Chaser (Jinx Ballou Bounty Hunter Book 1)

by Dharma Kelleher

  The farther we went, the harder it became to negotiate. The last glimmers of twilight were fading. Deep ruts and large rocks troubled the road. Conor slowed to a snail’s pace, making me all the more tense.

  “There, turn there!” I pointed at a gap in the trees off to the left.

  “Bloody hell! Is that even a road?”

  I wasn’t entirely convinced, but there appeared to be a parallel set of wheel ruts with tall weeds growing between them. “I think so,” I replied. “Maybe.”

  We turned, and the road smoothed out for a mile before growing considerably more rocky and uneven. My headache was back, pounding out a primal beat of pain that ran from the top of my skull down my spine. I felt at any minute we’d blow the shocks.

  Finally, we came to a clearing. Two trails branched off to our right, a third off to the left. I studied the map and surveyed the dark trails leading off into the night. I pointed at the one on the right that wasn’t as sharp a turn.

  “I think it’s that way.” I held up my crossed fingers as we inched our way along. Gullies appeared on either side of the trail.

  “Christ, I hope you’re right,” Conor replied. “It’d be a bloody nightmare to turn around here.”

  “According to the map, the cabin should be a mile ahead on the left.” Tree branches scraped the side of the Gray Ghost, like fingernails on a chalkboard. So much for my new paint job.

  The trail grew narrower as it turned sharply uphill. Every bump sent a new shock wave of pain through my skull. I tried not to show how I was feeling, but after a glance in my direction, Conor asked, “You all right, love?”

  “I’ll survive. Just get us there in one piece.”

  I caught a glimpse of a light up in the distance on the left. “Hold on. Cut the lights.”

  Conor turned off the ignition. Darkness rushed in.

  “That’s gotta be it.” I pointed at a cluster of lights, soft amber glowing in the pitch black of the forest. My pulse sped up as I anticipated catching my quarry.

  Conor started the engine again and crept forward without the headlights until we reached a makeshift driveway where a large 4x4 pickup truck sat parked. No sign of the rented minivan. “I’m going to turn us around so we can make an easy getaway if we need to.”

  “Okay.”

  It took some maneuvering, but Conor managed to get the Gray Ghost turned around the way we came and pulled to the side. The truck lurched to the right, and the passenger-side tires dipped into the gully.

  “Conor!” I yelled, holding on to the oh-shit handle above the door as the truck listed sharply.

  Conor growled and turned the wheel. One of the wheels whined as it spun freely. “Bollocks!”

  He put it in reverse and gave it a little gas. We slipped farther into the gulley.

  “We’re never gonna get out of here, with or without Holly.”

  “Shut it. I got this.” He turned the wheel again and eased on a little acceleration. Finally the truck lurched level again onto the trail.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God! Much as I wouldn’t mind spending a night under the stars with you, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “No worries. Let’s gear up and grab our girl.”

  43

  When we stepped out of the Gray Ghost, my eyes were drawn to the sky. Stars blazed as if someone had scattered glitter across the black expanse of space. The full moon crested the tops of the trees. “Wow.”

  “Aye, it’s a pretty sight. But we’ve got a job to do.”

  We opened up the back of the truck and put on our vests and walkie-talkies. Conor racked the slide on his Glock. I snagged the shotgun loaded with beanbag rounds. My Ruger was on my right hip, my revolver on my ankle, in case things went badly.

  “You ready?” Conor whispered.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go rock their world.”

  In the silver moonlight, I spotted a wooden sign along the gravel walk leading up to the cabin. The name Delgado was carved on it. At least we had the right place. Last thing I wanted to do was burst in on Ma and Pa Kettle and have them both drop dead of a heart attack. It’d look very bad on my report.

  The two-story log cabin was sixty feet wide and solidly built. Three steps led up to a wraparound porch. We scouted the perimeter, making note of windows and the back door. Muffled voices drifted from inside, both male.

  When we circled back to the front, Conor gestured that he’d cover the back door. A moment later his voice crackled in on the walkie. “Ready when you are.”

  “Roger that.”

  I checked the door. It was unlocked. I burst into a room the length of the building, filled with rustic furniture and with a large kitchen on my left. I leveled my shotgun at two men playing cards at a rough-hewn wooden table. One was Richie. The other man was older with similar facial features but a broader jaw and cropped hair—his brother, Christopher, no doubt, the one with ties to the Sinaloa cartel.

  “Bail enforcement!” I shouted. “On the ground! On the ground now! Hands above your heads.”

  “What the hell’s this?” Christopher remained sitting even as his brother complied with my commands. “This is a private residence.”

  Conor charged through the back door, his pistol trained on Christopher. “Bail enforcement. Get on the ground, or I’ll put a hole in ya.”

  Christopher glared at Conor but lay on the floor next to Richie.

  “Where’s Holly Schwartz?” I demanded.

  “We don’t know anyone by that name,” Christopher said matter-of-factly.

  “This one does. He took her from her aunt’s house.” I kicked Richie hard in the ribs, and he cried out in pain. “You gave me a concussion, asshole.”

  “I’m sorry,” Richie whimpered. “I was just trying to protect Holly.”

  “Where is she, ya little shite?” Conor asked.

  Richie shook his head. “She’s not here.”

  “Where. Is. She?” I pressed my boot into his side, making him wince.

  He turned his head and shot daggers at me with his stare. “I’m not telling you. Holly’s mother tortured her for years with countless unnecessary medical procedures. I’m not letting you or anyone else hurt her again.”

  “She murdered her mother, Richie,” I said. “She has to answer for that.”

  “She did what she had to do to survive.”

  “Then she can plead self-defense. You have to tell me where she is, or you’re guilty after the fact.”

  “We won’t tell you shit,” Christopher piped in.

  Conor kicked Christopher. “Either ya start talking, or we’ll beat it outta ya.”

  A gunshot shook the cabin. Conor doubled over, groaning and holding his chest. I whipped around to see where the shot came from. Perched on the rail of the second-floor loft, Holly glared down at us, a deer rifle in hand. I fired a beanbag round at her, which hit her in the gut. She fell back, howling in pain.

  Before I could race up the stairs after her, Christopher growled behind me. “Drop the shotgun, or I kill your boyfriend.”

  I turned. Christopher stood using Conor as a shield, with the Glock to my boyfriend’s head. I couldn’t get a clean shot. And even if I did, a beanbag round wouldn’t prevent Christopher from pulling the trigger.

  “You don’t want to do this,” I said, keeping the shotgun trained on him.

  “You came into my home, assaulted me and my brother, and shot his friend. Don’t tell me what I want.”

  “She’ll be okay. It was just a beanbag round. Everyone can still walk away. Just put down the pistol.”

  Above us, Holly continued crying. Richie got to his feet, holding his side, and hobbled up the stairs. “Hang on, kiddo. I’m coming.”

  “The only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you drop that shotgun.” Christopher’s eyes were cold. He wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

  “Not going to happen.” I caught Conor’s eyes. He was in pain, but there was no blood. His vest had st
opped the bullet. “If it makes you feel better, you can point your gun at me, since I’m the one who shot Holly.” It was a gamble, but it was the only move I had.

  Christopher followed my suggestion, and I stared down that cavernous .40-caliber barrel. I gave Conor the smallest of nods, and he drove his elbow into Christopher’s rib cage. Pain exploded in my lower chest an instant before I heard the gunshot.

  I dropped to one knee, struggling to bring in air. Pain engulfed my body, and it felt as though a rib was broken. I steeled myself and rose to my feet. Conor now had Christopher back on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back.

  I tossed the shotgun on the kitchen table, drew my Ruger, and aimed it up at the loft. The top of Richie’s head peeked above the loft floor with his eye to the scope of the deer rifle, now aimed at me. Distracted by the searing pain in my chest and struggling to breathe, I found my aim wobbling uncontrollably. I had no shot.

  “Drop your weapons, both of you.” Richie’s voice was shaky, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t pull the trigger, especially to defend his brother. I recalled the rifle club awards in his house. “Or I put a bullet through her head.”

  “Take it easy, man,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

  “Drop your guns.”

  I was tempted to shoot, but with so little of him exposed, the odds of me hitting my target were slim. If I missed, he wouldn’t. Our best chance of getting out alive, much less with Holly in custody, was to de-escalate the situation. I laid my pistol on the table and raised my hands. Conor did the same.

  “Happy now?” I asked.

  “Uncuff my brother.”

  Conor huffed but obeyed. The elder Delgado brother got to his feet and snapped the cuffs on Conor. He then grabbed Conor’s Glock as well as my Ruger. This night was so not going as planned.

  “You busted into my home.” Christopher pressed a pistol against my temple. “You shot Holly.”

  “With a beanbag round,” I reiterated.

  “You white trash bounty hunters are going to pay.”

  “Oy! We did what ya asked, lads,” Conor said. “Let us go, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “You think we’re stupid?” Christopher asked. “You won’t stop till you drag this poor girl back to jail, and us along with her. Time we ended this here and now.”

  If my chest hadn’t been hurting so much, I could’ve disarmed Christopher and taken him out along with Richie. But every breath was a new experience in pain. I didn’t have the speed or the strength required.

  “Chris, don’t.” Richie and Holly gingerly descended the stairs. He looked a lot less threatening without the rifle. “Not in front of Holly.”

  “Fine, we take them outside and shoot them.”

  “Don’t do this, guys. We can help Holly straighten things out. Get her bail reset.” I locked gazes with Holly. “You want your aunt to lose her house? She paid your bail. Took you in. Paid for your lawyer. Is that how you repay her?”

  “I’m not going back,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “That lawyer was a joke, wanted me to pretend like I’m crazy. My mother was the crazy one! Not me. I did what I had to.”

  She wiped her face and pulled closer to Richie. “Richie and Chris are the only ones who care about me.”

  “Ya can’t run away from it, lass,” Conor said. “Sooner or later, someone’ll track ya down. And now ya’ve got your mates involved too. Come along now, and we won’t charge them.”

  “What do we do, Richie?” Holly begged. “I can’t go to jail.”

  Richie took the Ruger from his brother. “Chris, you and Holly put our gear in the truck. I’ll take our guests outside.”

  My heart thundered as I searched for a way out of the situation.

  44

  Conor and I shuffled ahead of Richie out the front door into the yellow glow of the porch light. I bent down, reaching for the revolver in my ankle holster, and instantly felt Richie’s foot kicking me in the same place I’d been shot. Stars exploded in my vision as I tumbled down the steps, rolling down the hill until I collided with a tree. I struggled to breathe, despite dizziness and chest-crushing pain.

  “Jinxie, you okay, love?” Conor sounded as though he was next to me.

  I reached out but felt only the bark of the pine tree I’d collided with. “Oh . . . okay.” I dug deep and pulled myself shakily to my feet.

  “Just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Richie stood five feet away in the darkness.

  “Yeah, I’m funny that way.”

  “Not so funny when you’re dead.” Richie pulled the cuffs out of the pouch on my tactical belt and snapped them around my wrists.

  “Richie, ya don’t have to do this, lad. You’re a nurse. Ya have a duty to protect life, not take it.”

  “Shut up. Where are your keys?”

  “My front pocket,” Conor said.

  Richie fished into Conor’s jeans, pulled out the keys, and pitched them into the inky night.

  “Bloody wanker.”

  “You rather I shot you?”

  Is he going to let us live? I couldn’t figure out his play. “Now what?”

  “Keep walking down the hill.”

  Conor and I trudged down the hillside, past the road, trying not to trip over a root and pitch headlong into darkness. As the ground leveled out, I heard the gurgle of a stream. Moonlight flickered off the moving water.

  “Sit down, back-to-back, against this tree,” Richie said.

  I could barely make out a foot-wide tree near the edge of the stream. I knelt down next to it, lost my balance on the uneven ground, and slammed my back into the trunk. “Fuck!”

  By the time the pain and shock of the impact subsided, Richie had recuffed Conor and me to each other on opposite sides of the tree trunk. Richie stood silhouetted against the dim light of the cabin up the hill. He raised the Ruger. I glared at him, refusing to look away.

  But instead of shooting us, he fired two shots straight up into the air, then tossed the pistol at my feet. Without a word, he disappeared up the hill.

  “You okay, love?” Conor asked.

  I groaned, wishing I had some of those pain pills from the ER. “I’ve had better days.”

  “Are ya hurt?” He sounded concerned.

  “Cracked rib, I think. You?”

  “Nothing that won’t heal. Maybe we should call Richie back. He can do his nursing thing for your rib,” Conor said with a chuckle.

  I started to laugh and felt a sharp jab of pain. “Ow! Fuck! Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Sorry, love.”

  “How the hell’d this happen? We’re professionals.”

  Conor sighed. “We were outnumbered. It’s why I prefer working in a team of three or more.”

  “I underestimated them. Again.” I reached into my back pocket for the handcuff key I kept there and went to work finding the keyhole in one of the pairs of cuffs. It was trickier doing it one-handed with the tree in the way.

  By the time the first pair of handcuffs ratcheted open, I heard the roar of a truck pulling away.

  “At least they’re gone,” Conor said as I twisted around to release the other pair of cuffs.

  “Yeah, but so is our bounty.” Using the tree as support, I pulled myself to my feet. “I’m really tired of them getting the best of us.”

  “It’s a pisser, no doubt. But we’re alive to fight another day.” He picked up my Ruger and handed it to me. I slipped it into my holster.

  As we climbed the hill, he turned on the flashlight app on his phone. It cast harsh, dancing shadows among the underbrush along the hillside.

  “What’re you doing?” I mumbled as I plodded toward the cabin.

  “Tryin’ to find the keys to your lorry so we can get the hell out of here.”

  “You’ll never find them in the dark.”

  “I can bloody well try. Maybe if ya helped, it’d go quicker.”

  I pulled mine out. “I got five percent pow
er left. And no signal. We really are in the ass end of nowhere.”

  I left Conor searching the bushes and continued up the hill. When I reached the cabin, I tried to open the front door, but the knob didn’t turn. “Fuck.” I plopped down on the top step of the porch, wrapping my arms around my rib cage, trying not to breathe too deeply despite being winded from the climb.

  Twenty minutes later, the step creaked beside me, and I felt Conor’s presence.

  “Jinxie?”

  “Find the keys?” I didn’t look up at him.

  “’Fraid not. What say we go inside and grab some sleep.”

  “Door’s locked.”

  “Oy! Bloody bastards.” I heard him slam against the door a few times. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

  The clomp of his boots faded around the corner of the building. The muffled crack of shattering wood made me wince. Moments later, the front door creaked open. “Wankers made off with my shooter. But we have a place to sleep, at least. Back door wasn’t nearly as solid.”

  “I hurt too much to sleep. I just want to kill those fucking guys and drag Holly’s skinny white ass to jail.”

  His hand rested on my shoulder. I almost shrugged it off but didn’t. “Jinxie, love, I know you’re hurting.”

  “And pissed.”

  “And pissed. I am too. But we’re not getting out of here till morning, and we need rest. Let’s gets some ice on that cracked rib of yours. Maybe we can find something to wrap it with too.”

  “Whatever.” He helped me up and led me inside, where I sat at the kitchen table while Conor rifled through the cabinets.

  A few minutes later, I gasped as something cold pressed against my side. I took hold of the ice pack he offered. “Thanks.”

  “Found some ibuprofen and a wrap in the loo and a six-pack in the fridge.” He deposited a rolled-up ACE bandage, two white pills, and an open beer bottle on the table.

  Drops of condensation glistened on the brown glass. It was some microbrew whose name I didn’t recognize. I popped the pills in my mouth and took a long pull on the beer to wash them down. It tasted rich and earthy with a hint of citrus. “Thanks, hon. Why do you put up with me?”