Hell Or High Water (Lost and Found, Inc.)

by Jerrie Alexander

  Nate hit the shower, stepping out to meet her coming in. “Need your back washed?” he asked, knowing that’s all they had time for. Her laughter started his dick thinking otherwise. He wrapped the towel around his hips, but not in time for his erection to go unnoticed.

  “Hold that thought for ...” Her gaze shifted to stare at the floor.

  ‘Nuff said and without additional words. Her unfinished sentence reminded him today was the end of the line. As soon as Holly was safe, this case was over and his employment would end.

  And didn’t that take care of the tented towel?

  “I’ll get out of your way.” He didn’t take her extended hand. Time to move on.

  ****

  Damn him. Kay bit back the urge to grab his broad shoulders and shake him. Him going to Colombia wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t the addicted-to-adrenaline junkie. Hell, he’d already lined up another job. The more treacherous, the better.

  A shower soothed her sore muscles but did nothing for the ache in her chest. Her body hummed with need. His nearness brought out a side of her she hated to lose. This feeling of being wanted, of being alive. No one had ever filled the void he’d left. No one ever would.

  Enough. She toweled off, dressed, pulled her damp hair into a ponytail, and headed for the kitchen ready to fight.

  What she got was a cup of coffee and an omelet, which they split, while he talked her through the plan one more time. All military, all business. She wanted to smooth away the furrow between his brows. Didn’t trust herself to touch him.

  The plan was based on the assumption the kidnapper would force Kay to go with him. The eggs in her stomach flooded the back of her throat at the idea of getting into the car with the bastard. Her skin dampened with sweat and then chilled. To still her hands, she wrapped them around the warm mug. She could do this. Would do this.

  “Tyrell borrowed equipment because it’s imperative we stay in constant communication with you. Most earbuds are small enough not to be seen. If it’s noticeable, you may have to leave your hair down to cover your ear. We’ll be able to hear what you say and follow using the phone app. The laptop will be in the cab of the rig. At no point will you be off the grid.”

  “It won’t matter if he decides to shoot me or Holly. Nobody can protect us from a bullet.” She tried to mask the worry in her voice.

  His eyes closed, jaw twitched, and the nerves in his face tightened. “I hate this plan. Let’s go back to my original idea. Let me take the ring to the bastard.”

  “It won’t work. I was just letting my nerves do the talking.” She covered his hand with hers, relaxing just a smidge when he encased her cold fingers between two warm palms.

  “We can call this off with one word from you.”

  Kay drained her cup and stood. “Can’t. Let’s go meet the rest of Wolfe’s Pack.”

  She didn’t get the laugh she wanted. Instead, she settled for a grunt of acknowledgment at the use of the old nickname.

  Nate rinsed their dishes, dropping them in the dishwasher. “Ready?”

  Somehow, he’d separated himself from her already. In warrior mode, his posture was rigid. Eyes a blank slate, void of emotions. Lips closed in a straight line.

  She followed his lead.

  Now wasn’t the time for self-pity.

  She clipped on her holster, slid the Glock home, and then slipped into a long-tailed shirt to stay within Texas law. Her fingers slid between her jeans and the holster, checking to ensure the small tracking device was still attached. Satisfied, she stuffed the throwaway cell in her pocket and then picked up her purse. A second tracer was located in a small zipper compartment. A backup in case the first one was discovered.

  A deep breath. A short prayer for Holly, and Kay was ready.

  Chapter 24

  Between Marcus’s complete silence and Tyrell’s war-zone posture, Nate was ready to kick both their asses. He got it. They were all ready to take this bastard down.

  Along with the extra pistol and clips he’d brought, and with what Marcus and Tyrell were packing, they had enough firepower to take out the population of Madill.

  They’d stopped the eighteen-wheeler and let Tyrell unload his pickup. Then Marcus had driven the rig into town and parked on a main thoroughfare a half-block away from the Dairy Dream. Nate popped the hood to give the appearance of a breakdown, which allowed Tyrell to arrive a few minutes later without raising suspicion.

  Soon Tyrell and Nate hung over the engine, pretending to discuss the problem. Hiding his eyes behind dark sunglasses allowed Nate to visually sweep the area unnoticed.

  There were no cars in the ice cream joint’s parking lot when Kaycie drove down the street, pulled in and parked.

  Adrenaline flooded Nate and every cell in his system went on high alert.

  “So far so good,” she said. The tremor in her voice sent flashes of concern through him. Were they asking too much of her?

  “We’re here, sweetheart. I can almost touch you.” Every muscle in his body tightened while his brain screamed he was crazy to place her life in jeopardy.

  Hell, he thrived on danger, but not when Kaycie’s wellbeing was concerned. Nate wanted to wrap his arms around her, to form a cocoon to protect her against harm. He considered aborting the mission, taking her place, and telling the kidnapper tough shit if he didn’t like the swap.

  The blood in Nate’s veins turned to ice at the sight of a black Mercedes with tinted windows moving slowly toward the Dairy Dream.

  Tyrell’s muffled string of curses said he’d spotted the car too.

  “Showtime, Kaycie. Whatever happens, don’t look at us.”

  He assumed her way of confirming she’d heard was the cough that tore through his eardrum.

  The Mercedes slid into the spot next to her. Nate tried but couldn’t get a visual on the driver behind its dark windows.

  A phone rang, and he watched as she held the throwaway to her left ear.

  “I’m where you said to be. Where’s Holly?”

  “You bring the ring?” Choppy words came through the earbuds loud and clear, sending a shiver of relief through Nate. Hearing the conversation was critical but worsened the urge to go drag the bastard out of his car and beat his head on the pavement.

  “Yes.” She held it up. “I need to see Holly.”

  “You don’t give orders. You follow them. Now slowly remove your pistol, show it to me and then set it on the passenger’s-side floor mat.”

  The clank on the glass indicated she’d smacked the Glock against her window pretty hard. Her anger comforted Nate. Let her get mad. She’d keep the asshole talking.

  “Done. Now give me Holly.”

  “Where’s the ring?”

  “In my pocket.”

  Nate kept an eye on Kaycie. At the same time, he pointed at the engine, pretending to discuss the problem of the eighteen-wheeler.

  He asked Tyrell and Marcus, “Can you guys tell if there’s anyone else in the Mercedes?”

  “Windows are too dark,” Tyrell answered.

  “Nothing from here.” Marcus set a clipboard down inside the back of the trailer and then lowered the ramp.

  “He’s awful sure of himself.” Nate’s anger worsened. His hands balled into fists. His palms itched, and that always meant trouble.

  “Come get in my car,” the jerk ordered Kaycie.

  Again, the kidnapper’s voice resonated with Nate. This bastard’s tone was chilling, monotone, making the hair on the back of Nate’s neck stand.

  Kaycie stepped out of her Camaro and swung her handbag over her shoulder. Nate was constantly impressed with her ability to keep the stress from showing on her face.

  “Leave the purse,” the voice on the phone instructed. “And hurry it up. I’m not waiting around for the cops.”

  “I didn’t call the police.”

  “But your friends are close by. So move your ass.”

  Still holding the throwaway to her ear, Kaycie complied. The calm look on her face did no
thing to ease the tension between Nate’s eyes.

  Killing this bastard would be a pleasure.

  “Shit, there went one tracer,” Tyrell complained.

  Kaycie opened the passenger-side door of the black car and was jerked inside, sending Nate’s heart plummeting. Her audible gasp hit him like a spear to the heart.

  “Oh my God!” she cried out. “Jake?”

  “What the fuck did she say?” Marcus ran to the front of the truck. His eyes were wild.

  “Name’s not Jake,” the man said.

  “We thought you were dead.” Her voice was at least two octaves higher than normal.

  “You don’t know me,” the man insisted.

  “Why are you lying?”

  “Holy fuck. This is crazy.” Nate jumped from the rig to the ground. “Abort. Abort. Kaycie jump out.” He had no idea what the hell she was trying to say by calling the guy their dead friend’s name. Something wasn’t right and now wasn’t the time to analyze.

  Whatever she was trying to tell them, her driving off with him was not an option anymore. Nate hit the ground running.

  “Take him down,” he commanded, as he bolted across the quiet street.

  Seconds. That’s all he needed to get to her. The distance between him and the car closed quickly. Nate’s legs pumped, his heart hammered, seemed to count the steps left between him and the woman he loved.

  He’d put a bullet in the driver if he could get a shot.

  Nate swore when the Mercedes revved the engine and then shot forward with the passenger’s-side door still open. He caught a glimpse of Kaycie grabbing for the seat belt as the heavy metal door slammed shut. The car sped straight at him, missing by inches, but only because he vaulted out of its way.

  “Son of a bitch.” Off balance, he tucked and rolled across the pavement. He regained his footing, spun, and ran to the back of the rig. Tyrell and Marcus were already unloading the bike.

  Thank God, the second tracer was on her holster.

  My fault. The two words pounded in his head to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He should’ve insisted she tell her DPD friends Tomas and Wayne. Jesus. Guilt swarmed Nate. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  “I know you!” she exclaimed. “Where have you been, and why did they tell us you were dead?”

  “Not dead. And not Jake,” the kidnapper’s tone had shifted. Anger weighted his tone.

  “What’s she trying to say?” Tyrell’s ebony skin had turned ashen. “Jake’s been dead for two years.”

  “You see his body?” Marcus asked.

  “Nothing to see when the box came home. When a helo crashes and burns, there’s not much to ID,” Tyrell snapped.

  “We don’t have answers, and it doesn’t matter if the guy looks like Jake’s identical twin. He’s probably taking her to Hank.” Nate stopped the discussion, throwing a leg over the Harley. “You two follow in the pickup. Stay far enough back ... you know the drill.”

  He secured his cell with a small bungee cord where he could tell at a glance which way the Mercedes was headed and started the bike. It roared to life under him. Powerful and ready to go. “This bastard won’t keep her or Holly alive for long. Not after he gets that ring.”

  ****

  Kay squeezed her eyes closed hoping to force her lungs to work properly. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. He couldn’t be Jake. One more cleansing breath, and she’d check him out again.

  The confirmation glance set her mind spinning. His baby face had filled out, which was to be expected. Jake’s rigid posture and steely eyes gave him the air of a warrior. The sweet blond-haired kid she remembered still had broad shoulders and a sharp jaw. All doubt disappeared when she saw the small mole below his right eye.

  “Jake, tell me you didn’t hurt Holly. She’s okay, right?”

  “I don’t know if you’re confused or stupid, but I’ve already told you I’m not this Jake. Yes, your friend is alive. It’s you I should kill and dump on the side of the road. That way your cop friend will know what I do to liars.”

  “I didn’t lie.” Her trembling hand tightened on the door handle. Nate’s command to abort had her weighing the pros and cons of jumping from a moving vehicle.

  She had to stick this out or Holly would pay the ultimate price. The car whizzed by telephone poles. Kay prayed a local cop would spot the speeding Mercedes.

  “I’m not an idiot,” he snapped, glancing in her direction. “I didn’t expect you to come alone.”

  She couldn’t hold back the shiver. His used-to-be-full-of-fun slate-gray eyes reminded her more of a shark than the playful young man everybody had loved in college. She refused to give up trying to understand why he didn’t seem to recognize her.

  “He’s not a cop. Didn’t you recognize him when you almost ran him down? He’s Nate Wolfe. Your friend.”

  “Never heard of him. And I have no friends.”

  “You must remember him. What about Tyrell Castillo or Marcus Ricci? You have to know them.”

  “Whatever game you’re trying to run, it ain’t working.”

  Fear surged to anger as he continued to deny her and his old friends. “Right back at you. I don’t believe you don’t remember us. Wolfe’s Pack was legend on the UT football field. You used to tell people I was your baby sister.”

  His hand went to his head and massaged, digging his fingers into his wavy blond hair. He moaned the sound of an injured animal.

  “Shut up,” he whispered. “Leave me alone.”

  Kay bit back a scream when Nate spoke through the earpiece. Even over the roar of the Harley, his voice came through as if he were sitting next to her.

  “You’re doing great,” he said. “I want you to be sure about this nutcase. If you say this guy is Jake Donovan, then that’s who he is. Maybe he has amnesia. We’ll try something. See if he reacts. I’ll tell you his favorite football play, and you repeat it to him. Don’t explain or elaborate. Let it simmer in his mind.”

  “Okay,” she answered Nate. Oh. My. God. She slapped a hand over her chest, turned toward Jake, and faked a cough. Could she be more careless?

  “Okay what?” Jake asked. His eyebrows pulled together.

  The equipment Tyrell borrowed was state-of-the-art for sure. She’d answered Nate like he was in the seat next to her. “You said shut up,” she said with a frustrated grunt. “I said okay.”

  The Mercedes slowed and made a sharp right. She casually rested her hand on the door handle, wrapping her fingers around the cool metal. Could she break through to Jake? What had happened to him? Why did no one know he was alive?

  “Nice recovery,” Nate’s voice helped her relax her grip on the door handle. “I want you to wait a few minutes. Let him think about what you’ve said, and then snap these words at him. Spread, Slot Right, 357 Seam, on 2.”

  “I remember that one,” Marcus said, reminding her she had lots of backup.

  Another turn and the potholes in the road worsened, forcing the car to a crawl. The thick underbrush and weeds on either side of the dirt path provided the perfect shield. They were hidden from the main road’s view.

  Jake stopped at an old metal gate.

  “Open it, and then close it when I drive through.”

  Her eyebrows went up. “You’re letting me out?”

  “You’ll come back if you want to see Holly alive. Be quick about it. Not that it’s any of your business, but Hank Walsh hurt your friend. He may be there alone with her. Do you want that?”

  Kay scrambled out and ran to the gate. They had to keep Hank away from Holly. Her mouth went dry from images flashing through her mind of her friend’s bruised face.

  “Is this bastard nuts?” Nate said, his voice came through clearly, assuring her they hadn’t lost coverage out here in the backwoods. “Be careful with him, he’s obviously unstable.”

  “Good to know Hank’s coming. I don’t like surprise visitors.” Tyrell’s baritone voice rolled through her earpiece. “You’re doing great,
Little Mama.”

  “Stall if you can.” Nate’s voice ended the chat. “Give us a few minutes to get situated. But if Hank’s already at the hideout, speak the play before you leave the car. If not, get a visual on Holly and then say it loud and clear.”

  Kay slapped her hand over her heart when the horn blared behind her. Jake’s patience with her fumbling must’ve worn thin. She gave the heavy metal a shove, waited until he’d stopped, and then closed it.

  Chapter 25

  Johnny had never considered suicide before, but if the inferno inside his head didn’t cease, a bullet to the brain was definitely an option.

  The Taylor woman kept throwing names at him. Do you remember this? Do you remember him? Johnny didn’t remember shit. The initials J D were all he’d had until the boss came along and gave him some ancient crooner’s name.

  Jake? Who the fuck was he? Name didn’t set off any revelations. Johnny kinda wished it had.

  He slammed his foot on the accelerator when she finally quit dickin’ with the gate and re-entered the car.

  “I told you I was in a hurry to get back. Now I see how much you care for your friend.”

  She whirled toward him just as the car hit a large pothole, bouncing her around the front seat.

  “You could’ve waited until I buckled up.”

  Johnny didn’t have time to wait. His gut was gnawing through its lining. If Hank wasn’t at the cabin, he would be soon. And wouldn’t that pervert like to find Holly handcuffed to the bed?

  “I was right. You’re as smart-mouthed as Holly.” The clearing ahead gave him his answer. Based on the dust settling, somebody was ahead of him.

  “Holly? You two are on a first-name basis?”

  “Give me the ring.”

  She dug a tissue out of her pocket and held it up. Ah. Finally. He reached across the car, pulling his gaze off the road for a second. They hit another deep pothole, the car bounced like it had no shocks and the ring bounced off the windshield.

  “I dropped the damn thing,” she snapped.

  “Tell me something I don’t know. Find it. You see the dust up there?” He pointed a finger toward the distance. “I’m betting a red sports car is up ahead of us. Hank’s about to find Holly all alone.”