Hidden Prey (Lawmen) (9 page)

How did the bastard know? Gregory swallowed. “I don’t have an address for anyone in Bisbee.”

The man kept the barrel of his gun against Gregory’s head. He looked toward the living room and said something in Spanish. Gregory’s blood went cold when he saw a second man walking out of the darkened room. The blond man had a brutal look to him, his eyes cold and merciless.

“That is John.” The first man gestured to the other man. “I am Pablo. You and I are going to become very familiar with each other.”

Gregory said nothing. Sweat trickled down his spine and his shirt was soaked at his armpits beneath his suit jacket.

“But we must leave this place.” Pablo gave a nod in the direction of the kitchen as Gregory’s phone rang. “Bring your phone so that we can use it to call Señorita Tori.”

Gregory swallowed, his throat so dry it hurt. If he stalled, maybe the police would come in time.

“Get the phone,” Pablo told John. John said nothing, but headed toward the kitchen. Pablo turned to Gregory. “Give me your keys.”

Hands shaking, Gregory reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys, then handed them to Pablo.

When John returned, he gave the phone to Pablo who pocketed it.

Pablo looked at Gregory then nodded to Sara’s body. “Pick her up. You will carry her to your car and we will put her in the trunk.”

Gregory knelt and scooped up Sara’s petite body and held her. He dry-heaved and was certain he’d throw up when he felt how cold her body was, but he managed to hold back the bile. When he stood with Sara in his arms, Pablo nodded toward the door and Gregory started toward it.

John reached the door first and pulled it open. The warm summer night washed over Gregory and he wanted to cry out for help, but he felt the press of the barrel against his spine. Maybe someone would see them and call the police.

They passed no one on the way to the parking lot where Gregory’s Audi was parked. Pablo ordered Gregory to go to his car, and he obeyed.

When they reached the Audi, Pablo used the key fob to open the doors and he popped the trunk. Gregory’s heart and gut were sinking fast as he laid Sara’s body inside the trunk. Pablo slammed the lid closed.

“Drive.” Pablo gave the order to Gregory, who climbed behind the wheel on the driver’s side. John pointed a handgun at Gregory while Pablo got in on the passenger side. When Pablo was in, he handed the keys to Gregory. Pablo pointed his gun at Gregory again as John left and climbed into a dark SUV that Gregory hadn’t noticed before.

Gregory’s mind raced as he tried to think of some way he could get out of this alive and not give these bastards Tori’s parents’ address. All he could think of was that she belonged to him and no one else could touch her. His blood seemed to rush through his veins like wildfire and his heart beat so hard it was sure to explode out of his chest. Maybe having his heart give out would be for the best because one way or another he was going to die if he didn’t think of something.

Pablo pressed his gun against Gregory’s temple. “I said, drive.”

Gregory started the car, backed it out of its parking spot, and drove.

Fog swirled around Tori as she walked up a steep hill. She couldn’t see anything around her, but she knew she had to climb. And climb. And climb.

Someone appeared directly in front of her, causing her to stumble back in surprise and almost tumble back down the hill. She regained her balance and tried to catch her breath.

A white light glimmered around a woman wearing a white lace mantilla. Tori couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she seemed somehow familiar.

Tori blinked. She was now in the depths of a church. A sacred place that she had not been to in a very long time.

She looked up at the altar and the statue of the Virgin Mary. Blood red tears rolled from Mary’s eyes and Tori felt her great sadness.

The woman in the mantilla turned, catching Tori’s attention again. The woman walked toward the red jarred candles in the front of the church and Tori followed. As she watched, the woman lit a candle…next to the one her mother had lit for Brian when he died.

Tori’s heart pounded and her mouth grew dry as she recognized the woman in the mantilla. It was her mother…and she was lighting a candle for Tori.

And her mother was crying.

The statue of Mary was crying.

Tears rolled down Tori’s cheeks.

“I’m not dead, Mom.”
Tori tried to say the words but they wouldn’t come out.
“I’m not dead!”

“Her mother turned and walked toward the church entrance. The huge double doors parted and her mother stepped through the doorway.

Tori tried to run after her. It felt as if she was walking through hip-deep mud, and she couldn’t get to the doorway fast enough.

When she finally made it outside, her mother was gone.

The next thing she knew she was in total and complete darkness. The church had vanished.

The night was black, not even the moon or stars visible as she looked up into the crushing darkness. It was as if she was in a box, all four sides closing in on her, squeezing the breath from her. She held her arms out to either side of her as if to push walls away, but her hands touched nothing but air.

A man stepped toward her from out of the inky black night, startling a cry from her.

She could see the man, yet she didn’t know how she was able to when there was no light, just pure darkness.

Her heart started pounding, hard thumps against her ribs as she stared at him. His face was familiar, but too shadowed to see clearly. Who was he?

Sweat broke out on her skin as she watched the man slowly raise his arm. A flash of something dark on his wrist and then a glimpse of gunmetal gray in the overwhelming darkness.

Terror ripped through her as she realized he was pointing a gun at her. She screamed.

Dear God, she had to get away.

She tried to turn and run but her shoes were glued to the asphalt. Muscles in her legs ached as she strained and struggled to pick up one foot then the other. She couldn’t move, couldn’t save her own life.

Her entire body trembled as the man stepped closer. Then closer yet. His eyes burned red, his teeth white and pointed as he smiled. Horns sprouted from his head, pushing through his dark hair. Short red horns.

The Devil. She was going to die at the hand of the Devil himself.

The gun never wavered. The barrel grew bigger. So big that she now could see nothing but the opening. A bullet would be fired through that hole. The bullet would slam into her brain and end her life, just like that man in Bisbee.

I’m going to die.

The Devil’s image wavered and he began to fade.

“You will never get away from me.” The Devil’s voice was so icy it sent chills through her. Even as he disappeared, like wisps of smoke through a keyhole, she still heard him clearly. “I will find you and you will die.”

Tori woke and let loose with a scream. She clamped one hand over her mouth as she sat up in bed. Perspiration coated her skin as her other fist gripped the damp sheets. Every breath came short and fast, as if she’d been running up that hill in Bisbee again.

The sheets were twisted from tossing and turning. Had she dreamed of the Devil all night long?

She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and pressed her face against them, her eyes shut. But she couldn’t shut out the images of the dream, no matter how she tried.

The truth
, kept going through her mind,
The truth.

“The truth,” she mumbled. “The truth.”

“Tori?” A man’s voice came from far away, echoing in her head. She recognized the voice from somewhere and somehow she knew not to be afraid.

The bed dipped beside her. “Are you all right?”

She kept her face against her knees and tried to breathe as a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“It was a nightmare.” The man’s voice was deep, soothing. “You just had a nightmare. I’m right here with you.”

Slowly she worked to process where she was, what had happened to her, and who was with her now.

It gradually came to her that she was at a safe house and Landon Walker was the DHS agent who’d saved her life. Two other agents were here, too, O’Donnell and Johnson.

Landon was the one with his arm around her. He smelled good, and somehow his scent, his touch, his presence, and his low voice calmed her.

“You’re all right, honey.” He squeezed his arm around her shoulders. “You’re all right.”

Her skin prickled and she felt sticky from sweat, and her hair was damp from it. She didn’t look at him as she raised her head and tried to breathe slowly, in and out. In. Out. In. Out.

When she felt a little more composed, she turned to look at him. “Thank you.”

His eyes focused on hers as his thumb stroked her shoulder while he still held her. “You want me to stay a little longer?”

“I’ll be fine.” She shook her head. “It was just a dream. It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” He squeezed her shoulders. “After the day you had, I’m not surprised you had a nightmare.”

“Do you have nightmares?” She wasn’t sure why she asked.

For a moment he didn’t say anything, but then he gave a nod. “I have a recurring nightmare about…something bad that happened.”

“I’m sorry.” She felt like she’d touched a spot she shouldn’t have, as though she’d asked him something far too personal.

“Don’t be.” He rubbed her shoulder with his palm. “Are you going to be okay now?”

“Yes.” She took another deep breath and slowly let it out. She didn’t feel as sweaty but her hair still felt damp. “I think I can go back to sleep now.”

He moved his arm from around her shoulders. “If you need me, just call.”

“Thank you.” She watched as he left the bedroom. He looked over his shoulder one last time before stepping out and then leaving the door ajar so that a slice of light cut across the floor in the room.

She faced the light as she slid back down and rested her head on her pillow. With the image of the nightmare Devil still in her mind, she was unsure if she’d be able to fall asleep again.

Landon wasn’t in the living room or kitchen when Tori wandered out of the bedroom, but O’Donnell was in the living room and Johnson was in the kitchen. She told them both good morning.

The nightmare hadn’t returned, but she still felt remnants of it in the back of her consciousness.

She’d just taken a shower and was wearing the same clothes she’d had on yesterday since that was all she had. She couldn’t very well walk around in the T-shirt Landon had loaned her last night.

A chill traveled through her, goose bumps rising on her skin as her thoughts turned to yesterday and seeing Mateo, or rather Miguel, murdered.

Scenes flashed through her mind. The man against the car—Miguel. Two men with their guns trained on Miguel. A third man shooting him. Miguel’s body slumping to the ground, lifeless.

It was as if she could still feel the burn in her lungs and muscles as she ran from the men. If she hadn’t run regularly to keep in shape, and if she didn’t know that area so well, the men would have caught her. Killed her.

Landon had saved her life.

Everything looked different in the light of day even though the blinds were closed. The kitchen had a window over the sink that she hadn’t noticed last night.

After seeing someone murdered, it seemed too bright today. But the sun rose and the sun went down no matter who lived and who died.

Trying to get her mind off of the trauma that she’d been through, she put her hands on her hips and looked around the neat kitchen. This house needed some serious dusting.

After Johnson had said good morning, he’d gone back to reading on a tablet, and she wondered if he was reading an e-book or e-news.

What could she fix for breakfast? She peered inside the pantry and frowned. Nothing she could use to make anything from scratch. There was pancake mix but it just wasn’t the same as homemade. No flour or baking powder. Someone needed to go shopping.

She settled on the pancake mix. She found a plastic bottle of syrup along with a box of instant mashed potatoes in the pantry. The freezer was empty.

It wasn’t long before potato patties were cooking in a frying pan, the syrup heating in a small pot on a burner, and she was pouring pancake batter onto a griddle. Soon she had a rhythm going and she hummed to herself, trying not to think about yesterday and the horrors she was facing.

And the dream. The nightmare. She was having a hell of a time not thinking about it, the oppressive darkness, and the man pointing his gun at her.

The Devil.

“I doubt this kitchen has ever smelled this good,” came Landon’s voice from behind her.

Tori startled and looked over her shoulder at him. With his intense expression and the power that radiated from him, he appeared rough and rugged. He was so very sexy in a dark blue T-shirt and faded jeans. She could just about eat him up.

Memories of last night and how he’d held her after her nightmare made her feel warm inside.