Brotherhood Protectors_STEELE RANGER

by Jesse Jacobson

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “That… just… came out. It was inappropriate. I didn’t…”

  “It’s okay, cowboy,” she continued. “I wouldn’t think you were human if you didn’t sneak a peek, even in the direst of circumstances.”

  “I assure you my interest was purely professional,” he said, nervously, trying to joke the comment off.

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “Why bullshit?” he asked.

  “Because there’s a lot I don’t know but there are a few things I do know, and one of them is, men love my tits,” she said.

  He blushed slightly. And your eyes, he thought. And your hair. And your…

  “Go ahead,” she urged. “You can tell me. You liked looking at my tits, didn’t you?”

  “Vandy, let’s just dress this wound and…”

  A hint of a smile formed on her face, very subtly, but it was there, Sam noticed.

  “Look, I know you’re embarrassed, but you’re a man—all man. You did, didn’t you?” she continued. “You looked. Go ahead, admit it.”

  “Vandy…”

  “You can say it. Say ‘Vandy I looked at your tits,’” she insisted.

  He sighed and looked down. After a moment, he glanced up. There was a small grin on his face.

  “They were pretty magnificent, yes.” he admitted.

  Her eyes brightened and she actually smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

  “I knew it,” she said in a tone of satisfaction. “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s get this done before those men come back. I’d prefer not to face them down with a bloody boob, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think that’s actually in a self-defense manual I read,” he joshed.

  She giggled, “Don’t make me laugh.”

  Sam looked at the amazing woman in front of him. One moment she was a scared, frightened little girl, as almost anyone would be when put into this situation. The next minute she was strong and resilient. How had Randall Vanderbilt described her?

  A split personality: A beautiful, intelligent, caring, plainspoken woman… and her evil twin. Don’t piss her off.

  His eyes moved away from the wound and met hers for just a second and he looked back toward the wound. He carefully peeled the bandage away.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I’m getting a fresh bandage, a warm wet cloth and some antibiotic cream.”

  When he returned with the wash cloth he handed it to Vandy, “Here. Don’t rub the wound but dab it and clean the skin around it.”

  “You do it,” she said. “I’ll probably just make it bleed more.”

  He raised his eyebrows slightly, “You sure?”

  Her eyes met his again. She paused, just looking at him. Sam didn’t know whether there was anything to read into the look or not.

  Finally, she nodded and replied, almost in a whisper, “I’m sure.”

  Sam began to dab at the cut on top of her breast. She was still holding her top over most of her breast but he noticed her hand slipping down again. The top still covered her nipple, but just barely.

  He felt her eyes on him as he cleaned the skin around the wound. He couldn’t tell if she was grateful to be treated or judging whether or not he was crossing the line or…

  It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, he no longer trusted his instincts. He made eye contact with her again. She did not avert her eyes—those beautiful bedroom eyes—they were so expressive.

  He put the washcloth down and picked up the antibiotic cream. He opened the tube. He held it forward, offering to squeeze some of the ointment onto her fingertips.

  “You might as well finish the job,” she said, again in a near-whisper. Her eyes were still fixed firmly on his.

  He carefully squeezed some of the ointment onto his fingertips. He slowly touched the top of her breast and gently rubbed the ointment on the wound. He slowly continued to rub. He saw her hand lowering her top still, actually exposing her nipple.

  He sat and scooted his chair near hers. He put a little more ointment on his fingers and applied it to the wound on her breast. He pulled his hand away and picked up the fresh bandage, stealing a glimpse. She was indescribably beautiful. He wanted to take her, then and there. She lowered her hand completely leaving her full breast exposed. She showed not the slightest hint of embarrassment or trepidation. He gently placed the bandage over her the cut. She took in a deep breath and held it when he touched her.

  She was responding to his touch, she knew it and he knew it. She no longer felt the embarrassment or awkwardness she experienced earlier. He no longer seemed as backward and shy around her, either, she noticed.

  Sam rolled his fingers over the bandage allowing them to linger on her breast. Her eyes closed and she let out a soft, nearly inaudible sigh. Sam allowed his fingers to softly move down, touching her flesh, her nipple. She sighed again, still softly but more audible than before, encouraging him to continue touching her.

  Vandy opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. He cupped his hand underneath her breast and leaned over. She leaned in too, and their lips met, softly. She allowed the kiss to linger, feeling his moist lips. Her tongue moved into his mouth and for the first time, she heard him moan.

  Their kiss turned deeper. Her left hand lowered. She touched his knee. It stirred a twinge in his loins. He leaned in further and kissed her more passionately, his hand still gently caressing her breast.

  “You’re a good kisser,” she said, breaking momentarily.

  “It helps when you kiss a good kisser,” he replied. She leaned in for another kiss. He felt himself getting hard.

  He continued to gently caress her breast. Her hand began to move up his leg from his knee.

  “Whatever shall you do with me now, cowboy?” she whispered.

  The alert on the monitor went off. It was loud, annoying and disruptive. Sam glanced at the monitor.

  Vandy pulled her top up, her expression changing instantly from passion to panic, “Is it them? Are they back?”

  “No,” he replied, smiling. “It’s good news. The cavalry has arrived. It’s my friend, Sheriff Frank Stone.”

  “Thank god,” she said.

  “Here,” Sam said, handing her the fresh bandage. “Place this bandage back over the wound.”

  Vandy took the bandage and glanced at the monitor. She saw a heavy-set man in a thick overcoat and a wide-brimmed policeman’s hat. He was walking toward the cabin door. Behind him, she could see his vehicle, a white Chevy Tahoe. The vehicle’s police lights were not flashing. She saw the large Sheriff’s star emblazoned on the door.

  “Stay low for a minute,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I have to warn him. He’s a sitting duck out there.”

  She immediately remembered what Sam had said about where the men might be positioned and perhaps using a high-powered rifle. The wind had died down and the snowfall was beginning to subside.

  Sam opened the front door of the cabin and screamed, “Frank! Get down! Hit the ground!”

  Chief Stone froze in position and looked at Sam, wide-eyed.

  “What? What’s wrong, Sam?” he asked.

  “Hit the ground. Now, Frank!” Sam screamed, but it was too late.

  Chapter 15

  A bullet pelted Chief Stone on the right side of his head, just above the ear. Sam saw blood, bits of bone and brain form a deadly spray from the exit wound on the left side of his friend’s head. He’d seen that spray on the battlefield more times that he cared to remember. Chief Stone lifelessly slumped to the ground.

  “Shit!” screamed Sam. Another bullet pierced the door jam just inches from Sam’s head. Sam slammed the door shut.

  “Oh my god!” screamed Vandy. “They just shot that man. I saw it on the monitor. We have to help him.”

  “I’m afraid there’s no helping him now,” Sam replied. “That bullet came from a high-powered rifle, my guess, a 300 Winchester Magnum, or a 338 Lapua Magnum. Ei
ther way, Chief Stone was dead before his body hit the snow.”

  “Holy shit! Now what do we do?” she screamed.

  “Try to stay calm,” Sam replied. “I was right. They took a position on the high ground and were waiting to pick us off. That shot came from 300 yards away or more. It tells me something about at least one of the men.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There’s only a couple of hundred men in the world skilled enough to make that shot from that distance in this weather,” he said. “The shooter is a former military sniper.”

  “You think we’re safe as long as we stay inside?” she asked.

  “For now, but this situation just took on a whole new level of desperation,” Sam said. “They just graduated from assault to murder. This crime just escalated ten-fold. There is no way they will allow us to get out of here alive. At this point they will take whatever risks are necessary to finish the job.”

  From inside, Sam checked the perimeter of the cabin, looking out each window, checking for signs of activity. All he saw was smooth snow and rock terrain. There was only one safe approach for the intruders, of that he was sure.

  “Why would they risk killing a Sheriff?” Vandy asked.

  “Whoever they are, they’re are deadly serious about getting to you,” he said. “These men weren’t hired by some disaffected investor. This is personal. These men were hired by someone who wants you dead, and in the worst kind of way.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “They had no idea anyone was watching over you,” Sam said. “They weren’t prepared for me. I took them by surprise. I wounded two of them, yet they came back in the middle of a blizzard, plus I know whoever ordered this has to be someone deep inside your organization or someone you know very well—perhaps someone very close to you.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, incredulously. “That is impossible. Why would you even think that?”

  “Think about it, Vandy,” he said. “It’s one thing for someone to pay off a flight attendant or ticket agent to figure out that you came to West Glacier, but these men found out who I was and where I lived. Where and how would they get that information? That could have only come from the inside of your organization.”

  “You don’t think my Uncle Randall is responsible, do you? He’s the one who hired you?”

  “No, it was not Randall Vanderbilt. He went to a lot of trouble to run down Hank Patterson and engage the Brotherhood Protectors to protect you. Trust me, if he wanted you dead, the last person in the world he would let know about it is the founder of the Brotherhood Protectors. No, it was someone else.”

  “Who then?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “Perhaps you’ve been thinking about this wrong. You assumed that the man who was responsible for this was someone who is being hurt financially as a result of the investigation into your company’s financial practices and the FTC inquiry, right?”

  “That was the first thought that came to my mind,” she said.

  “Mine, too; and it makes sense,” Sam said. “But what if it was someone different? Someone with a different motivation? If something were to happen to you, the police could think along the same lines and be misled into looking for people who were harmed financially. Think about this it for a moment. Who would benefit if you died?”

  The questions stopped her in her tracks. Her mind went right to her husband. Cameron was an asshole, but he wouldn’t kill her… would he?

  “I don’t know,” Vandy said, clearly thinking about her husband.

  Sam looked at her intently.

  “You said you were going through a divorce,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Who has the lion’s share of assets in our family?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I think I already know,” he continued. He’s an actor I’ve not heard of and you run a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Even an old shit-kicker like me can do that math.”

  “It’s not Cameron,” she said. “We are going through a divorce and he has just started a custody battle. If I were to turn up dead, all fingers would point in his direction. When a wife dies they always look at the husband first.”

  Sam nodded, looking at the monitor. He moved to the window of the west wall, peeking out. “You’re right,” he said. “It would be mighty stupid of him, but sometimes, if you’re desperate…”

  “He’s not that desperate, and even if he were, Cameron doesn’t have the courage to do something like this,” Vandy said. “My balls are bigger than his.”

  “Who then?” Sam asked. “Someone else in your organization maybe? Do you have VP’s or other executives that would benefit from your death?”

  “Are you kidding?” Vandy espoused. “You can’t swing a dead cat in my company without hitting a VP of something. We have dozens of them.”

  Sam paused for a moment, deep in thought, seeming to weigh the options. He kept coming back to the same conclusion. There was only one solution; the only chance he had to get Vandy through this alive. The problem with the solution was, he would almost certainly not live through it himself. Yet, it was the only way.

  He looked at his watch, “It will be dark in an hour or so. Are you up to travel?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I think it’s time to make a break for it,” he said, “in Chief Stone’s Tahoe.”

  “Why didn’t they shoot out his tires like they did yours?”

  “Frank parked at the bottom of the drive and was walking up the hill,” he said. “From their vantage point, the tree line is blocking their visibility to the vehicle.”

  “They walked down here before,” Vandy said. “Why can’t they do that again?”

  “They can—and I think they might, but not until after dark. They know I’ll be watching for them. They will come under the cover of darkness, I’m almost sure. That’s why I think we should make a break for it, now. We have less than 30 minutes before sunset.”

  “They shot the Sheriff right in front of the cabin,” she said. “How are you going to make it to the Tahoe without being shot yourself?”

  “Therein lies the problem,” Sam said, “but I have a plan.”

  “Hopefully, the plan includes you not laying out in the front dead next to your friend, Frank,” Vandy said.

  “The wind has died almost completely and the snow has let up,” he said. “I have a few smoke grenades left over from my time in the service. They are many years old and I’m not even sure if they’ll work after all this time, but if I toss two of them out front, they should create enough of a smoke diversion that I can make it to the car.”

  “No fucking way you are leaving me!” she wailed. “That thick snow will slow you down too much. You won’t be able to make it. They will gun you down. I couldn’t take it if you got hurt.”

  She slid into his arms, embracing her tightly. He hugged her firmly.

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” he said. “There is a side door, leading out back where I store my firewood. There is no line of sight from them to the side door. I have a spare coat, hat and gloves. They’ll be way too big for you, of course, but in this case, bigger is better than smaller. We’ll get you bundled up and positioned by the side door. I’ll toss the smoke grenades and make a run for it to Frank’s Tahoe. I’ll drive the Tahoe around to the side and you jump in.”

  “Do you think it will work?” she said. “it sounds really dangerous.”

  “Every option we have is dangerous,” Sam said. “I think this is our best chance—our only chance. There are serious risks, though.”

  “Take me through them,” she said.

  “Driving through the snow and ice won’t be easy,” he said. “Frank made it, so I assume we can, too, but it’s still not a given.”

  “Why do I feel like there’s more coming?” Vandy said.

  Sam let out a heavy sigh, “There is a long stretch of road leading back to town that will be in their line of sight. Once they realize we’r
e heading back to town, they will set up and wait for us to reach the clearing. From there, they will have clear line of sight. They will shoot at us. They could kill us or blow out our tires while we are on the road.”

  “Fuck!” she scoffed, exasperated, “And you still think it’s our best alternative?”

  “Vandy, once it gets dark, they could slip down here with multiple Molotov cocktails and throw one through each window of the cabin. I can’t protect you in here after dark.”

  Sam opened a closet and pulled a box from the top shelf. He opened it and pulled as much ammunition for his handgun as his pockets could hold. He also pulled six smoke grenades from it. He blew dust off them, “Hope they still work,” he said, looking at Vandy. “Are we good on this?”

  “Okay, but fuck this whole side door shit,” Vandy spouted. “When you drop these grenades, I’m going with you to the car.”

  “No,” Sam insisted.

  “Yes, I am,” she insisted. “I don’t even want to think about what would happen if you got shot and killed on the way to the car and left me alone.”

  “The snow is ten to twelve inches deep and you still can’t put much pressure on the leg,” he said. “You’ll slow us down way too much. I need you to trust me, Vandy. I’m going to get you out of this.”

  “Do you promise?” she asked.

  “I promise,” he said. “I will not let anyone hurt you. Not now… not ever.”

  She hugged him again, “Please don’t get hurt.” She kissed him.

  He smiled, “Now that was good motivation for me to not screw it up.”

  “You’re damn skippy,” she said.

  “Okay,” he said. “One last thing. I want you to go to my laundry room. There are some broken down cardboard boxes and duct tape in the corner. Get the tape and bring as much of the cardboard as you can carry.”

  “What for?” she asked.

  “In case they shoot the windows out of the Tahoe,” he said. “We’ll tape the cardboard over the windows to keep out the cold.

  “Holy crap,” she replied.

  “And my medical bag is by the bed. Please bring it too.”

  “Are you sure this is the best idea?” she asked.