Hell or High Water (33 page)

A hint of a breeze stirred. The sky was clear and full of stars. Using the almost-full moon, he traveled the rest of the way on foot.

Every nerve was taut as he moved silently through the darkness. Kaycie had to be here. Had to be alive. He prayed he hadn’t made a mistake by going straight to Stephen’s house. The veterinary clinic seemed an unlikely place to hide a torture chamber. It faced a busy highway and the traffic was heavy even late at night.
 

The residence, however, was secluded in the country away from curious people and the law.
 

His gaze swept over the property. A brick house with detached garage and a barn sat in the middle of a wooded area. No outside lights were on, which suited his plan. He whistled low, fully expecting to find a couple of dogs wandering loose. Nothing. He stepped into the open and went straight to the house.

He’d put all his military training to work tonight. Control was the key. Mentally, he slowed his racing heart to a nice normal rate. Regulated his breathing.
 

He wasn’t going to waste time covertly searching in the dark. If Kaycie was here, Stephens could get his ass up and take Nate to her.
 

Opening the back door was a snap. He eased inside then glanced around to get his bearings. This was a big house with room for more than one man, but Tyrell’s intel indicated Stephens had never married and lived alone.
 

A dim light shone from the front room. Nate moved closer, keeping his body flush against the wall. A Budweiser clock that looked like it belonged behind a bar hung over a rock fireplace. It provided enough light he could see his way around. A couch, a couple of chairs and a flat-screen TV gave the place a homey look. Nice cover.
 

Nate quickly moved down the hall. The first and second bedrooms were empty. The third, he hit pay dirt. They were alone.

He slid the knife Tyrell had lent him from his boot. In one motion, Nate jerked the figure in the bed to the floor and pressed the razor-sharp blade against soft flesh.
 

“Nod if you’re Carl Stephens.”

The bastard moved his head in admission.

“Where is she?”
 

Nate’s sense of right and wrong had vanished long before he entered the house. The pain he wanted to inflict on this sorry excuse for a human being almost consumed him. He eased the pressure, reached up, and flipped on the bedside lamp.

The man lay very still. That he didn’t struggle or fight sent warning flags waving in Nate’s head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the weasel croaked out.
 

“Tell me, or I’ll cut your fucking balls off and stuff them down your throat,” Nate growled. His confidence Kaycie was here grew when Stephens refused to look at him.
 

“Who are you?” The fear in Stephens’s eyes didn’t sway Nate one bit.

“Your executioner. And you’re closer to death than you realize. Where. Is. She?”

“You can’t break in here like this. If you’re the law, where’s your warrant?”

“Pressed against your neck.”

Stephens’s body tensed. His gaze narrowed. “If you’re not a cop, you’re breaking the law.”

Nate’s lips curled in disgust. The pervert had nerve. “Which means I have no boundaries or restrictions on my behavior. I kill you and nobody ever knows I was here. You brought a woman home with you. Where is she?”
 

“Look around. There’s nobody here but me.”

Nate dragged the overweight man to his feet and threw him in the corner. “Don’t you move.”

He searched the room. Looked under the bed, dug through the closet and found nothing. His frustration built with each failure. He stomped his boots on the floor, looked for loose boards. Tossed the rugs, checked for secret rooms. Found nothing.
 

He wrapped his fingers around Stephens’s shirt collar and pushed him from room to room where Nate repeated the search.

“Listen you scumbag, I know all about how you get off torturing women. But you picked the wrong woman. For every pain you’ve inflicted on her, you’ll suffer three.”

“You’re crazy.” Stephens tried to look defiant, but the flicker of panic behind his eyes had given him away. “Get off my property.”

“Outside.” Nate threw the bastard onto the porch when he moved too slow. “Don’t you move a hair.”

Pulling a penlight from his back pocket, he searched around the porch. Frustration built when he came up empty. Stephens’s refusal to tell the truth drove Nate to the edge of snapping.
 

The barn sat a few hundred feet behind the house, and he marched Stephens down the drive to the big double doors. Nate’s heart rate jumped. No padlock, something most people who lived out in the country didn’t use, made him fear she wasn’t inside. He kicked open the doors, dragged the vet inside and unceremoniously tossed him to the dirt floor.

Nate stuffed the flashlight into his pocket and then stabbed his fingers through his hair. The urge to beat the shit out of Stephens was getting hard to resist. Fear for Kaycie ate at Nate’s insides, churning his guts into knots. He tightened his hands into fists then relaxed them again and again, forcing his muscles and tendons to unwind.

He was nowhere near finished looking. He shoved bales of hay and sacks of feed out of his way. He searched a storage room full of medical supplies. The more frustrated he became, the more he tossed the place. He found no trace of Kaycie or any other female.
 

“You son of a bitch.” He stalked back to Stephens. “I’ll kill you if you’ve hurt her.”

Stephens’s lips narrowed to a thin line. He didn’t speak. The look in his eyes had shifted to cold and defiant. Way too cocky.
 

“Tyrell.” He and Marcus hadn’t checked in since heading to the other suspect. “Talk to me.”
 

“Sorry, bro. Been busy. We found a girl.” Tyrell’s voice came through Nate’s earbud. “Alive and hysterical. Fucking torture devices everywhere.”

“No sign of Kaycie?” Nate rocked back on his heels, barely controlling his urge to lash out at the vet.

“Not that we can see. The young woman was naked, cut, burned, and barely coherent. Marcus unchained her, wrapped her in a blanket, and carried her outside into the fresh air. We asked if she’d seen another female. She shook her head. Cops and paramedics are on the way.”

“Then Kaycie’s here.” Nate turned his gaze toward the vet. Pounding the sick bastard into the ground was getting closer to a reality.
 

“We’re heading your way when the EMTs arrive. Kay has to be there,” Tyrell said.

Nate stuffed his cell in his pocket. He jerked Stephens to a standing position, pulled him close.
 

“I’m about to cut your sorry throat. Which means you’re seconds away from death.” Nate pressed the blade into the man’s flabby neck hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll find her while you bleed out.”

“Wait. I know what you’re searching for. I’ll show you,” the slimeball said, his self-confidence apparently reversing itself. “But the person you’re looking for isn’t there.”

Ignoring the stab of pain in his shoulder, Nate dragged Stephens outside the barn and tossed him in the dirt.
 

“Where?” Nate’s mind couldn’t imagine what might be in such a torture chamber. Besides, Stephens was too quick to give up his hiding place. If this was a trick, it was about to be his last.

Stephens scrambled to his feet, and Nate took his flashlight from his pocket. Illuminating a small path, he escorted Stephens through the trees to a clearing. Nate sucked in a breath when he spotted the cellar door.
 

“Open it.” A deadly calm washed over him. Stephens would die underground if she was down in that dark hole.

The stench of urine and fear burned his eyes as he followed the man down the steps to a man-made hell. A flip of a switch flooded the chamber of horrors with light. Nate’s mind took a second to wrap around the disgusting scene.

He shoved Stephens against the wall, bouncing his head off a shelf and rattling chains suspended from the ceiling. “Move one inch, please. There’s only one thing I want more than seeing you dead.”
 

“I told you,” Stephens whined. “No one is down here.”

Nate’s experience in the war had taught him about the cruelties of man. But as his gaze swept the area, he realized the horrors he’d witnessed in Afghanistan were nothing compared to what had been endured down here. And by how many young women?

A metal table was surrounded by leather whips of every size. Chains with handcuffs were suspended from the ceiling along with branding irons and cattle prods. He turned away from the razor-sharp instruments scattered around the small room and searched. He found no hidden chambers and no Kaycie.

“You sick son of a bitch, you’ll sleep with the devil tonight.”

“I’m a collector,” the vet said. “I would never use any of these things on another human being.”

“Keep lying, and I’ll suspend you from the ceiling and leave your sorry ass down here to rot. You can die with your collection.” Nate herded Stephens back outside. “Get your disgusting ass back to the barn.”

Nate shoved Stephens across the yard and through the barn doors. A low whinny drew his attention.

“Get halters on those two horses. Release them into the corral out back.”

Stephens followed the instructions while Nate watched. Then he turned off the flashlight, returned it to his pocket, and then flipped on the interior lights. He grabbed a pitchfork and carefully pushed through the dirt floor of the stalls, hoping to hit a fake bottom. He prayed to hear the dull thud of the tines striking a hidden door. His efforts were fruitless.
 

His temples pounded, and the tenuous hold he had on his sanity faded. Stephens sat slumped against a bale of hay, watching. His smug expression had returned.

“You have ten seconds to tell me where she is.” Nate advanced, ready to snap the bastard’s neck.

A noise stopped him midstep. He froze, listening. A sliver of hope filled his heart, and sweat beaded his face in the cool air.
 

“I have another storeroom.” Stephens shuffled to his feet. Animated and full of life, he waved enthusiastically toward the back of the barn.
 

“Shut up,” Nate commanded. “Kaycie,” he yelled and then listened.
 

“No, really. Come this way.” Stephens was all of a sudden willing to help. Or was he trying to distract Nate?

Again, Nate heard a noise. A thump. Then another. From behind him. He whirled and ran toward a pickup sitting out back with a horse trailer still hitched to the bumper.
 

Nate jerked open the cab door, looked in the backseat. His heart dropped when she wasn’t there. A quick check proved the truck bed was empty, and the storage box full of vet supplies.

“You sick bastard. You heal animals and torture humans.” He spit on the ground. “Get against the barn and sit.”

Nate stood back, focusing on every sound.

“Kaycie!” he shouted. “Kaycie.” A level of helplessness he’d never experienced almost drove him to his knees. “Help me,” he called as he started to the back of the rig.
 

Nate came to a stop. The walk-through door and the rear trailer gate were padlocked. He stuffed the knife in his boot, drew the Glock, aimed at the side of the lock, and pulled the trigger.
 

A barely discernible sound came from inside. Please, God, let it be her. He swung open the gate. The sight brought a roar up from deep in his chest. He holstered the weapon and closed the gap between them.

Her body hung limp against metal shackles. A rag had been tied around her mouth. Dear God, she looked like she’d been nailed to an invisible cross.
 

“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe.” He stroked her face and removed the rag then tugged the gag from her mouth.

She gasped for air, her lungs rising and falling as if she’d almost smothered. His undivided attention was on the woman he loved.
 

“Nate.” Her voice was so weak he prayed he hadn’t imagined it.
 

“Shh. Don’t try to talk.” He wrapped his arms around her, taking her weight off her bindings for a minute. “I can’t take a chance on firing a gun inside this trailer. I have to get something to free you.”
 

“No,” she whimpered. “Don’t leave me.”

“Count to thirty. I’ll be back before you finish.” He reluctantly released her. Her moan of pain and protest cut through him like a knife.
 

He ran to the barn where he’d noticed a rack of tools, slowing when he realized Stephens was nowhere to be seen. Kaycie was Nate’s priority. He’d track Stephens down later.
 

Nate skidded to a stop. The slot where he’d seen the ax was empty. He sensed a presence behind him. He dove to the dirt floor just as the steel point slammed past his head. He rolled, drew the Glock, and fired. The bullet struck Stephens dead in the heart. The strong buck of the gun in Nate’s hand was the second most satisfying feeling he’d had today. Stephens dropped. Eyes open. Blood seeping from the hole in his chest.