“Wayne!” she called, knowing what he likely had in mind when he returned to the front room. “You can’t drink beer with your pills.”
He paused in the doorway but didn’t turn.
“If you drink any more or take any more pills now, you could put yourself in a coma. You’ve already overdosed.”
Shifting the ice pack to his gun hand, he grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door shut.
“That bastard,” Dave grumbled. In a softer tone, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
“No. Just...so frustrated.” Lilly exhaled in disappointment. Her body sagged in defeat, only to have the belt around her throat tug tighter. Her heart scampered at the implications of her predicament. Any twisting or shifting to try to get free of her new restraints could draw the belt tighter. She could breathe for now, but if the leather strap cinched much tighter, she could strangle. “Can you see what he did with his belt this time?”
“Hell, now what’d he do?” She heard a grunt, and the bed wiggled some as his feet kicked the side. He sat up and peered at her over the edge of the mattress. His face hardened, but his eyes were full of sympathy for her. “Damn it, Lilly. I’m sorry. Can you breathe?”
“As long as I don’t move.” She sighed, knowing that it would be a long night, that any time she nodded off and let her head droop, she’d pull the belt noose tighter.
Dave’s lips firmed, and he gave a nod as if he’d made a decision. “Hang on.”
She gave a short wry laugh. “Not much else I can do but hang out here.”
The bed jiggled some more, and Dave growled under his breath. “C’mon, c’mon! Ahh!”
“Dave? What—?”
“Almost...there...” The words sounded as if they’d been pushed through clenched teeth.
Lilly used her feet to scoot an inch or two higher on the bed, carefully repositioning. Only then did it dawn on her that Wayne hadn’t bound her feet. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going anywhere with her hands taped to hell and back and the belt ready to hang her if she slumped. She closed her eyes and tried not to let defeatist thoughts fill her mind. As bleak as their situation was, she had to keep believing that she and Dave could find a way out, a way to survive.
Doubt demons nipped at her, trying to drag her down. She’d let negativity win after her divorce, and she’d sunk into an abyss that had taken months to drag herself free from. In hindsight, she could see that a lot of her doubts were rooted in her father’s departure when she was young. If Daddy couldn’t love her enough to stay, why should she expect her husband to love her any better?
A knot of emotion gripped her throat, and she forced herself to relax, to redirect her thoughts, to dig deep for an optimism that would help her through this mess.
“Yes!” Dave said, and the relief in his tone pulled her from her morose musing.
“What happened?”
Rather than an answer, she heard more grunting and shuffling. And then Dave’s head rose above the mattress, and he struggled awkwardly to his feet.
“You got your feet loose!”
He flashed a cocky grin that made her pulse scamper. “I did.”
“But...how?”
“Persistence. And the metal edge of the mattress frame.” Dave rolled his shoulders and gave each of his legs a shake. “And pain. Damn, it hurts to pull leg hair.” He eyed his discarded socks and boots and blew out a puff of air. “I guess you don’t want the boots on the bedspread?”
“Um...” She was still processing his freedom and the possible ramifications. “Huh?”
He turned and sat on the bed next to her and scooted close to her. “No dirty boots on the bed. Helen hated that.”
She blinked at him as he settled on the mattress, anxiety knotting her gut. “You’re not going to try to confront Wayne again, are you?”
Even as she asked, she wasn’t sure if she was hoping his answer was yes or no. The idea of Dave challenging Wayne in any capacity sent cold frissons of fear trickling through her.
He propped himself against the headboard and sighed. “I’d like nothing more than to go mano a mano with him, but as long as my hands are tied, so are my options. I took a shot earlier when he was unarmed, and you saw how badly that went. So...” He huffed. “You know the expression ‘Discretion is the better part of valor,’ right?”
She angled her gaze toward him. “I do.” She paused, flashing him a teasing smile. “A little surprised that you do, though.”
He scoffed his affront. “Oh, brutal, Lil! You think because I herd cattle for a living that I’m uneducated?”
She blinked. Despite the humor in his tone, she heard defensiveness, as well. “I didn’t say that. And I was teasing. Touchy touchy.” Then, because she needed to distract herself from the echoing memory of Wayne firing his gun and the pain of the tape biting her wrists, she added under her breath, “Betcha don’t know where the saying came from.”
Dave angled a narrow-eyed, speculative glance at her. After a moment he said, “Shakespeare?”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“Because I’m not. Totally guessing here.”
She nudged him with her shoulder, grateful that he’d picked up her attempt at distraction. Her nerves were raw, and anything she could do to keep herself from dwelling on her failed attempt to disarm Wayne was welcome. “Then it was a good guess. It is from Shakespeare.”
He chuckled, the sound a sexy low rumble from his chest. “Damn, I’m good. My mother would’ve been so proud, me getting a Shakespeare question right.”
She snorted. “Why is that?”
“She used to teach AP English lit and creative writing at my high school.”
“Used to? She’s retired?” Lilly asked, gladly latching on to the new topic of conversation and intrigued by the peek into Dave’s family history.
“Yes, years ago. She passed away last year. Alzheimer’s.” Then, as if reading her mind he explained, “I was a surprise, late-in-life baby. She was seventy when she died.”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip and sighed. She knew a thing or two about the struggle of taking care of an ill parent. “Did Helen tell you about our mom? That she was bipolar?”
Why had she said that? She usually kept that aspect of her childhood to herself.
“She told me your mom had bouts of depression,” he said, his tone gentle. “I figured it was because your dad left, because of your financial struggles.”
“That played into it, too. But she was ill. I didn’t know that was the reason for her mood and behavior swings until I was older and learning about such things in college. We didn’t talk about it. It just...was our life.”
Without thinking, she slumped a bit and the belt tightened. When she coughed and turned her head, trying to loosen the strap around her neck, Dave sent her a worried look.
“Here.” He adjusted his position, snuggling close to her and pushing his shoulder up right next to her cheek. “There. Lean on me to sleep. I’ll help you stay upright and that should keep the belt from choking you.”
“That’s so... Thank you, Dave.” She felt a tender ache tug below her ribs. Something more than gratitude. Affection? Could she really have done a complete about-face in her feelings for Dave in less than twenty-four hours? Helen had been right about his charm. And she’d seen his courage, his caring.
She closed her eyes and felt the weight of the day, the stress and fear, sitting heavily on her. She needed sleep but her mind wouldn’t quiet. Feeling Dave beside her, his body propping hers, gave her a measure of peace and security, though. At least she wasn’t going through this horror alone. As selfish as it was of her to be glad he was there with her...there it was. Misery loved company.
She thought about Helen, how her sister had been alone when she was killed. She hated to imagine her sister’s final moments, her pain, her terror. A familiar acid bite
gnawed her gut. She’d probably never have true peace in regard to her sister’s murder. And Dave had known the man who’d killed her. How much harder must it be for him to grapple with?
“Tell me about the man who killed Helen,” she said quietly. “The police said he claimed it was an accident.”
“Yeah. That’s what he said.” Dave sighed, making the shoulder she rested her cheek against lift and fall. “Roy isn’t a bad person. Not really. Just someone who made a lot of terrible, tragic mistakes.”
“Then you believe him? That it was an accident?”
“I do. That doesn’t make losing her hurt any less. And I can’t say I’ll ever find the grace to forgive him. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s all still too recent, too raw, to go there yet. Maybe one day...”
Bitterness grew in her. “I’m not sure how I can ever let him off the hook. He took my sister.”
“I get that. But I believe forgiveness isn’t about letting the other person off the hook. Roy will pay the consequences of his actions, serve his time. Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting, either. It’s about letting go of the anger that is living in you. You only hurt yourself by holding on to anger.”
Lilly blinked, stunned by Dave’s insight, then chastened herself. Why couldn’t she have that kind of practical wisdom?
“I...guess so.”
“Forgiving is about giving yourself a chance to heal,” he said, his tone as much a balm as his words. “It’s not for them. It’s something you have to do, for yourself.”
Tears filled her eyes again, and she gritted her teeth and worked to suppress the urge to cry. With her hands bound, she didn’t need to get weepy and make her nose run.
Helen had told her she’d had deep, meaningful conversations with Dave through the years. He was a thinker, always analyzing and trying to make sense of the world. And he was spiritual, her sister had said, raised going to church. What he said made sense to her, and she let the sentiment settle inside her.
“For myself,” she muttered softly, then added, “I have a lot of people I need to forgive.”
“Am I one of them?”
“I—” She angled her gaze, trying to see his face, but she couldn’t. “Not anymore. I know I came at you with both barrels earlier. And I’m not saying I think you were totally innocent of all the stuff Helen complained about, but now that I know you better...”
“Hmm. There’s always another side, huh?” He sounded thoughtful, and her curiosity was piqued.
“Do you have someone or something in mind?”
“Lots. Besides what Roy did to Helen, I’m mainly thinking about Wayne. Your idea to get to know him makes sense. To make this situation more personal for him. Why’s he doing all this? Who does he care about? Does he have family, a girlfriend or wife, kids? If we knew him better, we might have better luck negotiating with—” Dave yawned, then continued, “Excuse me. I still keep rancher hours, which means I’ve been up since before the sun.”
“We should both sleep. I don’t see any way we’re getting free tonight, and we need to be sharp tomorrow. Who knows what could happen once Wayne’s had time to think about the situation.”
“Right.” He rested his cheek on the top of her head, his breath stirring her hair and warming her scalp. The position of her body snuggled against his, and vice versa, made the shared conversation in the dark bedroom feel even more intimate.
Dave had both provided her comfort and stirred up restless notions that churned in her mind. Forgiveness, personal healing...getting to know Wayne and how he ticked.
What motivated their captor? How could they use what they knew to save themselves?
Even when she and Dave had fought back, Wayne hadn’t killed them. Yet. She ruminated on that fact. Why had he not killed them?
Dave had been smart, offering his services to fix up Wayne’s rattletrap getaway vehicle. And she’d been needed for her medical services. Was it as simple as that? Was Wayne keeping them alive as long as they were potentially useful to him? Or was there still a seed of humanity, an inkling of conscience, that shied from the idea of cold-blooded murder?
He’d killed the bank guard, yes. But it was possible, in his twisted logic, that he saw that kill as necessary to execute the bank heist. So what would happen if and when he felt stronger and was ready to make his run for the Mexican border? Would they be unneeded at that point?
They couldn’t become expendable. When Wayne viewed them as a liability, she feared he’d find it too easy to be rid of them. For good.
Chapter 12
A muscle cramp woke Lilly the next morning, and when she automatically tried to reach for the seizing muscle, the belt noose jerked against her neck. She muttered a curse word and gritted her teeth against the pain.
Either her movement or her cussing, maybe both, woke Dave. “Lilly? What happened?”
His voice was craggy with sleep, but just his presence beside her, knowing he’d propped her up through the night, filled her with a gratitude and reassurance that took the edge off her physical discomfort. She’d faced so many difficulties in her life without anyone to support her, but she wasn’t going through this ordeal alone. “Muscle cramp, but then the belt tightened on my throat, and—Not a good way to wake up.”
His drowsy gaze softened with sympathy, and the soft stir of butterfly wings joined the gnawing ache of hunger in her belly. As much as she hated the fact that Dave was in this position, had even been injured, she couldn’t deny the selfish consolation she took in having him with her.
“Think I can do anything to help?” He shifted on the bed to face her more directly. “I’ll be fumbling blindly, but I can probably loosen the belt some.”
“If you could—”
The bedroom door opened, and Dave stiffened and sat straighter, clearly on full alert.
From the hall, Wayne glared at them with bloodshot eyes. He held the gun in one hand and leaned heavily against the door frame. His nose was swollen, slightly crooked and horribly discolored. His rumpled clothes, creased brow and dark scowl all said he felt miserable, and his churlish mood echoed that assessment. “Get up.” He motioned the gun in a small circle. “You’re gonna help me.”
He glanced at Dave, frowned, but didn’t say anything about the fact that Dave was not on the floor where Wayne had left him. Still, Wayne’s dour expression didn’t bode well for how the day might go.
Lilly raised her chin and asked, “Help with what?”
Their captor moved into the bedroom, his gait slow and dragging, but he was no longer swaying. “My side is throbbing, my head feels like crap and I’m hungry.” He gingerly touched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, then added, “And your cat has been yowling at me from under the dining table for the last couple hours.”
Lilly raised her eyebrows, her pulse quickening when she thought of Maddie, vulnerable to Wayne’s ill temper. “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”
Wayne met her eyes with a look that said he was offended by the suggestion. “No. But you need to do something to shut her up. She’s driving me crazy.”
“She wants breakfast.”
“Yeah, well, so do I,” he groused. “So you can fix both of us something to eat while you’re at it.” He moved closer, raising his shirt and pointing to his bullet wound. “But first you’re going to do something for this. It feels worse today than yesterday.”
“Serves you right,” Dave grumbled under his breath.
Lilly sent her co-captive a quelling look and quietly shushed him.
Even without a close examination, she could tell Wayne’s wound was inflamed. The skin around the bandage was bright pink and looked swollen. “I’ll do what I can. What you really need is an antibiotic and the kind of thorough cleaning and disinfecting you can only get at a doctor’s office.”
“Where, by law, he’d have to report the gunshot wound and bring i
n the cops? Nah, that ain’t happening,” he said, stepping up beside the bed and staring down at her. “You’ll have to do what you can.”
After stuffing the gun in the waistline of his jeans, he reached for the belt that cinched her throat. Wayne stared at the leather strap, his brow beetled in confusion. “How’d this get around your neck like that?”
“You don’t remember?” Dave asked.
“Would I have asked if I could remember?” Wayne snapped, curling his lip.
“You put it on me like this. But you were pretty doped up last night on beer and pain pills. It’s no wonder you don’t remember.” Her tone scolded him. “You’re lucky to have woken up this morning.”
Wayne glowered at her. “I don’t feel lucky. I feel like hell.” Dividing a look between them, he asked, “Which one of you jerks broke my nose?”
Dave chuckled darkly. “You did that to yourself, man.” He gritted his teeth and added, “When you crashed my truck.”
Wayne arched an eyebrow, staring back at Dave with an expression that said their captor was playing catch-up, mentally trying to recall the past evening. And coming up blank. “Whatever.”
“Wayne,” Lilly said, “please cut my hands loose. I have to pee in the worst way. Have a heart, and let me use the bathroom before we do anything else.”
With a growl rumbling from his chest, Wayne unfastened the belt and used his pocketknife to saw through the tape at her wrists. “Don’t be long,” he said, tipping his head toward the bathroom.
“Thank you,” she gushed, earnest in her enthusiasm. Rubbing her sore wrists and rolling her stiff shoulders, Lilly scrambled off the bed and hurried to use the facilities.
“And no tricks!” Wayne added. “Remember I still have your boyfriend out here.”
Through the closed door, she heard Dave counter, “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“What. Ever.”
Hearing Dave deny any relationship between them caused a strange jab to her gut. He spoke the truth, but for him to purposely distance himself from her... Well, it hurt. Which was ludicrous. But there it was. She flashed mentally to Alan’s parting words when he’d walked out of their apartment, their marriage for the last time. The empty maw of wondering and unanswered questions surrounding her father’s disappearance when she was nine years old. Helen’s death. So many people she’d loved...gone.
Rancher's Hostage Rescue Page 11
