by Silver James
“Take the Jeep, Elena. Keys are in it!” Pops shoved them both toward the old SUV. He pulled his pistol and turned to fire. He didn’t get a shot off before a bullet hit him in the back from the direction of the barn. He sank to his knees, still yelling for Elena to take Joy and get away. Then those damn black spots swam in front his eyes again, and he didn’t remember anything after that.
Chapter 16
Elena gripped the steering wheel of the old Jeep, fighting it as she drove along the rutted back road. She’d been waiting half her life for the right man to come along and now he lay in the cargo area, bleeding from a gunshot wound. She was not about to lose him now, not about to lose her chance at love. The day had finally arrived—the one when Pops made sweet love to her in his bed, when he talked to her of his feelings. That night, and all the others since, had been perfect.
The Jeep bounced hard and Pops groaned. “I’m sorry, Papi,” she called.
“I can’t stop the blood,” a quivering voice answered.
Risking a glance in the rear-view mirror, she assessed the teenager’s pale face. “We’re okay, Joy,” she said, voice fervent. She had to believe they were. Don’t stop, she thought. Keep moving. Frantic, she aimed the old Jeep toward the river. She would muddy the water so those pursuing their back trail would have a harder time. She had to get to a real road. Smooth out the ride for her man.
The river was shallow this time of year, despite the recent storm, and while she had to slow down to keep from drowning the engine, the Jeep forged through the water, mud, and sand. She glimpsed another road leading to the river’s edge. She turned onto it and prayed the Jeep would make it up the bank without stalling or getting stuck.
She followed that track, crossed over a cattle guard in a barb-wire fence and kept going. So far, she’d seen no signs of pursuit. The men holding them had other vehicles and motorcycles, though. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up. Or had Pops done something to disable them? But the Jeep had been operational, keys in it.
“Pops?” the girl’s voice hitched, and Elena heard rustling before the girl called, “Something ain’t right, Miz Elena. There’s too much blood.”
“Hang on, both of you,” she ordered. David “Pops” West had come to rescue her. He’d fought for her—and the girl. Her turn to fight for him.
The road dead-ended at asphalt. Thank God. “Now where to?” Elena muttered. She glanced right, looked left.
Joy decided for her. “Take him home.”
Elena didn’t have her phone or a map. The Jeep was too old to have a navigational system, not even one of the small, add-on kind people put in their cars. She was running on pure instinct and adrenaline. This was a Farm-to-Market Road. Texas was riddled with them—not quite highways but better than just regular roads. She got her bearings from the sun and headed north.
Thinking she’d stop if they saw a policeman, she remembered. Cops could be crooked. Who did she trust? No one. Not her own DFPS colleagues. Not the Bandera County Sheriff’s office. Maybe not even the state troopers of Texas DPS. Instincts said she could possibly trust Jack Riggs because Pops trusted him, but someone had leaked Joy’s location. And those outlaw bikers had come straight to the ranch to take her.
A road sign flashed by. She didn’t recognize the number. Wide-open country stretched around her. They needed a hospital. They needed safety. Joy was right. They needed to get home to Tarpley. The people on the fire department would help them. They’d know how to find Ranger Riggs. They’d protect her and Joy and most importantly, Pops.
She had a plan. That was the first step. And she was headed toward friendly territory. All she had to worry about was the old Jeep holding together, not running out of gas, and Pops not dying. She gulped down the whimper that wanted to escape. She had the lives of the man she loved and the girl they’d both sworn to protect to worry about.
No traffic appeared. No major crossroads. No houses or stores or anything. Just a long, lonely stretch of two-lane blacktop. Glancing in the side mirror, she saw what looked like water spots. The vehicle was so old, the mirror didn’t carry that warning about obstacles being closer than they appeared.
The motor on the Jeep growled. She checked the gauges. Half a tank of gas. Oil pressure steady—that was a relief. But the needle on the temperature gauge was climbing. That was not good. Please, she thought to the cosmos. Dios mio, protect us.
The spots in the mirrors continued to grow. Elena didn’t know when she’d first realized they weren’t splatters on the glass. The road didn’t run straight and this was the Texas Hill Country, but the spots remained there. Steady. Then they’d disappear and when they came back into view, they were closer. She thought a whole string of curses. The road dropped off the crest of a hill, with a long curve at the bottom. She pushed the accelerator. The road was not conducive to the speed she wanted to drive. When she checked her mirror again, a squeak of fear escape. A bunch of motorcycles and a black SUV were right on her tail.
Time was up. She had nowhere to run but she had to try. She urged more speed from the Jeep, pulled away. And then the bikers swarmed around her.
“STOP!” Joy screamed.
Elena pressed the accelerator harder, leaning forward as if that would make the Jeep go faster. Motorcycles drove up beside her. The lead rider gestured for her to pull over. She barely glanced at him, nursing another smidgen of speed from the vehicle.
“Miz Elena, you gotta stop!” the girl yelled again. “That’s my dad behind us!”
And at that announcement, Elena took her foot of the accelerator and gently pressed the brake, slowing to a roll and then a complete stop. The back door was torn open and a sobbing Joy was gathered into the arms of a very scary looking man.
“Baby,” he breathed into her hair. “I’ve got you now.”
“Daddy!” Joy wrapped her arms and legs around him.
In something of a fog, Elena wondered how the tall, gangly teen managed that. Then the man straightened and she saw how tall and broad he was. The back hatch popped open and two men crowded in. One looked almost military, the other was definitely a biker, but they carried medical packs and set to work on Pops like they knew what they were doing. She exhaled and swiped at her cheeks, only then realizing that she’d been crying.
Her door swung open and two very scary men gestured for her to get out. She didn’t argue. One, with utmost gentleness, took her arm and held her up when her legs began shaking so hard she lost balance.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” the one with cropped hair said. “I’m Mac McIntire. Joy’s father and I serve together. This is Grav—” He cut off what he was about to say and amended it. “This is Digger. He’s the sergeant-at-arms of the Nightriders MC. We’re here to help.”
“Papi, he needs an ambulance,” she blurted.
“Yes, ma’am. We have one comin’. Those two men with him are both trained combat medics. We got this. And we got you, yeah?”
Both men waited for her response. When she nodded, the one with long, black hair and a leather vest spoke. “We know the Hell Dogs are responsible, babe. We gotta know where to go huntin’ for ’em.”
She drew in several deep breaths. Focused. Those men who’d taken her and Joy, who’d terrorized them, deserved whatever was coming. She should care that the police catch up to them, that they face their crimes in a court of law. But as she looked at these two men, glanced around at the others sitting astride bikes and the one holding the girl like he’d never let her go, she made up her mind. The brand of justice these men would bring was far swifter.
She swallowed hard and told them. “They blindfolded us. I’m still not sure exactly where we are, except I think Tarpley is that direction.” She pointed up the road. The men didn’t interrupt, waiting patiently for her to continue. “I was unconscious part of the time. When I came to, we were at an old farmstead. The house…it’s all but falling down. I fell through the steps when they pushed us up to the porch. Joy and I were in a back room. It had a wooden fl
oor, no windows.”
Elena turned her head to peer through the back window, silently watching the two men work on Pops. She drew in a shuddering breath and continued. “I don’t know how long we were there. They gave us water and some peanut butter sandwiches. I think it wasn’t much longer than a day, but I don’t really know for certain. Joy and I came up with a plan for the next time one of them brought food or water. They were sloppy, didn’t worry about a woman and a teenager being able to do anything.”
A shudder ran through her and the man she thought had been a soldier squeezed her arm in encouragement.
“Only it was Pops who came. I don’t know how he found us. I don’t know how he got there, but he got that door open and took us down through a basement and then up a set of stairs. The cellar of that old farmhouse had another entrance—double wooden doors on the outside.” She looked up to see if they understood. “The kind that’s almost flat to the ground, yes?”
They nodded, she continued. “We were headed into the woods. I guess Papi…er…Pops had his truck hidden back there. Men came out of the house and a barn, yelling and waving guns. Pops pointed us toward the Jeep, said the keys were in it. Told me to get away with Joy.” Her voice hitched and she couldn’t stop the sob that lurched up her throat, choking her.
Strong arms circled her body and she found herself pressed to a muscular chest partially covered in leather. “Shh, babe,” a deep voice rumbled against her ear. “You’re all safe now. And Pops is in good hands.”
She nodded, her tears rubbing off against his T-shirt. “They shot him,” she choked out. “In the back.” She deep breathed through another sob. “Joy grabbed his gun, fired at those men while I got Papi into the back of the Jeep. She kept them pinned down until we could get away. She is an amazing girl,” she added on a side note and wondered why. The looks on the men’s faces acknowledged that they already knew this.
“Yeah,” the big military man who’d said his name was Mac agreed. “She is. Then what happened?”
“I…” She blinked. “I drove. There was a trail that intersected with the road from the house—one like hunters use. I pulled onto it, hoping that maybe the bikers—” Her jaw snapped shut and her eyes widened as she took in not only the man named Digger—and what had he done to get that for a road name—and all the others dressed like him who were standing around listening. That’s when her brain reminded her that the majority of the men there were bikers. She hadn’t missed the 1% patch they wore. Only three of them weren’t wearing the vests—the three who looked like they’d been soldiers, or still could be for all she knew.
Sirens sounded in the distance, and more than one. The first vehicle to skid to a stop was a large SUV with the emblem of the Texas Rangers on the doors. The driver’s side door popped open and a tall, lanky man dressed in khaki slacks, a white shirt and dark tie, wearing a tan Stetson unfolded from the vehicle. Elena recognized Jack Riggs immediately.
The men around her tensed, and in a way that wasn’t just because they were likely outlaws and he was law enforcement. Goose bumps pricked her skin and she sucked in an anxious breath as Jack approached, as on guard as the men around her.
“What the ever lovin’ fuck is goin’ on here?” he demanded. Then, he tipped his hat to her. “Pardon my language, ma’am. Sugar bug.” He added the last while looking at the girl and the man still hugging her close.
Elena noticed he was paying close attention to Joy and her father, but it was the two men who’d been questioning her who stepped closer. An ambulance arrived, and faces she recognized from Tarpley—they must have been closer than she realized—were there with full medical kits and a gurney. After that, she sort of lost track. People yelling orders, radios crackling, and shortly after, a medivac helicopter landing in the middle of the road.
Then Jack was at her side. “C’mon with me, Elena. We need t’get to University Hospital.”
Still in a daze, she nodded, or at least thought she had. She glanced over at Joy, who remained in her father’s arms. The girl was safe. And Pops had fought to save them. Now he was fighting for his life.
She sent up a prayer for him, but only one word left her lips. “Papi.”
Chapter 17
Machines whooshed and the odor of disinfectants overlay that of old illness and death. He hated hospitals. Hated the sounds and the scents, the air of misery and mourning that clogged the hallways. Settled in the chair, he waited. He had questions needing answers, the main being whether or not his best friend was gonna survive. Pops’s chest rose and fell in measured syncopation with the beep of the heart monitor.
“Jack.”
He sucked in his first real breath since entering this room. “Pops.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes but a damn sight uglier than my last visitor.”
Jack pushed the brim of his Stetson up, lips twitching enough that his mustache danced. “I’ll admit I been rode hard and put up wet cuz I ain’t slept since you got yourself shot, but I’ve been told I’m a right handsome cuss. What’s prettier than me?”
Pops rolled his eyes. “A pretty woman with black hair and brown eyes the color of burnt sugar. A pretty woman with skin so smooth it feels like satin beneath a man’s fingertips. A pretty woman with relief on her face and tears in those sweet eyes. A pretty woman who loves an ol’ coot like me.”
Jack chuckled and lightly squeezed his old friend’s hand. “Damn. Now that would be a sight worth seeing.”
“Been on the other side of this rail, Jack, watching Rosie slip away. Havin’ Elena here? Gives a man something to live for.”
“Amen, brother. Amen.”
“Speakin’ of…”
“She’s gone to get food. That woman’s been harder to get out of this chair than porcupine bristles out of a huntin’ dog’s nose.”
“Joy?”
“With her daddy and those two scary dudes she calls her family.”
“You get the whole story?”
Now that there was a question that Jack wasn’t ready to answer, not even to his best friend. There were things Pops was better off not knowing. “Mostly. Got enough that I’ve opened an investigation. And those bastards won’t be botherin’ you or your girls again.”
“Are they…Elena and Joy…were they…” Pops choked on the rest of the words.
“No, ol’ son. They weren’t touched. Not like that. Breathe easy on that count.”
Pops did breathe deeply but began coughing. “Easy for you to say,” he wheezed.
“Yeah, that damn bullet nicked your lung. It collapsed at one point.” Jack wasn’t about to mention that Pops had also coded on the way to the trauma center. Twice.
“Fill me in, Jack. After I took that bullet, I don’t remember shit.” He narrowed his eyes. “And why are you hear? Don’t you have a job to do?”
“I’m doin’ my job. Besides, there’s so damn many Feds chasin’ their tails back in Tarpley that a man can’t walk for steppin’ on one of ’em.”
“Feds?”
“Yup. Sumthin’ to do with that damn Eric Cross and Carly.”
“Carly?”
“Plus, that Kentucky stud of hers is stompin’ around. Good thing, too. We both know most Feds can’t find their asses even usin’ both hands.”
Jack went on to explain about getting the text from Pops. He didn’t mention calling the president of the Dallas chapter of the Nightriders to alert them. That was more information than Pops needed at the moment. The girl’s father and friends—the Nightriders—had been closer to the location than Jack. Which was damn lucky for the man. Pops wouldn’t have survived without their intervention.
“How did you find us?”
The door opened before Jack could answer, and two of those men walked in. Pops remembered one was named Mac. The SOB was still big and scary. So was the one with him, who grinned and spoke. “That would be me. I put a tracking device on your truck, just in case. Lucky for you we weren’t too far behind you. I’m Sean Donaldson but my frien
ds call me Boomer.” His eyes strayed to the monitors. “Very lucky for you that Hardy and I are both combat medics.”
Jack eyed the man. That tracking device was new information, and good to know. No wonder Rook and the others were so close.
Pops swallowed. Hard. So that’s how he’d survived. He vaguely remembered two men working on him. And something about a helicopter. Then he woke up in this room. Several times. Elena had been here every time but this one.
He offered his hand. “I owe you, brother.”
Both men shook their heads. “No. We owe you. You found and kept Joy safe,” Mac said. “She’s…very special.”
“And we now know why she didn’t contact us, though you just about had her convinced to call home,” Boomer added. Pops quirked an eyebrow so Boomer explained. “The Hell Dogs had her convinced that they would kill anyone who came after her.”
There was something more, something Boomer held back, but Pops was too tired and hurt to push the matter. “Just glad she’s safe now,” he croaked. He studied the three men. “What happened to those bikers?”
Jack, Mac, and Boomer exchanged telling glances before they focused on Pops. Jack explained. “Interesting, that. We found your truck, by the way. It’s back at the ranch. Some of the state boys found the house where Elena and Joy were kept. Thing is—” He paused, glancing over at Mac and Boomer again before continuing. “By the time law enforcement got there, those dickwads had up and disappeared.”
A soft tap on the door interrupted further conversation. The dark man with the haunted eyes who said he was the girl’s father stuck his head in. “Guess you are up for visitors.”
Pops waved him in. The door swung wide and Joy preceded her father into the room. Pops opened his arms, a little shakily, but offered her a hug. She was very careful and a little tearful.