Desperado: Deep in the Heart, Book 2

by Tina Leonard

  “I’ll be waiting.” A second later, she said, “Hurry, Cody. I don’t like the feel of this at all. She could just be at a friend’s, but I think she would have called if she could have. The director said she’d been on time for every single shoot.”

  Slamming the phone down, he ran to his truck to head back into town.

  When Sam picked up the scissors, Mary screamed.

  “If you do that again, I’m going to bind your mouth,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to tape those pretty lips. I won’t be able to see them. So sit still and let me do my work.”

  Gently, he grabbed a hank of her hair, slowly cutting it so that the sh-sh sound electrified Mary’s fear. Carefully, he put the handful of shorn hair into a bowl. Picking up another handful, he cut that, too, all the while exhaling soft, excited breaths of air against Mary’s newly exposed neck.

  She closed her eyes and prayed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sloan met Cody as he roared onto the set lot. “Heard anything?”

  “No. Called Stormy. She hasn’t heard from her.” He got out of the truck and slammed the door. The blast of sound startled some sparrows from the roof of a nearby trailer.

  “I don’t like this.” Sloan’s gaze narrowed as it roved, searching the set beyond Cody.

  “I sure as hell don’t.” The squabble of static from the radio in Sloan’s car tensed his fear.

  “Just to satisfy myself, I drove down to the orchard where I’d caught Mary and her buddies drinking and throwing rocks. I didn’t expect to find her, but…” His voice trailed off.

  Where the hell could she be? “Last we know, she was here while they wrapped up.” Cody shifted, his boots grinding on the gravel beneath his feet. “The codgers hadn’t seen her in town.”

  “Nobody in the crew remembered her joining the party going into town, either.”

  Cody grunted. “Nice to know they were keeping such a close eye on her.”

  “Actually, they were. Said she’d been talking to some guy named Sam. Apparently, the two of them hung around together between takes.”

  “Great. Where the hell do we find Sam?”

  “Well, they weren’t exactly sure. He’s a stand-in, supposedly from somewhere in North Texas. They thought he might have gone on back home since they didn’t need him anymore.”

  “Take me to the damn director. I want to know more than Mary was talking to some man who might have gone home with my niece!” Cody erupted.

  “Yeah. I don’t like that myself. Let me call my guys and have them track down the director. You start searching the trailers.”

  “What for?”

  “Maybe she fell asleep in somebody’s trailer. Maybe her and this Sam fellow are holed up in one having a Coke.”

  “I’ll kill him.” Cody strode toward the trailer area.

  “I know you will,” Sloan called after him. “I may help you. But keep your head cool, Cody, until we find her. Hell, she could be at the library studying.”

  “Not without calling her mother,” Cody retorted over his shoulder. Stormy said Mary had changed. She thought Mary had outgrown her selfish, childish tendencies.

  This time, he was going with Stormy’s theory. Some sixth sense was telling him that, wacky as she was, Stormy knew Mary better than any of them did lately.

  Long trails of black hair lay gleaming silkily across an ugly table in the trailer. Sam had put some of it in a bowl, where it shone under a dull light. Tears seeped from Mary’s eyes. “Don’t cut any more,” she begged. She couldn’t bear for those sharp scissors to be so close to her neck. Cold steel touched against her nape every time Sam cut more off. What did he mean to do to her? She was so frightened she was afraid she was going to pee in her pants.

  “Sh,” he said in a comforting tone. “I’m almost finished.”

  With a snip, he put one last length on the table. Mary’s hand flew up to feel the harsh edges of what was left of her hair. He’d cut it to just below her ears.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, wiping her tears away with gentle fingers. “I love your hair. I’ll take such good care of it.” He moved her hands away from her neck and touched her bare skin before moving to feel the ragged pieces of his handiwork. “You’re so soft,” he told her, moving close, his obsidian eyes locking on her mouth.

  Horrified, Mary tensed as Sam put his lips against hers in a wet, clammy kiss. His fingers moved to undo the buttons on her blouse. She pushed him away, but he clasped her hands to his chest.

  “Am I going to have to tie you up? It won’t be any fun if I do. You won’t enjoy it near as much,” he assured her, his dark eyes solemn. Little drops of sweat ran along the edges of his thin blond hair. His gaze held hers as he put her hand to the crotch of his jeans. “I want you to feel me.”

  Mary screamed, pushing against Sam with all her might. Kicking out, she kept shrieking. Dizzy stars leapt into her eyes when he slapped her across the face, but Mary grabbed wildly for the scissors. “Get away from me!” she yelled, crying. Holding up the sharp blades, she watched him. “Stay back!” If he came closer, she’d stab him. There would be blood, lots of it, but she had to steel herself against that. Blood is red, blood is red, she thought crazily. My father bled so much. She held the scissors higher, tensing her hand with determination.

  Sam backed away, watching her nervously. Mary knew that if she went for the trailer door, he’d pounce on her in a flash. She had to deflect his attention long enough to make her escape. Her eyes lit on Sam’s treasured piles of her hair. Striking out hard with one hand, she flung the bowl to the floor. The gleaming lengths on the table also scattered, drifting downward.

  “Oh, no!” Desperately, he reached for the bowl, but she kicked it with all her might. It struck him in the face and Mary jumped for the trailer door, screaming.

  Just like magic, it jerked out of her hands. Uncle Cody stood outside like a wrathful avenging angel.

  “Uncle Cody!” she cried, falling into his arms.

  “What the hell happened?” His eyes sought the doughy man who still clutched Mary’s hair in his hands. Rapidly, he touched the short ends of it at the nape of her neck. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She burst into tears and dropped the scissors.

  “Mary, go sit in Sloan’s cruiser.”

  “But, Uncle Cody—”

  “Now.” His tone offered no compromise as he stared at the man who’d harmed Mary. All Cody could see was Mary’s beautiful hair laying in straggling pieces on the drifter’s shirt; his eyes wouldn’t allow him to focus on anything else except the petrified expression on his face.

  Mary ran off. Cody reached into the trailer and bunched the man’s dirty-smelling shirt in his hands to jerk him in a sniveling heap to the ground.

  “Sloan! Sheriff McCallister!” Mary cried, sprinting toward the cruiser. “Hurry! You’ve got to stop Uncle Cody!”

  Sloan stared at her. Self-consciously, Mary reached up to touch the shorn locks as she gasped for breath.

  “Stop him from what?”

  “Killing Sam! Oh, please, Sloan, hurry!”

  “Are you all right?” he demanded, his gaze roving from her head to her toes, not missing the undone buttons at the top of her blouse.

  “I’m fine!” She tugged at his arm, but Sloan merely took her hand to walk her around to the passenger side of his car. “Don’t you care that Uncle Cody is going to hurt him?”

  He was silent as he helped her get in. “There’s an unopened soda in that bag right there,” he finally said. Without answering her question, he radioed that she’d been found and instructed someone to call her parents. Mary’s heart pounded like a raging waterfall in her chest.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “Did he hurt you anywhere?”

  “No.” Mary shook violently, her teeth beginning to chatter. Sam might have, though, if she hadn’t managed to get away. If Uncle Cody hadn’t come to her rescue. She had trusted Sam. Hiccuping, she started crying hysterically.


  “I thought so.” Sloan tucked her head up under his chin and patted her back in gentle circles. “You’re safe now. Your mom and Zach will be here in just a minute, and then you can go home.”

  Mary cried and cried, unashamed that the tears wouldn’t stop coming and her body couldn’t stop shaking. After it felt like all the tears had run out of her, she took a steadying breath. “Don’t you think you’d better go check on Uncle Cody?”

  He sighed, shaking his head. “Nope. I never interrupt him while he’s working. He’s got a mean temper on him.”

  “Poor Sam,” Mary said.

  “Nah. Don’t waste any time feeling sorry for him. Cody won’t kill him, but the bastard won’t be riding for a while. Hope he’s got good health insurance. Here’s your folks.”

  Mary jumped out of the cruiser and ran toward her mother and Zach, toward the enveloping arms that she knew now she would never be too grown up to need.

  “Shit. That’s not a pretty sight.” Sloan eyed the unconscious drifter. “Damn it to hell. Good thing I radioed for an ambulance.” He locked handcuffs around the bloody pulps of Sam’s wrists. “I sure don’t want him in my cruiser.”

  “How’s Mary?” Cody rubbed his knuckles, not sparing a glance for his handiwork.

  “I got the impression she was glad to see you.” Sloan thumped him on the back and gave him a shove. “Go on. I’ll clean up your mess and then meet you up at your house for a beer. I need one. Lord, what a mess.” He peered inside the trailer. The sight of Mary’s hair laying like fallen strands of black silk turned his stomach. “You’re a lucky bastard,” he said to the man on the ground. “You don’t know it, but you oughta be waking up in hell.”

  Glancing at Cody, he saw the big man walking away. His broad back was stiff, and Sloan watched him reach up with bloodied fingers to touch the length of his black braid. On the ground, the silver scissors lay, glinting in the dimming twilight. Sloan sighed and shook his head at the nearly unconscious man on the ground. “Pervert,” he said, before heading back to the cruiser to get an evidence bag and a pair of gloves.

  Cody, Annie, and Zach all stood around Annie’s truck hugging Mary. The family scene brought tears to his eyes, but it was the sight of Mary standing on tiptoe to kiss her uncle goodbye before she left that put a boulder in his throat. Zach and Annie drove off with their daughter, and Cody got in his truck to drive up his land to his house.

  He had the strangest feeling that Cody would never be the same again.

  His buddy looked aged, Sloan thought, watching Cody down a glass of whisky thirty minutes later. He’d showered and put in a call to Annie to check on Mary, but there was nothing peaceful about his expression. He looked haunted. “Care to share what’s on your mind?”

  Cody shook his head. He poured himself another glass.

  Sloan nodded, crossing his boots and making himself more comfortable in the chair. Staring into the fireplace, he realized that soon a fire would be crackling in there. Winter’s chill would seep into the air, and the cattle would start eating a bit more. Annie’s baby would be born, and Cody would be an uncle again.

  “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.” Cody stared into his whisky as he spoke.

  “Been telling you that for years,” Sloan agreed, injecting fake cheerfulness into his tone.

  It didn’t bring the desired crusty response he’d hoped for. Cody merely nodded. Sloan set his drink down. His friend was taking this whole incident a damn sight harder than he was letting on. “Well, just because you’ve been wrong is no reason to let it eat ya, Cody. Hell, the President’s wrong most of the time, and look at his approval rating.”

  He shook his head and didn’t reply.

  “Well, heck,” Sloan tried again. “What’s wrong with being wrong? It ain’t gonna kill you, or anybody else. It’s not preferable, of course, but it’s not, you know…like you’re Tate Higgins or anything. He’s been wrong from the day he was born. It’s something in his brain. But you’re okay, Cody. Don’t take this so hard.”

  For a moment he was afraid his words were falling on deaf ears. Then Cody said, “Tate ran out on Hera.”

  “Well, sure he did, ’cause he’s a sonavabitch. That’s not a newsflash, not even to Hera.”

  “I ran out on Stormy.” Cody almost couldn’t bear to think of it. The realization pained him. But he had. He’d basically told her how the relationship was going to run. His way or no way. Why had she given him her virginity?

  How could she be pregnant with another man’s child?

  Do you always need a neon sign, Cody, to tell you when you’re wrong? Why would she tell him she was pregnant with his child when she knew he wouldn’t leave his ranch, wasn’t interested in commitment, wouldn’t marry her any more than Wrong-Way was going to marry Hera?

  He’d been careful about using condoms. There was always the possibility that he had exceptionally determined sperm that didn’t intend to let a little bit of latex stop them from getting where they wanted to go.

  He bit the inside of his jaw. Or maybe he wanted to go to California and was too damn stubborn to admit it. He just might be a father, not that elderly city slick who didn’t look as if he had any sperm left in him. The idea of being a father was strangely frightening after today’s incident with Mary being kidnapped. For a man who regularly shot and skinned rattlesnakes, he oughtn’t be afraid of fatherhood. The terrified look in Mary’s eyes and the ugly uneven cuts of her hair symbolized her loss of innocence. His heart shattered inside him as he held off the tears he wanted to weep for her. She had been forced to grow up today, and she had faced it better than he had.

  The knowledge that he might be a father scared the hell out of him. Yet he was more afraid of not knowing the truth. Something had been left unsaid between him and Stormy. No matter how much it twisted his guts into a knot, he had to go have a talk with that little purple-haired gal.

  He got to his feet.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “California.” Cody put the whisky bottle away.

  “California! Thought you said all that was out there was earthquakes and brain-scrambled hippies!” Sloan sat up, surprised into wearing a highly amused grin.

  “I don’t need a neon sign to tell me when I might possibly be wrong,” Cody informed him grumpily. “You’ve been itching to see me get my ass on a plane. So find the door, Sloan. I gotta pack.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Stormy had been on a maximum buying spree. She sat in a taxi with Jonathan, surrounded by packages and overflowing bags, thinking that all the baby things and maternity clothes she’d bought ought to make her feel happy. That was the purpose, wasn’t it? To feel happy about the baby, and feel happy with her life?

  Searing the plastic edges of her credit card with purchases hadn’t made her happy. Thinking about Cody took the edge off of any excitement she might be feeling. It was so purposeless to hurt this bad. Even in her wildest dreams, she couldn’t make herself imagine any angle where she and Cody could intersect their lifestyles to form a future. For the sake of the baby, they could most likely work something out, an arrangement that would be cold and formal. Not the loving warmth she knew Cody was capable of, and that she wanted from him.

  I want him to want me.

  “Jonathan,” she said suddenly, “I have to tell you something.”

  “What, luv?”

  He put his hand on her shoulder, but it was the purely platonic gesture it had always been. Jonathan didn’t mind giving her his name for the sake of her child—and for the sake of the friendship he’d had for years with her parents—but that protection wasn’t the answer, any more than all her purchases.

  “I’m not going to marry you,” she said, her eyelashes lifting so that she could meet his gaze. “It’s sweet of you to be willing to help me out, but it’s probably the worst thing I could do to both of us.”

  He removed his hand. “Are you sure? If you’re worried about me getting into your personal affairs, you
needn’t, you know. We don’t even have to live on the same premises.”

  “I know,” she said hurriedly. “You’ve been very understanding about this whole matter.” You people in Hollywood are big on understandings. Cody’s voice haunted her. She didn’t know what she was going to do, hadn’t planned to end the pretense of a married life with Jonathan, but nothing felt right and it all had to change. The prospect of raising her child alone was scary, but she could do it. She’d basically raised herself, and she’d turned out fine. For many years, Annie Rayez had raised Mary by herself after her husband’s death. Stormy wasn’t going to marry Jonathan just so she wouldn’t have to be a parent by herself. It was time to quit relying on support systems, be they pharmaceutical or emotional.

  “I’m taking back all this stuff I bought,” she said resolutely.

  “Why?” Jonathan gave her a sidelong glance.

  “I shouldn’t have bought it. I can’t afford all of it, anyway.” It wasn’t only that, but she could get by with a couple of the maternity dresses and about half of the baby layette she’d bought. The rest had been to fill a gap in her emotions that couldn’t be filled with material things.

  “Well, you can’t take it back now,” Jonathan told her as the taxi pulled up in front of her apartment building. “Crocodile Dundee has come to the city.”

  “What are you talking about?” But even as she said it, she saw Cody lounging in the doorway. The doorman was eyeing him warily, and Stormy smiled, seeing exactly what the doorman saw. Cody was a big man, and though his posture was relaxed as he leaned against the wall, his gaze was alert, watching everything. He had on jeans that hugged his body and snakeskin boots that looked like he wore them only to church. A black hat with some kind of tooth tucked into the rawhide braid around the crown rode low on his head. His ebony braid, peppered with a few gray strands, emphasized a square-jawed, determined face. His arms were crossed over his chest, and Stormy watched several women try to catch his eye as they went past. He barely smiled at them. Stormy watched the women drinking him up as if he were some kind of movie star with novelty sex appeal, and her heart sped up like mad.