Held by You Page 17

  Garrett put his hand on the hood and met John’s gaze. “Still warm.”

  John gave him a grim look. One of the officers handed John a pair of latex gloves and he pulled them on before taking the keys out of the ignition. He searched the key ring as he walked to the back of the car. Before he attempted to open the trunk, he noticed that one of the taillights was missing.

  Heart pounding, John tried three keys and on the third try he popped open the trunk. He raised the lid and shined the light inside. His gaze took in the contents—a dirty old blanket and a flat spare tire along with garbage.

  He looked at the missing taillight and frowned. It was smashed from the inside, as if someone had tried to kick it out.

  Hollie.

  He looked at the blanket again and in the glow of his flashlight he saw a long strand of hair that looked blonde or light brown. His stomach tightened. He raised the hair and dropped it into an evidence bag that an officer held out for him. He slid the keys into another evidence bag.

  John aimed his light at the ground as he followed the trail that looked like heel marks in the soft soil. “Someone was dragged from the car.” He followed the trail that ended a few feet away where a fresh set of tire tracks were. “And that someone was hauled into another vehicle. Looks like a truck with tires that have little tread left to them.”

  He followed the tire tracks and his heart sank when he saw that they ended at the highway. His gut told him that Hollie was in that truck.

  Jaw set, he turned to face the officer who’d given him the gloves. “Head up the road and see what you can find.”

  John turned to stare at the dark highway as he took off the gloves with a snap and stuffed them in his jacket pocket.

  “I’m coming for you, Hollie,” he said beneath his breath. “I’m coming for you.”

  Chapter 24

  Hollie moaned as she stirred. Pain split her head and her whole body hurt. She ached and every jolt sent shards of agony through her. Her thoughts were thick and heavy as she tried to think. Where was she? What had happened?

  A chill rolled over her as the vehicle rattled along, and she blinked her eyes open. It was almost too dark to see but she realized that she was on the floorboard in the back of a club cab truck. She looked up and saw the gun rack above her with Dickey’s rifles and shotgun.

  She was still in Freddy’s jacket and for the first time she noticed it reeked with the odors of chewing tobacco and sweat, but it kept her warm. The heater had to be on too, because her nose, fingers, and toes weren’t numb from cold.

  In the front seat she heard Freddy and Dickey bickering.

  “Should’ve killed the bitch already,” Dickey said.

  “I want to make her suffer.” Freddy’s voice was dark and filled with malice. “I want to watch the light go out of her eyes.”

  She shuddered and started to gather Freddy’s jacket more tightly around her but she couldn’t. Her wrists were bound in front of her with duct tape, and her ankles were bound, too. When she shifted she felt the weight of Freddy’s gun in the pocket.

  Her thoughts were coming more clearly now despite the ache in her head. She could tear the duct tape with her teeth. They hadn’t put tape over her mouth this time.

  No one ever said that Freddy and Dickey were sharpest knives in the drawer.

  She brought her wrists to her mouth and started working on the duct tape with her teeth. The tape had only been wound around her wrists a couple of times but she still struggled to tear it a fraction at a time.

  “Fuck.” Freddy’s voice caused Hollie to go still as the engine sputtered and the truck slowed. “We’re out of gas.”

  “I’ve got five gallons in a can in the truck bed,” Dickey said. “Pull over and I’ll put it in the tank.”

  “You do that,” Freddy said in a slow drawl that made a shiver travel up Hollie’s spine.

  The engine sputtered a few more times as the truck jolted off of the highway, rolled to a stop, and died. The passenger door opened letting in cold air and then the door slammed shut. She heard banging around in the bed of the truck and the clunk of metal against metal.

  “That motherfucker is going to pay.” Freddy turned in his seat and she saw him start to lean over the back of it.

  She closed her eyes tightly and let the jacket fall over her wrists and the partially torn duct tape.

  “Sugar, when you wake up you’re going to wish you were dead. You can bet I’ll take care of you,” Freddy said.

  She tried to keep her breathing slow and remained completely still. She heard a rattle above her and realized Freddy was taking one of the guns off of the gun rack. Goose bumps broke out on her skin and she was glad for the jacket covering her arms.

  “But first I’m gonna take care of a problem, just like I did with Carl,” Freddy said.

  She bit the inside of her cheek as chills rolled through her. Freddy was going to shoot Dickey. Would he take her out now and shoot her too?

  The driver’s side door opened, letting more cold air in, and the truck groaned from the shift in weight. The door slammed shut.

  Praying that Freddy wouldn’t look in the back, she brought her wrists to her mouth again and worked even harder at the tape.

  She heard the two men speaking but she couldn’t tell what they were saying. She thought she heard Dickey begging Freddy for his life and then a loud crack sent more chills up her spine.

  A moment later the driver’s side door started to open and she hurried to lower her wrists beneath the jacket. Freddy whistled a tune as he shut the door and started the truck. The truck began to move again and bounced as he drove the truck from the side of the road and back onto the highway. She bit back a cry from the pain.

  Freddy continued to whistle as she worked to tear through the tape with her teeth. He stopped whistling. “That sonofabitch, Jesus Perez, is gonna wish he was dead when I get through with him, too.” Freddy’s voice had gone hard, vicious. “After I fuck you and get rid of your ass, I’m gonna find that smug sonofabitch and blow off his face. I might’ve lost the fucking war but I’m not finished yet.”

  The duct tape finally gave way and Hollie let her breath out in a rush. She reached for her ankles, the tape easier to tear with her hands, and soon she was free.

  The truck began to slow. She wrapped her hand around the cool grip of the pistol in the pocket of the jacket she was wearing. She drew it out, flicked off the safety, and raised it to point at the back of Freddy’s head.

  She pressed the barrel to Freddy’s skull. “Pull over.” Her voice was as ice-cold as the night.

  Freddy stilled but then laughed, throwing her off guard. “You’re not going to shoot me. You didn’t when you had the chance in the camper. Besides, sugar, if you shoot me this truck’s gonna end up in a ditch and it’s all over.”

  “Try me.” She cocked the gun, the click of metal loud in the truck cab. Her voice was cold, lacking emotion. “Ending up in a ditch and getting killed is better than getting raped and murdered by you.”

  Freddy laughed again as he looked at her in the rearview mirror and her eyes met his. “You ain’t got the balls.”

  “No, I don’t have balls,” she said. “But I’m pissed off and that’s good enough.”

  The truck suddenly swerved hard to the right. Hollie cried out as she lost her balance and fell sideways. Pain exploded in her chest as she hit the floorboard hard. The gun flew out of her grip and landed a good three feet away from her. The truck bounced and jolted, throwing her around.

  The truck came to a hard stop nose downward. Her thoughts spun but she realized that Freddy had run them into a ditch after all. In the next moment he was leaning over the front seat. He yanked her by her hair as she scrambled for the gun.

  “You’ve been fucking things up long enough.” He jerked her backward, wrapped one hand around her throat, and put the barrel of a pistol to her head.

  She screamed.

  John dragged his hand down his face as he drove. What if F
reddy had taken Hollie down any one of the roads into the forest?

  He slammed his palm on the steering wheel as he drove down the dark highway. What the hell was he supposed to do? How was he going to find her?

  “Give me a sign.” John had never been religious but he found himself praying. “Tell me where to find her. Please, God, let her be all right.”

  His phone rang. He pulled it out of its holster and he glanced at the screen. Garrett. John glanced into his rearview mirror and saw that Garrett was no longer following him.

  John frowned and answered the phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Spotted something on the side of the road and pulled over. It’s Dickey Whitfield and he’s dead. Shotgun to the chest. Body’s still warm—he hasn’t been dead long.”

  “Shit.” John didn’t stop driving. “If the body’s still warm, Freddy’s got to be just ahead.”

  “Yep,” Garrett said. “Letting the boys and girls in blue take care of Dickey. I’m back on your tail.”

  “Got it.” Prickles ran along John’s forearms as he disconnected the call and stuffed the phone back in its holster on his belt.

  Had that been the sign from God that he’d prayed for?

  John pressed down on the accelerator, his speed climbing to seventy. It was a winding mountain road and his speed wasn’t safe. He couldn’t get himself to slow down.

  If Freddy was still on the highway, John had to have a good chance of catching up with the bastard. John had a lead on Garrett, and as fast as John was driving, Garrett had yet to catch up with him.

  Not more than fifteen minutes along, John saw a truck off the side of the road, nose in a ditch, headlights glowing eerily against dirt, rock, and dead grass. As John brought his truck to a hard stop, his truck fishtailed from a patch of ice on the road, but he corrected and pulled over just ahead of the old truck.

  As he jumped out of his own truck, he recognized the vehicle as Dickey Whitfield’s. Through the windows he saw two shadows and it looked like they were struggling.

  John ran for the other vehicle as he pulled his Glock out of its holster. Holding the weapon in one hand, he started to yank the driver’s side door open with his other.

  The loud retort of a gun came from the truck cab as a bullet shattered the rear passenger’s window and blood splattered the glass.

  Chapter 25

  Terror for Hollie ripped through John as he held his gun in his hand as he yanked open the rear passenger door.

  Hollie tumbled out.

  John grabbed her body before she hit the ground. At the same time he caught her with one arm, he aimed his gun at Freddy who was slumped halfway over the driver’s seat. Blood poured down the side of the man’s neck.

  “I shot him.” Hollie’s voice tore John’s attention from the unconscious Freddy Victors to Hollie as he carried her one-armed out of harm’s way. She sounded stunned as she said again, “I shot him.”

  “Are you okay, honey?” John’s throat was thick with emotion as he continued to hold his gun on Freddy. “Did he shoot you?”

  “I’m all right.” She looked like she was in shock. “No, he didn’t shoot me.”

  “Thank God.” John held her gaze. “I love you, Hollie. I love you so damned much.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Before she could respond, a car pulled up behind the truck, came to a hard stop, and then parked. Garrett jumped out of the vehicle and ran toward John and Hollie.

  John nodded toward Hollie. “Get her away while I take care of Victors.”

  Garrett helped Hollie as John held his service weapon and jerked open the driver’s side door. Freddy didn’t move.

  After he checked to make sure Freddy wasn’t holding a weapon, John dragged him out of the truck and laid him on the ground.

  Freddy stirred and opened his glazed eyes. “Help me,” he croaked.

  Fury made John clench his Glock more tightly. The bastard had hurt Hollie and probably had intended to kill her. The last thing John wanted to do was save Freddy.

  His jaw set, John tore the bottom half of Freddy’s T-shirt off, made a compress with it, and pressed it to Freddy’s neck. It looked like the bullet had nicked an artery. “Hold this and apply pressure.”

  John looked over his shoulder at Garrett and Hollie. She was pale in the light cast from Garrett’s headlights. She had a laceration and a bump on her forehead and dried blood from the laceration was along the side of her face.

  “Is she all right?” John’s voice was hoarse as he asked Garrett the question.

  “She’ll be fine,” Garrett said grimly.

  Hollie nodded as she held her side and grimaced as if in pain. “I’m okay.”

  “I need something to keep this sonofabitch from bleeding out,” John said. “I have a kit in my truck.”

  “I’ve got a first aid kit, too. I know where it is.” Garrett got to his feet and headed to his car. In moments he returned with the kit. “Sure you want to save this scumbag?” Garrett’s voice was hard and without compassion or pity.

  “We need him to help prove Hollie’s not guilty of murdering her stepbrother,” John said under his breath so that Freddy couldn’t hear.

  “It’s too bad,” Garrett muttered as he took over. “The world would be a better place without this sonofabitch.”

  John moved to Hollie and put one arm around her shoulders. At the same time, with his opposite hand, he made a call to report the situation, to tell his backup where they were, and requested two ambulances.

  “Am I gonna die?” Freddy said, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he spoke.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” Garrett said in a voice dark with anger and the promise of violence if provoked. “But that could change at any moment.”

  John tucked his phone into its holster. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked Hollie as he held her in both of his arms.

  “Yes.” She pushed the word out on a gasp and let out a harsh breath. “I think a couple of my ribs are broken.”

  “Damn—” John had been about to let out something far worse, but he cut himself off as he relaxed his hold on her. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

  She sagged against him. “Thank God it’s over.” He heard her teeth chatter as she spoke.

  John kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get you into the truck where it’s warm. You’re freezing.”

  “Okay.” She gasped as he helped her up.

  Slowly they walked to the truck and she grimaced with every step. He helped her up and into the passenger seat while trying to keep from hurting her. He grabbed blankets from behind the front seat and tucked them around her.

  He stood in front of her and placed his hand on her thigh, needing the contact with her. “I was so afraid I’d lost you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I don’t know what I would have done if—”

  “I’m here.” She put her hands over his. “Everything is going to be all right.”

  He moved his mouth to hers, kissing her slowly, savoring her taste and her scent. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight, but he couldn’t, thanks to her injuries.

  When he drew back he held her gaze with his. “I meant it when I said I love you. I’ve never felt anything like this, an emotion so strong it takes my breath away. God, I love you, Hollie.”

  “I love you too, John. More than words can say.” She smiled at him. “Thank you for saving me.”

  He kissed her again before he asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”

  She told him the story from the beginning, from the time she was kidnapped to escaping in the car and crashing into the tree. She went on to tell him about Freddy and Dickey taking her in the car and Freddy murdering Dickey. Her voice shook as she gave him the details of what had happened right before she shot Freddy.

  “He had the gun to my head.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I figured I didn’t have anything to lose, so I pretended to pass out and slumped down. He dropped me and I grabbed the gun
off the floorboard in the back.” She shuddered as she continued. “Before he had time to react, I shot him. I’m lucky my dad taught me to shoot when I was young.”

  “You did great.” John stroked hair from her eyes. “Not many people could have done what you did.”

  “Even though he was going to kill me, I don’t know if I would have been able to live with myself if I killed him.” She frowned. “That doesn’t make sense, does it? I did aim to kill but he moved before I shot him.”

  “It makes perfect sense.” John’s throat was thick as he thought about how she had almost died. “You didn’t want to be a murderer like he is.”

  “It feels like it would be a stain on my soul.” She shook her head. “It’s crazy.”

  “Everything’s fine now.” He squeezed both her knees. “You’ll be proven innocent and Freddy’s going to jail for a long, long time. We’re pretty sure that Dickey isn’t his only murder.” John let out his breath. “You can bet he’ll never hurt you again.”

  “Thank you.” Her body seemed to sag more fully against the truck seat. “For everything.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.” John rubbed her upper arms. “You saved yourself. If you hadn’t been so brave—I don’t want to think of what could have happened.”

  The sounds of sirens met John’s ears. Soon the cavalry would be here and he could get Hollie to a hospital.

  Then he’d take her home with him, where she belonged.

  * * * * *

  In the days that followed, the police found evidence in Freddy’s camper, including the shotgun that tied him to the murders of three members of Jesus Perez’s gang. Freddy had killed Jesus’ brother, Juan, along with one of Jesus’ key men, Rudy Garcia, as well as Bobby Dominguez. He had, of course, also murdered Dickey Whitfield.

  As part of a plea bargain to avoid the needle, Freddy admitted to killing Carl Whitfield, too, therefore vindicating Hollie. The night of the murder, Freddy had driven in the opposite direction Hollie had been going when she was headed to the ranch. He’d wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be seen heading to town after he killed Carl.