Ring of Fire (23 page)

“I know better than to argue with you Erin when I see that look in your eyes. You’re right. There’s only going to be one of us who survives this battle. And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be Jeb. Jeb is a dead man, and he knows it.”

As he went to catch a ride back to the station with Alan, Nate flipped on his phone. He was surprised that he hadn’t heard from Sam. He punched in Sam’s number and texted a message. He told him he’d meet him at the station, and that Erin and Annika were going to stay with Sarah.

~~~

Sam powered down the half mile driveway, confident that Jeb and his cowardly band had fled. He and his men had thoroughly searched the grounds with no sign of the bastards. Sam’d left four of their best men at the house with orders to let him know if they could get any of the servants to talk. Turning onto the long dirt road leading to the highway, he felt the barrel against the back of his neck at the same time he heard the click.

~~~

“Keep driving, nice and slow. Go for your gun and you’re a dead man. Do what I tell you and at least for now I won’t pull the trigger.”

The steel of what felt like a Magnum-45 tight against the base of his skull convinced Sam to follow orders.

“That’s the way, boy. They’s waiting for you about a hundred yards past that grove of birch.”

It wasn’t Jeb’s voice, but the inflection was the same.

“Okay, now, boy, come to a nice easy stop. Move your hands a quarter inch off that wheel and I swear to God, I’ll pull the trigger.”

Sam eased the car to a stop as the door opened. Tank Hoffman, Jeb’s trigger man, stood behind the door, a Glock pointed at Sam’s face. Three men Sam didn’t recognize stood behind him. All four men were dressed in camouflage with matching camo paint smeared on their faces. If it hadn’t been his skull the barrel of a gun was buried in, he would have laughed. Who the hell wore camo paint in the mid-morning sunlight?

“We got you coming and going, Carter. Get out nice and slow, your hands over your head.”

Given the odds, and the unmistakable intent in Tank’s eyes, Sam complied. One of the men jumped forward and yanked the gun out of Sam’s shoulder holster.

Tank motioned to Sam’s boot. “Tiny, get the one in his boot sheathe and check for knives. We’ll strip him when we get to the hidey hole, but for now get the ones we know are there.”

The heavyset man with beady eyes and the unmistakable grotesquely gap-toothed signs of meth mouth did as he was told. When he’d pocketed Sam’s backup Glock, he jerked Sam’s arms behind his back and secured them with zip-ties.

At the sound of a truck, the four men stepped back as a Silverado HD roared to a stop in front of them. Jeb climbed out from behind the wheel. Two more men jumped out from the extended cab, making a total of seven armed and clearly dangerous men.

An ugly sneer crossed Jeb’s face, forcing the multi-colored paint he smeared on to pool in the creases. Being the smartass that he was, Sam wondered if it would be imprudent to suggest to men who’d clearly never been in combat, that white hoods would be more appropriate than camo paint.

Jeb stalked toward him and stopped three feet away, close enough for Sam to smell the alcohol on his breath. The bloodstains on his shirt were unmistakable. The arrogant asshole hadn’t bothered to change his bloody shirt after he almost beat Sarah to death.

“I heard that you came to my place to visit, Sam-bo. And that you went through my house—like you had a right to. Even came in the front door instead of the back where you belong.”

Sam eyed him and quirked a dismissive brow.

“Ever think you should refresh some of your lines, Jeb? That
Gone With the Wind
shit is passé. Maybe you should try another book. Hell, maybe another century. Amazing what you might learn.”

Jeb slammed the butt of his gun against Sam’s temple, knocking him to the ground. Sam swallowed his pained grunt not wanting to give Jeb the pleasure of knowing he’d hurt him. Before he could recover Jeb drove his steel tipped boot into Sam’s gut, then aimed a second fearsome kick at the same spot. Sam couldn’t squash his tortured grunt.

Jeb squatted down in front of him and jerked Sam’s head back. His face was inches away from Sam’s.

“Boy, you’re gonna regret that smart mouth of yours. You have no idea the fun and games me and my men have planned for you. And yeah, we’re gonna call on some of the lessons of the past. When white men knew how to handle black men who didn’t know their place.”

He drove another fierce kick to Sam’s gut, causing him to groan.

“Pick him up. Throw him in the back of the truck.”

At that moment, Sam’s phone buzzed.

Jeb glared at his men as he dug in Sam’s pocket

“You worthless bastards! You’re so fucking stupid you didn’t think to throw away his phone? Don’t you know there’s gotta be a tracer in it?”

Jeb’s eyes widened when he saw the text message. An evil smile split his face.

“Well, well. Forget I said that, men. Looks like you were unintentionally brilliant.”

His voice rich with irony, Jeb paraphrased Nate’s text.

“Seems like your boss man is heading back to the station. Wants to meet you there.” His eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be an everlovingfuckduck. I don’t fucking believe this! Who says I’m not living right?” He turned to Sam, “Listen to this, Sam-bo. Nate goes on to say that your pretty blonde
white
woman and Nate’s dark-haired pussy are at the hospital keeping that bitch of mine company.”

Jeb turned triumphantly to Sam, his eyes gleaming with demented excitement.

“Seeing as how Sarah really isn’t up to having company, what do you think, Sam-bo? Think we should invite your girls to our party?” Turning to his grinning men he chortled. “What do
you
say, men? Hell, what’s a circle jerk without a couple of pretty lassies in the middle?”

Sam’s expletive was drowned in the chorus of cheers from the vicious gang. Jeb nodded to Tank. The last thing Sam felt before darkness flooded over him was the crashing blow of a gun butt against the back of his skull.

~~~

Jeb put Chuck on speaker, his excitement rising by the second. Chuck reported that it had been surprisingly easy to convince Erin and Annika to meet with the Sarah’s “doctors” in a quiet conference room. From there, carting them bound and gagged down the back stairway, the men tossed them in the back of Chuck’s van with the rest of the dirty laundry. According to Chuck, if the traffic wasn’t too bad on the highway, they’d reach the hideout about the same time Jeb arrived with Sam.

Jeb giggled a high-pitched semi-crazed sound. Trying to contain himself he punched in Nate’s number on his phone. He ignored the silence knowing that Nate had his number on caller i.d..

“Hey, Nate. Jeb, here. Saw that you were trying to reach Sam-bo. No worries, man. He’s with us. We’re gonna have some fun. Our kinda fun. Not sure your house black will enjoy it, but can’t please everyone. One more thing, brah. Like the good host I am, I didn’t want Sam to be lonely so we invited his little white gal to come to the party. Oh, and there’s more. Apparently where Sam’s woman goes, so does
yours
.”

At Nate’s audible gasp, Jeb chuckled.

“I know how much Sam-bo gets off screwing white women. Wonder if he likes to watch… Guess we’ll find out.”

Even to his own ears, Jeb’s cackle sounded crazed, but hell for good reason. He chortled. “Gonna be fuckin Christmas in June! Who says God don’t love me! Sayonara, Big Dog.”

~~~

Nate’s heart pounded so hard he wasn’t sure how long it would be before it broke through his chest wall. Seeing the blinking light on his phone, he didn’t have to answer Alan Dixon’s message to confirm the hideous truth. He forced himself to listen.

“Nate… for God’s sake. Nate, pick up! Goddamn it, I’m at the hospital. God, Nate. Jesus God, man. The girls—Erin and Annika….They’re gone.”

Chapter 26

“Where is he, Kieran?”

Kieran’s dark green eyes widened in surprise.

“Jesus, Nate. Who? God, man, you look like—”

“Cougar! His men said he was here.”

The Irishman’s frown deepened.

“Yeah, he’s here. Been here since it happened. Guess the poor sap doesn’t want to drink alone. I’d cut him off but he does that for himself. Passes out, then we put him in the back room and—”

Nate held up his hand stopping Kieran in mid-breath.

“Where. Is. He.”

Kieran swallowed hard.

“Back corner. He’s been there since noon. Don’t know if you can get much out of him. Been drink—”

Nate sneered. “No worries, Kieran. I’ll get everything I need. Suggest you punch that big screen television to full blast. Wouldn’t want my interrogation techniques to spoil your clientele’s enjoyment watching the Spurs beat the hell out of the Lakers.”

Nodding to Dan and the two officers with him, Nate muttered, “Stay here. Better I do this alone.” He chuckled. “Don’t want anyone to think it’s police brutality.”

At one point in his life—say two days ago—Nate may have felt pity for the lone man crouched at the table in the back corner. After all, Cougar had lost his only son. But rage not pity burned through Nate. Fired by its focusing power, he captured the space between them in three long strides. Cougar’s flushed face paled at the sight of Nate advancing on him. With a shove, Nate drove the table into Cougar’s gut sending him and his chair sprawling on the floor. Rounding the overturned table, Nate yanked the huge man to his feet and threw him against the wall. He pressed his face inches from Cougar’s terrified gaze, ignoring the stench of booze-tangled sweat. The guy looked like he hadn’t showered or stopped drinking since the fire.

“Where is he, Cougar?”

Cougar struggled against him for a moment then gave into Nate’s superior strength. Nate smashed his forearm against the choking man’s throat, giving him just enough space to catch a breath. Cougar gasped for air, his face turning purplish red with the effort. Ramping up the pressure, Nate asked again, “Where. Is. He?”

Cougar’s bleary eyes teared from the pain. He gagged and signaled that he couldn’t breathe. Lightening up by degrees, Nate repeated, “Now. Tell me now.”

“I… I don’t… know…”

Nate pressed harder.

“Wrong answer, Cougar. Ten seconds. Then so help me God, you’ll be taking your last breath.”

“I… okay. I know. Let me go.”

Nate loosened his grip but held him by his shirtfront against the wall.

“Where?”

“You know, Nate.”

“What the hell do you mean? Don’t play games, Cougar. This is life and death, man. He’s got Sam—and Annika. And god help him, he has Erin.”

Cougar’s eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he almost looked sober.

“Christ, Nate. I…I didn’t know. I promise you, I didn’t…”

Nate shoved him harder.

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you knew or didn’t know. Goddamn you, Cougar. Don’t play games with me. For the last time, where is he?”

Cougar’s face twisted with the strain as he struggled to break Nate’s hold.

“Think, Nate. Where did we always go when we went to ground?”

Nate frowned then the realization hit him, stunned that in his agony he could have forgotten.

“You mean…the…our ‘hidey hole.’ The old Nelson place?”

Years ago when they were still in grade school, the four them, Jeb, Cougar, Luke and Nate had found a partially burned fishing cabin. Until they were in their teens it had been the place they’d go when they were running from something. For Nate and Luke that was parents and the Chief. For Jeb and Cougar, it was the cops. Nate hadn’t thought about the ramshackle place for years.

Incredulous, he quizzed Cougar, “It’s still there?”

“Yeah. Jeb and I fixed it up a couple of years ago. Christ, it even has electricity now. No one but us knows where it is.”

When Nate released his grip Cougar slid to floor, his back against the wall. He dragged a dirty hand across his tear-stained face and peered up at Nate. A noisy sob caught in his throat.

“He… he killed my son, Nate.”

Nate snorted.

“You talkin’ about Tucker, Cougar? You claimin’ him now? Let me tell you, you sorry excuse for a man. You missed out on one of the finest young men I’ve ever known. He would have made any father proud. Except someone as pathetic as you.”

Glaring at the broken man with tears running unheeded down his splotchy cheeks, Nate shook his head.

“Just think, Cougar, what might have been if you’d had the courage to stand up to Jeb.”

“I was a coward, Nate.”

Nate sucked in a harsh breath and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, Cougar, you were. You still are.”

~~~

Erin squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look at the man who’d grabbed her chin in a painful grip. He slapped her hard across her face, the stinging blow brought tears to her eyes.

“I said, look at me. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Immediately. Do you hear me? Do you?!”

Erin opened her eyes and nodded. She hadn’t met Jeb Jones before today. But even if he hadn’t introduced himself, she’d have known him. In a strange way, Jeb was familiar. She knew evil when she saw it. And she knew bullies. She knew what set them off and what placated them—at least for the moment. Unfortunately, if Annika knew, she didn’t care.

“Leave her alone you cowardly asshole!” Annika’s voice rang with scorn. “You like grabbing women when their hands are tied behind their backs? Makes you feel like a big man? Does it help you get your pea-sized dick up to hit a helpless woman?”

Sam’s tortured groan rang out. Muffled by the gag in his mouth, his distress was heart-breaking. Erin ached for him. His eyes had filled with grief when the scoundrels had dragged Erin and Annika into the filthy shack, tossing them on the floor at his feet.

Jeb had taunted him. “Brought you a present, Sam-bo. But just so you know. We don’t share, at least with you. These two ‘ladies’ belong to us. First to me. When I’m done with them, I’ll hand them over to my men.”

Sam’s agony at the sight of them was palpable. The vicious men had hung him from a ceiling hook, his hands above his head, his arms and shoulders straining with the effort. Even stripped to his underwear, his dignity was apparent. Erin’s heart ached knowing that the one thing that could break the proud man was seeing her and Annika hurt.