Stone Cold Cowboy (13 page)

She slowly lowered the rifle from her shoulder, held it by the barrel and stock, and tossed it to Connor.

“Put that thing in your truck bed, then come back,” the man ordered her brother.

Connor rushed to do his bidding.

“You're going to get it now,” Derek mocked. “Shoot that bitch, Trigger.”

Sadie swallowed hard at the menacing nickname.

Trigger cocked up one side of his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder. “Get that shit packed up.” His gaze locked on hers again. He pulled her close and barely spoke above a whisper. “Reach into my jacket. Find the inside pocket and pull out the slip of paper inside.”

She glanced over Trigger's shoulder. With him standing in front of her, Derek and Connor couldn't see what she was doing. The gun still touched her chin, but barely pressed against her skin. She reached inside his jacket, traced her fingers over the lining, and felt the outline of a folded piece of paper. She reached up and into the pocket to pull it free. She crushed it in her hand and let her arm fall to her side again. “Good girl. Contact DEA Special Agent Cooke. Give him that paper. You can't save your brother from what's coming, but you can save yourself.”

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Do what I say. I'll get you out of this barn without that fuck hurting you again.”

“We've got it all. Connor, stash it in the truck, I'm going to play with your sister.”

“Leave her the fuck alone. We got what we came for, now let's go.”

Derek grabbed Connor by the front of his jacket and hauled him close, holding the knife up to intimidate him.

“No,” Sadie yelled.

“Shut up, bitch.” Derek got in Connor's face. “Your brother needs to remember his place.”

“You touch my sister again, and I'll take off with these bags and dump them, then we'll see if the boss wants to play with you.”

Derek shoved Connor away. Connor stumbled back a few steps, then rushed forward and grabbed the two bags from the floor. He turned his back on the knife-wielding hothead and stormed off to the truck.

Sadie shifted her gaze to Derek, who slowly walked forward, the knife in his right hand, his left index finger poised on the wicked-sharp tip of the blade.

“I'm going to make you bleed, bitch.” He slashed the knife through the air across his body.

Trigger shoved her back two steps, putting distance between them and Derek. “You're not slicing her up. We have business, and we're late.”

“Come on, man, it'll only take a minute.”

“Touch her and you're dead.” Rory held the rifle pointed directly at Derek's head.

Connor rushed back into the barn. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Get over there,” Rory ordered.

“Take him down,” Derek called, moving forward to help Connor.

Rory anticipated Connor's rushed move, sidestepped, and cracked Connor in the ribs with the rifle stock. Connor pressed his hand to his side and fell to his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Trigger glanced past Sadie and out the other side of the barn. Sirens sounded in the distance. “Cops are coming. We need to get out of here.”

“Not without the drugs.” Derek ground the words out, crouching, ready to go up against Rory.

Trigger grabbed her arm and hauled her to the side and shoved her into an empty stall. “Stay put,” he demanded under his breath. He held the gun up trained just over Rory's shoulder. “Don't be stupid, man. You don't want to start something I'll have to finish.”

Trigger ran to Derek and grabbed him by the arm. “We have to go now. They'll be here any second, and we'll be screwed.”

Rory kept the gun trained on all three men.

Connor made it to his feet, his arms banded around his middle. Trigger tugged Derek backward to the other side of the barn. After several stumbling steps, Derek finally turned and ran with Trigger and Connor out the doors and off into the night.

Rory ran to Sadie just as she walked out of the stall. He grabbed her and held her close. “Are you okay? Did that guy hurt you?” Rory rubbed his hand over her hair and neck and looked her up and down.

“No. I'm fine. He didn't hurt me at all.”

“He pulled your hair.” Rory tipped her chin up to look at her skin where Trigger pressed the gun. “There's no mark.”

Sadie wrapped her arms around Rory's neck and held him tight. “He barely touched me. He didn't want
to hurt me. In fact, he whispered that he'd make sure nothing happened to me.”

“He did?”

“Yes. It was strange. He gave me this.” Sadie held up the slip of paper.

“What's in it?”

She opened it up and stared at the strange arrangement of letters that didn't spell anything. “A code?” she asked.

“Could be. Stay put. I'll catch up to them.”

She held tight to him. “No. Let the cops handle it.”

“But . . .”

“Rory, let it go.”

“You can't keep protecting him.”

“I'm not. I'm protecting you. One's got a gun, the other likes to play with knives. If something happened to you . . .”

He crushed her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I'm just glad nothing happened to you. When I saw that guy with his hands on you and that gun pointed at you . . . I told you to stay outside.”

“I thought they might see you by the truck.”

Cop cars pulled into her driveway, their headlights blinding Rory and Sadie. The blue and red lights swirled around the inside of the barn.

Sadie dipped her hand in her blouse and tucked the paper into her bra. Rory's gaze followed her hand's progress. She gave him a shy smile and shrugged. “He told me to give it to a DEA agent. It seemed important that only he get it.”

“I don't like this,” Rory said.

Mark cautiously entered the barn, gun in hand and pointed at the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Fine,” Rory answered. “They're on the run. I think they had another vehicle nearby. The drugs are in the back of Connor's truck.” Rory turned to face the other end of the barn. A car engine roared to life up the road. Tires squealed on pavement and the car took off at high speed, the rev of the engine fading into the night.

Mark listened to his radio as other sheriff's deputies relayed information about the suspects speeding away in a black Mustang.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

Rory ran down the events for the deputy.

“Was this Trigger guy one of the men present when Derek attacked you?” Mark asked.

“No. I've never seen him before. I don't know if he's working for Derek. It seemed that Derek and Connor were nervous about him,” Sadie said.

“Trigger seemed to be here to make sure they got the drugs and delivered,” Rory added.

“Okay, we'll check out the truck. Head on up to the house. I'll take your statement before I leave.”

Rory took Sadie's hand and carried the rifle in the other as he led her up to the house. Her father missed all the action and remained asleep in his room. Sadie sat beside Rory at the breakfast table, holding his hand.

“You're too quiet.” Rory traced his fingers up and down her arm.

“Did you see all those bags of drugs?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“How many people do you think would take those drugs, get addicted, maybe die? How many lives would be ruined?”

“I don't know, sweetheart.”

“He made them. He barely got through chemistry
class, yet he can mix up those chemicals and create something that kills like it's no big deal.”

“Sadie . . .”

“Did you see him? He looks like a walking zombie. He doesn't even sound the same. It's bad enough I have to watch the cancer take pieces of my father, weakening his body and stealing his mind, killing him a little more each day, but do I have to watch my brother do the same by his own hand?”

“Sadie, sweetheart.”

She squeezed his hand and shook her head. “Don't. I know there's nothing to say. Who can make sense out of that?” She let go of Rory and reluctantly stood and went to her purse on the table by the door, and found her phone. She swiped her finger across the screen and Googled up the number for the DEA and dialed the Billings division office.

“Who are you calling?” Rory asked.

Someone answered. “Yes, I'm calling to speak with Special Agent Cooke.”

“Who's calling?”

“Sadie Higgins from Crystal Creek. I have a message from Trigger.”

“Please hold.”

Sadie waited, surprised when the deep voice that came on the line sounded very close to that of the man who'd given her the slip of paper. “Cooke.”

“Agent Cooke, my name is Sadie Higgins. I have a message for you from Trigger.”

“What's the message?”

“I don't know.”

“Look, I don't have time to play games, either give me the message, or . . .”

“I can't read the message,” she admitted.

The silence stretched for a good ten seconds. “Read me the letters and tell me where the breaks are.”

She read off the letters and spaces.

“Who are you?”

“I told you, my name is . . .”

“No. How do you know Trigger?”

“Oh, well, he held a gun to my head and saved me from a knife-wielding maniac who likes to watch me bleed.”

“Uh, when did this happen?”

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“Where is Trigger now?”

“On the run from the sheriff's department after he, my brother, and Derek Pete ran away.”

“I see. Anything else I should know.”

“He's not what he seems.” She didn't know why she said it, but it seemed important.

“Do not ever say that to anyone else. Are you safe where you are?”

“Yes. The deputies are outside investigating the scene and sorting out the bags of drugs.”

“They didn't get away with the drugs?”

“No. My boyfriend stopped them.” She turned and stared at Rory, still sitting at the table watching her talk on the phone. His eyes narrowed on her, but one side of his mouth cocked up in a half grin.

“Burn that paper he gave you. Do not tell anyone about it.”

“Well, I kind of told my boyfriend about it.”

“Can he be trusted to keep it a secret?”

“I'd trust him with my life.” He'd already saved it twice.

“How did Trigger look?” The softness in his voice surprised Sadie.

“He looked okay. Kind of tired and at the same time resigned, like he didn't really want to be there. I can't explain it better than that.”

“I'll be in touch.” Agent Cooke hung up on her.

Sadie stared at her phone and frowned. “You're welcome.”

Rory held out his hand to Sadie. She walked to him and took it, falling into his lap when he pulled her down. He wrapped his strong arms around her and kissed the side of her head. “You're a good woman, Sadie.”

“Why do you say that?”

“All I saw was some thug. You saw a guy who didn't want to be doing what he was doing. You looked past the guy holding the gun to the man who wanted to help you get out of there unharmed.”

“I think he's working for that Agent Cooke.”

“Maybe. Might explain why Cooke cared to ask about his welfare.”

“I think it's something more.”

“Like what?”

“I'm not sure.” She leaned her head to his and sighed. “I know how that guy felt. I'm so tired of all of this.”

“Hopefully they'll run them down, arrest them, and this will all be over.”

Sadie didn't think so, but she appreciated his optimism. It didn't make the fear in her heart and gut dissipate. Instead, a sense of dread settled over her.

C
onnor sat in the backseat of Trigger's car, his hands clasped together, sandwiched between his thighs. His sister nearly got herself killed again tonight, and she royally fucked him. He'd be lucky to make it out of this car alive, let alone live another day when Derek's short fuse went off. Fuck, he needed to get amped. Instead he picked at the Crank Crater on his face, making the sore bleed once again. He attacked one on his arm, waiting for the inevitable explosion to happen.

Derek raked his hand through his hair, then punched the dashboard. “We're screwed.”

And there it went. Connor sank deeper into his seat, trying to hide, knowing he had no place to run.

Trigger drove the car down the dirt road, one hand on the wheel, his other arm propped on the door. He stared straight ahead, acting like he hadn't heard a word Derek spoke.

“What the hell are we going to do now?”

Trigger still didn't speak. Derek smacked him on the shoulder to get his attention. Trigger reacted with lightning-quick speed, reaching over and grabbing Derek's hair, squeezing tight, and pulling the strands.

Fucking stupid to go after Trigger. That dude scared Connor even more than Derek did.

“Reach for that knife and I'll slam your head straight through the windshield.”

Trigger always seemed pissed off and ready to kill, but the way he threatened Derek made Connor think the dude might actually lose his shit this time for real.

“Be cool, man.” Derek held perfectly still. Even he didn't want to fuck with Trigger.

“You really know how to fuck up a good thing, you know that?” Trigger shook his head, watching the road ahead. “All you had to do was pick up the drugs and get the hell out of there.”

“That bitch got in the way.”

Trigger scrunched up his face. “Yeah, that tiny little woman is the reason you two fuckups botched an entire batch of meth. She's the reason you borrowed money you can't pay back. She's the reason you stole some rancher's cattle and have the law after you. It's her fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Derek replied.

“She didn't do shit,” Connor said under his breath in the backseat, realizing too late he should have kept his mouth shut.

“That's right. She didn't do shit, but you two sure fucked up good.” Trigger released Derek, shoving him away.

Derek rubbed at his scalp, then glared over his shoulder. Connor stared out the driver's side window, keeping his peripheral vision on Derek. He wasn't stupid enough to look away and get caught off guard.

“That cattle thing turned out in the end. We'd have gotten the drugs tonight if she and that damn cowboy hadn't interfered.”

“Why the hell did you stash the drugs there in the first place?” Trigger asked.

“No one would look for them there,” Connor answered.

“What are you going to do now?” Trigger asked Derek.

“Me? I'm not the one who fucked up tonight.”

“Is that what Torres is going to say?”

“Don't worry about Torres. I'll take care of it.”

Yeah, right. Torres matched Trigger's lethal look and vibe. It wasn't just the threat they posed, but knowing they'd sure as hell kill you. Derek fucked up a lot of people. He liked to fight. He liked to use that damn knife. Torres and Trigger didn't need to put on a show. They'd just shoot you dead and be done with it.

“Seems to me you're going to owe some big money to cover this loss,” Trigger said.

“Connor and his two buddies are going to get their asses moving to replace what his sister cost us.”

“I told you I'm out.” Connor needed to get out before it was too late. Maybe it already was. Maybe he was already dead and reality just hadn't caught up. He scratched at his arm again, watching it bleed, wondering when he'd run out of blood.

“You keep saying it, but you wanted in and now you're in. You don't get out when you owe.”

“Fuck you,” Connor spat out. “You keep telling me I owe, but you're the one who keeps fucking up. You and this damn obsession with my sister. I told you I'd go alone. She'd have let me go if it was just me.”

“Even you don't believe that anymore. If you do, you're stupider than you look. The next time I get my hands on her . . .”

“What? You're going to lose another shipment because you're so focused on her, you can't see that we're fucked. We don't deliver, we get killed,” Connor yelled.

Derek pulled the knife, twisted in his seat, and swung, slicing Connor's cheek. Connor pushed back into the seat, but with nowhere to go, no way to get out the single door on Trigger's side of the car, he was as good as dead. He slapped his hand over his bloody cheek. Derek pulled his hand back to stab him, but Trigger pressed the barrel of his gun into Derek's temple.

“Move, fucker, and I will blow your head off.”

I'm surrounded by fucking madmen.

The car rolled to a stop and they all sat in the tense quiet.

“Get that fucking gun away from my head.”

“Screw your head on straight. We don't need this fucking bickering. You're supposed to deliver at midnight. Where?”

“I'm not fucking telling you.”

Derek refused to introduce Trigger to the head guy. Probably because Torres would choose to work with Trigger over Derek. At this point, so would Connor. The dude might be lethal, but he kept things straight and focused on the job. Derek needed that because he tended to work on Tweak Time, setting out to do something, getting distracted, and finding that what should have taken him an hour took four.

They probably would be better off with Trigger in charge. He wouldn't be bleeding. No, if he pissed Trigger off he'd be dead. Probably the only way he'd get out of this shit pile that kept getting deeper.

“Man, I have been in this shit with you for months.
I stopped that bitch from blowing off your head tonight and you still can't trust me to come through for you.”

Trigger narrowed his eyes. Something dark and deadly lurked in the depths. Even Connor could see it in the dark car interior. It didn't help that he still held the gun to Derek's head.

“I need to make a call.”

“Put the knife away and make your call.” Trigger didn't move the gun.

Derek carefully sheathed the knife and held his hands up in front of him as he turned and sat back in his seat.

Connor let out a sigh that sounded pathetic to his own ears. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his cheek.

“You okay, man?” Trigger tucked the gun back in his belt.

“He sliced my face.”

“Next time it will be your throat,” Derek said through tight lips.

Trigger glared. “Don't you have a call to make?”

Derek pulled the door handle, shimmied out of the car, and slammed the door. He stood outside in the cold a few feet away and glanced over his shoulder and directly at Trigger. The intense stare-down turned the air thick and heavy in the car. Trigger watched from the front seat, his eyes narrowed and ever watchful of Derek, waiting for the guy to either make his move or get on with his call.

Connor had a bad feeling, like Derek still had a gun to his head. With Connor trapped in the backseat, maybe he did too.