Brady grunted. So what if she’d packed on a few pounds recently? He’d do her. In fact, maybe he’d been wrong not to bring her with him. Six years in the pen was a long time to go without any tail. He shrugged and turned to hobble into the kitchen.
The power had gone out five minutes after he’d broken in the brunette’s house. At first he’d panicked, thinking it meant the cops had found him and were executing some kind of takedown. But one look out the window at the howling wind and whipping snow had eased his mind. Blackouts during winter storms were pretty common. Ice or tree limbs on the power lines. Wind-fallen power poles.
Brady opened the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer and leftover lasagna. He had no way to heat the lasagna without electricity, but even cold, the leftovers were a hell of a lot better-tasting than the glop he’d eaten in prison. Forking up huge bites straight from the container, Brady headed into the bathroom next. Surely the brunette chick had some kind of pain reliever in her medicine cabinet.
Setting the lasagna aside, he opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink and had to hold the bottles close to the fading sunlight from the window to read each label. The first two were for nausea, prescribed to someone named Marian Harris. The brunette was Chelsea, so maybe Marian was her mother? Whatever. He tossed the bottle aside and went on to the next.
Bingo. Marian also had oxycodone for pain. Thank you, Marian. He popped two and washed them down, cupping water from the faucet into his hand. Any extra pills he didn’t use, he could sell for gas money or food. Maybe trade for sex. With a gloating smile, Brady pocketed the bottle, reclaimed the dish of lasagna, and headed back to the living room. Things were starting to look up for him.
* * *
Turning from the dead old man, Jake shuddered and heaved a dejected sigh. Brady had definitely been here.
Tensing, Jake swept another keen glance around the stable, listening. He moved from stall to stall, searching, looking for clues that Brady might still be in the area. But other than Sadie and three restless horses, no one was around.
Because there were no footprints or tire tracks in the thin layer of snow surrounding the stable, Jake concluded that Brady had been there and left before the snow started in earnest. Had probably arrived at Mr. Noble’s within minutes of locking Jake and Chelsea in the trunk. Which gave him at least an hour head start to have been here and left again.
Gritting his teeth, Jake returned to the first stall. Kneeling by the body, he felt for a pulse, even though the man’s wound left little doubt he was dead. The old man’s murder shook loose old memories and left a gnawing anger inside him. He’d seen his share of dead bodies on the job, but being back in Texas, heading to his father’s hospital bed meant his mom was not far from his mind. Another senseless tragedy. His chest tightened with the grief he’d carried for the past twelve years.
A sense of urgency pounded through Jake. A killer was on the loose, and Jake’s lack of transportation, communication or weapon put him at a distinct disadvantage. He refused to cede the upper hand to a scum like Brady, but he couldn’t abandon Chelsea until he knew she was out of danger.
Sadie sniffed at her master’s hand, and Jake scratched the dog’s ear. “Sorry, girl. Let’s close this place up and get back to the house.”
After putting blankets on all of the horses and securing the stable doors, Jake led Sadie by the collar back to the house. Sadie gave a hard shake as she trotted inside, flinging droplets of melting snow. Jake headed back to the living room, dreading breaking the news to Chelsea that her neighbor was dead. Murdered. “Chelsea?”
The sofa was empty. The living room was dark and silent.
His gut tightened, and his hand reached instinctively for his gun. Which Brady had stolen. Silently, Jake mouthed a curse word and moved deeper into the house. Sadie followed him, giving him a curious look and a tentative tail wag.
Before he reached the hallway to the bedrooms, a thump from the opposite end of the house drew his attention. Sadie heard the noise, too, and hurried off toward the kitchen, tags jingling. Jake followed, and as he eased toward the kitchen, he noticed the gun cabinet in a recessed corner of the living room. The case doors stood open, and every rack had been emptied.
He clenched his back teeth. Wherever he was, Brady was now well armed.
Another scuffling noise from the kitchen drew his attention, and he continued in that direction, picking up a fishing trophy from a bookshelf to use as a weapon if needed. He peered around the corner into the dim kitchen. Saw no one. Sadie paused to sniff around her food bowl.
A squeak of hinges pulled his gaze to a utility closet at the other side of the room. Then Chelsea’s voice. “Oh, thank God.”
Sadie raised her head and perked her ears.
“Chelsea?” Jake crossed to the closet.
“In h-here.” She pushed the utility room door open and shuffled out, into a weak beam of light from the kitchen window. “Gas water heater.” She shot him a wide grin, and Jake’s breath backed up in his lungs. Her bedroom eyes sparkled, and her smile transformed her face. Sure he’d noticed her sexy mouth before, but he hadn’t really appreciated how attractive she was. Okay, her near-nudity had been distracting, and because of their dire situation, he’d tried to keep his mind on the business of saving her life. But gentleman or not, he’d have to have been dead not to notice her womanly curves and smooth skin.
A flash of heat swept through him, reminding him it had been months since he’d been with a woman. Down, boy. Wrong time and place.
Chelsea pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders as she stooped to give Sadie’s head a pat. “I c-can have a hot b-bath!”
Jake set the trophy on the kitchen counter and cleared his head. “No. I mean...later. A hot bath now could cause heart arrhythmia.” Her grin faltered, and he felt as if he’d kicked a puppy. “But hot water is good news. We can fix something warm to drink and wrap you up with a hot water bottle.”
His body tightened, and heat crawled through him. That wasn’t all he wanted to wrap around her....
She shuffled to a kitchen chair, the dog at her heels. “The b-bad news is the kitchen phone is c-cordless, too. We have n-no way to call the c-cops, unless we find a cell phone.”
Jake grimaced. He considered for a moment keeping his recent discoveries to himself but decided Chelsea needed the truth. “Actually, there’s worse news.”
She met his gaze, her mesmerizing green eyes wide with alarm. “Did you find Brady? Is he here?”
“No, not that I can tell. But...he was.” Jake dragged a hand over his mouth and sighed. “The gun case is open and empty.”
Chelsea puckered her brow. “That doesn’t necessarily mean—”
“I found Mr. Noble in the stable.”
She sat taller, stiffening her back as if bracing for a blow. “And?”
“He’s dead. Gunshot wound to the head.”
Chelsea gasped and slumped back in the chair, shaking. “Oh, my God...”
“I’m sorry. We’re you close to him?”
“I— No, not really. I mean, he’s been our neighbor for as long as I can remember, but...it’s just—” Her gaze drifted down to Sadie, and she stroked the dog’s head. “Sad. Scary.”
“My best guess is Brady came upon the house shortly after he left us locked up, searched the house and took whatever he thought he might need. He ran into Mr. Noble and shot him rather than leave a witness. Don’t know yet if he shot him in the house and dragged him to the stable or killed him there. Hell, Noble could have confronted him with a weapon, for all I know. But however it went down, Brady armed himself from Noble’s gun cabinet and was gone before the hardest snow started.”
She frowned. “Not that I’m sorry Brady left, but...if Mr. Noble was dead, why not hide out here?”
“He could have thought someone else would show up here. Mrs. Noble, for instance. He had no way of knowing she was dead.”
Chelsea nodded.
“Maybe he thought Noble had call
ed the cops and wanted to clear out before they showed up. Or...he could have some other specific destination in mind, someplace he felt more confident he’d be safe to lie low for a while.”
Her face fell, and she groaned. “My parents’ house. He knows they’re out of town, that I was house-sitting.”
Jake raised his chin and met her gaze, hope flaring in him. “No, that’s good. If we have an idea where he’s staying, we can send the authorities to pick him up—”
“How?” She flipped up one palm and tipped her head. “No phone, remember?”
Jake slammed a hand down on the table and barked a curse word. Pressing his mouth in a taut line, he drew a deep breath, trying to calm the roiling disquiet and futility inside him. He needed to be hunting Brady. His training, his instincts all demanded action, yet here he sat.
He paced to the kitchen window and stared out at the snow that blew harder and heavier by the minute. He could barely see past the front lawn, and daylight was rapidly fading. An accumulation of close to four inches had already collected on the old truck parked—
Jake straightened, his pulse kicking into overdrive. “Keys.” He swept a look around the kitchen, searching for a pegboard or key hook. “Chelsea, you see any keys around here that look like they might go to the truck out front?”
She glanced around, shaking her head. “No. Maybe by the front door?”
He jogged toward the entry hall, calling, “Be right back!”
On an old phone desk by the door, Jake spotted a wooden bowl with a variety of keys, bolts, pens and peppermint candies. He rifled through the assortment until he found a key with the Ford logo. “Bingo.”
Bracing against the stiff, icy wind and stinging snow, Jake crossed the yard to the old pickup and climbed in the cab. He put the key in the ignition and turned it. The truck’s engine whined and sputtered, but refused to catch. “Come on!”
He tried again and again with the same results. Each subsequent attempt produced a weaker-sounding engine noise as the cold battery gave up the ghost.
Finally Jake dropped his hand from the key and squeezed the steering wheel in frustration. He itched to set out on foot, hunting down the escaped killer. But heading out in a raging storm, unarmed, blinded by whipping snow and dark of night was not a smart move. Leaving Chelsea unprotected and still recovering from hypothermia rankled, as well.
Idleness didn’t sit well with Jake. Waiting, no matter how advisable, felt too much like the reckless disregard and selfishness that he’d indulged in the summer he was sixteen. Since that painful summer, he’d been a man of action. But as he stared out at the blizzard and darkening night sky, he forced himself to swallow the bitter pill of defeat. Temporary defeat, he amended.
He might be stranded for the night, hands tied by his limited resources, but at first light tomorrow, he would find a way to catch up to Brady.
Chapter 5
From the kitchen, Chelsea heard the lifeless whine of the truck engine, and her spirits sank. She’d harbored a faint hope that she would be back at her parents’ house, in her own clothes and snuggled in her own bed by nightfall. That fantasy sputtered out, even as she heard Jake try again to start Mr. Noble’s old Ford.
She glanced down at Sadie, who sat beside her, getting her ears rubbed. “Well, Sadie girl, do you think Mr. Noble kept any of his wife’s clothes?”
Sadie wagged her tail, acknowledging Chelsea. The dog was an orphan now, she realized. Someone would have to care for Sadie until a new home could be found for her. Chelsea’s apartment management didn’t allow pets, but she could keep Sadie at her parents’ for a while. Chelsea leaned over and hugged the dog’s neck. “Don’t worry, Sadie. I’ll find you a good home.”
Mustering her strength, Chelsea pushed away from the table and headed slowly toward the living room, clutching the blanket around her shoulders and pausing to lean on furniture as needed for rest. She’d made it as far as the end of the hallway when Jake bustled back in from the front yard, bringing with him a blast of cold air.
“No luck?” she said, as much to alert him that she’d left the kitchen as for confirmation of what she suspected.
He strode into the living room, blowing into his hands, and shook his head. “I’ll start that fire now. We’re gonna need it.”
She hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “I was gonna look for something to wear. Maybe some of Mrs. Noble’s things or some of his pajamas. Anything that will fit at this point. I’ll bring you a shirt. Okay?”
He nodded. “Can you do it alone or do you want help?”
“I’ll call if I need you.” Sadie followed her down the hall to the first bedroom, which looked as if it had been Mrs. Noble’s sewing room. Chelsea checked the closet and found extra linens, pillows and blankets, all of which would be handy for camping out in front of the fireplace tonight, but no clothes.
As she turned to leave the room, a movement in the corner caught her eye. Her pulse tripped, and she yelped. She swung toward the shadowed recess of the room, nearly tripping over Sadie as she backpedaled toward the door. “Who’s there?”
A black-and-gray tabby with a white chest stretched lazily and sauntered over to rub against Chelsea’s leg. Chelsea exhaled and fought to calm her racing heartbeat. “Geez, cat, you scared the crap outta me.”
Jake appeared at the door. “Chelsea?”
“I’m okay. I think I just lost ten years of my life expectancy thanks to kitty here, but...” She stooped to lift the cat in her arms. The cat’s collar had a tag that read Nela. “Meet Nela.”
“Hello, Nela.” Jake gave the tabby’s head a little scratch. “Fire’s going. I’m going to fix us something to eat, something warm to drink.”
She nodded and set Nela back on the floor. “There are extra blankets and pillows in that closet if you want to grab some. I’m guessing we’ll be m-making our beds in front of the fire, unless we get power back soon.”
“Roger that. We need to close all the doors to these back rooms. It’ll help keep the heat from the fire more in the living room.”
She nodded, her teeth chattering. “R-right.”
While he raided the sewing room closet for bedding, Chelsea moved on to the next room, the master bedroom, and found his and hers closets. Mrs. Noble’s closet looked untouched, and her heart broke for Mr. Noble, who’d clearly been reluctant to get rid of anything following his wife’s death. She flipped through the matronly dresses and blouses until she found a pair of khaki pants and a long-sleeved cotton blouse she thought would fit. The pants had an elastic waistband, not the most flattering fashion statement for someone her age, but she wasn’t going to quibble. She added a soft pullover sweater and the fleece cardigan Jake had given her earlier, layering on warmth. Still she shivered. The cold sank to her bones, and she wondered if she’d ever feel warm again.
After she’d donned the clothes she’d picked out, she took a heavy flannel shirt from Mr. Noble’s closet for Jake to wear while his shirt dried out. Wrapping the throw around her shoulders again, she returned to the living room with Jake’s snow-soaked shirt. After spreading the shirt on the hearth to dry, she huddled close to the fire now crackling in the grate. Nela walked up to investigate the fire, tail twitching, and gave a lazy stretch. Sadie lay down in front of the hearth, resting her chin on her paws and giving Chelsea a sad look.
Mr. Noble had been killed. The tremor that raced through Chelsea now had nothing to do with the cold. She’d been plenty scared in the past few hours, facing the escaped convict, getting locked in her trunk, braving the cold, but she’d held the full extent of her terror at arm’s length. She’d forcefully shoved down the fear that served no purpose other than to distract her and get in her way. But now...
She felt the tears sting her sinuses and adrenaline kick-start her pulse. She saw Brady’s evil glare, the pistol aimed at her. She heard the concussion of gunfire and remembered the pain that twisted Jake’s face as the stun gun’s electric current coursed through him. Her elderly neighbor was d
ead, and the murderer was still on the loose, probably within miles of here. Maybe hiding out in her parents’ home...
“Here.”
She jolted when Jake spoke, and she swiped at the tears dampening her cheeks.
“More good news. The stove uses gas, too.” He held a steaming mug out to her, which she took with shaking hands. “I’m heating a can of soup, but start with this coffee. It’s instant, but it’s not too bad if you add enough sugar.”
He settled on the floor beside her and glanced her direction. “Hey, are you okay?”
She forced a grin. “Yeah, I... It all just hit me. We could have died. Brady could have killed us like he killed Mr. Noble. He still could. What if he comes back here?”
“Then I’ll be ready for him. I won’t let him hurt you, Chelsea. I promise.” Jake reached for her cheek and dried a tear with his thumb. A warm tingle spun through her, and her pulse gave a giddy kick. His blue eyes held hers, lit with a hard-edged but reassuring determination. A sense of security flowed through her. After the way he’d come through for her already this afternoon, saving her from Brady and from Ethyl’s trunk, she had no trouble believing Jake could protect her from the escaped convict should he return.
She studied Jake’s face, admiring the way the fire’s glow highlighted the rugged cut of his cheekbones and square jaw. Good Lord, but he was handsome.
“Who are you, Jake Connelly? And what put you at the right place at the right time to stumble into my nightmare?”
He arched a golden eyebrow. “If you’re asking how I happened to be on that stretch of highway tonight, then the answer is I was driving through to Amarillo.” His expression darkened, and his forehead creased as he frowned. “My dad had a heart attack, and I flew in, hoping to see him before...” He hesitated. Sighed. “They don’t think he’ll pull through.”
Chelsea’s heart twisted. “And now you’re stuck here with me instead of seeing your dad. Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry.”
He patted her knee. “Not your fault. You didn’t ask for this any more than I did.”
Cowboy's Texas Rescue Page 6