Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle)

by Susan Vaughan

  “You’re all wrapped up, and the stitches are protected,” the nurse babbled in her irritating, jolly manner as she rearranged bandages on a tray. “The bullet nicked two ribs, so the surgeon had to remove bone chips. In no time you’ll be dancin’ the two-step.”

  Sweat broke out on Maddy’s brow. Pain was a gorilla squeezing her chest, but she made it to an upright position by levering on an elbow.

  She didn’t want good cheer. She didn’t want consoling. She wanted answers. “Do I have to stay here? How late is it?”

  “Oh, no, hon, you can go as soon as the chair arrives. A volunteer will wheel you right to the door.” The nurse helped her into her shirt and jacket. “It’s seven o’clock. You can go home for supper.”

  The movements required to slide her arms into sleeves irritated the demons into a frenzy of pitchfork jabs. She mentally thanked Holt for bringing a button-up shirt not a pullover. No telling what mischief the demons would have caused. By the time she was dressed, perspiration rolled down her spine and her breathing came in shallow gasps.

  The nurse bent closer and winked. “There’s one large, anxious cowboy pacing out in the hall. If I had that gorgeous guy to go home to, I’d be ready to leave too.”

  “Holt?” He was still here? Oh, my. She pressed a hand to her lips. When the bullet from nowhere had slammed into her side, her last thought before she blacked out was that she’d never get to tell him she loved him.

  Opening her heart to him again would have to wait. He wasn’t ready. He’d made that painfully clear. In any case, inroads in his stubborn pride would also have to wait until the danger was eliminated.

  The nurse bustled out to the hall and ushered in Holt before she left.

  He took one slow step and then another toward the gurney. A fierce scowl drew his sandy brows together, and he gripped his hat tightly with both hands. He looked enraged and wretched.

  “You didn’t...get him.” Every breath stabbed a new sliver in her side.

  Shaking his head, he worked his way around the hat brim like a kid molding a clay ashtray. “Dammit, Maddy. I didn’t protect you like I promised.”

  Her heart swelled with love for him. That was her Holt, taking responsibility for everything. Never mind all the deputies and DEA agents surrounding the place. “Dicey situation. You couldn’t...be everywhere. Tell...me about it.”

  “When you were shot, all hell broke loose. Bonnyman was right there beside you. She drew her sidearm, but we saw no one to shoot at.” He slapped his hat against his pants leg as if to punish it. “If you hadn’t stood up at that moment, the shot might have—” His voice broke, and he kneaded the hat even harder.

  “You’re going to...ruin your favorite hat.” She tried a smile. No pain there. But no laughing allowed.

  He jammed the tortured headgear on his head and his hands in his jean pockets. Used to competence and control, the poor man felt so furious at being powerless.

  “The sheriff and Special Agent Salazar found a spent shell from a rifle in one of the outbuildings. That shed was supposed to be locked. The shooter fired through a crack in the wall.”

  “What about the gun? Did they find it?”

  “Hell, no. A near impossible job. One of the gun racks stood next to the shed. If the shooter brought his own load, he could’ve picked any rifle off the rack, shot at you, and replaced it with none the wiser. They all appeared to have been fired recently. Probably used for the team shoot. Do you have any idea how damned long it’ll take to test the dozen or so firearms in that rack? And all the others. And forget fingerprints.”

  “If that’s what he did.” Talking didn’t rile the demons as much. Painkillers were doing their job.

  He nodded morosely. “Many folks—vendors mostly—were still around, but the deputies and the DEA cleared the people in the stands.”

  “Including Will, I assume.” When Holt nodded, she asked, “How did he react?”

  “Shook his horns like one of those steers he used to tackle, but after we explained, he understood. What riled him was somebody ruining the safety record of the shooting clubs.”

  The wheelchair arrived, guided by a sweet-faced grandmother in a pink smock.

  With one last look that told her he doubted granny could protect her, Holt trudged out to fetch the pickup.

  Maddy edged off the table to a standing position. Pain radiated through her torso and dizziness rocked her head, but she made it into the chair.

  At the patient exit, the pickup was waiting, door open, but she didn’t see Holt at first. Night surrounded the hospital except for pools of safety lighting. One of those spotlighted Holt talking with Luke Rafferty beside a Circle-S truck. Maddy stood and dismissed the volunteer.

  “I’m awful relieved you’re going to be okay.” Luke strode to meet her. “I apologize for lying down on the job instead of keeping an eye out for the bastard who shot you.”

  What might be humor tilted Holt’s mouth. “He’s not kidding about the lying down part.”

  He offered her his arm, and she held on. Through the canvas jacket, she felt his solid muscular presence, a mountain of stability. Luke was one of Holt’s prime suspects, so what was going on? “What do you mean, lying down?”

  “You might have noticed some tension between Hawke and me.” He thumbed back his black Stetson.

  “A bit.” She leaned against the side of the truck. The dizziness abated, and she was only a little winded from the walk. “Only thick enough to slice with a machete. Something about Faith, wasn’t it?” For the first time, she noticed Luke’s lower lip was swollen and red as a tomato.

  “How the hell did you figure that out?” Holt blurted. He stood beside her, arms loose, as if to catch her if she fell.

  “I thought it was obvious. Will and Luke are very protective of their sister. She used to date Chris.” She shrugged, then winced at the careless movement.

  Luke kicked his boot heel on the pavement. “Instead of doing my job this afternoon, I had it out with Hawke. We pounded on each other for a few minutes before Faith broke us up. Then what he’s been trying to tell me for months finally got through my cement skull.”

  “And what was that?”

  “See, all this time, I counted him lower than the underside of a rock for ending it with her because she was crippled. He didn’t dump her. She ended it with him. Something about not wanting to burden him with a gimpy woman. But that’s another whole set of problems.”

  “And you never asked Faith about it?”

  Luke shook his head, a rueful twist to his puffy mouth. “So Hawke pummeled some sense into me.” He quirked a crooked grin. “But I gave him a shiner that’ll rival the full moon.”

  His phone beeped, and he walked aside to take the call.

  “Then he’s out of the running as shooter?” she asked.

  “Reckon so. While you were being shot, those two were pounding each other. Our trap failed all around.”

  The deputy returned, his expression as grim as Holt’s. “I hate to be the one to tell you bad news. Bobby’s missing.”

  “Missing?” she said. “Oh no, he’s okay. He’s staying with the Pattersons for a few days.” A chill slid down her spine at the hollow optimism in her voice.

  Regret darkened Luke’s gaze. “Edgar Patterson just phoned the sheriff’s office. Sometime between five-thirty and six-thirty, someone pried open the bedroom window and snatched the baby from his crib.”

  Maddy’s throat seized up. The pool of light she stood in shrank to a shimmering, formless whirl. She squeezed her eyes closed. “No! Oh, no, dear God...Bobby!”

  Beside her, Holt stiffened. His features hardened, and he gripped Luke’s arm. “Is there more?” His voice chilled her.

  “There was a note.” Luke’s gaze shifted back to her. “Block print on ordinary white stock. It wasn’t signed, but they want to make an exchange. The baby for—”

  “Me.” She fought back the clawed at her chest. No, no, no. That innocent child. Fear was a living thi
ng that threatened to consume her, to paralyze her if she let it. “Me. He wants me. To get at you. I—”

  Holt sidled away from her, his eyes narrowed to hard chips of ice, the crystalline blue of the coldest snow. “So here’s your big chance to run. To escape.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and she clutched the passenger door handle for support. How could he not trust her still? Pain suffocated her. She couldn’t draw enough breath to respond.

  His countenance as hard as iron, he turned away from her and to Luke. “Take her back to the Valley-D, will you? I’m headed to the sheriff’s office.”

  “Holt?” she said weakly.

  “You keep the hell out of it.” He paused, his jaw working. “You’ve done nothing but cause problems ever since you arrived. If you’re well enough to leave the hospital, you’re well enough to leave, period. Isn’t running what you do best? You can pack up and fly to that European gig anytime.”

  Chapter 25

  After Holt’s shocking dismissal, Maddy sat numbly in Luke’s truck for the ride to the Valley-D. Tears threatened every time she allowed her fears for Bobby to surface.

  To add to her sore ribs, her stomach cramped. Who could have him? Where was he? Was he warm and fed? Did the kidnappers know to rub his back when he fretted in his sleep? Did they know that his little wrinkled brow meant he was wet? Did they care?

  Oh, God! Bobby!

  At the ranch, she began to pack her duffel, but then little things seeped into her wooly brain.

  Holt’s initial concern for her at the hospital, his gentle caring. His relentless nobility and damned sense of responsibility. The fury in his eyes that hid a deeper fear, for her as well as for his nephew. He ordered her to keep out of it not to get rid of her, not because he could no longer stand the sight of her, but because he loved her.

  He was sending her away to protect her.

  That perception gave her the strength she needed. She couldn’t leave Holt any more than she could leave before she knew Bobby was safe and sound and home.

  Impetuosity might be such an integral part of her nature she couldn’t change. She could change in another way. Holt had accused her of running whenever things got rough. Fight or flight, was it?

  Maybe he was right about the past, but this time she chose fight.

  *****

  When Holt returned after midnight, he found Maddy asleep in the kitchen rocking chair. He fisted his hands at his sides, steeling himself.

  She startled awake with the click of the door. Blinking, she sat up. A fleeting grimace told of the pain in her ribs. “Bobby?”

  He shook his head. “No news. Writing on this note was different from the other one.”

  Her breath hitched as she seemed to suppress a sob. “What will you do?”

  “We’re setting a trap for him. Beyond that...” He shrugged, his throat too tight to find words. His jaw tensed at what he was bound to say next. “You packed and ready to go?”

  She scooted forward and pushed to her feet. Perspiration beaded her forehead. In spite of pain that had to be like a knife in her side, her stare was determined and level if her stance was not. She crossed to the table and gripped a chair back for support. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Your calendar job starts in less than a week.”

  “I cancelled that. And the rest of my contracts. You’re stuck with me. For better or worse. Isn’t that what we vowed? I want to help. I can take Bobby’s place.” Her chin took on that stubborn cant.

  What was she saying? His heart raced at the possibilities. The impossibility. And a trade was out of the question. The kidnapper wouldn’t trade. He’d have them both.

  He shifted on his boots, paced to the cold woodstove, unable to stand still. “God, Maddy, your offer to trade yourself is braver than I can ask. I’m more grateful than I can express for your help, but your part in this is done. You...you can’t stay. The marriage was just for the baby’s sake.”

  “Maybe at first. No more. I’m in love with you.”

  “In love with me? Love me?”

  Her words wrapped around his heart like a warm blanket. He shoved them away before he could let himself believe them. “Like you loved Rob? And we know how long that ‘life together’ lasted.”

  “By now I’d think you’d understand Rob and I weren’t meant to be. If you keep looking over your shoulder at the past, you’ll miss your whole life. Our whole life together. I believe you love me too. We have a chance to make a future as a family, and I won’t let you throw it away.”

  He watched the determination in her features, but couldn’t make the leap. “I know you’ve changed, matured. But it doesn’t change who you are. You’re a nomad.”

  In the coolness of the late hour, boards creaked in the old house. The wall clock seemed to tick louder to make up for the lack of a baby’s cries.

  Maddy wanted to weep. She wanted to scream at Holt for being so blind. So proud and stubborn. But that pride and tenacity were part of what she loved in him.

  She tried to speak clearly over the tension in her throat. “I’ve been a nomad, but it’s not who I am. You refuse to see the truth.”

  “And that truth is?”

  “I’ve been running from my feelings for you for eight years. Maybe we wouldn’t have had a chance together then but we do now. I love you. I love Bobby and the babies we can have together. And I love this ranch. My roots in these mountains aren’t as deep as yours. Yet. But I’m not leaving.”

  “Maybe not today. Maybe not next month. But you’re used to the jet-set life, to taking off to all parts of the globe.”

  “Been there, done that. Freelance photography helped me grow. But I can take pictures anywhere. Even here.”

  An inarticulate humph was his only reply.

  She gazed at the ceiling, seeing their crazy situation as a whole. “Ironic, isn’t it? You fought loving a woman you don’t trust, and I fought loving a man who won’t let himself trust me.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “There’s more to a marriage than love. I need a wife to help run the ranch. In good times and bad. You’ve spent only summers here, the easy time. No winters when you might have to slog through deep snow to rescue damn fool cows that wander off. Nor when a blizzard might strand you, limit you to between the house and the barn for days at a time. Nor—”

  “Early spring calving when you might be up every night for a week doctoring newborns with scours and coaxing new heifer moms to nurse their babies. I know all about that,” she added softly. “And I’m not Bonnie.”

  He sagged, looking bushed, his features tight with anxiety. “Knowing isn’t doing. How could I be sure you’ll stay?”

  “You can’t be sure.” She edged toward the hallway.

  “Then what do I do?” Exhaustion and worry etched deep lines in his face and honed his voice to razor sharpness.

  Time to play her trump card. “Take me on faith. Your brother doesn’t need your guilt trip any more, but your wife needs your loyalty.”

  “Maddy, it’s not a real marriage.” His tone bordered on desperate, as if he needed her to convince him he was wrong.

  She tossed her head, would flounce about if not for the pain. “It’s real if we make it real. Sometimes I wonder if your blindness is guilt or just pigheadedness. You who pride yourself on family loyalty will have to trust my word I feel that same family loyalty. I love you and I will stay with you. Forever.”

  Twitching her hips, and with a show of confidence she didn’t really feel, she headed to the bedroom. With every step, every twitch, the demons stabbed spears at her ribs.

  She turned to find Holt staring after her with hungry eyes.

  “I’ll be right here if you think of some way I can help bring Bobby home.” Her lips curved in what better look like a sensual smile, and she lowered one eyelid in a slow wink. “Oh, and I notice you didn’t deny that you love me too.”

  *****

  By the time the sun climbed above Ghost Mountain’
s rugged slopes, Holt and the others had settled into hiding places in and around the old silver mine. Sheriff’s department vans dropped them off on the old trail, and they’d hiked up in the dark.

  The mineshaft was little more than a gaping maw in the cliff with three tumbledown sheds to its right, just enough to qualify as a ghost town.

  Holt tried not to dwell on what could happen to Bobby if something, anything went wrong. Delivering Maddy to El Águila, which he would not do under any circumstances, wouldn’t ensure the baby’s safety. Surrounding the drop the kidnapper chose seemed the only alternative. “We still have awhile to wait.”

  “The note said nine A.M.” Luke hunkered down in the rocks beside him. He eyed Holt doubtfully. “You were awful hard on Maddy last night. Have you talked to her?”

  “Back off. That subject’s off limits.” He wouldn’t talk to anyone about Maddy.

  He turned away and held binoculars to his gritty eyes. Shadows laced the rocky path leading to the mine. The trail was empty except for darting songbirds. A flock of chattering nuthatches settled on a low-growing juniper. The sparse Ponderosa pines and other evergreens would provide little cover for anyone climbing the trail—or avoiding the trail.

  The mountainside surrounding the mine was a litter of boulders, smaller rock piles, and scrub. He couldn’t spot the other watchers.

  A good thing.

  If he couldn’t detect the sheriff’s bulky form to his right on the slope or the several deputies and DEA agents scattered around in the sheds and behind boulders, neither could the bad guy—or guys.

  Even old Bronc had stashed himself somewhere on this mountain to aid in rescuing the helpless baby.

  They didn’t have much of a plan. The drug lord would send one—maybe more—of his goons. Their main hope was to snatch the man and grill him before he realized Maddy wasn’t here. Force him to disclose where they were holding their hostage. Bobby. Those thoughts would paralyze him. Holt focused on the hillside.