Wilde One

by Jannine Gallant

  Griff lowered the borrowed cell and pressed his own to his ear. The only sound was the rumble of an engine. When the noise stopped, he tensed.

  “Are we here? I don’t see anything?” Ainslee’s voice came across higher than normal and tinged with fear.

  “Nothing to see. We’re miles from the nearest house, so if you scream, no one will hear.”

  “Why would I scream? Just tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Then you can let me go.”

  “I hope it’ll be that easy, but I’m covering my bases. Just in case you lie to me.”

  “Lie about what?” Her voice rose another octave.

  “Where you put the treasure, bitch. It wasn’t in your room at the lodge.”

  “How do you know? Did you break into my room?”

  “That isn’t your biggest problem right now.”

  A car door creaked.

  “I don’t have the treasure.”

  He snorted. “Sure you don’t.”

  “I don’t. I swear!”

  “Get out of the car. We’re going to go have a little chat. When we’re finished, I bet you’ll be telling a different story.”

  Griff’s breath came in harsh pants as he clenched the phone in his fist.

  “I’m telling the truth now!” A door slammed, cutting off Ainslee’s tearful voice.

  When the borrowed cell rang, he switched phones and punched the connect button. “Carter?”

  “Is this Griff Wilde?”

  “Yes. The bastard who was after the treasure has Ainslee.” He sank down onto a stump and hung his head. “I’m afraid he’s going to hurt her—or worse. You have to find her.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m in Utah, and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to get back to California. I can’t help her.” His voice cracked. “I can’t be there for her when it really matters.”

  “We’ll find her.” The detective’s voice softened. “But first I’m going to need a few details.”

  The other rafts arrived while he repeated everything he’d heard on the phone. Lights flashed as the actors and crew headed up to the camping area. Sawyer stopped by his side and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

  “So, she was in Rockpoint when this man took her?” The detective cleared his throat. “In your estimation, how long was she travelling in the vehicle before it stopped?”

  “A half hour. No longer.”

  “What do you hear on the phone now?”

  Griff pressed his cell to his other ear. “Nothing. They left the car.”

  “Do you know the license number? I’ll put out an APB. Maybe we’ll get lucky and a patrol car will spot it wherever it’s parked.”

  He rattled off the number and a description of the SUV. “Lucky I needed the license for motel registration, and I have a good memory. Oh, the car has New York plates.”

  “Got it. Did the man’s voice sound at all familiar?”

  “No.” Griff frowned. “I’m almost certain it wasn’t Ogden Morris. No Bostonian accent. And it sure as hell wasn’t Marietta Damonte.”

  Carter grunted. “Too bad we don’t know who we’re dealing with, but we’ll track Miss Fontaine’s phone—just as soon as I can get a trace approved.”

  Griff jerked upright. “How long will that take?”

  “I’ll rush it as fast as I can, but I have to find a judge to sign a warrant, and it’s late. It may take some time.”

  “No! This guy made it clear he’d force some kind of confession from her if he had to.” His voice broke. “He could be hurting her right now.”

  “I’ll do my best, but there’re procedures I have to follow. I’m putting out the APB right now.”

  “Fu…” He drew in a breath when Sawyer’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Screw procedure.”

  “I want you to hang up your cell.” The detective’s voice hardened. “We can’t track Miss Fontaine’s phone if her battery dies.”

  “What if they drive somewhere else? I could—”

  “The police will handle this. Hang up the phone. Oh, I still want to talk to you when you get back to the Bay Area. Any idea when that might be?”

  “As soon as is physically possible.”

  “Call me when you get here.” He repeated his cell number before the line went dead.

  With mumbled thanks, Griff handed the borrowed phone over to the actress who was still hovering nearby. His finger trembled as he pressed the button to disconnect the call on his own cell—his final tie to Ainslee. “Shit.” Taking a deep breath, he added the detective’s number to his contacts.

  “Someone from the company I hired to set up camp will drive you back to Moab.” Sawyer touched his arm. “You can catch a flight out first thing in the morning.”

  “I can do better than that.” Blake Benedict slipped his cell into his pocket as he walked toward them. “The studio jet will be waiting to take you to San Francisco when you get to Moab. I just got off the phone with the pilot, and he’s making the necessary arrangements.”

  Griff jumped to his feet. “Serious?”

  “You bet.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You don’t have to.” The smile on the actor’s lips slipped away. “I know how it feels to be far away when someone you love needs you. Go find your woman.”

  “Oh, I will.” Griff took the flashlight his brother handed him and ran full tilt up the steep trail leading to the road.

  And when he did, the asshole who’d taken Ainslee was going to wish he’d never been born.

  * * * *

  In the dark, Ainslee tripped and fell over a root. Pain shot through her knee as her captor jerked her to her feet. Her lungs burned. Gasping for breath, she stumbled forward at a trot.

  “Move it.”

  They’d left the car parked beside the road in a state park near the ocean, then hiked inland through ferns and huckleberry bushes, dodging around madrone and oak trees. After walking for nearly an hour, Ainslee’s legs shook with each step.

  “I can’t see where I’m going. There’s not even a trail.”

  “Too bad.” His flashlight beam barely penetrated the dark. “Anyway, we’re almost there.”

  Drawing a shaking breath, she forced her feet to move, wondering where there was. She didn’t bother to ask. Whoever this man was, he didn’t like being questioned—or contradicted. Her cheek still stung from the last time she’d argued with him. He’d told her to be grateful he’d only tried to slap some sense into her instead of using his fist.

  When tears ran down her face, she brushed them away with her free hand. Falling apart wouldn’t help. She wasn’t sure what would. At her side, Rocky scurried through the underbrush as fast as his short legs could manage, whining all the while.

  “Finally.”

  Dragging her by the arm, the freak entered a small clearing. Faint moonlight revealed a tiny shack with wood piled near the front door and a stovepipe sticking through the roof.

  “If I’d had to listen to that mutt whimper for one more minute, I would have killed it.” He jerked open the door. “Get inside.”

  Ainslee did as she was told. The wicked blade of the hunting knife he wore strapped to his leg was more than enough motivation. She didn’t want to give him an excuse to take it out of the sheath again. Giving Rocky a backward shove with a booted foot, he slammed the door. Left outside, the dog howled.

  “You can’t leave him out there!”

  “Wanna bet? If I’m lucky, a coyote will eat him.” He lifted a kerosene lantern from a hook on the wall, lit it with the lighter he pulled from his pocket then set it on the table. “Sit.” He toed a straight-backed chair toward her.

  Ainslee sat. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she shivered, wondering what he was going to do to her. Maybe she should lie. The truth sure wasn’t getting her anywhere.

  He pulled out the knife and wiped the blade on his jeans before straddling the other chair. Brown eyes w
ithout a hint of compassion in their depths regarded her steadily. “Unless you want that pretty face permanently damaged, I’d suggest you tell me exactly where you hid the treasure.”

  Her stomach twisted, and bile scorched her throat. For a minute, she was afraid she’d be sick. Breathing through her mouth in harsh pants, she clenched her fists on her thighs. “We took the painting and jewelry we found in the box to be appraised. They’re at a gallery in Carmel. We cashed in the gold bar, and I deposited my half in my bank account. The check stub is in my purse in the car if you don’t believe me. I tried to tell you before, but you wouldn’t listen.” She raised one hand to touch her throbbing cheek.

  “You said you didn’t have the treasure.” His voice rose. “You didn’t mention anything about an appraiser.”

  “That’s because you kept interrupting me and calling me a liar.”

  He smacked his fist on the table next to the knife. The thud echoed like a shot in the spartan room. He swore then rose to his feet. Grabbing up the knife, he paced the small space. Turning, he glared at her. “If you’re telling the truth, we’ll just have to get them back.”

  “I only have a phone number for the gallery. No one will be there at this hour.”

  “Then you’ll call in the morning.” His dark eyes narrowed. “You’d damn well better not be lying to me.”

  “What would be the point?” She steadied her voice. “If I lied, you’d find out soon enough.”

  “Maybe you expect someone to rescue you in the meantime.”

  “I wish. Too bad I don’t believe in miracles, and that’s what it would take for someone to find me out here.”

  “Where’s Wilde when you need him, huh?” His lip curled. “Looks like he ditched you as soon as he got his share of the cash.”

  Ainslee pressed a hand to her chest but stayed silent.

  “If you’re not lying to me about making that bank deposit. I think I’ll verify your story, just to be sure.”

  “You’re welcome to check my purse. I’m telling the truth.”

  “I don’t need your permission, bitch.” Crossing to the wood stove, he pulled a coiled rope off a shelf behind it. “Gotta love the Boy Scouts. Always prepared.”

  “Is that what this place is, a Boy Scout shelter?”

  “Not that it matters, but yes.” He looped the rope around her and the chair, pulled it tight and knotted it.

  She bit back a cry as the hemp dug into her breasts.

  “That should hold you while I’m gone.” Without a backward glance, he left, slamming the door behind him.

  Ainslee jerked against the bonds but couldn’t move an inch. After struggling for several minutes, a cry ripped from her throat. No way would she be able to get loose. She was at the mercy of a man who’d already tried to kill her on more than one occasion. Silence settled around her, broken only by an occasional creak or moan as the wind blew in gusts off the ocean. Rocky had stopped barking some time before, and she didn’t even want to think about why. Tears ran down her face and soaked into the neck of her shirt. She choked back another sob.

  Surely Griff had called for help when their conversation was cut off. Someone must be looking for her. She had to believe help would come. Closing her eyes, she let out a long, shaky breath and prayed—for a miracle.

  Chapter 25

  Griff rented a car at the airport and made the drive into the city in what had to be record time. At this late hour, traffic was sparse and parking near the police station available. He pulled up to the curb, got out then jammed quarters into the meter before running up the sidewalk. When he’d spoken to Carter right before the movie studio’s private jet landed, the detective had assured him he’d have the warrant signed and a trace put on Ainslee’s phone within the hour. There’d been no sighting of the SUV. Time was up. If Griff had to hang around the station doing nothing, imagining what was happening to Ainslee, he’d lose his mind. Pulling open the door, he entered the overly warm lobby and headed straight to the front desk.

  The officer on duty, an older woman with frosted hair, gave him a bright smile from behind the protective glass. “May I help you?”

  “I’m Griff Wilde here to see Detective Carter. He’s expecting me.”

  “I’ll get him for you, sir.” She picked up the phone, spoke then gave a nod. “He’ll be right down.”

  Griff blew out a long breath. It was almost midnight. Ainslee had been with the freak who’d grabbed her for nearly four hours. He had to believe she was okay. Surely the asshole wouldn’t hurt her. He’d need her to get the painting and necklace back from the appraiser—if that was still what the man wanted. Shoving shaking hands into his pockets, he paced the tiled floor.

  The interior door opened, and a stout man with close-cropped gray hair hurried through. “Are you Wilde?”

  Griff nodded and held out his hand. Detective Carter’s clasp was firm as he gave it a brief shake.

  “Do you know where Ainslee is?”

  “They’re pinpointing her exact location. The phone signal is from north of here, somewhere near Tomales Bay. I have the local authorities searching for her vehicle in the area, and I’m on my way up there now. Without traffic, I should make it in an hour.”

  “Great. Let’s go. I don’t want to waste another second.”

  The man frowned. “You’re not going anywhere. My partner will be around with the car in a minute, and I’m not taking a civilian into what could be a potentially dangerous situation. You’d only be in the way. Go find yourself a hotel room and sit tight.”

  “But—”

  “I have your cell number. I’ll keep you informed.” With a nod, he pushed open the door and strode out to the street.

  Griff followed, stopping on the sidewalk when Carter climbed into a gray sedan. As soon as the detectives pulled away, he sprinted the half block to his rental car. “Sit tight my ass.” Jamming the key in the ignition, he peeled out onto the street with a screech of tires. The only place he was going was to find Ainslee.

  * * * *

  Ainslee huddled on one of the wooden bunks that lined the walls, arms wrapped around her knees to ward off the chill in the air, hoping the huge, hairy brown spider that had just scurried into a crack hadn’t gone to get reinforcements. Not that a whole colony of spiders would be her biggest problem at the moment. After returning from her car, the freak had released her then gone outside for a cigarette. Odd that a man who hadn’t hesitated to smack her upside the head several times would have the courtesy to smoke elsewhere. His mood had improved slightly. Having found the cashier’s check stub in her purse, he apparently no longer suspected her of lying about what they’d done with the treasure. Still, even if she retrieved the necklace and painting from the gallery without incident, she wasn’t sure how he expected to get away without the police tracking him down.

  Unless he intended to kill her. That would explain why he’d made no effort to hide his identity. Not that the lunatic had actually told her who he was, but she wondered if he would if she asked. No reason not to. If she was going to die anyway, she might as well satisfy her curiosity first.

  Her fists clenched. Except she wasn’t ready to give up. An image of Griff, green eyes bright with life and laughter, flashed through her mind. Despite the damp chill in the room, merely thinking about Griff warmed her. She had way too much to live for to let this psycho win. If there was any justice in the world, he’d settle down, fall asleep, and then she’d stick his own knife through his ribs.

  A raised voice outside the shack broke through her morbid thoughts. Rising to her feet, Ainslee crossed the room to the door then eased it open a crack. Her captor stood with his back to her, his cell pressed to one ear.

  “I told you, I’m handling it.” He bent to stub out a cigarette. “Don’t get squeamish on me now. I don’t give a shit if you draw the line at murder. I haven’t wasted the last couple of weeks of my life racing around the country only to walk away empty-handed.”
>
  Ainslee pressed her forehead to the door as her heart thumped painfully. Could she slip out while he was distracted? She had to try. If he caught her, he wouldn’t kill her. Not yet, anyway. Not until he had the treasure.

  He still needs me. Doesn’t he?

  “Jesus, Marietta, you’re giving me a headache. Just shut up and relax. I’ll call you when it’s finished.”

  Pushing open the door, Ainslee bolted across the clearing straight into the woods. Hands out in front of her, she charged through the bushes. Limbs slapped her, scratching her face. She didn’t slow, panting for breath as she ran. When her foot caught, she slammed to the ground. Pushing up, she stumbled ahead. The thrashing and swearing behind her gave her a burst of terror induced speed.

  A hand wrapped in her hair and jerked her to a stop. Pain exploded as hair ripped from her scalp.

  “Bitch!”

  A blow to the head knocked her sideways, sending her spiraling into darkness.

  * * * *

  Griff stayed well back of the unmarked police car. No reason to rouse their suspicion, and with so little traffic on the highway it was easy enough to keep track of their taillights, despite the fog drifting across the road. When the red glow disappeared, he stomped on the gas to catch up and nearly missed the exit into the State Park.

  Had the cops left the highway here? Was this where the freak took Ainslee?

  Turning on the road to Tomales Bay, Griff nearly rear-ended the gray sedan stopped in the middle of the road. Breaking hard, he jerked to a halt. The rap on his side window sent his heart into his throat. Slowly he lowered the glass.

  “God damn it, I told you to leave this to us.”

  He couldn’t see the speaker with a light shining in his face, but he recognized Carter’s voice.

  “So shoot me.”

  The beam lowered. “I just might.”

  “We can’t shoot him, but we can arrest him. We’ll lock him up in the car.” The second voice was higher and filled with annoyance.

  “Where’s Ainslee?” Griff directed the question at Carter.

  The detective let out a sigh. “Her vehicle was abandoned with the phone in it not far from here. The local police haven’t located anyone yet, so the perp must have taken her into the forest. There’s no trail at the point where they left the SUV, so searching the vicinity will take some time.”