One Tough Texan
Auteur
Barb Han
Lezers
17,9K
Hoofdstukken
15
Chapter One
Joshua O’Brien eased his foot off the gas pedal. His Jeep shuddered before the power died. He was out of gas in a flash flood thirty miles from the family ranch in Bluff, Texas. He cursed his floating gas gauge as he pushed open the driver’s side door. Running two towns over to Harlan to pick up a box of donations to be auctioned off at his family’s annual Christmas Benefit wasn’t exactly his idea of an exciting Friday night. When the Nelson widow had opened the door in her red silk bathrobe and then offered him a nightcap, he’d been even less thrilled. Drawing the short straw to make that pickup—and deal with the seventy-year-old Mrs. Nelson—was just one in a long list of reasons that Joshua wasn’t cut out for the family business at the Longhorn Cattlemen Ranch and Rifleman’s Club and it made him miss his job in law enforcement that much more. Could he make his temporary leave permanent in order to stay on at the ranch? The decision could wait.
He shook off his bad luck, grabbed a gas container from the back and trudged through the ankle-deep water. According to his phone’s GPS, there should be a gas station a few blocks ahead. He figured he could walk there and back quicker than one of his brothers could drive into town from the ranch to get him so he set out on foot rather than make a call for help and admit his own stupidity.
It was the kind of pitch-black night outside that made it hard to see much past the end of his nose. His eyes would adjust in a few minutes. A bolt of lightning raced sideways across the sky, emphasizing layers of thick gray clouds as far as he could see. This storm wasn’t passing anytime soon. Joshua checked his surroundings. He’d passed the quarter acre cul-de-sac lots and was now walking past a field with overgrown grass. The bad weather must be keeping everyone indoors because the roads were empty. That meant no chance of hitching a ride.
A flash flood alert had already buzzed on his cell. If he hadn’t been distracted thinking about his parents’ murder investigation then he would’ve filled up the tank sooner, instead of sloshing through water that was rapidly gathering on the roads and sidewalks while wearing his good boots.
He still couldn’t think of a soul who’d want to harm his folks. His father, a self-made millionaire cattle rancher who’d owned a few thousand acres in Bluff, Texas, had built his business on handshakes and hard work. His mother, the matriarch of the family, was as kind as she was giving. Joshua and his five brothers had inherited the lion’s share of the family business, which included a successful rifleman’s club. A token share went to their aunt and uncle, same as it had been when his parents were alive. The brothers had voted to give a devoted worker a piece of the pie.
Joshua’s investigation experience told him to look at those who were closest to his parents, the ones who had the most to gain. Skills honed by Denver PD told him to look for motive, means and opportunity. The only people who stood to benefit from his parents’ murders were him and his brothers. None of his brothers had motive. Each was successful in his own right and the O’Briens had always been a loving, close-knit bunch. It couldn’t be one of them, which led Joshua to believe that someone had a beef with his parents. It was the only thing that made sense. And he drew a blank there, too. There were no secret affairs, no emotional dramas with friends. His parents were exactly as they appeared on the surface. Generous. Kind. Loving.
The sheriff was checking every angle. He was a close family friend and Joshua knew he was taking the news just as hard.
A warm glow, most likely a streetlight in the distance, meant Joshua was getting closer to the station. At least it wasn’t freezing cold outside like it had been recently. Christmas was three weeks away and weather this time of year was unpredictable.
Another bolt of lightning helped Joshua see that if he cut through the field he’d get to the station faster. He took a step onto the land and knee-deep grass. Heavy rain. Tall grass. Horrible luck. Looking down caused water to run off the rim of his Stetson, but he didn’t care. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, which meant he’d been on foot for a solid fifteen minutes already. The station was ahead and he stepped up his pace through the field. As he made the clearing he noticed a teen, maybe sixteen years old based on her petite build, walking ahead of him. Was someone else stranded in this crazy weather?
She seemed a little young to be out walking on a night like this. He started to call out to her when a flash of lightning blazed across the sky and he caught sight of a man watching her intently from behind the trash bins of the gas station. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Joshua counted three seconds in between the flash and the noise. That meant lightning was right on top of them.
Joshua’s pulse spiked as he spotted another man crouching at the edge of the field as the unsuspecting teen kept bebopping along. She must have no idea the amount of danger she was about to walk into. And Joshua didn’t either because he counted a third man closing in on her from the east. How many others were there?
Based on the way she made the occasional stop to shake her arms or perform some other dance move, Joshua figured that she must be wearing earbuds. That wasn’t her brightest move for a couple of reasons. For one, she didn’t need to be wearing electronics in a storm. For another, it meant she wouldn’t hear him even if he screamed at the top of his lungs. That would, however, alert the men bearing down on her like hunters closing in on a quarry.
Damn, his shotgun was locked inside his Jeep.
Dropping to crouching position, Joshua tried to make himself as small as possible—not exactly easy with his six-foot-four-inch frame—as he shifted all his attention to the teen. She kept her head down. She was wearing jeans that were plastered to her legs and a couple layers of tank tops slick from rain.
And she had no idea what was about to go down.
The big question was how Joshua was going to get her out of this mess. Staying low was his best chance of not being noticed. He palmed his cell, moving closer. Could he call his friend Tommy Johnson, the sheriff? Probably not without being seen. The light from his phone could give him away. If the men saw him, he had no idea what they were capable of doing to him and the girl. Then again, an ill-timed bolt of lightning would have the same effect.
His Jeep was too far away to run back and get his shotgun. The men would be long gone with the girl. He focused on the teen as he moved closer to the gas station. She had a tiny frame and hair for days that she was trying to wrangle into a ponytail. Even wet he could see how thick it was. With her back turned, Joshua couldn’t see the details of her face, but the rest of her looked straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Scanning the area, watching the men, Joshua knew that this was a coordinated kidnapping attempt. Outnumbered by at least three to one, Joshua calculated the odds of getting to her and they weren’t good.
Could he use the darkness to cloak them both? One wrong move and he’d be exposed. She wouldn’t have a chance on her own. He needed a plan and yet there was no time to make one. If the men got to her first it would be all over. No way could he handle three against one without a weapon of his own. He’d turned in his service weapon and had stopped carrying his backup since he spent most of his time with cattle on the ranch.
Joshua glanced down at the gas container in his hand, sloshing around what little leftover contents were at the bottom. There hadn’t been enough to get him to the gas station, but there might be enough to create a diversion. Distract the men for a few seconds and grab the teen. If he could get her into the convenience store safely there’d be shelter and witnesses. That should scare these guys off. He hoped.
Joshua tucked away his cell and then fished his emergency lighter from the front pocket of his denim jacket. With all this water coming down everywhere, he needed something that he could use as a wick. Nothing was dry.
Lighting the plastic container on fire right next to him was too much of a risk. He cleared an area, poured a little of the gasoline out and then rolled several times until he was a few feet from the container.
Joshua flicked his lighter and then tossed it toward the spot. He didn’t wait for it to light up, he bolted toward the teenager.
As the blaze ignited, Joshua wrapped an arm around her waist.
Maybe it was fear that had her frozen but he’d expected a fight. He noted that her struggle was weak at best. Shouldn’t she be biting and kicking to get away? Other than a little squirming, she wasn’t doing much to help herself. Joshua was even more grateful that he was there to help.
He sprinted toward the gas station. Lightning struck as he scrambled onto the lot, illuminating the man by the trash bins. Joshua could see the guy’s face clearly and the dude was looking right at Joshua. Not only was his gaze fixed, but he made a move toward a weapon, a gun maybe, as Joshua barreled around the corner, memorizing the details of the guy’s face in the light. He had black-as-night hair, and an oval-shaped face. His eyes were set wide and his nose prominent. His eyebrows were bushy, his forehead large and he had a decent amount of scruff on his chin. His face was familiar but Joshua couldn’t place it.
Then he heard someone cussing at him, realized it was coming from the teen as she started actually fighting. Good for her.
“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Joshua said, trying to reassure her. She must be confused and scared as he rounded the corner.
“I didn’t think you were, jerk,” she shot back.
What the...? Not the reaction he was expecting but then she was probably still in shock.
“Put me down,” she demanded. Her voice was a study in calm.
“Not so fast,” he said, scrambling inside the station.
Her response came in the form of twists and turns so quick he almost lost his grip around her tiny waist. Her elbow slammed into his ribs. Did she want to be taken by those scumbags?
“Call nine-one-one,” Joshua managed to say to the attendant as he shot down an aisle, trying to recover from the blow and stay on his feet. His law enforcement training had kicked in and adrenaline was on full-tilt. He’d lock them in the bathroom until help arrived.
Joshua managed to open the door to the men’s room even though the teen was fighting him like a wild banshee. Her freeze response sure made a wide turn into fight mode in a hurry.
“Cut it out. I’m trying to help, if you hadn’t noticed,” he said through heavy breaths. She wasn’t making it easy, either.
He stuffed her inside the bathroom with him and then locked the door. “Those men weren’t exactly trying to take you to prom.”
Joshua heard a familiar noise and realized he shouldn’t have turned his back on her. He whirled around. There she stood. A Glock aimed at the center of his chest.
Now didn’t that just make this night even better?
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, noticing how off his initial assessment of the teen, the woman, had been. Strips of hair clung to her neck even though most of her blond mane was in a ponytail. She had piercing crystal-blue eyes—eyes that shone like he was looking across the surface of Diamondhead Lake at first light—and she had thick, dark lashes. Her body had more curves than he’d initially realized; he’d felt those the second he’d picked her up. They were easier to ignore when he thought she was sixteen. She was closer to his age, so around thirty and his throat went dry despite water dripping from him everywhere.
She was soaked, crown to toe, and as much as Joshua didn’t like it, he felt a surge of attraction. All of which was overridden by the anger coursing through him. Even though she put up a good fight, he disarmed her quickly and then wrestled her against the wall before she could make a dive for her weapon that he’d sent sprawling across the floor.
His body had that same irritating sexual reaction when it was pressed up against hers. He captured her wrist as she nailed him in the chest and then he caught her other as it rose up in a fist. He pinned both of her hands above her head. Big mistake, a) because the move caused her breasts to rise and press against his chest harder, and b) because her knee shot up quickly.
Joshua pinned her thigh with his before she could knee him where no man wanted to be kneed.
“What’s your problem, lady?” he asked, staring into furious blue eyes.
* * *
“BACK OFF. YOU HAVE no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Alice Green said, fuming that this guy had disarmed her so quickly. She was exhausted and getting rusty now that she’d been off the job for the past six weeks, having dedicated herself solely to finding Isabel. “And let go of me.”
The cowboy might be the epitome of tall, gorgeous and chivalrous but his good deed had just cost her the investigation. Alice cursed.
This was the closest she’d been to Marco Perez, aka The Ghost, in days. She’d spent long weeks before that researching crime rings to narrow it down this far, and had been abducted by two other criminal organizations. The last time she’d seen her boys was Thanksgiving Day. Since then, she’d been choked, punched and stabbed. And it had come down to The Ghost as her last chance to find Isabel.
Alice had put herself out there as bait, using her informant to plant the seed and set up the kidnapping. It had been difficult undercover work and had taken more patience than she realized she had. Perez’s organization finally bit and this jerk had just messed up weeks of damn fine police work in sixty seconds. Well, if she’d still been on the force.
Alice was furious. And frustrated. And she could think of another word she’d like to drop when it came to the cowboy’s actions but it wouldn’t do any good. The fact that he was acting on goodwill was the only reason she didn’t completely unleash hell on him.
“I have to go,” she managed to get out through clenched teeth. If the task force found out what she was up to after being warned to stay away she’d lose everything, including her twin boys. “Thanks for going all Dudley Do-Right on me but I need to follow those men out there.”
Tall, Dark and Cowboy cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure the police would be happy to help as soon as they get here.”
“I don’t have time to lose,” she countered. “They’re getting away as we speak.”
“Then tell me what’s going on and I’ll consider letting up,” he said, staring her straight in the eye.
She ignored the shiver racing up her arms, chalking up her goose bumps to being soaked to the bone in an air conditioned bathroom. Didn’t the worker believe in turning on the heat?
Telling the truth wasn’t an option. Fighting didn’t help. She’d have to take another approach.
Alice relaxed her body against the strong cowboy, looking up at him with her most sincere expression as she prepared a lie. “I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there. That guy out there is my ex and I really need to know what he’s up to for the sake of our boys.”
Shock registered in the cowboy’s eyes. He had a rare combination of green eyes and black hair—no, black wasn’t a good enough word—it was more like onyx.
Water dripped from his thick black eyelashes and his tight curls. She could tell that he’d been wearing a hat, and in this part of the country that meant a Stetson. He was tall, six feet four inches would be her best guess. Based on the ripples running down his chest, she’d say the guy spent serious time at the gym. His hands were rough, which meant he worked outside. But not too rough, telling her that he hadn’t been doing it for long.
“Are you telling me you know that guy?” he asked and she could tell he wasn’t buying her story.
“Intimately.” It was easy to sell that last part because it was the truth. Alice did know more details about Marco Perez’s life than she ever wanted to about any criminal on the loose. He was the head of a large-scale kidnapping ring known for selling teenage girls or using them for baby farms. He was also most likely long gone by now. His ability to disappear and make every witness around him do the same had earned him The Ghost moniker.
Alice couldn’t afford to explain herself to law enforcement. They’d run her name and she’d be discovered. She had to protect her identity.
“What’s your name?” she asked. If she could bait this guy into casual conversation she had a chance at making it out of there before the cops arrived. With her arms hauled over her head the cowboy was in the power position.
“Joshua O’Brien,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
It was a statement, not a question and she figured that she was grossly underestimating this guy.
“Will you let me go if I tell you, Joshua?” She’d used his name on purpose. Get him talking, get him comfortable and she could break out of his grasp.
“Maybe,” he said.
“I’m Alice,” she responded. The cops would be banging on that door in a matter of minutes in a best-case scenario...a matter of seconds in her worst nightmare. In no way could Alice allow that to happen. She’d be taken to jail and her reputation, as well as her career, would be over. As it was she could still return to the force after she located Isabel and brought her home safely.
Sirens wailed in the distance, which meant cops were getting closer. She needed to move faster with the cowboy in order to get away. Or distract him long enough to...
The chance presented itself, so she took it.
The cowboy had loosened his grip. Alice drew her knee up and tagged him as hard as she could in the groin.
She dropped and spun, breaking free from his grasp. A sweep of her right leg and he stumbled to catch himself.
He recovered quickly using the wall to redirect his weight, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Alice pulled her backup weapon, a Glock G42 .380 pocket pistol, from her ankle holster. “Hands where I can see ’em, cowboy.”
He righted himself and complied.
Now all she had to do was walk out that door and never look back. She made a move toward it and then stopped, a bout of conscience eating at her. It was her fault that the cowboy was in this mess. He’d seen Perez. Worse yet, The Ghost had seen the cowboy.
No one lived who could describe Perez. He was one of the most ruthless criminals in the country and he protected his identity with the ferocity of a starved lion.
But how could Alice protect her own identity and spare the cowboy’s life?
