Ross

by Jennifer Ashley

  Manny was terrified.

  Inside the diner, the man who’d occasionally hired Manny to run errands and carry packages for Dell Leith calmly ate pie. Mrs. Ward and her staff had no idea—though they must be suspicious of the stranger. But Mrs. Ward wouldn’t turn away a customer unless she knew good and well he was a bad guy.

  Callie had said not to approach. Smart. The man might recognize Manny right off. He might not shoot Manny in public, but he could drag him off to the middle of nowhere and kill him. Dell’s men had done such things before.

  But Manny wasn’t so much terrified for himself as he was for Ross.

  He’d gone to Ross’s apartment to yell at him to get his butt over to Callie’s and make things up with her. She needed him. Ross needed her. What was there to figure out?

  The garage had been unlocked, but the apartment above wasn’t, so Manny decided to wait in the shade of the garage for Ross to come home. Then Dell had appeared out of nowhere.

  Manny had spent the scariest twenty minutes of his life hiding in the corner behind the tool bench, praying Dell and his goons didn’t spot him.

  He’d forgotten about his own fears, though, when Dell had climbed into the truck with Ross and told him to drive. And Ross, damn it, had obeyed. Hadn’t fought or anything.

  Manny had known calling the sheriff or his deputies would do no good. Probably Hennessy himself, pissed off that Ross had decided to run for sheriff, had told Dell to off him.

  Manny didn’t have a phone number for the Campbells, but he could call Callie. She’d made sure, since he worked for her now, that he could get hold of her anytime.

  The dude in the diner was shoveling in big forkfuls of pecan-studded whipped cream when Callie pulled her silver Mercedes into the parking lot. She hopped out and looked around for Manny but didn’t see him. Of course not. He’d taken cover in the bushes.

  Damn, she wasn’t going inside to confront the thug, was she?

  He relaxed as Callie walked out of the parking lot and across the street, then tensed again as she headed straight to the county courthouse. The main building was closed for the day, but the entrance to the sheriff’s department was still unlocked. Callie strode to it and opened the door.

  Manny stifled a curse, sprang from hiding, and ran as fast as he could across the square, catching the door before it swung shut behind Callie.

  So, here he was, marching into the lion’s den, ready to protect the first person who’d ever believed in him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Manny caught up to Callie before she could approach the counter at the sheriff’s department, and grabbed her arm.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered fiercely. “Hennessy’s in on it.”

  “I know.” Callie’s eyes were hard, dangerous. Wow. Sweet, soft Callie had just turned into a dragon. “Hello,” she said to the deputy on duty—Joe Harrison. The new guy.

  Harrison gave her a look of polite inquiry, but also interest. Everyone knew Callie and Ross were doing it.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” Harrison asked.

  “Yes. I’d like to report the kidnapping of Ross Campbell.”

  For a second, Harrison started to grin—he thought she was joking. Then his smile died. “Wait. You’re serious.”

  “I am,” Callie said. “He is a witness.”

  She pointed at Manny, who did his best to look like a granite pillar in the middle of the floor.

  “Tell me what happened,” Harrison said quickly, all business.

  Callie pulled Manny forward with a surprisingly strong hand, and Manny, for the second time that evening, launched into his tale.

  “What?” Mildred the dispatcher had come forward as soon as Manny began speaking. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” Tears of frustration sprang to Manny’s eyes. Why was everyone being so slow? They needed to get after Ross.

  “I believe him,” Callie said. “Can we look for Ross, please?”

  “Hell, yes.” Harrison hit a button and told whoever was on the other side of the intercom to get in there. “Which way did they go when they left town?” he asked Manny. “Did you see?”

  “North.” Manny balled his fists. “Hurry. They’re gonna kill him!”

  Deputy Sanchez raced in. “What the fuck?”

  “I’ll call all the dispatchers in the Hill Country,” Mildred said, bustling back to her desk. “We’ll put out a BOLO.”

  Finally, someone was doing something. “They took his phone,” Manny said. “Can’t track him that way.”

  “I’ll get my truck,” Sanchez said. “Harrison, call the Campbells. Tell them what’s happening. They need to know.”

  He didn’t take two steps before Sheriff Hennessy appeared in the doorway. “Sanchez, stay where you are. Mildred, Harrison, don’t call anyone. I’m not starting a panic on the word of this juvenile delinquent.”

  “Will you start it on my word, Sheriff?”

  Callie was amazing. She stood straight and looked old Hennessy in the eye, radiating courage.

  “No,” Sheriff Hennessy said. “I won’t, young lady.”

  Callie’s brows shot up. “I see.” She was poised in her jeans and T-shirt, a stain on the front showing she’d been eating tomato sauce of some kind. She refused to wilt under Hennessy’s condescending stare. “Mr. Hennessy, a citizen of River County is in danger. I demand that you send someone to help him.”

  Manny wanted to punch the air. But Callie needed to be careful. Hennessy might try to lock her up on some stupid excuse, like disturbing the peace, wasting police time …

  Hennessy maintained his cool, as though daring Callie to make something of it. “He’s probably gone off to sulk about being fired. When he’s ready, he’ll come back and let you kiss him better.”

  Uh oh. He shouldn’t have said that. Callie up ’til now had been holding it together, but no, Sheriff Hennessy had to go and piss her off.

  Callie’s tones chilled about fifty degrees. “All right, then, Sheriff. I don’t like to play the Jones card often, because it’s embarrassing and somewhat rude. But my father is very influential in this town. If I tell him that Ross has been taken by a drug lord, and the sheriff can’t be paid to care, that’s not going to go down very well with him or his friends. The Campbells either. I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of them. My dad is, however, very good friends with the sheriff of the next county. If River County’s next-door neighbor has to solve its problems, you’re not going to come out of this well.”

  Hennessy’s face darkened. “Don’t you threaten me, missy …”

  Callie took a few steps back and lifted her cell phone. “How about I give my dad a call? He’s on a much-needed vacation, so he won’t be happy to be disturbed.”

  “This is a fucking waste of time,” Hennessy said. “Sanchez, get out there where this kid is pointing and take a sweep. You won’t find anything, but what the hell? Mildred, don’t you dare call anyone. Harrison, get back to what you were doing. Don’t any of you tell the Campbells anything until we know more. All I need is the pack of them howling around here.”

  Manny craned his head to look around the room behind the counter. “Where’s McGregor?”

  “It’s his night off,” Hennessy snapped. “Lucky him. Now get out of my station.”

  Callie gave the sheriff one last glare and then marched out, her head high.

  Manny ran after her, easily catching up. “I love you, Callie! You handled that like a boss.”

  Callie turned to him, her blue eyes full of tears. “Won’t make a difference if we can’t find Ross.”

  Manny laid his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, don’t look like that. We’ll find him. At least I will. I heard Dell telling Ross to pick the route. I think maybe I can guess where he went. He told me it’s his special place. He’s caught me there so many times, it’s pathetic.”

  The truck landed, skidded hard, and tore around another corner. A shouted curse came from a guy in the back—the other one had his eyes clos
ed. Dell hung on to the dashboard, his face set.

  Ross laughed. He knew this road like the back of his hand. It leaned out into the gulch here, pulled back into the trees there. He could drive it without his headlights if he had to.

  “I’m gonna kill you.” Dell snarled. The man had lost all his suaveness. Ross wouldn’t be surprised if he were sitting in pee.

  “That’s what they all say.” Ross slammed the truck around another hairpin turn.

  The road ended on a pebbly beach next to the river, a gorgeous place on a hot summer day. Especially pretty when the sun set, staining the bluffs above in a red-golden light.

  Ross knew that as soon as he stopped, one of the men in the backseat would jam his gun into Ross’s neck and shoot him, happy to do it.

  As Ross hit the open space by the river he popped his seatbelt buckle. The next moment, flung open his door. At the same time, he dove out, tucking and rolling as he hit the hard-packed earth.

  The truck spun out of control and slammed into a stand of saplings. It broke a few and then lodged among them, the engine sputtering and dying as the front end dipped dangerously toward the flow of river.

  Ross gritted his teeth, ignoring pain as he rolled. He finally came to a halt, unfolded to his feet, and ran, staggering, under the trees.

  He looked back to see one of the thugs pry open the rear door and more or less fall out. The other crawled out after him. Dell was still in the front seat, alive or dead, Ross couldn’t tell. He turned away and kept running.

  Branches slapped at him, and he slipped in mud, but Ross went on. If he could elude Dell and his men long enough …

  A pistol shot ripped through the air. They couldn’t possibly see him in the dusk beneath the trees, but a man blindly firing might eventually hit something. Ross heard the wang-wang of bullets striking branches, coming too close.

  Carter would not be happy about his truck. But Ross would kiss the man if he popped up now to yell at his baby brother.

  Ross knew that on the far side of this stretch of woods, a rock outcropping jutted into the river. If he could reach it, he’d be sheltered from pinging bullets.

  He didn’t have a phone or radio, or any way to communicate except for shouting, and yelling would only pinpoint his location to Dell’s goons. Ross prayed that his choice of destination, Ray Malory’s perception, and the little switch he’d flicked under the steering wheel would lead his family to him. God bless his sister-in-law Bailey and her computer tech savvy.

  A bullet struck the ground alongside his foot. Shit. Ross doubled his pace, his cowboy boots not made for running. His job, thankfully, had kept him fit, as did his workouts—not having a steady girlfriend ensured that he spent many evenings at the gym.

  Still, the terrain was rough, Ross’s feet were cramping, and he slipped and slid in dust as bullets rained around him.

  The inlet of river was icy when he plunged into it up to his knees. Ross jumped as a shot struck the rock outcropping above his head.

  He’d be visible for a moment in the river, in the dying sunlight, but if he made it, he’d be safe.

  Ross slammed himself around the far side of the outcropping as chips of it exploded beside his head. His face stung with the cut of stone as he ducked back into shadows.

  At the same time, he heard a drone of engines—not the rumble of trucks or SUVs, but the louder, earth-shaking thunder of motorcycles.

  Ross grinned. The cavalry was coming.

  He lost his smile as he realized he had no idea whether that cavalry was for him or Dell. He was a sitting duck, but he had to keep on sitting, if he wanted to live.

  Callie pulled back to the highway after she’d moved over so Sanchez’s SUV could race past with lights flashing. She sped after him.

  Not long later, headlights came up behind her, many of them, and fast. Callie’s already sickening heartbeat heightened as motorcycle after motorcycle spilled over the hill and surrounded her car.

  “Holy shit!” Manny peered out the window, eyes wide with fear. “They’re gonna kill us.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Callie said, but she worried he might be right.

  That is, until she recognized one rider who hung on the back of a Harley, his face set in grim fury.

  Relief swamped her. “That’s Carter Sullivan,” she said. Then new worry hit her. Were they heading for a shootout? Would Ross survive it?

  “Seriously cool.” Manny bounced in the seat. “Go faster. Don’t lose them!”

  The motorcycles swarmed past, as though Callie’s car was a boulder in a stream, and Callie stepped on the gas to keep up with them.

  Her car was the street model of a racer, its engine engineered for speed. She easily moved with the motorcycles, not letting them out of her sight.

  “You’re a badass, Callie. If you rescue Ross, he’ll have to marry you now.”

  “Why are you so adamant about us getting married?” Callie asked, trying to distract herself from her fears. “When I first saw you, Ross was arresting you.”

  “Because if he has you to run home to every night, he’ll leave me the hell alone.” Manny scrunched up his face. “That and the guy is so lonely. I kind of like him. He busts my balls, but he’s always making sure I don’t go to jail. He’s trying to look out for me. No one else ever did.”

  Ross took care of everyone. He teased or growled, and he took no shit, but he’d made sure both Manny and Callie were all right that day in the pouring rain. He’d made sure Jess got to the clinic to have her baby, and that Callie wasn’t left out of the celebration. He’d been there for her at every turn, for Manny as well. Ross might be the youngest Campbell and the quiet one, but she’d seen the respect his older brothers, especially Carter, accorded him.

  Callie’s heart warmed, at the same time her fear escalated. “Well, we’ll just have to rescue him, won’t we?”

  The road wound in sinuous curves, heading for the river. Callie had been this way many times, with her sisters, with friends and boyfriends, back when life was carefree and full of endless possibilities.

  When Sanchez’s SUV and then the motorcycles plunged off the road to the dirt track that led to the river bottom, Callie groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Don’t stop,” Manny urged. “We need to help him.”

  Ross was down there, dead or injured, surrounded by men who had enough money to bribe a county sheriff to stay the hell out of their way.

  Without stopping to think about it, Callie turned the car and bounced onto the washboard road. Manny whooped in elation.

  How Sanchez and the motorcycle posse knew Ross was at the end of this track, Callie had no idea, but they didn’t slow. One guy wiped out, but he got up and waved the others past. Callie pulled alongside him and stopped. “Get in.”

  Manny climbed into the back with the energy of youth so the man could slide into the passenger seat. He was Jack Hillman, a friend of Carter and of the Malory brothers. Jack, with his close-shaved beard, bandana, and tatts, was another of the “bad” boys Callie had been told to stay away from. Now Jack’s dark eyes were filled with worry.

  “Ray called me,” he said. “Said Ross was being carjacked by Dell Leith. Asshole. We’d warned Dell to stay out of our town, but I guess he figured he was untouchable. If he’s got Ross, Ross is screwed.”

  “Don’t say that.” Callie gripped the wheel as she started after the motorcycles again. “We’re here to rescue him.”

  Jack grinned. “Awesome. But you should be turning around and driving out of here. Ain’t no place for a lady.”

  “Tough shit,” Callie said without slowing. “Ross is down there.”

  “So are a few armed gangsters, and a bunch of bikers with a grudge.”

  “And a deputy sheriff and Ross’s brother. I’m not going home to do needlepoint while I wait for the men to come back and break the news to me.”

  Jack laughed. “You sure aren’t like what I thought you’d be, Callie.”

  “No one is.
Smart of Ross to head for this place.”

  “You know about it?” Manny asked in amazement.

  “I was a teenager once,” Callie said. “Great place to come and make out, if you had a good enough truck to get up and down the road. My sisters and I rode our horses down here too.”

  “Horses would be better,” Jack said, “but Carter didn’t want to ride any into what might be a line of fire.”

  Callie caught up to the motorcycles, which were weaving and spinning with the road. Callie’s car negotiated the curves well, but her throat was tight, her palms slick.

  At the bottom, headlights lit the little beach by the river. A pickup truck was stuck, nose-down, in the trees above the swiftly flowing water, its back wheels at least three feet off the ground.

  Sanchez was already out of his SUV, which he’d pulled in behind the pickup. He had his gun trained on a man in the truck’s passenger seat, neither he nor the man inside moving. Stalemate.

  Motorcycles swarmed the clearing. Guys stopped bikes and headed off for the woods, and Callie’s heart jumped into her throat when she heard shots.

  Her car slid sideways before it jerked to a halt. She stepped on the gas and the wheels spun, but the car went nowhere.

  “Seriously?” She jammed on the brakes, the car fishtailing and miring deeper into the mud. Callie pounded on the steering wheel. “You do this now?”

  Jack leapt out and ran after his friends. Manny climbed out in his wake.

  Callie jumped from the car and landed in mud up to her ankles. “Manny, don’t you dare.”

  “We have to help Ross!” Manny wailed.

  Callie felt the same need to run around in the dark, calling out for Ross, but she knew that would do little good. She pried her feet free and seized Manny by the hand. “I’m not explaining to him how you got yourself killed running after him. You stay here and keep me safe.”

  Manny stared at her in anguish, but after a moment, understanding settled on his face. “Because if you get hurt, Ross will rip me a new one,” he said, his voice softening. “What do we do, Callie?”

  “Call for backup. Deputy Sanchez needs help.” Callie pulled out her phone.