by Angi Morgan
Gas cans.
Lots of gas cans!
It was risky. A logical assumption that they’d fill up the ATVs before heading out. He inched the crate toward the cave entrance, just enough to give him room to dive for protection. Waiting for unloader man’s return to the chopper, he quickly moved, unscrewed the lids of the front two gas cans and scooped handfuls of sand inside. One good shake and he was set.
Back behind the crates, he waited for the next trip and repeated the procedure with the next two cans in line. Then he moved farther away to wait.
Please wait, Kate. Be patient.
* * *
CORDELL MCCREA, WHAT are you waiting on?
He couldn’t get out without being seen. How was she supposed to warn him after they’d already landed? She couldn’t. He’d known that.
Rifle ready, she slid along the path until she lined up a better shot. She’d have his back...and his front. Her daddy had shared his gift of being a marksman.
“Ouch. Shoot.” A piece of dried cactus had lodged itself in her jacket, and one of the thorns had stuck through the material and scraped the skin of her arm. She hurriedly knocked it away with her hand, catching another thorn in her thumb. She’d known better but just wasn’t slowing down to think. She wiggled her fingers, attempting to keep the tense nervousness in check.
The pilot stayed put while three men jumped from the chopper, ducking low with the blades still rotating above their heads. One had a rifle leaning on his chest. The other two headed straight for Cord.
Any second.
Nothing.
Where had Cord gone? The man with the rifle stood at the helicopter like nothing was wrong. Voices, strong, angry words in Spanish. The pilot was still inside, but the blades were slowing—he’d cut the engine.
Four to two. Not such bad odds.
Could she do it? Could she shoot a human being?
The picture of Cord’s bleeding body rushed before her eyes. He had bled from multiple bullet wounds these men—or men just like them—had put there three years ago. It was hard to forget him attempting to say goodbye to her while rushing him to the hospital. Instead, he’d coughed up blood. He’d come so close to being killed by those monsters.
Yeah, she could defend Cord and their child. She funneled her anger into concentration. She took aim, keeping the barrel trained on the man with the gun who seemed to be searching the rim. One man unloaded boxes from the rear seat, disappearing under the camouflage.
If she could take out the one with his finger on the trigger of a machine pistol first, the odds might be better for keeping Cord alive.
Still nothing.
Kate only had a clean shot for the guard. She couldn’t act with Cord trapped wherever he was hidden. So she had no choice but to wait, hoping and praying that the men in the helicopter were the only ones around. She was a sitting duck for anyone approaching behind her.
A clear day with lots of sunshine. She’d soon be a little warmer lying on the cold, rocky earth. If they could time this correctly, the men would be completely blinded by the sun rising over the rocks.
Maybe I should have talked things through with you, Cordell.
The men unloading and seeming to gripe about every trip back to the helicopter finished and chugged bottles of water. It wasn’t hot, but in the high desert most kept themselves hydrated. As thirsty as she was, she would not move until Cord was out of that canyon.
The pilot finished whatever he’d been doing on the opposite side of the helicopter. The echo of him slamming something back in place bounced around while he wiped his hands and wandered to stand by the guard. He shoved the red work rag in his pocket, elbowing the assault weapon slung across his back, out of the way.
Still no sign of Cord or that he’d been discovered. There must be a cave entrance hidden by all that camouflage.
What were all the supplies for, and if they had this place, why use the cabin to hide the drugs? These men were packing weapons ready for a battle. They didn’t need to be good shots with machine guns. Just point and shoot. Both she and Cord had limited ammo but were excellent marksmen. And they still had surprise on their side. That had to be in their favor.
Outgunned and outmanned. Yeah, I should have talked through some plans with Cord. What did I get us into, baby?
Chapter Five
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
He’d heard that saying throughout his lifetime. Each member of his family had bragged on how they’d made it through the Depression, more than one world war. Men and women had sacrificed so he could walk the land he worked every day.
This barn had been erected by his father and fellow ranchers. A monument to the prosperity of the times. The tack room had been his refuge growing up. Now the whole place housed more broken-down junk and car parts than horses. And at the moment, Serna and two of his men.
It didn’t matter how bad the situation had become, no one from any part of his life would approve of the lethal men he was “in bed” with now. Drug gangs. Murderers. Men who didn’t think twice about taking a life and leaving the body somewhere to rot.
He knew the risks. He also knew what would have happened if he hadn’t agreed. He’d be one of those bodies rotting somewhere to be discovered by a stray desert hiker.
He watched Serna’s show from the corner of the tack room, careful not to turn his back on his partners of the past four years. Hopefully, they didn’t notice how tense he stood waiting to be spoken to. Probably never noticed that he kept his .357 shoved under a pile of broken harnesses, easily within one step.
Watching this gang leader lose control reminded him of what type of men his “business” partners were. He didn’t trust any of them and wanted out. Hell, he’d never wanted in. Another saying of his grandmother’s popped into his head. Bargain with the devil—or his agents—and you’re gonna get burned. But that was the price you paid when things were going belly-up and there were no options left.
“They couldn’t have disappeared. I told you, they were going to that thing they call a lodge,” Serna spit into the cell. The newly released state felon ranted, waving his arms in his sharply pressed stripped shirt. Ironic that the stripes were heading the opposite direction than the prison bars he’d been wearing until yesterday.
If McCrea was at the lodge, he wasn’t worried. He hadn’t wanted a money trail and had accepted payment of another kind. His personal stash of heroin was hidden but no one had found it for four years. Nothing to pin him to the gang once he got rid of the burner phone.
“I told you McCrea is the number-one priority. Doesn’t anyone listen to me? No! Bring him to me alive. I want to rip his head from his freakin’ Ranger’s neck and spit down his stinkin’ throat.” Serna clicked more buttons and finally slid the new phone into his back pocket.
He stood there. Waiting for Serna to state what he needed.
“Those incompetents working for me will receive the same if they don’t find that cowboy and his whore soon. The entire schedule will be thrown off. They should have waited and taken them all out at ranch.”
He waited for one of Serna’s men to answer or explain why that had been impossible after Serna had threated McCrea at the courthouse. No one dared.
And neither did he.
Serna might not kill him, but pissing him off right before this last shipment wasn’t part of the plan, either. Making a boatload of money and blaming someone else—the Danvers were as good as anyone else. That was the plan. And if poor little Kate got caught in the crosshairs again...so be it. No skin off his nose.
“What? No one feels like talkin’ to me,” Serna declared with no question in his angry bellow.
“We’re waitin’ on orders, Boss,” one young man in the back sheepishly mewed.
“I order you out. Go! Leave!” Serna touched the handle of his pistol tucked in the front of his pants.
The lead minion couldn’t find the door handle fast enough before the four men bunched to a stop trying to
figure out how to get out. Serna threw back his head, laughing. The heavy wood swung shut on its own accord.
Serna sauntered toward him. “So cool. Never acting afraid.”
He stood in his corner, forcing his expression to remain the same. He shifted his weight closer to his weapon, itching to take it and shoot the scum dead. But he was a necessary evil to finish his plan. He’d dealt with middlemen while Serna had been in jail. Things had gone easier after Serna had gone to jail and vowed to kill McCrea. On a personal level, he only wanted the Ranger out of the way so Kate would be gone, too.
Dealing with this mad dog in front of him had grown tiresome fast. Mad dog? Yes. Continuously high on a cocktail of drugs, consistently popping more pills. It was amazing Serna had ever accomplished any type of workable drug smuggling across the border. And nothing on the scale of what they were attempting.
“Do I have a reason to fear you?” he asked more coolly than he’d thought. The sweat under his arms and the line gathering to trickle down his spine physically showed the truth.
“My friend...”
I’m not your friend.
“Things have been going good, yes?”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Did you know about the little—” he pursed his lips together and shrugged “—shortage I was told about last week?”
“No shortage. You were told where the drugs are. We thought it better not to go in so close to your hearing.” It was also part of the plan. “We’ll move it with the rest.”
“Then why not continue our arrangement? So much time and energy wasted finding a new route.”
“You know why, friend. The DEA is getting too close for horseshoes and grenades.”
“They haven’t discovered us in four years’ time.” Serna’s eyes were dilated and when he faced the early-morning sunlight, he pulled his mirrored shades to his nose. “What makes you so certain that they’re getting...closer.”
The drug addict patted his shoulder in a demeaning way, fingering the grip of the gun at his waist. Trying to command the situation. Serna had no idea he’d been used in this carefully constructed relationship.
When the DEA found the cave—and they would find the cave—the gang would take the fall. A means to an end to restore his financial stability. An end he’d wanted for many years.
I’m a small pawn in the overall picture and Feds will love to give me immunity for what I know about your organization. Serna, you are so screwed.
He wanted to shout the truth. Wanted to bark it back at this doper just what kind of a mistake he’d made forcing him into this situation. He kept his voice low and calm, saying, “Let’s get this shipment taken care of and worry about the rest later.”
It was dangerously close to the time hands would begin showing up for work. Should Serna be reminded he didn’t want to be seen here by anyone? Five more minutes and he’d have to tell—or ask—him to leave.
“I agree, amigo. But first, we take care of our runaway couple. Edward!” Serna faced the door, waiting on one of the men to reenter the room. “This is exhausting for me.”
“You need something, Boss?” The youngest, who’d dared to speak earlier, kept one foot out of the room.
“Time to get moving.” Serna spoke more Spanish, lower, loud enough only for Edward to hear, nod and leave. “McCrea will be found and dealt with. You’re certain they’ll head across the mountains?”
“Everyone knows David’s at his son’s place. If they need help, that leaves the friendly neighboring Burke ranch. We wouldn’t be looking for them if your guys had taken them out at the shack.”
The look of hatred on Serna’s face accentuated the prominent lines of droopy skin, the yellowish tint of his eyes. He wasn’t healthy, but of course, he was a drug addict of the worse sort. The question wasn’t his physical health...just his mental. Was he stable enough to finish?
“Do not piss me off, amigo.” Serna paused his exit, slowly sliding his arms into his jacket, always playing the role of some huge crime lord. How laughable.
His jaw popped as he gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Nothing else matters to me until that bastard is dying a slow death while he watches me kill the one thing he loves more than his own life.”
“I have no problem with that. If McCrea’s alive, the operation is at risk.”
No problem at all. He was only here for the money.
Chapter Six
Cord had never been good at waiting. For months doctors and physical therapists had instructed him to be patient. Don’t rush things. Don’t push his legs too far. Even his father and mother had warned him.
The minutes ticked by. No one reached for the gas.
His legs cramped. The shaky sticks weren’t one hundred percent. He hadn’t passed the physical test to requalify but none of that mattered. If he failed, Kate would die.
Their child would die.
So to quote whoever said it first, “failure was not an option.”
Option one—sand in the gas tanks, seize up the engines. ATVs couldn’t follow when they rode out on horses. Chopper still could. He’d take out the pilot or engine with rifle cover.
Then run to the top of the ridge? On these legs?
What was he thinking?
Option two—shoot everyone. There couldn’t be that many—they’d come in a chopper loaded with extra weight. Three or four men tops. What type of weapons did they have? Was Serna with them? Could he even get to the entrance without being seen?
I’m blind in this cave.
Option three—wait. Not his favorite option. Kate was most likely going nuts on the rim. Would she wait? He’d reminded her of the baby; maybe she would listen this time. Unlike getting out of the car when they’d been ambushed three years ago.
Damn...not now.
The memory of the shooting rushed into his mind. Once there he couldn’t get away from it. It was so real, taking over his optic nerves and replaying in slow motion in front of him. He saw the gun barrels. Heard the shouts to shoot Kate. Yelled at her to get down. He turned to protect her....
Searing fire in his back, then nothing.
Kate screamed, kept screaming his name. He could still move his hands, his fingers still gripped his weapon. “Roll me over, Kathleen.”
She’d nodded, the fright vivid in her beautiful, tear-filled eyes.
“Wait until he’s on top of us,” he whispered.
Concentrating only on Kate’s face, he’d stayed conscious for her. She rolled him. He’d ignored the pain but could remember it now, wincing at the vivid memory. Then he’d squeezed the trigger, shooting Ronaldo Serna between the eyes. The second man with him must have been stunned, pausing just long enough for Cord to get a second shot off, severely wounding him.
No repeat performance. Kate was screaming now. She was up on a ledge waiting for him. He would get out of this bear hole without being shot. He wasn’t doing that to Kate or his child. He just needed options.
A real shot echoed through the box canyon. Men scrambled. Bullets connected with metal.
Kate hadn’t waited. Or she’d waited long enough. He rolled over the crates and prayed his legs wouldn’t buckle when he hit the earth floor. They held and he shoved his back to the wall at the cave entrance.
First guy through the entrance he coldcocked in the face. Out cold on the rocks.
Second guy backed through the entrance, tripped over the body of the first and raised his face into the barrel of Cord’s weapon. He raised his hands in the air, letting the machine pistol hang across his shoulder.
“Drop it.”
The guy shrugged.
“Don’t let the uniform fool you. This is personal and I’ll drop you like the jackal you are. Now take the strap over your head and stop pretending you don’t understand.”
The man complied and Cord kicked the gun into the sunlight. He used his belt to immobilize the man’s hands and feet and dragged him to the back of the cave by the gas cans. He lacked time to do
anything else. He slung the machine pistol across his chest and positioned himself behind the ATV. Still hidden to the chopper pilot, he heard Kate’s rifle between the rapid firing of another automatic.
There were shouts in Spanish calling from the chopper to the cave asking where they were. The gunfire didn’t stop. From his view he couldn’t find Kate on the ridge.
* * *
ONE LONE SHOT pierced the silence and then nothing.
“Cord!” Kate shouted. “Are you alive?”
“I’m good.” He kept low to the ground and zigzagged to the chopper.
“Good. I think I...I killed him.” Her voice shook—he could hear it even at this distance. “He’s not moving. I haven’t seen him move.”
One glance at the pilot and he didn’t need to take a pulse. He’d been shot in the throat. He waved his arm at Kate. He still couldn’t see her. He couldn’t find the fourth guy. Where had he run? And if the man had heard him shouting at Kate...
Rapid gunfire from the cave took down the pole and the tarp collapsed. He fell flat and used the chopper as cover. The edge of the tarp dropped and blew across the ground, but bullets pummeled the rock face behind him. He lifted the machine pistol and pulled the trigger, hearing his own spray of bullets bite through the camouflage. A short curse and then silence.
They’d broken free inside the cave, found another weapon and now were dead. He checked the bodies for a pulse. None. And no ID. Where was the fourth man?
“What the hell does Serna have planned?” No more time to search the crates. He had to find that fourth guy. They needed to get out of there and fast. It would take them several hours to get to Nick’s without a vehicle. They could have used the water for the horses, but he had no way to carry it up that ridge. They’d have to take the trek slow, hiding their movements.
When he edged from the cave, he saw the bastard picking his way to the top of the ledge.
“Kate!” he shouted, running to the bottom of the trail.
Maybe she’d seen him, couldn’t get a shot from her angle with the rifle. Cord aimed the MAC-10, squeezed the trigger on the inaccurate weapon and nothing. The magazine was empty. He wasn’t close enough to use his 9mm so he had one choice. Climb.
