Josh's Justice, Cowboy Romance (Bad in Boots, Book 4) (19 page)

While he waited, he realized he should call the police and let them know Sabrina had been kidnapped. He didn’t have time to deal with paperwork, waiting for the police and all that bullshit. He’d call Renee and she’d get the ball rolling so he wouldn’t have to stop looking for Sabrina on his end.

Standing up, he glanced around the room, looking for his cell phone, since it had Renee’s number stored in it. He moved quickly, pushing overturned furniture out of the way, looking underneath couch cushions to see if it had fallen between them. He knew he’d left it at home.

Turning on the cordless phone, he dialed his cell phone at the same time he vowed to always keep the damn thing in the same spot so he didn’t lose the phone every five seconds.

The phone rang and rang and that’s when he remembered he had left it in vibrate mode. Then a thought struck him, the idea lifting his spirits. Did Sabrina have it? He did ask her to keep it with her. Could he get that lucky?

A steely determination settled over him as he headed for his laptop and pulled up his cell phone provider’s website. Clicking on the GPS “locator” link, he punched in his access code and then his phone number and held his breath as the system’s “verifying position” icon popped up.

He glanced out the large picture window and saw Colt’s truck drive up and then heard his boots on his porch as the website finally completed its search.

When Colt entered the open door, his gaze moved throughout the house, taking in its torn up state. Once Colt’s blue eyes met his, Josh gave him a humorless, cold smile. He turned his laptop so his neighbor could see the results. “My cell phone locater program.” He pointed to an area on the screen. “Sabrina’s somewhere in this area.” Glancing up at Colt, he continued, “I’m ready to help you fry his ass.”

Colt looked at the computer screen, then jerked his knowing gaze back to Josh’s. “Jackson Riley. Not at all surprised.”

* * *

Sabrina awoke to the smell of stale manure and the sensation of something rough yet somewhat cushioned underneath her. When she shifted the rustle of hay sounded underneath her. Realizing she was unable to move her hands and feet, she panicked as her eyes flew open. Her throat ached and her back hurt, while scratchy ropes bound her wrists and ankles.

Fear shot through her, rolling over her in alternating waves of cold sweat and hair-raising goose bumps. She closed her eyes for a second and did her best to regain some control. When she’d slowed her breathing, she opened her eyes and took in the room surrounding her.

A quick scan of the space with its empty stables told her she was in an abandoned barn. Sunlight streamed through an open window in one of the stalls, nearly blinding her. Tilting her head away from the light, she squirmed, trying to sit up. The hay slid around underneath her and she lost her balance, then fell onto her side. Damn ropes. The way they were tied around her—a short rope connecting her tied wrists to her tied ankles behind her—made it impossible for her to sit herself back up.

“I see you’re awake,” Jackson commented.

She shifted her gaze to the older man standing by a rough-hewn table against the wall, then quickly surveyed the room, looking for his blonde partner.

“She’s not here,” he spat, his lip curling in disdain.

“Who?” she asked, sounding raspy.

“May. The bitch who stopped you, then decided to take off, leaving me to clean up this damned mess,” he bit out. “It’s too bad,” he continued as he lifted a sledge hammer  the size of a traditional hammer from the table and turned her way. “I was hoping you’d stay unconscious while I finished you off.” He examined the hammer, turning its thick metal end in the sunlight, then snorted. “Shooting you would be easiest, but the noise might draw attention, and a knife across the throat is just too messy.” He let the hammer’s heavy end fall in his palm, a satisfied smile tilting his lips. “A good knock or two or
three
on your skull should do the trick. Nasty work, but it must be done.”

Her gaze widened and her heart raced. When she glanced at the hammer and then back to his impassive face, sheer terror gripped her. “Heeeeeeeeelp!” Sabrina tried to scream, but May had really hurt her throat. Her scream came out as a hoarse croak. She didn’t let that stop her. She screamed with all she had in her.

“Stop that racket,” Jackson said irritably.

When she finally ran out of steam, he lifted the hammer up and let it fall once more. “You think I’m happy with how this has turned out?”

“I
think
you’re a lunatic,” she croaked as anger began to overrule her fear. If she was going to die, she wouldn’t die begging.

“Damn women. The whole lot of ya,” he hissed out in disgust, then set the hammer down on the table to pat his plaid shirt pocket.

“Yeah, but you didn’t do this by yourself, did you?” she needled him. She needed to keep him talking. Maybe someone heard her screaming for help.

“You referring to May?” he asked, glancing sharply at her. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket, he continued, “May only helped at the tail end of my plan. But she skipped out at the last minute, just like my mole at the insurance agency did when the police started sniffing around.
Which was the whole fucking point
,” he bit out, stabbing his finger in the air. “They were
supposed
to come asking questions. She didn’t seem to mind taking my five thousand dollars to manipulate records and falsify medical reports. Noooo! But when the heat got too close, ‘I’m afraid I’m gonna get caught’,” he mimicked his version of a high-pitched, female voice.

He threw out a few more disparaging obscenities, then continued, “The dumb woman skipped town on me yesterday. Then May, that good-for-nothing woman I thought saw eye to eye with me on this whole deal, says, ‘See ya on the flip side,’ once we arrived back on my property. If I didn’t have you to deal with, I’d have taken her out myself just for sheer principle.”

He clenched his fist and his face mottled in anger as he picked up the hammer and slammed it down on the table, cracking the old wood. Witnessing the man’s violence first hand made Sabrina shake. After he struck the table three more times, he took a couple of deep breaths, then he set down the hammer to pull a cigarette out of the pack he’d set on the table. Digging in his jeans pocket, he withdrew a lighter and lit the end.

Jackson took a long, inhaling drag and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. It was as if he were waiting for the nicotine to settle him. Several seconds later, his shoulders lost their tension and he dropped the lighter back in his pants’ pocket.

While he appeared to relax, Sabrina’s own nerves had shot to the edge of hysteria.
I don’t want to die. Keep him talking. Don’t let him have too much time to think
.

“And then there’s you.” He used his cigarette to point at her, his thick eyebrows slashing downward, gaze narrowed. Smoke came out of his nose and mouth in streams of curling plumes, like an old factory spewing pollution in the air.

“If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have mistaken you for Elise that night. I’d have held off, bided my time a bit longer. My tap on Colt’s phone line would’ve allowed me another chance to find a perfect time to frame Colt for his wife’s murder.”

“You did all this to set Colt up?” she asked, incredulous.

“It was much more than that.” He started to pace puffing on his cigarette. Then he paused and continued, smugness in his tone, “I had it perfectly planned. With his wife dead, the police would learn of the life insurance policies he and his wife had taken out on each other—courtesy of May and me—” He stopped and looked at her with an I’m-so-clever smirk, then continued, “In the end, Colt would be arrested for murder.”

His face took on a faraway look as if he were picturing the entire scenario he’d just described in his head. “Once Colt was behind bars, if I couldn’t find a way to get the land, at least I would know he was suffering.”

Her eyebrows drew together in reluctant understanding. The man was clearly mad. But now everything that had happened—her being knocked out, the burned stables, the police’s speculation on Colt’s life insurance—all made sense.

A satisfied smile tilted the corners of his lips. “Tell me how brilliant I am. How clever and devious. Aren’t you impressed?”

“You want me to be impressed by a man who had to depend on others to initiate his master plan?” she said with sarcasm. “For that matter, you couldn’t even remember to retrieve your note that lured Elise—or actually
me
—to the stables.”

“You were supposed to have brought the note to the stables with you. Would’ve burned up there.” Scowling at her, he stuck the cigarette in the corner of his lips and pulled the note he’d written out of his pocket along with his lighter.

Flicking the lighter open, he lit one corner of the paper and smiled a crooked smirk as he watched it burn to ash.

“No more evidence.” He dropped the ball of fire before it reached his fingers, then stomped the burning, charred remains out on the dirt floor beneath his boot.

Her stomach clenched as he dug his boot toe deep in the earth. She had no doubt he planned to “snuff” her out just as easily as he did that paper.

“You talk too much.” His gaze met hers after he took another drag on his cigarette. He picked up the hammer and twisted his wrist, the heavy metal head spinning in a deadly circle. “But I’m going to take care of my last loose end.” He started toward her, hand fisted on the hammer’s handle, a determined look on his face.

Her fear skyrocketed and she tried to jerk herself out of his reach. It’s not my time to die, she thought, her mind frantic as primal fear shot through her. “Get the hell away from me,” she screamed, her voice fading out.

Jackson squatted beside her and set the hammer down. Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her onto her back.

“I think I’m actually going to enjoy this,” he said, his laughter suddenly higher pitched and maniacal.

The fine hairs stood up on her arms at the unbalanced sound while tears stung her eyes from the pain his abusive action caused.

Slowly he wound the fistful of her hair up around his hand, then he seemed to relax as he smoothed the black mass across the hay above her head. “It’s a shame I’ll have to mar such a pretty face when I bash your skull in,” he said in a conversational tone as if he wasn’t brutally threatening her.

He picked up the hammer with one hand as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth with the other and said in a cold tone, “But, pretty or not, you have to go.” He raised the hammer.

“I knew you had a screw or two loose, but had no idea you were such a stupid sonofabitch,” came a calm, controlled voice from the direction of the doorway to the barn.

As Jackson readjusted his grip on the hammer and stood, Sabrina jerked her gaze toward the voice and let out a sob of relief. Colt stood in the doorway holding a shotgun trained on Jackson.

“Do you really think I’m that dumb? That I wouldn’t have a backup plan, Colt?” Jackson sounded deadly and focused, taking a leisurely puff of his cigarette.

“Put down the hammer, Jackson, or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Colt grated. “Give me any excuse to blow a hole in your crazy ass and I’ll take it.”

Jackson hissed in anger as he dropped the hammer at his feet. Folding one hand behind his back, he growled, “Don’t think this is over. I’ll never give up,” right before he flicked his cigarette into the hay behind Sabrina.

Her heart rate skyrocketed as flames begin to dance on the dry hay behind her head. She tried to squirm away from the heat and that’s when she saw Jackson wrap his fingers on the grip of the handgun he’d stuck in his belt behind his back. She tried to warn Colt, but her hoarse voice just cracked instead. When she realized Colt’s gaze was on the flames behind her and he wasn’t watching Jackson, Sabrina did the only thing she could. She straightened her arms and flattened her palms, then pushed off with her hands and feet, swinging her bent knees toward Jackson, using momentum to slam into his legs as hard as she could.

Jackson stumbled and turned, but still managed to pull his gun, aiming it straight for her head.

Rapid-fire gunshots sounded, knocking the gun from Jackson’s hand and sending him to his knees almost simultaneously.

 Josh came out of nowhere and rammed Jackson’s shoulder with his boot, knocking him onto his side. “You fucking maniac!” he yelled, then quickly kicked Jackson’s dropped gun away.

Just as Josh turned to her, Jackson reared up behind him. Coated in blood and full of fury, he dove, grabbing Josh around the waist. While Josh pivoted and swung at Jackson, Sabrina smelled the hay burning and felt the heat all around her. She needed to get out of the raging fire’s way, but the bonds around her made rolling out of the way difficult. Sliding away a bit at a time was all she could manage while laying on her side.

Colt had already rushed forth and plowed his fist into Jackson’s stomach. “Stay down, you sick bastard!”

Jackson fell onto his back, but even as he wheezed, the older man tried to grab Colt’s leg. “I said, ‘stay the hell down,’” Colt grated, right before he punched Jackson in the jaw, knocking the man out.

“Sabrina!” Josh rushed over to her, concern and fear etched on his face. “Don’t move,” he ordered, then reached behind her and smothered the flames that had just made their way to her hair.

Scooping her up in his arms, he rushed out of the barn. Colt followed behind them, carrying Jackson’s unconscious body.

Once they reached a safe distance from the building, Josh gently laid her down, then quickly cut through the ropes on her wrists and ankles with a knife he retrieved from a holder on his belt. As soon as she was free, he sat down and pulled her in his lap.

Colt dumped Jackson’s limp frame on the ground with a hard thud. “Lunatic,” he mumbled and shook his head as he looked back at the burning barn.

He approached Sabrina and Josh, then squatted down to search her face with a concerned look. “Are you okay,” he asked, touching the scorched ends of her hair.