24 Karat Ammunition

“There’s no boyfriend, at least not lately. She’s off guys,’ cause they’re jerks. This one guy used to come into the boutique to buy gifts for his wife, but he started hitting on Mom and then showing up everywhere she went.”

“What happened with him?”

“She called the cops, and they scared him off.”

So she did normally go to the cops, instead of telling her daughter not to call them. “When was that?”

“A year ago.”

“And she hasn’t been bothered by him since?”

“I don’t think so.”

Which didn’t necessarily mean the man had lost his fascination for Trish. She was not an easy person to forget. Langston could definitely vouch for that. They sat without talking, with only the whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional whinny of a horse in a nearby pasture to break the silence.

“Think carefully, Gina. Did your mother say anything else when she called?”

“Only that…” Gina’s voice broke completely and she hugged her arms around her chest. “She said that she loved me. That’s the last thing she said before she hung up.”

“Who did you tell that you were coming here?”

“No one.”

“Not even a girlfriend?”

“No. I was afraid they’d call the police and make this worse for my mom.” Gina shuddered. “I have to find her, but I don’t know where to look. I don’t know how to start.” A tear spilled from her right eye and started to roll down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand.

Something tightened around Langston’s chest like a lasso. He walked over and put a hand on Gina’s shoulder. He was awkward at dealing with emotional females, always had been. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’ll find your mother, Gina. Count on it.”

Gina jumped up from the rocker. “I’ll go with you to look for her.”

“No, you stay here at the ranch. You’ll be safe and you’ll be available if Trish tries to contact you again. But you can help.”

“How?”

“Write down anything I should know. Home and boutique addresses. Names of employees at the boutique. Names and phone numbers of your mother’s friends—male and female. The name of the stalker from last year. Where she goes when she wants some quiet time away from home. Anyplace you think she might go to hide.”

He pulled a pen and small black notebook from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and handed them to her. “And I need a current picture of your mother if you have one. If not, write me out a good description.”

“I have a picture of the two of us and Selena that we took before I left for camp.”

“Who’s Selena?”

“She works at the boutique, but she’s also Mom’s best friend.”

“Be sure I have her name, address and phone number as well.”

“When will you leave?”

“As soon as I can change into a pair of jeans and throw a few things together.”

“I’ll have the information ready.” She looked up at him, eyes moist. “You must have been a very good friend for her to have sent me to you after all this time.”

“Yeah, good friends.” And that was all Gina needed to know.

He’d spent years trying not to think of Trish at all. He’d never fully succeeded. She’d always been there, skirting the back of his mind like a song that stayed in his head long after the music had stopped. Now the music was hitting crescendo again.

But this was only about finding Trish and making sure she was safe. Old songs—like old feelings—couldn’t be trusted.

THE PLANNED FAMILY MEETING had dissolved, but a new one waited for Langston when he reached the kitchen, this one between him and his three brothers, who were all having beers and killing time until they could start interrogating him.

“What gives?” Matt asked.

“Do you remember Trish Edwards?”

“Yeah, I remember her.”

“Gina is Trish’s daughter, though the name’s not Edwards now. It’s Cantrell.”

“What’s her daughter doing here?”

“She thinks her mother’s in some kind of trouble, that she may have been abducted.” Langston filled his brothers in on the little he knew.

Zach straddled a straight-back chair. “So who is this mysterious Trish?”

Matt planted a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “A woman who dumped your brother years ago.”

“You’ve been dumped?” Zach asked. “Why have I missed out on this?”

“I was still in college,” Langston said. “You were a mere snotty-nosed kid at the time.”

“Exactly,” Matt said, his tone edgy. “Trish was a long time ago. You don’t owe her anything, and even if you did, this is police business. If there’s been an abduction, they’ll be able to handle it better than you.”

“Like I said, Trish doesn’t want police involvement, but I’ll call them if it seems warranted.”

“If you don’t want go to the police,” Bart said, “I know a great private detective in Houston. He does the legwork for Phil Caruthers and some of the other leading criminal defense lawyers in the city. There’s no one he can’t find.”

“Write down his name and phone number for me,” Langston said. “I may need him before this is over.”

“So what are you going to do?” Zach asked.

“Drive to Dallas and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

“Why not fly up in the company Cessna?” Zach asked. “It would be a lot quicker.”

“I’ll need the car when I get there, and there won’t be that much traffic this time of the night. I can make the drive in under four hours.”

“I still say call the cops,” Matt said. “You don’t even know the woman anymore. She could be involved with drugs or wanted for something and on the run.”

“She owns a boutique. That’s not your typical criminal profile.”

“If I can’t talk sense into you, I’ll go with you,” Matt said. “Bart can handle the ranch a few days without me.”

“And if I can’t, I have CEO Mother to tell me what to do.”

Matt groaned. “That is not a joking matter.”

“I’d rather go this alone at first,” Langston said. “I can keep a lower profile that way, but I’ll call if it looks like I need assistance.”

Bart nodded. “What about Gina?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d take responsibility for her. I don’t want her to leave the ranch unless you’re with her. And all of you will need to be on guard that no one comes looking for her and causes any trouble at the ranch.”

“That’s a given,” Matt said.

“Are you going to explain all of that to Mom?” Bart asked.

“That’s my next order of business. Then I’ll pack a few things and hit the road.”

“If you don’t have what you need, help yourself to my closet,” Bart said. “The jeans and shirts should fit. I don’t know about the shoes. I’ve got man feet, you know.”

“If the man’s a giant,” Zach mocked.

“I keep some old jeans and boots and such at the big house so that I don’t have to pack a duffel every time I drive out,” Langston said. “They’ll do.”

“Anything I can do to help, just say the word,” Zach said. “I’m your man.”

“How would you like to escort Celeste to a dinner party at Mayor Griffin’s tonight?”

Zach groaned. “Let me rephrase that offer. Anything I can do for you short of riding a maniacal bull or spending an evening with your charming fiancée, just let me know.”

“And she speaks so highly of you.”

“Yeah, right.”

None of his brothers were particularly fond of Celeste, but that would change when they got to know her better. He was sure of it. Langston headed off to find his mother and was already at the top of the stairs when Matt caught up with him.

“You’ll need a handgun,” Matt said. “You can take my Glock.”

“Thanks.”

Matt put a hand on Langston’s arm. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Sure I do. When has a Collingsworth ever turned their back on a woman in distress?”

“Never, but I’m not sure that’s what this is about. If it’s about some kind of bond you think you have with Trish, just remember that the two of you were a hell of a long time ago. You’ve changed a lot in those years. She will have to. You can’t just go back and pick up where you left off, not even if…”

“I have no plans to pick up anything. I’m engaged. I just need to check this out. That’s all.”

“Sure.” Matt delivered a brotherly punch to the arm. “Just be careful, bro.”

“I always am.”

LENORA WAS IN SEMI-SHOCK by the developments of the meeting with Nigel and then with the idea of Langston rushing off to north Texas to rescue an old girlfriend. But she could see how Gina’s story would have gotten to him. The girl was scared to death.

“This will be your room,” Lenora said, leading Gina into the guest room on the far eastern end of the upstairs hall.

Gina looked around for a few seconds before dropping her one piece of luggage to the bed. “Did you know my mom well?”

“Not well, but I’ve met her. She wasn’t a lot older than you at the time.”

“Did she come here to Jack’s Bluff Ranch?”

“Several times. She loved the horses, could never wait to go riding.”

“She still likes to ride, but she doesn’t get to do it much. We live in the city.”

Gina walked to the window and stared out. The view looked directly over the garden that they’d built around the rosebush Randolph had given Lenora for their first anniversary. Beyond that was a stretch of pines that gave away quickly to open pasture.

It was almost six, but the sun was still high enough in the sky for the roses to show off their beautiful collage of colors. Dark came late in July.

“Mom never mentioned any of you,” Gina said. “I don’t know why she sent me here.”

“I couldn’t say,” Lenora said, “but delightful young ladies are always welcome at Jack’s Bluff.”

“Thanks.”

“The bathroom is down the hall, the second door to your left. Normally you’d have to share it with the twins, my seven-year-old grandsons who have the room across the hall from you, but David and Derrick are with their father for two more weeks.”

“I won’t be here two weeks. I’ll be leaving as soon as my mom’s okay.” She walked back to the bed and unzipped her bag. “How many people live in this house?”

“Currently six, seven counting you.”

“Does Langston live here?”

“No, he lives in Houston. And Matt and Bart have their own houses here on the ranch. Zach, Jaime and Becky—the twins’ mother—all live here in the big house.”

“You have a large family.”

“Yes, I do. You met all of them except the twins. How about you, Gina? Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“No. It’s just me and my mom.” Gina started to unpack, but stopped and collapsed on the bed.

“There’s plenty of time to shower and take a nap before dinner,” Lenora said. “We won’t eat until seven-thirty. Juanita’s making a chicken enchilada casserole, at least that’s my name for it. It’s spicy, but superb.”

“Who’s Juanita?”

“Our cook. Bart hired her last year, because he and the boys wanted me to take it a little easier. Actually, I miss my kitchen and I’m a little jealous sometimes that she gets the compliments instead of me.”

“Then why don’t you fire her?”

“I can’t. She makes tamales to die for. Besides, it gives me more time for my charity work and spending time with my grandsons.” And now time to exert some influence into the operations of Collingsworth Enterprises—or at least into the development of her sons and even her daughters.

Gina kicked out of her shoes. “I’d like a shower, but I can’t really dress for dinner. All I have with me are shorts and T-shirts.”

“They’ll do fine. I tried the policy of dressing for dinner for awhile. I gave it up after I got tired of sitting at the table by myself. Now we’re back to South Texas rules. Come as you are, but the horse and spurs stay outside.”

Gina finally smiled.

Lenora did, too, though a sudden horrifying thought crept into her mind. Suppose Trish wasn’t all right. Suppose Langston was too late and something had gone terribly wrong.

Maybe she should call Billy Mack. He had a friend that had been a Texas Ranger before he retired. Langston might not appreciate her calling their neighbor in on this, but Billy was older and had a level head on him. And he’d been a friend of the Collingsworth family all his life.

If Langston didn’t call back with good news by morning, she might just give Billy a call. Lenora forced a smile and left the room quickly before Gina saw her fear. The girl had more than enough of her own.

LANGSTON HIT THE ACCELERATOR of his sleek black Porsche as he pulled out of the gate of Jack’s Bluff and headed north. No matter what Matt said, this wasn’t about his old relationship with Trish. Those feelings were dead, had been for years. He might have thought he’d loved Trish once, but what had he known of love at nineteen?

Yet the old memories began to haunt his mind. Slow dancing with Trish in Cutter’s Bar. Watching her float along the surface of the water when they’d gone skinny-dipping in the moonlight. Holding Trish in his arms. Tasting her lips.

His muscles grew taut as a new wave of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Trish was in danger and she needed him. That’s all he’d deal with now.

Chapter Three

It was ten-thirty by the time Langston pulled up in front of Trish’s home in a fashionable section of west Dallas. There were lights in most of the houses, but Trish’s was dark except for the landscaping lamps dotted about the flowerbeds and shrubbery. The house was two-story with lots of angles and gables on a corner lot. Langston parked in the driveway and killed the engine. He’d made a few phone calls on his way north. One had been to Aidan Jefferies, a detective friend in Houston who’d learned that Trish had been involved in a carjacking/kidnapping incident eight days ago.

Luckily she’d escaped unhurt after being rescued by a local detective, a man who’d become suspicious when he spotted the car speeding down an Interstate exit ramp and recognized the abductor as a suspect he’d questioned months earlier. The detective had followed until Trish had run the car off the road and wrecked the car. A shootout had followed, and the carjacker had been shot and killed by the cop. It had made the local newspaper but not the front page. An explosion at a local plant had been the hot topic of the day.

An open-and-shut case according to police records, but Langston had a strong suspicion that it was somehow tied to the strange phone call she’d made to Gina.

He retrieved his emergency flashlight from his glove compartment and stuck it in the front pocket of his jeans. He also took the Glock, just to be on the safe side. He rang the bell and waited. As expected, there was no answer and no signs of life.

Breaking in houses wasn’t his specialty, though this wouldn’t officially be breaking and entering since Gina had given him her key. He put his face to the door and shot a beam of light into the foyer.

He couldn’t see much of the living area beyond the entranceway, but he did see an overturned table and a shattered vase, its bouquet of flowers scattered about the floor. His worry about alarms vanished.

He unlocked the door hurriedly and stepped inside. “Trish.” He called her name but didn’t wait for an answer before racing to the living room and then reeling at the destruction. Cushions and pillows were ripped and cotton and feathers were scattered everywhere.

Adrenaline rush and apprehension had his heart pounding as he made his way through the house. “Trish, it’s Langston. Are you here? If you’re hiding, you can come out.” There was no response.

The rest of the house matched the kitchen. Drawers were open, their contents scattered. Even the closets had been ransacked. Not your typical random vandalism. Whoever had come in was more likely looking for something in particular. He tried the kitchen door that led to the garage. It was unlocked and the garage was empty.

He stepped over broken glass and walked to the door that led from the kitchen to the backyard, flicking on the outside light and stepping outside. There was a small pool and some yard chairs. The area was enclosed by thick shrubbery and a high security fence. He spun and aimed the gun at the sound of movement in the water, but it was only the pool cleaner rearing its vacuuming head to spit a stream of water in his direction.

Langston scanned the pool. A plastic float was backed into the far right corner and a couple of iridescent diving rings rested on the bottom. The courtyard area was untouched by the demolition. He went back inside and searched again, not breathing easy until he was certain that Trish was not in the house, injured—or worse.

Leaving things just as he’d found them, Langston went back to his car, input the address that Gina had supplied into his GPS system and drove the few blocks to Trish’s shop, Cottage Boutique. He stopped a couple of doors down, in a strip mall to the right of Trish’s shop. The boutique looked more like an old house, a survivor in the world of sleek shopping centers. To the left was another cottage, this one a day spa spouting a sign that proclaimed it a haven from stress.

Trish’s boutique was closed, as were all the shops except for a chain coffee café at the far end of the strip mall. He studied the displays of fashionably dressed mannequins in two lighted bay windows of the boutique as he walked to the front door. Thick drapes hung behind the displays, keeping the shop’s interior from view.

The door was locked and the blinds were closed tight so that there was no way to see inside. A small sign by the doorway said Please Ring For Entry. He did. The shop stayed dark and silent.

Frustrated, he pulled the list of names and numbers Gina had given him from his pocket and held it beneath the beam of his flashlight. The photograph of Selena, Gina and Trish stared back at him. His chest tightened and his lungs closed around his quickened breath. His instincts screamed that Trish was in trouble and that if he didn’t find her fast, it would be too late.

He scanned the notes for the information on where Trish went when she needed to get away. Long walks in the park. Movies. A fishing camp on Lake Livingston that belonged to Selena’s boyfriend. If she was running from someone, she might have gone there.

Langston was already back in his sports car when the lights in the front windows of the boutique flicked off. Probably on a timer he decided, but he waited for a few minutes to make certain. He’d started the engine and was backing from his parking spot when he saw the garage door of Trish’s shop begin to lift.

Damn. There had been someone inside.

He revved his engine and swerved from the strip center, pulling into the driveway of the cottage just as a white compact car started to back out. The driver squealed to a stop when she saw him. He blocked her in, then jumped from behind the wheel and raced to her door.

He shone a beam of light into her car. The dark-haired young woman—the same one who was in the picture Gina had given him—stared at him, her eyes wide with fear.

He laid the pistol on top of the car, and leaned against the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, Selena,” he said, talking loudly enough for her to hear through the closed window. “I’m looking for Trish Cantrell.”

She shook her head.

“I didn’t have anything to do with the carjacking. I’m just a friend. Gina came to me for help. My name’s Langston Collingsworth.” Not that there was any reason she’d have ever heard of him. Still, he took his wallet from his pocket and pressed his ID against the window, shining his light so that she could see it.

Surprisingly, she responded with a nod and some of the fear seemed to dissolve from her face as if she recognized his name.

“Can you lower the window so we can talk?”

She nodded and did as he’d asked. “Where’s Gina? Is she okay?”

“At my family’s ranch down in Colts Run Cross. She’s fine but worried about her mother.”

No response.

“Where’s Trish?” he demanded.

“I don’t know.”

He leaned closer. “I know Trish is in trouble. I know about the carjacking and I’ve seen the mess at her house.”

“How could you know about the carjacking?” she asked suspiciously. “Gina doesn’t even know about that.”

“It’s not exactly a secret. It was in the newspaper and I talked to a friend who’s a detective.”

“You talked to the police?”

“I talked to one cop. He’s not with the DPD. Trish is obviously in danger, and Gina came to me. I just want to help.”

“I don’t know where she is. Now, please, move your car. I have to go home.”

He grabbed her arm. “Is she at your boyfriend’s fishing cabin?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying. She’s at the camp, isn’t she?”

“If I tell you, you must promise not to go to the police, not even to your detective friend.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But Trish made me promise on the Bible, and you have to promise, too.”

He didn’t make promises easily, and he never broke them unless he found out he’d been lied to. This time he had no choice. There was no time to waste. “I don’t have a Bible on me, but I’ll give you my word as a Collingsworth and that’s just as sacred a promise.”

“It better be. She said she might go to the camp. That’s all I know. I haven’t heard from her since last night after someone broke into her house.”

Too bad he hadn’t known that before he’d driven all the way to Dallas. “I need better directions than Gina gave me. There’s no time to waste looking for the place.”

“Okay, but you have to help her. If you don’t, he’s going to kill her.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Her fear was palpable, and it crawled inside him, adding a sense of urgency that set his nerves even more on edge as she hurriedly scribbled the directions on the back of what looked like a gasoline receipt.

She pressed the note into his hand. “Make sure you’re not followed.”

“Count on it.”

“All I know about you, Langston Collingsworth, is that when Trish talks about you, it’s as if you are some kind of friggin’ prince. So be one now. Don’t let her down.”

He swallowed hard as she pressed the note into his hand. He didn’t bother with a goodbye, but just rushed back to his car, started the engine and jerked it into Reverse. He wasn’t a prince, but he’d stack a cowboy against royalty any day.

As long as he wasn’t already too late.

TRISH STOOD AT THE BACK DOOR of the rustic cabin and stared at the silvery bands of moonlight dancing across the lake. A light breeze stirred the leaves of a sweetgum tree, and an owl called down from one of its branches. Another time she would have found the isolation of the camp peaceful and inspiring. Tonight it only intensified the desperate fears that had driven her here.

If any of this made sense, she’d have a clearer idea what to do. She couldn’t just stay here, hiding out as if she were the criminal. But she couldn’t go back to Dallas, either, not until she knew what she was up against. And she definitely couldn’t go to the cops.

Neither could Gina. So now she was at Colts Run Cross, in the last place Trish would have ever expected to send her. But desperation made a person take desperate risks.

Trish stepped outside. It was warm, but not the same kind of unforgiving heat that attacked Dallas so mercilessly in July and August. Credit the wind blowing across the lake for that.

The moon slid behind a cloud, turning the night pitch-dark. The high-pitched chorus of what must have been thousands of tree frogs filled the night, accompanied by the occasional screech of an owl and the rustle of grass as one of the night creatures hunted nearby. Deer, squirrel, raccoon, skunks, armadillos—and snakes. She had lots of company. And she was totally alone.

A mosquito buzzed her face and landed on her cheek. She slapped it away, started to go back inside—then stopped dead-still as a new noise wafted on the breeze. It was a car engine. Fear slammed her senses. The man had found her. He’d make his demands again, and when she couldn’t deliver…