Chapter 14
Dylan’s first thought on opening his eyes was that he was in Hell. He hurt from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet and he was cold. When he got his vision focused, he realized he was on the ground but pinned under something. He looked around in confusion for a second then remembered where he was. “Nikki? Nikki!”
“She’s okay. She’s okay.” Someone from beyond his vision was speaking but Dylan couldn’t see, from his position. The ATV was on top of him.
He heard the men talking before he realized what they were doing. A couple of pain-filled minutes later he was free and he scrambled to his knees, his head whirling and his shoulder aching.
“Stay still, you might be hurt.”
“Where is she? Where’s Nikki?”
“Mark’s taking her to the ranch,” Wayne French stood, his hands at his side, beside the ATV, now on its side.
Dylan looked at him and then tackled him to the ground. As he was trying to make contact with the man’s face, Dylan felt hands on him, pulling him away.
French backed away with an expletive. “Stop it. I’m not to blame for that.”
He gestured toward the ATV and Dylan ground his teeth and tried to shake the hands off him. “Let me go.”
When French nodded to the other men, they backed away from Dylan. Now that he got a look at them, he recognized faces he’d seen in town. Other landowners, a couple of men that he figured were townspeople or who worked for the ranchers. But there was only one other vehicle besides his and French’s present. He’d counted at least six in the dark earlier. “Take me to the ranch.”
French looked at the ATV and Dylan said tersely. “I’ll come back and get it when it’s daylight.”
French nodded slowly and headed toward his Jeep. When Dylan limped to the vehicle and climbed in Wayne looked at him. “You need a doctor?”
“No. Does Nikki?” He wasn’t in the mood for easing information from someone.
“I don’t think so,” French said, his tone worried. “She was walking okay.”
Dylan didn’t respond but kept his eyes on the desert as they made their way to the house. The lights were on and another ATV sat outside the front door.
Dylan climbed out of the Jeep slowly, hoping he’d been right. His right knee felt too big for his pants and his shoulder was numb. But if he didn’t have any broken bones, he’d make it, he thought and headed to the front door and Nikki.
Wayne trailed after him and entered the house. Nikki was sitting on the sofa, an ice pack held to her forehead when they entered. She stood and ran to Dylan, her hand going to his cheek before she saw Wayne.
“You okay, Nikki?” Wayne asked, some of his old bravado returning.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you for bringing Dylan home.” She didn’t look at him but put her arm around Dylan and leaned into him. He winced but put his arms around her in return, content to hold her and thank God she was okay.
“I’ll get you—”
“No, thank you. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave, Wayne. And take Mark with you,” Nikki didn’t move her head from Dylan’s chest, didn’t look up at Wayne. Over her shoulder, he spied Mark Williams standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, a hand towel in his hands. He took a step back, tossed the towel somewhere, and then walked toward the door. “Nikki, Dylan.”
When Wayne started to protest, Mark put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a shove. “We’re not wanted, Wayne. Let’s go.”
Wayne shot Dylan a dark look, gave Nikki a softer but still disapproving one, then turned and left. Without a glance behind, Mark closed the door behind them and soon Dylan heard the Jeep’s engine fire up.
He stood there, holding Nikki and trying to find the words to comfort her. She didn’t seem to need any, though, and seemed content to stay in his arms.
After several minutes he pulled away and looked down at her.” You okay?”
She nodded and looked up at him. “I got whacked on the face when I landed.” Sure enough, there was a reddened area just at the corner of her eye and Dylan wondered if she’d have a black eye in the morning. “Anything else?”
“I hurt all over but I don’t think anything’s broken, just bruised. You?”
“I banged up my knee I think, and my shoulder but nothing ice won’t fix.” He limped over to the couch and sat down, rubbing the swollen knee. When she got a look at it, Nikki grimaced. “Can you get those pants off over it?”
He arched a look at her and she blushed. “Well, we might have to cut the jeans at the knee is what I meant. It looks pretty swollen.”
He frowned at the thought of losing a pair of jeans but didn’t relish the thought of pulling the rough denim down around the knee. By the time he’d decided to opt for cutting the jeans, she had her kitchen scissors at the ready.
The process of cutting the pants took longer and was more painful than Dylan had counted on and by the time he had an ice pack on his knee and shoulder, he was ready to throw up. Nikki put a sofa cushion behind his head and left him alone for a few minutes. When he’d tamped down the nausea and realized where she was and what she was doing.
Nikki sat at the kitchen table, her own ice pack lay abandoned on its surface. In front of her lay his pistol and Dylan wondered at its presence. When they’d overturned, he’d surely have lost it. Had Nikki retrieved it, or had Wayne or Mark done so?
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking,” she said and looked up at him. It was then he realized her face was wet with tears. He pulled a chair from the table and set it beside her then sank down. He put his arm around her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, “Physically, I’m fine. I just wonder—”
“What?”
“If I’d had the pistol when we were on the ATV, when it rolled over on you, I’m not sure what I would have done.” She started sobbing and turned her face into his neck. Dylan held her, his own eyes smarting at the thought of losing her.
“I think I know,” he said and lifted her head then placed a slow, sweet kiss on her lips. “I think you would be right here, with me, just like you are now.”
“But I think I hated Wayne and Mark at that moment.”
“And when we were in the living room, after I came back?” he asked.
“I just wanted them gone. I wanted to be here with just you.”
“But did you hate them?” he pressed.
She looked at him through damp eyes and then leaned into him and kissed him. “No, I didn’t, I don’t hate them. But I feel very sorry for them.”
Dylan took her in his arms again and held her as she calmed. He didn’t tell her he was trying very hard not to hate the two men.
Hank calledthat morning to inform Dylan of the arrival of two BP men the next day. Dylan didn’t tell him anything about the border incident, he figured he’d give it a day or two. He didn’t need the lecture.
He spent the day babying his knee. His shoulder ached but wasn’t in as bad a shape. He wondered, if something happened today, would he be able to deal? He sincerely hoped so.
The message didn’t come by phone this time. It came by mail, or at least was left in the mailbox. Nikki drove out to the end of her road to check the mailbox without Dylan aware and by the time she rolled back in he was ready to give her an earful. Until he saw her face. Without a word, she handed him the note, making sure to hold it on the corner of the paper.
“I didn’t handle it anywhere else,” she said quietly then walked past him with a stack of letters and flyers.
He carried the paper to the sofa table and laid it down. With a pen, he unfolded it and read it, his ire rising with each word. “Next time I won’t miss.”
He went into the kitchen and picked up his sat phone. Within a couple of minutes, he was connected with Captain Wallace. “I need you out at the ranch.”
“I’m pretty busy right now,” began the Captain but Dylan interrupted him.
“I think you’ll want to hear how our night and early morning went, Captain.” He hung up and sat at the table. When Nikki joined him, he filled her in on his call. “I didn’t want to involve the local police in the morning’s events, but we need to now.”
She nodded. “Why not before?”
“Because we can’t be sure they aren’t involved.”
Captain Wallace eyedthe pair of them as he entered the house. Nikki’s eye had started darkening and she’d have a shiner for several days. Dylan walked with a visible limp and sported the jeans cropped at one knee. The police officer glanced at his pants and lifted a brow. “Fashion choice?”
“Necessity,” Dylan said and waved the Captain in. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I can get in and out of the chairs easier there.”
Nikki hid her surprise. He hadn’t appeared to have any more difficulty maneuvering in the living room furniture than in the kitchen. She held her peace and followed the two men into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee while Dylan displayed the note.
“This time?” The captain looked at Nikki and then Dylan. “Tell me about the first.”
They spent the next half hour detailing their trip and the subsequent incident. Wallace’s reactions ranged from incredulity at Nikki going out in the desert after leaving the office and the charges behind her to concern at their injuries. “You were d--- very lucky. You both could have been killed.”
“We know. And we’re well aware of the danger.” Dylan took a breath and then continued. “Mark Williams and Wayne French were in the group but I also recognized some of the other men. I’ve seen them in town when we’ve been there.”
The captain bit back a curse and looked at Nikki. “You agree?”
She nodded. “I saw Wayne and Mark. I didn’t get a close look at any of the other men. You might look for some scratches or scuffs on the trucks in town, as well as the ATVs. That’s what was used to turn us over.”
The policeman huffed a humorless laugh. “Every truck and car in this area has dings and dents, yours and mine included. But I’ll take a look around town. Were there any people you didn’t recognize?” he asked Dylan.
Dylan nodded. “I’m sure there were. There were at least six vehicles in the mix, and I figure there were a couple or more different groups involved. I just happened to see the men that passed through the headlights.”
The captain flipped his notebook closed and stood, then looked around. “You got any plastic bags, Nikki? I didn’t bring any evidence bags with me.”
She stood and retrieved a small plastic bag from her cabinet and handed it over. After he’d picked up the note by the corner and slid it into the bag, Captain Wallace sealed it and stuffed it into his pants pocket. He leveled a look at Dylan then. “Don’t go out again tonight. I’ll have somebody come out tomorrow and help you retrieve the ATV but don’t go looking for trouble.”
“Okay.”
Nikki knew he was agreeing but also knew the only reason Dylan wouldn’t be out in the desert tonight, with her at his side, was because of his knee.
They turned in early that night, both of them tired from the early morning adventures and sore from their tumble. When Dylan admitted to having some pain pills in his pocket from his previous injury, Nikki tried in vain to convince him to take them. “It makes me too drowsy, honey. I should have flushed it a month ago.”
He chose instead to stretch out on the sofa and drowse for the evening while she tried to read, her eyes drifting to his form numerous times instead.
Finally, at nine she roused him. “Go to bed. You’ll be more comfortable.”
He kissed her and headed down the hall and bed and she finished locking up and turning off the lights. As she trailed after him, she heard him humming something and smiled. She could get used to having him around.
Deep in the night, the sound woke her, bringing back memories of breaking glass. This time, however, the shots were hitting the stucco of the outside walls. Nikki rolled out of bed and lunged for the door, intent on finding Dylan. He met her in the hall and pushed her to the floor. “Crawl to the mudroom.”
Why the mudroom she wondered then knew. It was the only room without windows. She scrambled, ducking closer to the floor and wincing with each sound of a bullet striking the walls.
Dylan was close behind her, thumping along with his bad knee. He came to a stop beside her, pulling the door between the kitchen and mudroom closed. “Is there a weapon in the house?”
She nodded then winced again. “In the office.” On the other side of the kitchen. When Dylan began to crawl, she stopped him with a hand on his hip. “Let me. I’m faster.”
He turned and even in the dark, she could sense his amazement at her suggestion. “I’m not letting you—”
“My knee isn’t all busted up and I can get there and back before you make it there. Besides, where is your pistol?” When he held it up for her to see, the metal gleamed against the weak light the curing oven emitted. “You can watch me go.”
He grimaced and then nodded. “If you see anything—”
“I’ll be back here quick.” She gave his side a squeeze then, crouching as low as she could and still move, she crab crawled to the office. Grousing to herself at her insistence of closing doors after she left a room, she raised up enough to open the door, only to see the wood splinter an inch from her hand. Dylan cried out and she hit the floor, her heart thumping wildly.
Two more shots hit the door before Dylan made it to a vantage point where he could return the fire. Someone was hiding just outside the kitchen window near the table and firing into the room. Nikki, in her spot by the door, must be hidden behind the chairs enough to remain unseen. But the shots were coming closer and she tried to shrink into a ball, praying for herself and Dylan all the while.
He fired three shots before yelling at her. “Nikki? Nikki!”
“I’m okay. Just kinda stuck,” she replied, surprised at the calmness in her voice.
“I’m working on it, honey. Forget the office, try to get back over here.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to move a muscle, didn’t want to breathe loud. Then another shot hit the wall near her rear and she scuttled under the table.
Dylan was on his belly now, nearer her but still so far away. He had his pistol trained on the window, his eyes on what she hoped was a target, but his focus seemed to remain on her. “Just find a spot, honey. Never mind coming back. Just find a spot.”
She would have rolled her eyes if she could open them right now. Another shot hit wood above her and she covered her head and tucked it in against her chest. “Just worry about you, okay?” She tried to yell it but it came out a whisper.
Interminable minutes passed as Nikki waited, occasional shots were exchanged and Dylan slowly inched toward the window. He counted the shots, counted his own, and waited.
Finally, when there was a pause in the shots, he figured the shooter was reloading and he scrambled toward the window. As he bumped into the wall below it he grimaced against the pain in his knee and his awkwardness. The sound of him hitting the wall echoed in his ears; he was announcing his location to the shooter.
A muffled curse from outside alerted him and Dylan rose to his good knee and took aim. As he did, he saw another figure rise and take aim. At Nikki, who somehow had wriggled her way out from under the table and was trying to make her way to him. He took sight of the man’s head and squeezed the trigger with a jerk.