The Texan (31 page)

Bay felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She was a
beautiful woman
? “That must be what it is,” Bay said as she pulled on her boots. “I mean, here we are having sex when we hardly know each other.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Owen said.

“Then what’s my favorite color?” Bay asked.

“Blue.”

She smiled smugly. “You’re guessing, and you’re wrong.”

“What is it?”

“Green. What kind of movies do I like?”

“Romantic comedies.”

Bay’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“You’re a romantic from the top of your head to the tip of your boots.”

“How do you figure that?” Bay asked.

“You could have settled for sex with that professor of yours. But you wanted love and family and happily ever after.”

Bay met Owen’s forthright gaze. “That’s all the more reason for me to keep my distance from you. With us—be-cause of our families—there can’t be a happily ever after.”

“Maybe not,” Owen conceded with a sigh. “But we can—”

The distinctive
whup, whup, whup
of a helicopter could be heard in the distance. Bay looked at Owen, and they both jumped up from the table and ran toward the crevice in the cliffs that led to the open space where they expected the helicopter to land.

“You know what to do,” Owen said.

“What if this doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work. Do exactly what we planned, exactly as we planned it.”

He had already turned to leave when Bay called him back. “Owen, wait!”

She ran to him and gave him a hug. “Be careful.”

He gave her a kiss and ruffled her hair. “Don’t worry about me, Red. I’ll be fine.”

He turned and disappeared into the crevice in the limestone, leaving Bay behind in the valley to wait.

OWEN’S PLAN WAS SIMPLE. HE WOULD WAIT
until the helicopter landed and whoever was in it stepped out, then detonate a claymore mine that had been placed where it wouldn’t hurt anyone, but would be sure to make a lot of noise and send whoever had flown in on the helicopter diving for cover. He would then take advantage of the confusion to grab whatever weapons he could and gain the upper hand.

Owen heaved a sigh of relief when he realized there were only two men in the helicopter. He recognized them as the two Dobermans. They were wearing suits, which suggested they’d come from either Alpine or Midland.

He was a little concerned when they both stepped out of the helicopter with Uzis. Especially if all they’d expected to find here was Luke Creed’s dehydrated body. He waited until he was sure they were both clear of the helicopter before he detonated the claymore.

Owen was already moving when both agents lunged for the ground. As he’d expected, they both landed facedown, with their hands cupped over their heads to protect them. He grabbed one Uzi from the ground where it had landed and kicked the other as far away as he could. He
had to wait for broken rocks to stop falling before he could say, “Stay down. Extend your arms in front of you, so I can see your hands.”

When James Brophy reached toward his suit coat, Owen shot a burst from the Uzi near his feet. “Let me see your hands.”

“All right. Give me a second.”

“A second’s all you’ve got,” Owen said.

When both agents lay prone with their hands in front of them, he fired two shots to let Bay know it was safe for her to join him, instead of three, which was the universal distress signal, and would have meant she should detonate the booby traps they’d laid. To his chagrin, she stepped out of the crevice a moment later.

“I told you to wait at the camp!”

“I wanted to be able to help if anything went wrong.”

Brophy lifted his head, and Owen said, “Stay down.” He turned to Bay and said, “Bring me that other Uzi.” When she returned, he hung it over his shoulder by the sling.

Brophy said, “I thought you were dead.” He looked toward the crevice. “Where’s the kid?”

Owen lifted a brow and exchanged a look with Bay. “You don’t know?”

“I left him tied up in the tent with your brother Clay watching over him.”

“You took your sweet time getting back,” Bay said angrily. “They could have died of thirst by now.”

Brophy shrugged. “It wasn’t possible to get here because—”

The other agent said, “Keep your mouth shut.”

“What kind of organization am I dealing with?” Owen
asked. “Foreign terrorists? White supremacists? Munitions dealers? Who are you working for?”

The two agents exchanged a look before Brophy said, “Shove it up your—”

“There’s a lady present,” Owen interrupted. “Watch your mouth.”

Bay held out the looped rope they’d turned into makeshift handcuffs and said, “Shall I put them on now?”

“You gents put your hands behind your back—one hand at a time—and stay still for the lady.”

Brophy glanced at the helicopter, which only had two seats and said, “What are you going to do with us?”

Owen’s eyes narrowed. “We’re going to leave you here, like you left that boy.”

Owen watched carefully as Bay leaned over to place a rope around the first agent’s wrist. Before she could tighten the knot, both agents leaped to their feet and charged, Brophy at Bay and the other man at Owen.

The agent coming toward Owen had already pulled the gun from his shoulder holster when the first spray of bullets from Owen’s Uzi caught him in the chest and threw him backward. By the time Owen had angled the gun toward Brophy, he had Bay in his grasp, his hand around her neck in a half nelson, so all it would take was a little pressure to break her neck.

“Hey, Terry,” Brophy called to his partner.

“He’s dead,” Owen said flatly.

“Damn you! I ought to break her neck.”

“You’d be a dead man before she hit the ground.”

“Drop the gun,” Brophy said. “And back up.”

Owen shook his head.

Brophy applied pressure to Bay’s neck until she groaned.

“All right,” Owen said, extending the Uzi in front of him as though he might drop it at any moment. “Maybe we can make a deal.”

“No deals. Put down that Uzi and—”

Bay moved so fast, Brophy never knew what hit him. One moment he had Bay in a chokehold, the next she had broken free, and he was on the ground.

Brophy reached into his coat for a weapon, but he was a second too late. Owen’s bullet had already found his heart.

Owen saw the stricken look on Bay’s face as she stared at the carnage. “I had no choice,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just…”

Owen crossed to her and pulled her into his arms. “You did good, Red. You did great.”

“I never thought I’d have to use those self-defense lessons,” she said.

She was trembling, and Owen wished the two men alive again so he could punish them for frightening her so badly.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“We can’t just leave them here,” Bay protested.

“We’ll send the cavalry back for them,” Owen promised, as he collected the ID from the unidentified agent. “Terry Watkins,” he muttered. “Who the hell are you working for—besides the FBI?”

He turned to Bay and said, “Do you think you can fly that helicopter?”

Her gaze shot to the Bell helicopter. She nodded. “Yeah. I can fly it.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Owen collected the two agents’ SIG-Sauers and
barely had time to put on his seat belt, before Bay had the helicopter in the air. The instant he was wearing his headset, Bay said, “Who do you want me to contact first?”

“I don’t want to call anyone just yet,” he said. “Especially not on an open radio frequency.”

“My mother and my brother Sam must be frantic with worry.”

“A few hours more won’t make any difference,” Owen said. “Better not to let anyone know where we are for now.”

“Why not? Who is it you’re afraid of?”

Owen grimaced. “That’s the problem. I don’t know who I can trust.”

“Where do you want to go?” she asked.

“Can we get back home?”

Bay tapped the fuel gauge and said, “Don’t think so. What’s your second choice?”

Owen thought a moment and said, “I guess the person I most want to see is Paul Ridgeway.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say he’s one of the bad guys,” Bay said.

“He’s not going to be able to do anything to us at the FBI office in Midland. I want to see his face when I tell him we left two dead FBI agents in the Big Bend with the VX mines.”

“I’m confused,” Bay said. “If they didn’t know what happened to Luke—”

“It means my brother rescued him, like I said. We’ll find out for sure when I confront Paul and—”

“I know Paul Ridgeway is a friend of yours,” Bay interrupted.

“Not a friend,” Owen corrected. “An almost-relation.”

“What if Ridgeway denies that he’s involved? What
are you going to do then? After all, he’s in charge of the investigation. Who’s going to investigate him?”

Owen frowned. “Paul’s a man who’s devoted his life to maintaining law and order. I can’t imagine why he’d be involved with something like this.”

“Maybe he needs the money,” Bay said. “Or maybe he went a little crazy after his daughter was murdered.”

“And what? Became a terrorist? I don’t buy it.”

“Well, the Dobermans obviously aren’t at the top of the food chain,” Bay said. “Someone they know is running the show.”

“Maybe they needed the money. Maybe they hired themselves out to some Colombian drug lord who wants to wipe out the competition,” Owen said.

Bay sighed. “I suppose anything is possible. But I can’t believe they could be flying an FBI helicopter in and out of the Big Bend without Paul Ridgeway noticing—which suggests to me that he’s involved.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I don’t want to argue. I just want to call my mom at the first opportunity and let her know I’m all right and find out if Luke has shown up.”

“Fine. I better check in with my boss, too, and let him know what’s going on.”

Navigating was simple with all the instruments available in the helicopter. It was early evening when they landed at the Midland-Odessa Airport. It looked deserted.

When the rotors stopped, Bay turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears, and smiled. “We made it.”

Owen felt his throat thicken with emotion. “Yeah, Red. We did.”

“Look at us,” she said, pulling at her filthy T-shirt and shoving her lank auburn hair off her shoulders. She
reached out and brushed at his ten-day-old beard. “We look like derelicts.” She sniffed and said, “Whew! I smell wood smoke … and me … and you.”

Owen laughed. “We may be a little rank, but we’re alive.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “We are.”

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to kiss her. He leaned halfway and she leaned halfway and they met in the middle of the cockpit.

It felt like coming home. It felt like a toasty fire on a bitter cold night. He broke the kiss and looked deeply into her eyes, to see if she felt it, too.

What he saw was fear. And denial.

“Everything I felt in the Big Bend is still there,” he said. “And we’re nowhere near the wilderness.”

He saw her swallow before she said, “It won’t work, Owen. I’ll always have fond memories—”

“Damn it, Red. Don’t you dare give up on us! Don’t you quit!”

She made an angry sound in her throat, shoved open the helicopter door, and climbed down. He started to follow her and realized he was still belted in. He left the Uzis, but he checked the rounds on one of the SIGs, then stuck it in the back of his camouflage pants and covered it with his T-shirt. He finally caught up to Bay halfway across the tarmac.

“I don’t see why it’s necessary for me to stay with you any longer,” she said. “I can just as easily make my calls and ask my questions about Luke on my own.”

“Oh, no you don’t. If Ridgeway is involved, he isn’t going to want any witnesses left behind. Let me call my boss and see what he wants me to do.”

“I’ll stay long enough for you to make your call. Then I’m gone,” she said.

They found an outbuilding with a pay telephone, so they wouldn’t have to walk through the terminal looking like the terrorists they were hunting.

“Why don’t we try calling your brother first?” Bay suggested as Owen picked up the receiver. “To see if he really did rescue Luke.”

“That’s not a half-bad idea, Red.”

Owen made a collect call to his brother’s office in Austin and was annoyed when no one would accept the charges. He made the call again, person-to-person to Clay Blackthorne, and was told that his party wasn’t available to accept the call. He made a third call, person-to-person to Clay’s secretary. She answered and said, “Where’s Clay?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” Owen said.

“We haven’t seen him for a week,” his secretary replied. “Nobody knows what’s happened to him. It isn’t like him to disappear without a word. Do you know where he is?”

“No, I don’t,” Owen said, perplexed. “Thanks, Sylvia,” he said, and hung up the phone.

“What did you find out?” Bay asked.

“Clay hasn’t shown up for work in a week. His secretary has no idea where he is.”