Asking For Trouble (15 page)

She looked up the hill when she heard people
walking behind them, and saw two men in dark sunglasses and black
FBI windbreakers. Carlos stood up, and then held his hand out to
her. She grabbed it and stood as well, and the blanket around her
shoulders fell to the ground.

"Miss Ramos?" one of the men asked in a flat
monotone voice.

"Yes, I'm Jasmine Ramos," she supplied.

"I need you to come with us ma'am..." he
told her and she felt dirty when his eyes tracked down her body and
back up again. A half smile hitched the corner of his mouth, and he
said, "Looks like we need to stop by the lake house and let you
change first though," he told her then pulled off his wind breaker
and draped it over her shoulders. Jazzie felt blood rush to her
face when she realized she only had on the skimpy yellow bikini
she'd worn on the boat to taunt Beau.

"Thank you..." she said and wrapped it
around her shoulders. She looked at Carlos, and hitched thumb
toward him. "This is my brother Carlos Ramos...do you need him to
come with us too?"

He looked over at Carlos and studied him for
a second, then said, "Um, no...we just need you...he can go talk to
the Rangers," the guy told her a little nervously.

Jazzie felt a strange prickling sensation at
the back of her neck and a cold chill passed through her. Both of
the men in the FBI jackets were swarthy and had dark hair, they
looked European, and she got a funny feeling in her gut. "I think
I'll go with Carlos and talk to the Rangers too...I'll be right
back," she said then went to walk past the men.

One of them grabbed her arm, and the jacket
slid from her shoulders. Carlos jumped toward him, but the other
man caught Carlos in a hold around his neck, and twisted his arm up
behind his back. Jazzie had had just about enough of being
manhandled for one day, so she pretended to cooperate, but then
swung around and kicked the bastard holding her right between the
legs as hard as she could, then screamed at the top of her lungs
and took off running along the bank. She was barefoot, so every
rock and pinecone pierced her tender feet. She had to dodge lawn
chairs, boating equipment and toys in the yards, but she kept
running and screaming.

Beau yelled at her from the boat, and she
saw him jump in the water and take off on one of the jet skis
floating by the boat, and saw a couple of other officers do the
same. They were going to save her, she thought, and kept running
hell bent for leather down the lake shore. Suddenly, she heard a
crackle and a pop then felt something red hot burn her skin in two
places on her back, right before her entire body was set on fire
with currents of electricity zinging along her nerve endings.

Her brain ceased to function and she fell to
the ground as excruciating pain radiated through her and her body
shook violently. Her heart was doing crazy things in her chest as
the current continued to flow through her. All she had the energy
to do was fall to the ground, where her body continued to jerk
spasmodically.

Jazzie moaned when whatever had hit her in
the back was yanked off of her skin, and it felt like her flesh
went along with it. Her whole body was numb and still buzzing from
the shock, when she was suddenly lifted from the ground and tossed
over someone's shoulder, then her limp body bounced painfully as
the man took off running up the hill.

She couldn't move, she couldn't yell, there
was nothing she could do but hope he didn't drop her. Someone
shouted her name from the shoreline and she looked up to see Beau
thrashing through the shallows to get to the shore, with his gun
out and his face determined. Two other officers were right behind
him, and they all hit the ground running. The man who had her over
his shoulder was fast though, she thought, as he crested the hill
and Beau disappeared from her sight. When he hit level ground, the
man took off running and pulled out a radio then shouted, "West
side of the lake, halfway down come get me now, they're right
behind me!"

Sensation started to return to Jazzie's arms
and face and it wasn't pleasant. Her whole body felt like when her
foot went to sleep from sitting on it too long. Pins and needles
pricked under her skin, as the blood flow returned. Only her legs
were still numb, probably because the man's arm was clamped so
tightly around them he was cutting off the blood flow. At least she
hoped that was the reason.

When full sensation returned to her arms,
and she felt like she could use them again, Jazzie knew she had to
do something to slow him down, or he was going to put her in a car
and probably kill her later. Jazzie wasn't going down without a
fight. Because of her inverted position, there wasn't a whole lot
she could do to him, though.

Beating the big man's back would probably do
nothing, she thought, then looked down and saw his white underwear
peeking over the top of waistband of his slacks. An idea formed in
her mind, as memories of the Indian drawers she'd given her
brothers when she was little floated through her mind. It was
painful, according to her brothers, and Jazzie knew how to yank
them up for maximum effect.

Testing to see if she could reach, Jazzie
stretched her hands downward, and saw that she could reach them.
Shoring up her courage, she sucked in a breath, then stretched
again as far as she could, and plunged her fingers underneath the
waistband of his pants, catching two fistfuls of his boxers. Jazzie
yanked upward as hard as she could. and pulled up a large amount of
his white boxers. He howled, and she jerked them up again harder,
then he tossed her to the ground and pulled frantically at his
crotch. The pins and needles sensation started in her feet and
worked up her legs, as she watched him hop around.

Jazzie crawled away from him then ground her
teeth against the pain and pushed up to her feet, before she took
off running back toward the hill screaming for Beau. Her captor
caught up to her easily, because her legs were wobbly and weak. He
tackled her right at the top of the hill, and Jazzie's breath left
her in a whoosh, and her head slammed against the ground. Black
dots filled her vision and closed in, and her last sight before she
blacked out was Beau's frightened green eyes as he came over the
top of the hill.

Fear, adrenaline and anger saturated Beau's
brain when he topped the hill where he'd seen the man carry Jazzie
off. The guy had a huge head start on him, so Beau had been afraid
he'd be too late getting to her. When he'd seen the man use a stun
gun on Jazzie, Beau wanted to tear the sonofabitch apart limb from
limb. He'd felt supremely helpless on that damned jet ski, too far
away to help her, as the electrical current passed through her and
she writhed on the ground. His fear had almost paralyzed him.

And now the big bastard had tackled the
petite woman like she was a running back for the Longhorns. He'd
hit her so hard, it was obvious to Beau that she was unconscious
and now the man was trying to lift her limp body and run again.

Red hot anger surged through him, and Beau
charged the guy, then took a flying leap and knocked the asshole
backwards. He landed on top of him, then straddled him, and without
a coherent thought from Beau, his fists pounded the guy's face
again and again. He kept at it, until the two Rangers he'd been
working with on the boat came over and finally pulled him off of
the guy.

Beau looked down and saw that his knuckles
were raw and bleeding. He had no idea how many times he'd hit the
guy, but it had been plenty. However many times it had been though,
it wasn't nearly enough, he thought. What man tasered a petite
helpless woman, then tackled her like she was a football player?
The bastard deserved what he'd gotten and so much more.

He walked back over to where Jazzie lay
unconscious and he lifted her up, then said forcefully, "Get a
damned ambulance out here now...or a med evac flight...she's
hurt."

A black sedan with tinted windows passed by
slowly on the street, and Beau looked up. The driver hit the gas
and took off like a bat out of hell, and Beau yelled, "Get that
car, that was his partner!" With a nod, one of the rangers talked
into his radio, then Beau heard the rotor blades of the helicopter
down the road start to whine, and several sirens wail.

A minute later, Carlos crested the hill, his
face tight and angry. In front of him, he pushed a guy in an FBI
windbreaker. The guy looked like he'd gone a couple of rounds with
Tyson in the day. One of his eyes was almost swollen shut, and his
lips were split and bleeding. If Beau wasn't mistaken, his nose was
broken too, because it listed a little to the left. Carlos had a
split, swollen lip, but other than that he looked like he'd come
out on the better end of their struggle.

"You beating the shit out of federal
officers now?" Beau asked him with a snort.

"This guy is as much an FBI agent as I am
the Pope. He was with the guy that took Jazzie," Carlos told him
gruffly, then shoved the man toward one of the Rangers, who caught
him and led him off to cuff him.

An ambulance, sirens wailing, skidded to a
stop at the street. Beau stalked toward it with Jazzie in his arms,
then told a medic hastily as he laid her on the ground. "She almost
drowned, then was tasered, and then tackled by a big bastard and
hit her head. She's been unconscious about five minutes."

Setting down the big tackle box he'd pulled
out of the vehicle, the medic knelt down by her head, and his
partner by her feet. They patted her body from head to toe, then
the guy at her head rubbed his fist between her breasts and she
didn't move.

He shook his head then opened her eyelids
and flashed a light in them one at a time. The other man pulled out
an IV bag and tubing, and picked up her left arm then felt around
for a vein. Jazzie jumped when he pricked her with the IV needle
and her eyes opened then she looked around in confusion.

"Beau?" she whispered in a choked voice, and
her hands closed into fists.

Kneeling beside her, he told her, "I'm right
here baby, just lay still and let them take care of you..." Gently,
Beau pushed the hair that had fallen from her braid out of her
eyes. "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart, they're going to take you to
the hospital and get you checked out," he reassured her.

Jazzie nodded then laid her head back on the
grass and sighed. "My head hurts," she admitted weakly...and I feel
like I've been run over by a truck."

"I know, sugar...you'll feel better once you
get to the hospital," Beau told her in a choked voice.

"How's Chase?" she asked with concern.

Beau sighed and fought back the jealousy
that wanted to consume him. "He's going to be fine too, they're
taking him to the hospital. The gunshot wound was superficial, but
it'll need stitches, but he slipped on the deck and hit his head,
that's why he was unconscious," Beau told her.

"Oh thank god..." she said, then flinched
when the medic put in the IV needle and taped it down. Her
complexion paled and she said, "Ooh, I think I might get sick,"
then clamped a hand over her mouth.

The medics rolled her on her side and held
her there, and she dry heaved a couple of times, but didn't vomit.
She took a couple of deep breaths then she nodded and they laid her
on her back again. Beau thought he might get sick too, he couldn't
stand seeing her hurt. When they rolled her, he'd seen the two
burns on her back from the taser leads. It made him want to go
finish off the jerk they'd just stuffed in the back of the cruiser
on the other side of the ambulance.

"Check out her back too," he told the
medics, then swallowed a couple of times before adding, "She has a
couple of burns..."

When someone put his hand on Beau's
shoulder, he looked up to see Glen Baker the FBI guy he'd met in
Amarillo standing there. He'd worked with the man when Katie and
Tommy Tucker had their problems with Edith Preston a year ago. A
man who he assumed was Glen's partner was standing behind him
looking grave, but FBI agents always seemed to look that way...it
must be the dark sunglasses they usually wore.

"Hi, Glen...any word?" Beau had called Glen
about Frankie Ramos and asked him to look into the situation, and
keep him apprised of any developments.

Glen nodded his chin indicating he wanted to
talk to Beau privately. Beau leaned down and kissed Jazzie's
forehead and told her, "I'll be back in a second, sugar..." then he
looked at the medic tending to her and told him, "Don't leave
without me."

After the medic nodded, Beau stood up then
walked a little bit away from Jazzie and turned to face Glen.
"What's up?"

"Well, the good news is that it doesn't look
like Al-Gonon is sending the goons to try to kidnap Jazzie," Glen
told him then huffed out a sigh, and finished, "The bad news is the
people trying to hurt her are worse than Al-Gonon. It's a
consortium of black market buyers for traditional and biochemical
weapons. They buy them from Al-Gonon and then sell them to the
highest bidder, terrorists, rogue nations, whoever the hell has the
cash."

"How'd you find that out?" Beau asked
curiously.

"We have Frankie Ramos in protective
custody, and the guy that survived the shootout at the Ramos' house
is talking...how much truth there is in what he's saying, I don't
know."