by CJ Daly
earlier; I’d been so repulsed. Funny . . . I didn’t feel that way now. Maybe it
was because I was so angry there wasn’t room for any other emotion. In fact,
I was so mad, I wasn’t even afraid anymore. If I was going down, then I was
going down in flames!
Straightening my back, I locked eyes with Ranger. “If you don’t unhand
me and take me home right now, my father’s gonna hunt you down and shoot
you between the eyes with his shotgun!” He looked more amused than fazed,
so I continued with my false bravado threat. “And he’s ex-military . . . so his
aim’s a little better than average.”
A blast of laugh erupted all over my front while an amused chuckle tickled
my back. This time my glare was evenly divided between the two abductors.
“I wouldn’t laugh if I were y’all.”
“Ooooh!” Ranger pantomimed a shiver of fear. “Did you hear that, Pete?
Ex-military! . . . Maybe that’s where she learned her hand-to-hand combat
skills?”
“Maybe,” Pete allowed, looking at me with a cross between humor and
respect. “If that’s the case, we should be afraid . . . very afraid.”
I held back a childish urge to stick my tongue out at both of them. Was
sure it wouldn’t help my case, and I needed to get home sixty-six minutes ago.
“Well, if my father doesn’t shoot you, he certainly will me if I don’t get home soon—I’m out way past my curfew. So can you please take me back now?”
“What if we’re not done with you yet?” The same loaded question Ranger
used at the diner came with the same side of ice-chip eyes tonight.
• 82 •
A chill ran down my spine. “Well if it’s a ransom you’re after, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree—we ain’t got nothin’ to give you!” I delivered this
in my sassiest tone.
Ranger appeared to X-ray me with his eyes. “I’m sure we could think of
something.”
I lowered my eyes back to my lap. “Can I please have my hand back?”
“Ohhh—you’re all manners when you want something,” he mocked.
After a brief, bruising squeeze, he released me.
I went about quickly retying my bows, but between my haste and trembley
fingers, it was like I had mittens on.
“Here, allow me . . .” Pete set me between his legs, his capable fingers
making short work of both ties. I was very conscious of his feathery touch,
running from the nape of my neck to the bottom of my back. Something I’d
never felt before shivered through me.
“You alright?” Pete asked.
Gah! Mortifying! Hopefully, he thought I was going into shock.
I nodded and gave a little dry cough to clear my throat. “Just thirsty. Can
I please have some water?”
“See what I mean?” Ranger indicated me with his palm. “All manners
when she wants something.” Pete ignored him to reach behind the seat, but
Ranger intervened. “Allow me. You keep a hold on her—don’t want her to
bash us over the head with a water bottle.”
Pete shook his head but moved aside. A moment later, Ranger’s hand
reemerged with a very solid-looking bottle in it. I could see how it could be
used as a weapon because it was made from glass instead of plastic. I also
noticed it had weird numbers on the label instead of a name brand.
Should I be worried? I was so thirsty I could’ve drained the radiator.
Besides, if they were going to kill me, I doubted poison would be the way.
Eagerly, I held out my hands to accept the mystery liquid.
“Thirsty?” Ranger taunted. “You know what? . . . I am, too. You made
me run pretty far and hard tonight.” A slow twist on the cap, and a hiss and
wisp of steam escaped. Lifting the bottle in a mock toast, he proceeded to
greedily gulp it down until there was just a swallow or two left. He offered it
to me. “Hope you don’t mind a little of my backwash.”
Tears stung my eyes again. Why’s he being so mean? What exactly is my
crime? Existing? Not wanting to give Ranger the satisfaction of a breakdown, I averted my face to the window.
Another low hiss escaped, this one from Pete. “You’re such an ass!” He
• 83 •
flung the door wide, spilling us both out onto the gravel. I would’ve fallen had he not grabbed me first.
“What’d you call me?” Ranger challenged.
Pete stuck his head back in. “You heard me.”
“Are you forgetting protocol already?”
“Are you?” Pete sniped back. “I don’t think your behavior tonight could
exactly be called protocol.”
They continued arguing back-and-forth. I wasn’t sure what was going
on, but this was usually the part in the movies where the heroine sneaks off
while the villains are busy fighting amongst themselves. I thought about it,
wondering if I would get away with it since I knew our location. But I quickly
dismissed the idea as likely to get me into more trouble—the way my luck was
going tonight, I’d be eaten by coyotes the first fifteen minutes.
Finally, it appeared the two alpha males had reached a stalemate. “What?”
Ranger threw his arms out. “I knew there was more.”
Pete flipped up the backseat, coming away with another bottle. With a
little pop and fizz, he unceremoniously twisted off the cap and handed it over
to me. I snatched at the bottle and began quenching my raging thirst. Pete
stood watching me with unreadable eyes as I gulped, gulped, gulped at the
water gracelessly. Mmmmmm! Water had never tasted so good. About halfway
finished, I noted to myself it was rude not to share.
“Would you like some?” I offered with a wobbly smile. Self-consciousness
trembled the bottle in my hand.
Pete regarded me for a drawn-out moment. “I’m fine, but you should
continue drinking—you were likely on your way to dehydration.”
“I hate to break up this special moment,” Ranger cut in from the front,
“but I’m rather tired of the country life. And we better get Little Annie Oakley
home before her father tries to gun us down in the street.”
Pete grabbed my purse from the backseat and tossed it to me. “It is time
to get you home,” he agreed. “But first, call your father and let him know
you’re all right.”
I clutched my mother’s purse to my chest, looking up at Pete with grateful
eyes. “Thanks for savin’ it.”
An exaggerated ahem sounded from the front seat. “Actually, you have me to thank for that one, Glasses.” Ranger picked up something from the console
and dangled it between his forefinger and thumb. “But your signature glasses
didn’t fare so well, I’m afraid. Probably for the best . . . I don’t think they
really did much for you.”
• 84 •
Pete looked up from wiping a blood smear off his face with the hem of his shirt. “What the hell’s wrong with you, man?”
“What’s wrong with me is I’m out here in the middle of Kill-Me-I’m-So-
Bored-Nowhere with a cut lip and a throbbing shin, compliments of your
country bimbo over there!” Ranger daggered a finger at me.
How dare he! I was mad enough to go toe to toe with him again. I’d surely
lose, and brutally so, but if I managed to get in a couple of shots, it’d be well
; worth it. I lunged forward while “I’m not a bimbo!” shrieked out of me.
Pete grasped me around the waist.
“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck . . . then it’s a goddamned
duck!” Ranger seemed unaccountably angry, capable of anything. I was
secretly glad Pete was holding me back, because not only was Ranger huge,
he was also deranged.
“Can’t you just take me home? . . . I only live a ways down the road,” I
confessed.
“We will,” Pete said evenly, “after you’ve called home to explain you had
car trouble tonight, and that’s the reason you’re tardy. That will buy us some
time to get you cleaned up. If we take you home in this condition, we’ll have
the Texas Rangers after us.”
That actually sounded like a good plan because my father already knew
my car wasn’t doing well. And two strange guys driving me home, scratched
up and disheveled in this outfit, would likely get us all shot. I stiffly nodded
my head and waited for an offered phone, but Pete didn’t volunteer his.
Instead, he busied himself with a metal first-aid kit, rummaging through
extracting contents as expertly as a surgical nurse.
At the point he began unrolling medical tape and tearing it smoothly
with the edge of his teeth, he looked up, suddenly aware I was staring dumbly
at him and not in the process of making a phone call. I colored hotly then
made an expression as if to convey that I was merely waiting for a proffered
phone. In truth, I was momentarily so mesmerized by his deft movements
and sensuous mouth that I totally forgot what the plan was for a few seconds.
A look of annoyance crossed his face. He sighed and dropped the kit with
a clunk to hand me my woven bag again. “Aren’t you going to call?”
“Uhh . . .”
Ranger gave a short, humorless laugh. “Dude, you can be so clueless. She
doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“Oh.” Pete looked back at my pink face, a little stunned. “I guess that
makes sense now,” he said more to himself than anyone else.
I was still waiting for one of these goons to whip out one of theirs, when
• 85 •
I noticed them exchange loaded glances. “I know . . .” I said, trying to tamp down my sarcasm. “How about I just borrow one of yours?”
This caused two self-assured, well-spoken guys to splutter and mumble
out two different excuses simultaneously. It would have been gratifying to
see these two falter so spectacularly, but the news they were delivering didn’t
exactly tickle my funny bone. According to Pete, we couldn’t use his phone
because it was out of battery power. And from Ranger, well, he’d lost his
during the frantic chase down the alley.
I was feeling dubious on both accounts.
First of all, two guys in a Hummer loaded with well-stocked coolers and
first-aid kits weren’t likely to run out the door without their phone chargers.
They were more prepared than Eagle Scouts on steroids. Even Ashley-Leigh
managed to keep hers handy, and she was no Girl Scout. Secondly, I highly
doubted Ranger’s story, because if he bothered to stoop down in the dirt to
retrieve my broken glasses and battered handbag, then he sure as heck would
go back for his own cell phone.
They were selling it, but I wasn’t buying it. Plus, my gut told me they
were both lying through their perfect pearly whites. And Mama always told
me to trust my gut. And I always trusted my mama. I harrrrumphed a little
under my breath, crossing my arms. I couldn’t exactly call them out on their
lies though, could I? I was still miserably at their mercy.
My eyes flicked back and forth between two sets of guilty eyes. “Well
that’s inconvenient,” I said.
Ranger narrowed his eyes at me. “Let’s see here: no cell phone, water,
Band-Aids, or mace . . . You weren’t exactly prepared tonight, were you,
Glasses?”
Loathe as I was to admit it, he had a point. Having no comeback, I
relegated myself to glaring at him. Pete intervened again before our glaring
contest escalated into all out war. He swiftly scooped me up and set me down
on the seat facing the open door. His beautiful, battered face was all I could
see now as he got to work.
“Actually,” he said, applying a thin layer of cream to my knee, “we should
drive back to town to call anyway. I need to hit a pharmacy to get some Arnica
for the swelling on my face.” I suddenly had trouble swallowing. “And you can
use the bathroom to clean up. I’m also quite sure you can use the phone there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ranger started up the Hummer with an abrupt roar.
“Fine.” I snatched the tape from Pete’s hand to finish dressing my own
wound.
“See? She’s back to being feisty when she doesn’t get her way,” Ranger said.
• 86 •
Pete just shook his head like he was put out with both of us. While I scrambled into the backseat, he took his rightful place in front. Then, cracking
a plastic bag back and forth with quick precise movements, he laid it over
his eye. After a jolting plunge into a ditch to turn around, Pete removed the
icepack long enough to address me while I went sliding around the backseat.
“Better buckle up,” he advised.
I felt terrible about his face but stubbornly refused to apologize. Instead,
I complied quietly, and we headed back to town, speeding along faster than
was healthy on blind country roads. Nobody seemed to be in the mood to
talk again. Gravel pinging the bumper and some clanging going on in the
back were the only sounds. Ranger turned on the radio, and I half expected
to hear an Amber alert put out on me already.
A long, weary sigh escaped me. I would’ve been home by now if it hadn’t
been for these two accosting me and dragging me off against my wil . Then
another voice came unbidden to say , I might not be here at all if it wasn’t for these two.
Confused and exhausted I slumped in the backseat, eyes half closed. A
blinking red light coming from the console caught my attention. Cel phone?
If the light was still blinking, then surely it had enough battery power to make
one little phone call. I was just leaning forward to snatch the phone when a
ninja hand clamped down on mine, forcing me to drop it. Stunned, I looked
up to see Pete staring me down from behind his icepack.
“I told you—the battery’s dead.”
I didn’t respond because we both knew he was lying.
“She’s stubborn and stupid—a deadly combination in a female if I’ve ever
seen one,” Ranger commented mildly.
I glared at Ranger and scowled at Pete before sinking back into my seat.
I noted the contours of his cell didn’t fit with the typical models, and there
was a long antenna attached to the end like walkie-talkies had. Weird. And
w hat’s with all that equipment banging around in the back? I turned around in my seat to poke around. Metal detectors?
“Searchin’ for treasure?” I probed.
The two cohorts exchanged looks again. Pete turned around long enough
to quirk his lips at me. Fascinating. His mouth was a marvel.
“You could say that,” he replied shortly, facing forward again.
“Well, good luck with that—you’re not likely gonna find anything out
here but a bunch of cowpatties and some tumbleweeds.”
This elicited edgy laughter from the driver’s seat. “You just said a mouthful,
Glasses.”
• 87 •
I leaned forward again. “So what are y’all lookin’ for?”
Pete sighed and turned back around. “We’re interested in finding Indian
arrowheads. Heard there were still a few out here in this area.”
“Indian arrowheads?” The boys had a few of those lying around. “Why?
Are they valuable?” And why is he lying?
Ranger’s eyes cut to mine in the rearview mirror. “As a matter of fact, we
heard the Indian artifacts out here can be quite valuable.” He said this in a weird, cryptic way.
“Are y’all like doin’ this for a college class or somethin’?”
Crickets.
“Something like that,” Pete finally answered.
“Then I’m sure y’all are both aware that Indian arrowheads are made out
of stone . . . so therefore, metal detectors can’t detect them.”
Ranger huffed out some kind of weird, aggravated noise.
Pete re-removed the icepack. “But they can detect flint.”
“Flint is stone,” I countered.
He pursed his lips at me. Looked like he was about to shovel more bull-
hockey down my throat when Ranger intervened.
“Pipe down back there!” He turned the radio up over my next question.
“I need to concentrate, so I don’t get sucked into one of these potholes you all
have littering the roads like landmines.”
I huffed out my own aggravation. I still needed answers, but they weren’t
talking. So I would wait, biding my time and biting my tongue for now.
• 88 •
9
LEFT BEHIND
When we screeched to a halt outside a twenty-four hour pharmacy,
I was relieved for a lot of reasons. For one, I was freezing. It felt
like the temperature had dramatically dropped by thirty degrees.
And not just because the air conditioner was blasting through my non-shirt.
No. The whole atmosphere in the car had changed. Ranger’s previous heat
had dissipated. In its place was an icy indifference made plain to me by the
way his eyes went glacier cold when he so much as glanced my way in the
rearview mirror. And there was a new coolness coming from Pete that wasn’t
