Desert Ice Daddy (13 page)

The blond guy swore. “How in hell are we supposed to get rid of him, dumbass?”

A moment of silence came, then, “The bushes?”

“Yeah, genius? And have the coyotes drag him all over creation by morning? Don’t you think there’ll be a search for him sooner or later?”

“So? He’ll be dead.”

The blond guy spit on the rocks at his feet. “No body, no crime.” His hand twitched on his gun. “You want this to come back to you someday, stupid?”

The other guy seemed to consider this, then nodded toward the pickup. “Got a handsaw in the toolbox. But between the wild hogs, the coyotes and the buzzards, I don’t think we got much to worry about.”

Akeem yanked harder on the ropes.

“I’ll get the saw. You take care of him.” The driver set his gun down to jump up in the back.

The guy who’d been keeping Akeem company on the road pointed his gun at Akeem’s head.

This was the end. He had seconds. If he didn’t figure out how to escape, Taylor and Christopher would be defenseless in the bastards’ hands.

“Two million. Best chance you’ll ever have.”

Akeem positioned his legs to swipe the thug’s legs from under him.

But in the end, that wasn’t necessary. The man turned and fired at the driver, point-blank. Clean shot, middle of the forehead. The body tumbled over the side and to the ground. He hadn’t even had time to look surprised.

Then the gun was pointed at Akeem.

“You better know where that money is and it better be close,” the man said, undisguised desperation sitting on his face. He’d made his choice and knew if this didn’t pan out, he was a dead man.

“It’s at the refinery.” Akeem would have told the guy that even if it weren’t the truth. He needed to get back there ASAP.

The man grabbed him by the rope that held his hands and dragged him up.

“Hang on,” Akeem gasped. “I think my ribs are broken. Just give me a second here.” It wouldn’t hurt to appear weak, not that he had to fake the pain. He leaned against the back of the pickup, breathed hard while he swiped the dead guy’s gun and tucked it behind his back. He took a couple of deep breaths. “I can’t get back up here if you don’t untie my hands.”

The guy shoved him away to close the tailgate. “You’re going in the cab.” He nudged him forward and pushed him up.

Akeem lay back in the passenger seat, his head still pounding from the beating he’d gotten, his ribs sore from movement. He got dizzy every time he moved, probably from the original pistol-whipping. Even if by
some miracle he managed to free himself, he was in no condition to drive. So he took the chance to rest and gather up his energy for the fight that was to come when they reached the refinery.

As the pickup started then turned to rattle over the rocky ground, he prayed that Taylor and Christopher were still alive.

Taylor had told Jake that Akeem had the money. Which had probably saved his life.

But this same grand gesture made her and her son disposable.

“C
OME ON
, J
AKE
.” T
AYLOR
wiped her split lip.

He had his knife in his left hand, but hadn’t used it yet. And now she remembered someone saying back at the ranch that he didn’t like blood, and she hoped he never would. That he was just trying to scare her.

“Flint did right by you. He gave you a job, food and a roof over your head. Don’t do this.”

“Where is the money?”

“Kidnapping is one thing. Murder will follow you everywhere. The world is getting smaller every day. The cops have databases in every country. They’re all linked to each other. You can’t run from capital crime in this day and age.”

“Where is the money?”

“I don’t know. Akeem had it.” She braced for the next slap, keeping Christopher behind her, out of sight, out of Jake’s mind.

That strategy had worked until now, but it seemed
Jake was getting tired of his slap-and-ask game. He walked around her, grabbed the little boy by the arm and yanked him roughly to his feet.

“Maybe the kid needs to clear his head. What do you say we go up to the roof together and see how long I can hold him out over the edge?” He flashed a sick grin. “I’m in pretty good shape from the horses, but frankly this whole business has been damn exhausting. What do you think, ten minutes?”

“Mom!”

“Please don’t,” she pleaded and tried to grab for Christopher but couldn’t catch him fast enough with her hands tied. “Please. Your men will be back with the money soon. Please let us go. Nobody has to get hurt. This is just about money. It’s not worth it, Jake. You’ll have what you want.”

“Damn right I’ll have what I want. And I’ll have some fun in the meantime.” He untied Christopher’s foot and dragged the boy behind him.

Taylor had no choice but to follow. She thanked God he hadn’t tied her legs. She stumbled on the stairs, made Jake wait for her. Playing for time was the name of her game. She needed to give Akeem enough time to somehow get away from the two thugs who had carried him off and get back here.

And if he didn’t?

She hardly dared to think of that.

What if she was all alone in this, with an armed man who was willing to do anything to get the ransom?

She blinked hard. Then she would find a way to deal
with it on her own. Because, by God, she was not going to let anything happen to Christopher.

She moved as slowly as she could, scanning the staircase for anything she might be able to use for a weapon, but for the most part, the place was stripped bare.

The handle on the metal door to the roof looked promising, had she had a screwdriver to take it out and free hands to swing it at Jake’s head. As it was, she had to pass by it with reluctance. She stumbled, took her time getting up, ignoring Jake’s impatient swearing.

Christopher whimpered.

“It’s okay, honey. Mommy is here.”

However much she dragged her feet, they reached the edge of the roof all too soon. Jake gave a demented grin in the starlit night, bending to grab Christopher by the ankles and upending him, dangling him upside down in front of him, swinging him like a pendulum.

“Mom!”

If she had nerves of steel, maybe she could have played the game longer, waited for Jake until he held her son over the abyss, kept him talking, given Akeem more time. But the desperate look in Christopher’s eyes did her in and she lurched forward, toward him, falling to her knees to press her head to his small body.

“I’ll tell you where the money is.” She forced the words through her tightening throat, and apologized silently to Akeem. Because she knew that as soon as Jake had the money, he would be on the phone to his buddies to let them know that all further questioning of Akeem was unnecessary. And she had little doubt of what would
happen after that. “I’ll tell you everything,” she told the man again.

“I thought so,” Jake said and let Christopher fold to the ground.

Her son was immediately pressed against her, his skinny little arms wrapped tight around her neck.

“So where is it then?” Jake was asking.

“I’ll show you.”

He backhanded her once again.

And this time, Christopher charged at him, catching him at the knees and making him stumble back a little. For a wild moment, Taylor hoped he might go tumbling back and over the edge of the roof, but that didn’t happen.

“Don’t hurt my mom!” Christopher charged again.

Taylor dived for him before he could be harmed, throwing her body between the two of them. “I’ll show you, but I swear to God, if you lay a hand on my son—”

“Get up and get going.” Jake shoved them.

The climb down from the roof went slowly. She made sure to keep Christopher up front so they both had to wait for the boy to pick his step. She was in the middle to provide buffer, Jake behind her with his gun aimed at the middle of her back, making impatient noises, swearing and shoving them now and then.

They went all the way to the ground floor, and once again she kept her eyes open for some sort of a weapon. She saw a couple of pipe chunks, but could find no way to pick one up unnoticed with Jake watching every move she made.

He shoved them along to his pickup at the covered
loading dock. As he opened the door, he nodded toward the one Akeem and she had driven here.

“And what in hell happened to Pete? Would you mind telling me that?”

She thought furiously, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make Jake overly mad. Their lives depended on his goodwill. And she might have hesitated too long, because he turned from that car, shaking his head.

“Never mind. I don’t the hell care.”

She was pretty relieved to hear that.

“Could you please cut the rope? I would like to hold Christopher.” She turned to him as he was about to lift them up into the cab.

I’d like to hold my son before we die,
was what she was thinking, and maybe it had shown on her face and reached some deep-down smidgen of conscience, because after a moment, Jake untied the rope.

“Thank you.” Hope rose. If she could appeal to that remnant of conscience…

But Jake’s eyes had gone cold and hard again already. “Get in.”

She did so, helping Christopher, holding him at last, which was the best feeling in the whole world just then.

But as soon as she was up, Jake took the rope and tied her feet together. “You try anything, I just as soon shoot you. Just so we understand each other.” He walked to the driver’s side.

She said nothing, just held Christopher, who snuggled against her, burying his little head in the crook of
her neck. With a child’s instincts, he knew they were in trouble and remained silent.

When they got to the first gate, Jake gave her the key to the padlock instead of getting out himself, keeping the gun pointed at her son. He didn’t have to say anything.

She got out, hopped over to the gate with painstaking care not to fall on her face, opened the lock and hopped back in. When they reached the second gate, past the guardhouse, he gave her another key.

“Make sure you lock the first gate up,” he said.

She did that, opened the second gate, waited for the pickup to pull through, locked that padlock and hopped to the car, but didn’t get in.

“Let him go,” she said instead.

Jake just laughed. “Any more brilliant ideas? Full of jokes today, aren’t we?”

“Do you really want the death of a kid on your hands? Do you know what the jury is going to give you for that? Let him go.”

“I’ll let you go together when I have the money.” His tone turned mocking. “You’re just gonna walk on out of here.”

She wasn’t willing to bet her son’s life on that. “Let him go now. I’ll catch up with him. If you don’t let him go, how can I believe that you’re going to set us free once you have the money? And if I think you’re going to kill us either way, do you think I’m really going to lead you to those millions?”

She hated to be discussing this in front of Christopher, but she had no other choice. Either she saved his
life now, or neither of them were going to live long enough to worry about how traumatized he became from being kidnapped. When this was over, she was going to spend as much time and effort as was necessary to make him feel safe again.

“You have nothing to gain by killing him. He’s a four-year-old child. He talks about you every night before bed, you know. How Jake did this and Jake did that. Do you know that he thinks you’re the best horseman on the ranch? Do you know that when Flint asked him last week what he wanted to be when he grew up, he said,
‘Jake?’
”

She was telling the truth. Christopher was in love with horses and quick to hero-worship any man who worked with them. “He thinks the world of you. How can you do this to him?”

But as carefully as she watched, nothing in the man’s eyes softened. Which didn’t mean that she was going to give up. Not while there was still breath in her body. Of that he could be sure.

“This one is going to haunt you, Jake. How are you going to enjoy all that money?”

“You leave that to me.” He glared at her, then shrugged at last and mumbled something about coyotes, then jerked his head toward Hell’s Porch as he looked at Christopher and nodded to the open passenger-side door. “Scram.”

Christopher wouldn’t move an inch, of course. He was just a little kid, out in the middle of nowhere in the dark, scared to death. Not that he didn’t have every right
to be. But now he had been given a chance. Getting him to move was up to her.

She lifted him from the cab. “See that?” She pointed the way she’d come with Akeem. “Flint is there, waiting. You have to walk to him. I’ll be right behind you.”

God bless his heart, he really looked, peered hard into the darkness.

“I don’t see him, Mom.”

“Maybe you have to walk a little. Go on. Be a good boy. Go to your uncle Flint.” She gave him a hug she never wanted to end, and a kiss on both cheeks, taking in his sweet, smudged little face, knowing chances were good this was the last time she would see him. “I love you, honey.” Then she pushed him forward a little.

Akeem would come. Akeem could track. Akeem would find him.

“Are you sure?” He searched the darkness.

“Of course I am,” she said when she was anything but. “You are such a big boy. You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

That had him taking the first step. He wanted to be a big boy so badly. Being surrounded by cowboys all day long had him itching to be wearing chaps and working the horses with them.

She held her breath as he took another step, and another.

Since he wasn’t going the way the pickup’s headlights were pointing, his small form was growing less and less visible as he went.

She had no other choice, she told herself. This was his best chance. But knowing that didn’t make watching him go any easier.

“I still don’t see Uncle Flint, Mom,” he called back when he was just a blur through the darkness and her tears.

“Keep going, honey. He’s there somewhere. Just keep walking straight and I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.”

She was sending him into so much danger. So many bad things could happen to a little kid out here at night. She didn’t even dare think of the wildlife. But with the desert, there could be some element of luck involved, a chance. When it came to a bullet at close range, the chance of lucking out was zero.