Cowboy Delirium

by Joanna Wayne

  “Like what? New ransom demands? Something to do with Buerto? I can tell you right now, I don’t trust him.”

  “Good call. Let’s wait on the others before I get started.”

  “I’ll get Juanita to make a fresh pot of coffee.”

  “A full pot and make it strong. We’re going to need it.”

  His wife, Trish, was the next to wander in. She’d been staying with him at their weekend cabin on the ranch since the abduction. Jack’s Bluff ranch always drew them back in times of trouble.

  She stopped by his chair and gave his shoulders a reassuring squeeze before taking a chair next to the windows that looked out on a row of ancient oaks. “Juanita’s offered to watch the young ones during your meeting.”

  They could always count on Juanita. Like Billy Mack, she was as good as gold and always there when you needed her. Officially she was the cook. Unofficially she was boss of the house anytime his mother wasn’t around.

  “I’m glad the boys are at school today,” Trish added.

  “Me, too.” They’d all decided that Becky’s ten-year-old twins, David and Derrick, were better off out of the loop on this.

  Within minutes, the rest of the group except for Jeremiah had arrived and taken seats around the table. Bart and his wife, Gina. Zach and Kali. Becky and her husband, Nick, who’d taken a few days off from his coaching job so that he could be with Becky. And Matt and his wife, Shelly.

  Shelly was one of the main reasons Langston had wanted the wives present for the discussion. She’d been a CIA agent before marrying his brother, and Langston was counting on her for some inside scoop on what they could expect in the way of protection for Jaime.

  Cutter was high on Rio’s qualifications, but Langston still didn’t like the odds of one man against a powerful cartel.

  The tapping of Jeremiah’s cane against the hardwood floor announced his arrival well before he reached the doorway. His booming voice quickly followed.

  “Are we ready to take the cavalry in to rescue Jaime?”

  “Not yet,” Langston said, “but hopefully we’re getting close. Sit down and I’ll fill you in on the latest.”

  “I thought Zach was our resident cop in command,” Bart said.

  “He is, but the new information came from an old friend of mine, a guy named Cutter Martin. I don’t know if you remember him.”

  “I remember him,” Jeremiah jumped in. “Hell of a bronc rider when he was a kid. Competed against you, and beat your time more than once.”

  “Right. That’s the one. He joined the Navy after I enrolled in the Air Force Academy. He went on to become a Navy SEAL, but he’s out now and running an investigative and protective service.”

  Zach pushed his chair away from the table. “If you want us to hire him to rescue Jaime, my vote is no. There are four of us.”

  “Five,” Nick said. “Count me in.”

  “I stand corrected. There are five of us. And before we get started with this discussion, I have some information I need to pass along to all of you. I heard from Jaime again before dawn this morning.”

  “And you’re just now telling us?” Bart questioned. “It’s half past ten.”

  “I realize I should have come to you right away, but I needed to verify a few things first,” Zach said. “Bottom line is Jaime is fully convinced that Buerto is in league with a powerful drug cartel and that he worked with them to plan her abduction.”

  “How did she learn that, or is this just something else the friendly abductor told her?”

  “She says she overheard the kidnappers talking about Buerto.”

  “That could be a setup,” Becky said.

  Others started murmuring doubts or agreements. Langston tapped on the table to silence the group. “Let Zach finish.”

  This time Zach stood. “She also heard them mention a list of names that she suspects might be a hit list. I just got off the phone with my supervisor on the task force. He checked out the information and verified that the names Jaime gave me are of law enforcement officers who work on or near the Texas border. The first four people on the list have been murdered within the last three months.”

  Tension seemed to suck the air from the room.

  “I’d love to get my hands on Buerto right now,” Bart said.

  “You can’t sit on this kind of information,” Shelly said. “You should go to the CIA at once. They may be our only hope for getting Jaime out of this alive.”

  “Not our only hope,” Langston put in. “That’s why I called this meeting. Here’s the deal.”

  By the time he’d repeated all he’d learned from Cutter, the group had grown uncharacteristically quiet.

  Bart was the first to comment. “So it’s our call? Cutter will tell you where she is right now if we want to go in and rescue her?”

  “But against Jaime’s will,” Shelly said. “She knows the importance of stopping that cargo shipment.”

  “How do we know she hasn’t been brainwashed by this Rio fellow?” Bart asked. “Even if he is undercover CIA. Remaining in danger instead of demanding to be rescued doesn’t sound like Jaime.”

  “You got that right,” Nick said. “I say we go in. Damn the ransom.”

  “Count me in,” Matt said.

  Jeremiah banged his cane on the floor, demanding their attention. “Have you folks all lost your minds? Jaime’s fun-loving and high-spirited, but she’s as smart as any of the rest of you. Maybe smarter. Not a one of you in this room hasn’t risked his life in the past few years standing up for what you believed was right.

  “Well, Jaime’s as good and as brave as the rest of you. When the time is right, you can all ride in with your white hats and guns blazing and bring her home safely. Until then, you let her decide the cause she’s going to fight for. And saving lives seems like a hell of a cause to me.”

  The room grew deathly silent. Trish finally broke the spell when she stood and spoke in a shaky voice. “I stand with Jeremiah. This should be Jaime’s call.”

  One by one, the rest of the wives stood with her. Finally even Becky joined them.

  “I vote with the women and Jeremiah,” Langston said, “but if we don’t have the final word on the cargo pickup time and place by tomorrow morning, I think we should be open to reconsidering our plan of action.”

  Everyone agreed but Zach. He quietly abstained.

  ZACH WAS SITTING ON THE PORCH with Langston two hours later when Buerto pulled into the driveway unannounced. His ire heated to the boiling point at Buerto’s cocky swagger as he approached them. Dealing with him civilly was becoming next to impossible.

  “We’re making progress,” Buerto said as he came up the walkway.

  Langston rose from his seat on the top step. “Does that mean they’re ready to talk specifics?”

  “Yes, but they want a good-faith payment first.”

  “And yet we’re the last to know,” Zach said.

  “I’ve suggested that they deal directly with you,” Buerto said. “They refuse to consider it. But I’ve gained some measure of rapport with their spokesman. I’m convinced they’re desperate, but if we meet their demands, they’ll release Jaime unharmed.”

  “What kind of good faith payment are they looking for?” Langston asked.

  “One million dollars. I warned them you might balk at the amount, but they refused to negotiate.”

  “Done,” Langston said. “The other million will be paid when they release Jaime and not a second before.”

  “Tell me about the cargo,” Zach said. “What size plane will they need?”

  “They told me that your small personal jet would be big enough. Two of their men will accompany your pilot.”

  “I’m the pilot,” Langston said.

  “And I’m his co-pilot,” Zach said. “That’s not open for negotiation, either. Now, where and when?”

  “They said those details would be forthcoming once they had the money in hand.”

  “And I’m guessing you’re going to d
eliver that payment to them?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t know how the exchange will take place. I was only told to have one million dollars in cash ready the next time they called. Look, if you don’t have the money, I’ll pay it. I couldn’t bear for them to take this out on Jaime.”

  Impulsively, Zach’s hands knotted into fists. Buerto was playing this to the hilt. Zach blamed himself for that, too. He should have spotted the man as a fake from the very beginning. Instead it was Jaime who’d discovered his traitorous role in all of this, along with the hit list. As of yet, he hadn’t mentioned to anyone except his supervisor that his name was on that list. The family had enough to deal with.

  His twin sister, working hand in hand with the CIA. He’d be proud of her if he wasn’t so damned scared.

  “We have the money inside,” Langston said. “I’ll get it for you, but let these thugs know that we’re tired of waiting around. If they don’t want us to go to the cops, then they’d best make plans to release Jaime into our hands within the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Please,” Buerto pleaded, “for Jaime’s sake, don’t push them too hard.”

  For the first time in his life, Zach wanted to pull out his gun and put a bullet through a man’s heart. He wouldn’t, though, except in self-defense or to save someone’s life. He was a Collingsworth, a cowboy and a cop—in that order. None of those creeds allowed dishonor.

  But if Jaime didn’t come out of this alive, he’d see that Buerto paid, even if he had to track him to the ends of the earth. And though they disagreed on how to handle the situation now, he knew his brothers would be beside him every step of the way.

  THE AFTERNOON DRAGGED ON for what seemed like forever. Rio had been sitting at the computer poring over the files and scribbling notes on the back of some old paper grocery sacks they’d found in the cabinet under the stained sink. Jaime spent her time trying not to disturb him.

  “You’re pacing in front of me again,” Rio said.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you. I just feel so useless.”

  Rio shrugged. “So do I. I’m getting nowhere with this.”

  “Maybe we should take a walk and clear your mind.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Are you afraid of me, Rio?”

  “Yep.”

  “What if I promise not to throw myself in your arms?”

  “I’d still be afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That I’d throw myself in yours.”

  “Would that be so terrible?”

  He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “It would be great—while it lasted.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  He closed the computer and raked his fingers through his dark hair. “Okay, Jaime. A short walk down to the lake to clear my mind, but then I have to get back to trying to crack the codes.”

  “I’ll get my pink tennies from the car.”

  He laughed. “Then all the neighborhood armadillos will want sequins.”

  She walked onto the porch, down the steps, then stopped short at the sound of a low growl coming from the trees just beyond the cabin. A mangy black cur, so thin its bones almost poked through its skin, snarled at her without letting go of his bloody meal.

  A human meal.

  Shudders shook her so violently that she’d made it back up the steps before she could force the scream from her throat.

  Chapter Ten

  By the time Jaime had calmed down enough for Rio to make sense of what she was saying, the black stray was slinking into the woods with his prey. Jaime had been through a rough couple of days with very little sleep, he knew. A hallucination of this type wouldn’t be all that unusual.

  But Jaime insisted, “It was a human bone, Rio. I’m certain of it. There were even bits of what looked like ragged denim shreds on the bloody meat. The rest of the body has to be nearby. The dog looked as if it hadn’t eaten for days. It might have been so hungry that it attacked and killed someone.”

  Rio figured that was extremely unlikely. “You stay here on the porch and I’ll take a look around.”

  “I’m getting my shoes and going with you.”

  He nodded, fully aware that arguing with her was a waste of breath. Brushing a vicious horsefly from his arm, he ambled toward the wooded area. There was a clear path of blood and paw prints.

  He spotted a trio of circling buzzards about a hundred yards to their east. One by one, the birds dropped out of sight and into the thickets of pine, persimmon and cottonwood trees.

  When he found the buzzards, he’d find the carcass.

  Jaime ran to catch up with him, her pink shoes already sporting brown streaks of earth. “You don’t have your shoulder holster on.”

  “Look too much like Rambo when I wear it without my shirt.”

  “What if you need it?”

  “To face a dead man? But if it makes you feel safer, I do have a gun with me, just not where you can see it.”

  She patted him down and when her hand touched his crotch, the stab of desire all but sent him to his knees. It was unintentional on her part. She was still too shaken to have any thoughts of sex.

  “Take it easy, Jaime. There’s a small pistol inside my left boot.”

  “I’m probably overreacting,” she admitted, “but I’m anxious about what we’ll find.”

  “You’re entitled to feel anxious.”

  The dog’s gluttonous trail meandered. Rio took a more direct path in the direction of yet another circling vulture. The remains had become a veritable forest buffet. From where he was standing now he’d say it was very near the road.

  “Someone might have hit a deer,” he said.

  “A dear wearing jeans?” She hurried ahead of him and disappeared in the trees.

  “Watch out for snakes,” he called.

  She slowed but continued to stay a few feet ahead of him. About the time he figured they were getting close, they crossed the trail left by the dog again.

  “Oh, no!”

  The vultures scattered at Jaime’s cry, and Rio rushed to catch up with her. He found her standing over a body. It was not only human. It was Luke’s.

  Jaime stood there with her hand over her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”

  He reached for her, but she brushed him away, turned and vomited at the base of a tree.

  Rio had seen more than his share of bodies, some in far worse shape than Luke’s. It wasn’t that it had hardened him, but war had a way of desensitizing you to the shock.

  He stepped closer, looking for a cause of death.

  Luke was stripped to his jeans, the worn denim ragged where the starving dog had torn away the bone just below the kneecap. No shoes, meaning Luke probably hadn’t walked to the crime scene. There were no visible bullet wounds, other than the one inflicted by his own gun when he’d struggled with Jaime. No signs of strangulation or head wounds.

  There was evidence that the body had been dragged to the scene, apparently from the road.

  “It looks as if his chest caved in,” Jaime said, rejoining Rio but still looking green. “What would cause that?”

  “I don’t know.” Rio stooped for a closer look. “I’ve never seen that before. It definitely didn’t come from the bullet that tore up his leg.”

  “Do you think Poncho dumped him here to die instead of taking him to a doctor for treatment?”

  “If the body had been here since yesterday, the buzzards and other animals would have done a lot more damage than what we’re seeing. More likely Poncho killed him and dumped him out here this morning. That would explain his coming out for no apparent reason. No cameras. No mikes. No replacement guard.”

  “I don’t get it. Why would he kill Luke? They seemed like friends.”

  “Friendships have a short shelf life in this business. Luke had been with the cartel long enough that he probably knew too much to just let him walk away if they deemed he’d lost his usefulness.”

  “You
mean they’d shoot him over a leg wound?”

  “No, but his screwing up while guarding you might have been the weight that tilted the scale against him.” Or maybe they’d needed a guinea pig for a deadly chemical, and Luke was available. He wouldn’t bring that possibility up just yet.

  “If they can kill their friends with so little concern, it’s no surprise that they can plan a Detonation Day for their enemies,” Jaime said. “We have to stop them, Rio. We can’t let that shipment leave the country.”

  A few minutes ago she’d been screaming in terror. He’d mistakenly thought she was at the breaking point. Now she was ready to do whatever it took to get the job done. Jaime Collingsworth had amazed him again.

  He slipped an arm around her waist. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

  “If the cops show up and drape the area in crime-scene tape, any chance of going through with the ransom payment and stopping that shipment disappears. Besides, I’m CIA. I say we save the living and I’ll try to find a shovel to bury the dead. The cops can dig him up later if they like.”

  And when they did, the first thing they’d notice would be that his chest had literally collapsed.

  Was that same fate planned for a hundred-plus law enforcement men along the border? Was that to be the theme of Detonation Day?

  THERE WAS NO SHOVEL ON the premises, but Rio managed to dig the grave using a dull, rusted ax with a splintered handle he’d found in the lean-to. He’d have been tempted to leave Luke as critter feed were it not for the likelihood that his body would need to be autopsied. A chest so flat that it appeared the heart and lungs had been sucked out of it was grossly atypical.

  Rio cleaned himself up at the lake, and then walked back to the cabin. The day was warm for mid-April and the sun felt good on his back.

  When he didn’t immediately see Jaime inside the cabin, he grew nervous. He found her stretched out on her bed, sleeping soundly, the gun he’d left her propped against the cypress-knee lamp.

  The bottom of her dress had ridden up to her waist. The top was twisted so that her right breast had worked free. An animal-like hunger pummeled his senses. He inhaled quickly and wondered how he’d ever let himself become this consumed with a woman. Had she been fully clothed, he’d still long to stretch out beside her and pull her into his arms.