Hill Country Holdup

by Angi Morgan

  “I’m fine.” Ignoring his injury, he pulled the man off the ground and tossed him on the folding chair. “Tape him.”

  Rhodes took the tape and used it generously on Knifeless Guy’s hands and feet, then searched his pockets.

  “Cell phone,” Rhodes said. “The call history has been erased.”

  “Are we doing things the easy way or do I need to send my girlfriend into the trailer so she won’t get sick?” Steve let himself sound a little crazy. This wasn’t a typical interrogation, he couldn’t use ordinary techniques. “What’s your name?” he demanded as he pointed the gun at his face.

  The man grunted. Steve walked behind the chair.

  Jane took the roll of tape from a makeshift table and bound Steve’s knife wound. “That should hold until you get to a hospital. I’ll be in the camper,” she said, opening the door. “I’d rather not be sick.”

  Steve wrapped his arm around the man’s neck and pushed the barrel of his weapon up the guy’s nostril. “Look, man, the way I see it, I have two choices. I can call the authorities and tell them where you are, but that doesn’t get me anything I need. Or you can tell me who hired you and I won’t pierce your nose.”

  The guy tried to get away, but succeeded in knocking himself over as Steve relaxed his hold.

  Good.

  “Who hired you? Where were you supposed to take us?” Steve looked the man in the eye, then yanked him upright again. He kept his voice low, but loud enough so the man knew he meant business.

  “I don’t have time for games. Now tell me who hired you before I lose my cool and pull this trigger.”

  Jane tried unsuccessfully not to watch or listen to what was happening outside through the window. Tried not to pay attention to Steve. A Steve she had never seen before. A Steve who had a gun in one hand and an attempted murderer in the other.

  The man who Rhodes had knocked unconscious was awake and staring at Steve with huge frightened eyes. She didn’t care. She wouldn’t care. These men had tried to kill them and were involved in the disappearance of her son. She wouldn’t allow herself to care. No matter what Steve did, she wouldn’t interfere.

  “The number’s in my phone, man,” the guy in the chair said, caving in. “I was supposed to text when we got you. That’s it.”

  “Don’t give me that crap,” Steve shouted. “Where were you supposed to take us?”

  “Esta en el caro. Por favor no nos maten,” the little guy shouted from the ground.

  “What kind of car?” Rhodes asked. “What street?”

  The man must have answered because Rhodes took off at a gallop, but Jane couldn’t hear. She let the curtain fall. One way not to care was not to watch.

  The decryption program should be done. Every instinct she had told her the file was important. She would discover what secrets it held and then tell Steve her own. Time was up. Steve needed to know he was searching for his son.

  “Do you know how amazing it is to see you sitting here, covered in mud but without a scratch after what we’ve just been through?”

  When had he slipped into the camper? She looked up at him and in one rough, exciting move his hand slid up and around her neck to bring her closer. His kiss was hard and slashed across her mouth, making her think of raw, pure sex. He didn’t back off and tilted her head back, demanding a response. She gave it.

  Her arms wound around his waist and up his back, pulling every sensitive part of her against him. They were alive and in each other’s arms. Nothing else mattered except Rory.

  The tension of the past two days worked its way into their frenzied movements. She pushed everything from her mind and enjoyed the complete feeling of his lips.

  As quickly as their passion ignited, they were back under control. The need was still there—plain in the ache shadowing his eyes. He gently released her and she sat on the worn cushion.

  “We can’t wait on you to finish,” Steve said. “Time to go.”

  The screen changed. The program silently announced it was complete. She’d done it. This was it. She stared at the laptop, not Steve. “It’s done.”

  Steve looked over her shoulder as she scrolled through the pages, committing the short document to memory before the information completely sank in.

  “You got all that?” His brow furrowed as if he were confused. Or was it disdain that he couldn’t deal with her freakish handicap?

  “It doesn’t seem to be important, after all. This file is a personal journal.” She ignored the instinct to smooth the wrinkles or ask what he’d been thinking. “I don’t know why someone from the FBI would want to encrypt a journal. It’s titled The Hera Project.”

  His sudden stillness gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Hera? Wasn’t she a Greek goddess?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “What does it say?”

  “Queen Lamia, beloved of Zeus, was robbed of her child by Hera. The cunning Lamia is smarter than the jealous Hera. She will find her son… Wait. The person who encrypted this file didn’t copy the myth correctly. In Greek mythology, Hera stole Lamia’s children, not child. And Lamia disguised herself as a vampire and stole other children.”

  “Anything else?” His Adam’s apple moved slowly up and down as he swallowed hard.

  “It mentions the Norse myth of Fensalir,” she continued. “It’s the mansion of Frega where happily married couples spend—”

  “Eternity together.” His words escaped on an unbelieving breath. “That’s the name of Stubblefield’s ranch.”

  “She’s the agent you’ve been in contact with. What does this journal have to do—”

  “It’s her. Stubblefield kidnapped your son.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “I’m calling George.” He dialed the cell he pulled from his pocket. “E-mail that file to the Bureau.”

  She knew the e-mail address from searching the files earlier.

  “Why would she do this?” she asked. There wasn’t an answer. Steve was on the phone, explaining everything to his partner.

  “How should I know?”

  She could only hear Steve’s side of the conversation, but she could complete the blanks. Especially when he said, “No. Have the locals pick her up here.”

  She wouldn’t be left behind and would let Steve know as soon as he hung up the phone.

  “And just why can’t I go with you to Agent Stubblefield’s ranch?”

  “It would be safer if you stayed here and waited for the team.”

  “Why do men always say stupid things like that? I know they say it in books and movies to look like the caring…whatever. But you’re saying it in real life. Would you say it if I were your partner? Is it expected or something? Some kind of unwritten code that you need to split from the woman you’re with and somehow that’s going to protect her?”

  Steve opened his mouth to answer, but Jane pushed forward. She wouldn’t allow him to get away with this.

  “If I’m a liability then tell me so. If you think I’ll slow you down, that you won’t get Rory out alive, then just say it.” She poked him in his chest. “Remember one thing though. In all those books and movies, the heroine usually saves the hero’s butt at the last minute. I’d rather work with you instead of following after you like an idiot without a clue.”

  “You continually surprise me, Dr. Palmer.” He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “But the answer is still no. Where’s my hat and shirt?”

  “Your hat?” She put her hands on her hips and blocked his way from the trailer. “Am I going with you or not?”

  “It’s been settled and I didn’t have a choice.” He tried to step around her.

  She blocked his way again. “You are the most frustrating man. How can you just ignore me?”

  “Ignore you? God, Jane. I haven’t ever been able to ignore you.” His hands gripped her arms, and he moved her out of his way. “Hightail it, Rhodes. Cops’ ETA is six minutes.”

  “These guys are
secure for the cops. Did you determine how they followed you?” Rhodes didn’t hang around for the answer. He picked up the helmet and pushed his motorcycle down a dark path.

  “That reminds me. Let me see your shoes, Janie.”

  She slipped them off. Steve twisted them into odd shapes until they heard a small pop.

  “I can assume it’s a GPS chip used for pets. Did Stubblefield bring you the clothes at headquarters?”

  “Yes, but I’m not staying here,” she said, frantic at the thought of being left behind.

  “You’re heading back to the team.” He placed her shoes in her hands.

  “We have to find Rory. Both of us, together.” How could she tell him? How? “We can’t wait for the FBI.”

  “I’ve called George. He’s coming by chopper when the weather clears. I know you want Rory, but you need to trust me. Stay here.”

  There wasn’t time.

  “Rory is your son.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Of all the ways Jane had thought about informing Steve he was a father, shouting at him had been last on her list. She’d imagined his look of surprise as the words sank in, imagined him taking her gently in his arms.

  Instead, he clamped his hand around her wrist and hauled her to Rhodes’s ancient truck. There was nothing gentle about the way he shoved her, covered in mud, into the passenger seat. And nothing gentle about the stony planes of his face as he climbed in behind the wheel and drove—for a full hour.

  Coward that she was, it took her that long to figure out what to say next.

  “I’m so sorry to blurt it out like that, but I couldn’t let you leave me behind.”

  “Did you lie just to get me to let you come?”

  “No.”

  “So you’ve been lying for the past two days?” He stared at the back country road, as he had since they’d left San Antonio.

  “I tried to tell you. There never seemed to be enough time.”

  “You’ve had four years.”

  “That isn’t fair.”

  “Fair? If Rory really is my son, I’ve missed every moment of his life.”

  She couldn’t answer. He was right. She should have told him long ago. But she couldn’t go back and correct her actions. Those four years were gone. They had to locate Rory, then they could think about the future.

  “Did you know when you moved to Baltimore?” he asked.

  “I found out about seven weeks later.”

  “And you’re certain I’m the father?”

  “Yes.” Would he believe her if she told him she hadn’t been with anyone else?

  These questions were important for Steve, she understood his need to know the facts. But didn’t they also need a plan to get Rory back from the kidnappers? “What are we going to do when we reach Stubblefield’s ranch?”

  “You just announced that I’m a father.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, squeaking the leather under his fingers. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to think about anything. Part of me wants to believe you’re lying, because that same part of me can’t believe you lied to me for so long. But if you’re finally telling me the truth, another part of me wants to hate you.”

  It was her turn to stare silently out the window. She’d never been good with people. She didn’t know how to react in emotional situations. Logic didn’t work. She couldn’t draw from any book she’d ever read. Nothing prepared a person for an unexpected child. She’d had months to accept Rory’s coming birth. Steve was working on his second hour.

  “Before the kidnapping, you were bringing Rory to meet me. Weren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He barely heard her whisper over the road noise and wipers thumping against the glass. “It must have been hard all on your own.”

  “I had Rory.” She reached up and touched his arm. “I didn’t want to impose on you, Steve. I still don’t.”

  Now how was he supposed to take that? Jane didn’t want anything from him—then or now. He could drive himself nuts.

  “It didn’t take more than my pregnancy to…” She let her hand drift away. “To find out what it’s like to be completely alone. I wanted to be closer in case something happened to me. That’s all. So Rory would have family.”

  Never again, he silently vowed. She’d never be alone again.

  “God, Jane. You should have told me.”

  “I didn’t know how.”

  “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You couldn’t pick up a phone?”

  “Four years ago you made it very clear that you had a job to do and that nothing would interfere.”

  “It’s just a job.”

  “It never seemed as if it were ‘just a job’ to you,” she mumbled.

  But he understood. He’d tell her later how wrong he’d been. How wrong they’d both been. Nothing was more important than her and Rory.

  The rain came down in earnest again. It was the first time he’d been thankful for the bad weather. Hoping it would keep planes in the area grounded. But it would also ground the Bureau’s helicopters. He slowed the old truck to see through the downpour. He didn’t want to miss the road that would lead them to their son.

  He had a son and now he had to concentrate on his rescue.

  Jane fiddled with the window handle. She hadn’t really met his eyes since she’d told him about Rory. She kept blaming herself for the kidnapping, but it wasn’t her…

  “I’m not certain how Agent Stubblefield found out about Rory.”

  “I told Stubblefield about you.” He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “I can’t believe she hates me that much. I’ve been so stupid.”

  He had been stupid, running around like a chicken with his head cut off. Cliché, but true. If he’d had any brains left, he would have paid attention to the signs that Stubblefield was freaking out. He was a better agent than what he’d shown Jane the past couple of days.

  “Agent Stubblefield’s elaborate planning suggests it’s a bit deeper than simple hatred,” Jane said in a detached, doctor-like voice. “Would you mind telling me about your relationship with her? Don’t partners get close?”

  “Not me.” Her bland tone didn’t infer if she cared if he’d been involved or not. His, however, was much too defensive for a man with nothing to hide. But she didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

  Jane was slipping further behind her detached façade with each word. Couldn’t she be the scientist and a woman? But she was used to handling situations on her own, not depending on anyone. And his sending her to Baltimore had played right into the scenario.

  “Nothing happened. I lived in the same house with Stubblefield for two months undercover and nothing happened. When she wanted to make more of it, I told her I was in— That I was involved with you.”

  He’d almost told Jane he’d been in love with her. And why don’t you spill it? When do you intend on letting her in on that big secret?

  His entire life passed before Steve in the blink of an eye. Somehow he’d seen a glimpse of what he knew he wanted. A life with Jane and Rory. Maybe someday a little girl with Jane’s naturally curly hair. Or a couple more boys. Memories of Jane pregnant with his child would be nice, but it didn’t matter to him if Rory was the only one. He ached to show her how much he loved her.

  Stubblefield wasn’t going to rob him of any more of his life. The world suddenly quit spinning out of control. He knew what he had to do.

  “What happened then?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “The assignment ended. No big deal. No threats. Then she requested another partner. Just work.” Hadn’t it been? He didn’t know anymore. “I never mentioned why she wanted the transfer. I never knew anything was wrong.”

  “I don’t think she planned this to take revenge, Steve. I’m taking a wild leap here, but she’s stolen your child. She went to elaborate means to establish that I’m crazy, on antipsychotic medication, that I’m involved in a kidnapping and murder.”

  S
he paused long enough for the wipers to swipe twice. Long enough for him to assume she was compiling facts, not merely theorizing. “She wants you alive and me dead. There have been several case studies that would suggest she’s done all this for you.”

  “Me? But we’ve never—”

  “That wouldn’t matter. She might be attempting to create the perfect world in which you would love her.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose as if searching for glasses to push back into place. “Perhaps she used her FBI resources and discovered I had Rory. That might be what triggered a psychotic break.”

  More uncomfortable by the minute, he studied each sign trying to remember the exact route he and George had followed. He’d never imagined that he would become a part of the sickness growing worse in humanity. That because of him, his son would be kidnapped. Yet here he was, in the midst of a parent’s worst nightmare.

  “Are you certain Agent Stubblefield inherited the ranch?” she asked.

  “She said she did. Last year, from an uncle.”

  “I don’t think it’s mere coincidence that you were raised on a ranch and she inherited one.”

  “There’s no way she could afford to buy a ranch this size on what she makes at the Bureau,” he confirmed. “Not unless she stole before.”

  “This is only a theory, Steve. Agent Stubblefield may have a personality disorder. She may have gotten the money another way.”

  “She only received the Brant money two days ago. Do you think she kidnapped for the money to buy the ranch?” Was it possible? “That would mean that somewhere along the way, a kid was snatched from his parents because of me.”

  “Her illness has nothing to do with you. It could have been focused on anyone. You still help your parents with their ranch, right?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “Did Agent Stubblefield want you to visit?”

  “Yeah, I came out with George right after she got the place.” He drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. “I, um, I helped her hire a foreman.”

  “And you help with administrative advice. Did she ever ask what you’d do for improvements?”