Secrets and Lace (Lonely Lace #2) (6 page)

She crab-walked back as his smile grew. “I like this game.” He climbed further into the loft, moving onto all fours.

From outside, the leader’s voice boomed. “Jack, did you get her? Bring her down. You can have your fun later.”

The smile faded from Jack’s eyes, but his mouth continued to curve, the meanness only sharpened with his glee gone.

Not taking her eyes off him, Amelia crept back until her hip hit the wall and her elbow ran into the glass of the window. She’d only have one real chance. He would be seconds behind her. And what did she do when she got to the bottom? There were men with horses…

She reached behind her and flipped the latch on the window. The double-pane slipped up easily.

Jack watched her, moving forward like a beetle 

And then she spun, twisting on all fours which wasn’t a natural move and she had to have pulled something. First one leg and then the other led the way through the window. She dangled from the opening for a split second, enough to gather more courage, and then dropped about five feet to the slanted metal roof below.

“Unh.” She landed with her knee smacking her cheekbone and her elbows slamming the hot metal roof heated by the sun. Standing from the forced fetal position, Amelia ignored the pain. Her rubber soled boots gripped the surface enough she could run at an angle. Memories of her days in track with an old friend, Kelsey, flooded back to her.
Arms in tight to the sides, Ames, you can do this.

Only thirty more feet.

She pumped her arms, careful to keep her eyes forward. The man’s grunts gave his position away. She’d counted on him wearing well-worn slippery soled cowboy boots. He didn’t disappoint as he slid down the smooth metal, cursing as he grappled for a handhold.

Feet away, the ladder rungs teased her with escape.

Shouts from below followed her progress as she put more distance between Jack and herself. Slate said he was going to create a distraction, but hell, if she didn’t try to take some of the lime light herself.

Barely gripping the top rung when she reached it, Amelia jumped over the side of the roof. Already-injured elbows banged on the wooden siding. Her knee knocked the next rung before she could clamor for a foothold.

But Amelia dangling precariously from the roof ledge gave Jack precious time to catch up.

The toes of her boots gained a hold. She gripped the lower rung, moving down as Jack appeared above her. She wanted to squeal with fear. Where had he come from? So fast?
Hurry, Amelia. Come on!

She clenched her teeth on the scream the chase demanded from her. Adrenaline made her shake. Sweaty palms slipped on the thin metal bars.

Amazingly, she made it to the bottom where she would have to hang from the last rung before falling to the ground.

Before she could settle into the hang and get ready to drop, rough hands grabbed her ankles and clutched her calves. Her grip on the ladder tightened reflexively, even as Jack’s boots came closer to stepping on her fingers.

“Let go, you stupid bitch.” More than one set of rough hands pulled at her.

Jack called from above, his tone pitchy and tight. “She’s mine. I found her!”

Like dogs fighting over the only morsel, they yelled and cussed, tugging on her like meat for the taking.

Unable to outlast the strength of the men determined to pull her down, Amelia let go, dropping and tucking into a ball. Anything to protect herself and make their job of retrieving her that more difficult.

Her efforts were wasted. That many men easily lifted her, dragging her around the corner of the barn to drop her with intent to harm.

“Oomph.” Landing knocked the wind out of her. Amelia rolled from her side, covering her head with her arms. But the men didn’t focus on her.

The first thud caught her by surprise. The second and third thuds came right on top of each other, underscored by a grunt and a gasp.

She rolled to face the center of the newly-formed circle of men – and jerked to a half-upright position.

The leader stood over Slate, arms down by his side in fists as he drew back his leg and kicked Slate in the stomach, bringing another grunt from her roommate. Her friend. 

Amelia reached for him. “Stop. Don’t. Please.” She sobbed, unable to look away. How had that morning escalated so quickly? Where had the sane world gone? Replaced by the crazy and merciless…

Jack grabbed the nape of Amelia’s neck and part-dragged, part-pushed her closer to Slate’s fallen, unmoving form. His stillness scared her more than the grunts did.

Transferring from Jack to the leader’s hands, Amelia flinched at Jack’s growl and the pinch to her shoulder. Fingers digging into her biceps, the leader jerked her to stand above Slate. He leaned in close, hot breath foul on her cheek. “Is this man Robbie MacAllister?”

Staring down into Slate’s face, she waited for some kind of clue as to what she should say. He didn’t respond, instead, he ignored everyone around him, staring into the dirt as if bored with the situation. 

The man impatiently shook her like a mixed drink. “Answer me, or you’ll join him on the ground.”

Amelia closed her eyes. Heaven help her, she couldn’t let Slate continue taking the brunt of whatever Robbie had done and she didn’t deserve it either. She shook her head, whispering. “No. That’s not Robbie.”

He leaned in closer, the coarse scrape of chapped lips on the curve of her jaw, brushing just enough of her skin to create a wall of nausea in the back of her throat. “Don’t worry. I already knew it wasn’t. I just wanted to have some fun.” He backed up, holding her arm while drawing his leg back and then plunging it into Slate’s stomach. “It feels good to at least kick the shit out of someone who
looks
like the little prick.”

Amelia pulled against his grip as hard as she could. Desperation gave her additional strength, but not enough. “You’ve had your revenge. Let us go.”

“Oh, I plan to.” He raised the hand not holding her and grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “But I have something different in mind for you.”

She couldn’t speak. He’d shocked the fight right out of her. What could he possibly have in mind? She hadn’t done anything. Hopefully, Robbie didn’t come home. Didn’t find them like that. Didn’t expose Mac to whatever the gang had in mind.

A shot rang out across the field, rebounding off the outbuildings into a cacophony of recoil.

“What the hell?” A man in the gang pointed at the riders racing toward the barn. “We’ve got company!”

The leader dropped her, and Amelia fell to the ground beside Slate. His shallow gasps scared her. She reached for his hand, wincing as her grip slipped on blood. Through the boots scrambling for horses, Amelia could just make out Ronan and a handful of men racing toward the scene, guns waving in the air. Amelia whispered across the pavement. “It’s okay, Slate. Ronan’s here.”

From behind, controlling hands grasped her around the waist and dragged her to a horse. Her fingers slid easily from Slate’s hand. Amelia kicked and screamed, clawing at the ground for something to hold onto. Nothing nearby offered her a handle. Wrapping fingers around a man’s boot as he stumbled beside them didn’t do more than score her a heel to the face. The momentary pain was enough to subdue her and her captor turned her around.

She scraped at Jack’s dirty smile, his face, his neck, but he threw her across the pommel of his horse’s saddle. The hard leather dug into the soft meat of her stomach. She cried out. He held a hand across her back while he climbed onto the back of the horse. Jerking the reins, he turned them hard and they galloped around the barn.

Yells and shots, shouts and horse cries followed them, but faded as Jack pushed them further from the house and into the mountains.

Amelia fought the pain in her abdomen, trying to breathe. Each step bounced her up and down. She clenched her stomach muscles. Looking around was impossible. All of her focus went into breathing and not screaming with the ride.

If they were going up into the mountains bordering Lonely Rivers and Lacey Caverns, it didn’t matter how much she cried out – no one would ever hear. 

Chapter 10

Mac’s soft chatter soothed the pain in Robbie’s heart. He offered a yes, oh really, and that’s cool every time Mac paused, letting the cute tones wash over him. The small back nestled against his chest. Every few minutes, Mac would turn his head and peek up at Robbie who would look down and smile.

Discovering his son just might be the best thing that had happened to Robbie in a while.

Intermittent giggles pushed Mac back into Robbie’s ribs but the little jostles didn’t bug Robbie at all. The horse’s trotting jarred him more than that, causing discomfort but no real ache.

Heading home from their ride, Robbie must have been on the horse long enough since the ache changed to a prickly pain in his sides, coming in short bursts. He bent to the side, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t wait to be healed from all the beatings. On the driveway, he settled into the saddle, letting Revenge relax and slow into a walk.

“Uncle Slate says I’m a big eater, but I’m not. I can only eat one piece of pizza. He eats like thirty-hundred! What do you like to eat?” Mac reached up and touched the skin on Robbie’s wrist, innocent but trusting.

“Thirty-hundred, huh? That’s a lot. I like pizza, too. And hamburgers. If you’re still hungry, Mac, I bet your mom will make…” Shots fired from the direction of the house cut off the rest of the conversation. “Hold on, Mac.” He clicked his heel to Revenge’s flank and the beautiful horse responded like he understood the importance of the gunshots. Robbie wrapped his weaker arm around his son, holding him the best he could between his thighs and his forearm.

Revenge responded to Robbie’s knee commands, moving with little rein management. The horse stopped with a double tap to his shoulder from Robbie’s toe. 

Slate lay on the ground not moving while Ronan James sat astride a dark brown horse above him. Ronan’s gun pointed down, and from Robbie’s angle, he could have been aiming at Slate.

More men appeared from behind the barn on horseback.

“What the hell’s going on, Ronan?” Robbie swung off his horse, lowering Mac down and pushing him toward the barn. “Get inside, Mac, and don’t come out until I come get you.”

Ronan watched Mac’s every move. He smiled and waved as his nephew passed. Mac went into the barn and closed the door without arguing – something Robbie never would have done growing up. Robbie would gloat with pride over how good his son was later – not that he had any part in his upbringing to that point, but he’d still gloat. 

Six men pulled up alongside Ronan, careful not to step on the fallen MacAllister. “She got away, sir.”

“Who got away?” She? She who? Robbie yanked his rifle from the saddle scabbard and stepped toward Ronan. “Are you here for Amelia? What did you do that she had to run?” The bastard might be her brother but Robbie would be damned before he’d let Ronan hurt her. Robbie hadn’t done a good job keeping her safe as it was. That was going to change.

“Robbie, I heard you were back in town. Look, some bastards came out to Lacey Caverns, shooting up the place – which you’ll pay for repairs, by the way – looking for you and throwing some ugly words around.” Ronan tucked his chin, focusing his gaze squarely on Robbie’s face. “Like gambling, debt, and
murder
.”

Accepting the challenge, Robbie jerked his jaw upward with a short nod. “What’s that have to do with you? Or Amelia?” He moved to kneel beside Slate. He lowered his voice. “Slate, how you doin’? Are you okay? Hey, wake up.” Unconscious, Slate was dead weight and would be difficult to get into town to get checked out, especially with Robbie’s injured arm.

Ronan slid off his horse. “It has everything to do with me when they kidnap my sister, you asshole. Where were you? Why would you lead them here? You put everyone in danger because of your addictions. Hell, Robbie, now they know where you live.”

“Shut up, Ronan. It’s none of your business.” But Robbie didn’t believe that. When a neighbor had problems, it didn’t matter what was between them, the community pulled together to help out. With thousands of acres between them, the James and MacAllisters had no other immediate neighbors until Colby’s city limits.

“They took Amelia?” Robbie studied Slate. His pain hadn’t transferred to Robbie, or maybe it had but Robbie hadn’t been able to register more than a little because of his older injuries. He couldn’t process that the Caracus gang had taken Amelia. Who else could it have been? They’d been hounding him all across the state for weeks. What would they do to her? The gang was known for all kinds of acts, most members had warrants out for their arrest. One of the assholes, Jack, was wanted in three states for rape and attempted murder.

But how did the police find a group of lawless men with no permanent stomping ground? They rode horses and lived off the land and made their own rules as they went. Loaning money and gambling was just one of their many branches into capitalism.

Robbie just happened to be an overdrawn customer and they’d gone after his family for collateral.

Maybe Slate wasn’t feeling any pain. Robbie shoved two fingers against Slate’s carotid. A strong pulse thumped beneath his brother’s skin. “Hold on, Slate. We’ll deal with this.” He reached down and squeezed Slate’s hand reassuringly. He didn’t know if he was lying or not, but regardless, he had to hope things were just moments away from turning around. 

Waving his hands over his head, Ronan yelled. “They took her! Just ran off with her.” He stomped to Slate and dropped beside him. “Let me look.” He carefully lifted one eyelid first and then another as Slate remained unresponsive. “He might have a concussion. We need to get him to the clinic.” Ronan pushed himself up and motioned to a few of his men. “I’d take him to Lacey Caverns but Tim isn’t in town right now. Doctor O’Donald is our only option at the moment.”

Two men grabbed Slate’s feet and another picked him up by the shoulders of his jacket.

“Use the pickup.” Ronan turned to Robbie, his face tight. “I don’t care what you have planned, I want this resolved.”

One of Slate’s hands dripped blood onto the blacktop. Robbie yanked off his bandana and wrapped it tightly over the deep gash on Slate’s palm. A rivulet of red liquid trickled from his nose and a gash on his forehead spread back into his hairline, suggesting a headache in Slate’s immediate future.

“Yeah, let’s get Slate to the clinic. Would you guys be willing to help out with a search?” An invisible vise seemed to seize his chest and restrict his airflow.

The men transferred Slate to the bed of his truck.

Robbie didn’t want to drive Slate’s vehicle. He hadn’t driven in four years, refused to drive them on the job. In fact, Revenge was his only mode of transportation and that’s how he preferred it.

Ronan scoffed, shaking his head. “I can’t trust you MacAllisters to get anything done right. I’ll lead the search. What should we do with Mac?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

Mac. How could he forget about his son? Robbie hung his head, shamed but determined to find Amelia. “I’m not sure. What do you think we can do? I would say ask Slate to watch him, but…” He glanced at his brother. “Maybe Becky would take him until we can figure something out?”

Ronan nodded slowly. “Okay. But I don’t think we have very long.” Between Slate’s blood and unconscious state and Amelia’s disappearance with one of the worst gangs in Montana’s history, Robbie’s statement was more than optimistic.

Amelia. Robbie staved off the panic the thought of her in Caracus’s hands brought on. “Meet me back here. I need to get some things together. Drop off Mac and Slate. I’ll run in and give Doc a call to let her know you’re coming.” Slate and Amelia had both suffered because of him.

Inside the barn, Robbie grabbed the keys hanging on a nail hook beside the door. He glanced over at Mac sitting quietly on the newly stacked hay bales along the far side of the barn. Robbie cleared his throat, working to keep his rising panic from cracking his tone. “Hey, I’m going to have you go with Uncle Ronan to see Doctor O’Donald.”

Mac swung his legs, kicking the bale and sending bursts of dust into the air. At Robbie’s words he looked up. Eyes bright with unshed tears, Mac’s lower lip trembled. “Someone took my mom?”

Shit.
Robbie crossed the cement floor in three long strides. He squatted beside Mac, lowering to an even level with his son. “I’m sorry you heard that. Yes. Someone took her.”

“You’re going to save her, right?” Mac scrunched up his mouth and nose. He pointed at Robbie’s chest. “’Cause that’s what daddies do – save the mommies.”

In the eyes of his child – his child, the fact still hadn’t completely cemented in his head where his heart had accepted it without question – everything was so simple. How did Robbie tell Mac that his mom was in danger
because
of his dad?

Robbie took a deep breath. “Mac, I promise I’ll bring your mom back, okay? Now we gotta get you in the truck.”

Mac slid off the hay. Robbie stood and accepted the small hand he offered. Together they walked to the rig where Slate lay. Ronan waited beside the tailgate.

Holding out his hand, Robbie relaxed his grip. “Here.”

“Wait. I’m driving? This isn’t my truck.” Ronan looked at Robbie’s hand holding the keys.

Reaching down and grabbing Ronan’s fist, Robbie slapped the key ring into his palm. “I don’t drive. I’ll need my horse for the search anyway. Leave your horse here. I’ll get him fed and ready to go. Just come right back and we’ll go.” He didn’t want to tell Ronan that he might go and check out the trail before too much time passed. He’d always been vastly superior in the tracking skills arena than the James boy.

Ronan watched Robbie. After a drawn out moment, he shook his head and turned, taking long strides toward the rig. “I should be back within the hour. Be ready.”

“Got it.” Robbie didn’t fight the command in Ronan’s voice.

Even though their families had warred, Robbie grew up with R.J., been in the same classes, even rode the bus together. Ronan’s innate ability to get bossy under stress had made him an easy choice for captain of just about everything as well as president of more clubs than anyone thought possible.

Robbie didn’t care who called the shots as long as they were heading out to rescue Amelia as soon as possible. He glanced toward the base of the mountains. The gang didn’t need long to set up a campsite in the national forest and then do whatever they wanted to Amelia. The thought sent a shiver through Robbie.

To cover his involuntary action, Robbie rushed to exclaim. “It’s cold, Ronan. Let me grab a blanket for Slate.” Robbie helped Mac into the cab and shut the door. A pile of horse blankets sat neatly folded beside the tack wall. Robbie snagged the top one and rushed to tuck it around his twin resting in the bed of the truck.

In the space of time it took Ronan to start the engine and drive out of view, Robbie couldn’t fight the mounting certainty he might not find Amelia alive. Devlyn Caracus wasn’t known for taking his time or being anything but thorough. And if he had Jack with him… well, Robbie wasn’t feeling too good about the situation at the moment.

The truck disappeared around the curve. Robbie ignored the pain in his body from the last time he’d faced Devlyn Caracus and his gang. And his brother’s recent ass-whooping.

Inside the house, Robbie searched the den and the library. Slate would’ve hidden the gun-safe in a place so obvious people would never look there.

By the dining table, a large walnut buffet lorded over the room. Its gleaming antique brass handles and intricately carved side-boards suggested elegant functionality.

Robbie paused in his trek to the study to consider its potential. It didn’t really make sense to put guns in a buffet. But nothing about the piece made a person want to investigate. Serviceable and yet not noteworthy.

“Slate wouldn’t.” Unsure if he felt stupid more for talking to himself than searching the antique furniture, Robbie ran his hands over the piece. Swinging open the cabinet side doors like a wolf hid inside, Robbie laughed sarcastically. “Yep. This is the gun safe.”

The doors sandwiched long drawers. Pulling open the top drawer revealed serving utensils. Robbie slid it shut, growing bored with the search in that part of the house. 

The next set of handles put up a fight and Robbie had to put some muscle into opening it. When it slid forward, he grinned. The bottom four drawers were actually one large drawer with a front made to create a false impression of separate drawers, protecting a wooden cover like a box. Set in the middle, a digital lock blinked red numbers over a green silicone keypad.