“Time’s a wasting,” he drawled.
She pressed the stapler against his gaping skin and pressed. He screamed and she squinted. He poured more whiskey down his throat. She continued to do three more staples and the wound looked hideous but the bleeding had slowed.
Gripping the stapler, she wondered if she could hit him over the head? He looked weak and pale.
“Don’t even think about it!” He practically tore the tool from her fingers. “Now step back where you were.” He pointed at the counter.
Glad to get some distance between them, she hurried back to her spot. “Who is the man in the closet?” She needed to keep him talking. Cox would come find her. She believed in him.
The killer was back to digging in the cabinets. “A man who met an unfortunate accident. Too bad he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. I needed his place and he didn’t want to abandon it.” He had found a bottle of pain relievers, flipped off the cap and emptied a few into his mouth, chugging it down with whiskey. The bottle was almost gone now.
Good. Maybe he’d pass out.
“You won’t get by with this,” she said. “Whatever it is you’re doing. Cox will come look for me and he’ll kill you.”
The man’s frown deepened and his crow’s feet turned to deep wrinkles. “I’m not worried about him. I knew it’d only be a matter of time before I had you, but this was too damn easy.” He picked up his gun. “Now drink that.” He pointed at a plastic jug filled with a yellow liquid.
“No.” He wanted to poison her. So that was his plan. “Why are you doing this? Why didn’t the men who killed Trent come to do the job themselves?”
“You talk too much.”
“Don’t I have a right to know?”
He smirked and wobbled slightly. A big man like him could probably handle a lot of alcohol but combined with the loss of blood he was feeling the effects. “Let’s just say, I’m better at taking care of business.”
“Who wants me gone?”
“Wouldn’t you just love to know. Now shut up and drink.”
She shook her head.
“I could just kill you right here.” He lifted the gun and pointed it at her forehead. “Makes no difference to me.”
“What is it?” She looked from him to the jug.
“My own special cocktail. Don’t worry. It won’t kill you…well, unless you drink too much. A girl your size you should get by with about half. Now get to it.” His lips curled and he was sweating profusely.
“No. I won’t do it.” She backed up as far as she could.
“Listen. You have two options. Drink the shit and go to sleep or I’m going to put a bullet in your head and put you to sleep permanently.” He was looking paler by the second.
She looked at the drink. No doubt if she didn’t drink it the man would kill her right then and there.
“I have money. I’ll pay you.”
His chuckle reminded her of nails down a chalkboard. “Great try. This isn’t about the money. Get it through your little head that you’re going to drink the cocktail or take a bullet. The longer it takes the angrier I’m getting. I’ll give you to the count of three.”
“I think—”
“One.”
“You won’t get far.”
“Two.”
Reaching for the jug, she brought the opening to her nose and sniffed the odorless liquid. Her only chance of survival was for Cox to find her. She had to believe that he’d save her. Bringing the open lid to her lips, she sipped the tasteless liquid, but almost immediately feeling a heaviness in her limbs. Her vision blurred more and she felt herself melting against the edge of the counter. The jug slipped from her hands, hitting the floor.
“You clumsy bitch!” The man growled.
He was next to her now. She could smell the scent of campfire mixed with sweat.
Through distorted vision, she watched him, feeling him tug at her wrists. Scratchy material scraped her skin. He was using a rope to tie her wrists. Then the same yanking at her ankles until she was bound.
“Wh—where—,” she couldn’t get her lips to form words.
He poured more of the liquid into her mouth and she had no choice but to swallow or she’d drown.
“There we go. Sleepy time,” he muttered.
Everything went black.
Chapter 18
The small cabin was eerily quiet as Cox entered, his gun drawn and his instincts on high. Hazels snowmobile was outside, still warm, and the snow was stained with blood. Although he feared what he’d find inside he had to find out. He had to put his emotions aside and do his job.
In the living room he listened, hearing no sounds, but the light was on in the kitchen. Inside the room, he surveyed the puddle of blood on the floor and on the counter, and the bloody rag thrown int the sink. He also found a jug laying on its side with a small amount of liquid inside.
Someone was hurt. And bad.
He picked up the jug and brought it to his nose. There was no odor, but he’d guess that whatever it was contained a drug.
Turning on his booted heels, he searched the small space, looking for something…anything that would give him a clue.
Then he saw it.
Bending, he picked up the necklace, recognizing it as the one Hazel was wearing. An infinity pendant. She had drank the contents of the jug. He’d bet his life on it. Standing, he dropped the jewelry into his front pocket and went to examine the rest of the cabin.
At the bedroom doorway, he listened, holding his gun steady, using all his senses as he’d been trained to do. Yet this was personal, making it difficult to control the emotion rolling through his veins. If anything happened to Hazel, he’d hunt down the bastard if it was the last thing he did on this earth.
A familiar smell reached his nostrils and he squinted.
A lawman knew that distinct odor.
His heart hitched when he found the dead body. Cox had already suspected he’d find the true owner of the cabin. The killer needed a place to stay.
Guilt raced through Cox.
Such a senseless murder.
Running outside, he’d have to track the kidnapper’s snowmobile. They had a long head start.
What made Cox good at what he did he had the capability of getting himself inside a criminal’s head. He believed the killer had a vehicle parked nearby. He’d leave the snowmobile. Although the roads were still icy and in bad shape, the killer wouldn’t care about the risks. His focus would be on getting off the mountain.
Every second counted now. Hazel was still alive. He could feel it in his bones. If she were dead Cox would have found her already.
So what did the man want with her?
He raced out of the cabin and heard a bark. He scanned the stretch of white and then he saw Boxy standing along the edge of the woods. “Come on, boy!” With a loud whistle, the dog perked up his ears. He ran the distance but Cox realized the dog had been hurt. He was favoring his back leg.
Cox bent to give the dog a scratch behind the ear and do a quick exam of his leg. It was bad, but not life threatening. “Where is she, boy? Where did he take her?”
If only the dog could talk.
Climbing into the seat of the snowmobile, Cox looked at Boxy who was staring back with wide brown eyes and ears cocked. Cox knew he shouldn’t take him, but he couldn’t leave him. “Let’s go, Boxy.”
The dog jumped on the seat with a wag of his tail and a whimper.
“Stay with me boy. I might need your help.” Cox pulled his mask down to cover his face and made sure his gun was safely tucked in the holster at his side.
The breeze was bitterly cold as they raced through the snow as fast as the vehicle would go, following the tracks made by the snowmobile. The killer hadn’t taken any effort to hide or keep his location a secret.
A few miles from the cabin, Cox found the snowmobile abandoned along the edge of the road. Drops of blood stained the snow. . Just as he’d suspected, the killer had planned ahead.
> “Shit!” Cox gritted out, receiving a curious look from Boxy. “I have an idea.”
Jumping back on the snowmobile, he steered toward the campsite where the thugs were. This time he didn’t bother parking away from the site. He slid off the seat with Boxy leading the way into the camp, but what they saw made Cox’s stomach roll. This was another bloody scene.
The man Forty was dead from a bullet wound. He was holding a can of beans.
Cox looked into the tents. Where was the second man? The one named Roman.
“He couldn’t have gotten far, Boxy. Let’s find him. Go, boy. Find him.” Cox examined the area, finding a fresh set of footprints and a few spots of blood.
With Boxy in the lead, Cox followed the tracks, running. His jeans were soaked but he didn’t care. Nothing would stand in his way of finding Hazel.
The man hadn’t gotten too far. They found him along the edge of the woods, leaning against a tree. His skin appeared eerily white. A trace of blood marred the corners of his mouth. His eyes were closed.
Cox knelt and checked his pulse, surprised to find that the man still had one, although it was very thready. With the large puddle of blood surrounding him, the likelihood that he’d survive his injuries were very slim.
He didn’t have much time to get answers.
Giving the wounded man a hard shake, he jerked and opened his eyes, moaning as if he was scared that Cox was the killer. The man was on death’s door. His skin had turned blue and was cold to the touch.
There was a gaping knife wound in his abdomen.
“I-I gave a fight,” Roman murmured.
“Where is she?” Cox didn’t have time to chat with the wounded man.
The man coughed and a trickle of blood ran down his whiskered chin. “Wh—who?”
“Don’t fuck with me. The man who did this to you, he has her. Who is he and where would he take her?”
“I-I don’t know.” He coughed and more blood appeared.
“Listen, I’ll catch the son of a bitch and I’ll make him pay. Isn’t that what you want? For him to pay for what he’s done.” Cox wanted to beat the answers out of the man but knew patience was needed.
The man stared up at the sky.
“Speak to me. Tell me who he is.”
“Simon. That’s all… I know. Simon.”
Cox gave him a little shake. “Where? Tell me where.”
“No. Don’t know. D-drive.” Then his eyes fluttered closed and a long last breath escaped his lips. He was gone.
“Fuck!” Cox had no idea what “drive” meant.
Jumping up, he raced for the snowmobile. He had to get off the mountain. He had to get to a place where he could use his phone. Prayed he had enough gas to get him where he needed to go, running would only slow him down.
Chapter 19
The rumbling sound of a train sounded in the distance.
Hazel had to force her eyes open, but she still had blurred vision.
The throbbing pain in her temples came in waves and her mouth felt like she’d been sucking on cotton balls. She laid there for a while, listening, feeling like she was suspended somewhere between reality and fantasy. Each horrifying second of what occurred on the mountain came back to her and she wanted to scream, but no sound came.
The squeaking of a door echoed off the walls.
“Wakey, wakey,” the killer’s voice penetrated her lethargy. Fear climbed down her spine, but she couldn’t move. Didn’t have the energy to fight.
His footsteps moved closer and she moaned, trying to shift her body.
He hadn’t killed her yet, so what was he waiting for?
He bent over her. She inhaled a strong scent and the odor burrowed into her sinuses. Smelling salts. He was trying to wake her fully.
Hazel managed to open her eyes wider but the pain in her head didn’t fade.
He hovered over her, looking down at her with an arrogant posture. He’d changed clothes and his arm where he’d been bit was now wrapped. A few spots of blood stained the white bandage.
She had to admit she was disappointed that he hadn’t bled to death.
Some of the feeling was coming back to her limbs. Finally able to slightly move a little, she wiggled her hands, hearing the popping of springs below her. She was on a bed, but something clutched her wrists.
What held her?
A rope. The scratchiness scraped at her sensitive skin. Of course he wouldn’t trust her and he shouldn’t. The first chance she got she’d scratch his eyes out.
He tapped her cheek with a sweaty palm. “You in there? The cocktail should be wearing off.”
“Wh-whey…em…I?” The words didn’t quite come out as she’d hoped.
“Doesn’t matter where you are.” He reached for something. The sound of wood scraping against concrete made her jump. He situated the chair next to the bed. “Let’s cut to the chase. You know what I’m looking for.”
Some of the blurriness in her eyes was subsiding and she could see his face clearer. “What? Looking for what?” Her mind combated the drowsiness.
His snarl spoke volumes about his lack of patience. He leaned in closer and rolled a strand of her hair around his knuckle. “Let me tell you a little about myself. I learned some amazing tricks of the trade how to make a person talk. A woman like you, well, I’d say it probably wouldn’t take much to get you to squeal. I like your spirit, but I can break it.” He laughed. “It’s really a shame that I’ll have to tarnish that pretty face to find what I’m looking for.” He let the strand of hair drop back to her cheek. “Make this easier for both of us, sweetheart. Just tell me what I need to know and this will all be over. I’ll let you go home.”
“You won’t let me go anywhere.” She was finding her voice again.
He shrugged, sat up straight, then reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a knife. “Have a little faith. Maybe I could even hold you for ransom. I bet that rich uncle of yours would be willing to pay a pretty penny to have his precious niece safe and sound.”
“Fuck off,” she slurred, managing to scoot a few inches away from him.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” All humor left his expression and his eyes turned a raw sinister shade. “I’ll find what I’m looking for. One way or another. I promise you that. I was giving you the chance to do this the easy way, but I see you have some moxie. I admire that, I really do, but, unfortunately, your fate is sealed.” He stood and kicked the chair across the room and the wood splintered. The blade glinted in the overhead light. He tapped it against her shoulder menacingly.
“If I had any clue what you were looking for, and I don’t, I still wouldn’t tell you.” She knew the man was going to kill her whether she said something or not. Her only chance of survival was to fight.
He must have noticed something in her expression that warned him of her thoughts because he grabbed the back of her hair, twisting the mass tight in his fist, jerking her head painfully back and to the side. He brought the tip of the knife to her eye, so close that one wrong move and he’d stab her. “Do you know how painful it would be to have an eyeball removed?”
She tried pulling away, but he was strong and held her steady.
It didn’t help that she was bound.
He slid the tip of the knife over her cheek very lightly, but the blade was so sharp that it sliced her skin.
The killer jerked, lowering the knife a few inches as he appeared to be listening to something.
Hazel’s heart beat so heavy that she couldn’t hear anything.
What had grabbed his attention?
Chapter 20
“You really think it’s the same Simon?”
Cox gripped the steering wheel to the Humvee, glancing across the bench seat to his partner, Asa Powers, who held up a photo of the man in question. Simon Burbank.
Once off Pitchfork, Cox had used his phone to call in Asa who could track about anyone and anything. Cox had given him as much detail about the men on the mountain as he could and then a few
minutes later Asa had produced a photo and record of Burbank. The man looked different because he was at least fifteen years older than the military ID, but no doubt he was the man Cox saw at the cabin pretending to be Richard Starr. They already had a team heading to Pitchfork to investigate. It would take some time to gather all the clues and that’s why Cox refused to wait around. He had the killer’s name and address and that’s all he needed.
Simon Burbank was a special kind of asshole.
After serving a spell in the military, he had received a dishonorable discharge when he’d taken a picture of himself with a dead villager in Kuwait. Back on friendly soil months later, Burbank had disappeared after rumored to have had some connections with Russian spies. Then, a couple years ago, he was arrested after he’d gotten into a fight at a local honky tonk. He seemed to have been getting his life together when he opened a bar.
“I’m sure it’s him.” Cox wanted to punch the dashboard.
“Do you think he’s stupid enough to take Hazel to his address?”
“Yeah I do. I know his type. He thinks he’s invincible. He knows that I’m coming to get her and he doesn’t care. Maybe he believes he has leverage on his home territory.”
“Why hasn’t he killed her though?” Asa asked. Cox growled. “Sorry, buddy. But it’s had to cross your mind too,”
Yeah, it had, but he couldn’t voice the words.
Cox had thought about that very thing every second since he realized who the men were at the campsite. Franklin “Forty” Ross and Roman Drasson. Both of the men were members of the Blue Diamond cartel until they decided to branch out on their own. Anyone who knew anything about the cartel would realize that once you had the signature diamond on your skin you were a ride or die member. The men must have been expecting a rich payday from whomever hired them to kill Shoemaker. Forty had a rap sheet as long as his arm, but Roman had toed the line. He wasn’t innocent, but he’d done a good job at not getting caught for his criminal activity. If Simon hadn’t killed the men, Blue Diamond would have sooner or later.
Cox didn’t believe there was any connection between Hazel’s kidnapping and the cartel—not even Shoemaker’s death. If a Diamond had committed the crime, they wouldn’t have bothered removing the body.
Tormented by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 3) Page 16