But before he loosened his embrace, he settled his mouth over hers, and for a moment she forgot everything but him. She wanted to weld herself to him and give in to the security she experienced in his arms, but she had her girls who needed her, especially now with all that had been happening. Pulling back a few inches, she cupped his face and stared into his beautiful eyes, feeling herself being pulled further in.
She glanced away. “It’s getting late. We’d better go.”
“I’ll let Mom know I’m leaving. Be back in a sec.”
Kate sighed and leaned against the counter. As she panned the kitchen, taking in its warmth and homey feeling, she couldn’t shake the sense of belonging. She had enjoyed cooking dinner tonight for them. Even with what happened between Wyatt and his daughter, she felt the love she had never felt in her own childhood home. Her dad loved her, but he wasn’t around much. To her mother, all she had been while growing up was an inconvenience. Her older brother could do no wrong in their mother’s eyes, but it was rare that she did what her mother thought she should do.
At dinner, Rose sat at the long table in King’s dining room with him at one end and his nephew, Gregory, across from her. She picked at her food, the few bites she’d taken stuck in her throat.
“I’m disappointed in you.” King lifted his water glass and took a sip. “I thought you were a survivor. A survivor would eat and build up her strength.”
“I guess I found a new way of dieting.”
King laughed, the sound slithering down her spine like the snake he was. “You’re too thin. You need meat on your bones. I hope, Gregory, the girl you’re bringing me isn’t as thin as Rose.”
King’s nephew smiled, and if Rose hadn’t known what kind of person he was, she would be drawn in by the grin on his handsome face. “Maddie will be perfect for our purposes.”
Her stomach clenched tightly, masking her hunger pangs.
“Once we fill this latest order, I’m moving our operations. I’ve got plans in the works.”
“In Texas?” Gregory caught Rose’s attention and winked.
Her skin crawled as if rats skittered over her.
“My partner prefers it and provides certain benefits to staying here. Besides, we’re near the Mexican border and a port for shipments outside the country.”
Partner? She’d always thought King was working alone.
Gregory chuckled. “I can see why you feel that way. Protection is important in this business.”
King raised his glass. “To another year as profitable as this last one.”
When Gregory lifted his drink, anger as she’d never felt deluged her, shaking her whole body. She sprang to her feet, her chair crashing to the floor. “Why are you doing this? Why are you keeping me here? You two aren’t even human.”
King slowly rose and tapped his chest. “This human is hurt deeply by you. After all I have done for you. I took you in when you lost your parents. I fed and clothed you.”
“You’ll never get thanks from me. I would have been better off on the streets by myself.”
“Tsk. Tsk. You know what happens to pretty, young girls who are on the streets. I promised your aunt I would look after you when she was dying. I don’t go back on my word.”
She swept her arm across her body. “You call this taking care of me? I’m a slave.”
“You are alive—fed and clothed.” King edged toward her. “And because of your Aunt Belle, you will remain alive—for the time being. Don’t make me go back on my word to my wife. I never have, and I don’t want to start now. I love her and want to honor her wishes.”
Staring at the menacing look on his face, Rose clutched the table to steady herself. She’d loved her aunt, who had been good to her. If Aunt Belle only knew what her husband was really doing, the kind of man he was. When King ran a finger down her cheek, hatred stiffened her posture. Revulsion soured her stomach.
“May I go to my room?” she asked in as strong a voice as she could manage.
“Of course, my dear. You are free to leave the table.” King returned to his seat and continued to eat.
Rose rushed from the room, only to find her guard outside waiting for her in the hall. As she trudged up to the third-floor bedroom that had been hers since her aunt died, she scrubbed her hand against her cheek trying to wipe away his touch.
Inside her old room, she listened as the lock was turned in the door. She stared at the window. If there had been a fourth or fifth floor, King would have put her up there. He relished the fact she hated heights and had taken such pleasure in moving her from the ground floor to this one when her aunt died. Ever since she had been trapped on the second floor in a burning house, she had been scared.
Fear is in your mind. You can overcome it when you want to. When the Lord is with you every step, you can do what you have to do. Kate’s words came to her mind as she made her way toward the one window in the room. She’d told her that after finding her for the fourth time sleeping on the couch in the downstairs rec room. Kate took her hand and walked her up the stairs to the second floor. Finally, she’d been able to go up to her bedroom without Kate, but she never looked out the window. King knew that. He knew all her weaknesses and used them against her.
She inched up to the drapes that she kept closed and fumbled for the cord. After opening them, she peeked out of the corner of the top glass pane. Orange and yellow streaks painted the dark blue sky with the rays of the setting sun. Gorgeous. Mesmerizing. She eased forward a little more to see its full beauty. Threads of rose weaved through the other bright colors.
She inhaled a fortifying breath, held it in, and peered down at the ground. Her heartbeat thumped against her ribs, picking up speed the longer she looked. Perspiring, she backed away and tried to draw air into her lungs, one gasp after another. Finally, the rapid heartbeat in her chest abated. She wiped her wet hands together and approached the window again.
There was only one way out of this room. With the door locked, this was it. I either overcome my fear or be a prisoner until King has me killed. I don’t want him to win.
She stared at the ground three stories down with large boulders sprinkled among the rocks in the garden beneath her window taunting her to try. King hadn’t even locked it, but then she could understand why he was sure of himself. She’d lived in this room for almost two years and had never attempted to escape out the window.
Sliding the bottom pane up, she glanced around before sticking her head out and assessing her situation. Not good. Impossible. A sheer drop to the ground without anything to use to climb down. No trees nearby. The only possibility was on the other side of the house where the roof slanted down to the second floor and there was a drainpipe.
What good was that for her? She was stuck in this room. She turned away from the window and slumped to the floor. Even if heights didn’t frighten her, how was she supposed to get down?
Pulling her legs up, she rested her chin on her knees and stared at her prison—a cold, impersonal room with a double bed, a table and chair, and a dresser. Nothing on the walls, no knickknacks, no rugs on the floors. She closed her eyes and pictured what she’d seen out the window. A thought nibbled at her mind.
No, she couldn’t get on the roof. It was too difficult. One slip . . .
What do you have to lose?
My life.
Do you want to live like this? Anything is possible. Just have faith.
Before she talked herself out of it, Rose leaped to her feet and clutched the windowsill. There was still enough light left for her to try. She would need some, at least at first. Once she was on the roof, she knew where she needed to go.
She crawled out onto the small ledge, in a crouch, still clasping the bottom of the raised window. Don’t look down. Look at where you need to go—the second floor roof ten feet to the left. If I can jump over there, I might make it.
Her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Rose dried her hands on her jeans, closed her eyes for a few seconds, and pulled in
a shallow breath. Then another.
If You exist, God, I need You.
She pushed off and took a real leap of faith. Sailing through the air, she kept her gaze glued to the roof where she needed to land. When she crashed into the tiles at the edge, the air whooshed from her lungs. She gripped the gutter, her legs dangling over the side while dragging breaths into her. Aware of the noise she’d made, she hoisted herself up and onto the roof. She scoured the growing darkness for any sign of one of King’s men.
But this part of the house was on the west side away from where King usually was at this time of night. Her eyes now adjusted to the dimness, she saw no one. Turning her head away from the ground, she scrambled up the roof and over it. When she started her descent, her foot slipped out from under her, and she went down, tumbling forward. She clutched the air, her fingers connected with a vent pipe, stopping her slide. She tightened her hands around it while her body shook, and she squeezed her eyes closed.
Dizzy from the pounding of her pulse, she stayed like that while night settled completely over the landscape. Once she tried to let go and couldn’t pry her fingers loose. She counted to ten then twenty and willed herself to release her grip. Her hands remained locked about the pipe.
C’mon. I’m almost there. I have to do this or . . .
She refused to think of the consequences. Nothing was worse than staying King’s prisoner. One. Two. Three huge breaths and she flattened herself on the roof and inched toward the downspout.
When she reached it, she thanked the Lord for getting her that far and for the blackness that surrounded her. She couldn’t see the ground, which helped her lower her legs over the side of the roof. Using the drainpipe, she shimmied down it. Her feet hit the dirt, and she collapsed to the earth, all energy siphoned from her.
Scooting behind some large holly bushes, she rested, leaning her back against the brick of the house. She would wait until most everyone went to sleep then make her move. She couldn’t go on foot because King had a dog that was used for tracking. She needed a car.
Closing her eyes, she let the chirps of the crickets and the night song of a bird somewhere nearby lull her almost to sleep . . .
Rose’s eyes popped open, and at the same time she sat forward, her heart racing with fear she’d let her exhaustion lure her into a deep sleep. But it was still pitch dark. Still time for her to get away.
Crawling out from behind the bushes, she slipped around the side of the house to the circular front drive where King often kept his two-seater sports car at the ready, as though he might need it to make a fast getaway. She smiled when she saw it. Now it would be her getaway car. And she knew where he kept a spare set of keys, because he had once locked himself out.
She found and retrieved the keys from the magnetic key box in front of the left rear wheel, She moved quickly, wanting to put as much distance from her and the ranch as possible before dawn. On the small incline, Rose turned the key without starting the motor, disengaged the clutch and pushed the car as far as she could before jumping behind the steering wheel and starting the engine. She pressed the accelerator and drove the vehicle without the lights on toward the highway, thankful King had let her drive this car a few times as a reward for doing her job well.
Almost there. The black iron gate loomed ahead. She found the remote control clipped on the visor and punched the button. The last barrier standing in her way of freedom opened slowly. She zoomed out onto the highway that led to Silverwood or Dallas. She swerved the car toward Dallas, and Kate. Pressing her foot on the accelerator, she relished the sense of accomplishment.
Until she drove up an incline in the road and topped it. Below her sat two patrol cars across the highway as though they had been waiting for her. She’d seen the police chief at King’s before and couldn’t take a chance. She braked and made a U-turn, only to discover three vehicles converging on her. Trapped.
She realized a ditch along both sides of the road made escape impossible. Bright headlights from both directions came at her as she stopped. Wrenching open the door, she fled on foot. Down into the ditch and up the other side. Between two slats of a fence. Across a pasture until someone tackled her from behind, sending her flying forward. The man smelled of peppermint. King.
Flattened on the ground, she felt all hope shatter. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You are mine. Have you not learned that yet?”
The next morning as Wyatt headed for the kitchen, he passed his daughter’s closed door, paused, and started to knock. He stopped and dropped his arm back to his side. He wasn’t ready to have the conversation they needed to have, and he doubted she was either. But, soon, he needed to have a father/daughter talk. What was happening now could not continue.
Kate’s advice about making sure he listened to Maddie’s opinion settled in his thoughts and wouldn’t let go as he drove toward Dallas. The police had found Tony Langford’s residence earlier, and he and Byrd Finch, the Dallas detective on the task force, were paying the man a visit. This might be the break they needed. Nothing had come up yet concerning Rose’s whereabouts before she became part of the prostitution ring, but he would give each law enforcement officer he had contacted a reminder call later.
He pulled into the driveway of a small house that desperately needed a fresh coat of paint and the yard of weeds mowed. Wyatt climbed from his vehicle and met Detective Finch at the steps to the small porch. Two uniforms skirted around to the back to stop any exit that way.
“Is he home?” Wyatt asked, getting a feeling the place was deserted.
Finch shrugged. “No activity this morning. No car in the drive. I’ve got the warrant. Even if he isn’t here, we can search the house.”
“Let’s do it.”
Finch pounded on the door. “Police. Open up.”
Wyatt went to the front window. Through a slit in the curtains, he glimpsed an empty room. “I think he’s vacated this place too.”
Finch tried the knob. The door opened. “I guess we won’t have to break in.”
When Wyatt stepped inside, he realized his assessment had been correct. Tony Langford didn’t live here anymore. “Another dead end.”
“But at least this one is more recent. He paid the rent on it for August so he was here lately.”
“Let’s do a walk-through—maybe he left something behind.”
Wyatt checked the two bedrooms, one with a bed, a small table, and a chest of drawers. The other had no furniture, and both of them had empty closets. The bathroom was cleaned out too. He lifted up the bare mattress and found nothing. Heading back into the living room, he met Finch coming out of the kitchen.
“I found a jar of pickles and a six-pack of beer in the fridge. Otherwise, nothing.”
“Me, too. Nothing. I’m beginning to hate that word.”
In the living room Wyatt ran his gaze over a lounger, a small table next to it, and a brown couch. “Was the furniture his or the landlord’s?”
“Landlord’s.”
Wyatt crossed to the couch and lifted the cushions. Beneath them a quarter and some peanuts lay hidden. “I don’t see us finding him with a jar of pickles and peanuts.”
Finch upended the lounger and bent down. “But this might help us.” He held up matches. “Maybe someone there can help us.”
Wyatt read the name, Cattleman’s Bar and Grill, and went cold. “That’s in Bluebonnet Creek. That’s their new logo.”
“How new?”
“About three months ago.”
“So that puts our Mr. Langford at the Cattleman’s Bar and Grill in the past three months.”
Wyatt took a whiff of the room. “Or someone visiting him. This place doesn’t smell like a smoker lived here.”
“Maybe he smoked outside.”
“Yeah, why would he in this kind of heat?”
“In the lease agreement?” Finch flipped open his cell and made a call while Wyatt strolled into the kitchen and bedrooms again.
A few minutes later Finch found Wyatt
in the bedroom with the furniture. “Not in the lease. The owner didn’t even think about something like that.”
Wyatt smelled the curtains hanging in the room. “He didn’t smoke in here.”
“So maybe he didn’t smoke, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t pick up the matches.”
“I’ll take his picture by and ask.”
“I’ll check with impound about the wrecked car. See if any cigarette butts are in the ashtray. Then continue canvassing any of his known associates. The problem with that has been there are so few of them we’ve heard about in the past couple of years.”
“That we know about. It sounds like he reinvented himself a while back. Why? Because of who he is working for now.”
Wyatt showed Langford’s photo to a Cattleman’s Bar and Grill waitress he knew had worked there for years. “I haven’t seen anyone like that in here. I don’t forget a face. He looks like a weasel. I’d remember him,” she said, confirming what the other employees and the owner Wyatt had interviewed told him.
He tipped his hat. “Thanks, ma’am. Have you seen anyone new recently.”
“We don’t get too many strangers in here. We’re off the beaten track. The last one I saw was about a week ago. Nice looking, tall, wearing expensive clothing—black boots, designer jeans, and a black Stetson. He was with a younger man. Now that one was downright handsome—movie-star type, with gorgeous brown eyes and blond hair.”
“Do you know who they were?”
“Nope. Paid cash and I haven’t seen them since. I was hoping they were new to the area and would become regular customers. These tired eyes got a thrill watching them, especially that young one.”
Wyatt withdrew his business card and gave it to the thirty something waitress. “If you see this guy around here, please give me a call.”
“Gotcha. Better get back to work before my customers riot,” she said.
Wyatt left the restaurant. The early afternoon sun blinded him until he put his shades on. The heat shimmered on the black asphalt parking lot as he made his way to his truck. In the cab, he inserted his key into the ignition. The blare of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly filled the interior.
Saving Hope: Men of the Texas Rangers Book 1 Page 21