Mistaken Trust (The Jewels Trust Series) (53 page)

Suddenly huge arms surrounded her. Had her dream come to life? A surge of elation jolted her body, eyes flew open. “Marshall,” she shrieked enthusiastically, pivoting her body around with the intention of kissing him into a state of delirium.

“Not quite, Sweet Cheeks,” Hines said, sneering, snaring her forearm.

“Nooooooooo!” Jewels screamed, wildly back peddling and violently jerking her arm to escape his clutch.

But he easily gained control, twisting her hand behind her back to send her crumbling to her knees in agony.

“You’re hurting me,” Jewels squealed.

Ignoring her cries, he dragged her on her knees toward a pine tree with a trunk about six inches in diameter. Pushing her onto her side then forcing her onto her back, he straddled her chest. Yanking her arms above her head, he engulfed both wrists in one hand. “You ruined everything,” he snarled, drawing handcuffs from his belt.

Naturally, Jewels struggled for freedom, flexing her arm muscles and balling her fists madly tugging to break loose.

At the base of the trunk he wrapped her arms, swiftly snapping the metal strands on her wrists, anchoring them around the tree.

Dried pine needles gouged Jewels’ already throbbing back and triceps and pricked her buttocks and bare legs. The low branches peppered her face like dozens of tiny wire brushes, poking her eyes and mouth. Coughing and crying, she desperately squirmed for a less painful position. But her already dismal situation quickly deteriorated.

Hines gagged Jewels. Sacrificing his expensive necktie, he wound it multiple times around her head. Knotted it brutally secure over her mouth.

Pitifully, Jewels whimpered.

The FBI-issued leg irons—identical to metal handcuffs except with a fifteen-inch chain between the loops instead of two inches—clanged as he battled her churning legs to clamp metal strands around her ankles. Grinning, he tightly ratcheted them down to purposely ensure they bit deep into her already bruised and paining ankles.

Terror mounting and agony escalating, Jewels’ bravery was all but used up. A wave of tears and high-pitched squeals of misery escaped her control.

Towering over her and breathing hard, he thrust his hands on his hips and stared down at her. The
alligator grin
climbed across his face, her torment obviously pleased him. Shaking his head, “This is
your
fault,” he scolded, wagging an angry finger. “
You
ruined everything....” he reminded her, his voice trailing off as he gazed blankly into the woods.

Just when Jewels thought her dreadful predicament couldn’t possibly worsen, Hines gathered fallen branches. Methodically he piled them, one at a time, on top of her and around the tree, constructing a well-blended mini-forest within the forest, completely concealing her body. Clearly, he didn’t want her to be seen. Or found.

Fear and panic consumed her, knowing there was nothing she could do other than watch Hines build her above ground tomb.

Standing back he admired his work. The precisely stacked branches resembled a well-made hunting blind, so well-made not even the wild residents would notice a twig out of place. Obviously pleased with himself, a malicious grin spilled across his face. “Be quiet and wait here,” he said with superiority, knowing damned well Jewels couldn’t go anywhere or say anything. “I’ll come back for you when I secure transportation,” he vowed, then took off on a light jog.

Peering through the small gaps in the branches, Jewels watched the back of Hines’ white shirt disappear into the blackness. Not knowing which was worse, being held captive and subjected to the tortures of Theodore Hines, or being abandoned and buried alive in the middle of nowhere with no hope of being found, she closed her eyes, sobbing unabashedly.

Ravaged from head to toe in monstrous pain, she squirmed for a more tolerable position, seeking even minimal relief. But her efforts were in vain. There would be no relief. Not of her own making, or from anyone else. It seemed no one, not even Marshall Watters, was going to save her from this torment.

Suddenly she heard deep grunting. Certainly not human. Her eyes flew open. She stopped breathing. Straining to see through the tangle of brush encapsulating her, she gazed into the blackness, picking up flashes of a dark mass on the move.

Moments later, a huge animal materialized. It was a massive brown bear with the distinctive huge hump above its shoulders. Clearly, this was no cinnamon-colored black bear. This was the infamous grizzly, the one experts had estimated weighed upwards of eight-hundred pounds, stood over four-feet tall at the shoulder when on all fours and more than seven-feet tall reared up ... and he was lumbering straight toward her.

Closing her eyes, Jewels played dead as best she could with her heart beating so hard it sounded like exploding grenades. Would her theory about the man-eating bear hold up ... that he only had a vendetta against men? This was the acid test.

The creature trudged closer. Once upon her, he burrowed his colossal head under the pile of branches covering her. Drawn to her femininity, his powerful snout rooted between her legs, spreading them wide enough for his big nose to blast a shot of hot air inside her like an air-driven douche. The leg iron chains clanked as he explored.

The animal’s hair was coarse. Nose hot and moist. Involuntarily, Jewels shook in terror.

The grizzly suddenly retracted its head from beneath the heap of branches and forcefully expelled air through it nose, as if startled by an intruder.

Curiosity overriding fear, Jewels dared open her eyes to slits. The bear’s attention was clearly drawn into the darkness. After a brief clacking of its teeth, the bear bolted silently ... in the same direction Hines had disappeared. Was the mighty creature off to defend his territory from a perceived threat? Or claim his next meal? Regardless, Jewels was relieved it left.

Seconds later nature’s nocturnal harmony was shattered by the hideous shrill of a human screaming. Then deathly silence.

Had the killer grizzly chased down Theodore Hines? Envisioning the bear’s attack, she saw the animal’s huge paws savagely batting Hines’ body to and fro with the power of King Kong. Its razor teeth shredding Hines’ flesh from his arms and legs like a meat grinder gone berserk. Its knife-edged five-inch claws ripping out his guts like a bloodthirsty backhoe....

Jewels wondered if the grizzly succeeded where she had failed in carrying out Hines’ death sentence. Hoped so. A faint smile of justice satisfied blossomed on her agonized face. But it didn’t last long upon realizing Hines was the
only
person who knew where she was; gagged, handcuffed to a tree, and buried in the middle of nowhere. What if she was never found? She’d read starving to death was one of the most tormenting ways to die.

Sudden gusts of wind, common to the mountains, dropped the temperature, along with her hope for rescue. Now she shivered not only from fear, but from the cold as blasts of chilly air pierced the crevices of her
pine box
.

Was being virtually buried alive God’s punishment for her three suicide attempts at the compound or her desire and willingness to kill Theodore Hines at the cabin? Dread consumed her soul. Her mind ran rampant. No, if God
was
God, He understood her motives. Though He surely would not agree with them, He would not punish her in this way. Besides, in all honesty, God wasn’t to blame for her woeful situation. Theodore Hines was ... and perhaps she held some responsibility as well.

After praying to God for forgiveness, she asked Him to enable Marshall Watters to, somehow, find her before it was too late.

SATURDAY, BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
The compound of the Sovereign Patriots Of Freedom was swarming with Militia Threat Assessment Force agents dressed in black SWAT garb. Generator-run portable searchlights illuminated both the interior and exterior with the brilliance of high noon sunlight. More than thirty government-tagged black SUVs, trucks and vans littered the fields surrounding the compound. Dozens of forensics specialists and detectives worked the premises. Taking photos. Gathering evidence. Covering bodies. Wingate was under arrest and being questioned by two of MTAF’s interrogation specialists in SPOF’s disciplinary room turned MTAF
inquiry
chamber.

Marshall was overseeing the operation and had been barking out orders as needed for the last thirty minutes, but his mind was preoccupied with Jewels. He couldn’t clear the images of the erotic display of poses she had struck at the cabin with the sexual prowess that packed the potency of a Tomahawk missile. Could he be in love with her? Or just lust? Regardless, he intended to pursue her to the nth degree ... as soon as he returned to Hines’ cabin and wrapped up her rescue.

A man dressed in black, lugging a red medical trauma bag approached Marshall. “Commander, I understand you’ve been shot. Why don’t you let me have a look?” he said, placing the heavy bag on the ground.

“Wilson, how the hell are you?” Marshall asked, extending his hand for a shake.

“Apparently better than you.”

Chuckling, “Nah, just a flesh wound to my arm and Kevlar saved my chest. Don’t worry about me, but I’ll need you to tag along for our rescue mission.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Have you seen Bradshaw around?”

“Uh, I think someone said he was en route,” glancing down at his watch, “ETA probably less than five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Marshall said, slapping Wilson on the shoulder before jogging up the stairs.

A big black SUV, not unlike any of the dozens already parked around the field, was wheeling onto the rugged gravel, approaching the compound. Marshall jogged out to meet it.

“Bradshaw,” Marshall hollered, waving his hand, waiting as the SUV parked. Driver and front passenger doors opened simultaneously.

“Commander,” the man stepping from behind the wheel said, extending his hand.

“Good to see you, Lieutenant,” Marshall said, returning a hearty handshake.

“I
knew
I trained you well,” the man who exited the passenger side hollered over the hood of the vehicle.

Marshall did a double take. “Dyson ... Sir?”

Howard Dyson grinned, confidently strolling around the front of the vehicle to shake Marshall’s hand. “You’ve done well, elevating yourself to command one of the most elite law enforcement agencies in the world, and I wouldn’t have expected anything less from my star pupil.”

“Sir, you taught me everything I know,” Marshall said respectfully. Eyeing his black tactical clothing and sidearm, he furrowed his brows. “Have you been called back to active duty?”

“Nah. Just have a special interest in this case.”

“Oh?”

Smiling, “Julia Andrasy,” he replied, fondness in his voice. “I think you held her for Hines, didn’t you?”

Marshall felt the blood drain from his face. “Yeah. What’s your interest?”

“He wants to get in her panties,” Bradshaw answered for Dyson with a laugh.

Marshall shot a sideways glance at Dyson. “She’s your girlfriend?”

“I’d like her to be.”

TEN MINUTES LATER, STILL STANDING AT THE SUV IN THE MEADOW. A frigid gust of air surged through the field, rustled the surrounding pines. The weather could change in the High Uintas with little warning. The wind could be a prelude to a storm, or not.

“I need a TAC team to assist me at Hines’ cabin,” Marshall said to his second in command, Warren Bradshaw.

“Count me and Dyson in,” Bradshaw replied. “And I’ll round up a couple of other guys,” he said, jogging toward the compound entry.

“As requested, I’m here to handle medical,” Wilson said, dumping the heavy red medical bag on the weeds by his feet.

Moments later, Bradshaw returned with two other MTAF agents.

The five men gathered together, forming a loose semicircle around Marshall. “The suspect, Theodore Hines, is contained. He’s handcuffed at his cabin.” Marshall paused, before adding, “And Julia Andrasy is guarding him.”

Disapproving eyes widened simultaneously among the men.

“Are you shittin’ me? I know goddamned well, I taught you better than that,” Dyson angrily spouted.

Marshall smiled. “I know, I know. Typically not a good idea. Well, these circumstances are not typical in any textbook. Anyway, Miz Andrasy’s holding a loaded AR-15 on him and she knows how to use it. Just remember she’s the victim and one of the good guys. You needn’t worry about a threat of life or limb from her. Any questions?” he concluded, scanning the group for hands.

There were none.

“Then grab your gear and follow me, gentlemen.”

Marshall and the five men piled into a black Chevy

Suburban for the short ride to the cabin. The SUV was fully equipped with the latest high-tech wizardry in communications and surveillance equipment along with an arsenal of extra firearms and plenty of ammunition.

Once at Hines’ cabin, the men spilled out of the

Suburban, MP-5s hanging on their shoulders, stealthily dashing to the side of the door. Waiting.

“Julia,” Marshall called, cautiously pushing against the cabin door handle with his left hand, maintaining a firing grip on the full auto weapon slung across his right shoulder as he peered into the room.