by Angi Morgan
Why weren’t these men in a bigger hurry? Did they know the police would be delayed? She’d left the 911 operator on the line. Had Garrison been right not to trust the cops?
One more time she was shoved, tripping and falling to the pavement, only to be lifted by her arm. The murderer faced Garrison, but not before she saw the blackness in his eyes. He wanted to hurt people, and this time it was their turn.
The car door opened, and she was shoved into the backseat. Her arms were yanked behind her back and handcuffed. She’d barely scrambled to a sitting position when she heard the scuffling behind her. As she watched in the rearview mirror, the two men took turns throwing punches, hitting Garrison.
The car rocked as Garrison fell over and over. He was defenseless. Another punch took him to his knees and out of her sight. She could only see the top of his head.
Isabella’s killer kicked him, grabbed a fistful of hair, keeping him upright, hitting him again. They bent over him, disappearing, then Garrison was thrown inside, his face landing in her lap.
Standing close to the door, the man who’d been chasing them took off his mask and handed it to the checkered-shirt liar. He placed the heavy wool ski mask backward over her head.
The men didn’t talk. After the car turned a couple of times, the accomplice got out. She could tell it was him because he’d said “I’ll find it” before slamming the door.
The mask over Kenderly’s head smelled like a cheap aftershave. Why it was on his hair baffled her, but it was only a fleeting thought. She was getting sick from the odor, the rough car ride and wondering how badly Garrison might be injured.
Kenderly could barely see Garrison’s face through the weave of the mask. He was still out cold in her lap and hadn’t moved. She didn’t think he could be faking such unconscious perfection. They hadn’t bothered to blindfold him like they had her. The thought that he’d been drugged fleeted through her mind along with all the other details she was trying to rake in.
The longer he didn’t move, the more it made sense. He would be much less trouble drugged. She fought back the tears and the feeling of total helplessness.
What could she do? Her wrists were bound by handcuffs. She was blind to her surroundings. Even if she could get out of the moving car, she wouldn’t leave Garrison behind.
Think. Think. Think.
Yes, the Texas Ranger who had been protecting her with his life would want her to leave him behind and escape. She hated that option. But if she could, she would. It was their only chance at survival. If she could get out of there, she could bring someone back to help Garrison.
Back to where? For every answer, she had more questions spring up.
The man who had been chasing them wouldn’t care about her personally, so attempting to reason with him wasn’t an option. She’d already heard Isabella beg for her life, so that wouldn’t work. The man had no heart and no soul. She couldn’t bribe him. She had no money.
The sound of traffic disappeared. Their captor didn’t play the radio or music. He didn’t talk or even breathe hard. If she spoke to Garrison and tried to wake him up, the murderer would hear.
What was she supposed to do? She was only a hairdresser. Her training hadn’t included escape artist techniques or hand-to-hand combat. Even after two days, her on-the-run skills weren’t very good, either.
There were too many thoughts in her head, and she didn’t know how to sort through them. Or maybe there weren’t any ideas at all, and she was as helpless as she appeared.
Why not just kill them? Were they being taken to a location where their bodies would never be found? But they’d drugged Garrison instead of killing him.
Or had they? She could feel his warmth penetrating through her jeans to her thighs. She leaned forward and felt his chest rise. He was alive.
Why?
What did they want?
The flash drive. That’s why they’d been searched so thoroughly. They wanted the flash drive.
Chapter Seventeen
Jesse Ryder played the phone message again. When he’d first arrived back at headquarters his hair had been dripping from his shower. He was surprised he’d gotten all the soap off after he heard the general ringtone.
“Something has happened. He must have found the evidence he was searching for.”
“We’re waiting on facts, Ryder,” the major answered sternly.
Jesse noticed the differences, though. His superior was stiff in the chair, not flipping a pencil with one hand while he tapped his chin with the other. His feet were squarely under him, not propped up on the corner of his desk. This time he hadn’t drawn a conclusion about the correct course of action.
“I do know it, sir. There’s no logical reason to leave me a message like this if they weren’t in danger. I told them three days. It’s been two. Travis should check in tomorrow.” He hesitated to say the next words, but what the hell. “If we wait until we know there’s trouble, it’ll be too late to get there. Sir.”
“And you believe that the 911 call at the grocery store involved Travis and Tyler? Did you get a copy of the tape? You might recognize the gal’s voice. Run it down for me.” The major’s finger began tapping his chin. He was ready to listen.
“Multiple witnesses on the news report said the masked man demanded that the Texas Ranger give himself up. Reports say the ranger looked like he was abducting a woman, and was safely in the storage area. The threat of shooting hostages got him to surrender to the man threatening customers out front. Witnesses didn’t see the woman again. We’re waiting on the security footage, but the police department didn’t seem very forthcoming. The sergeant I spoke with might as well have accused me of trying to cover up for Travis.”
“You think it would be any better if you were in Austin? What do you hope to find that the police can’t?”
My best friend. Alive.
“I think Travis uncovered something important enough to get Kenderly Tyler to call me while he stalled at the front of the store. It’s a cryptic clue, and we’ll be lucky if we find it before Tenoreno’s men do.”
“Why not just tell you what’s going on?” He looked at Jesse, expecting an answer.
“Perhaps they believe that two crime families might be listening. Even Johnson was surprised at how quickly the police and media began calling Garrison Travis a murderer. We already knew Tenoreno was paying officials. We just can’t prove it.”
“You don’t believe the media jumped on the chance to sensationalize because of our Ranger history?” the major asked.
“Partly. Don’t you think they were hasty?”
Jesse forced himself to stay at attention. Any other stance would have him anxiously drumming his fingers or performing some other tapping while waiting on permission. Didn’t really matter. He was heading to Austin to help his best friend, no matter what his directive was.
He was done sitting here at his desk or trying to get shut-eye at home. Garrison’s dogs were whining to get outside or whining to get into bed with him. Pets he could take, but waking up face-to-face with dog breath was pushing their friendship to the limit.
“We’re losing time, sir.”
“Take Johnson with you. Lights all the way. I know you aren’t traveling at the speed limit anyway. Let me know when you arrive.” He stood. “In fact, keep me apprised of every move you make.”
Jesse was dismissed. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You have to deal with headquarters. I’ll be making that call after you’ve gone.” Parker picked up the phone from his desk. “Easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Hit the road.”
“Understood.”
He did understand. He hadn’t been in Company F all that long, but he knew that his commander was getting his head chewed off at regular intervals from the top brass.
He tapped Bryce’s desk as he passed. “Grab your weapon, Johnson. We’re heading to Austin.”
“I thought the company had been ordered to stand down. That there would be consequences from Austin if we investigated.” Johnson was correct.
There might be reprimands for their permanent records, but he had to find his friend. He wasn’t getting any psychic message or anything. Far from it. Garrison Travis was the last person on earth Jesse would ever correctly predict. In all their escapades and adventures together, this was the first time he’d ever known his friend was in serious danger.
It was the first time Jesse knew he had to help.
“Orders change. I’ll fill you in on the details when we hit the road.”
Both men unlocked drawers, removed weapons and ammo, then left the building.
“Any idea what we’re going to find? Or how to find Travis and the woman?” Johnson asked when they got to the parking lot.
“Not a clue. But we will. Even if we have to beat down Tenoreno’s front door.”
Chapter Eighteen
Garrison’s skull pounded harder than on the day after he’d graduated from the police academy. This hangover was the absolute worst. He tried to grab his aching head, but his arms were pinned behind him.
He cracked one eye open. At least there was darkness. Light would have been too much to handle. He was already sitting upright. That was a start. Or a really bad sign.
“Damn, that must have been some good tequila.”
“Garrison? Are you really awake this time?”
This time?
He knew that voice. Remembered his hands on her perfect body. Then his hands were replaced by a guy in a checkered shirt. Was this a dream? His hands were pinned again, he couldn’t do anything. There was pain. Everything hurt. Things went black.
Memory or imagination?
“Kenderly?” he croaked through a dry, odd taste in his mouth. Handcuffs. He recognized the feel of the metal bracelets. It wasn’t his imagination.
“Thank goodness. I don’t know how much longer I could take being alone in here.”
He had a vague memory of being caught in the soup aisle of a grocery store. That made for a weird dream. “Where’s here?”
“I’m not sure, but I think we’re back at Isabella’s house. At least somewhere on the estate. They covered my eyes with a ski mask, but we didn’t drive far, so it seemed logical to assume they’d take us here. Right?” She must have been shifting.
He heard metallic noises, but couldn’t focus on anything. Or feel much either. “Why aren’t we dead?”
“I’m fine. Thank you very much for asking. No one’s done anything except lock my hands to a chain on the floor and slap me once or twice.”
“My head’s a bit foggy regarding some details. More like all the details. Are you really okay? Or are you just staying strong?”
“I think he split my lip. Other than that, I’m fine. Sorry for taking your head off.”
“Sweetheart, if you could take it off, I’d let you. It hurts like a son of a bitch.” His mind’s picture of her lip bleeding, her unable to touch it, worried about him...it won out over the fact he still saw four of his shoes. She would have been worried. Probably still was. He tried to be hopeful. “What did they hit me with—a sledgehammer?”
“They did hit you pretty hard, but I bet it was whatever they gave you to knock you out all this time. It’s been hours. Long, scary hours here by myself.”
Whatever they were both handcuffed to rattled as she jerked against it. Maybe something bolted to the floor. Kenderly had to be cuffed and connected to him with a chain or something. She’d moved, and his wrists were pulled. He couldn’t be certain and didn’t have enough strength in his arms to pull to see if it was a possible escape.
“Remind me to say no to drugs.”
“Sure.” She sort of laughed and cried at the same time. Then it was just an all-out cry. If he could have seen her, he might have lost his composure. Odds were they were going to die soon, and it wouldn’t be easy or as quick as what she’d witnessed when they’d first met.
“It’s okay, Kenderly.” He was lying through his teeth. These men were going to get ugly and use them against each other. “Look, if you have a chance to save yourself, take it.”
Nothing was okay about their situation. No one knew they were missing. No one knew they were anywhere close to here. Tenoreno could have them disappear. Easy.
In pieces.
With his memory returning a little more each minute, he was surprised he’d awakened at all. Tenoreno knew about the flash drive. It was the only bargaining chip Garrison had to try and save Kenderly.
“Sorry.” She sniffed. “I’m just so glad you woke up. Now we might have a chance to get out of here.”
He wanted to tell her the truth, but what good would that do? Make her spend her last hour crying or hysterical? Okay, she hadn’t been hysterical up to this point in their adventure.
In fact, she’d been damn smart about things. She’d been a good sounding board and had come up with a lot of the ideas they’d used. But he still wasn’t telling her the truth. Take away someone’s hope and that was worse than...
“Garrison?”
“Yeah.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be able to break your thumb to slide the handcuffs off. Or maybe dislocate your shoulder? No, that wouldn’t do anything. What about stepping through the loop of your arms to bring your hands in front of you? We might be able to find something to pick the handcuff lock.”
“I thought I was the one who had been drugged.” He wished he could do one of those tricks.
“I just thought it was worth a shot. I’ve been trying to think of something, anything, that would help if you woke up. I mean when you woke up.” She shifted again, and his hands were pulled a little farther from his back. “Speaking of shots, how’s your arm?”
“Sore. Stiff. Better than my head. Seeing myself hurl twice with this double vision isn’t going to be fun. But I’m optimistic.” He yanked at the handcuffs.
“Ow, that sort of hurt.”
“That confirms that our cuffs are connected by a chain. These things are not coming apart. If I pull, I’m going to hurt you.” He was still feeling the effects of whatever drug they’d used on him, so he didn’t have much strength anyway.
“I’m not finding a lot of positive in this experience, Garrison.”
“Did they question you? What did they want? Do they know about the info?”
“Isabella’s murderer—who is more frightening to look at without his mask—asked me a couple of questions. But then he got a call, nudged you with his toe and left.”
He couldn’t detect any additional shaking in her voice. She just sounded scared. “Do they know about the flash drive?”
“Yes. Do they want to know if we have it? Yes. Do they know what’s on it? No.”
“Kenderly, you can talk to me. Unless you’re upset that I screwed up. I don’t have enough words to say I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the guy had a partner.”
“That’s right. I think Isabella’s murderer dropped his pervert of a partner off at your aunt’s house to look for something,” she whispered. “I heard they don’t know what’s on the flash drive. They were talking about it when they threw you in here. Apparently you are heavier than you look.”
“It’s my boots. Why are we whispering?”
“They may be watching us or recording our conversation,” she continued with her extra breathy voice.
“You really have watched a lot of crime shows on television.”
He didn’t think there were any recording devices in the room. No blinking red light or visible camera. No two-way mirror. But he couldn’t see all of the room. He knew the door had opened on the wall behind him.
>
“We live in a very electronic world. Why wouldn’t they be listening—” Were her heels scooting against the floor? There was a lot of slack for his arms after the noise. “See. They knew you were awake.”
He didn’t see anyone or hear footsteps, but needed to get the game going. “Before we get started, fellas, I want you to know that you can let Kenderly go. She doesn’t know anything and has been trying to get away from me for three days.”
A solitary clap, followed by another, echoed throughout the room. “Nicely played, Lieutenant Travis. But also quite false.” Paul Tenoreno walked in front of him.
“Nice suit, fancy ostrich boots, manicured nails—all the signs of a person with money. Should you be visiting the dungeon? Or getting your own hands dirty? That’s taking a big chance with your freedom.”
He was a short man, no more than five-eight, unless you were sitting on the floor and could only see his kneecaps.
“Don’t be absurd. I know all about you, Garrison Travis. You have a twin sister, aunt, mother and what a tragedy, your father was killed when you were a teenager. So don’t think you can lie your way out of this. There is no way out.”
“Me, lie? Naw, you got that all wrong, pal. I’m a Texas Ranger. We’re the freaking oldest law around and handle things the old-fashioned way. We don’t need to lie.”
His head whipped back on the receiving end of a left cross. He forced his jaw to move from side to side, cracking it back into place. Tenoreno had jabbed him hard. “Dammit. I honestly didn’t think you’d do that.”
“Come on, Garrison. How do you think I got to where I am today?” He smiled and splayed his hands in an innocent gesture.
Garrison’s wrists were jerked away from him. He felt the tug stop and turned his head, attempting to see the scuffle he heard. He saw the murdering bastard who had pulled the trigger held a gun to Kenderly’s head. He pulled her by the long strands of multicolored gold and forced her to kneel.
Garrison didn’t want to panic. He had to stay calm, keep a cool head, think through what needed to be done. He couldn’t. That was Kenderly.
