Isolated Threat (A Badlands Cops Novel Book 4)

by Nicole Helm

  Cecilia didn’t know how to parse that. He wasn’t after Mak? Then what was the point of the fire? Of threatening her at the rez? Why on Earth were they here if not for Mak?

  Whatever the reason, he wasn’t lying when he said she was expendable. Which meant she had to tread very, very carefully.

  Brady would have gone to get backup. He wouldn’t have followed her half-cocked. Tucker wouldn’t let him. He’d been impulsive when Tucker was getting beaten up so he’d waded in, but he would think before coming to her rescue. Or Tucker would.

  If Tucker wasn’t on the wrong side of things.

  She had to close her eyes against the wave of debilitating fear, because God knew none of what she told herself was true.

  Chapter Twenty

  The heat was excruciating. Dehydration was likely, if not a foregone conclusion. Brady was surrounded by his own personal nightmare and he had lost Cecilia and Elijah’s trail.

  Brady stood in the middle of the vast Badlands and wondered where the hell he’d gone so wrong in his life. He’d tried to be good and do the right thing. He’d been shot helping Gage save Felicity. He was a good man.

  Why did he have to be a failure?

  Failure or no, he couldn’t give up. Not while there was a chance Cecilia was still alive. He couldn’t have fully lost the trail. He’d made a wrong turn was all.

  He backtracked, wiping the sweat off his face with his shoulder. He went back to the last place he saw the trail. It didn’t end abruptly so much as got fainter and fainter. Perhaps a breeze had blown through and made the track lighter.

  He stopped where he absolutely couldn’t be certain it went on, then stood still and studied the land around him. All rock. All gradients of brown, red and tan broken up by the occasional tuft of grass. But there was a familiarity here, like there’d been in that corridor of rock earlier.

  He was somewhere near...something he recognized. He couldn’t place it yet, but he would.

  Then he heard a thud. The lowest, quietest murmur of voices. It would be hard to tell where it was coming from the way sound moved in the Badlands, but he used the direction of the trail and his own instincts to propel him forward.

  Then, as landmarks became clearer, he realized he didn’t need to use either. He knew this place again. He knew where Elijah would have taken her.

  There was no way Elijah wasn’t Ace’s son if he knew all Ace’s spots. All Ace’s ways of torture. They had to be linked somehow.

  Brady took a moment to pause, to send up a silent prayer that Tuck would get backup and manage to find them in time, then moved quietly toward the entrance of the circle of rock.

  But Elijah poked his head out of the small entrance between the rocks. “Welcome,” he greeted sunnily. “Come on inside. Have a chat.” Elijah cocked his head. “Unless you want her brain matter splattered across the rocks. Can’t say I do, but I’ll oblige if necessary.”

  Brady stepped into the wall of rocks. It was where he and Gage had hidden during their escape. It was where Andy Jay, a random member of the Sons, had taken pity on them and lied to their father, allowing them to continue on to Grandma Pauline’s.

  Brady had no doubt it was where Andy Jay had died at his father’s hand, as punishment for letting them go. Andy’s son hadn’t forgiven the Wyatt brothers for their role in his father’s death. He’d tried to take down Cody not that long ago and failed.

  Brady couldn’t think about that. His sole purpose was not letting Cecilia die here too.

  He didn’t do more than give a quick glance to make sure she was all right before he turned his attention to Elijah. Brady positioned his body between the gun Elijah was pointing and Cecilia.

  Elijah rolled his eyes. “Do you really have to be so noble? It’s boring and predictable. I can shoot her regardless of what you do, so take a seat next to her like a good little soldier and we’ll keep her brain intact.”

  Brady considered rushing him. They were in a small enclosed space, and Cecilia would back him up, even injured.

  But if he could keep Elijah talking, he might get more information to use against Ace. To keep Elijah in jail longer, and to bide time until Tuck got back with reinforcements.

  If Tuck comes back with reinforcements.

  Brady took a careful seat next to Cecilia on the rock. She looked pale. He noted the splotch of blood on her shirt. She was bleeding through her bandages, surely dehydrated, and nothing about the situation they were in was good for that.

  “If you don’t think I’ve figured out you’re Ace’s son, you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

  Elijah laughed, enough to make Brady...uncomfortable. He was certain it was true, but Elijah’s laugh was...off.

  “I’m not Ace’s son,” Elijah replied, keeping the gun trained on Cecilia’s head.

  “Is that what he makes you say? I wonder why it’s gotta be such a secret.”

  Elijah shook his head. “See, I was chosen, Brady. I wasn’t just born. Ace picked me. He saw something in me. He didn’t knock up some dim-witted gang groupie and have some warped sense of loyalty because of blood. I was chosen because I’m better. Smarter. I can see things people like you never will.”

  “You mean you were his brand of crazy and you listened to what he said?”

  Elijah’s humor was quickly sliding away. His eyes went icy, his grip on the gun tightened, and his smile turned into a sneer.

  “You’re his weakness. The lot of you. You aren’t the reason he’s in jail. His delusion that one of his blood-born children would take over the Sons is what got him there. Blood. As if that matters. I will take over the Sons.” Elijah tapped his chest. “I’ll leave Ace behind if I need to. I’m the next in line because he saw something in me, and I’m the best prospect to take over.”

  “I’m not part of the Sons. What do I care if you’re better? It’ll always be my job to take down the illegal activity in my jurisdiction.”

  “You’re a part of Ace, which means that you’re currency, Brady. Not important, but usable. Taking you out was an option, but it doesn’t send the message I want. I don’t want blood and destruction like Ace. No, I want the Sons to be a real machine. Murder leads to anger and revenge and all that nonsense with Andy Jay and his son coming after you. I don’t want that. I want consensus. I want loyalty.”

  “What about Mak?” Brady asked, to draw out the conversation but also because he didn’t understand what any of this had to do with Cecilia.

  “I don’t care about that kid. I don’t care about blood. Being chosen is what matters.” Elijah took a deep breath as if to calm himself. “But I don’t appreciate being stolen from. Sometimes you have to make a statement. Besides, I’ve studied you. I know your weakness.” The gun pointed at Cecilia. “Damsels in distress. Long as I have a gun to her head, you’ll do what I say.”

  “But I won’t,” Cecilia returned.

  “You will. Because he wants you to.”

  “This is a really terrible plan, even for you,” Brady muttered. Cecilia gave him a look as if to say back off, but Brady knew this kind of delusional behavior. He’d grown up under its highs and lows.

  Anger would create an unstable environment, and Elijah might lash out, but he’d also lose sight of his plan.

  “We’ve got two against one here. I’ve got more help on the way. You’ll never win.” Brady shifted, trying to get his feet beneath him in a better position so he could lunge at Elijah.

  He could take him out before he could shoot Cecilia. If he got a shot off, he’d hit Brady. Surely it could give her enough time to finish the job. He glanced at Cecilia. She was still too pale, and looked a little shaky, but she gave him a nod as if she knew what he was thinking.

  Elijah lifted the gun and pointed it at Brady. His hand shook, color was rising in his face. “You’re very lucky killing you isn’t part of my plan.”

 
Brady was pushing too far. He should stop, but his own anger was swelling up inside of him. That this continued to be his life. Tormented by power-hungry men, invested in being smarter and more important than everyone else.

  Even when Ace was in maximum-security prison, Brady was fighting back the things Ace wrought, and he was tired of it.

  “Face it, Elijah. You’re a crappy leader. Your son will grow up knowing you were right about one thing, though. Blood doesn’t matter.”

  “Crappy leader? I will rule the Sons, and they will reach more glory than they’ve ever known. He chose me.”

  Brady shrugged, ready to strike. “Ace chose wrong.”

  Brady leapt, but in that same second, Elijah’s gun went off.

  * * *

  THE SOUND OF the gun echoed in the chasm they were in, followed by a howl of pain. Both men were on the ground, grappling, but Cecilia wasn’t sure which was moaning in pain, or if they both were.

  She couldn’t see the gun either. Just a tangle of limbs rolling across the rocky ground.

  The rocks. Cecilia lunged for the biggest one she could hold. She’d just need one clear second and she could bash Elijah over the head.

  But there was no opportunity. There were only grunts and groans of pain. She saw blood, but couldn’t tell who it came from. Her stomach turned, but she had to focus on getting Elijah’s gun.

  Screw the rock and her own injuries. She had to get in there and do what she could. When Elijah was on top, she grabbed his hair and pulled. He reached back with the hand holding the gun, and she grabbed it by the barrel, trying to point it anywhere but at her and Brady.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brady scoot out from under Elijah. Elijah had one hand still wrapped around Brady’s leg, but Brady kicked it until he shook off Elijah’s grasp.

  The blood was Brady’s. It was already soaking through his pants leg, but Cecilia couldn’t focus on that when she was grappling over the one gun in this godforsaken place.

  She tried to rip the gun out of Elijah’s grasp, but he held firm. With his other hand free, he swung up and landed a blow right on her stab wound.

  The pain knocked her to her knees, but she kept her grip locked on the gun. She couldn’t give in. She wouldn’t give in.

  Elijah was trying to scramble to his feet, pulling the gun with him, but she held fast. She used her whole body weight to keep the barrel pointed down rather than at her.

  “You’re going to die,” Elijah said as he huffed and puffed and wrestled over the gun. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

  Pain screamed through her, but this was life or death. She had to try to shut out the pain and focus on getting the gun away from the man who would most definitely kill her, and then probably Brady too. If he hadn’t already.

  She couldn’t let it happen. There had to be a way to survive.

  She saw out of the corner of her eye Brady try to get to his feet, only to fall to his knees. She couldn’t let the fear he’d been irreparably hurt weaken her limbs or her resolve. She needed to get the gun so she could get help for Brady.

  It’s a lot of blood.

  She adjusted her footing, still pulling down on the barrel of the gun, as Elijah readjusted his grip. She kicked out, managing to land a decent blow. Elijah didn’t go down quite the way she’d hoped, but she got a better handle on the gun. With one more yank she could—

  Brady grabbed her, pulling her off Elijah, which wrenched the gun from her grasp. She wanted to protest, but it was lost as he pushed her out of the opening at the same time something exploded.

  Reflexively, she ducked and covered her ears. Rock rained down on them and Brady tried to cover her body with his. She shoved ineffectively at him. He’d been shot. She should be covering him.

  From...an explosion? She finally managed to dislodge Brady from on top of her and looked at where she’d been not a minute ago.

  The rocks had exploded. There was little more than rubble on two sides.

  How... How?

  She looked around the rest of the area, stopping short at the figure standing a few yards opposite the explosion site.

  Tucker.

  She blinked at him. Was she hallucinating?

  “What on earth just happened?” Her ears rang, so her words sounded muted and far away. She looked at Brady. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against a wall of rock, injured leg out in front of him.

  There was so much blood. So much...

  Tucker handed her a strip of fabric. He must have torn it off his own shirt. She took it and wrapped it around Brady’s leg.

  “Let me guess, you need a hospital,” Tucker said grimly, looking down at Brady’s seated form and bloody leg with a certain amount of detachment. The rubble behind them seemed to be of no consequence to him.

  The words were still heard through a muffled filter, but Cecilia could make them out.

  “Wouldn’t hurt,” Brady returned, his voice strained as Cecilia pressed the cloth Tucker had handed her to his wound.

  “Ambulance is getting as close as it can. Paramedics will take the rest by foot and will be here any minute.” Tucker’s gaze moved from Brady to Cecilia. “You’ll both be transported. Depending on Elijah’s status, he might need to go first. And I’m not putting the three of you in the same ambulance.”

  “Shouldn’t you...” Cecilia trailed off because she realized there were two people moving the rubble. Where had they come from?

  Cecilia looked at Brady. His complexion was gray, but his eyes were open and alert.

  “Elijah didn’t think you’d get backup.”

  His mouth tugged upward ever so slightly. “I’m stupid, but not that stupid. Sent Tuck.”

  Cecilia looked back up at Tucker. She really thought he’d been against them, but here he was with backup.

  Apparently the kind of backup who could explode rocks. She frowned. “How did you...”

  Tucker shook his head. “Keep the pressure on that. You seem in better shape. I’m going to go help the paramedics find us.”

  He walked off and Cecilia looked at Brady. He was so gray and so still. “I hope you’re not entertaining any grand plans of dying, because that’s not going to work for me.”

  His mouth tugged up at one corner. “Nah. Surviving close range gunshot wounds is my specialty. You know what they say. Getting shot twice in a year is lucky.”

  “No one says that, Brady.”

  “Well, unlucky would be dead, and I am not that.”

  The word dead gave her a full body shudder, so she rested her forehead against his, still keeping the pressure on his wound. She let out a shuddered breath, and said what she never thought she’d say to a man. A near-death experience changed a girl, though. “I love you.”

  He let out his own shaky breath, and she just couldn’t stand it. This. His hurt. Her hurt. God knew what had happened to Elijah, but here they were. Alive. Bleeding, but alive.

  “So. You know, you better feel the same way or I’m going to kick your butt.”

  He chuckled, winced, made a half-hearted attempt to raise an arm that just fell by his side.

  “And you can’t die.”

  “Not going to die,” he said, though he seemed incredibly weak. “Gage is never going to let me live this down after the hard time I gave him about Felicity.” This time he seemed to focus all his energy and lifted his hand to briefly touch her cheek. “If I’m a little out of it here for a few minutes, it’s just the shock. I’m not going to die. Got it?”

  She swallowed down the lump in her throat and nodded.

  “But you can be sure that I love you too. Because God knows I’d be a lot more pissed about getting shot again if it wasn’t with you.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered, losing her battle with tears as one slipped over.

  Brady opened his mouth to s
ay something else, but one of the men by the rubble spoke first.

  “He’s alive.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brady had been shot before, and not that long ago. There was less fear this time. More irritable acceptance.

  Cecilia was sitting next to him. A paramedic had done a quick patch job, but they were currently working on getting Elijah out of the rubble and onto a stretcher.

  Brady had heard them mutter that if there was any hope of saving Elijah, he’d have to be transported ASAP. Brady’s and Cecilia’s injuries were serious, but they’d have to wait for a second transport.

  “Why are they prioritizing saving him? He would have killed us,” Cecilia muttered in Tucker’s direction.

  “Elijah might have some information that would...help my investigation.”

  Brady frowned at his brother. It was news to him he had any current investigation that connected to Elijah.

  But there was something about this whole thing that made him keep his questions to himself.

  The paramedics strapped Elijah to the stretcher, which would stabilize his body and keep him from being able to fight any of the paramedics, nurses or doctors who would deal with him on the way to the hospital.

  His head was turned toward them as the paramedics walked by.

  “There’s so much worse coming for you Wyatts. So much worse,” Elijah rasped. His face was bloody and torn up, but the hate in his eyes was clear and fierce.

  “I think we’ll handle it,” Cecilia returned.

  “Just like we’ve handled the rest,” Brady added. If Ace kept coming, in whatever form, they’d keep fighting. Because they’d built real lives—with love and loss and right and wrong and hope. Real, life-changing hope.

  Everything Elijah and Ace had was a delusion. It made them dangerous, sure, but it didn’t have to rule their lives. If every time Wyatts and Knights came together they fought for right and good, well, that was life.

  As long as they built one.

  “Do you think...” Cecilia leaned close to his ear, eyeing the men who were still going through the rubble. “Do you think Tucker’s part of Cody’s old group and that’s why he’s being so weird?”