Desert Ice Daddy Read online

  “And worth every penny,” he was saying, that goofy look she knew so well coming over his face. Her brother did the same thing when talking about particularly fine animals.

  “Who has horses like that?”

  “A prince in Saudi Arabia. There’s an auction going on.”

  Guilt assailed again, albeit from another direction. “And you’re missing it.”

  He shrugged.

  Of course, missing the auction was beside the point, since he was giving her the money he was supposed to use to bid, she realized. “I’ll pay you back.” She couldn’t even start to worry about how she was going to do that, but she would if it took her the rest of her life.

  “It’s not necessary.” His gaze found hers, held it. “But since I know you’re not going to take no for an answer, I’ll just say, I have no doubt.”

  “Good. Because I’m going to make it. I’m working on it.”

  “We’ll all be coming to you begging to borrow, one day.”

  If she weren’t so tense, she would have smiled at that. The Aggie Four—three now—didn’t go around begging. But she was putting herself through college on an academic scholarship, plus putting away every cent she could save, investing based on her newfound knowledge from her studies in finance and on recommendations from her brother. She was going to build an accounting firm that would be the pride of Texas.

  Men weren’t the only ones with ambitions and the will to make them come true. She was never going to be poor again, and she was never going to be at the mercy of another man. Not even her own brother whom she dearly loved and who would have given her anything she asked.

  But she wanted to be her own person at last.

  Christopher would start school soon. He wasn’t going to be teased for Salvation Army clothes the way she’d been. He wasn’t going to be picked on because he couldn’t afford to take lunch. Someday he would go to college, a good one. And she wouldn’t take Flint’s money, not for that, not for anything else if she could help it. And she would pay Akeem back.

  He was falling back as more and more pickups in front of them took various country roads to get to areas they were supposed to be searching today. Then he took the Route 109 turnoff, and they were on their way to Christopher.

  Anticipation held her in a grip so tight she could hardly breathe. She startled when the phone rang. Akeem’s.

  He flipped it open, listened. “Anything else?” Then, “Do me a favor, give Flint a call and let him know.”

  “Christopher?” she asked breathlessly when he hung up. Did this have to do with her son? What should Flint be told?

  “Jack,” he said. “They traced yesterday’s call to the same airport where Flint’s transport got blown up.”

  She stared with incomprehension. “Do you think there’s a connection?” What did the horses have to do with Christopher?

  “Or coincidence. It’s the closest small airstrip that takes private business. Security is not nearly as stringent there as in Houston or Dallas.”

  A new worry hit her then. “You think they flew Christopher out of the area?” Her heart about stopped on that thought.

  “Hey.” He took her hand for a second, squeezed it. “They wouldn’t take him anywhere. They need him if they want their money.”

  True. She made a point to fill her lungs and relax. And meant to squeeze his hand back but he’d pulled away by then. Within a few minutes, she could see the Shell station in the distance.

  Her phone rang.

  “Stop at the station. Go to the bathroom. There’ll be a cell phone waiting for you there. As soon as I hang up, you’ll throw your own phone and your friend’s out the window.” The line went dead.

  Now that she knew about Jake Kenner, she’d been listening for his voice, but it hadn’t been him on the other end. This guy was older, possibly a heavy smoker, judging by the rasp. Which meant that this all hadn’t been just one desperate guy’s bid for quick riches. She told Akeem as much.

  “What did he want?” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “They want our phones.” She rolled down her window and tossed hers out. “Yours, too. They left one for us at the station up ahead.”

  His lips flattened in annoyance, but he did as she asked, tossing his expensive BlackBerry that she was sure held a ton of important business information.

  She winced. “Sorry.”

  “You have to stop that.” He glanced over. “Nothing matters a millionth as much as you and Christopher.”

  Her heart gave a quick staccato beat, and a sudden sense of warmth melted a spot off the block of ice that had been growing in her chest all morning. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Akeem, so she went with changing the subject. “You think they’re watching us?”

  He turned his attention back to the road. “They could have a man at the station with binoculars.”

  That didn’t make her feel all that comfortable, considering that she had to get out at the station.

  They were pulling up to it within a few minutes, nothing but a few square yards of tar top, a square building and six pumps in the middle of nowhere, decorated with a jumble of signs, some of which advertised businesses decades gone.

  The place didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

  “Want me to do it?” Akeem asked.

  “They’d look at you funny if you asked for the key to the ladies’ room.” She drew a deep breath and opened the door, stepped out and tried to look like she wasn’t about to fall apart from nerves.

  The station looked deserted save for the man behind the counter inside. When she asked, he handed her the key and the large wooden fob it was tied to. “Here you go, ma’am.”

  She walked out, glanced at Akeem in the car as she made her way to the bathroom on the side of the flat-roofed building. As she put the key in the lock, the thought that there might be someone in there waiting for her crossed her mind. But the door revealed nothing but a single stall and a black cell phone on the sink. She shoved it into her back pocket, nodded to Akeem as she came out, locked the door behind her and hurried to return the key. She wanted to be back in the car by the time they called her again.

  They didn’t wait long. Akeem barely pulled back onto the road when the phone rang.

  “Go to the next intersection then turn left,” was all the voice said this time before disconnecting.

  AKEEM WATCHED THE road and stretched his fingers to relax them on the steering wheel. A full hour had passed since the kidnappers had last checked in. The road he drove was no longer paved, the soil dry and full of rocks, the SUV’s tires kicking up enough dust to be seen from a distance. Most of the vegetation—sagebrush and the like—came only about waist high out there. He could see for miles, which meant he could also be seen. The few clumps of prickly pear here and there shielded little. They were, however, coming up to a small stand of acacia trees, the road cutting right through them, their only chance of privacy if they were being watched.

  They hadn’t been followed; they were the only car on the road. But there could be people lying low in the bushes. It all depended on how many men were involved in the kidnapping. Two million dollars could buy a lot of help.

  He hesitated, not sure whether to say what he was about to say. Didn’t want to scare her, but wanted her to be prepared. “If there’s any kind of shooting, duck where you’re covered with Kevlar. And in case you need to get out, there’s a vest for you in the back under the blanket. You should put that on.”

  He pulled into the trees and stopped the car. “Now.” He reached for his own vest. There was no way he could have taken them into the house this morning without the cops noticing.

  The vests were thin and flexible, made of the latest state-of-the-art material, unlike the rigid panels Mike had used for the car. He’d prepared by picking a larger shirt that would accommodate the vest, had tried it all on last night to make sure it wasn’t too obvious. He tried not to look at Taylor as he stripped, knowing she was doing the same next to him.

/>   He couldn’t help if he had great peripheral vision.

  The pale yellow bra begged for more attention. He turned the other way.

  “Okay,” she said after an endless minute.

  And without looking at her, he stepped on the gas.

  The winding path snaked across Hell’s Porch, doubling back now and then, going in loops from time to time, probably cut by four-wheelers that were popular in the area. Ten o’clock rolled around, the heat outside oppressive enough to necessitate air-conditioning in the car by the time the phone rang again.

  Taylor seemed to be whispering a short prayer before picking up. She listened then tucked the phone into her jean pocket.

  “Stop the car and get out. You’re going to walk the rest of the way. Bring the money. If I see a single cop or a single weapon, the boy is dead.” She was about vibrating with nerves. “That’s all he said.”

  “Breathe.”

  She nodded and drew her lungs full of air. “I’m so nervous, my ears are ringing.”

  “You’ll be fine. It’s almost over.” He pulled off the road, got out and strode to the back, silently cursing this latest demand. He grabbed the two briefcases that held the money. They weren’t going to be able to take anything else.

  She was standing in front of the car by the time he walked back up there. He stopped in front of her, saw the desperation in her eyes and put the briefcases down to pull her to him, his intention of providing a distant sort of friendly assistance be damned.

  She came willingly into his arms.

  “Hey,” he said into her hair that smelled like green apple shampoo. “Almost there.”

  He held her as long as she let him—a few seconds, tops; she was too nervous to stand still—then they walked down the dusty road together. Must have walked a full mile, each lost in their own thoughts, before they came to an area where boulders dotted the landscape, decreasing visibility, providing a good hiding place for anyone who was waiting for them. He scanned each rock and wasn’t surprised when a red pickup rolled out into the open from behind one of them.

  The car stopped, facing them. Two men, wearing masks, sat up front. He didn’t see Christopher.

  The man next to the driver got out and aimed his gun at Akeem. “Put the money down.”

  He gave the briefcase that was in his right hand to Taylor instead. He wanted to keep his gun hand free. Despite their demands to come unarmed, he hadn’t thought walking into a situation like this without a single weapon would be a good idea.

  “Let us see the boy first,” he called back.

  After a stare-off that lasted a full minute, the man finally nodded and called over his shoulder, “Show him the brat.”

  Another minute passed before a rail-thin man stepped forward from behind a boulder on the other side of the road, holding Christopher by the shoulders in front of him.

  “Mom?” Christopher’s face was smudged with dirt.

  “Don’t worry, honey. I’m here,” Taylor said, then whispered, “That’s Jake,” to Akeem, moving that way already.

  “Not yet. Stay there.”

  She glanced back at him, confusion and anxiety on her face, but stopped.

  “You—” The first guy indicated Akeem with his gun. “Stay where you are.” Then he indicated Taylor. “You bring the money to me and you can have the kid.”

  Akeem hesitated, hating the whole setup. Another man appeared from behind another boulder, gun drawn and pointed at him. And he figured they must have more, at least one more, their ace in the hole.

  The men were looking at each other, eyes darting in silent communication. Akeem watched them carefully, not liking the mood in the air. Something was up, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. And he had little leverage to bargain for time or anything else, as he was overwhelmingly outgunned, with Taylor and Christopher now smack in the middle of the crossfire should anything happen.

  He needed a moment to assess and think, try to figure out what the men were playing for. But Taylor didn’t seem willing to wait any longer. She stepped back and grabbed the second briefcase from him before he could say anything, and was already moving forward again.

  “Go slowly,” he called after her, keeping his voice low enough so the men wouldn’t hear what he said. “If anything goes wrong, just hit the ground. Use the briefcases for cover.” Then, because she looked like she needed to hear it, he added, “In a few minutes, you’ll have Christopher.”

  But, in fact, that was not what happened.

  The rumble of choppers drifted in from the distance, freezing everyone to their spots as they scanned the sky. The sound intensified, came nearer, and within a minute two police helicopters were swooping in, filling the air with dust when they dipped low.

  And all hell broke loose on the ground.

  Chapter Four

  Akeem dived for Taylor, brought her to the ground, propped the metal-sided suitcases in front of them as bullets filled the air. Then had to get right on top of her to keep her there, since she was determined to get away from him and go for Christopher through all the hellish chaos.

  Since some of the kidnappers had rifles and opened fire on the choppers, the cops had no choice but to shoot back.

  “Stay down!” He had to shout to be heard over the choppers and the gunfire. “He’s going to need you alive.”

  But instincts overtook common sense and any logic he could have used on her. She clawed at him. “Let me go!” Wild dogs couldn’t have kept her from her son.

  But he had to, in order to keep her alive. Her lithe body writhed under him, but she wasn’t looking at him; her eyes were on her boy. Keeping her restrained took both hands, so he couldn’t go for his weapon. Which might have saved them. The kidnappers were focused on firing at the choppers and paid scant attention to the two of them, neither of whom they considered an immediate danger.

  “They aren’t going to hurt the boy as long as we have the money. We need to get out of here,” he said directly in her ear. “Taylor, look at me.”

  She did, but only to shoot him a look of fury. “Let. Me. Go!”

  He couldn’t, not even knowing how much she hated him for it at the moment.

  “I can get him!” She fought him any way she could, aiming a kick that could have disabled him if he hadn’t rolled out of the way, pulling her along.

  “Too dangerous,” he said, knowing that in this moment there was probably little he could say to talk sense into her.

  “I don’t care. You don’t understand.”

  “I understand.” He got her hands under control with effort.

  “Let me go. He’s my son.” Desperation distorted her face. “I’m not you. You left your family behind. I won’t do that.”

  That last barb hit home and hit deep, but he hung on to her tighter, even as she kicked him in the shin.

  The dust and tears mixed to become mud on her face. When he thought she was tiring from her struggle at last, he let go with one hand, crawled backward, pulling one of the briefcases after him, holding it up for cover, dragging her with his other hand. She had enough presence of mind to grab the other briefcase. He half expected her to clobber him over the head with it, but she held it up to give them more cover.

  Getting back to the car was out of the question—too far. He scampered toward the nearest boulder that was large enough to block bullets.

  An eternity passed before they made it there.

  He pressed her into an indentation in the rock and blocked her body with his. The choppers were coming lower, stirring up dust, destroying visibility on the ground. He couldn’t guarantee that they would be recognized from above and not be shot at.

  He kept his gun silent for the same reason. The cops might shoot back at anyone who fired. Plus, in all the dust, he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t hit Christopher instead of the bad guys.

  Taylor struggled against his back, probably for a glimpse of her son. He eased forward a few inches so she could see for herself that there wasn’t much to be s
een. But the small movement did give him a view through a gap between two boulders. One of the pickups was driving away. One of the choppers followed.

  Then another pickup pulled away from behind a boulder and tore down the road, in the direction he and Taylor had come from. And another, going a different way. All in all, five identical pickups raced from their hidden positions in different directions, and the two police choppers were not enough to cover them.

  By the time they were left alone in the settling dust, he was beginning to understand the kidnappers’ plan. He moved forward carefully, gun in hand, Taylor rushing from behind him, trying to read the spent shells on the ground and the tire tracks. He took his time searching through the area, but couldn’t tell which pickup had taken Christopher. The boot prints in the dust were a mess. Jake Kenner had probably picked up the boy and tossed him in his car, anyway. There wouldn’t be clean prints of a boy and a man, leading to tire tracks.

  “He’s gone.” Taylor stood on the spot where they had last seen the boy, her eyes dark with pain, her voice hollow.

  The events of the past few minutes stood like a minefield between them. She wouldn’t look at him, just kept searching the jumble of prints on the ground. Minutes passed before she straightened and turned her attention to him. “How did the police know that we were here?”

  He hated the accusation in her voice. “Not from me.” But he recalled Gary talking to the cops for a while that morning. Could be he didn’t like the idea of Taylor going to their son’s rescue with another man.

  “Did either of the cops touch you in any way, a pat on the shoulder, whatever? Give you anything?”

  She shook her head and wiped her forehead. The place certainly lived up to its name. The giant white-gray boulders did a great job radiating the heat of the sun.

  He played the morning back in his mind. “Gary?”

  She shook her head again, but then after a moment said, “He gave me a Thermos of coffee. It’s in the car.” They’d been way too wired on the drive over to have more caffeine. “Do you think he would—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, the pain of betrayal thickening her voice.