The way he said it…the tone he used…it had been his voice on the phone, not Cole’s.
Cole isn’t here.
She was alone on this stinking farm, in this too-tidy biker ranch house, with Rogers.
Her adrenaline kicked in. She needed to investigate this place and then hightail it out of here.
“You want something special first?” Rogers stepped away from her, thank God.
“Sure.”
“What do you want? His grin showcased rotting teeth. He was definitely on something if he thought she was getting into the situation. “I got all kinds of stuff.”
“You have any ice?”
He walked to the bed and she got her first clear glimpse of the room. It was surprisingly tidy.
Rogers took a box out of a drawer in the bedside table.
“Why do you have a room inside while others have to sleep outside?” She sat on a sofa sagging against one wall.
“I’m second to Cole. I’m the boss when he’s away.” He sat beside her and opened the box. He pulled out a plastic baggie with a crystal inside. He also took out a glass tube with a bulbous end that fit into the palm of his hand. He dropped the crystal into the bowl.
A torch lighter sat on the coffee table between two piles of neatly stacked magazines. One stack had a motorcycle magazine on top and the other a mag about horse care. The guy was a neat freak.
He handed her the lighter and pipe.
“You first,” she said, so he held the flame to the meth and inhaled. She waited for a few seconds until his eyes became glassy then said, “I need to use the can. Where is it?”
“Down the hall on the right.”
Well aware of every drug’s effects, she knew he would be too out of it for a while to come after her, but then he’d be like a lit fuse demanding sex. She had a narrow window and planned to use it to look for the lab before getting off this land.
She opened every door along the hallway. Nothing but bedrooms. Every room on the floor was normal.
She turned on a light and ran down the stairs to the basement. There was no meth lab down here, but there was a grow-op. A huge one. Must be thousands of plants down here.
At least she could get this stuff off the streets.
She’d have to deal with it later, though. Her priority was the meth.
She rushed back upstairs.
Outside, she ran from trailer to trailer and peeked inside every single one. They were normal living facilities. What, were these bikers too tame to cook meth?
Looking out over fields as far as she could see, there were no other structures to investigate.
So where had Rogers got his from? She wasn’t going back to ask.
A roar went up from the front door of the house—Rogers yelling, “Where are you?”
Damn. Her heart rate accelerated. She couldn’t get back to her car while he was in the front yard.
She ran toward the nearest field and, kept running when she heard him lumber around the house, hot on her heels. The second field had once been a huge crop of weed that had been harvested recently. The DEA had missed this stuff.
When she got home, she’d call the office and tell them to get down here to confiscate what was in the basement.
She heard another roar, heading in her direction. If she made it home tonight.
She ran until she came to the road. A motor heading her way caught her attention and she almost jumped out to hitch a ride, then thought better of it.
If coming out here to meet Cole had been risky, hitching a ride with a stranger would be downright brain dead.
It wasn’t smart to circle around and head back to her car. In spite of being stoned, Rogers wasn’t a stupid man. Once he couldn’t find her he’d park himself there.
She was a good runner, thank God, but she couldn’t run all the way back to Ordinary.
Adrenaline had her breathing harder than she did on her morning run. She panted.
Damn. She’d been so sure she could handle the situation, so crazy to find that meth lab for her brother that she hadn’t been smart enough. Independence was fine and dandy, but sometimes you just couldn’t work alone.
She heard Rogers thrashing through the fields. She was a fast runner and in a hell of a lot better shape than he was, but the guy was gaining on her in an almost superhuman way.
Well, they didn’t call meth “speed” for nothing.
Until he came down from his high, Rogers could probably conquer the world.
For the first time she felt like she was being pursued by something she might not be able to outrun.
She whipped her cell phone out of her purse and almost dropped it in her haste. She punched in a number. “Come on, come on,” she whispered.
When Cash answered, she said, “I need you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“WHERE ARE YOU?” Cash asked, his voice immediately aware and concerned. He sounded so close, so solid and dependable, she wished she could reach out and touch him. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.”
“At Sassy’s?”
“No.” She swallowed before going on. “On Highway 85, just past the turnoff onto Sideroad 36.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute, then “You’re at the biker farm?”
“I’m out by the road at the edge of a field.”
“Are you safe?”
“For now, yes.”
“Do you have your gun with you?” She didn’t like how quiet he sounded.
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you get the biker who took you out there to drive you home?”
“I drove out here myself. I’ll explain later. Just get here. Now.”
On the other end of the phone, she heard a truck door slam and an engine start. “I’m on my way. It’ll take me about ten minutes to get there.”
The breath gusted out of her. “Thank you,” she whispered fervently.
“Stay on the phone,” he ordered.
Rogers roared again, closer.
“What was that?” Cash asked.
“It’s the biker looking for me. I’m going to run down the ditch to the corner of 89 and 36, okay?”
“When you get there, lie low. Don’t move.”
She heard him swear.
Thank goodness the past few days had been dry and the ditch was empty. Small comfort, but it was something.
She listened to nothing on the other end of the line, but she knew Cash was there and that filled her with relief and confidence.
She kicked off her half-boots. Damn her for wearing something with a heel.
Then she heard thrashing through the window at the side of the field and hissed in a breath. The bugger was too close.
“Cash,” she said into the phone, but he didn’t answer. He must have put the phone down so he could drive without killing himself.
“Cash,” she whispered furiously.
She needed to be ready to run. Hands fumbling, she took her gun out of her purse and threw the bag beside her boots.
The wind had picked up. She shivered.
Furious rustling sounded in the field. She needed help. Now.
“Cash,” she shouted.
“What?” was his immediate response. He’d heard her this time.
“He’s coming.”
“So am I. How far away is he?”
“About twenty yards.”
Rogers ran right toward her. “Get back here.”
Cash, hurry.
She looked up at Rogers’s large frame blocking what little light there was left of the day.
He jumped into the ditch and landed on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her fingers convulsed on her gun and it we
nt off. The report echoed in the air.
Rogers restrained her arms easily. Damn meth for making people so crazed.
Her pulse rate quickened.
She only needed to hold him off until Cash got here.
She could do that.
Cash, hurry, please.
While Rogers trapped her wrists with one hand, he unzipped his pants. No freaking way.
Her blood roared in her ears.
“Go to hell,” she screamed and kicked her legs against him, managing to get her knee up high enough to hit him in the groin, but he was on her so heavily, it was nothing more than a nudge.
“Get off of me, you creep.”
He swore and tried to get his hand into her pants. She struggled and wrenched one arm free. She slammed the heel of her palm straight against his nose. He roared, but kept trying to get at her clothes. What? Did meth make a person superhuman?
She already knew the answer to that.
His breath smelled sweet, but his body reeked of sweat.
She hit him at the base of his throat with her knuckles as hard as she could. While he gagged she squirmed out from under him and hauled herself up the embankment just as a truck came to a stone-spewing stop on the shoulder, its headlights blinding.
Cash leapt out of the truck.
“Where is he?”
“In the ditch. I hit him in the throat. My gun went off. I don’t know whether the shot hit him.”
“So he’s still alive?”
“Yes.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. It sounded too loud. “He was trying to rape me.”
Cash pushed her behind him and drew his weapon.
“Where’s your gun?”
She stared at her empty hands. “Down there. He must have knocked it out of my hand when he landed on me.”
Cash shoved her and she crouched on the far side of the truck. “Keep your head down and stay down.”
She didn’t take orders well, but sometimes it paid to be smart. He had a gun. She didn’t.
Cash stood behind the engine and called, “Come out of the ditch, hands in the air.”
To Shannon, he said, “What’s his name?”
“Rogers.”
“Rogers,” he shouted, “come out of there.”
Rogers climbed out with Shannon’s gun in his hand. Cash aimed as Rogers raised his arm toward Cash.
Shannon’s ears rang with the shot.
She jumped up. Rogers was on the ground. Cash kicked her gun away from his right hand.
Blood flowed from Rogers’s forearm. Cash must have shot it to get him to drop the gun. He hadn’t shot to kill.
Masterful.
She stared at him and said with admiration in her voice, “Nice shooting.” Cash was good. Damn good.
As though Rogers weighed about as much as a sack of potatoes, Cash flipped him over and put on a pair of handcuffs. Rogers roared with pain.
Cash called the cops and then an ambulance.
He led her to the truck. She stumbled on the sharp stones and hissed.
He retrieved her boots then helped her to sit on the passenger seat with her legs hanging out of the truck so he could put them on her, his actions gentle. She wasn’t fooled. He seemed to have a well of anger that he banked for the moment.
“When Chief Gage gets here, you let me do the talking, got it?”
“That’s not necessary. I take responsibility for this.”
“Tell me everything that happened. What the hell were you doing here?” He’d finished putting on her boots, but his fingers circled one ankle.
“Rogers pretended he was Cole and invited me over for that interview I wanted.”
“I thought we decided that journalist plan was too risky because I couldn’t accompany you.”
She shook her head. “You decided that, not me.”
“How could you come alone? You could have been—” Cash forced out a breath, visibly trying to pull himself under control. “You terrified me. Honestly, Shannon, do you know what could have happened?”
A slight tremor ran through his hands. He’d managed to keep his cool even though he was worried about her. His aim had been true. The man was a good cop.
“You’re lucky you were able to get away from the farmhouse,” he said, “let alone away from him in the ditch.”
“It wasn’t luck, Cash. It was skill. I do this for a living and I’m good at my job.”
“If you could handle it so well, why did you call me?”
She hesitated. “I felt too alone out here.”
“You were.” He looked away, but she stopped him with a quiet “Thank you.”
He nodded, and she could see the cop in him taking over, assessing the situation now that the danger had passed. “Rogers looks like an angry bull on steroids. Is he high?”
“Yes.”
“What did he take?”
“Meth. I looked for the lab, but it isn’t here. Except for a marijuana grow-op in the basement, this is a dead end.” She slammed her hand against the dashboard. “Damn, where do I look now?”
Frustration overtook her now that the threat had been neutralized. “If the meth isn’t here, where is it?”
Cash still had his hand wrapped around her ankle and she tried to take comfort from his touch, but her anger knew no bounds at the moment.
“Damn.”
She was pretty sure she would have got away from Rogers, but there were moments in that cold ditch when she hadn’t been sure her martial arts skills were up to dealing with a man so large and so high on meth, so full of artificial energy. She’d managed to claw her way to the road, but could she have outrun him?
A couple of cop cars arrived with lights flashing.
Officer Gage approached and the interview started. Shannon spilled the whole truth about who she was and why she was here.
“They’ve got a basement full of weed. I’ll call Denver and get the DEA out here.”
It took a while to get everything sorted out, and it was late before Mike Gage drove onto the farm in his cop car and Cash followed with Shannon in the passenger seat.
She got into her own car and drove off with both Mike and Cash acting as escorts.
She followed Mike to Monroe, where she gave him a full statement of what happened.
Finally, exhausted, she arrived at the Wright house. Cash had stayed with her while she gave her statement and now he followed her inside. The house was quiet and everyone in bed.
Before Shannon could turn on the light, Cash wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his rough embrace. He kissed her hard, as though he would inhale her if he could.
When he finished, he held her head against his shoulder and whispered, “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”
“Cash,” she replied. “It’s okay. I got away from him.”
“We both know that if he’d come up out of that ditch when you were trying to run away, he could have shot you.”
She bit her bottom lip. “You’re right.”
“From now on, we work on this together.”
“Okay.”
She turned on the lights in the living room and fell into an armchair.
Cash pulled her out of it and onto the sofa where he sat down and cradled her on his lap.
“What—?”
“Let me do this,” he whispered. He held her for a moment before he started to talk. “I know where to start looking in Ordinary.”
She held herself far enough away to look at him. “Where?”
“Can you get access to a pharmacy’s orders?”
“Of course. I can get anything.” She frowned. “You think the owner of the pharmacy is making the meth?”
“I would have swor
n Brad McCloskey wasn’t capable of it, but lately I’ve had suspicions. All small stuff, though. I could be wrong.”
Shannon jumped up from his lap. “Small is fine. It’s a place to start.” She pointed a finger at him. “I trust your cop instincts.”
* * *
CASH’S RINGING CELL phone woke him up on Saturday morning. He was in bed alone.
He didn’t know where he stood with Shannon or what was going on. He did know he was freaking relieved she’d called him from the biker farm. He’d never been so scared in his life.
When he’d heard the report of the gun, when he’d thought he’d lost her. He never wanted to live through anything like that again.
The insistent humming of his phone had him reaching for it from where he left it on the bedside table.
He cleared his throat. “Hello?”
“Cash?” Austin! Damn.
Last night was Friday night. For the first time in a year, he’d forgotten all about his Little. Double damn.
“Man, I’m so sorry, Austin.” How could he have forgotten about him? “I should have called last night. I was out on police business.”
“That’s okay,” Austin said, but his voice sounded small.
“No, it isn’t okay. I should have called. Don’t let me off the hook so easily.” How many times had Cash’s father missed meetings with his son? How many baseball games had he missed? Every single incident had hurt.
Cash groaned. He knew what Austin was feeling. Friday night’s movie was one of so few treats Austin got. He hated disappointing the boy.
“Listen, do you think your mom would let you go tonight?”
“Sure.” Austin perked right up.
“Okay, I’ll pick you up at seven. See you then.”
Later, as they drove to the theater, Austin was subdued.
“You okay, buddy?” Cash asked.
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound okay.
“Are you mad at me because I didn’t come out last night?”
“No. I know you’re a cop and you have to do stuff.”
“I want to apologize again. Shannon was in trouble with the bikers in Monroe.”
Cash watched the road while he drove but sensed Austin swinging his gaze to him. “Is she okay?”
“Yes. I arrived in time to help her.”
No Ordinary Sheriff Page 18