Chapter Nine
Linc paced the floor of the huge, two-story, wood-paneled, book-lined study in the big stone mansion at the ranch. He was still in Iron Springs. When he’d left Drake Trucking, he’d called his chopper pilot and put the return trip to Dallas off until tomorrow morning. A bad feeling had been nagging him all day. Over the years, he’d learned to listen to his instincts.
Instead of leaving, he’d gone back to the ranch and called his assistant, had Millie reschedule his late-afternoon meetings. He’d have to go back tomorrow; there were things he absolutely had to do. But once he was finished, he was clearing his calendar for the rest of the week, working from the ranch instead of the office.
Townsend hadn’t been at the house when he’d arrived. They had talked briefly on the phone but Ross hadn’t shown up until a few minutes ago. The housekeeper had settled the detective in a suite upstairs, then shown him down to the study.
Linc glanced up as Ross walked in, a good-looking guy in his thirties with brown hair and a short-cropped beard around his mouth.
“Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner,” Ross said. “I had some leads I wanted to follow. Figured that’d be the best use of my time.”
Linc agreed. He wanted the P.I. out doing his job. He rose from behind his big mahogany desk as Townsend approached, walked around, and the men shook hands.
“Anything new happening on this end?” Ross asked.
“Yeah, you might as well cancel that protection detail you arranged. Carly spotted the guy on her way home from work and sent him packing. The little witch thinks she can take care of herself. Considering she was able to shove a Glock in his face and hold him at gunpoint, I’d say she might be right.”
“Crap. So I guess he’s fired.”
“Maybe. On the other hand, the men who went after her at Jubal’s are a different breed. They won’t hesitate to take her out if she gives them any trouble.”
“Not good.”
He tipped his head toward the carved mahogany table in the corner where the case file sat open, and they both walked in that direction.
“You spot anything in the file?” Townsend asked as they each pulled out a chair and sat down.
“One thing kind of bothered me. The cops at the scene didn’t spend much time with the couple who found the body and didn’t do any follow-up.”
Ross started nodding. “It’s possible they saw something, didn’t remember it till later. Worth a check for sure.”
“What about you? You come up with anything?”
Ross told him he’d been talking to people in the area, digging around, trying to find out if Miguel Hernandez could have been working for El Jefe. Trying to find out as much as he could about the drug lord and his minions without stirring up too much gossip.
“At this point, we can’t be sure Hernandez’s death and El Jefe are connected,” Ross said, “but we can’t rule it out, either. Which means the hijacking may be part of a bigger operation. Good chance by now the truck has been repainted and driven across the border into Mexico.”
“If El Jefe is involved, it has to be more than just stealing a truck. A guy who rakes in millions in drug money can afford to pay for a semi if he wants one.”
Ross’s phone rang just then. “Sorry, I should have silenced it.” He pulled it out of his pocket to turn it off, checked the number on the screen. “It’s Marino. He probably wants to beg for his job back. I’ll call him later.”
“Take it,” Linc said, his instincts kicking in again. Marino had been with Carly less than an hour ago.
“I’m busy,” Ross said into the phone. “I heard about your little run-in with the client so unless it’s important—”
Linc couldn’t hear the conversation on the other end of the line, but he caught the flash of eye contact Ross made with him, saw the pulse beginning to pound in the detective’s neck. Something was going on, something to do with Carly.
“Put it on speaker,” he said.
“Cain’s here,” Ross said to Marino as he set the phone down on the table. “Start from the beginning.”
“Okay, so after I got the message from Mr. Cain that I was fired—”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Ross said. “Go on.”
“I started driving back to Iron Springs, then I thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check on the lady before I packed it in. I didn’t want anything to happen to her because of me, you know.”
“Get to the point, Frank.”
“I went to her house, figuring she would be home by the time I got there, but she hadn’t made it home yet. I waited a few minutes, then decided to go back and trace the route she’d taken from the Stop and Shop, which was different from the way I’d gone. A few miles away from the store, I found her pickup. It was parked at the side of the road, but Ms. Drake wasn’t in it.”
Linc leaned over the table. “Where are you now?”
“I’m parked behind the truck. The doors are locked, no keys inside.”
“Maybe she had car trouble,” Ross suggested, “left the truck, and hitched to town.”
Linc dragged out his cell and hit the contact button. Carly’s phone went straight to voice mail. “She’s not picking up.”
“You think it’s El Jefe?” Ross asked.
Every instinct in Linc’s body was screaming. “Yeah, I do.”
“Shall I call nine-one-one?” Frank asked.
The call would be dispatched to the sheriff. Linc didn’t trust Howler. At best the man was a fool. If the sheriff got involved, Carly might wind up dead.
“Just hold tight. We’re on our way.” Linc disconnected, tossed the phone back to Ross, grabbed his windbreaker off the back of a chair, and headed out the study door.
On the way to the garage, he tried Carly again. Nothing. As Linc punched in the code and the garage door slid open, Ross stuck a hand under his jacket, checking the pistol in his shoulder holster.
After prison, aside from owning a gun for protection in his home, Linc wasn’t allowed to carry. He was glad Ross was armed.
They jumped in the truck. His Mercedes, parked in another garage, was faster, but if they found Carly’s trail, they might need to traverse rough country and the pickup had four-wheel drive.
They belted themselves in good and tight. It had been raining off and on all day so the roads were slick. Linc shot backward out of the garage, spun the truck around, and hit the accelerator. The wipers went on as he headed down the long driveway toward the highway, Ross using his GPS tracking app to locate Frank, who waited for them at the abduction site.
Linc didn’t doubt that’s what had happened. El Jefe wanted to talk to Carly. He’d been waiting for his chance and tonight he’d found it.
Anger at Frank Marino swept through him. He didn’t like incompetence. He liked it even less when it could wind up getting someone he cared about hurt or even killed.
He forced the thought away and increased his speed, traveling the dark two-lane road at the maximum he could push the truck without ending up in a ditch. When the rain lessened, then stopped altogether, he pushed even harder.
“We’re almost there,” Ross said. “Just around that curve.”
Linc slowed the truck, took the curve, and spotted the white pickup with the Drake logo parked on the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. Frank’s dark brown Chevy Malibu sat on the shoulder behind it.
Linc slammed the big GMC to a halt and turned off the engine, got out, and strode across the pavement to Carly’s abandoned pickup. When Frank Marino walked up, Linc’s hand unconsciously fisted. His fighting days were over, he reminded himself.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Cain.”
Linc held up a hand. He didn’t want to hear Marino’s excuses.
“Okay,” Frank said. “I get it. The thing is I found evidence of tire tracks in the mud, a vehicle behind the pickup, one in the other lane. I think they boxed her in. She was probably trying to outrun them.” He almost smiled. “After meeting her, I’d say no way did she just pull over.”
Some of Linc’s anger eased. No, she would have tried to get away. So far Marino’s theory seemed spot on. “Go on.”
“She sees the curve, knows she can’t make it at the speed she’s traveling, so she slows and pulls over.”
“That sounds about right. We need to figure out what happened next.”
“She had a gun,” Frank said. “She didn’t just get into their vehicle and let them drive away.”
Ross spoke up. “Or maybe she did. Maybe she stuck the gun in her purse. Maybe they didn’t search her. Maybe she’s still armed.”
“Possible,” Linc said, “but I’m guessing she wouldn’t have gone with them without a fight.”
He searched the area around where the vehicle behind her had been parked, found nothing, crossed the road, and searched the other side. Linc knelt and picked up a small wet piece of cotton fabric.
He turned to Frank. “You remember what she was wearing?”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, this pretty little ruffled blouse, kind of a soft pink with some pale blue flowers. I remember the way it kind of hugged her br—”
Linc’s hard glance cut off the words. He held up the piece of fabric. “This it?”
Frank nodded. “Pink and blue. That looks like part of a ruffle.”
“So she tried to get away, but they forced her into their vehicle. Probably that big SUV that showed up at Jubal’s.” He looked down the road, followed the tire tracks melting into the mud, saw where the vehicle had pulled back into the right lane and continued toward Iron Springs.
“Maybe she left that piece of cloth on purpose,” Linc said. “If she did, maybe she left a trail. Let’s go.”
* * *
Blindfolded, her wrists bound behind her with a plastic tie, Carly sat in a straight-back wooden chair, her feet resting on a rough concrete floor. She had no idea where she had been taken. Her cheek still stung where one of the men who had run her off the road had slapped her.
She bit back a grim smile. It had taken four of them to wrestle her gun away from her. She’d pulled the trigger three times, had them leaping around and swearing, but they’d pinned her as they’d fought for control of the weapon, and the shots had gone wild.
Before they’d blindfolded her, she’d recognized one of them, the jerk at the roadhouse who had fondled her breast. One of them had called him Lopez. The big guy with the mustache was also there. She heard him called Cuchillo, which meant “knife” in Spanish. But he and the others were on their good behavior tonight, since their boss, El Jefe, had been waiting for them when they got to wherever the hell she’d been taken.
She heard heavy footfalls as their leader walked forward. She knew he wanted something from her or she would already be dead. It gave her the courage to put up a brave front even if she was actually scared to death.
“We meet at last, Señorita Drake,” the man said.
“So . . . you must be El Jefe.”
“Sí, that is correct.”
She ignored the too-rapid beat of her heart. “You had me brought here. They said you wanted to talk. What do you want?”
He reached out and caught her chin, tipped her head back. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel the calluses on his fingers.
“I only wish for us to become friends. You see, the two of us, we are about to become business partners.”
Carly shook her head. “No way. Not a chance in hell.” Beneath the bottom of the blindfold, she saw a pair of black leather sneakers with white rubber soles. The Ferragamo label on the side said they had to have cost somewhere close to a thousand dollars. They were a fairly big size. El Jefe wasn’t a small man.
“You are not listening to me.” He slapped her, not hard, not too easy. With enough force to definitely get her attention. “One way or another, we are going to be working together. You can make it hard on yourself or easy.” He gave her another stinging slap, this one harder. “Comprende, chica? Which will it be?”
Her heart was racing. She was starting to hyperventilate. She needed to calm down, get control of herself and start thinking clearly before he really hurt her.
“I don’t understand what you want me to do.”
“The same thing you do every day. You will provide trucks when they are needed, send them to a particular location. The trucks will be loaded and you will deliver the goods to whatever location you are told. In return, you will be very well rewarded. No more money problems, eh? You will make more in three months than your company could earn in a year.”
She reined in the urge to tell him to shove his demands where the sun didn’t shine. She wanted to stay alive and clearly El Jefe was a dangerous man. “That kind of money sounds intriguing. What’s the catch?”
“The catch? The catch is you will do what I say. You will ask no questions. You will follow instructions. You will do exactly as you are told. That is the catch, chica. And you will keep your pretty mouth shut. You will not discuss this conversation or our business arrangement with anyone.”
Carly made no reply. She thought of Linc, hated to admit that he had been right, that she should have accepted his protection.
“What is your decision?”
She bit her lip, pretended to consider the deal. “How long do I have to think it over?”
He slapped her hard enough to split her bottom lip. “Your time has already run out.”
She felt a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. “Then I guess my answer is yes.”
“A very wise choice.” He spoke to the other men, five of them in all, probably the same bunch who had attacked her at Jubal’s or been in the car, Lopez being one of them.
“Take the señorita back to her pickup.” El Jefe wiped the blood off her chin, his touch repulsively intimate, and a shiver ran through her. “We will be in touch very soon.” She heard the squeak of his footsteps on the concrete floor as he turned and walked away.
Two of his men grabbed her arms and jerked her out of the chair. “Time to go home, chica,” Lopez said.
Carly didn’t protest as they dragged her out of the building and loaded her back into the SUV. No way were these men going to hurt her. At the moment, she was under El Jefe’s protection. Unfortunately, once he found out she wasn’t going along with his plans, that would be coming to a very abrupt and dangerous end.
The driver started the engine and the SUV began to bump over the muddy dirt road, back in the direction they had come. At least it looked as if she would survive the night.
She trembled, tried not to imagine what would happen when her reprieve was over.