Fight For Me (16 page)

Instead of agreeing openly, he just made an
affirmative noise. “We gonna stand out here all day, or go in?”
Monroe's mouth tightened at his question and he almost laughed. His
partner was accused of multiple felonies, yet he was ready to laugh
at the expression of a man he didn't even like all that much? He
needed coffee and sleep. He shook his head. Not happening.

“
Lead the way.”

The door opened without much provocation,
the lock cheap and well used. The house smelled of mildew, the
furniture covered in a thick coating of dust. “It's a dead end.
There's nothing here.”

They went through to insure all the rooms
were clear, and aside from the dirt and debris strewn about, there
was nothing to note. Before he had pulled his phone off his belt,
Monroe had his in hand, Delmonico on the other end.

“
What did they find?” he
asked from across the room.

The conversation was brief, Monroe sliding
his phone back into his pocket less than a minute after placing the
call. “They've spotted Archer's car and a trailer on the
property.”

“
Let's roll.”

~*~

Dylan let out a string of curses as he
passed an old lady meandering down the road. He pressed the gas a
little further to the floor, ignoring the horns as he wove through
traffic, every second precious. He swore again. Steve fucking
Archer. He was supposed to be a cop, yet he had beaten and
kidnapped Cassie, terrorized her with bombs and fires, undermined
him with headlines from his past? He cursed himself for allowing
her more than ten minutes in the bathroom. Archer had assumed Dylan
would let her go alone, and had waited for her. He flexed his right
hand, testing himself. He'd only been out of the sling for three
days. Three days ago he'd made love to Cassie in the seat next to
him, the day she had admitted she'd felt love. God, if he lost her
now, he didn't know what he would do.

As soon as he'd seen that video he had known
who he was after, and he prayed he was barreling down the road to
the right place. He hadn't called Chris, hadn't done any research,
just jumped in his truck, rounded up his weapons and made his way
out to the parcel of land he knew Archer had purchased less than a
year before. It was isolated, and if it hadn't been the family farm
of a fellow skip-tracer, he'd have never known Archer owned the
place. The last time he'd seen it, it had been mostly trees and
weeds, but in his gut he knew this was where he needed to be. He
just hoped his instincts were better now than they were earlier
this morning when he let Cassie out of his sight. He slammed a hand
against the dash, the tingling pain shooting up his arm welcome. If
he could feel, if he had control over his hand, he could pull the
trigger.

~*~

She didn't know how long she kicked, banged,
and yelled, just that it felt like hours. Was the box so thick, her
alerts were of no use? Was she using up priceless oxygen screaming
like a banshee? That thought stopped her cold. Oxygen. She was sure
she'd run out of breathable air before she died of dehydration. Her
thoughts went to Dylan and she let out a small sob. He'd told her
he loved her, that his life wouldn't be worth living without her.
He'd lost his sister, his wife had been pregnant when she took her
own life, and now... She slammed the door on the thought. Someone
had to hear her. Someone had to know she was trapped. She had to
live to tell Dylan she loved him, had to live to make love to him
again, to find out if she carried his child. She gritted her teeth
against another wave of nausea. Even if she'd been pregnant this
morning, with the trauma to her body there was little hope of that
now.

Another train shook her prison, its whistle
silent, but the sound deafening nonetheless. Where the hell was
she? She didn't believe she'd been out all that long, so she
guessed she was still in Ayles county. She braced an arm around her
midsection as she shifted her body, trying futilely to get more
comfortable. If she were still in the county, there were only two
train stations, one a metro stop and the other an Amtrak station.
Either would be occupied at all hours, but considering her current
surroundings, she was betting on Amtrak. She pinched the bridge of
her nose, distracted momentarily by the feel of dried blood under
her fingers. Her nose may be broken, she was certain a few ribs
were cracked, and there was no doubt she had a concussion. She was
locked in a box with no way out, with limited air and no water, and
the man she'd just admitted to herself she loved was frantically
searching for her, blaming himself for her situation.

She sighed heavily, the movement sending a
sharp pain through her ribcage and down her left leg. She swiped
the tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't give up. She had to
believe he would find her, would save her, would love her. She cast
her gaze around the steel walls imprisoning her. “What now,
Everett?” she muttered aloud. What now indeed.

~*~

The land was just as Dylan remembered it,
full of trees and weeds, bordered on one side by a creek and the
other a train track. All he had to do now was find Cassie and get
her the hell out of the way so he could take Archer down. He
tightened his hand around his rifle, the feel of it comforting.
This he could do. He could identify a target and take him out. The
snag was finding Cassie first. His shoulder holster rubbed against
his side, the Beretta it held a solid weight against him, the extra
magazines sharp in his pocket. He took in a breath, blew it out
slowly. He would save her, there was no doubt in his mind, and no
other option.

He knew he should've called Chris, should
have alerted the police about who had Cassie, but he hadn't. He
needed to save her and he needed to know the police weren't
corrupt. If Steve fucking Archer could do this, what would others
do? Protect one of their own, or save Cassie? He trusted Chris, but
he wasn't ready take that chance with anyone else, especially
Brandon Davis.

He could see the entire property from his
perch in a tall elm tree, his eyes searching for anything out of
place, anything of note. He spotted a silver sedan beside the long,
rectangular box of a trailer and arranged himself and his rifle on
the branch, using his scope to peer through the window.

Empty. Cassie wasn't inside, at least not
anywhere he could see. He promised himself he wouldn't simply pull
the trigger when he actually saw Archer. Killing him now wouldn't
help Cassie wherever she was. Information first. Death later.

His phone buzzed in his pocket at the same
time he saw Chris's car pull onto the rutted dirt road leading to
the property. Evidently the detective had determined the same thing
he had, finding his way out here. He checked the call, then slid
his thumb across the screen. “I figured it out first,” he
greeted.

“
Yet you said nothing, and
you're already here.” He paused, and Dylan watched the white car
make its way toward the trailer. “You haven't killed anyone yet,
have you?”

“
Haven't seen anyone worth
killin'.”

“
Shooting him won't find
Cassidy.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you've already found
her.”

“
Negative. No one is in
that trailer or the car next to it.” Where the fuck had the bastard
stashed Cassie? “So, you're here. Now what do we do?” he asked
roughly. He was perched in a tree like the sniper he was, but he
couldn't shoot her out of wherever she was hidden.

“
We find Archer and make
him tell us where she is,” Chris answered simply. “Since you can
see us and we can't see you, can I assume you're ready to snipe the
next person you see?”

“
Not the next person. The
person who deserves it.”

He could practically hear Chris shake his
head. “Won't save her.”

“
I know.”

“
Won't make you feel
better either. Come down and join us.”

“
Which us?”

“
Morgan and me. Monroe and
Davis will be a while—they went up to Sheridan first.”

He could trust Chris, and Tiffany Morgan
seemed useful. “See ya in five. Watch your six.”

“
Always.”

~*~

A few minutes later, Dylan appeared out a
stand of trees, his sniper rifle in hand. Chris worried his friend
would break if they didn't find Cassidy soon, and he could almost
understand. He had never loved a woman, but he loved his parents,
his sisters, his nieces and nephew, and could see going over the
edge to protect or avenge any one of them. If the big Ranger could
hold it together until after they rescued his woman, they'd be
okay.

“
Nice of you to join us,”
he quipped, trying to make light of what he knew was a perilous
situation. Brunswick had reported a lot of blood at the scene, and
that alone meant they didn't have time to waste.

“
Y'all are late to the
party. Not that there's much to see.”

“
So, now what?” Tiffany
asked. “We just look?”

“
I think we spread out.
Look in any nook or cranny there is to find where he's hidden
Cassie. I know she's here,” Dylan instructed, the desperation in
his tone and behind his eyes hitting Chris in the gut. If she were
dead—which he hated to admit was a real possibility—Dylan would
crumble.

“
Let's hope Archer isn't
in a tree somewhere like you were,” he said instead of the
comforting words that sprang to his tongue. Comfort wasn't
something Dylan would accept, and he wasn't the man to give
it.

“
Okay then. Walk around
this huge property looking for anywhere a woman could be hidden and
hope you don't get sniped while doing it,” Tiffany started. “Sounds
like just another day at the office.”

“
I sure as hell hope not,”
Dylan muttered.

“
Me, too.” Lately all he'd
found were dead bodies. If that's what he found today, Dylan would
have to fight him for the right to kill Archer. He knew the larger,
better trained man would win, but he'd put up a fight just the
same. He also knew he shouldn't want to kill anyone, murderer or
not, but dirty cops made him insane. And vengeful. He rubbed the
back of his neck, willed himself to breathe normally. Dylan was the
one in love with Cassidy Everett, the one with his world at stake,
and he was the one whose heart was beating itself out of his chest
as he wished he could kill the Tyler cop he had decided had to live
to face trial not even an hour before.

Tiffany pulled her pistol from her holster.
“Who's going which way?”

Chris almost laughed at the widening of
Dylan's eyes when the pretty little officer asked the question and
racked her piece. Tiffany wasn't messing around. “I'll take the
tree line, Chris can take the creek side, and you can take the
tracks. That seem fair?”

She nodded her blonde head. “Yessir.”

They split up just as Dylan had dictated,
insuring each had cell reception out in the boondocks before
heading their separate ways. In a perfect world, they'd have
backup, a helo, hell maybe a SWAT team, but this was Ayles County,
and none of those things were available. So, they split up and
walked. He trudged up the creek line, praying he wouldn't find a
body in the water. His Catholic parents would be proud of the
praying he did, a throwback to his younger, less jaded days. He
kept walking, stopping to look into every ditch, behind every rock,
all the while wondering if he was being watched, targeted, or
ignored. By the time he'd made it the entire length of the creek,
he breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing.

He shaded his eyes from the sun and crossed
the creek to continue his trek up the other side, searching from a
different perspective. More hills, more ditches, and still no
woman, and thankfully no body. Getting back to where he started, he
called Dylan. “Nothing on the creek line.”

He heard his friend let out a long sigh. “I
haven't found anythin' either, and no sign of Archer.”

“
I can't decide if that's
a good thing or a bad one. Have you heard from Tiffany?”

“
I figured she'd call
you.”

They had been working together for a number
of hours, days even. “No. I'll call her. You want me to stay here
or come to you?”

“
I'm headed back your way.
You stay put, I'm headed to you.”

“
Watch your six,” he
closed, giving Dylan back his words from earlier in the
day.

“
Always.”

The call ended with a loud click in his ear,
and he pulled it away to scroll down and find Tiffany's number. He
knew she was capable, a woman who could take care of herself, but
she was small and there was no way she'd be a match for a man
almost two feet taller than she was. He shook away the thought as
the phone rang. He wasn't ready for this to become a double search
and rescue mission. The call went to voice mail, and he
disconnected and rang again. Voice mail. Shit.

~*~

Cassidy woke to the sound of a diesel engine
and a jostling of her cage. She was being moved. Her groggy mind
spun. Where was she going? Who was moving her? Had Archer come back
for her, or was she finally being moved around the station? Her
throat itched to scream her questions, but she was certain no one
would hear her after her earlier attempts at alerting anyone nearby
had failed miserably. She braced herself against the wall, one hand
flat against the floor, the other supporting her ribs, and she
clenched her teeth against the pain in her head.

Instead of being lifted as she'd expected,
the crate was tipped up at a drastic angle, sending her reeling at
the same time the door was opened and someone else dropped in.
Before she could clamber up the box, she was tumbled by the woman's
body and pinned to the wall.