Montana Heat: Escape to You

by Jennifer Ryan

  He fell onto her chest, his head pressed to her breasts, his ear over her heart. His arms circled around her back and held her close, their bodies still joined.

  “I don’t want to ever lose you.”

  She brushed her fingers through his dark hair and wrapped her arms around his head, holding him tight. “You won’t. I promise you, Beck, the only place I want to be is with you.”

  He leaned up and stared down at her. “Don’t you want to go back to Hollywood, your job, the fans waiting to see you again, all those people you’ve missed and are waiting for your return?”

  “Yes. When I’m ready. But that doesn’t mean I leave you. While I want to be with you here, I’ll never be content to give up acting. I love it. The way you love your work and would never give it up even if you do it in a different way. We can make this work, Beck.”

  “We will make it work.”

  “There is nothing from my old life that pulls me so hard it will tear me away from you,” she assured him.

  “Do you think you could be happy living here?”

  She placed her hand on his strong jaw. “I am happy living here.”

  Beck turned his face and kissed her palm. Satisfied with her answer—and getting what he wanted—he held her legs, stepped back, took her hand and helped her sit up once she unwrapped her legs from around his waist and planted her feet on the car bumper. He handed her the jeans and panties he’d tossed on the hood beside her earlier.

  “You’re a beautiful hood ornament,” he teased.

  She gave him a pinup pose and made him smile, his eyes filling with renewed heat as he stared at her. “Should I give up the big screen for doing car shows in my bikini?”

  “Not enough of a challenge in that for you, sweetheart.”

  He was right. She loved creating the characters she played. She smoothed her hand over the hood. “I’ll miss the black, but I can’t wait to see this thing once you’ve painted it.”

  “What do you think, red with black racing stripes?”

  “Silver with black stripes.”

  “Really?”

  She shrugged, not really caring what color he painted it, more concerned with the fact every drug dealer in the state probably knew the car belonged to a DEA agent. A paint job wouldn’t change the fact the car stood out just as much as her tattooed boyfriend. “Aren’t you nervous about being seen in this car?”

  “My face has been splashed all over the news and tabloids as your bodyguard lover.” He shook his head and pinched his lips with distaste.

  “You know you’re more than that to me. That’s all that matters. But people are interested in you because you saved me.”

  “Yeah, I get it. DEA Agent Saves Oscar-Winning Movie Star is a great headline.”

  She pulled on her pants over the panties she’d already shimmied up her legs and hips. “That’s Sexy DEA Agent,” she teased, punching him in the gut, his abs tightening under her fist.

  He rubbed his hand over his rock-hard abs. “Nice jab.”

  “I’ve had some training on set for a few of my roles.”

  “Yeah, what other skills are you hiding from me?”

  “Aside from boxing, I’ve had some martial arts and weapons training.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Knives and guns. I played an assassin in one of my movies.”

  “Anarchy.”

  Happy and a little self-conscious he knew which one and had seen her movies, she smiled. “We should go target shooting sometime. I’m out of practice, but I wasn’t half-bad.”

  “I’d like to keep you away from guns and anything else that puts you in harm’s way.”

  “I’m as frustrated as you that Brice is still on the loose. But I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s probably left the country and will remain a ghost in my life, always out there but unseen.”

  Beck narrowed his gaze and handed her the shoes he’d dropped on the ground. “They’ll get him.”

  “You’re mad you aren’t out there hunting him down.”

  Beck planted his hands on his hips. “I’m pissed off as hell they let him walk right out of the sheriff’s department.”

  If not for that fight that allowed Brice a way to escape custody, he’d be in jail now.

  “Any news on how Sergeant Foster is doing?”

  Beck swept his thumb over her cheek. “Better.”

  She leaned into his palm. “I hope he’s able to shake off what Brice did to him.”

  “You’re still having nightmares. He probably will too for a little while.”

  “Mine are better. So are my ribs. I just want Brice found and for this to be over.” Her cell phone rang in the jacket she’d taken off earlier and draped over the stool by Beck’s workbench.

  “Your manager again, wanting you to say yes to that media tour.”

  “I’m not doing that.” She refused to put herself on display. For all she’d talked to Beck about what happened, and the cops, she wasn’t ready to bare her soul to the public. If she could keep this private, heal in her own time and way, maybe she’d be able to talk about it someday without feeling like it was happening to her all over again.

  She dug her phone out of her jacket pocket and checked the caller ID. “It’s the sheriff’s department.”

  Beck’s eyes narrowed. “How’d they get that number?”

  “Maybe they wrote it down after I called the office yesterday to make sure they received the file you sent with the rest of my statement.”

  “You didn’t use the house phone?”

  “No.” She swiped the screen and answered her ringing phone before it went to voice mail. “Hello.”

  “Miss Swan, Deputy Kent from Crystal Creek Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Yes, Deputy Kent, what can I do for you?”

  “We have Brice Mooney in custody. We’d like you to come down to the station to assist us with verifying his answers while we question him.”

  Her hand shook as she pressed it to her mouth.

  “What is it?” Beck asked.

  “They caught him. He’s in custody. They want us to come down to the station.” Her voice shook with the relief coursing through her system. She spoke to the deputy. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  Beck’s eyes narrowed. “How did they find him?”

  “He didn’t say. They want me to verify whatever Brice says when they question him.”

  Beck still didn’t move to leave. “Why? They have the pictures and recordings.”

  “I guess they want me to verify the details that aren’t in those things.” She hesitated to leave now that Beck’s radar had gone up. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to put you through listening to him lie about and distort all the things he did to you. I can’t imagine the sheriff wants to put you through that either.”

  Underlying Beck’s concern for her was the fact he didn’t want to hear all the things Brice did to her. While he’d read the beginning of her statement, he couldn’t bring himself to read the rest. He couldn’t read it dispassionately as a victim’s statement and not feel anything, not when he cared so deeply, not when he loved her so much.

  That alone made her love him even more.

  “If I can’t handle it, we’ll leave, but I need to see him. I need to know that he’s locked up and will never come after me again.”

  She needed to look him in the eye one last time and let him know he hadn’t broken her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Just like every other time they left the house, Beck approached the front gate with trepidation and all-out disgust and anger that the vultures were still there. Fanatical fans, reporters, and photographers poured out of their vans and cars into the cold. He’d never particularly liked snowstorms, but he found himself praying for another one so these guys would find some good sense and go home. Instead, they set aside their thermoses of coffee, pulled their scarves over their mouths as their breath drifted in puffs on the wind, and made sure their jackets we
re zipped to their chins.

  “Why don’t they just leave?” Beck hit the control for the gate, thankful it opened without him having to get out and do it manually.

  The vultures stayed on the other side, thanks to his warning that he’d shoot them if they entered the property and rushed the truck like they did the first time he left with Ashley.

  Since Darren’s shooting, no one tried to sneak onto his land.

  That didn’t stop him from being paranoid about everyone still watching his property. One of these people could be a potential threat, either sent by Brice or the drug cartel that still wanted to take him down.

  King briefed him the other day as they scouted the property to be sure all the sensors were working. Whispers circulated that Guzman was out for his blood, especially now that Guzman had ID’d him as Trigger, thanks to his face showing up on every news outlet across the country.

  It was only a matter of time, but Beck wished he’d gotten more of it. This added another layer of danger for him and Ashley.

  The target on his back could shift to Ashley if he didn’t put down Guzman and eliminate the threat against him. He’d been worried from day one that Guzman would use her against him. As much as he wanted to keep her here, sending her back to Hollywood might keep her safer, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to go. In fact, he’d needed her reassurance that she wanted to stay with him. That the risk was worth it to her. That she loved him as much as he loved her and being apart wouldn’t solve anything. The threats still existed. He couldn’t protect her if she was away from him, and he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

  She needed him to feel safe and protected while she healed. She’d done so well these last days, even after they discovered Brice’s gruesome garden of bones.

  He hated driving her to see the devil who’d tormented her for nearly a year. A man who still tormented her.

  But not for long.

  He’d spend the rest of his life in jail. A cell. Better than the one he kept Ashley in because he’d have light, three square meals a day, a small semblance of dignity to hold on to even if he didn’t have his freedom. It’s more than he gave Ashley.

  Or the others.

  “Beck, what are you waiting for?”

  He shook off his thoughts and studied the faces of every fan, reporter, and cameraperson. The usual crowd. He and King had checked each and every one of them out. So why did he have this creepy feeling dancing up his spine telling him this was a bad idea? Nothing but his need to keep Ashley as far away from that sick and twisted bastard? He hoped so.

  But if anything happened, Beck had his gun and backup.

  He pulled out past the vultures, letting them take their pictures of Ashley as she covered her face with his flannel shirt. He pulled onto the road, hit the button to shut the gate, and drove away as the reporters and paps scurried to their vehicles like roaches when the lights came on. Beck watched in the rearview mirror for one particular vehicle and spotted it amongst the ones that turned to follow them.

  “Everything okay? You seem on extra-high alert.”

  He did the speed limit, shaking his head at those behind him speeding to catch up and see where he and Ashley were going. He had no way to shake them on this two-lane straight road, so curbed his frustration that he had no choice but to lead them.

  The closer they got to town, the more he wondered why the sheriff would want Ashley there while they questioned Brice. It didn’t make sense. They could ask her to clarify and corroborate things after they got some answers.

  “Something isn’t right.” He pulled out his phone and called the sheriff.

  “Beck?” The anxiety in Ashley’s voice matched the rising dread in him.

  The sheriff answered, but Beck didn’t even say hello. “Did you ask Ashley to come down to the station?”

  “No.”

  No sooner than Beck heard his worst fears confirmed, they approached a four-way intersection and a truck and van peeled out in front of him. Another truck pulled out behind him. Needing both hands to drive, he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

  “Beck!” Ashley screamed as the truck and van in front of them slammed on their brakes, blocking both lanes. He wanted to go around them, but the ditch was too steep. He’d either nose-dive into it, or end up flipping his truck. He couldn’t risk Ashley’s life like that and stomped on the brakes. His truck skidded to a stop, the back end swinging sideways. The truck rocked to a halt two feet from the other vehicles.

  The second truck pulled in sideways next to him, blocking him from backing up.

  The van’s side door flew open and two men wearing black ski masks jumped out, guns drawn on him.

  He reached for his gun and pulled it out a split second before the side door opened and two other ski-masked men dragged Ashley from her seat.

  “Beck!”

  He made a grab for her, catching her leg. He held on for dear life and shot one of the men who had hold of her right arm. The guy on the left kept tugging on her.

  Ashley screamed and squirmed, trying to get free, hitting the guy holding her in his head with her free hand, even though she was thrown off balance when the guy Beck shot dropped dead in the street beside her.

  The driver’s door swung open behind him. Another shot rang out, this one a report from far back where the reporters’ vehicles had probably stopped, King hidden among them in his own car. King’s expertly placed bullet hit the guy dead center in the back and took him down. But as soon as he’d fallen another guy crouched in the open doorway with a gun pointed right at Beck’s back.

  “Let her go, Trigger, or my partner will shoot her.” The guy had cold, ice-blue eyes. Beck believed him. A glance in Ashley’s direction showed him she’d gone still. The man held a gun to her head.

  Beck wanted to fight. He wanted to shoot both these men, but knew they had him by the balls. There was nothing he could do.

  King didn’t have a shot or he’d take it.

  “Toss the gun out.”

  Beck looked back at Ashley. Her horror-filled eyes locked on him. For her, he tossed his gun toward the guy with ice-blue eyes, hoping he did the right thing and got another chance to take these guys down.

  They weren’t here for her.

  They knew who he was.

  They were here for him.

  Beck locked eyes with the guy beside him. “Let her go. Guzman doesn’t want her.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He wants both of you.”

  The guy holding Ashley with her back to his chest dragged her away even as she struggled to get free, fighting hard but getting nowhere because the guy stood six inches taller than her and outweighed her by forty pounds. He hauled her to the van, picked her up, and tossed her inside. She wasn’t done fighting. She stood bent at the waist in the van, swung her leg back, and kicked the guy right in the nuts. He bellowed as all the air went out of him, his knees buckled, and he hit the ground hard, his hands covering his balls. Excruciating pain turned his face red. Ashley tried to get past him, but he planted his hand on her chest and shoved her back into the van wall. Her head bounced off the metal and she swayed and sank down to her bottom.

  Beck slid across the seat, jumped out of the truck, and went after the guy. He shoved him back and tried to grab Ashley’s outstretched hand. A gun bashed into the back of Beck’s skull, sending him falling forward. Fireworks went off on his eyelids as he caught his weight on his arms on the van floor. Someone grabbed his feet and shoved him inside.

  Busted-balls guy and ice-blue eyes jumped in after them, shutting the door. The driver stomped on the gas and drove away. With Beck’s truck stopped in the intersection, blocked from behind by the other vehicle and two dead bodies, King couldn’t possibly follow without first clearing the way.

  Beck panicked. His heart stopped. “No. Let her go.”

  Ice-blue eyes leaned down, grabbed Beck by the coat, hauled him up six inches, and got in his face. “You don’t have a say in this. You cost Guzman a
lot of money. He wants his payday and you dead.”

  Oh fuck. They meant to ransom Ashley. And God knows what else. And to who. And for what purpose. The infinite possibilities tormented him.

  Ice-blue eyes dropped him back to the floor of the van. Beck rose up, ready to fight, but didn’t get anywhere in the cramped space. Ice-blue eyes punched him in the jaw and sent him back on his ass. Strong as an ox, despite his age, he muscled Beck onto his stomach, pulled one of his arms up his back, nearly pulling his shoulder out of the socket. Ashley tried to shove ice-blue eyes away, but only ended up getting shoved back into the wall again.

  “No, Ashley, don’t.” He didn’t want her to get hurt trying to help him.

  “Let him go,” she pleaded, her eyes glassy and her voice rough with emotion.

  “Move again and I break his arm.”

  Ashley gasped and stared down at Beck, her eyes pleading with him to stop this.

  He wished he could, but they had him and it didn’t look good for him or Ashley.

  The only thing on his side was that King and Caden would track his and Ashley’s cell phones. Though Ashley didn’t know it, he’d put a tracking device on hers, as well.

  Beck stopped fighting the second the rope tied around his hands. Ice-blue eyes took his cell from his back pocket, but thanks to his bulky jacket, the guy missed his knife. Beck rolled as the guy shoved him over, sat up, and scooted back into Ashley, sitting between her legs, keeping her protected behind him, and his knife pressed to her inner thigh. Ice-blue eyes patted down his legs, found the gun at his ankle, and disarmed him. Ashley slid one hand around his shoulder and rested it on his chest. The other she slid down his back to his belt. She unhooked the knife and stuffed it down the front of her pants. He leaned back into her, so the guys didn’t see what she was doing.

  Broken-balls dude sat in the other corner, holding his nuts, rocking back and forth, cussing under his breath, and glaring daggers at Ashley.

  Beck didn’t say anything. Neither did the men. He wished they’d say something to tell him where they were going and how long he had to figure out a way to get him and Ashley out of this dire situation. He’d been in some deep shit before, but this time it just might bury him.