Chapter 35 #2
The Gladiator jerked to the left, clipped a downed tree, and shot a gulley. James flew from the vehicle as the driver’s side tires bounced off a small boulder lodged in the field. The Gladiator shot upward, and her head jerked as it flipped in the air.
She heard herself scream. Felt the pain as the strap twisted and scraped her wrist. She was going to die.
Out here—in the open—gasping for breath she couldn’t breathe—she was going to die.
She closed her eyes to block out the rocks and trees and sky that tumbled in her vision as the open truck rolled over and over and over.
At some point, the airbags inflated. Held her close.
Close enough? The shaking in her brain couldn’t tell.
Finally, the Gladiator came to rest on its side. Rocked for a moment. Steadied. Dazed, she felt a warm trickle of blood at the side of her head.
* * *
Cain ran the motorcycle full out across the open land. So far, he’d navigated the gullies and boulders and underbrush, but the everyday ruts that dotted the acreage were pounding him and the tires on his cycle
Suddenly, something up ahead caught Cain’s eye. Looked like a big chunk of metal flying through the air. The Gladiator? Cain shot the speed upward.
The first thing he saw as he neared was the vehicle resting on its side. Then he saw Betsy as she stood up and waved her arm in a circle as if to get his attention. Pointed out in the field with one hand and held up one finger on the other. That’s when he saw the strap around her wrist.
Bullets whizzed through the air. Some missed. Some scraped across the metal of the motorcycle.
Since she couldn’t get out of the Gladiator, he needed to draw the line of fire away from her before a stray bullet hit the truck’s gas tank.
Betsy scrunched down as far as she could as he steered his cycle to a crop of trees.
From there it didn’t take long to track down James, hiding behind a small boulder, rising every so often to take a shot.
Gunfire erupted again. Grazed the side of his coveralls.
Time to stop the give-and-take of the situation.
Eating up the ground, Cain widened his circle around the man.
This was going nowhere. Sure, he could take him out with one shot, but he needed the guy alive.
Alive to answer questions. Alive to give up names.
Head on. That was the only way to end this. Head on.
Cain whipped the motorcycle around and lined up with the boulder.
His aim was to graze the rock. Force the man to panic and run.
Cain floored the cycle, shot forward. By weaving erratically, he threw the man’s aim off.
Fighting to keep the motorcycle upright and moving closer, he wouldn't pull his gun till it was his time to do some shooting.
James took off running toward the Gladiator.
Toward Betsy. Cain could not let him get there.
Could not let him take her hostage again right in front of his eyes.
With the front bumper on the cycle, Cain took aim on the man.
Closed the ground between them. He spun a one-eighty at the right moment to take out James with the rear tire.
Cain slid with the fall of the motorcycle, hoping like crazy he’d calculated the right speed to survive before he ended up the victim in the situation.
James struggled to his feet and dashed back toward the boulder. Halfway there, Cain physically ran him down. Pinned him to the ground. Bracing his forearm across the man’s chest, Cain aimed his gun into the air and fired to pull in his backup.
Leaning within an inch of the man’s face, Cain had reached his limit. “You. Have. Crossed my line, mister! One wrong move is all I need. Just one.” Cain chambered a round as he loosened his arm from across the man’s chest.
Evidently, the man on the ground figured he had one last opportunity and threw a punch toward Cain’s chin.
Cain purposely tossed his gun out of reach as he dodged the fist. He powered a one-two punch into the man’s ribs, then landed a return fast and hard uppercut to his chin.
The man’s head jerked back and hit the ground.
This time James stayed on the ground. “Go to hell, Connery. Go to hell.”
Cain bent over the man. “Already been there.”
Half of Cain wanted to end this with James, here and now.
The other half said Cain was a better man than that.
Behind him, Cain heard the police cruiser’s sirens.
Saw his own truck close behind with Officer Hastings at the wheel.
More sirens. More SUVs. More voices shouting directions. He knew those voices.
Crayton Police had landed. Betsy was safe. That was good enough for now. Officer Kennett rushed from his cruiser to cuff the man and stand him up.
“Read him his rights.” Sucking in air, Cain swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Twice if you need to.”
He glanced in the direction of the Gladiator and saw that JB had already cut Betsy loose and helped her climb out.
Running toward him, the closer she got, the better she looked, even if she did have a giant knot on her forehead and a trickle of blood.
She rubbed her wrist, but at least it didn’t appear to be broken, just a lot of scrapes down the side of her arm.
His biggest concern was with the already blackening bruise on her cheekbone.
Overall, she looked to be in one piece. He could live with that.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding on to her as if there were no tomorrow. “Are you okay?” Cain whispered, burying his face in her hair.
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his as she clutched him to her. “I thought you’d left forever.”
“No, honey. I went to find myself.” Taking her face in his palms, he rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. Kissed her gently. “I will never leave you. Never.”
The next kiss was deeper. Stronger. And said everything they needed to say to each other right now.
JB walked up and slapped him on the shoulder. “You did good, Cain. By the way, Betsy, we’ve already arrested your service manager, Derek Johnson, and an older associate of Mr. Partner.”
“Hey. How about a deal?” James shouted. “Get me an attorney. Maybe we can negotiate an arrangement on Mr. Partner's other dealings. Maybe you'd like to know about Illinois…Texas…Kansas…even who shot Mr. Dash over twenty years ago.”
“Get him in a cruiser.” JB pointed at Officers Kennett and Hastings. “Then book him in the Crayton jail. And call the FBI, we may need their help.”
Cain felt as if everything were falling into place. Just what he always hoped for with a case wrap-up.
“What about Mr. Partner and Papa C?” Betsy asked.
“Evidently there’d already been an escape plan in play.
Partner and Papa C boarded a helicopter already waiting for them in the field behind his barn.
It took off before we could get there. Law enforcement in Illinois is keeping track of it.
They’ll let us know where it lands.” JB cleared his throat.
“As far as Papa C goes, we found him on the ground about a half mile away. Someone on the chopper had pushed him out and kept on flying. He was in bad shape when the paramedics loaded him in the ambulance.”
Deputy Evans pulled out the notepad from his shirt pocket. “Got word a few minutes ago that Papa C had a heart attack and died enroute to the hospital. The last thing he said to the medic was ‘Tell Betsy to look under the concrete.’”
“Anybody got any idea what that means?” JB asked, glancing between Betsy and Cain.
Cain grinned as he pointed to Betsy. “The parking pad at your lake lot, or—”
“Somewhere on the Peyton Automotive property,” she said. “We’re going to need a metal detector. A whole lot of them.”
“You need ground-penetrating radar that’ll see what’s under that concrete.” Cain pulled out his phone. “If it shows what I’m thinking, you’re gonna need a jackhammers and backhoe.”
An hour later, James was locked up in Crayton Jail, the Gladiator towed to police impound, and there was news that a four-seater helicopter crashed in Illinois.
Everyone involved in the arrests had wrapped up their parts and driven away.
As quick as the chase and capture happened, it all closed out even faster.
Kennett and Hastings had even reloaded Cain’s motorcycle in the back of his truck before they left on their way back to Crayton.
Betsy had made a Facetime call to Sadie, Marcy and Summer. Meanwhile, Cain phoned the Memory Center in Alaska, just to hear his dad's voice. For a couple of minutes, his dad knew who he was talking to and actually called him his son—Cain.
Already back in Crayton, JB phoned to say he'd stationed a cruiser at Betsy's lake lot until arrangements could be put in place for excavation. Plus, one at Peyton's until all the security systems and cameras were working again.
After checking the motorcycle straps one last time, Cain leaned back against the side of his truck and pulled Betsy into his hold. “Do you know how much I love you?”
“A lot?”
“Even more than that, honey. Even more than that.”
“I love you, too.”
Cain figured now was a good time to take the step. “I’ve got some land I want you to look at with me.” He paused and sucked in a tentative breath. “But only if you want to… I mean …I don’t want to look at it without you by my side…but I’ll understand if—”
“Hush, Cain.” Betsy placed her fingers against his lips. “I’d love to see the land. Might just want to raise a family there. But what about your DEA job?”
Pulling the scrunchie from her hair, he glanced at his phone. “No problem. I officially resigned two hours and eighteen minutes ago.”
Thank you for reading