Page 62 of Homicide in Water Creek

“If you don’t do what I say, I’ll put a bullet in you and take your dear Granddaddy instead. The only reason I’m not taking the old man is that my boss suspects you’re the one running the show here. Between you and me, we know he’s right.”

“Leave my granddaddy out of this,” she said between clenched teeth, willing herself forward to grab the cuffs. As expected, the leg gave way and she went to the ground.

“Stay where you are,” he said, walking toward her, the gun still aimed with deadly precision at her chest. “Take the brace off.”

“What?” she asked, looking up at him from where she sat on the ground. All she could think was that King was right. He was a ruthless animal without a soul. “If I take the brace off, I can’t walk at all.”

“Exactly. You also can’t run, which makes getting you to my boss easier than stealing candy from a baby. I should have thought of it sooner. Take it off. Now.”

He lowered the gun to point at her knee, the thought of a bullet tearing through what was left of her bones terrifying. With resignation, she pulled off her right boot. For a second, she thought about drawing her gun from her left boot, but his gun followed her hands wherever they went. He’d get a bullet into her much faster than she could draw from the holster. Working on the straps of the brace, she forced herself not to look at his face, at the sneer he wore as he stared at her sitting on the barn floor in her underwear, demoralized and immobile.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, Jacks refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was scared. She had faced this kind of rage from a man before and had nearly lost. She refused to lose. She had too much to live for. If Parenti wanted her ranch, fine. He could have it. All she wanted was a chance to see King again. To hold him. To tell him she loved him. With the brace off, she set it aside and pulled her pants back up, praying the entire time that someone would show up to save her.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now you stand up and we leave.”

“You don’t seem to understand that the brace is the only thing that lets me stand up.”

“You’ve got one leg. Stand on it and put your arms out to the sides.” The order was given in a way she wasn’t going to question. Soft-spoken Chinos had become decisively vindictive. The look in his eye told her that if his boss weren’t waiting for them, he’d enjoy taking his time with her before killing her.

Another shudder racked her as she pushed herself up on her left leg and stood, arms out like a T. He came up behind her, put the gun to her temple, and wrapped his arm under hers, pulling her off her feet and dragging her to the barn’s back door on her boot heel. Now that darkness had settled over the land, no one would know where she was or who had her. All she could do was pray she had a chance to reach for her gun. She’d bide her time, but if facing Parenti was required to bring all this madness to an end, she would do it standing on one leg.

“It’s so convenient that your little project barn is hidden from view of the other buildings. You couldn’t have made it easier for me. Make a sound, though, and I’ll shoot you.”

Her nod was weak, but apparently satisfied, he stuck his head out to check outside the barn. Hurriedly, he dragged her to a small sedan and popped the trunk. She couldn’t help but notice the light was off. Without regard for her, he tossed the upper half of her body into the trunk, grabbing her breasts as if he had the right to every part of her. She wanted to bring her knee up and take out his nose, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk dying here without giving King a chance to make a sane plan that would keep everyone safe.

Chinos had tossed her down on top of the latch, the sharp metal edge digging into her back. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, certain that if she made any noise, he’d shoot anyone who came to defend her. Her legs rolled into the car on momentum, and he shoved her bad leg down until she couldn’t hold back a whimper.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Let me get it into position. Please,” she pleaded, hating that he got the satisfaction of hearing her beg.

“Fine, do it, then put these on.” He tossed another pair of handcuffs at her and waited while she fixed her leg.

“These aren’t necessary,” she said, looping them around her wrists in front of her. “I can’t go anywhere without the brace.”

“Consider them insurance,” he said. Then he reached around behind her, pulled her phone from her pocket, tossed it on the ground, and stomped on it.

Jacks’s heart sank. That was her insurance, and now it was gone. She had the gun in her boot, but something told her that when they reached their destination, other men would be waiting to help Chinos. There was no way she could shoot them all from the trunk before Chinos got a bullet in her. From what she could see, she had little choice but to let this play out and hope against hope that King would find her in time. When Chinos slammed the trunk, plunging her into darkness, all she could think was that King would blame himself for this, and that was the last thing she could have on her conscience.

King stood from behind his desk and grabbed his hat. To hell with looking too obvious. He’d texted Jacks twice, but she never responded. Now his calls went straight to voicemail. That didn’t make sense.

Grabbing his phone, he called Jackson. “King,” the old man said when he answered.

“Have you seen Jacks?” he asked without greeting.

“She was going to the barn to check on the horses and, ahem,” he cleared his throat, signaling that he wasn’t somewhere he could speak freely. “Wait for contact. That was about an hour ago. Why?” Jackson asked, dread filling the line and making King’s spine tingle.

“She’s not answering her phone.”

“The vet is here dealing with a sick rodeo bull. I’ll have some of the men check her trailer and the barn.”

King shook his head, frustration filling him. Only he knew it wasn’t just frustration. It was terror that something was wrong. “Don’t. If she’s in a situation with Chinos, I don’t want innocent people walking in and getting hurt. I’m on my way to look for her. Maybe her phone just died, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“I’ll check the barn,” Jackson said.

“Didn’t I just say not to search for her? That includes you. I’ll be there in three.”

They hung up, and King grabbed his coat and hightailed it to the front of the station. “We’re moving,” he told Maverick, who grabbed his hat and kept up as they ran outside and climbed into King’s SUV.