Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (31 page)

“Like five-day-old fish. We have proof, Tag. We can’t let our emotions get in the way here.”

He slumped against the back of the chair. “I know.”

Olivia cupped his hands. “We need to get that warrant. Everything has to be done by the book on this one. I don’t want him getting off on a technicality.”

Tag’s expression hardened. “Me, either.” He checked his watch. “It’s just about one. Judge Mathison should be in his chambers. Let’s go.”

She downed another large drink of soda then regretfully poured the rest out. The liquid ran down the white sink in rivulets of brown bubbles.

A damn waste
.

She followed Tag back into his office. He grabbed his utility belt from the coat rack and strapped it on. He plucked his hat and held it in his hands then motioned her to precede him. At the front door he hesitated.

“Hold up,” he said.

Olivia sighed. “What now?” She really wasn’t up to babying him into going to the courthouse. She wanted Fischer tied up in as many red-tape bows as she could manage. She needed the backing of the judicial system for that. If Tag had changed his mind again, she’d be tempted to knock him a good one.

“I need to radio Sam, uh, Deputy Carson, and let her know I’ll be out of touch for a little while.”

“She’s still on duty at the ranch?” Olivia asked in surprise.

“Yeah. On at five, off at five. Twelve-hour days since we’re short staffed.” Grief briefly flitted over his face. “Wallace is one more death that bastard will pay for.”

She nodded. “Call her then we’ll leave.”

He unhooked the radio from his shoulder strap and pressed the button. “Carson, 10-87.”

Silence met his request for the deputy to pick up his call. Tag frowned and repeated the command.

Still nothing.

Olivia’s heart picked up speed.

Tag slowly stiffened. “Carson, answer your damn radio.”

The deputy did not pick up.

Olivia met Tag’s sharp stare. “Maybe she’s outside peeing.”

“I don’t think so, Olivia.” He rehooked the radio and pulled out his cell phone. He punched in some numbers and waited. His expression was unreadable. He’d gone from grumpy and openly raging to stone-faced emotionless. That scared her more than his fury.

Olivia heard a deep voice answer the phone.

Tag fumbled with his phone and hit another button then held it out so she could hear. “Ryan? Where are you?”

“Just outside of Austin heading back to Freedom. Why?” His voice was static-laced on the speakerphone.

“Fuck,” Tag muttered.

“What’s wrong?” the Texas Ranger asked sharply.

“I can’t raise Deputy Carson. I don’t want any radio chatter in case something has happened. I’m heading to the Hellfire Ranch now. What’s your ETA?”

“Another hour at least.”

“Drive faster,” Tag said grimly. “Meet me there.”

“Will do.”

The phone clicked off, and Tag raised cold eyes to her. “If he’s hurt her, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Let’s go.”

“That was damn good, Jake.” Hudson rinsed his empty plate then put it in the dishwasher. “I didn’t know you had such good meatball subs in you.”

“It’s easy when they come from the freezer aisle. While you’re up, take mine.”

Hudson glared but took his friend’s plate. “Can’t believe you just ‘while you’re upped’ me.” Hudson looked at the kitchen clock. “Half hour before we need to head to town. You hear anything?”

“She’d call your phone. Mine got blown up, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He patted his back jeans pocket. The phone weighed heavily in the denim. He pulled it out and checked the screen. “No calls,” he said.

“I hate waiting,” Jake muttered.

“Me, too.” Hud opened the front door and peeked out. Still nothing. He cursed as he turned around, letting the door swing shut behind him. He needed a distraction. “How about a game of Scrabble?”

“I guess.”

Hudson skirted the couch and stared out the large picture window as they went to the living room. No sign of Olivia or Jake’s truck. Nothing moved at all. Not even the leaves of the three full oak trees stirred.

“Maybe we ought to close the curtains,” he said. “That’s an awfully wide-open view in and out.”

Jake looked then shook his head. “I don’t want to shut ourselves in, Hud. We’re already confined here. No sense closing off the view and make us both miserable.”

“Good point.”

Jake dug out the game while Hudson scooped the magazines from the tabletop. They sat on the sofa, and Hudson yelped as his phone poked him. He pulled it out and tossed it on the coffee table next to the mound of wooden letter tiles.

“Get your seven,” Jake said and started culling out his own.

Hudson stared intently at the blank backs of the tiles. He usually got stuck with crappy combinations like z, x, p, v, and three i’s. He plucked his tiles with great care and flipped them over onto his rack.

“Damn it,” he muttered. No z or v, but he ended up with two w’s and two u’s.

Jake grinned and started to put down a word when the front door opened.

Hudson didn’t recognize the name or the man who stepped through the doorway. He
did
recognize the lethality of the snub-nosed pistol in his hand.

“Fischer,” Jake said. “You son of a bitch.”

Hudson sucked in a breath.
This is the guy we’ve been chasing?
He wouldn’t have looked twice at the little man on the street. The only outstanding features on him were dark, bushy eyebrows. Fischer was a good six inches shorter than his six three and at least thirty pounds lighter. He wondered if he could rush him and give Jake a chance to take him down.

“Sit tight,” Jake muttered as if he’d read his mind.

Hud’s eyes flicked to his phone sitting in the middle of the table.

Fischer shut the door and locked it but kept his gaze and gun muzzle trained on them. “I’ve been called worse, Logan. Throw me the phone.”

Hud twitched as Jake hesitated. Fischer lifted a brow and swung the gun up. “I will kill your friend. Three, two—”

Jake swept the phone up and flung it at Fischer, who brushed it aside.

“Temper, temper.”

Jake edged forward, but Fischer centered the barrel on his chest. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Remember I’m a certified marksman, Jake. I can take both of you out with killshots in less than two seconds. Far faster than either of you can get to me.”

“What do you want?” Jake asked.

“Sit down for starters.”

Hud looked at Jake. Rage poured off of him like rain off a flat rock. He gripped Jake’s arm and urged him down to the sofa.

“Good boys,” Fischer mocked. “You’ll stay alive longer if you follow directions.”

Jake’s muscle tensed, and Hud clamped his arm down even more. “Knock it off,” he warned.

“I have a few questions for you,” Fischer said. He stood over them but just off to the side. Hud didn’t have a clear enough angle to tackle him before he could shoot. He would bide his time and take the little bastard out the second he let his guard down.

“Fuck you,” Jake said.

Fischer lifted a brow. “I capped Shag with one shot, Jake. Pow.” He flicked the gun. “Right through the back of his head.” His eyes glittered with anticipation. “I won’t hesitate to do it again.”

“You killed him?” Jake asked.

“Yep.”

“You son of a bitch. Why?”

The brown-toothed smile reappeared. “Because I wanted to.”

Jake’s body tensed. Hud hoped he’d be able to keep his temper in check until the right moment.

“You need answers or you wouldn’t be here,” Jake said. “Kill me and you don’t get what you’re after.”

Fischer nodded. “Excellent point.” The gun swung in Hud’s direction. “But your friend here
is
expendable. Shall I demonstrate?”

Jake shrugged. “Same concept, you little fucker. Kill him and all my motivation for helping goes out the window. And I’ll take great pleasure in ripping your head from your body and shoving it up your ass.”

“Don’t push it, Logan,” Fischer snarled. “I’ve gotten this far without you. I figure I have a few hours before anyone would discover your bodies. Plenty of time to find what I want.”

Hud shifted closer to the edge of the couch. Just a few more inches and he’d be able to launch himself low and hard. With any luck the blow would send Fischer’s head slamming to the ground and at least knock him out. Preferably it would kill him.

“It’s not here,” Jake said.

Fury mottled Fischer’s face an unattractive purple and brown. He really did look like some sort of plague rat. His nostrils flared, and his thin lips flattened into nonexistence. “What’s not?”

“The statue. It’s not here.”

Fischer’s blue eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Where is it?”

“Olivia took it to town. I’m sure you’ve been watching down there, haven’t you, Fischer? You’ve had to have seen all the activity. We’ve got the Feds and Texas Rangers down here.” Jake lifted a palm. “They’re all looking for you. Trying to blow up a federal employee is seriously frowned on.”

Hudson inhaled as a sudden thought struck him. “That’s what’s wrong. Where’s Sam?”

Fischer didn’t look at him. “If you mean that busty blonde cop stationed at the end of your driveway, I took care of her.”

Hudson half rose, but the gun focused on his forehead.

“Sit the fuck down,” Fischer snapped.

“Where is she?” Hudson demanded again.

Fischer ignored him. “I was pretty pissed that I missed Martinez that night. I knew I should have stuck around to make sure.”

“Sloppy work gets sloppy results,” Jake said.

“No problem. I’ll find her.” He grinned suddenly, and Hudson went cold. Pure evil glinted from his brown teeth. “And now that I know where the statue is, I don’t need either one of you.”

* * * *

Olivia held on to the dashboard with one hand as Tag tore up the black-tar road heading to the Hellfire Ranch. A dark, sick feeling balled in her stomach.

“Can’t you go any faster?” she asked.

“I’m doing ninety as it is. This old truck can’t handle anything faster. It’s a state vehicle, you know.” Tag tossed an equally stormy look her way. “I want this bastard, too.”

“I know, sorry.”

Dust from the sides of the road kicked up as they roared past, and Olivia thought she saw a very startled deer jump back into the safety of the trees. She twisted to look and nearly conked her forehead on the butt of Tag’s rifle.

He had two of them in his truck. One was a standard double-barrel shotgun. The other was a sleek and powerful rifle with a scope. Her palms itched to grab hold of it and examine the high-quality craftsmanship a little closer.

The truck’s throaty engine powered down as Tag let off the accelerator. “We’re about a quarter mile out,” he told her.

She leaned forward and scanned the area to the left where the cutoff to the ranch started.

“Damn,” Tag muttered a second later. They pulled off the road and behind the deputy’s car.

He jumped from the truck and rushed forward with his gun drawn. Olivia ran just a few feet behind him.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

Tag’s face was tight and full of fear as he approached the car. Cautiously he peered inside. His shoulders slumped then he whirled around. “Empty.” His green gaze swept the brush and trees standing sentry at the gate. “Where is she?”

Olivia followed his line of sight and came up empty. She looked inside the car. A half-f cup of coffee was in the console. The keys were in the ignition. The car’s radio handset dangled from the dash onto the floorboard. The computer was up and running. It looked like the deputy had merely stepped away.

Olivia stepped back and squinted at the ground near the driver’s door. The Texas sun baked the ground, but some scuffs in the sand showed more than one set of prints. “Damn,” she muttered and bent down. “I can’t tell which prints are yours, hers, or mine.”

Tag knelt beside her. He placed a fingertip next to a crisscross pattern that ended in a rounded heel. “That’s an athletic shoe,” he said. “Sam and I are both wearing flat-soled shoes. Lift your foot.”

She lost her balance as she complied. Her hand hit the passenger door with a loud thump.

“It’s not the same as yours,” he said. “Small though, and Fischer fits that bill.” He rose and nodded toward the gate. “The tracks lead that way.”

Olivia followed him to barrier and peered through. The shoe impressions were barely visible, and she couldn’t be sure they were the same. “How’d he get through?”

“Maybe he climbed over. It’s meant to keep cattle in and out, not necessarily people,” Tag replied. “God damn it, where is Sam?” He snatched his hat off and beat it against his leg.

Olivia gripped his arm. “We’ll find her. Doesn’t look like any foul play happened. No sign of a struggle, no blood. Not like—” Horrified by her near gaffe, she clamped her mouth shut.