Rory was going to die. The horror of it was so big, so overwhelming, that she simply shut down all emotions.
A gun was pointed at Rory’s head. The hand holding the gun—a large hand—had a finger depressing the trigger slightly. A twitch and the gun would go off.
Rory was lying on the ground, a sparse grass patch that could be the terrain north of the ranch. Blood had soaked an entire side of his shirt, and he looked tired and dirty.
Nothing else was visible in the photo, which must have been taken within the last few hours, judging from the date and time stamp. Stephanie clung to the numbness, but she knew it wouldn’t last. No matter how hard she tried to hold on to it.
“What are we going to do?” she asked Johnny, because she didn’t have a clue what their next step should be.
“Rory got himself into this mess. One thing Carlos Diego won’t tolerate is a spy.” His frustration was clear in his voice and expression. “We don’t even know what Diego is after,” Johnny pointed out.
His words were like a dagger in her heart. She knew exactly what Carlos Diego wanted. And she knew where to find it, too. All she had to do was say so and then let Johnny do the job he’d been trained for. Let him take responsibility for whatever came down. Hadn’t she done enough? She’d shot her fiancé. Technically, her dead ex-fiancé, but nonetheless, he had a hole in his shoulder that she’d put there. Had she been a few inches lower or to the right, she would have killed him.
The thought was stunning.
Even if she hadn’t killed him, she’d wounded him so that he’d fallen into the hands of a ruthless killer, who would torture or kill him with no compunction.
“How long does Rory have?” she asked. There was always a limit to life in a predicament like this.
“By what I can tell, the wound isn’t life-threatening,” Johnny answered carefully.
“How long before Diego kills him if we don’t respond?”
Johnny paced the room. “Not long. Diego isn’t a patient man. But you have to understand, Stephanie, Carlos Diego isn’t going to let Rory live no matter what we do.”
“We have to try.” She tossed the photo onto the table, braced her elbows on her knees and leaned her face into her hands. “They wouldn’t have caught him if I hadn’t shot him. He would have gotten away.”
“Eventually, Diego would have captured him. Besides, that’s not even a point worth arguing. Rory betrayed you and he betrayed his country. I don’t think he’s our first priority.”
Stephanie slowly lifted her face. Johnny was angry…and hurt. This was a man she’d made love with only a few hours before. She’d let him into her bed—and her heart. What he couldn’t share, though, was her past. No matter what Rory had done, he’d once been someone she cherished. “I understand your point of view, Johnny. But Rory has to be my priority.”
She could see the hurt on Johnny’s face. She’d cut him deeply. But she couldn’t help it.
“Are you still in love with him?” Johnny asked.
She hadn’t even considered that possibility. What did she feel for Rory, other than an anger so bright and pure she thought she might actually go up in flames? But there was something there. Some vestige of emotion she couldn’t put her finger on or name. “I don’t think so. I’m confused.”
“But there is a possibility?” Johnny didn’t hide the anger in his own tone.
She rose to her feet in indignation. “My fiancé, the man I’d given my heart and future to, crashed his plane in a jungle. His body was never found, but I was told he was dead. I hadn’t adjusted to that bit of false information when I discovered that Rory Sussex was a figment of my imagination and the cowhand I hired is also not who he pretends to be.”
The longer she talked, the louder she got. “No, both my dead fiancé and the cowhand are spies, secret agents, figures out of some muy macho film. And then I shoot my dead ex-fiancé and he falls into the hands of a drug lord who also sells international information. Now he’s going to be tortured and killed. And I’m supposed to know how I feel about any of this?”
She whirled and stormed out of the room. At the doorway to the hall, she stopped. “I hate Rory and I hate you! I hate this situation and everything about it. The animals in my care are at risk because of you and Rory.”
She slammed the door to her bedroom as hard as she could.
JOHNNY FLIPPED THE PHOTO of Rory over. His interest was in the note on the back. “Give me what I want or Sussex will die slowly and painfully.”
As Johnny had thought before, Diego was direct and didn’t bother with subtlety. He’d kill Rory, and he’d do it in the most painful way, unless he got what he wanted. Then he’d kill him anyway, but maybe at least it would be a swift death.
Even if Johnny had been willing to barter for Rory’s life, he didn’t have what Carlos Diego wanted. He didn’t even know, for sure, what that might be.
He noticed Familiar snooping around the cabin. It was good that at least one member of the team was still on the job. Hell, the cat was the most effective agent he’d ever seen. Familiar had alerted him to the fact that Stephanie was in danger. He’d sensed the intruder and body-slammed the door until Johnny had gotten it open.
Yes, Familiar was keenly alert and sensitive.
He followed the cat into the bathroom and watched as the feline opened the bathroom cabinet and used his paw to move the scant items around. There was little in the cabinet besides dental supplies and a bottle of aspirin.
Satisfied, Familiar shut the cabinet door.
He moved on to the under-sink compartment and finally returned to the drawers. He had a bit of difficulty getting them open, so Johnny helped him.
When the cat spotted the earrings in the top drawer of the bathroom cabinet, he nudged them with his paw.
“Meow.” He looked right at Johnny.
“Stephanie was wearing those yesterday,” Johnny recalled. They were striking pieces of jewelry. He normally didn’t notice earrings like those, but they were highly unusual. He picked them up.
Familiar, claws carefully sheathed, took a swipe at them.
Johnny studied them more closely. He’d never seen anything quite like them, and they’d certainly caught the cat’s interest. Was it possible…
“Me-ow!” Familiar’s opinion was clear.
He carefully put the earrings back in the drawer until he could find something secure to put them in. He couldn’t risk damaging the microchip. Now that he’d found what Rory had hidden at Running Horse Ranch, he had to get it safely out. He stroked the cat’s back.
“You are something else, Familiar,” he whispered softly. “Come on, buddy, we’ve got work to do. We need to figure out a way to get to a neighboring ranch or somewhere with phone reception.” This situation was bigger than he could manage. He had to get word to Project Omega, and he had to do it fast.
LISTENING AT THE BEDROOM DOOR, Stephanie held her breath while Johnny and Familiar searched the bathroom. If they found the earrings and realized what they were…That couldn’t happen. She heard the medicine cabinet close, and then the drawers opening. She couldn’t breathe. At last she heard Johnny’s footsteps as he left the bathroom.
Once they were gone, she exhaled. It was clear to her what she had to do. The problem was how.
Most of her life she’d believed in right and wrong—a clear distinction between the two. Now she found herself in a world of gray. Not a single course of action open to her was right. Whichever way she chose would have terrible repercussions. Whatever she’d once felt for Rory, that tenderness was gone, but she couldn’t let Carlos Diego kill him, either.
The issue was figuring out a way to save Rory without endangering other people—agents spread heaven knew where doing all kinds of jobs, some of them vital to her country.
Her stomach churned at the thought. But the immediate problem was Rory. He’d been captured because she’d shot him. She couldn’t go the rest of her life with that on her conscience.
When s
he was certain Familiar and Johnny were clear of the bathroom, she slipped down the hall and retrieved the earrings. Slipping them into her ears, she couldn’t stop the way her hands shook.
Moving through the kitchen, she grabbed her warmest jacket, gloves and a hat. She’d have to walk, and it was cold outside. While she was vaguely worried about finding Diego, she expected he would find her. All she had to do was get away from the ranch and far enough into the open that he spotted her.
She picked up Johnny’s gun and tucked it into the waistband of her pants. There wasn’t time to find additional ammunition. She also took the rifle with the nightscope. Not that she expected to use it again. Far from it. She had no desire to shoot anyone. But the scope might come in handy.
The back door opened silently and she moved into the still, cold night. In the distance a coyote howled, a sound that had never before seemed sinister. Tonight, though, it seemed like an omen.
She didn’t dare look back at the lighted cabin, the safety there. Johnny and Familiar. Despite the circumstances, she’d come to care for Johnny. Deeply. In the crazy reality that had become her life, he was the force for good, the person who was trying to protect her and make this come out right.
But this was something she had to handle on her own.
JOHNNY AND FAMILIAR GAZED OUT the front windows of the cabin. Johnny searched the horizon, counting the minutes until first light. Time was slipping away from him. He felt like a caged animal, trapped within the four walls. He had to go, but he didn’t want to leave Stephanie alone. Familiar could stay with her while he tried to use the cover of darkness to trek to Rupert Casper’s ranch. It was a long hike, but he was fit. He’d cover the ground as swiftly as possible.
He went to the desk and found paper and a pen. He’d leave Stephanie a note. She’d be furious, but she’d get over it—if any of them survived.
Familiar stood on his back legs and patted Johnny’s hand.
“Meow.” The cat trotted down the hall and waited at the bathroom door.
“In a minute,” Johnny said softly. He was tempted to knock on the bedroom door and try to talk to Stephanie, but another part of him argued that it was best to leave her alone. He hoped she’d fallen asleep.
“Meow!” Familiar was adamant.
Johnny walked down the hallway and watched as Familiar patted the drawers in the bathroom. The cat was certainly determined. Dread settled over Johnny as he opened the top drawer.
“Meow!” Black paws flashing, the cat rummaged through hair clips and cosmetics. “Meow!”
The earrings were gone. Johnny didn’t believe it at first, but the sensation that something terrible had moved a step closer to them couldn’t be denied. He helped the cat sort through the contents of the drawer. In his head he had a vivid image of the earrings, and awareness came in a flash.
“Stephanie!” He whirled out of the bathroom and ran down the hall. When he knocked on the bedroom door there was no answer.
“Stephanie!” He thrust the door open. The room was empty. “No!” He ran into the kitchen, noting immediately that his Glock was no longer on the table and the rifle was also gone.
Blood thudding in his ears, he understood what had happened. Stephanie had gone out to try to bargain for Rory’s life. No doubt, she would lose her own. Diego didn’t make deals with anyone, least of all a woman with no power or protection.
He opened the back door and looked out into the night. It was as if the darkness had swallowed Stephanie up. The only sound was a coyote howling in the distance.
She was gone.
OH, GOOD GRIEF, Miss Cowgirl has lost her mind and set out to find the enemy camp, along with the only thing we could use to bargain—those damn earrings.
From a sane, sensible horse trainer, Stephanie has turned into a rogue operative, except she doesn’t fully grasp the ruthlessness of the men she intends to parlay with. This could have a very bad ending. Very bad indeed.
Johnny is frantic. It’s plain to see he’s fallen head over heels for Stephanie, and I think she cares for him. But this is an honor thing for her. I should have seen it coming. We both should have seen it.
Stephanie couldn’t sit back and let Diego kill Rory. She’s taken the blame for his predicament, even though it isn’t her fault.
So what to do now? We have to track her and find her before she makes it to Diego.
This is where I come in. While I would never, ever compare myself to the lower life-form of the canine, I do have the ability to track by scent. Most cats would never admit this—we don’t want to share any traits with a dog. And dogs have allowed this talent to be used against them. They actually work as tracking machines. Gainful employment is not on any kitty’s agenda.
But Johnny can’t use a light to track Stephanie, so we’re going to have to rely on my snozola. And we’d better get out the door and on her trail fast. Perhaps we can overtake her.
Johnny’s got the same idea, except he isn’t yet aware of how valuable I’m going to be. He’s got his coat and his guns. And me.
Hang on, Miss Cowgirl. The cavalry is on the way.
Chapter Fifteen
The night was colder than Stephanie had anticipated. Though it was only October, winter had suddenly arrived. How were the horses getting along? She focused on that worry as she trudged to the north. Flicker would adapt. She was a horse that could survive the hardships of the open range. But what about Tex? He was injured. And Black Jack—had the stallion ever had a moment of real freedom in his entire life? If he’d found the wild herd, he might have challenged one of the other male horses. In doing so, he could have been injured.
The thought made her physically ill, but it was better than thinking about what would happen once Carlos Diego found her. He might kill her to make a point with Johnny. The alternative could be worse.
Try as she might, she couldn’t get Rory’s anguished face out of her mind. And right beside it was Johnny, the look of betrayal he’d worn when he realized she felt obligated to help Rory. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was a fool to care what happened to a man who’d fed her a plateful of lies. Had she not wounded him…No point going down that road, because she had.
She made it to one of the fence boundaries and slipped through the wire. Now she was on the range. She allowed herself one glance back at the cabin, a tiny oasis of light on the black horizon.
Was she saying goodbye to the life she’d hoped to build? Maybe. But there wasn’t anything she could do to change things. Her hand, warm inside the thick gloves, reached up and tugged at the earrings that dangled from her lobes.
Turning away from the lights of the ranch, she faced north again and began to walk. Far in the distance she heard something. She paused, listening intently. It was the sound of hooves striking the ground. Some of the horses were nearby. She felt a desperate longing to see them, but they were safer away from her.
She continued walking, but she felt the pounding of the hooves grow stronger. The ground vibrated. As she topped a rise, she used the nightscope on the rifle to search for the horses. When they finally came into view, her heart almost stopped.
Black Jack ran at the head of the herd. He was stretched out and magnificent—a true leader. Behind him were Flicker, Piper, Cimarron, Mirage and Layla. Moon Stinger and Dolly’s Rocker raced slightly to the west of the other horses. But Black Jack was the leader. He’d created his own herd. Bringing up the rear was Tex, and from the best Stephanie could tell, the gelding was covering the ground without too much difficulty, and Black Jack wasn’t giving him any trouble about hanging out with the herd. Sometimes a stallion wouldn’t tolerate another grown male horse, not even a gelding.
As if the stallion sensed her watching, he slid to a stop and turned to face her, his mane flowing about his face. Just like a storybook horse, he rose on his hind legs and pawed the air. Before he’d even settled back to the ground, he took off, the other horses following.
She could lay her worries about the horses to rest—for the
moment. The sight had restored her faith, though. And her need to fight for the things she loved.
Carlos Diego might be a cruel and clever man, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve as well. Her grandfather was descended from a long line of warriors. The Oglala Sioux were legendary for their caginess, slyness and courage. While she’d never considered herself a warrior, Stephanie was a descendant of people who’d shown true bravery. She could do nothing less now.
And once Rory was saved, she’d kill him herself.
Suddenly, she was blinded by lights pointing directly into her eyes. She threw up her hands to block the glare. Out of the darkness a body hurtled into hers, knocking her to the ground so hard she felt the wind rush out of her lungs. Gasping for breath, she tried to get up, but someone pushed her back down. A big hand on her chest pressed her into the dirt.
“Don’t move,” a male voice with a foreign accent said.
“I want to talk to Carlos Diego,” she managed to wheeze out.
His answer was a laugh that made goose bumps dance over her skin. “You wish to speak to Carlos Diego?” the man mocked her.
“I do.” She tried to sit up again, but he pushed her down so hard she couldn’t muffle the cry of pain.
“That’s funny, because I think Carlos wishes to speak to you.” He leaned down so that his foul breath was warm against her cheek. “And once he’s done talking, maybe he’ll give you to me.”
In that instant Stephanie knew that she’d made a terrible mistake. In leaving the ranch, she’d put herself in a position where she had no idea how to protect herself or help Rory. She’d planned to talk to Diego, to use her intellectual wiles to manipulate him. She’d refused to listen to Johnny’s warnings or even take into account the lethal threat posed by Diego.
All she’d done by trying to save Rory was put Johnny in danger, because she had no doubt that he’d try to rescue her, even at the risk of his own life.
Familiar Showdown Page 13
