The Cowboy's Rules: 2 (Cowboys After Dark:) (21 page)

“I just don’t think he’d come here with all the activity, and besides, even if he did we’d see him. He’d be on camera,” she remarked.

“I agree,” Chad smiled, “but this is making me feel better.”

“Me too. At first I couldn’t stand all the cameras, but now I really like them. I feel good knowing I can look at my phone and see who’s at the front door. It’s really cool.”

“Yep, and you keep doin’ it,” he said firmly.

“Don’t worry, I will. You have a fun afternoon. I have an inspiration for some dresses if you decide to expand the women’s line, and I want to sketch them out.”

“Oh, Lord, heaven help me,” he replied rolling his eyes. “We have enough on our plates, thank you very much.”

“I’ll see you later,” she giggled.

“Lock the door after me,” he ordered, and kissing her warmly he headed back to the barn.

“I think I want a cup of tea,” she said to Mickey, and set about boiling the water and finding her favorite china cup.

There was a small television in the kitchen which she rarely watched, but on an impulse she turned it on, and unexpectedly became completely engrossed in a nature show about leopards. The kettle had long since boiled and been ignored when she felt Mickey’s paw on her leg.

“What? Is there something you want?”

The dog barked, then ran into the living room. Walking quickly behind him she started laughing as he grabbed his ball and brought it over to her, leaving it at her feet.

“Really, right now?” she sighed.

He barked, then looked at her expectantly, so she picked it up and rolled it down the long, wide hallway. Mickey happily bounded after it, then ran it back to her.

“I know you can keep this up forever,” she laughed, “and I’m supposed to be sketching out the dress that’s in my head.”

She was about to throw the ball again when the doorbell sounded. Frowning, she looked at Mickey who, barking furiously, raced to the door.

Moving back to the kitchen where she’d left her phone she turned it on and stared at the screen. The familiar yellow van from the Sampson Security Company was parked in the driveway, and a man wearing a baseball cap and studying a clipboard was standing on the porch.

Mickey was still at the door and still barking, and as she approached she motioned for him to be quiet.

“Can I help you?” she called through the door.

“Hi, I’m from Sampson Security, there seems to be a hitch in our system. We’re not gettin’ the feed from the back door camera and we need to check the connection to the inside wirin’ where it attaches to the fiber filament rod.”

The man had a thick southern drawl, and though she couldn’t see his face because of the baseball cap, he was obviously an installer from Sampson Security who had arrived to fix an issue with one of the cameras.

“Hold on,” she called.

Reaching up she unbolted the top lock on the door, but Mickey started going crazy, barking and spinning around in circles.

“It’s okay,” she frowned, taking hold of his collar. “You don’t know him, but it’s okay, he’s from the security company.”

She turned the door handle and was trying to keep Mickey back with one hand while she opened the door with the other, but before she could see the face of the man on the other side he pushed violently against it, sending her tumbling backwards on top of Mickey.

As they both struggled to find their feet, her fingers became stuck under his collar, twisting painfully, but she was more concerned that she was choking him than any pain she was in.

“You get that dog locked away in another room, or I’ll shoot it.”

Staring up she saw the dazzling smile, and a gun pointed directly at her.

“I like dogs, I’d really rather not shoot him,” Jason said calmly, over the noise of Mickey’s barking and snarling. “He doesn’t like me very much but I don’t hold that against him. He was just doing his job, like he is now, but lock him in another room, or, like I said, he’s a dead dog.”

As he’d been speaking, though her heart was thundering in her chest, Cassie had dislodged her fingers from their painful position, and had managed to keep hold of the collar.

“Okay, sure,” she stammered.
Keep calm, keep calm, just do whatever he says.
“Just, please don’t hurt him, I’ll put him the d-dining room, just over there,” she said, pointing frantically towards the double doors.

“Wise decision,” he nodded, the smile still frozen across his face, “but crawl with him. I’d like to see that, especially in those jeans.”

A wave of intense fear shrouded her as she tried to crawl forward while holding Mickey’s collar.

“I-I can’t m-manage it,” she bleated.

“Hmm, so I see,” he chuckled. “It was fun to watch you try. Okay, you can stand up.”

Mickey had stopped growling, and to her surprise he was suddenly being extremely well-behaved, as if there was no danger whatsoever.

Mickey, I don’t understand. Are you pretending, or are you being calm to keep me calm?

Rising unsteadily to her feet she maneuvered him to the dining room, then leaned down to pat his head.

“Good boy, Mickey,” she said loud enough for Jason to hear, then whispered, “go get Chad, hurry.”

Rising unsteadily she closed the doors, then totally terrified she turned to face the psychopathic stranger.

“You really are quite delicious, your face is absolutely white, and a minute ago it was beet red,” he remarked. “I like to have a bit of a chat before I get down to business, so why don’t you go over there and sit on the edge of the couch.”

“Th-there are p-people h-here,” she quivered.

“Oh, Cassie, you know everyone’s super busy,” he declared. “Your precious Chad won’t be back for at least two, maybe even three hours. I’ll be long gone. Now do as I say, go and sit on the edge of the couch.”

Shaking so badly she could hardly walk, she made her way to the the arm of the sofa and perched herself precariously, hoping she’d find an opportunity to dash away.

“I’m very annoyed at having to do this here,” he frowned. “I wanted you in the barn, in that stall you enjoyed so much, but you had to get some stupid guard up there. Very irritating.”

“You-you s-saw?” she cringed, a wave of humiliation drowning her.

“Sadly no, I couldn’t see, but I could certainly hear. Such muffled sounds, I can only assume you were gagged, but now I know you enjoy being gagged and you probably like being tied up as well. I do like to please the ladies,” he chuckled, “so I’m happy to oblige.”

While the man calling himself Jason Lewis was terrorizing Cassie, Mickey had darted into the kitchen, raced out through his doggy door, and was running as fast as he could down the side of the hill towards barn; it was Jeb who saw him first.

“Chad, look, it’s your dog.”

Chad was in the round pen, and looking in the direction Jeb was pointing he saw Mickey was almost falling down the hill he was running so fast.

“Sorry,” he said to his student as he hurriedly handed her the lead rope, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Dashing from the round pen he met Mickey just as he made it to he bottom of the hill.

“What, is it Cassie?”

Mickey barked furiously, then turned around and started back up the hill.

“Marty,” Chad called, “quick, something’s wrong at the house.”

Marty was inside the barn, and when he heard Chad’s panicked call he raced outside to find him already waiting in the gator.

“What’s goin’ on?” Marty asked jumping in.

“I have no idea, Mickey just came flyin’ down from the house, look’s like he’s almost back up there.”

Marty stared up and saw the dog had already reached the top of the hill, and as the gator sped up the driveway, Mickey was pushing through his doggie door into the kitchen, moving stealthily into the hallway that led to the living room.

Like a great cat stalking its prey, he dropped low and moved slowly, pausing every few steps until he reached the entrance to the room. The intruder was pacing, talking incessantly, waving the gun in the air, and Cassie was sitting on the arm of the couch.

Whether it was instinct or peripheral vision Cassie didn’t know, but something told her to risk a glance towards the hallway; to her astonishment she saw Mickey poised to leap.

She could understand the dog’s hesitation. The man was continuously moving, turning around, then walking, then turning again. Holding her breath, utterly terrified, she knew what she had to do.

Controlling her abject fear, to Jason’s shock she stood up and moved a few feet so she was directly in line with the hall.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he demanded, and just as she’d prayed he would, he stopped pacing and faced her.

It was precisely what Mickey needed. The man’s attention was completely focused on Cassie and his back was to him.

With silent, lightening speed Mickey galloped across the few feet between them, launching himself in the air. The psychopath felt the movement behind him but he was too late. As he spun around it was just in time to see the snarling teeth of the canine right in front of his face.

C
had had just placed the key in the lock of the kitchen door when the shot rang out. The horrifying sound made him do so something he rarely did; he panicked.

His heart leapt into his throat as he tried desperately to push open the door, unaware that he’d not turned the key. Marty’s large hand shot forward and turned it for him, but the tumblers fell into place just as Chad lunged against the door in an attempt to break it open; the momentum of his body sent him sprawling forward on to the kitchen floor.

“CASSIE,” he screamed, trying to scramble to his feet.

Though just as panicky as Chad, Marty managed to keep his wits and darted from the kitchen into the hallway.

“H-HERE!”

Cassie’s high-pitched wail echoed through the house, and finding his feet, his fear overriding any sense of caution, Chad dashed across to the dining room and burst through the double doors to find Cassie, visibly shaking, pointing a gun at a man sprawled on the floor on his stomach.

Snarling, teeth bared, drool dribbling, Mickey was crouched low, his menacing mouth just inches from the man’s head. A pool of blood was laying around the man’s leg, and Chad could see more blood around his face.

Racing to her side Chad saw Cassie’s knuckles were white from the intense grasp she had around the grip of the gun. Marty was standing in the shadows of the hall, but not wanting to spook Cassie or the dog he backed away and dialed 911.

He needn’t have bothered.

The Sheriff had just received word from dispatch that a van had been stolen from the yard of the Sampson Security Company. Believing it could mean only one thing he had immediately called for back-up, and was driving at breakneck speed to Horse Haven ranch.

As he charged up the driveway he saw the bright yellow van parked in front of the house. His pulse jumped into overdrive, and he zipped around to the back where he saw the kitchen door wide open, and the gator where Chad had skidded to a stop.

Breaking into a sweat as he pulled his revolver from his holster, he crept forward into the kitchen, and listening intently he heard Chad’s voice, but not what was being said. Creeping through to the dining room he spied Chad’s back through the open doors, and as he neared he realized Chad was standing behind Cassie trying to pry the gun loose from her fingers.

“Are we good?” the Sheriff called.

“Yeah, he’s down,” Chad replied.

Not taking any chances the Sheriff continued to hold his weapon at the ready as he slowly moved into the scene, but when he saw Mickey standing guard over the man on the floor, threatening to chomp on the man’s head if he dared move, the Sheriff moved his gun back in its holster and gulped back his overwhelming relief.

Grabbing his walkie talkie he called for an ambulance and alerted dispatch that the scene was under control.

Turning his attention back to Cassie and Chad, the Sheriff wasn’t sure what to do. Cassie wasn’t speaking, her body was trembling badly, her entire focus fixated on the incapacitated man on the ground, and Chad wasn’t having any luck removing the gun from her hands.

“Just loosen your fingers,” he purred in her ear. “Just loosen them for me and let it go.”

“Chad,” Marty called gently from across the room. “Try using Mickey.”

Chad glanced across at Marty, surprised to see him, then looked down at his dog and realized Marty could well be right.

“Mickey, good dog, back off now, back off and come here,” Chad said firmly.

Mickey either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore the command, so Chad tried again, sharply calling his name.

“Mickey!”

The dog jumped, as if startled, and though he continued to growl he turned his head in Chad’s direction.

“Good boy, Mickey. Back now, back and come here.”

Mickey returned his eyes to his target, but began to back away, his growl becoming intermittent.

“That’s my boy, good dog, good dog…see Cassie…everything’s fine. Mickey knocked him out, you’re safe, you can let go of the gun and give it to me.”

Mickey slunk closer to Chad, but placed himself between him and the culprit, staying on duty, watching as the Sheriff moved forward to handcuff the intruder.

“The gun, Cassie, give me the gun,” Chad repeated.

“Wh-what?” she stammered.

“The gun, sweetheart,” he said firmly, flooded with relief that she’d spoken, “give it to me.”

Placing his hand over the barrel he felt her grip give way, and gently pulled it from her hands.

“Marty,” Chad called, holding out the weapon.

Marty moved quickly across the room, and was about to reach for the gun when the Sheriff stepped up.

“I’ll take that,” he declared taking the piece from Chad and dropping it in a plastic bag.

“I’m gettin’ her outta here,” Chad declared, and sweeping Cassie up he headed towards the hallway with Mickey close at his side.

The sound of sirens coming up the driveway sent Marty to open the front door, but the Sheriff called him back.

“Best have me do that, son, don’t want you gettin’ shot,” he remarked. “You stay next to this sonofabitch.”