Rancher's Hostage Rescue

“You had cancer!” she blurted before she could catch herself.

His head snapped up, and the startled, pained look in his eyes spoke for itself. In the next moment his countenance darkened, and his nostrils flared as he exhaled harshly. “Have,” he growled. “The damn thing came back.”

Chapter 4

Dave’s head throbbed, but when he tried to raise a hand to his aching skull, he found his hands bound behind his back. He groaned and blinked against the overhead light that glared in his eyes.

He was on the floor. Why was he on the floor and—?

Angling his head, he discovered his feet were bound as well. A surreal notion of danger flooded him, setting his senses on full alert even before he could muddle through fog that muddied his brain. He turned his head, squinting against the light as he tried to place himself. The decor was familiar, yet...different. Helen’s room? Why—?

Reality crashed on him like a boulder, crushing him. Helen was dead. Bank robbery. Gunman at Helen’s house.

Lilly! His breathing accelerated, keeping time with his pulse, as he thought of Lilly alone with the bank robber. If he’d hurt her, if he’d...touched her... He couldn’t even think the more accurate word without fury scorching his veins. He tried to sit up, and the pounding in his head sent him back flat on the floor. Slowly.

So...head injury. The robber had smacked him on the temple. Hell...

A movement to his left snagged his attention, and he angled his head to peer into the shadows under Helen’s bed. A fluffy black-and-brown cat with a white chest blinked at him. Meowed softly.

But... Helen didn’t have a cat. So where...?

The sound of voices drew his attention away from the cat and toward the bathroom.

“I’m sorry.” Lilly’s voice. “I didn’t—”

“Shut up!” A male voice. Presumably the robber. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk at all! Just finish up with this and keep your trap shut. Okay?”

The man’s hostility set Dave on edge. The guy was armed, unpredictable and currently alone with Lilly. Dave rolled on his side and curled his body so that he could see his feet. He had a thick band of clear tape around his ankles. Then tape had also been looped around the leg of the bed. He was useless to defend Lilly if the dirt wad tried to hurt her.

“Do you want something for the pain?” Lilly asked, her voice drifting in from the bathroom. “I have Tylenol here, and I think I have ibuprofen in my purse. Assuming you didn’t lose the bottle when you snatched my purse from me.”

“Screw that. I have some of the good stuff. Serious painkillers.” There was a beat of silence, then the robber bit out a curse. “Left my pills in the car,” he grumbled.

“I can get them for you,” Lilly offered.

The cretin chortled. “Like hell you will. You’re going in there with your buddy. Are we done here?”

“I—”

“Never mind that.” He heard a clatter. “We’re done.”

Dave tensed as he realized they were returning to the bedroom. He had no plan, and he scrambled mentally. Should he pretend to still be unconscious? Was there anything nearby he could use as a weapon? His hands might be bound behind him but if the opportunity arose...

“Well, look who’s awake. Won’t be trying any more of your stupid tricks now, will you, Hero?” The robber shoved Lilly’s shoulder. “You. Get over there with him. On the floor.”

Lilly gave the gunman a disappointed look. “Is that really necessary? I’m not—”

“Yes,” the man replied, his expression sour. “It is necessary. Until I figure out what I’m gonna do with you two, how I’m gonna get out of town with this delay... Hell, if I’m going to leave town. Maybe hiding out here for a couple days is my best bet. Huh?”

Lilly stood motionless, staring at him. Her shoulders were back, and her eyes glowed bright with challenge.

Dave’s stomach swooped. What was she doing? Challenging a desperate man with a gun was asking for trouble. The thug had already proven his willingness to kill innocent bystanders. Dave tested the bindings on his wrists for the hundredth time. Nope. If the gunman attacked Lilly, he’d be useless to her. His incapacity clawed at his soul. He had to find a way to protect Lilly, to rescue her from this lunatic before she was hurt.

“Go!” The man gave Lilly’s shoulder a nudge and took a roll of packing tape from the top of the dresser.

Lilly trudged over to Dave and squatted beside him on the floor, taking a moment to check the bump on his head. “How do you feel? Any nausea? Double vision?”

She touched his face, just below the spot on his head that ached from the robber’s assault. Even the slight pressure of her fingers sent lightning bolts streaking under his skull. He sucked in a breath, startled by how much his head hurt—and by how good her cool touch felt on his skin. Despite the pain from the knot on his brow, Lilly’s soft caress, the concern in her green eyes and the subtle floral scent that surrounded her were a heady combination.

Dave shook his head slowly. “No. None of that. Just a sore skull.”

The screech of tape ripping from the roll redirected his attention to the robber. “Yeah, boo-hoo. You shot me. This—” he pointed to the bandage on his side just below his armpit “—ain’t no picnic, either. So stop your griping.”

Dave’s attention went to the revolver tucked in easy reach in the waist of the man’s threadbare jeans.

“He wasn’t griping,” Lilly said, glancing over her shoulder. “I asked him about his symptoms.”

Dave lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at Lilly, surprised to hear her defend him. She might hate him for his history with Helen, but they were united by their captivity at the hands of the bank robber. A frail and unfortunate connection, for sure, but not one he would dismiss. They needed to trust and depend on each other if they were going to survive this ordeal.

“Hands behind your back,” the cretin barked, kneeling beside Lilly.

Sighing, she complied. “What are you going to do with us?”

Dave was wondering the same thing. If the robber meant to kill them, wouldn’t he have done that already? Why bother binding them and holding them hostage if he meant to be rid of them?

“I don’t know.” The thug began wrapping the packing tape around her wrists, and she grimaced. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mr. Hero there screwed things up when he shot me. I should be a hundred miles from here by now.”

“Going where?”

The robber jerked a startled gaze toward Dave when he spoke. “Away from this Podunk town. That’s all you need to know.”

“In that rattletrap?” Dave said and scoffed. “You’d be lucky to make it fifty miles before something essential fell off or gave up the ghost.”

The thug narrowed his eyes on Dave. “Did I ask you?”

“Just sayin’.” Dave wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with his comments, but an idea niggled at the back of his head. He followed where the forming idea led him. “If you plan to make your getaway in that thing, you’re gonna need some work on the engine at least.”

“And you know this how?” the robber grumbled, pausing from his work binding Lilly’s wrists.

“I followed you outside the bank when you drove away. I heard the motor.” He lifted one shoulder. “I work on farm machinery primarily, but the ranch trucks need tweaks every now and then. I know engines.”

The robber held his stare for a tense moment before tearing off the tape and dropping Lilly’s hands. “Well, I can’t hardly take the thing into a shop around here and wait around while they give me a tune-up, now can I? Cops all over the state are looking for me by now.”

His gut felt as though snakes were writhing inside him, biting his flesh and filling his blood with poison. He swallowed hard and said, “I’ll do it.”

Beside him, Lilly stiffened. The robber blinked in surprise, then twisted his face with skepticism. “What?”

“I’ll fix your engine.” Confidence in his impromptu idea flowed through him, emboldening him. “If you’ll let us go, unharmed, then I’ll do whatever repairs are needed to get you on the road and out of state.”

Lilly gaped at him. The robber sat back on his heels and rubbed his cheek.

A bubble of hope swelled in his chest. This could work. He cocked his head in question as he eyed the robber. “So...do we have a deal?”

Chapter 5

Dave held his breath, while in his mind, the details of his plan began spinning out and taking shape. This could work, if—

The thug snorted. “Nice try, Hero. But I wasn’t born yesterday. If I let you two go, your first stop will be the police, and I’ll have cops on my tail inside of twenty minutes.”

Dave’s hope deflated a little, but he wouldn’t give up. “We won’t go to the cops.”

“Sure, you won’t,” his captor said, sneering. “And the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus are real.” He faced Lilly. “Feet together, Lilly.”

“How about this,” Lilly said, complying with his demand. “We give you twenty-four hours to drive as far out of Colorado as you can before we go to the cops.”

The robber gave Lilly an ugly grin. “But that arrangement still has you going to the cops. And that is the deal breaker.” He tore another long strip of tape from the roll with a jarring rrriipp and began binding Lilly’s feet.

Dave gritted his back teeth. At least they were talking, negotiating. He knew that, deep down, the guy was intrigued, tempted. The thug had to know his car was crap and was on the verge of breakdown. The promise of repairs that would facilitate his escape had to be enticing the thug on some level. “Then don’t let us go.”

Lilly’s head swiveled toward him, her eyes wide, her mouth slack.

But he had the robber’s attention, and he continued, “I fix the crap-mobile, and you leave us safe and uninjured, still bound, right here in the bedroom. You drive away, scot-free. But you have to swear not to hurt us. We are not injured in any way. That is my deal breaker.”

He cut a brief look to Lilly, praying she’d trust him, and met her baffled expression.

The robber stood and tossed the rest of the tape roll on the dresser. He twisted his mouth as he glared at Dave. “We’ll see. I ain’t making any deals now. I’m hurtin’ and need time to rest, regroup. I’m better off hiding here while the cops spin their wheels lookin’ for me.” He rubbed his side, carefully touching his bandage before walking into the bathroom. When he returned, he wore his shirt and had the gun in his hand again. Scowling, he divided a hard look between them. “I gotta get my pain pills outta my car. Don’t try anything while I’m gone, or I swear I’ll start shooting off toes.”

The hardwood floor vibrated as the robber stomped out of the room.

Dave muttered under his breath, calling the cretin every foul name he could think of.

“You forgot ‘bastard’ and ‘son of a bitch,’” Lilly said quietly.

“Hmm. Didn’t forget ’em. I was saving them for you.”

She chuckled wryly, as he’d hoped she would, then fell silent. He searched for something, anything he could do to encourage her and buoy her spirits. As bad as things looked for them, he needed her not to give up, not to accept defeat. He’d rather she be fighting mad than fearful or hopeless.

She scooted across the floor, pushing with her bound feet and wiggling her bottom a little at a time, until, back to back, they could lean against each other. He heard—and felt—Lilly heave a sad sigh. “I’m so sorry I got you into this, Dave.”

He furrowed his brow, certain he hadn’t heard her correctly. “What? How...?” He gave a short dry laugh. “How is any of this your fault?”

“He’s here at the house because of me. He told me that when I was cleaning out his gunshot wound.”

“Are you saying you know him? I noticed he used your name.”

“No. Nothing like that. It’s... He took my purse. Remember?”

He grunted an acknowledgment.

“Well, he saw my hospital ID in my purse and decided I was going to fix him up. He found Helen’s address on the stuff I took from her lockbox. I’m the reason he’s here. And I’m the reason you’re here, because I asked you to drive me and get your things.”

Her forlorn tone gouged at his heart. He wished he could comfort her in some way. A hug, a smile, a pat on the back, but none of those options were available to him. “Stop it.”

“Huh?”

“Stop blaming yourself. I could just as easily say it was my fault. If I hadn’t shot him, he wouldn’t have needed medical attention, and he wouldn’t have come here.”

He felt the movement, the stir of her hair as she shook her head. “No. I’m glad you shot him. You saved lives. He was panicking and firing at anyone who moved. Things were spiraling out of control, and you helped put an end to his reign of terror.”

Dave expelled a weary breath. “Until he ended up here, holding us hostage.”

She snorted. “Yeah. Right.”

“Look, Lilly, if anyone is to blame for our situation, it is him. He robbed the bank. He broke into the house. He tied us up. Don’t take this on yourself.” He turned his head, wishing he could look into her eyes as he pleaded with her, but could only manage a glimpse of her slumped shoulder. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced.

“Now say it like you mean it.”

“Okay!” Her answer was edged with irritation, but he preferred that to her self-pity.

Dave inched his hands to hers and hooked a couple fingers with hers, the closest he could come to holding her hand while his wrists were bound as tightly as they were.

“I’m going to find a way to get you out of this mess, Lilly. I promise.”

“Don’t you mean get us out of this mess?” She gave a low, wry chuckle. “Seems to me you’re right in the middle of it yourself.”

“True enough, but...you’re my priority. If something happens to me, so be it. But I will do everything in my power to see you through this ordeal safely. I swear.”

She was silent, and he could imagine her skepticism.

“I know I don’t have a good track record, based on the promises I made Helen, but... I want to make up for all that.” He felt Lilly stiffen, her back straightening behind his. “For disappointing her. For falling short too many times. Her death was a wake-up call. Too late to do anything for her, I know. But... I will try to do better. For you.”

They sat in the silent room for several minutes. Then her hand moved. Her fingers curled to grip his more tightly. And a lightness spiraled through him. He’d been given a second chance. Although he’d failed Lilly’s sister, he had an opportunity to make a difference for Lilly.

Somehow he would. Or he’d die trying.

* * *

Lilly flinched when she heard the back door slam and the heavy footsteps of the robber returning.

“Listen, Lilly. If, at any time, he shoots at us,” Dave said, in a hushed and hurried voice, “get low. Try to get under the bed. I’ll do my best to cover you.”

Lilly’s heartbeat accelerated. While she’d been dwelling on the horridness of their situation, Dave had been working through strategies, possibilities. Plans that involved him sacrificing himself to protect her. “Dave, you can’t—”

“Just do it! Roll under the bed if at all possible. I’ll—”

“Hey!” The robber appeared again at the door of the bedroom, an orange prescription bottle in his hand, and he sent them a warning look. “What are you two talking about?”

Dave sat taller, and against her back, she felt the tension enter his body. “Nothing.”

The robber stepped into the room, his expression darkening. “Don’t lie. I heard you talking.”

“He was asking me if I was all right. If you’d hurt me,” Lilly said, hoping her apparent cooperation would win points, maybe a degree of trust. “I told him you hadn’t. That I’d helped you with your wound and that was it.”

The robber lifted an eyebrow and nodded slowly. As if remembering the pills in his hand, he twisted off the childproof lid, shook out a capsule and swallowed it without water. When he pressed the cap back on, he fumbled the bottle. It fell to the floor and rolled toward Lilly. The robber grumbled and trudged over to pick it up.

Lilly cut a quick glance to the prescription bottle, reading the label to see what he was taking, an address, anything she could glean about the man before he recovered the pills.

The chain-drugstore logo jumped out at her and below that tramadol and Wayne Mo—

Their captor snatched up the bottle and shoved it in his pocket.

“Wayne,” she said quietly, and he jerked is head around to glare at her.

“What?”

“That’s your name. Isn’t it? Wayne.”

He frowned as he blinked at her. “How’d you guess?”

“It was on the pills.”

He twisted his mouth in frustration and defeat but didn’t confirm her assertion.

“Tramadol,” she continued. “That’s heavy-duty stuff.”

His pale-eyed stare met hers. “Cancer causes heavy-duty pain.”

Dave raised his chin, his attention clearly snagged by this information.

The robber—Wayne—angled his head as he growled, “That’s right, Hero. I got cancer. So what? It doesn’t change a thing about this situation.” He motioned with the gun, indicating all three of them. “Now, you two behave yourselves while I go find something to eat and get some rest. I need to be sharp to figure out what’s gotta happen next, and right now, I feel like crap.”

He stopped at the door and pulled something from his back pocket. “Oh, and in case you were hoping to get your hands on this—”

He held up her cell phone, and Lilly’s gut swooped. Obviously he’d ransacked her stolen purse.

“—thinking you’d call the cops or someone would track you by it...think again.”

He stashed the gun in his waistband to free that hand and pried the protective, butterfly-decorated case off her phone. Wayne flipped over her phone, and thumb-scrolled one-handed through her screens of personal information.

“By the way,” he said with a smirk, “Gloria sends her best. Says she knows how hard this is for you and proposes you two go out for drinks when you get back.” He thumb-scrolled again, still reading her texts.

Lilly clenched her back teeth, fighting tears of outrage for his violation of her privacy. She hated being at this man’s mercy, feeling so helpless.

“Jillian is canceling for the thirtieth.” Wayne flicked a casual glance at her. “Forgot her kid had an orthodontist appointment. Wants to reschedule when you get back.” With a gloating grin twisting his mouth, he gazed at her from under hooded eyes. “Maybe she should say if you get back. Alan says the alimony check will be late next month. Still waiting for a client to pay their bill before he can pay you.” Wayne cast her a curious look. “Alimony, huh? Good news, Alan. You may soon be off the hook for that.”

“You ass,” Dave grumbled, his tone venomous.

Wayne ignored him and continued, “Gail P. sent a picture of a kid with ice cream on his face with an L-O-L. And someone named Isaac wants to trade work days on the weekend of the fourth. And, finally, your phone bill is ready for viewing and will auto-draft on the fifteenth.” He met her eyes and cocked his head. “There. All caught up. Now...”

Digging his fingernails into the side of the phone, he pried off the back, tapped out her battery, pinched the SD card from the slot and dropped the rest of the phone on the floor.

“Don’t!” she cried desperately, knowing what he had in mind a fraction of a second before he stomped the screen and shattered the device to sad pieces. Carrying the SD card in his fingers, he disappeared into the bathroom, and she heard him flush the commode.

She drew a deep breath, searching for the stoicism she wished she could present Wayne. Despite her best efforts, her sigh still shuddered with emotion. As Wayne emerged from the bathroom, she firmed her jaw and forced steel in her spine. She met his gloating grin with disdain in her glare.

“Problem solved. Now, keep it quiet in here.” Wayne strode to the door and shot them a minatory look. “Nothing has gone right today, and I’ve got to make a new plan.”

Chapter 6

Pressing his hand over the throbbing wound just under his arm, Wayne sank onto the sofa and rocked his head back to stare at the ceiling. The cottage-cheese texturing overhead was the same kind he’d had on his bedroom ceiling as a kid. Unlike this one, the ceiling in his bedroom had had spider webs dangling in the corners and a water stain by the light. He’d stared at the popcorn bumps many a night listening to his parents argue...or screw. Or hearing his mother rant about nonsense when she’d get high.

His bedroom had grown silent at night the day his mother OD’d. She’d gone out to meet up with her dealer and had never come back. No great loss there, he’d told himself stoically. With her death, he and his dad were free to do their own thing. Move around the country. Never look back.

Only time he missed her was when his dad vented the drunken rage he used to take out on his mom on him. The beatings forced Wayne to grow up fast. He’d learned to hide on the nights his dad drank, and as he gained his own muscle, he’d learned to fight back. His dad said facing the belt had toughened him up, taught him respect. Maybe it had. Mostly the beatings added bitterness to the love-hate relationship he’d had with his old man.

Moving slowly, Wayne raised his feet to the couch and stretched out, his gut full of sour reproach. If his dad could see how things had gotten screwed up today, he’d be laughing his ass off. Or smacking him around to teach him a lesson. He’d scorned his dad for checking out at the St. Louis hit. Today, Wayne had blown a much smaller job. Who was the real screwup?

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