by Angi Morgan
“How did you get a cell past me?” he accused. “Hand it over. Now.”
“I didn’t and I don’t have one. It has to be them. They’re watching us, just like they said, and they know we’ve turned around.”
“That’s impossible. There’s not another car around for miles. Nothing’s moving on these roads.”
He guided the truck to the shoulder of the highway and cut the engine. She set Dallas back in her dog bed between them, unbelted and had to dig through several items under the seat. It was hard to see, but the phone lit up when it rang.
“Here it is.”
“Got it.” He took the cell from her extended hand. “Look, Bree. Whatever I say to them, remember I’m on your side. I give you my word. If they can call us, that means we can call the authorities to get your family protection.”
His fingertips and palm absorbed her racing pulse without calming her in the least. She knew the voice on the other end of that ring. And also knew that Jake couldn’t keep that promise no matter how much he tried.
Griffin’s men already had her family or they would have answered their phones. Three cells and a house phone wouldn’t all be out because of the blizzard. She knew they had been abducted.
“This is Craig,” he answered on speaker.
“You go back, her family dies.” The voice from her nightmares coldly commanded. “The phone stays with you or her family dies. We’ll stay in touch.”
He disconnected.
The screen lit again and Jake mumbled some words she’d like to shout in the face of the man who haunted her.
“What is it?” she asked. Fearful tears blurred her vision and prevented her focusing when he flipped the phone around for her to see.
“I assume this is your family?”
She wiped her eyes, wanting to stay hidden behind her palms, but she had to answer. The small image took shape. She nodded, recognizing the small porch leading up to the old front door that her mother painted red at the beginning of each new year. Red for prosperity and good fortune.
But in front of the door, her family were on their knees in the snow. Hands zip-tied, no coats or winter protection and completely helpless with three guns pointing at their heads.
“The snow is barely covering the ground. The radio said it’s been snowing hard since three this afternoon. When Griffin found out I didn’t have the money...he said he’d do this.”
Jake touched the screen of the cell. “Dammit, password protected. I can’t call them or turn the GPS off.” He flipped the phone to remove the cover.
“Please don’t. They need to know exactly where we’re at. We should get moving. Now.”
“I still think we should call the Amarillo P.D.”
“Detective Craig, what made you decide to help me? Not very long ago you said you didn’t know if you wanted your job back or not. So why are you helping me?”
He tapped the steering wheel with his long index fingers, either trying to create a reason or carefully planning his words. She knew exactly why she’d stayed with Jake. Her choices were limited. She either accepted his help or went to jail. His reasons weren’t that clear-cut. At least not to her.
“Is it that tough a question?” she prodded.
“I want to be honest,” he said.
“With me or yourself?”
He made a grunting hmm sound and continued his search out the windows. “Do you need my jacket?”
“No, just your answer.” She recognized the confused, questioning, furrowed brow. Too many people looked at her the same way. As if she were foolish to want her own business instead of attending college. And then again when she went into partnership with Griffin. “I’m not crazy and I have a logical reason for asking. I want to know your motivation.”
“Not following. Who said you were crazy?”
“You see, Detective—”
“Jake.”
“No, right now, you’re being the police detective who feels obligated to get help from his brothers in arms. Thing is, Detective, you’ve already ruled out that would work, or you would have turned me over to the Dallas P.D. So can we stop going over the same failed idea and come up with a plan that might actually have some merit?”
Even masking his words by his hand and mumbling in a low growl didn’t keep her from deciphering the expletives probably common to a marine.
“My gut’s normally right. I make a decision, then I run with it. No second-guessing myself.” He scratched his chin, then the top of his head, acting a little confused. “I made up my mind while leaving my captain’s office I would help you. A few minutes before you asked.”
“So we’re agreed that the police aren’t the wisest course of action?”
“As much as I hate to admit it, yes. You’re stuck with me.”
“Thanks, Jake. So if we’re not returning...”
“Got it.” He cranked the engine and eased back onto the highway.
During their time in the median, not one car had passed. There wasn’t a light within sight. The weather situation was probably worse than what Jake feared. But there weren’t any alternative solutions.
“I wasn’t kidding about driving,” she said, calmer than she felt. “This isn’t my first blizzard and I’ve driven lots of trucks.”
“I’ve spent a few days in a bad climate or two. Harsh weather. Drastic temperatures. Wind blowing sand so hard you felt like each pellet was piercing your skin.” Jake eased the truck across the highway. Slow and steady toward the exit.
His voice had grown harder, far away, sad. She didn’t mean to make him relive his battles in the Middle East.
“You can count on me until we get everything straightened out. No more questioning where our loyalties lie. Your family’s in danger and we’ll work together.” He didn’t hesitate or argue that the overpass was too dangerous. He edged the truck forward, maintaining control, and got them headed north again.
“Thank you, Jake.”
“These bastards plan to kill all of us. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” She could barely say the word.
“You’re right about the police. Going to them isn’t an option. But once we get the money, we’ll be in charge. We need a better plan.”
Chapter Fifteen
“That one! That’s his rig.” Bree shouted, unfastening her seat belt and preparing to jump from the truck. “Just pull up behind him and we can knock on the door.”
It hadn’t been that long since Jake had knocked on A. B. Mills’s door. He remembered the baseball bat clear as a bell. “Hold on. Let’s make sure no one’s watching him. Or us.”
“But no one knows about Jerry.”
“You didn’t think anyone knew you were working for Richardson, either. Let’s take this one step at a time. You told him you’d call. We’ll gas up and see if anyone pulls in acting suspicious.”
Jerry Riley’s rig hadn’t been there too long. Where the other trucks they passed were covered in snow, his looked like it had parked recently. He was also parked across the street. They’d searched two truck stops for her uncle and each time they’d called he hadn’t answered. But he’d warned them that might be the case. Spotty cell coverage and the basic fact that he needed both hands on the wheel fighting the dangerous fifty-mile-per-hour wind gusts.
Before Jerry answered his phone, he’d been at a rest area, safe from those winds that could turn a truck his size over. After learning their family was in danger, he agreed to fight the winds and meet them in Wichita Falls.
With the parking lot full to the brim, Jake drove to the pumps, amazed that dozens of trucks had enough room for their doors to open and nothing more. No space between their engines and the back of the next trailer.
Jake filled up and Bree stood next to him dialing. “No answer.”
<
br /> “You folks look tired. Come a long way?” A squeaky voice said behind him.
The roar of the wind and loud flapping of the metal canopy must have hidden the approach of the young man. Jake was momentarily taken back to a sandstorm in the Afghanistan desert, searching for his enemy. He shook it off, but his hand had already landed on his weapon.
The bright orange jumpsuit with the gas logo emblazoned front and back indicated a legitimate attendant. At least for the time being. “I can take care of this if you folks want to wait inside. It’s not a problem.”
“No, thanks. Where can we park when we’re done?” he asked, still watching for cars or men watching him. The visibility was just too low to see anything moving more than thirty feet away—nothing was clearly defined.
“Well, if you’re staying for the duration, we’ve got a row going in the back. There’s room for four or five more cars end to end. All the motels are booked up. They was the first to go last night when we got word they was shutting down the highway.”
Being blocked in would never work. Bree looked anxious that he would even consider staying here, pinned down in the car jungle. “We just need a short break. The wind’s fairly bad.”
“You know the highway’s shut down from here past Amarillo. Highway patrol won’t let anything past ’em.” The attendant removed the pump and stowed it.
“We’re not driving too far,” he lied, and saw the confusion on the kid’s face. “We were running on fumes and thought we should fill up. Patty here just had to make sure her mother was home safe yesterday, but I couldn’t stay there another minute.”
“Gotcha.” The attendant pointed to the street just north of Jerry’s rig. “If you ain’t staying, I gotta ask that you park off the premises. We’re keeping things as orderly as possible, but the lot’s not good for anyone who wants to leave before they give the all clear.”
“We completely understand. Any idea how long they think the storm’s lasting?” Bree asked. “Um...my mom’s satellite was out and we weren’t getting reception on these.” She held up the phone he’d stolen from the police.
“Could be the rest of today. Amarillo had over a foot of snow drop on her overnight. Sun might help, but we have to wait on the bridges and drifts to be cleared. Storm’s headed northeast, but they’re still not advising travel south of us yet. If that’s everything, I’m going back inside to some warmth.” The kid waved his gloves and disappeared on the other side of the truck.
Dallas howled at the kid as he disappeared around the corner. Jake took a long time staring toward the highway, hearing nothing except the loose canopy that might fly free at any minute. If someone was out there watching, he’d never know.
“No luck getting your uncle?”
They moved the truck closer to Jerry’s. Bree shook the cell and dropped it on the seat. “It’s a cheap little prepaid phone from a truck stop just like this place. He’s probably asleep in his rig.”
Jake parked, careful to leave enough room in front of his truck in case they needed to leave in a hurry. “You stay here with the doors locked.”
“But—”
“But nothing. We limit our risks. There was one thing we both agreed on earlier. I’m giving the orders.” He killed the engine, snatched the keys and jumped out, avoiding further discussion.
“I don’t think I really agreed to anything,” she said as the door closed.
The wind slammed him into his fender before he crossed the street. The closer they’d driven to Wichita Falls, the more local weather reports they’d picked up on the radio. The wind was gusting somewhere between fifty-five and seventy miles per hour and yet the storm was creeping through the area. He believed it. Visibility was down to almost zero.
Traveling to Amarillo right now was a stupid idea, but he knew Bree would steal his truck or steal another, taking back roads around the barricades before waiting or giving up. He went to the passenger side of the rig and climbed on the rail, but before he could catch a glimpse inside a quick yank had him falling on his butt in the drift.
When he looked up, a giant of a man stood steady in the whirling snow. “Hey, boy. This is your third look at my rig. What do you want?”
“Are you Jerry Riley?”
“You Craig?”
The answering grin confirmed he was Bree’s uncle. When Jake responded with a firm nod, the giant grabbed his gloved hands, pulled him to his feet and pumped his arms until he thought they might come loose from their sockets.
“I was beginning to worry. Where’s my girl? Is she all right? I heard the phone but couldn’t answer it in these high winds while driving and then had to get some grub. I can’t wait to see her and make sure she’s okay. Have you told her parents she’s alive yet?”
Jake didn’t crane his neck to look up at very many people, but he did tilt his head back to look Bree’s uncle Jerry in the eye. The wind was so bad they both had to raise their voices to be heard. Someone could be standing ten feet away and listen to parts of their conversation without being seen.
“I’d like to keep this as low-key as possible, sir. I’m not sure you should see her right—”
“Uncle Jerry!” Bree bounded into Jerry’s arms. He lifted her off the ground without the wind or snow bothering him at all. The man planted his feet and wasn’t budging.
“Oorah. Good to see you, little lady.”
Jerry Riley wasn’t just built like a marine, he was a retired marine. Oorah. Jake let them have a private moment, taking advantage to search the perimeter he could see. Maybe he shouldn’t allow a conversation that he couldn’t hear, but he couldn’t have prevented it. He kept his hand on his weapon, expecting to be charged or fired upon at any minute.
If he had been the person tracking them, he’d verify what just transpired before an attack. But why would they assume the money wasn’t in Amarillo as she’d said? The phone Larry had left in his truck to track them—or the GPS phone as they’d begun calling it—was still in the front seat. There was no telling what would happen once Larry and his sidekick noticed they were in Wichita Falls for an extended period. One thing he’d had drilled into him since entering the corps, you could never predict when your opponents would strike.
“Let’s get moving,” Jerry said. “These old bones don’t like the cold too much. So you do what you gotta do and I’ll be ready to go in fifteen. Just need to move my rig into the lot.”
“Wait.” Big man or not, Jake pulled him to a stop by grabbing his arm. “We just need the package.”
“Jerry can help,” Bree said.
“We agreed,” he spoke to her, “that he’d take the GPS phone to Amarillo when the roads open. We advance from the south highway and get to Amarillo without them knowing. We take them by surprise and keep the leverage. It’s the best plan.” He turned to Jerry, whose face was a blank slate. “I appreciate the offer to help, but you know I’m right.”
“Sabrina, darlin’, can you check on Charlie for me? He refuses to do his business in the cold.”
“But—”
Uncle Jerry’s suggestion didn’t receive as much debate as Jake’s did when she disagreed with a decision. One look at his niece and she performed an about-face and climbed into the warm truck. He caught a glimpse of that perfect backside encased in tight jeans and...yeah, he could do with some heating up himself.
The door clicked shut and before Jake could fully focus on Jerry, a fist connected with his jaw. The second time alone with this marine and Jake was making snow angels on the side of the road.
He moved his jaw back and forth to verify it still worked, and paused, debating where to hit this man to bring him down. Then Jerry extended his hand to help him back to his feet.
“I could ask what that was for, but I think I know.” If he’d caught someone looking at his niece the way he’d just looked at Bree, they wouldn�
�t be standing, either.
“And I’m betting you don’t know why. It was to make a point I haven’t stated yet.”
“Okay, I’m biting.” And wanting out of the blizzard that was knocking them both into the side panel of his trailer. “Am I just tired or is the wind blowing harder?”
“I know Sabrina wants to get the money and take off. But I just caught you unawares because you’re not just tired, you’re exhausted. So, you either take me with you and I do the driving around those barricades. Or you stay here until the bulk of the storm passes, ’cause that ain’t your imagination about the wind.”
“I can’t take you with me, Jerry. And unfortunately—” he rubbed his sore jaw “—there’s no way she’s going to stay put.”
“I thought you’d say that. And, yes, I know my niece. The same young woman who’s been hiding for six months instead of endangering her family. They’ve reported seventy-five-mile-per-hour winds blowing snow and small vehicles across the road. There’s no physical way to get to our family without encountering this storm. None. And for who you’re going to face, you’ll need all your strength when you arrive. I guarantee that driving in hurricane-force winds isn’t just tiring, it’s downright stupid.”
“What do you suggest? They’re tracking us via a GPS in a cell. When it doesn’t move, the guys following us are going to come looking for it.”
“Let ’em find it. Give me the keys to your truck, climb on up in my sleeper with Sabrina and hand me that pug, Charlie.”
Jake pulled the keys from his pocket. “I should go get Dallas.”
“If Dallas is a dog—and knowing that niece of mine, it is—I’ll take care of it. Lock the doors and get some sleep.”
“First, I need to flush out some wolves.”
Jerry rubbed his gloves together. “I’ve been ready for a good hunt for six months.”
Chapter Sixteen
The wind whistled down the chimney flue, pushing a small puff of smoke into Griffin Tyler’s living room. As many times as he’d hired professionals to fix the problem, his eyes still watered when he lit a fire. He tossed another log into the opening to build up the flame and warm the room. The bourbon no longer helped as he sent the last shot down his gullet.