My gag reflex threatened again.
“No? Your loss.” Jackal trained his gun at me as Martinez talked. “Why? Not a death wish. You have something of mine; now I have something of yours. Sure. I’m willing to trade.” He jerked his head at Trina and she sauntered over to me. He made the “get her on her feet” gesture with the gun. “No dice. Because you’ll fuck me over if I don’t retain a little leverage. No. She ain’t worth it.”
Leverage? An even exchange. Me for Nyla? I shuddered to think which one of us wasn’t worth leveraging.
“You listen to me. Here’s the deal: I’ll give you one, but not both. You knew she did it, huh? Well, get whatcha pay for.” Jackal beckoned Trina forward. I willed the blood to stop whooshing in my ears so I could hear Tony’s voice one last time.
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“Now ain’t the time to threaten retribution.”
Jackal took two steps. “Really? I’m shocked. But not so fuckin’ shocked that I’ll let you choose. No, I get to play God today, hombre.”
Jackal lifted the gun and sited my forehead. I’d been shot before so I knew it’d hurt. But I wouldn’t give this fucker the satisfaction of squeezing my eyes shut. Then he swung the gun at Trina and pulled the trigger six times.
She screamed.
I screamed. Her blood sprayed across my face before she crumpled to the earth at my feet and I tasted her blood on my lips.
Jackal pointed the gun at me again and made the
“quiet” signal with his finger across his lips, his crazy eyes locked to mine.
I didn’t make another sound.
“Shut the fuck up, Martinez. I’m givin’ you a chance. Find the one who’s alive. I’ll leave them both here. For shits and giggles, I’m taking the coats. Since you’re a college boy, good with numbers, try to figure out how long the survivor will last with the windchill. Don’t try tracking this phone because I’m taking it with me and ditching it first chance I get. I’ll be in touch.”
Jackal hung up. He shoved the cell in the pocket of his filthy cargo pants and eliminated the distance between us.
I didn’t have the energy to cringe. My ears rang 424
from close-range gunfire. I was absolutely fucking numb with fear. This man redefined monster. I just wished I would be around to see what torture Tony inflicted before he allowed Jackal to die. I couldn’t help but look at Trina. Her eyes were open. Her mouth was slack with death. Blood spread across her chest like her heart exploded upon impact. Looked like wild animals had torn out her throat. How had she managed to scream?
“Why did you kill her?”
“She was as good as dead anyway.” Jackal pressed his nose to mine, and again the sour odor of his mouth and skin and soul made my flesh shrivel with revulsion. “What do you think the Hombres would’ve done with her once they found her, huh? Let her go? Trust me, they would’ve found her eventually. No matter what.”
I didn’t move.
“Do you think they woulda talked to her? Asked her why she had anger issues? Do you think they’d understand why she opened fire on their leader? No. The Hombres don’t talk; they act. They’d rape her, then beat her, then rape her some more before they started torturing her. I’ve seen it before. Hell, I’ve done it.”
My throat hurt with the need to swallow, but I couldn’t.
“No way would they’ve let her live. She signed her own death certificate when she shot at Martinez. 425
Trina served her purpose. Me killin’ her fast like that was the least I could do for her. It was the … humane thing to do.”
Humane? Fucked-up logic for sure, but I didn’t dispute his rambling.
He grinned nastily. “And blowin’ holes in her was worth hearing calm, cool, and collected El Presidente lose his fuckin’ mind when he heard the shots. That’s just a personal bonus for me, with him thinkin’ I killed you. With him freakin’ out about what he’ll find when he does eventually find you out here in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere. You’re dead, too. You know that, right?”
I nodded.
Jackal dangled a pair of handcuffs. “Take off your coat. Get on your knees.”
I threw my wool coat on the ground. “Are you gonna kill me?”
“Not with the gun. But if I stuck around you’d probably beg me to shoot you. Ain’t gonna be fun freezin’ to death, which is why I didn’t shoot you. I want you to endure pain. I want you in agony before you finally die. I want Martinez to see how you suffered and to have to live with the fact he didn’t get to you in time.”
I thought of Vernon Sloane for the millionth time. Dying alone. Did he wonder who’d find him? I knew who’d eventually find me.
“Get on your knees down by the trailer hitch. 426
Hold out your right arm.”
I did.
Jackal snapped one cuff around my wrist and the other one around the ball hitch. He tugged hard. Satisfied I couldn’t get loose, he straightened and grinned maniacally. “It’d almost be worth it to see Martinez’s face when he sees you as you really are: a frigid fuckin’
blonde with ice in her veins.”
I shivered so hard the chain on the cuffs clattered. I heard his footsteps fading, half-afraid he was taunting me and planned on shooting me in the back of the head at the last minute. My whole body convulsed and didn’t stop even after he’d climbed in his Blazer and sped away.
Don’t look at her.
But I knew if I closed my eyes I’d fall asleep or drift off into that dreamy state of cold nothingness like I’d been in when I’d stumbled through the blizzard at the ranch.
Guess Dad wouldn’t have to worry about me spilling DJ’s secret. Guess Kim wouldn’t have to worry about me ruining her wedding day. Guess Tony was right. I needed a goddamn
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bodyguard.
I had no illusions about how this scenario would play out. No chance for rescue. I’d made sure of that by insisting I didn’t need help, coddling, or protection. It was too late to admit to Tony, or to anyone else, that I did need protection. Mostly from myself and my own stupid pride.
Jesus. I never learned from my mistakes.
Yes, you learned one thing. You told Martinez how you felt about him.
It’d be cold comfort when he stared at my lifeless body.
God. It would ruin him. I knew that. If the situation were reversed it would destroy me. I started to cry. I didn’t want to die. Not like this. At least when I’d had the showdown with Leticia at Bear Butte, my death would’ve had meaning. A sense of purpose. A twisted nobility. Vengeance served cold. Right now I had nothing but a truckload of regrets. Sobs racked my body with such violence I felt I was being electrocuted. Tears froze on my face. I jerked and tugged on the handcuffs trying to get free. Maybe if I twisted it I could make the metal edge sharp enough to cut my hand off. Better to live with one hand than to die with both.
I screamed until my throat was raw. The cries mixed with the shrieking wind and vanished into the white sea of barrenness.
Not fair. Not fair. Not fucking fair!
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I wished I had a do-over. I wished I would’ve turned right after leaving the ranch. I wished I would’ve stayed and talked to Trish. Or to Brittney. I wished I would’ve called Martinez, Kevin, Jimmer, the sheriff, anyone, so someone knew where the hell I was. Might as well wish for a pair of bolt cutters while you’re at it.
I went utterly still.
Whoa. Wait a second.
I slowly lifted my head. Icy wind rippled through my hair. I squinted at the lumps in the snow-covered truck bed.
Jimmer’s voice: Don’t you ever clean this shit out?
My answer: You never know when you might need something.
Like bolt cutters.
I quit breathing. I had a pair of bolt cutters. Recently. But when?
Never. This is an illusion.
No. I used them for something.
What?
I don’t remember.
That’s because it was in a dr
eam. Wishful thinking. No, it’s not. Focus.
Snow pelted me in the face. I shook my head to clear the fuzzy thoughts. Was this a mind trick? A reason to give me false hope?
No. Think, Julie. When was the last time you had them?
With Dad on the ranch when we were calving? No. 429
Those were chains and clamps.
With Jimmer? No.
Don and Dale had used their rusted-out, oldfashioned pair of bolt cutters to hack through the barbed-wire fence at the ranch, not mine.
That wasn’t it.
Think. Come on. Picture your bolt cutters in your mind. Big wooden handles. Rusty spot near the spring. It clicked.
I’d used my bolt cutters to sever the chain to Nyla’s motel room.
I stood so fast I nearly tore my arm from the socket. My feet lost traction on the ice and I crashed, smacking my tailbone into the ground, jerking my arm again. Unless someone stole them out of my truck bed, they should be there. Right there up near the passenger’s side door. I stretched my left arm out as far as I could reach. My frozen fingers frantically pawed through the snow. I wasn’t even fucking close to the other side of the truck bed.
Maybe I could reach it with my feet. I swung around and crawled into the back of the pickup. Lying on my back, my body stayed at a funky angle since my right wrist was attached to the ball hitch outside the truck bed. But I was goddamn glad I’d opted for a cargo net instead of the traditional tailgate. My breath came hard and fast. Forcing myself to go slow, I swept my legs from side to side to clear away 430
the crusted snow. Clunk. I made the same movement again. Clunk. Metal striking metal. Bingo. I’d found it.
I felt the lump beneath the toe of my right boot. I slid up and dropped my boot heel down, using it to drag the long wooden handle close enough to grasp it. My fingers were stiff and practically useless, but somehow I managed to wrap them around the handle. I dragged it closer only to realize I’d grabbed the shovel. I tried again. Three attempts later and I had the smooth handles in my icy hand. Immediately I burst into a mix of laughter and tears.
Don’t get cocky. Your hand is still cuffed and you’ve lost fine motor skills.
I forced three more deep breaths into my lungs, never letting go of my precious tool as I stared up at the white sky. Then I scooted back to the tailgate. Snow went down my pants and up my shirt but I didn’t care. Putting the sharp tip of the bolt cutters around the chain links one-handed was like threading a needle. My strength was totally zapped. I’d already used every drop of adrenaline.
Wind stung my cheeks. I licked my lips, tasting salt and blood but feeling nothing because my face was encased in ice.
After two misses, I decided to use my upper body for balance and momentum. I braced the handle against the bottom of the tailgate and rocked into it. Nothing.
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I didn’t have voice enough to swear.
Deep breaths. In. Out. Patience.
Seemed a hundred pushes before the link gave way, separating me from the hitch. Half of the set of handcuffs circled my wrist like the world’s ugliest bracelet. Weird. Even though the silver ring hadn’t been tight, I couldn’t feel my hand. I tried to squeeze the fingers of my right hand into a fist. Even weirder. The bolt cutters in my left hand crashed to the ground. Everything swirled in slow, dense fog. Snow eddied around me and I was mesmerized by the shifting and floating white forms. Shapes like ghostly fingers beckoned, sibilant whispers taunted, a hiss of temptation—no words—existing only as pure sound. The high tinkling tones of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy trilled on the wind.
Ooh. Pretty. I loved that song. I swayed back and forth, humming along.
Get out of the fucking cold, you idiot.
The voice of reason snapped me to attention. I backed up and fell right on top of Trina. Her rib cage cracked beneath my weight and blood or something wet and sticky soaked into the seat of my pants. Eww. A hoarse squeak burst from my mouth. I attempted to scramble away, but the grommet on my boot hooked Trina’s coat, dragging her bloody bag of skin and bones along as I literally tried to escape her deadweight.
Reach down and unhook it.
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I shook my head.
Don’t be stupid. Unhook it.
No. Shut up. I’ll do it my own way.
My heart rate remained sluggish as I kicked, flailing my leg without touching Trina. Finally the metal tab ripped free on its own. I crawled the last few feet to the driver’s side door, opened it, and climbed inside. Needed to get warm. Needed keys.
Where were my keys? Not in the ignition where I’d left them because I’d left my truck running when I’d initially jumped out. Had Jackal stolen them when he’d turned it off?
Frustrated, I whimpered. So close. So goddamn close, just to fail at the final buzzer. I was so tired. So fucking cold. So tired of being so fucking cold all the time. Maybe if I lay down I’d warm up. Body shaking, I flopped sideways on the bench seat. Something sharp jabbed me in the cheek.
Slowly I turned my head. My keys. Lodged in the seat crack.
An illusion.
I moved and they jangled. Hah. Not an illusion. Somehow I made my fingers bend. Somehow I
hooked the key ring on my index finger. After dropping the keys to the floor mat four times, I started my truck, cranked the heat, and passed out to the strains of It Won’t Hurt.
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The aroma of leather roused me.
My voice scratched out, “Tony?”
“I’m here.”
“I know. I smelled you.”
“You saying I smell bad? No. Don’t answer that, blondie, just hang on.”
The music faded as my body was lifted from the bench seat. Icy wind swept over me. I was so cold. I shivered. The arms around me tightened. Doors slammed. Then softness and heat. Leather. Sweat. Him. Spanish gibberish filled my ear.
Everything went dark again. I didn’t mind. Better than being lost in the white void.
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I was hot. Too hot. I attempted to sit up but couldn’t with a thousand blankets piled on top of me. I focused on the male voices by my feet.
“Frostbite. Dehydration. Exhaustion.”
“Which means?”
“She oughta go to the hospital and get checked out.”
“No fucking way. I can’t protect her there.”
“Thought you might say that.” A sigh. “Truth is, she should be fine if you keep her warm. Keep her hydrated. Make her rest. And, for Christsake, feed her. She’s goddamn lucky you saved her.”
“I didn’t save her,” Martinez snapped. “She saved herself.”
Ooh, and didn’t he just sound plumb tickled about that?
I tried to roll my shoulders and couldn’t. Had I been mummified? Jesus. Was I wearing a fucking hat? I wanted to scream but I couldn’t breathe. I settled for kicking my feet, which were trapped in four hundred pairs of wool socks.
“She’s awake. Call me if you need anything.”
I heard the door click as the Hombres’ doctor left. Then the cotton sheet was removed from my face. I stared into Tony’s eyes.
He said, “Don’t talk.”
“Bet you’d like that.” Whispering was as close as I’d get to talking after screaming like a banshee in the snowstorm. “Take off this goddamn hat. I’m thirsty. Help me up.”
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“Hang on, blondie. One thing at a time.”
The layers of covers were peeled back. Once my hands were freed I realized I was wearing gloves. Two pairs. I whipped them off and saw I had on my favorite flannel pajamas. No wonder I’d been so toasty. I scooted into the pillows piled on my side of the bed. Martinez opened the bottled water before handing it to me. I drank the whole thing.
“You want another?”
I shook my head, letting it fall back, hoping I wouldn’t barf up the liquid sloshing in my stomach. He didn’t speak. Even though I’d closed my eyes, I felt him watching me. Worrying. Feeling guilty. Feeling relieved. Probabl
y feeling déjà vu. I didn’t know what to say to offer him solace. So I merely held out my hand to where he’d perched on a folding chair. The second that warm, rough palm covered mine, I sighed.
All the encouragement he needed. He crawled next to me, pulled me into his arms, and became my comfort, my pillow, my blanket, my heat, my light … my everything. And I wouldn’t be scared to admit it to him or anyone else. Not ever again.
He whispered, “Jesus, Julie. I’m so sorry.”
“I know.” I repositioned my sore cheek so I could hear his heart beating. “How did you find me?”
No answer.
“Divine intervention?”
“No. GPS.”
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“What?”
“I put a tracker on your truck.”
I lifted my head. “When?”
“Right after the blizzard when you were missing for two days. Drove me insane. Jackal was on the loose and I figured it’d piss you off if you knew I knew where you were at all times so I didn’t tell you.”
“That’s how you knew I was at Dusty’s? And
at the Road Kill Café? And out in the middle of nowhere?” I couldn’t exactly be indignant about it so I didn’t pretend to be.
“Yeah. You made it clear you hated my security team following you. I had to do something.”
“But you still had your goons following me after that.”
“Better safe than sorry. You have no idea how fucking sorry I am.”
I wondered if he knew …
“If you hadn’t convinced Big Mike to call off your tail without my permission, I would’ve been there sooner. Might’ve gotten to Jackal before he got to you.” Martinez’s angry breath pulsed across the top of my head. “When he sent those pictures from that phone …”
“Tony—”
“And then I heard the gunshots. Christ. If Bucket would’ve had a tranq gun, he would’ve used it on me. I fucking lost it, Julie, like I’ve never lost it … I didn’t know what I’d find when I got to you … how I’d ever 437
… if you weren’t …”
I cried. Mostly to keep him from breaking down. It worked. He used his fears to calm mine. “Ssh. Baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Don’t go. Promise you won’t leave? Even if I fall back asleep?”
“I promise.”
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