Outlaw's Honor

by B. J Daniels

  The family thought of Flint as being a pain most of the time since his brother had never met a rule he didn’t like. But when the chips were down, Darby realized he’d rather bet on Flint than anyone else.

  He listened to the sound of the storm raging outside. The lightning and thunder had moved off some, but the wind and rain still pounded the old building. He shivered a little and thought about checking the other windows and doors but stopped himself.

  If Rafael Vale wanted to get in bad enough, he’d find a way. Darby just hoped they’d be ready for him when he did.

  * * *

  MAGGIE SCREAMED AS a face appeared on the other side of the glass. She jerked back, stumbling and almost going down before she caught herself. The face standing at her back porch wasn’t Celeste’s. It was Flint’s.

  His gray eyes were wide with both guilt and worry. He hadn’t meant to scare her—let alone terrify her.

  She moved to the door and hurriedly unlocked it. He shook rain off his hat and removed his raincoat before stepping in on the enclosed back porch rug. Flint was always so thoughtful. Her heart ached at the sight of him. She had loved this man for far too long to be afraid of what his ex-wife would do. And yet, she couldn’t quit shaking.

  “It’s all right,” Flint said, taking hold of her trembling shoulders. “This storm has everyone on edge tonight. That’s why I stopped by to check on you. I knocked at the front door. You must not have heard me.”

  She shook her head. She could tell by the way he was looking at her that he thought she was a raving maniac. He had no idea.

  “I heard something and when I looked out...” She shuddered.

  “I scared you,” he said pulling her into a hug. “I’m so sorry. When you didn’t answer the back door either, I looked in.”

  They were quiet for a few moments. She could imagine what was going on in his head.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go back out,” Flint said, sounding apologetic. She could tell he was worried about her given how easily he’d terrified her. “A fallen tree limb is blocking the main road out to the east and the power is out in some areas. I need to go help. But I can come back later if—”

  She pulled free. “No, I’m fine. Go do whatever you have to do. I’m...fine.” She smiled but she could see that he wasn’t so sure she was fine. In truth, she hated being alone tonight. It wasn’t the storm. It was a foreboding feeling she’d had all day.

  “If you need me—”

  “I know. I can call.” She nodded, still smiling like a fool. Like he said, wasn’t that what Celeste was hoping for? That a scared Maggie would call Flint, who would confront Celeste, who would weasel her way out of it. Celeste wanted the attention from Flint. Maggie wouldn’t play into her hands no matter what, she promised herself. She’d handle it herself.

  “Go,” she said, pushing him toward the door. “I’ll be fine.” She followed him to the back door. He hesitated as if wishing there was something more he could say. “Flint, I can take care of myself.”

  He couldn’t have looked more skeptical, but he smiled, leaned in to kiss her and pushed open the door to step out. She locked it behind him, smiling and waving as he disappeared into the rain and darkness.

  The moment he was out of sight, her smile disappeared. She doubled-checked the door, making sure it was locked and bolted, and then she turned back into the house.

  In the kitchen, she stood hugging herself, thinking that the house seemed much colder without Flint. She moved to a drawer by the sink and opened it. Taking out a large butcher knife, she stared at it. The blade caught the light. The thing looked lethal. She put it back and took out a smaller knife.

  “Lethal enough,” she told herself. Turning off the kitchen light, she headed for the living room. The blinds were open. She couldn’t see much in the darkness and rain. A car passed going slow. She moved to the window and closed the drapes.

  Then she glanced up the stairs. Holding the knife in front of her, she climbed the steps, all the time listening to the old house moan and groan. She knew its complaints after living here for years. Hearing nothing new, she headed for her bedroom, fearing she would never be able to get to sleep. Not with the storm. Not with the feeling that Celeste was out there watching her house.

  Watching and waiting for what, though?

  * * *

  HARP’S HAND FELL to the weapon on his hip as he started to turn. He managed to get the Glock unsnapped and partway out of his holster before he took the first blow in the face. The fist had been big, the power behind it enough to knock him off his feet. As he fell, he’d tried to get the gun up, but it was wrenched out of his hand before he could.

  “What the hell?” said a male voice as the deputy hit the wet ground. “He’s wearing a uniform. He’s some kind of cop.”

  “Not a real cop,” a different male voice said from above him as a flashlight beam bobbed over him.

  Harp fumbled for his stun gun. The boot that kicked his arm was steel toed. He screamed in pain. Then the sole of that boot was on his chest.

  “Reach for a weapon again and I’ll kick your brains out,” said the male standing over him.

  Blinded by the flashlight beam, the rain and his pain, Harp couldn’t see the man’s face. He lay in the wet grass and soil trying to breathe and trying hard not to think about dying.

  “So who are we protecting your brother and his girlfriend from?” he had asked the sheriff when he’d been given his orders.

  “Are you familiar with the Roma?”

  Harp had stared at Flint. “Like spaghetti?”

  “Many people still know the Roma as Gypsies.”

  He’d laughed. “Gypsies, in wagons, singing, dancing, stealing children and chickens?”

  Flint had given him one of his distasteful looks. “Mariah is Roma. There is a man after her who claims to be her husband. Apparently he is very violent and plans to kidnap her. If so, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Harp had been surprised and fascinated. “No kidding?”

  “The man’s name is Rafael Vale. He probably won’t come alone,” Flint had said. “And I wouldn’t describe them the way you just did to me. At least not to this man’s face.”

  Harp hadn’t been worried. Until now.

  “So what are you doing out here?” the man with his boot resting on Harp’s chest asked.

  He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

  The man leaned over him, putting more pressure on the boot—and Harp’s chest. “I asked what you’re doing out here.”

  “Looking for teenagers.”

  A laugh escaped the man who turned to the second man. Harp couldn’t see him at all—just a large hulk of a shape in the trees. “He’s out looking for teenagers.”

  “What are you going to do?” The man in the woods sounded nervous.

  “You thought there were teenagers in our van?” the man over him asked, laughing. “Surprise!”

  “Rafael, I don’t think you should—”

  “Don’t think, Angel. I didn’t bring you along for your brain power. You’re here for the heavy lifting.”

  Angel made a sound as if in pain himself. “I thought we were just here for Mariah.”

  “What kind of cop are you?” the man called Rafael asked him.

  Harp licked his lips. He was shaking so hard from the cold and the fear that he could barely get the words out. “Deputy sheriff.”

  “Deputy sheriff?” This cracked up Rafael. “We really are in the Wild West. Where is the sheriff?”

  Harp shook his head. Probably asleep in his warm bed while Harp was out here about to... He couldn’t bear to think about what this man planned to do to him as he heard Rafael say, “Hand me his gun.”

  Harp hadn’t realized that the man had tossed it aside. He turned his head and watched
Angel come out of the trees to pick up the gun with two fingers as if it was a dirty diaper.

  Rafael snatched it from his hand and almost backhanded Angel with it before leveling the gun at Harp’s head. “Any last requests?”

  “You can’t kill a cop.”

  “He’s not a cop. He’s a sheriff’s deputy,” Rafael said with scorn.

  “Think about this. What if someone hears the shot?” Angel said as thunder rumbled in the distance as that part of the storm headed east.

  The next sound like thunder reverberated through Harp’s chest. Only this one was definitely a gunshot. His body jumped. He blinked, trying to assess how badly he’d been shot and realized the shot had hit next to him.

  Angel swore. “If you’re determined then get it over with,” he snapped. “You don’t have to torture everyone who crosses your path.”

  Rafael laughed. “My cousin knows me so well.” He pointed the gun at Harp’s head.

  Harp took a breath, his last, and held it as he waited for the bullet to pierce his skull.

  “Hey!” he heard Rafael say. “Look, he pissed his pants.”

  The laughter made Harp open his eyes. He felt the warmth and looked down to see steam rising from his crouch.

  “Help me get him in the van. He’s given me an idea.”

  “You know someone’s going to be looking for him,” Angel said.

  “I wonder where he left his patrol car.” Rafael looked down at him. “Where is it?”

  Harp motioned with his good arm.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Rafael was digging in the deputy’s rain jacket pocket for the keys.

  He shook his head vigorously. Right now he’d tell the man anything he wanted to hear.

  “What are you going to do?” Angel asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  Harp snaked his hand down to his Taser again. If he could just get it out.

  He didn’t see the kick to his head coming. As darkness closed in, he heard Angel say, “Did you have to do that?”

  “Yah, I did. Now help me get his Sheriff’s Deputy raincoat off. It’s time I pay my wife a visit.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “DID YOU HEAR THAT?” Mariah asked Darby as they entered the upstairs apartment. They both froze and listened.

  “Sorry, I didn’t.”

  “It sounded like a gunshot.”

  “Not thunder?”

  She couldn’t be sure. She listened but heard nothing but the storm and shook her head. “I guess it wasn’t anything.”

  The wind slammed one of the shutters hard against the side of the building making her jump. Darby moved to her, holding her. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Mariah nodded again. The storm had her on edge. Darby too, she thought. She wanted to think that Rafael wouldn’t do anything on such a night—if he was even in Montana. But she’d learned not to underestimate him.

  “Why are you still in your wet clothes?” he asked. “Mariah, you’ll catch your death of cold. Change.”

  She’d come upstairs, trying not to jump at every sound. But it was impossible. Hugging herself against the chill that snaked around her neck, she watched Darby shuck his wet clothing. At a loud crash downstairs, he swore and hurriedly pulled on jeans, a shirt and his boots again.

  “Stay here. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m going downstairs to check the window and make sure the plywood is holding,” Darby said. “When I get back, we’re going to climb into that bed and snuggle up and shut out the storm.”

  She hugged herself, yearning to have his arms around her but still spooked by the storm, by the thought that Rafael might hit tonight. She started to take off her wet jeans when Darby stopped in the doorway.

  “Remember, Deputy Cole is out there,” he said. “He’ll be checking on the place. If he sees anything, he’s to call my brother, and Flint will send the cavalry.” He came back into the apartment to lean in to kiss her. “Try to relax. You remember where we hid all the weapons?”

  “Yes and my knife is under the mattress on my side of the bed.”

  “Now that is a comforting thought,” he said, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t have nightmares do you?”

  “Only one.” She met his gaze. “Be careful down there and hurry back.”

  “Will do. Can I get you anything while I’m downstairs? Something to drink. A snack?”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t eat a bite and, while tempted to drink herself into oblivion, she wasn’t about to. All her instincts told her to be on alert from now until Rafael showed up. He would show up. By now the private investigator would have told him enough to send her so-called husband on the rampage. She’d seen him like that before—on their wedding night.

  “I’ll be right back,” Darby said, and still she reached for him, pulling him into a hug and holding him tightly. He kissed her hair, smoothing it out of her face as he looked into her eyes. “I love you.”

  She felt the full weight of her love for him. He was as worried as she was. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I love you, Darby Cahill.” They hugged tightly, tears blurring her eyes.

  She hastily wiped them away so he didn’t see that she was crying as they parted and he headed out. At the doorway, he turned back to look at her again as if he didn’t want to leave her any more than she wanted him to. She smiled through her fear, afraid that when he disappeared through that doorway, she might never see him again.

  The feeling was so strong that she almost called him back. Better he think she was crazy than let him go if this feeling pressing down on her chest was a warning. Her grandmother had been psychic—at least that’s what people believed. Mariah had loved the woman to death but never really believed in her fortune telling. That was for the gadjos. Then again, Mariah had been a preteen, skeptical about everything, when her grandmother had died.

  Darby disappeared from the doorway. She felt a tug at her heart, her mouth opening to call him back and then closing as she hurriedly changed her clothes. She thought about just climbing into the bed naked, but her fear tonight kept her clothed. At least until Darby returned.

  She moved to the bed and checked to make sure her knife was where she’d left it. Her gun was loaded and sitting on the windowsill above the bed. There was a shotgun by the door, loaded, as well, and a gun in the bathroom.

  “I know it’s overkill,” Darby had said when he’d brought back the arsenal. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

  So why did she feel as if it wasn’t enough? That Rafael Vale was invincible? That no one could stop him?

  Because he’d caught her before. She had no doubt he could do it again.

  * * *

  VICKI SAT ON the floor in the bathroom and tried not to throw up again. After Sue had dropped her off, she’d gone right up, planning to go straight to bed.

  Instead, what little she’d consumed today came back up. So this was morning sickness? But it wasn’t even morning yet.

  Vicki knew some of it was anxiety. She’d been worried about telling Harp. She liked to think that he might be okay with it, even a little excited.

  But there was that fear that he would be furious with her, blame her, think she was trying to trick him into marriage.

  Not that she didn’t like the idea of a baby, a husband, a little house in town where she could take the baby for walks in its stroller. She’d already gone online and picked out a stroller. A bassinet too and even a crib. They made such cute things for babies.

  Not that she and Harp would be able to afford many of them. Neither of them made much, but if they saved their money...

  She felt her stomach roil again but didn’t have the energy to stand. She scooted across the floor to the toilet and hung on. The one thing she didn’t want was for Harp to eve
r see her like this.

  She hoped he wouldn’t stop by when he got off his shift. Vicki knew what she must look like. She was glad she had tomorrow off. Maybe she and Harp—

  Curling around the toilet bowl, she threw up. Except there was nothing to come up. She heaved and heaved until her whole body was shaking.

  No, she definitely didn’t want Harp to see her like this, she thought as she managed to get to her feet, wash her face and, cupping her hands, rinse out her mouth.

  The one time she’d had the flu, she’d found out what a weak stomach he had. She doubted he would even be able to handle changing a diaper. Harp really was a big baby himself.

  That thought made her smile as she walked into her bedroom. She felt exhausted after the day she’d had. Now maybe she would be able to get some sleep. With luck, Harp would wake her up later to have that talk.

  Climbing into bed naked, she pulled the covers around her and, closing her eyes, dreamed about the life she and Harp would have.

  * * *

  DARBY TURNED ON the flashlight as he tromped down the stairs. He stopped to check the back door’s lock before he entered the kitchen. The flashlight beam skittered over the wet floor to the broken glass scattered over the kitchen table and finally to the plywood he’d tacked up on the outside to keep the rain from coming in.

  He stopped to listen. The thunder and lightning had moved on, leaving only the driving rain. It had almost a peaceful feeling after the noise of the storm. Even the wind had died down some. He couldn’t wait to get back upstairs and into bed with Mariah. She was more frightened than he’d ever seen her. He’d be glad when daylight came and hopefully the rain stopped. Once the sun came out, everything would at least feel better.

  Not that he thought Rafael Vale would give up. From everything Mariah had told him, there would be no stopping the man from coming after her. Darby had taken every precaution. Now he just hoped it would be enough. That he would be enough. He couldn’t let the man take Mariah. He would die trying to save her if that was what it came to.