Heart of a Hero

by Marie Ferrarella

  The driver did as he was told, his hands shaking as he made the knots. Dakota leaned over to check them, careful to stay clear of his hands. The man on the ground cursed her weakly.

  Rusty got the rest of the rope out of the trunk and tossed it to Dakota. “Tie up the driver,” he told her.

  “Nothing would give me more pleasure.” With swift movements, she wove the rope around the man’s hands, then his feet, leaving him hog-tied beside his partner. “Doesn’t feel so good when the shoe’s on the other foot, does it?” she said to him.

  Gun still at the ready, Rusty watched her. The woman was magnificent. It wasn’t a new thought for him. “You don’t panic under fire, do you?”

  “If I did, we’d both be dead.” Satisfied that the ropes were secure, she stepped back. “Those knots should hold well,” she told him. “They’re not getting free any time soon.”

  Rusty nodded, already walking to the car. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

  “What about us?” the driver cried after them. “You can’t just leave us here.”

  Rusty got in on the driver’s side. His eyes showed no emotion. “Watch me.”

  “We’ll die out here,” the driver sputtered, thrashing around like a newly caught fish.

  “That’s the main idea,” was all Rusty said before starting up the car and driving away.

  Strapping on her seat belt, Dakota twisted around to watch as the two figures on the ground behind her grew smaller, merging with the horizon. There was nothing to see except occasional brush for miles around. It was winter, but it was still fairly warm during the daytime. When night fell, so did the temperature. Not to mention that there were coyotes in the area. The two henchmen’s chances of surviving were slim to none.

  Dakota shifted back around to face forward. She didn’t want Johnny and the driver’s deaths on her conscience, even though they’d already proven that hers wouldn’t have affected either one of theirs. She studied Rusty’s profile for a moment, her pulse still racing from their narrow escape.

  This wasn’t like him, she thought. “Are you really going to leave them there?”

  He turned toward her ever so slightly, not sure if it was idle curiosity or concern he heard in her voice. “Would it bother you?”

  She pressed her lips together, examining her conscience. “It shouldn’t, but yeah, it would.”

  That she had compassion for her would-be executioners in the midst of the turmoil she was enduring heartened him. Compassion was one of the qualities he most admired and required in those closest to him.

  He nodded, as if to approve of her answer. “I’ll call Gray as soon as my phone gets into network range,” he promised. It was what he’d planned to do anyway.

  Dakota tried to sit back and relax, but couldn’t. She was far too worried. “Now what?”

  Until they could reach Gray, they had only one course open to them. To follow Del Greco. “Have you any idea where Enrique Stavos lives?”

  Dakota laughed shortly. The crime head’s residence was no secret. “Everyone does. It’s the showiest place in Nevada, bar none. And considering this is Las Vegas, that’s saying a lot.”

  “Good, you can give me directions while I drive.” He set his mouth grimly, not wanting to allow his thoughts to get too far ahead of him. “Let’s hope we get there before all hell breaks loose.”

  She seconded that thought silently.

  With Dakota’s directions to guide him, Rusty drove to Enrique Stavos’s estate, a desert palace that would have made a sultan drool.

  With the sun fully up, the ostentatiousness of the forty-room residence was hard to miss even at a distance. As Rusty made it out, he grimaced. The edifice was a monument to bad taste. It was surrounded by a fifteen-foot, black-iron fence. At the front, ten-foot-tall, carved white-marble horses reared on their hind legs, forever frozen in mid-motion on either side of the gate.

  Way too loud for his tastes, Rusty thought. “Thinks big, doesn’t he?”

  “Word has it, he always has.” Once she’d found out about Vincent’s background, he’d filled her in on everyone. He’d said that he wanted her to know what he was leaving behind to be with her. Wanting to be larger than life in his own way, Vincent had left nothing out. It was then that he’d given her the diary.

  “Stavos makes no secret of his ambition. He wants to own a piece of everything that exists in Las Vegas.” Hence the casino war. Her mouth hardened as she clenched her fists on either side of her. “And he’s using my son to get what he wants.”

  “Not for long,” Rusty promised her.

  He took the hill down to the gates quickly, driving as if the very engine was on fire and he had only moments to get to where he was going before it exploded. He’d called Graham Redhawk the moment he’d been able to get a transmitting signal, only to learn that Gray was unavailable.

  Belatedly, Rusty remembered that the man’s wife had gone into labor yesterday. Gray was probably still at the hospital or glorying in the joys of fatherhood. Leaving an abbreviated message to patch through to him at the first opportunity, Rusty had made a beeline for the Stavos estate.

  For the time being, they were on their own.

  Rusty knew that it would have been more prudent to wait for help to arrive, but prudent might lose them the boy and that was what this was all about, getting the boy back.

  Before they could manage to reach the front gates, Rusty saw them begin to open. A black limousine raced through before the gates were fully retracted.

  Someone was in one hell of a hurry to get away, he thought.

  In the distance, they heard gunfire.

  “He’s in there,” Dakota cried suddenly, grabbing hold of Rusty’s arm, and pointing at the limousine.

  He squinted as a cloud of dust formed in the vehicle’s wake. “Mother’s instincts?”

  “Perfect vision,” she corrected. He squinted harder. And made out a piece of red flannel material flapping cheerfully out of one window. “That’s Vinny’s blanket. They took him in it. He won’t go anywhere without it.” She would have known it anywhere.

  Making a turn so sharp that their car was nearly balanced on two wheels, Rusty spun the car around and tore after the limousine in hot pursuit.

  “Hang on,” he warned her, stepping down hard on the accelerator, “this is going to get bumpy.”

  “No kidding.” Dakota grabbed the overhead strap and did as he said. He was taking twists and turns as if he were a fifteen-year veteran of the race-car circuit. “Where did you learn how to drive like this?”

  A fond smile slipped over his lips. “Drag races in high school.” He spared her a single glance before turning his eyes back to the road. Keeping the vehicle from crashing required his complete attention. “I’m not as mild-mannered as I seem.”

  “You already proved that,” Dakota murmured under her breath.

  But he’d heard her. And knew she was talking about last night.

  Good, she hadn’t managed to wipe it from her mind the way she’d tried to make him believe. He had a foundation. Rusty figured it was all he needed.

  He thought he heard the sound of gunfire behind him again, but he couldn’t be sure. It might just have been a car backfiring. In any case, he had no time to speculate. The limousine ahead of him was capable of remarkable speed, given its size. The man behind the wheel was obviously a pro.

  But, Rusty silently vowed, he’d met his match today.

  Several miles later the road divided into what looked to be two neat parallel lines. Making a decision, Rusty pushed down on the accelerator as far as it would go. He needed to get ahead of the vehicle.

  Dakota looked at the speedometer. The needle was flirting outrageously with the one hundred mark. She could hear the car whining and rattling in protest. But they were passing the limousine.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded. Had he lost his mind? She pulled on his arm to get his attention. “The limousine’s back there.”

  “I know.” He glanced at
her fleetingly. “We have to get in front of them. I’ve got a plan.”

  She let go of his arm and tried not to worry. “Finally.”

  “Finally?” He didn’t know if she was being serious or just wry. “I thought we were doing pretty well up to now.”

  “‘Pretty well’ isn’t good enough.” Still hanging on to the strap, Dakota was rigid with tension as she strained to see the other car. “I still don’t have my son.”

  “But you will,” he promised. “You will.”

  So he kept saying. So she kept praying. “So what’s this plan of yours?”

  “To get ahead of him,” he repeated.

  He glanced at the dials on the dashboard, hoping the car wouldn’t overheat or give out before he got to where he was going. If he were driving his own car, he’d be feeling a lot more confident about its capabilities. He’d tinkered with it and tuned it until it handled like a fine stallion. He was driving blindly with this car and could only pray it would hold out long enough to get the job done.

  Judging that he was far enough ahead of the limousine, Rusty turned the wheel sharply and drove over the brush to reach the first road. The passage was jarring. They only had a couple of minutes at most before the limousine reached them.

  Once there, he drove a little farther until he came to a spot that was right for his plan. “This is it,” he announced, braking abruptly.

  The car shuddered and shook, very nearly spinning out of control before it finally halted. He angled it sideways so that there would be no way for the other vehicle to pass them.

  “All right,” he reached to the left of the steering column and pulled the lever he found there. “I’m going to pop the hood. I want you to get out of the car and pretend to be stranded.” He got out himself. “Look your damn sexiest.” Looking at her, he took back his instruction. “Never mind, you’re already doing that.”

  She flushed at the compliment, vainly trying to shake it off. She had no business savoring compliments when her child was still in jeopardy.

  Hands on her shoulders, he kissed her quickly. “For luck.” And then he hurried away.

  Stunned, she stared after Rusty. “Where are you going?”

  “I won’t be far,” was all he had time to tell her. The limousine was approaching in the distance. He had to find a place to hide before the driver saw him.

  “God, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she murmured under her breath. Especially since he had taken the gun with him.

  Swallowing, she saw the limousine driving straight for her. Dakota raised her arms and began waving at the driver in abject distress.

  “Wait, please,” she called, doing her best imitation of Marilyn Monroe. “I need help.”

  Because there was no way around her, the limousine stopped several feet away. The driver got out, cursing loudly.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Get your car out of the road, lady, before I ram it out of the way.”

  “That’s just it. I can’t.” She looked accusingly over her shoulder at the vehicle. “It won’t go. Not another inch.”

  The driver scowled darkly, looking at the obstacle. He obviously had no time for delays. “It will if I plow my car through it.”

  Dakota grabbed his arm, her eyes wide in supplication. “But you can’t do that. How will I get into Vegas? I’ll miss my afternoon show. The director said he’d fire me if I was late again.”

  Her effort hadn’t failed her. For the first time, the attributes of the woman making her plea began to register on Stavos’s chauffeur. She shuddered inwardly as a leer formed on his lips as he gave her the once-over. “You’re welcome to ride with us, honey. You can even sit in the front with me. If you promise to be really grateful.”

  To liken the man to a gorilla would have been insulting to gorillas everywhere, she thought. Dakota forced a smile to her lips.

  “Oh, I will,” she breathed, hanging on to his arm and deliberately keeping his back to the limousine. “I’ll be ever so grateful to you.”

  With the driver occupied, Rusty took his chance. He hurried out of the brush where he’d managed to hide. Crouching, with time ticking away, he yanked open the rear door, his weapon trained at whoever was next to the window.

  The man inside looked surprised, but recovered instantly. He lunged for Rusty’s weapon. As they grappled for control, the gun discharged.

  Dakota screamed, afraid to think past the sound. Whirling around to see what was going on, the driver cursed, then began running toward the car. Frantic, knowing she had to do something to keep him away from Rusty, Dakota picked up a rock, aimed and then hurled it at the back of his head. She hit her mark and he went down.

  Running past his prone body, she was in time to see Rusty order the other man away from the vehicle. He stumbled out, his hands raised. He left the door open.

  Inside, cowering on the black leather seat, clutching his blanket and vainly trying to fade into the upholstery, was her son.

  Dakota thought her heart would break from the sight.

  “Oh, baby, it’s all right. Mommy’s here. She’s here.” Tears threatened to choke her as she slid into the car beside her son.

  “Mommy?” The little boy said her name as if he thought he was dreaming. He blinked and she was still there. With a cry of joy, he flung himself into her arms. “No more bad men,” he pleaded with her. “No more bad men.”

  “No more bad men,” she echoed, hugging him to her, stroking his silky hair. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, unable to believe that he was finally safe again. “I promise, sweetie.”

  Quickly she got out of the car, still holding her son in her arms. He was wrapped around her like a monkey, still holding on to his precious blanket. She didn’t want to frighten Vinny, but the sooner they got away from here, the better.

  “I’ve got him, let’s go,” she said to Rusty, hurrying to their car.

  When he didn’t follow her, she turned around to urge him on again.

  It was then she saw the blood splattered on his shoulder.

  Chapter 15

  More adrenaline poured into her bloodstream.

  Worried, Dakota touched Rusty’s shoulder lightly. Her fingers felt sticky. She stared at them in horror.

  Words came to her after the fact. “Omigod, An dreini, you’re hurt.”

  Wiping the blood from her fingers onto her jeans, she held her son close to her as she scanned Rusty’s torso for more wounds. There appeared to be only one. The bullet had not gone through. It was still lodged within him.

  He winced when she touched him and cursed inwardly. He wasn’t supposed to show pain. Rusty struggled to keep the fog circling his brain at bay.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” It felt as if his shoulder were on fire. Sweat popped out on his brow as he fought against the fierce pain. “Don’t worry, it’s a flesh wound.”

  As if she didn’t know the difference. Who did he think he was, John Wayne? “That’s an awful lot of blood for a flesh wound.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t believe in doing things in half measures.” His head was spinning badly and his legs were beginning to feel rubbery. “Dakota, how good are you with a gun?”

  Something was terribly wrong if he was surrendering the gun. She tried to not let her mounting panic break through. “I can blow an apple off a gopher’s head at thirty paces.”

  “I had a feeling.” Carefully, keeping his eyes on the other man, Rusty transferred the weapon to Dakota. It was beginning to feel heavier than he knew it should. He needed to sit someplace before he fell over. “We’re fresh out of apples, but see what you can do with this weasel. I’m going to try to raise Gray again.”

  Knees buckling, Rusty sank down onto the passenger seat of the limo that had so recently held Vinny and his captor. Rusty fumbled for his cell phone, trying to remember which pocket he’d put it in.

  He was making her really worried. “You don’t look so good, Rusty.”

  With effort,
he focused on her. The woman was magnificent. Standing there, one arm wrapped around her son, the other extended, holding a gun trained on the henchman, she looked like the modern equivalent of a pioneer woman protecting her family. He figured she was worried, otherwise she wouldn’t have called him by his first name. Even in his confused state, he found the thought comforting.

  “I don’t feel too well,” he replied. The driver was beginning to stir. Rusty knew that he should check the man for a weapon, but his head was spinning badly now and he really didn’t trust his legs to make the short trip. “Dakota, he might have—”

  “A gun,” she concluded. “Right. Way ahead of you.” She placed her son within the limousine. He looked up at her with vivid, quizzical eyes. She kissed the top of his head. “Vinny, you stay with the nice man.”

  Vinny looked at Rusty and offered him a shy smile. “Nice man,” he echoed.

  “Yes, baby, very nice man,” she assured him, then hurried to the prone body sprawled out on the ground. She needed to frisk him before he came to.

  Moving swiftly, she checked the usual places for a concealed weapon and was successful on her fourth attempt. She pulled the gun free of its holster and tucked it into her own waistband.

  Watching her, Rusty thought of every fantasy he’d ever had as a teenager about strong, sexy women. “You do that like a pro,” he managed to say.

  “You learn a few things living on the wrong side of Las Vegas,” she told him as she started crossing toward the limousine again.

  “Get down!” Rusty yelled, bolting up from his seat just as she reached him.

  The next moment she felt him push her roughly to the ground. Above her head a single round of gunfire being exchanged resounded, throbbing in her ears. She could have swore she’d felt a bullet whiz by her head as she’d gone down.

  Scrambling to her feet, it took her a second to pull everything into focus. The man behind her had had another gun on him, a snubnose that had fit into the front of his pants. She’d checked his legs for a second weapon, but missed that one because he’d been lying on his stomach.