Benjamin (14 page)

Grace was right there with them, yanking the vines off as quickly as they cut them. She didn’t complain or urge them to go faster. She simply worked to get the task done.

They all stuck their knives in the door and inch by excruciating inch wedged it open. Grace shimmied through the opening and turned to push it open farther from inside. Ben yanked off the bandages before he pulled his pistol from the holster. He couldn’t have his movements impeded by anything.

Ben and Caleb made it through and realized they were all within a huge bush. It wasn’t full of prickers, thank God, but it did have a lot of branches that pulled at their clothing as they wiggled their way out.

The gardens had been beautifully kept when Ben lived there. Five gardeners spent all day, every day, making sure nary a bloom was out of place. Since the death of the eldest Cunningham, who called himself Pablo Garza, the gardens had reverted to a wild mess.

The lack of trimmed bushes and hedges meant the three of them could sneak up to the main house without being seen. Low murmurs of voices sounded from various spots within the compound, but no one close to them. Even the huge fountain in the courtyard was silent, dry of the water that had burbled merrily as the dark horrors occurred around it.

Everything had lost its edge in the kingdom of the Cunninghams. Ben was glad to see it, but nothing but stopping them permanently would feed his need for revenge.

The house appeared as he remembered it. Two stories high and stretching at as far as he could see, the structure was made from stone with enormous wooden doors, with wrought iron décor protecting large glass windows.

They crept to the side door by the kitchen. If Bernadette really was their mother, she slept in the rooms beside that kitchen. They would go after her first.

The door opened noiselessly and they crept into the room, which was full of shadows. They had breached the compound without a fight or a peep of alarm. How the hell had that happened? Before he could wonder if they had walked into a trap, his blood roared through his veins like lava.

He had to move, to find them, to make them pay for all they’d done.

Ben walked right to her room, his pistol already in his hand. Fury made spots dance in front of his eyes. He slammed the door against the wall.

“Get your fucking ass up, old woman.” He didn’t consider how loud his voice was until Caleb yanked his arm.

“Easy. We don’t need Cunningham’s army raining down on us with more bullets than we got bones.”

Ben shrugged off his brother’s hand. “I don’t care if they do. I’ll take her with me.”

“What about Grace? And Henry?” Caleb growled.

Ben stopped and the haze of red began to slide from his vision. He was there for them not for himself. The ragged breath of the woman in the room reminded him he was no longer the scared little boy who cowered beneath the weight of his imprisonment. But Henry wasn’t free.

“Get up, Bernadette.” Ben had reined in his fury enough to sound calm.

“Who are you?” She slid off the bed, the blanket sliding to the floor. She was tiny, barely coming above his elbow. The light from the kitchen illuminated her red hair and the familiar face of his nightmares.

“Where are the boys?”

She managed to look scared, but Ben wasn’t fooled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He snorted. “Don’t play games with me, Bernadette. Or should I say Mama Cunningham?”

She didn’t reply to the barb, which told him he might have rattled her.

“Let me by.” Grace pushed past him and grabbed the old woman by the arm, shoving her pistol into the wrinkled chin. “You tell me where my son is or I’ll paint this wall with your brains.”

“You need to leave before my son gets here,” Bernadette spat.

“I don’t think so. We waltzed in here without as much as a fart in alarm. We’ve got you, old woman.” Ben crossed his arms, his heart pumping with restrained anger. “Now tell us where the boys are or we’ll take this place apart stone by stone.”

She stuck her chin in the air and crossed her arms.

“Tie her up.” Caleb went back in the kitchen and Ben gladly pulled Bernadette by the arm.

The kitchen was an enormous room with two stoves on one side, plus a bread oven beside them. An island with a stone top dominated the center of the room with a doorway on the left that opened up to a massive pantry. Two wooden sinks were separated by a large counter of six-inch-thick wood. A pump handle sat on the right-hand sink. Ben remembered blistering his hands on that damn thing.

The small door in the corner beside the bread oven used to hold the dairy products. Today, the door stood open, empty of its contents. No more ice to keep food cold. Something was definitely wrong in the compound. It gave Ben a twinge of satisfaction to know the Cunninghams were no longer the kings they had been.

Caleb pulled a rope from his belt and tied Bernadette to a chair. Grace kept her pistol trained on the other woman’s head. There was cold murder in his lover’s eyes.

They’d made it into the compound and now all they had to do is find Henry.

“Tell me.”

Bernadette laughed, her voice a screeching bird in the quiet of the night. “There ain’t no boys here. You broke in for nothing.”

“I don’t think so. When the rest of the Rangers get here, you’ll be singing a different tune.” Caleb met Ben’s gaze. “Go find that boy.”

‡

G
race was flabbergasted
by the size of the house. She’d never been in anything so grandiose. It was a maze of rooms with what appeared to be the highest quality materials and craftsmanship. A mansion.

There were areas cloaked in shadows but she could see a layer of dust on various surfaces. The wallpaper peeled in a few places. Yet it had a stately air to it, one of money and lots of it.

She and Ben crept through a formal dining room with a dizzying number of chairs, then down a hallway. No sound came from anywhere in the house. It was as silent as a tomb. The hairs on the back of Grace’s neck stood up.

Something was very wrong here.

Ben opened one door and peered in, but it was an empty room. He stared inside for a few moments before he left the door open and walked on. Grace wanted to ask a thousand questions but she kept them bottled inside. She was close to Henry, so very close. She couldn’t risk not finding him because of her curiosity.

Ben kept his pistol in hand as he walked, his knuckles white. Grace did the same, worried there would be a dozen men behind the next door. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs, rattling her already trembling bones.

The next three rooms he checked were also empty. She could sense his frustration and her own blossomed bigger and louder with each passing moment.

When he opened the sixth door, she didn’t expect to see anyone. It took a few moments for her to recognize there were people in the corner. Women, judging by the meager single candle on a table beside them.

Ben stopped and stared. The women stared back, their postures bent while they shielded each other. They all wore nightgowns and were barefoot.

“Who are you?” Grace couldn’t stop the question from tumbling from her mouth.

None of them answered. She stepped toward them and put her gun in its holsters. “We’re not here to hurt you. I’m looking for my son, Henry. He’s five with blonde hair and blue eyes.”

The women remained silent.

“Please. Are any of you mothers?” A few hesitant nods met her question. “He was taken from me a year ago. I’ve been looking for him since then. Please. I need your help.”

One woman with long black hair, turned to look Grace in the eye. “There are no boys here.”

Grace’s stomach plummeted. “You’ve never seen boys around the compound?”

“Not for a while. Months.”

“Why are you here?” Ben finally spoke.

One shrugged. “Dominic takes women he likes and he likes a variety.” Her voice was full of anger and hate. Two emotions Grace knew well.

Apparently the Cunninghams had different tastes in their pleasures. Dominic liked women, which was better than boys. Yet he had apparently taken these women and turned them into a harem. The idea made her skin crawl.

“Do you want to stay here?” she didn’t want to leave them if they were there against their will.

Most shook their heads. Grace glanced at Ben. His jaw had hardened. Rescuing eight women wasn’t part of their plan and it could risk everything. But Grace couldn’t abide by anyone being kept.

“There are Texas Rangers on their way here. If you want to leave with them, go into the kitchen and wait with my brother. He’s a Ranger.” He turned to Grace. “Let’s keep looking.”

She nodded and knew she’d fallen in love with a complicated man, but one with a heart as big as Texas. They left the room and proceeded to go down to a set of double doors. The night sky twinkled from beyond.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s another house.” Ben’s voice was quiet in the thick stillness around them. “It’s where they kept the boys they trained.”

Grace couldn’t and wouldn’t ask what they trained the boys for. She never wanted to know.

“Where is it?”

“On the other side of the compound.” He led her through the doors and out into the inky blackness.

The light from the house lit the path for about twenty yards and then the darkness swallowed them. The light of the moon was visible through the scattered clouds. The night creatures sang as they walked east. There were no signs of guards or men anywhere inside the walls of the compound. Grace couldn’t help but think they were hiding somewhere around the corner.

Various buildings rose and fell to the right and left, but Ben kept walking. Grace thought she might be sick from fear. Where was this training house?

What was probably ten minutes, but felt like ten hours, they arrived at a flat adobe-style structure. There were no lights in the windows. Ben strode up to the door and it opened easily. Someone hadn’t locked it. Did that mean no one was inside?

She followed him into the interior, her hands clammy and stomach rolling. Grace didn’t know what she would do if Henry wasn’t here. He had to be here. He
had
to be.

Ben stood still for a few moments, listening. She couldn’t hear anything past the pounding of blood in her ears.

“This way.” He walked through an archway into what looked to be a parlor, then continued on through another archway. She followed, gun in her hand and her instincts screaming of danger.

The second room held a table and chairs and some other lumps in the corners. Again, Ben walked on. He knew this place and where to look. When he reached a third door, this one closed, he stopped and leaned his forehead against the jamb.

Grace wanted to scream in frustration for him to open the goddamn door, but she was silent, waiting for him to go at his own speed. To rid himself of what was probably overwhelming fear as he faced his past.

She placed her hand at the center of his back. He stiffened but seemed to relax a little. It must have been enough for him to move on because he reached for the handle.

“Locked,” he whispered.

Grace wasn’t going to let a lock keep her from her son. She knelt down and pulled out her small pocketknife. In the dark, she let instinct and experience guide her hand. There were many skills she’d learned over the last year and picking a lock was one of them. Perspiration ran down her face and back, pooling at her waist.

“Work, you stupid fucking knife.
Work
.” She twisted one more time and a small snick sounded in the lock.

“Nicely done, Gracie.” Ben helped her to her feet.

Together they turned the knob and opened the door. At first there was little to see. The room was too dark to make out any details. However, she knew there was someone there because of the smell.

It was a mixture of urine, shit, and sweat. She stepped into the room, her mouth as dry as dust.

“Henry?” her voice was barely a squeak. She cleared her voice. “Henry, it’s Mama.”

Some shuffling and two figures emerged in the shadows. Two very small figures. Grace dropped to her knees.

“Henry?”

No answer. She needed light to see if it was her son. The smell was horrific but she didn’t care. All she wanted to know is if one of these boys was her son. A sob broke from her throat and she realized tears were streaming down her face.

Ben saved her again. “Boys, follow us out of here.” He pulled her to her feet and the strange group of four made their way out of the training house.

By the time they were back outside, Grace had taken hold of her runaway emotions. As the clouds cleared above them, she looked at both boys in the moonlight.

The smaller boy was Henry. Another sob burst from her throat. She’d found him. She’d found her son.

“Don’t touch him yet,” Ben whispered in her ear. “Just keep reassuring him who you are.”

It took more strength than she thought she possessed not to pull her son close. She would walk ahead of the little boys while Ben brought up the rear. It was excruciating to know her heart wept and her soul screamed in agony.

She’d found Henry but would he ever acknowledge her as his mother?