by Angi Morgan
“Oh, man.” His hoarse voice expressed his astonishment at recognizing the initials in the wood post of the stall. This was the Danver ranch. On their birthdays, David had notched both kids’ heights into the first post, right-hand side, west door. He’d mucked this stall many times on his day off.
Serna had moved his operation here? How could the bold SOB know that no one was watching the place? It must have been Juan after all, but something more than the stall floor didn’t smell right.
The door swung open, snow swirling inside along with a pair of fancy boots. No one working a ranch would wear slick dancing boots in this weather. Easy deduction that it was one of Serna’s hirelings. He closed his eyes and nudged the bandanna mostly back into place. Better to play dead. Honestly, he could barely see straight, couldn’t fill his lungs and had a stomach growling like a grizzly.
He could see enough to know the boots were next to him and he was about to be kicked to see if he was conscious. He prepared for the pain and would keep his body as silent as possible without tensing. Dear Lord, the pointed toe landed in his side in exactly in the same spot, with a force that might have just cracked the rib this time around.
He almost didn’t breathe. In fact, he could easily have thrown up from the pain. Think about Kate. That’ll get you through it. Thinking about her got you through all the hard stuff last time.
Kate was safe. She had to be. They wouldn’t leave him lying in a stall if they’d caught her. They’d be— God, don’t go there. You control the pain. The pain can’t control you.
He remained motionless several seconds after he heard the boots shuffle out and the bounce of the wooden latch fall into place. The desire to curl into a ball might have prevailed if his hands had been at his stomach. He couldn’t take another of those kicks. Boots-man might just puncture a lung next time. Then where would he be?
Zip-tie handcuffs.
Knife. He hadn’t searched to see if his knife was still in the lining of his jacket.
The secured circles of hard plastic bit into his skin and made it harder to bend his hands to search the bottom of his jacket. The pocketknife had moved around the lining but it was workable. Getting it open wasn’t as difficult as fighting the burns the plastic biting his wrists caused.
Slow. Steady. He worked the blade open, cut easily enough through his coat—okay, David’s coat—and got the blade into his hand. Cord was determined to saw the cuffs in half and free himself. He knew all about determination. His stubbornness kept his legs moving as he learned to walk and then run again. He had controlled the pain for two years of intense therapy. He’d control the pain now.
And when he found Boots-man, he’d make sure there was some kicking involved and not to his ribs. He manipulated the blade using his watchband for a little leverage and protection. Lying on his side, his arms just wouldn’t move back and forth enough to break through the stinking plastic.
He had to risk sitting and was fortunate they hadn’t taken the time to secure his feet. With his head swimming, he pushed himself up and rested against the slats separating the stalls. At least he wasn’t as cold anymore. He positioned the knife again and began the tedious back and forth sawing motion necessary to escape.
* * *
A LIGHT KNOCK on the door woke her. Just flipping the afghan off made her body scream to stay put and not move for a week. She rubbed her eyes, looking for the alarm clock across the room. Midnight and still snowing.
“Yes?”
“May I come in?”
“Sure, Nick.”
He brought her a second tray with a teapot, biscuits and honey. The one before her nap had been a little bit of heaven. Then an image of Cord filled her mind. Shot, bleeding, unable to walk and passing out as she screamed at him. She covered her eyes, trying to focus on anything at all, only to see it even more clearly.
If he can survive that, he can do this. He will survive. He has to survive. Her hands dropped protectively over their baby.
“Hope you don’t mind the interruption. Mom thought it important to get some more food and tea down you.” He set the bed tray across her legs and crossed to the window.
“Thanks.” She could tell he wanted to say something to her. It was just like the time he asked her to the homecoming dance even when he wanted to go deer hunting. Some habits never changed. “How does the weather look and what’s the latest estimate on my ride out of here?”
“Not good and getting worse on the snow. They’re predicting three or four inches by morning. Choppers are grounded.” He stuck his hands deep into his jeans pockets. “Mike left a couple of hours ago, before we knew there may be a problem with help coming in from Pecos.”
“You’re worried. I’m sorry. Your mom and dad are here and I’m putting them in danger. I should have thought things through.”
“We’re family. You should come to us. I just don’t know how effective I’ll be with the few rounds I have left. I’m assuming Cord’s the one who took my ammo.”
“So he wiped you out?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Glad I thought to check when the sheriff left.”
“So you’ll drive me into Marfa or Fort Davis?” Why wouldn’t he look at her? Had they heard something else? If they had, he would have told her first thing. No, this was to do with Nick himself.
“I feel like I’m letting you down.”
That was the crux. “It’s my fault, Nick. I should have thought about this before I demanded the sheriff bring me here. You’re the one who convinced me to reconsider. You haven’t let me down and I’m sorry I slammed the door in your face earlier.” She hugged him and received one back. “I’ll have my shoes on and be out the door in ten minutes.”
“I’ll warm up the car.”
It was nice knowing she wouldn’t have to worry about mending fences in this weather. But she’d miss her friends. The relief only lasted until she opened the door. The wind and swirling snow hit her square in the face and a chill spread through her body. Where was Cord? Was he out of the snow and north wind? Was he even alive?
Kate ran down the path to the waiting car. She hoped the car warmed up fast. Its exhaust formed a white cloud from the tailpipe, but the windows were still frosted. Odd. Why hadn’t Nick scrapped the windows clean? The little instinct that raised the hairs on the back of her neck kicked into high gear. Her steps slowed and she stopped altogether when the driver’s door opened on the far side of the car.
“Oh, Mac. You sort of scared me. I was expecting Nick to drive me.” She pulled the handle to open the door.
“There’s a problem with a mare he’s been keeping an eye on and he asked me to drive you. Do you feel safe enough with an old man?”
She pulled the door open and immediately saw the blood spatter. She pivoted to run, but the click of a gun readying to fire stopped her in her tracks.
“I should have said, you shouldn’t feel safe with this old man. Get in.”
“Is he dead?”
“Nick?” He put the car in gear and bounced them down the road. “Frankly, I didn’t check and don’t care.”
The duffel from the lodge was in the backseat floorboard. So the drugs were Mac’s and he’d been hiding them. Mac Cauldwell was a family friend. Someone she’d trusted. And he was the “ranch owner” Cord was certain existed.
“How much is Serna paying you?”
“A lot.” He turned the corner a bit fast and the back of the car fishtailed. He laughed widely. “It’s enough to finally get out of this desert and retire in comfort.”
The wild-eyed look in Mac’s eyes scared her into silence. Three years ago, he’d known she and Cord would be at the ranch for dinner. “Why are you working with these horrible monsters? What did we ever do to you?”
“It’s all the more fun because you think there has to be a reason.” His laughter grew; he was almost tearing up he was hee-hawing so much.
“You’re laughing at causing my family so much pain? You’re responsible for everything. You knew we
’d be at Dad’s that night. You killed my baby girl.”
“Naw. All I did was tell Serna where’d you be.”
“If you hadn’t given the drug cartel access and details to our land, none of this would have happened.”
It was tempting to reach out and grab the wheel, send them careening into the barbed-wire fence. Or to reach for the gun he casually held in his hand now. Mac might refer to himself as old, but he was still a sinewy cowboy. She’d seen him wrestle a cow to the ground last summer and win the senior division with the best time. Because of the baby, she couldn’t risk a car wreck or gunshot wound. All she could do was hope for a last-minute miracle.
“Nothing would have happened? I wouldn’t be too sure of that, missy. If it hadn’t been me, Serna would have found someone else. There are plenty of people on his payroll. Just ’cause I’m helping this time around doesn’t mean anything will be different when I leave. Just that someone else will be helping.” He turned onto the drive to her house.
“What are we doing here?”
“The final joke’s on you.” He threw back his head laughing, hitting the window with the gun. “While everyone’s searching for Serna and that precious Ranger of yours in the mountains, he’s been running up the heating bill in your house. Probably sleeping in your bed. But you won’t have to worry about that for long. Take off your shoes.”
“But it’s snowing.”
“Yeah, I got that. Now take ’em off.” The laughter disappeared from his craggy, thin face. “I’m not sticking around to let Serna get the best of me. I’m out of here.”
She bent her knee and frantically unlaced her boot, hoping he wouldn’t see the string she wadded up within her fist. She got both laces down the back of her jeans before he got to the last cattle guard.
They stopped. “Get out.”
“Are you going to shoot me? I thought Serna wanted to do that.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do and I don’t care. But whatever happens, I’ll be long gone or making a deal for witness protection. As long as I get my cut, I’m good. Now get out.”
She scooped up her shoes and pushed open the door. He reached across and knocked the shoes into the floorboard.
“Nope. These stay. Nowhere to run this time, missy. You’re pregnant and barefoot and Serna will be here any minute. Hasta la vista.” He shoved her out of the Jeep.
She landed hands, knees and freezing toes in six inches of snow. He gunned the engine and she crawled out of the way just before he turned and headed back the way they’d come. The icy wetness seeped through her cloth gloves and pants. She didn’t want to stand, but did. The snow was cold and didn’t take long to start stinging her feet.
“Now what do I do?”
She saw the familiar sight of her home about a mile away. There was nothing else around and her feet quickly screamed the only available option.
Walk home. Straight into the grasp of the devil.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cord jerked awake from a long fall in his dream. No wonder, since he was perched, hiding in a vee of the barn rafters. Another doze starting with thoughts of Kate and ending with the inability to protect her. Back to finding a way to stop Serna. Missing Kate didn’t have any place in his thoughts, but it was there nonetheless.
He stretched a bit and used his right index finger to get his wedding ring from the change pocket of his borrowed pants. The silver band slid onto his cold finger as easily as the first time. His hand felt wrong without it. They’d been divorced on paper for a little over five months, but he’d never been able to leave it on his dresser more than a couple of days.
Actually, divorced wasn’t the same as feeling divorced. He’d seen Kate at the fence and his first thought was to kiss her hello. Same thing had happened the night before their court date. Only then, he’d kissed her. And then a lot more.
Man, he was going to miss her. Every day and a lot of his nights he’d be thinking about her and the baby. He’d totally screwed up and there was no way out now.
She had to be in protective custody by the sheriff, marshals, Rangers—some organization that would keep her safe. Truth be told, he couldn’t. He’d be lucky to keep himself alive through the night.
He had two options to get inside the house and to Serna—surprise the next one through the door and call for backup with the man’s cell, like he’d been waiting in the barn rafters to do for a while now. Or wait for his escape to be discovered and sneak into the house. So far it was the first option.
While he’d been looking for a weapon, he’d raided the barn mini fridge Frank had in his office. With the setbacks Cord had caused Serna in the past several days—losing at least nine men—the criminal still seemed more arrogant than ever. No one had bothered to look in on him for at least forty-five minutes.
What the heck are they waiting on?
“Kate.”
No one had left the ranch—he would have seen or heard a vehicle. That left the rancher who was working with Serna. That scum had to be delivering Kate to her very own front door. They weren’t worried about Cord waking up, assuming he was less of a problem unconscious.
He couldn’t wait here any longer. He had to act now. He swung down from his hidden perch in the corner. He’d thought about what to do when Kate’s words came back. “Can’t you go Rambo on them or something?”
Armed with only a pocketknife, a pair of hay tongs and the cover of darkness, he climbed from the spot where he’d waited. Since no one had come for him, it was time to take the fight to his enemy one by stinking one.
“Cull them from the herd and take ’em out one by one.” Kate had told him exactly what he needed to do. He took off his jacket. There would be plenty of activity to keep him warm and the bulky coat would only hinder his fighting. He’d already cut the fingertips from his gloves so he’d have a better grip.
“Okay, babe, the threat on you ends tonight,” he whispered into the darkness. He slipped out the door, away from the house. It faced nothing but the dark corral and snow-covered pasture. With no one in sight, he stayed close to the wall, breathing through his nose, limiting the puffs of frost in front of his face.
He’d heard the sentry earlier, someone walking the perimeter of the barn but doing a sloppy job of it in the cold. He stayed at the edge of the corner, waiting. Far sounds. No chatter. He slid along the next wall, hidden in the shadows, pausing again at the corner until he heard the snow crunch. He drew his palm back, ready to strike. One solid, unexpected blow to the man’s face and he was done. Silent, with the thudding exception of the falling body. Serna’s force was now one less.
Taking the man’s hat, jacket and weapon, he walked around the corral and barn as if he were the man he’d just left in the snow. Serna’s men seemed to have an endless supply of machine pistols. Cord hated to think that he’d been out of the investigation so long he didn’t know if this was the real cargo coming across the border.
He wanted to take more than just one of Serna’s men down before approaching the house and confronting the man in charge. But he had to find them first. The far side of the ranch buildings had a yellow glow next to the field. As he approached, the noise level grew. The sound of men hustling and issuing orders, pounding feet. They were moving cargo from or into a semitrailer.
Damn. They’d moved their operation here to Kate’s ranch. The idea of her family being desecrated gave him a lump in his throat. The ranch was the reason she’d refused to leave town for so long, even after they’d been threatened the first time by Serna.
The men leaving the truck were empty-handed. The driver started the rig, warming the diesel in preparation to leave. Whatever they were doing, they were almost finished and getting ready to pull out. They wouldn’t risk a semi packed with drugs. It didn’t make sense. They’d break up heroin shipments, not put it all in one location. Too risky if they were pulled over. The men he watched didn’t seem in a hurry, so moving everything in one shipment wasn’t because they were afraid of being
caught.
The last men dropped off their box and walked away from the truck. The lights went off and he heard the whine of a chopper starting, finding it on the other side of the men. He needed to get a look at what was inside the trailer to know how to deal with it. Or did he? That was the Ranger in him...the part constantly seeking the answer to the confounded questions of how Serna was accomplishing everything. Cord, the husband and father, only needed to get rid of those men and call for backup.
He picked his way around the edge of light, staying hidden. He’d counted six men warming around a fire they’d started on the ground. That meant six ways to cull each of them from the equation. Or something that would distract several.
Fire. Fire rushing toward the chopper and the truck might occupy all of them long enough to find Serna. He needed the gas Danver stored near the toolshed.
“He has to be around here somewhere.”
“I saw a man wearing Edward’s hat by the truck. He should be guarding the barn.”
Cord darted inside the small building, just behind the door to determine how many men were outside. He raised the hay tongs, waiting.
One man stuck his head inside the shed and Cord swung the metal, catching him across his face. He dropped to the ground but not before the second man opened fire into the shed. Cord rolled to his back and pulled the trigger of his weapon, not aiming, just shooting in an arc through the open door. One shot after rapid shot.
The return fire ended and he heard a hard thump hit the ground. Cord recognized the man he’d knocked in the nose. “Hello, Juan.” He dragged the unconscious slime inside the shed, calf-roping his hands and feet. “Guess that explains how they knew no one was here at the ranch. But if you’re here, who’s bringing Kate?”
Sliding in the snow, he rounded the corner, opened the top of the gas drum and turned it on its side. The gas splashed to the earth. All he needed was a lighter and those men would be occupied trying to save their unknown cargo in those crates.
* * *
