THE RENEGADE RANCHER (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brian turned his back and climbed the stairs. He left her, obviously needing to be cut down and gotten to safety, one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

The noise of the train had covered his entry through the door. Overhearing the exchange between Simmons and Lindsey caused him to take the bottom three steps to intervene when the murderer lost it. But the knife had disappeared and Lindsey was no longer threatened, allowing Brian to press against the wall and hide. Simmons had returned to the roof where Brian had seen him keeping watch.

Leaving Lindsey now, dangerously hanging there, was tearing his guts out. It put another burr under his saddle as he took the steps two at a time.

It had been a long time since he’d climbed to the eagle’s nest—what they’d called the east peanut elevator as kids. He rushed through to the outside, remembering that the stairs turned back over the roof. He could see Simmons ahead of him, dressed in black, but showing up against the rusted tin roof as plain as day.

Hang on, Lindsey.

Since Simmons was running, he probably knew Brian was chasing him. They both pulled on the handrail, taking the stairs. The place had been structurally sound sixteen years ago when he’d gotten caught exploring. Now he could feel the joints giving way, wondering if the rusted bolts would pop with the weight of two grown men.

He took the last step to the metal grating, did a one-eighty, grabbed the ladder rungs to the top. Just as he raised his eyes, his opponent stopped, and Victor’s work boot caught him in the chin. He lost his grip, falling a couple of feet until he hooked his arm in the circular safety cage on the outside of the ladder.

Simmons couldn’t come down the ladder with Brian blocking it. It was the only way down. If he descended on the outside, Brian could still grab him. He heard Simmons scrambling around the far side of the catwalk.

The blurred vision from knocking his head cleared a bit. Once he knew Simmons was headed across the chute to the roof, Brian bent and twisted to get upright again. He grabbed a rung, then a second until he pulled himself free to follow.

As Simmons jumped the rail to descend to the roof, Brian twisted through the safety rail and slid to the warm tin in time to grab the man’s foot. Simmons kicked out. Brian avoided being hit by rolling to his side. He stopped and began racing up the steep slick metal. Brian caught the older man just as he straddled the building’s ridge to head down the other side.

Simmons lifted his leg to strike out again, but Brian kept hold. Victor D. Simmons may have been older, but he gave as good as a weakened Brian. They rolled, and Simmons threw himself to the west side of the roof. Brian didn’t let go and couldn’t stop the headfirst slide.

Brian couldn’t slow the three-story downward tumble on his own, but the hackberry branches helped.

“Grab hold!” He released Simmons and the man did as directed. Brian grabbed a second branch before plummeting over the edge.

Why had he told the man what to do to save his hide? Simmons was able to sit, and began kicking at Brian’s grip. Then he rolled to the roof joint, crawling over the edge before dropping to the lower side.

Brian caught his breath before following the maniac to the west-side ladder. Simmons was three or four seconds ahead of Brian, dropping to another peanut chute and running along the metal grate. Going up was the only way to get down. Brian didn’t trust his swimming head or shaky hands to climb the pipe on the side of the ladder.

As he took the first step onto the grate, Brian remembered the gun tucked inside his waistband. He pulled and released the safety, but Simmons made it over the edge before he could fire. He dropped to the grate, looking for a shot, pulled the trigger, nothing. Pulled again, but he still couldn’t hit Simmons mixed in with the crisscrossed metal supports.

Again, Brian was just slightly behind. He followed Simmons to the ground and ran as if he was racing from an explosion. Across the uneven dirt, back into the old building, swinging around the bottom of the stairs and each zigzag landing back up to Lindsey. He was within five feet of Simmons.

But seconds behind was all the bastard needed to lean over the rail, tug and then slice the rope.

“Lindsey!”

* * *

L
INDSEY
HAD
PREPARED
herself. If she fell, it meant her death. When the monster cut the rope, there was a moment of unadulterated panic. It was going to hurt. Her foot was caught and she’d be lucky if her ankle didn’t snap.

There had been moments like that on a wave. She’d known she was about to wipe out and the eternity clock began ticking. It only took thirty seconds to fall, but you can’t scream underwater. Maybe that was why she was coherent enough to fall and stretch for something to grab with her good arm.

Her fingers grabbed the bottom of the platform where the monster now rolled in a struggle with Brian. She shifted, latching her hand in place where a board was missing. Then she became conscious of the pain in her ankle and screamed.

Hanging and watching the fight as if the men were defying gravity, Lindsey saw them roll and exchange punches. She clung tightly with one hand as the arm of her injured shoulder was useless. Still zip tied together, she couldn’t get a better grip or reposition her good hand.

The psychopath scurried up the stairs, kicking at Brian, who followed. Then Brian fell hard onto the platform. The jolt caused Lindsey’s grip to shake.

“Brian, the gun,” she tried to warn. The weapon that had been tucked at the small of his back fell through the wooden slats. It clanged again and again as it hit metal on its journey to the floor she’d been staring at all afternoon.

Lindsey tried her best not to scream and distract her rescuer. But her foot was working free from her shoe. Once it was, all her weight would be hanging thanks to the loose grip she had on the edge of wood that was already cutting into her hand.

“Brian, I’m slipping.”

The monster laughed as he stood on a step out of Brian’s reach. Attached to his leg was a handgun. He unstrapped it and pointed it at Brian.

“Don’t move, Brian,” the lunatic commanded.

Her heel slid farther from her shoe. “Oh, God, please.”

Brian turned on his side, his hand on hers. “Go ahead and shoot me, Simmons. I’m not going to let her fall.”

“Uh, uh, uh. Not until I say go.”

“If you wanted her dead, you would have killed her when you got here,” Brian spat at him, but his fingers moved closer to her wrists and to the plastic tie.

“All right, hold on to her and pull her up.”

Brian locked his hand on her wrist, her foot moved and she swung side to side in the air. Maybe the pain shooting throughout her body had short-circuited the neurons that needed to fire to scream. Or maybe it was the simple confidence that Brian wouldn’t let her fall.

“You wanted to save her, so save her,” Simmons demanded. “I’ll watch you from here. I would like to inform you that I can officially declare myself the winner of our battle. It’s time to finish this project.”

“He’s a monster.”

“Forget him, Lindsey. Focus on me. Are you okay?”

“Just...peachy,” she said through gritted teeth. “But I might...pass out.”

“Come on, Lindsey. Stay with me.”

Brute strength saved her. She could do nothing other than keep her eyes from completely shutting and passing out. She hung there as Brian lifted her like a free weight and saved her.

Maybe she did pass out for part of it as he pulled and tugged to get her through the rail. Lying on their backs, Brian clasped both her hands in his, bringing them to his chest. She didn’t care how awkward or how much it tugged at the torn shoulder muscles, she needed his touch. Needed to know he was really next to her and she wasn’t facing the rest of this night alone.

“Time to get up, lovebirds.”

“I need a minute,” Brian said, still breathing hard.

“It took you much longer to get here from the hospital, Brian. I’m afraid you got us off schedule.”

“Schedule? You have a schedule to kill us?” she asked. She was too injured to stand and walk anywhere. Brian squeezed her hand.

“I didn’t give you the impression that I’m a planner? Get up.” His voice changed with the last command.

Brian stood, using the rail to help himself, then he helped her sit up.

“I said we’re leaving. Get up, Lindsey.” He kicked her thigh.

Brian turned on the monster, who acted more as though he welcomed another fight. He looked disappointed when Brian backed down.

“She can’t walk on that ankle.” He pulled his T-shirt off. “She has a dislocated shoulder that I’m going to stabilize. Unless you want her screaming in pain walking across Aubrey.”

She’d had no idea they were back in Brian’s hometown. All of the fighting and noise the two men had made and no one had called the police. They were still at the mercy of this madman.

“Cut her cuffs. I can’t stabilize the shoulder with her wrists pressed together.”

“Back up and hook your leg through the rail. I want to make certain you don’t come at me.”

Brian did what he said. The man pulled his knife and cut the plastic between her wrists. He put the knife away and Brian returned to her side.

Brian worked quickly. He didn’t try to put her shoulder back in place. He angled her arm around her waist, ripped his shirt and tied her arm to her torso. He lifted her and took off down the stairs before Simmons realized he needed to keep up.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to use her good arm to hold around his neck and not doing a very good job. She rested her head on his shoulder. She was past any level of exhaustion she’d ever faced.

“Trust me, Lindsey,” he whispered, then brushed her lips with his. He turned his head to speak to the monster. “Good question. Simmons, what now?”

“We need your car. Your story needs to come full circle for this town. Their hatred with you began during another
accident.
This one will validate all their fears.”

She wanted to sleep, rest, not move. Every step jostled a part of her that ached.

“My ride’s inside the firehouse.”

“Convenient.”

Brian had already been heading straight across the parking lot to the fire station.
Trust me, Lindsey.
He had a plan and he knew who this murderer was. Simmons. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. Brian’s jaw muscles tightened along with all the muscles in his neck. He was either angry or very determined. Probably both.

Whatever Brian had planned, he didn’t seem to like it.

“You’re setting me up to take the fall for the Cook family killings?” Brian asked.

Where was everyone? It was just after dark and they were in the middle of town. She could see shadows of people from the lights behind the drawn curtains. Cars in the driveways. Flowers on the porch.

If she could see all that, what was stopping these neighbors from noticing a fight on a roof or the noise from the shouting? She raised her head, looking at the man Brian called Simmons.

Just a man. Not a monster or devil. A man who could be defeated. She did trust Brian. They would find a way to escape.

“You really are an egotistical psychopath, holding me in a building down the street from the police station and a playground.”

“And if you had called out to any of them, they’d all be dead. Keep that in mind, Lindsey. Just like now.” He pointed the gun at Brian’s head. “You call out. Someone gets curious. Someone else dies.”

“Trust me,” Brian whispered so softly she wondered if she actually heard him speak or if the words were echoing in her head. “Why come here, to town? Why risk being seen instead of going directly to where you’re going to stage this last accident? Why the fight?”

“After our fight in Jeremy’s home, you piqued my curious nature.”

Brian spun to face the madman. “Curious about what?”

“Well, who was the better man, of course.”

“I’m curious. Who are you?” she asked, looking over Brian’s shoulder. She watched his eyes. Wild. Dark. Insane. There was no other explanation for his rash, odd behavior. Then again, was there ever a rational explanation for someone planning multiple murders?

“He didn’t introduce himself? This is Victor D. Simmons, attorney at law.”

“A lawyer who I bet works with people selling property and steals their mineral rights.”

“I was right to assume that the two of you together would be my toughest challenge.”

“My car’s inside the fire station bay.”

“Then we should get inside before we’re seen.”

“You’ll have to open it, my hands are full.” Brian stepped to the side, revealing the door.

Lindsey paid close attention to his brown eyes, wondering if he’d set some sort of trap inside. Simmons must have wondered the same thing. He tipped the gun back and forth like a wagging finger.

“Why don’t you empty your hands and go through first, Brian.”

“Okay.” Brian kept one hand around her waist, letting her slide down his side a little, keeping her high enough that her feet didn’t thump to the ground. He turned the knob and let the door swing open. “Nothing there...except maybe some field mice.”

“Get inside.” Simmons pulled the door shut behind him. “Where’s your vehicle? I thought you said it was here.”

Brian walked across the open floor toward the office, set her on her feet close to the wall and flipped a switch that turned on a row of lights with a high-pitched whine. “I lied.”

“Stop,” Simmons cried out, losing his composure. “We’ve already fought and I proved myself the better man.”

The portion of the man who had screamed at her from the stairwell came into full focus. The man who totally lost it when someone said he was wrong. Brian was using it against him. But that man still had a gun and Brian had nothing but his hands.

Hands that saved lives.

“You see, I don’t agree. You’re not the better man at all, Victor ‘
D
is for dumbass’ Simmons. I think you’re a coward. You can’t call the peanut-dryer chase a real fight. I’ve had better fights with one of my horses.”