Zack (Armed and Dangerous Book 1) (19 page)

But he was already there and he handed the purse to Sky. Her phone stopped ringing at the same time she opened the purse. She grabbed the cell and pulled it out. For some reason her hand shook, as if she already knew something was desperately wrong.

She looked at the missed caller’s name on the display screen. “It was Luke,” she said, already hitting redial as she spoke.

Luke immediately answered. “Got a situation. Hector Ramirez has been beat up real bad.” Sky’s heart exploded into a panicked beat as Luke continued, “Sheriff Wayland, paramedics, and an ambulance are on their way.”

“Oh, God.” Sky scrambled in her dresser drawers for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—screw underwear. “Are you with Hector? Where?”

“The bunkhouse.” Voices rose in the background as Luke spoke. “Saw Hunter’s truck, so I’m assuming you’ve got company. I still don’t want you unarmed anymore, so keep that S&W on you.”

Sky glanced up at Zack, who was already getting dressed. He had his jeans on and he’d taken his weapon off the nightstand and was tucking it into the holster inside the waistband of his jeans. “We’ll be right there,” she said before she pushed the off button.

While Sky shoved her feet into a pair of tennis shoes she grabbed off of her closet floor, she gave Zack a quick rundown on what Luke had just told her.

Her heart thrummed as she stuffed her cell phone into her pocket and ran from her bedroom door to the living room. Blue was already there, still barking, his hackles raised.

Sky’s heart pounded as she pulled out the secret drawer from beneath the end table and withdrew her S&W before slamming the drawer shut again. With Blue at their sides, she and Zack bolted out into the pouring rain.

Sirens cut through the storm and the night as Zack and Sky ran toward the bunkhouse. Red and blue strobes flashed eerily through the wet night from oncoming law enforcement vehicles, and the yellow and red flashes came from the approaching ambulance. Considering how far outside of town the Flying M Ranch was, the response time had been amazingly fast.

Blue barked as Sky and Zack splashed through mud puddles. It was so dark, even with Zack’s high-powered flashlight. Water soaked through her tennis shoes, mud splattering her jeans. The bunkhouse was at least a football field’s length from the ranch house and the sheriff and ambulance were almost to the bunkhouse at the same time Zack and Sky made it.

She bounded up the steps and past a tethered, muddy horse and a couple of the ranch hands who stood like grim sentinels outside the door. Blue stayed outside with the men, his gaze darting across the dark landscape as he gave low growls.

Bright light caused Sky to blink as she entered the large common room of the bunkhouse and at once spotted Hector sprawled on a couch. Luke studied Hector with intent concentration as he crouched at the ranch hand’s side.

With a gasp, Sky came up just short of reaching the two men. Hector looked like he’d hung out a red flag and tangled with a fighting bull. Both of Hector’s eyes were red and purple, and swollen shut, both his lips split and bleeding, several gashes slashed his cheeks and forehead, and his jaw was swelling along with a huge knot on his forehead. His clothing was ripped and bloody and one of his arms was obviously broken as it lay at an impossible angle by his side.

“Shit.” Zack’s voice filled the room as he moved past Sky and crouched next to Luke and Hector. “What the hell happened?”

“Not sure. Ramirez hasn’t been conscious since he made it to the bunkhouse.” Luke’s blue eyes burned like hot ice as he looked from Zack to Sky. “He barely made it back on his mount. Probably only because the mare knew her way home and Ramirez held on just long enough to get here.”

Loud boot steps clunked on the wooden floor and Sky looked over her shoulder to see Sheriff Wayland and Deputy Garrison enter the enormous common room. The two men stepped aside as paramedics pushed a stretcher from a ramp leading up to the door and into the room. Zack, Sky, and Luke moved off to the side while the paramedics started taking Ramirez’s vitals.

The voices of the paramedics echoed in Sky’s ears as she heard their reports. “Pulse thready, pupils dilated, respiration shallow...”

She felt as if her surreal moment earlier had magnified and the moment had turned from a pleasant dream into an outright nightmare.

As the sheriff and deputy joined her, Zack, and Luke, Sky’s stomach churned and for a moment she thought she was going to have to run outside and retch. One of her men had been beaten, might even be close to death.

Why?

As they stood out of the way of the paramedics, Sky rubbed her arms with her palms. She looked up at Zack before turning to Luke, then the sheriff, feeling like someone had a choke hold around her throat. “Do you think Hector stumbled across a group running drugs or illegals across my land?”

“Shit.” Wayland dragged his palm over his face and his mustache. His crystal green eyes were darker and assessing. Although he was hard to read, Sky was pretty sure he was as pissed as everyone else was. “Yeah, it could be drugs or undocumented aliens.”

“That, or the rustlers,” Luke said with an even grimmer expression than he’d had before.

Sky noticed the deputy taking notes and glancing up every now and then when there was a slight pause in the conversation.

“Was Ramirez alone?” Zack’s gaze narrowed on Luke. “What was your man doing out so late?”

Luke rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger and glanced at Joe, another one of Sky’s ranch hands. Joe stood nearby with a look of self-disgust on his face that reflected in his mannerisms.

“Normally the men go out in pairs, but Joe got held up and Ramirez went off on his own.” Luke scowled. “Apparently Ramirez heard a calf bawling its damned head off and was worried it was caught up in a fence line.”

Joe came closer, his face still twisted in a way that told Sky he was way pissed at himself. “I told the asshole to wait till I got off the damn phone, but he left anyway.” Joe clenched his fists at his sides. “I should’ve made sure Ramirez didn’t go off without me.” Luke said nothing, but his muscles tightened beneath his shirt. “Right now we’ve got to figure out who the hell did this.” Another deputy skirted the paramedics and went straight to the sheriff and said something Sky couldn’t hear.

“Just about enough men are here now so we can start combing the southeastern pasture,” the sheriff said to them.

Luke nodded. “My men can join you.”

Sheriff Wayland glanced back at the deputy. “Where the hell is Woods?”

The deputy shrugged. “Hasn’t answered his cell or his radio.” Footsteps told Sky someone else had entered the common room.

“Right here, Sheriff,” Gary said, his voice carrying over the din. He came in dripping wet and stopped to stomp the mud from his boots. “Just took a quick look around.”

He looked somber as he moved past the paramedics who were now lifting Hector onto the stretcher. Sky swallowed past the tight clamp on her throat as she saw the oxygen mask on Hector’s face and IV taped to the back of his hand. The paramedics had been shouting out one thing after another, but everything was a blur to Sky.

The lawmen and Luke looked angered by the situation but calm and professional, whereas Sky wanted to puke.

When everyone was out of the way of the door, the paramedics, along with a couple of the deputies, wheeled Hector from the bunkhouse, into the rain, and to the ambulance.

“I’ll want a word with all of you,” Wayland said to his deputies and the ranch hands as well as Luke, Zack, and Sky, “after we conduct our search to see if we can find any sign in this goddamned rain.”

“The fireworks have moved on.” Zack had gone to the door and was looking outside. Sky realized the lightning and thunder had stopped even though the rain hadn’t. “We just have to deal with the rain, which is likely washing away evidence as we speak.”

Luke made a frustrated sound. “We’ll have to do the best we can with what we’ve got.”

Wayland gave a short nod to Luke. “Call all the men you have into the bunkhouse.” He turned to Gary. “I want the deputies back in here now.”

When the twenty or so ranch hands and deputies returned to the room, Wayland’s gaze moved slowly from one deputy to another before landing on Zack. “Hunter and the rest of you know what to do.”

They nodded and the sheriff turned to Deputy Blalock and said, “Question the ranch hands while we get started searching for evidence.”

As the deputies headed toward the door, Sheriff Wayland, Luke, and Zack stopped Sky, an imposing barricade of three huge men.

Blue came into the bunkhouse, settled on his haunches at her side, and looked at the three men as a low rumble rose in his throat.

“Ms. MacKenna, I need you to stay put.” Wayland’s lips were tight, his expression one of a man who expected to be obeyed.

Sky braced her hands on her hips and scowled at the men. “I can help search just as well as any one of you.”

Blue barked as if to emphasize her point.

“I don’t doubt that.” Wayland sounded firm but sincere, like he wasn’t just feeding her a line. “But we need someone here. I’m going to leave you with Deputy Blalock in case anyone turns up. You can stay here while Blalock questions the ranch hands.”

Sky started to argue, but the three big men headed out the door. The goateed Deputy Blalock moved to Sky’s side at the sheriff’s order.

“I run an entire ranch and can handle a weapon with the best of them,” Sky muttered.

“I bet you can,” the wiry deputy said. “But—”

“Someone’s got to stay here,” Sky repeated in a mocking tone. She moved past Blalock, plopped down on the common room couch, and crossed her legs, and folded her arms across her chest. “Bullshit,” she said as she sat like a good little woman.

But cursed the entire time like a sailor.

The relentless rain made working across the southeastern range frustrating as hell. Zack clenched his high-powered flashlight in his fist as he swept it across the ground, hoping to find a sign of where the incident had taken place and maybe some kind of clue that would lead them to the bastards who had beat the shit out of Ramirez.

Anger burned in Zack’s gut. He’d like to work over the men who’d done a job on Ramirez. Zack sucked in his breath. Shit. He hadn’t felt so personally involved in any case as he was with this one. Anything and everything to do with Sky—whatever affected her in any way—was his business and he was taking it personal.

What if Sky had been out on the range?

What if it had been her tonight?

The thought made his anger turn to nearly blinding fury, and he had to force himself to shove personal thoughts aside and think like a fed. Not like a man ready to kill for his woman. Right now she was safe at home with one of the deputies and Zack had to concentrate on his job.

Joe worked at Zack’s side as his partner during the sweep. The ferocity on Joe’s features never ebbed as he searched. It was easy to see just how hard the man had taken Ramirez’s beating.

The pale gray of predawn had just started to lighten the sky when the heavy rain all but stopped. Relieved the constant downpour had turned into barely a mist, Zack mumbled, “Christ, it’s about time.” Then something glinted in a patch of flattened grass ahead of him and Joe.

“Well, fuck me,” Joe said as they carefully stepped up to a large area beside a piece of downed fence line—obviously cut.

Deep tire prints had pressed into the claylike mud and in one place it was clear the rear tires of a horse or cattle trailer had been stuck. Wooden planks had been left behind that had obviously been used to get the trailer out of the muck, and mud had spattered across the ground where the wheels had spun trying to gain traction.

Zack squatted and pointed to a metal pipe that had rolled under the edge of one of the planks, out of the rain. “Fifty bucks that pipe was used on Ramirez.”

The growing dawn glinted on the smooth steel of a two-and- a-half-foot-long, three-quarter-inch pipe. “If I’m not mistaken,” Zack continued, “that’s blood on the far end.” He glanced up at Joe, who was eyeing the pipe that was under the plank. “Better let Rider and Wayland know.”

Joe drew out his cell. “On it.”

At the same time Zack focused on the scene, he pushed Joe’s conversation to the back of his mind—but out of training and experience still listened to what Joe had to say. Might not be important, but, hell, you never knew.

Taking care not to disturb the scene, Zack bagged and tagged the bloody pipe as evidence. He took in the bent grass, and what remained of three sets of muddy shoe prints and a horse’s hoof- prints.

In the background, Joe was speaking to Rider or Wayland in a surprisingly efficient manner that made him sound like a cop himself.

Zack filed that information away with the dozens of other questions filling his mind.

After the investigation had been conducted and the scene fully documented and photographed, Wayland, Rider, and Woods each took a look at the piece of evidence Zack had recovered.

Wayland listened to Zack as he examined at the pipe.

Rider’s mouth had tightened in a thin line. “Sonsofbitches beat Ramirez with a metal pipe. We’ll make damn sure they pay.”

“Now don’t go off all vigilante on me,” Wayland said, the look in his eye hard. “You let law enforcement handle this.”

Something hard flashed in Rider’s eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he drawled in a way that made Zack wonder if Rider was talking about being a vigilante or letting law enforcement handle the situation.

“Ready, Torres?” Zack asked the following Monday as he stepped into the two-desk office he shared with the younger special agent.

Torres pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “Talked with a guy from Customs and Border Protection.”

“CBP tell you anything new?” Zack picked up his western hat from where he’d left it on his squat filing cabinet beside his desk.

“Yup.” Torres pointed to an aerial map on his desk. “The CBP officer I spoke with said in the San Bernardino area they found a few cattle and human tracks headed into Mexico rather than out.”

“Enough to account for the large numbers of cattle being rustled?” Zack asked as he stood inside the doorway leading out of their office.