12 Borrowing Trouble (29 page)

Dylan grabbed a rifle he found back there, checked that it was loaded then walked around the truck.  “Wait—stop there!” he shouted, before Slade and Chris screwed up the tracks.  “Look at those tracks.  They’re here, or they were.”

“I’ll be damned,” Slade said, his eyes following the prints into the woods.

He bent and took off Lola’s leash again.  “Lola find,” he said
with a pat on her side.  The dog smelled the prints, stopped at the edge of the woods to look, then took off into the brush.  Dylan didn’t notice until then that the men had some kind of small black military weapons strapped around their chest.  Everything they wore was black, so it was no wonder he missed it. 

They swung the
guns to the front and followed Lola into the woods, and Dylan trailed behind them.  Once he was inside the thicket he couldn’t see anything, it was pitch black.  All he heard was sticks crunching as the men in front of him walked deeper into the woods, and Lola’s panting.  No crickets chirping, no birds singing, nothing.

Dylan knew from hunting that the
animals and insects knew their domain had been breached, so they were watching and waiting, not giving away their location.  He sure hoped that wasn’t the same thing going on with the bad guys.  It was so dark in these woods, he knew he wouldn’t be able to see well enough to shoot them. The commandos had on flak jackets to protect them.  Dylan had nothing.  His t-shirt wasn’t going to save him, that was for sure.

He about crapped his pants when Lola alerted on something, then laid down beside a log.  Metal clanked as the guns were cocked, and the men scattered
, leaving Dylan standing there wondering which way he should go.  He didn’t go anywhere because he heard a whimper.  A small little sound that could almost be from a wounded or frightened animal.  Dylan took two steps forward and Lola looked up at him.  A flash of blonde hair on the other side of the log came and then disappeared. 

“Izzy?” he whispered.  “Is that you baby?”

Another whimper was his answer, but nothing moved.  He stepped closer and Lola snarled at him, stopping him in his tracks.  “Izzy baby, it’s Dylan.  We came to help you.  Are you by yourself?”

“They took my mommy,” she said in a hoarse, scared whisper.

“We’re going to find her, sweetie.  Come out so we can go find her.”  He added a little more incentive he thought might make her more inclined to come out. “Chris is here.  We’re going to find your mom, but you have to come out first.”

“Mommy told me to hide.”

“Until someone came to help,” Dylan said with frustration.  “We’re here, baby.  You’re safe now, but your mommy needs us to find her too.” 

There was a low-pitched whistle and Lola’s ears perked up, then she got up and ran into the woods.  Dylan stepped over the log and sat on it.  He propped the rifle against the log, and opened his arms.  Emotion choked him, but he squeezed out, “Come here, Izzy.”

Leaves rustled for a second, then Izzy flew out into the open and threw herself into his arms.  His heart melted in his chest, and he sent up thanks that she seemed to be okay.  He hugged her tight.  “Thank you for finding me.  I was scared.”

“Do you know where your mom is?” he asked after she stopped shaking.

“They were taking her back to the house to find Chris.  I hid behind the barn and heard them say that.” 

One by one, the men came out of hiding, and circled them.  Dave Logan stepped forward.  “Are you sure that’s where they went, Izzy?” he asked in a soft tone
, much softer than he’d used on Chris, thank goodness.

“Yes, sir.  They said I think we should take her back to that ranch.”

“Let’s go,” Dave said as he led the pack back out of the woods. 

Izzy rode in the truck with Dylan and Slade, and Chris rode with Dave again.  The little girl acted like she was never going to let go of his neck, and he hoped she didn’t.  Dylan would be perfectly happy to carry her around like that for the rest of his life. 
  At least then he would know she was safe.  Because he would never, ever let anyone hurt her again. 

H
e kissed her hair and she sighed, then finally relaxed a little.  A few minutes later, her head dropped on his shoulder and she went to sleep.   Dylan just watched the road as he held her, counting the miles until he could hold Carrie and tell her everything he needed to say.

***

Carrie hoped someone found Izzy in those woods, or she found her way to a safe place.  Her baby had to be scared, but at least she was alive and not with these two men. Carrie was petrified herself, but she wasn’t about to let these two men who threatened to shoot her every five minutes know it. She had to keep her head, or Izzy might very well grow up without a mother too.  Keeping her cool was kind of hard to do with a gun in your face, along with very rank breath.  Bastard Number Two leaned in closer and she almost gagged from the garlic he must’ve had for dinner.  “You better remember fast where your kid is, or you’re going to be very dead.”

“I’m not calling him,” she said turning her face away to catch a decent breath.

“You think he’d like to walk in here and see your brains all over those pretty yellow walls?  How do you think he’d take that?  By the time he gets here Monday, you’ll be good and bloated when he walks through that door.”

Carrie gagged, but this time not from his breath. Her stomach was twisting and turning so badly, she thought sure she was going to vomit any minute.  A woman could only take so much stress.  She had to be getting an ulcer, because she’d gotten nauseated an awful lot lately.  It was no wonder with all that was going on with Chris.  And now this. 

Bastard Number Two leaned in close again.  She turned her face away.  Her eyes snagged on a yellow flap sticking out of the bottom drawer beside the sink.  “I think I know how we can make her talk, boss,” he said with a cackle.  He shoved his hand between her thighs and Carrie clamped her knees together. 

Her eyes flew back to his, and she gave him a glare that could melt plastic.
“Don’t you touch me!” she growled.

He stepped back and raked her with his eyes.
“There’s two of us and one of her.  I’m sure we could have a little fun before we kill her, boss.”

“I’m not here to rape anyone.  I want that damned book and that kid,”
Bastard Number One, otherwise known as Chief Patterson, said with frustration.  His eyes met hers, and shook his head.  “Too bad you recognize me.  I’m going to miss those cupcakes of yours.”

“I should’ve put arsenic in them,” she grated, tugging against the ropes holding her to the kitchen chair. 

She had no idea why the hell they had to tie her up.  She was small and couldn’t fight them.  At least it wasn’t handcuffs, she thought.  There would be no chance she could get loose.  Right now, she had worked them down to the top of her thumb.  If she kept at it, the rope would slip off.  But what would she do then?  She needed to come up with another idea. Her eyes darted to the drawer again where the yellow flap trapped in the closed drawer teased her.  What she wouldn’t do to have Dylan with her here now.  If this ended the way she thought it would, she would probably never have a chance to tell him how she felt about him.

A hand came out of nowhere and landed across her cheek.  Pain exploded in her jaw, a
nd a gong sounded in her head, as her head rocked from side to side on her shoulders. She sucked in breath, feeling the imprint of every finger throbbing on her cheek.  Stunned, Carrie whimpered and tears filled her eyes.  “I hope you get that I’m tired of messing around with you bitch,” Bastard Number One grated, then she heard him rack his pistol.  He put it to her cheek.  “Call him, or die right fucking now.”

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” she said in a trembling voice.

“You’ll at least be able to say goodbye to him.  We’re going to find him anyway.”

Carrie chewed her lip like she was considering it.  What she was doing was gathering her courage to act on the idea she’d just had.  “I’ll call,” she finally croaked.  “Untie me.”

Bastard Number Two walked behind her and fumbled with the ropes, then her hands dropped to her sides.  She rubbed feeling back into her numb fingers, and stood to walk to the sink.  She bent to open the bottom drawer, and shoved her hand into the envelope.  The only thing she pulled out was the yellow note.  Her hands shook violently, as she kept it folded, but just shoved up the bottom so she could see Dylan’s cell phone number.  She jerked the phone down and held it to her ear as she dialed the number.  Her heart was in her throat when she heard his voice say her name so tenderly. 

“Um,
Dy-anne, I’m sorry but I need you to turn around and bring Chris home,” she said looking back over her shoulder at Bastard Number One.  He was the smartest of the two, and he would catch her if she slipped up. 

“I love you, Carrie
.” Dylan’s deep voice rumbled in her ear, calming her a little.  His words pulled an involuntary whimper from her
.

Too little, too late
. 
Why now, Dylan?  Why tell me that now?
Tears burned her eyes, but she had to get this out.  Someone needed to know where she was, and what was going on.  “I had some unexpected
visitors
tonight who brought
bad
news.  My dad had an accident in Arizona and needs my
help
.”  The last word came out in a whisper.  She hoped he got it.

“The kids are safe, we found Izzy.  I have them with me, and the cavalry is on the way.  Be brave, baby.”
  Relief washed through her like a tidal wave, her knees went weak with it.  Bastard Number Two grabbed the phone from her and hung it up, but she didn’t care. 

Her kids were safe
.  She could deal with the rest.  Even dying.  “They’re about two hours away,” Carrie mumbled as she staggered back to the chair and fell into it. 

Dylan’s note was in her hand
, and she crumbled it in her fist.  Holding it to her heart, she closed her eyes, hoping he might hear her silent message. 

I love you too.
  Please save me so I can tell you that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Dave Logan pulled off the interstate ten miles or so short of
Sugar Bush.  He led the convoy to an all-night truck stop, where everyone got out to talk.  Dylan laid a still sleeping Izzy on the back seat, and Lola laid down beside her to put her head on her shoulder.  The look in the dog’s eyes said she was protecting her.  Dylan was glad, because someone needed to.  Izzy had been through enough tonight.   So had he, but not enough yet.  He needed these men to help him save Carrie, then he could rest.

By the time he joined the group they were in heated conversation about how this ‘op’ as they called it would go down.  Despite the bickering, it was obvious that Dave Logan was in charge.  Even if the man was just a secondary player here, he would be in charge.  That’s just the way he came off.  And Dylan was glad, someone needed to be.  Definitely not him, because his brain was too fried by worry to make decisions right now. 

“I called Susan Whitmore, SAIC with the Dallas FBI.  She’s on her way, but it’s going to take a while for her to get to Sugar Bush,” Dave informed the group.  “We’re on our own for the rescue.”

Dallas
FBI
?  Ice water ran through Dylan’s veins.  “I told you not to call the police,” Dylan said gruffly.  He explained why too, but obviously that didn’t matter to this man.

“And I never agreed to that,” Dave fired back, pinning him with angry eyes.  “We need them involved, this is part of their investigation at the Diamond Bar Ranch.  I need their cooperation on other ops.  Susan has a long memory,” he explained.
  “And if something happens at that ranch, something goes south, I need her authority to cover our asses.  I have that now.”

“Don’t mention Chris’s name then,” Dylan replied flatly.

“I have to mention his name.  He’s going to have to cooperate with them too.  I understand he’s in trouble, but Susan is good at working out deals. Maybe she can talk to the judge, and he’ll cut him a break.”  From his stance and hard jaw, Dylan quickly figured out Dave Logan was not going to bend on the issue.  And he needed this man’s help to save Carrie, so that meant he had to do things Dave’s way, or alone.

“I sure hope so.  That kid has had enough.  He needs a break,” Dylan said.

“Okay, here’s how it’s going down…” Dave proceeded to lay a map out on the hood of the Hummer and assign positions to each of the men with them.  They talked about weapons and strategy for a few minutes, then Dave folded up the map.  He looked at Dylan.  “Did she say how many men were with her at the ranch?”

“She just said unexpected
visitors
, so I assume more than one.  Izzy said there were two men with them in the car, but that doesn’t mean more didn’t meet them there.”

“I hate going into an op blind.  Especially in the middle of the night…maybe we should stake out the place and wait until morning to do the extraction.  See how things are.”

“No!” Dylan shouted, as fear clenched his gut.  “We can’t leave her in there all night.  She was very scared when she called me.”  And he was scared she wouldn’t survive until morning.  They might wait, but Dylan was not.  He would take one of their rifles and save her himself if he had to.  This was going to end tonight.

Dave huffed out a breath, but nodded.  Dylan’s shoulders relaxed an inch.  “Put the girl in the Hummer, and let’s get this over with,” Dave said as he turned
to give final instructions to his men.  Dylan walked back to the truck and got Izzy out of the back seat.  Lola gave her a wet kiss on the cheek, and she grumbled as she wiped it off with the back of her hand.  Her eyes popped open and she looked around. “Where are we?”

“We’re going to save your mommy, baby,” he replied as he slid her to him.  “Put your arms around my neck.  You’re going to ride with Dave Logan.  He’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Who’s that?” she asked sleepily as she sat up and slid her arms around his neck.

“Um, he’s a policeman like your daddy was.  He’s going to take care of the bad guys for you.  Find your mom.”

She heaved a breath, and a shudder passed through her body as he lifted her into his arms.  Dylan’s heart wiggled when she tucked her face into his neck and mumbled thank you.  He rubbed her back as he carried her to the Hummer.  Chris was in the backseat now, and he sat her on the seat beside him.  She immediately spun toward him, scrambled across the seat and threw her arms around his neck as she burst into tears.  “Oh thank goodness.  Mommy would have killed me if I let something happen to you,” she choked out through her tears.

Chris hugged her back, his face telling the tale of how thankful he was that she was okay too.  “It’s going to be okay, sis.  These guys are going to save mom.”
  Chris met his eyes.  “Thanks, Dylan.”

“Anytime, kid.  Y’all stay in the back of this truck, and keep your heads down when we get to the ranch. 
Do not
get out of the vehicle.  Got that?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied and Dylan’s eyebrows shot up. 

Maybe the kid had learned something from all this, and maybe he was ready to take responsibility for the things he’d done that caused it.  It sure looked that way.  He just hoped that responsibility didn’t include staying in juvie until he was an adult.  It was out of his hands now though.  All they could do now was focus on saving Carrie.  They’d deal with the rest as it came.

“I love y’all,” Dylan said, and it was Chris’s turn to look surprised.

“We need to get moving,” Dave Logan grated, as he got into the driver’s seat.

“Keep your heads down, and
do not
get out at the ranch!” Dylan repeated for good measure before he shut the door.  A feeling of despair punched him in the gut as he walked back to Slade’s truck, and he almost doubled over from it. He hoped like hell they weren’t going to be too late.  They needed to hurry.

Once they exited the interstate at the town of
Sugar Bush, they didn’t take a direct route to the ranch.  The convoy split off into small groups, going in different directions.  Dylan knew from Dave’s earlier instructions they were going to surround the ranch.  Come in from different angles to make sure there was no escape route.  Slade and Dylan were taking the west side of the property.  Behind the house.  That side of the property Dylan knew was wooded, so they would have to go through the woods to get into position.  He didn’t know how deep the woods were, but from the map it looked to be at least a half-mile walk.

“Reach into the glove box and get the com
mics out,” Slade said calmly.  The man didn’t seem to be concerned at all.  Like he did this kind of stuff every day.  That made Dylan a little calmer too.  He opened the glove compartment and saw a bunch of wires, and assumed that must be what he was talking about.  He untangled the rat’s nest of wires, then handed one set to Slade.

“Thanks,” he said then slid the longer, thicker wire over his hear and bent it toward his mouth.  Dylan watched him, then did the same. 

“You hear me?” Slade asked and Dylan jumped.

“Yeah,” he said with a huffed breath.  Loud and clear.  In stereo.  Which made him feel better too.  They would at least be able to talk to the other guys out there to know where everyone was located to make sure nobody but the bad guys got shot.
  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that though.  Flying bullets could mean that Carrie got hurt in the crossfire.

Slade turned off on an old mining road, and Dylan gritted his teeth over the bumps, until he stopped at the edge of the road.  “Showtime,” he said with glee, before he flung open his door and hopped down. 

Dylan got out a little slower, then opened the back door and got the rifle he’d had earlier. It was a model he’d used before, one he was comfortable with.  The big monstrosity that Slade pulled out of the bed of the truck looked like a fricking high-tech cannon.  Dylan wouldn’t know which end to fire.  “You have more shells for this rifle?”

“You a bad shot?’ Slade asked with a laugh.

“No,” Dylan replied with a snort. 

He was a damned good shot.  Joel could attest to that.  He’d helped him save Terri and Jenny by taking out a man who had kidnapped them.  Killing that guy had not been something Dylan had ever wanted to repeat.  But to save Carrie?  He’d do it a hundred times over.  He didn’t regret
doing that now, because he could appreciate the gut-clawing fear and desperation that Joel must have felt that day.

“Then you won’t need more than one bullet,” Slade said
sarcastically.  “There are six in that rifle.  If you can’t take them out with six tries, hit ‘em over the head with it, because you need a bat, not a gun.”

Dylan couldn’t stop his laugh.  “I’ll remember that.”
  He was starting to like this guy that he’d thought was a tough guy asshole.

They walked into the woods, and Dylan heard one click on the
mic in his ear.  “What was that?” he whispered.

“Letting Dave know we’re in the woods,” Slade hissed back. 

Dylan followed behind Slade through the trees.  As they hiked, he kept his eyes open, scanning the woods.  Everything was quiet.  Almost too quiet.  Even the radio in his ear was quiet, which worried him.  No more clicks, and no talking. 

“Where are the other guys?” Dylan asked, and Slade spun around with his finger over his mouth.  He leaned close to Dylan’s ear and hissed, “They’re here.  Just keep quiet!”

He started hiking again, and Dylan followed.  He kept quiet and kept walking.  A little light broke through the trees, and Dylan knew they were close to the house.  Slade stopped so fast, Dylan almost piled him from behind. 

He held up his hand as he crept toward a tree at the edge of the clearing.  They were behind the house, Dylan could see that.  A very bright security light by the back door of the house lit up the back yard, which wasn’t a yard really.  It was almost five acres of unfenced pasture.  Open ground.  That gave
them an unobstructed view of the back door. 

If someone came out this way, they would see them, would have a good shot at taking them out. 

Two clicks sounded in his ear, and Dylan glanced at Slade to see he was the one who made them.  That must mean they were in place.  Dylan was starting to figure out their communication process.  He wondered how they would go in.  Who would go in.  They couldn’t just sit out here all night.  He’d already told Dave that. 

But the man didn’t listen about calling in the authorities, why would he listen to that
?  He evidently made his own decisions, regardless of what anyone else had to say, or wanted.  Dylan heard the purr of an engine, and saw Dave’s Hummer stop at the edge of the pasture, behind the house.  He pulled the vehicle right inside the tree line, but it could still be seen.  Probably so he could keep an eye on the kids.  Now, he thought again about his decision to keep them with the convoy.  Maybe that hadn’t been smart.  He almost wished Dave would have overrode him and stopped at the R & R to drop them off. 

The reality of this situation hit him when Slade took his weapon out of the back of his truck.  These men weren’t playing around.  They meant business,
and knew that business well.  It seemed like all of them were ready for war, had probably been in one or many before.  Dylan had been a cowboy all his life, and the extent of his handling a gun, except for helping Joel that one time, was limited to hunting.  These men were used to hunting animals of a different sort.

Dylan sucked in a breath and tensed when he heard a series of double-clicks in his ear.  A few minutes later he saw dark figures moving at the corner of the house.  They disappeared around the side.  Another pair of men ran from the tree line and took up position at the back corner.  One crept toward the back door and stood on the porch with his back to the wall.

Oh God, oh God, oh God
, Dylan thought, when he heard a triple click and knew they were about to do something.  What exactly he didn’t know, but he sighted the back door with his rifle.  Slade did the same beside him.  “How much range does that thing have” Dylan whispered.

“About as much as that rifle, but not as accurate,” Slade ground out.  “
Shhh.”

The guy on the back porch t
ried the door knob, and clicked the mic once.

“Shit,” Slade hissed quietly.

“What?” Dylan asked louder than he meant to .  His voice echoed a little and he flinched.

Slade’s head swung toward him, and Dylan saw anger glittering in his eyes.  “Why don’t you just send them a smoke signal that we’re out here, dumbass?”

“Sorry,” he said feeling like a dumbass.

“The door’s locked,” Slade said after a few seconds.  “He’s going to have to kick it in, if
there’s no other entry point.”

A second later there was another single click, followed by two more, then another.  They were going to have to break in.  That meant they had to find Carrie fast, or those men could shoot her before they could rescue her. 
A triple-click happened a split second, before the guy on the back porch rammed his shoulder into the door.  It bounced but didn’t splinter.  He rammed it again, then again. 

Finally it crashed inward, and he sprang through the door.  A gunshot sounded, and Dylan’s heart stopped.  He held his breath, staring down th
e night sight, his hands sweating as he gripped the rifle and waited.  The bright light from the porch light almost blinded him, but he didn’t look away.  Another gunshot sounded inside the house, and his heart took off at a gallop.