Someone to Watch Over Me

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Someone to Watch Over Me Page 7

by Jerrie Alexander


  Cash caught up with her in the hall. Strong hands lightly gripped her shoulders, weakening her resolve. Was her leaving stupid? Probably. But he’d placed himself in mortal danger because of her.

  “Sug,” he whispered into her hair, almost melting her resolve. “Don’t you know I’d lose my mind from worry if you left? Please, don’t make me live out of my truck just to watch over you.”

  “I can’t let you risk your life.”

  He sucked in a deep breath. “It’s possible the rattlesnake was supposed to bite me. But it could’ve been placed there for you.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, tears for how helpless this situation made them. Tears for all those years they’d lost. She turned into his arms. The pressure in her heart to speak up was too much to bear. With her face buried against his chest, she whispered, “I love you.”

  There, she’d said it. She’d released an elephant in the room. Had she made a fool out of herself? She held her breath waiting for him to say something. Anything.

  He hooked his finger under her chin and tugged until she looked up. His gaze locked onto hers. He tenderly brushed her cheeks dry. Panic that she’d said too much rushed her. The blood ran from her head. He’d said he wanted more. But how much more?

  The corners of his mouth lifted, and his stormy eyes sparkled. Hope flared inside her chest.

  “That’s a good thing. ’Cause I never stopped loving you.”

  He cupped her cheek with his hand, lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. Tender and touching, his mouth made promises without words.

  “Please don’t leave. Stay and let’s fight Ray together.”

  Her insides liquefied. Life wouldn’t be cruel enough to separate them twice. Peace wrapped around her, stealing her voice. All she could do was nod.

  “And don’t be afraid of what we’re feeling. If problems come up, we’ll handle them.”

  She nodded again, knowing she should answer, to respond and say he was right. A huge lump had formed in her throat. He loved her too. Nothing, ab-so-lute-ly nothing, else mattered. Once they healed the damage her father had caused, and Cash turned loose of his hate, she could see trust in his eyes too.

  Cash slipped his arm around her waist, and together they went back outside. For the first time, she noticed how beautiful the day had turned out. Blue skies, the hot Texas sun, and a slight breeze, who could ask for more?

  Then she spotted his pickup with the doors wide open. The snake wrangler who’d caught that rattler deserved a pat on the back. No way could she get in that truck again.

  “You are trading in that pickup, aren’t you?”

  “First thing tomorrow.”

  ****

  Cash leaned forward, keeping a watchful eye on Stacey. Busy night, but so far, she’d stayed in his line of sight. He shifted, making sure the Sig Sauer under his shirt stayed hidden. He wasn’t worried about breaking the law by bringing a weapon into the bar. Her safety came first.

  For a minute in the hallway, Cash had questioned his hearing. Stacey saying I love you could only be compared to being struck by lightning. His years of discontent had vanished.

  Other than to his mother, Cash had never uttered those words. Yet, they’d rolled off his tongue with no effort, leaving him in complete peace.

  He’d tried to convince Stacey not to go to work. The argument had ended when she’d agreed to him being sequestered in the far corner. The spot he’d selected gave him optimum observation capabilities and a straight line to her work station. He could be at her side in seconds.

  The night progressed slowly. She made a mad dash to the ladies room, which brought a smile to his face and took him back to the night he’d seen her for the first time in years. When she returned, she wiggled her fingers and held up an empty tray. That was her way of saying she and Jonathan had to restock. Cash hated her being out of sight, but he gritted his teeth and ten minutes of hell later, she returned carrying sliced lemons and limes while Jonathan wheeled in cases of beer.

  When the overhead lights flashed last call, Cash breathed a sigh of relief. Stacey would start cleaning the minute the crowd cleared out. He stood, straightened his shirt, and headed for her station.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

  She smiled, but her nerves were strung tight. Faint circles under her eyes hinted she hadn’t been sleeping well. How long could they keep this up?

  “Back at ya.” She hoisted an empty tray on top of another. “Be right back. I gotta take these to Jonathan.”

  Cash sensed someone walk up behind him. Spinning on his heels, he almost cold-cocked Brady. “Don’t sneak up on me,” Cash growled.

  “Sorry,” Brady said, backing up a step. “I’m glad you’re here. I have to talk to Stacey, and she’s not going to like what I have to say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Everybody in town’s heard about her apartment being trashed. The buzz around the pool tables this afternoon was the rattler in your truck.” Brady scrubbed a hand across his chin. “I don’t need that kind of trouble.”

  Cash regretted not accidently decking the man when he’d had the chance. “You’re firing her?”

  “What am I supposed to do? Hire armed guards in case the next surprise is a sack full of copperheads released in here?”

  “You’re being ridiculous. The only person who should be scared is Stacey. Hell, she’s got more backbone than you.”

  “It’s not unreasonable to protect my customers.” Brady backed up and sat on a stool. “Where’d she go?”

  Cash whirled the direction she’d gone. His heart leapt to the back of his throat. Shouldn’t she be back by now? “Shit,” he muttered, racing toward the storeroom.

  He hit the swinging doors at a run. “Stacey,” he yelled.

  Brady and Cash hurried past the stacked pallets of beer and the giant cooler. Cash’s lungs tightened and squeezed off his oxygen. The back door stood wide open. A body lay crumpled next to the dumpster. He heard Brady on the phone asking for an ambulance and the police.

  Jonathan moaned and tried to sit up. He grabbed his head and collapsed on the ground. A bloody rock lay next to him.

  “Take care of him.” Cash left Brady bending over the wounded Jonathan.

  Cash’s gaze swept the parking area. He raced to the handful of pickups and cars, looking inside each of them. His pulse pounded in his ears. The vehicles were empty.

  Hate boiled up from inside. He dialed Ash. He answered on the second ring.

  “What have you learned about Simmons?”

  “You just asked today,” Ash groaned. “I did get his address. Apartment manager hasn’t seen him for days. Something else happen?”

  “She’s missing. Gone. Taken from under my fuckin’ nose.” Cash jerked his hat from his head. It seemed to be squeezing tighter and tighter. “I’ll kill the sonofabitch.”

  “Take it easy. Only in self-defense or to save a life. Got it?”

  “Yeah. Find out what Simmons drives. Call me with anything.”

  ****

  Stacy fought the darkness. Rockets explode inside her head. Her hands and feet were bound behind her back. Her joints protested being stretched in the unnatural pose. Moving brought waves of agony. She struggled to pull her jumbled thoughts together. She decided to scream only to find her lips taped closed.

  She was surrounded by darkness. Cramped quarters. A car trunk. She’d helped Jonathan carry out the trash. What had happened? Her mind couldn’t put events together, but she had no doubt who’d taken her. Ray Simmons.

  Panic welled inside her chest. She had to get help. Had to get away. But how. Trussed up like a roping steer at a rodeo, every movement brought mind numbing pain.

  Cash. Beautiful, sexy, loving Cash. Their chance at happiness had been wrenched out of their hands. No. She would not have a defeatist attitude. She’d pretend to cooperate with Ray. Convince him that she’d come to her senses. At the first opportunity, she’d figure out how to e
scape.

  She had to get back to Cash.

  Chapter Eight

  Cash stalked the parking lot like a caged animal. He and Detective Kelly had questions for Jonathan, but EMTs insisted they tended to him first.

  “You’re not talking to him without me,” Cash growled when Kelly started toward the ambulance.

  “No. I don’t reckon I am.” Kelly gave a resolved shrug. “Every squad car has been alerted. Anyone even swerves on the road and they’ll be pulled over.”

  “Ray Simmons hasn’t been seen in days. He has to be here.” Cash had been in precarious situation before but it had been his own life at stake. This was Stacey and he didn’t know which way to run. “Hell, you can’t stop everyone. We don’t know what kind of vehicle we’re looking for.”

  “How do you know Simmons... Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  The lead EMT waved them over. “The rock hit at an odd angle, glanced off and didn’t do much damage. He doesn’t have a concussion.”

  “Why all the blood?” Kelly asked.

  “Almost all head injuries bleed like hell. You can talk to him.”

  Cash pulled his temper inside. He’d be no use to Stacey if he didn’t maintain control. He beat Kelly to the back of the ambulance, and heard Jonathan whine and insist he just wanted to go home.

  “You were supposed to be watching her. What the hell happened?” Cash demanded.

  “I don’t know. She raised the lid on the dumpster for me to throw in the bags of trash, and the lights went out. I didn’t see anything.” Jonathan looked at Kelly who’d pushed himself in front. “Can I go now?”

  “No,” Kelly answered. “How the hell did this happen?”

  “I just told Cash. I. Don’t. Know. I’m sorry.”

  Cash wanted to shake him like a rag doll, if for nothing else whining like a girl.

  “Go.” Kelly intervened. “If you remember anything give me a call. You need somebody to follow you?”

  “No. I’m good,” Jonathan stood, proving his balance was fine by standing on one foot. He reached out to Cash’s shoulder and patted. “I hope you find her.”

  Cash’s cell vibrated. He stepped away to see what Ash had learned. “What have you got?”

  “Simmons drives a 2012 red Explorer. Should be easy to spot.”

  His words stopped Cash in his tracks. His throat closed. Confusion crept in. Parked in the last slot behind the building sat the perfect match. He ran to the rear of the SUV and spit out the license plate number. “That belong to Simmons?”

  “Yeah. Did the Oak Hill cops finally come through?”

  “No. I’m looking at his ride.” Cash ended the call.

  He yelled for Kelly and started trying to open the doors. “This is Ray’s car. There’s a sleeping bag or quilt in the back. Dammit. No telling how long he’d been in town.”

  “What’s the car doing here if he’s got Stacey?”

  “She rode with me, so they didn’t leave in her car.” Cash stepped closer to the Explorer. “Open it or I’ll bust a window.”

  “No need for that. I’ve got probable cause.” Kelly yelled for Bubba to bring the slim-jim and pop the door lock.

  Bubba stepped back fast. “I see a hand.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Kelly climbed inside, unzipped the sleeping bag, and revealed a dead body underneath the sleeping bag.

  “What the hell does this mean?” Cash’s mind staggered. “If that’s Ray, who took Stacey?”

  Kelly tossed a few curse words out then rolled the body far enough to two-finger the wallet from his pocket. He closed his eyes after removing the driver’s license.

  “Ray Simmons.”

  Cash spun around. Undecided what to do next, he paced the parking lot. Time became a commodity he couldn’t waste. He moved back to the dumpster, looking for anything the cops might have missed. The cops had placed a yellow flag next to the rock used to knock out Jonathan. Cash replayed everything through his mind, eliminating possibilities one at a time. He stopped on the obvious. Damn.

  Only one person could have taken her. “Kelly,” Cash shouted.

  He spun and scanned the crowd for Brady. Cash uttered a curse and sprinted to the building.

  ****

  Stacey’s shoulders were being ripped from their sockets with every bump of the road. She’d tried to scream at the voices she’d heard moving around her. The tape over her mouth had kept her from calling out to Cash. He’d been so close. Arms and ankles pulled behind her and lashed together with what felt like tape. Whatever it was, it prevented her from kicking the trunk lid or pulling the emergency release.

  It had to be Ray. He’d waited for her behind the bar, which meant he’d watched her for a while. Could she talk her way out of this? Get free and defend herself? Other than the movies, she’d never even seen a fight. Didn’t matter. She’d fight to survive. Adrenaline rushed through her, and she struggled to stay under control.

  The car stopped and idled for a minute. Her heart raced, pounding painfully against her ribs. She struggled to catch a calming breath. Was he having second thoughts? He’d threatened to cut her. Was he pulling a knife from his scabbard? Was he going to kill her right away? Her mind silently screamed.

  The engine died, and the car shook when the door slammed home. The trunk latch popped, and a bright light shined in her eyes.

  “Why won’t you just stay dead? I won’t let you hurt Jonathan ever again,” the strange voice behind the light spoke. Her confusion worsened. This wasn’t Ray. In fact, it almost sounded as if her attacker was a woman.

  The person dragged her face down from the trunk to the ground, ignoring her screams of pain. Suddenly, her hands and feet were freed. Laser hot pain flooded her limbs the second blood circulated through her deprived limbs. She worked her fingers under the tape on her mouth, pulling it loose and sucking in a deep breath.

  “Get on your feet,” the woman commanded.

  With very little feeling in her hands and arms, Stacey managed to push herself up on all fours. Her kidnapper planted a foot against Stacey’s butt and pushed, sending her sprawling, face first, across the dirt. An eerie giggle exploded from the stranger, filling the darkness with an insane echo.

  “Why are you doing this?” Stacey brushed dirt from her mouth, rolling to face her attacker. “Where am I?

  “Don’t play dumb with me. We’re home.”

  The person moved forward, grabbed her by the arm, and dragged her to her feet.

  “Fun’s over. I only cut you lose so you could walk inside. Now, go.”

  Her attacker was close enough for her to see. She blinked, refusing to believe her eyes. This wasn’t a woman. Not at all. “Jonathan?”

  He shrieked. The sound of a wild animal came from him. “Don’t you dare say his name. Say it again, and I’ll kill you here in the yard.”

  Even though the words had come from Jonathan, his voice had taken on a higher pitched, feminine sound. He wrapped a hunk of her hair around his hand, pressed the blade of a hunting knife to her throat, and pulled her toward a small house. Together they walked up the steps onto a rickety porch that squeaked from the pressure of each step. He shoved her inside.

  Stumbling forward, she tried to reason with him. “Please, don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  “Shut up and sit down.” He removed the bandana from his neck and tied her hands behind her back.

  Lights flooded the room. Her friend Jonathan glared at her. But this wasn’t the sweet young man she knew. He circled her chair. Hate and contempt filled his blue eyes, turning his lips into a snarl.

  He backed off and then approached a couple of times. He’d lean close to her face and then look away. He’d morphed into a total stranger. A madman.

  “I should’ve known better than to try to scare you off. Someone as evil as you won’t go away. You have die.” His eyebrows pulled together. “But why do I have to kill you over and over?”

  “I don’t understand. What do you think I did, Jona—” The
blow knocked her out of the chair. She lay sprawled on the floor while the acrid taste of blood filled her mouth.

  He grabbed her hair and dragged her back onto the chair. But not before she noticed the knot in the bandana had loosened. Her hands were still behind her back but not behind the chair. She fought to remain calm and work her hands free.

  He smoothed his disheveled hair, straightened his shirt, and then slammed one hand on his hip. He glared at her with an indignant expression.

  Bile flooded the back of Stacey’s throat. His mannerisms—his way of standing—his voice, Jonathan had taken on a feminine persona.

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” he said in the high pitched voice, baring his teeth. Snarling, he looked like a wolf about to attack. “I know all the horrible things you did to him. I heard his screams. Don’t pretend you don’t deserve what’s coming.”

  Tears stung Stacey’s eyes, but she battled them back. Jonathan’s personality had fractured. Split. Who had control of his mind? Maybe if she went along with him, stalled him, she’d buy enough time to free herself. She caught his gaze and held, fighting not to flinch.

  “I don’t think you’re stupid,” she said, working hard to keep her voice calm.

  “No, I’m not. Neither is he,” Jonathan said, advancing, waving the knife. “But he’s much easier to manipulate than me. You tried to convince him he was evil, but I saved him. Saved him from you.”

  “He’s not evil. He’s my friend.” Her heart bled for the sweet young man she’d worked with because he’d gone completely mad. “Just like Lance was.”

  Jonathan swung and the blade sliced through her blouse, grazing her arm. A burning sensation followed and blood seeped through the thin cotton material.

  “Don’t you blame me for that. I didn’t kill him. Your stalker murdered your stalker.” He giggled. “Get it? Lance followed you around at work, and the other guy followed you home from the bar. Him, I killed.” Jonathan huffed out a sound of disgust. “You should thank me.”

  “So Ray was here.” Stacey’s blood chilled. It hadn’t been her imagination, he had been following her.

 

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