Holdin' On for a Hero (35 page)

“Mr. Holling, you have to let Ms. Porter go. Surely you must realize that you can’t get away with this?”

“Oh, but I can. See, when I’m finished with that bitch, I’m gonna make sure her body’s found at Wyatt Wolfe’s. Right where he buried her after he raped and killed her. So, you see, Ms. Waters, if I were you I’d pay attention to what happens to people who try to fuck with the Holling family.”

“You’re insane!”

“Take my advice, Ms. Waters. Get the fuck outta Dodge while you still can.”

The tape ended and Iris turned off the player then looked at Wyatt. “You’ve got to do something!”

He looked from her to his father. John seemed pale and Wyatt could see the concern in his eyes. Billy looked like he was scared to death. The only person in the room who appeared to be unaffected was Tsa’li. He was sitting in his rocker, staring at Iris.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” Iris blurted. “For god’s sake, Wyatt! You can’t just let—”

“Get out,” Tsa’li’s sharp voice cut her off.

Everyone turned to look at him in surprise. He stood up and walked to stand in front of Iris. “Get out of my house. You are not welcome here.”

“But…” Iris stammered. “But, I’m only trying to help.”

“Those who come offering help do not arrive wearing a mask of deceit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I only came here to try and—”

“Leave this house!” Tsa’li’s voice rose like thunder.

Iris turned and fled. Wyatt turned to Tsa’li with a perplexed expression on his face, as did John. Tsa’li returned to his seat by the fire then looked over at them.

“What did you mean by that?” John asked.

“Does it not strike you as odd that this woman who has only known Chance by the name of Daven Porter suddenly shows up with a tape, calling her Chance? And how is it that the son of Winston Holling found out this woman was involved with our family? More importantly why would Greg Holling call this woman on her cell phone if he were trying to reach her at the hotel?”

John and Wyatt looked at one another in surprise. Wyatt was the first to speak. “He’s right.”

“There’s something more going on here than meets the eye,” John agreed. “The question is, what?”

“I don’t know and right now I don’t care,” Wyatt stated. “I’m going after Chance.”

“No, you are not,” Tsa’li spoke up.

Wyatt was tense as a strung bow when he turned to him. “Yes, I am. I’m not going to argue with you about this, Grandfather. I have to—”

“Billy, I need a favor.” Tsa’li ignored Wyatt and looked at Billy Hawkes. “I want you to try and find out what is going on at the Holling estate. You will need help. Tell your friends that it is at my request you do this. Find out all you can then return here.”

Billy nodded and looked at Wyatt. “Maybe you better listen to him, Wyatt. He’s smarter than the rest of us, you know? He sees things.”

Wyatt didn’t reply and after a moment Billy left the house. Then Wyatt turned to Tsa’li. “Grandfather, I know you think what you’re doing is the right way but I can’t just stand by while Chance is in danger. You heard what Greg Holling said on that tape! He’s going to rape and kill her. Are you willing to sit back and do nothing while that happens?”

“She will not die.”

“Oh?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “And how can you be so sure of that?”

“Have you lived so long in the world of the white man that you have forgotten all that I taught you?” When Wyatt did nothing more than frown, Tsa’li sighed. “I know what I know. Uluhsati confirms it.”

“And you expect me to risk Chance’s life on something a crystal told you?”

“You should have been more attentive when I tried to teach you,” Tsa’li scolded him. “There are some things that man is not meant to understand but merely accept. The power of the crystal is such a thing. I would not risk the life of the Woman with the Eyes of Wolf, my grandson. She is the future of our family. You must trust in this. No harm will come to her.”

Wyatt stared at his grandfather for a long time. He had never known Tsa’li to be so insistent before. He had also never known Tsa’li to be wrong. At last he gave in. “All right, I’ll wait. But not for long.”

“It will not be long,” Tsa’li assured him. “Soon the time will come when you will go for her.”

“And I guess you’re going to tell me when the right time is,” Wyatt said, his voice still tinted with scorn.

“You will know,” was all Tsa’li would say.

Wyatt looked from his grandfather to his father. John shook his head slightly as if telling Wyatt not to argue with his grandfather anymore. “I need to go to the house,” Wyatt said.

“What for?” John asked.

“To get some things. When the time comes, I’m going prepared.”

John didn’t comment but watched as Wyatt left. He took a seat on the couch and closed his eyes then opened them again and stared at the flames in the fireplace for several minutes. Finally he turned to Tsa’li. “You’re sure that she won’t be harmed?”

Tsa’li didn’t answer. He turned his head to one side as if listening then stood. “There is no more time.”

“No more time? What does that mean?”

The sound of the front door shattering answered his question.

* * * * *

Chance was almost to the point of panic. She had held Greg off since she had first been brought there, hoping that he would keep drinking and get plastered enough to pass out. As luck would have it, he drank only enough to stay disgustingly drunk and persistent in his advances.

She had tried to talk to him, to get some idea of what he was up to, but the only thing he had said was that he was going to get rid of everyone who stood in his way and it would all be his. She had no idea what that meant but she was trying to find out as he continued to pursue her around the room.

“Come on, baby,” he crooned drunkenly as he edged closer to her. “This isn’t the time for talk. I’m in the mood for something more physical. Come on over here to Greg and I’ll make you forget all about that Indian. Come on, just one kiss.”

Chance grabbed the chair at the desk and slid it around in front of her as he moved closer. “Greg, just listen to me! Let’s just sit down and talk, okay? What did you mean when you said you were going to get rid of all of them? Who were you talking about?”

“I don’t wanna talk!” He grabbed the chair and slung it across the room. “I wanna fuck!”

“Well, that’s just too bad!” Chance punched him as he made a grab for her. “I don’t!”

Greg stumbled back from the blow and shook his head. “You fucking bitch!” he shouted as he started for her again. “No Indian fucking bitch says no to me!”

Chance dodged to one side as he lunged at her. Greg fell face first into the desk and wobbled around trying to get his footing. She didn’t wait to see what he was doing, but made a mad dash for the door. Unfortunately she made it only as far as the living room before two men grabbed her. She kicked, squirmed and screamed as they tried to drag her back down the hall to where Greg was leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, shouting obscenities.

Sure that she was about to be raped, Chance fought harder. She managed to kick one of the men holding her in the knee hard enough to make him stumble. Seeing an opportunity she yanked as hard as she could, hoping to dislodge his hand from her arm. She never saw the blow that came from behind her. The second man grabbed his handgun from his belt and clubbed her in the head.

Just as she thought she was going to break away, darkness closed in around her.

* * * * *

Wyatt could sense that something was wrong before he opened the back door of Tsa’li’s house. There was no conscious thought as his body shifted immediately into battle mode. All of his senses were alert and his body was tensed and ready to spring into action.

His anger and anxiety rose as he searched the small house, only to discover it empty. He didn’t see any signs of a struggle. There were no signs of violence at all aside from the front door which looked as if it had been kicked in.

On the door was tacked a folded sheet of paper with his name printed on it. Wyatt pulled the paper from the nail and unfolded it.

Now I have all three
.
I
’
ll trade their lives for yours
.
You know where to find me
.

There was no signature, there was no need for one. Wyatt knew who the note was from. Winston Holling. He crumpled the paper and let it fall to the floor. In place of anxiety and hot anger there was a cold, calm rage building inside him, the kind of rage he knew all too well. It was the feeling that always preceded someone dying.

Wyatt headed for the Holling estate. It was time to settle the score once and for all.

* * * * *

Winston and Maurice Davenport were sitting in the den of the main house, having brandy and cigars when the butler showed one of Greg’s men in.

Winston turned and looked at the man impatiently. “What is it?”

“We have all three of them, sir. Wolfe and the old man are in the barn. There’s three men guarding them.”

Winston looked at Maurice to see him nodding in approval. “Excellent,” he told the messenger. “Keep them there until we’re ready. In the meantime—”

“You said three,” Maurice interrupted. “Who is with them?”

“Uh, well, no one,” the man replied. “I mean, the two men are in the barn. That reporter’s in the gatehouse.”

“Reporter?” Maurice looked at Winston. “I wasn’t told anything about a reporter.”

“It’s just some CNN snoop that’s involved with Wolfe.” Holling passed it off. “Nothing to worry about. Greg will take care of her and make it look like Wolfe did it.” He turned to the man who stood waiting. “Ask Greg to come to the house.”

The man nodded and left the room and Holling turned back to Maurice to find him looking pale and nervous. After a moment Maurice downed his brandy and wiped the sweat from his upper lip. “What’s the story with this reporter? Have you spoken with her? Why exactly is she here and which Wolfe is it that she’s involved with?”

“She’s just some bimbo that’s here to do a story on the casino deal, and she’s been asking a lot of questions. It was Greg’s idea to grab her. He said she’d make good bait. It’s Wyatt she’s been porking and from what I hear they’ve been going at it pretty strong.”

Maurice’s pudgy face paled a bit more. “Does she have a name?”

Holling gave him a puzzled look. It was not like Maurice to be so nervous. He was always the one who seemed to have ice water in his veins and suddenly he was acting like he was afraid of one little woman. “I don’t know! What difference does it make? She’s just a little nobody. It isn’t going to make any difference in our plans. My god, you’re acting like an old maid. Come on, man, have another drink.”

Maurice did not respond at all. In fact he didn’t move as Holling fetched the decanter and carried it over to refill his glass. Holling frowned and put the decanter down on the table. Maurice’s nervousness was contagious, for he found himself suddenly feeling anxious.

“Excuse me for a few minutes,” he said as he put his glass down beside the decanter. “I need to check on something.”

Maurice didn’t acknowledge him in any way. Holling hurried from the room and headed through the house. For some reason he had to see this reporter for himself.

* * * * *

Stinging cold water brought Chance around. She gasped and sputtered as the water poured down on her face. Greg’s face was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. He was kneeling above her. She tried to sit up and realized that her hands were tied to the bedposts, as were her feet.

Greg leered at her and waved a sharp hunting knife back and forth in front of her face. Chance couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath as she saw the knife. “Greg, this isn’t necessary,” she tried to reason with him. “You don’t have to do this. Let me go. You don’t want to do this.”

“Like hell, I don’t,” he laughed at her.

“Please,” she pleaded with him.

“Oooh, I like the way you beg,” he taunted her and lowered the tip of the knife to the top button of the old flannel shirt she wore. “But I think you can do better.”

Chance bit her lip to keep from making a sound as the tip of the knife slipped in between the buttons of her shirt and lifted it up. One slight move of Greg’s hand sent a button flying. “Come on, baby,” he crooned as he moved the knife lower. “Let’s hear you beg.”

She almost complied she was so afraid. But she could not let him have the satisfaction of knowing she was terrified. Summoning her courage, she spat in his face. “Go to hell!”

“You goddamn slut!” Greg swiped at the spittle on his face then stuck the tip of the knife up under her chin. “I’ll fucking make you beg!”

Chance couldn’t stop the small sound from escaping. The tip of the knife was cutting into the flesh under her chin and she was scared. Greg’s free hand moved inside her shirt to grab one breast. Chance did scream as his fingers cruelly pinched her nipple.

“That’s better.” He grinned. “Scream, baby. Come on, scream loud.”

That is exactly what she did. She couldn’t help it. It felt like he was pinching her nipple off.