Dallas at Midnight [Midnight in Montana 1] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Bella Settarra

  “Looks like one of the hands,” she said, with a sigh of relief.

  “Are you sure?” Kerry-Leigh frowned.

  They heard the guy talk into what seemed to be a mobile phone or a radio. “Yes, sir, I’m at the house right now. I can’t get an answer. I don’t know if anyone’s in, but they surely must’ve heard me, I’ve been yellin’ loud enough, Lord knows. What? Let him go? But if he’s as dangerous as…yes…yes…I understand sir, thank you.”

  “They’re gonna let him go if I don’t go out there,” Dallas seethed. “What do I do?”

  “He’s going,” Kerry-Leigh said as the guy got back on the horse.

  Dallas ran to the door, pulled back the bolt and hauled it open. She recognized the guy as Jake Johnson, the hand she had met earlier. The guy was just leaving, but he must have heard her because he turned back and dismounted.

  “Miss Dallas. I’m sorry ma’am. I thought you were out. They’ve cornered a guy up by the top field but they need to be sure it’s your Mr. Powell. I’ve been asked to take you up there to identify him before the sheriff takes him in, Miss.”

  He was a young lad, and seemed pretty nervous.

  “Why didn’t Shane call me himself?” Dallas asked, her heart thudding. Kerry-Leigh was at her side.

  “I think he didn’t want to scare you, miss. Said you might not be too keen to answer the phone in case it was him. We prefer the personal approach around these parts.” He grinned and touched his hat.

  “Wait—I’ll call Caleb.” Kerry-Leigh said and went inside to use the phone.

  “They’re in a terrible hurry, ma’am,” Jake said, touching his hat again.

  “She’ll only be a minute.” Dallas felt panicky but needed to be sure it was safe.

  “Damn it! No signal.” Kerry-Leigh called through.

  “Then how in hell did Shane…? They are together, aren’t they?” Dallas frowned at the guy who seemed anxious to be on his way.

  “I’m sorry ma’am. I’ll have to tell the boss to let him go. Sheriff said he can’t pick him up unless he’s sure it’s the right guy.” He turned to go.

  “Wait!” Dallas shouted. Her mind raced.

  “Dallas, we don’t know him,” Kerry-Leigh reminded her, tugging at her arm.

  “Well, I know he’s not Ed Powell,” Dallas said desperately. “And unless I get up there they’re gonna let him go. All those people will have wasted a day and a night for nothing because of me.” She felt tears burn at the side of her eyes as she stared back at her friend. “And we do sort of know Jake—we met him up the field, remember? He’s definitely one of Shane’s hands.”

  Kerry-Leigh nodded. “All right. I’ll keep trying Caleb anyhow.” She squeezed Dallas’s arm and waited while the young lad helped her up on the horse before he leaped up himself and rode away from the ranch.

  “Caleb went with Shane. Couldn’t he identify the guy?” Dallas asked the cowboy as she clung onto his waist. “He had his picture on his laptop last night.”

  “Seems not, Miss.” His voice was hoarse now and they were riding fast over a hill Dallas didn’t recognize.

  “Is it far?” she asked.

  “Not too far. Just hold on tight.”

  She had no choice. They were racing over the hills, leaving the ranch house far behind them.

  “It sure is a massive spread,” Dallas said, as the wind beat her face. “I didn’t realize Shane owned this much land.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Dallas frowned at his response. Her mind raced. Was this really all Shane’s land? Then why was he talking about holding the gig in one of the fields which he needed for pasture, why not out here? And why were there no livestock out here? The grass looked perfectly lush.

  “Are we still on Shane’s land?” she asked after they had gone even further.

  “Quiet.” The guy’s voice was sharp and she hadn’t noticed exactly when he had stopped calling her ‘Miss’. She felt an empty thud in the pit of her stomach and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

  She said nothing while they rode on, but her mind whirled. She couldn’t understand why Shane would call the guy’s cell phone but not their land line. And if they were out of signal then how did Shane manage to get through to him just minutes before? And why couldn’t the sheriff or Caleb identify Ed Powell? It didn’t make any sense. Scratch that. It did make sense. She’d allowed herself to be fooled yet again!

  They were going too fast for her to jump off, and even if she did survive the fall and get away—which was doubtful—she had no idea where they were. They must have ridden miles. Eventually they slowed down and she saw a flash of white in amongst the trees they were headed toward. Of course! All the roads were manned so they went in on horseback! What better cover than a cowboy on a ranch? As she cursed herself for being so stupid—again!—her ire grew and she clenched her fists.

  “Now I should warn you that I’ve got a gun here and so have the others, so don’t you try anything stupid.” The guy’s southern drawl had gone and in its place was a gruff snarl.

  Stupid! That’s me all over. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

  Two men sprang out from between the trees and their filthy hands reached up for her. Jutting out her chin in defiance she got herself down from the horse and stared at their faces. She didn’t recognize any of them.

  “Where’s Ed Powell?” she demanded angrily as they tied her hands together behind her back. They were rough with her and they smelled putrid.

  “He’s waiting for you.” One of them hissed in her ear. He wore a filthy, black shirt and smelled of stale beer and cigarettes, among other things.

  “Yeah, but we get you first,” the other one murmured, licking his lips.

  Oh God! He stood right in front of her and she drew her knee up sharply.

  “Bitch!” He yelled as he grabbed his groin and the other guy hauled her into the back of the van.

  “So that’s how you wanna play, is it, girly? Well, that’s fine by me. I love a bit of sass. Now get in there!”

  He practically threw her into the back. He slammed the door, leaving her in the dank darkness. The van smelled of urine and sweat, and she retched. She could hear the men arguing outside before the van rocked and two doors slammed shut. The engine spluttered into life and they were off.

  Dallas was thrown about in the back of the sketchy van as they sped over rough terrain, and she was sure she was receiving bruises all over her body. She was relieved when they finally reached a smooth road, and just prayed that the guy who smelled of beer wasn’t the driver. She could hear them arguing as they sped along, and strained her ears to hear what was being said. All she could make out was one of them was worried about the time as he kept urging the other one to hurry up.

  Her mind raced as she recalled the guy’s words “we get you first” and the sickness in her stomach roiled until she found herself vomiting all over the van. As the vehicle jolted violently, she rolled her head into her own sick. Smelling it made it worse, and she threw up again. Somehow, not being able to move her arms seemed to exacerbate the situation and she continued to vomit over and over. At least they won’t want me now! Her head throbbed and she felt utterly dreadful.

  An idea occurred to her and she tried to wedge herself against one side of the van, holding onto the metal seam with her fingertips. She still smelled of sick but was now no longer lying in it. Her eyes had become accustomed to the dark and she realized it wasn’t as black as it had seemed when she had first been thrown in. She strained to keep her position as best she could, forcing her feet against the side of the van and hanging on, practically by her fingernails, as she studied her surroundings.

  The van was old and rusty, and very basic. It hadn’t been boarded out so the sides were still metal. She saw the lights at the back and wriggled down to them. She was glad she had boots on today, and her anger gave her the added strength needed to break the glass by kicking it. Daylight shone through, and the noise of the rattly old van sounded louder.
She could see tarmac on the road and watched desperately until finally another color appeared behind them. It was a red vehicle! Taking a deep breath she thrust her foot into the glass and out through the hole. Her boots only came a short way up her leg, and something sharp cut into her just above the ankle, but she persevered. She hoped the driver would see it, and she wiggled it around, just to prove to him that she was alive. As she kicked her leg the pain stabbed her, but she was almost too angry to pay it any heed. Suddenly the van veered sharply to the left and agony seared through her leg as it was forced deep into the broken glass and sharp plastic. Dallas bit hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out.

  She felt sick again, and dizzy. Her head throbbed and she found it hard to think straight. No longer able to kick her leg she just prayed that the driver had seen it and called the police. She found herself on a miserable precipice between consciousness and sleep. Darkness closed in on her for a few moments at a time and then she was awake and suffering again. She didn’t know how long she spent wavering between the two, she only knew that it was too painful to stay awake and too dangerous not to.

  Chapter 11

  Dallas couldn’t believe her luck when the sound of a police siren finally permeated her woozy brain. She didn’t open her eyes, just lay where she was, still being rocked to and fro, but her leg had her partly jammed in position. It’ll soon be over, she promised herself.

  Her relief was short-lived as the van sped up and, once again, she found herself being thrown about as they bumped over rough ground. Her calf was being forced deeper into the jagged edges of the light fitting, and she gasped at the torture. She could hear angry shouting from the front of the van, and opened her eyes. The van swung about violently and she suddenly felt something give way around her burning leg. The movement of the vehicle must have dislodged some of the broken plastic, and she screamed as she hauled herself up the van, forcing her palms hard into the rusty metal of its side, and dragging her throbbing leg back in through the hole in the light.

  She daren’t look down at her leg, but braced the other one against the door, to try to minimize her movement. The van seemed to be speeding up, and she glanced down to see trees through the smashed fitting. The sound of the siren had faded into nothing, and the heavy thud in her stomach threatened to start her vomiting all over again.

  Forcing herself to stay awake, she tried to focus on her escape. She knew she didn’t have much hope of getting away, but she had to try. I’ve made enough stupid mistakes—now it’s time to get a grip! Grip! The thought whirled in her mind as she tried to hold her position, her hands frantically trying to hold on to the side of the van, while her good leg was now getting cramped from its position locked against the back door. She had felt the roughness of the rust on the inside of the van wall, and her fingers feverishly sought out the sharpest bit she could find. Rubbing the rope which bound her wrists against it wasn’t easy, and she felt it cut into her flesh as the van rocked her about. The pressure was now on her feet to keep her in position, and she forced herself to employ her bad leg, clenching her teeth as she pressed her cut foot against the door. It took a couple of attempts, and she rolled helplessly back into the pool of her own vomit a couple of times. Nevertheless, the anger welling inside her gave her the strength and determination to succeed, and she eventually got a good hold and continued to rub her wrists, and the rope, against the rust.

  Hope swept through her body as she felt the rope give slightly and she yanked her arms apart as much as she could. Finally it loosened and she felt her hands separate and free. She immediately swung her palms forward to steady herself on the floor of the rotten van. Although her arms felt relieved at being able to change position, the ache in her shoulders was excruciating as she flexed the tense muscles.

  Her heart pounded as she realized that they were slowing down a little, and the shouting became louder. As panic threatened to grip her by the throat, a vision of Shane flashed before her eyes. He would never give up on me and I’m damned if I will! Besides, she reasoned, they had made love without protection, and if she was…Her mind trailed off and an image of her and Shane with a baby swamped her thoughts. She had been worried sick when Kerry-Leigh had made the comment about how potent these men were, and she hadn’t known what to think. Now she realized that this was what she wanted, more than anything. She loved Shane Patrick and she wanted to bear his children.

  The van stopped abruptly, sending her rolling back through the putrid puddle, and crashing through her thoughts. She could hear the doors slam and the guys yelling to one another.

  “You get her out—may as well have some fun with her while we wait for the boat.”

  Oh God! She felt sick again and quickly put her arms in position behind her back, just as she heard footsteps behind the van. There was a quick scraping noise and then daylight flooded into her eyes. It must have been late afternoon, but the contrast from the darkness made her wince. As the man pulled the door back, he must have noticed the broken light.

  “Hey, we must have…”

  “Get on with it. We haven’t got long!” The irritable snarl of the other guy made Dallas cringe.

  “Right, let’s have you…”

  He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as Dallas kicked him in the face as soon as his hands reached for her. He jumped back, startled, and she wasted no time in clambering out of the van. His hands grabbed for her, but his intoxicated body was too slow. She pushed past him and tried to run. The pain seared through her bleeding leg and she could hear the other guy’s thudding footsteps gaining on her.

  She daren’t look around but just kept going, dodging the trees and kicking up the bracken underfoot. Through the pines she could see a lake, and guessed that was how they were to be met. If Ed Powell was coming for her she didn’t stand a chance.

  Suddenly she felt bony fingers encase her arm and she was swung around like a rag doll. The man had a face like thunder and the storm in his eyes told her he wasn’t going to take her escape lightly.

  “Right, you filthy bitch!” He spun her around and the pain in her leg shot right up her body. He slapped her face for her efforts and her cheek stung like mad. She crumpled in his grip and he caught her, hoisting her up in his stinking arms. He smelled of sweat and dirty clothes, and she thought she was going to vomit all over again. She was tempted to punch him in the face but knew that she wouldn’t get far with that leg. Instead she clenched her fists while her mind whirled.

  “Well done!” The other guy yelled over as he arrived back at the van, carrying her.

  “She stinks of vomit!” The guy’s breath was rancid as he shouted over her head.

  The other one chortled, “We can give her a quick wash before we take her.”

  Fear and revulsion mingled inside Dallas and she took a deep breath, her brain frantically trying to form a plan.

  “I thought we tied her up!” The one holding her barked.

  “We did!” The first guy shot back into the van and emerged a few seconds later with the cut rope.

  “You’ll pay for this, bitch!” The one holding her threatened.

  Dallas felt herself go hot and she began to tremble.

  “Get your gun ready!” He ordered the guy by the van. Dallas’s heart sank. A drunk with a gun—could today get any worse?

  The man obeyed, whipping his gun from the holster at his hip, while the bossy one gripped her even tighter and walked toward the water.

  “Any funny stuff and you’re dead meat!” He growled into her ear as they neared the edge.

  “I–I can’t swim,” she lied, trying to stop herself shaking.

  He laughed. It was an evil sound. “Well, that makes two of us then!” His voice was a vicious sneer. “Even I can’t take you with the stench of vomit all over you, you disgusting whore, so you’re just gonna get a little wash, that’s all.”

  He walked into the water with her still in his arms. She didn’t feel safe, like when Shane held her. This guy wobbled and she roc
ked uncomfortably as he moved. Shane’s hands were sure and strong. In his arms she had felt secure and wanted and loved. Could it be love? Could Shane Patrick feel the same way for her as she did for him?

  “Hurry up!” The guy with the gun invaded her thoughts, just as they entered the cold lake.

  “Will you shut up?” The one carrying her turned around to complain and Dallas seized her opportunity to throw herself out of his arms and into the water.

  She immediately swam out into the depths, staying below the surface as much as she could. The lake was dark and freezing cold, but she was a strong swimmer, despite what she’d told the guy, and she hauled herself through the water with her arms. Her bad leg was a dead weight, but with the buoyancy of the water she was able to drag it behind her.

  She heard shouting each time her head neared the surface and was sure a shot was fired but then suddenly there was a different sound—an outboard motor. A small boat was gaining on her. Not sure whether it was friend or foe she turned around to face them. Big mistake! Ed Powell’s face leered at her as the boat came right up to her. She tried to swim away but two strong arms reached out and caught her, hauling her into the well.

  His derisive laughter filled her ears and she wondered how she could ever have liked the slime ball.

  “Thought you’d get away, did you?” He sneered as she shivered. He was holding her arms tightly, as her teeth chattered. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t. She had no idea what to say to the lying letch.

  “Well, I suppose we should get you out of those wet clothes.” He gave her a salacious grin and licked his lips. Typical of him to want to remove my clothes rather than offer me a blanket! There was nothing enticing about the guy at all and she wondered how she had ever allowed herself to be taken in by him.

  As he tugged at her shirt she glanced over to the shore. She’d swum quite a way out, but could still make out the white van by the trees and something else—a couple of squad cars had just turned up. Her heart leaped and she realized she still had hope. The cold air assaulted her body as he tore the shirt from her and tugged at her boot.