Taylor thought he’d never seen anything more welcome or more beautiful than that chopper. The propellers hummed and whirled, creating a rousing hurricane force wind that tossed green leaves and chunks of vegetation through the air.
Bits of the shredded flora spewed all over him, but he didn’t care. Lowering the travois, Taylor grabbed a handful of the greenery and laughing, tossed it like confetti. He whooped and would have danced, but his legs weren’t up to it. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun, he watched something drop from the hovering aircraft and land a few feet away. Taylor stared at it. “What the hell?”
He moved unsteadily to the drop site. A bag with two bottles of water and a chalk board? A child’s chalk board, not very big, maybe twelve inches long by twelve inches wide, but the words written on it made his throat tighten and his heart beat with glee. No sweeter words had ever been written—Large clearing ahead about half a mile. Will be waiting.
* * * *
Raider hung up the phone and whipped around to face his cousin. At the moment, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he did neither, but he still felt the sting of tears He stood there trying to breathe, but only managed a short pant.
Wild stared at him. His eyes darkened with sorrow and acceptance. A pinched look shadowed his face and he took a step back, as though wary of the impending news.
“What?” he asked. “Is my sister dead?” He sounded shaken, his voice unsteady and filled with pain.
Raider grinned, shook his head and slowly exhaled. “She’s alive. Silver found them. God, can you believe it, mate? She found them! They’re both alive, but…”
“What?” Wild asked again, his tone filled with fear. “How bad is she?”
“I don’t know. According to Silver, Dianna has a broken leg, and maybe some internal injuries, but your sister’s a fighter. She’s hanging in there. Taylor’s severely dehydrated.” Raider grabbed his dingo hat and crammed it on his head. “Hell, we knew they’d be in bad shape, but they’re alive, man, so wipe that awful look off your face and plaster on a smile.”
“I stopped smiling seven years ago.”
“I know. Let’s go see your sister.”
Wild followed beside him. “Where are we going?”
“Broome. Silver’s taking them to the hospital there.”
“I need to call home, let my brothers know we’ve found them.”
Raider nodded. “Once we take off, you can call. Let’s get in the air.”
* * * *
Rimrock, Montana
Dancing Star Ranch
February 16, Monday
Fifty-five minutes after the assassination…
Jace Remington groaned, slowly turned onto his side and reached for the phone. His body protested any activity. He grinned when Kaycee stirred beside him. A measly bullet wound in his chest and the subsequent near death experience a few days earlier hadn’t kept him from making love to his beautiful wife tonight.
He tugged her closer and snatched the phone off its cradle. “It’s late! This better be worth disturbing my wife’s rest,” he snarled into the phone.
Beside him, Kaycee giggled. “Your rest, you mean,” she whispered.
Wild’s voice came on the other end. “Silver found them,” his brother announced. “They’re alive! Dianna and Taylor are alive!”
Jace squeezed Kaycee’s hand. His eyes welled with tears. “They’ve been found,” he repeated, his voice choking. “They’re alive?” he asked. “Thank God.” He asked more questions then hung up the phone wiping away tears with the pad of his left hand. “Aw, sweetheart, don’t cry,” he said when he heard his wife sniff.
“Happy tears,” she whispered and burst out bawling. Jace patted her shoulders. He always felt helpless when his wife cried and with her being four months pregnant with triplets, she was an emotional wreck most of the time.
Honest to God he felt the same, but as she said, these tears were happy tears, the first for either of them in a long time. “I better call Duel.” A few minutes later, Jace re-cradled the phone. “Huh. He’s not answering his cell.” He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. “Maybe there’s news of the rescue.”
“Oh, my God,” Kaycee gasped, staring at the chaos taking place on the screen.
“Yeah,” Jace said grimly. “No wonder Duel isn’t answering his cell. It must be pure hell in D.C. He’s likely right in the thick of things.”
Kaycee nodded. “I suppose the first lady’s assassination supersedes the rescue of our family.” She rubbed his shoulders. “You hate that Duel’s an agent, don’t you?”
“I hate that he thought he had to keep it secret from me and that he waited until I was flat of my back and hooked up to multiple tubes before he decided to tell me.”
“What difference does it make when he told you?”
“Oh, he chose his time. He knew dad gum well I couldn’t get up out of that bed and whoop his ass.”
Kaycee giggled, then gasped. “Oh, feel!” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her swollen belly. “One of them is kicking. Ow! All three of them are kicking.” She looked up at and smiled. “They’re celebrating their aunt and uncle’s rescue.”
Jace fanned his palms on her stomach and marveled at the lives he and his wife had created. “I’ll be so glad when they’re born,” he whispered, in awe.
“Yeah, me too.”
* * * *
Ohio
Motor Lodge Motel
February 17, Tuesday
Nineteen hours after the assassination…
Flayme squeezed the washcloth, then gently sponged Duel’s fevered brow. Hours had passed and the agent showed little improvement. She sighed. But he was also no worse, so maybe he’d wake up soon and be his mean old self again.
She hoped so, because much more of this solitary silence and she was going to go stir crazy. Heck, even the icky clerk inside the motel office was beginning to appeal to her, at least for a chance at conversation. Although she figured his vocabulary was limited to just one thing and he had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting it.
Right on cue, Duel opened his eyes and blinked. “You stayed,” he said quietly, disbelief in his voice.
“Who am I?” she asked. She hoped if she kept asking him eventually he’d get it right maybe.
“My redhead?” he said sounding puzzled.
“I suppose that’ll do. It’s better than Nicole or Sam.”
He frowned. “I don’t know any Nicole and what does Sam have to do with anything?”
“Never mind,” she said with a long sigh.
“I’m glad you stayed.”
“Yes. I couldn’t very well leave you here alone.”
“You could have.”
“Maybe, but I have to live with my conscience.” She eyed him displeased with his color. Boy, this man just did not take getting stabbed well at all.
“Didn’t think you had one,” he said.
Flayme bit back a sharp retort. No matter how much he might deserve it, the agent was ill, there was no use picking another fight with him. “I already know your opinion of me. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself from this point on.”
“Huh. What time is it?” he asked, ignoring her sour comment.
“Six o’clock.”
“Evening or morning?”
Flayme scowled. She had to admit his eyes were still a bit glazed which explained his confusion. She was so ready for him to get back to his usual self, whatever his normal was since she’d never actually seen him at his regular self—so far. “Lord, I hope you’re more with it when you’re in your customary mode.”
He dragged the wet cloth off his forehead and flashed a sour look at her. “How long have I been out?”
Not long enough! Feeling grumpy herself, Flayme took the cloth and tossed it on the nightstand. One more spot on it wasn’t going to be noticed. She pressed the back of her hand against Duel’s right cheek and frowned. “You’re still feverish, but you feel a little cooler.
It’s evening,” she said, answering his question.
Duel started to fling back the covers, but flopped back onto the pillow. “Jesus, I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. What day is it?”
“It’s still Tuesday. You slept the day away. Are you hungry? There isn’t much, but I found a vending machine. We have soda and chips and cheese crackers.”
“I’d give my right…er, I’d love a thick, juicy steak, but I’ll settle for a soda. My throat feels like the Sahara.”
She popped the top on a can of Coke and watched him take a long swallow.
“That tastes better than anything I’ve ever had,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re dehydrated from the fever. Anything would taste good right now.”
Duel eyed her like he was eyeing a banquet. “Yeah, probably so. We’ve been here way too long. We need to get outta here.”
“I don’t think we’re going anywhere. The snow’s still coming down, although it did stop for a couple of hours. There’s almost a foot on the ground.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. “A foot? That’s nothing.”
“It’s a lot of snow,” Flayme argued.
“Not as much as where we’re going.”
“You aren’t in any shape to drive.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve driven in much worse shape.” He set aside the Coke can, tossed back the covers, then scrambled for them, jerking them back over his thighs. “Good God, I’m naked here, woman!”
She grinned. “Yep. I have to agree with Sam, you have a darling package.”
“Darling? Sonofabitch. She told you about digging that damn bullet out of my groin. Didn’t she?”
Flayme lifted a brow and folded her arms across her breasts. “She had nothing but praise for it.”
“Uh-huh. Blabber mouth, tell-it-all woman!” He looked and sounded irritated.
“Are you referring to me or Sam?” Flayme giggled.
“Both! Why did you undress me?”
“Because you were freezing.”
“Oh, well, in that case it makes perfect sense to strip me like a banana.”
“It does if I’m getting naked under the covers with you. You needed my body heat.”
He blinked. “Fuck me,” he said softly. “I finally get you naked in bed with me and I don’t remember a thing about it.”
“Yeah, I was sort of counting on that.”
“It’s so unfair. It’s almost as bad as not remembering I kissed you.” He glared at her, his green eyes blazing. “You’re lying. You didn’t get naked with me.”
“Guess you’ll never know,” she taunted.
“I promise you one thing, sweetheart, we end up naked in the bed together again, and neither of us will be forgetting it.”
Flayme laughed. “Hah! Don’t think for a minute I’ll take off my clothes for you again. You’ll have to be at death’s door first, and even then, I just might leave on my undies.”
“You’re a tease.”
She grinned. “Could be,” she flirted. “But honestly, I don’t think we’re going anywhere. Besides, your car won’t start. Remember?”
“No problem. There’ll be a four-wheel drive SUV delivered around eight.”
“But…how? When?”
“Before we ever left D.C., I called ahead.”
“Bull! You had no idea where we’d be staying,” Flayme snapped.
Duel flung back the covers, this time ignoring his nudity. “I knew. Pack your things while I take a shower…unless you’d like to join me?”
“You wish!”
“Last chance? Going…going…gone!” He ambled across the room at a snail’s pace.
“You are so not funny.” She eyed his firm backside with appreciation. Wow. The back part looked as delicious as the front parts. “don’t get your stitches wet.”
“Dress,” he tossed over his shoulder, “and stop eyeing my ass.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.” He laughed, then his expression turned serious. “We have a long drive ahead of us, so dress warm.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
To murder character is as truly a crime as to murder the body—the tongue of the slanderer is brother to the dagger of the assassin.
~Tryon Edwards
Washington D.C.
February 17, Tuesday
Five hours after the assassination…
Senator Hamilton Ross jerked the ties on his brown and gold striped robe a little tighter and reached for a bottle of his finest. Sloshing the rich colored brandy in the glass, he downed it in one swallow, then turned to face his best operative, Kane Masters. “You’re sure she didn’t return to the Ambassador?”
Kane held the ice pack to his aching skull and glared. Deep inside he detested the man for varied reasons and most of them revolved around Jayla. “Don’t second guess me, Senator. Of course I doubled back and checked. The place was crawling with Feds, including that CIA bitch, Samantha Rivers, but Jayla wasn’t there.”
Hamilton rattled the ice in his glass, contemplating. “Tell me you at least took the film from the recorders and destroyed it.”
Kane shook his head, then winced. “No, I didn’t get the fucking film, but there’s nothing on it to link it to me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I was out of sight. The only thing the Feds will see is Molly getting her brains splattered and Jayla’s reaction to the kill shot.”
The senator snickered. “I would have loved to see Jayla’s face.”
“No, you wouldn’t. She was positively stunned.”
“Stunned at the first lady’s death or by the fact she recognized you behind the mask?”
“Both.”
“This is your mess, clean it up.”
Kane nodded. “I know, but she’s your daughter. I didn’t know how far you wanted me to take things.”
“Stepdaughter,” the senator snapped. “And take it as far as necessary. I finished with her a long time ago. I’m sure you recall exactly when it happened.”
Kane grimaced and tossed the ice pack aside. “Yeah. I do. You have any idea where she’d go?”
Hamilton lifted a brow. “Don’t you know anything about her?”
“I wasn’t interested in her thoughts or anything she had to say.”
The senator’s lips twitched. “Right.” He hesitated, then snapping his fingers, grinned. “Oh hell, of course, the little bitch would be crazy enough to flee there.”
Kane frowned. “Where?”
“To that damn Montana cowboy she’s always had an itch for.”
“Cowboy?” Kane curled his upper lip with distaste. “I didn’t know she knew any cowboys.”
“Ooh, believe me she’s had the hots for him since she was fifteen years old.”
Kane rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “What the hell are you talking about? What cowboy?”
Hamilton grinned. “The man she sent to prison for raping her.”
“I didn’t know she sent a man to prison for raping her.”
The senator snorted. “You really didn’t bother getting to know her, did you? He didn’t rape her.”
Kane frowned. “Who did?”
Arching a brow, Hamilton poured another glass of brandy. “Why the hell didn’t you shoot her when you had the fucking opportunity?”
He shrugged. “She has something I want.”
“What?” Hamilton swirled the brandy in the bottom of the glass.
“It isn’t important. What’s important is that I find her and shut her up.” Kane picked up his gun and wiped the barrel with an oily rag. “Where is she?”
Hamilton looked bored with the conversation. “She’d go to Wild Remington. The stupid bitch will tell him everything. Hell, if we get real lucky, he’ll kill her for us and our hands will be clean.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Make sure you kill both of them.”
Kane nodded. “Where in Montana?”
“A little town called Rimrock. Not much there, but I understand the sheriff is a dangerous bastard. Don’t cross his path.”
Stuffing the gun in the shoulder holster, Kane turned to go.
“Kane?”
“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder and waited.
“Make certain nothing leads back to me. Shut her up, permanently. If you can’t do the job, tell me, and I’ll send someone who can. I will not have that bitch ruining my career or my life.”
“I can do it, but I can’t be in two places at once. Contact Zaden. See if he can get some intel on where the agent and that red-haired woman headed, and tell him I’ll save Jayla for him if he takes them out of the picture.”
Hamilton scowled, his snowy brows beetling together. “What agent?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to contact our informant and retrieve the information. Find out the woman’s name and if she has family. Get the name of the agent. I want to know who we’re up against.”
Hamilton took a puff off the cigar and released the smoke into the air. “You really gonna give Jayla to Zaden?”
“You did say you’re finished with her?” Kane arched a brow and waited.
“Yeah.” Ross rolled his cigar between thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. “Yeah. She’s old news.”
Kane shrugged. “Zaden’s wanted to do her for a long time, and I’m not talking about fucking her. He thinks she’s a distraction.”
“She is. You let her sink her claws in you.”
“She let me put my dick in her. I’d say we’re even. When I’m finished with her, Zaden can have her.” Kane grinned. “He’s like a buzzard. He’ll take care of the leftovers.”
* * * *
Playing For Keeps (Montana Men) Page 28