“I told you not to wear those jeans.”
“I’m not going to wear a satin skirt in this weather.”
“Take them off.”
She had to reason with him. She knew he would hurt her if he could. Physically and emotionally. She had to outsmart him any way she could.
The snow fell faster, turning into slush, which piled up along the edges. “I’ll take them off when we stop.”
With that Troy cranked the wheel and they were suddenly bumping along a side road almost hidden by the snow. After about a half mile, he pulled in front of a rambling stucco house made to look like adobe, its vigas sticking out, its porch, railings and roof frosted with white.
“Whose place is this?”
“Mine,” Troy said.
“Are we getting out of the van?” she asked when he didn’t make any move.
He wagged his head from side to side, as if it were a game. “I like it right here, don’t you?”
“Not really.”
Pulling out a new, oversized pack of Big Red, he folded a cinnamon-flavored stick of gum in his mouth. “Kissable,” he said. “Want one?”
She shook her head. Her mouth was dry.
“C’mere …” He dragged her forward. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “Is Rawley inside?”
“Rawley, Rawley, Rawley … the way you talk about him, I wonder if you’ve gotten in his pants.”
Her heart lurched in horror. “He’s our son, Troy. He’s your son.”
He yanked her mouth to his, nearly choking her with his thrusting tongue. She tasted the cinnamon gum. He had a gun in his jacket pocket. The cell phone must be in the driver’s door. Where was a weapon? What could she use?”
“Get in the back!” he rasped, suddenly pushing her away, shoving her through the seats and following right behind her. “On your hands and knees.”
“Troy …” She warded him off with her hands, but there was nothing in his eyes but malignant lust.
“Hands and knees, baby. Come on. Hands and knees. Now take off the jeans real slow …”
Hunter got onto the main road, headed south, then east on Kit Carson Road. It wasn’t as long as Santa Fe’s Canyon Road but it boasted galleries and eateries and a few bed and breakfasts. It soon petered out to a small road lined by skinny pines weighted with fresh snow. He turned off to follow a set of tracks down a drive, finding only a bright red Chevy truck parked in front of a small house. He returned to the main road, berating himself for wasting precious time.
Oh, Jenny, hang in there.
“I think I want that piece of gum now,” she said in a strangled voice.
“You’re stalling.”
He was waving the gun at her now, letting her see his power. Her terror must have been written on her face no matter how she tried to hide it because his smile got wider.
“You’re getting me hot, Jenny, my love,” he whispered, shaking one knee as he sat across the van from her. “Raging hot.”
“Oh, no …” she said weakly.
This wasn’t the same man she’d married. He was long gone. Fifteen years gone. But she hadn’t realized what a monster Troy had become.
He grabbed the pack of gum and threw it at her. She flinched, picked up the pack, then turned around to stare down the barrel of his gun.
“Don’t fuck with me,” he whispered.
She had to keep him talking, but she was nearly frozen with terror. “If you kill me, you won’t get the money,” she pointed out reasonably.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, as if she were extremely dense. “Sounds like dead old dad’s about to leave this world, and that means all the money goes to you.”
“Why did you kill Michelle Calgary?”
“You’ve been listening to your lapdog. I didn’t kill Michelle. She fell.”
“You pushed her. She made you mad, and you can’t stand that. She told you she was pregnant and you didn’t want her or the baby.”
“She was a crybaby. Cried all the time.”
“She was going to tell the authorities that you hit her and abused her. She was going to do what I should have done all those years ago.”
“You’ve got a nasty little mouth,” he said angrily. “Just like Michelle. She cried and whined to that bastard brother of hers, the one you let into your bed. You did, didn’t you, Jenny? You let him have sex with you.”
“You killed her,” she insisted carefully.
“Jenny …” He cupped her chin in one rough hand and shook her head slowly from side to side. “Michelle never listened. It was her fault. She just—wouldn’t—listen! You need to listen. Now, get on your hands and knees. Don’t make me make you.”
She would rather face the gun than comply to his wishes. Deliberately, she pulled out one stick of gum, unwrapping it slowly and sliding it into her mouth. He watched her like Benny watched the bag of kibble whenever she was about to feed him.
She was feeling strangely calm. She needed to know where Rawley was, but she had to have the upper hand. “It’s kind of warm,” she murmured, trying to shrug out of Rawley’s jacket.
“Don’t take it off,” he bit out.
“Why not?” She kept pulling her arms from the sleeves, watching him. His gaze was on the jacket, his breath coming hot and fast.
“Lay it down,” he said jerkily.
She did as she was told. “Come on, Val,” he urged. “Come on, Jenny.” She didn’t move. Suddenly, his eyes glazed over and to her extreme disgust and amazement, he unzipped his pants and stroked himself until he came, squirting semen all over the jacket.
She didn’t wait. She kneed him in the crotch for all she was worth. Too preoccupied to anticipate the blow, Troy crumpled up, moaning. She scrambled to her knees, but he lunged at her, hitting her head with the side of the gun which slipped from his fingers. Her hand fisted, connecting with his chest. She felt his teeth sink into her shoulder and she cried out. Her hand scrabbled around, searching for the gun. She found the pack of gum instead.
He tried to pin down her arms. They were both breathing in hard gasps. With all her might, she shoved the pack of gum into his open mouth, momentarily choking him.
His spat out the thing and attempted to bite her again. Jenny kicked and flailed. She realized their fight was arousing him again. She hadn’t done enough damage.
They were both panting, silently struggling. He grabbed her arms, but she wrenched one away. The gun was to her right, lying on the carpet. She grabbed for it but it skittered further toward the back of the van. He hit her full across the face and snatched at it himself. Jenny twisted, trying to get one knee up. When he shifted to stop her, she wrenched around, reaching out with all her might, her fingers finally closing on the gun’s butt.
A second later she had it pointing at his forehead. “Move and I’ll kill you!” she screamed.
He froze.
“Where’s Rawley?”
He didn’t respond. Just stared at her through cold eyes.
“Where is my son?” she demanded. Was the safety on. Could she pull the trigger? Kill him point blank? “Tell me where he is, you bastard!”
“You can’t do it, can you?”
“Where is he?”
“Oh, Jenny.” Watching her, Troy pulled slowly back, a smile forming on his lips.
She wanted to shriek with frustration. She couldn’t look at him. He would never tell her. She knew that now.
“Come on, honey,” he whispered.
“Stop it. Don’t touch me. Please, Troy. Tell me he’s alive.”
“Well, of course he is.” He yanked the gun from her nerveless fingers.
Jenny’s shoulders sagged and she closed her eyes. She was spent. Weary enough to pass out on the spot The click of the safety brought her eyelids flying open. The gun was trained on her face.
“Beg me some more, Jenny. I like it.”
She said nothing.
“Come on, Jenny. ‘Please, Troy
, please. Pretty please.’ Say it.” With his free hand he reached for the button on her jeans. She slapped him away.
“Say it!” he ordered, yanking hard on her zipper.
Her hands clamped over his, stopping him. He pushed the gun into the skin of her cheek.
“You scared? You scared, Jenny … huh?” He leaned down on her, pushing her into the carpet. “Come on, baby,” he crooned. She could feel him hard against her, pushing rhythmically. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon. ‘Pleeease … Troy …’ “ He fumbled with his own buckle. She heard the jingle as he hurriedly pushed down his trousers.
Her hand curled and flexed. She would grab right where it hurt and twist with all her might.
The gun was now pressed to her throat. He started to lick her lips. “You used to like that. Remember?” he whispered. His tongue grew more sloppy, sliding around her mouth and in and out of her lips. He grunted and pushed against her, his hands seeking to dig inside her jeans.
Jenny tensed, ready to strike.
The side door of the van suddenly flew open. One moment Troy was on top of her, the next he was yanked back as if he’d suddenly learned to fly. Jenny scrambled to her knees and pushed herself out of the van after him.
Hunter had Troy by the neck and was squeezing the life out of him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Hunter …”Jenny clambered out of the van. Troy’s eyes had rolled back. His pants were down at his knees.
A low, ferocious growl warned her not to move. But it was Benny, transfixed by the sight of the man who had beaten him.
“Hunter,” she said again. “Please …”
“He killed my sister.”
“He knows where my son is.”
A moment passed. Slowly, Hunter released the fingers of his left hand from around Troy’s neck. He gazed at the man for a long moment, monitoring the labored rise and fall of his chest, willing him to live just a little longer. Troy started to fall, but Hunter clamped one hand on him, pinning him in place. Benny sat below, mouth drawn back in a vicious snarl, low growls issuing steadily from his throat, the hair on the back of his neck as stiff as his four legs.
Troy coughed and touched his throat as he came to. Jenny belatedly thought of the gun, somewhere in the van.
Hunter said, “If you move, Benny will rip you apart and I’ll just sit back and watch.”
“You strangled me,” he whined.
Hunter’s cold smile was an echo of Benny’s snarl. “Not well enough, apparently.”
“Where’s Rawley?” Jenny asked.
Troy glanced around. Thoughts of escape were clear in his eyes. He looked down at the clothing ignominiously circling his ankles, but when he reached to pull up his pants, Benny clamped his teeth around his wrist.
“Tell her where her son is,” Hunter warned.
“Get the damn dog off me.”
Jenny grabbed Benny by his collar. “Come on, boy. Over here.” She was shaking all over with relief. She was so glad to see Hunter. So glad.
Troy pulled on his pants, staggering a bit. In a flash he leapt for the open door of the van.
“The gun!” Jenny called as Benny jerked from her grasp and charged after him in a flying leap.
Hunter was only a second behind.
A bullet exploded within the van. All Jenny could see were Hunter’s legs hanging out.
“Benny …?” she whispered in horror.
Hunter slowly levered himself out. He shook his head and tears sprang to Jenny’s eyes. He reached over and brushed her hair out of her face, a soft smile crossing his lips as he looked at her. “No,” he murmured. “Benny’s got his jaws around Russell’s throat. The bastard shot himself in the foot.”
Three hours later, with Troy at St. Vincent Hospital under armed guard, awaiting surgery to his shattered foot, Hunter and Jenny stood in the waiting area. Sergeant Ortega had met them—and he ordered Hunter into the emergency room to have his own injury attended to.
Left with the sergeant, Jenny sat in a chair, clasping and unclasping her hands.
“We’ll find Rawley,” he said.
She didn’t know what to say. Excusing herself, she went to check on her father who was sitting up and looking marginally better. Natalie sat in a nearby chair, legs crossed, elegant and composed.
“Jenny,” Allen said in alarm, staring at her.
“I’m okay.” As quickly as she could, she brought them up to date on the latest events. They both watched her gravely the whole time.
When Jenny was finished, he asked, “Did Russell do that?”
“What?”
He gestured to her face.
Her fingers explored the growing puffiness and bruise from where he’d struck her. “Oh.”
“I hope he rots in hell,” he muttered.
“He didn’t tell us where Rawley is. Even Benny couldn’t get it out of him.”
“They’ll find him,” he said, repeating Ortega’s assurances. Jenny smiled weakly. “How’s Calgary?” Allen asked gruffly, as an afterthought.
“Getting looked at.”
“Jenny—”
“Don’t tell me how to feel about him. I know how I feel. I love him, and nothing you can say can change that.”
“He saved your life, so say thank you and let it go at that.”
“Allen,” Natalie murmured disapprovingly.
“Just stop,” Jenny told him.
“Okay, okay.” He lifted his hands, warding off any more criticism, before dropping them weakly to his lap.
“Hunter Calgary is the best thing that ever happened to me. All I’ve done is go against his advice and wishes, and he thinks I’m a spoiled rich girl whose daddy buys her out of trouble, again and again.”
“That’s not true. You’ve been living on your own for years—much as I hate to admit it.”
Jenny started to laugh. She couldn’t help herself. “Don’t try to be reasonable now. Not after all these years. You’ll only confuse me.”
Natalie arched an amused brow. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as Jenny had believed all these years.
“I want you to be with someone you deserve,” Allen said bullishly. “Hunter Calgary saved you, and I feel he ought to be rewarded. But that doesn’t alter the fact that he’s an unemployed ex-cop and a burnout case.”
She sighed. Her father wasn’t going to change. Picking up her windbreaker and purse, she gave him a meaningful look.
Allen frowned, sensing a trap.
“He’s going to be your son-in-law,” she said. “If he’ll have me.”
“You didn’t lay a hand on him, did you?” Ortega asked Hunter after the probing and antisepsis and stitching and bandaging were done. Ortega had seen the blue and purple bruises on Troy’s throat.
“Not a hand,” Hunter lied cheerfully.
Ortega grunted. “He’ll still scream police brutality. He’s the type.”
“He was trying to rape her. Had her at gunpoint.”
“Nice,” he muttered, grimacing.
“Benny deserves a medal. Got anything for canine courage?”
Ortega grunted again.
They left the emergency room together. “You’re a lucky bastard,” Ortega remarked. “That bullet could have taken off your arm.”
Hunter nodded soberly, but he was thinking about how Troy had aimed for his only son. A moment of madness? Probably. But it could have had lethal results.
Jenny met them in the waiting room. Her beautiful face was drawn and white. “How are you?” she asked.
“On painkillers. The real thing.”
“He’s fine.” Ortega’s look squelched her rising concern. “I’m gonna wait for Russell to get out of surgery. Why don’t you two get some rest?”
Hunter and Jenny left him at the elevators and walked outside. Twilight had come upon them and the snow glowed a soft blue in the fading light.
“I keep thinking he’ll just show up. Maybe he got away from Troy.”
Hunter nodded. “Let’s check the condo phone
.”
“I’ll drive.”
There was no message on the answering machine, but there were three hang-ups from telephone numbers with varying area codes. “Maybe it’s Rawley!” she said with renewed hope. Benny’s ears lifted at her tone and his tail wagged.
“The last call was early this morning,” Hunter observed.
“Well, maybe he’s just not somewhere he can get to a phone.”
A sudden silence divided them. There was a lot more to say and neither of them knew how to begin.
Finally, Jenny cleared her throat. “I know you’re still a little woozy after all that, but at least let me say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Hunter shrugged. “Let me ask you a question.” He paused, remembering their game. With a faint smile, he added, “Then you can ask me a question.”
Jenny shot him a look. “Okay.”
“You put yourself in extreme danger. If something had happened to you, why did you think I wouldn’t care?”
She gazed at him, gauging the seriousness of his words. “Do you mean that?”
“You keep forgetting your own rules. Answer the question first, then ask.”
Her lips twitched in spite of her overriding worry about Rawley. “I was thinking about your shoulder. I didn’t want you to tangle with Troy, because I was afraid he might hurt you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you because of me.”
“You needed protection,” he insisted. “That’s why your father hired me in the first place. And I would do anything to protect you from Troy. But because you didn’t tell me, I damn near got there too late!”
She put a finger to her lips. “Shh. You’re forgetting the rules. It’s my turn to ask a question.” She paused. “And just for the record, I said I was sorry.”
“Where’s the question?” he said, only slightly mollified.
In Too Deep Page 32