It’s not long before I’ve put considerable distance between us, but the sandals I’m wearing make running awkward and tiring. My lead slowly shrinks, and I can soon hear the wheezing breath of the sheriff getting closer and closer.
I can see the town not too far away, but this early in the morning, I know I would still need to make it a decent ways into town to find any hope of help. I won’t make it. There’s no way.
I stop abruptly, turning to face him as he comes barreling towards me, huffing and puffing. He makes a lurching grab for me, throwing his weight behind the motion. I sidestep him with fractions of a second to spare and immediately strip my sandals, throw them at his prone form for good measure, and take off back in the direction of my car.
It shouldn’t be that taxing of a run, but I’m not exactly in marathon shape, and by the time I reach my car, the sheriff has nearly caught up with me. I shove the key in the lock with shaking hands, open the door, yank it shut, and hit the locks. A split second later, the sheriff comes slamming into my window, face full of fury.
I turn on the car and drive, not even caring if I run over his toes. He jumps back as I pull off, but I see him running inside, probably to grab his keys and come after me.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I scream, slamming my hands on the wheel as I drive as fast as I dare away from his house. I feel like an idiot. A complete idiot. Although I suppose it’s a forgivable mistake to think I can go to the police for help without them turning out to be some corrupt slime bag who wants to help the people trying to kidnap me and steal Lucas’ ranch.
Either way, I should’ve just told Lucas what I was planning. At least he’d know where to find me if something went wrong. Damn it.
I just need to get back to the ranch. One way or another, I know if I’m back with him, everything will be fine. I just need to get back.
But just as I take the north road out of town and toward the ranch, I see two black cars come tearing up the main street of town, straight toward me. I push the gas down as far as it goes, but my crummy little car just groans with effort and barely increases pace.
The cars are gaining on me, and I can even see the sheriff's cruiser with its lights on not far behind now. I drive straight through gate in front of Lucas’ ranch, laying on the horn and praying he hears in time to help.
The front door to the ranch swings open in the distance, and I see Lucas emerge with a rifle in his hand. My relief is only temporary, because when I look in my rearview, all the cars are gone. I come to an abrupt stop just in front of Lucas’ ranch.
He sets the rifle down on the porch and rushes to the car to help me out, cupping the back of my neck carefully and checking my face. Concern is written all over his features. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to find a way to keep you from selling the ranch,” I say, turning to look over my shoulder. I pause, staring toward the broken gate and watching with bewilderment. “Where did they go?”
“Where did who go? And you realize you drove straight through my gate, right?”
“I’m sorry about the gate, but there were cars chasing me. The sheriff was one of them.”
Lucas takes a half step back and gives me a long, searching look full of confusion. “You realize it’s not even five thirty in the morning, right? You’re telling me you managed to get involved in a car chase before I even woke up?”
“I know how it sounds. But I went to try to get the sheriff to help me catch Ronnie, and I think he was working with Ronnie. He said he was going to the bathroom, but he was gone for too long so I listened in and--well--I’m pretty sure he was talking to Ronnie. I tried to run and he chased me. He called me a fucking bitch and tried to tackle me, but I made it to the car and tried to come here as fast as I could and--”
“Hey, hey,” says Lucas soothingly. He pulls me in and I press my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes and breathing in the comfort of his scent. “You’re okay. But listen to me,” he pushes me back gently by the shoulders so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “You don’t ever go off like that again, okay? Not right now. Not till we’ve figured this out. We’re in this together, and as impressed as I am that you had the balls to try what you did, I would’ve been really pissed if I had to go on a murderous rampage to get you out of my brother’s hands because you snuck off.”
“You’d go on a murderous rampage for me?” I ask with a grin.
“I’d drop a fucking nuke if I had to.”
I laugh. “Okay, make me a deal. If you ever have to decide between saving me and dropping a nuke, do me a favor and just let whoever has me have me.”
He glares. “Not a chance. If you don’t want me to go dropping nukes, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t get captured.”
I give his shoulder a playful punch. “Asshole. Sweet asshole,” I add reluctantly.
“Not an adjective I ever thought I’d hear to describe an asshole, but I’ll take it.”
I look at my car and the huge dent in my hood that’s hissing smoke from where I hit the gate. “That doesn’t look good, does it?”
“Not very. I’ll patch her up once we figure this Ronnie thing out. Far as I’m concerned, I’m glad you trashed your car. It gives you one less way to pull another stunt like that again until things are safer.”
I cross my arms. “I still have legs,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“We’ll have to figure out a solution to that, but damn, I like your legs,” he says with mock annoyance. “It’ll be a shame to remove them.”
The humor in Lucas’ face fades as he looks out into the distance. I feel what he feels, too. We can joke away the situation we’re in for a while, but everyday it feels more real, more pressing. It creeps into my mind in the quiet moments between laughter and smiles with Lucas. I see Ronnie in the darkened corners of rooms and in my nightmares. Now I’ll have to add the wrinkled face of the sheriff to those fears.
“The sheriff’s name is Earl, and I’d damn well believe he’s corrupt. When he heard about the oil companies trying to buy out the ranch a few years back, he tried to put pressure on my dad to sell. He pulled out some bullshit excuse about how my dad would need to pay a cut to the town because of some ancient ordinance that said the whole town was built on top of a reserved property. Said the town owned ten percent of everybody’s land. Funny enough, the dumb bastard even told us to write the checks out to his name, because he was supposedly the one in charge of distributing the money.”
“What did you guys do?”
Lucas smiles at the memory. “My old man wasn’t a fool. He got a lawyer, checked the document, and found out it was a forgery. Earl only kept his job because he had connections with the mayor, but even that almost wasn’t enough. Anyway, Earl promised he cleaned up and he’s made a show of it for the past few years, but I never believed him.”
“It makes sense. Your brother probably knew he could be bought. But that means we can’t even count on the police to help us.”
“All the more reason for me to sell. Look, Mila. I’ll manage. This is real. My brother is a fucked up man and he’s capable of some serious evil. If we try him on this, he won’t bluff. He’ll make a move, and then it’ll be too late to go back and try to take the easy way out.”
I shake my head. “I won’t let you sell it. There has to be another way. Somehow. We’ll figure it out.”
“We don’t have time to figure it out. I don’t know why they backed off chasing you, unless they’re thinking you’ll go out on your own again and they can save themselves the trouble, but I also don’t think they’ll wait long to try something.”
“Maybe they didn’t come because you said if you died now, the ranch wouldn’t go to your brother, right? He probably knew they couldn’t fight back if you attacked them. That means he’s not willing to kill you, at least.”
“Small comfort,” says Lucas. “Because he’d do anything to you if he thought it meant I’d give him what he wanted. But hell, I’d give hi
m everything I owned to keep him from laying a hand on you. I don’t know if he’d stop though. Once he got you I’m afraid he’d do something terrible out of spite, even if I gave him what he wanted right away.”
“Well, I have you to protect me. So we don’t need to worry about that.”
Lucas pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. “That’s damn right.”
16
Lucas
Mila and I sit on the steps of the porch, watching the road leading to my property in silence. It has been at least an hour since Mila came crashing through the gate like a madwoman, and the sun is rising now to the east, blasting away some of the chill in the morning air. I’m overcome by a fatigue, a sense of growing annoyance that I can’t just have her, that there’s still an obstacle standing between us and the peace we deserve.
My eyes drift to the rifle leaning against the porch and my mind is stained with dark thoughts--images of a hole opening in my brother’s chest and the peace that would follow. I shake my head slightly. No. I don’t care what my brother has become, I’m not going down that path. I know what my dad would think if I did. He raised me better than that.
However this ends, it doesn’t end with body bags. But if Earl is really working for Ronnie, getting any kind of legal help is going to be tough. Unless.
“Hey. We need to get on the road,” I say abruptly. Mila jumps at the sound of my voice.
“What?”
“I have a plan. Come on.”
She follows me and we hop in the old farm truck, which has more rust than paint at this point, but it does the trick, taking one of the back roads out of my property. I explain the plan to her as we drive the twenty or thirty minutes outside of town to where I ditched the police cruiser yesterday. I hop out of the truck and head toward the cornfield beside the road. I can see the crushed path from where I drove the cruiser through the field, so finding the car isn’t hard.
“I can’t believe it’s still here,” says Mila.
“Hardly anyone drives this road,” I say. “Besides, it hasn’t even been a full day.”
“I just mean, don’t the police have some kind of GPS to track their cars or something? I would’ve thought they would’ve found it by now.”
“I don’t think so. But we’ll make sure they get it back,” I say with a grin. “You remember the plan, right?”
“I remember,” she says.
I pull her close and stroke her hair. I try not to let dramatic thoughts sneak into my mind, but I can’t help feeling the fearnthat I might not make it out of this in one piece or with my freedom. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too,” she says, pulling back and looking up into my eyes.
“You just do exactly what I said and we’ll make it through this. Okay?”
“You’ll be careful?” she asks, nervously running her hands over my clothes and fussing with the hem of my sleeve that has rolled up. “You won’t do anything crazy?”
“Nothing crazier than I have to,” I say.
She glares. “That’s not saying much.”
“Hey. If I fuck this up and get hurt, it means I won’t be able to get my hands on that ass of yours again. You think I’d do anything to jeopardize that?”
She laughs softly. “No. You do like my ass.”
I press against her, gripping her ass with both hands so hard I lift her off the ground and snag a kiss while I’ve got her on my level. “No. I fucking love your ass, darlin’. Don’t you forget it. Now get it in that cruiser and let’s get this show on the road.”
She pauses outside the door of the cruiser, quietly psyching herself up and then jumping inside. “I’m ready!” She calls out the window.
“Remember. You wait for my signal. Okay?”
“I remember. Just go!”
I get back in the truck and pull out my cell phone. I call the city police and wait.
“What’s your emergency?” asks a woman who sounds like she has an egg in her throat.
“I wanted to report the location of a stolen police car. Ronnie Tate has been bragging about how he swiped it from you guys yesterday. We’re out in Wade’s Creek. His address is 515 Watercress Way, and he’s got the cruiser parked out back.”
“Okay,” says the woman in a bored voice. “We’ll send officers out to investigate as soon as possible.”
“How soon is that?” I ask carefully.
“Are you in danger?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say slowly.
“Just a moment.”
There’s a clatter as the woman sets the phone down and I hear muffled conversation in the background.
“Sir?”
“Still here,” I say.
“An off duty officer and his partner are in the area. They can be on scene in thirty minutes.”
“Thanks,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I hope like hell they will really be here as fast as she says. The plan could work even if we had to wait a few hours for police to come from the city, but the faster this happens, the less chance there is of Ronnie and his goons finding us before we’re ready to spring the trap. Mila and I drive into town, but she veers left to take the long, circular road that eventually cuts into town from the south end. If everything goes right, she’ll be parked near Ronnie’s place in about twenty minutes, so I have to act fast, and hope like hell he takes the bait.
I drive to Earl’s house first. Given that he lives on a side road, the sound of my engine is likely to draw his attention. Sure enough, I see the curtain on his window pull back when I rev my engine and get my truck turned around in his driveway. He opens the door a few seconds later, walking quickly toward me.
“Lucas! Let’s talk, son,” he shouts.
“We’re past talking, Earl. I’ll see you at Ronnie’s house to finish this if you’ve got the guts to show.”
I peel out, taking special pleasure in spraying him with rubble and dirt while I spin my tires. I head straight for Ronnie’s, knowing I probably only have about fifteen minutes before Mila is in position with the cruiser.
I pull up outside Ronnie’s house and jog to the front door. I slam my fist against the wood and wait impatiently. The distant sound of police sirens reaches my ears, but it’s too soon for the off-duty cops to be here. It must be Earl.
I knock again. The door swings open and I’m surprised to find Cynthia. Her normally perfectly maintained hair is a mess and her eyes are bloodshot. She smells like weed and booze, and the bruises on her face still haven’t completely healed.
“Cynthia? What the fuck are you still doing here?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Just leave. Talking to you that night was a mistake, okay?” she says in a whisper. “I stand by Ronnie, so you can get lost.”
“Is he home?” I ask, pushing my way inside.
“Hey! If he finds you here, he’ll kill you!”
“Yeah, well that’s kind of the plan,” I grumble, moving into the kitchen and looking around for any signs that she’s not alone right now. “This place is a disaster. Jesus.” I look at the coffee table, which is covered in white powder, plastic bags, and old credit cards. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like…” I say in disgust.
“He’s going to fucking kill you,” Cynthia says making a half-hearted effort to put herself between me and what looks to be a shit load of cocaine.
“You expecting him back soon?” I ask. As much as I hate to see my brother fall this far, I can’t help feeling some relief at the sight of the drugs. My original plan was just to push him to the edge and get him to pull a gun on me or something as the cops were arriving. But if they see all this, I won’t even need to take it that far. I try to quickly think of how I can change the plan to make this less risky, but before I’ve even had a second to put a new plan together, I hear tires crunching on the gravel out front.
“You have to go!” Cynthia screeches, shoving my back toward the door. “Get out of here. He’ll seriously kill you.”
I hesitate,
but see no reason to take more risks than I have to, so I let her lead me to the back. His back yard is a sloping hill that leads down to the road below, where a small garage sits on the edge of his property--the same garage I planned to have Mila stash the cruiser in. Now it seems like overkill, and I consider calling the whole thing off, but then again, the police may not have cause to search his house unless they find the cop car. I figure that would give them all the excuse they need to tear the place apart.
I look back toward the house when I hear heavy footsteps inside and Earl’s raised voice. “Where the fuck is he?” shouts Earl.
“He left! I told you!” Cynthia whimpers.
It makes me cringe to hear how pathetic she sounds. She may be a low life and she has made some terrible choices, but I still can’t sit back while a woman gets abused, as much as I probably should. Going back in there is a bad fucking idea, and I know it, but I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to Cynthia because of me, even if I can’t stand the woman.
“Then why is his fucking car out front?” asks Earl.
“I don’t know!” she cries out.
The sound of shattering glass makes my mind up for me. I burst through the back door to find Earl standing over Cynthia, who is lying in a pile of broken glass from where he apparently shoved her into a glass end-table.
When Earl sees me, he reaches for his holster, eyes bulging with anger. I let instinct take over, and I know when someone has a gun, the safest place to be is in their face if I can’t get away, so I charge him.
He’s nearly got the gun raised when I collide with him, driving him into the wall and smashing a body-shaped dent into the drywall. His hand bashes against the wall hard enough that the gun clatters to the tile. I rip him from the wall by the shoulders and shove him back in again. His head bounces against a wooden beam behind the wall and his eyes roll back.
Cynthia screams like someone is murdering her at the sight of Earl’s limp body flopping to the ground. “You killed him! You killed him!”
Bad for the Billionaires: A Bad Boy Billionaire Bundle Page 106
