane—or the missing kidnapper—right to his cabin.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE SUMMER DAY rose golden. Sunlight shimmered in the boughs of the pines, sending up the rich scent into the morning air as they rode down out of the mountains. Thorn watched the woman tip her face up to the sun and close her eyes. She looked good considering everything she’d been through. He’d seen the injection mark on her neck and assumed that’s how the men had gotten her from her house to the plane. He would have loved to hear her side of the story, but was determined to do only what was asked of him and wash his hands of her as quickly as possible before getting back to his simple, quiet life.
She was clearly trying to relax in the saddle and hide the fact that riding the horse terrified her. He could tell that she’d never ridden before. Every time the horse shuddered or stumbled, she jolted, hanging on to the saddle horn for dear life.
Thorn hid his smile, amused that he’d discovered the one thing the woman might truly be afraid of—a horse—after living through a much more harrowing experience.
The plane had gone down on the other side of the mountain from his cabin. The ride out, once they got past the rim of the cliffs at the high ridge, would be easy—if no one tried to stop them. He kept a lookout for the other kidnapper, though he doubted the man had come this way. There were no fresh boot tracks on the trail.
Thorn also figured they would have seen him by now if the man had circled back. They’d lost valuable time back at the crash site arguing. He’d wanted to ring the woman’s pretty slim neck. He told himself that of course she would be suspicious after everything that had happened to her.
But something kept nagging at him. He’d never heard of Geneva Davenport before today. She’d defied his expectations of the woman he thought he’d gone into the mountains to rescue. But what did he know of rich, pampered granddaughters of superwealthy men? Maybe they grew up to be exactly like this one. It wasn’t like he’d had much contact with the outside world the past few years.
He couldn’t even imagine growing up with too much money. He’d been the stereotypical kid who grew up with parents who drank, fought and moved from job to job, state to state, a lot. He could have turn
ed into a serial killer—he had the same family background as a lot of them, according to the judge.
Instead, he’d merely started acting out by drinking, lying and stealing cars.
He figured if he hadn’t gotten caught and ended up before Judge Landusky, he would be in prison right now.
He glanced over at JJ. What would she know about a life like that? Nothing.
By the time they reached the rock rim along the top of the mountain and rode under it, he was pretty sure they weren’t going to run into the missing kidnapper.
He reined in. From here they could see mountains for miles. No one would guess that there was a town right below them or a river that ran through the middle of it. He pulled out his cantina, took a drink and held it out to her.
She held up her tied wrists. “Can’t you—”
“No.”
She glared at him. “I have to go the bathroom.”
“Then I hope you aren’t modest because I’ll be tagging along with you.”
“I’ll hold it.”
“Your choice.” He put the cantina away and took some jerky from of his pack. He’d made it himself from this year’s elk. He offered her a piece, and to his surprise she accepted. They ate in companionable silence for a moment. He knew he shouldn’t, but still he had to ask. “Where were you when you were kidnapped?”
“In bed.”
“At your house?”
“Alone,” she said, and took a bite of the dried meat.
“There were three of them?”
She looked over at him as if she could tell he wanted to hear the details. He thought she would deny him that and was surprised when she didn’t. “I was sound asleep. Something woke me. I saw three masked men. The one I now know was Wesley Brennan covered my mouth with his gloved hand and held me down while the other two, Kyle Spencer and the man he called Baker, searched the room.”
