Cowboy Delirium

Heaven help her if she failed and was left at his mercy alone.

ZACH ARRIVED BACK at the hospital at ten before ten in the morning, parked in a space reserved for law enforcement and bolted up the stairs to the ICU waiting room where he and his brothers and sister were to meet with the doctor.

Langston, Bart and Becky had been there since they’d followed the ambulance to the hospital last night. Matt had stayed at the big house in case there was a call from the kidnappers. So far there hadn’t been.

Zach had been on the move, investigating the crime scene on his own and combing police records for cons who met the descriptions Buerto had given them. He was no closer to a lead on who had abducted Jaime.

Langston saw Zach enter the waiting room and motioned him to the far left corner of the room where they’d staked claim to a group of chairs. “The doctor’s with Mother now. He’ll see us as soon as he comes out.”

“Glad I made it in time. Have you seen Mom since we last talked?”

“They let me go in for a couple of minutes,” Becky said. “The nurse thought I might calm her.” Her voice lowered. “Even drugged, she’s restless and jerky, and there was nothing I could say to change that.”

Zach leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Did she ask about Jaime?”

“No. She’s still drifting in and out of sleep from the drugs they’re giving her, but the nurse said she’d called out Jaime’s name when she was sleeping. I’m sure that as soon as she’s fully alert, she’ll demand answers.”

Zach wished to hell they had some. “As soon as the doctor finishes with us, we have to find a place to talk in private.”

Bart nodded. “I’m for that. I think we should reconsider our current strategy.”

They’d agreed to hold off on calling in the cops or the FBI until they heard the kidnappers’ demands, but no one had expected the wait to be this long.

Zach’s phone rang. The group grew instantly quiet, though there was no real reason to think the kidnappers had his cell number. He answered.

“Buerto,” he said out loud, so that they would know to whom he was talking. They stared at him, their anxiety tangible.

“I’ve heard from the kidnappers,” Buerto said.

“Why did they call you?”

“I guess because I was with her when they abducted her.”

“What did they say?”

“It would be better if we could talk about this in person.”

”I’m at the hospital waiting to talk to Mom’s cardiologist.”

“I’m already on my way to the ranch, so I can be at the hospital in about fifteen minutes, twenty at the most.”

“I don’t see the point in waiting that long.”

“Can you talk freely?”

“I can listen.”

“Not good enough. The deal they want is complicated.”

Zach’s irritation level skyrocketed. The kidnappers should have come directly to the family. Where did they get off dealing with some guy who was a stranger to all of them?

“Call me the second you arrive at the hospital.”

“Naturally,” Buerto answered and then quickly broke the connection. Zach returned his phone to the clip at his waist.

“Contact?” Langston asked, carefully choosing his words so that no one outside the family would know they were talking about a kidnapping.

“Yeah. Through Buerto. He’s on his way here right now.”

“Why call him?” Becky asked, her question echoing his own. “He’s not family.”

Doctor Gathrite joined them before Zach was forced to admit he had no answer to that question.

“There’s a small conference room down the hall we can use,” the doctor said. “It will be more private there.”

They followed him to a room that smelled of stale coffee. The furniture was limited to a half dozen metal folding chairs and a table barely big enough for the five of them to squeeze around. A counter on the back wall held a coffee maker that had long since finished brewing.

Dr. Gathrite stood back for them to enter, then offered coffee, which only Langston accepted. The cardiologist settled in a chair at the head of the table.

Zach found a spot to stand against the side wall. He was too keyed up to sit.

“Do you have the results of the tests, Doctor?” Becky asked.

“We do, at least enough to make a few diagnostic assessments. The good news is there’s no significant blockage in the arteries that feed the heart and no sign of a blood clot.”

“I don’t understand,” Bart said. “If there’s no blockage, what caused the coronary attack?”

“The attack appears to have been caused by a sudden spasm, one so intense that it cut off the blood flow through the artery. That’s far less common than an attack brought on by cardiovascular disease or a clot, but it sometimes happens in otherwise heart-healthy individuals.”

Langston set his coffee cup on the table in front of him. “Then you think her heart attack was brought on by stress?”

“There are factors other than emotional or physical trauma that can cause a spasm, such as certain drugs or exposure to extreme weather conditions. But, yes, in your mother’s case, the evidence points to stress.”

Becky clasped her hands in front of her. “How much damage was there to her heart?”

“You can count your blessings there, too,” Dr. Gathrite said. “The permanent damage is minimal. The issue now is having her avoid any additional emotional trauma.”

Which was basically impossible unless they were able to arrange Jaime’s safe return quickly. Zach only half listened to the rest of the doctor’s spiel and the details of treatment. Zach’s concern for his mother was a given, but the only way he could help her, or Jaime, was to acquire Jaime’s safe release.

His cell phone vibrated and he checked the caller ID. Buerto. Zach excused himself and went into the hall to take the call.

Langston followed him. “This is a family dilemma, Zach. Bart, Matt and I will be with you when you meet with Buerto.”

He clapped his oldest brother on the back. “I never doubted for a minute that you would.”

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON BEFORE Jaime heard from either of her kidnappers again, though she could hear them talking through the thin walls. Occasionally she heard a door slam or Luke’s snorting laugh.

She’d tried her door a couple of times, but it was locked tight. And the boards that had been nailed over the window wouldn’t budge. She’d need something on the order of a pickax to remove them. If she ever got outside this room again, she’d snoop to see what kind of tools she could find.

Finally, Rio opened the door and ordered her out to eat. She followed him to the kitchen. Luke lay on the sofa, his bare feet hanging over the edge. His gun was on a homemade coffee table instead of tucked inside his shoulder holster. It was the only good sign.

“I made you a sandwich,” Rio said, pushing a plate toward her. “It’s not much, but it will keep you going.”

She washed her hands at the kitchen sink and returned to the table, choosing a chair that made it easy to watch Luke and the gun. It was almost as if he were taunting her with it, deliberately tempting her to steal it.

The sandwich was a couple of slices of white bread smeared with a spicy mustard and wrapped around a piece of tasteless luncheon meat. She chewed and choked it down with a sip of lukewarm bottled water.

The two men barely spoke to each other as she ate, but when they did, the growing tension between them crackled like flames in a pile of dry leaves. Had she caused or merely added to the friction? She suspected it was the latter.

Luke looked disgustingly disheveled, his clothes wrinkled and stained from the breakfast she’d dumped in his lap. The underarms of his shirt were circled with perspiration. A glob of what looked to be dried mustard stuck to the stubble of whiskers on his chin.

Rio, on the other hand, had apparently bathed in the lake. His hair was damp, raked back but with thick locks falling over his forehead. He was shirtless, revealing a muscled six-pack, a rock-hard abdomen. He wore his virility well.

Luke rose, padded past her and stopped at the back door, staring out like a caged animal. “I need some whiskey.”

Rio ignored the comment.

“I’m serious, man. I need a drink.”

“There’s water.”

Luke uttered a string of vile curses, then walked back to the sofa and plopped down on the saggy, soiled cushions. “We got a car right outside. It wouldn’t hurt anything for me to drive into the nearest town and find a liquor store.”

“You have a short memory. Poncho said the car was to be used only at his orders. I didn’t hear him order a whiskey run.”

“Well, if I have to stay cooped up in this godforsaken place much longer without liquor, I’ll go nuts. How’s that for a friggin’ emergency?”

“Suck it up,” Rio said.

“Suck it up yourself, pantywaist. I got the key to that car right here.” He pulled a metal ring from his pocket and shook it. “You think you can stop me if I decide to take the vehicle?”

Rio stood and glared down at Luke, his muscles flexed so that his forearms looked like balls of steel. “I could stop you if I gave a damn. I don’t. If you want to flout Poncho’s rules, go right ahead. In the meantime, I suggest you guard the prisoner.” With that he turned and strode out the back door, leaving her alone with Luke.

Jaime pushed the rest of her sandwich aside and walked to the back door. Rio trod the path to the lake, and then stepped into a cluster of trees, disappearing from sight. A sliver of panic rode her spine—an unconscious, but stupid and dangerous reaction. If she started depending on Rio to save her, she was doomed.

She was alone with Luke now. He had the car key and a weapon resting beside him in plain sight. If she could get her hands on the key and the gun, the power would switch to her hands.

Her heart began to race as a plan took form. She smoothed her hair with her fingers and bit her lips to give them some color. There was nothing she could do about her bare feet or the less than pristine condition of her dress.

Retaking her seat and turning toward Luke, she crossed her legs and kicked one seductively. “How do you stand Rio bossing you around all the time?”

Luke looked her up and down, leering as his gaze settled on various parts of her body. She struggled to keep from retching.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Did the macho Navy SEAL go limp on you this morning?”

“Rio’s a SEAL?” She blurted out the question without thinking.

“He was until they kicked him out. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. He thinks it makes him better than me.”

It wouldn’t take much to be better than Luke. Still, it shocked Jaime to think that a former SEAL could be mixed up in a kidnapping at gunpoint.

“I think you should go get that whiskey,” she said. “I know I could use some.”

“Sure, go get the whiskey and leave you alone so you can try to escape again.”

“You could take me with you.”

“And have you yell out in the store that I’m holding you captive? I’m nobody’s fool, princess.”

“I never said you were.” She walked over and sat down beside him. He smelled of garlic and sweat, making her stomach churn.

He laid a hand on her thigh. “Now you’re getting smart, sweetheart. I’m the real man here. You be good to me, and I’ll be good to you.”

“How good?” She forced a sultry tone to her voice and fought off another wave of nausea. The impulse to stare at the gun was almost overpowering, but she couldn’t do anything to make Luke suspicious.

He pressed his lips against hers. Fighting revulsion and the urge to clock him, she kissed him back. When his hands groped beneath her dress, she reached out and closed her hand around the gun.

“Hands over your head or I’ll shoot,” she ordered as she broke the kiss.

Curses fired from Luke’s mouth, but he raised his hands above his head. She took a deep breath, working to get her wits about her. Then with one quick move, Luke battered his head into her chest. She fell backward, but didn’t let go of the gun.

Her finger circled the trigger, but before she could pull it, Luke kicked the pistol from her hands. She fell on top of it, but he yanked her back up by her hair. The pain was so intense, she felt as if she were being scalped. She kept fighting for the gun, but Luke was too strong for her. The weapon slipped from her grasp.

She tried to break away and run. Her foot slipped.

Gunfire exploded in her brain and blood splattered over her like crimson rain.

Chapter Five

“Lawmen are reporting lots of new faces in Texas border towns.”

“Assassins?”

“It’s possible, but not definite. No one has come up with details, but the consensus is that Detonation Day is imminent. We may have a matter of days to stop it. Perhaps less.”

And Rio was stuck out here in this miserable cabin guarding some woman the drug lords had decided was worth kidnapping. “I’ve let everybody down,” he said into his miniature cell phone.

“If you go strictly by results, we all have. As long as you’re in the middle of the kidnapping, you may still be valuable. And if not, you’re in a position to save at least one—”

A thunderous clap of gunfire drowned out the rest of the sentence. Rio took off running without bothering to explain. He covered the few yards to the cabin in seconds, horror building at what he might find.

The blood was the first image that registered when he opened the door. It dripped from Jaime’s face and puddled in the folds of her dress. She’d fallen back against the cushions of the sofa. Her eyes were glazed with dread—or pain.

He plunged back into the past and into a memory so vivid that sharp pains needled his heart. He had trouble breathing. His feet refused to move.

A split second later, adrenaline coursed through his veins again, and he crossed the space that separated him from Jaime. It was then that he spotted Luke, draped over the far side of the sofa, still clutching the pistol though his left leg was soaked in blood. The leg of his jeans was torn from the bullet and Luke was using his left hand to apply pressure to the gaping wound.

“The bitch shot me.”

It was Luke who’d been shot, not Jaime. The blood was Luke’s. Rio had little success wrapping his mind around how that had happened but it was enough for now that she was okay.

Luke raised the pistol and pointed it at Jaime. “No woman shoots me and gets away with it.”

Rio extended his open hand. “Give me the gun, Luke.”

“Get the hell out of my way or I swear I’ll kill you, too.”

“You kill Jaime, and Poncho will see that you never see another sunrise. Is a death sentence what you want, Luke? If not, hand me the damn pistol.”

Luke muttered under his breath, a few curses that even Rio hadn’t heard before, but he had to know Rio had spoken the truth.

“Just hand me the gun so I can treat the wound.”

Luke grimaced and fell back to the couch, finally dropping the gun to the floor.

Rio kicked it to the other side of the room and turned to Jaime. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I didn’t shoot him. I took the gun from him but he wrestled it away from me. He was holding it when it went off.”

“We’ll sort it out later.”

“That’s how it happened.”

“I believe you.”

Not that the details mattered. For Rio, knowing she was okay stilled the panic that had nearly torn him apart when he’d first heard the gunshot and again when he’d seen the blood.

He took her hand and squeezed it. The touch vibrated through him and he dropped her hand too quickly, backing away from her and turning toward Luke before he had time to think about why she affected him the way she did.

He put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I should take a look at that wound.”

“If you can drag yourself away from the bitch that long.”

Jaime stood a bit shakily. “I’ll wash up in case you need help with Luke.”

Luke glared at her. “You lay a hand on me, and I’ll break it off.”

“Go back to the bedroom,” Rio said, trying to calm the wounded man and make this easier on Jaime. “If I need you, I’ll call for you.”

She nodded and walked away, shoulders squared, head high in spite of what she’d been through. Jaime was all woman, but she had a fighting spirit about her that would have fit in well with his team of frogmen.

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