by Cassie Miles
Which meant they could shoot her, too. She froze, not daring to look around and try to see the hidden assailants who fixed their sights on her. Standing at the edge of the road in the moonlight, she was an easy target. She couldn’t hide.
An involuntary cringe shook her body. Her knees felt weak. Fear replaced her determination to rescue him. She was unable to free him or to save herself. Helpless and hopeless, she remembered her demon stepfather and Derek, looming over her, punishing her without reason. Every faded bruise throbbed with the persistent memory of pain.
“Nicole,” Joey said, “I’m supposed to tell you something.”
Paralyzed, she could barely speak. “Tell me.”
“You can’t run away. I know you want to. I know that’s what you do. But you can’t. You have to stay.”
“Why?”
“They want you to deliver the ransom,” he said. “They know you’re not a cop. They trust you to do what they say.”
How could she? Deliver a ransom? Follow instructions? Standing here under the threat of danger, she couldn’t even move. “I can’t.”
“You have to,” he pleaded. “You have to be brave. For me.”
But she wasn’t heroic. She didn’t have the strength, didn’t have the resources. “I’m sorry, Joey.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he said. In contrast to her abject terror, he seemed controlled. She never expected Joey to have such fortitude. “If you don’t do what they say, they’ll kill you.”
That was why they summoned her here. To deliver a threat.
“Please, Nicole. Say you understand.”
“I do,” she said.
“Promise me you won’t run.”
Every instinct told her to flee. Now. To take off on foot if necessary.
“Nicole, they’re watching you. They hear every word you say.”
Her gaze darted wildly. Danger was everywhere. She was utterly vulnerable. “I won’t run away,” she said. “I promise.”
“Good.” His thin, pale face seemed to relax. He held up his bound hands in an attitude of prayer. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
“Oh, Joey.” A sob wrenched from her. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”
“I’ll make it.” He nodded toward the ranch house. “Go back inside before Mace notices you’re gone.”
She wanted to hug him, to cling to him. They were two helpless victims, caught in a maelstrom of hostility. “I won’t let you down.”
“Go,” he said.
She turned back toward the house. Her legs felt leaden. Her gait was clumsy. It seemed like an impossibly long distance back to the house. Logic told her that the kidnappers wouldn’t shoot her now. She’d promised to do as they said. Still, she felt their eyes upon her. Their threat had permeated all the way to the marrow of her bones.
At the mailbox, she turned and walked slowly, measuring each step as if she were mounting the gallows. Death and danger were everywhere. To survive, she had to be brave. And she didn’t know if that was possible.
At the window to her bedroom, she hoisted herself up with her last shred of strength. Slipping off her shoes and parka, she crawled under the covers, fully dressed, and closed her eyes. Fear coursed through her body. They were watching. They were listening. And she had to obey or die.
Chapter Five
Crouched behind the tangled, leafless branches of a chokecherry bush near the three-rail whitewashed fence at the end of his long driveway, Mace watched and waited, motionless as a shadow in the moonlit night. The gleam of his .38 caliber automatic pistol was hidden inside the dark sweatshirt he’d thrown on when he realized Nicole had gone out her window.
He’d followed her quickly, noiselessly. In the cleared land at the front of his house, there wasn’t enough cover for him to get close to the pine trees beyond the mailbox. From this distance, he’d only been able to overhear a few snatches of Nicole’s conversation with the kidnapped Joey Wentworth—enough to know that Joey was wearing a bug and that long-range rifles were trained upon him. Mace had strained his ears. It seemed that Joey wanted Nicole to do something for him. She was afraid, and she’d spoken too softly for Mace to understand her words.
When she stumbled up the driveway to the house, he had stayed put. Later, he’d talk to her. Right now, he needed to track the kidnappers.
Alone at the fencepost, Joey muttered an incoherent phrase. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Mace noticed that he was wearing sturdy hiking boots. Apparently, the kidnappers had given him enough time to dress before abducting him.
Two men—dressed all in black including black ski masks—appeared from the opposite side of the road. One wore a cowboy hat on top of his ski mask. Talk about dumb! Both carried rifles with night scopes.
“About time,” Joey snapped. “I’m freezing.”
“Shut up! You want the sheriff to hear?”
“Why didn’t you bring the car?” Joey whined.
Mace knew the reason. This road was seldom traveled at night. The kidnappers were smart enough to know that if a car cruised by, he might notice the sound and become suspicious. At the same time, they were stupid enough to lure Nicole out here. Were these guys pros? Or idiots?
With a few yanks on the knots, the one in the cowboy hat untied Joey’s wrists and reeled in the length of rope like a lariat.
Together the three men walked down the center of the deserted two-lane road, heading west. Restraining Joey didn’t seem to be much of a concern, probably because he had no real chance for escape. Both of the kidnappers were husky men who could overpower the wraithlike Joey without breaking a sweat.
As they walked, Mace crept behind them. In his moccasin slippers, his footfalls were nearly silent. If he’d had time to grab his own long-range rifle with night scope, he might have picked off the kidnappers and rescued Joey. His handgun wasn’t accurate enough to risk a showdown with two well-armed men.
At the stand of pine trees, he vaulted over the top rail of the fence separating his property from the road. Running in a low crouch, he followed his prey.
The three men paused. They stood like statues. The cowboy lifted his head as if scenting the air. He said, “I heard something.”
When they turned to peer through the night, Mace flattened his body into a shallow ditch at the edge of the road. Shadows beside a frosted ridge covered him. The icy cold absorbed into his sweatshirt and froze against his cheeks and throat. He held his breath.
Joey said, “I don’t see anything.”
The scraping sound of their footsteps resumed.
Carefully, Mace rose from the shadows. To avoid being seen, he must use all his wiles, lessons not taught in the police academy where he graduated at the head of his class. Instead Mace remembered his childhood hunting trips with Tata Charlie on the rez. With bow and arrow, they stalked rabbit and elk. Tonight Mace hunted a more dangerous quarry.
If the kidnappers spotted him, they would shoot. He would die. Joey would not be rescued. And Nicole? He didn’t know what to think of her. Though her fear seemed real, she had sneaked away from the house without telling him.
When one of the kidnappers glanced over his shoulder, Mace dodged again, hiding behind the trunk of a conifer that separated his property from his neighbor’s.
If Nicole had told him that the kidnappers were near, he would have arranged for backup. One of his deputies could have followed the kidnappers in a car. They could have ended this crime before the FBI and Blake Wentworth got involved.
Too late for that now.
On the far side of a crossroad, red taillights flashed once and went dark as the three men approached. In the moonlight, Mace identified the silhouette of a Jeep Wagoneer, a very old off-road vehicle. The Wagoneer hadn’t even been manufactured for the past ten or twelve years. The color was black or dark blue. Mace needed to get closer to read the license plate.
As Joey and the two kidnappers climbed inside the vehicle, he positioned himself behind a row of mailboxes
. The motor of the Jeep started. The taillights flashed. He saw New Mexico plates and memorized the numbers before they drove away.
Mace stood erect, staring at the empty road. From a distance, he heard the lonely howl of a coyote. A punishing chill sank through his flesh to his bones, but he smiled triumphantly. Though he had not yet won the game, he’d gained an important lead.
HUDDLED BENEATH THE comforter, Nicole waited for sleep that wouldn’t come. Her mind was too troubled. Every time she glided toward unconsciousness, she jerked awake. It wasn’t fear that kept her from slumber. After a lifetime of abuse, she’d learned to live with terror and had even found that sleep provided a certain mindless solace. The reason she couldn’t rest? Guilt.
She’d made the wrong choice, never should have met with Joey without telling Mace. Though the note on her pillow was threatening, she should have figured out a way around the kidnapper’s demands. Even if—as she suspected—her room was bugged, she could have found another place to talk to Mace or even to pull him outside. She should have handled this better. How could she expect him to trust her if she went skulking around behind his back?
So what if Mace didn’t trust her? She burrowed under the pillow. His opinion didn’t matter. Sure, he’d been kind to her, but it wasn’t as if they had a bond. When this kidnapping was over, she’d probably never see him again.
Her eyelids snapped open. There was no reason for her to feel so guilty. Joey told her that the kidnappers would kill her if she didn’t do as they said—which meant not telling the sheriff. By keeping her secrets, she was saving herself. Her actions were rational, based on survival.
On the other hand, she needed an ally in this investigation. It wouldn’t hurt to have Mace on her side when the Feds arrived tomorrow.
Should she tell him? Or not? Both sides of the question had equal weight.
Through the wall, she could hear him moving around in his room. Her guilty conscience tipped the scales. Tell him. She threw off the comforter. Still dressed in jeans and sweater from her meeting with Joey, she tiptoed barefoot into the bathroom and turned on the water to cover the sound of her movements in case the kidnappers were listening. Quietly as possible, she crept into the hallway.
Outside the door to Mace’s room, she hesitated. If she knocked or called to him, the kidnappers might hear. But how could she just walk inside? What if he slept in the nude?
She noticed a thread of light at the bottom edge of his bedroom door. He must be awake.
Gathering her nerve, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Mace stood in the center of the room. He wore a white T-shirt and sweatpants tied with a drawstring, slung low on his hips. In his hand, he grasped his cell phone. When he saw her, his gaze quickly transformed from surprise to anger.
She placed her index finger across her lips to indicate silence. With the other hand, she beckoned for him to follow her.
He growled, “What the hell—”
“Shhhh.” She beckoned again.
He grabbed a plaid flannel shirt from the back of a chair and came after her into the hallway.
In the living room, Mace turned on a lamp. She flinched. Were the kidnappers watching? She whispered, “My room is bugged.”
She handed him the note from Joey.
Scowling, he read it quickly and said, “This doesn’t say anything about a bug.”
“I found the note in my room. On my pillow. Don’t you think they’d be smart enough to leave a bug behind?”
“They were in your bedroom.” His upper lip curled in disgust. “They were in my house.”
“I did what the note said,” she whispered. “I went out the window and met with Joey.”
“You can speak up now. The kidnappers are long gone.” He turned away from her and punched a number into his cell phone. “Barry, send two deputies over here. Not Philips and Greenleaf. They need to stay at the Wentworth cabin. And I have a license number for you to trace. New Mexico plates.” He rattled off a number. “Call me back on the cell when you have the ID.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have told you right away, but I was afraid for Joey. The note said that if I told you, he’d be hurt.”
“They counted on your fear,” he said. “Damn it, Nicole, you’re smarter than this. If you had told me, I could have—”
“There wasn’t time.” She was beginning to regret her decision to be truthful. “I only had a few minutes to run out to the mailbox.”
“And your instincts told you not to trust me. Right? Never trust a cop.” He thrust his arms into the sleeves of his flannel shirt. “You made the wrong decision.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You’re lucky you aren’t dead.” His dark brown eyes flared. His jaw tensed. “Those guys had long-range rifles, and you were standing in the moonlight, fully exposed. They could have picked you off easy.”
“How do you know that?”
“I followed you,” he said.
She should have guessed. Mace was no fool. He’d been suspicious when she opened her window. “My God, if they’d seen you, we’d all be dead.”
“But they didn’t,” he said with a trace of pride. “Tell me what Joey said to you. Don’t leave anything out.”
“He warned me not to run. He said that if I don’t follow their instructions, they’ll kill me.”
“What instructions?”
“They want me to deliver the ransom,” she said. “Because they’re sure I’m not a cop.”
Mace exhaled slowly as he lowered himself into an armchair beside the fireplace. He stared at her as if he expected something from her. But what?
The silence lengthened and deepened. It grew in substance until she felt she’d be crushed. Nicole cleared her throat. “Could you please say something.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Think out loud,” she said.
“The kidnappers’ behavior was reckless. If you’d told me, I could have called in backup and trapped them. Why take that risk?”
“I don’t know. They wanted to scare me, to make sure I’d obey them. Joey made me promise I wouldn’t take off before this was over.”
“Why does he think you’ll run?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” The pattern started when she ran from her stepfather’s house. In other relationships in other cities, she’d always fled rather than confronting a bad situation. Right now, she was on the run from Derek. Though Joey didn’t know her husband’s name, he knew she was hiding from someone who had abused her. “Joey knows me.”
“But the kidnappers don’t,” Mace said.
“Maybe they told Joey that they planned to use me to deliver the ransom and he told them about my…habits.”
“You can’t run now,” Mace said.
His words stoked her ever-present panic. “That’s easy for you to say, sitting here in your comfortable house, warm and secure. The only way I know how to survive is to disappear. If I’m invisible, no one can hurt me.”
“I won’t let that happen,” he said. “I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you, Nicole.”
Disbelieving, she stared into his face. How could he make good on that promise? Didn’t he know that the world was a dangerous place? Life was a fragile proposition. Nobody could guarantee safety.
Yet she knew that Mace meant what he said. He would try—as hard as he could—to protect her.
A glimmer of hope flickered within her, and she cringed, not wanting this faint light to illuminate the very real terror that engulfed her. She’d been on the run all her adult life, fleeing from one disaster to the next. Life is pain. That’s how it works. And yet… Was it possible that she’d finally stumbled across a man who wouldn’t hurt her?
“Believe me,” he said.
“I can’t.” The words wrenched from her throat. “Nobody has ever been on my side.”
“Not even your parents?”
“Theirs was the worst betrayal of all. They died.”
“I won’
t die.” He grinned wryly. “That’s not part of my theory.”
She wanted to return his smile, but her face was paralyzed. Fear clenched her tightly in its grip. If she dared to hope, she might be utterly destroyed. “You can’t guarantee my safety.”
“Let’s make a deal, Nicole. You tell me the truth, and I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you. Shake on it.”
When he stood and held his hand toward her, she remembered the moment in the cabin when he’d extended his hand and helped her rise from the floor. He was her lifeline, a beacon of safety in a dark, dangerous world.
She clasped his hand, and a strange electricity flowed up her arm. In spite of the hour and her lack of sleep, she felt energized. She took a step closer to him, wanting to feel his arms enfold her again.
A woman’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Hello? Mace, what’s going on?”
Nicole broke away from him as he introduced his sister, Jewel, and gave her a brief outline of the situation. Jewel listened without comment. She was a handsome woman, slim and tall. Like Mace, she had black hair and dark eyes that reflected intelligence in spite of being awakened in the middle of the night.
“Someone got into the house?” she questioned. “In here? Are you sure?”
“They left a note in the guest bedroom where Nicole was sleeping,” Mace said. “Did you remember to lock up?”
“I’m not really sure if I did, but I’ll be damned sure to remember after this.”
“I’ve got a couple of deputies coming over,” he said. “They’ll check all the windows and doors.”
“Fine.” Jewel tightened the sash on her bathrobe and headed toward the kitchen. “I’d better brew a pot of coffee.”
“Don’t be too nice to them. I want to get some sleep tonight.” Mace turned toward Nicole and took her arm. “You’re going to bed. Now.”
His concern for her felt good. His touch was even better. She called out toward the kitchen, “Nice to meet you, Jewel. I’m sorry for the disruption.”
“Not your fault,” she said. “See you in the a.m.”
Nicole allowed Mace to lead her down the corridor lined with framed photographs of horses. “Your sister seems nice.”