Dangerous Mountain Mission, page 7
She opened her trailer. Outdoor gear, backpacks, tents, sleeping bags and cross-country skis were scattered throughout the tiny space.
Jesse stepped inside. “Looks like you’re prepared for almost anything.”
The comment felt like a barb, though she knew he hadn’t intended it that way. Because she’d grown up with older brothers, she had learned to compete with them on equal footing. The memory of Brent’s parting words to her echoed in her head.
Honestly, Abigail, you’re almost too capable of doing everything for yourself. Why do you even need me?
Brent’s words still hurt.
“Have a seat.” While Jesse settled in, she opened the refrigerator. She pulled some chili out of the freezer and popped it in the microwave, letting it heat through while she sliced some cheese, then got crackers from the cupboard. She brought the cheese and crackers to the table and said, “I make my chili kind of spicy. I hope that’s okay.”
He offered her a warm smile. “I love spicy.”
His smile made her heart skip a beat. There hadn’t been much reason to smile up until now. Once the chili was heated through, she dished it up and placed a steaming bowl in front of Jesse beside the plate of sliced cheese and crackers. She sat down opposite him and picked up her spoon. “So, what are you going to do now?”
Jesse’s features hardened. “I need to look at the contents of the hard drive first.” He let out a heavy breath. “Then I have to find someone I can trust with the information, someone who will believe me.”
He seemed distressed.
“And that won’t be easy to do, huh?”
He brought the spoon up to his mouth. “Good chili.”
He still wasn’t going to talk about his work. What did it matter to her? In another hour, he would be on his way to parts unknown. She watched him eat the chili.
“Delicious,” he said. “You’re a good cook.”
“Not really. But I have a couple of specialties I do really well.”
He scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. “Well, I could live on chili like this. Not too wimpy, just the right amount of kick to it.”
His compliment made her feel like she was glowing from the inside. It was nice to have her cooking appreciated. “Would you like another bowl?”
“Sure. Fill ’er up.” He pushed the bowl across the table and licked his lips.
She set a steaming bowl in front of him and then sat down to finish the rest of her first serving.
He raised his spoon. “To good food and good company.” His voice took on a warm tone as he looked her right in the eyes. “And to a job well done, Abigail.”
When he looked at her that way, her heart fluttered a little. “I know you are who you say you are. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.” If he had wanted to do her harm, he would have by now.
He put his spoon on the table. “I understand why you thought what you did. I’m sure I looked like just another one of the bad guys.”
She realized then that saying goodbye would be harder than she’d thought it would be. A bond had formed between them. You don’t spend a few days running for your life with someone and not feel a connection to them. “I hope everything turns out okay for you.”
They finished eating and she grabbed her car keys off the hook by the door. Jesse stepped outside first. She shuffled around the camper, looking for her purse.
She swung open the door to a view of Jesse standing with his hands in the air. Her heart pounded faster as she shifted in the doorway to see two of the thugs from the mountain, Pretty Boy and Eddy, holding their guns on Jesse. The chopper must have gone up there to get them.
Pretty Boy turned his gun on Abigail. “Get out here and stand by your partner. We’re missing some product. What did you do with it?”
He must be talking about the drugs the hermit had taken. She wasn’t about to put that lonely old man in danger.
“We didn’t take your drugs,” said Jesse.
“We’ll see about that.” Pretty Boy tilted his head toward Eddy, who yanked Abigail out of the trailer and then stepped inside.
She could hear Eddy moving around in her trailer, searching.
She hurried to stand beside Jesse. Of course, they’d figured out where she lived.
Eddy poked his head out. “Nothing in here.”
Pretty Boy stalked toward them. “You must have hidden it somewhere on the mountain. We can make you talk.” Before she could even fully absorb what was happening, he lifted his gun and landed a blow to the side of her head.
* * *
Jesse came to, thinking that he was on a boat in bad weather. He opened his eyes. As he was regaining consciousness, the jittery swaying motion of the van they were in made him think they were at sea in a storm. Now he saw his surroundings for what they really were. He and Abigail had been knocked unconscious and tossed into the back of some kind of service van. There was a back door and no windows. Both sides of the van had shelving that at one time must have contained tools of some kind. Now they looked mostly bare.
A toolbox vibrated across the floor as the van bumped down the road. A water bottle rolled toward him. He picked it up, unscrewed the top and smelled the clear liquid inside. No odor. He took a tentative sip. Water. The men who had kidnapped them had wanted to keep them alive—for now, anyway.
Beside him, Abigail was still unconscious.
He groaned. The last thing he’d wanted was for her to be mixed up in this all over again.
Abigail stirred. “My head hurts.”
He patted her shoulder. “Sit up slowly.”
She blinked, touched her head and then sat up. “What happened?”
“It appears that we are going for a bit of a road trip. I have no idea where we are.” He could only guess at how long they’d been unconscious. Several hours at least.
His last memory was of lunging at the man who had knocked out Abigail, and then his own world had gone dark.
“They didn’t kill us outright because they want to find out where those drugs are, right?”
He had to hand it to Abigail. She was sharp at figuring things out. He suspected the road trip was about taking them to someone whose methods were more persuasive in getting information out of people. But he kept that theory to himself.
“If those other guys find the old man, they’ll know we don’t have the drugs.”
Though the old man seemed pretty savvy at surviving, he hoped the thugs didn’t hurt him and would just trade the drugs for whatever the hermit wanted.
Abigail pulled her knees up to her chest.
“I’m really sorry. You did your job. This should have been over for you back at your trailer,” he said.
Abigail met his apology with silence.
He didn’t blame her for being upset.
The van rolled to a stop. He heard voices and other cars. He inched toward the back doors and rattled the handle. Locked, of course.
Abigail tilted her head. “We must be at a gas station or something.”
Jesse slid open the drawers of the toolbox, desperately looking for something that might pry open the door. He found a rusty wrench.
Abigail had jumped to her feet and was running her hands along the shelving.
The door of the van swung open; a bag was tossed in.
Jesse leaped across the expanse of the van toward the door just as he heard the lock click back into place. Both of them stared at the bag, which had nothing written on it. A grease mark had formed at the bottom.
“It looks like dinner or...breakfast? I’m not sure how long we’ve been in here, but my stomach is growling, so it’s got to be at least five or six hours since we had that chili.”
Jesse shrugged. “The bag is probably not going to explode, right?”
“Right.” Abigail sat back down on the floor and reached for the bag. She pulled out an item wrapped in paper and opened it up to reveal a burger. She handed it to Jesse and then lifted the second one out for herself. The final container was filled with french fries.
Jesse grabbed the water bottle and held up a french fry. “Here’s to good food and great service.”
Grease dripped from the bottom of the bun as Abigail took a big bite. “Yes, we’ll have to make sure to leave a big tip.”
He appreciated that she was so willing to play along in what was truly a dismal situation.
He offered her a drink from the water bottle. She took several gulps.
The meal was greasy but satisfying. He leaned against the far wall of the van as it rolled down the road, swaying from side to side when it gained speed, probably to pass other cars.
Abigail finished her last bite of burger.
“I left you some fries,” he said.
She picked up the carton and scooted over to sit by him. She shoved the fries toward him. “I can’t eat all these.”
He took a fry and chewed. As they grew colder, the fries became less appetizing. Abigail set them to one side, drew her knees up to her chest and tilted her head. Minutes ticked by with neither of them saying anything.
Outside, he detected the hum of other cars whizzing by. The van slowed down at one point, maybe due to traffic or because they were going through a town. He had no way of knowing for sure.
“You think our hosts would have at least thrown in a deck of cards,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. Might as well have a conversation. Silence allowed too much opportunity for worry and speculation. He had to keep his head in this situation.
She leaned a little closer to him. “Jesse, what are we going to do?”
The fear in her voice touched something deep inside him. He longed to make her feel safe, but he couldn’t lie.
He picked up the wrench he’d found. “We’re going to look for an opportunity to escape. They have to stop sooner or later, and they probably have plans to pull us out of here.”
“And do what with us?”
“Let’s not go there,” he said.
“They think we stashed those drugs somewhere. I’m sure not going to put that old man in danger.” Her voice had become more frantic.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “We need to focus on waiting for the right moment and being ready when it comes. Did you find anything we could use on those shelves?”
“Just some old rags.” She sounded distraught.
Guilt washed through him. This was not her fight. “We’ll figure this out.” And yet, she hadn’t turned on him or blamed him.
Again, the silence fell around them. After maybe an hour, she lay down on her side and rested facing him. He pulled off his jacket, took out the hard drive, put it in his zippered pants pocket and folded the jacket. “You can use my coat for a pillow.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her head and he slid it underneath her.
He remained awake and vigilant. For the most part, the van moved at a consistent pace. They must have been on a road or highway without much other traffic.
Abigail stirred in her sleep. He’d gotten used to seeing her with her hat pulled down over part of her face. In an understated way, she was an attractive woman. Though she wore no makeup, she had a sort of natural beauty and inner glow.
Her eyes fluttered open. “You’re staring at me.”
“Sorry. There were no good shows on the television,” he said.
She laughed. “Yeah, it’s kind of a sensory-deprivation tank in here.” She sat up.
“I was just thinking I’m so sorry for ripping you out of your life in Fort Madison. You probably have family and maybe a boyfriend.”
“My family is in Idaho.” She frowned. “Had a boyfriend, past tense. A fiancé actually.” Her voice was filled with anguish. She tilted her head. Sadness saturated her words. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He wasn’t sure why he’d even broached the subject. He supposed he was curious about who she was beyond what he’d seen of her working as a guide.
“What about you? Do you have family? A girlfriend?”
“I have an aloe vera plant named George. That’s about it. George doesn’t mind that I’m gone for long periods of time.”
“No family?”
“A sister I talk to on holidays. I usually go see her and her kids once a year.”
“Mom and Dad?”
He wasn’t used to talking about himself this much. The question struck a nerve. “Dad was a pilot. I guess that’s where I first got the flying bug. He and Mom got caught in a storm. It was a small plane.”
“I’m sorry.” A quiet hush fell around them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It felt more like a respectful response for what he had just told her. “How old were you when that happened?”
“Just turned eighteen. Long time ago.” And after that, Melissa. The pain was just right beneath the surface. He hadn’t really talked to anyone about this. It surprised him how easy it was to open up to her. He wondered, too, if he was a lot like the hermit—dead but still breathing.
The van slowed. The tires made a different sound. They were no longer on pavement. Gravel crunched beneath the tires and the van came to a stop.
Jesse took in a breath and wrapped his fingers around the wrench. He moved so he was crouching by the van doors. This was it. Something was about to happen.
SEVEN
Abigail’s heart beat faster as she hurried across the van floor and settled on the opposite side of the doors. When the doors opened, they’d be ready.
She could hear music playing in the cab of the van, something jazzy and turned down to a low volume. Once in a while a voice rose up with one-or two-word sentences. Then the music shut off. Were the men waiting for something or someone?
At least five minutes passed. Abigail repositioned herself before her legs cramped.
More tires crunched underneath the gravel. Another car must have pulled into where the van was parked. A different kind of music was playing from the other car, something with a driving, pounding beat, music that was meant to intimidate. The van shook from the intensity of the doors being slammed shut.
The music continued to play. Voices rose above it. Some sort of argument was taking place. Men shouted swear words.
The music stopped.
Abigail heard a sort of zinging sound. And then the rat-a-tat of guns being fired. More shouting. Footsteps crunched on gravel and moved closer to them.
She pressed her hand against the van door as her heart raced and every muscle tensed. More gunfire. Bullets tore through the van, letting in round slivers of light.
“Get down.” Jesse reached out and tugged on the top part of her shoulder. She was flat on her stomach with her hands on her head as the gunfire continued. Paralyzed by fear, she remained motionless.
As abruptly as it had started, the shooting ceased. Still lying flat, she lifted her head a few inches. She could see holes in the van walls where the bullets had gone through—four of them.
Footsteps crunched on gravel, growing closer. “Check the back. See if the merchandise is there.” The volume of man’s voice indicated he was outside the van. The voice was not Pretty Boy’s or Eddy’s.
“Now’s our chance,” said Jesse. He raised the wrench.
Trying to shake off the shock of having been caught in the middle of a gun battle, Abigail resumed her position on the opposite side of the doors. She gained courage from the look of determination on Jesse’s face as he raised the wrench.
Some sort of latch or lever on the van was being twisted around, and then one of the doors swung open. Jesse leaped on top of the man who had opened the door. She jumped out of the van after him. The two men rolled around on the ground. Jesse had dropped the wrench in the struggle and she scrambled toward it. Her hands wrapped around the cold metal of the handle just as someone came up behind her. She whirled around, swinging the wrench. A tall man she had never seen before stepped out of range and pulled out a gun, which he aimed at her.
Abigail heard the resounding slap of flesh against flesh as Jesse and the other man exchanged blows and rolled around on the ground.
The tall man shouted something in Spanish at the other man, which made him stop fighting with Jesse. A bit ruffled from the fight, the short man stepped away from Jesse. The tall man pointed his gun at Abigail and Jesse, indicating they needed to stand to one side. The short man peered inside the van and shook his head.
The two men exchanged words in Spanish and shook their heads. The tall one got behind the wheel of the car they had come in. The short man said something to Jesse in Spanish and then shot the tires out on the van before running over to the car and getting in.
Both of them stood watching as the car pulled out on the road, growing smaller and smaller in the waning early-evening light.
Abigail let out a heavy breath. Her heart was still pounding from all the excitement. “What was that about?”
“Those guys thought they were intercepting a drug shipment. They must have been rival dealers who got bad info that these guys were hauling drugs.”
“What did that man say to you?”
“He said he didn’t want to complicate his life by killing us, and dealing in human cargo was not his thing,” said Jesse.
She pointed at the deflated tires. “But he didn’t want us following them, either.”
“You stay here. I want to see what the condition of the two men who were driving the van is.” He hurried around to the front end of the van, out of her view, returning several minutes later. He shook his head. “Both are dead. The guns have been taken off of them.”
Abigail stared up and down the long, lonely stretch of road as her breath caught in her throat. So Pretty Boy and Eddy were dead. She knew they were not good men, but they probably had people in their lives who loved them all the same. Someone would hurt over them being gone.
