Deadly Chaos Page 22

  Not on safe land? Josie looked at her feet. Was the ground going to open up and swallow her whole? “What do you mean?”

  “This, both sides of the road here, are owned by WR Reynolds.”

  “So?” Josie knew she sounded sarcastic but really, who cared who owned the land? She was parked on, and walking on, a public street.

  “So he employs some folks I wouldn’t want to come across at night on a long stretch of deserted highway.”

  Oh. Okay, she thought. That made sense. It’d be like walking alone at night in Brownsville or Hunt’s Point. Some New York neighborhoods missed the Mayor’s safety memo. Criminals stuck together and when they spotted a victim, well, you wanted to be anywhere but there. Josie looked at the sun leaning hard on the horizon. Thick thunderheads were building over the mountain tops. It would be dark soon, dark and stormy. When she got a hold of her aunt she was going to wring her neck. She’d clearly given Josie the wrong directions.

  “Where you headed?”

  “King’s ranch. Got a job.”

  “Jasper King?”

  “I guess so,” she shrugged. Didn’t know the owner’s name. He owed her aunt a favor and since she needed to hide from Hyde for a while, getting out of Dodge, aka New York, had seemed like a good idea.

  “His ranch is a good thirty miles from here. Look. I’m assuming that’s your Honda about four miles back. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Then I can take you back to your car. You lock the doors and I’ll call road service to come pick you up. Or, you can come with me. I’m heading over to the Lonely J. It’s about five miles up the road. Noah owns the land between Reynolds and King. You can’t stay at the main house, he don’t like visitors but you can stay in the stables.”

  Josie shook her head. She’d rather sleep in her car than with a bunch of horses.

  “It’s heated. You’ll be safe and left alone. No one goes there since…Well no one goes in there. There’s even a fridge and a microwave. I’ve got some dinner in the truck for Noah. He won’t miss a bit if you’re hungry.”

  Upon the mention of food Josie’s stomach growled. Shit.

  “There’s a phone in the stalls, too. You can call road service. Tell ‘em where your car is and tell em you’re at Noah’s. They’ll bring your car to you when it’s ready.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  The lady nodded back to the young boy who opened the truck door. Josie slid into the truck beside him.

  “I’m Rosalie,” she said, climbing back into the driver’s seat. “This here is Juan.”

  “I’m Josie.”

  “Well, Josie. How’d you end up in the middle of Rio Blanco county on foot?”

  “Thought I’d take a short cut to the ranch. I’m from New York. Didn’t realize that you could drive a hundred miles out here and not see a town or a gas station.”

  “Whatcha doin at Kings?”

  Hiding. “Whatever he needs me to do, I guess.”

  “It’s safe to assume you’ve never worked on a ranch before?”

  “Never been out of New York.”

  “No cell phone?”

  “No service.” She’d tried calling 911. It didn’t work. She’d even climbed up on top of her car to see if she could get a signal.

  “Ah. Well, I’m going to tell you something about Jasper and working on his ranch. You listen to me because it’ll save your life. You hear?”

  Josie nodded. She’d gotten into enough trouble; she didn’t need any more.

  “You steer clear of Jasper’s son Jay. He’s a mean spoiled son of a bitch. He runs the ranch. If Jasper owes your aunt a favor you go straight to the source. Avoid Jay like he’s the devil himself.

  Great. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She hadn’t been in Colorado but a few hours and already she was knee deep in the shit. Wasn’t there anywhere she could stay out of trouble for more than a day?

  Rosalie turned her truck onto a narrow driveway. At least she assumed it was a driveway because there was a mailbox beside it. They bumped and jostled along for a few miles and then Josie saw the ranch entrance. A tall metal gate blocked them from going any further. “This here’s Noah’s. Juan, get the gate.”

  Josie opened the truck door, hopped out so Juan could get out, and hopped back in. Juan ran to the gate, pushed a few buttons on a panel and the gate swung wide. They pulled through leaving Juan behind. “I’m just dropping you off and grabbing my other boy. Juan don’t need to get in the way.”

  They rounded a bend. Josie gasped. “That’s the ranch?” Ahead loomed a large mountain style home. It looked like it must be at least 5000 square feet. She wondered how large the Macy’s in Herald Square was in New York. Then she realized that was a stupid comparison, the store was supposed to be the largest store in the world; surely the ranch wasn’t even close to the same size. Still, it was pretty darn huge.

  “Yep. Over there are the stalls.” She pointed to a long magnificent building that looked to be twice the size of the home. It was in the same rustic style. Rosalie pulled around to the side of the building and turned off the truck. She turned to Josie with a serious look on her face.

  “Look, there’s something I wanted to tell you but I wanted to wait until Juan was outta the truck.”

  “Okay?” Josie blinked. The tone of Rosalie’s voice made her nervous.

  “Noah, he is a good man but he doesn’t like visitors. His crew is good and they won’t pay you no mind. But you gotta stay in the stables. Don’t go into the main house.”

  Josie shrugged. She didn’t have any intention of poking her head out of the stables. She’d lie low, get her car, and be on her way. The fewer people she encountered, the better. “No problem.

  Rosalie studied Josie for a moment and then seeming to take her at her word she popped open the truck door. “Then let me show you around.”

  Josie got out and followed Rosalie to the stables. It was dark inside. Rosalie flipped on a switch and Josie found herself in a small room. It was cozy. A couch sat in one corner with a worn coffee table in front.

  “It’s the break room. There’s a hot pot and a microwave. There’s a bathroom, even a shower ifyou want. Few blankets in the closet but you shouldn’t get too cold. They keep the horses nice and comfortable. Television is here and a phone. Phone book is on the shelf. Call Smith’s Road Service. Tell ‘em Rosalie sent you and tell ‘em you’re at Brightstreet’s. They should have your car gassed up and ready to go in no time. Give me the keys and I’ll drop ‘em by on my way home. ”

  Josie dug her keys out of her pocket and handed them to Rosalie. In for a dime in for a dollar she thought. Trusting strangers didn’t come easy for her but she didn’t really have much choice.

  “You got cash to pay for the gas and the service?”

  Josie dug a wad out of her pocket. It was all she had. She counted it quickly. “I have enough.” It wouldn’t leave her much but she could wait for her first paycheck. It wasn’t like there was any place to blow her cash out here. She shoulda brought some books to read. It was going to be a long summer.

  “Okay, gotta get my kids and get dinner on the table. It was nice meeting you, Josie. You take good care of yourself. ”

  With that, Rosalie was gone.

  Josie turned her attention to her surroundings. She went to the phone first, figuring it was getting late and she should call the service shop before they closed. She made arrangements and found herself with nothing to do.

  Chapter Two

  The Finest Derrière

  Noah couldn’t sleep. He didn’t need to look at the clock to know that it was around midnight. Lately, he’d been waking up every night about this time. Sometimes he could fall back to sleep. Sometimes his mind kept him awake with pointless thoughts – what ifs and should ofs that he could never change. Tired of lying in an empty bed, Noah figured he’d check on the horses and get some fresh air. The cattle were on the far edge of the property, a few miles away. Maybe he’d ride out to check on them. He
tugged on a pair of jeans and pulled yesterday’s flannel shirt over his shoulders. He didn’t bother buttoning it. The horses wouldn’t care.

  The house felt eerily silent as he descended the staircase. He paused in the foyer and looked back up the stairwell, remembering a time when life and laughter filled his home. He could still see her skipping down the stairs, a wide welcoming smile on her face. He shook off the memory. She’d been gone for years now. The house was empty and that’s the way he wanted it.

  Pulling the door closed behind him, Noah inhaled the fresh night air. This was a good decision. Being outside always made him feel better, like a baptism that renewed his faith and his purpose. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started off toward the front door, his heavy boots thumping in the dry earth with each step. If they didn’t get some snow soon, they were going to be at risk for fire. Seemed strange for November but that’s how weather in Colorado seemed to go lately. Wet when you didn’t want it and dry as a bone the rest of the year.

  He tugged on the door of the barn and found it locked. Rosalie had been the last one out of the place. She must have locked it behind her. They didn’t usually bother locking it but he didn’t mind. He pulled his keys out of his pocket, found the right one and swung the door open. A horse greeted him with a whinny. Stepping inside, he smiled; it was Rosamond, her favorite. Strange that a horse would outlive its owner. “Hey, Rosamond,” he said, giving the chestnut horse a pat on the nose. She nuzzled his hand and he couldn’t help but feel the horse understood his loneliness. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

  The barn still looked and felt brand new, he marveled. She’d loved horses and he’d built the barn for her. Filled it with the best thoroughbreds they could buy and started raising horses along with their cattle. He hadn’t had the ability to get rid of the horses once she died but he hadn’t replaced the ones he sold either. They were down to less than a dozen in a barn that could hold almost a hundred horses. The outdoor riding areas had been left to decay and he’d let go of his full time staff. As he wandered through the stables the sound of his feet hitting the tile floor echoed off of the brick walls and rafters. It was a beautiful stable.

  Maybe Rosalie was right, they should open it up and at least board horses. It was a shame to let the place sit almost empty. She’d been gone five years; it was time to stop mourning her and let the place do something. With oil drilling on his property, he didn’t need the money, but he didn’t like waste and letting this magnificent stable sit here and collect dust was waste. Ready to get back to his office and start planning, Noah stopped. He heard humming coming from the staff room. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Who would be bold enough to hide on his property? The humming grew louder as he approached the staff room door. It was a woman and from the sound of it, she has no musical talent whatsoever. He pulled the door open and stopped in his tracks at the sight of the finest derrière he’d seen in decades. He sent a quick apology to his dead wife but even she would have to admit that the perky ass pointing his direction was a beaut.

  ~~* * * * * *~~

  About the Author

  As a child, Annette can remember spending countless hours hanging out her father's airplane hangar. There's not much for a little girl to do there so she relied on her imagination. She'd sit on the ground outside the hangar - the scent of motor oil and fresh grass mixing into a beloved concoction that's still an oddly comforting scent to her today - and daydream. She recalls making up crazy stories. Leaves came alive and shared their tales. Mice would go on epic adventures. And of course as Annette matured, so did her characters - eventually a penchant for storytelling evolved into a love for romance and romantic fiction.

  Today, Annette has more ideas than she knows what to do with. She's been a professional book reviewer for Romantic Times Book Reviews, a published author and ghostwriter of more than 20 books including an Amazon Bestseller. She’s also the author of 1001 Story Starters, Romance Writing Prompts to Spark Your Imagination, available on Amazon, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble and other online retailers.

  Annette's stories have won awards and been published in national magazines. When she’s not writing, you’ll find Annette hanging out in beautiful Colorado with her husband, two teenage daughters, and a pug named Charlie. You can visit Annette at:

  http://www.annettebrownlee.com/

  Follow her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/annettebrownlee

  Pinterest http://pinterest.com/annettebrownlee/

  Her Master Defender

  By Sandra S. Kerns

  http://sandrakerns.com/

  Chapter One

  Dos concentrated on the dim lights overhead as two men dragged him down the hall. It was his latest trick to ignore the pain. His raw heels burned with the intensity of a heating coil. The cracked bones in his body screamed in agony. He swallowed the need to voice his suffering. Cardone’s goons would prefer he screamed. Dos refused to give them that satisfaction.

  Dimness changed to retina searing brightness. They dragged him onto a table. The rough wood tore open festering welts on his back. Still he kept silent. The men strapped his wrists and ankles to the table. As if he could jump up and run away. Two broken patellas and one broken tibia pretty well shot any chance of that. The fractured bones, burns and cuts on his body did nothing to stop Cardone from messing with him. Over the past two weeks the drug lord had changed tactics. Instead of beatings and shock treatments, he now pumped drugs into Dos and watched the reaction. Dos wondered what the drug of choice was today.

  “Ah, Major, I hope you have not been waiting long,” Cardone said, walking into the room.

  Dos didn’t bother turning his head to watch the man’s movements; it didn’t matter. He could handle whatever the bastard doled out. And if he couldn’t, he’d die. Even knowing he’d go to Hell for letting his men die, Dos figured it couldn’t be worse than this.

  “The silent treatment today, is it? Don’t worry, I’ll remedy that soon,” Cardone said, staring down at him from beside the table. Inhaling deeply on his cigar he removed it and blew the smoke down into Dos’ face.

  Dos wanted to choke. He didn’t even blink.

  Cardone smiled and blew the ash from the end of the cigar. He grabbed Dos’ broken right hand turning it palm up. “I thought we could have some fun before I give you your fix today.”

  Dos clenched his jaw and stared at him, as the tip of the cigar pressed into his palm. He held off as long as he could. A scream burst from him, tearing at his parched throat as he tried to pull his hand away.

  “That’s better. You know it just lasts longer when you disappoint me with your silence, Major.”

  “Bastard.”

  “Yes, yes, we’ve already discussed my lineage.” Cardone smiled then yanked Dos’ hair, and leaned his head close. “Shall we discuss yours? I can see in your eyes, what little of them is visible, the answer is no. In fact, your conversational skills on any topic are quite limited. I suppose I will have to amuse myself some other way.

  “Let’s see.” Cardone, still holding onto Dos’ hair, trailed the end of the cigar down Dos’ chest. “How many good ribs do we have left?” he asked, before fisting his hand .

  Dos’ hands slapped down on the desk. His chest heaved as he sucked in air. Sweat trailed down the side of his face. His eyes scanned as much of the room as possible without moving his head. Sunlight poured through windows. There were chairs, tables, a coat rack, and desk. He was in an office. Colorado, he remembered, not a cell in South America anymore.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said, falling back against his chair. He rubbed a hand over the ribcage on his right side. If someone had told him a year ago that the memory of pain could hurt as much as the real thing, he would have laughed. Now he was a true believer.

  Living through the capture the first time had been bad enough. These flashbacks were driving him insane. They were so real. Knowing if he closed his eyes his brain would go right back to it, he stared at the paperweight holding down schematic
s on the desk in front of him. He concentrated on deep breaths to slow his respiration and heart rate. Next, he went through progressive muscle relaxation the physical therapist at the base had shown him. After long minutes, his jaw released enough so his teeth weren’t grinding together.

  He grabbed the extra long cane his brothers had given him to accommodate his height. Using it, and the desk, he levered himself out of the chair and crossed to the small bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face a few times. Leaning his full weight against the sink for a minute he let the water drip off. Reaching for a towel, he didn’t look in the mirror. There was no need. He knew he looked like crap. The shocked look on his mother’s face, the first time she’d seen him after he came home, told him all he needed to know.

  Now, a month later, he still hadn’t gained back much of the twenty some pounds he’d lost. He was only thirty-six, but gray now peppered his almost black hair. The pallor of his as a rule tanned skin wouldn’t change since short periods in the sun were all he could handle anymore. He looked like death warmed over, which he was, in essence. He might have been rescued from Cardone, but the virus the bastard had pumped into him still plagued his body.

  Snagging a bottle of water from the small refrigerator, he walked to the front window. He looked out at what passed for downtown in Braedon’s Edge. The sleepy Rocky Mountain town was slowly waking up to another sunny October morning. With little activity to watch, his mind tried to figure out what caused the flashback this time.

  They were coming more often. Dos had no more warning now than he’d had when they started. Add the unpredictable, debilitating, body spasm attacks brought on by Cardone’s virus, and Dos’ life wasn’t worth shit. After three weeks of peace, he’d almost convinced himself it was over. The virus had run its course, and he had both consciously and subconsciously dealt with what happened in South America. The last two days had shown him the error of that belief.