Natalie Acres (22 page)

“Oh my God, Trixie. You have to go someplace safe until Brock comes back for you.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Just do it!” Vicky screamed.

“Vicky?” A swift kick of fear struck her in the gut. She suddenly felt as if history had already started to repeat itself.

“Honey, listen to me! Cash Whitehead was close friends with Stephen Pratchert. When Stephen was killed, Cash Whitehead went public about some of the things Stephen had told him about you and your mother.”

Trixie’s pulse raced. “Why am I just hearing about this?”

“Your dads protected you,” Vicky replied. “Stay on the line with me and I’ll have Patrick get in touch with Brock.”

“Vicky, I think it’s too late,” Trixie said, startled by a noise in the bedroom.

“What do you mean it’s too late?”

“I think he’s here,” Trixie whispered, whipping around to look at the empty room behind her. A gush of fresh air shot down the hallway, leading her to an appropriate conclusion. Someone had entered the apartment from the back door.

“Hello, Trixie.” Cash grinned from ear to ear. “I see you’re already dressed and ready for our first date.”

Brock, Rory, and Mitch had knocked on Cash’s door and waited for an answer. When he didn’t greet them, they entered the unlocked apartment and hurried up the back steps leading to the den.

“Check the bedroom,” Brock said, marching to the kitchen.

Something was terribly wrong here. He felt the angst in the atmosphere. There was an eerie feel to the room, a real dark cloud hanging over them.

“He’s not here,” Rory said, reappearing seconds later.

Brock opened and shut some cabinets and drawers. He came up with nothing to signify Cash planned to stay. He hadn’t necessarily made himself right at home and his personal effects weren’t cluttering the surrounding area. Then again, after a stint in prison, the guy probably didn’t have a lot of his own belongings.

“Brock, Rory…you need to see this,” Mitch said, exiting the master bedroom.

Mitch moved aside as Brock and Rory walked into the room. Pictures of Trixie were hanging over the bed. A makeshift clothesline stretched from one side of the room to the other with numerous photos attached to clothespins.

“Oh my God,” Rory said, backing out of the room.

Brock’s phone rang. He dug in his pocket for his cell. The name displayed on the caller ID was like a bomb through the heart. “It’s Aspen McKay.” He clicked
receive
while waving Mitch and Rory through the door. “Go! Go! Go!”

“Brock?”

“Aspen? Vicky was talking to Trixie when we left her. We’re in the apartment here at Cow Camp and it looks like Cash Whitehead is someone the McKays and Cartwells may know. What do you know about him?”

“Brock, he’s got her,” Aspen said.

“Oh God no.” Brock gulped, stilling only for a second.

“Vicky was on the phone with her when it happened.”

Mitch and Rory paused, searched his eyes, and as if they’d heard Aspen themselves, took off at an outright sprint.

Running alongside them, Brock held the phone to his ear. “Get the Abingdon PD on this, Aspen…”

“Already done. Patrick is on the phone with them now. Vicky and Joshua have headed over to Kane’s place.”

“How do you know this much? What did Vicky say?”

“Trixie dropped Cash’s name and Vicky immediately remembered his name and asked for more details. About that time, Cash must’ve snuck up on Trixie. Vicky heard him say something about being dressed and ready for a first date.”

Brock ran faster. He pumped his legs harder than he had ever pumped iron back in the day of rigorous workouts. God help him. He had to make it in time. He needed to save her. After the Pratchert ordeal, he’d promised Trixie. He’d sworn to always protect her.

Once again, he’d let her down when she needed him most.

“How long ago?” Brock was reeling. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Maybe five minutes.”

“Rory, stay here!” Brock called out. “If hasn’t taken her off the island yet, he’ll be coming through here.”

“Got it!” Rory yelled, hanging back.

“Mitch…”

“I have to go with you,” Mitch said, catching up. “He may be armed and if he is, I’m the only one who can help you.”

Brock glanced over his shoulder. Maybe he should’ve hung back instead of leaving Rory alone. If Cash possessed a weapon, Brock could be leaving Rory behind to face his death.

“Brock, are you still with me?” Aspen asked.

“Yeah, I’ll keep you on the line until we see what we’re facing,” Brock said.

“Listen, Brock. Don’t underestimate Cash Whitehead. Joshua and I were with the Cartwells when they received the information on him. This guy has balls. He spouted off to the press right after Trixie’s abduction. Kane hired a private investigator to find out what they could on him.

“He’s probably more dangerous to Trixie than Stephen Pratchert ever thought about. He’s a serial rapist.”

“What?” Brock screeched, shooting Mitch a glare. Damn him for bringing this kind of trouble to their door once more.

“He was serving twenty years to life. How he convinced a parole board to free him, I don’t know.”

“We’re here at the lodge now,” Brock told him, cautiously entering the apartment.

Elevated voices filled the apartment. Mitch rushed by him.

Brock ducked behind the bedroom door and reached behind an old gun clock where Mitch once kept a small handgun. Securing the weapon, he checked for bullets and peered around the wall.

“Tell the local fellows to come in quietly,” Brock whispered. “We’re in the red lodge on the island. Whitehead is still here.”

“Is Trixie all right?” Aspen asked.

“She will be,” Brock promised, sliding the phone on a box top in passing. He gripped the pistol with both hands and stepped out in the opening, showing himself and the gun to a man he was fully prepared to blow to kingdom come.

“Do you always point, aim, and fire without asking questions first or is that just a trait you developed when you hooked up with your little woman?”

“Step away from Trixie,” Brock said, keeping the gun level.

Cash had one hand tucked behind his back. He was seated a few inches from Trixie and she looked terrified.

Mitch eased around the coffee table, reached for Trixie’s hand, and pulled her away from the couch, pushing her behind him.

“Look at you,” Cash said, his legs splayed. “You’re so predictable, Colony. You come in here with your old friend and start acting like I’m some kind of dangerous criminal.”

Mitch took one step sideway and then another, placing his hand on Trixie’s hip and guiding her along behind him. His effort was apparent. He was trying to move her out of harm’s way.

Brock kept watch over Cash. He didn’t want to ask him what he had behind his back until Trixie was safely out of the room.

The next ten seconds passed at a snail’s pace.

Cash flinched a time or two. He obviously meant to jostle Brock but Brock held his weapon steady until he heard Mitch tell Trixie to run to mid camp and find Rory.

Moments later, Mitch returned at the speed of a superhero, grabbed Cash by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Cash snarled. “I’m your friend, you bastard. If I hadn’t been your friend, I could’ve had your woman in eight different positions by now. You couldn’t have stopped me. If I’d wanted to harm her, the harm would’ve been done.”

Mitch’s eye twitched. His jaw flexed. “We saw the pictures.”

Cash laughed. “You expect me to believe you never jacked off to a centerfold.”

“Why, you bastard!” Mitch yelled, thrusting his forearm against Cash’s throat.

Brock was pissed, too, but he was sensible. “Step away from him, Mitch.”

Sirens filled the area. The damn PD there had always arrived with all the loud bells and whistles. They might as well have used a megaphone and shouted, “We’re arriving on the scene. If you’d like to flee with your hostage, do that now. We don’t want to have to draw our guns. We damn sure don’t want a confrontation.”

Mitch clenched his teeth. He threw his knee into Cash’s gut and pinned his entire body to the wall. “I ought to kill you, motherfucker.”

“And wouldn’t that be smart? Hmm?” Cash managed to ask, his face turning blue. “You want twenty years or more for my life?”

“Man, back off!” Brock screamed, eyeing the window and pulling Mitch by the shoulder. “You’re a free man, Mitch. Free. You’re free to love and be loved. Trixie is safe, man. Let him go. Let the cops handle this situation.”

Mitch’s determination was etched in his drawn brow. Cash practically pleaded with him as their gazes met and his skin became an ashen color.

Mitch grunted, threw his weight forward once more and then backed away, cursing under his breath as he paced back and forth and Cash collapsed to the floor, his hands clasped around his neck. “We were friends.”

Mitch turned on him. “How can you say that? Hmm? How can you say that and yet have a shrine in your room to a woman you don’t even know, a woman you’d never even heard of prior to meeting me?”

Cash bowed his head.

“That’s not true though, is it, Cash?” Brock asked, staring down the bridge of his nose.

“What are you talking about?” Mitch asked, raking his hands through his hair and stopping in front of Cash. “What is he talking about?”

Cash glared at Brock. He took a few breaths and slowly rose to an erect position, squaring his shoulders and looking Mitch in the eye. “We are friends.”

“So you’ve said. I don’t see that but what-the-fuck-ever, man,” Mitch said. “Now. What is he talking about?”

“Friends share,” Cash said in a diabolical voice. “You know that saying. Share with others. Didn’t you learn to give and receive as a child? You should always share with your friends. We are friends, Mitch. We share everything. We shared when we were on the inside.”

Mitch shot Brock a quick glance.

“You shared Trixie with your other friends. I expected you to be generous with me as well.”

Good Lord, he was more deranged than Brock had originally thought. As the cops came through the back door with their weapons drawn, Brock took a step forward and jabbed his finger against Cash’s chest. “Trixie isn’t a grab bag with all sorts of neat prizes promised for the participants. She’s a woman who possesses the free will to make her own choices. She chose to love me, Rory, and Mitch. There isn’t room for anyone else.”

“There might be,” Cash said, glancing over Mitch’s shoulder. He no doubt saw the officers swarming the grounds outside. “Why don’t you ask her, Mitch? She might be anxious to give me what she willingly gives to you.”

* * * *

Trixie and Rory approached the lodge right as Cash was being led away to an awaiting police cruiser. Trixie stopped short of the winding path leading to the rustic building.

“He didn’t hurt me,” Trixie said. “I don’t understand why he is being arrested when he didn’t threaten me.”

Rory tilted her chin to his. “Honey, listen to me. He had at least fourteen photographs in his room. Strewn across a clothesline, a number of pictures of you were stained with…well, I hate to think what he’d done with those images.”

“When you put it like that, I do, too.” She watched as an officer flattened his hand against the top of Cash’s head and guided him into the backseat of the police car. She continued up the walkway and made it halfway to the lodge before she quickly veered off to the right.

“Trixie!” Rory called out. “Wait!”

She broke out in a run and stopped short of plowing over two cops. “I need to say something.”

“Trixie, damn it!” Rory met her at the car. “This is not a good idea.”

“Rory, please let me have a word with Mr. Whitehead.”

By that time, Brock and Mitch were there. Mitch grabbed her by the hand and pulled her aside. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

“Mitch, this is between me and Mr. Whitehead.”

Brock grabbed her by her other wrist and tugged her away next. “Like hell. You have nothing to say to him.”

Trixie yanked her arm free. “Brock, this is one time I can’t let you interfere. I need a word with him or I won’t rest until I have one. Unless you want to take me down to the station later, I suggest you let me say my peace.”

Brock rolled his lips and set his jaw in frustration. His face twisted in fury. “Damn it, woman. The man is not worth it.”

Trixie marched by him. “He’s a human being, Brock. Because of that fact, he’s worth trying to save.”

Cash stared straight ahead. He acted as if he had no intentions of acknowledging her but she didn’t care if he looked at her or not.

“Why’d you do it?”

He blinked.

She glanced at Mitch. “I mean Mitch was willing to let you stay here. He would’ve given you a job. He would’ve stood by you as a friend. Why wasn’t that enough?”