by Angi Morgan
CONFUSED AT MAC’S BETRAYAL, Kate continued the difficult walk through her property. She’d quickly realized who and what was waiting inside her home. Serna. It hadn’t fully sunk in that Mac was involved with drug smugglers. She’d known the man her entire life. It was almost like having an uncle betray her family.
As Kate drew near the house, she noticed the rifle barrel. Her feet were on fire from being so cold even after she’d laced her wet gloves to the bottom of her socks for a little protection. The bits of string had come in handy after all.
The man pointing the gun in her face knocked on the front door. Serna came through, wiping the corner of his mouth with one of her mother’s lace napkins from the antique buffet.
Bastard.
“Time to leave. When will the helicopter be ready?” The murderer ignored Kate.
The man shrugged. “Till it’s deiced. Safe or crash. Your choice.”
She thought Serna would strike him, but the man walked off toward the east pasture. She’d never felt an emotion as powerful as the hatred she had for the man responsible for her child’s death. It was horrible and would consume her if she weren’t careful. She had to control the rage. Harness it into energy she needed to help Cord with their escape.
* * *
COME ON, MAN. Cord patted the pockets of the coat. Nothing. The cab of the truck was right there. He found a lighter and killed the ignition, taking the keys with him. It would defeat the purpose of lighting everything up like a roman candle if they could just drive away.
Back in the shadows, he got close to the truck and shoved the barrel with all his strength. A trail of diesel melted a path in the fresh snow.
Lighter. Flame. Toss. Fire. Run.
Wait for it....
* * *
SHE AND CORD would escape. There was no way they could let this evil man win whatever game he was playing. Kate wanted to claw Serna’s eyes out, but the handgun in the front of his pants prevented her. If given the chance, she knew where the weapons were stored. There was a loaded gun locked in its safe in her bedside table that opened with her thumbprint, a gift from her husband.
“It’s been a long chase, Kate McCrea. You got a nice place here.”
Serna attempted to sound at ease and maybe a little more cultured than usual as he led the way through the kitchen. But it didn’t make him anything better than the filth she scraped from the bathtub drain.
“Sit. Warm up a bit.”
He’d definitely made use of her house. A kitchen chair was waiting in front of a huge fire. She sat while Serna reclined in her father’s lounger with a half-eaten steak on the end table. He’d just taken a bite when the door slammed open and a short young man burst in.
“He ain’t there, boss.”
“Find him!” Serna shouted. He threw his plate and hit the retreating messenger. Continuing his Spanish curses, he paced the room, then peered out the window and yanked the blinds. Their crash to the floor made her flinch inside and out.
The long-bladed knife he used to slice the cord appeared from nowhere. He wrapped the cord menacingly around his fist. The evil in his glaring intent made her shiver and want to run to save herself.
“Find him!” The shouts from outside continued as Serna advanced.
The muscles in his clenched jaw twitched. He was worried. Then it sank in who they were searching for.
Cord was gone from wherever they’d been holding him. That was suddenly clear. She fought the upturn of her lips, but not the pride filling her heart.
Men began yelling blanket in Spanish. Something had gone wrong. At first she thought the fire was reflected in the window, but it was outside, somewhere on the other side of the barn and spreading. Quickly.
An explosion split the silence, flames shot into the sky, ridding the night of the frightening darkness for a moment. The force shook the walls of the house. The vibration burst through her thawing feet. Something big and close to the shed. Maybe the tractor fuel?
“McCrea!” Serna screamed into the window.
She was ready to run, and ready to react to however this monster came after her. She picked her route through the house. The front hallway to the bedroom and the gun box. If he followed...pull the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The force of the gas explosion dropped him to his knees. He’d almost made it to the back of the shed when the hot blast of air knocked him to the ground. He sat on his butt in what used to be darkness, watching shards of the barrel burning around the field, then scurried backward until he hit the fence. Serna’s men ran to the semi using their jackets to put out the flame. At this rate, they’d be successful in a matter of minutes.
On the other side of the fire, the chopper blades were still at slow speed. Cord watched the pilot open and shut the door. He tightened his grip on the machine pistol. Too far to shoot. But the semi keys were still in his fist.
He ran the perimeter shadow. The driver was in the cab searching for keys. Cord caught him across his shoulder blades on his way down. Another bad guy sprawled in the snow. To keep the truck in gear and get clear, his lone option was to shove his machine pistol against the gas pedal. It was the only way to put both the truck and the chopper out of commission. He’d pick up the driver’s gun on the way back.
Cord cranked the semi, shoved it into Reverse, not caring what was in his way. If there were drugs in the back of this thing, the horses and cattle might be high for miles. He wedged the pistol into place and jumped from the truck cab.
Men began yelling. Jumping out of the way. Running. Cord got to the downed driver just as the truck backed through the major fire. It didn’t stop and caught the tail rotor of the chopper as it lifted off.
The crash sent the chopper spinning into the field. It tipped, the blades digging into the ground, sending the body end over end. Time to move. The driver had a machine pistol that Cord jerked from his body. He moaned and Cord flipped him to his back, sticking the barrel in his face.
“Up.”
The man staggered to his feet and Cord shoved him to the shed and roped his hands and feet behind his back like a steer. He stuffed work rags into both men’s mouths to keep them quiet.
Cord draped a second gun over his shoulder and searched their pockets. Cell phone. The Sheriff’s department answered on the first ring.
“This is Cord McCrea, I’m located at the Danver ranch. There’s been an explosion and I need backup.”
“Cord, thank God you’re alive. We have every available person searching the mountains. I’ll reroute everyone and send a fire truck. Wait for reinforcements. There’s a chopper at the observatory that can be there in ten.”
“Can’t wait. Serna moved his operation. Come in hot. I’m uncertain about the number of guns. Gotta go.”
“Cord, Nick Burke was shot and we think—”
The devil could take Burke if he’d been working with Serna and received his comeuppance. He cut off the call since he didn’t want to be talked out of his plan to eliminate Serna and the threat to his family. A lot could happen in ten minutes—if reinforcements could actually arrive by then.
Cord was willing to accept the consequences of all his actions.
* * *
THE BLOOD VESSELS in the side of Serna’s neck were visibly enlarged. He was enraged about the explosion and Kate no longer knew if he’d wait until Cord was there to hurt her. She had to get to the gun.
Was an all-out run better than inching her way to the hall? She had socks—actually, knit gloves—on her feet. With no shoes on the wooden floors and stinging prickles making her feet ache, running would be a disaster. She remained in the chair. As soon as she stood, he’d know her intention. She slid a foot closer to the fireplace tools, a weapon, something to give her a fighting chance.
What would Cord do? He’d give himself two ways out. So she curled her legs to each side of the chair and quickly pushed her socks down around her ankles. She’d time her movements to get the slick cloth off her feet. If she couldn’t get shoes fro
m her bedroom, she had a set of mud boots in the barn.
Success, one bare foot.
Serna hit the wall with both fists, then spun around to face her. She met his crazy-eyed stare and wouldn’t look away. Fear of what an insane person filled with revenge would do ended up giving her strength to meet him straight on. If she made a move, she was three or four feet away from the fire tools.
Her enemy’s face was the color of the bloodred middle oozing from his T-bone. His hands were still at his sides, not close to the butt of the gun. She didn’t have enough time to grab the shovel or poker without his drawing and shooting her in the back. He wouldn’t miss. Not this time.
Enraged as he was, he wasn’t ranting around the room like three years ago. And this time, she was much more frightened. She couldn’t see a way out. Armed only with shoelaces? What had she been thinking?
“Your husband has made my life hell.” He cocked his head like a curious dog. “What, no response? Aren’t you going to beg for your life?”
“Would it do any good?” Second sock at her toes.
“No.”
“Then I’ll just wait.”
“Wait for the end?” He caressed the clip of his gun wedged down the front of his pants.
She choked back a laugh at the thought of him shooting himself in the crotch and ending this nightmare. She must be very tired to let her imagination venture down that road.
“You find it funny? McCrea can’t rescue you. Not here.”
“No.” There was movement outside the window. Cord? Serna caught the direction of her eyes and began to turn. “Well, yes, actually I find it hilarious.” He pivoted back to her. “After all your work, an explosion is going to bring people from miles around. But I imagine you don’t find that funny at all.”
“No time for games.” He removed the gun and aimed it at her. The string from the blinds was dangling from his hand. “Stand up and turn around. We’re leaving.”
She stood, barefoot, ready to run.
Serna jerked her hands behind her, wrists on top of each other and tied. She didn’t move but frantically searched the windows and mirrors trying to find a glimpse of Cord.
Gun in his right hand and his left holding her bound wrists, he shoved her toward the front door.
What would Cord do? He’d be waiting just outside that door.
Serna opened the door and pushed her into the screen. She pretended to stumble, bending her body almost in half, just in case her rescue was about to begin.
“Get up!” Serna yelled, jabbing her with the gun.
A jet stream shot above her head, aiming toward Serna’s face. She was shoved forward by Cord. He stepped between her and Serna’s gun just as it went off.
“No!” She fell to the front porch, rolling to her back, using her feet to slide out of the way.
Cord wasn’t shot. He pushed inside, jabbing something into Serna’s chest. “Get out of here, Kate.”
The machine gun bounced on the floor and the men used their fists on each other too fast for her to count the blows. The screen was still propped open by her feet. She scooted, stood, got back inside.
Her gun. She ran, opened her nightstand. She heard another weapon fire from the living room. She was certain her pistol was loaded. It would be so much easier to have her hands free. No time to find a kitchen knife. She heard the click after placing her thumb in the scanner. She grabbed the pistol and ran back to the living room.
The men were rolling, punching, grunting. Serna still had his weapon. There was blood on Cord’s side, across his face. Both of his hands were holding Serna’s in place away from him.
With her hands behind her back she couldn’t help or use her own pistol. Serna’s strength seemed to be prevailing. He was lying across Cord, pinning his legs. They seemed to be deadlocked—both gripping each other’s wrists. A contest of sheer willpower. She could see the determination on Serna’s face and the desperation on Cord’s.
“Run,” Cord demanded.
She couldn’t run, she had to help. This was their fight, not just Cord’s job. She dropped the gun on the floor close to Cord’s head. She ran to the hearth and picked up the fireplace tools. She couldn’t wield anything backward, but she could drop it all onto Serna’s back.
Close to both men again, Serna guessed her intention and rolled off Cord, knocking her feet from under her. She fell, unable to avoid colliding with the brick hearth. Trying to absorb the impact to her midsection, she heard the discharge.
“Are you okay?” Cord asked.
She opened her eyes, saw her gun in his hands and Serna on his back, unmoving across her father’s footstool.
“Yes,” she answered, still trying to catch her breath. A tight pinch started in her back and quickly spread across her abdomen. “Oh, God, Cord, what have I done? I think I’m in labor.”
He was by her side in an instance. “I’m here, babe. We’ve got this.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“We’re almost there. Just hold on.” Cord steered the old Ford past the city limits sign, very familiar with the route to the county hospital.
“She’s only five months, Cord. She can’t be born this early. What if—”
“No ‘what ifs.’ They’ll give you something. Contractions will stop. You’ll be fine. Just try to relax. Maybe that will help.” He swerved back into his lane, glad no one else was on the road to Marfa during a snowstorm in the middle of the night. “Go ahead, say it.”
“The contractions are about fifteen minutes apart. You’re right, I just need to relax. We’ll be there soon enough if you can stay on the road.” She laughed, smiling at him in the rearview mirror. “But it is hard to relax thinking we’ll be headed into the next gully.”
He slowed and it hit him how much pain and worry he’d caused her during their time together. It would be a miracle if she ever forgave him.
“Kate, I...I’m sorry. Whatever happens, this has all been my fault and I’m sorry.”
She sighed and wrinkled her forehead for a serious look. “For the record, I blame Jorje Serna, one hundred percent. Not you. I’ve never blamed you.”
He blamed himself and would continue to blame himself.
The last time he’d come through the E.R. doors, he’d been on a gurney, fading in and out of consciousness. At least this time he ran inside after slamming the car into Park, blocking access to the automatic doors, and began looking for familiar faces. Familiar or not, he latched on to the first person in scrubs he found and started dragging them to the door.
“Kate’s in the car, five months’ pregnant, contractions approximately fifteen minutes apart. The last one was about seven minutes ago.”
The nurse or E.R. worker resisted and he grabbed a wheelchair and went to get his wife himself.
“Wait, Cord! We’ll get her.”
He heard them shouting but that wouldn’t stop him. They couldn’t lose this baby. They just couldn’t.
Kate had gotten out of the car, holding her small tummy. It wasn’t the normal E.R. pregnancy picture an expectant father wanted to see. He wanted to see her belly grow. He wanted to experience every part of life with her. Not apart.
“Good, you got a chair.” The relaxed calmness evaporated as she reached out to spread his shirt wide and look at the bloodstain. “Oh, my God, Cord. Were you shot?”
He covered his side, remembering the sting he’d felt at the front door. “Must be from someone else.”
“You’re a horrible liar,” she said, and sat in the chair for him to wheel her through the doors. “Would you please take care of Cord? He’s been shot again.”
Kate had stopped the first nurse who’d come to take charge of the wheelchair, flashed them a smile, a thank-you and acted as if they weren’t in the fight of their lives.
Cord had a flash of that night three years ago. Maybe it was a memory or just his imagination, but the anxiety currently thrumming through his system was worse than wondering where the next shot was coming from. He could ret
urn fire, defend himself, anticipate what might happen. Here, in this hospital, he didn’t have much more than the feeling of hopelessness. He’d lost everything here and each day he’d awoken here, each time he’d returned for a doctor’s appointment, he’d been reminded of how much he’d lost.
He stood five feet away from Kate, refusing to move to the next curtained area. Dumbfounded? In shock? He couldn’t tell. He sort of watched things happen around him and thought about everything as it did. Doctors and nurses moved around him. Someone took him by the shoulders and said, “At least stay at the head of the bed so we can work.”
Needles, IV bags, monitors and voices that didn’t completely register. Dozens of people helped her and he just stood there. Unable to react or help her. It was out of his control.
Was he losing it?
He’d never been an emotional man. When he said something, he meant it and he’d always assumed the person listening knew he meant it. Kate knew, didn’t she? Knew that he loved her more than life?
How often did you tell her? He heard the shrink’s question. And his answer had been “all the time.” But had he?
“I love you, Kathleen.”
Motion in the room stopped.
“I love you, too, Cord. Now will someone check under all that blood? I’m telling you, the man has been shot.”
“Not shot, just cut, I think,” Cord clarified for her.
They began working again and a doctor he’d never met—he knew plenty of them at this place—lifted his shirt and mumbled a curse.
“Someone get this man a bed,” the doctor said.
“I’m not leaving. Do whatever you have to do, but I’m staying by her side as long as she needs me.” He looked in Kate’s eyes and knew she understood the full meaning of his words. He’d go wherever she needed him to. Give up anything for her. There’d be plenty of time to decide what they were doing once this baby was safe.
He also saw her love. It shot through him, energizing more than the physical part of him. She gave him the strength to conquer whatever life threw at him.