Matt

by R. C. Ryan

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  You’re alive.” The words were wrenched from Vanessa’s heart as she reached for him.

  There was no time to respond. To reassure her.

  Matt turned, keeping himself between the beefy gunman and Vanessa.

  In one smooth motion his hand swept out, knocking the gun from the man’s hand. Matt was on him in the blink of an eye, wrestling him to the floor of the cave and pounding his fist into the man’s face.

  He caught the burly man by the front of his jacket and hauled him to his feet, before shoving his head as hard as he could against a boulder. With a moan of pain the man slumped to the ground and lay there, his breathing labored, his broken nose streaming blood.

  Matt spun around, determined to get Vanessa away from here, but when he turned, the second, taller man had a choke hold on her, and was pressing a knife to her throat.

  “On your knees, cowboy.”

  Matt dropped to his knees and lifted his hands in a signal of surrender.

  Vanessa tried to cry out, but the blade of the knife, sharp as a razor as it pierced her skin, made it impossible.

  The man holding the knife to her throat shouted, “Get up, Homer. Hurry. I need your help.”

  With a scream of fury the hefty kidnapper lumbered to his feet and knocked Matt to the floor of the cave, before kicking him viciously. Then he grabbed up Matt’s rifle and used it to batter him about the head until Matt was unconscious.

  When his rage was spent, Homer looked at his partner. “I thought we killed this cowboy back at that cabin.”

  “Maybe he’s like a cat, with nine lives.”

  Jasper chuckled at his own joke, but Homer’s eyes were fastened on Matt with a look of pure hatred. “I don’t care how many lives he has, he’s about to lose all of them.”

  He swung the rifle one more time against Matt’s head with all his strength, determined to beat him to death, but the sound of a text on his cell phone distracted him, and he dropped the rifle.

  After reading the text he shot a look at his partner. “The verdict is in. Guilty.”

  Jasper tightened the knife against Vanessa’s throat. “So. Now do we get to kill her?”

  Homer nodded. “But first, we send one more video, guaranteed to make her daddy understand the price he has to pay for what he did to Mr. D.”

  Ignoring Matt’s unconscious body, the two men dragged Vanessa roughly out of the cave.

  She blinked furiously against the stab of morning light, her eyes gritty from all the tears she’d shed while she was forced to watch helplessly as Matt was being beaten.

  Matt. She’d thought him already dead. But now, seeing him alive, and then being forced to watch that horrible attack, she absorbed a heart-wrenching sense of despair.

  He’d come back from a gunshot and a fiery explosion, only to endure even more pain at the hands of these madmen. After that last attack, he’d stopped fighting. Had even stopped moving.

  As the two thugs began choosing the spot for their final video, she resigned herself to her looming fate. Though it was small comfort, at least, she thought, she would die alongside the man she loved.

  While Frank Malloy did a careful preflight check of the Cessna, Grace loaded their supplies. Rifles, ammunition, high-powered binoculars. A duffel was stuffed with medical supplies and blankets.

  To fill her restless, sleepless hours she had come to a decision. Though she knew the odds of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, she would remain optimistic and make plans to take both her grandson and Vanessa to the clinic in Glacier Ridge as soon as they were located. She would hold to that thought throughout their ordeal, no matter how long it took.

  When her husband climbed up and settled himself in the pilot’s seat, she fought back tears.

  Seeing her struggle, he closed a hand over hers. “A lot of chatter on our frequency overnight. It seems an hour or so ago Matthew saw something that could have been a light near the mouth of Glacier Creek. The others are headed that way. We’ll join them.”

  He squeezed her hand before taking the controls. “All right, Gracie Girl. From the looks of that sky, the Lord is about to give us a bright, clear day. Let’s put it to good use.”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

  They rolled along the asphalt strip behind the barn before lifting into the air. As they climbed, Grace felt the familiar lurch in her stomach that she always experienced when the plane became airborne. Though she’d been flying for more than fifty years, it was still a bit of a mystery to her that a craft the weight of a truck could soar like a bird.

  As they left the barns and outbuildings behind, she picked up her binoculars and trained them on the ground below.

  Luke parked his motorcycle beside Matt’s empty truck. Tossing aside his helmet he grabbed up his rifle and started walking north.

  He looked up, enjoying the way the dawn crept across the sky, switching on pale lights here and there in the darkness. Everything here in the hills looked and smelled clean and fresh.

  He knew it was possible for bad things to happen even on deceptively peaceful days, but his heart kept denying what his mind calmly accepted.

  From somewhere behind him a truck door opened and closed, and he sensed that Colin and Burke were just arriving on the scene. The low hum of Reed’s ATV went suddenly silent, signaling that he’d joined them.

  Luke didn’t slow his pace, knowing they’d catch up eventually. He was grateful for the alone time. Since he had no idea what he would find up ahead, he needed to formulate a plan.

  The problem was, he couldn’t think beyond the fact that Matt had been here ahead of anybody, and the area was as silent as a tomb. Not a good omen. There should have been gunshots. Shouts. A scuffle. Anything.

  There was nothing. No sound. No birds overhead. Not even the buzz of insects. A very bad omen.

  He paused in a cluster of trees, watching and listening, and decided he would wait here for the others. They would make a much more imposing threat to a couple of Chicago thugs if they marched in like the Marines.

  “I want the morning light behind me.” Homer turned this way and that while holding his cell phone, trying for the clearest shot. He pointed to a flat stretch of earth. “Take her over there.”

  Jasper grabbed Vanessa’s arm and dragged her roughly across the clearing. “Here?”

  Homer took aim and motioned. “That’s good. Now I want her kneeling, with her hands in front of her, so I can film the blood.”

  “Why not tie her up again? That’ll look better in the video.”

  After a moment’s thought, Homer nodded. “Good idea.”

  He waited while Jasper threw Vanessa down in the dirt, securing her wrists and ankles before tying the rope around her neck and feet, causing her to cry out in pain.

  “That’s good. I want that scream. Step out of the picture and we’ll have her do that again.”

  When Jasper stepped away, Vanessa worked furiously to blink back her tears. She thrust out her chin in a haughty pose, refusing to show pain or fear, despite the fact that the plastic restraints cut her already raw wrists to the bone.

  “You want me to knock her around until she cries again?” Jasper seemed almost eager to inflict some pain.

  “Never mind.” Homer took a video of Vanessa, showing a close-up of her bound wrists and ankles, and lingering on the blood streaming from her raw flesh. “Now cut her loose and we’ll get her on her feet.”

  Vanessa bit down hard on the cry that threatened to escape when Jasper cut through all the restraints and yanked her to her feet.

  She staggered, unable to get her balance, and Homer chuckled while recording it. “That’s it, honey. Look like a drunk for Daddy.”

  Immediately aware of how this would look on the video, she struggled to remain as still as possible, knowing that these brief scenes would be the last images her father would have left to carry in his memory for a lifetime.

>   “Do another choke hold and put your knife to her throat. If you have to, cut her. I want a close-up of her face showing real pain and fear.”

  Jasper was only too happy to do as he was told.

  Matt was entombed in a deep, dark hole. He couldn’t see through the darkness. Couldn’t concentrate on why he was here. Couldn’t rise above the pain that enveloped him in a web of agony.

  He knew there was something he had to do. Some evil he had to overcome. But his mind and body refused to do his bidding.

  He heard a cry. A woman’s cry.

  Nessa.

  That single name pierced the fog, and he struggled to sit up.

  He tried to see past the darkness, but it was punctuated with painful stabs of light that had him blinking rapidly.

  He saw twin figures. Two huge shadows. Then two more, tall and muscular and menacing. And then two women, both of them Vanessa Kettering.

  Nessa.

  He could vaguely recall the beating he’d taken at the hands of the towering thug. Too many blows to his head, and now he was seeing double. But none of that mattered. What did matter was the fact that Nessa was still alive.

  And right now, this minute, all the kidnappers’ attention was focused on her.

  If he hoped to rescue her, it had to be now.

  On hands and knees he crawled slowly, painfully, toward his rifle, which was lying in the dirt a few feet away.

  Using it as a crutch, he got to his feet and struggled to remain upright. Any slip now, and those two would be on him before he could fire off a shot.

  At the entrance to the cave he heard the beefy thug say, “Mr. D. ordered us to film her dead body. And he wants it all to make the evening news. That’ll show Mr. Big Shot DA just who has the real power in his town. If Mr. D. has to do time, he’ll be greeted by the other prisoners like a freaking rock star.”

  Laughing, Jasper said, “Why don’t we film her would-be hero lying next to her, covered in blood? That ought to grab some headlines.”

  “Good idea. Go get the body.”

  As the tall man started toward the entrance to the cave, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Matt covered in blood and holding a rifle aimed at Jasper’s chest.

  “Take a look at this cowboy, trying to be a hero when he can barely stand up. Look at him, swaying like a drunken—”

  Before he could finish, a single shot rang out, echoing and reechoing across the hills.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Luke was just greeting Reed, Colin, and Burke, when they looked up at the sound of a plane’s engines. Seeing the Cessna in the distance, Luke dialed his grandfather’s number and put the call on speaker as the others gathered around to listen.

  Grace answered. “Yes, Luke? Any news?”

  “Matt thought he saw a flash of light, so we’ve come here to back him up, in case he’s found the kidnappers. We’re all here now, at the mouth of the Glacier.”

  “We’re almost right above you. In fact, we can see your vehicles.” She glanced at her husband before adding, “Captain McBride reported that Nessa’s phone was engaged for a minute before going dark. Could that be what Matt saw?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough. We figure Matt’s somewhere ahead of us, though to be honest, I haven’t heard or seen any sign of life.”

  His grandfather’s voice came on the phone. “I’m going to give your news to Sheriff Graystoke. He can send in backup while alerting the Chicago authorities.”

  “The sheriff knows. We talked to him earlier.”

  “Good.” The old man’s voice was rough with impatience. “I’m going to land wherever I can find a clear spot. Keep us in the loop, son.”

  “Will do, Grandpop.”

  The group looked grim as Luke replaced his cell phone.

  “It’s too quiet,” Burke muttered.

  “I’m thinking the same thing.” Colin motioned to the others. “Let’s keep to the trees as much as—”

  The report of rifle fire had them stopping dead in their tracks before they started out at a run.

  Matt watched as the scene before him unfolded.

  For the space of several seconds Jasper stood perfectly still as the bullet ripped through his chest. Then, as if in slow motion, blood spurted from the wound, and he staggered before falling face-first in the dirt.

  Even before he dropped, Matt was moving forward, taking aim at the big man towering over Vanessa.

  He blinked several times. When his vision cleared, he realized that the thug was holding a gun aimed directly at him.

  “No.” With a shout, Vanessa kicked out with her foot, knocking the gunman off stride, and the shot went wide, spewing dirt several feet from Matt.

  Before Homer could take aim for a second attempt, Vanessa grabbed up the rope that had been tied around her neck and whipped it at his eyes.

  He cried out, half blind with pain as he reached out a hand to stop her.

  Matt took that moment of distraction to charge the thug, taking him down and throwing several punches that had his already-broken nose streaming a fountain of blood.

  The gun dropped from Homer’s hand. Before he could snatch it back, Vanessa kicked it and sent it flying out of his reach.

  Enraged, the thug pummeled Matt with several vicious blows that had his ears ringing and his vision blurring.

  Unable to see, Matt struggled to protect himself while returning punches.

  Once Homer realized that he had the upper hand, he moved in for the kill, pounding Matt’s head against the ground, fists sending blow after blow to Matt’s face and chest.

  Vanessa could see the fight turning as Matt’s strength began to drain away completely. She couldn’t imagine how he was still moving. His wounds were too severe, his body too drained to continue. Yet she watched him fight on valiantly, presumably going on nothing but pure courage.

  She picked up the gun and wondered what good it would do her. She’d never fired one and was terrified that she would hit Matt instead of the thug.

  Desperate, she fired into the air, and at the sound of it Homer brought his head up sharply. As he knelt over Matt, he saw the way Vanessa’s hand was shaking.

  “Firing a gun is the easy part, Daddy’s Little Girl. Firing it at someone you intend to kill is something altogether different. Especially if you hit the wrong target.” His evil smile spread across his lips and turned into a leer. “Now you give me that gun, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  When she merely stared at him, face pale, lips quivering, Homer laughed. “I get it. You thought I’d just put up my hands and surrender, didn’t you? But you don’t have the guts to actually shoot.”

  As he lifted a fist to Matt’s face, Luke’s voice broke the stillness. “Ask us if we have the guts to shoot.”

  Homer turned to see the entire Malloy family, even Frank and Grace, who had landed their plane nearby, forming a ring around the area, and all of them holding weapons aimed directly at him.

  He had no sooner raised his hands when Luke grabbed him by the front of his parka and hauled him to his feet. Then, before anybody could stop him, Luke drove a fist into the gunman’s middle and dropped him to his knees, where he wheezed out a breath.

  Luke was about to throw another punch when the sheriff’s voice sounded from nearby.

  “I’ll take that piece of garbage…” He glanced at Vanessa before adding, “I’ll handle the prisoner from here, Luke.”

  Several police officers stepped forward to handcuff the prisoner and lead him away. And then the scene became one of complete chaos.

  A team of state police sharpshooters, weapons still in place, surrounded the area. Another group of officials moved about. One checked Jasper’s vitals and declared him dead, another bagged evidence, while others roped off areas of the ground darkened with blood to collect samples.

  Vanessa raced to Matt’s side and dropped to her knees. Feeling for a pulse she shouted, “He’s alive.”

  Her tears, held back for so long, now
began streaming down her face, as she gave vent to all the raw emotions churning inside. Her composure, so tightly controlled, now slipped away completely. “He needs help. Now. Please. Somebody help him. You can’t let him die.”

  With the Malloy family standing anxiously by, a team of medics hurried over. When they attempted to move Vanessa, she clung to Matt’s arm, her tears falling harder and faster.

  “Please don’t die, Matt. Please stay. You fought so bravely. You endured so much. Please…”

  “You need medical attention, Miss.” A stocky medic wrapped his arms around her waist, and, with the help of a second man, attempted to place her on a gurney.

  “No!” She fought off both of them and raced back to kneel beside Matt. “He’s the one who needs help. Please. You can’t let him…”

  Her tears fell harder and faster as she saw just how badly wounded he was.

  Frank dropped to his knees beside Vanessa. “Hush now, Nessa girl. Everyone’s doing the best they can.”

  The stocky medic hovered nearby, while the other took Matt’s vitals and hooked up an intravenous tube to administer something for pain.

  Grace looked at the man, who shook his head gravely. “I have orders from Chicago authorities to get Miss Kettering to the nearest hospital as soon as possible.”

  “All we have in Glacier Ridge is a clinic,” Frank explained.

  “Then we’ll head there first.” The medic reached for Vanessa’s hand, but she shrank back.

  “I won’t go without Matt.”

  “He’ll be on the next copter, ma’am. I promise you.”

  “But what if he…?” She couldn’t speak about her greatest fear. That he might not survive his terrible injuries. The words, once spoken, would be too final. “Please let me stay.”

  “They can’t do that, Nessa.” Frank studied the somber faces of the two medics. “They have their orders.”

  Vanessa watched as a member of the medical team assessed her wounds. When she saw the way he shook his head, she dug in her heels. “I’m not going without Matt.” She turned, searching until she saw Grace kneeling nearby, fighting tears.