by R. C. Ryan
With the old man making strange sounds she turned and hurried from the room.
She followed the small corridor that connected the walk-in clinic with the doctor’s office. Once in the office she had to wait until the receptionist got off the phone with a patient before she could let her know that she was very concerned about Micah and ask that the doctor come immediately.
When the receptionist agreed to send the doctor to Micah’s room, Cheyenne started back along the same corridor.
The door to Micah’s room was closed.
She knew she’d left it open.
Puzzled, she opened it and stepped inside.
Austin was leaning over the bed, holding a pillow to Micah’s face.
“What…?”
Austin’s head came up sharply. The look on his face was one Cheyenne had never seen before. A look of pure evil.
All the color drained from her as she realized what he was doing.
With a cry of rage she raced across the room and snatched the pillow from his hand, tossing it to the floor.
Micah lay as still as death.
Austin gave a snarl of fury and slapped her so hard her head snapped to one side. Then with a grunt he shoved her against the wall, pinning her arms at her sides.
She experienced a surge of outrage. “Take your hands off me.”
At her words he merely smiled. A terrible, chilling smile. “I’ll put my hands on you any time I please. And you can’t stop me. Just like that old coot couldn’t stop me.”
She tried to shake off his hands, and they merely tightened on her until she couldn’t move. With her body pinned to the wall, her arms effectively immobilized, she hissed out a breath. “Are you mad?”
His smile disappeared, replaced by a look of cold disdain. “I happen to be the smartest man on earth. And you, you stupid, all-trusting idiot, are about to learn just how smart I really am.” His grasp tightened and he pulled her away from the wall before twisting her arms behind her until she cried out in pain.
With one arm around her throat he pressed until she was struggling for breath. And still he pressed until strange lights began dancing in front of her eyes. She could feel herself slipping into a deep, dark hole and realized that she was about to lose consciousness.
He bent close to her ear. “If you want me to stop, nod once, and I’ll relax my grip, as long as you promise to walk quietly ahead of me. If you don’t agree to my terms, I’ll just keep on until you pass out cold and I’ll carry you.”
She managed the faintest nod of her head and was relieved when he loosened his grip on her, just enough to allow her to breathe.
As he relaxed the pressure on her throat she sucked air into her starving lungs. Gasping for every breath, she could feel her legs beginning to tremble, and she feared she might fall to the floor.
Austin caught her by her hair and yanked hard enough to have tears springing to her eyes.
“Start walking.”
With one arm around her waist, the other firmly grasping her hand in his, he dragged her to the doorway.
She turned for a last look at Micah, who continued to lie as still as death.
With a muttered oath Austin hauled her outside, where one of her ranch trucks was idling.
She stared around wildly, hoping to see Quinn returning from the police chief’s office, or someone else who would recognize her. Before she had a chance to call out, Austin shoved her into the cab of the truck and roughly tied her hands behind her back before tying her ankles as well. In a flash he was behind the wheel before taking off with a screech of tires.
As they drove through town, he turned up the radio and began to sing along with reckless abandon at the top of his lungs.
While Cheyenne struggled to loosen her bonds, her mind was in turmoil.
Austin had smothered Micah. Smothered her dear, sweet old friend.
This was why Micah had been so agitated. Had he known what Austin was planning? But how?
And then another thought struck. A thought her mind could barely accept.
The fire. Had Micah seen Austin start the fire? Was that why he’d fought so hard when Austin had entered the room? Was that why Austin had silenced him?
That had to be what Micah had been trying to communicate to Rusty, to the doctor, to her and Quinn. And instead of at least allowing him to try to convey the truth, the doctor had subjected him to sedation.
Micah. Dear, sweet old Micah. After surviving a raging fire in the bunkhouse, he had now been smothered to death. It was too horrible, too impossible, to imagine.
Even while Cheyenne was overcome with grief for her dear friend she was also terrified.
Where was Austin planning on taking her? And why?
She had no answers. She knew only that in order to have done what she suspected him of doing Austin Baylor had to be completely mad.
He was a killer with no conscience.
Sweet heaven. She was helpless to do more than rage against the painful cord digging into her wrists and ankles. And all the while she was in the hands of a madman.
A madman who was singing at the top of his lungs, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Quinn stepped into Micah’s room to find Dr. Walton bending over the old man’s bed adjusting an oxygen mask.
With a smile Quinn glanced around. “Where’s Cheyenne?”
The doctor’s usually placid bedside manner turned brisk. “That’s what I’d like to know. She told my assistant that she was worried about Micah, but when I got here she was nowhere to be seen. And my patient is in a terrible state. Look at him. He looks like he’s been in the fight of his life. When I walked into his room that first thing I saw was the pillow from his bed tossed clear across the room. If he did it, he must be Superman. He was hyperventilating, his breathing so labored you’d have thought he’d been mountain-climbing instead of lying quietly in a bed. And if that isn’t enough, look at the marks on his wrists. Like somebody locked his hands together and was holding him down.”
“Have you asked him what happened?”
“Of course I didn’t. Look at him. He’s exhausted, and fighting for every breath.”
“Is he too sedated to hear me?”
At Quinn’s question the doctor shook her head. “I’m sure he can hear. He just can’t speak over that smoke-damaged throat.”
Quinn leaned over Micah, bringing his face into the old man’s line of vision. “Micah. It’s Quinn Conway. Do you know what happened to Cheyenne?”
The old man’s eyes went wide and once again he tried to tear off the mask.
When Dr. Walton tried to hold the mask in place, Quinn laid a hand over the doctor’s, to still her movements. “Could you remove the oxygen for a minute?”
“I don’t under—”
“This is critical. I’m talking about life and death, Dr. Walton.”
With a sigh of frustration the doctor removed the mask, and Quinn leaned closer as Micah struggled to make himself understood.
“Aus…” Micah began coughing.
“Austin. Was he here?” Quinn demanded.
The old man nodded.
“Did Cheyenne go with him?”
Again, Micah nodded.
“Did she go willingly?”
He shook his head. “She… fought.”
Quinn’s heart sank. “Do you know where he’s taking her?”
The old man’s eyes turned bleak, and he made a low, moaning sound.
Quinn squeezed his arm. “Don’t worry, Micah. I’m calling the police chief now. We’ll find her.”
Micah clutched Quinn’s sleeve. “He’s…” A series of wracking coughs left him gasping for breath.
Dr. Walton brought the mask to his face. “I can’t wait any longer. He needs this now.”
“No.” The old man continued clutching Quinn’s sleeve, eyes wide and pleading, as he struggled to get the words out. “Austin’s… evil.”
“I know that now. And belie
ve me, Micah, I intend to see that he doesn’t hurt Cheyenne.” He patted Micah’s arm. “Rest now. Do what the doctor says, and get yourself strong enough to get out of here. I swear to you, I’ll find them, and see that Cheyenne is safe.”
Quinn turned away and dialed the police chief. As he stepped from the room and sprinted toward the front door he said, “Are you at Cheyenne’s ranch yet?”
“Just driving up.” The chief gave several loud, savage oaths at the scene. of carnage unfolding before him. “There’s nothing left of the bunkhouse but ashes. It’s a wonder old Micah made it out.”
“What about Cheyenne? Is her truck there?” ’
“I thought she was at the clinic.”
“She’s gone. Micah said she left with Austin. And not willingly.”
The chief swore again. “I’ll look around here. There are plenty of barns and outbuildings where he could hide.”
Quinn heard the slam of the chief’s car door. “I’m not seeing any vehicles around. Can you think of any other place they’d go?”
“He could be taking her anywhere.” Quinn climbed into the truck. As he pulled the door shut, he had a flash of memory. Cheyenne had told him she’d had a feeling of being watched in the night.
“My cabin.” He put the truck in gear and started along the main street. “Chief, I have a cabin in the northernmost section of our ranch. In high country. I’ll give you directions as I drive. If I’m right, Austin, or whatever his name is, may have followed us there last night.”
“What reason would he have for taking Cheyenne there?”
Quinn’s tone was grim. “I have no idea how a madman’s mind works. But if I’m right, he wants me to find them.”
“I’m calling in the state police. I don’t need to warn you, Quinn. You’re dealing with a sociopath. If you get there ahead of the law, you need to be extremely careful.”
“Right.” He dropped his cell phone into his shirt pocket and, as he drove away from town and hit the main highway, floored the gas pedal.
He had no plan in mind. No idea what he would do if he found Cheyenne with Austin at his cabin. He knew he ought to be plotting what to do when he got there. But he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around anything except the fact that the woman he loved was at the mercy of a crazed gunman.
The woman he loved.
The realization hit him with all the force of a bullet.
Whatever doubts he’d had before, there was no doubt now. He knew with absolute certainty that he loved Cheyenne. Loved her as he’d never loved anyone.
He prayed that he wouldn’t be too late to tell her.
As the truck roared along the highway, Cheyenne struggled against the bonds at her wrists, securely fastened behind her back. The cord cut into her. The more she struggled, the more it tore at the tender flesh of her wrists, until blood began to run in little rivers down her back.
Each time a vehicle approached from the opposite direction, she stared hungrily at the people inside, hoping someone would catch her eye. If only she could wave her arms or kick her feet through the windshield, she thought. But all she could do was stare silently and pray.
Beside her, Austin seemed to be enjoying her misery. The more she struggled against her bonds, the louder he sang along with the music on the radio.
When their truck veered off the highway onto a stretch of woods, she went very still.
“Recognize this, Cheyenne?” His voice was exceptionally happy.
Her heart nearly stopped.
“Answer me. Do you recognize this?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “The road to Quinn’s cabin.”
“Your little lover’s hideaway in the mountains. Cozy.” He hummed as he maneuvered the truck between low-hanging branches of trees that brushed the windows and scraped against the roof of the cab.
“How do you know about it?”
“I was there last night. Watching you. You woke up and looked around.” He gave a low rumble of laughter. “Oh, it was so much fun watching you trying to see in the dark. Afterward you climbed back in the bed and you were all snug in Conway’s arms. Snug as a bug.”
He seemed to like the phrase and repeated it over and over. “Snug as a bug. Snug as a bug.” He smiled over at her. “My little bug. I’m going to squash you. You and Conway.”
“Why?”
“Because I can.”
As they bumped along the rutted trail, she began to feel more and more desperate. Her last hope of attracting attention from passing vehicles was gone. There would be no one here to see or hear. No one to find her.
“Why did you smother Micah?”
“Honestly?” He turned with a smile. “I hate that old man. I’ve always hated him.”
“But why? What has he ever done to you except feed you and make you feel welcome?”
“Oh, gee. You’re breaking my heart. What do you care? He’s nothing.” Austin snapped his fingers. “Less than nothing. I don’t want to talk about him. Let’s talk about you. Micah said you’re in love with Conway. That you’re going to marry him and give up the ranch. That true?”
She went very still, weighing his words. “When did Micah say this?”
“Yesterday, when you and Conway left your ranch. The old man said you had the look of a woman in love.”
“And that’s why you followed us? This is all about me, and my feelings for Quinn?”
“You don’t get it, do you? It’s all about me. Let’s just say I’m curious.” He glanced over, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “This happened awfully fast. One day you’re staying at his ranch; the next you’re sleeping with him in his”—his hand swept the cabin looming before them in the woods—“his little love nest.”
Her throat went dry as he brought the truck to a sudden halt. He was out the door and around to hers before she could blink. He dragged her roughly out of the truck and up to the front of the cabin.
With his booted foot against the door he shoved it inward and pulled her inside before kicking the door shut.
He caught sight of the blood soaking the sleeves of her shirt. “You wasted all that effort for nothing. You think you can break through those?” He gave a short laugh. “The harder you fight against them, the more you hurt yourself. Go on. Try all you like. All you’ll get is more pain.”
He pushed her into a chair before crossing to the bed, where he opened a backpack and began removing things from it. A handgun. A knife.
Whistling a tune, he walked to the kitchen area and began making a pot of coffee. When it was ready he poured himself a cup.
“Sorry you can’t join me, but it’s kind of hard drinking without a free hand.”
He laughed at his little joke, and Cheyenne wondered how she could have ever thought of him as normal. Even his laughter sounded manic. Especially when she could see the spark of madness in his eyes each time he looked at her.
“Let’s get nice and comfy.” He sat, tilting back his chair, propping his feet on the table, and sipping his coffee. “We have to wait for the second act.”
“Josh?” Quinn maneuvered the truck with one hand while shouting into his cell phone.
The rutted pathway had his truck rocking from side to side as he took each twist and turn at top speed.
“Yeah, Bro. You sound excited about something. Did you get that pretty woman to finally kiss you?”
“I’m in trouble, Josh.”
“Nothing new for you.”
Quinn swore.
Hearing the change in his brother’s tone, Josh was instantly alert. “Okay. Spill it.”
As quickly as possible Quinn laid out what he’d learned from Chief Fletcher.
“Where are you now?”
“Just coming up to my cabin. I can see one of Cheyenne’s ranch trucks parked out front.”
“You going to just charge in there like the U.S. Cavalry?”
“There’s no way to hide. We’re in the middle of wilderness. They could hear my truck coming a mile away. Besides, with only on
e way in or out, he’s bound to be watching me driving up this path.”
“Okay. You got your rifle?”
“Yeah. But I have a feeling he’s not stupid enough to let me walk through the door with it.”
Josh’s voice began to fade in and out, and Quinn could tell he was running through the barn. “I’ll have Big Jim take up the plane.”
“There’s no place to land it here.”
“We’ll find a spot. It’s the fastest way I know to get there. So do whatever you have to do to keep this crazy guy from killing both of you until we can get there.”
“I’ll do my best.” Quinn took a breath as he brought his truck to a stop. “Tell Pa and Big Jim—”
“You tell them yourself when this is over, Bro.” Josh rang off.
Quinn opened the truck door and grabbed his rifle before striding toward the cabin.
When he was halfway there the door was flung open and Cheyenne was framed in the doorway. Her hands and ankles were bound, and blood dripped from her wrists, causing Quinn to suck in a breath of horror at the sight of her. It was one thing to imagine her in peril. It was another to witness the real thing.
From behind her came the familiar, too-pleasant voice of the man who’d called himself Austin Baylor.
“Come on in. We’ve been expecting you. But before you take another step, you’d better toss that rifle this way. It just isn’t neighborly of you to bring a weapon into our little lovefest.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Quinn paused at the foot of the steps, his rifle at his side. It took all his willpower to tamp down the wave of fury he felt at the sight of Cheyenne looking so wounded.
He fought to keep his tone level. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m—”
Austin’s voice broke in. “No small talk until you toss that rifle.”
Cheyenne’s head came up sharply. “Don’t do it, Quinn. He’s already killed Micah. Now he’s going to kill us, too.”
“Micah isn’t dead.”
She shook her head. “He is. I saw Austin smother him.”