Reluctant Runaway

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “There!”

  Ortiz gasped. “Break my eardrums already.”

  “Put the bird down.”

  “You got it. But don’t yell again.”

  The chopper settled on a flat spot near the ruins of an ancient village. Tony hopped out and ran through the dust cloud churned up by the rotor blades. He reached the swatch of unnatural color among the crumbling stones and snatched it up.

  “Indian blanket.” Ortiz came up behind him. “Could have been left out here any time.”

  Tony thrust the article at her. “This is fresh. No sign of fading, and look—an end has been clipped then ripped.”

  “You’re right.” Ortiz studied the tear. “Recently, too, or we’d see more unraveling.” She shook her head. “But it still doesn’t mean the blanket has anything to do with Desiree Jacobs.”

  “But this does.” Tony bent and picked up the shiny tube that had been hidden under the blanket. “Desi’s favorite shade and brand of lipstick.”

  “Then where is she?”

  “We need to find out—and fast! I have a feeling we’re running out of time.”

  Desi choked against the water splashing her face. Some of it went down her throat. She gagged. Not water. Beer. She gasped and sat up. Or tried to. Arms held her. She opened her eyes and stared into a hairy face.

  Red Beard! If that Barbary pirate had lived in this age, he would have enjoyed being an outlaw biker. Desi struggled, and the sweaty arms released her. She scooted away, panting.

  “Sorry” Red Beard stood up, towering over her. “We don’t do water. Beer was all we had to wake you up. This canteen is about empty.” He handed it to her.

  She grabbed the container and struggled to her feet. He was right. Almost nothing drinkable left, and he said she had a long way yet to reach civilization.

  Red Beard remounted his bike. “Climb on. You’ve been in the sun too long.”

  Her options had narrowed to one: Do as the man said. She slung her canteen around her neck, hooked her purse around her arm, and swung her leg over the bike. She maintained a few precious inches of distance from the driver. The bike lunged forward. She yelped and grabbed the solid body in front of her. His denims hadn’t been washed in recent history, but so what? Beat doing a backflip off a flying motorcycle.

  And fly they did. Half the time the wheels were airborne over dips and hollows. The wind tore the scrap of blanket from her head. She lifted her face, and the streaming air washed over her. A sense of buoyant freedom rose inside her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she clung to Tony.

  Not really. Tony never smelled like this, and he didn’t have a beer belly. But at least she could pretend to pretend. If she were with him, the ride would be exhilarating.

  She had no idea how long they rode or which direction. Not toward the exposed ruins she’d found earlier. Potential landmarks flew by too fast to make note of them, and her forward vision was obscured by Red Beard’s broad back, but she thought a chalky-colored butte drew closer.

  After a while, they entered the shade of the tower of rock, and the sun lost some of its power. With the butte soaring over them, they slowed. Dust boiled as they braked to a halt. Desi coughed and squinted.

  Where had they taken her?

  She slipped off the bike, staggered, and righted herself. This shaded area was about ten degrees cooler than under the baking sun, but still warm. Others had arrived ahead of their group. Some were women clad in everything from ragged T-shirts and holey jeans to crop tops and cutoffs. The men with Red Beard hooted crude suggestions. The women grinned and waggled their hips, but the looks they gave Desi put her in the category of a new species of bug.

  Some of the early arrivals had set up camp chairs and folding tables. Cases of assorted booze were stacked on the ground. About a hundred paces away sat a Range Rover and several four-wheelers. Desi’s heart quickened. A little Grand Theft Auto would be in order.

  Red Beard tugged her toward a small adobe hut minus door and windows. The blank holes seemed to gaze out with sorrow on what had become of it in its crumbling old age. They went inside, and the temperature cooled further.

  Amidst laughter and coarse joking, bikers set out kegs and plastic glasses on a rickety table in the middle of the room. The table was the lone piece of furniture except for a large chest in the corner. Mountain Man came in with two canvas lawn chairs. These guys traveled with all the comforts of home. Red Beard took one of the chairs and patted the seat of the other one for Desi. Mountain Man scowled and stomped out.

  Must be his chair the leader gave away.

  Desi plopped down, too drained to care that she was sitting next to a man who might decide to rape her before the night was out or that she’d made a very large enemy through no fault of her own. She touched her face. Sticky from dried beer and caked with dirt.

  “You’ve got nice hair.” Red Beard fingered a strand. “Real soft.”

  She pulled away. “I don’t know what kind of bimbos you’re used to dealing with, but if you expect me to fall for your charms because you complimented my hair, you’re in for a long wait. In fact, if you try anything out of line, you’ll have a fight on your hands.”

  His eyes widened then he threw his head back and bellowed a laugh. The cross bounced against the hollow of his throat. He patted her knee. “As much fun as that sounds, Kitten, I’m more interested in washing the dust from my throat.”

  One of his men handed him a foamy cup. The server winked at her and walked away.

  Kitten! Red Beard dubbed her with some wimpy pet name that equated with helpless plaything? He’d forgotten that kittens grew into cats with sharp claws and the ability to slip away at a moment’s notice. If only her energy level exceeded kitten-strength. But a good front never hurt.

  Desi rose and stared at the crowd of grinning men crowded into the enclosed space. The smell of sweaty bodies was rank. “My name is not Kitten. You may call me Ms. Jacobs. Now may I have the pleasure of knowing who you are?”

  Someone snickered. “Ain’t she hoity-toity?”

  Red Beard glared at the speaker. He rose beside her. “Now, boys, mind your manners. I said we knew how to treat a lady, and I could see that’s what she is, even under that dumb blanket.” He turned toward her. “Allow me to do the honors.” He made an odd sort of half bow. “This here is … ” He went through a dizzying list like Crankcase, Badger, Knife, and less repeatable nicknames. Mountain Man was Tank. Appropriate.

  “And then there’s me.” Red Beard’s grin widened, and he began unbuttoning his shirt.

  Desi backed away, but she ran up against Tank, who’d crept up behind her with the stealth of the cat she prayed to be when the moment came. He leered down at her. Her blood went arctic. Looked like there wasn’t going to be a moment for silent exit.

  Only teeth and claws.

  “There’s the rest of the blanket.” Tony pointed.

  The bird set down, stirring up grit that stung his face as he ran to the crumpled piece of cloth. He grabbed it and held it to his nose. The exotic scent of Desi’s hair. As always, his heart beat double-time at the fragrance. If only it was her he held. An ache settled in his chest.

  Ortiz wandered away a few yards. “Here’s a bunch of motorcycle tire tracks. Looks like she found a ride. Or a ride found her. Not sure that’s good—especially if it’s Snake Bonney’s gang out for a good time.”

  Tony studied the crisscross of tracks. “Impossible to tell if they were going into the desert or coming out.”

  Ortiz put her hands on her hips. “Logistics dictate that we follow the trail into the desert and let the team at Laguna check out the highway. I’m thinking they’ll hit the jackpot, not us. Hope so, anyway. Hard to sneak up on them in a helicopter, and better odds than you, me, and the pilot taking on a whole motorcycle gang.”

  “Right now, I’d take on Genghis Khan and the barbarian horde.”

  Ortiz frowned. “Hold that thought, Lucano. We may need to go for the guts and glory.”
>
  Red Beard shrugged out of his shirt and turned one shoulder toward Desi. “See?” He rippled his muscles. What had looked like a tattoo of a fat slinky wrapped around his thick bicep became an undulating snake that crawled up his arm, over his shoulder, and ended by his collarbone in a gaping mouth with dripping fangs. The tip of the creature’s nose and a single fang had been all she could see earlier. Now she had the whole picture.

  Better yet, the time hadn’t come for her to defend her honor. A high-pitched laugh trickled out her throat. “Decent work of art, Snake Bonney.”

  His face lit. “You’ve heard of me?”

  “You’re Karen’s ex-boyfriend. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about her.”

  “You know Karen? Who are you?” He strode forward, lips pulled back. “Did you take her?”

  Desi tried to shrink away, but had nowhere to go with the immovable Tank at her back. “Me?” Her voice squeaked. “I’m a kidnappee, not a kidnapper.”

  “Huh?” Bonney’s brow furrowed. “Someone kidnapped you?”

  “What else do you call being grabbed and hauled off to someplace unknown by a bunch of men I don’t know from Adam?”

  “Who’s Adam? You mean Karen’s kid? Will you talk sense, woman?”

  Desi held her breath and slipped out of the biker sandwich the two big men made of her. She walked back to her chair and sat down. Stay cool. Look calm. Offense is the best defense. “You kidnapped me. Did you snatch Karen, too?”

  A dark whisper went around the room, and Bonney scowled at her. Tank crossed his arms over his chest like Mr. Clean without the smile. Or the clean.

  “We didn’t snatch nobody.” Bonney glanced around the room and got a murmur of agreement. “Including you. Way I see it, we saved your life, Miss High-and-Mighty.”

  Desi tapped her upper lip. “You have a point. I was on the crispy side of well done out there. But if you were so concerned about my welfare, why didn’t you take me to a town or ranch house so I could get medical help? I could still collapse and die of heatstroke, you know.”

  Bonney flashed a grin. “You’re tongue’s too lively to be next door to dead. ‘Sides, this was the nearest shade available, and we’ve got some serious partying to do. We don’t take a detour for nobody when it’s party time.”

  His men cheered and raised their glasses. Bonney grabbed his from the cup holder on his chair, and the whole crowd chugged their glasses empty. The snake on Bonney’s arm rippled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He let out a belch and handed his empty glass to someone who filled it.

  Then he settled into his chair next to Desi and put his face in hers. Beer breath washed into her nostrils.

  “What do you know about Karen?” His stare was cold. “And why do people keep bugging me like I took her? Like I’d want a woman who’s turned into a religious fruit loop?” He ground out a foul word.

  Desi refused to look away. “Didn’t you call her more than once before she disappeared?”

  “After I ran into her one day looking all middle-class American, I got curious about what was up with her. She asked me to call, but I quit after a couple of times. She kept spouting all this Inner Witness stuff.” A few more colorful words summed up his opinion.

  “Who do you think took her then?”

  Bonney shrugged. “Maybe nobody. People get into these groups that brainwash you, and they end up doing strange things. I’ve heard about this stuff. Gotta be careful what kind of a people you hook up with these days.” He nodded like the sage of the universe.

  Desi looked away. “That’s true.” Her gaze passed over the party activity. No one was paying attention to her and the gang leader. Except Tank, whose broad back held up the wall by the door. He stared at them with all the warmth of the machine he was named after. The rest were absorbed in their beer or their joints—which explained the sweetish smell in the room. A few had women snuggled up to them. “Do you consider this your family?”

  “We’re tight, yeah. Like family, we’ve got each other’s backs. Some of these guys are married, you know. Got kids. Their wives are here. And we’re not bums. We work. Pay taxes. But we like to cut loose on our bikes and have a good time. No harm in that, but the cops don’t always see it that way. Out here we can have privacy to do our thing. No harm. No foul.”

  Something softened around the area of Desi’s heart. She still had no reason to believe that she wasn’t slated to be this guy’s cuddle of the evening. He maybe figured she owed him that much. But fear couldn’t quite compete with a rush of compassion.

  These people weren’t putting on a front. They already knew they were bottom of the barrel. Outcasts. Misfits. But who was calling the kettle black? In her business, she rubbed shoulders with people who went to church, wore designer clothes, lived in mansions, drove fancy cars, and maintained all they owned by lying, cheating, and backstabbing.

  Who was worse off? The go-for-broke sinner or the hypocrite? Jesus ate with sinners and called the hypocrites vipers.

  “Bonney?”

  “It’s Snake.”

  She held out her hand. “Hello, Snake. I’m Desiree.”

  He raised bushy brows and shook it.

  “Thank you for taking me in when I was lost,” she said.

  “Don’t mention it.” He chuckled and sipped his beer. “Want one?” He held his glass up.

  “I’ll finish my water. I’ve heard alcohol is dehydrating.”

  “ ‘Kay.” He nodded, gaze wandering the room.

  He didn’t act like a guy with one thing on his mind. Of course, the party had just started, and he wasn’t liquored up yet. Wise to say what was on her heart then scoot as soon as possible.

  “Karen got off on the wrong track with her faith. Sometimes happens with young believers. She’ll get back to the truth eventually.”

  Snake stared at her. “You think she’s alive?”

  “I’m not going to think anything else until we have proof otherwise.”

  “Good.” He put his empty glass in the cup holder. “Me, too. But if anyone’s messed with her, they’ll have to deal with me.”

  “Why would you care?”

  He frowned. “She was one of us once. Fine if she chooses to walk a different road. I don’t have to like it to respect it. But lights out to anyone who hurts her on purpose.” He punched a fist into his palm.

  Whump … whump … whump … whump …

  “What’s that?” Snake sat up rigid in his chair. The party noises faded.

  The sound of an approaching helicopter grew louder by the second.

  Desi cleared her throat. “No worries.” Everyone stared at her. “I forgot to mention I’m special friends with an FBI agent. That’s him looking for me.” Dear heavens, I hope it’s true.

  “The feds!” Tank’s bellow catapulted everyone into action.

  Shouting and cursing, the gang piled out the door, leaving Desi, Snake, and Tank in the hut. Outside, engines revved to life.

  Snake shot her a sad-eyed smile. “You’ll be fine then.” He grabbed his shirt and trotted for the door, but stopped and looked over his shoulder, tattoo wiggling into a new contortion. “They can’t catch us all, y’know.” He winked and was gone, leaving her with …

  She stared into the mountain’s face.

  He bared yellowed teeth. “Guess it’s just you and me, girlie.” He stepped toward her.

  Desi stood up and inched backward, searching with her peripheral vision for an exit. Solid walls. Tank stood between her and egress through windows or door. Helicopter rotors and motorcycle engines split the air with mind-numbing din.

  Tank took another step forward.

  He was enjoying the stalk and didn’t seem too intelligent. Maybe she could keep him busy until Tony charged to the rescue. “You’re not going to escape with the others?”

  The discolored grin widened. “No need. I got a secret hidey-hole under everybody’s noses. Big enough for you and me until everyone’s gone. Then we party.”

 
He lunged for her.

  Sixteen

  Look at ‘em scatter!” Ortiz bumped Tony’s arm as the chopper closed in on the site.

  A cluster of vehicles—motorcycles, ATVs, a Range Rover—began to scatter in all directions. Tony glanced at Ortiz. “I don’t see Desi.” He keyed the pilot on the headset. “Put down as close to that hut as possible.”

  “You got it.” The chopper descended as the last of the cycles scattered—except for one. The big hog sat alone and unattended.

  Unless the owner had abandoned his cycle and hitched a ride, someone was still here. Rage gusted through Tony. Wait until he got his hands on whoever took her.

  She’d better be all right, or they wouldn’t be.

  Desi shrieked and dodged Tank’s massive hand.

  She flung her canteen and got him in the face. He staggered back, shaking his head, while she darted around him and made for the door. One stride. Her breath rasped in her ears. Two strides. Three—

  Whoof!

  The floor leaped up to meet her, and the air left her lungs as a mountain landed across her back. Tank wrenched one arm behind her back and hauled her to her feet. Pain shimmered through her body.

  Tony! Help! But she couldn’t call out. Her lungs strained to recapture air, but an arm mashed across her windpipe. Tank dragged her toward the trunk in the corner. He thrust her to the floor and planted a booted foot in her back while he tore at the latch.

  The helicopter sounded right on top of them. Hurry, Tony! Hurry!

  Darkness swirled through her vision. The foot in her back kept her from taking a full breath.

  The lid of the chest swung open, and Tank dug inside. He roared a curse. The boot pressed down, and Desi’s back creaked. Her head felt like an overblown balloon. The boot lifted, and blackness receded.

  Tank bent over her, snarling obscenities over the din of the helicopter. The biker picked her up with one arm under her waist like she weighed nothing. She glimpsed a gaping maw where the bottom of the chest should be.

  Not going down there!

  Desi twisted and raked him with her nails. Red lines appeared on his bull neck. He howled and pulled back a fist as big as her face.