Lone Rider Page 4

  She drew her legs closer. Who was it? Were they coming for her? Oh God, what did she do now?

  Heart hammering, she listened as new sounds, heavy footsteps on creaking boards, caught her ear. Someone approached the pantry.

  “Don’t touch that door.” She recognized Bogen’s voice.

  “She’s in there.” The sound of Snake’s voice made her stomach contract painfully.

  Fighting vertigo, Tess managed to ease noiselessly to her knees and scoot closer to the door. Though the louvered door had been reinforced on the inside with steel braces, a large crack ran close to the bottom, where a slat was missing. Bending low, she peered out. Snake and Bogen had moved to the opposite side of the kitchen and were standing nose to nose.

  “The girl,” Snake said. “What are you going to do with her?”

  “I’m giving her to Haynes. For now at least.”

  Relief poured through Tess. Bogen would return her to Dallas!

  “That’s not fair. I want a piece of her.”

  “Not fair? I tell you what’s not fair,” Bogen ground out. “Sanchez has lost his nerve. He doesn’t want any shipments until the rumors of a leak are gone. You got any idea what that will cost?”

  “Screw Sanchez. We did fine without him,” Snake said.

  “No, we didn’t. We’re making ten times the money and with a lot less bullshit.”

  “If I fix the problem with Sanchez, will you give me the girl?”

  Tess shook her head at Snake’s words, partly in denial, partly to clear it. She had no idea who Sanchez was or what they were discussing. She did know she didn’t want to go anywhere with Snake.

  Bogen snorted. “You? How?”

  “That leak we talked about earlier. I’m plugging it tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Matt Michaels. I confronted the bastard in town. He put up a pretty good fight, but I nailed him. Now he’s gonna pay.”

  “Christ! What have you done now? Where is he?”

  Snake hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “Out by my bike.”

  “You stupid idiot! I ought to--” Bogen exploded. “Why the hell didn’t you check with me first?”

  “You weren’t here. And I heard Michaels had an appointment with the sheriff in the morning. I knew we couldn’t let that happen.”

  “Do you know why he had an appointment?”

  Snake didn’t answer.

  “Imbecile!” Bogen snapped. “There could have been a hundred reasons for them to meet. Michaels does repairs on the sheriff department’s motorcycles.”

  “He’s also a prime suspect for ratting on us, and you know it,” Snake shot back. “We never should have let him past the front gate.”

  “There are several people considered prime suspects. What are you going to do? Kill them all? The sheriff would have the goddamned FBI swarming this place. He’s just looking for an excuse to harass us.”

  Bogen paced away. The refrigerator door opened and a bottle cap clinked as it hit the floor.

  “He’s the one,” Snake insisted. “I know he’s guilty.”

  “Whether he is or isn’t doesn’t really matter now, does it? Bring him in.”

  Tess watched as Snake stepped out the door and just as quickly returned, practically carrying the man she assumed to be Matt Michaels. He was medium height, with a slender build. Snake probably outweighed the man twice over.

  She tried to see his face and immediately drew back. The man had been severely beaten, both eyes swollen and bruised. Blood oozed from a nasty-looking wound right above his kneecap. A gunshot?

  Bogen’s voice, deceptively low, caught her attention. “Talk to me, Michaels. Give me a reason to let you live.”

  “I...didn’t...do...it.” It was obvious Michaels was in a great deal of pain. His breathing seemed labored and loud.

  She heard the solid thud of Snake’s fist delivering a blow. Tess winced as if she’d been struck. Then she heard choking sounds. Helpless tears streamed down her cheeks. What could she do to help this man? To stop Bogen and Snake?

  “Give me a name, and I’ll let you go,” Bogen promised. “Who’s your accomplice?”

  In a moment of clarity, Tess recognized that Matt Michaels was being accused of treason against the gang. They clearly didn’t believe he was acting alone.

  Was it true? Her hopes soared. Did someone else know what was going on here? Perhaps she had a better chance of rescue then she originally thought.

  Tess watched Michaels straighten slowly. Give them a name, she begged silently. Any name, just to buy time and save yourself.

  Any name except Dallas.

  Because in that moment she knew that Bogen and Snake intended to kill whomever Matt Michaels named. And God help her, she didn’t want it to be Dallas.

  She battled a wave of dizziness, struggling against the wooziness the pills caused. Dallas. Good or bad, he was her guardian. She wouldn’t survive this without him.

  Michaels looked directly at Bogen now, and Tess held her breath, awaiting his reply.

  “Go to hell,” Michaels spat.

  She expected Bogen to fly into a rage, to strike the already injured man. Instead he simply folded his arms across his chest and nodded at Snake.

  She saw a brief flash of steel as Snake drew a knife...and plunged it into Michaels’ back, raising him off the ground with the force of the blow. It was the act of a coward. Michaels never saw it coming.

  Snake stepped back, letting Michaels fall to the ground, his body convulsing, his life’s blood discoloring the floor. It seemed to take forever, but finally he stopped moving.

  Tess watched, unable to move, unable to think, paralyzed by an appalling, drug-fogged torment. With awful certainty she knew Michaels was dead and for the first time in her life, the prayers she’d learned by rote in Catholic grade school failed to come.

  “You asshole! You could have done that outside!” Bogen shouted. “Take him up to Scab Point and dump him in the lake. Make sure you use plenty of concrete this time. And don’t let anyone here see you. Then get back and find Haynes. We’ve got business to take care of.”

  Snake leaned over the body and withdrew his knife, drawing the blade across the knee of his own jeans before returning it to the sheath on his belt.

  “What about our deal? I fixed the problem. Do I get the girl?”

  “Hell no,” Bogen shouted.

  Snake started swearing.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Bogen interrupted. “All you’ve done is create a new problem. If Michaels was the rat, I doubt he’s working alone. Once he shows up missing, the heat could get unbearable.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I’m starting to doubt that. You’re getting careless. Don’t let it be your downfall. Now get out. And find Haynes.”

  When Snake grabbed for Michaels’ body, Tess closed her eyes, trying to inhale fresh air, fighting the urge to be ill. A man had been murdered right before her eyes, and his body was going to be tossed into a lake.

  An icy sweat broke out across her forehead. Did that same fate await her? Would she be beaten and stabbed, too, or would they merely weight her down with concrete blocks and heave her into a lake? Since a childhood boating accident Tess had an unnatural fear of water. The thought of being trapped below the surface, dead or alive, was unthinkable.

  Woozy, she moved as far away from the door as possible and lowered her head to the floor. She no longer resisted the effects of the drug, letting her body shut down. The anesthetic blackness of unconsciousness beckoned, and this time she did nothing to fight it.

  Then there were hands on her shoulders, shaking her. She blinked as light poured in the pantry and illuminated Bogen’s menacing hulk. He slapped her hard, twice. “Wake up, bitch!”

  Instinctively she drew back, filled with a new fear and loathing.

  Bogen shoved her against the wall. Then he leaned back against the doorframe. “Can you hear me?”

  She tried to nod, her who
le body shaking.

  “Against my better judgment, I’m giving you to Haynes. Just don’t think you’re on Easy Street. Haynes will tell you when to eat, drink, sleep, piss. And you’ll do everything, and everybody, he says, whether you like it or not. You’re his property to do with as he pleases. Unless you cause trouble.”

  Bogen kicked her foot, assuring he held her attention. “I can take you back if I decide you’re a problem, and, believe me, you wouldn’t like that. Do I make myself clear?”

  Tess nodded, praying her relief wasn’t too obvious. More than anything she wanted to see Dallas again. To leave this hellhole and try to forget the awful act she’d witnessed.

  “Don’t ever cross me, lady! You’ll get burned. I know thousands of ways to make you hurt, make you wish you were dead.” As if to drive home his point, Bogen bent over and leaned in close, removing his sunglasses to reveal a horrifying scar that extended above and below his right eye. “And in your case I could probably think up a few new ones.”

  If he meant to scare her, he’d succeeded. Tess had no doubt about his threats. She was crying now, more afraid then she’d ever been in her life. Bogen left, mumbling under his breath as he shut the door.

  And this time she was grateful for the numbing dark -- thankful he’d left her alone. And alive.

  * * *

  When Bogen signaled that their meeting was over, Dallas stood. Snake stormed out of the house, swearing to get even.

  Dallas knew he’d have to be extra cautious with Tess where Snake was concerned. Even though Bogen had made it clear that Tess was Dallas’ sole responsibility, he didn’t trust Snake. If an opportunity arose...

  Dallas made a fist. The ever-present tension between them had escalated with this incident. It would just be a matter of time to see who threw the first punch. Or drew first blood. He couldn’t trust the man. With Snake you had to worry about a shot in the dark or a knife in the back.

  And now Dallas had a woman to protect as well.

  Bogen shuffled off to bed, leaving Dallas alone. Palming the key to the padlock, he hurried to the kitchen and unlocked the pantry door. He found Tess still handcuffed and gagged, huddled on her side on the dirty floor. It was cold as hell in the unheated pantry.

  He knelt beside her as his eyes swept over her. She was covered with dust and old cobwebs. Her hair had come undone and spilled over one shoulder in a surprising golden tangle that nearly reached her waist.

  The relief he felt at seeing her again warred with his guilt at forcing her to take the tranquilizers, which he quickly squashed. The alternative, after all, had been unacceptable. He knew the drug vial contained a strong and sometimes dangerous sedative, knew how easily she could have been given an overdose with the filthy syringe. He’d heard that had happened more than once. Better to control what he could.

  Still, he thought her breathing seemed too shallow. Tugging the gag free, he pressed two fingers against her neck, concerned. People reacted differently to drugs. What barely fazed one person could kill the next.

  Her pulse felt weak, but steady. Intent on carrying her out of the pantry, he bent to pick her up, but stopped when she started struggling.

  “Tess! It’s me, Dallas.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, wide and scared. And very dilated.

  “You...you came back,” she rasped.

  His chest constricted. The past few hours must have been hell. “I came back.”

  He watched her strain as she tried to rise and moved to help. That’s when he saw the cut near her temple.

  “Who did this to you?” he demanded.

  Squatting in front of her, he gently grasped her chin and turned her face up for a closer inspection. A quarter-sized lump had risen beneath the cut. Tear-streaked smudges of dirt marred her cheek but didn’t disguise the bruise below her eye.

  “I’ll be right back.” He retreated to the kitchen and returned with a dripping wad of paper towels. He carefully dabbed the dried blood around the cut.

  “What happened?” he asked again, more quietly.

  The wet towel stung where he touched it to her forehead. She scowled, pulling back, nearly toppling over from the rapid move. Dallas caught her arm, holding her upright.

  She had to swallow several times before she could speak, her voice gruff. “When Duke shoved me in here I lost my balance.” She nodded toward the rusted water heater. “I hit my head.”

  She started to tell Dallas about Bogen slapping her, but stopped, recalling Bogen’s threats.

  Dallas suspected there was more, but kept his thoughts private. He’d settle with Duke later. “Did the bastard even bother to check if you were okay?”

  She shook her head, regretting the action as the closet- sized room spun. “You imply he’d care.”

  “Let’s get out of here. Do you think you can stand?”

  At her nod, Dallas helped her to her feet. She winced when he grasped her arm to steady her. Hell, her arms were probably numb from being cuffed behind her. She probably needed to use a bathroom, too. Not to mention food and sleep.

  “There’s a bathroom right around the corner. I’m going to unlock the cuffs. If I have to run you down, they’ll go right back on.” Moving behind her, he freed her arms.

  Tess didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his remark. Putting one foot in front of the other and making it to the bathroom without falling would be a major accomplishment.

  She rubbed her chafed wrists, grimacing as her muscles tingled with restored blood flow. She tried not to think of how wonderful it felt to have her arms free, and it was on the tip of her tongue to say thank you. But she didn’t. She owed him no gratitude after what he’d done.

  The small bathroom had a filthy toilet she’d normally refuse to use and an equally dirty sink that didn’t work. She stared at her reflection in the broken mirror. Her lips were dry and cracked from the gag, her hair tangled and matted. The cut on her temple looked swollen and bruised. Dried blood and dirt were smeared on her cheek, a sobering reminder of her circumstances. But at least she was breathing, which meant she still had a chance. Unlike Matt Michaels.

  Dallas was outside the door, holding a glass of water, when she came out. “Small sips,” he cautioned.

  Tess took the glass. Once again she refused to thank him. The water was icy cold. She pressed the damp glass against her forehead, the coolness a welcome balm.

  “Headache?” Dallas’ voice was low and oddly soothing.

  She nodded, fighting a wave of weakness, then took another sip. She glanced at him over the rim of the glass.

  A part of her felt overjoyed to see him. He had come back for her. After Bogen left she realized he could have been lying about returning her to Dallas. She had also worried that Snake might show up before Dallas.

  Without a doubt, she did prefer Dallas’ company. And right now he was the only person she could conceivably count on, the only person she might be able to trust. But what made her feel so drawn to this man? Her own weaknesses? Or his strength?

  He led her back into the kitchen, pausing to place the glass on the counter. Tess’ gaze drifted to the kitchen floor. The blood was gone, the dingy, cracked linoleum conspicuously lighter where someone had obviously performed a hurried cleanup job. Bogen had instructed Snake not to let anyone see him with Michaels’ body. Did Dallas even know about Matt Michaels’ murder?

  A replay of the stabbing filled her mind. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. The outer fringes of her vision started clouding, and she felt Dallas’ hand close over hers as he slid an arm around her, catching her.

  “Easy.”

  “Don’t touch me!” she cried out, aware she was sinking to the ground but unable to stop it. The lack of control over her mind and body frightened and enraged her.

  “You’re hurt.” Dallas scooped her up into his arms and headed out the door.

  She struggled, but her actions had no impact. “Put me down. I prefer to walk.”

  Dallas’ temper flared. “In case you did
n’t notice, you can’t. And I’m not putting you down, so quit wiggling.”

  She hated that he was right. Her legs and arms felt disconnected from her body, and the struggle to stay awake exacted a heavy toll.

  “What did you give me?” Her tongue felt thick and foreign in her mouth.

  “A tranquilizer. A healthy dose. You’ll feel it for a few more hours.”

  It was still dark, and Tess vaguely wondered how long she’d been out. Was it just before dawn, or just after dusk?

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To my cabin.” Dallas kept his tone to a rough whisper. “You’ll be safe there. And you’ll feel better after you’ve slept.”

  She wondered if she’d ever feel safe again. “I won’t sleep.”

  “You will.”

  She started to argue, then stopped as another wave of uneasy lethargy rippled through her.

  “Tess? Still with me?” Dallas’ voice seemed to come at her from a distance. The drug kicked in again, and she had little strength to combat it.

  “Promise you won’t lock me up like that again,” she whispered.

  The anxiety in her voice was tangible, and Dallas wished he could give her the reassurance she sought.

  He couldn’t.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Dallas watched Tess sleep, finding solace in the slight rise and fall of her chest. Except for an agitated nightmare earlier, she hadn’t moved since he laid her on the couch two hours ago. Which was probably just as well. Sleep would help clear the drug from her system.

  It also gave him time to double-check that the cabin was escape proof. Tess was a fighter. Once she got beyond the initial shock of the situation, her primary concern would be gaining her freedom. Which clashed with Dallas’ primary concern of keeping her safe.

  It pleased him to see some color returning to her cheeks. She had been too pale when he’d freed her from the pantry. In shock no doubt. He had sponged the grime off her face and hands as best he could and smoothed a salve on her dry lips before attending her other injuries.