The Lost Tycoon

Chapter Twenty-Five

Bryson’s phone rang and he glanced down, then felt his heart stop momentarily. He hit the button and was about to shout into the microphone. That’s when he heard Jesse’s voice in the background, a voice that would haunt him the rest of his life. He’d spent hour upon hour watching the scumbag on video surveillance, and in the interrogation room when they’d brought him in, and he knew that ugly voice intimately.

Though he’d already known that the bastard had her, it hadn’t fully sunk in until the sound of that man’s voice came through the phone. He knew better than to say anything, knew she’d most likely hidden the phone, knew he mustn’t give away the fact that she had a phone on her, but it still took everything inside him not to shout, not to order Jesse to leave her alone.

Hitting mute so that no sound would transmit through her line, he tore into a gas station, nearly wiping out the fuel dock in his hurry. Leaving the SUV running, he dashed inside.

“Give me your phone now!” he shouted to the terrified young man attending the register.

“I’m not allowed to,” he stuttered.

“I don’t have time for this,” Bryson snapped. He leapt over the counter, pushed the kid aside, and reached below the counter, dialing the number he had memorized.

“I need a cell phone tracked right now,” Bryson said as soon as the call was picked up.

“Yes, sir.” It took only minutes, but those precious minutes felt like hours. Once he had the address, he called in every favor he had owing to him.

“Get them there now!”

With that, he hung up and rushed from the store. Entering the address on his navigation system seemed to take forever, and he realized his fingers were shaking.

Bryson paused and took a breath, then held out his hand. Okay, he was calm. She would take care of herself and he would get there in time.

He was about twenty minutes away according to his navigation system. Slamming the gearshift into drive, he tore out of the gas station and rushed through traffic, pulling around speeding cars as if they were standing still.

His mind whirled as he whipped around corners, and he took the turn onto the gravel road at nearly seventy miles an hour, sending the SUV into a spin. Not smart. Working with the gas and wheel, he managed to straighten the vehicle out, but he let up a little on the gas. He couldn’t get to her if he crashed, and if he blocked the road with an overturned vehicle, the other responders wouldn’t get to her either.

Feeling as if he were crawling, he made his way down the winding road, five miles to go, three, two, one… When he was a quarter mile away, he pulled off the gravel and cut the engine, unwilling to give Jesse any warning that he was there.

He moved swiftly through the dark night, his flashlight guiding him, and he didn’t hesitate as he approached the abandoned hillside house. A light shone from the porch, and he saw the door open and Jesse stumble out, a blood-soaked shirt covering his upper half.

He hadn’t spotted Bryson, who was just outside the glow that the porch light was casting.

“Where are you, bitch? I’m going to slit you from your neck to your…” Jesse started coughing and couldn’t complete his threat, but Bryson had no doubt what the slug had intended to say.

Jesse tripped over his own feet, and flew off the porch, and then Bryson heard a groan at the same time Jesse did. It came from behind the shed. Jesse turned his head, and Bryson, watching the scene unfold before him, stepped from the shadows as Jesse held up a gun and staggered to his feet.

“Stop now, or I’ll shoot,” Bryson called out. He’d never wanted to just fire his weapon so badly, but he knew he had to give a warning, or he was just as bad as the scum he’d be firing upon.

Jesse turned slowly in Bryson’s direction, and was close enough now that Bryson could see the wild look in the man’s eyes. Instead of dropping the gun, Jesse pointed it. With no hesitation, Bryson aimed and fired.

Jesse screamed and fell back flat on the ground, his kneecap shattered. Unbelievably, his hand rose and he attempted to catch Bryson in the gun’s sight.

Bryson aimed again, and this time the bullet putting a hole straight through Jesse’s hand, and his gun flew ten feet away. The man started whimpering and sobbing. “Please don’t kill me. I give up. I give up!”

Bryson stepped over to his gun first, kicking it farther away from Jesse, then he approached the man cautiously, not taking it for granted that Jesse didn’t have another weapon on him.

“You have the right to remain silent…” Bryson began, while twisting the man’s arms behind his back and cuffing him. “I would love it if you just did us all a favor and bled out right here,” he added in a voice of deadly calm at the end of his recital of Miranda Rights. Then he searched his clothes and found another gun in the back of his pants. Bryson tossed it toward the other gun after emptying the chamber.

“You have to get me help. That little bitch stabbed me,” Jesse whimpered as snot ran from his nose.

“Yeah, you tell all your buddies how that petite woman got the drop on you, Jesse. You know, they really love cops in prison. They like to make you their little bitch. You won’t have to worry about rough sex anymore, ’cause you’re going to get plenty of it.”

That swine would never lay a finger on Misty again. Walking carefully over to the shed, Bryson announced his approach. “It’s me, Misty — Bryson,” he called out as he circled around the dark building, pulling out his flashlight and shining it on the ground.

When he found her in a heap against the outside wall of the shed, he rushed to her side, terror almost making his muscles seize up. “Misty?” he called softly, dropping to his knees and feeling for a pulse. It was strong. Her eyes fluttered as he checked for injuries. When she didn’t complain as he touched her neck and back, he carefully lifted her onto his lap. “I’m right here, baby. I’m so sorry I let him get to you. I broke my promise,” he told her, his throat choking with emotion.

“Bryson?”

“Yes, it’s me. Help is on the way.”

“I knew you’d come.” Her eyes opened and she looked up at him with relief.

He could barely see her from the glow of the flashlight lying next to them, but what he could make out sent a whole new level of fury through him. He wanted to march back over to Jesse and beat him until he wasn’t breathing.

He lifted his hand and gently caressed her face, tracing around the smooth skin on her temple where a nasty purple bruise was forming.

“I’m sorry for getting mad, Bryson.”

“Aw, no, baby. You were right to get mad. I was wrong. But none of that matters right now. All that I care about is getting help for you. With this little stunt, Jesse won’t be able to worm his way out of trouble. You won’t have to hide ever again,” he promised, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

“Thank you, Bryson. I’ve been so scared, but I’m okay. I beat him. I got away.” A couple of tears of relief drifted down her cheeks.

“You are so strong, baby, so very strong,” he said. “I knew you could do it. You’re a fighter — and you don’t give up.”

“I didn’t give up. I just…my head hurts so much, and I think my ankle is hurt pretty badly.” She moved to snuggle closer to his warmth.

“I should have been here sooner, Misty.”

“No. I’m glad…” She had to take a deep breath. “I’m glad I did it. I beat him. I’m not going to be afraid anymore,” she said, and she gave him a weak smile.

“That’s right. You have always amazed me,” he told her, and he ran his fingers through her hair.

“I’m really cold, Bryson.”

Damn. He felt like a complete jerk for not thinking of that. Careful not to jostle her, he removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders as he heard sirens screaming down the drive.


“Help is here. I’m going to stand up and bring us out into the light so we don’t spook them,” he said.

He rose carefully, keeping her cradled against him, and he was walking toward the front porch as the first cop car screeched to a halt a few feet from Jesse’s trembling body.

“I’m the one who phoned you. My name is Special Agent Bryson Winchester,” Bryson called out when the officer jumped from his cruiser with his gun drawn.

“Walk slowly, sir,” the police officer said, “and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Bryson walked to the car. “My badge is inside my coat pocket, on Misty here.”

The officer took the coat carefully and found the badge. “Thanks for your patience, sir. Is this Jesse Marcus?” he asked, indicating the man lying on the ground and groaning.

“Yes. He’s been stabbed in the abdomen, and shot in the kneecap and hand,” Bryson said just as the ambulance pulled up.

The paramedics rushed out and Bryson took Misty to them. One attended to her, while two more rushed over and looked at Jesse.

“He’ll live,” the paramedic said, and he rolled his eyes just a bit.

“Good. I want him to have a nice long stay in prison,” Bryson said. Jesse would get what was coming to him.

“Oh, I can almost promise that,” another officer said. The police took it as a personal affront when one of their own went bad and gave everyone with a badge a bad name.

Soon, while Misty was being patched up, Bryson was able to run back and get his SUV. Then he transported her to the hospital, where she could have a full workup. Her ankle was severely sprained, and she’d have to wear a soft cast for a while, but at least it wasn’t broken. Jesse must have really put some pressure on the delicate bone.

Bryson so wished he’d gotten at least one punch in. It was too late now. The bad cop was already squealing faster than they could write down the information he was providing — giving them names of people the FBI never would have thought to suspect, and bringing down everyone he could with him in an attempt to reduce his sentence.

It wouldn’t help him, but it would certainly make the streets of Montana a much safer place to be. And, not to their surprise, the conspiracy went well beyond their state, all the way to Washington, D.C., and included some very surprising players.

By the time Bryson was able to take Misty home in the early hours of dawn, he was exhausted, but feeling so good about her safety that he didn’t care a bit.

“I can walk; I may just take a while,” she said with a laugh as he carried her inside, her foot nice and secure in its cast.

“I like carrying you,” he said, and he bent down so she could unlock the doors.

“I like you carrying me, too,” she said before kissing his jaw. “I won’t be staying in this house anymore, will I?”

“Nope. Jesse will remain locked up now, and his trial will start real soon, unless he agrees to a deal, which it looks like he’s doing. We can now take you back to Montana,” he said as he made his way to her bedroom.

He thought she’d be relieved to go back to her real name, and to leave this episode in her life behind her, but disappointment flooded her features.

“I’ve never lived in a place this nice,” she admitted as he laid her down.

Ah, that was the problem. “I know of a beautiful four-bedroom home that overlooks the lake and has deer who are unafraid to come and take an apple right from your hand.”

“Oh, that sounds beautiful, but something like that would be priced far too high for me. Plus, it would probably be wiser for me to be close to town so I can get a good job while I go to school.”

“It’s only about a ten-minute drive to town, Misty, and the roads stay plowed in the winter. It only gets bad when a freak storm hits.”

“Still…”

“The price is right, too. It would only take one piece of paper and you could own the place,” he said, unbelievably nervous as he lay down next to her and looked into her eyes.

“What? I’m confused,” she said as she reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair.

“Marry me, Misty. Come home with me and live in the mountains of Montana. Let’s fill our log cabin with a dozen pets, and hopefully a few two-legged creatures as well.”

Her eyes grew big, and he couldn’t believe how frightened he was that she might turn him down. His heart was in his throat.

“Are you sure, Bryson? I mean, maybe it’s just the adrenaline from the situation, or maybe you think you love me and you don’t, or maybe —”

“I love you, Misty, more than I could ever show you. Yes, our relationship has been intense, but that’s not why I love you. I love you because I can’t go a single day without thinking of you, and when I thought I could lose you, my world stopped having any meaning. I love you because you make me want to be a better person. I love you because you’re you.” The truth of his words shone brightly in his eyes.

She was silent for a minute, and his heart thudded as he waited on her verdict.

“I love you, too, Bryson, so much more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone. I want all of that and more.” Tears of elation welled up in her eyes and a bright smile flashed across her face.

Bryson pulled her into his arms and held her close, knowing that his future was now set. There wasn’t anything they couldn’t accomplish as long as the two of them were together. He planned on a lot of beautiful tomorrows.