Lasso That Cowboy
Page 17
“No time, Amber,” Matt growled.
He and the medics rushed past Amber with Luke strapped to the stretcher.
****
Her stomach knotted. In spite of his tan, Luke looked pale. She wanted to run after them. Hang on, Luke. She squared her shoulders. She had to stay strong and do what he would do if he wasn’t wounded—find his daughter.
Amber searched the arena several more times. Both the Ryan and George families fanned out and helped her. To their credit, everyone was supportive, and no one blamed her to her face. They didn’t need to—she blamed herself.
Luke’s bull riding event had been the last for the day, and folks were leaving. Amber wanted to shout freeze and make everyone stay put, but it wouldn’t have done any good. They were rushing from the stands like stampeding cattle. Feeling a rising panic, Amber weaved through the crowd until she found the ranch security boss. “Have you found Alicia?” Amber’s throat was dry.
“We’ve closed off the ranch, searched vehicles, but no sign of her.”
“Is the sheriff on his way?”
A deep voice came from behind her. “Better than that. I’m here. Never miss Buck’s charity rodeo.” She turned and faced a man with a black patch over one eye and a star pinned to his khaki shirt. “Curt Davis, ma’am,” he drawled. “And you are?”
Davis was a lawman. He could lock her up. Amber took a deep breath and stuck out her hand. “Amber Miles.”
He wrinkled his forehead and looked at her long and hard before he finally closed his hand over hers in a firm grip. “Have we met before, ma’am?”
“Probably seen each other around. I’m Alicia’s nanny.” Her mouth tasted metallic. “Glad you’re here,” she hurried on. “It’s important for you to understand this isn’t a case of a child wandering off.” She explained that Luke had been shot, and she thought the shooting must have been a distracting tactic. “There was a woman two rows behind us who could be the kidnapper.”
The sheriff shifted on his scuffed boots and listened with a masked expression. He seemed to be memorizing her face. “Why?” he asked.
“Because she disappeared at the same time.”
The sheriff withdrew a small pad and the stub of a pencil from his pocket. “Description?”
“She’s at least six feet tall and long-legged like a Vegas showgirl.” Amber’s heart pounded. A Nevada connection fit.
After telling him everything she knew, Amber combed the arena again, calling first Alicia, then Rosebud. The sweet little pixie wasn’t anywhere.
Next Amber and the family checked the barns. On the hay-strewn floor of one of the stalls, Amber found a smashed mouse-shaped watch. Her heart pounded. She turned it over and read the inscription. To Alicia. Love, Dad. Amber bit her lip, promising herself she wouldn’t cry. Oh, God, what would those monsters do to a child? They had tortured and killed people. Amber tightened her grip on the watch, unaware that the broken glass was cutting into her palm, dripping more blood onto her jeans, soaking into the spots made by Luke’s blood. Luke must be going through hell—carried away against his will when all he wanted was to stay and find his daughter.
With the watch here and two horses missing, it looked likely that the woman kidnapper with Alicia and the shooter had escaped the net and left by horseback. Amber heard the roar of a helicopter in the distance. It was too early to be Luke and Matt. She prayed it was a police chopper and not the escaping kidnappers. If the kidnappers got Alicia off the ground, they could take her anywhere. Amber drew in a deep breath. She couldn’t let panic take over. She headed for the sheriff to see if he could confirm if it was a police chopper. It wasn’t. Too early. He made a call to identify the craft and its pilot, but the helicopter had disappeared.
The sun inched lower in the sky and shadows gobbled up the ranch. Amber went from command post to command post, praying for good news. Buck had enlisted the help of his vaqueros. Every able bodied person was out looking. Darkness fell on the ranch, and Alicia still hadn’t been found.
When Amber checked the main command post, which had been set up in Buck’s living room, Molly rushed up to her and gave her a hug. “I heard from Matt,” she said. “Luke’s okay. Just worried, and mad as hell.”
Amber felt a surge of relief. He was all right! Her elation faded as quickly as it had come when Luke’s words, How could you let this happen? echoed in her head.
“The bullet’s out,” Molly continued. “It went into the fleshy part of his leg. No bone or vein damage. Since his daughter’s missing, they’re going to let him come home. Our men are on their way back to the ranch. It seems a phony medic drugged Luke with a knockout pill and used whiskey to wash it down.”
So that was why he blacked out, Amber thought. She’d feared it was from loss of blood. Matt had told Luke that Alicia was still missing. Luke had to be crazed with worry. Amber rubbed her aching head. How would she face him? She’d rather be trampled by stampeding cattle.
The sheriff came by with an update. “We’ve checked every inch of the ranch and blocked the roads leading away,” he drawled. “We’re widening the search, but the longer the child’s missing…” His voice trailed away. The defeat in his tone deepened Amber’s anguish.
****
Their helicopter eased through the sky like a damned coasting bird. Luke frowned. If he were at the controls instead of Matt, he’d open her up full speed. Instead, he was stuck lying in the back on a stretcher with his bandaged leg propped up like some cripple. He’d told Matt and the rodeo medics he was fine. But they’d ganged up on him and insisted he follow the doc’s orders. Luke shook his head. It wasn’t like him to let his brother or anyone else hog-tie him. He wasn’t sure why he’d knuckled under. He felt so plastic. Detached calmness and bridled pressure simmered inside him as though he were watching all the horror from outside his body. He figured his numbed state was the result of the drugs they’d pumped into him during surgery, likely made more potent by the alcohol and knockout pill in his system.
Damn. It felt inhuman to be so coldly rational with his daughter in the hands of those merciless bastards. He closed his fists. It was dark as hell, and Alicia still hadn’t been found. Alicia, baby, hang on. Daddy’s coming.
He vowed the minute he got outta this damned whirling heap of metal, the convalescence would be over! Damn Matt for taking him away when his daughter needed him. But how could he have looked for his daughter with a bullet in his thigh and knockout drugs in his system? His mouth tasted foul. He would like to smash the fake medic who’d poured whiskey down his throat. The rodeo medics said Buck had hired the newcomer just for the charity event. The newcomer and one of the clowns had moved Luke out of the arena to safety. When the other two medics had arrived on the scene and saw the phony medic pouring whiskey down Luke’s throat, they told the guy to report to Buck. They described the bogus medical man as tall, lean and dark skinned—a description that matched at least a dozen of the vaqueros on Buck’s ranch. Luke had been too dazed from his fall from the bull to describe the guy any better.
Matt had apologized for thinking the worst. Luke understood. His past was something he battled every day, and sometimes he doubted himself. Molly had told Matt the whole story behind the kidnapping—that it was timed to take place at the precise moment Luke was shot.
Damn, he’d been a heel for yelling at Amber. She loved Alicia, too. She must be going crazy.
Matt checked with Molly every half hour. He promised they would find Alicia. Luke knew his brother couldn’t keep a promise like that. But Luke vowed to find her, or die trying. He’d chuck his crutches by tomorrow. He refused to be relegated to manning the phones while others did the leg work. Holy Mary, mother of God, just keep her safe and alive, and I’ll do the rest.
****
Family and friends charged forward when the chopper set down. Luke knew he should’ve known they’d be there and prepared himself for the rush of confusing emotions. He wanted to talk to them, question them—and he wanted to avoid them un
til he could pull himself together. He bristled when Matt and the rodeo medics helped him climb down from the craft. Once they ducked beyond the circling propellers, he squared his shoulders and shrugged them away. He knew they meant well, but damned if he’d let them treat him like a cripple when his daughter needed him to be strong.
Amber stood in the back, her eyes filled with misery. He wanted to head straight for her and take her in his arms. He limped through the group of loved ones, accepting hugs and supportive comments. “Don’t worry,” they said, “we won’t stop looking until Alicia’s back home.”
Empty words, but said with love. He nodded and thanked them in a husky, constricted voice that sounded foreign to him.
He stepped in front of Amber and paused for a pulse-stopping, heart-piercing eternity. Amber’s eyes were swollen and her hair was an uncombed tangle of auburn flowing about her shoulders. Her expression was the saddest he’d ever seen, mirroring what he felt. Had it only been hours since he’d last seen her?
His throat felt tight. “There’s dried blood on your pant’s leg.” God, that wasn’t what he wanted to say.
“It’s yours,” she said, without breaking eye contact.
She’d been through hell, and he’d made it worse. Why couldn’t he think of the right words? His mind churned with excruciating worry and he ached all over from his fall from the Brahma, but the sight of Amber shot painkilling endorphins through his veins.
“Luke,” she said softly. “There are no words…” Her voice broke, and she took a breath to regain her composure. “But I’m so deeply, deeply sorry.”
Balancing his weight between Amber and his crutches, he drew her into his arms. “We’ll get Alicia back.” It frightened him how empty the words sounded. He held Amber close until her trembling stopped. When he released her, she walked beside him as he limped toward the ranch house. He had wanted to kiss her so damned bad, but it seemed wrong with his daughter missing. “I need a briefing of what’s been done,” he said.
****
Amber poured herself a mug of morning coffee and slipped into a straight-back chair next to Luke. Silence hung in the air between them. She closed her eyes. She’d let Luke down and now a child’s life hung in the balance. Nothing would ever be the same. “Luke, I—”
“Matt called in the FBI,” he interrupted. “Authorities across the U.S. are on alert with special attention given to Nevada and Virginia due to the possible connections there. Worldwide news is carrying Alicia’s picture—her face will be everywhere, newspapers, TV.” Luke paused, his look almost a caress before it hardened again. “We’ll be getting a flood of calls. I’ve ordered extra temporary phone lines.”
Amber’s stomach knotted. The whirl of activity made her feel more guilty, more helpless.
“I want you to stay by the phones,” Luke said.
“Please, no. There’s a houseful of people to do that. I need to do more. I can identify the woman who took Alicia, and the sheriff said—”
“Dammit. For once in your life, just do what I ask.” The desperation in his tone shouted that he needed to be in control on some level. She bit back her retort, willing to give him whatever helped him to get through this—even an illusion.
His gaze softened. “I’ll check with you later, okay?”
She nodded.
Then, like a man possessed, he thrust off his crutches.
She covered her mouth to hold back a small gasp and helplessly watched him head out the door to join the search. Damn him. She was in better shape to join the search party than he was. He could have manned the phones for a few days, let his leg heal. But not Mr. Macho. Didn’t he understand? Now was the time to join forces. Looking for Alicia was something they could have done together. But, no—he wanted her here—out of his sight.
He was gone around the clock. The next morning, he stayed less than five minutes, and while he quickly reviewed the telephone messages with her, he avoided her eyes. He handed her a newspaper. “Thought you might want to see this,” he said and headed out the door again.
Her heart sank. It was clear—he hated her. He couldn’t even stand to look at her.
After he left, Amber glanced at the headlines. She hoped the San Antonio police didn’t make the connection between the nanny mentioned in the newspapers and Mr. Rhoades’ missing secretary. She had been thinking of turning herself in. But the shadowy physical descriptions of the masked men who broke in, and the big man who fired the shot that killed Mr. Rhoades wasn’t enough to help. She needed names and a concrete motive. But digging out more information would have to wait until Alicia was safe.
Days crawled by without any sign of her. Matt came into the kitchen looking like he hadn’t slept in days either. They had never hit it off, but she’d come to admire his unwavering devotion to the family, and she was grateful for his FBI connections.
She handed him a cup of coffee. Then, she began to pace. “Why no word from the kidnappers? What are they waiting for?” She didn’t even try to hide the frustration in her voice.
“It’s not a good sign,” he said. “The earlier the demand comes in, the better Alicia’s chances. On the positive side, sometimes kidnappers like to play mind games with the family to wear them down before they make contact.”
Before Amber could ask more questions, Matt fled the kitchen, taking his coffee with him. That’s how it had been—no one talking much—everyone too submerged in their own pain, their own fears.
Hers were growing by the hour. Were the kidnappers giving Alicia enough to eat? Keeping her clean and safe? Was she frightened? Dear, God, what if they molested her?
Amber rubbed her aching head. The questions hammered at her mercilessly and she knew they must be tearing at Luke as well.
Another day passed. The charity rodeo was over, and the family and Buck’s security people had searched every inch of the ranch. There was no reason to accept Buck’s hospitality any longer. Luke and Matt decided to establish a command center on the Ryan ranch. Wanda promised to relay all the calls about Alicia. Amber’s stomach knotted tighter when it was time to board the Cessna. Everything in her resisted leaving the place where Alicia had disappeared, but she knew the child could be hundreds of miles away by now.
Rather than returning to Luke’s house, he insisted in a low drawl that she stay at Matt’s place. “With me gone all the time chasing leads,” he said, without meeting her eyes, “it’s safer for you. And Molly and Mom can use your help to man the phones.”
Amber nodded. Without Alicia to care for, she didn’t belong in Luke’s house or even on the ranch, but she couldn’t leave—not until Alicia was back with her daddy where she belonged.
Amber wished Alicia could belong with her, too. She didn’t expect anyone to understand what she was going through. Alicia was like her own daughter. A surge of pain shot through Amber—she’d lost Alicia and Luke in the same horrifying instant. She could face losing Luke, but not Alicia. Please, God, don’t let Rosebud pay for my moment of distraction.
Luke grabbed up the phone, explaining to her that the Ryan spread was in a different county than the abduction site, so he also had to clue in the local sheriff. When the sheriff came on the line, Luke gave him the details of Alicia’s disappearance. Tears came to his eyes. and he cleared his voice. It was obvious how much it hurt him to repeat the story.
The days passed. Because of all the media coverage, they received more calls at the Ryan ranch than they had at Buck’s place. There were sightings of Alicia first in one state and then another—all turned out to be false leads. Amber screened leads for duplicates and fed the new ones to Luke. He ran all the clues by the sheriff. Those the lawman considered a waste of time, Luke chased down himself, hoping one would pan out.
When Molly and Virginia insisted that Amber get out of the house for a while in the evenings, she practiced her roping with Roberto. She couldn’t swing the lasso without thinking of Alicia and how good the little pixie had gotten for her size. A regular little cowgirl.
“Tell us what you want,” the family said repeatedly into the cameras shoved in their faces.
Unsatisfied with those comments, the reporters pushed emotional buttons. “How do you feel about losing the child?” they asked Amber. Then to Luke they asked, “Do you blame the nanny?”
Neither Luke nor Amber answered questions like that, but Amber feared his answer if he were to expose his true feelings. He had to blame her—she blamed herself.
****
Amber heard booted steps coming from the entry hall toward her. From the desk in the sunken living room, she looked up, surprised to see Luke. Her heart pounded. The dark circles under his eyes showed that, like her, he hadn’t slept for days. He was running himself into the ground. It seemed he’d aged a year. She had the urge to touch the shadowy stubble on his face. The sadness in his eyes made her want to cry. They’d spoken of nothing but the search. It hurt that he hadn’t touched her. Amber’s face flushed, remembering the night she had tried to seduce him. That night, he had vowed to count the days until he could finish what she’d started. She had looked forward to it. Needed it. That seemed like such a long time ago. Now the passion that consumed them was all about getting Alicia back.
In spite of their single-minded drive, every time he was near, she wanted to reach out and touch him, soothe his overwhelming pain and have him soothe hers. She needed him now more than ever and hated herself for those needs.
“Have you eaten today?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Virginia said he hadn’t sat down to a meal since Alicia had disappeared. Amber hadn’t eaten much herself, but she could go on less fuel than a man.