THE MARINE'S LAST DEFENSE

by Angi Morgan

  “Here.” She handed him his cell. “It’s Jerry.”

  He sat and slammed the phone to his ear, ready to join the game again. “Yeah?”

  “Someone’s got eyes on your truck.” He put it on speaker for Bree to hear as she gathered their shoes in the front seat. “I’m not inside the vehicle. I’m walking the dogs between the third and fourth row of rigs to keep an eye on things. How long do you need?”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  “Unwise. They can see my tractor. I don’t think they know you’re inside. You should keep it that way. Start by getting Sabrina away from the windows.”

  “Three minutes.” Jake disconnected and grabbed Bree under the arms to yank her back to the sleeper—surprised face and all.

  She scooted to the opposite side, shoving her feet into the rubber boots she’d retrieved. “What are you going to do? What happens in three minutes.”

  “I’m pulling my shoes on and making certain you understand the rules.” He pushed his head through the black sweater. He’d be a sitting duck, easily spotted against the snow, but he had nothing else.

  “What rules?”

  He laced his boots quickly while looking only at Bree. “You aren’t going to want to follow my orders, but your uncle and I both need you to stay put. Here. Safe.”

  “But I can help—”

  “I’m better going solo. I’ll verify if the men watching the truck are Larry and that young sidekick of his. If they are, I can deal with them. And don’t forget, your uncle’s out there, too. The last thing we need is to worry about you.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself since this thing all blew up.”

  “And that’s turned out great. You’re a distraction if I have to worry about protecting you. Remember, it’s you they’re after. You’re the only person who can give them what they want.”

  He could tell that his words were getting her peeved. She sat Indian-style with her arms closed around her. An apology was on the tip of his tongue. It was the truth. She was a lovely distraction but a distraction nonetheless. And he couldn’t do his job if he was distracted.

  “They shot you.”

  He shifted to her side, pulled the curtain back to the center so no one could see her and kissed her like he’d wanted to when they’d first woken up. He had to rein it in before he had them back under the covers, naked and forgetting about the world.

  “Nice jab, but it was just a graze. Won’t even leave a scar as a reminder.” He leaned his forehead against hers, tempted to kiss her again, but he needed to get to her uncle.

  “Do you have other reminders?”

  Several images of early this morning clamored for time in his mind. He didn’t think he was likely to forget any part of this weekend adventure and he didn’t want to think about the scars he did have from the past eight years. That was a part of him he was determined to forget.

  The past was the past. Former marine. Former life. The scars were there, old wounds that had healed. It was dangerous to go down that path. And dangerous if he kissed her again. What he needed was to get outside and watch the men who thought they were watching him.

  “I’ve got to go. Can you peek through the curtain and take a look at the man leaning on the SUV?” She peeked out as he pulled the laces tight on his second boot. “Recognize him?”

  She shook her head. “Jake—”

  “I really need that promise, hon.” Her purple eyes were going to be his downfall. If one tear fell, he’d...he’d handcuff her to the steering wheel, that’s what he’d do. “Promise me.”

  “I...” The violet orbs darted back and forth between his. “I’ll promise you if you promise not to get grazed again.”

  “It seems I’ve given you a false impression about my capabilities, darlin’. I had a run of bad luck yesterday, but I’m pretty good at what I do.”

  He withdrew his weapon from its holster and tossed the worn leather in the seat before checking his ammo. Then he bent as low as possible for someone over six feet tall and shifted to the passenger seat to dial her uncle.

  “Jerry, got a ninety-second distraction?”

  “Oorah.” Jerry disconnected.

  “What do I do if things don’t go like you’ve planned?” she asked.

  “Did I say I have a plan?”

  Raised voices from the parking lot. There was his diversion. “Is our Peeping Tom on the corner moving away?”

  “Looks like it.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Seriously, Jake. Please be careful.”

  Somehow that felt as sexy as anything that had happened earlier. Okay, maybe not anything. He slipped out the door and sloshed to level ground where the snow wasn’t as deep as the shallow ditch next to the road. There were snowdrifts taller than his head next to buildings.

  The whiteout might have ceased, but it would still take hours to get the roads clear of the mess it had left behind. Running through this snow was like running in a thigh-high ocean surf. A terrific workout, but tiring.

  What they needed was a chopper. Expensive, but he didn’t see any way to lose the men tailing them. Or a way to get to Amarillo fast. They were running out of time to save Bree’s family.

  If they hadn’t already.

  There wasn’t any real running through the snow, but he moved as quickly as he could, darting behind a post to reassess his opponent. He should have asked Mac for some winter camouflage so his dark jacket didn’t stick out. But the closer he got, the more familiar the man watching his truck became. The same young hitchhiker he’d given a hundred-dollar bill to earlier that morning tried not to be obvious about his actions, but he was definitely watching the truck.

  His phone vibrated. Jerry. “You stand out like a tick on a white dog sloshing through that snow. You recognize that fella?”

  “He’s not one of the men who attacked us at the lake, but he’s watching the truck, all right.”

  “I’ll be close.”

  Jake chased several things from his mind. He liked Bree’s uncle Jerry. He also liked Bree—a lot. Maybe too much in such a short period of time. Heck, they already shared a dog. He pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on his surroundings.

  There were more tractors and trailers than he could count. All had their engines running—just like Jerry’s. Instead of parking front to back in a straight line, these rigs were side by side. If he could get to higher ground, up top, then he’d be able to see all the movement in both this lot and the truck stop across the street. He pulled himself up between the cab and trailer.

  Once he had a good grip, he used his upper body strength. On the roof he dropped to his belly, apparently not the only one with the idea to get a bird’s-eye view. A familiar black jacket was perched on the opposite end, five trailers away.

  No time to warn Jerry or Bree about his plan—if he could call taking this man down no matter the cost a plan. He pulled his weapon. Once he stood and ran, there wouldn’t be anything other than adrenaline pumping through him.

  If he could take him alive...great. But that action wasn’t high on his priority list. From where the guy was lying, he didn’t think Jerry was visible. And where Bree sat on the passenger side of his tractor wasn’t.

  Surprise was all he had going for him. Jake slid on his belly from the front of the trailer roof to the back, keeping his weapon above the snow and ice. His hands were frozen, but he couldn’t pull the trigger wearing gloves. He blew on his right fingers, rubbing and warming before he stood.

  The man still hadn’t seen or heard him. He could thank the diesel engines for drowning out most of the noise. A couple of quick inhales and he took off, thankful he wore the military boots that kept him from sliding around as he pushed from one trailer to the next. He jumped the first three-foot space between trailers easily enough, the second wasn’t so tough. But
after Jake landed the third, the man rolled to his back at the sound.

  One more to go.

  Shots. He heard the ping of metal midair between four and five. He landed and dropped flat. More shots, but this guy wasn’t a good aim. Must be the kid who grazed him at the lake.

  “Give it up, kid. Didn’t you learn that you can’t hit the broadside of a marine?”

  The kid scrambled to his knees, scared. He wasn’t wearing the ski mask. Sure enough it was Larry’s sidekick with the unshaven double chin. Jake jumped to his feet and leaped to the silver roof before another shot came a little too close.

  The length of a trailer and a three-foot opening was all that stood between him and taking this wannabe murderer to the police. Right after he supplied Jake with any information he might have about where the Watkins family was being held.

  “Come on, kid. You know you aren’t getting away from me. Everything badass that you’ve heard about marines...imagine that and add a little more...then you’ll get me.” It was the part of him he wanted to bury and never resurrect, but the kid didn’t know that.

  The kid’s gun hand shook and it wasn’t from the cold. “Y-y-you c-can’t do n-n-nothin’ to me. Y-y-you’re a c-cop,” he stuttered.

  Jake wanted to feel sorry for him. But he didn’t. This kid had joined forces with a murderer and abducted Bree. He still hadn’t gotten the full story about what they’d done to her. Neither of the creeps deserved mercy from him.

  Think calm. Try not to kill him.

  “You shoot me, kid, you’re a cop killer. You know what they do to cop killers?” He watched the kid’s face go paler. “That’s right, it’s the death penalty.”

  “They ain’t ever gonna c-c-catch us.”

  Jake shook his head and purposefully smiled. “Look around you, kid. No one’s going anywhere soon. How are you going to get away?”

  Jake walked slowly to the edge of the trailer, faking the confidence he lacked. He hadn’t caught a good look at the type of weapon the kid was using or had any idea how much ammo he carried. They were squared up with about ten feet separating them, three of which had a thirteen-foot drop to the ground.

  The kid wasn’t moving anything except his eyes. He seemed nervous but frozen in place as much as the ground.

  You want this guy alive, a voice nagged at him.

  He wants you dead, another shouted.

  Taking him into custody wouldn’t be easy. Jake wanted him alone. Wanted to give the kid a dose of his own medicine. The trailer shifted just as he was about to make a move. An extra thump or rocking motion shot up his back about the time the kid’s mouth slightly rose at the corner in a smirk.

  The kid raised his weapon. Confident.

  Fire.

  “Behind you, Craig!” Jerry yelled from somewhere on the ground.

  Larry. The kid’s partner stood at the back of the silver trailer. Gun in hand. Aimed at Jake’s chest.

  Chapter Twenty

  Fire.

  Jake’s weapon didn’t waver. He didn’t need to cover both men. Larry was the threat.

  “Take care of the dog walker before someone else comes around,” Larry commanded.

  Jerry disappeared around the back ends of the trucks. He hoped one of his “partners” would think now was a good time to call the cops. Naw, Bree wouldn’t, but Jerry might. They could keep Bree hidden and out of the police questioning.

  “Big, tough m-marine fell for...for the stuttering routine.” The kid swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thick neck.

  Clearly accepting the orders, the kid dropped clumsily off the orange rooftop and out of sight.

  “We got a problem, man,” Larry said. “All we need’s the girl and the money.”

  You need this guy alive. Jake knew why he stood there listening to a criminal, but what was Larry’s reason to talk it up with a cop? What did they hope to gain?

  “So maybe you should shoot that gun in your hand instead of treating it like a toy. Or I could shoot you and resolve both our problems.”

  Larry shrugged, trying to look tough by smiling, like every stereotypical bad guy Jake had seen in the movies and rarely encountered on the streets.

  Jake wanted to punch the smile right off his face, leaving a mark a hell of a lot worse than the one on Bree’s cheek. He’d settle for dislocating the man’s jaw. Then he’d dare Larry to try to look like...whatever.

  “You think you’re smart? Thing is, ya shoot me and you know you’ll never get her family back. No chance my brother will let ’em go unless you do what I say.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s the one reason you aren’t dead already. So your point, Larry?” It was tempting to pull the trigger and end the smug arrogance of a confessed murderer, but the cop in him was stronger than the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later. Alive. You need this guy alive. He’d keep the man alive and lock him away in jail.

  “The point is,” Larry said, “I have what you want and you won’t shoot me. So drop it.”

  Barking. A familiar howl. Dallas and Charlie.

  “Get ’em off me. Stop.” That had to be the kid. “I’ll kill her, old man. I’ll kill her.”

  Larry’s eyes darted toward the sound of the scuffle. Jake stared at the gun barrel as it drooped. Slightly, but that was enough. Jake squeezed the trigger microseconds before Larry. No longer aiming at a stationary target, Larry missed, then dropped flat to the top of the icy silver trailer, dodging Jake’s shot.

  Jake jumped to the orange trailer, dug his toes into the ice, keeping his footing on the roof. Alive. You need this guy alive. If he hadn’t been repeating the line, he would have emptied his clip. But he didn’t fire. To his right he caught a glimpse of someone with long, dark hair rolling in the snow, fighting with a man in a black jacket. Just a glimpse as he refocused on Larry, to his left, who was getting to his knees and standing.

  Jake raised his arms and leaped across the trailers, smashing Larry to his back and sending both weapons flying. The crash thrust them skidding across the trailer. Jake latched on to his opponent’s jacket. He dug his steel-toed boots into the icy silver roof to slow their slide. His feet caught on a roof reinforcement, stopping them from plunging over the side.

  Larry threw his arm across Jake’s windpipe, pushing, acting unconcerned that they both might teeter over the trailer’s edge. Hitting the ground headfirst—snow or no snow—could be deadly.

  “What now, cop?” he said, clenching his jaw and shoving harder.

  Another impasse. They’d have to roll to their sides and let go of each other in order to get to their feet. How could he take this maniac alive?

  The double-chinned kid backed around the corner of the semi, shoving Bree. Her arm was twisted behind her back with his gun pointed straight at her temple.

  Jerry was nowhere in sight.

  “Let him go or I’ll kill her!” the kid shouted. “But don’t drop him. I mean—” Bree stumbled into a snowdrift and the kid began kicking, connecting with her side. She curled into a ball, protecting herself. “I won’t stop till you let him go.”

  “Don’t kick her to death. He gets it,” Larry said. His face was too close not to miss the “I win” glare in his eyes. “We need her.”

  The arm crushing Jake’s larynx cautiously lifted. Jake rolled and pulled himself back until both of them could grab the side of the truck and catch their balance. They moved apart, rolling in opposite directions and scrambling to their feet. The instant he stood, he saw the challenge in Larry’s eyes. His opponent already had a switchblade palmed.

  Jake wasn’t worried about the aggression. He was through treating these men like they were worth any kindness. Every strike he inflicted wouldn’t begin to pay back for what Bree had endured.

  Larry thumbed the lever and the blade popped into place. He lunged.<
br />
  One defensive move at a time, Jake’s years of military training took over. Once let loose, there was no stopping the return of the machine he’d never wanted to evoke into action again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bree’s side was on fire from the kicks to her ribs. She haltingly unzipped her jacket without anyone noticing and withdrew one of the guns she’d taken from Jake’s black bag. She couldn’t see either man on top of the trailer, but she could see her uncle’s signal telling her it was time. Hopefully, Jake would benefit from the distraction and be able to save himself. And her. She uncurled and rolled under the edge of the trailer. As soon as the bastard who’d just kicked her leaned down to grab her, she stuck her gun in his face.

  “Drop your gun.” She spoke softly so only the kid—as Jake had called him—could hear.

  When he did, she moved until she could pick it up, then shoved the gun into her pocket. Her uncle came from behind her with packing tape he’d retrieved out of his bottomless pit of road supplies. But her uncle didn’t move fast enough. The kid started running, yelling and flailing his arms.

  “Larry! Larry! Larry!”

  “I’ll get him.” Jerry came out of hiding. “Find those guns. The cops will be here any minute.” He ran through the snow, gaining on the kid.

  Bending to look for those guns, the pain in her ribs shot through her like an ice pick. She’d almost felt sorry for the kid, but not so much while she clenched her jaw and got control of her breathing back. Finding those guns was easier said than done. “I don’t think anyone’s going to find them until this snow melts,” she mumbled.

  The trailer rocked at her back. Jake fought with Larry again, just as her uncle had predicted. She backed up in the knee-deep snow until she could see the men on the rooftop. A crowd had gathered outside the store across the street and were headed this way.

  “Jake! I can hear the police.” The siren wailed in the distance. She couldn’t be delayed trying to convince them her family was in trouble. They had to get out of there. She looked up in time to see Jake’s boot catch Larry in the chest, rocketing him over the back of the trailer toward her.