Serve and Protect (Heroes of Evers, Texas #3)

by Lori Ryan

  His eyes turned hard and cold and he leaned into the glass, his knuckles white where they clenched the receiver. “You said you’d take care of it, Michelle. You told me I could count on you.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’ll do it. It’s taken care of, I swear. It’s all taken care of.”

  In a heartbeat, he flipped a switch and was back to begging. She’d never seen him beg like this. It troubled her.

  “Please, baby. Please, you gotta do something. I can’t stay in here. I can’t be here.”

  She raised her hand to the glass. “I’ll handle it, Billy. I’ll handle her.”

  21

  Ashley rolled over in her bed and reached for the source of heat beside her. She smiled when her hands found Garret’s chest and he rolled toward her almost instantly. She smiled wider when her hands moved down his body to find him hard and ready for her. Her body was just as eager as his. Soft and ready to take him into her.

  He had spent the night at her house almost every night that week, even when he didn’t wrap up work until late. She wasn’t nuts about him making the long drive when he was tired after a long day, but he didn’t want her on the road alone at night. It was sweet, if a little alpha. But she could handle alpha. Well, a little bit of alpha, anyway.

  He rolled her under him and began to lace her body with those maddening kisses of his. She pressed against him, knowing they didn’t have much time, but wanting to spend hours anyway. When his hand found her wet and swollen between her legs, he grinned. “Dreaming of me, gorgeous?”

  “Uh-uh. Johnny Depp,” she deadpanned, earning a growl and a swat to her backside.

  She moaned and wriggled in his arms. “Again,” she whispered, drawing an answering moan from him as he smacked her again, before kneading the spot with his hand. The response from her body was instantaneous and heady.

  “God, what you do to me, Ashley,” he said after he’d donned a condom and lined himself up at her entrance. He didn’t keep her waiting long, plunging into her depths, and bringing them both to climax more quickly than she thought possible.

  As he held her afterward, she slowly kissed her way up his chest, to the strong shoulders she was becoming accustomed to leaning on. She nibbled with her teeth, as he slid one large hand up and down her side. This, she could get used to. The waking up together.

  And the going to bed together, for that matter.

  And the in between, as a matter of fact, she thought as she remembered the way he’d taken her slowly, sleepily, in the middle of the night. Yes, she could get used to all of it.

  “Shower?” he asked.

  She raised her head and eyed the clock. “Ugh. A fast one. You’ll have to stay on your side of the line, mister. I have to be at work in less than forty minutes.”

  “There’s a line now? First Johnny Depp, now a line.” His smile was wide as he stood and pulled her from the bed, leading her to the bathroom.

  He didn’t stay on his side of the line at all, but he did manage to get her out the door with two minutes to spare. Her hair was wet and she was wearing two different socks, but she had a smile on her face.

  That smile stayed in place for the rest of the day. Her first few days back at the library after word had gotten around about her past had been hard. The kids had been awkward with her, not able to look her in the eye. Some of the adults who came in had looked at her as though something were wrong with her, and she had gone back to feeling like somehow it was her fault. Like she’d been the one to do something wrong, not Bill Franks. She had a feeling those emotions would stay with her always, never fully going away.

  Then Haddie had walked into the library, marched up to Ashley, and pulled her into a tight hug. She’d held her a long time, then pulled back and said, “You’re a strong, strong girl to have gone through that and still be such an important, loving part of our community now.” She’d said it loudly, then turned to look at the other people in the library, before turning to Ashley again. “A strong girl and an incredible woman. I’m so proud to know you.”

  And with that, she had walked away as though nothing had happened. Old John Holland had shown up next. He’d walked in, grabbed the morning paper he always came to read, stopped at the circulation desk, and put his hand on hers. He had simply squeezed her hand, then patted it a few times. With a grunt, he was off to his table in the corner by the window to read.

  And that seemed to be that. People went on about their business then, as though nothing had changed. And Ashley had to be honest, she’d never been so grateful in her life. Those two had seemingly made an announcement to the town. She would not be ostracized or cast out or made to feel dirty for what had happened. She would simply continue to be Ashley. Their librarian and writer of smut under a fake name.

  And so, a week later, she left the library with her smile still firmly intact. She wouldn’t be seeing Garret tonight, but that was all right. He was attending a bachelor party for one of the animal control officers in his town. He had tried to tell her he could drive to her house after the party broke up, but she didn’t want him making the drive late at night after drinking. He, of course, countered that he didn’t need to drink, but she told him no.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t love seeing him every night. But Ashley played the love expert card given her status as a romance novelist and told him it was important for them to have alone time, as well as together time. She had a hot bath with a glass of wine in mind. After that, she planned to paint her toenails and maybe sit down and see if she could add a few thousand words to her work-in-progress. She’d just begun the first book in a new series, and she was eager to have a little quiet time to get some of it down on paper.

  Ashley had always found if she didn’t write fast enough for her characters, they never shut up in her head. So long as she got enough down on paper in a given week, she’d keep the voices at bay. Not those kind of voices. No one was telling her to do things in the name of Satan or anything like that. They just jibber-jabbered in there, sketching scenes and staging plotlines day in and day out. It could wear a girl out if she wasn’t careful.

  She locked the library doors after one final scan of the room to be sure all the lights were out and the copy machines shut down for the night. On the short walk home, she texted Garret. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

  It took only a minute to get his message back. I’m rolling my eyes at you. Good to know my options are wide open for the night.

  Ha! I think I should be offended, she typed back.

  Sure you don’t want me to drive there? I can stop drinking now.

  No, she typed back and then typed in a smiley face. I plan to write and take a bubble bath.

  Shit. A bubble bath without me? That’s just cruel.

  LOL. We’ll take one tomorrow night. Promise.

  Damn. Now I have a hard-on in the middle of the party. Nice, Ash. Real nice.

  Happy to be of service.

  Service. Christ, woman. You’re killing me.

  LOL Night!

  Ugh. Night.

  Ashley laughed and tucked her phone back in her pocket. She couldn’t help picturing them in a tub full of bubbles together. Damn. Maybe she should tell him to make the drive tonight.

  It wasn’t until she was practically on top of her driveway that she realized there was a car in front of the house and a woman standing by the passenger door, all but wringing her hands. The woman looked distraught, and Ashley’s heart automatically went out to her, even though she had no idea who she was or what could be wrong.

  The woman stepped forward. “Ashley? Ashley Walker? Could I, um, could I talk to you?”

  And then it hit Ashley. Could this woman be another of Bill Franks’ victims? Garret had said they might need her to testify about what had happened to her as part of proving Franks’ motive for killing Alice. The theory was that Alice had discovered he had a child in his house and he had killed her when she confronted him and wouldn’t back off.

  The only thing they were
stuck on so far was how Bill Franks got into Alice’s house. There had been no sign he’d forced his way in. It looked like her killer had been invited into her home, and Ashley and Garret both knew Alice wouldn’t have done that. But who knew, maybe he’d had a gun or something.

  Ashley walked over to the woman and offered a reluctant smile. The thought of talking with another of Franks’ victims made her stomach churn. She didn’t want to relive that time in her life for anything, but she felt a wave of guilt. Maybe this woman needed someone to talk to. Maybe she needed help. Or maybe she wanted to come forward and help in building a case against Franks. At the very least, Ashley could give her Garret’s information.

  “Yes, I’m Ashley Walker,” she said, stepping close to the other woman. It was in that split second that several things happened at once. Although they happened in what seemed to be slow motion, Ashley couldn’t move quickly enough to do anything, to react in any way.

  First, she wondered how the woman knew her name. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure if her name had been included in the warrant for Bill Franks’ house or not, but even if it had been, where would this woman have gotten that information? Unless maybe this woman had been contacted by Garret or his partner and then had just asked in Evers for Ashley? It was a small town where she was well known, after all. She dismissed the idea. Surely they wouldn’t have given out Ashley’s name.

  In the seconds her mind grappled with this puzzle, she felt a tingling awareness crawl up her spine. Something wasn’t right. And that’s when the second thing happened. She saw a sneer cross the woman’s face as Ashley came close. The faintest hint that the woman wasn’t a friend after all. That she wasn’t someone who wanted comfort or reassurance or friendship from Ashley.

  And it was then that Ashley saw the woman’s hand slip from her pocket with something large and black in it. In slow motion she watched the woman raise the object and then her body went rigid as a pain she’d never imagined raced through her. She couldn’t move. It felt like she couldn’t breathe, only she must have because she didn’t pass out. She thought she might be screaming, but wasn’t sure anything was coming out.

  With no one to hold her up, her body fell, her head slamming into the grass, hitting the hard ground beneath it with a thud. The pain racing on an electric current through her body was unbearable. She tried to force her limbs to move, but there was no way it was happening. She was trapped, utterly immobile within her body as electricity coursed through her muscles. Someone was moving her. Ashley put all her concentration into moving her arms and legs as she realized the woman was pulling her toward the now open door to the car.

  “No!” she screamed, only she still wasn’t sure it had come out. She felt as though she was yelling, but with her body unable to move, she didn’t know if her mouth was functioning or not.

  And then just as fast as it had begun, the force left her body and she went limp, her limbs working again. She shook her head and put her hands to the pavement. She was lying between the sidewalk and the car. If she could just get up. She could cry out, get a neighbor’s attention. Anything.

  She heard the woman swear, then felt pain as a hand grasped her hair. Her hands shot out to try to stop the blow, but it was too late. Her attacker slammed her head into the hard edge of the car door jam. And then her head began to swim, a fogginess taking her under. Sweeping her away. And she was gone.

  22

  Part of Ashley never wanted to wake up and another part screamed for her to open her eyes and see what she was facing. See what had happened. Because deep inside, she knew it was bad. Something had gone horribly wrong.

  She didn’t think she’d actually been unconscious for very long, but she’d had the sensation of not being able to move her arms or legs for a long time now. Slowly, she was becoming more lucid. The fog in her brain seemed to be lifting and she focused on sounds to try to pull herself further out of the mist. She remembered the hit to her head. Then she could remember vague flashes of her attacker stopping the car, binding her hands and feet, and gagging her. Then, nothing again.

  Until she woke moments ago and began to process what was happening around her. The sound of the car engine, traffic like a highway. Her mouth was dry and she could feel something packed into it. Fabric of some kind, so she was only able to breathe through her nose. There was something holding the fabric in and by the way it pinched and pulled at her, she guessed it was tape of some kind.

  She lay on the floorboards of the back seat of a car. Hands behind her back, bound tightly at the wrists. Ashley closed her eyes and willed herself to stay calm. Well, that wasn’t right. First she had to get calm, then she could think about staying that way. Because she’d left the world of calm a while back. Her heart was racing and she was headed straight on into Panicsville at breakneck speed. And who could blame her?

  She worked at the binding on her wrists for what seemed like hours. At one point, she began to thrash and make whatever noise she could through the gag, trying to get her attacker to talk to her, to…well, she really didn’t know what. She just couldn’t sit and do nothing as she was taken miles and miles from her home by a woman she didn’t know.

  It hadn’t worked. The woman had turned on the radio, blasting it up high, and kept right on going. So, as tears fell and the radio blasted rock ballads from the past, Ashley listened to the car eat up miles and miles of road. She’d already been removed from the scene of the attack, and all she could think was how bad that was. Very bad. One of the first things you’re taught in self-defense is not to allow your attacker to move you to a new location. To scream, to kick, to punch. To scratch and claw and bite. But not ever let yourself be moved. And she’d failed miserably there.

  She didn’t know how much time passed before they left the highway and the road became rough, bouncing Ashley painfully. Every rut and bump they hit jarred her head, making the ache from where she’d been hit throb. She gritted her teeth and tried to push herself into the back seat of the car with her legs to brace against the motion. It helped a bit, but even that action was wearing on her already worn-out body.

  The car slowed and she tracked the sounds of the engine cutting off, the front door opening and closing, then the door at her head opening.

  “Get up.” Someone smacked the top of her head and Ashley was unable to bring her arms up to block the hits. This was nothing like the pain she’d suffered when her head had been bouncing off the metal of the car doorjamb earlier, but the instinct to ward off any further damage was strong.

  “Get out. We’re going for a walk.”

  Ashley grunted and then immediately regretted it when the tape was ripped from her face and the gag pulled out. Her mouth was so dry, swallowing hurt, and her skin burned from the removal of the tape. She rolled to her stomach and tried to swallow, but all she felt was a sharp pain under her tongue and her arms screaming in pain from being bound for so long.

  Finally she spoke, her voice scratchy. “I can’t get up with my arms like this. I can’t move.”

  There was a lot of noise in the trunk and then she felt cold metal on her wrists and tried to stay still. After several minutes, her arms were freed and she was dragged to the seat. The woman tossed a dull-looking knife onto her lap.

  “Cut the tape on your ankles.”

  Her brain raced as she tried to figure out what to do. She knew a lot about getting out of situations like this, and yet, with all her knowledge gained from researching her books, she still drew a complete blank. Her brain wasn’t functioning at all. She looked at the woman and saw she held a small gun in her hands.

  She knew from her research smaller didn’t necessarily mean less damage if she was shot. She thought she should be able to remember the name of the gun, but the only way to describe what she was feeling was stupid. She felt like someone had shut her brain off or turned a dial down on its power somehow. Like she was operating at half capacity.

  The heroines in her books always managed to do the right thing. To someh
ow keep the person distracted while they came up with a brilliant plan to escape. And here she was, hardly able to form a sentence and certainly unable to move, with the pain shooting through her legs as they returned from their numb state.

  She began to saw at the duct tape around her ankles and was able to free them fairly readily. She looked up at the woman.

  “Toss it over the front seat,” she said, with a nod of her head.

  Ashley looked at the knife. The thing was so freaking rusted and dull, it probably wouldn’t have done her much good anyway, but giving it up almost physically hurt. She threw it over the front seat, feeling a deep ache at the utter lack of hope she felt.

  “Who are you?” She took a better look at the woman. Or she tried to. There wasn’t much light being cast from the interior of the car. She thought back to the few moments she’d seen the woman outside her house earlier. Shoulder-length hair that had been dyed black but was showing light brown roots at the base. Squinting now, she could make out a plain face and eyes that looked a little too panicked for Ashley’s comfort. Like the woman was just a smidge on the wrong side of crazy.

  She waved the gun around a little. “Get out. We have to get started.” She looked up at the sky and Ashley saw it was full dark out. That meant it was somewhere well after nine o’clock at night, she would guess. Which meant they’d driven for several hours, at least. She’d left the library at six o’clock.

  How had she been out for so long? Ashley felt a rising panic as she brought her hand to her head. What she felt made her want to crumple in a heap on the ground. She didn’t know much about head injuries, but it felt bad. There was a large knot on the side of her head—somewhere between a golf ball and baseball in size—and she could feel blood caked and crusted in her hair, but also warm blood still coming slowly down one side of her face.

  Being unconscious, bleeding for so long—those could not be good signs. Before she could process any of this, Crazy Chick was talking again. “Who am I? I’m the woman whose life you just destroyed and didn’t even give a thought to with your fake accusations. It’s not nice to lie, you know. Not nice at all. And you and I are going to find a way to fix this. We’re going to find a way to undo what you’ve done.”