by Piper Stone
Why was Garland so nervous? “Okay, what the hell is going on? I saw the news. I realize it’s going to be a shit storm for a while. You knew that was coming.”
“Yeah, I guess I did. And it’s not just a shit storm. You have no idea how many of our fine folks are involved.”
“This all about money, land?”
He rubbed his face then leaned further over the table. “Absolutely. We’re talking doctors, two councilmembers, a high-powered attorney. I don’t know all the details yet because the damn FBI has told us shit, but they’ve been investigating for months. Had no idea.”
“And the poisonings?”
“Just another way of forcing out the ranchers. That much we’d already guessed.”
I glanced out the window, still wondering why the hell I was here. “But?”
“There’s a few things you need to know and if you tell a soul that I said a damn thing, I could lose my job.”
“Garland, just out with it.”
“Ever hear of the Michenzo family?”
“Yeah. Mafia crime family out of Chicago. They were in the news all the time when I was an intern. What does that have to do with an extortion effort in Cheyenne?”
“Millions of dollars,” Garland said under his breath. “Casinos. Seems the Michenzos are expanding out west.”
“And given the difficulties ranchers have had, they thought they’d be able to swoop in.”
Garland nodded. “You know how Cheyenne is. Big little town. They don’t like dealing with out of towners. It took a greedy asshole like Walter to open the door for them. We can handle them. Or maybe I should say the Feds can handle them. That’s not why I asked you here.”
“Then cut to the chase. I have a long day ahead of me.”
He took another look at the other booths before speaking. “I did some searching on Holland, just like you asked.”
“I already know her father is in prison for extortion. Seems like the career of choice.” I took a sip of coffee, barely able to swallow it. She’d seemed out of sorts. I could tell she’d been crying in the shower. She wasn’t telling me everything. “Her mother was killed in an accident and her father refused to have anything to do with her after that, sending her away to live with estranged relatives. She’s embarrassed, refusing to use her given name.”
“That probably saved Holland’s life.”
“What are you getting at, Garland? She’s trying to make a new life for herself. So what? She doesn’t have anything to do with what’s going on here.”
“And I never said she did. I just think you need to distance yourself from her.”
“Why, because of her father? Jesus Christ!” I knew my voice had gone up several notches.
“Calm down,” he hissed, leaning even closer. “I think she has a target on her head.”
“Yeah, you might be right. She was the person who gave that reporter a good deal of information. Some asshole who followed us into the bar the other day is following her, I think.”
Garland sighed. “I doubt it. The Feds have several undercover men in the area and no, I have no idea who they are. What I do know is that Franco Michenzo, son of the mafia Don Antonio Michenzo, is supposedly in town. Evidently, he’s been here for a while.”
“What?”
“Almost exactly the same time frame that Holland has been living here.”
“I’m not making the connection.”
He sighed. “Deborah Holland Parker, daughter of imprisoned financial analyst, Johnathon Parker. His major client and the people he was stealing from? The Michenzo organization. There are reports that Holland’s mother was killed by one of the soldiers, a warning to Johnathon.”
“I don’t understand. What does that have to do with Holland?” Every muscle in my body tensed, the flood of information too much to deal with. Everything she’d told me had been only partially true.
“The money her father took from them was supposedly never recovered. I assure you that her father will be dead within a short period of time unless he plays nice with the Feds, but the crime family won’t order the contract until the organization recovers the money. We’re not talking about a small sum, maybe millions but as you can imagine, the case the Feds have against him has nothing to do with the Michenzos. Therefore, that can’t be verified. They had some low-level snitch tell them a tall tale. The Feds are itching to get their claws into the organization, which is why this particular case in Cheyenne is so important to them. My guess is that they’re going to want to talk to Holland.”
“This is crazy.”
“Maybe, then tell me why the son arrived in town almost the same week that Holland did? Tell me why she’s using a different name. Maybe her father warned her. My guess is that the organization suspects that Holland knows where the money is hidden. If that’s the case, they’re waiting until she leads them to it, which is why she’s untouched.”
I was stunned, unable to think clearly and unable to believe what I was hearing. But I did know one thing for certain.
She was in danger.
“I need to go to her.” I moved to climb out of the booth until he slapped his hand around my arm.
“Don’t go off halfcocked, Montana. I thought you deserved to know but you’re a surgeon. Keep in mind, I just found out the majority of this shit. Those Fed cocksuckers kept everything from my department.” He grumbled under his breath. “However, since Franco has been confirmed as being in town, the Feds are sending a picture of him. Then an APB is going to be issued. You need to allow us to do our jobs.”
“Then why aren’t you protecting her now?”
“Because I didn’t want to do a damn thing until I had a chance to talk to you. Because I just found out this shit two hours ago and I did try and call you earlier. Also, if I go spouting off who she is, don’t you think the Feds might find it far too coincidental?”
“But she did nothing wrong.”
“In whose eyes? Maybe she’s not the innocent girl you think she is.”
Bristling, I jerked out of the booth. “Damn you! If you won’t protect her, I certain as shit will. She is a wonderful woman who is trying to live her life after her father dumped her. Find out where this fucker is.”
“Don’t do this, Montana. Let me do my job!”
Ignoring Garland’s calls, I raced out of the diner, almost blinded as I headed for my truck. By the time I jumped into the driver’s seat, I’d already dialed her number.
Voicemail.
I was shaken, more unnerved that I’d ever been in my life. She’d fallen into a web of deceit. The woman I loved. Jesus Christ. At least I could admit that I’d fallen desperately in love with her.
I was at least thirty minutes from her clinic and house and as I weaved through traffic, going a solid twenty miles in excess of the speed limit, I dared any member of law enforcement to stop me. I didn’t give a shit who her father was or what he’d done in his life. Holland deserved better and I was determined to give it to her.
My gut churned during the entire drive, my heart racing to the point I had difficulty breathing. I tried her three additional times, the last call going directly to voicemail. Either she’d turned off her phone or she was under significant duress.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I slammed my hand on the steering wheel, veering around a mini-van and another car, almost colliding head-on with another vehicle. I was blinded by anger, unable to think clearly or focus. I had only one objective.
Keeping her safe.
When my phone rang, my hands were almost too clammy to answer. I had never been a praying man, but today was different. “Jesus, Garland. What?”
“Look, the picture was sent of Franco.” Garland’s voice held a distinct quaver.
“Okay. Who the fuck is this guy?”
“I’m texting you his picture now. You’re not going to believe it and dammit, you need to stay calm. I know how you get.”
“Whatever. Send the damn picture.” I heard the ding only seconds later and wh
en I pulled the phone in front of my face, I pressed my foot down on the accelerator. No. No fucking way.
“Are you there?” Garland yelled.
“I’m here.”
“We already have deputies out hunting for him. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“So you’ve already told me, but you know how I am. I’ll handle this.”
“Not a damn chance or I’ll be forced to arrest—”
I ended the call, cutting him off and tossing the phone onto the seat. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the lord. Well, hell, I was judge and jury today. Didn’t that count for something? I always carried a weapon behind the seat. I had since my father had purchased my first gun, reminding me that I would never know when I needed firepower.
Today was that day.
I flew up her driveway, ignoring the second call from Garland, jerking the truck to a halt. Her truck was nowhere to be seen, Misty and the foal still in the corral. She would never leave the horses. Never.
Not without a fight or a damn good reason.
I left the truck door open, grabbing my gun and racing toward the front door of her home, pounding several times. Releasing the safety, I checked the number of rounds. Enough. “Holland. Open the door. Come on, honey. Open the door. It’s Montana.”
There were no sounds, no obvious signs of forced entry.
Nothing.
My hackles raised, I did the only thing I knew to do.
I kicked in the door.
There were no overt signs that anyone had been here. Everything was quiet, the two coffee cups remaining on the counter. As I moved through the tiny space, within seconds I knew that she’d left of her own accord, but I could tell she’d been in a hurry.
Drawers left open.
Her closet door ajar.
Even the coffeemaker had been left on.
But there was more.
As I yanked open the closet door, I noticed that it was empty. No clothes. No shoes. Nothing. My God, she was running.
“Where the hell are you?” My own words seemed to echo, wretched in their doleful sound. Where the hell would she go? Something drew my attention to the coffee cup she’d been drinking out of. An envelope.
My fingers were shaking as I dragged it into the light, the sealed lip done with a smack of lipstick. The name on the front? Montana. Why in the hell was I hesitating to open it? I eased the weapon onto the counter before ripping open the envelope. The words were chilling.
Montana,
We can’t run from our pasts. I’ve tried, yet I’m doing it again for a single reason. To save your life. By now, you know all the horrible details about my father. I never wanted to fall in love with you, finding solace in a beautiful city with amazing people. You’ll never hear from me again. Please make certain that Misty and the foal are returned to their owners. Know that I adore you and only want the best. I’ve left something, a letter from my father that I never opened. I suspect it will lead you to money that he extorted from the people he was working for. Find a way to right this wrong, no matter what you have to do. Give it to charity. Find a purpose. I trust you more than anyone I’ve ever known. And remember, you are an amazing man.
Holland
I was thrown, unable to fathom what she was telling me. Seconds flew by, maybe minutes until I realized that tears were sliding down my cheeks. I wiped them away viciously, dragging the second envelope from the package she’d left. The writing was faded, the edges frayed. She hadn’t been lying about never finding out what her father had to say.
I contemplated opening it. Hell, no. This was for her to do when she was ready.
If the woman thought she was going to leave, she was dead wrong.
I barely remembered getting back into my truck or leaving her driveway. I only knew that I had to find her.
Dialing Garland’s number, I cursed the entire time the phone rang. “Where is she?”
“What? You didn’t find her?” Garland growled.
“She left. Find her. She drives an older red Dodge Ram.”
“We’ll find her, Montana. I swear to God. We have a pinpoint on Franco’s Camaro.”
“Where?”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Garland barked.
“Tell me. Now!”
He hissed into the phone. “West of town on State Route 210. Do not, and I repeat, do not do anything stupid. My deputies are on their way.”
“Fuck this.” Pole Mountain? What the hell? The area had previously been military, now turned fully recreational, but the diner’s location had certainly placed me much closer than my ranch. I tossed the phone toward the passenger door, hitting the gas pedal. This was something I was going to finish one way or the other. The road was only two miles ahead of me. Nothing was going to stop me from finding her and I had no doubt who the asshole was chasing.
I’d spent years fighting the caustic rumors and nasty innuendoes. I’d prided myself in moving forward, doing everything I could to forget the past, but the anger had changed me, turning me into the kind of man I could no longer tolerate. This woman, this vibrant and enthusiastic woman had pried apart the armor, her gentle caresses and almost desperate hunger shattering the plates of iron.
There wasn’t a human on Earth who would stop me from protecting her.
Even if it meant foregoing my life.
“Come on, baby,” I hissed under my breath, willing the truck to push hard, cornering the curves like glass.
Route 210. The winding road led up to the mountains, not out of the city.
Holland was being chased.
I maneuvered the twists and turns, only passing two cars in the span of five miles. In my mind, I tried to picture where the asshole could be chasing her to. There were a handful of cabins, as well as a deep lake and a couple of steep cliffs.
The fucker was going to kill her then dump her body.
A few minutes turned into ten. There was no sign of either her truck or the Camaro, the road turning more rural with each mile. My grip on the steering wheel tight, I slowed down, concentrating on the natural paths that had been formed by visitors and locals. The area had some of the most scenic views although the territory could be dangerous as well as devoid of people.
I pulled into three of the tourist parking areas, finding nothing. I was beginning to think this was a wild goose chase.
Until I noticed a crush of vegetation off the beaten track. My instinct kicking into overdrive, I shot the truck into the forest, tires crunching over fallen limbs and brush. I didn’t have to go very far. Holland’s truck was jammed against the base of an oak tree, one sleek black Camaro only inches behind.
I had no time to spare, grabbing another magazine for the Beretta before heading deeper into the woods. I knew the area like the back of my hand, having hunted and fished here since I was a boy. The terrain was rough, rocky as hell, and the drop-offs came unexpectedly.
Let alone the swirling rapids.
Within seconds, I could see their trail meandering through the trees, leading straight toward the water. I didn’t have a moment to lose. With every step, I could see her face, almost hear her sassy laugh, a voice that was both aggravating and enticing at the same time.
Soon, my mind wasn’t wrapped around a fantasy.
I heard her angry bellow. She was one pissed-off woman.
All I could do now was pray and hope for a perfect shot.
I crept lower to the ground, using the dense foliage as camouflage. Then I heard his voice and there wasn’t a portion of my body that didn’t erupt in fire.
“We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Deborah.” His deep baritone rang out over the cackling sounds of birds.
“I don’t have whatever it is you’re looking for,” Holland insisted.
“I think you do,” he continued.
“I’m not the girl you think I am. My name is Holland Kennedy,” she said with defiance.
I crept closer, still unable to catch a good look at either of them.
Then he laughed, th
e same laugh I’d heard dozens if not hundreds of times. Full of arrogance. Full of entitlement.
“You’re not a very good liar, Deborah. Besides, you look almost exactly like your mother.”
“How dare you! Don’t you fucking say a word about my mother!” I could hear her gasp, as if admitting her true identity would exacerbate her dire situation.
“You’re going to turn the money over to me that your father owes my family. Then I’ll consider letting you go.”
Holland laughed. “I don’t have any money, you asshole.”
“Such a good little liar. You did turn out to be a beautiful woman. If only I could keep you. In a cage.” His words were the last straw.
Franco, or the man I knew as Jack Samoa, already had his target in his grasp. All he was doing was taunting her.
I shifted closer still, taking careful steps among the fallen leaves, finally able to catch a glimpse of both. He had his gun almost casually pointed at her, his usual scrubs replaced by dark jeans and a deep red polo.
“I should have killed you in the hospital,” Franco said, chuckling darkly as he reached into his pocket.
A silencer. The fucker was retrieving a silencer.
“Then why didn’t you? Too much of a coward?” Holland demanded.
I could tell from where I was positioned that she was still scanning the area carefully, searching for a way out.
This might be the only advantage that I had. I stepped out of the bank of trees, the Beretta pointed at his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Jack, or would you prefer I call you Franco? Not unless you want a bullet in your skull. Now drop your weapon.”
“Jack will do. I kinda liked being a local doctor. You know, my father always taught me that I could do anything I wanted to do. He never insisted that I work in the family business.”
“Business, you’re going to call murder a business?” Holland threw in.
He shot her an angry look, his heated gaze turning into a leer. “You do have your hands full, Montana. She’s much stronger than her worthless father.”
“Goddamn you!” she hissed.
“Leave her out of this,” I insisted, taking a single step closer. “Is this all about revenge?”
