Gunslinger

by Angi Morgan

  “I wonder what’s on it?”

  “Something to kill for.”

  “Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.” Fred whooped on his way up the step.

  “Leave? Don’t you want to catch those men? You’ve gone to so much trouble.” Kylie dropped the key ring in her jeans pocket hoping they wouldn’t listen to her. It was the one time she was playing devil’s advocate and not wanting to be right.

  “We have what they’re after. We leave. Take this drive to Company F and find out what’s on it in Waco. There’s no reason to hang around here and risk our necks.” Bryce stuck the drive in his jeans pocket.

  “Fred?” The radio hanging on her friend’s belt squawked. “Grant Fenley just drove up to his house. He has his kids with him.”

  Richard had been watching the street.

  “Dammit,” the older man said through gritted teeth. “Who let them through? Shoot, it doesn’t matter. We’ll come up with a plan B.”

  “It’s okay, right?” she asked.

  “Get in the car.” A confused, worried look overtook Fred’s face as he pointed to the convertible.

  “No. I can shoot. For gosh sakes, Fred, you taught me how.”

  Bryce shrugged.

  “Sorry, darlin’.” Fred took that shrug as Bryce’s agreement. “The car’s the safest place for you.”

  “Oh, don’t you ‘darlin’’ me with that sweet cowboy drawl.” She tried to march past Bryce but Fred blocked her and shut the door in her face. She heard the dead bolt turn. “I cannot believe you just locked me out of my own house!”

  The garage was locked on the outside. No window. At least the light was on. She had the new cell that Bryce had purchased. Those guys weren’t going to answer and they weren’t going to change their minds. She was definitely stuck.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You think she’s safe in there?” Bryce asked the retired ranger and received a nod.

  The radio walkie-talkie Fred held squawked again. “You want me to stay here or do something? Reckon those curtains are moving because someone’s looking through them?” Richard surmised from Bryce’s house.

  “Tell him to stay put. I’ll check it out.”

  “You guys have to let me out of here!” The shout was faint through the door.

  “Forgive us, Kylie. We’ll be right back.” Fred turned to him. “I guess we should have, like, a knock or something so she’ll know it’s us.”

  “Or we could just call out to her. She’ll probably recognize our voices.”

  “Kylie, we’ll tell you it’s us. If someone opens that door before we get back...find a shovel or something.” Fred tapped on the door, indicating his departure. Then the older man turned to Bryce. “I’ll keep watch in the backyard while you check things out. No one will get inside here.”

  If there was a shovel in the garage, Kylie would probably take it to both of their heads when they got back. Bryce motioned for Fred to go out the back door.

  “Just in case it’s not a fan blowing those curtains, you take the long way and approach Fenley’s house from the north. I’ll give you a couple of minutes since you have the longer ground to cover.” He tapped the radio. “We work together.”

  “Got it. Put on the vest, son.”

  “Heading for it now, sir.” Bryce had a moment...just a moment where he wanted to say something poignant, but he couldn’t think of a thing. They nodded at each other and split. “No matter what happens, keep Richard inside. I’ll give Harris a call and tell him the trouble we were expecting may have showed up.”

  Fred darted to Kylie’s big tree in the back, then through the back gate of the privacy fence. He must have removed the locks earlier since there was no pause in the stealth of his journey.

  But locking Kylie inside wasn’t a great idea. He just didn’t have time to explain himself. Bryce did an about-face and unlocked the garage door. Kylie jumped up from the step, dipped her head and marched into the kitchen.

  “It’s a good thing you came back here, bust—”

  Bryce pulled her body to his, capturing her lips and shushing her lecture. “I didn’t want to argue with you or Fred. The door is ready for you to open if you need to get out of here fast. Wait.” He covered her tender lips with his finger. “If things go wrong. Drive straight to the police station. Don’t try to outrun them to anywhere else. Got it?”

  “This is my fight, I don’t want to run.”

  “Promise me. I need to know you’ll be safe.”

  “I promise. Don’t get shot or worse. We have whatever they’re looking for now. We can—”

  “First we have to get the Fenley family out of there.” He saw the panicked look in her eyes, heard the sudden intake of breath as if she was about to make a speech. “I know what you’re about to say. That this is your problem and no one else is supposed to get hurt. I want to be clear. Exchanging yourself for them won’t help. So don’t think about it.”

  “So you want me to stay here and twiddle my thumbs?”

  “Yes. And stay alert listening to the radio. We need you to talk to Hico PD, keep them up-to-date on what’s happening. I got to get going.”

  “Bryce.” She sandwiched his face between her palms and kissed him. “Don’t be long. We have things to do.”

  “Yes, we do. Go grab that handgun from behind your picture in the bathroom.” He winked at her split-second of astonishment before heading to the front door.

  Staying close to the house, he searched the vicinity for guns pointed his direction. He wanted to check out the Fenley house and find everything perfectly normal. They’d evacuate the family and everything would be back on track. But his gut told him this was it. Tenoreno’s men had been waiting on them instead of the other way around. He pulled the bolt on the garage so the door could be raised from the inside.

  Taking off down the driveway, he pulled the Velcro tight at his ribs and drew his Sig, wishing it was a shotgun. He was better with a shotgun. Easier to hit his target. In this case, the better scenario would be that he wouldn’t have a target at all.

  Walking in the street, he passed the rooster and hen belonging to Kylie’s neighbor. A cat watched them from the bottom limb of a mimosa tree. How the chickens were still alive...no idea.

  “Hey, Todd.” He kept the phone on speaker. “Things might get hairy around here in a minute.”

  “I’m at the end of Pecan by the statue.”

  The Fenley family had two kids, eleven and eight. The rig that Grant drove was out back where it had been absent that morning. A two-foot cement wall outlined the property. A small pink bicycle was safely parked by the front steps.

  Porch swing, chairs, small table, birdhouses, plants and a cow-shaped message chalkboard all worked together to make the place look lived-in. The house itself was long and not too wide. The curtain dropped, covering whoever was behind it.

  It wasn’t a ceiling fan.

  Three or four more steps and he could dive next to that rock wall. He heard the crack of a glass pane and he hit the ground. The street was peppered with bullets just behind him.

  The small pieces popped up hitting him in the back, pinning him with his face in the dirt. Small glass-like rocks dug into the back of his left hand. His right still held his Sig close to his chest. When a pause came in the shots, he retrieved his phone and called Todd Harris.

  “Shots fired out west window. I’m pinned at the street. Fred’s coming from the north, can you approach from the east?”

  “Got ya covered.”

  Bryce was about to signal Fred on the radio, but the shots began in earnest again and stopped just as suddenly. He readied his Sig and risked a look over the wall. The porch screen door was kicked open, bursting the spring and slamming shut. He watched a booted foot toe the door open.

  A thirty-something man was pushed forward, stumbling onto the porch, immediately getting to his knees. “Don’t shoot! You can’t shoot! Please don’t shoot!”

  “Drop to the ground, Grant,” Todd cal
led out.

  Bryce couldn’t see where the officer was from his position at the wall.

  “I can’t,” the guy on the porch said. “I have to stay here or they’ll...they’ll kill my kids.”

  “You okay, Bryce?” Fred asked on the radio. “The shades are drawn. I have no target from my position.”

  “I have eyes on the porch, but I’m blind for the rest of the house.”

  “Johnson? Bryce Johnson?” Grant called.

  “I’m here.”

  “They said all they want is a woman named Sissy and a car.” Grant turned a bloodied ear toward the door. “I mean the Cadillac. It has to be a Cadillac. Then they’ll let my kids go.”

  “Bryce,” Kylie broke in on the radio.

  “Out of the question,” he shouted, wanting to stand to let them know who was in charge. But his instincts kept him beside that wall.

  Behind him he heard the garage door go up. “Kylie, no!” Half into the radio and half down the street, he roared to get her to listen to him. He caught himself. Screaming wouldn’t work, he had to reason with this woman he’d come to care about so much.

  “We can’t trust them, Kylie,” Fred said.

  “Trust me,” he pleaded into the radio.

  It was too late. The car was rumbling on the street and she wasn’t responding to the radio pleas. She drove slowly. He could have easily run alongside if he’d been across the street.

  He rose, ready to move. Shots from the house hit the street just behind him.

  “Don’t do it, Johnson! God, I’m begging you please. They’ve got a gun to my son’s head.” Grant was weeping.

  Kylie rolled the window down. “It’s my turn to fix the problem, Bryce. I can’t let those kids get hurt.”

  “Johnson,” Grant called for his attention. “They want you to throw down your guns. Kylie’s supposed to drive. What?” He turned back to the door and reached into the dark room.

  Grant Fenley’s hands were zip-tied together as he walked down the porch and sidewalk. “Sorry, Kylie. I need to lock you to the steering wheel.”

  “I’ll be okay, Grant. Don’t worry about it.” She placed her hands on the wheel again and Grant did as he was instructed then returned to the house.

  “I can’t just let you drive to your death.” Bryce was close enough he didn’t have to raise his voice.

  “I’m not. I’ll meet you in Austin.” Her eyes looked toward his pocket. “You still have bargaining power.”

  He couldn’t answer before two masked men—backs together—moved from the house. One carried the little girl. One held a gun to the eleven-year-old’s head. Grant wasn’t near them.

  Both of the kids were blindfolded. Bryce couldn’t let this happen. He got to his feet, resting his Sig on the wall and raising his hands in the air.

  “We don’t want any trouble, Ranger,” the one holding the girl said, spinning a little away from his partner.

  “Take me instead of the kids.”

  “No offense,” the other man said, “but you won’t keep your partners from shooting at us. These guys will.”

  Bryce didn’t move. He didn’t even shake his head or look anywhere except into the cocky one’s eyes. “Come on, man. Where do you think you can drive this car and not be seen? The State Troopers will have you in their sights or a helicopter will be on your tail by the time you pass the city limits. Why don’t you hand over your guns without anybody getting hurt? You tell us who hired you and why, and I’m sure we can make a deal.”

  “Stay back, Ranger.”

  “I’m back, I’m back,” Bryce answered as calmly as his racing pulse could manage. “But if you take the kids, there’s nothing I can help you with. You catch my meaning?”

  The men’s backs were a little farther apart now, inching their way down the sidewalk. Bryce wanted to rush them himself. He’d have to step up on the two-foot wall and hit the ground running again. He was too far away to use the border wall to his advantage and launch himself from it.

  No, he didn’t have options. Hands in the air, gun on the rocks, girl cuffed in the car, kids with barrels to their temples. He’d lost.

  Or definitely lost control of the situation.

  The gunmen were almost at the car and didn’t look like they had any intention of releasing the kids. Fred and Todd were within sight. The other police officer sirens were close. He was out of ideas. The situation was about to turn from worst possible scenario to completely—

  “You can take me to Xander, but those kids are staying here,” Kylie commanded, revving the engine on the Cadillac. “I’m serious. And the only ride you’ve got.”

  “Kylie—”

  “No one else gets hurt because of me! Does everyone hear that?” she yelled.

  “You don’t call the shots, bitch. We’re in charge.”

  Bryce closely observed the body movements of the men. One had a looser grip on the boy, but the other shifted the girl and held her tighter.

  They weren’t letting her go.

  Everything happened in seconds...

  Two police cars blocked the street running north and south. The mouthy one shoved the boy to the ground. The gunmen both broke into a run, the girl squirming and crying. Bryce scooped up his Sig and aimed. The men ran around the trunk.

  The boy was yelling for his father. Grant was screaming from the doorway. The gunmen were fast enough and smart enough to turn in circles, keeping the girl between them and most of the cops.

  Multiple gun barrels pointed at the Cadillac.

  No one had a shot.

  If anyone fired...people would die.

  “Hold your fire!” Bryce shouted, pointing his Sig to the clouds. “Hold your fire!”

  “Smart choice, Ranger man!” one of them shouted as he jerked open the door and shoved his partner and the girl inside.

  Bryce could only stare as they forced the little girl to crawl in the wide back window and both men sank low into the seats. He connected with Kylie as she sadly looked his way, but gunned the engine.

  Tires spun on the edge of the road. No vehicles would block their exit past the Billy the Kid statue at the end of the street.

  Bryce ran after them. There was no shot to take. They couldn’t shoot the tires. If the car rolled the little girl would be killed. If they shot at the men, they could easily kill the girl or Kylie.

  “You had to let them go, son. No choice.” Fred said, looping an arm across Bryce’s shoulders.

  Where had this all gone so wrong?

  He turned to Todd. “Get on the phone. Company F, police, troopers, statewide bulletin, everything. Do your job and find that car!”

  Bryce ran up the street to his truck.

  The radio squawked, “They turned east toward Meridian.”

  Squawked again, “Don’t let them see you following!”

  Richard and a couple of others stood in the front yards with shotguns and rifles on their hips. They’d tried. They’d all tried. But this was on him. His mistake. He’d let Kylie and the Fenley girl down.

  “They really took Darla, too?” Richard asked.

  Bryce didn’t have time to acknowledge him. He started the pickup, tore out of the driveway and down the street after Kylie. He pressed his contacts for Major Parker. No answer.

  Cursing, he banged the steering wheel with the edge of his fist. He was three minutes behind them. He pushed the truck to the max. Six miles out of town. Seven. Eight. Still no sign of them.

  “Where the hell did they go?”

  Chapter Twenty

  The men had used plain zip ties to lock Kylie’s wrists to the center of the steering wheel. She could barely turn a corner, but managed. Minutes past the city limits sign, the masked man next to her grabbed the wheel and yanked hard to the right. She thought her arms had cracked as she fell sideways.

  Sitting a quarter of a mile away, hidden from the road, was a semi-trailer truck and trailer. That’s how they planned on getting away from the police who would be looking for the Cadilla
c.

  “Hand me your phone,” the man next to her commanded. “Line up with the ramps.”

  “I can’t turn.” He sliced through one of the plastic ties with a pocketknife and got out. She took the phone from her pocket, then lined the car up and was about to kill the engine when he reached through the window and pulled the switch for the top.

  While the electric top folded into place between the trunk and backseat, he removed the phone’s battery and threw the pieces into the brush. Her hope of Bryce following her with that bit of technology was tossed like the phone. She’d have to be more inventive. But she would get them free.

  “Darla, honey. Climb over the seat to sit next to me.”

  She cooed to the crying girl, trying to calm her until the men had the top secured and motioned for her to pull onto the ramps. Once inside, a man who’d been waiting in the trailer squeezed along the edge of the car with more zip ties and a roll of duct tape.

  Remembering some of the defensive research she’d allowed herself over the years, she flexed her wrists, making them as wide as possible. This man seemed to be younger and didn’t realize her little trick would allow her to squeeze free.

  Hopefully.

  He tore a strip of tape to cover Darla’s mouth.

  “Please don’t. She won’t be able to breathe. We won’t scream. Right, Darla? Promise him, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t matter. I got orders,” he said, reaching toward Darla who shoved herself to the far side of the vinyl seat. Her screams were those of a young child being yanked from her father and used as a human shield.

  Kylie wanted to scoop the girl to her side and protect her, comfort her. But her hands were secured. The man pushed Kylie forward into the steering wheel, leaning across her back to reach Darla. The little girl screamed more and at a higher pitch.

  “Tell her to shut up!” he yelled.

  “Please. Can’t you see how scared she is?”

  Kylie needed Darla free. Just in case she couldn’t slip out of the zip ties, she needed the little girl to help. She saw the hesitation in the younger man’s hands. He raised them, then dropped them again.

  “Tell her to come over here and I’ll do it real loose so she can get it off easy and breathe.”