Foot by foot, they moved forward. Once the sedan slid back behind deVries’s to let a car pass. A couple of miles later, a truck came from the other direction, and the driver reduced speed long enough to exchange waves.
“That’s the vet,” Kallie commented. “Probably making a house call. He sure cut it close. The roads are going to be impassable soon.”
“Fuck,” deVries muttered. Where are you, Lindsey? Worry and fury roiled inside his chest. He’d kill them when he found them. If they hurt her, hurt Becca. Jesus, the baby was out in this shit somewhere.
“Why isn’t Virgil here?” Kallie asked.
“Masterson and Ware stayed in town to make calls. They’re looking for new rentals.”
“Got it.” She leaned out so far he grabbed the back of her coat to ensure she didn’t fall out. “Slow down. There’s a road around here.”
“There.” Dixon pointed, and deVries braked.
Kallie jumped out.
Before he could get out, she’d popped back in. “Hasn’t been used today.”
Seeing her shiver, he turned the heater to high and drove on.
Mile after mile. Stop after stop. How many damned cabins were in these mountains? Fucking hunters. He growled under his breath, stared at the side of the road until his eyes burned, and forced his impatience down. Hang on, Lindsey.
“Stop.” Kallie got out to check another tiny road. She knelt and ran her hands over the lumpy snow. From where he was, deVries saw no difference in the blanket of white.
She waved him in.
After flashing his brakes to get Stanfeld’s attention, he shut his lights off and turned onto the small single-lane road.
Stanfeld drove in behind him.
Logan jogged past and crouched down beside Kallie, sweeping snow away with his gloved hand.
As deVries stood by the car, Stanfeld and Dixon joined him.
“What do you see?” Stanfeld asked Kallie.
She looked up. “Older ruts are iced over from the melt and freeze we had a couple of days ago.”
Logan patted the uncovered tire tracks. “This track was made on top of fresh powder today.”
“Know who lives here?” Stanfeld asked.
“It’s a rental. One-room log cabin.” Logan continued to brush at the snow. “Two different cars came through. One more recently.”
“Means at least two perps,” Stanfeld said. “What do we do with our vehicles and…?” He motioned to Kallie.
Her chin lifted in defiance for a second before she gave in. “I’ll flag the road and take my Jeep back to the lodge. From there, I can phone Virgil and give him your location.”
“Thanks, sugar,” Logan said.
After deVries tossed her the Jeep keys, she trotted away.
Stanfeld removed his coat and opened the sedan’s trunk. He took out two bulletproof vests and handed one to deVries before donning the other. “Sorry, Logan. I only carry two.”
Logan jerked up his chin in acknowledgment.
Stanfeld glanced at Dixon. “You go with Kallie. This isn’t—”
“Stuff it, sweet cheeks.” Dixon braced himself. “I have paramedic training.”
“Don’t have time for this.” DeVries saw the red lettering on a small pack and slapped it against Dixon’s chest. “First aid stuff. Stay in the rear.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Stanfeld frowned and nodded, falling in after Logan, who’d already headed down the snow-covered road.
DeVries followed. Be strong, Tex. We’re coming.
* * * *
Lindsey’s lungs felt seared from the bite of the icy air. She’d fallen so many times her jeans were soaked from her knees to her ankles, and the wet skin burned. Her fingers, face, and ears were growing numb.
The road had disappeared.
Lost. Hopelessly lost. The snow was falling so thickly, she couldn’t see anything past a few feet. She tripped and fell again, barely catching herself. Her arms shook with weariness as she pushed upright.
After turning in a circle, seeing only the shadowy darkness of tree trunks—I really hate snow—she put her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. Sweat trickled down her back. Hot inside the parka, freezing outside.
“Here!” The shout came from nowhere and everywhere, bouncing off the trees. Morales.
Shit, they’d found where she left the road. They could follow her tracks now.
She ran.
And ran.
They were closing on her. Both of them, the bastards. Her knife was in her right hand. With her left, she snatched up a fallen branch. Too big to swing. The next was a better size and as thick as her wrist.
She stepped behind a tree, forcing her mind away from the memory of hitting Ricks. Of the blood. She strained to tighten her grip on the knife, but her fingers were agonizingly cold.
“She can’t be very far ahead.” Parnell’s voice was low and out of breath.
“Gonna break her neck.” Morales sounded closer. His footsteps neared. Almost on her.
She jumped out and swung the branch into his face as hard as she could.
“Fuck!” He staggered back, nose streaming blood. She hit him again alongside his forehead, and the wood broke.
He dropped to his knees.
“Bitch.” With a sweep of his arm, Parnell knocked her off her feet and onto her back. “Fucking cunt.” He lifted her by the front of her coat and drew his fist back.
Screaming between gritted teeth, she thrust the knife at him.
He jerked aside so the blade barely cut him and backhanded her into the snow again. As she landed with a grunt, he kicked her in the side so hard even the coat didn’t shield her. The brutal pain tore through her ribs. She couldn’t breathe, could only curl around herself.
“Jesus, she did a number on you, Morales.”
“Gonna break every bone, bust her up…”
The sound of Morales’s cursing, of what he would do to her, got her moving. She rolled over…and saw her knife lying within a few feet. C’mon. Sit up.
Parnell wiped his cheek and examined the blood. “You’re really going to regret that,” he whispered and kicked her again.
At the blast of pain, the world wavered out of sight.
Even as her vision refocused, she saw Parnell scoop up her knife from the snow. Despairing tears burned against her icy face when he hefted her to her feet and shoved her in front of him. “Move.”
* * * *
DeVries heard erratic footsteps approaching and hissed to get Logan’s attention.
In the lead, Logan held up a hand to halt.
A dark shadow came through the forest from the side. Staggering. Rebecca. Her face was dead white. She had her arms in front—damn, she had the baby.
“Jesus.” Logan sprang forward.
Without speaking, deVries and Stanfeld spread apart to guard the perimeter in case she’d been followed.
Rebecca stared in disbelief. “Logan?” Her knees buckled.
He caught her awkwardly, handicapped by the baby between them.
Dixon dashed over. “Let me, Becca.” He carefully took Ansel. A high wail showed the baby was still alive and displeased at the jostling.
“Fuck, little rebel.” Wrapping his arms around her, Logan buried his face in her hair as she took a death grip on the back of his jacket.
Eyes burning, deVries turned away to watch the forest. The need for Lindsey was a hard ache in his guts.
Logan hadn’t forgotten. He lifted his head. “Where’s Lindsey, sugar?”
“I don’t know.” Tears filled Rebecca’s eyes. “She drew them away while I hid with the baby. I didn’t want to, but with Ansel, I couldn’t let them… All I could think of was to find help.”
“You did right,” Logan said, his cheek against hers.
“No. I should have—”
“Babies come first,” deVries said forcefully. He wanted to yell at her for leaving Lindsey; however, she’d made the right choice. Had to save the kid.
“I heard them yell. I think they caught her and took her back.” She seized Logan’s arms and shook him. “Please. Go save her.”
“Not you, Logan,” Dixon said in a quiet voice. “Ansel’s shivering. You need to get them both to warmth.”
Logan froze. “You can take—”
“I’m not used to driving in snow. You’re their best bet.”
Logan looked torn. After a second, he sighed and kissed the top of Becca’s head. “Hell, sugar, now I know how you felt leaving Lindsey.” He motioned for Dixon to give the baby to Becca. “I need to be able to move freely.”
Exhaustion plain in her features, she held Ansel against her chest, mouth determined.
Logan glanced at deVries. “I’ll be back once they’re safe.”
“Go.” DeVries handed Logan his car keys and waved the others toward him. He needed to move. Get to Lindsey. Adrenaline surging, he led the way forward down the drift-covered road.
Did the damn thing ever end?
A few minutes later, he heard someone running toward them from the main road where Logan and Becca had headed. What the hell?
Two bulky figures appeared—too big for Logan and Becca. Stanfeld mirroring his movements, deVries pulled his GLOCK and waited.
Through the white curtain of snow, Virgil Masterson emerged, followed by the Bear Flat detective, Ware. Masterson glanced at the two pistols pointed at him. “Mind finding someone else to target, boys?”
“Let’s go.” DeVries turned and jogged down the fucking road again.
Behind him, Stanfeld said to the others, “You got here fast.”
“Discovered this cabin had been rented yesterday,” Masterson said.
“We passed Logan and family,” Ware said quietly. “That’s a stand-up woman he’s got there.”
“Damn straight. Hey.” DeVries stopped and pointed. The snow was marred by fresh boot tracks.
Ware knelt. “Two men. Came this far and turned around. Becca thought they went after Lindsey?”
“Yeah. Maybe they didn’t find her?” Hope rose inside him.
“Maybe. Wide strides—running. I’d guess they were chasing blindly, not watching for her tracks.” Worry creased the cop’s forehead. “Bet they remedied that.”
“Becca thinks they caught her,” Dixon said quietly from the rear.
“I have more men coming,” Masterson said. “And two will remain on the road, in case they bypass us.”
“Good enough.” DeVries moved faster, his instincts clamoring at him to find Lindsey now. She’d escaped, made the bastards chase her. They’d want to make her pay. And then they’d kill her.
* * * *
By the time the cabin appeared, Lindsey was shivering with cold and pain and fear. Her legs kept buckling.
“What the fuck has Ricks been doing?” Morales grumbled. “He let her get away and sits on his ass?”
“Probably fucking the other one.” Parnell made a disgusted sound. “Moron can’t see farther than the end of his dick.” He shoved Lindsey into the cabin.
Unable to catch herself, she landed on the floor, her cold knees screaming in pain.
Morales said sharply, “Where’s the other bitch?” He picked up the ropes Lindsey had cut off.
“Jesus, he’d better find her.” Parnell kicked the door shut. “Christ, how could he lose them both? I should never have let him come along.”
Watching silently, Lindsey didn’t move. No point in getting up. Her legs were so weak, she couldn’t run again.
“Why did you bring him?” Morales asked.
“He insisted. Doesn’t trust me to destroy everything.” Parnell smirked. “And I wouldn’t, if it was only his ass at risk.”
Even if Lindsey could have grabbed a knife, her fingers had gone so numb, she wouldn’t be able to hold it. Her hopes were disappearing into a black hole. No way out. But…if Becca got Ansel home safe, it was worth it.
It was. Only… Slow as molasses, grief trickled into her heart. For those few hours yesterday, she’d been…happy. Zander loved her—she’d never expected that gift. She’d never seen him so content, so open.
Now, now she was going to die; what would her murder do to him? A tear ran down her cheek. God, Zander, I’m sorry.
“Oh, look, the puta is crying.” Morales rolled her over, dragged her coat off her, and yanked her to her feet. “Puta. I’m gonna hear you beg before you die.”
As she sagged in his grip, he braced his legs apart to hold her up.
Without thinking, she jerked her knee up, right into his balls.
The sound he made as he dropped to his knees was incredibly satisfying. She staggered back, knowing she’d suffer, but—
Parnell’s fist caught her on the cheekbone and knocked her to the floor.
Again.
This hitting-the-ground-shit was getting old. And she hurt. Hurt, hurt, hurt. It would get worse.
She could feel her spirit retreating from the pain even as she sniffled and wept. Deep inside, she retreated into a tight core of separateness. I’m going to die now. She knew it. Accepted it. No matter what she said or did, they’d kill her as painfully as they could.
A thin voice inside her was wailing I want to live. But she clung to the calm, unbreachable center in her soul. Her daddy seemed to be telling her be a rock, Linnie. Be like granite.
Cruel hands ripped her flannel shirt off, leaving her in only her bra. “Time for our chat, bitch,” Parnell said. “Time to pay for what you did to my brother.” His knee pinned her left arm to the floor. As he looked down at her, his eyes held her death.
He unsheathed his knife and raised it so the narrow blade flashed in the light from the unshielded overhead bulb. “Where’d you hide my brother’s flash drives?”
If he made her speak, he’d learn Stanfeld had the evidence, and he might manage to escape. She didn’t want him to go free. Make him kill me before I can talk. Push him and get it over with.
She had to try twice to get her voice to work. “Fuck you.”
“Jesus, you’re dumb.” He flicked the knife across the soft flesh of her stomach, and she felt only an icy burn.
When he lifted the blade, she saw blood…and the pain blossomed into a line of fire.
“Gonna carve you up like a Sunday roast.”
“What about me?” Morales growled. “I want some of that.” He pulled his pistol and pointed it at her. “Kneecap her, and she’d talk.”
“She’d bleed out too fast, asshole.” Parnell drew the edge over her stomach again. Another line of pain.
She gritted her teeth, clinging to her refuge as the pain grew, unendurable, flattening her mind, her soul.
By the fourth line, she was screaming.
* * * *
DeVries forced himself not to charge into the cabin. But…the sounds. His jaw muscles grated his teeth together. Fuck knew, he’d heard screams before.
Not like this. Not his Lindsey in agony.
The cabin’s drapes were drawn. Bear-proofing bars were on the windows. Silently, deVries checked the door. No visible hinges meant it opened inward, probably so drifting snow couldn’t block the door from opening. Thank fucking God.
Pistol pointed up, he positioned himself.
Masterson moved beside him and said under his breath, “Let me—”
Cops. “My woman.” DeVries ground his left heel through the snow until he hit dirt. Got stable. Lifted his right leg and slammed his boot beside the lock. The thick door splintered, didn’t budge. Shit. He kicked again. It burst open, and he dove through.
A bullet punched into his vest, taking his breath, another hit beside it.
Enemy upright with pistol. Another kneeling beside Lindsey with a blade. Ignoring the gunman, deVries put two headshots into the knife wielder.
Gunfire filled the room as the cops took up the s
lack. The guy standing dropped, his face gone.
Ears ringing, deVries moved. Fuck. His ribs felt like a semi had plowed into him. A burning line of pain ran up the inside of his upper arm. He holstered his SW1911, jammed his elbow against his side, and slid over to Lindsey.
Fresh fear clawed into him. Her blood was everywhere. Her eyes were closed, her color ashen. No. Fuck, no. He put two fingers against her carotid and…felt a pulse. Way too fast, yet strong. The breath he was holding escaped.
She stirred and whimpered, her brows drawing together. Jesus, he wanted to shoot the bastard again. She blinked. When she saw him, her eyes filled with tears. “You came.” Her voice was rusty.
“Hell, yeah.” He barely kept from grabbing her up. But her stomach had a series of bleeding lines, some deep enough to gape open. “She’s bleeding,” he shouted. “Dixon, get over—”
“I’m here.” Dixon dropped to his knees beside them, already pulling supplies out of the emergency pack. “Damn, girlfriend, you know how I hate blood play.” He pulled on latex gloves, covered the cuts with gauze, and pressed down.
Lindsey sucked in a pained breath and whispered a halfhearted, “Ow.”
Fuck, I love this woman.
On the other side of her, Ware yanked away Parnell’s body. “Good shot, hoss.” He crouched down and smiled at Lindsey. “Hey there.”
DeVries scowled at him. “Mine.”
“Mebbe.” Ware smirked before asking, “Lindsey, how many bad guys are here?”
“Three.” Her brow creased, and she said carefully, “Parnell, Ricks, and Morales.”
“Got it.” Ware raised his voice. “Yo, Stanfeld. There’s another perp somewhere.”
A low acknowledgment came from the agent.
Dixon stripped off his gloves and patted Lindsey’s arm. “Okay, BFF, you’re all dressed up and ready to party.”
“The lieutenant is calling for an ambulance.” Ware’s body language turned dangerous as he looked at Lindsey’s stomach. But when he took her hand, his smile was teasing. “If you change your mind about this bastard…”
“I won’t,” she whispered before looking at deVries. The love in her gaze was a river of warmth, filling him to the brim. She smiled and said softly, “Mine.”
Would it be safe to pick her up and hold her now? DeVries reached for her—and pain ripped through his arm. “Fuck!”
Edge of the Enforcer Page 29