Wyoming Cowboy Sniper, page 6
Adele pushed the car into Park and then gave the horn a little honk. She looked over her shoulder at him, looking vaguely sympathetic. “I know. I really am sorry about this whole thing.”
“Adele...”
But he trailed off when she pointed to the door of the cabin. His heart sank when the two men who’d kidnapped them stepped out. One still with his gun, the other bandaged and holding a rifle. Both unmasked this time around.
Hell.
Chapter Six
Vanessa could only stare at the two burly men standing in the doorway. This was bad. Still, with Dylan holding her hand in his larger one, she felt safe.
You are so very not safe, moron.
Adele turned around to face them, and this time her expression was one of pure contrition. Vanessa didn’t know why she didn’t believe it, but she flat out didn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” Adele said, keeping her gaze on Dylan. “I had to,” she whispered.
“You had to what?” Dylan demanded, his voice sharp as a blade. It made Vanessa shiver. No matter how uncharacteristic this was of the Dylan she knew, or thought she knew, she wouldn’t cross this man.
Apparently, Adele had no problems doing so though. “They told me I had to find you, and I had to bring you back to them. They threatened my life. I didn’t have a choice.”
“A choice? You were in a car by yourself! You could have gone to town and—”
She shook her head sadly. “You don’t understand, Dylan. I’m afraid you’re going to have to go along with this. Now, don’t worry. They assured me they won’t hurt us. A ransom is all they’re after. We just have to do what they say.”
“Why didn’t they hurt you?” Vanessa demanded. Both Dylan and Adele blinked over at her. But the fact of the matter was, Adele was unscathed and she and Dylan were not.
“I went along with everything they said,” Adele replied, a slight edge to her voice. It softened with her next words though. “If we all do, we get out of this alive.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“So far, so good. Come on, get out before they drag you out.” Adele looked at Vanessa. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” As if she knew Vanessa was pregnant.
How would she know? Surely she couldn’t divine that simply from Dylan saying she needed a hospital.
Adele got out of the driver’s seat and held up her hands as she walked over to the two men, as if in surrender. Then all three of them watched Dylan and Vanessa climb out of the car.
“None of this adds up,” Vanessa muttered as they stood, almost in a face-off with the men a few yards away.
“No. It doesn’t,” Dylan agreed. “But for the time being, Adele is right. If we play along, they won’t hurt us.” He nudged her gently forward.
Vanessa gave a pointed look at all the wounds on his face as they trudged their way toward the cabin.
He shrugged. “A few bruises won’t kill me. They’ll have food and water. Shelter. A ransom requires keeping us alive. Right now, since we can’t get medical attention, getting you food and water is the most important thing. If this is dangerous, I’ll find a way to get us out. For the time being, you’ll get to rest and be cared for.”
It was very strange to have someone looking out for her. Oh, she had a big brother and two cousins who’d lay down their lives for hers. But they weren’t the fussy sort. None of the Carsons were. They’d protect and defend, but they wouldn’t think to put getting her rest above their other objectives.
“Good job delaying the inevitable,” one of the men said with a happy grin. “Welcome home, friends.” He was covered in bandages, clearly the man Dylan had “incapacitated.”
Vanessa didn’t like the gleam in his eye. Not out of fear for herself but fear for Dylan. It didn’t matter that she hated Dylan, and she was sure she did. Once this was all over and her memory returned, the hate would come back and everything would make sense. She wouldn’t care about Dylan’s well-being at all.
But in that car he’d held her hand. In this short walk to the men waiting for them with gleaming smiles and guns, he’d expressed concern over her well-being.
Because she was pregnant. Allegedly. And the baby was his. Supposedly. That must have been why he felt the need to take care of her. If it was all true, he was only protecting what was his.
Vanessa was unaccountably tired all of a sudden. She even swayed on her feet against her will. But Dylan held her up.
A Delaney held her up. She couldn’t believe what was happening.
“She needs a place to rest. Water. Food.”
“Don’t recall you being the one in charge here, friend,” the man with the bandages said to Dylan. “Best you remember that before we do another number on your face.”
“Seems like he did a number on you,” Vanessa muttered before she thought better of it.
“Boss didn’t say anything about you pulling in a hefty ransom. You might be useless to us.”
Dylan stepped forward, even as the barrel of both weapons pointed at him. “You lay one hand on her, you’ll pay in every possible way for a man to pay. I don’t care how many guns you point at me.”
Something poked through the fog in her brain. That same image of Dylan facing down deadly weapons but in a different place.
Adele laughed nervously, and the image skittered away. “Wh-why don’t we all calm down? No one wants to get hurt.” Dylan spared her a glance that would have melted steel. Adele cleared her throat. “What do we need to do to get out of here?”
Vanessa didn’t trust the way this woman spoke to men with guns. It wasn’t placating. There was no fear. She seemed in perfect control. A mask, maybe, but it wasn’t a mask that made Vanessa comfortable.
“Inside,” the bandaged man said. He took Adele’s arm and nudged her in, then did the same to Vanessa.
She jerked her arm away from his sweaty grasp, but he grabbed her again and gave her a shake that had her teeth rattling against each other.
“I ain’t afraid to knock you around, tough girl.”
Fury razed all the confusion and exhaustion. Knock her around? She’d like to see him try. She struggled to free herself from his meaty grip. “I—”
Dylan’s hand rested at the small of her back, a quiet plea to stop fighting. Even with her heart racing and anger starting to fire through her blood beyond reason and control, the slight pressure of Dylan’s big hand reminded her that she wanted to stay alive, no matter how much her temper strained.
She took a deep breath and let her arm go limp against the hand wrapped around it. The goon gave her a good shove inside the cabin, and though she stumbled, she managed to stay upright. She skidded to a stop next to Adele, and noted with more suspicion that Adele didn’t even try to stop her skidding slide. Just watched.
Too clinical. Too detached. She was no victim here. Vanessa was almost sure of it.
“Now you, friend.” The bandaged man grabbed Dylan by the shirtfront and tossed him inside, hard. Dylan fell gracefully, an easy roll that nearly reminded her of a dancer.
Seriously. Who is this guy?
He was up on his feet in seconds.
“Now, before we get settled, let’s get one thing straight. I’m in charge here.” The man pointed his gun at Dylan’s heart. “You do what I say, or they die.” The gun moved to train on Vanessa, but the man’s eyes stayed on Dylan. “You’re the only one worth anything to me, with your rich daddy.”
“You have no idea who you’re messing with.”
The butt of the weapon hit Dylan’s face with a sickening crack. Vanessa cried out and rushed forward, but the second man shook his head and tsk-tsked, his gun pointed right at her chest.
Dylan got to his feet. “Takes a little more than a pathetic sucker shot to keep me down, you worthless piece of—”
The man raised his weapon again, and Vanessa couldn’t just sit back and watch any longer. Heart pounding against her ribs, but with a clarity she hadn’t felt since she’d woken up in that van, she jumped forward.
“Wait!”
Everyone looked at her. She didn’t know what to say. She’d dealt with violence her whole life, but she’d never been any good at defusing a situation. She was more the stir-it-up type. But things changed. Life changed. She had to diffuse this one whether she was any good at it or not.
“We all want to live.” She stepped forward again, though she was still behind Dylan. She watched the guns pointed at them warily as she did exactly what he’d done to her.
She lifted her hand and placed it gently if firmly against his back. It was rock hard, like iron. He was tense and ready to fight, but as much as she didn’t trust Adele or this situation, she knew two armed men were dangerous. They all had to play this with smarts more than muscle. And she’d had a lifetime of experience doing that.
Though she wouldn’t mind finding out a little more about Dylan’s impressive muscle.
Where had that idiotic thought come from?
“Let’s all calm down,” she said in a low, controlled voice, far more for Dylan than the bad guys in front of them.
Dylan’s chin jutted out, but he flashed a glance at her. Fury. An edgy flash of violence that should have seemed incongruous on Dylan Delaney’s perfect face. In this moment, however, it just felt right.
* * *
DYLAN WANTED TO pound these two brain-dead barbarians to dust. He could too. They might be bigger, they might have weapons, but he had no doubt he could take them both out. He could even visualize it. A sweep kick here, use one goon’s body to slam into the second. A quick gut punch, twist the rifle and use it to knock out the other. Blood. Bones cracking. Victory.
But what he could also visualize in his taking them out was them having an opportunity to hurt Vanessa or Adele. The two women were, very unfortunately, distractions and weaknesses he couldn’t afford to ignore.
He let Vanessa’s firm pressure on his back be a kind of anchor. He had to think with his brain, not his temper. He even had to be careful not to let his instincts take over.
Because he wasn’t surrounded by soldiers. He was surrounded by civilians. Their safety was paramount. Not his.
He turned to face Vanessa, ignoring the men with guns at his back. Her hand fell to her side and she looked at him with a whole slew of emotions in her dark eyes. Not the norm for her. Vanessa usually kept everything locked down.
But there were men with guns, a head injury, amnesia and the fact—whether she believed it or not—she was carrying his baby.
He couldn’t lose his temper. He had to be methodical. Like he’d said to her outside, this was the best option right now. Get her taken care of, even if it was by hostage takers, and then he’d find a way for them to escape. No matter what they said or did, he had to be calm. He had to summon all that sniper calm he’d developed and use it here.
He glanced at Adele.
She stood a little behind both of them. He noted she was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Not what she would have been wearing at the bank last night. She watched Vanessa with a certain kind of speculation that made the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.
Calculating was the word that came to mind. Not exactly out of character for Adele. She was the calculating sort, but her high opinion of her intelligence often undermined her calculations.
Besides, maybe she was calculating how to get the heck out of the situation, same as he. As much as his instincts warned him something was off with Adele, his brain reasoned it away time and time again.
He was a man who’d spent a chunk of years living by his instincts and pure grit. Had that dulled in these last few years of doing what his father had demanded of him? Had all the fine edges he’d honed inside of himself—so he could live without suffocating in the box his name dictated—softened and been lost?
Now wasn’t the time for an identity crisis. He had two women to save and two goons to fight.
He turned to the goons, calm now. Ready to battle rather than fight. Fight was instantaneous, with no real endgame. It was anger and revenge. A battle was all about winning. It was about getting these women safe, and making the world—even this tiny corner of it—a righted place.
He would win. Not just for himself, but for this future child that would somehow be a part of him. And Vanessa.
Who had to be taken care of at all costs.
“What’s the plan, then?” he asked calmly. He’d treat it like a business meeting. They’d discuss what they wanted. He’d discuss what he wanted.
And when he had a good opening, he’d make them wish they’d never been born.
The two men looked at each other, and Dylan didn’t have to be a mind reader to understand they weren’t the designers of this little plot. They were here for muscle and muscle only.
But who was the boss?
“You two in that room,” one said, pointing a gun at a door. “You—” he pointed to Adele “—in that one.”
Dylan frowned. It was stupid to split them up. The glossy-looking doors to the rooms weren’t at all intimidating, and surely there were windows in the room. He almost asked them if they were sure that’s how they wanted to play it, then rolled his eyes at himself.
Adele shuffled off to her room, so Dylan took Vanessa’s arm and led her to the other one. He pushed open the door to find what appeared to be an office. There were windows, but they were narrow and lined the very top of the wall. There was no way they could maneuver out of them, even if they could get up there.
One of the men had followed them inside. Dylan eyed him.
“Water. Food. You want me alive, I’ll need both,” he said, unable to soften the demand into something less abrasive.
“You’ll get both. When I’m good and ready.” The man slammed the door, the click of a lock echoing in the room.
It was clearly someone’s office. Dylan wondered if they’d be able to figure out who if they snooped enough.
But first things first. He led Vanessa to the most comfortable-looking chair, a rolling, leather desk contraption that at least had some padding. He nudged her into it and, though she went willingly, he saw a flash of the old Vanessa in her expression.
She was still pale with exhaustion, and yet there was a clarity to her eyes that had been missing.
“Your employee is in on this,” she said firmly.
Dylan hedged. In on this seemed a bit much, and yet... “Something is definitely fishy.”
“It’s her. All her. When I first stumbled onto her on the road, she didn’t act worried or nervous at all. She was very calm and seemed to want me to leave you behind. I didn’t know she knew me at first. Then you came and her tune totally changed. ‘Oh, we’ve been worried sick,’” she mimicked.
Dylan’s jaw clenched. “It’s off. But...”
“It’s her,” Vanessa insisted.
He nodded. “All right. She’s mixed up in it somehow.” He could explain away almost everything. Except the change of clothes. If she was as much a victim as they, she’d be in her bank clothes just like he was.
He shrugged out of the now-tattered suit jacket and laid it across Vanessa’s lap. “You need water, food and rest.” What she really needed was a doctor. He’d find a way. He would. “We should look around. See if we can figure out who owns this place.”
She looked up at the windows, and he could see her come to the same conclusion he had. There was no getting out that way. “We have to get out of here.”
“We will. My father will pay—”
“The ransom business is crap. You know it and I know it. There’s more to this than money, and even if Daddy Big Bucks would pay, I don’t think Laurel and her precious police department would feel the same.”
“I think the people we love would do anything to keep us safe.”
“Keep you safe, goose.”
Dylan wanted to laugh, but there was something vulnerable in the words no matter how sharply she said them. He crouched in front of her, took her hands in his and squeezed. He noted the surprise and suspicion in her eyes, and ignored both.
“No matter what you remember or don’t, you know your brother would move heaven and earth to keep you safe. If he knows you’re missing, he’s out there looking for you. Noah and Ty too.”
“They’d have to know I was missing.”
“They will. Soon enough.”
Chapter Seven
Back in Bent, Vanessa’s mechanic shop
“She wouldn’t.”
Laurel looked at the firm, furious line of her husband’s mouth and rubbed at the headache pounding at her temples. As much as she agreed with Grady’s estimation of Vanessa not leaving town on her own, his lack of cooperation was grating on her nerves.
Grady had let them into Vanessa’s place to look around, and while there weren’t any cut-and-dried clues, her motorcycle was missing. Everything else was where it should be. Hart’s supposition that Vanessa had left of her own accord on said motorcycle had not gone over well with Laurel’s husband.
“Hart isn’t asking if she did skip town, since we don’t know,” Laurel said, keeping her voice calm and no-nonsense. “We’re asking what you think it would take for Vanessa to leave without telling anyone.”
“It wouldn’t take anything, because Vanessa wouldn’t take off without a word to anyone no matter what was up.” He lifted the bill from an ob-gyn’s office in Fremont they’d found when searching her above-the-shop apartment. “Pregnancy wouldn’t be a reason. She knows we’d support her. No matter what. She wouldn’t be scared or running from anything.”
Laurel had to keep her mouth shut. Since she’d been dealing with her own, there’d been a few times in the past few weeks she’d looked at Vanessa and wondered. Yet Vanessa had been with no man, and showed no signs of telling her family about her condition. So, obviously, it wasn’t totally clear-cut knowing she’d be supported.
