Hallowed Ground (Julie Collins Series #2)

by Lori G. Armstrong

  “Vividly.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  He waited.

  “I mean, I don’t remember vividly. It was so dark I didn’t really get a chance to look very closely at—”

  “At what?” Impatience flashed in his eyes.

  I pressed my lips to his temple. Waited a beat. “At your tattoos.”

  He shivered as I blew a stream of air inside his ear.

  “How about it, Martinez? Wanna show me your tattoos?”

  I felt his grin on my cheek before he gently lowered me back on the bed.

  Hours later, when we were both exhausted and he was wrapped around me like a vine, he’d become quiet. More so than usual.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Not really.”

  Strange, how he’d known I was thinking about Harvey, not the change in our relationship.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You can talk to me.”

  His hold on me increased. “I know.”

  “I wish this was over. After I find Chloe I want to …”

  “What?” he murmured.

  “Get away. Forget.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  I yawned. Shifted closer to him to absorb his body heat. He continued to play with my hair. I didn’t understand his obsession, but I counted myself lucky he was a hair man, not a breast man. I had lots of hair.

  “You didn’t finish telling me what happened after you shot up Little Joe’s manhood,” he said.

  “Huh-uh. You distracted me.”

  “Ah. The guided tour of my tattoos.” He nipped my shoulder. “I think you missed a couple.”

  “I’ll look again later.”

  “Mmm. I’m holding you to that.”

  He sounded tired. The sooner I told him how I’d spent my afternoon the sooner we could melt away.

  “I went out to the ranch.”

  His caresses lulled me toward sleep. I had a hard time staying awake while I told him what my father had said and the conclusions I’d drawn.

  The last thing I remembered was Martinez placing a soft kiss on the back of my neck and whispering, “Thank you.”

  I woke up alone around noon. If not for the hastily scrawled, “I’ll call you,” note he’d propped next to my cigarettes, I wouldn’t have believed last night had happened. Hard to fathom Tony Martinez and I meshed, in and out of bed.

  After I’d showered, I dressed in baggy shorts and a tie-dyed T-shirt. Threw my hair into a ponytail. I didn’t plan on going anywhere. Actually, I was sort of scared to leave my house.

  The day dragged on. I ordered a pizza. Watched TV. Waited for the phone to ring.

  I’d called Sheriff Richards first thing only to find he’d taken a well-deserved day off. I didn’t want to bug him at home since Mrs. Richards was nearly as big and intimidating as he was.

  Missy had promised to have him call me if he checked in.

  I waited some more.

  My cell phone rang just after dusk. I didn’t recognize the number. I answered anyway, hoping it was the sheriff.

  “Hello?”

  “Julie Collins?”

  “Yes?”

  “Listen carefully. We have the girl. You have the disk. We’re willing to make a trade.”

  My knees failed and I sank to the floor.

  Oh my God.

  “Who is this?” I said. “Let me talk to her. Right now.”

  “You aren’t in a position to make demands.”

  I dry heaved. When I regained control, I said, “Okay. Tell me what you want.”

  “Bring the disk to the Bear Butte Casino. Bottom door. Basement. East entrance. Come inside. Wait there for further instructions. Come alone. Come unarmed. If you fail to follow a single instruction, she dies. You have twenty minutes.”

  Click.

  CHAPTER 34

  I STAYED SURPRISINGLY CALM.

  Since I’d bluffed my way this far there was a slight chance I could keep it up long enough to get Chloe to safety.

  I dug in my entertainment center and yanked out a blank CD still in the case. Tossed my home office until I found an unused manila envelope and slid the CD case inside. I threw my gun (cleaned, with a fresh clip) my knife, cell phone, and a package of Twinkies (for Chloe) in my purse.

  Before I ran out of the house, I left a vague message on Martinez’s voice mail.

  Only when I was in my truck and on my way did I allow myself to think about Chloe. She’d better be okay. They’d better not have harmed a single hair on her little head or I’d kill them.

  Even when I didn’t know who “them” was.

  Fuck. I floored it.

  Scenery blurred past. I’d made it to the turnoff when I hit the brakes. The seatbelt caught, throwing me forward, and the back end skidded sideways in the gravel.

  Damn that hurt.

  No sense barreling up there. They were expecting me.

  I whipped down the embankment and parked my truck in the ditch. Killed the lights. I dropped the stun gun in my purse, and slid from the cab.

  The stars weren’t yet at full brilliance. The moon hadn’t risen. The bitter scent of skunkweed arose as I carefully picked my way across the field. At the last hill I stopped and caught my breath, about 500 yards from the building.

  The heavy equipment that had served as a blockade was gone. Didn’t look like the builders had made much progress in the last few days. Wait. They had put in the windows.

  I wasn’t dumb enough to try and sneak my Browning or my stun gun or my knife in with me. But I wanted them close, just in case. A saw-toothed shaped rock poked up, ten yards to my right. I hid my purse along the back side of it in a lone clump of tall grass.

  At 100 yards, I removed the two small, flat nylon restraints from my front pocket. Wrapped one around my ponytail holder, and slipped the spare, with the rhinestone glued on the clear plastic block, over my hand to my wrist. I squinted. Looked like a friendship bracelet.

  Envelope clutched in my hand, I forced my feet to move. One step at a time. I could do this. I had to do this. Chloe’s life depended on me being able to do this.

  No back up. No last minute rescues. Just me.

  Hey, no pressure.

  Shades were drawn in the office trailer. The recent rain had left mud puddles across the empty parking lot.

  Bear Butte loomed in the background. Silent. Watching.

  The front of the building was spread out, and appeared to be a single level, except off to the right side it sloped sharply to reveal a walk out basement.

  I should’ve veered to the right. Instead, I went left. I don’t know how I thought coming in on the wrong side would give me the element of surprise, but it would give me a vague idea of escape routes if Chloe and I needed to run.

  Boulders lined the slope around a sea of pea-sized gravel. Had to be some kind of drainage ditch. Chloe and I could probably hide behind those big rocks if we had to, but it was too close to the building for my peace of mind.

  Sturgis was too close for my peace of mind.

  I started downhill. Every step jarred my ribs. I slid in the mud, righted myself by touching the cool cement blocks of the foundation.

  I’d reached the end of the left side of the building. I peeked my head around the corner. Couldn’t distinguish the lumpy shapes. Listened, couldn’t hear anything over the rapid staccato of my heart.

  I turned the corner.

  Discarded construction materials littered the area. I had to slowly pick my way through a footstep at a time lest I step on a nail or broken sawzal blade. I’d made it halfway when a low hissing registered.

  I froze. Just what I didn’t need, a rattlesnake hunting out here in the dark. Damn things always hissed a warning before their rattles signaled a strike.

  I willed the blood to quit rushing in my ears so I could listen again.

  Nothing. Maybe I’d imagined it.

  I gave the remaining junk a wide berth anyway and round
ed the last corner.

  Since my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I noticed a five-pound bucket of Sheetrock mud held the steel door ajar.

  What was I supposed to do now? Go in? Wait out here?

  A latex glove clapped over my mouth. Cold steel pressed into my neck.

  Fear seized me, hard.

  The hand moved. The knife stayed.

  “Spread out and hold still.”

  I closed my eyes, suffocating with helplessness.

  A strong male hand thoroughly patted me down. Up my left side, then my right. Over and under my arms, neck, and head. Down my back, and the back of my legs. Between my legs, up the front of my thighs, across my hips, belly, my breasts, collarbones, and shoulders.

  I had to focus on something besides the nauseating sensation of unfamiliar, unwanted hands on me. Why hadn’t he taken the disk?

  He moved the knife under my chin. “Swear you ain’t got no weapons or nothin’ on you.”

  “I swear,” I whispered.

  “Come on then.”

  I still didn’t recognize the voice, but I obeyed.

  Once inside, my bare knees hit concrete when he shoved me to the floor. The disk flew from my hand and the envelope skidded. Tears stung my eyes as I scrambled away. I kept crawling until my back hit the solid cement wall.

  “She’s clean,” he said.

  Footsteps faded.

  A floodlight burst through the doorway, momentarily blinding me.

  A new voice said: “Glad to see you finally learned how to read a clock, Ms. Collins. You made it in eighteen minutes this time.”

  I blinked.

  Not Linderman. Not Maurice Ashcroft.

  Reggie.

  I should’ve known. Any man with such bad taste in clothing had to be a slimy fucker.

  My fear mixed with rage. “Where’s Chloe?”

  No answer.

  “I want to know now.”

  Frankie Ducheneaux marched forward, around the light he’d set on the floor. Reggie jerked him back. “You will. In due time.”

  He wanted to play games. Draw out the drama a bit. Well, too fucking bad. I wanted to see Chloe to make sure he hadn’t hurt her.

  I focused on Frankie. Didn’t see that he had a gun, just the knife. “How much is he paying you, Frankie? How much did he pay you to sabotage this building? How much did he pay you to betray Rondelle?”

  “He ain’t payin’ me nothin’.”

  “You’re doing this for free? You have any idea how much time you’ll do for kidnapping?”

  “Kidnapping? What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

  “Ignore her.” To me, Reggie said, “Maybe I should’ve gagged you first.”

  “Maybe you should tell me where the hell Chloe is. I did exactly what you told me to. What else do you want?”

  “To make sure you didn’t tell no one where you were going.” He considered me. “That freak Jimmer rolling up in his Hummer?”

  “No.”

  “How ’bout your buddy the sheriff?”

  “No.”

  “Burrito boy don’t know where you are?”

  Not even the mention of Martinez’s name stopped the dread from growing. If he showed up it’d be too late. I found it hard to breathe.

  Reggie jeered, “Knew you were a soft touch, pretending to be such a tough bitch. Figured mentioning the girl would get you here in a hurry.”

  Then I knew. Chloe wasn’t here. She never had been here. Reggie had been bluffing.

  Relief flowed through me. Followed by a river of fear.

  I swallowed. “Well, Reg, gotta hand it to you; I fell for it.” I purposely let my eyes stray to the dark corner where the envelope holding the disk had landed. “I don’t imagine you’re gonna let me live, now that you’ve got what you want. Gonna kill me like you did your buddy Tommy? Or you gonna blow my head off like you did with Rondelle?” My eyes met Frankie’s and I took a chance. “And Luther Ghost Bear?”

  Frankie’s startled gaze flew to Reggie.

  “Didn’t know that, did you, Frankie? That your pal, Reg, blew away Luther’s face? Shot him in the chest first. And knowing the kind of wise guy Reg is, I’ll bet Reg laughed at him and tried to make Luther beg for his life.”

  “Shut up,” Reggie said.

  “Thing is, Luther probably willingly gave it—”

  “You shot him?” Frankie yelled at Reggie, leaping between us. “You fuckin’ shot a Lakota holy man?”

  “No, I didn’t shoot him. See what she’s—”

  “If you din’t, who did, huh? Tell me! That wasn’t part of the deal!”

  “Easy.” Aware Frankie wasn’t going to let it go, Reggie said, “Rancher named Maurice Ashcroft shot him, okay?”

  “But you paid him,” I piped in while I had the chance. “They all knew you’d taken the Carlucci’s money. Rondelle and Luther because they’d seen the disk. Tommy probably saw you coming out of the office. Did he ask you for a cut? Or did he threaten to tell Big Joe about your disloyalty?”

  “You said this wasn’t ’bout money!” Frankie railed, waving around the knife. “It’s ’bout keepin’ Bear Butte holy, and pure and safe from greed!”

  I laughed. “And you believed him? Jesus, Frankie. It’s always about money.”

  “Is it? Was everythin’ you told me a big fuckin’ lie?”

  “That’s how it is?” Reggie said patiently. “After all I’ve done for you, you’re gonna believe her now?”

  Frankie turned sullen.

  “Let me explain something. Sacrifices gotta be made, you knew that. They’ll make that dead holy man a symbol. Don’t you think that’s what he would’ve wanted? To further the cause of your people?

  “Don’t listen to her. We’re still going through with it. You’re gonna be a hero, my man. After tonight no one will have the balls to question your loyalty again.”

  That perked Frankie right up.

  I wanted to vomit. Whatever Reggie had convinced Frankie to do didn’t have the approval of the Medicine Wheel Society.

  “Everything’s set, right?” Reggie waited a beat, then said softly, “Hand me the knife, bro.”

  Frankie passed it over.

  “Go on outside and double check everything. Carefully. The way we talked about. We don’t need no surprises at this point.”

  He slipped out the door.

  “Nice performance,” I said.

  “Shut up.” Reggie glared at me. “I’d like nothin’ better than to plug you in your big fuckin’ mouth. Maybe when he gets back I’ll drag you outside and do it.”

  Even with my mouth dry from sheer terror, I said, “You sure he’s coming back? Doesn’t seem to me like he trusts you much.”

  “Don’t matter. He’ll stick around until he gets what he wants.”

  “Which is?”

  “This place gone.”

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  “Gone as in Kaboom!”

  A bomb? There was a fucking bomb in here? Where?

  He mocked my wild-eyed expression. “Don’t smell it, do you?”

  “Smell what?”

  “Propane.”

  Oh Jesus.

  “Don’t take much to leach the scent out. Even in new construction. Little trick I learned back east.”

  Blood slammed into my head. The hissing sound I’d heard. An open valve from a propane tank. Had Frankie shut it off when he heard me sneaking around behind the building? Or had that been the last hiss as the tank emptied?

  The air in here had seemed heavier, but I’d attributed it to my fear, not liquid gas.

  Holy hell. How much propane had they flooded this place with?

  Like if I knew the exact ratio it would matter.

  The volatile properties of propane danced in my mind. All it took was one tiny leak and ignition in one form or another. Fire. Electricity. Then boom.

  No wonder he wouldn’t shoot me. A single spark and this place would blow.

  I didn’t know the effects
of breathing it; how long before I passed out? My muscles turned to jelly. God. I was going to die. Close to where Ben had.

  I focused my hatred on Reggie. “Why? Why would you do this? You don’t give a fuck about this being holy land.”

  He laughed. “You’re right.”

  “What did you promise Frankie to sucker him into helping you?”

  “I didn’t sucker him into anything. Was his idea. He wanted to prove himself to the Medicine Wheel Society. Just gave him some suggestions and the opportunistic fucker ran with it.”

  “Suggestions like cutting my brake lines?”

  “No. I did that. How’d you like the way I validate parking, smart ass bitch?”

  “You tried to kill me for one little comment I made?”

  An alligator smile. “I’ve killed for much less.”

  “Then why’d you hire Maurice?”

  “Ashcroft volunteered.” Reggie cracked his neck side to side. “Tommy helped him round up Rondelle and Luther. Tommy shouldn’t have pushed me ’bout getting a cut of the money.”

  “What do you get out of it? Just the money you stole?”

  “The money don’t mean shit; it was just an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Never was about the money.”

  “Then what was it about?”

  “Was about me getting to go home.”

  “This is a suicide mission?”

  “Jesus Christ, no. Last place I wanna die is in the middle of butt-fuck South Dakota. I’m talking about home to Jersey.”

  He scowled at the door, then at me. “How can you people stand livin’ here? There’s no buildings, there’s no people. There’s no nothing. Don’t even have a decent sports team or restaurant within 400 miles. This place is nothing.”

  “Gonna miss Jersey a lot goddamn more from a jail cell.”

  His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “That right? How do you figure? You and Frankie won’t be nothing but pieces. Ashcroft, that trigger-happy fucker, gets his precious council seat, and his revenge for the money he lost over the shooting range deal. I guarantee he’ll keep his big trap shut.”

  “No one will believe it.”

  “Yeah? Other casino owners in Deadwood are already suspicious of the Carluccis. And Junior has stupidly dicked with the Hombres territory too.”

  “Martinez won’t let this slide if it messes with his business plans.” Or with me.