Chapter 14
Garrett had never been so torn in his life. He'd always been the responsible one. The one who looked out for his family. He'd always made sure they were all right. To let Wes come along when he pitted himself against Vincent de Lorean was going against everything he'd been practicing his whole life. To drag a stranger like Lash in on it and maybe risk his life, as well, was not something he would have considered.
But Chelsea was at risk. Dammit, if he took them along, he risked their lives, and if he didn't?if he didn't, he might just be risking Chelsea's.
The choice had been taken firmly from his hands when Wes and Lash had steadfastly insisted they were coming with him, no matter what he said or did. But he still worried.
And then, unexpectedly, the choice was dropped right back into his lap again. Wes and Lash had gone into Quinn-Wes to call Adam in New York just to be sure the kids arrived there safely. They didn't dare use the phone at the ranch because Lash had suggested it might be tapped. Lash wanted to pick up a few things from his place. Weapons, Garrett figured. Most men were more comfortable using their own guns when push came to shove. Lash was probably no different.
So Garrett was left alone in the house. He had the niggling suspicion it was fate that had arranged things this way. Garrett never had been one to argue with fate.
He sat in the rocker in the living room, holding his big denim shirt. It was the one he'd used to cover Chelsea's body with last night when they'd fallen asleep under the stars. Her scent remained on the shirt, its very softness making him think of her. He sat there, running it through his hands, pressing it to his face to inhale her fragrance.
Chelsea. She'd been hurt and he'd made a vow to himself that he'd never let that woman be hurt again. But maybe she was being hurt right now. Maybe de Lo-rean?.
He'd kill the bastard.
Images of her frightened eyes haunted Garrett. He hoped to God this episode didn't scar her injured heart still further. Damn, it wasn't fair for one woman to have to go through so much! The crap she'd been fed all her life had left her incapable of trusting him, of loving him. Men like her father and de Lorean had robbed her, and in doing so, they'd robbed Garrett, as well. He'd been denied something more precious than life-Chelsea Brennan's heart. Garrett realized then that it wasn't her fault she couldn't feel anything for him. It was selfish of him to get so angry over it.
Didn't matter that she was incapable of loving him. Didn't matter at all. All that mattered was getting her out of this mess alive and unharmed. If de Lorean hurt her, he'd-
The telephone snapped Garrett out of the chair like a shot. He snatched up the receiver before it even finished ringing.
"Garrett Brand?"
"De Lorean," Garrett growled. "Where is Chelsea? I want to speak to her."
"Do you have my son?" de Lorean asked, that calm, smooth voice flowing through the phone lines like honey. "Are you ready to return him to me?"
"Whatever it takes." A bald-faced lie, yes. Garrett had no compunction about lying to a killer.
"Good. Now, I want you to meet me-"
"No way, de Lorean. Not until I talk to her."
There was a long pause. A ripple in the bastard's unshakable calm? "All right."
Another pause, this one brief. "Garrett?"
Every cell in his body came to life at the sound of her voice. "Chelsea, are you all right? Has he-"
"I'm sorry, Garrett. This is all my fault. I was so-"
"It's not your fault," he told her quickly. "I'm coming for you, Chelsea. It's gonna be all right."
"No! Don't do this, Garrett. Don't risk your life for me. I'm not worth-"
Her words were suddenly cut off. De Lorean's voice came back on the line. "I wouldn't advise you to take the lady's advice, Brand. It could prove very unhealthy for her."
"If you hurt her, de Lorean, I swear to God-"
"You'll come alone," the man continued as if Garrett hadn't spoken. "If I get even an inkling you haven't followed my instructions to the letter, I'll put a bullet in Miss
Brennan's pretty face. The only person with you will be my son. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly."
"Good. You'll meet me in one hour at Thompson Gorge. Alone. When I have my son in my arms, I'll release Miss Brennan. Then we can all go our separate ways. Agreed?"
The creep was lying through his teeth. There was no way in hell he intended to let Garrett leave Thompson Gorge alive. The very fact he'd chosen a box canyon with only one way in and out, a place only accessible on horseback, was proof enough of that. Garrett swallowed his rage. "Agreed."
There was a click, and then the silence of a dead phone line. Garrett held the receiver in his hand for a long time. He had one chance, and one chance only. He had to get there first, find himself some cover and hope to God he could get Chelsea behind a rock before the shooting started. And he was going in alone. Leaving before Wes and Lash returned. They'd have no way of knowing where he'd headed. By the time they figured out where, he'd gone, if they ever did, it would all be over.
Garrett put the phone down and crossed the room to unlock the gun cabinet.
Lash knew something was up the second he and Wes walked into the empty house. Garrett had refused to leave the house with them in case Chelsea or de Lorean called. He wouldn't have left now. Not unless?.
Wes cussed, and Lash turned to see his black eyes narrow as he scanned the gun cabinet in the corner.
"What is it?"
Wes took off his Stetson and slammed it onto the back of the couch. "Some of the guns are missing. Two forty-fives and the Winchester. Dammit, de Lorean must have called early."
"But Garrett's pickup is still out front." Lash parted the curtains to look again, just to verify he'd seen the big truck the first time.
"Come on." Wes snatched his hat and strode out of the room. Lash followed. He had an inkling, but it was confirmed when Wes stomped out the door, crossed the front lawn and stopped at the corral where the horses grazed. The scowl on Wes's face was all the confirmation Lash needed. "Garrett's horse and saddle are gone. Damn him, he's taken off on his own. I should have known better than to leave him for a second. The oversize, overprotective, damned-"
"Who the hell??" Lash interrupted Wes's tirade when he saw the old pickup bounding into the driveway, passengers in both the front and back.
Wes followed Lash's gaze and started swearing all over again as the pickup came to a halt and people started piling out. Two men Lash didn't recognize-one so big and blond that Lash thought he must be some out-of-time Viking, and the other smaller, but powerfully built and dark like Garrett. Then came Elliot. And Jessi.
Pretty, stubborn, long-legged Jessi, with her jaw set and her chin up high. Looked like she was ready for a fight and more than willing.
Wes continued swearing, but shut up when the two men approached, grim-faced.
Jessi made a beeline for Lash. Her hand closed on his forearm, and she stood too damned close for comfort. The last thing he needed was hot-tempered Wes thinking Lash had eyes for his little sister.
"Lash, these are my brothers, Adam and Ben," Jessi said. "Guys, this is Lash. The one I told you about."
Oh, great, Lash thought. More Brand brothers. Just what he needed.
"Where's Garrett?" She turned her big brown eyes on Lash, and he thought he'd rather take on all her brothers than tell her.
"Took off on his own," Wes said, not too tactfully elbowing his way between them and taking Jessi's arm. "I'm afraid he's gone to meet de Lorean."
Her eyes widened, and the others muttered.
"He'll get himself killed, Wes. Why did you let him-"
"I didn't let him, Jessi. He gave us the slip the second we turned our backs. You know how he is."
"What the hell are we gonna do?"
"Watch your mouth, Jessi," the Viking told her. Ben, Lash reminded himself.
"Look, we only know he didn't go too far away. He took Duke," Wes explained.
"Duke
can cover a lot of ground." Jessi gnawed her lower lip?her very full and rather sensual-looking lower lip, Lash noticed, then kicked himself for noticing. She nodded twice, firmly. "Okay, we'll have to track him. Wes, you and Ben go on inside and grab some weapons. Adam and Elliot, saddle up six horses. Lash and I will take a look and see if we can spot Duke's tracks."
Adam and Ben exchanged surprised glances, maybe because of their baby sister's take-charge attitude and no-nonsense tone.
"Five horses," Wes said, not moving a muscle. "Jessi, you're staying here."
"The hell I am."
"The hell you aren't."
The two faced each other, almost nose-to-nose. "Dammit, Wes, there's not one of you who's a better shot than I am and you all know it. Not to mention that I'm the best tracker. You gonna risk Garrett's life just so you can keep your image of your innocent, helpless baby sister intact?"
"Damn straight I am."
"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. "You all just saddle up and go on without me. Two minutes after you leave, I'll be heading out on my own. And the way you guys read sign, I'll probably find Garrett and this de Lorean jerk before you do. But I'm sure my big brother and I can handle it on our own. Don't you worry about us."
Damn, but she was something else, this woman. Er, girl, Lash reminded himself. She couldn't be very old. What, twenty-two or twenty-three at the most? Really just a kid.
She sure as hell wasn't acting like a kid, though.
Wes was looking scared he might just lose this battle. "What about little Ethan?" he asked, and Lash recognized it as a last-ditch effort.
"Safe and sound with Marisella. Now are you gonna stand here arguing while Garrett gets himself killed, or are we going after him?"
"We're going after him." It wasn't Wes who spoke, but Ben-the blond one. He came forward and put an arm around Jessi's shoulders. "You've grown up, little sister."
"I'm glad somebody noticed," she snapped. "Now let's move. Come on, Lash. Let's go look for those tracks."
"Help the boys saddle those horses, Lash," Wes ordered. "I'll help Jes look for the trail." At his sister's killing glance, he added, "It's in my blood, sis. Don't forget I'm half-Comanche."
He sent a sideways glance at Lash that said plainly he would also be willing to scalp his enemies should the need arise. Lash swallowed hard, walked to the corral and grabbed a saddle.
Garrett crouched behind a boulder about five yards in from the canyon's entrance. A steep, rocky wall rose at his back. There was another one just like it fifty yards to his right and another one across from him. On his left was the opening-the only way in. And the only way out. That was the direction he watched. De Lorean would have to enter from there.
A couple of times, as he crouched there, Garrett heard the telltale clatter of pebbles and dirt tumbling down the canyon walls. Someone was on the ledge above, no doubt about that. Probably several someones. De Lorean's men. The back of Garrett's neck prickled, and his back felt sorely exposed. He didn't think they'd seen him yet. But if they did, he would be an easy shot. And once they saw he didn't have the baby, they wouldn't hesitate.
No breeze stirred in the canyon. It was darker here, Garrett thought, than any place on earth. No moon tonight. And though he could see a rectangle of star-dotted sky above him, its light didn't make the place any brighter. Every sound echoed endlessly. The Comanche believed the place to be bad medicine. And no wonder. Many an ambush had occurred within these towering stone walls. A lot of blood had soaked the ground here.
He looked up again, eyes scanning the rim. But it was too dark. Even if they were up there, he wouldn't be able to see them. He crouched until his thigh muscles screamed, checked his watch time and again.
Finally, ten minutes early, the headlights of a Jeep bounced into view. Garrett grimaced in surprise. De Lorean must have had the thing customized for rough terrain. No normal vehicle, even a four-wheel-drive one, could handle the trek out here. The vehicle came to a stop at the canyon's entrance. The lights remained on, effectively blinding Garrett to the people beyond them. He only knew they got out when he heard the doors slam. And then he heard de Lorean's voice.
"Brand. Are you here?"
"Turn off the lights," Garrett replied. "Or you'll never see your son."
De Lorean's laugh was low and ominous, and it bounced from the stone and rolled through the canyon. "You're in no position to be giving orders. Step out where I can see you."
Garrett drew a breath. "We can argue about it all night. I don't move until the lights go out."
"I don't think we'll argue about it at all, Brand. You see, I have Miss Brennan, and I have a very short temper. Oh, but you can't see me, can you? Well, then, listen."
Chelsea cried out. Not loudly. It was obvious she was struggling not to make a sound. But the bastard hurt her enough so the cry was torn from her throat, and Garrett's stomach clenched so hard and fast he thought he'd vomit.
If he stepped out from behind this rock, he was a dead man. The men on the rim above would pick him off so quick he'd never know what hit him. But if he remained hidden and safe, the bastard would torture Chelsea. Damn, if only he'd shut those headlights off.
Garrett eyed a group of boulders closer to the canyon's entrance and the wide stretch of coverless ground in between. If he could make it there, the lights wouldn't be in his eyes. He might be able to get a shot. But he might not be fast enough. And for the first few yards, those head-lights would make him a sitting duck. Still, he had to try. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off and ran.
True to her claim, Jessi Brand turned out to be one hell of a tracker. They picked up the trail right away and rode for all they were worth, only stopping when Wes held up a hand.
The horses stopped in a cloud of dust as Wes tilted his head in a listening posture.
"What is it?" Lash whispered.
"I heard a vehicle."
"Thompson Gorge is up ahead," Jessi said softly. "God, Wes, Garrett wouldn't have gone in there, would he? He'd have to know it was a trap."
"He'd go," Wes replied, his tone grim. "If it was for Chelsea, he'd go. Dammit, de Lorean will have snipers lining the rim of that godforsaken canyon."
"Not for long, he won't," Adam said. His eyes met each of his brothers in turn, making his meaning clear.
Ben nodded his blond head in agreement. "We take them out. At least give Garrett a fighting chance."
"Leave the horses here," Wes said. "We'll go in on foot."
Elliot lifted the neatly looped rope from his saddle and ran his hands over it. He dismounted and the others followed suit.
Lash got down, too, but his throat was suddenly very dry. "You?uh?we aren't going to just kill them, are we?"
Wes grinned at him. "Only if we have to. What's a matter, Lash, you got a weak stomach?"
"Shut up, Wes," Jessi snapped. "Lash, we aren't going to kill anyone. Contrary to first impressions, the Brands are not barbarians."
"Speak for yourself, Jes," Wes returned sharply. But then his voice softened. "I don't suppose I could convince you to stay here with the horses, could I?"
Jessi shook her head firmly and poked a bullet into the chamber of her rifle to emphasize the point.
Wes sighed hard, but started off at a quick, silent pace. When they could make out the shapes of horses in the darkness ahead, Wes whispered, "Fan out. Adam and Ben, work around to the far side of the canyon. Elliot and Lash, you take the end. Jes, you and I will work in from this side. Move in and take them out fast and quiet, then move on to see if you're needed elsewhere."
"Seven horses," Jessi whispered from her crouching position on the ground. "One of us will have to handle two men. Be ready for that."
They broke up and slowly worked their way around the canyon. Lash kept one eye on young Jessi. He was worried about her, and if he'd been her brother, he thought he'd have argued harder against her coming along. Not that it would have done much good. He could still make out her form in the darknes
s as she crept from boulder to bush, working her way closer and closer to the canyon's edge. And when he looked off in the direction she moved, he saw a man standing there, his back to her, a rifle cradled in his arms. He shivered.
Elliot's elbow dug into Lash's rib cage. "Pay attention to your own problems, Lash. Jessi can handle herself."
Lash followed Elliot's pointed gaze and spotted two more armed men standing at the lip, about ten yards apart.
Lash swallowed hard and started off after the closest man. He only turned once when he heard a soft, whirring sound. Then he saw Elliot's rope sail through the night, settle around the second man, and jerk sharply backward. The man was yanked off his feet, landing hard on his back with a low grunt. Before he could utter a cry, Elliot had pounced on him. Lash heard the thud of knuckles connecting with flesh just once. The guy didn't move again.
Lash wanted to check on Jessi, but there was no time. He moved forward rapidly, and grabbed the man hard, one hand covering his mouth, the other pressing the gun barrel into his spine. "Not a sound, pal, or you'll be singing with the angels."
The man nodded. Lash liberated the man from his weapon, then snatched the duct tape from his belt and managed to tear a strip off with his teeth. He sealed the man's lips, then bound him hand and foot and left him on the ground. He quickly made his way back to where Jessi was just moving up on her target. He wasn't close enough to intervene, though he tried to hurry.
She moved like a panther, he thought as he watched her in awe. Those long limbs stretched out to bring her closer and closer to her prey, soundless and deadly. Not a hint of hesitation or fear. But damn, he couldn't stand to see it and not try to help. He moved still faster and stepped on a twig. The snap seemed as loud as cannon fire. The man whirled on Lash, gun raised. Jessi launched herself at him. She landed on his back, knocking him facedown in the dirt, and his gun skidded away from him. She gave him one sharp crack on the head with the butt end of her rifle.
Voices floated up from below. De Loiean's. Garrett's. Then Chelsea cried out in pain.
Jessi ran to the edge, and Lash followed just in time to see Garrett's fully illuminated form rush out from behind some rocks right into the open. From the corner of his eye, Lash spotted movement and turned to see another sniper raising his rifle, sighting in on Garrett. Lash took a single step, but it was unnecessary. A huge knife sailed out of nowhere, flying end over end and sinking deep between the sniper's shoulder blades. The man groaned and sank to his knees. The rifle fell at his feet. Wes stepped out from behind some brush, came forward, bent down and yanked the bowie knife from the dead man's back. Then he calmly wiped the bloody blade clean on a patch of crabgrass before replacing it in his boot.
Below, in the canyon, Garrett dived behind another group of boulders.
"You're trying my patience, Brand!" De Lorean's voice rang clearly from below, and then Chelsea screamed again.
"Come on," Wes whispered. "Let's get over to the other side. That bastard keeps hurting her, Garrett's gonna lose it and probably get himself killed."
The four of them ran around the back of the canyon, then crept up the other side. They only halted when they spotted Adam and Ben surrounded by four, not three, of de Lorean's goons.
"Damn, I must have missed a horse! I only counted seven sets of tracks!" Jessi shouldered her rifle. Lash saw her. Everyone else was too busy watching the fight. Seemed he was the only one whose eyes were constantly on Jessi. He covered her hands with his and pushed the gun down. "If de Lorean hears a shot, he might kill Chelsea then and there, Jes."
Wes's head snapped around. "He's right. The only way we can help Adam and Ben is if we can get close enough to jump the bastards."
"Help Ben, you mean," Elliot whispered as they all moved closer. "Look."
A meaty fist had connected with Adam's jaw, and he'd fallen backward, his head hitting a boulder. He didn't move again.
"I'll kill that oversize son of a- "
Jessi's threat was cut off then, because Ben seemed to launch himself into the air, kicking high with one leg, snapping one man's head back so hard Lash thought he'd broken the guy's neck. When he landed, Ben ducked another blow, rolled, sprang to his feet and grabbed another man. The man flew through the air and landed with a heavy thud. Ben never stopped moving. He whirled like a maddened dervish, and with his foot, his foot, he delivered so many rapid-fire, hard blows to the face that his lumberjack-size opponents were left teetering and blinking and dazed. And then, one by one they collapsed.
Ben lowered his hands to his sides, turned and bent over his brother. The others joined him there.
"Just what in the Sam Hill was that?" Wes demanded. But he, too, bent over the unconscious Adam, examining the cut on his head. "I've never seen a guy as big as you move like that!"
"Just something I picked up," Ben said. "Never thought I'd have to use it in a fight, though."
"What the hell else would you use it for?"
Ben lifted his pain-filled eyes to meet Wes's. "Peace," he said softly.
Lash knew, because Jessi had told him, about Ben's short marriage to the woman he'd known was dying from the day he'd met her. And he knew Ben had taken off right after he'd buried his young wife. Gone into seclusion in the wilds of Tennessee.
"Did it work?" Wes asked, his voice soft, husky.
Ben lowered his eyes. "Not yet."
Adam groaned a little, and his eyes fluttered open.
"You'd best not spend too much more time in New York City," Wes said, gripping his hand and pulling him to his feet. "It's making you soft."
"He caught me by surprise," Adam argued, but he looked rather sheepish as he dusted himself off.
From below in the canyon, Chelsea cried out again, and every eye turned in that direction.
"We'd better get down there," Jessi said. "And we'd better make it fast."
A Brand of Christmas Page 15