by LENA DIAZ,
He frowned. “Put the book down and sit at the table. Get on the computer and access that account. Now.”
She got up, left the book on the seat and hurried over to the table. She sat as far away from the TVs as she could, hoping to keep Iceman from noticing the screens.
Lauren sat beside her and placed the laptop on the table. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
Ashley kept a wary eye on Iceman, who’d gone back to the doorway and was talking to the other gunman again.
“Dillon’s alive,” she whispered. “I saw him on that bottom screen.”
“Dillon? The hot SWAT guy you told me about on the phone?” Lauren whispered back.
“Yes. I thought he was killed in the fire, back at the house where Iceman grabbed me. But he’s alive.”
Lauren’s brows rose. “Iceman?”
“Luther Kennedy.”
“Oh.” She scooted closer to Ashley. “Shouldn’t we power up the computer and at least pretend to access the account?”
“You’re right, but we need to figure out some way to stall Iceman.” She turned the laptop on and once it booted up she used her Wi-Fi hotspot software to access the internet through a cell phone network. “Now what?” she whispered. “Any ideas?”
“Why don’t you access your email? If he asks questions, you can tell him you hid the codes in one of the emails in your folders.”
“Good idea. I haven’t checked my email since before the shooting at Gibson and Gibson. I probably have tons.” She glanced up to make sure Iceman wasn’t listening before opening her email.
Lauren peered over her shoulder, her face so close to Ashley’s that her breath tickled the fine hairs on Ashley’s neck.
“Uh, Lauren. You don’t have to get quite so close.”
“What? Oh, sorry. Just curious to see the kind of mail a real CPA gets every day.”
The resentment in Lauren’s voice sent a chill down Ashley’s spine. She leaned away, wanting to put even more distance between them.
“Sorry,” Lauren said, sounding contrite. “I know all of this is my fault. I was jealous of your success, and desperate. Please forgive me.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Ashley gave her friend a quick hug. “Stop apologizing. Let’s just make it through the next few minutes and hopefully help will arrive soon. Dillon’s an amazing man. If anyone can get us out of this mess, he can. We need to be ready to move.”
* * *
SO FAR DILLON’S plan was working. He’d gathered a small herd of ten horses in addition to Boomerang. And he figured since no one had shot at him yet that no one had seen him. His hope was they’d be too distracted by the group of horses to notice one man lying low against the neck of the lead horse.
He was fifty yards from the barn where Griffin and his men were being held when a man hopped over the fence by the barn. He cupped a match against the slight breeze and lit the cigarette dangling between his lips as he strode down the length of the barn. He leaned against the wood, took a deep puff from his cigarette. His brows lowered in obvious confusion as he watched the horses trotting toward him. Suddenly his gaze clashed with Dillon’s, and held. He dropped the cigarette and clawed for the gun at his hip.
Dillon cursed and slapped the stallion’s flank, whipping him into a gallop. The trail horses whinnied and followed his lead. The man dropped to his knees, both hands wrapped around the gun, looking for a clear shot. Dillon aimed the stallion directly at the gunman.
The man’s eyes widened and he jerked around, running back toward the fence. Dillon waited until the last second, then threw his leg over the stallion’s back and leaped from the horse onto the man, grabbing him around the neck and twisting as they both fell to the ground.
The flash of hooves had Dillon diving out of the way. He rolled under the fence just as the herd dodged to the side, their shrill whinnies filling the air as they whipped back toward the pasture. In their wake, the gunman’s body lay broken and lifeless, facedown in the dirt.
One down, but how many more to go?
Dillon slid under the fence, pocketed the man’s gun and crept toward the back of the barn.
* * *
ICEMAN FLATTENED HIS palms against the tabletop and leaned down, his fierce gaze narrowing at Ashley. “How much longer?”
Her hands froze on the keyboard and her mind raced, trying to think of another excuse, anything to buy some time.
“I think we’re close,” Lauren said beside her. “Give us a few more minutes.”
His gaze shot to Lauren’s and he abruptly nodded and went back to the doorway, where he lounged against the doorframe talking to the other gunman.
“Thanks,” Ashley whispered. “My mind went blank. I didn’t know what to say.”
“Open that email, right there. It’s from David.” The excitement on Lauren’s face confused Ashley even more than her words.
“What are you talking about? Your David? David Dunlop? Why would he send me an email?”
“Just open it already.” Lauren reached over and clicked the email. A slow smile spread across her face. “This is it!” She tugged the laptop toward her. “Luther, you were right. David sent the account numbers to Ashley. We’ve got it!”
Bile rose in Ashley’s throat as she stared in horror at Lauren.
Iceman hurried to the table and read the email over Lauren’s shoulder. He smiled, and then he kissed her.
Ashley clutched her hand against her chest as Lauren’s triumphant gaze locked on hers.
“Fooled you, didn’t I?” she gloated. “Do you know how much I hated being in the back of that van with you, having to pretend to be your friend? But I did it. I bided my time, hoping my theory was right, that David had contacted you somehow to give you the account information. And I was right.” She looked up at Luther, her obvious infatuation for him shining in her eyes. “I was right, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, you certainly were.”
“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Ashley whispered.
“Not as smart as people think you are, are you, Ash?” Lauren laughed. “Luther and I used David as our pawn, to get to the money. But he saw Luther and me together at a stupid restaurant, of all places. We were so careful, and the one time we slipped up, David saw us. When I got home, he confronted me, told me he was going to expose me for the fraud I was and tell everyone what I’d done, starting with you.”
Her eyes fairly blazed with the hatred Ashley had never known existed.
“Unfortunately, he was far more clever than I thought. He moved the money out of the account right before Luther killed him. We didn’t realize David had double-crossed us until we went to get our money and it was gone.”
While she spoke, bitterness dripping from every word, Luther sat beside her and typed on the laptop.
Lauren cupped her chin in her palm. “It was my theory that David had somehow sent you the information. Luther wanted to hold you hostage and torture the information out of you. But I knew what a goody-two-shoes you are. I told him if you knew you had the information, you’d have gone to the police. So it was my idea to make you think I was a hostage, too, so I could trick you into finding the account information for us. For once,” she spat out, “I was the smart one. I was more clever than you!”
“I thought we were friends,” Ashley said, the words barely above a whisper as she forced them past the cold lump of fear in her throat.
“Friends?” she sneered. “How could I be friends with someone who always thought they were better than me?”
Luther finished typing and closed the laptop. He stood and motioned to the other man at the doorway.
“But I never thought—” Ashley started to say.
“Shut up. Shut up!” Lauren shoved her bangs out of her face. “You don’t get to talk to me anymore. Me and Luther a
re going to—”
Luther grabbed Lauren’s arm and pulled her up out of her chair.
“Honey, stop,” she said. “You’re hurting me.”
He shoved her toward Ashley’s side of the table and drew his gun. “Get over by her.”
The other man stopped beside him and pointed his gun at them, too.
Lauren’s face wrinkled with confusion. “What are you doing? We got the money. I don’t need to pretend to be her friend anymore.”
“Oh, Lauren,” Ashley said. “Don’t you see it? He used you, too, like you used me.”
Lauren shook her head. “No, no! He didn’t. He loves me. Luther, you love me.” She stared at him, her confusion turning to dismay. “Don’t you?” she whispered, sounding like a lost little girl.
He ignored her, turning to the man beside him. “The money is in my account now. Go get the others. I’ll finish this.”
The man nodded and hurried from the room.
Luther pointed his gun at Lauren.
“Wait, wait!” She jumped up from her chair and ran to the corner of the room. “Luther, look! I can still help you. That detective you thought you’d killed is still alive.” She whipped the chair away from the monitor. Luther crossed the room to stand beside her.
How could you, Lauren? Ashley thought, even as she took advantage of their distraction and hurried across the room to the door. She paused, unable to resist a quick glance at the monitor, as well.
In the middle of the screen, right beside the barn, a body lay in the dirt. But he was too small, his hair too light to be Dillon. Relief flashed through Ashley.
Luther leaned in close to study the monitor.
Ashley dashed from the room. She raced to the end of the hallway under the stairs.
“Luther, no, don’t!” Lauren’s cry sounded behind her.
Ashley whirled around, expecting to see Luther pointing a gun at her, but he wasn’t there.
Bam! A gunshot echoed from the library. Oh, no, Lauren. Grief and regret slammed into Ashley, making her double over. Luther appeared in the library doorway. He raised his gun. Ashley jerked back and ran around the corner. Bam! Wood exploded next to her head, raining splinters and sawdust down on her. She cried out and sprinted for the front door.
* * *
THE KNIFE SLASHED down, narrowly missing Dillon’s shoulder. He slammed his fist into the other man’s jaw and sent him spinning across the barn. The knife went flying and embedded itself in one of the stall doors. Dillon dove for one of his guns that the other man had made him toss when he got the drop on him. The other man saw his intent and dove, as well. They both grabbed the gun at the same time and grappled for control, rolling across the floor.
“Jack, Jack! Help!” the man yelled.
Dillon cursed. There must be another gunman close by. He twisted his body, lying half on top of the other man, but he still couldn’t get control of the gun. Footsteps pounded against the dirt outside, coming closer, closer.
In desperation, Dillon lunged forward and bit the other man’s wrist.
The man screamed in agony and let go of the gun.
Dillon slammed the man’s head against the floor. His eyes rolled up and his body went limp. The footsteps were close, too close. Dillon twisted his body around and aimed the gun two-handed at the door just as another stranger stepped into the doorway, pointing his gun at Dillon.
The man suddenly stiffened and slowly raised his hands.
Chris stepped into the opening, his pistol pointed at the man’s head. The white SWAT letters seemed to glow against his black flak jacket in the dimness of the barn’s interior.
“The cavalry’s here,” he announced. He grinned as the other four SWAT team members hurried into the barn.
“It’s about time.” Dillon shoved himself off the floor. “Some Billy the Kid you are.”
“I don’t see you doing much better, John Wayne. How many more bad guys?”
“Iceman’s still unaccounted for. I got one outside the barn, plus this guy. He was calling for Jack, asking for help.” He waved toward the man Max was holding and Donna was currently handcuffing. “If that guy isn’t Jack, there’s another one close by, within earshot.”
Chris pointed at two of the team members. “Check it out.”
They nodded and headed out the back door again.
“That’s the tack room.” Dillon pointed to the door with the wood propped in front of it. “Griffin and the farmhands should be in there.”
Chris kicked the boards out of the way while Dillon checked his gun’s loading and grabbed another gun off the floor.
The farm hands spilled out of the room, their wide-eyed faces mirroring their relief. On the floor behind them, Griffin clutched his hurt leg but waved his other hand, letting Dillon know he was okay.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Dillon twisted around. He looked toward the house, where the gunshots had come from.
“We’ve got this,” Donna yelled.
Max shoved their prisoner into the tack room and squatted down beside Griffin. He motioned back to Dillon. “Go, go!”
Dillon and Chris ran out of the barn and sprinted toward the house.
“You go in the back,” Dillon yelled. “I’ve got the front.”
Chris signaled that he’d heard him and ran to the back porch. Dillon was halfway up the front steps when he heard an engine revving. He whirled around. A man stood in the rear passenger door opening of the green sedan parked behind the white van. He raised his gun. Dillon fired. The man whirled around and fell into the dirt.
The car’s tires spun and it took off. Dillon caught a glimpse of Ashley’s long hair in the front passenger seat just before the car topped the hill and disappeared.
He swore and leaped off the steps, landing in a crouch. He tore off back toward the barn.
The sound of someone running behind him had him twisting around, pointing his gun.
“It’s me,” Chris yelled, sprinting to catch up with him.
Dillon didn’t stop. He doubled his efforts to reach the barn.
“What are you doing?” Chris demanded, sounding far away as he tried to catch Dillon.
Dillon fairly flew through the barn, digging his keys out as he ran past a startled-looking Donna and Max. He veered right and hopped the fence between the barn and the shed. His Jeep was fifty yards away. His long strides ate up the distance and he hopped into the front seat. He started the engine just as Chris ran out of the barn.
“Dillon! Wait!”
“Can’t! Iceman has Ashley!” Dillon floored the accelerator and took off, praying he’d reach the highway before the sedan disappeared.
* * *
ICEMAN BARELY SLOWED the car for the sharp left turn at the end of the road from Dillon’s farm. Tires screeched and the car banked hard, almost bottoming out before straightening and tearing off down the rural highway.
He steered with his left hand and kept his pistol pointed at her with his right.
She bit her lip, debating whether to try to grab the gun.
His gaze slid toward her. “The only reason you’re alive is because Jack called and warned me the SWAT team had arrived. You’re my insurance if I need a hostage. But if you give me any trouble, I can always get another hostage. You’re completely expendable. Got that?”
She nodded and slid closer to the door so he wouldn’t think she was going to try anything. What could she try, other than trying to grab his gun? She had no weapons, no phone, no way to fight him or escape. The grass beside the road went by so fast it was a blur. She could always jump. But at this speed, the fall would kill her. Was there some way to make him slow down? How slow would he have to drive for her to survive jumping from the car?
* * *
ONCE AGAIN, ICEMAN had Ashley i
n a car and was too far ahead for Dillon to catch up. He ground his teeth in frustration, wishing he had a faster car. The green sedan topped the next hill and disappeared.
Dillon’s accelerator was already to the floor. He fished out his cell phone and called Chris. “He’s heading east on County Road 224. I need air support and roadblocks.”
“You’re a fool, Dillon. You should have waited for me!”
“If I’d waited I wouldn’t have even known what direction he went. Call the state police and get a chopper in the air before he disappears.” He hung up without waiting for Chris’s response.
He topped the next hill, relieved to see he was gaining on the sedan. But he wasn’t gaining on him nearly fast enough. There were a lot of turns coming up, and then the intersection with the interstate. If Iceman reached the interstate before Dillon caught up to him, and before the state police could offer air support, he could blend in with traffic or pull off an exit ramp and hijack another vehicle before anyone knew what was happening.
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He had to do something. Now. He had to find a way to get ahead of Iceman and stop him before he reached the interstate.
Praying he wasn’t making a horrible mistake that would cost Ashley her life, he slowed the Jeep, then barreled into one of the many cornfields that bordered County Road 224.
* * *
THE CAR TOPPED the next hill. A bright red Jeep sat at the bottom of the hill, parked sideways, with a massive flat trailer full of hay bales hooked behind it, completely blocking the road from shoulder to shoulder.
Iceman swore and slammed the brakes. The car fishtailed sideways and came to a bouncing stop. Ashley shoved the door open and dove out of the car. Deafening shots echoed through the air, too many for her to count. She covered her ears and lay half under the car, curled up in a fetal position.
And then the noise stopped.
She lay there, afraid to even breathe. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that for a moment she thought someone was shooting again. She should run. She knew she should run. But she couldn’t get her legs to move, and she couldn’t seem to force her hands down from over her ears.