White Hot: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense (8 page)

T
o the west
, the sun slid closer to the horizon. The slanted light created wide bands of color through the haze over the hills to the east. Using the hills to try to judge the distance, she calculated they’d be walking hours before they reached the ranch. The Gatorade she’d drunk before they set out sloshed around her stomach with each step. She should have sipped the fluid not gulped it down. She knew better. Damn it. Bending to the side, she held her stomach and spewed its content into the dirt. Dal’s hand on her elbow held her in place.

Several moments later, satisfied there was nothing else to come up, too embarrassed to look back at him, she shuffled forward.

“Em,” he said, reaching for her shoulder.

Sighing, she stopped and turned to him.

“You’re suffering from heat stroke,” he said.

“And? We have to keep going.”

“But —”

“There’s no but, Dal. We need to keep moving forward.”

“Em—”

She shook her head, turned away and walked on. The dog scooted between them, running ahead, running back, twisting between their legs. “I think I see the corner of the fence.” Just in time. The sun was slipping below the horizon and she wanted to be away from the edge of the gorge. Five minutes later they reached the corner of the ranch property and zigged north, following the fence away from the gorge.

Emily watched the dog as his ears pricked up and he started to dance in circles. He dropped to his belly, crawled under the fence and raced across the field.

“Did you hear a whistle?” Dal asked.

She hadn’t. “You think there’s someone out there?”

“Must be,” he said. “The dog went somewhere.”

A horse and rider appeared on the horizon to the north, the dog bounding ahead in their direction. She reached out for Dal’s hand. “Should we be worried?”

“That it’s another ranch full of cartel thugs?” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s possible, I guess. Let’s wait and see.”

A stocky man in a well-worn cowboy hat slowed the horse to a walk as he approached them. “You folks lost?”

Dal nodded. “We had an accident in the gorge.”

“Hmph,” he said, sliding down out of the saddle. He approached the fence, his eyes taking the measure of them. “Anybody hurt?”

Emily shook her head under his gaze. “Bruised,” she said with a smile, “and a little battered.” His eyes rested on the blood on her thigh. “It’s not deep,” she said.

“What’re you folks doing out here?” He slid his eyes over to Dal’s, his mouth set in a thin line.

“We’re on our way to visit friends at a ranch farther on,” Dal replied, jutting his chin toward the hills.

“Fernando’s?” His eyes narrowed, his suspicions roused.

Stepping forward, Emily said, “My father’s friend is visiting a ranch a few miles from here.” That statement was mostly true, she thought. “We were heading that way, but with the truck blocking the main road, we were trying to get there overland.”

“Walking?” Disbelief clear in his expression, he dropped his gaze to the burnt skin on Emily’s arms. “Pretty hot day for walking.”

“We had a bike,” Dal said. “Your dog there startled us and we fell into the ravine.”

Tilting his head back, his eyes hardened. “What my dog does on its own property is my own concern.”

“It was nobody’s fault,” Emily rushed in, flashing a bright smile. “We’re going to continue on, if that’s all right.” She tugged at Dal’s arm and tried to step away.

“Hang on there, little Miss,” the man said. “What happened to your leg?”

She looked down at her thigh. Blackened blood, starting to flake like hardened mud in the desert, caked her skin. “I took a stick in the leg when I fell down the crevice into the gorge.”

“You walking okay on it?”

“Mostly,” she said, shifting her weight onto the leg. She winced as the pain shot up her thigh.

“And where you say you’re going again?”

Em glanced at Dal who lifted a shoulder. “To the Bar-U Ranch ,” she said. “Like I said, my—”

“I’m gonna put you folks on this horse,” the man interrupted. “You’ve still got a ways to go and this young lady isn’t going to make it on foot.” Grabbing the reins he guided the horse along the fence. “There’s a gate up ahead,” he said, turning his shoulder to them as he led the animal away.

Em sighed in relief and raised her brow at Dal in question. He nodded enthusiastically and they followed the rancher to the gate.

“What about you?” asked Dal, as he helped open the gate.

“I got a herd of horses to choose from over that rise.” He jutted his chin back the way he’d come.

“Now look,” he said, as Emily and then Dal mounted the horse. “Another hour it’ll be pitch dark. You head directly for that hill,” he extended his arm, “the one that looks like an old volcano, and you’re gonna ride right into the Bar-U.”

“Any more gorges to worry about?” Em asked.

Patting the rim of his hat lower, he shook his head. “Straight on, you’ll be fine. You bring that horse back whenever it’s convenient.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and turned away.

“Wait,” Dal said, “we don’t even know your name.”

He turned back. “Names aren’t important in these parts. You be sure to tell your ‘friends’ at Bar-U that one of their neighbors helped you out.” A shadow flicked through his eyes as he turned away and strode off.

“That man look nervous to you?” Dal said quietly.

“His whole attitude changed once I mentioned the name of the ranch,” she said, a shiver running up her spine. “Apparently he knows exactly where we’re going and what’s going on at that ranch.”

D
al peered
over the crest of the hill down to the buzz of activity below. He counted the ten men they’d seen earlier on the highway and at least four more. The large door of the old company store, now acting as warehouse for the cache of weapons, was wide open, light spilling into the yard. Jack paced frantically back and forth as two men at a time labored in with the large boxes of arms.

“They’re still loading the weapons they transported over earlier?” Emily asked, watching the scene unfold.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “What were they doing all this time?”

“Maybe they just finished unloading the semi.”

“Semi now, is it?” He slanted a look at her and winked.

“Ach,” she chuckled. “That’s a big ten-four there buddy, put yer hammer down.”

He bit his tongue, almost laughed out loud. Everyone was busy below but the night was still and sound would carry. They’d left the horse about half a mile back and walked in, staking themselves behind one of the low-lying hills near the driveway for the best vantage point.

There was a large collection of boxes on the ground and he tried to imagine what kind of volume would have been in the capsized trailer. He doubled, then quadrupled the pile in his mind. The pile could easily be ten times what was left in the drive and still not fill the trailer. By his estimate, they’d already loaded a hell of a lot of boxes into the building.

“But why?” he said. “Jill said something is supposed to go down tonight. I’d be expecting them to be emptying the warehouse, not still packing it all in there.” Not for the first time since they’d started this mission, he wished he had more information. They’d told them so little and yet, here they were, in the desert alone, with their asses hanging out. If things went wrong…

“Jack told my father that something will happen tonight.” She picked up the binoculars, peered through them. “I don’t see anybody down there that looks like a big boss. They all look like Jack’s worker bees to me.”

Dal took the binoculars and followed the form of a large man coming out of the warehouse. “Wait,” he whispered. “I think that’s Diego.”

“From the boat? I thought that bastard drowned.”

“Apparently not. Must be a helluva swimmer.” He was amazed to see him, too, given how high the seas had been. He shifted the binoculars. “I also see Miguel. Oh, and Rico.”

“Arseholes,” Emily hissed.

“
Arse
hole?” Dal asked.

She shrugged. “I was stationed with the Brits for a while.”

“It doesn’t look like much is going to happen for a while,” Dal said, sitting down. “Why don’t we eat something.”

“You mean like the tin of tuna we have?” She snuggled in beside him.

“Yeah.” Reaching into the gear bag, he felt for the rounded tins. “Except,” he said, victorious, “we have two tins.”

She smiled, then bit her lip. “Maybe we should keep one in reserve.”

Damn, his stomach growled at the mere mention of food, it had been hours since they’d eaten even a bite, but she was right. “Fine. We’ll share one, keep one and eat what’s left of this chocolate bar.” He groped through the bag again and dropped the misshapen package of mush into her hand. Fortunately, the tuna had a pull top. He peeled it back and grimaced. “What can we eat this with? The dog scarfed down all the tortillas.”

Emily pulled a Swiss army knife out of her front pocket, opened the blade and passed it to him.

“Ladies first.” He passed her the tin, his mouth watering as she scooped the tuna to her mouth. When she was halfway through the tin, she gave it to him. He made quick work of it, the protein hit perking him up, the lingering flavor of the tuna on his tongue tasting like more.

Before he could open his mouth to convince her they should eat the other tin of tuna, Emily shoved half a melted Snickers bar into his hand. He ate it in tiny bites, savoring each one as long as he could, the chocolate dissolving on his tongue. Grabbing the Gatorade, he took a measured drink to wash it all down. Their resources were slim. A bottle and a half of Gatorade left. One tin of tuna. And a lot of hope.

He shifted against the packed dirt beneath him. He felt as battered as Emily looked. A slight breeze stirred the night air promising a drop in temperature that would bring them some relief. The only thing to do now was wait.

Emily broke into his thoughts. “I better call Bob,” she said, pulling her phone out of her back pocket. Her face twisted as she stared at her cell. He leaned over for a better look. The casing was cracked, the screen shattered. “Shit,” she said, holding the power button. “It’s dead.”

“Hang on.” Dal reached for his phone, his finger jabbing against a rough edge. His heart dropped as he pulled it out of his pocket to find it in worse condition that Emily’s. He held the button hoping for something. “Nothing here either.”

Emily’s eyes grew wide in the dusk. “That means we’re on our own out here.”

“Not necessarily,” he said, hoping she was wrong. “Didn’t they pack a satellite phone into the gear bag?” Pulling it toward him, he rifled through. “I can’t find it by touch,” he said. “Can you shine that penlight here?”

Once he could see, he took each item out of the bag and piled it on the ground between them. There was a length of thin but sturdy rope, the binoculars, a digital camera, two small flashlights, two handguns along with ammunition, two rolls of duct tape, and a Ziploc bag with two bottles of pills but he couldn’t make out the labels. “They tell you what these are for?”

Emily shook her head. “Is the phone there?”

Scrabbling his fingers along the bottom of the bag, he felt a jagged piece of rigid plastic. He pulled it out and handed it to Emily. It was the back of the satellite phone. A few seconds later, he pulled out the front and the severed antenna. It was fucked, jarred to pieces, another casualty of the tumble into the crevice. “Damn it,” he said, his guts twisting. “We’re on our own out here.”

E
mily’s stomach clenched
, she took a deep breath hoping she wouldn’t throw up the tuna. She needed that food to stay in her stomach. She cursed the dog, cursed the heat, and cursed Jack again. A million times again.

“Now what?” Dal asked, resting his hand on her knee.

“I’m not sure. Let me think.” She peeked up over the hill, there were only a few boxes left in the dirt to be loaded into the arms warehouse. Sliding back down, she peered into the darkness closing around them. There were fourteen men below plus Jack. Up here? Her and Dal. Between them they had two handguns and a bit of rope. What the hell could they do with that?

Dal was stuffing things back into the gear bag. She shined the light on the Ziploc bag and took it from him.

“These are for dehydration,” she said. “One is ibuprofen and the other bottle is electrolyte capsules to help with fluid loss in the heat.” Well, damn it, somebody might have thought to mention that earlier. “They didn’t brief you on the contents of this bag?”

He shook his head. “When I picked it up, they said you’d already been briefed.”

“Assholes,” she growled. She shook two Ibuprofen into her hand, passed them to Dal. “Take these,” she said. She watched him swallow, then washed two down herself with the Gatorade. Shaking pills out of the other bottle, she swallowed two then passed four to Dal.

“Four?”

“Depends on body weight,” she said, glancing at the label.

He shrugged and swallowed them down.

“Look, they’re almost done down there. I say for now, we wait them out while we make a plan.”

“A plan? You mean like you and me taking on fourteen cartel thugs?”

“Something like that.” She leaned back against his shoulder, seeking comfort while she took inventory. Jill’s words kept ringing in her ears. That she had more experience and would have to lead. She cursed the woman for planting that seed of doubt in her mind. In the field, she needed to be able to count on her partner. What’s more, she’d gotten herself in worlds of trouble in the past by trying to go it alone. Maybe Jill knew that and was testing her somehow.

Dal shifted beside her and checked on the scene below. “They’re done. They’re all heading into the house.”

She scrambled up and watched them file into the back of the house.

One of the men, it looked like Miguel, came back out onto the stairs and yelled to Jack. “Food is ready. Come on.” Near the warehouse, Jack stepped out of the shadows, a phone held to his ear. After several minutes, he ground out his cigarette, jammed the phone in his pocket and strode across the yard.

Emily stood. “I’m going down there to get some photographs.”

“Photographs of what?”

“I want some shots of the inside of that warehouse. Look how many boxes they put in there today. Jack told my father the warehouse was practically full and then they put all these in there, too? Either something doesn’t add up or that building’s a hell of a lot bigger than it looks.” She grabbed the camera out of the gear bag.

“Besides, I want something on Jack. Something that will prove to my father that he’s dirty.” She pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s figure out a signal. You can let me know if someone comes out.”

“You’re kidding right? I’m not letting you go down there alone.”

She shrugged his hand off her forearm. “We can’t both go. If I get caught, who’s going to rescue me?” The laugh she attempted failed and hung between them in the air. “But really—”

“Then I’ll go,” he said. “Tell me what shots you want and I’ll go get them.”

“No.” She pursed her lips and held her ground. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Choose a signal.”

He put his hands to his mouth and imitated a hawk. She was impressed. “Think you’ll hear that when you’re inside?” he asked.

“Let’s hope I do,” she said, squeezing his upper arm. She scrambled down the slope as quietly as possible, careful not to dislodge loose dirt. Checking the yard in the direction of the house, she kept to the shadows. All the lights in the warehouse had been left on and shone a bright swath through the doors.

She was hyper aware. Every sound in the night seemed magnified to a factor of ten. She took the long way, scooting down behind a couple of vehicles to the back of the building, then inching her way up along the far side. When she reached the corner, she peered into the night. Everybody was still in the house.

She hadn’t worked out an ‘all clear’ signal with Dal. But through the night air, came the distinctive hoot of an owl. There. Again. From the direction of the hill where he was stationed. She was almost positive he was giving her the go ahead. Knowing he had her back propelled her forward. She took a deep breath, sprinted through the large square of light and into the building.