Mason’s temper shot hot. “I’ve been here all of sixty seconds. You’ve been blabbing about maps, snipers, and hostages since we walked up. When did you want me to say something?” He leaned toward the shorter man, using his height, but Pattison didn’t back down. He shoved his nose closer to Mason’s.
“When I stepped on this property this became my operation. Get your cheap cowboy hat and your steroid-abusing partner out of my way. You’ll be informed on a need-to-know basis.”
A red aura flared around Mason’s vision and his hands tightened into fists. He felt Lusco grab his arms, physically lift him up, and plant him three feet away.
“Callahan.” Ray’s warning tone snapped him out of his rage.
Mason settled for shooting an icy this-isn’t-over-yet glare at the stiff-necked man with the maps. Pattison’s gaze coolly scanned Mason, then dismissed him by turning his back.
“Fucking jarhead. I’m gonna report...”
“Shut up,” Ray barked.
Mason snapped his mouth shut, fuming. He wanted to lay into Ray but settled for looking for Harper. He’d have the nosy bastard cuffed and in the back of a squad car if he dared to show his face around here. Harper could jeopardize everything.
“Where is he?” Mason took another careful inspection of the immediate area, expecting to spot Harper behind a tree. “Get that Harper on the phone before he gets shot by a sniper.”
Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
“And get a description of him and what he’s wearing to those snipers.”
Ray silently studied his partner like Mason was about to dash off and take a swing at Pattison. Mason glared back. Satisfied, Ray pulled his uneasy gaze off Mason, whipped out his phone and dialed.
Jack felt his phone vibrate and ignored it. He squatted in the snow, a thick blind of wild rhododendrons protecting him from the chilling wind that slid through the forest. He couldn’t see Alex but knew he was within twenty yards, watching his back. His little flashlight was nearly dead. Its feeble orange light barely lit the ground at his feet. He was exhausted and freezing. He’d barely slept last night and today’d been the worst fucking day of his life. And it wasn’t over yet. His stress level hovered somewhere around the moon. He couldn’t stop thinking about the killer’s offer to trade Lacey. That had to be a bunch of bull. The guy was screwing with their heads. But if he offered to trade Lacey, damn right he was gonna step up.
The snow changed. No longer fluffy flakes, it’d become stinging pellets of ice in the dark. Tiny sharp pins on his cheeks.
Was Lacey cold?
Maybe she’d called...He checked the face of his phone, hoping to see her cell number as the last call. Instead Lusco’s blinked at him, and his heart deflated. Stupid thought. The cops still had her cell from the other night. He didn’t need a secondhand lecture from Lusco and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
He wasn’t going to screw this up. Brody would strangle him. After Jack strangled himself.
Brushing the tiny pellets out of his eyes, he tried to estimate how far he’d come from Alex’s truck. If he was headed in the right direction, the cabin should be another two hundred yards or so. When would he hit the line of police?
Maybe he should’ve taken Lusco’s call.
He hit the callback and watched the signal strength wane in and out.
“Harper?” Lusco sounded tinny. “Where are you?”
Jack aimed his waning flashlight at the rhododendron. “By a big bush.”
“Shit. Stay out of the area. There’re three snipers trained on the cabin. They’ll probably shoot you first and ask questions later.”
“Tell ‘em I’ve got on a brown leather jacket and jeans. And Alex’s wearing a black watch cap, black jacket.”
“There’re two of you?”
“How do you think I got here?”
Lusco ignored the question. “Are you carrying?”
Jack paused too long. “No.” He touched the shoulder holster he’d strapped on before leaving Alex’s truck. He’d also slipped a knife into his boot. Armed for the first time since leaving Lakefield PD. He never thought this day would come; he had a gun in his hand and murder on his mind.
And he was still holding it together.
“Bullshit. Don’t even think of coming near this place. Callahan will bust your ass.”
“I’ll give you thirty seconds to get the descriptions to SWAT before I move.” He closed his phone, doubting he was even within five minutes of the cabin. Especially if the terrain was as rough as he’d already crossed.
“Hang in there, Lacey,” he muttered.
Cursing that he’d forgotten gloves, he rubbed his hands together. Numb fingers would be a bitch if it came to handling a gun. He had a strong feeling he was going need responsive fingers. He scrutinized his nerves. They were holding up OK. The weight of the gun actually made him feel better, not nauseous. He felt like he had a chance.
He stepped out of his cover carefully, scanned the orange light by his feet, and wished he had night vision goggles. The man liked to booby-trap. Jack’s feet held still as his heart pounded in his ears. He needed to watch every step or he might lose his head. Literally.
He hadn’t gone far. Lacey could hear Bobby pacing in the next room. She blinked unsteadily as her vision blurred and doubled. She slowly inhaled and shuddered at the stabs of pain in her chest. Probably fractured ribs from his kicks in the cellar.
She carefully stretched toward the fire, trying not to hurt her ribs. Could she reach a burning piece of wood? Too far away. Her gaze scrambled around for something she could light on fire, use as a weapon when he came near. Or something sharp to cut her ropes, or a mislaid gun to shoot him with.
No luck.
She picked weakly at the ties on her ankles. Her hands were useless. All she could do was feebly rub at the ropes. At this rate, she might wear through them in...oh, about a millennium. She tucked her face in her knees. She was absolutely powerless.
Kelly was gone.
Michael was in Southeast Oregon.
The police were standing around an empty house in Molalla.
Jack didn’t know where she was.
No one knew where she was except Kelly. Please. Let Kelly come back with the police.
How long would it take Kelly to get help? Did she have a cell? A car nearby?
Lacey didn’t see any other hope.
The warmth from the fire chased away her chattering teeth and she started to doze, shutting out thoughts of the killer in the next room. Her pants were still chilly and wet but the heat of the blaze pushed through the cold, helping her muscles unwind. Blessed warmth.
I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean for Melody to get hurt.
She shouldn’t fall asleep. Concussions and sleep weren’t a good combination. But it felt so good. She’d just relax for a little while. Who knew how long she’d have the comfort of a fire? It was useless to worry over an impossible situation. She should conserve her energy and strength. She might need it later.
She’d sleep for just a few minutes.
They kept calling him.
Robert answered the first call, chatted with the negotiator a few minutes, and requested four Quarter Pounders and a pint of Chubby Hubby. Told them he didn’t have any food and he might listen to them if his stomach would stop growling. He hung up, grinning.
Bought some time. The closest McDonald’s was an hour away.
He turned off the vibrating cell after the fourth call. He couldn’t plan when he was interrupted every five minutes. He’d answer in a little bit, ask where his food was. Make them believe he would negotiate. If they believed they could talk him out of the cabin, they’d hold off the firepower. He’d string them along until he was ready.
Quietly opening the door to the main room, he checked on his hostage. Lacey was sleeping, propped up against the wall with her head on her knees. She didn’t look so hot now. He frowned. She was dirty and muddy. His original attraction to her plummeted.
She had been gorgeous, untouchable the night of the fund-raiser in that sexy black dress. And he’d wanted to touch. Remembering the vision of her exposed smooth back, arousal roared back through his veins. She needed a shower. That was all.
Where’d Kelly run off to? He checked the big room, half-expecting to see Kelly trying to free her friend again. One predictable thing about Kelly. She was loyal to those she loved, like her daughter.
He smiled wryly as understanding dawned.
That was why Kelly had hunted him down. She was afraid he’d expose her daughter.
Her fake daughter. A few words from him and he could ruin her marriage. Crush her husband with the knowledge that Jessica wasn’t his. Or hers. Would she try to kill him over that knowledge? How would she do it? Beat him senseless with her flashlight? He shook his head. Kelly hadn’t planned at all; she needed to think things through, not react in emotion.
Did her love for Jessica go far enough to kill?
His brow wrinkled. He hadn’t thought of that angle. Why hadn’t it occurred to him when he’d first heard Kelly was missing? She knew he wouldn’t physically harm her; he owed her that much. But she must’ve believed he’d blab about Jessica if the police caught him for the recent murders. Kelly was going to make sure he couldn’t talk.
He gave a snort. Little Kelly thought she could take out a professional killer. He pushed thoughts of Kelly out of his mind and focused on Lacey.
Lacey’s hair gleamed in the firelight. Even though it was a mess, he still wanted to run his fingers through it, experience its texture. He’d gotten a quick feel as he dumped her in his cellar. But it wasn’t enough. He’d been in a hurry and it’d been dark. Now he could take his time and explore.
He loved textures. All different textures.
How would her soft hair feel draped across his bare thighs?
He stepped quietly into the room, his plans for the police and SWAT forgotten, seeing only the woman slumped by the fire.
Her breathing was steady, slow. It was the sole sound in the room other than the occasional crackle of the fire. No outside noise intruded into his world. The circle of threatening police vanished and there was only him and her.
As he crossed the room, he imagined her head lifting, smiling sleepily at him, eyes soft from slumber. She wouldn’t fear him. A small wave of excitement touched his spine. He would untie her. Just a little. And she would be grateful, so very grateful. She’d understand he wouldn’t hurt her if she was good.
Standing before Lacey, he waited, savoring the quiet moment. It could all be heavenly from here. Squatting, he reached out, his hand hovering over the golden head and relishing the moment before he touched her with love. He caressed her hair, sliding his fingers into the softness, delighting in the sensation as the hair tickled the sensitive sides of his fingers.
She sighed quietly, drowsily turning her head so he could stroke the area behind her ear. The excitement rocketed through his veins, heating his hands. He’d known it would be fantastic.
“Lacey,” he whispered, leaning closer.
Her head lifted the slightest bit from her knees and her eyes drifted open.
“Jack?”
Her gaze met his and she screamed. He fell back, scooting away on all fours as she continued to shriek, wild eyes stared at him in hate and fear, and she cowered against the wall.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!
Fury barreled through his nerves and red anger tunneled his vision. Pushing to his feet, he strode over and grabbed that hair, yanked her head back and slapped her across the face. Then again.
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”
She clamped her mouth shut, but her eyes stayed wide open, fear dancing in their depths. He gloated with satisfaction. If she wouldn’t respond to his tenderness, she’d respond to his pain.
Callahan saw Pattison slap a hand over his earpiece, his body perceptibly stiffening. The man’s face blanked and his lips moved as he replied to the voice in his ear.
Something had happened.
Pattison cut a quick look Mason’s way, his hand still covering his ear.
“What happened?” Mason muttered and headed toward Pattison. Tempers be damned.
“I’ll find out.” Ray stepped past Mason, blocking him from Pattison’s sight with his bulk and forcing Mason to stop or else trip over his heels.
Mason fumed behind his partner. His fingers itched for a cigarette, surprising him. It’d been twenty years since he’d smoked.
This stress was going to kill him.
Pattison met Ray halfway and caught Mason’s eye, including him. The captain looked ready to tear down a fir tree with his bare hands.
“One of my snipers, Cordova, heard a female scream in the cabin a second ago. Stopped abruptly.”
Sweat broke out on Mason’s forehead, and his gut felt like it’d been stabbed with a torch. DeCosta had killed her. They were too late. They fooled around with this negotiator crap too long. He clapped a hand to his belly; he wanted to vomit.
“She’s all right.” Ray was calm, and the men gawked at him.
“DeCosta’s here for the glory,” Ray explained, his eyes earnest. “He’s made that clear. Think about his note and all the elaborate buildup to this very moment. It’s not going to end with a private murder in that cabin. It’s going to be a big production with him as the star.”
Mason stared at his partner. Ray was right, damn him. He was right.
But the fact wasn’t reassuring.
Jack crouched in the snow, the cabin just feet away.
The terrified screams had sent his blood boiling, but the immediate cutoff of the screams choked his veins with ice. He wouldn’t have believed there was anything worse than Lacey screaming, but the empty silence afterward was twenty times more petrifying.
He prayed he wasn’t too late.
Lacey was wide awake. Every nerve constricted in fear at the man in her face. Bobby DeCosta was furious. Spit flew from his mouth as he yelled at her and whipped her head back, yanking until she felt hair rip from her scalp, and then he slapped her.
Her head ringing from his slaps, she stared at his teeth, bared in a gloating grin. The lateral maxillary incisors were microdonts. Narrow and pointy in comparison with his other teeth. Up close they looked like short fangs. She couldn’t pull her gaze away.
The crash of shattering glass startled a scream from her throat and Bobby released her hair, diving to the floor, protecting his head with his hands. Lacey tipped over sideways, trying to get low, and cried out as she took the brunt of her fall on a damaged elbow. White pain cracked through her ribs.
She shook and waited for more gunshots.
Her kidnapper cursed and she opened her eyes. A large rock had landed on the rough floor across the room, surrounded by broken glass from the window.
Not a gunshot. A rock.
Speechless, she couldn’t drag her eyes from the gray mass. Who thought a rock would scare DeCosta off?
It had to be Kelly. Tears prickled. The stupid girl hadn’t left. Hadn’t gone for help.
“Stupid bitch.” Bobby had drawn the same conclusion about Kelly. On all fours Bobby scampered across the floor to the other room, reappearing a second later with a length of rope in his hands.
More rope? What else could he tie her to? She wasn’t going anywhere. Exhausted, she turned her face toward the floor. Her muscles were too tired to sit up, and frankly, she didn’t care. Bobby pulled her into a sitting position. She fought to stay upright, weaving like she was drunk. He yanked on the rope tied to the ring in the floor, checking his knots. He nodded, pleased.
He grabbed a piece of firewood and set it behind her, surprising her as he sat on it, leaning her gently back against his shins. Her skin crawled at being so close to him, having him touch her. Something cold and thin wrapped snug around her neck, making her eyes gape. The other rope! He was going to strangle her.
She held her breath.
But he didn’t tighten the rope. He simply held it in place, his focus on the door.
Now she understood. Bobby was waiting for an audience.
Then he’d strangle her.
I’ve got a nice surprise for you, Kelly. A little payback for the flashlight on the temple. A smile crept across Robert’s face as he sat patiently. Lacey blocked most of his body from anyone at the door. By ducking his head, no one could shoot or hurt him without hurting her first.
Kelly would witness her friend’s slow strangulation. She’d rush to help and he’d take her down. Then he’d use Kelly to pull in the police for a grand finale. The cops were still waiting in the woods somewhere. Following stupid textbook procedure. Unable to think for themselves.
“Come on in, Kelly.” Robert raised his voice enough to be heard outside. “I’ve got something to show you.” He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his words.
His captive gurgled against the rope.
“Rope too tight? That’s easy to fix. Twist one way and it loosens.” He demonstrated and Lacey sucked in a deep breath. “Twist the other way and it tightens.” Her body shook in pain and he loosened the rope the littlest bit.
He pet her hair like she was a purring cat. She yanked her head away from his touch, gasping hoarsely as the movement crushed her windpipe.
“Ouch. Sounded like that hurt,” he said. “Maybe you should relax and let me do as I please.” His hand moved to her shoulder and slowly slipped forward toward her breast.
Her head frantically shook.
Angry, he tightened the rope a notch. “I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate.” His hand shot down, tenderness gone, twisting her breast and pinching until he heard her sob.
He loosened the rope the tiniest bit. It would be great to play with her for weeks.
“Fucking sick bastard.”
Robert jerked at the male voice. A shock of delight spread through him at the sight of the tall figure in the doorway with a gun pointed at him.
The situation had so utterly sweetened. It wouldn’t be Kelly to watch Lacey die; it would be Lacey’s boyfriend.
Perfect.
Lacey stared.
Jack had come for her. He’d figured it out and found her. And forced himself to pick up a gun to defend her. Her eyes burned hot. He looked so good. Tall, handsome, and utterly pissed off, his jaw rock-hard. She briefly closed her eyes at the waves of love flowing through her. “Oh, Lord,” her lips silently moved. She hadn’t known. She hadn’t known she’d fallen in love with the bullheaded man. She hadn’t thought she could cry anymore, but two tears tracked down her cheeks.
He was going to get himself killed.
Not now, not when she’d just figured out what he meant to her. She shook her head at him, scraping her sore throat against the rope. Trying silently to tell him to leave. He hadn’t shot a gun in years. He was risking too much. Jack ignored her, his focus on the scum at her back.
“The way I see it, I shoot you in the head and we’re done, Bobby.”
The rope tightened and Lacey saw stars.
“Don’t call me that. I’m Robert now.” He complained like a spoiled child. Through her haze, Lacey picked up on the immature reaction. Bobby hated his childhood name.