Beyond Control

by Kat Martin

  His heart squeezed. She was amazing. And she could have been killed.

  Tory shoved her pistol back into the holster at her waist, shot to her feet, and raced toward him. Careful of his wound, she ducked under his good arm, propping him up on her shoulder, helping him walk back to the oak. She set him down and leaned him back against the trunk of the tree.

  Josh smiled up at her. “It’s over, baby. This time it’s finished.”

  She glanced around. “Are you sure there aren’t more?”

  “None here. We’ll talk to Taggart, but I’m thinking this was the last member of the cell.”

  “You need a doctor, Josh. We’ve got to get you home.”

  “We’ll have to catch the horses.”

  “Rose is just over there. I’ll ride back and get help.”

  He didn’t argue. The blood loss was beginning to make him lightheaded. Tory started for the mare, but as she grabbed the reins and tugged Rosebud forward, he heard the whop of helicopter blades pounding through the air in the distance.

  Josh looked toward the west and saw a chopper heading in their direction. As it circled the open pasture, Tory ran into the open and started waving her arms. The chopper spotted her and began to descend. It settled in the wet green grass just a few dozen yards away.

  The letters FBI on the side of the aircraft couldn’t have been a more welcome sight. Josh shoved himself to his feet and started toward them. He had only taken a couple of steps before he passed out cold in the grass.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tory sat next to Josh’s hospital bed. They had kept him at Iron Springs Medical overnight. He had lost a lot of blood, plus he needed antibiotics to protect against infection.

  He was cranky and anxious to go home. According to the doctor, the bullet had missed his ribs and hit soft tissue instead of bone. Nice and clean, the doctor had said. Josh had been lucky.

  Tory thought they had both been extremely lucky.

  The shooting had been a huge story on the eleven o’clock local news last night. It had been picked up by the wire service and spread all over the country. Josh was a hero once more. He wasn’t happy about it but there was nothing he could do.

  She reached over and fluffed his pillow, helping him get more comfortable, then looked up to see Agent Quinn Taggart pushing through the door of the private room Josh had been assigned, probably thanks to Linc.

  According to Taggart, when he hadn’t heard from Josh, he had phoned the ranch again. Mrs. Thompson had told him Tory had ridden out to find Josh, but they hadn’t returned. She was worried, Clara had said.

  Nervous about the second shooter, who so far hadn’t been located, Taggart and several other FBI agents had helicoptered out from the Dallas office, arriving just in time to whisk Josh off to the hospital.

  Other agents had been called in to handle the crime scene, bring the horses in, and remove the body of the terrorist who had killed Coy Whitmore and tried to kill Josh.

  “How’s he doing?” Taggart asked Tory.

  “I’m doing fine,” Josh answered grumpily. “I’ll be better when I get out of here.”

  “They’re letting him out this afternoon,” Tory said.

  “They’re letting me out this morning,” Josh grumbled.

  Taggart’s gaze swung back to her. “I can see he’s doing okay. How are you doing?”

  She glanced away. Her jeans were still spotted with Josh’s blood, her boots crusted with dried mud. She was wearing a clean pink T-shirt with a butterfly on the front that Carly had bought her in the gift shop.

  “I’m okay. We were lucky.” They had been lucky, but her mood was glum. Josh would need her for a while during his recovery, but after that, it was time for her to get on with her life.

  She thought she might stay in Iron Springs, at least for a while. Maybe. Unless seeing Josh around town hurt too badly.

  Taggart ran a hand over his short blond hair and straightened his tie, back to his more formal FBI persona.

  “You’ll both be happy to know every shred of intel we have confirms we’ve rounded up the last member of the cell. Josh won’t have to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his days.”

  “That’s good news,” Josh said.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t figure it out sooner,” Taggart said, “but we did the best we could.”

  “We appreciate everything you’ve done,” Tory said.

  “You can pick up your weapons in the Dallas office whenever you’re ready.” Taggart checked his wristwatch. “I’ve got to run. Just wanted to make sure you two were okay. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” The agent turned and walked out the door.

  Josh gave Tory a too-sweet smile. “How about seeing if you can find that doctor, honey, get him to sign my release papers.”

  She laughed. “You are such a con man. I’ll tell you what. I’ll take the truck, go home and change, get you some clean clothes while I’m there. You can hardly leave here covered in dried blood and crusted mud. If the doctor hasn’t released you by the time I get back, I’ll hunt him down like a dog and convince him to let you go home.”

  Josh laughed. Then the smile slid off his face. “We need to talk, baby. It’s important.”

  Her stomach knotted. “I know . . .” she said softly.

  He relaxed back on his pillow. “Don’t be too long.”

  She just shook her head. Last night, as soon as the helicopter had landed at the hospital and Josh had been whisked into the emergency room, she had phoned Linc and Carly.

  They had immediately helicoptered in to Blackland Ranch, then driven both Linc’s and Josh’s pickups to the hospital so Tory would have a vehicle to use and a way to get Josh home.

  They had stayed for several hours, until they were satisfied Josh was going to be okay and he had succumbed to the drugs and exhaustion and fallen deeply asleep. Tory had spent the night in his room. She wanted to be there when he woke up in the morning.

  At dawn, he’d awoken, his beautiful blue eyes immediately searching for her. His shoulders eased when he saw her.

  “I knew you’d be here,” he said, still groggy from the meds they had given him. “You’re . . . amazing.” He’d drifted back to sleep, slept a few more hours, but now he was awake, restless, and anxious to leave.

  “I won’t be long,” she promised as she pushed through the door and stepped out into the hall. Taking the elevator down, she crossed the lobby and headed out to the parking lot.

  With all the turmoil, Clara Thompson had stayed in the trailer with Ivy. She was staying till Tory got Josh home and settled.

  Driving the pickup down the highway, Tory had just reached the edge of town when the disposable phone in her purse started ringing. Very few people had that number, just Josh, Mrs. Thompson, Lisa and Shelly, now Carly and Linc.

  Normally, she didn’t talk on the phone while she was driving, but with all the trouble lately, she pulled over and dug it out of her purse. She didn’t recognize the caller ID.

  Hoping it was just a wrong number, she pressed the phone against her ear. “This is Tory.”

  “Well, hello, sweetheart. Have you missed me?”

  Her stomach convulsed, instantly knotted. Damon. Her hand shook. How had he gotten this number? She started to hang up, but remembering the redheaded waitress, she was afraid of what he might do to someone else if she did.

  “What do you want, Damon?”

  “What do you think I want? I’ve missed you, Victoria. I want to see you. Since I have your little girl, I bet you want to see me, too.”

  A wave of nausea hit her, making the bile rise in her throat. Oh, my God! Damon is here! He has Ivy! She took a deep breath. She couldn’t let him know how terrified she was. “I don’t believe you. Where are you?”

  “I’m waiting for you at the ranch. Ivy’s with me. Mrs. Thompson gave me your number. She was very cooperative.”

  She held back the sob in her throat. “You haven’t . . . haven’t hurt them? You haven’t h
urt Clara or Ivy?”

  “What, that nice old lady and your little girl? Why on earth would I want to hurt them? You’re the one I want, Victoria.”

  She cranked the engine and pulled the pickup back onto the highway. “How did you know where to find them?”

  “You really thought I didn’t know where you were and what you were doing? I’ve had someone watching you since you left Phoenix. People are such scum. Nothing they won’t do for money.”

  The inside of her mouth felt bone-dry and her mind had gone numb. She couldn’t think straight. She was terrified she would say the wrong thing.

  “I heard about your boyfriend,” Damon continued matter-of-factly. “Too bad he’s in the hospital.”

  Oh, God.

  She gripped the steering wheel, passed a car a little too fast, took a shaky breath, and prayed her voice would come out even. “If you have Ivy, I want to talk to her.”

  “All right.” She heard him moving around. “Ivy, sweetheart, come over here. Your mama’s on the phone. Ivy’s a little upset,” he said to Tory, “but she’s okay.”

  Ivy was not okay. She was terrified of Damon. And what had happened to Clara Thompson? Oh, God.

  She passed another car, driving one-handed, slowing just enough to be sure she wouldn’t crash. “Ivy?”

  “Mama, I’m scared. Damon’s here.” Ivy started crying.

  “It’s all right, baby. Mama’s almost home. Just be a good girl till I get there, okay?”

  “I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.”

  “I’ll be all right. Just do what Damon says, okay?”

  “’Kay.”

  “Is Mrs. Thompson there?”

  But the phone was jerked away. “The old lady’s here, but she’s resting.”

  Her throat ached. “Did you hurt her?”

  “She’ll be fine. Turns out chloroform is a lot more effective than a stun gun.”

  “I’m on my way, Damon. Don’t do anything to hurt them.”

  “If you call the police . . . if you tell anyone I’m here, you won’t ever see your daughter again. Do you understand?”

  She understood. She had known since she’d awoken in that hospital in Phoenix that Damon would find a way to destroy her. She didn’t care what happened to her, but she couldn’t let him hurt Ivy.

  “I’m not far away. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

  “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” Damon hung up the phone and Tory stepped on the gas.

  * * *

  Josh was tired of waiting. Where the hell was Tory? She was supposed to be bringing clean clothes. Hell, he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he went home buck naked. He just wanted the hell out of there.

  He fiddled with the TV tuner, trying to find something to watch, finally gave up and turned it off. His cell phone rang. He reached over and snatched it off the tray table, recognized Ham’s number.

  “Hey, Ham. What’s up?”

  “Saw you on TV. Glad you’re okay.”

  “Thanks. I’m supposed to be getting out of here today, but—”

  “We got a problem, Josh. I just found out a few minutes ago that Bridger’s old man pulled some strings. Damon’s been out of jail since Saturday morning. He’s not at work and he isn’t at home. We got Suzy Solomon covered, but I’m worried about Tory, Josh.”

  “Jesus, I gotta call her. Thanks, Ham. I’ll call you later.” Josh hung up and quickly dialed Tory’s cell, but it rang and rang and she didn’t pick up.

  His nerves stretched taut. He ended the call and carefully eased out of bed, disconnecting himself from wires and tubes as his feet hit the cold linoleum floor. He carefully moved his arm. He was stiff and hurting like hell, but he’d live.

  Dragging off the hospital gown, he tossed it away and walked naked to the small locker where his clothes were stored. As he reached inside, a little blond candy striper walked into the room.

  Her eyes rounded and her gaze ran over him from head to foot. “Oh, my.”

  “If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.”

  “Yes . . . I can see that. Sorry.” Cheeks red, she hurried out of the room.

  Putting on his clothes with a hole in his chest wasn’t easy, but he managed. His denim shirt was stiff with dark blood but at least it covered him up. With only a hiss of pain, he sat down carefully and pulled on his jeans and boots.

  He phoned Tory again, but still got no answer. He needed a ride. His brother and Carly had already gone back to Dallas. He’d call Noah or Cole. Both had come down to the hospital last night. He recalled Cole being with Brittany and smiled. If he’d ever seen two people in love, they were it.

  Which made him think of Tory, and his smile quickly faded. He reached for the door just as it opened and Noah walked in.

  Noah’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t expect to see you up and about. I guess you’re feeling better.”

  “I was just going to call you. Bridger’s out of jail. Tory could be in trouble. I need a ride back to the ranch.”

  Noah’s features hardened. “Let’s go.”

  They hurried down the hall past a couple of nurses and the doctor who was supposed to release him.

  “Hey, where are you going?” The doctor, a good-looking Asian, seemed too young to have a medical degree. “I need to check your wound and get it rebandaged.”

  “I don’t have time. I’ll come back later.” Like hell he would. He’d had enough of hospitals to last him a lifetime. He didn’t wait for the doctor’s reply, just hurried on to the elevator and pushed the button, walked in as soon as the doors slid open.

  Noah’s Dodge pickup was parked in the lot. They climbed inside and Noah started the engine. Josh tried calling Tory again, still got no answer. The side of his chest ached, throbbed clear down his leg, but he didn’t have any pain pills and he wouldn’t have taken them if he’d had them. Not until he was sure Tory was safe.

  “Hang on,” Noah said, and fired out of the lot.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mrs. Thompson’s Honda Civic sat where she had parked it yesterday afternoon. Tory glanced around, searching for Damon’s BMW, but it wasn’t there. He had probably flown into Dallas and rented a car. She noticed the barn doors had been closed, figured the rental car must be parked inside out of sight.

  She drove the truck up in front of the house and turned off the engine, took a deep breath, and cracked open the door. Too bad the FBI still had the .38 revolver she’d been carrying yesterday. At the moment, she could shoot Damon Bridger without the slightest qualm.

  Instead, she steeled herself and walked up on the porch of the double-wide, turned the knob, and pulled open the front door.

  Damon sat on the living room sofa, with Ivy statue-still beside him. Her blue eyes were round and glazed with tears. She looked terrified.

  The moment she saw Tory, she jumped up and ran toward her. “Mama!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Tory’s waist.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama’s here now. Everything’s going to be okay.” Somehow. She smoothed her little girl’s blond hair back from her face, brushed away the wetness on her cheeks. “I want you to go into your room and stay there till I tell you to come out, okay?”

  Ivy turned to look at Damon.

  “Do what your mother tells you,” he said.

  Ivy clung to her a few seconds more, then ran down the hall to her room.

  “Close the door,” Damon called after her. The door clicked softly behind her.

  Damon rose from the sofa. Tory swallowed as he approached but firmly held her ground. Whatever happened, she would never cower in front of him again. “Where’s Mrs. Thompson?”

  “She’s in your bedroom. She’s still out. Aside from a headache, she’ll be fine.”

  “What are you going to do to them?”

  “Nothing. As long as they stay in there out of the way, they’ll be okay. You’re the one I came for. I think we both know that.” He walked up to her, reached out, and ran a finger over her cheek. S
he managed to hide a shudder of revulsion.

  “Just like old times, isn’t it? You and me together?”

  “If you hurt me, this time they’ll put you in prison. Josh won’t let you get away with it. Even your father’s money won’t be enough to stop him. His brother’s a very powerful man.” She smiled grimly. “But I think you found that out already.”

  He backhanded her across the face so hard she stumbled and nearly fell. Her lip throbbed. Her hand trembled as she wiped away a trace of blood.

  “What do you want, Damon?”

  “We’re going to take a little road trip, you and me. Get to know each other all over again. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  Oh, God. Damon surprised her by pulling a pistol, a big black semiautomatic. She hadn’t even known he owned a gun. She thought of Lisa. She’d been shot as she’d tried to escape. Was it him?

  Deep down, she believed it was, believed she’d been right all along. The thought that he might have murdered the redheaded waitress made her stomach roll with nausea.

  “Give me your phone.”

  She handed it over, watched as he took out the battery and stuck it into his pocket. She knew Josh had been calling her cell. She had seen his number come up on the screen. She’d ignored the calls, afraid he would know by the sound of her voice that something was wrong, afraid of what Damon would do to Ivy and Mrs. Thompson if Josh interfered.

  Now that she was there, at least for the moment they were safe.

  She had to stall for time. “I-I need to change my clothes.” She looked down at the dirty garments she had been wearing since yesterday. “I spent the night at the hospital.”

  Damon’s dark eyes ran over her. “You’re right. You look like hell.” He motioned with the barrel of the pistol. “I’ll go with you. Not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.”

  She bit back a sob of despair. She had to be strong. Sooner or later, Josh would figure out something was wrong. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Damon sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the pistol like a favorite toy while she stripped off her dirty clothes.

  “You need a shower,” he said. “You smell like blood. We’ll get a room somewhere tonight. You can shower when we get there.” His lips edged up in a smirk. “After that, I have plans for you.”