Hideout at Whiskey Gulch

by Elle James

  “What kind of work do you do?” Matt asked.

  “I’m a home health care nurse,” she said, moving past him to straighten a cushion on the couch. Knowing the place had been his mother’s gave Aubrey a whole new perspective on it and a lot more pressure. Was she keeping it as clean as his mother had? Had she damaged any of the lovely antique furniture his mother had obviously loved dearly?

  “I’d heard they’d rented her place,” Matt said. “I thought it was to an old woman. Definitely someone from out of town. Who else would rent a house where the former owner had been—”

  When he stopped in midsentence, Aubrey finished it for him with, “Murdered?” She gave him a gentle smile. “No one told me about that little detail. Not that it made a difference, once I found out. From what the newspaper reported, she didn’t meet her demise in this house.”

  “No, but the entire town considers this place jinxed or something. No one wanted to live here after she was gone,” he said softly. “She loved this house. It was hers. She worked hard to pay it off in fifteen years. Sometimes, she worked two jobs just to make double payments.”

  He shook his head. “She should have spent that extra money on enjoying her life, traveling or buying pretty things instead of old furniture she had to strip and refinish.”

  Aubrey looked around the room. “But the things she furnished this house with are priceless. And so very well taken care of. I do my best to be gentle with them. I could tell that whoever they belonged to had cared for and polished them. I could do no less.” Her gaze swept the room, taking in the oval Queen Anne coffee table, its wood stained a pretty cherry and polished to a glossy shine, the sofa, not antique but complementing the wooden coffee and end tables. “This room doesn’t look much like you. But now that I know you used to live here, I understand the different style of the spare bedroom. It’s not nearly as feminine as this room or the master bedroom.”

  “The room in the back right corner?” Matt asked.

  Aubrey nodded. “It has its share of antiques, but they’re more masculine.” The signs on the walls were from old gas stations. The bed was an antique iron bed painted black.

  He shook his head again. “You didn’t have to keep all the decorations. As far as I’m concerned you can throw it all away. It’s just a bunch of old junk.”

  Aubrey frowned. “I would never. I came to Whiskey Gulch with not much more than a couple of suitcases. I didn’t have the money to purchase furniture or decorations. I was shocked to find a house so quickly that was fully furnished.”

  “Now you know the reason it was available.”

  “It didn’t make a difference.”

  “And now?” He raised his eyebrows. “Now that you know there are some bad guys out there who could harm you?”

  “I’m all the more determined to live here and bring those guys down.” She clenched her fists. “No one should have to live in fear for her life.”

  “The problem with coyotes is that when you stop one, another takes his place. The money is too good to stop the trafficking.”

  “Then they’ll have to take their business elsewhere,” Aubrey said. “Whiskey Gulch is too nice a town to be held in fear by terrorists.”

  “You’re willing to risk your life to make that happen?”

  “Are you willing to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others?” Aubrey shot back. “What about that woman who died tonight? What if these coyotes were the ones who murdered your mother? Don’t you want to see them brought to justice?” Aubrey pressed her balled fist to her chest, her eyes clouding with tears. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did nothing to find that little girl. She deserves a better life than what those monsters have in store for her.”

  Matt stared at her for a long time. “You’re very passionate about this.”

  “Damn right I am. We have to find her. Before it’s too late. I can’t let something horrible happen again.” She turned away before the tears slipped down her cheeks. “I won’t let it happen again.”

  Hands gripped her shoulders and turned her. “What do you mean, again?”

  Aubrey’s body trembled with the force of her grief. She couldn’t speak past the massive lump in her throat.

  He didn’t push her for an answer. Instead, he waited for her to get a grip on her emotions.

  How long did it take for the grief to mellow? Two years? Four? Ten? Aubrey swallowed hard and stared at Matt’s chest, refusing to raise her face to his scrutiny. “My little girl would have turned six a month ago.”

  His fingers tightened. “You have a daughter?”

  She shook her head, the tears slipping faster down her cheeks to drip off her chin. “Had.” A sob rose up her throat. Aubrey struggled to tamp it back down. “She...she was taken...from our front yard.” The guilt she’d felt for turning her back for that single, catastrophic minute threatened to consume her all over again. “She was taken. We looked for weeks. Her body was found by a farmer’s dog in a field not far from where we lived.”

  Matt muttered a curse beneath his breath. “Did they find the man who took her?”

  Aubrey shook her head. “No.”

  Matt’s fingers tightened on her arms. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It was two years ago, but it seems like yesterday. I’d give my life for her, if I could. Katie didn’t even get to live hers. She was three years old. Three years.”

  Matt enveloped her in his arms and brought her gently against his chest.

  Aubrey leaned her cheek on the hard expanse of muscles and listened to the beat of the man’s heart. The sound gave her a strange sense of hope. Though she’d lost her baby girl, others still lived and breathed around her.

  At one point after they’d found Katie’s small body, Aubrey had wanted to die in order to be with her little girl. She worried that Katie was alone and afraid, missing her mama. The pain had been so intense, breathing had been a chore. Her depression had been so deep, she hadn’t seen what it was doing to her marriage. Her husband blamed her for their daughter’s death. She should have kept Katie close, never taking her eye off the child.

  “One minute,” Aubrey whispered into Matt’s shirt.

  “One minute?” he asked, tipping her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “One minute was all it took for my child to disappear. One minute that changed my life forever.” She met his gaze through the tears swimming in her eyes. “I can’t save Katie, but I will not let Isabella die without giving it my all to save her.”

  * * *

  MATT HELD AUBREY in his arms, starring down into her watery green eyes, wishing he could take away this woman’s pain. “You aren’t responsible for Isabella,” he reminded her. “Let the sheriff and his people find her.”

  “What if they don’t? If I don’t start looking now, it could be too late when the sheriff’s department...” Her fingers dug into his shirt. “A child needs to be loved, not tortured. Katie... I should have been there for her.”

  Matt didn’t know what to say to make Aubrey feel better. Having never had a child of his own, he could only imagine the pain of losing her. So he held her close, smoothing his hand over her hair until the sobs stopped shaking her body and her tears dried.

  Eventually, she pushed against his chest. “I’m sorry. I made your shirt wet. If you like, I can put it through the wash.”

  Her eyes were red rimmed, and her face was streaked with the tracks of her tears. Still, she was beautiful with her auburn hair in disarray from her flight through the woods and the ride on the back of the motorcycle.

  “I’d been doing so well. I haven’t had a tear-fest in six months.” Her mouth twisted. “Crying is a waste of time and emotion. With anger, at least I get things done.”

  “Like what?”

  “I throw myself into cleaning or working out. Crying saps my
energy.”

  “Being shot at and running through the woods will sap your energy too. You need to rest.” He tipped his head toward the room his mother used to sleep in. It was strange that someone else slept there now. But Aubrey was a gentle soul like his mother. It didn’t feel so bad knowing she was the one living in his mother’s house. His mother would have liked her.

  “How can I sleep when there’s a little girl out there, scared and maybe hurting?” She looked up at him.

  “There won’t be anyone we can question until daylight,” he argued. “They can’t study the ground and look for clues until the sun comes up. You might as well get some shut-eye.”

  She shook her head. “Damn them. Damn them all. I wish I’d had a gun when I went out there. They might not have killed Rosa. I might have stopped them from taking Isabella.”

  “You don’t know that. They might have turned your gun on you,” he said. “You could be the one on the way to the coroner instead of Rosa.”

  “At least then Rosa’s girls might still have their mama alive.”

  “Or both you and Rosa would be dead, Marianna would have been taken along with Isabella and no one would have known about the children.” He reached for her and gripped her arms. “You’re alive for a reason. That reason was to save the baby and help the sheriff find the missing girl.”

  Aubrey sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Not maybe. Now, go get some sleep. We’ll head out at dawn and see what we can do to help in the search.”

  As Aubrey headed toward her bedroom, she stopped and turned back toward Matt. “Have you considered... Do you think...” She hesitated and then blurted, “Do you think the same people who killed Rosa killed your mother?”

  The thought had crossed his mind. “It’s been four years since my mother was killed. I doubt the same coyotes are still working the same area. And we don’t know why she was killed or why she was out in that field.”

  “But it could have been. Or people like the ones who killed Rosa.” Her gaze met his. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring up bad memories for you. But if we find the people who killed Rosa, maybe they know who killed your mother. If so, you might get closure.”

  “They never found the man who killed your daughter?” Matt asked.

  Aubrey shook her head. “No.” She bit down hard on her bottom lip; tears welled in her eyes. “I hate the thought that he’s still out there and some other little girls could be his next victim. Katie would have died in vain.”

  Matt couldn’t stand the torture in Aubrey’s face. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms again. “Look, we’ll find the men who killed Rosa. And when we do, we’ll see if they know anything about my mother’s murder. I know a little about what you’re going through. I wasn’t here when my mother was killed. I feel like I should have been. At the very least, I should have been able to find her killer.”

  “It’s hard to move on when things are left undone,” she said into his shirt. “Some people never get over it.”

  “Is that what happened to Katie’s father?” he asked.

  Aubrey nodded. “And me. I never got over losing Katie. We were two broken people who couldn’t put each other back together again. So, I saved him the hassle and left.” She nodded toward a large envelope on the table. “My divorce was final last week. That’s the decree, all signed, sealed and delivered. Our life as a family is officially over. Emotionally, it was over the day Katie was taken.”

  “Damn.” Matt’s heart squeezed hard in his chest. “What a lousy way to end a day. If it makes you feel better, why don’t you hang out with me on the couch. We can put on an old movie and wait together for the sun to rise.” He tipped her chin up. “Sound better?”

  She nodded, the hint of a smile nudging the corners of her lips. “I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to.”

  “Okay, then. Do you have the makings for cocoa or tea?” he asked.

  She nodded. “In the cabinet over the stove.”

  He smiled. “That’s where my mother kept stuff like that.”

  “Let me get you something.”

  “No, I’m not the one who ran through the woods beating up terrorists.” He guided her over to the sofa and eased her down. “Sit.”

  Aubrey frowned. “I’m not a dog.”

  “You’re right. A dog would have ignored me with that command.” He winked. “Tea or cocoa?”

  “Cocoa,” she said. “It’s summer and it’s warm outside, but something about cocoa is soothing and reminds me of a simpler time when my parents shouldered all my worries.”

  “Cocoa it is.” He went to the kitchen he’d spent much of his young life in with his mother making dinner while he set the table for just the two of them. She’d never dated or brought a gentleman home. It had been just him and her up until the day he left to join the Marine Corps. Now that he thought back, she’d smiled and seen him off, but she’d been alone after he’d gone. No one to look out for her.

  Guilt gnawed at Matt. He’d been so ready to shake the dust of Whiskey Gulch off his boots and get away from the small town and small-minded people he’d gone to school with. And yet, here he was, back in the town he swore he’d never return to. His mother was gone. Before he’d learned of his inheritance, he had no real reason to stay. But he had.

  “You doing okay in there?” Aubrey appeared at the bar. “Need a hand?”

  “I’m doing okay.” He’d been standing in front of the stove, staring at the cabinets, unmoving.

  “I’ll get the cups,” she said, and entered the small kitchen. “I keep them near the sink.” Aubrey reached up into the cabinet and retrieved two mugs and set them on the counter.

  “Again, that’s where my mother kept them.” He stared at the mug with the San Antonio skyline on it. “She always drank her coffee in the morning with that one.”

  “I saw no need to move or replace anything. I came with nothing from my marriage. I was very happy to find your mother’s home, fully equipped.” She frowned. “Does it bother you that I’m using her things?”

  “Not at all. I think she would have been happy that someone who needed them is using them.” He scooped cocoa mix from the container into the mug, his arm brushing against hers. “I think she would have liked you.”

  “She had an eye for beautiful old things most people would have thrown away.”

  “Yes, she did. And she breathed new life into them.”

  Aubrey nodded with a faint smile. “I think I would have liked her too.”

  He had the urge to pull her into his arms again and brush his lips across hers. A woman he’d only just met. What was wrong with him? “Milk or water?” he asked, moving away.

  “Milk. I’ll get it.” She turned too quickly and ran into his chest. “Oh.”

  Matt reached out to capture her arms and steady her, holding her longer than was necessary. For some reason, he couldn’t make himself let go.

  She stared up at him. “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” He did let go and stepped out of her way.

  Aubrey retrieved the milk, poured it into the two cups and set them into the microwave on the counter. Soon, they were sitting on the couch, sipping the cocoa.

  Matt had turned the lights off in the kitchen and dimmed the ones in the living room like he had so many times in his childhood. Everything about the night was strange, but right. He felt as if by being there for Aubrey, he somehow was making up for the fact he hadn’t been there for his mother. It was stupid, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was supposed to be there at that moment.

  With the cocoa consumed, Aubrey curled her feet up beneath her and laid her head on the couch cushion.

  “You should sleep. I’ll keep an eye on things while you do.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” she said, followed by a huge yawn.

  “Of course you’re not.” He took the
cup from her hands and set it onto the table. Then he grabbed a throw blanket from the back of one of his mother’s chairs and laid it across Aubrey.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For staying with me, when you have a bed waiting for you back at the ranch.”

  “No problem.” He gathered their mugs and carried them into the kitchen, running water through them before putting them into the dishwasher.

  “Matt,” Aubrey called out. “Shh.”

  He shut off the water. “What?”

  “Do you hear that?” She was sitting up straight, her head tilted slightly.

  “Hear what?” he said, coming around the bar to stand in the living room. That’s when he heard the sound of engines. Several engines, racing toward the house. Bright lights shone through the curtains into the house.

  “Get on the floor!” he called out, reaching for the handgun he’d brought with him. He grabbed his cell phone and tossed it to her. “Call 911.” He ran toward the light switches on the wall.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He hit the levers, sending the room into shadowy darkness, and continued toward the windows. “I need to see what’s going on out there.”

  “No. You need to get down.”

  “We have to know what’s going on out there.” Hunkering low, he ran toward the front of the house, where the noise was loudest.

  Easing up to the side of the big picture window, he lifted the curtain, carefully, so as not to draw attention to him.

  His blood ran cold. Outside were four ATVs lined up, the riders pointing semiautomatic weapons at the house. He dropped down, flattening himself to the floor. “I count four bogeys, heavily armed. Stay down. It’s about to get ugly in here.”

  Before the last word came out of his mouth, they opened fire, raining bullets into the house.

  Glass shattered, wood splintered and the quiet little cottage at the edge of town turned into a war zone.

  Chapter Five