A Soldier's Quest

by Lori Handeland

  The place was far too silent for the amount of cars in the yard. Bobby climbed the porch and knocked. He didn’t hear a sound, so he tried the knob, which turned easily in his hand.

  Calling Jane’s name, Bobby stepped inside.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  JANE DECIDED GREG WYLIE was a can short of a six-pack even before he tied her to a pole in the hay mow and began to tell her all of his crimes.

  As soon as she’d opened the door, he’d walked right in and grabbed her, not even bothering to pretend he was there on an errand from her mother.

  “Where’s the rest of them?” he demanded.

  “Gone.”

  He shook Jane so hard she felt as if her neck would snap.

  Here we go again, she thought. And my black eyes just went away.

  “You think I’m an idiot? There are too many cars here for you to be alone.”

  “They’re working in the far field. Won’t be back until lunch.”

  He stared into her eyes. Gone was the suave politician. He’d kill her and he wouldn’t even care. But why?

  Greg dragged Jane through the entire house, making sure no one was there, then he dragged her to the barn.

  Using some twine from a bale of hay, he tied her to one of the support poles.

  “I thought I was going to have to shoot that sheep,” he muttered. “Thing went nuts, then it just took off.”

  Jane hoped Ba had followed Kim to the Luchettis’. That would be one less thing to worry about.

  “What’s going on?” Jane asked.

  “We’re waiting for a phone call. If Mommy follows instructions, you live. If not—” He shrugged and pulled a gun from his suit coat.

  So Raeanne was being blackmailed. Trust her mother to lie.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “The senator wants me to marry you.” His lip curled at the very idea. “She wheedled Luchetti’s home address out of someone— I’m not sure how—then all I had to do was ask.”

  Nice one, Mom.

  Greg shook his head. “As if I’d marry a woman who outweighed me, even if her mother is a senator.”

  Jane would have flipped him off if her hands weren’t tied.

  “How did you find me here?” she asked.

  “Followed you from the other farm. It wasn’t hard.”

  Nice one, me.

  “What is my mother supposed to do for you?”

  “Vote in favor of relaxing the immigration laws.”

  “Okay.” Jane searched her memory banks for a reason this would matter to Greg. She came up blank. “I don’t get it.”

  “From what I hear, you’ve been getting it quite a lot. And from a common soldier.” He shook his head. “How low can you go?”

  “Lower, I suppose, but only if I sleep with you.”

  He snorted. “As if that’ll happen.”

  “Got that right.”

  Greg’s lips tightened. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the display, before returning it to his coat and aiming his gun at her chest. “You know, I’m almost hoping she votes against it.”

  “What did I ever do to you?” Jane asked.

  “You embarrassed me in front of the entire town. Washington may be large, but in political circles, it’s really quite small. Everyone knew you were supposed to marry me. Then you turn up sleeping with the bodyguard, frenching him right on the dance floor in front of three-quarters of Congress. It was mortifying.”

  “But you don’t want to marry me.”

  Greg sniffed. “That’s beside the point.”

  Jane decided he was several cans short of that six-pack.

  “I still don’t understand why you care about an immigration bill.”

  “The more wetbacks allowed in, the more drugs that can be smuggled in with them.”

  “You’re a drug dealer?” Jane blurted out.

  She hadn’t seen that coming. Where was Lucky when she needed her?

  “What did you think I was?”

  “An aide to the senator from Rhode Island.”

  “Which doesn’t pay very well. Drugs are where the money is.”

  “Does my mother know any of this?”

  “She’s too preoccupied with her career, and she trusts me. She’d never consider that her right-hand man is the one screwing with her life.”

  “My mother thought I was going to be kidnapped.”

  “You were. But then she just had to have Delray send someone after you. Pissed me off. So I told them to kill you instead.”

  Well, that explained a little. Greg was the rich American who had paid to have her eliminated. Still—

  “If Enrique or Escobar had killed me, you wouldn’t have had any leverage with my mother.”

  “Of course we would. She’d have been scared shitless thinking we’d come for her next.”

  He had a point.

  “Someone’s going to figure this out eventually.”

  “By then I’ll be lounging on a beach in a country without extradition laws. Politics is almost as big of a pain as your mother.”

  Jane suddenly understood, even if Greg didn’t yet, that he planned to kill her, anyway, regardless of whether Raeanne did the right—or was it the wrong?—thing or not. He was being far too forthcoming with the info. Jane had to keep him talking, and she had to think.

  “You’ve known what she was doing every step of the way?” Jane asked.

  “Of course. I’m her only friend. She tells me everything.”

  “Escobar kept asking about Bobby as if he didn’t know who he was or why he was there.”

  “Your mother didn’t tell me right away that she’d sent in the troops—or is that troop? I only had time to get in touch with Enrique. When word got out that a soldier was snooping around, Escobar Senior, being the paranoid SOB that he is, got it in his head that the captain was there to kill him.”

  Greg pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the display again. He really couldn’t wait to kill her.

  “And then?” Jane prompted.

  “Then he got all spooked and ordered his son—who was basically an idiot—to find out what was going on. Once I heard Luchetti was bringing you back to the States, I called off the hit. Figured I could take care of you here all by myself.”

  “You shot at me?”

  The dreamy expression fled as extreme annoyance took its place. “Weren’t you listening when we danced? I earned a gold medal in the biathlon.”

  She hadn’t been listening, and she really wasn’t sure what a biathlon was, which must have shown on her face since Greg made a disgusted sound and snapped, “Skiing and sharpshooting?”

  “Ah, well that explains it, then. Although you missed.”

  His hand tightened on the gun. “I won’t miss at this range.”

  “Lucky wouldn’t miss at this range,” she muttered.

  “Your mother made everything so easy. Insisting you go to that ball so she could shove it in her black-mailer’s face that you were alive and no one could hurt you.”

  Her mother’s arrogance had forever been a problem.

  “But since I planned the thing, I had clearance. I brought my rifle inside in pieces. Then reassembled it after the final security check and hid it in the balcony.”

  Greg started and his hand went to his pocket. He removed the cell phone, which must have been set to vibrate instead of ring. A glance at the display, and he allowed a thin smile to escape before he answered the call.

  Whoever was on the other end spoke. Greg listened, turned off the phone, dropped the instrument back into his pocket and contemplated Jane. “Your mother doesn’t love you very much, does she?”

  Jane had always suspected her mother loved her country, or at least the power she got from serving it, more, but she’d never really been sure.

  Greg pointed the gun at Jane’s head.

  Until now.

  The sound of a car crackling over gravel outside the barn split the silence and Greg cursed, then poc
keted the weapon.

  Jane opened her mouth to shout, but snapped it shut again when she considered the car might not be the cavalry, aka Bobby, but some poor sap who’d come to visit the Rileys. She couldn’t put anyone in danger.

  Greg yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and gagged Jane. She only hoped he was the kind of man who carried a handkerchief for show and not for snot.

  “Stay there,” he said, then snickered at his wit, before slipping out of the barn.

  The instant he was gone, Jane began to pick at the fraying twine around her wrists. Greg was almost as bad at tying knots as he was at being Prince Charming.

  BOBBY HAD JUST STEPPED out of the house and onto the porch when a creak from the barn made him turn.

  A tall, thin, familiar blond man in a suit and wire-rimmed glasses crossed the yard. “Hello, Luchetti.”

  “Wylie,” Bobby said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought Jane’s things. You know how women are.”

  He did, and Jane wasn’t like any of them.

  “And how did you know where Jane was?”

  “You know the senator—”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, she’s very persuasive. She exerted all the pressure she had to get the colonel to tell her where her child was. The man didn’t stand a chance once she set her mind to it.”

  Bobby frowned. That wasn’t like the colonel.

  “Long way to travel to bring things that could have been shipped.”

  “Her mother wanted me to see with my own trusty eyes how her daughter was. The senator’s like that.”

  Bobby could well imagine. He only hoped this guy wasn’t as stupid as he looked and hadn’t led the bad guys right to their doorstep. So far, so good. But as soon as Bobby found Jane, they were out of here. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Funny thing,” Wylie continued. “I was headed for your farm and I saw Jane turn in the driveway. Of course, there aren’t exactly a bevy of people on these roads.”

  What was a bevy?

  “Where is she?” Bobby asked.

  “Something about heavy machinery in the back field.”

  He pointed to the north and Bobby followed his finger. Brian’s tractor sat idle on the other side of the corn.

  The two men stared at each other. There was something off about Wylie, but then there always had been. Maybe Bobby was just irritated with the man because Wylie had the mistaken impression he had a shot in hell with Jane.

  Kim’s phone started to ring inside the house, breaking the silent spell.

  “I guess I’ll head to the back field,” Bobby said. “I suspect you’d like to get on the road.”

  “I would. Nice seeing you again.”

  Bobby grunted in lieu of a lie and started toward the tractor. He’d only taken one step when Lucky’s drug-dealer snarl split the warm sunny peace of the morning.

  Everything became very clear—even before Wylie pulled a gun from his pocket and aimed it at Lucky.

  Undaunted, she continued to snarl. Bull, usually the king of the wusseys, charged out of nowhere and joined her. Confusion flickered over Wylie’s face. Which dog should he shoot first?

  “I wouldn’t,” Bobby said, and the gun was aimed in his direction.

  Bobby had a gun, too. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be able to retrieve it from the glove compartment anytime soon. He hadn’t thought he’d need it on his sister’s farm, but he should have known better. Then again, he wasn’t going to need a gun to kick this guy’s ass.

  “Where is she?” Bobby demanded for the second time.

  “I’ll take you to her. You want to die together, fine by me.”

  Wylie jerked his head toward the barn and Lucky lunged at him. The gun swung in her direction and Bobby shouted, “No!”

  He started to run across the ground that separated them, but contrary to his own high opinion of himself, Bobby wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet.

  However, Jane was. Like an avenging angel, she flew out of the barn. Instead of a lightning bolt, she held a two-by-four. Before Wylie could do anything but smirk, she beaned him over the head. He went down and he didn’t get up.

  “Shoot my dog?” she sneered. “I don’t think so.”

  Lucky stopped growling and belly-crawled to Jane. Bobby was so damn glad to see her, he almost did the same thing.

  Bull leaped with excitement. Jane snapped, “Sit!” and when he did, she burst into tears.

  “Hey!” Alarmed, Bobby ran to her. “Did he hurt you?”

  His gaze searched her face—not a mark. His hands moved over her head—not a bump. He’d have to get her naked and check for bruises.

  She shoved him in the chest, and he stumbled back, nearly falling on top of Wylie.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “If being fine involves discovering my mother sold me down the river to keep her job.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” she said. “Suffice it to say no one loves me. Big shock.”

  “I love you.”

  She gave him a withering glare, hefted the two-by-four and said, “Do not make me use this on you, soldier boy.”

  Then she whistled to the dogs and headed for the car. Bobby would have followed her, except Wylie began to stir. While he tied the man with the twine that had trailed out of the barn on Jane’s shoe, she started the engine and drove away.

  “That went well,” he commented to a semiconscious Wylie.

  JANE HAD NEVER BEEN SO furious or so sad. The conflicting emotions had her stomach roiling and her tear ducts working overtime. She didn’t even slow down as a pickup truck full of Luchettis armed with rifles and farm implements whooshed past. Kim and the children had apparently remained at the other farm.

  The police sped by as she turned into the Luchettis’. They ignored her, intent on reaching the action at the next farm. Too bad for them it was already over. Just like her and Bobby.

  Jane’s breath hitched, and Lucky licked her from chin to cheek.

  “Thanks, girl. I’ll be okay.”

  And she would be. As soon as she got back to Mexico and forgot him.

  “Like that’ll happen.”

  Nevertheless, she was going. Bobby didn’t love her, and she wasn’t going to believe that he did just because he said so in the heat of the moment.

  Jane parked in front of the house. Bear and the doodles welcomed her, along with Ba and Precious, but the rest of the place was deserted. Confused, she went inside and found a note from Kim.

  We cut across the cornfield.

  Trust Kim not to sit home and wait for news.

  “I need to make some time.”

  Jane wanted out of here before any of the Luchettis tried to make her stay. Now that no one wanted to kill her, as far as she knew, she could head back to the jungle and disappear.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “SHE’S A DOGNAPPER,” Dean said. “There’s no other word for it.”

  They’d returned to the farm to discover not only Jane gone, but Lucky and Bull, as well.

  “Bull loves Lucky and Lucky loves Bull,” Tim announced. “They’re gonna have mutations.”

  “Probably,” John muttered. Colin just shook his head.

  “Mutt plus Dalmatian makes a mutation.” Tim’s too-long hair slid over one eye. “Right?”

  Dean clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Right.”

  The police had carted off Wylie, who had begun to blabber information in an attempt to offset kidnapping and murder charges. Bobby didn’t think he could talk long enough or loud enough to get out of either one.

  Who’d have thought a weasel like Wylie would be operating one of the largest drug rings on the East Coast? Senator Harker was going to have to do some fancy dancing if she didn’t want that dirt to rub off on her.

  “I can’t understand,” Eleanor said for perhaps the fourth time, “how a mother could choose…well, anything over the safety of her child.”

  “That’s because you’re a
great mother,” Kim said. “Some aren’t.”

  She gathered a sleeping Zsa-Zsa closer and kissed her sweaty brow, then reached up to grasp Brian’s hand. Their fingers laced in a pattern that fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Bobby wanted what they had so badly he ached with it.

  “Gotta go,” he said.

  “What?” Eleanor asked. “Where?”

  “She said she was going home,” Kim offered.

  “Which means Mexico.”

  “Maybe you should call Jane’s mother first,” his own mother suggested.

  “Why?” There was no way Jane considered anywhere near her mother a place to call home. “So I can yell at her?”

  Which wasn’t a half-bad idea. Bobby headed for the phone in the living room—he didn’t feel like having this conversation in front of his entire family.

  “All hell’s breaking loose here,” the senator snapped. “What happened?”

  “It appears you sold your only child’s life for a good voting record.”

  “I should have been able to vote my conscience and save my child. I hired you to protect Jane.”

  “Jane saved herself. She didn’t need any help from me.”

  “She’s always been very good at that.”

  “Unfortunately, she thinks you chose politics over her.”

  A fluid stream of curses erupted. The senator really needed to improve her vocabulary.

  “Next time you choose an aide, make sure he isn’t a drug dealer,” Bobby suggested.

  “He didn’t actually do the deals. He managed things.”

  “Oh, well that’s different, then,” Bobby said.

  “There’s a lot worse going on in Washington than drug dealing.”

  “Is that the line you plan to use on CNN?”

  Raeanne sighed. “I screwed up.”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you know where my daughter is?”

  “No idea.”

  Which wasn’t technically a lie. Mexico was a very big place.

  “Can’t you find her? I’ll pay you—”

  “I’ll find Jane for me, not for you.”

  Instead of colorful language, silence came over the line, then, “She won’t marry you.”