Undercover Cowboy

by Lynde Lakes

  She bent, grabbed a sand bag and thrust it into his arms. “I’ve seen that you know how to pour it on.” Knowing her dig was about the way he had seduced her and not the sand, he ripped open the bag with more force than required and poured it on the flames. Initially the sand made more smoke, but he kept pouring until the bag was empty and the air cleared.

  Sara Jane placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “What are we going to do? Wait for those turkeys to find us, or hightail it out of here?”

  He ignored her sarcasm, no doubt fueled by unreleased sexual tension. “We’ll move on if the storm has let up.” He grabbed the flashlight. “Wait here a minute and I’ll check.”

  Like a disobedient pup, she followed him into the passageway. He flicked on the light and kept his irritation to himself. Any words between them might carry through the tunnel and alert the intruders that they were here. Inside the safe room, the thick walls insulated their voices, but the tunnels amplified sounds.

  Nick heard thunder and saw the scrawls of lightning before he reached the entryway. Behind them, coming closer were shouts, curses. Nick detected a number of voices. He grabbed Sara Jane’s hand and ran back to the stone room. He drew her to the far corner to reduce any chance that the intruders would overhear them. “It’s worse outside now than before,” he said softly. “But I’d rather battle the weather than face down a bunch of guns.”

  Sara Jane looked at him with intense blue eyes. “Want to hear my opinion?”

  He let out a breath of exasperation. “Sure, why not?” He gave a half-hearted grin to soften his next words. “Doesn’t mean you’ll have the final decision, mind you.”

  “Kick aside the thought, Mr. FBI. You’ve made it crystal clear who you think is calling the shots.”

  Nick wanted to shake her. “Don’t toy with me, SJ. This is serious.”

  “Then quit grinning at me.” A woman’s blood-chilling scream echoed through the cave. Sara Jane stiffened. Then her eyes widened. “That’s Alicia!” Sara Jane’s face hardened to steely determination. It was the same look Nick had seen on her father’s face only two years ago—when they both almost got killed. “That settles it. We’re staying! And going after my cousin. Now!”

  She whirled and headed for the passageway.

  Nick reached out and grabbed her arm. “Hold up a minute. We have to think this through.” Mixed emotions rushed through him. This was a great break! Alicia was alive and her kidnappers had fallen right into his lap. But without backup, he could lose both women. If he took Sara Jane to safety first and returned with help, the kidnappers could move Alicia to another location, or even kill her. Sweating, he tried his cell phone, dialing with one hand. As expected, it was dead.

  “You’re wasting time. Let’s go.” Sara Jane tugged at his grip, but he held tight.

  “We can’t rush off half-cocked. We need to know how many guys we’re dealing with, their firepower, and location.”

  “We’ve got surprise on our side.” She lifted her chin. “If you don’t help me, I’ll save my cousin alone.”

  He laughed without humor. “How? You’re scared to death of the passageways, you don’t know the layout of the tunnels, and you’re outnumbered.”

  “I’d rather die trying, than live with myself if I didn’t.”

  Sara Jane’s words drudged up Nick’s failures and sent a sharp pain through him—he hadn’t managed to save his sister, nor had he even managed to catch her killer. SJ was right; living with himself was hell. If one of the guys holding Alicia was the Honey Killer, he couldn’t let that lunatic do to her what he’d done to twenty-three other women. Every fiber in Nick wanted to go after Alicia, but how would he keep SJ safe?

  “Are you going to help me or not?” Sara Jane tapped her boot, as though counting the passing seconds.

  Nick scanned the walls and ledges. “Is there a hiding place in here?”

  “You want to hide like a scared rabbit?” Disappointment rang in her voice.

  “No. Damn it. I want to hide you while I go look for your cousin. You’re my prime responsibility and your safety comes first.”

  “But you don’t know the cave, its twists and turns, its dead ends, or its danger spots.”

  “Neither do you. But from the maps of the cave that your dad sent to me, I have a rough idea of the layout. In a man hunt, ninety-nine percent of the success-rate is a combination of skill, good luck, and timing. One percent is familiarity with the territory.”

  She frowned. “When it comes to navigating this cave you’d be better off thinking of it the other way around.”

  Ignoring her scorn, he studied the stone wall. “Is there a hiding place in here, or not?”

  Sara Jane pointed to a high ledge. “Dad and I climbed this wall once and he showed me a mini cave with Indian stick pictures of buffalos on the walls. The cavity will hide two people if they spoon around each other.”

  A vision of his body curved around Sara Jane made Nick’s groin pulse. Trying to ignore the sensation, he scratched his head. “How the hell did you get up there?”

  “You have to know where to put your feet, have terrific balance, and a determined dad, who won’t accept can’t as an answer.”

  “Think you can make it up there without Daddy’s encouragement?” Nick hoped his sarcasm would push SJ to prove she didn’t need anyone.

  “I’d show you, smart mouth, but I’m going with you. You need me. I can crawl, sneak around like a panther, climb like a monkey, fight like a wildcat, and when I shoot, I hit what I aim at.” She thrust her chin high. “Honey, you’ve never had better back up.”

  “Yeah, the blind leading the blind.” He had choices, he could hog tie Sara Jane and take her back to the ranch, or go after her cousin and risk SJ’s life. Neither option would make Luke or Matt happy. They wanted both girls back—safely. So did he, but his need to stop the killing of innocent women and—on an intensely personal level—his need to avenge his sister made it impossible to back off. If the Honey Killer was in the bowels of this cave and he didn’t capture him, his hell was only beginning. He drew Sara Jane closer and looked deep into her eyes. He felt her tremble. “I can’t guarantee your safety if you don’t hide.”

  “I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. Now let’s go.”

  Fighting his instincts not to do this—and instincts to do it at all costs, he hoisted a rolled lariat over his arm and grabbed the flashlight. His holstered Glock moved reassuringly against his ribs. “Do exactly as I say and stay behind me.”

  ****

  Sara Jane felt no elation from winning the battle. Her neck prickled from the urge to turn tail and leave this cave. They could risk their lives and find Alicia already dead. Fighting tremors, she squared her shoulders. Her heart was in charge, and it said Alicia would still be alive when they got to her. Nick took her hand into his large one. She’d be safe with him. Keeping the light down, he stepped into the cold, sullen tunnel. He tested each step forward with a cautious toe, obviously feeling for holes and crevasses. Her heart pounded wildly. Reluctantly, she let him lead her deeper into the somber darkness. If only she could talk to relax, but she knew how voices carried. All she could do was cling to Nick’s strong fingers. He flashed the light on the top of the tunnel walls as though searching for something. Patterns of shadows and light etched his strong face.

  ****

  Nick felt Sara Jane’s gaze on him. She trusted him to pull off a miracle. Unfortunately, he was no miracle worker. Hadn’t he proven that in the past? He scanned the walls with a beam of light, searching for a place to launch an attack and to hide Sara Jane. He wished she had stayed in the stone room. But even if he’d insisted, the minute he got out of sight he knew she would follow. Other than his sister, he’d never met anyone so bullheaded. His heart pounded in hard thuds, thinking of Shirl and how the Honey Killer had snuffed out her life. He didn’t want Sara Jane to suffer like he did over his loss. That was why he had to rescue Alicia.

  He wiped the sweat from h
is brow with his sleeve. The tunnels ranged from six to twelve feet wide with eighteen to twenty-four foot ceilings and twisted around in a tangled maze. For all he knew they could be going in circles. When the tunnel narrowed, he felt a surge of claustrophobia. Why was it so silent ahead? Every cell in his body charged to alert—he felt like the trip wire on a bomb, taut and ready to explode. He strained his ears for sounds of trouble. Three times he’d reached forks in the tunnel and had to choose, using a vague recollection of the maps he’d studied and raw instinct. Nick breathed deeply to calm himself. He was relieved when he heard voices again. They were still heading the right way.

  ****

  The tension radiating from Nick heightened Sara Jane’s own anxiety. They wound through the tunnels like tentative warriors, listening for voices and footsteps. They followed the echoes from the kidnapper’s clipped orders to each other and their clopping boots like radar, ever aware that every step could be into a bottomless pit. Cobwebs brushed her face. She pressed her lips tight to avoid squealing. The tunnel curved. Nick let go of her hand. The loss of their connection sent tremors through her. She clutched a rock protruding from the wall and felt the pulse throbbing in her fingertips. Only fear for Alicia gave her courage to ease forward another step.

  Nick picked up a sharp rock, pressed it into her clammy palm, then positioned the flashlight against his chest with the light flashed upward. Understanding that he wanted her to read his lips, she watched them move. “Mark the walls with an SJ at every curve. We don’t want to get lost in here.” He wiped his palms on the side of his jeans.

  Sara Jane had heard about the dead ends, but as long as they followed the voices they should be all right. That is, if the kidnappers didn’t make a wrong turn. Trapping them in a dead end might work to their advantage, but trapped men were dangerous. They might even take their desperation out on Alicia.

  The tunnel split twice but boot steps ahead and occasional coughs and curses kept them on course. Marking the walls cramped her fingers, but remembering the stories of those who entered and never found their way back out—the evidence their dried bones—made her willing to press as hard as necessary.

  The shouted curses, labored breathing, and thuds of heavy boots crunching rocks grew louder. Would Nick keep going until they met head on, gun barrel to gun barrel? He picked up his pace, pulling her along. At their speed, they could step out into nothingness before they knew it.

  Nick’s flashlight dimmed.

  Oh, no, not a weak battery, she thought. What if they got trapped in here with no light? He shook the flashlight and the beam brightened again, but she knew it could go at any time. The cave floor was rougher now, more stones, more dust. She swallowed frequently, trying not to cough. The wall curved and the tunnel split again. She yanked on Nick’s arm. He stopped and flashed the light just below her face. She moved her lips precisely so he could read them. “Let’s wait there in that opposite fork and take them by surprise.”

  “Not a good idea.” He flashed the light on his own face and, silently mouthing the words, said, “That’ll place kidnappers between us and the only exit we know.”

  Sara Jane shivered. “But—”

  “Besides,” Nick continued, “they could decide to take the other fork, too, and make a U-turn into us. We don’t want to force a head on confrontation until we’re ready.”

  “Keep going and that’s exactly what we’ll do. If we hide here, we’ll have better than a fifty-fifty chance that they’ll go straight ahead.”

  Nick looked torn. “It’s a gamble.”

  “Life’s a gamble.” Her silent words were braver and tougher than she felt.

  He shook his head and stared at her for a long second, the air spiked with resistance and the undeniable attraction that earlier had almost swept them both over the line. When a light briefly flickered ahead like a floating candle, he drew her into the opposite fork. He flashed a dim glow onto the upper walls, clearly looking for a hiding place. Not finding one, he tucked her into a groove in the stony surface. He flattened himself just ahead of her. She nestled against his side, trying to abate her trembling with his heat, his courage. His scent was all male, his body rigid, coiled tight.

  He clicked off the flashlight and darkness closed around them. Their breathing thundered in her ears. As the booted footsteps approached, Sara Jane held her breath and peered around Nick. Please don’t let them turn into this passageway.

  Shadows and light danced on the walls as six men and a woman came into sight. Sara Jane sighed in relief; from her vantage point she could see without being seen. All of the men wore jeans and western shirts like cowpokes, but clothes didn’t make a cowboy. Even the greenhorns at the dude ranch wore duds like that. The leader carried a lantern and had a rifle slung over his shoulder. His low-tipped Stetson hid his face, but there was something familiar about his muscular build and cocky walk.

  The next two men wore side arms and carried flashlights. Following them, a mean-eyed man with thick, arched brows shoved Alicia along. Sara Jane’s throat constricted at the sight of her cousin shuffling toward them, slump-shouldered and defeated—a black cloth sack covered her head. The fancy beige rodeo outfit, that Sara Jane had so carefully sewn, had a sleeve torn clean off. The leather was stained with rainwater, mud, and a dark splotch that Sara Jane hoped wasn’t Alicia’s blood.

  She touched her gun, fighting her urge to shoot the Mexican manhandling her cousin. Sara Jane etched his cruel face in her mind forever. Even if he shaved off his mustache and goatee, she could identify his angular face and the jagged scar that ran from the left corner of his eyebrow to the middle of his cheek. Her gaze lowered to his belt and the flashlight and gun tucked into it. As they passed, Sara Jane saw that Alicia’s hands were tied behind her back. She winced, thinking of the rope burns, and how helpless her cousin must feel.

  One of the two armed men bringing up the rear carried a second lantern. The group moved by quickly and seemed to be headed toward the main entrance.

  She pulled Nick’s head down and whispered directly into his ear, “I should have stayed in the stone room like you told me. If they get there first, they’ll have the advantage of a well-stocked stronghold. And since we have no idea how to get to the rear entrance, our only exit will be blocked.”

  “We’ll have to do something before they get there.”

  “What?” She wished she had Midnight with her. Although he wasn’t Demon, who knew all her routines, his hooves could do a lot of damage. And a rodeo trick or two could work in their favor.

  “We’ll try to divide and conquer,” Nick whispered in her ear.

  Fighting the effect of his heated breath feathering over her ear, she rolled her eyes. “Come up with something better than that or we’re dead.”

  “That’s the best I’ve got.”

  She’d never dreamed that she might die before her life really got started. Well, if it had to be, she’d go out in a blaze of glory. She drew Nick’s face close again and whispered in his ear. “Too bad we didn’t get a chance to make love. I think I’d be good at that.”

  ****

  Nick held Sara Jane away, his breathing erratic. Did SJ’s words I think I’d be good at that mean this feisty little number was a virgin? By the passionate way she’d kissed, he would have sworn she’d taken a tumble or two in the hayloft. Was her teasing to lift his spirits, or was the comment on the level? If so, he should have picked up on it earlier. Whatever her intention, she’d managed, as usual, to catch him off balance and mess up his head.

  Refusing to let her distract him from their mission, or let her know how much she had shaken him, he drew her to him, gave her a quick kiss and whispered against her ear. “Don’t list your regrets, yet. I think we can do this.” He held her a moment longer then pressed his lips to her ear again. “And that other…we’ll discuss it later.” He grinned at the shiver that rippled through her body.

  Now back to business. Nick knew to catch the kidnappers off guard, they needed to approach
them silently. He let his body slide down the wall to the stone floor and yanked off his boots. When he placed them against the wall, Sara Jane sat down beside him and took hers off, too. Good. This time she’d trusted him enough not to ask questions. He grabbed her hand and they silently ran after the kidnappers, retracing steps—and since they were covering familiar territory, they were more certain of the ground beneath their stocking feet.

  They had almost caught up to the kidnappers again when the tunnel curved and split. Sara Jane yanked on Nick’s arm and pointed to the SJ initials on the wall of the opposite tunnel. Her message was clear—if the kidnappers were heading for the stone room, they had just made a wrong turn. But what if the outlaws knew they were being followed and were smart enough to lead them into a trap? Men who could grab Alicia away from an experienced FBI man like Lloyd weren’t dumb.

  On the plus side, when they took the wrong split, it reversed their positions again. The kidnappers were no longer between them and the main entrance. With that in mind, Nick prepared to play his hand—even if it was the worst hand he could imagine. A luminance ahead gave him a focal point. If he could see their light they’d soon see his. Quickly, he flicked off the flashlight and handed it to Sara Jane to hold.

  The leader of the group shouted at the guy bringing up the rear. “Quit dragging your ass, stupido.” His voice had a youthful tone, and he spoke with a Spanish accent.

  Nick and Sara Jane crept closer, close enough to see the silhouette of the slight built straggler. The man ignored his leader’s chastising and fell further behind, his lantern providing Nick and Sara Jane more light than he provided for his cohorts. Nick waited for a curve in the tunnel. For several seconds those ahead wouldn’t be able to see their dawdler. It was now or never. Nick swung his rope over his head and let the loop fly. It fell over the man’s head and circled his neck. Nick yanked hard, cutting off the man’s air. The man opened his mouth to yell, but only a muffled croak escaped.