The Cattleman

by Angi Morgan

  “I’m sorry, querida. Do you hope to convince me of something? I find it so very easy to set my eyes on a goal and obtain.”

  “Why haven’t you just shot us then?”

  “We need to know about this task force you are a part of. How much has the Rook told to you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  Bishop slapped her check, snapping her head to the left. He’d taken her by surprise. She’d been totally unprepared for an attack. The sting made her skin burn and her eyes water. She would have fought harder to stop the tears if she’d shown her badge as a DEA agent. But at the moment, playing her part as Nick Burke’s fiancée, her tears fell.

  “Do not waste my time, Agent Conrad. I know the two of you are involved with the policia and not each other. But if you would like to play the game, by all means, let’s play. You remember The Newlywed Game, si? You say you are his prometido, then answer rapido. What did Burke’s father do before buying their ranch?”

  He waved his hand and the guard standing next to Nick shoved him into the pool.

  Beth was midair, almost in the water, when a thick arm yanked her backward. She spun around. “What are you doing? He can’t surface! He’ll drown with his hands pinned behind his back.” As exhausted as Nick already was he wouldn’t be able to tread water for long.

  “Yes. Answer.”

  Around the struggle, the water turned a pale pink, washing the blood from Nick’s skin. The guard that had knocked Nick into the deep end knelt at the edge and prevented Nick from kicking off the bottom to surface. Whenever he struggled and kicked to get air, the man shoved him down again.

  “Alan was... Oh God, we... Nick and I haven’t spoken about his parents, especially what they did before moving here.” The answer was in his file. Think. Think. Think. Whatever he’d done, he’d retired early. “Please let him up.”

  “I should warn you, one wrong answer and he does not resurface.”

  “I think Alan sold his company. They made machines that made other tool machines. Something like that.”

  Bishop nodded. The man grabbed a handful of Nick’s hair and yanked upward. Nick gasped, sucking in air. He tossed his head from side to side attempting to get released.

  “What did your father do before ranching?” Bishop asked as politely as making casual conversation at tea.

  Nick sank, pushed off the bottom and broke the surface again, sputtering at the surface. “Machine—” he coughed and spat water “—tooling company.”

  Bishop’s man grabbed Nick’s dark teak hair, bobbing him up and down like laundry on a washboard. Nick kicked and struggled to get his mouth above the freezing water. Each time he got close to getting a deep breath, Bishop’s man sent him under.

  “Let him up. We both answered.”

  “Next question. What is Nick’s favorite food?”

  Nick was released and sank. The longer she took to consider an answer, the longer he went without oxygen.

  “Biscuits,” she said with little confidence, taking a wild guess. The second guard pulled her around her waist again, yanking her back against his chest. Without realizing it, she’d been inching closer to the pool’s edge. “Let him up.”

  Bishop nodded once again. Nick answered correctly and the questions continued, the near-drowning repeated and repeated. He struggled less, succumbing to Bishop’s man holding him by his hair as the sun fell behind the surrounding mountains.

  “Last question, Agent Conrad. What has the task force discovered from Mr. Rook?”

  Nick was shoved under the water again. Then Bishop jerked her head toward him, his fingers biting into her cheeks.

  “We can’t answer something we don’t know.” She wanted to scream, fight, lie. Anything to get Nick out of the water.

  “Are you still denying you were brought here by the DEA?”

  “I’m here because I love Nick. Why would the DEA send anyone here that can’t even ride a horse?” She raised her hands, covering Bishop’s who still tugged at her chin forcing her to look at him instead of the pool. “Please, I’m begging you, let him up.”

  With one glance at his guard, Bishop’s man allowed Nick to float away from the edge. Face down.

  “What have you done?” She broke free and ran to the pool.

  The guard reached for Nick, but missed. He swiped at the water again, but the cattleman’s body sank to the bottom. Then, he shoved off the bottom shooting out of the water, bare chested and hands free. With one hard tug the guard who had been holding her let go and toppled into the pool. Nick disappeared under the water again, wrestling the big man like an overstuffed crocodile.

  Between the light, waves and bubbles it was difficult to distinguish who was winning. Bishop’s hand was suddenly around her neck. She tried to pry his fingers loose, but he had a firm, strong grip and jerked her to her feet.

  Nick pulled his opponent to the steps at the opposite end of the pool. The guard who had been holding him under joined them on the steps. Nick dodged a punch and stepped from the water, dripping but steady, the guards splashing behind him. He brushed his hand across his face, never breaking eye contact with her.

  “We aren’t part of any task force,” he said to Bishop, resting his hands on his knees. “I supplied horses for the sheriff, and Beth was stubborn enough to insist on going with me. She wanted to show off for my old girlfriend.”

  The pressure around her throat increased. The instinct to claw at Bishop’s hands to release herself overtook her. She couldn’t budge his grasp. The soft bones in her neck cracked as if they were about to break. She wanted to get free, grab a gun and shoot the son of a b—

  Nick’s whiskey-colored eyes reassured her to stay calm. Why the heck did she believe it would be okay just by looking at him? But she was sure it would, so she relaxed, taking short shallow breaths.

  “Are we through playing this sick version of an out-of-date game?” Nick asked before a third guard appeared and placed a gun against his head.

  Bishop relaxed his grip, but kept her as a barrier between him and everyone else. “Perhaps your girlfriend needs a little more enticement to talk. Shoot him in the leg, but not too severe. I don’t want him to bleed out. Yet.”

  The guard he’d wrestled in the pool grabbed a gun and aimed at Nick’s hip.

  “Wait! I am DEA, but I haven’t had access to Rook. None. Don’t have your answers.” Shoved forward, she stumbled but stayed on her feet close to Nick and the two guns. “Are you going to torture me now?”

  If Bishop said yes and she took Nick’s place would she be able to handle it? Would her training be enough to keep her tongue from wagging?

  “What gave you the impression I was not already?”

  Her punishment had been watching them slowly drown Nick. Would they kill him now that she’d admitted her status? Then what? After they had the information they wanted, would she be killed, too?

  “You can do whatever you want to the both of us. It still won’t change the fact that we have no information on anyone referenced as Rook. That wasn’t my objective. Finding scum like you was,” she answered without sharing her exact mission.

  She watched the surprise flash into his cold eyes. He stifled it quickly.

  “Take them back to the holding cell.” He looked toward the French doors where a woman’s silhouette appeared. “I need to consult about this decision.”

  While Bishop motioned for the guards to move forward, Nick pressed something sharp into her hand and she slid it into her coat pocket. A blade. Nick had fought with the guard under water to get his knife.

  He’d just stolen their ticket home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The pain in his lungs was excruciating, but Nick had kept it together on the return walk to the front of the house. The men at his sides had kept a death grip on his biceps. Now they talked around him, admiring the fight, complaining about another night in the cold tent, wanting to finish their job and be reassigned somewhere there wer
e women.

  Beth caught his eye, raised her eyebrows and tapped her pocket where the knife was hidden. He shook his head, crossing his fingers that she’d wait until they were back at the gully. When she stretched her neck just like she always did before firing her weapon, every muscle in his body tensed, ready. But she continued walking between her escorts.

  They were separated into the two Jeeps they’d arrived in. Waiting to attack was better. They’d be that much closer to the border when they escaped. That much closer to finding help. He watched her get into the backseat without a word or glance in his direction.

  Beth would know they should make their move before they were back in their cage. But did she have it inside her to use the knife and not second-guess herself?

  His hands were secured in front of him with a thin nylon rope that cut into his flesh. He understood most of the conversation spoken in Spanish. While the two guards talked, he painfully pulled and stretched the nylon cord to a workable length.

  Fortunately, the two men he’d sent for a swim had stayed behind. The guys were betting on who would win in a no-rules fight—Nick or the overgrown wrestler he’d taken to the bottom of the pool.

  The wrestler, named Ricky, would win according to the driver because he’d kill Nick the next time he saw him. The other guard agreed, because Nick had let both of the men live earlier.

  Yeah, the nice guy in him had come out in spite of his anger over nearly being killed or about confronting the man who wanted him dead. He’d thought about it for a split second, but hadn’t been able to leave the guard to drown. The next time he wouldn’t think twice. He’d think about being shot at the corral and slowly bleeding out, his thoughts and vision fading to nothing. He’d remember how they would kill Beth if they didn’t get out of this mess.

  The jerks in the front thought it would be fun to ride with the windows down to freeze his wet body. He took deep lungsful of air, coughing up water in the process. He shook himself, getting the blood circulating throughout his body—especially his hands—and becoming more alert.

  As they bounced over the rutted tracks that led back to their camp, he tugged off each boot and dumped the water that had pooled inside. He’d be able to run now, instead of slosh his way to freedom.

  Completely cognizant of his whereabouts during this trip, he confirmed where they were on the map in his head. On foot from the camp and in the dark, it would take him about three hours to make it back to the US to find help. Then again, he wasn’t alone, it was dark and he was injured. Without a compass in this cloud cover, it would be harder to travel off the hiking trails. Finding help would be more difficult since it wasn’t exactly the most popular season for camping.

  One thing at a time.

  “Hey,” he called. Then in the most broken Spanish he could manage, because he didn’t want them to know he was nearly fluent, “Habla. Usted. Inglés?”

  Escape first. Then solve each problem.

  “Sure, man. We’re from Port Aransas,” the driver said, receiving a punch in the arm from his passenger. “What? He can’t tell anyone if he’s dead tomorrow.”

  “Well, before you kill me I need to take a leak.”

  “It’s your turn to take him. I’m going to grab a smoke when we get back. It don’t make sense that Bishop don’t allow smoking,” the driver complained to his partner.

  “Whatever, man. I need a smoke, too.”

  The camp was within sight. The four guards with them had been the most complacent of the group. Nick was betting they wouldn’t be expecting an attack. Or at least he hoped they wouldn’t. His two guards might have laughed when the water from his boots had hit the floorboard or when he’d allowed the other guards to live. They wouldn’t be snickering when he used his tied wrists as a weapon.

  Short breaths got his blood pumping even more. He focused his mind on a picture of Beth... Blood spreading across her beautiful chest. Focus. He had to do this. They’d already admitted that he and Beth would be dead tomorrow.

  The Jeep stopped. The passenger guard jumped out, gun still at the back waist of his pants. He lit his cigarette as he went.

  Now! He had to make his move now.

  He soared forward, arms high. The rope cut across the windpipe of the driver before the man knew what had hit him. Nick watched the guard’s eyes in the mirror, felt the man’s fingernails digging into his flesh as he tried to pull Nick’s hands away. The driver lost consciousness before the second guard realized they weren’t getting out.

  Beth’s Jeep parked behind theirs. The lights cut off just as his backseat door flew open. “Come on. Do you need to take a leak or what?”

  Cigarette smoke wafted into the vehicle. Nick waited for him to lean through the door, rolling as close to the backseat as he could get. The guard held his gun with his right hand and reached inside with his left. Nick kicked the free arm up and back into the roof. He heard the bone snap and the man screamed in pain. There were shots—both from his gun and from behind him.

  He focused on the image of Beth hurt and bleeding. The conjured picture was all he allowed himself to see. They had to escape before his imagination became her reality. Kicking out again, he connected with the man’s chest, knocking him backward.

  Nick ignored the man’s painful cries. He ignored his own cracked ribs as he slid across the seat and stepped onto the guards back, keeping his face in the dirt. The guard continued to scream and fire his weapon, but he was unable to twist his arm toward his attacker.

  Soon the gun was empty and Nick heard dry clicks. Before he could kick the man unconscious, he smelled gas.

  Where was the cigarette?

  The same instant, the leaking fuel ignited and Nick could only run. He searched the darkness for Beth. The fire was soon bright enough to see her long hair blowing in the wind on the far side of the second vehicle.

  More screams drew his attention behind him. The guard he’d had in the dirt was running toward the camp. Beth’s driver slumped toward his window, unmoving. “Beth!” She was struggling with her second guard outside her Jeep.

  As Nick drew closer he saw the knife in Beth’s hand. The man was holding it away from slicing his body. And she was holding his gun away from pointing at her. Nick used one of the moves she’d taught him and put pressure on the guard’s hand to drop the gun.

  It fell to the ground with a whelp of agony as the guard’s arm bent backward, giving Beth the advantage she needed. With her free hand she turned the knife. The man lunged and then stopped just as quickly. He fell to the ground, eyes wide in death, the knife stuck in his chest.

  “Are you all right, Nick?” Beth asked, out of breath as she knelt and wiped the blade clean on the guard’s jacket.

  “Yeah. What about my driver?”

  The flames and smoke were curling in through the window. The driver hadn’t moved since he’d choked him.

  “He’s not dead?” She took a step around him, ready to rescue their enemy.

  “It’s okay.” They locked eyes. He didn’t know what he felt. Remorse. Guilt. Relief maybe. A man was dead by his hands, and he mainly felt confused.

  “We need to get out of here before that fire hits the gas tank. Get in... I’ll drive.” She ran to the other side of the old Jeep, stopping at the back wheel. “How far can we get on a flat tire? Can we change it?”

  “I don’t think we have time. One of my guys got away.” He picked up the pistol and pulled the light windbreaker from the dead man. He held onto his ribs as they both ran away from the camp. “We need to keep quiet, run hard and get as far away as possible.”

  “Trade you.” She held out the knife to him as they slowed to climb from the gully. “I’m better with a gun.”

  “You looked pretty damned good with that knife, too.” He gave her the gun. She released the magazine to reveal two bullets. “I’m not exactly wearing anything to carry weapons. Why don’t you keep it in your coat pocket?”

  “Okay.”

  The explosion rocked them as they
reached the top of the ridge. It lit up the surrounding sky.

  “If the guard who escaped hasn’t contacted anyone yet, Bishop is sure to know something’s up now. He’ll be sending people here on the double to check out that explosion.”

  “Then we better pick up our pace if we want to stay ahead of them to the border,” she said as he boosted her up a steep incline.

  He hid the wince, letting her go in front of him a minute so he could get control of the hitch in his side. He’d have to bury the pain, push through it, and not care that the evidence on his chest reminded him he’d lost this battle before.

  No, this time he had Beth to worry about. Passing out wasn’t an option. If he did, she’d never make it out of the desert alive.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bishop should have ordered their deaths. Of course he could at any time. One call and it would be done. He’d never know how or where the bodies would reside for eternity. Nick Burke and Beth Conrad wouldn’t be a problem any longer.

  But he couldn’t do that.

  They were a problem.

  His partners wanted answers. All he’d achieved this evening was raising more questions. He sat at the hot tub’s edge, warming his feet occasionally, but it was time to go inside.

  “You’re still up?” He wrapped his arms around the slim waist of Patrice Orlando. “You should have joined me outside.”

  “You looked deep in thought. Did you get the answers you needed?” She picked up the toppled king from a chessboard. “I’ve never understood the fascination you men have with this game.”

  Bishop lifted the long blond hair off her neck, letting the straight locks flow over his fingers. “Sex with you is always a pleasure. A welcome interruption to the isolation of this horror factory where I currently reside. I enjoy our time together. Don’t you?”

  “I’m here for your pleasure. You know that. You also should remember that this horror factory as you call it is much better than the slum where you grew up.”