The Colton Ransom (18 page)

Someone else besides Duke had to be involved, Trevor thought.

“When I heard that gunshot, I was afraid that someone else had been killed,” Mathilda was saying. “Come, let me take you inside and take care of that,” the nanny urged Gabby.

But the latter glanced in Trevor’s direction and shook her head. She had a feeling that Trevor was going to take off the minute he finished talking to Clara. She had no intentions of remaining behind.

“There’s no time for that now,” she said. Pulling a handkerchief out of her back pocket, she quickly dabbed at her cheek. “There, all done,” she declared.

“It’s a far cry from being taken care of,” the older woman replied reprovingly. But Gabby chose to ignore Mathilda for the time being.

Trevor had cornered Clara and was taking her aside to question. She needed to get in on this, Gabby thought. What she’d said earlier to Trevor wasn’t something she was attempting to brag about. She was serious. She had a feeling that Clara would be far less frightened and more forthcoming with her around.

“Does he have any special place he likes to go?” she heard Trevor asking the maid as she crossed to the duo. “Somewhere the two of you can be alone?” he pressed. Both she and Duke had quarters within the appropriate wings that they shared. That made achieving any sort of intimacy difficult.

“Well, he does have this little place,” Clara admitted with a dismissive shrug. “It’s not much and it’s kind of run-down.”

Right now, he didn’t need a description; he needed an address.

“Where?” Trevor implored, doing his best to keep from shouting the word at the maid. She seemed exceedingly flustered, yet eager to please at the same time.

Clara continued to make excuses, as if the apartment and its locale somehow reflected on her. “It’s not really in the best part of town—”

His temper was all but frayed, and she was sorely trying what was left.
“Where is it?”

The moment Clara rattled off the address, he was off and running again.

When he realized that Gabby was hurrying to keep up with him, he didn’t slow down. Instead, he shouted an order at her. “Stay here, damn it. Have that cheek taken care of.”

That was
not
about to stop her. “My cheek is fine. You need someone to watch your back,” she countered, raising her voice so he could hear her as he hurried.

There was no way she could hope to live up to that. Trevor pointed out the obvious. “You can’t ‘watch my back.’ You don’t have a gun.”

That didn’t worry her. There were lots of guns to be had where they were going.
If
they had to go that far to get one—which she doubted.

“You probably have an extra one either strapped on you somewhere or in the truck. I do know how to shoot a gun,” she informed him. “You can’t grow up around these parts and not know your way around a gun.”

He couldn’t picture her firing a weapon. “If I find out that you’re lying—”

“You won’t,” she told him confidently as she quickly got into the truck and buckled up.

She said that with confidence, but he didn’t know if she meant that she
could
shoot a gun or that she didn’t intend for him to find out that she couldn’t.

In either case, the woman was incredibly feisty, and even when she infuriated him, he couldn’t help but admire her at the same time.

Gabriella Colton, he caught himself thinking as he pressed down harder on the accelerator, was really one hell of a woman and so much more than he’d initially thought.

He found the realization comforting beyond words. Not to mention oddly arousing.

For the time being, he tucked the second feeling away.

Chapter 17

R
ising anticipation mixed with adrenaline had Gabby holding her breath as she and Trevor drew closer to the building where Duke Johnson was said to maintain his other living quarters.

Just as Clara had told them, the neighborhood appeared to be less than thriving and was definitely run-down-looking.

Trevor slanted a glance in Gabby’s direction just as they turned a corner and arrived at their destination. He could see by her expression that she was surprised the wrangler would have chosen a place like this to serve as his hideaway or, since bedding women apparently was his hobby of choice, as a so-called love nest.

He judged that a woman of Gabby’s background and breeding wasn’t even aware that run-down, most likely vermin-infested places like this actually existed outside of a movie set.

“Not what you expected, eh?” he speculated.

A long moment stretched out between them and then she merely shrugged. When she spoke, he had to strain to hear her. Her voice had dropped by several octaves.

“I’m not really sure exactly what I expected. Right now, all I’m hoping for is that we find Duke, and that he can tell us where we can find Avery.”

“You don’t have to whisper,” Trevor said, trying to figure out why she’d lowered her voice to such a degree when she answered him. “Johnson’s a ranch hand, not some superhero with super hearing.”

“I know that,” she muttered, feeling as if the rest of her nerves were eroding. What she didn’t know was whether or not the wrangler they were looking for was still here, in his poor excuse of an apartment, or if he’d already packed up his few possessions and vanished, taking Avery with him if indeed he’d stolen the infant in the first place.

Trevor opened the vehicle door on his side, then paused to look at her over his shoulder. “If I tell you to stay in the truck, would you listen?”

Despite her accommodating nature, she had never taken orders well. Now was no exception. As far as she was concerned, she had a vested interest in finding Avery. Aside from everything else, she was falling in love with Avery’s father.

“No.”

Trevor sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think so.” He closed his door. “Guess I should just save my breath.”

She got out on the passenger side. “Guess so,” she agreed.

Being torn between wanting to strangle Gabby and wanting to hug her was becoming almost commonplace for him.

They made their way quickly and soundlessly into the run-down apartment building.

Johnson’s so-called alternate quarters were located on the fourth floor. There was no elevator. The stairs between the floors were badly in need of washing.

“Still with me?” Trevor asked as they came to the third-floor landing.

“Haven’t lost me yet,” she answered, although—maybe because of the graze she’d received earlier—her legs felt somewhat rubbery. But by the time they came to the fourth floor, she was experiencing a sudden surge of energy coursing through her veins. She chalked it up to more adrenaline.

Trevor waved her behind him as he approached the missing ranch hand’s apartment door.

Rather than argue the point or ignore the silent instruction, Gabby did as he indicated. Her entire focus was on getting this over with and, hopefully, finding Avery. Arguing would only slow them down.

Instead of knocking, Trevor took out what appeared to be a skeleton key and jimmied the lock open. Done, he pocketed the key and took out his gun. Realistically, he had very little hope of finding Johnson on the premises, but there was always a chance that, for once, things were going his way.

Apparently things
were
going his way.

When he eased the door open as soundlessly as possible, Trevor found himself looking at Johnson’s back. The wrangler was bending over, occupied with whatever was on the sofa. He also appeared to be saying something, but his voice wasn’t nearly loud enough, and his words, for the most part, went unheard.

Gabby thought she made out the phrase “Gotta go now,” but she wasn’t sure.

When Duke turned around, he was holding a bundle in his arms.

Avery.

“One more trip, then it’s the end of the line for you,” the wrangler was saying to the infant he was holding.

Gabby thought her heart would burst right then and there. They’d found not only the missing wrangler, but, far more important, they’d found Avery. Even at this distance, she could recognize the sleeper the infant was wearing. It was the same one Avery had had on when she’d put the little girl down in Cheyenne’s crib a week ago.

“Hold it right there, Johnson,” Trevor ordered. The gun in his hand was aimed at the other man and it underscored his command.

Johnson instantly tightened his arms around the baby to such a degree that the infant began to cry. Panic was written all over the twenty-two-year-old blond wrangler’s face.

“You wouldn’t risk killing your own kid, would you, Mr. Garth?” Duke asked nervously, shifting the baby so that she was in front of him, her body shielding some of his more vital organs.

“Nope, I sure wouldn’t,” Trevor replied calmly. “I’m a hell of a lot better shot than that.” There was no bravado in his words. He had just simply stated a fact. It was no secret around Dead River that the head of security was a crack marksman.

There was less than a minute’s debate before Johnson lowered the child and surrendered. The moment he did, Gabby swooped in, taking the baby from him and cradling the infant against her.

“It’s over, sweetheart,” she cooed to the baby. “You’re going home.”

Trevor was instantly on the wrangler’s other side, pulling Johnson’s arms behind his back and handcuffing him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Garth—I really, truly am,” Johnson cried. “I didn’t know it was your baby until it was too late. You’ve always been good to me, and if I’d known it was her lying there, I wouldn’t have taken her. I swear I wouldn’t have.”

Trevor yanked Johnson’s hands together harder as he cuffed him, struggling to hold on to his temper. “Tell that to Faye.”

“I’m sorry about her, too.” Johnson was nearly crying now. “I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You did a damn sight more than that to her,” Trevor bit off. “You killed her.”

Johnson tried to make Trevor understand how things had got completely out of hand. “She didn’t give me no choice. She was gonna call the chief, turn me in.”

“You were kidnapping someone’s baby—that’s the kind of thing you’ve got to expect.” Trevor’s voice was emotionless as he said the words.

Duke Johnson had had a run-in with the law once or twice as a kid, but after that, his record had been completely clean. This complete about-face of his didn’t make any sense. “Why you do it?” Trevor wanted to know.

“Money,” Duke answered simply with a vague shrug. Then he specified the amount, as if that explained it all. “I was promised ten thousand dollars.” That was a lot of money to someone who didn’t have any. “All I had to do was kidnap your niece, hold her for ransom, then leave the money in an envelope right here on the table. Easy.” He laughed shortly. “How was I to know that you’d switched babies on me?” he complained. “They all look alike.”

Trevor looked around the apartment. A man with money didn’t stay in a place like this. “Where’s the money?” he asked.

“Wasn’t any,” Johnson lamented. “I took the wrong kid, remember?”

Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “Who ordered the kidnapping?”

Johnson’s wide shoulders rose and fell in another hapless shrug. “I dunno.”

Trevor’s temper flared. What was the wrangler trying to pull? “What do you mean you don’t know? Someone had to tell you to kidnap Jethro Colton’s granddaughter. Who was it?” Trevor growled. He was swiftly reaching the end of his patience, and with everything he’d been put through this past week, he hadn’t had much to start with.

Afraid, Johnson’s voice rose an octave as he repeated, “I don’t know. Someone slipped a note under my door at Dead River, telling me what they wanted me to do and what they’d pay me to do it.” He pressed his lips together nervously, his eyes shifting to Gabby, silently begging her to intercede on his behalf. “When I took the wrong baby, I found another note saying I wasn’t going to get a dime and to get rid of the kid as soon as possible.”

“Why didn’t you just return her?” Gabby wanted to know.

But Johnson was shaking his head. “I was afraid someone would see me.”

“So you were going to keep her?” she asked, trying to understand what the ranch hand had been thinking.

“Well, I thought about it,” Johnson admitted, but then said, “but what’s a ranch hand supposed to do with a kid?”

Hearing his former sentiments repeated like this made Trevor angry with both himself as well as with Duke. “So what were your plans?” Trevor demanded, his tone dark and foreboding.

“Well, there’re all these people out there, looking to adopt a little baby, so I thought I’d just sell her to the highest bidder.” Suddenly Johnson found himself being lifted up by his throat, his feet doing a frantic dance as he vainly searched for solid ground. “Or maybe not,” he croaked out hoarsely, desperate to get Trevor to put him down again.

“Trevor, please, put him down,” Gabby pleaded. “He’s not worth it.”

Trevor debated his course of action a moment longer, then reluctantly released the wrangler.

When he did, Johnson began to cough fitfully, trying to catch his breath again. When he did, he apologized profusely again.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you never wanted her anyway, so I thought maybe if I found some family that did, she’d be okay. It just made sense, right?”

Guilt skewered him. He struggled to bank it down.

He’d made serious mistakes, Trevor silently admitted, but he was getting another chance to make things right. He fully intended to do just that.

“Don’t go giving yourself a halo just yet,” Trevor growled at the handcuffed wrangler. “I want her, and you almost cost me my daughter.”

With Johnson securely handcuffed and too afraid to move, Trevor turned his attention to his rescued infant daughter.

Gabby was still holding her, but the moment she saw the look in his eyes, she handed the baby over to Trevor without a word.

“Hi,” Trevor whispered to the infant. He didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke any louder. Avery stopped fussing for a moment and stared at him as if he was the most fascinating creature in her world. Even so, she was still trying to fit her fist into her mouth. “Remember me? I’m your daddy. Haven’t been much of one up to now,” he admitted. “But all that’s going to change, as of right now,” he promised earnestly.

Gabby thought her heart was going to burst right then and there. She felt tears stinging her eyes and blinked hard to keep them from falling. She had a feeling that happy tears were beyond Trevor’s realm of comprehension.

“I’ll call the chief,” she volunteered, her throat thick with emotion. “You just get reacquainted with your daughter.”

“Why is she shoving her fist into her mouth?” Trevor asked just as she opened her phone.

“That means she’s hungry. Check the refrigerator, see if there’s any formula in there,” she told him, then raised her voice as he left the room with his daughter so she could add, “and don’t forget to warm it up!”

“I’m not an idiot,” Trevor responded.

“No,” she murmured under her breath. “Just a newbie father.”

But from the looks of it, he’d be a doting one, Gabby thought fondly as she continued looking in his direction even though Trevor was in the kitchen now.

* * *

“Looks like you did my work for me,” the chief said less than twenty minutes later after he had been filled in on what had happened.

His gaze took in Johnson and it was obvious that the older man was sorely disappointed. He had been the one to vouch for Duke, acting as a reference when Duke was looking to be hired at Dead River. For the most part, Johnson had been a hard worker. But the homicide—accidental or not—and kidnapping changed everything.

“Not quite,” Trevor replied grimly to the chief’s comment. “We still don’t know who put the word out to have Cheyenne Colton kidnapped.” He glanced in Gabby’s direction. She’d taken the baby from him again, freeing him up to talk to the chief unencumbered. “Which means that your niece’s life still might be in danger,” he told her.

“Whoever’s behind the first kidnapping could have just cut his losses and taken off,” the chief pointed out.

That seemed way too optimistic to him, Trevor thought. Revenge or money—either way the kidnapper hadn’t got what he was after.

“Better safe than sorry,” he told the police chief, then turned back to Gabby. “I’m hiring a bodyguard for your niece.”

His words were met with a smile. They were of like mind: better safe than sorry. “Sounds good to me,” Gabby told him. “I’m sure Amanda will say the same thing,” she added.

“I’ll come on out to the ranch to do some more nosing around,” the chief told Trevor. “Just as soon as I get this one behind bars,” he added, indicating the handcuffed wrangler.

Johnson had the look of a desperate man as the reality of the situation—and its consequences—were beginning to sink in. “I didn’t mean to kill Ms. Faye. She just kept coming at me,” Johnson cried. “It was an accident.”

The chief paused to look disdainfully now at the young man he’d once trusted. “Whether you meant it or not, Faye’s still dead,” he pointed out.

Johnson made a desperate, unintelligible noise.

“One question,” Trevor said, holding a hand up and getting in Johnson’s way as the chief began to lead him out of the room.

Johnson looked at him warily, as if he was expecting some sort of trap. “Yeah?”

“How did you get back to your apartment so fast?” he asked.

Johnson stared at him, not comprehending the question. “What do you mean?”

Trevor knew the difference when someone was playing dumb. Johnson appeared genuinely confused. “Back at the ranch, when we went to talk to Clara again, you took a shot at Ms. Colton—”

The wrangler looked horrified. To kill a staff member was one thing. To kill one of the Coltons carried with it far darker penalties.

“No, I didn’t,” Johnson protested. “I’ve been here since last night, trying to figure out what to do with the kid. Someone shot at you?” Johnson asked, looking uncertainly at Gabby.