Lonestar Homecoming (34 page)

“Just leave me here, Cid.You have what you want. I know what's happening here. I have to be here for Hope.We have to be together.”

“Put her down, Gracie.”

Something passed behind his eyes—compassion or awareness— but she couldn't be sure. “You loved me once,” she pleaded. “Hope too. Do the right thing, Cid. Let me stay with her.”
And die with her.

For a moment, she thought her words had touched him.Then the softness she thought she saw in his face vanished. She knew she'd lost when he came toward her.

He caught her arm. “Hope can come with you.”

It was better than nothing.Where there was life, there was hope. She allowed him to propel her toward the door, though she turned for one last glimpse of Michael.What would happen to Jordan and Evan without either of their parents? Michael was bound and unconscious. He'd be no match for whatever Fishman had planned.

Cid pushed her through the door to the waiting truck. It was a military-type vehicle with a tarp covering the rounded frame over the bed. Diesel fumes belched from its exhaust, and she coughed as Cid forced her toward the vehicle. He took Hope from her, then pushed Gracie to the back of the truck.

“Get in there.”After she clambered into the back, he handed Hope up to her, then climbed in himself. He pushed her up next to the truck cab, where he snapped a cuff on her wrist before exiting the vehicle.

It was so dark in here.With one hand tethered to the truck, she was able to move a few feet in each direction. Using her free hand, she felt along the floor and walls for something to help her escape. Her fingers grazed over bits of straw and sand that littered the floor. She grimaced when her hand touched a greasy rag.A piece of metal lay in the corner, and she fingered it until she identified it as a pipe wrench. Her exploration continued along the side of the truck, but she found nothing else and moved to the other side. Nothing there either.

“Hope, can you feel on the floor for something small and sharp? Like a hairpin?” Not that Gracie knew how to pick a lock, but she had to try something. She heard shuffling as Hope scooted on the floor.

“Will this work, Mommy?” Hope's voice came nearer, and her small hand pressed a nail into Gracie's palm.

“Good girl!” Using her right hand, Gracie inserted the nail into the cuff and began to worry it along the outlines of the lock.

A
JACKHAMMER POUNDED INSIDE HIS HEAD
. M
ICHAEL MOVED HIS NECK AND
groaned. His vision stayed blurry even after blinking, until he managed to sit up and focus. He glanced at Rick, who stood near the window, with his arms tied behind his back. When Michael tried to get up, he realized his own wrists were bound as well.

Fishman approached. “You're stuck with us, it seems,” he said. He prodded Michael with his foot.

“What now?” Michael said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You're going to kill us, aren't you?”

The man studied him. “I wish I could let you go, partner. If you live to tell the tale, I'll lose everything. Nothing personal.”

“Estevez will ask questions.”

Fishman shrugged. “If he does, he might have to suffer an accident.”

Michael dived behind the sofa as Fishman came toward him. Rick dropped to the floor with him.

Fishman laughed at their panic. “I have other plans for you instead of a bullet,” Fishman said. His footsteps moved away.

The men turned their backs to one another and began to tear at the knots on their wrists.The ropes at Michael's wrists loosened, and he worked harder on Rick's.

Michael heard something splash to the floor, then he smelled gasoline. “He's going to set the place on fire,” he whispered to Rick. “Hurry!” He renewed his efforts on Rick's bonds.

“Please, let us go,” Sam begged.The chair he was tied to thumped with his efforts to free himself.

The fumes from the gasoline grew heavier, and Michael choked back a cough. Almost there.The bonds loosened again, then his hands were free. He turned and tore at the knots on Rick's wrists.

Rick strained at the rope, but it held. “Go. Stop him.We're out of time.”

As Michael worked at the knots, he heard a
whoosh.
Light flared brightly. Fire crackled along the floor, then engulfed the curtains. He stumbled to his feet and yanked Rick up with him. A nightmarish glow lit the room and threw shadows of fire and smoke against the walls and window. Soot burned his nose and throat. He couldn't see Sam or Fishman through the blaze. Pulling Rick with him, he rushed toward where he'd last seen Sam sitting. His outstretched hand touched flesh, and he patted his way up Sam's arm to his face. Unconscious.

If he dragged Sam out of here, he'd have to let loose of Rick. “Can you stay close to me?” he asked.

“Get Sam out of here! I can walk on my own,” Rick said.

The windows in the front of the house shattered from the heat, and the fire roared higher.Michael dragged the unconscious man from the chair and grabbed him under the arms.There was no clear path to the door. Fire burned in lines and patches along the floor. The choking smoke obliterated his vision and muddied his sense of direction.

“That way!” Rick jerked his head.

It was the opposite direction Michael thought they should go, but he followed Rick's lead and dragged Sam across the floor. The heat lessened a small degree, but fire still blazed around them. He'd lost all sense of where he was in relationship to the exit. More glass shattered, and the flames responded to the increased oxygen by raging higher. His vision dimmed, and he struggled for every searing breath as he fought to stay conscious. Sam's dead weight was harder and harder to drag across the floor.

A wall of flames separated him from a large picture window. He and Rick could run and leap through the window, but it would mean leaving Sam behind, and he couldn't abandon the older man. There had to be a way to save them all. He saw an unburned path and followed it.

His shin banged up against a chair, and he realized he was in the breakfast room.“Wait here with Sam!” he yelled to Rick. He left Sam on the floor and felt his way to the counter, then began jerking out drawers until he found a knife. He made his way back through the choking smoke to Rick, who stood guard over Sam.

Michael sawed with the knife against Rick's bonds, and the rope finally fell to the floor. “Can you help me throw him through the window?” he shouted.

“I've got his shoulders. Grab his feet,” Rick said.

The men hoisted the older man off the floor. “On the count of three,” Michael panted. “Swing him. His body weight will give us momentum.”

Sam was sure to get cut, but it was better than dying in this inferno. He swung Sam's body.

“Say when,” Rick panted.

“One, two,
three
!” Michael heaved the older man toward the window with all his might.The man's inert body slammed into the glass, and it shattered as he crashed through to the outside.

“Now you!” Michael shouted. “I'm right behind you.”

Rick took a running leap and dived through the window. Michael waited a split second, then followed him.The heat of the fire scorched his legs as he sprang, and the blessed fresh air waiting on the other side of the choking smoke revived him. His face felt the first touch of cool air, then he was on top of another body.

“
Oomph
,” Rick said. “That's me right here.”

Sand and soot filled his mouth. Michael rolled off his friend and staggered to his feet. “Where's Sam?”

“There.” Rick pointed to the motionless body of the older man lying by the foundation of the house.

Embers rained down on Sam, and his shirt was smoking. Michael grabbed the governor and pulled him away from the house, with Rick's help, then patted out the sparks on Sam's shirt. Every inhalation was like breathing cut glass.Various burns on his hands and legs began to make themselves known.

A roar sounded behind them, and Michael turned to see the roof of the house collapse. Embers flew into the air, and the flames roared like a fire-breathing demon. He turned and scanned the landscape illuminated in the garish glow of dancing light. Fishman was gone with his guns. And so were Gracie and Hope.

30

T
HE LOCK WOULD NOT BUDGE
. G
RACIE JAMMED THE NAIL INTO IT AGAIN
and poked with all her strength. A rumble echoed along the canyons outside the truck, and through the open back she saw flames shoot into the air in the distance. Something was on fire or had exploded.

The house where she'd last seen Michael.

She doubled over, and a sob burst from her throat. Her eyes burned, and she couldn't hold back the tears. He couldn't be in that house. She wouldn't let it be so. Her heart would tell her if he was dead.

Hope touched her face. “Mommy?”

Gracie enveloped her daughter in a hug. “I'm okay, honey.” The truck stopped, and the wind brought the stink of smoke to her nose. They weren't in Mexico yet. The border was a few miles away. She yanked on her handcuff and discovered it was bigger than she realized. Could she work her hand out of it? She remembered the greasy rag on the floor.

Dropping to her knees, she patted the floor of the truck until her hand sank into the rag. She picked it up and rubbed it on her hand and wrist.After two passes around her exposed skin, she began to squeeze her hand out of the metal cuff. If the level of pain was any indication, it had to be taking some of her skin with it, but she forced herself to ignore the burning. Her hand got slicker, probably from blood, but it was too dark to see. Still, the cuff stayed firmly around her wrist.

It wasn't going to work.

Gritting her teeth, she gave her hand one last twist. Something snapped, and the cuff moved. She nearly screamed as agony enveloped her hand. She'd broken something, but the cuff dangled loose.With Hope's hand in her good one, Gracie scurried to the back of the truck and peered out past the tarp. The vehicle was parked in front of a wash. Cid stood with his father, gesturing at the deep ravine.The path up the wash on the other side looked too narrow for the truck.Were they intending to try to drive over it?

Holding her finger to her lips, she jumped down, then lifted Hope from the truck.Thunder rumbled overhead again, and lightning ripped through the sky, leaving behind the sharp stench of ozone. In a crouch, Gracie rushed away from the truck. Sand bit into her skin, and small rocks cut at her feet.The open desert held no good place to hide, but if she could get far enough away, Cid would think she was still in the truck.

She glanced back over her shoulder. The men were still arguing. She scanned the dark landscape. There. A ditch. Before she dived for it, she stopped and glanced down as lightning ripped through the sky again. The flash of light revealed a nest of black widow spiders. Grimacing, she backed away from it. If they'd hidden there, she and Hope would have been bitten several times before they realized what was happening.

Lightning rippled again, and she and Hope stood outlined in the brilliant light. A shout rose above the thunder, and she glanced back toward the truck. Pulling Hope with her, she crouched and watched Cid jump from the back of the truck. Their escape had been discovered. It wouldn't take long for them to find her and Hope. Staying low to the ground, though, might make him think their silhouette belonged to a cactus.

The sky lit up again, as bright as daylight.When the shout of discovery came, she grabbed Hope's hand and ran back toward the fire burning in the distance. She'd never make it before Cid overtook her. Her pace slowed as she grew calm. She stopped and turned to look. Cid would be here in a few minutes.The time for running was over.

Gracie pulled Hope tight against her leg. “I want you to run away, Hope.” She pointed to the burning house. “There's probably a phone in the barn. Find it and dial 911. Then hide until you hear the siren. Do you understand?”

Hope clung to her. “I want to stay with you, Mommy.” Her hiccup turned into a sob.

“You can get help for me, Hope. I can't get it myself. Only you can do it. Cid will let you go.” She embraced her daughter and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo.

“I'm scared, Mommy.”

It was all she could do to push Hope away and pat her little bottom. “Run as fast as you can, honey. Don't look back. Don't stop even if I call for you. Do you understand?”

Hope's wide dark eyes blinked, then she nodded. “Keep running. Dial 911 and tell them you need help. That's right. Now run, honey. Run like King.” She watched Hope until her daughter's tiny form winked out into the darkness, then she turned and walked back toward Cid. Lightning lashed the sky and thunder rolled over the arroyo to the mountain. No more running.

T
WO SETS OF HEADLAMPS RACED IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS
. O
NE HELD
hundreds of thousands of dollars in guns that would arm a Mexican revolution. If Fishman arrived back in Big Bend safely and delivered the guns to his partners, the violence might spill over into the States. The other truck held Michael's wife and daughter. A year ago he wouldn't have paused. He would have called for someone to intercept the truck holding his wife, and he would have stopped the guns himself, because he was closer to that truck, and its cargo impacted more people. Serving the greater good was his job, after all.

He didn't pause now, either. Running to the barn, he glanced around wildly for a phone and a vehicle. And found both.The keys to the four-wheeler were in the ignition. He leaped onto the seat and turned the key. The engine sputtered, then fired. It had been years since he'd driven a four-wheeler, but his hands remembered how to shift.The tires began to turn, and the vehicle rolled through the barn door as lightning cracked overhead.

“There's a phone in the barn!” he yelled to Rick. “Call and get that truck full of guns stopped. I'm going after Gracie and Hope.” Rick nodded and ran for the barn. Michael cranked the engine as high as it would go, and the ATV rolled over the sand toward the truck lights in the distance.