A Billionaire's Redemption (22 page)

With her head torn off? Horror filled her throat with acid bile. “So this is all about my father?” she forced herself to ask calmly. “You’re admitting that I never did anything to you?”

“Hah! Uppity bitch. Always so perfect and unattainable. No one was good enough to kiss the bottoms of your shoes. Spurned us all. Nobody in Vengeance good enough for Miss High-and-Mighty.”

What? She was nothing of the sort. She was shy and awkward and uncomfortable in her own skin. “Is that how everyone saw me?” she asked him in surprise.

“We called you the ice princess.”

“And there I was, hoping it was just that everyone was scared to death of my father,” she replied wryly.

James looked over at her, and she thought she saw...something...in his pale gaze. A hint of sanity. For just an instant. Maybe there was hope for reaching him yet.

The van began to slow and she looked up to see the distinctive shape of an oil derrick interrupting the flat line of the open plain on their left. The Vacarro Field. It stretched across thousands of acres of prime oil land, and this was just the first corner of it. There was an entire airfield tucked in the middle of the property, in fact. No less than twenty massive oil-drilling platforms spread across the property in an east-west line that followed the oil below.

James turned the van onto a dirt road winding into the property. A trail of dust marked their passage. It hadn’t rained out here.

They approached the first towering steel structure. The huge, rotating hammer head of the pump was parked at the four-o’clock position.

“How come the well’s not pumping?” James asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe it’s down for maintenance.”

The road led them another mile or so to another well, which also was still and silent. “What the hell?” James growled. “You shut the field down to squeeze my family dry, didn’t you? Bitch!” he exclaimed.

The van picked up speed and bumped across the rough track, deeper into the massive isolation of the Texas plains. The road ended at the airfield, which sported a half-dozen large hangars. Willa didn’t remember those from the last time she’d been out here. But then, it had been years since she’d visited the oil field with her father. He’d been on a press junket, as she recalled. Trotting journalists out here to crow about domestic oil production being the future of America.

Heat devils made the air over the long asphalt airstrip waver. Indian summer must be here. It couldn’t be much past 10:00 a.m., and it already felt well over ninety degrees.

James stopped the van, and the pistol came out of its holster to point at her. He walked around front, the weapon trained on her the whole time. He yanked her door open. “Get out. This is where the road ends for you.”

He stepped close and grabbed her by the arm. Oddly, he froze, nostrils flaring. “Pain and suffering, blood and agony,” he crooned to her. “Gonna kill the little Merris girl. Slowly. Hours and hours of screaming.” He groaned in pleasure. She glanced down involuntarily and was appalled to see a telltale bulge in his pants. Shuddering, she stumbled as he yanked at her arm, dragging her forward.

She was done praying for her life. Now she only prayed that her death would be fast.

Chapter 19

G
abe was glad McGrath was at the wheel as they drove the treacherous roads through the pass where Willa had almost died last night. The guy was clearly a trained offensive driver and flung the SUV around the vicious curves like a Formula One racer.

They came out of the worst of the terrain and the big SUV picked up speed, devouring the road like a hungry beast. “Faster,” he urged anyway.

“I’m flooring it, Dawson. Just topped one-forty.”

They had to get to her in time. Willa had to be all right. He was going to strangle her when he caught up with her, but she’d damned well better be alive when he did it.
Hang on, baby.

“The Vacarro Field is just ahead, isn’t it?” McGrath asked.

“Yes. On the left. There’s an unmarked turnoff that leads into the field maybe a mile from here. Next road into the field is about five miles ahead. Bastard could’ve taken either road in.”

The SUV slowed. A faint cloud of dust hung over the road in front of them, and McGrath murmured, “Guess that answers that.” He guided the vehicle onto the dirt track and stopped it.

“What are you doing?” Gabe demanded.

“We’re going into a hostage situation. We can’t just barge in there, guns blazing, without knowing what we’re up against. Not if we want Miss Merris to come out of this alive.”

McGrath hopped out and went around to the tailgate, and Gabe did the same. The guard rummaged in a black nylon bag and passed him a pair of field binoculars. “Can you handle a gun?”

“Hell, yes,” Gabe replied.

McGrath passed him a large-gauge shotgun and a box of shells, which he took grimly. He stuffed his pockets with shells and climbed back into the SUV. They continued slowly, with him gazing ahead through the binoculars.

“Anything?” the guard asked.

“Trail of dust. They’ve passed this way recently.”

“What’s up ahead?”

Gabe thought back urgently to his years working as an oil geologist for Merris Oil. It had been over a decade since he’d been out here. “Vacarro Four and Five wells. Then an airstrip. Then the road veers south and into some hillier country. Wells Two, Three and Eight are on this track out that way.”

“Any buildings out here?”

“There are trailers by each of the operating wells.” He hadn’t been surprised to see Vacarro One shut down behind them. The oil below it was gone. There’d been no trailer parked beside the second well, either, which meant it was probably capped off for good, too.

“Any buildings at the airfield?” McGrath asked.

“Not the last time I was out here. But that was ten years ago or more.”

“We’ll drive by it if we stay on this road, right?”

“Correct.”

They proceeded in grim silence, the guard navigating the rough track and him watching ahead for any sign of movement. A cluster of low bumps ahead marred the horizon. “Buildings,” he muttered. “Merris must have built some hangars out here.”

“Why would he do that?” McGrath queried. “It’s not like anyone’s going to permanently store an airplane out here. And if the weather’s going to get bad, wouldn’t a pilot just fly the plane out ahead of it?”

“You’d think. I have no idea why Merris built hangars out here.”

“Describe the buildings to me,” McGrath ordered.

“Metal and steel construction. New-looking. Big. Maybe a hundred feet wide. Longer than that. They might be for storing drilling equipment, but no operator in their right mind lets drilling rigs sit around rusting. You lease them out and keep them making you money.” He frowned as something else strange came into focus. “There are cameras mounted on the corners of the buildings. High up.”

“Security cameras?”

“Exactly.”

McGrath stopped the SUV in a hollow, the airfield and its odd buildings temporarily out of sight. He tried his phone and cursed when he failed to get coverage. “More of my guys will be here shortly. I was hoping to update them, but that’ll have to wait until they get here. You and I don’t have enough fire power to clear such large spaces ourselves, anyway.”

“So you expect us to just sit here and wait?” Gabe demanded incredulously.

“Yup.”

“But what if Willa’s inside one of those right now, being tortured...or worse?”

“I know you’re worried, but I can’t recommend charging in there. The object is to get her out alive.”

Gabe’s gut screamed at him to take action now. “How long until your men get here?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.”

No way could he wait that long. “I’m going in,” he announced. “You can come with me or wait. Whatever you like.”

“You could get her killed!”

“My gut’s telling me she’ll die if I don’t go in. And I got to where I am today by listening to my gut. It’s never steered me wrong before.”

“Are you willing to bet Willa Merris’s life on it?”

He looked at the guard for several long seconds, considering. “Yeah. I am.”

McGrath sighed. “All right. I guess we’re going in. A few ground rules, then...”

He listened carefully as the guard set up a few simple rules for which direction Gabe would and wouldn’t shoot his shotgun, established several hand signals and told Gabe in no uncertain terms to stay behind him and out of the line of fire.

They scrambled through the thick clumps of side-oats and bluestem grass, batting away the swarms of tiny black flies that rose up around them. As they drew close to the airfield, they crouched low and proceeded more slowly. Impatience gnawed at him until he thought he was going to leap up and make a run for the first building.

McGrath circled wide to the left of the first building and they approached it from behind. As they drifted farther left, Gabe jolted. A white van was parked between the first and second hangars.

A female cry made Gabe jump straight up in the air. He took a quick step forward, but a powerful arm grabbed him around the chest from behind as he would have bolted.

“Don’t panic,” McGrath ground out in his ear. “She’s alive. If he hasn’t already shot her, the bastard’s planning to play with her for a while.”

Gabe cursed violently under his breath. “Don’t expect me to stand here and let her be tortured while I listen on. Ain’t happening, buddy.”

McGrath stared at him grimly, then whispered in resignation, “Fine. I’ll check out the building on the right. You take a look in through the windows at the left one. If you see Willa or her captor, don’t go in. Come get me. Got it?”

Gabe nodded impatiently as Willa cried out again. McGrath took off in a low, crouching jog, and he did the same. The weight of the shotgun in his hands felt impatient. Demanded justice. He seriously wanted to shoot the bastard who was making Willa cry out like that.

He plastered himself against the side of the building next to one of the dusty windows. Cautiously, he eased forward toward the lower corner of the window until he could peek inside the structure. His blood ran cold. Willa was tied to a chair, and a tall silhouette stood directly behind her, a weapon held to the side of her head.

A sinister voice floated out to him immediately. “There you are, Gabe Dawson. I knew you’d come for your little whore. Why don’t you join us?”

Crap, crap, crap.
McGrath was nowhere in sight. He yelled out loudly and prayed the security man heard him, “Okay. I’m coming in.”

He ran around to the door in the front of the building. It was sandwiched between two large garage-style doors. It squeaked as he opened it. No chance of sneaking up on the bastard, then.

He paused inside the dim interior while his eyes adjusted to the shadows.

“Gabe?” Willa asked wonderingly. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going to marry Melinda?”

“What?” he asked incredulously. “I love you. I’d never marry her!”

“But I heard her accept your proposal—”

“Shut up.” The man behind Willa struck her in the temple with the weapon in his hand. Her head snapped sideways and she groaned, sagging in her ropes.

Gabe lurched forward involuntarily.

“Now, now. Gabey-poo. Come any closer and I’ll shoot her. And then I’ll just have to play with you, instead.”

He thought he recognized that voice. “James? James Ward?”

“Come closer. Slowly. Drop the shotgun. Hands on top of your head.”

Gabe did as ordered. He was alarmed to see a trickle of blood running down the side of Willa’s face. Her eyes were closed and she looked out cold. And Ward, he looked possessed. Crazy didn’t begin to cover the madness in his eyes. It distorted his whole face. It was as if the man had been consumed by a monster. He looked straight out of a bad horror movie. Except that was real blood and a real gun and Willa tied to that chair.

He walked forward, his eyes glued to Willa’s captor. As much as he’d like to check Willa for breathing or movement, he dared not look away from Ward. At least the gun had turned away from her and was now pointed at him.

“So glad you came, Dawson. Now I can really make the bitch suffer. I’m so damned sick of listening to her talk to you like you’re here. Going on about how she loves you and is so grateful you showed her a glimpse of love and made her life complete before she died. Makes a guy want to puke.”

Gabe stared, stunned. Willa loved him? He made her life complete? He jerked his attention back to Ward. How to draw the guy away from Willa? McGrath had to be outside by now, assault rifle trained on Ward. Why hadn’t he taken the shot? The only reasonable explanation was that his shot was blocked by Willa.

“That’s close enough. Stop,” Ward snapped.

Gabe did as ordered, his mind racing. He had to distract Ward. Get him to move far enough away from Willa to give McGrath a clear shot.

“Can’t you ever pick on someone your own size, Jimmy? You always did have a thing for picking on the kids littler than you.”

Ward made a growling sound. His free hand drifted to the side of his head, pressing against it as if he had a headache. Gabe used his distraction to move a step to his right. He had to get Ward to shift position.

Ward cried like he was in pain, and Gabe slid another foot to his right. “Stop that, dammit!” Ward shouted. He turned a bit to his left to train his gun on Gabe. There. The shot was clear. Why wasn’t McGrath taking it, dammit?

Ward devolved into incoherent shouting that sounded like a combination of random words and animalistic sounds. Holy crap, the guy was completely unhinged!

Where was McGrath? Had something happened to him? Did Ward have an accomplice? Panic shot through Gabe. Were he and Willa on their own with this madman?

As the seconds ticked past, and Ward’s tirade wound down without a shot coming from McGrath, sick realization came over Gabe. He had no backup. Willa’s life depended entirely on him. And he was too far away to jump Ward, and armed only with his wits.

“Tell you what, Jimmy. If you’ll cut Willa loose, I’ll let you tie me up and do whatever you want to me.” His gaze strayed involuntarily to the array of knives, pliers, jumper cables and other implements of torture laid out on the floor behind Willa.

“How about I keep her tied up, tie you up, too, and torture you both? It’ll be so romantic. You can see each other suffer in the name of love.” He used his free hand to rub his crotch.

Gabe was sickened by the depravity that had taken over James Ward.

“Go over there. Get that chair. Set it down in front of the bitch princess. Oh, yes. This is going to be fun.” When Gabe didn’t move immediately, the pistol swung back toward Willa, this time pointed at the top of her left thigh.

Reluctantly, Gabe did as he was told and fetched the chair. It was old and made of solid wood. Heavy. Wouldn’t make for a bad weapon if he could get within range to swing it at Ward. But with that gun pointed at Willa, that wasn’t a possibility. As he approached within a dozen feet of Willa and James, Ward slid back behind her, using her as a shield.

Gabe was shocked when Willa’s right eye cracked open slowly. She looked up at him, and then she winked at him! She was awake? Exultation shot through him at just knowing she was conscious and with him. He saw her feet shift slightly within her bonds, both tennis shoes planted firmly on the floor.

“That’s close enough,” Ward warned. “Put the chair down. Hands behind your back—”

Willa and her chair flew backward without warning, slamming into Ward. The guy staggered backward and Gabe lunged forward. The pistol came up and he threw the chair up in front of himself. A gunshot exploded and the chair was all but torn out of his hands as a bullet slammed into it.

Gabe used the momentum to throw the chair at Ward, following it with his body as he laid a flying tackle on the madman. The pistol slammed incredibly painfully into his shoulder as he grappled with Ward. Gabe got an elbow between them and threw it with all his strength into the guy’s face. Elbow bone connected with nose bone with a crunching noise.

Something large rolled toward them. Willa, still tied to the broken remains of the chair. No! She had to get away!

Ward was unbelievably strong, and Gabe hung on to the guy’s gun-carrying wrist with all his strength. But inch by inch, the muzzle of the weapon was being forced down toward him. Another few inches and Ward would be able to blow his face off.

“Get up, Willa! Run!” Gabe shouted.

But she rolled again, carrying her even closer to him and Ward. One of her feet came free of the tangle of wood and rope, and kicked out. Ward swore viciously. She must have connected with some part of him. Another kick and the gun wavered, moving away from Gabe’s face.

Up close, Ward’s eyes were one of the scariest things Gabe had ever seen. No sign of a human being remained within them. He grunted as he grappled with the monster, “Get out of here, Willa! Go, dammit! Save yourself!”

Several more kicks in rapid succession were her only answer. Her attack distracted Ward enough that Gabe was able to get the upper hand on the gun wrist again and force it back up over Ward’s head, blessedly pointing well away from Willa.

His arms were starting to tire, however, and Ward was showing no signs of weakening in his insanity.

Both of Ward’s arms were stretched high over his head now. In desperation, Gabe dropped one hand away from Ward’s wrist and smashed his fist into Ward’s broken nose as hard as he could. The guy screamed and dropped the gun, grabbing at his face.