Familiar Showdown Page 12

  She was a beautiful woman. One worth any amount of risk. Rory had always been able to draw women to him like flies to honey. And he’d never felt bad that he was selling them a total fabrication of his life. Johnny had never approved, because he’d always suspected that the women paid a heavy price when Rory disappeared. Now he knew how much pain Rory left in his wake.

  Stephanie didn’t deserve that kind of grief. No one did. Johnny could only hope that somehow she’d be able to see that he was not like Rory. That she’d eventually allow him to love her.

  He brushed a strand of hair from her face, marveling at the softness of her skin. She was a remarkable blend of strength and tenderness. Rory Sussex had been a total moron to involve her in a scheme that put her in such danger.

  Anger at Rory flared through him, but he tamped it down. For this moment, at least, he had to let it go. He had to focus on getting Stephanie safely away from Carlos Diego.

  Stephanie was sleeping so soundly that he suspected she’d had little rest for the last few days. He slipped an arm from beneath her and pulled on his clothes.

  He walked through the small cabin, noting Familiar in the window. The cat had kept watch. Johnny felt a moment of chagrin that he’d failed to keep his own defenses on red alert, but the cat would have let him know had anything been amiss. In fact, Familiar was the best partner he’d ever worked with.

  At the window he stroked Familiar’s back and checked the horizon. All appeared quiet. The horses had, no doubt, gone to find water. Tex worried him. The gelding needed care and attention, and as soon as this Diego mess was resolved, he’d find him and make it up to him.

  Sighing, he went to the kitchen, found a broom and dustpan and began the slow process of sweeping up the broken dish shards.

  Once that was done, he began a systematic search of the cabin. Somewhere, Rory had hidden something. Something of great value. Not money. Not diamonds. It had to be information, and that made the job of finding it much more difficult, because it could be encoded on the tiniest of chips.

  “Meow.”

  He looked down to find Familiar sitting on his boot.

  “What’s up?” he asked the cat.

  Familiar sauntered over to the computer and tapped the keyboard.

  “Very clever,” he said. He doubted that Rory would put the information on Stephanie’s hard drive, but it was worth a check. He wasn’t a hacker, but he had some basic knowledge.

  He sat down and turned on the machine. Familiar nudged the mouse with his nose until it centered over the Internet browser.

  “Want to go online?” he asked Familiar.

  “Meow.”

  Johnny tried several times, with no luck. “Let me check something.” He debated going outside, but there was only one way to check. He slipped out the back door. It only took a few seconds for him to discover that the wire to the satellite dish had been severed and several feet of it were missing.

  “Dammit,” he said. He hurried back to the cabin. “We’re totally cut off,” he told the cat.

  Familiar hopped back into the window, his attention focused on the three small rises where the sniper had been hiding.

  The cat’s behavior didn’t make Johnny feel any more at ease. Familiar expected an attack, which confirmed Johnny’s gut feeling. As soon as night came, Diego would make his move.

  Johnny returned to the kitchen and reloaded the rifle Stephanie had shot. He checked the rifle with the nightscope, and he double-checked his own weapon. Somehow, he needed to get to the truck and retrieve the weapons he’d stashed there. They’d need all the firepower they could get.

  He hated to leave Stephanie alone while she was asleep, but it might be best if he went now. He was about to step out the back door when the cat blocked his path.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said. He tried to step around Familiar, but the feline blocked him again. There was something in the cat’s green gaze that stopped him. Familiar was not to be trifled with. The cat was smart.

  Slowly he closed the door. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll take your warning.”

  Familiar rubbed against his shins, purring.

  Until Stephanie awoke, he’d continue to search the cabin. If he could just find what Rory and Diego were after, he might have enough bargaining power to get the three of them off the ranch alive.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stephanie knew she was dreaming. At first, she’d found herself standing in the sunshine, the vista of the Black Hills ahead of her. In the distance was her grandfather, Running Horse. He rode toward her on Black Jack, and even from so far away she knew that he was smiling at the good work she’d done on the stallion. The horse was perfectly attuned to every shift of his weight, as responsive as if they shared each other’s most intimate thoughts.

  The closer they drew to her, the happier Stephanie felt. It was a perfect South Dakota day. The blue sky was filled with warmth, but not nearly as warm as the pride she saw in her grandfather’s eyes when he rode up to her.

  “You’ve carried on my teachings,” he said, his brown, leathered face slowly pulling into a rare smile. “The secrets of my blood have passed to you.”

  “I hope so, Grandfather,” she answered.

  Running Horse nodded to the west. “There’s a storm coming,” he said. “Take cover and beware of snakes.”

  When she looked beyond him, she saw the black clouds gathering. A moment before they hadn’t been there.

  “Be careful,” he said. “I have to go.”

  “Stay with me.” Stephanie had rarely asked for anything except the opportunity to learn from him. “Please, Grandfather. I don’t want to be here alone.”

  He nodded. “But you aren’t alone.”

  He wheeled Black Jack and rode to the north, to the hills where the Sioux people originated.

  Stephanie thrashed in her sleep. The emotions evoked by the dream were so strong that they almost awakened her. She was aware that the bed was empty, that Johnny had left her, too. A part of her was alarmed, urging her to wake up. But the physical and emotional exhaustion of the past several days pulled her back under. She yielded to sleep and found herself in another dream state.

  This time she was in her bedroom. The room was totally dark. Night had fallen. The darkness was electric with danger, and she was trapped and tangled in the sheets.

  There was the creak of a window opening. When she glanced in the dresser mirror, she could see the sash slowly inching up. She could see the black-gloved hand that slipped out of the night and gripped the bottom of the panes. Very slowly the window opened wider and wider.

  Watching in fascinated horror, she saw the foot and leg come through into the bedroom.

  Everything happened in slow motion, and she couldn’t rouse herself to do a thing.

  “Help!” She thought she called out, but she couldn’t be sure. The line between dream and reality had blurred.

  “Help me!” she tried again.

  There was the sound of something pounding against the bedroom door, then footsteps running down the hallway.

  The figure in the window withdrew.

  The bedroom door burst open and Familiar was across the room like a flash of black lightning. He leaped through the open window and into the darkness.

  There was a startled human yelp and the yowl of a furious feline, a sound as primitive as that of a hunting puma.

  Johnny was right behind the cat, bursting into the room and grasping her arms as he leaned over the bed.

  “Stephanie, are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Someone was breaking in.” It wasn’t a dream. That was the terrible part of it. The window was open and cold air flooded the room. She shivered and dragged the covers up.

  Not bothering to go back through the house and out the door, Johnny drew his gun and dove through the window.

  Stephanie struggled out of the bed, feeling as if she’d been drugged. When the blast of cold air from the window struck her, the last vestiges of sleep fled. She was ful
ly awake and terrified.

  Outside she heard running, but she couldn’t see anything. Remembering the rifle with the nightscope, she rushed to the kitchen and grabbed it. Barefoot and un-clothed, she went to the window and set up for a shot at the intruder—if she got the opportunity.

  It was hard to adjust to the vision the scope allowed, a single circle of vague imagery. But she identified Johnny and Familiar and, farther in the distance, a man in black, fleeing.

  The intruder was a hundred yards away when he climbed on a four-wheeler. The machine roared to life.

  Stephanie had a clear shot. She’d never considered that she might point and fire a weapon at another human being, but she didn’t hesitate. She made sure Johnny and Familiar were not in her way, took aim and squeezed the trigger.

  The man on the four-wheeler cut the wheel, almost wrecking. But he kept going until he was out of sight and the sound of the ATV disappeared.

  She lowered the rifle and waited for Johnny and Familiar to return. Her heart was pounding and she felt sick to her stomach. She’d wounded the man. There was no doubt about it.

  The thing that made her sick was how glad she was that she’d done it.

  JOHNNY FOUND FAMILIAR hovering over the blood spot on the ground. He’d been surprised that Stephanie had shot at the intruder, but he shouldn’t have been. She was fighting for the things she loved. While she might not kill to save herself, she would to save a human life or the horses.

  Using a small laser penlight, he examined the blood. It wasn’t a huge amount. She’d likely winged the intruder. At least Carlos Diego would know they weren’t going down without a fight.

  “We’ll check this out properly tomorrow,” he told the cat. He was a little worried about his absence from Stephanie. It seemed as if every time he turned his back on her, something happened.

  They went inside, and Johnny found Stephanie standing at the kitchen sink, trembling.

  “Sit down, Stephanie,” he said gently. He helped her into a chair. She was white as a sheet and suffering from shock. He placed a shot of whiskey in front of her and waited for her to take a sip.

  “You were only protecting yourself,” he said.

  “What kind of life is this that I have to shoot someone to protect myself?” She sipped the whiskey slowly.

  “The kind that you didn’t choose. This will be over soon, Stephanie. I swear it.”

  “He was almost in the window.”

  Johnny didn’t need that pointed out to him. He was already kicking himself for his carelessness. He’d expected an attack from Diego, but not a B&E attempt. It was more Diego’s style to surround the cabin with henchmen armed with automatic weapons and keep them blasting until nothing was left. Diego was not a man given to subtle gestures.

  In fact, the whole thing didn’t smell right. By all rights, Diego should have made his move by now, and he should have wiped the ranch off the map. The gangster had destroyed their ability to communicate with the outside, but Diego was no fool. He had to know that eventually, some federal law enforcement official would show up to check on Johnny. The organization was loosely structured, but there were checks and balances on agents to give them at least a modicum of safety.

  Diego had limited time to make his move and recover the information. So what was stopping him? Why would he waste energy on an attempted B&E when he had the firepower to take what he wanted?

  “Who did I shoot?”

  Stephanie’s point-blank question crystallized all his concerns and thoughts. Though he had an idea who it was, his answer was going to be one more lie stacked on top of the others that she would likely never forgive him for. But this was one matter where the only thing he could do was lie, to protect her.

  “I don’t know. Tomorrow I’ll check the blood. I don’t think it was a mortal wound.”

  “Not from lack of trying,” she said and swallowed the rest of the whiskey.

  He poured her another shot and one for himself.

  “I’ll go out there at first light,” Johnny told her. “I’ll find out what I can by the evidence there.”

  “Why don’t they just kill us?” she asked, and there was a steeliness in her tone that made him realize how much the latest turn of events had cost her.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. That much was truthful.

  She got up and went to the window. He was relieved to see that she was no longer shaking. Maybe more disturbing was the set of her jaw and the square of her shoulders. She was ready for the long haul, and she would fight every step of the way.

  Johnny felt total admiration for her, and guilt for being involved in a situation that pushed her to this point. He knew from personal experience that once a man, or woman, decided that survival was the top priority, it changed him or her. It was a brutal awakening, one he would have gladly spared Stephanie.

  “We have to get off the ranch,” Stephanie said. She spoke as she gazed out into the black night.

  “I don’t think we can.”

  “I’m thinking we’re about due from a visit from Rupert Casper. He’ll be up here checking on Black Jack. Maybe we can slip into his truck and get away.”

  It wasn’t a bad plan. Johnny had to give her credit for that. “Maybe,” he said. His hope rose. “You think he’ll come?”

  “He can’t raise me on the phone and he’s surely not going to let it go without checking on Black Jack and making sure I’m not slacking off on the horse. He’s been out of town, but he’s probably back by now. He’ll show up here.”

  She was probably right about that. Rupert was that kind of guy. “I can’t believe I’d ever be glad to see Rupert Casper.”

  She turned and gave him a wry grin. “Ditto.”

  “Espionage and survival do indeed make strange bed-fellows.”

  “I don’t think that’s the original quote, but it works in this instance.” She came back to the table and sat down. “I’m sick over shooting someone.”

  Johnny knew she would be even sicker if the victim were who he thought it might be. “You were protecting yourself and me and Familiar. You didn’t have a choice.”

  “Oh, we always have a choice.”

  “Not true. We don’t even know what Diego is looking for, what’s so important.”

  “If we knew, would it make a difference?”

  “Maybe a big one. Even a hint would be good.”

  “I don’t see how it would change anything.”

  She sounded so terribly sad. He put his hand on hers and squeezed.

  She didn’t look at him and slowly withdrew her hand. “Want some coffee?” she asked.

  He nodded. “That would be good. We have a few hours until dawn, but I’m not going to sleep.”

  “Neither am I.” She got up and prepared the coffeepot.

  JOHNNY KNOWS SOMETHING and he isn’t sharing it with me or Miss Cowgirl. That’s the thing about Feds. They think they’ve got to control everything. How can we help him—or even protect ourselves—if he continues to withhold information?

  And watching that last little exchange between her and Johnny, I’d say Miss Cowgirl has some secrets of her own. It’s like they’re both playing on the same team but with different game plans.

  So that leaves it to me to find the “valuable” thing that Carlos Diego would want.

  Once I figure out what that is, maybe I can hatch a way to get us out of this alive. If it’s government secrets or a list of U.S. operatives, we have to destroy it. I don’t want to go out in a blaze of glory in South Dakota, but we can’t let that kind of list get into the hands of the bad guys. It could jeopardize U.S. agents’ safety around the globe.

  So I’ll start a subtle search.

  Uh-oh. What’s that thud at the front door? It didn’t sound good.

  Johnny is running there, pushing Stephanie behind him. He’s cracking the door open, and struggling with something stuck in the door.

  Oh, good grief. It’s an arrow. What! Now we’re into some Robin Hood scenario? T
his guy Diego must be off his rocker. This is a game to him.

  Wait, there’s something attached to the arrow. It’s a…picture.

  Judging from the look on Johnny’s face, this is not good at all. I hope it isn’t Black Jack or one of the other horses. If someone has harmed one of them and taken a photograph, Miss Cowgirl will seek them out and stake them in ant beds.

  Johnny is trying to keep the picture from Stephanie, but she’s demanding to see it.

  He’s handing it to her.

  Catch her! Great. She went down like she’d been whacked with a hammer. Let me take a look at that picture.

  Oh, my, goodness. It’s a wounded man, tied and gagged. And he bears an uncanny resemblance to the long-missing Rory Sussex.

  The scales have fallen from my eyes! No wonder Johnny has been evasive. He’s suspected all along that Rory was in the area and bedeviling us.

  But now he’s fallen into the hands of Carlos Diego, who is undoubtedly highly agitato, to quote my friend Kinky Friedman, about being double-crossed. And it would seem that the wound in Rory’s shoulder most likely came from the bullet Miss Cowgirl shot.

  Oh, guilt and remorse—and a good measure of anger! This is a mess.

  To top it off, there’s a note on the back of the photo. Johnny has revived Stephanie, and they’re reading the note together. It can’t be good, judging from the expressions on their faces. If I had to guess, I would say that now Rory is a hostage and will be used in an attempt to force Johnny and Stephanie to give up whatever Diego wants.

  The tables have certainly turned.

  This time I’m going to have to come up with a brilliant plan to save the day. I need a bit of brain food to get the old noggin going. Let me rummage around the kitchen and see what I can find.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Stephanie picked up the photograph and stared at the image of Rory Sussex, wounded and in pain, tied and gagged. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real. Rory’s handsome visage was twisted in suffering, and he was looking directly into the camera, as if he knew she’d see the photo and what it would do to her.