Iron Will Page 14

  “I get the picture,” Hank said impatiently. “But now this. If you shoot her, you’d better shoot me as quickly as possible because if you don’t—”

  “I get the picture,” the man interrupted, and she saw him smile out of the corner of her eye.

  Even knowing what this was about, she couldn’t understand why they were being brought here. She didn’t think it was to kill them, but she knew she could be wrong about that. The thought made her breath catch and her mouth go dry. She and Hank had just found each other. She had hardly let herself believe in this relationship. She didn’t want it to be over so soon—and so tragically.

  She’d said she needed time, but even after her bad experience with J.J., she knew in her heart that Hank was nothing like the cop. He was the kind of man who made a woman feel loved and protected. The kind of man who loved horses and wanted to make babies and raise a family.

  Frankie felt tears burn her eyes as she let herself admit that she wanted that as well. Wanted to come back here to the ranch and raise their kids here. She wanted Hank.

  The man opened his door and grabbed her with his free hand to pull her out of the pickup, the gun still pointed at her head. Hank had gotten out on the other side of the pickup and stood waiting, his gaze on the man as if hoping for an opportunity to get the gun away from him.

  She willed Hank to look at her, and when he shifted his gaze, she smiled, hoping to reassure him that they were going to get through this. They had to. She’d seen their future and she wasn’t ready to give that up. If it meant a fight...well, she was ready.

  * * *

  “WHAT A CHUMP,” J.J. said as he looked after Hank and Frankie. He couldn’t believe how accommodating the fool was. First he picked up a complete stranger from the middle of the road and then what? Offered to drive him home? And his home ended up being way down a dirt road, back in the foothills?

  J.J. had gone on past the turnoff when he’d seen the pickup begin working its way back into the foothills. After turning around, he’d found a place to park, pulled his gun out of the glove box, checked to make sure it was fully loaded, then stuck it in the waistband of his jeans as he got out of the rental car.

  It might be a hike back in to wherever the cowboy had taken the man, but J.J. thought the area couldn’t be more perfect for what he had in mind. Even if they dropped the man off and were headed back this way before he reached the man’s house on foot, he could work with it.

  Feeling as if Lady Luck had smiled on him, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to end this. Once he explained things to the cowboy, he hoped that was the end of any problem from him.

  Frankie was his. Period. End of discussion. True, right now she was giving him some trouble, but he would try humbling himself, sweet-talking her, spoiling her, and if that didn’t work then he’d have to get physical. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but she had to understand how things were going to be. She couldn’t embarrass him in front of his friends and his coworkers. She had to behave. No one respected a man who couldn’t keep his woman under control.

  Once they established the rules, hell, maybe he’d suggest they pick a wedding date. Marrying her might be the only way to keep her in line. If that was what he had to do, then he’d bite the bullet and get it over with. It wasn’t like he had someone else he wanted to marry. There were some he wanted to get into bed, but he could do that easily enough after he was married to Frankie. She had to understand that he had his needs. Real men did.

  J.J. was feeling good as he headed up the road. He’d gone a quarter mile when he realized that he couldn’t hear the sound of a vehicle engine anymore. He came over a rise and saw why.

  In the distance was a small cabin with four rigs parked in front of it, including the cowboy’s pickup. What he didn’t see was any sign of Frankie or the cowboy, though. Maybe the man they’d rescued had invited them in for something. A drink to pay them back for saving him?

  Fine with J.J. He was in no hurry. He kept to the trees along the edge of the foothills until he was close enough to the cabin that he would see them when they came out.

  Maybe he’d just hitch a ride with them when they left, he thought, feeling the weight of the gun pressing against his stomach. He pulled it out and sat down on a rock to wait, thinking about the future he and Frankie would have. Everything was going to be fine now. Like his boss had warned him, he just needed to get his life under control or he could be in trouble at work.

  The memory made him grit his teeth. This was all Frankie’s fault. But he would get the bitch in line—one way or the other.

  * * *

  THE MAN LED them into the cabin at gunpoint. Hank stepped through the door, Frankie and the man behind him, the gun still to Frankie’s head. The cabin appeared larger on the inside than it had from outside. At a glance he took it all in as his mind raced for a way out of this that didn’t get them both killed.

  He saw a small kitchen against one wall, a bed and a half-dozen mismatched chairs around a table. Darrel was sitting in one of the chairs. A large man he didn’t recognize was standing against the wall, looking tough. Hank didn’t miss the holstered gun visible under the man’s jacket.

  He went on the defensive, determined not to let him see how worried he actually was. “What the hell, Darrel?”

  His former classmate smiled. “Sit down, Hank. There’s no reason to get all worked up. Les,” he said to the man they’d picked up in the middle of the highway, “why don’t you and Frankie sit over there.” He pointed to the bed. “That way we can all see each other.”

  Hank hadn’t moved. Darrel kicked out one of the chairs across the table from him. “Take a load off and let’s talk.”

  “I can’t imagine what we might have to talk about.”

  “Hank, we’ve known each other for too long to lie to each other. So let’s cut the bull. You know perfectly well why you’re here. Sit.”

  Hank took the chair, turning it around to straddle the seat and rest his arms on the back. He’d be able to move faster this way—if he got the chance.

  Darrel smiled, seeing what Hank was up to, but said, “Your father was by my house this morning looking for me and snooping around, I heard. I suspect it’s your doing. Yours and your—” his gaze shifted to Frankie “—your lady friend’s.” He eyed Frankie with interest for a moment before turning back to Hank. “Picked yourself up a private eye, did you? Why would you do that?”

  He considered several answers before he said, “I never believed that Naomi killed herself.”

  Darrel nodded with a grimace. “No, you never did.”

  “So I hired Ms. Brewster to help prove I was right.”

  “And did you?” He could feel the man’s intense gaze on him.

  “No. Suspecting is one thing. Proving is another. It’s why Frankie... Ms. Brewster and I were leaving town.” He didn’t want Darrel thinking there was anything more between him and Frankie than employer and employee. He knew the man well enough to know he would use it against them.

  Darrel raised a brow in obvious surprise. “Leaving? Giving up that easy? Just doesn’t sound like you, Hank. Remember how you were when it came to competitive sports? You couldn’t stand to let me win. So why give up now?” His former classmate seemed to consider it for a moment before his gaze swung to Frankie. “Things get a little too complicated for you?”

  He saw no reason to lie. “They did. So we decided to put all of this behind us and go back to our lives in Idaho.”

  Darrel shifted his weight to lean across the table toward him. “I’m happy for you. Personally, I thought you were never going to get over Naomi, but apparently you’ve now found a woman who’s made you forget her. Under normal circumstances, I’d wish you well. But here is the problem. I still want my money that your former girlfriend stole. I thought it was lost forever, but then you came back to the canyon and I figured, ‘Hank’s come back to
pick up the money. He was in on it the whole time.’ I actually admire you for waiting three years. I kept track of you and knew you hadn’t spent it. For a while, I thought maybe Naomi hadn’t even told you about it. So where is it? In your pickup? Trent, go take a look.”

  “Wait a minute,” Frankie said, making them all turn to look at her. “Naomi didn’t have the money on her that night, the night you killed her?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  As J.J. had approached the cabin, he considered climbing in the back of the cowboy’s pickup. From the hill where he sat, he could see that there appeared to be some old tarps in the back. He could hide, and when the time was right, he could pop up. Surprise!

  The idea had its appeal. He just wasn’t sure he could reach the pickup before they came out, and given the number of vehicles parked outside the cabin, he couldn’t be sure how many people were inside.

  The rock where he sat was far enough away that he could see the cowboy and Frankie when they came out, but they probably wouldn’t notice him. It wouldn’t take much for him to trot down to the road and stop them once they were out of sight of the cabin.

  They seemed to have been in there for a while now, he thought, frowning. Maybe the man was more injured than he’d thought. What if they’d sent for an ambulance? Worse, the cops?

  But as time passed with no sign of either, he was beginning to wonder what could be going on inside that cabin. Maybe he should get a little closer. The rock he was sitting on wasn’t that comfortable anyway, he thought as he began to work his way down the hillside through the pines.

  The front door of the cabin opened. He jumped back behind a pine, thinking it was about time they came out. But the man who emerged wasn’t the cowboy. He was a big, tough-looking dude. Sunlight caught on the gun in the man’s holster.

  What the hell?

  J.J. watched as the man went straight to the cowboy’s pickup. It didn’t take long to understand what was going on. The man was searching the truck. He obviously didn’t find what he was looking for—even after going through their bags behind the seat. When he slammed the pickup door, he glanced at the tarps in the back and quickly climbed in to search there as well.

  “Glad I wasn’t under one of those tarps,” J.J. said to himself as he watched the man finish his search and go back inside the cabin.

  Something was definitely wrong and Frankie was in there. He considered what to do. No way was he busting in there, gun blazing. The way he saw it, all he could do was wait. Maybe if he heard screams from Frankie, he might have to change his mind.

  Since the man had searched the pickup, it made sense that he wouldn’t be looking in the back again. He continued down the hill, keeping his gun ready and his eyes focused on the cabin door.

  Staying low, he made his way through the vehicles to the cowboy’s pickup and leaped into the back, covering himself with the tarps to wait.

  * * *

  TRENT RETURNED MINUTES later from searching the truck. “Not there.”

  Frankie watched Darrel’s jaw muscle bunch as the tension in the room became thick as smoke. But beside her, Les had released her arm and now merely sat with the gun pressed into the side of her head.

  “I thought we were going to be straight with each other,” Darrel said, clearly trying to contain his anger.

  Frankie could see that Hank was getting angrier by the moment. “That was you the day at the river,” Hank said. “That was you I saw running through the trees.”

  “I followed you thinking you were going for the money. Instead, you were doing what you always did, sitting and staring at that cliff. Three years, I’ve waited. When you came back after all this time, I thought it was finally to get the money.”

  Hank shook his head. “You had us forced off the road and into the river. You could have killed us.”

  “I doubted you would die, but at that point, you hadn’t gone for the money and I was losing patience.”

  “When are you going to get it through your head?” Hank demanded. “We don’t have your money. Now let us go.”

  “I don’t think you realize your circumstances,” Darrel shot back as he got to his feet and limped over to where Les had his gun to Frankie’s head. He grabbed a handful of Frankie’s dark hair in his fist as a switchblade suddenly appeared in his other hand. Frankie cried out in pain as he jerked hard on her hair, exposing her throat to the knife.

  “I could cut her throat right now, and I will if you don’t stop lying to me.”

  Hank leaped to his feet and took a step toward him. Behind him, Trent moved too quickly. She felt Darrel release her hair and turn.

  “Don’t!” Darrel yelled at Trent, but his command wasn’t quick enough. The man had pulled his gun and now brought the barrel down hard on Hank’s head.

  Frankie screamed and jumped to her feet, only to be pulled back down by Les.

  Darrel swore as Hank toppled to the floor. From where Les held her, she could see that his head was bleeding.

  “Help him!” she cried.

  Darrel, still swearing, limped over to him and checked for a pulse. “He’s not dead.” Hank moaned and struggled to sit up. “Get a towel for his head,” he ordered. “Now!” Trent disappeared into the bathroom. “Everyone just calm down. I don’t like things to get violent but I’m tired of being lied to. I want my money.” He said the last through gritted teeth.

  “Hank doesn’t know where your money is,” Frankie said, her voice breaking. She could see that he was dazed and bleeding, but alive. At least for now.

  “Tie him up,” Darrel ordered when Trent returned with the towel. He tossed the towel to Hank, who put it against the side of his head and flinched.

  “Is that necessary?” Frankie demanded. “He’s injured. He needs to go to the hospital, not be tied up.” She got a warning side look from Darrel.

  “You both brought this on yourselves,” he said. “Maybe you didn’t know about the money, but obviously you do now. So stop lying. Since Hank and Naomi were going to get married and she had put money down on a house, don’t tell me he doesn’t know where she hid the rest of it.”

  Trent pulled out duct tape and, after helping Hank into a chair, bound him to it.

  “I told you, I don’t know,” Hank mumbled and seemed to be fighting unconsciousness.

  “I know who has your money,” she said.

  Hank’s head came up. He shot her a pleading look. “Frankie—”

  She turned her gaze on Darrel, who slowly swiveled around to look at her. “If you’re lying, something much worse is going to happen to you. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly. But there’s something I need to know first.”

  “You don’t seem to be in a position to be making ultimatums,” Darrel said, sounding almost amused.

  “You’re wrong. I’m the only person in this room who can get you your money.” Darrel glanced at Hank. “He doesn’t know,” she said. “So if you didn’t find the money on Naomi that night, then you’re right—she hid it somewhere. But what I don’t get is why you killed her before she told you where.”

  He seemed to consider whether to answer or not, and then swore. “One of my associates was handling it and made an error in judgment.”

  “That’s what you call killing her?” Hank said through clenched teeth. She could see he was in pain from the head wound. “An error in judgment?”

  “Tamara didn’t kill her,” Darrel said. “She took her up on the ledge to scare her since she knew Naomi was afraid of heights. All Naomi had to do was tell her where the money was. It wasn’t in her vehicle. Nor her apartment, which had already been searched. We suspected it was hidden on the ranch, but we needed the location. Naomi refused to give it to her. Tamara argued with her. Naomi tried to push past her on the ledge to leave, making it clear that she was never going to tell. She took a misstep and fell to her death. Killing her was t
he last thing we wanted to do.”

  “Until you got the money,” Frankie said. She could see that Hank was struggling to stay conscious, struggling with the news about Naomi.

  “You both misjudge me,” Darrel said. “Dead bodies complicate things. I prefer not to shed blood unless I have to. Unfortunately, some of my other associates are less reasonable.” He rose unsteadily from his chair, and Frankie was reminded of his limp when he’d come into the bar.

  Stepping back, he lifted his pant leg to expose a mass of red and purple scar tissue. When he spoke, there was fury in his voice. “You have no idea how much your former girlfriend has cost me, and not just in money and pain. I came close to getting my throat cut—and that would have been the faster and least painful in the long run, I realize now. My associates had much worse plans for me. I’ve been busting my ass for three years to pay them back. I’ve been waiting for you to return to town to collect the money after that foolish, stubborn woman took it and refused to tell us where she’d hidden it. Now,” he said as he covered his injured leg again and slowly lowered himself into his chair.

  He turned his attention to Frankie. “You say you know who has my money?”

  She nodded. “One more question first, though,” she said, making him groan. She knew she was trying his patience, but she also knew that she had leverage and she planned to use it. She had to use whatever she could to get them out of this. “How was Naomi able to steal the bag of money that she referred to as a small fortune? I would have thought you’d be watching it closer than that. Unless she was one of your associates.”

  Darrel laughed at that. “Hardly. She and Tamara had become friends. Naomi gave Tamara free groceries and even money out of the till sometimes when she came in and no one else was around.” He swung his gaze back to Hank. “Your girlfriend was a shoplifter. Did you know that? She got her kicks by stealing. Tamara failed to mention that until later when my money went missing.”