Defending His Own tp-4

by Beverly Barton

  Ashe despised the weakness in this man. He pressed the 9mm against George's head. "Where has Perry taken Deborah?"

  "I don't know!" When Ashe glared at him, fury in his eyes, George cried out. "I paid him $5,000 and promised him $5,000 more to do the job."

  "You hired someone to kill Deborah!" Whitney screamed, tears forming in her eyes. "I knew you weren't much of a man, but I never realized what a monster you are. How could you do it? Deborah has taken care of us for years. I don't know what we would have done without her."

  "But don't you see, my darling, I did it for us." George tried to turn his head so he could look at his wife, but Ashe kept him trapped against the wall, the 9mm at his temple, Ashe's big hand at his throat.

  "With Deborah out of the way and Miss Carol dying soon, then who but to you would the courts award custody of Allen?" George said. "Who but you would be in control of Allen's inheritance?"

  "I can't believe this." Whitney slumped against the doorpost, as if her slender weight was more than she could bear. "You're out of your mind!"

  "I'd have never thought of killing Deborah. But once the threats started, I thought how lucky for us if Buck Stansell had her killed." George trembled. "Look, Ashe, killing me won't save Deborah. I hired Perry. Yes, I admit it. Once the trial ended and I realized that Buck Stansell wasn't going to continue with his threats, I decided I could hire someone to kill Deborah and everyone would think Stansell and his gang were responsible."

  "You sorry son of a bitch," Ashe growled, then returned his gun to its holster. He grabbed George around the neck with both hands, lifting him off the floor.

  George gasped for air, his feet dangling, his arms flying about, trying to catch hold of Ashe.

  Whitney screamed. "You're killing him, Ashe!"

  Not one rational, reasonable thought entered Ashe's head. He worked on instincts alone. His hands tightened around George's neck. With one swift move, he could break the man's neck. This stupid fool was responsible for whatever might happen to Deborah before Ashe could find her. He didn't deserve to live.

  "Ashe, think what you're doing," Whitney cried out, beating against Ashe's back with her tight little fists. "He's not worth it. Do you hear me? George isn't worth it!"

  "Put him down, cousin," Lee Roy Brennan said from where he stood in the doorway. "She's right. He's not worth it."

  Without loosening his hold on George, Ashe glanced at Lee Roy. "Did Buck send you?"

  "We found out where Randy might have taken Deborah."

  "A reliable source?" Ashe asked.

  "A friend of Evie's," Lee Roy said. "A gal Randy's sleeping with. He shared his plans with her, telling her he'd be coming into another $5,000 after the job was done."

  "Where did she say he planned to take Deborah?" Ashe set George down on his feet, but kept his hands around his throat.

  "Somewhere close to Deborah's house in downtown Sheffield. Some deserted warehouse."

  "What deserted warehouse?"

  "My guess is the old streetcar warehouse."

  Ashe released George, allowing him to fall to his knees. With expert ease, Ashe snapped the purple top sheet from George's bed and ripped off two long strips. Using his foot, he pressed George over against the bed, jerked his hands behind his back and hogtied the man with the scraps of his own bed sheet.

  "Whitney, don't let your husband out of your sight until the police arrive."

  "Don't worry," she said. "I'll kill him myself if he even tries to move."

  "Come on." Ashe motioned to Lee Roy, who followed him out into the hall and down the stairs.

  Lee Roy grabbed Ashe at the front door. "When we find her, she might not be alive."

  "She'll be alive! She has to be."

  "Even if she is, it could be bad. Randy was in the pen for rape."

  "Whatever happens, he's a dead man," Ashe said.

  * * *

  Ashe called the Sheffield police on his cellular phone, telling them where he was going and asking them to send some officers over to George Jamison's home. Lee Roy followed in his truck, the two cousins speeding along Jackson Highway, racing toward downtown Sheffield. Ashe prayed, begging God to keep Deborah safe, offering his own life in place of hers.

  * * *

  She couldn't bear his touch, rough and clammy. She'd screamed the first time he'd squeezed her breast, but he'd slapped her so hard she'd fallen to her knees in pain.

  He was going to rape her before he killed her. He'd told her what to expect.

  This was all her fault. Her own stupidity had cost Roarke his life and now would cost her hers. How could she have been so stupid, rushing out to meet Ashe, when in fact she'd run headlong into her kidnapper?

  Did Ashe know what had happened? Was he searching for her? Please, God, please let him find me in time.

  "I ain't never had me no society lady before." Randy Perry snickered as he ripped open Deborah's blouse, exposing her lace-covered breasts.

  Deborah tried to back away from him, but he grabbed her, dragged her up against him and thrust his sour tongue into her mouth. Gagging, she fought him, hitting him repeatedly as she kicked at his legs.

  He threw her to the floor and came down on top of her, crushing the breath out of her. "You like it rough, huh, society lady? Well, ol' randy Randy can give it to you rough."

  He ran his hand up her leg and under her skirt, fondling her hip. When he lowered his head to kiss her again, she spat in his face. He laughed. Then he slapped her.

  Deborah closed her eyes against the reality of what was happening to her. She retreated into a silent, constant prayer for Ashe to rescue her before it was too late.

  Chapter 16

  « ^ »

  The old streetcar warehouse stood in darkness, the moonlight casting shadows across the window panes. Ashe could hear nothing except the loud pounding of his heart. He couldn't ever remembering being so scared, not even in battle. But then Deborah's life had not been in jeopardy, only his.

  He drove down the street slowly, looking for any sign that someone had broken into the empty building. He circled the block. An older model Pontiac Grand Prix was parked directly across from the warehouse. Ashe eased his Buick up behind it, got out and checked the license plate. A Colbert County tag.

  Lee Roy pulled his truck up behind Ashe, getting out and following his cousin across the street.

  "It's Randy's car," Lee Roy said. "He got it off a fellow who brings stolen cars in from Mississippi."

  "That means they're here." Ashe removed his gun from the holster before crossing the street. "Look, you may not want to get involved in this. I've phoned for the police. They should be here any time now."

  "All I'm doing is helping my cousin rescue his woman. Right? I don't know nothing about nothing. We made a lucky guess as to who had kidnapped Deborah and about where he'd taken her."

  "Yeah, right." Ashe nodded toward the building. "You check that side and I'll check this side. If you find them, don't act on your own. Randy Perry is mine."

  "Got you." Lee Roy rounded the side of the warehouse.

  Ashe crept along the wall, checking for an unlocked door, looking for any sign of forced entry. Then he saw it. Toward the back of the building, a dim light flickered.

  Ashe found a jimmied lock, the door standing partially open. Taking every precaution not to alert Randy Perry to his presence inside the warehouse, Ashe followed the light source, keeping his body pressed close to the wall as he made his way inside, searching for any sign of Deborah.

  A lone lantern rested on the floor, spreading a circle of light around it. Deborah lay at Randy Perry's feet, her blouse in shreds, her skirt bunched up around her hips, half covering the gleaming white of her lace underwear. Ashe garnered all his willpower, resisting the urge to let out a masculine cry of rage. He wanted to kill the big, bearded slob of a man who gazed down at a half-naked Deborah as he unzipped his jeans.

  Ashe whirled away from the wall, aiming his gun at Deborah's kidnapper. In a split second,
before Ashe could fire his 9mm, Perry fell to the floor, grabbing Deborah into his arms. Lifting her along with himself, he rose to his knees, holding Deborah in front of him, his thick arm around her neck.

  "I'll break her neck like a twig," Perry warned Ashe. "And that would be a pity. She's got such a pretty little neck."

  "You're a dead man, Perry!"

  Randy Perry stood, jerking Deborah to her feet, using her body as a shield. Walking himself and Deborah backward, he kicked the lantern across the floor, extinguishing the flame and sending the room into darkness. The lantern rolled into a corner, crashing into the wall.

  Ashe swore aloud. His breathing quickened. It would take a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then it would take just as long for Perry to be able to maneuver without any light.

  Sirens blared like the thunder of an attacking elephant herd. Tires screeched. Doors slammed. Chief Burton's voice rang out loud and clear, telling Randy Perry that the warehouse was surrounded.

  "Don't look like I got nothing to lose by finishing this job, does it?" Perry called out, taunting Ashe.

  "Be careful, Ashe." Deborah's voice sounded shaky but strong.

  "Deborah!" Ashe couldn't see her now, but he could make out the direction in which Perry was moving from the sound of their voices.

  "Don't hurt her," Ashe said. "If you do, I'll kill you before the police come through the door."

  "He has a gun, Ashe. Don't—"

  Randy Perry held Deborah in front of him as he walked backward, directly past a row of windows. Moonlight created enough illumination for Ashe to see the gun Perry held to the side of Deborah's face, his other meaty hand covering her mouth.

  "Let her go." Ashe issued one final warning.

  Randy Perry laughed. "No way in hell!"

  Ashe aimed and fired. Deborah screamed. Randy Perry slumped, knocking Deborah down as he dropped to the floor. Blood spurted from the lone bullet wound in his head. Deborah looked over at the man's still body, then crawled away from him. Standing hurriedly, she ran toward Ashe.

  He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms, encompassing her in his tight embrace. She gulped for air, her body racked with heavy, dry sobs. Ashe rubbed her back, petting her tenderly.

  "It's all right, honey. You're safe now. You're safe."

  The police stormed into the warehouse after hearing the gunshot. They found Randy Perry lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood and a partially undressed Deborah Vaughn clinging to Ashe McLaughlin.

  "Is she all right?" Ed Burton walked over to Ashe. "Did he hurt her?"

  "She'll be all right." Ashe slipped his gun into the holster, then removed his jacket and placed it around Deborah's shoulders. "I'm taking her home."

  "Maybe you should take her to the hospital. If she's been raped—"

  "No!" Deborah cried. "He—he didn't—didn't rape me. He would have, but Ashe—Ashe—"

  Ashe lifted her into his arms, carried her past a row of gawking police officers and out onto the sidewalk. She laid her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

  Standing by the side of Ashe's car, Lee Roy opened the door. Ashe deposited Deborah inside, got in and looked up at his cousin.

  "Thanks," Ashe said. "Pass it along. Okay?"

  "Yeah. Sure thing. Glad we made it in time." Lee Roy grinned. "Guess I'll be seeing you from time to time. I figure you'll be staying around these parts to keep an eye on your woman."

  Lee Roy walked over to his truck, got in and drove off. Ashe removed his jacket and draped it around Deborah's shoulders, then pulled her close to his side, started his car and headed southwest.

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "Allen is with Mama Mattie. Chief Burton has an officer keeping an eye on them."

  "I can't let Allen see me like this, with my clothes—" She swallowed hard, biting the insides of her cheeks in an effort not to cry.

  "He'll be asleep when we get there. I'm sure Annie Laurie can find you something of hers to put on." Ashe hugged Deborah, leaning the side of his head against the top of hers. "It's all over, honey. Go ahead and cry. Let it all out."

  "I can't cry," she said. "I hurt too much to cry."

  "Did you tell Ed Burton the truth? Randy Perry didn't rape you, did he?"

  "No, he didn't. He slapped me around. He scared me to death. Oh, Ashe, how can you say it's over? Buck Stansell will just hire someone else to come after me."

  Ashe pulled the car off Shop Pike and into the parking lot of the old converted train depot. Killing the motor, he turned to Deborah. She looked so pale, there in the moonlight, her eyes overly bright and slightly glazed with tears. But she hadn't cried, hadn't gone into hysterics. His strong, brave Deborah. Taking her face in both hands, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly.

  Still holding her face, he shook his head. "It's over, honey. Believe me. Buck Stansell didn't put out a contract on you. George Jamison did."

  Deborah gasped. "George!"

  Ashe slipped one arm behind her and crossed the other over her body, bringing her into the comfort of his embrace. "Buck was telling me the truth. Lon Sparks wasn't an important enough cog in their wheel for Buck to make an example out of you. Especially when he found out he'd have to contend with me."

  "But George? I can't believe he would… Ashe, are you sure? How did you find out?"

  "I got a confession out of George, tonight."

  "But—but why would George want to kill me? I don't understand."

  "The man has a sick, devious, greedy mind. He thought Miss Carol would die, then if you were out of the way, Whitney would be given custody of Allen and the entire Vaughn estate."

  Deborah gripped Ashe's arms. "What about Whitney? Does she know what he did? Oh, dear Lord, is she all right?"

  That was his Deborah, kindhearted and loving to the bitter end. "Yeah, she knows. And she's all right. When she found out, she was ready to kill George herself."

  "So, it really is over, isn't it?" Deborah sighed, her body relaxing in Ashe's embrace. "Oh, Ashe, I was so afraid. I didn't know if you'd find me in time."

  Ashe kissed the top of her head, the side of her face, his arms tightening around her. "I had to find you, didn't you know that? I couldn't let anything happen to you. Not now when we've just found each other again. Not when I've realized exactly how much you mean to me."

  The tears she'd been holding at bay rose in her throat, choking her. She swallowed hard. "I didn't want to die. And I was scared, so scared. I didn't want to leave Allen and Mother and … you."

  "We have a lot to talk about," Ashe said. "But not now. You've been through hell these last few hours. We've both been through hell!"

  "I want to see Allen. I want to take him home. Once we're all safe and together, then you and I can talk and work things out." She would have to share Allen with his father in the future. Would that mean trips to Atlanta for Allen, or was there a possibility that Ashe would return to Sheffield permanently? "We can work things out, can't we, Ashe?"

  "Yeah, honey, we most certainly can work everything out."

  Keeping one arm around Deborah, Ashe started the car and drove them straight to Mama Mattie's. The moment they pulled into the driveway, Annie Laurie rushed outside. The fading bruises on the side of her face were the only physical reminder of the accident four days ago. After a two-day hospital stay and countless tests, the doctors had sent her home with a caution to take it easy for a while.

  Opening the passenger door, Annie Laurie grabbed Deborah when she stepped out of the Buick Regal.

  A young police officer followed Annie Laurie. "I see you found Ms. Vaughn."

  "You're all right." Annie Laurie glanced at Ashe. "You're both all right." She looked at Deborah's tattered clothing and gasped. "Oh, God, did he—"

  "No," Deborah said. "Ashe found us before he really hurt me." She ran a hand down across her torn skirt. "I need something to put on before Allen sees me."

  "Allen's asleep. Finally. He's lyin
g on the couch with his head in Mama Mattie's lap. That's the reason she didn't come out here with me. She didn't want to wake him up. Poor baby has been worried sick and we thought he'd never rest."

  "Thank you for keeping watch over Allen." Ashe got out of the car and shook hands with the officer. "The man who kidnapped Ms. Vaughn is dead."

  "Yeah, Chief Burton just called. He said to tell you that George Jamison has been arrested and is in jail."

  "Tell the chief that Ms. Vaughn and I will be glad to answer any questions tomorrow." Ashe placed his arm around Deborah's shoulders. "We'll go around to the back door. Annie Laurie, I hope you find Deborah something to wear before we wake Allen and take him home."

  Deborah and Ashe walked around the house to the back porch, while Annie Laurie went in the front and met them at the kitchen door. Annie Laurie ushered Deborah into her bedroom. Ashe walked through the kitchen and the small dining area adjacent to the living room and stood in the arched opening, looking across the room at his grandmother and his son. His son!

  Mattie Trotter placed her index finger over her lips, cautioning Ashe to be quiet. He nodded and smiled. Ashe noticed his grandmother's old photo album in Allen's arms.

  More than anything, Ashe wanted to lift Allen in his arms and hold him. His child. His son. Ten years of the boy's life had already passed. Would they ever be able to make up the lost time? Would Allen ever accept him as a father?

  When Deborah and Annie Laurie emerged from the bedroom, Deborah walked over to Ashe and handed him his jacket. He slipped it on, then put his arm around her waist. She took his hand in hers. He thought she looked beautiful in Annie Laurie's little burgundy-checked shirtwaist dress, her long hair disheveled and her face void of any makeup.

  "Let's go get our son and take him home," she said.

  Mama Mattie's eyes widened, her mouth gaping as she looked at Deborah and Ashe, then down at the sleeping child.

  "What?" Annie Laurie said. "Allen is—"

  "Allen is Deborah's child," Ashe whispered. "Deborah's and mine."

  "But—but… Oh, my goodness."

  With Ashe at her side, Deborah walked across the living room, knelt beside the sofa and kissed Allen on the cheek. He stirred, the photo album dropping to the floor. The boy opened his eyes, saw Deborah and jumped up into her open arms.