Forever Strong [The Strong Cowboys of Wilde, Nevada 7] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever - Serialized)

by Chloe Lang

  Charly trembled at the mention of her mother.

  “I’ve got a gun in my truck, fellows.” Nick pulled off his apron. “Need an extra hand?”

  “You bet we do,” he answered him. He looked at Seth and Charly. His brother had surprised him. He would’ve never guessed Seth coming around and falling for Charly like he had. But here he was, holding her in his arms with Gabby less than five feet away. Things do change. “Take care of our girl, bro.”

  “I will. Go get that bastard.”

  * * * *

  Seth held the swinging door open for Charly and followed her into the empty dining room of Norma’s Diner. Doubtful that her mother would be unscathed, he held her close and vowed to lie to her until they knew for sure what the outcome really was. Lying wasn’t something he cared for at all. He’d been lied to before and hated how it had turned out. But to make Charly feel better, even if it was only temporary, he would lie his ass off.

  “I’ll put on some coffee for us,” Mackenzie said. “Anyone want something else to drink or eat while we wait?”

  That woman had quite the cool head. She’d shown up out of nowhere and ingratiated herself to nearly everyone in town in a matter of weeks. He knew little about her and wondered what her story might be.

  “I’d love a piece of cake,” Gabby answered. “Seth loves apple pie, if I remember correctly. Do you have any, miss?”

  Mackenzie shook her head. “Cake we have. Pies? Only chocolate and peach cobbler today. Would you like either of them, Seth?”

  “No thanks.” He led Charly, who was clearly still in a semi-daze, to the booth farthest from the windows. Caution was his mantra for now. Preston might be in Vice. The sheriff might have taken him out or placed him in handcuffs by now. Didn’t matter to him. Until he knew for certain, he would remain on guard. Charly was too precious to him to take chances.

  “Mac, I don’t need anything.” Jessie came and sat across from him and Charly. “Does she want something to drink? Water?”

  “I can answer for myself,” Charly snapped.

  “I know you can. I’m sorry, sweetie. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you.”

  “Nothing. I’m sorry, Jessie.” Charly sighed. “I’m so scared. That’s all.”

  He squeezed her tight. “Sweetheart, you gotta believe my brothers will take care of this. You’ll see. Take a deep breath.” He turned to her cousin. “I could use some water and I think she’ll drink some if you bring her a glass.”

  Jessie nodded and left the booth, heading behind the counter where Mackenzie was working.

  “You really believe the guys are going to get to Preston and find my mother?” She looked like a scared little kitten.

  Time to lie. If later I have to figure out a way to pick up the pieces, I’ll face that when I must. “Yes, I do.”

  * * * *

  Pulling out his gun, Preston moved quietly behind the bed away from the door of his motel room.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  He attached the silencer to the barrel.

  “Open the door, now.” The sheriff’s demand didn’t sway him one bit.

  They would either give up soon or he would do what he must. Looking over at the closed bathroom door, the way he could survive this mess popped into his very capable head. But he would have to act quickly.

  Pound. Pound. Pound.

  He leapt back to his feet and opened the bathroom door. In a flash, he flipped the switch to turn off the vent. His prisoner’s eyes darted from him to the doorway.

  “Time to scream, Mrs. Wynn.” He ripped off the duct tape covering her mouth.

  Her instant obedience pleased him very much, even though her shrill voice hurt his ears.

  He leapt back to the floor behind the bed and waited.

  “Help. Please help me,” the bitch screamed.

  He heard a key go into the lock of the door. That ugly clerk must’ve given them the master. He mentally placed her on his list. Dealing with the clerk would be his next task to check off after he hammered out this unforeseen mess.

  “Please. Someone. Help me. He’s got a gun.”

  Just as he knew they would, the two bumbling lawmen ran into the room with their pistols pointing chest high. From below, he fired off two shots into each of them.

  Fascinated, he watched the sheriff slump to the ground in a heap.

  His hostage kept screaming for help.

  “Shut up, Mrs. Wynn.”

  She didn’t. Stupid bitch.

  The deputy stumbled back and landed into the chair by the door, looking almost animated. The man wasn’t, of course. His unseeing eyes remained open and fixed on nothing. Two bleeding holes in his victim’s forehead demanded a quick pause. An artist deserved to admire his handiwork if only for a second.

  His prisoner kept howling, which was making it hard for him to concentrate.

  “Shut up now, or I swear, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

  Blessed silence came.

  Lightly, he stepped over the sheriff’s body and went to the door, scanning the outside. The only vehicles parked by his door were the sheriff’s car and the dead man’s Honda he’d commandeered earlier. There wasn’t another soul in sight. Even the fucking clerk was gone, though he suspected she was hiding somewhere within range of his gun. Finding her might not be possible though. Time was clearly critical.

  His mind clicked off the variables in front of him one by one.

  Tying up a few loose ends would’ve been easy for him, but there were too many left with this mess to handle even for someone of his mental abilities.

  “Fuck.” He sat on the side of his bed. This detour was the worst of the lot he’d faced.

  No matter how many times he went over it in his head, the conclusion remained the same. He would never see England again. That was certain, but he wasn’t about to go to prison, especially not in the States. That meant one thing.

  He placed the gun to his head. This wasn’t how he wanted to go out, but he was pragmatic enough to know what had to be done. Unlike lesser people, he faced facts and acted. He slowly squeezed the trigger.

  “Please, help me.” His prisoner’s panicky whisper shook him from his deadly deed.

  He stood and walked into the bathroom. “Hello, Mrs. Wynn.”

  “Please, don’t kill me. I didn’t know your mother, son.” Her lips trembled. “Charles never told me about you or her.”

  “I’m not going to kill you,” he lied. Well, not right now. He might need her later. “Actually, I want to thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked timidly.

  “More than you can ever know.” He’d been lost to self-pity. Useless. The fortune he’d worked so hard to get would never be his, but he wasn’t about to let his slutty sister get it either. He needed to act fast. “Tasks are at hand, Mrs. Wynn.”

  “O–Okay,” she whimpered. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “That’s my girl.” I’ll set this fucking motel on fire. That should keep any backup that arrives busy long enough for me to get back to Wilde unseen. “Let’s put some fresh duct tape on your mouth.”

  “Nooo,” she screamed, which gave him untold pleasure.

  Chapter Five

  Shivering, Charly sat in the booth next to Seth. “They have to be at the motel by now.”

  “Even with the accelerator to the floor, they have another five minutes left at least, baby.” Seth stroked her hair. “Close your eyes and lean back into me.”

  There wasn’t anything sensual about how he treated her now. Clearly, he only wanted to calm her nerves. Though she teetered on the edge of utter hysteria, she still didn’t resist his sweet caresses.

  Jessie and Mackenzie sat together at the counter, speaking in low tones with each other. Both seemed more concerned about her than they’d verbalized. Gabby sat in a corner alone sending dagger stares her way whenever Seth wasn’t looking.

  If her mother hadn’t been kidnapped, she might walk right up to the bitch and give her
a piece of her mind.

  But her mother had been taken by Preston. Her mind kept playing little movies in her head about what might be happening to her mom now.

  Trying to appease her, Seth kept checking with the dispatcher to see if Sheriff Davis or Ted, his deputy, had called in. So far, no word from either of them.

  “What about Heath? Have you heard from him?” There was much to discuss with Seth about Heath, but right now all she could think about was her mother. God, please let her be okay

  Seth shook his head and grabbed her hand. “Nothing yet, sweetheart.”

  She looked up and saw Michael walking by the big window in front of the diner. Jessie saw him, too, and asked Mackenzie to unlock the door for him.

  Charly was shocked to see him with a gun strapped to his side.

  “When did you start packing heat?” Jessie asked him, as she gave him a hug.

  “Sweetie, when in Wilde, do as the Wildes do.”

  “Just don’t shoot yourself, please.” She smiled. “I’m glad you got my message.”

  “You contacted him?” Charly asked.

  “I did. When I don’t know what to do, he’s my touchstone.”

  “Damn right.” He went to Mackenzie and whispered something to her.

  She nodded and went to the back.

  Michael walked to the booth she and Seth sat in. Motioning Jessie to join him, he slid in opposite them. “And I think the person in need of my powers is you, Charly, not your cousin.”

  “I can’t deal with anything right now, Michael. I’m sorry. You have to understand that.”

  He looked at Seth. “You’ve got your hands full with this one, don’t you?”

  “I’ve got things covered, Michael.”

  “I’m sure you do. Still, I have some pixie dust to spread to soften this nightmare. You don’t mind if I use some of my magical powers?”

  “I’m game for anything that will help Charly.”

  Michael smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

  She looked at her cell once again, then back at the gay Peter Pan across from her. “Nothing is going to work until I know my mom is safe.”

  Mackenzie walked up carrying a bottle of Patrón and several shot glasses.

  “Thank you, doll.” He took the bottle and began pouring the tequila. “Desperate times require desperate measures, Charly. No, you won’t be calm until your mom is back. I have a good feeling about that, but you aren’t able to hear anyone right now, not even charming me. Makes perfect sense.” He pushed a shot glass in front of her. “Still, my little magic potion might not take your fears away, but it might make the waiting bearable—if only a little.”

  Something about his way or his words got through to her. She took the glass and swallowed the tequila in a single gulp. The liquid burned all the way down her throat.

  “Happy?” she snapped. Please, God, let my mother live. She’d said that prayer so many times during her mother’s many trips to the hospital when her health had been much more grim than it was of late. Now she screamed at the heavens, begging for a miracle that likely wouldn’t come.

  Michael, normally playful and lighthearted, was serious and intense. “No, sweetie. Of course not.” He poured another shot for her.

  She didn’t drink it.

  “Let’s all have a shot,” Michael said. He filled everyone’s glasses.

  Mackenzie grabbed up two of them and walked over to Gabby.

  He pushed one of the glasses over to Jessie and to Seth.

  “I’m not falling for this, Michael. This isn’t a fucking party.” The numbness of the white liquor spread through her body like a slow-moving river.

  “You’re right. It isn’t. Still, I want to offer up a toast.” Michael closed his eyes.

  She held her breath, waiting for his incantation.

  “Whatever gods are listening, hear our prayer. To the safe return of Connie Wynn.” He drank his shot reverently.

  “Amen,” Seth said, and swallowed his tequila.

  Jessie did the same with hers.

  She looked over at Mackenzie and Gabby. They lifted their glasses to her and drank their shots as well.

  Her eyes, swollen from crying already, filled again with tears.

  She silently prayed, “Please, God, save her.” She downed Michael’s potion and then leaned back into Seth’s chest.

  * * * *

  Clenching the steering wheel, Heath’s heart thudded in his chest like a hammer. Thank God Charly was with his brother Seth, safe. He kept the accelerator to the floor, pushing his truck to a speed he’d never attempted before. Such velocity was extremely dangerous, but he wasn’t about to slow down. His love might be buttoned up, but her mom was still in grave danger.

  Dr. Champion sat in between him and Nate. The man hadn’t said a word since they’d left Wilde, keeping his thoughts to himself. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to guess what was going through his head.

  A car approached, heading in the opposite direction, but it wasn’t the sheriff’s patrol car. None of the five they’d seen on this trip had been.

  As the red Buick passed them, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Tobias’s truck following close. His five cousins and Nick the cook brought up the rear in the Ford F350.

  “No fucking way,” Nate said. “Look there.” His brother pointed up to the sky ahead of them.

  Black smoke danced along the treetops. They all knew what that meant.

  Dr. Champion hit the dashboard with his fists. “If that bastard harmed even a single hair on Connie’s head…I swear…” His words trailed off, but it was clear what he would do to the man who had kidnapped his woman.

  “Hang on,” he told his passengers. “We’re almost there.”

  Nate turned and looked behind them. “Tobias and the twins see it, too. I’ll text Seth and let him know.” His brother pulled out his cell.

  Rounding the curve, the source of the smoke came into view. The old roadside motel, one of Vice’s few iconic structures, though it actually was a mile from the little town, was ablaze.

  The faint sound of a siren grew louder and louder with each passing second.

  A patrol car he’d seen many times in Wilde sat in front of The Stockton. There weren’t any other vehicles, but there was a woman holding a fire extinguisher in her left hand and waving wildly at them with her right.

  They all jumped out of their trucks.

  Drake took the fire extinguisher from her.

  She pointed to the furthest room on the left. “They are in there. Room twenty-eight. Hurry.”

  Heath didn’t take time to ask her who they were. Instead, he ran to the room.

  His entire posse ran with him.

  He opened room twenty-eight’s door. Dark smoke billowed out of the space and into the open air. He placed his face in the crook of his left arm, and entered. His foot hit something on the floor—a body.

  Preston? Charly’s mom? The sheriff?

  As his brothers and cousins came in behind him, he leaned down, lifted the person’s deadweight over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, and then ran out of the room. Drake passed him going into the space, spraying it with the retardant from the fire extinguisher.

  Coughing violently, he lowered the man, who he now could see was Sheriff Davis, to the ground. As Nate came out of the room carrying another body, he placed his middle and index fingers on the sheriff’s jugular vein on the side of his neck. There was a pulse, though faint.

  An ambulance and a fire truck zoomed into the parking lot. The EMTs and volunteers jumped out and got to work instantly. They might actually save The Stockton. The fire seemed contained to about five rooms, beginning with the one he’d just exited.

  He looked over at the guy Nate had pulled out of the fire. Ted. There was no need to check him for a pulse. The two bullet holes in the deputy’s head must’ve taken him out instantly. He checked the sheriff for bullet wounds and found two. One shot had grazed his left arm, leaving an injury that could heal
given a little time and rest. The other was in the sheriff’s chest, which might not.

  Two paramedics came up beside them. “We’ve got this, fellows. Go sit down and we’ll check you out shortly.”

  Of course, they didn’t move away. The rest of his posse left the room and gathered around them.

  Drake tossed the empty extinguisher to the ground. “No one else was in there.”

  “Fuck,” he said, standing.

  “He’s still got Connie,” Dr. Champion said, obviously clinging to any shred of hope he could find.

  “You mean that asshole who started this fire?” the woman who had waved them down asked. “I saw him take a woman and shove her into the trunk of a white car. He left only five minutes before you guys got here.”

  “Which direction did he go?” he asked her, but he already knew the answer.

  Chapter Six

  When Seth’s cell buzzed, Charly jumped from the booth. “Who is it?” she asked. Hope and panic battled violently inside her.

  Remaining seated, he looked at the phone’s screen. “It’s a text, sweetheart. It’s from Nate.”

  Everyone gathered around the booth. The pent-up anticipation ballooned beyond reason in all of them.

  “Do they have my mom?” she whispered.

  “Not yet, honey.” Seth kissed her forehead.

  Charly excused herself to the bathroom. She used the facilities and stopped at the sink to wash her hands. She stared at her hands and held her breath. They reminder her of her mother’s delicate fingers. Charly’s nails were rarely painted, but her mom’s always had some color on them. Her heart fell to her feet. Why was this happening?

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and looked at her reflection in the mirror. What she saw shocked her. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and her nose was bright red. She took a minute to splash cold water on her face before returning to her seat next to Seth. He wrapped her in his arms as she sat down.

  A crash from the front of the diner shook all of them.

  She spun around, saw her mother alive, and for a microsecond, the massive weight she’d carried since the first phone call from her half brother lifted. But the next moment she felt a ton of bricks hit her in the middle of her gut.