Colorado 03 Lady Luck (70 page)

“You tell your brothers, they find me, flip
on their sirens, I ain’t stoppin’,” Walker said to the stairs then
he jogged down them.

“Fuck,” Chace whispered, dug his own phone
out, flipped it open, called the Station and told them to inform
local Departments and the Highway Patrol that a black Dodge Viper
with silver racing stripes would likely be detected greatly
exceeding the speed limit and if they caught him on radar they
followed him but let him be.

Then he turned his eyes to Frank who was
staring down the stairs and called his name.

“Guy’s headin’ to Dallas. Tate Jackson is
heading to Dallas and Ty Walker is heading to Dallas and so am I,”
he told Frank and Frank jerked up his chin.

Chace Keaton walked swiftly out the backdoor
but not so swiftly he didn’t see the photo in the windowsill of
Walker and Lexie standing close, arms around each other, beautiful
landscape in the back, Lexie Walker smiling bright and happy at the
camera, clearly exactly where she wanted to be and where that was
was not standing in front of beautiful landscape.

The image burned in his brain, he made it
through the door, jogged to his SUV, swung in and headed out.

* * * * *

Tate

His cell beside him rang, he nabbed it,
looked at the display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“Keaton,” he greeted.

“News just in, Tate. Duane Martinez was
picked up yesterday in Oklahoma.”

Tate blinked at his windshield then asked,
“What?”

“Highway Patrol caught him speeding. He
didn’t stop. Fifteen minute high-speed chase, he crashed but was
unharmed, took off on foot, they got him. Since he freaked, he
luckily left the weapon that did Peña in his SUV and didn’t have a
chance to use it again. Took some time to process him, run his
prints, find out they’d get to prosecute him after Dallas did and
they informed Dallas, Dallas sent boys out to get him. This we just
got. He never made it to Colorado.”

“Then who has Lexie?” Tate asked.

Keaton was silent a moment then, his voice
deeper, pissed but controlled, “One, Rowdy Crabtree. Two, Arnie
Fuller. Or three, my father.”

Fucking hell.

“Break that down for me, Chace,” Tate
ordered, searching for an exit sign to turn the fuck around
a-fucking-gain.

“Rowdy is freaked and fucked. Arnie is
missing. And I know Newcomb slipped that video to Walker and Lexie
so it stands to reason that my father would find out that same
thing. He’ll want Walker to collect all copies and return them to
him and he’ll want to assure Walker and Lexie do not talk. And
he’ll do what he can to make that happen.”

“You talk to your Dad?” Tate asked.

“Called four times. He’s not answering.
Called my Mom, she says he’s at work. I don’t want to worry her so
I left it at that.”

“He usually take your calls?”

“Not even close. Then again, I got nothin’
to say to the man so I don’t usually call him.”

Tate thought that was likely the fucking
truth.

“Why Arnie? He did this, it would be a
serious fucked play.”

“Arnie hates Ty Walker.”

“Think that’s been established, Chace, but
the man’s not dumb. I’ll repeat, he did this, it would be a serious
fucked play. He’s already a national pariah and he’s an ex-cop. He
wants to do everything he can to avoid jail time, not buy himself
more.”

“Arnie hates Ty Walker, Tate, but he hates
Irving Walker more.”

Tate spotted the exit sign, one mile ahead,
he processed that but his mind was on the conversation.

“What?”

“
For Arnie, black doesn’t mix with
white,
ever.
And, for
Arnie, black
definitely
does
not mix with Reece Rayner, the woman he had his eye on, the woman
whose pants he wanted into before or after he put his ring on her
finger, the woman who said no to him more than once and the woman
who ended up knocked up by and married to a black guy.”

Tate stared at the road and whispered, “You
are fuckin’ shittin’ me.”

“Nope,” Keaton told him. “Ty Walker never
committed a crime in or around Carnal that I knew of but he had a
file in the office, in Arnie’s desk, thick and always gettin’
thicker. Arnie kept his eye on Ty while Arnie nursed his vengeance
and bided his time. He wanted to fuck father and son, put both in
their place and remind Reece of her mistake all at the same time.
What happened to Walker was not random. Not by a long shot.”

Tate knew what this meant. And Tate knew
this was not good.

“So, Ty bests him, publicly humiliates him
in a huge way, he breaks and now he’s unpredictable,” Tate
deduced.

“My guess, yes. I don’t put anything past my
father but he usually throws money at shit so this is not his
style. If Rowdy Crabtree has one working brain cell, he’s in Brazil
by now. Arnie Fuller is fucked, his brother is fucked, both are
goin’ down and both are goin’ somewhere they do not want to go and
very well might not make it back from. He has nothin’ to lose.”

Arnold Fuller had nothing to lose but Alexa
Berry Walker and her husband Tyrell had everything to lose.

Including the child Ty told him a couple of
days ago his wife was carrying.

Fuck.

Chace spoke in his ear. “Tate, I’m tellin’
you this and not Walker because he’s on his way to Dallas. My
opinion, what Fuller’s already done to him coupled with this, that
may be the best thing while we round Fuller up and get Lexie. Give
him time to cool down before he gets back. Wouldn’t matter if it
was Fuller or anyone did it, gives him time to cool down. But it is
not my pregnant wife who’s missin’ and you got experience with that
so I’m handin’ you the ball to make the call. Whatever you decide,
you take that man’s back, I’ll do what I can to take it too if he
hits Carnal and he’s close when we get her back to him and catch
the fucker who took her.”

“I’m callin’ him, Chace. No fuckin’ way I’m
sittin’ on this. Anyone did that to me with Laurie or Jonas, they’d
buy what I dished out to whoever hurt ‘em.”

“Like I said, you make the call. Now, I got
work to do.”

Tate pulled off at the exit and decelerated,
saying, “Me too.”

Then he heard said quietly, “I’ll find her,
Tate.”

“Do it while she’s breathin’ and that baby’s
still safe.”

“Right.”

Disconnect.

Tate flipped his phone closed, flipped it
open and did this while he maneuvered the overpass and re-entered
the highway going the other way.

Then he called Ty.

* * * * *

Lexie

“You like black cock?”

I stared at him.

I was freezing. So fucking cold. So fucking
cold.

His arm flashed out, he caught me with the
butt of Ty’s gun and I went flying to the side.

“
You like black
cock?
” he
screamed.

I pushed myself up on a hand, feeling the
blood seeping into my eye; I turned my head, looked through the red
and locked eyes with Arnold Fuller.

Then I whispered, “I love it.”

Then I watched him lift the gun and take
aim.

* * * * *

Irving

“
You like black
cock?
”

He heard it.

That motherfucker. That fucking
motherfucker.

That fucking motherfucker.

He burst through the door, Arnie Fuller
turned on him, gun in his hand already up; he didn’t hesitate to
fire.

Irving took the bullet but he was on the
move. All six foot six, two hundred and twenty pounds of him, he
tackled Fuller who went flying back, hit the wall at the side of
the hunting cabin and Irv heard the gun go flying.

He grappled with Fuller but his eyes went to
his bleeding daughter-in-law.

“Go,” he ordered.

She scrambled to her feet, eyes on him and
started, “Irv –”

“
Get the gun and
go!
” he
shouted.

She moved.

He fought Fuller until the blood leaking
from him meant he couldn’t fight anymore.

But before he slumped to the ground, took
five boot kicks from that fucking motherfucker and lost
consciousness, he knew Lexie was gone.

* * * * *

Lexie

The keys were not in Fuller’s truck so I had
no choice but to run.

And I ran.

I started down the lane but then I thought,
Irv was wounded, if Fuller got away, he might take his truck and to
take his truck, he’d need road and even on this pitted, frozen,
mud, one lane road, he’d get to me quickly. So I should get off the
road.

But Irv had to get there somehow which meant
there had to be a car or something that also needed road.

I just didn’t see it.

So I kept to the road until I heard the
truck behind me. Then I veered into the forest.

We were far from home. Far. Very far. Two
hours away. That far. I was in a nightie and socks. We were at even
higher elevation than Carnal. It was freezing. I had no idea where
we were or what was close.

So I just ran.

Then I heard him on foot coming after
me.

Oh God. Oh God.

I had to get away.

My feet slipped and slid on the ice and snow
and I was thankful my socks were thick wool. No traction but plenty
of cushioning.

I kept going.

Then I stopped abruptly as the forest
suddenly opened up. I slid across a sheet of ice on top of a huge,
red, Colorado boulder that led straight to a cliff.

Panting, I looked over the cliff.

Shit. Shit.
Fucking shit.

I had no idea how far down that was I just
knew it was far.

I looked left. I looked right. I waited too
fucking long to make a decision.

He crashed out of the forest; I whirled and
lifted the gun.

He didn’t hesitate, he came right at me.

I had nowhere to back up but cliff. I had
nowhere to run.

And I had two lives to save.

In a nanosecond, the name Tuku flashed in my
mind.

So, actually, I knew I had three lives to
save.

So, to do that, I made the decision to take
one.

I pulled the trigger, eyes open but mind
blanked to the sprays of hideous red and I kept doing it until he
went down.

Then I stood on a cliff in the middle of
fucking nowhere staring at a dead man while breathing hard and
freezing my ass off.

Then I ran to him and checked his
pockets.

No fucking phone. No fucking keys.

Shit, shit,
fucking shit!

I kept my eyes to the ground to follow my
tracks in the snow back to the road, moving fast and keeping
moving, I needed my heart pumping and blood rushing, warming my
body, keeping my baby safe. When I got to the road, the door was
hanging open on his truck and I heard the dings.

The keys were in it.

I climbed in and forced my frozen, trembling
fingers and equally frozen trembling legs to do what I commanded
but they were really fucking frozen and trembling a fuck of a lot.
My three point turn took seven points. But I got it turned around,
raced up the road and stopped outside the tiny, one room cabin, got
out of the truck and ran inside.

Irv was not moving. I ran to him, got to my
knees and felt for a pulse. The red was seeping from his chest,
pooling around his body.

“Stick with me, Irv,” I whispered, checking
his pockets. “Please, honey, stick with me.”

Back pocket, phone. Just like his son.

I flipped it open and my thumb moved over
it.

Stupid. Stupid. Automatically, I called
Ty.

It rang once then, “Dad, I do not –”

My stomach clenched, my heart flipped and I
cut him off with, “Baby.”

Silence then a muttered, “Thank fuck, thank
fuck,” Pause then, “Are you safe?”

“Mah, mah… mostly.”

“Right,” he clipped then, “Mama, where are
you?”

“Two… two… about two hours out of Carnal.
North. Hunting cabin. Mountains. Ty, I don’t know. We’re high. I
tried to keep track of all the twists and turns but I couldn’t.
There were too many. It’s in the middle of nowhere. But your Dad
found it and he took on Fuller so I could get away. He’s been shot
and, honey, he’s losing a lot of blood. I have to get in Fuller’s
truck, I’m too cold and I don’t know if I can move your Dad or if I
should and I don’t –”

“Get in the truck, get somewhere, leave
Dad,” he ordered.

My hand was on Irv, curled around his neck
and I whispered, “I can’t leave him. He saved –”

“
Yes, babe, he did. Do not pay him back by
losin’ digits or our child by freezin’ your ass off. Get in
the
fucking
truck
and get to
fucking
safety.
Now.”

Okay, someone was freaked and freaked made
him bossy and impatient.

Understandable.

So I whispered, “Okay.”

“I’m lettin’ you go now. I’ll get him help
but I want you callin’ me frequently, even if you’re just drivin’.
Got me?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Good. Get in the truck, mama.”

“Ty?” I called.

“Baby, get in the truck.”

I ignored him and whispered, “I killed
Fuller.”

Silence then, gently, “Mama, please, fuck,
get in the truck.”

“Okay.” I was still whispering.

“Okay,” my husband whispered back.

Then he was gone.

I went to the truck that I’d left idling,
blasted the heat and searched it. I found a first aid kit and two
blankets. Rifling through it, I found it was a regular first aid
kit, nothing to help with a bleeding gunshot wound.

I grabbed the blankets, ran back to Irv and
did my best to wrap him as tight as I could with blanket one then
covered him with blanket two, tucking him tight all around. He
moaned a couple of times while I did this but didn’t regain
consciousness. Still, moans were good. Moans meant alive. I’d take
moans.