by Angi Morgan
“What?” her parents asked together.
“Mitch is an undercover Texas Ranger,” Brandie said with a little too much glee in her voice. She was proud of his hidden occupation, even if she didn’t want him around any longer. The surprised look on her father’s face seemed like vindication somehow. He was far from an authority on people and it gave her a spark of happiness that he had to rethink his opinions about her mechanic.
“Did they do something that caused Toby not to be released?” her mom said quietly. “Pete came and told us where you were. Is that why you don’t want them here?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Mitch had answered at the same time. Her mother looked at her, another tear fell from the corner of her eye. “Bud, get them out of here, please.”
Her father stood, pointing to the door.
“This is a mistake,” Mitch said again. “I can help. They can’t know—”
“Get your stuff out of the garage. Lock the keys inside.”
“Brandie?”
She made the mistake of looking into his pleading eyes as the other men physically hauled him from the house. She covered her face, replacing the memory of his pleading look with Rey’s death stare. She’d never let that happen to Toby. Never!
Chapter Seventeen
“Hand over the impact wrench.” Mitch used a low, threatening voice, but he didn’t think the sheriff was listening.
“The owner instructed you to collect your things and lock the place up. I have to make sure that happens.” But Pete slapped the wrench into Mitch’s palm, then turned to Cord. “I assume you’ll be watching Brandie and her parents. You’ll keep me in the loop?”
“As much as I’m allowed.”
“I’m. Not. Leaving.” Mitch stated each word, securing a screw into the steel plates between each. The garage floor was safe to walk on again. He finished with more determination to retrieve Toby unharmed.
The look of disappointment on Brandie’s face had cut him as surely as any blade.
“You’ve been ordered to return to Austin for reassignment.” Cord pushed his worn Stetson off the back of his head with one hand and clawed at his hair with the other.
Mitch stowed the tools he’d been using. He ignored his two escorts and picked up parts lying on the garage floor from the break-in, stacking them on the shelves. It bugged him to see his garage in such a sloppy state.
Several boxes later it hit him that he thought of this place as his. That was, his and Brandie’s. He clutched an air filter in his right hand and grabbed the metal shelving with his left trying not to fall as the enormity of the situation hit him.
The pain in his chest was from holding his breath. The pain in his jaw was from gritting his teeth. The blurring of his vision couldn’t be from his eyes watering. He dropped the box and used the back of his sleeve to wipe his face.
A friendly couple of slaps on his back got a regular beat back to his aching heart. Toby was kidnapped.
“There’s not a damn thing I can do,” he mumbled. “I never thought he’d...”
The emotion crushing down on him like a vise was more than an undercover Ranger should feel. It was more than a friend felt for someone’s missing child. That instance was full of the realization that Brandie and her son meant more to him than anything else.
And just like Brandie, he was willing to do anything to get him back. He’d fight to stay in Marfa. Even knowing that Brandie would never forgive him, he knew he had to stay.
“Look, man—” Cord’s voice was full of empathy “—we’ve both been where you’re at. Pete, you should know that my source who helped find your fiancée was Mitch.”
“When those bastards took Andrea, I thought I’d go insane before I found her. Can’t imagine it being a kid.”
“You know we’ll find Toby,” Cord said.
Mitch clapped his arm on his superior’s shoulder, locking gazes with him. “Get me reassigned here. I need to see this through.”
Cord shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do. Your work on the border is too important.”
“Then I resign.”
“You don’t want to do that,” Cord said.
Mitch caught Pete’s uncharacteristic tension with his peripheral vision as the sheriff paced behind them. Would he have to fight both of them off to get back to Brandie? Or would they bend the rules to get back her son?
“I don’t have a choice. I have to get Toby back.”
* * *
IF HER FATHER didn’t find something to occupy his time now that the deputies were gone, she might have to go stay at the café by herself. Every few minutes he had another question about Mitch that she didn’t know the answer to—or at least she knew very few truths about him.
Once she’d convinced him that she’d only known since the night Rey’s men had come to his house, her father withdrew to the kitchen to bother her mom awhile.
Brandie watched her mother fold the last of Toby’s clothes and stack them in the laundry basket. The house was spotless. That’s what her mother had been doing while waiting. Cleaning, cleaning and cleaning some more.
Now they were all back in her tiny living room wondering what to do. Brandie kept activating her cell screen, expecting a call any minute. She tried to convince herself it was the mystery woman she wanted to hear, but that wasn’t the truth. She wanted Mitch to be on the other end.
She’d brought up his face several times on her screen and was one swipe away from asking him to come back. “What do I know about kidnappers or getting Toby back? This is all my fault. I can’t think straight long enough to figure out how to fix it.”
“I’m sorry, Brandie.” Her father’s voice was extremely soft, but it wasn’t her imagination.
Her mother stopped smoothing Toby’s clothes and stared at the other end of the couch where he sat. “What are you sorry for, Bud? You’ve been sorry a long time and need to actually tell her what you’re sorry about.”
Her dad’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his wrinkled neck. “I should never have treated you like I did, Brandie. I was so scared for you when you came home from college. We had such hopes that you’d get out of this little town and do something big with your life.”
So had she. For five years he’d blamed her for ruining her life. And now? Why talk about it now?
“At first I was scared people would treat you bad. Then when Toby was born, I was afraid of how they’d treat my fatherless grandson. I wanted everybody to be as proud of him as I was. That’s why I started making up stories about his father being a war hero. Can you forgive me?”
“I understood, Dad. I knew I disappointed you.”
He knelt by the old rocker, taking her hand in his. “Honey, you’ve never been a disappointment. Never. You’re a hardworking, kind and caring young woman. You’re more than an old fart like me deserves.”
Her father had always been a man of few words. Other than instructions on how to run the café and garage, this was the longest he’d spoken to her at one time in years. She knew how hard apologizing was for him, so she leaned forward and hugged his neck.
She’d loved him in spite of the hard words he’d said over the past few years. Part of being a family was loving each other no matter what. Both her parents had taught her that. It was something she lived by. A way of life that had kept her going no matter how ugly life got.
Soon they were all in another family hug. She felt happy, frightened, loved yet alone all at the same time. She realized her cell had slid from her lap to the floor when it began vibrating. Her mother picked it up and answered.
“Yes?”
Brandie could make out a deep voice, but not words. She stuck out her hand, but her mother shook her head and continued the conversation.
“That would be fine. We’d appreciate that.” She disconnected. “Mitch offered to bring hamburgers from the DQ.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I didn’t feel like cook
ing, so I agreed. I’ll keep this—” she pocketed Brandie’s phone “—so you can’t call and cancel our dinner. I’m quite hungry.” She lifted the laundry basket to her hip and moved into the short hallway.
“But Mom—”
“Let her go. This is the way she copes.”
“Dad, Mitch will try to talk us into doing things his way. And his way involves law enforcement. I have to do whatever the kidnappers say.”
“Then we won’t let him stay. But like your mother, I haven’t eaten and I’m beginning to feel kind of peckish. A burger sounds good while we’re waiting.” He winked, then followed her mom to Toby’s room.
Waiting for Mitch to pull into the driveway didn’t make her anxious. She was relieved for the very reason the talk with her dad had begun. She didn’t know what to do. And she didn’t know how she’d wait not doing anything at all.
Confused and conflicted. She wished she had someone to talk everything over with, but Mitch had become her best friend. Sadie worked with her almost every morning but they weren’t close. Her high-school girlfriends had moved. And she hadn’t been in college long enough to make lasting friendships.
She’d grown more dependent on Mitch the past six months than she’d realized. And that’s why she felt alone. She recognized the sound of his car’s engine a short time later. Prepared to tell him to leave as soon as she said thanks for the burgers, she stood in the middle of the room, ready for his knock.
“Come on in,” she called out.
The door opened, and he extended his arm through. His hand held two white sacks. “I didn’t have a white flag. You ready to discuss a truce?”
Unable to send him away again, she took one of the sacks and walked it to her son’s room. She wanted to cry, but held herself together as her dad took two burgers and proclaimed they were fine where they were.
Brandie had to face him. Her stomach growled at the smell of mustard and onions. She didn’t want to be hungry while her son wasn’t home, but she hadn’t really eaten all day and needed the fuel to function.
Mitch had pulled the burgers out onto the table and opened two bottles of water. “Mind if I join you?”
“Go ahead and sit.” Brandie forced every bite down, hoping she wouldn’t be sick.
They ate in silence. Then he waved a napkin. “I should have thought of this when I came inside. I didn’t know if Bud would have his shotgun ready or not.”
“I think Pete took it this morning so he wouldn’t accidently shoot someone. I guess if they’d contacted you or you had any news you would have told me when you got here. Right?”
“I would have called you. I wouldn’t have waited.”
“Was Pete civil when you got your stuff from the garage? Dad asked him to follow you and make sure you left.”
“Yeah. But I didn’t get anything except a change of clothes and my toothbrush. Everything’s locked tight. Alarm’s on.” He finished his last French fry and licked the salt from his fingers. He must have caught the way she was looking at him because he arched those normally very straight brows.
“Did I really have to say you’re fired?”
“Well, that is what I came to talk to you about. See, I sort of quit.”
“You can call it anything you want. Hand over my keys.” She stood with her hand out, waiting.
“No. Wait. I mean that I resigned from the Texas Rangers. If you still need a mechanic...”
“Why?” she asked, plopping back onto the hard wooden chair.
“I knew you wouldn’t keep me around if I didn’t.”
“But Mitch—”
“We need to find Toby. I can help. I can’t if they send me back to Austin.” He sat back, crossed his arms, looking firm in his decision to end his career in order to find her son.
“Thank you.” He was right. She couldn’t think beyond finding Toby. “Where do we start?”
“We wait for a call. In the meantime, we go back to the beginning and see how all these events mesh together. They have to have something in common or be some kind of pattern.”
“What if it’s days before the woman on the hill calls?”
“Then we’ll have longer to think this through, maybe figure out who she is. King couldn’t have that many associates. With or without your permission, Cord and Pete are still working on Toby’s case. They just aren’t working with us.”
“Am I wrong? I don’t think they’ll contact me if they see deputies hanging around the house. I just want him home safe and sound.” She just couldn’t imagine what might be going through his young mind. “He’ll probably toss a fit if he can’t take his big boy shower before he goes to bed.”
“Big boy? I haven’t heard about that.”
“Mom was at choir practice when he spent the night a couple of months ago. Dad didn’t want to bathe Toby, so he taught him how to take a shower. That’s what he’s done every night since.”
“I don’t think he’ll get his shower, but I don’t think he’s being mistreated. King was a blowhard.” He gathered the paper and ketchup containers pushing them back into the sack, then tossing it into the waste bin like any man would.
Such an ordinary thing.
“Toby loves you,” he said. “He’s not going to blame you for this. We’ll get him back and he’ll be fine.”
“I hope you’re right, Mitch. I’ll never forgive myself if he doesn’t come home.”
“Neither will I.”
Chapter Eighteen
Zubict waltzed through the front door using a key. His audacity made Patrice want to shoot him. Unfortunately, she needed him and would have to play along with his imaginary importance.
“The child is where we discussed?” she asked.
“Of course. Kid cried the whole way. I hope that woman has better luck with him than me. Does Rey got two large sitting under the mattress? She was more expensive than you said.”
“I think I can handle a reimbursement. I’ve made a list of things you should take care of— What are you doing?”
He slipped the last button through its hole. “Taking off my shirt. What’s it look like? I figured you’d want some of this.” He flexed his slender muscles.
“We have things to do. There’s time for that later.” She brushed him aside and crossed the room for her notepad. If it weren’t for sex the men she knew would have no reason to accomplish anything.
“Hey, ain’t you afraid the cops will be showing up here?”
“Why?”
“Rey’s dead.” He used an incredulous expression as if she were the dumb one.
But she wasn’t. She’d convinced Rey to put everything in her name several years ago. “This is my house. No one can trace anything back to me through him.” She extended her hand. “You should give me his set of keys.”
“Why should I do that?” He shrugged, letting his shirt fall to the carpet.
“Zubict, I could use your assistance.” She reached into her handbag on the counter, removing Rey’s gift to her. Rey’s new Glock 21 .45 ACP was heavier in her hand than she remembered. “But I will shoot you between the eyes if you don’t put your shirt back on and give me the keys to my house.”
“You are some real piece of work,” he said as he followed her instructions.
“Yes, I am. You’ll get your cash back when I say you’ll get it.” She watched him as he tucked the shirt back into his pants. “Let’s get on with things, shall we?”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Are you familiar with decoys? You are my decoy. While you’re in San Angelo, I’ll be setting us up a huge score. Bigger than anything I’ve moved this past year.”
“You mean the Chessmen has moved. What you’s got to do with it? Rey said we worked for the Chessmen.”
“Think whatever you want, Zubict.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and tapped her nails on the counter next to the handgun. “I’ve made all the arrangements and have a job for you tonight.”
Her suppliers had taken notice of he
r accomplishments. She didn’t need the praise of the pawn in front of her. She handed him a piece of paper, ready for his role in this game to end.
“Take the trunk of cocaine to this address in San Angelo.”
“That’s gonna take me hours. I won’t get back ’til late tomorrow.” He whined. “You’s sure ya can live without me that long?”
“Believe me, I’ll make do.” His whining reminded her of the character she’d played for Mr. Rook. She loved the burnt orange leather skirt she’d worn. Just watching the games of chess he played improved her game. It would have been fun to pit herself against him. Then again, she had a much riskier game that she’d won—considering he was awaiting trial. Another loose end she’d tucked away.
“How much we chargin’ for the bag?” he asked, crossing the room and dropping the strap on his shoulder.
“Nothing. We’re returning it. No lip or I’ll—”
“Right. I gotcha. Take it. Drop it off. Come back here. No problem.”
“Great. Once you do that, we’ll be ready for the shipment from Mexico.”
“And I suppose you’s got it all figured out and don’t need no help. So what’s in it for me?”
“I chose you over Rey. You know what you’ll get when this is over.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him until she felt him harden against her. “Business before pleasure, darling.”
“That’s right. You just wait until I get back.” He staggered backward when she released the sides of his face. His slick-soled Italian loafers slid across the carpet, back farther until his hand found the knob. He left with a fool of a grin on his drooling face.
She turned the dead bolt. Zubict wouldn’t be returning. The buyers in San Angelo had agreed to take care of that loose end for her.
The organization she’d been working with for the past year had offered her a position. She was leaving Alpine and West Texas for good. Leaving the dust, the emptiness, the morons who were Rey’s friends and hit on her every time his back was turned.
