To Love & Protect Her (13 page)

One of the painters in the hallway of her apartment had spoken to her the night she had been abducted. The fog cleared from her memory, and she remembered—

“Griff!”

Her scream echoed off the walls of the cabin as she tried to close the door. But the door wouldn't close. It slammed open, and a man grabbed her with rough hands. She struggled as he held a foul-smelling cloth over her face, but she felt herself getting dizzy and weak.

She fought hard, clawing and scratching and writhing in his arms, but his grip was like iron. She kicked out at the man as she felt herself being pulled out of the cabin, but the world was whirling around her. The last thing she heard was Griff calling her name as she faded into unconsciousness.

 

Griff woke with a start, then came instantly awake as he realized that Willa had screamed. He jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. The door stood open, but Willa wasn't anywhere in sight.

He ran out the door at full speed, just in time to see two people dumping Willa's limp body into the back seat of a car. As he leaped off the porch and ran toward it, the car took off down the road with a squeal of tires. Realizing he wasn't going to catch it, he memorized the license plate number, then ran back into the cabin, tripping over a woman's brown wig.

After throwing on his clothes, he grabbed his gun and ran back outside, cursing himself. He had let them take Willa. Cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

He tried to block the fear from his mind, tried to concentrate only on what had to be done, but he couldn't block his feelings. Willa was in danger, unconscious and probably hurt, and a cold pool of despair froze in his gut.

It was his fault.

If it was the last thing he did, he'd catch the two people who had her, he vowed. He'd follow them to the ends of the earth, if necessary.

He sped over the ruts in the track that led away from the cabin. The car that had taken Willa wasn't far ahead of him, and he had the advantage of knowing the area. He might be able to catch up with it.

He drove faster than he should have, jamming on the brakes when he reached the end of the road that led to the cabin. Which way would they have turned?

After thinking for a moment, he turned toward El Paso. Kidnappers would want anonymity. And a large city was the best place to blend into the background. If the kidnappers turned in the other direction, they
would drive for miles without finding another town. They would be conspicuous, and that was the last thing they would want.

Once on the blacktop, Griff accelerated far beyond the speed limit, praying that a police officer would stop him for speeding so he could enlist the officer's help. But he didn't see any other vehicle on the road.

He had almost decided that the kidnappers must have gone the other way when he saw taillights, far ahead of him. Immediately he switched off his headlights, then pressed on the accelerator again.

He crept closer, managing to stay far enough behind the car that the occupants wouldn't be able to see him in the darkness. He was almost sure it was the same car that had disappeared with Willa inside, but he didn't dare get close enough to check the license plate.

As he drove through the night he struggled to banish his fear and focus only on the job he needed to do. He called upon every bit of his training, all his instincts, to think objectively, to make some sort of rational plan.

But his fear for Willa was a living thing, eating away at his mind. It lingered in the air around him, infecting all his thoughts, driving him to push the accelerator to the floor.

When he realized that he had gotten too close to the car in front of him, he braked abruptly. It was too dark for them to see him but the shock cleared some of the fog of rage and despair from his mind.

“Focus, Fortune,” he said savagely. “Do you want
to save her, or do you want to feel sorry for yourself?”

He hung back for a few miles, following the tail-lights but the car ahead of him didn't slow down or speed up. It continued on the road, holding a steady speed. When he'd gotten too close, he'd been able to see two people in the front seat of the car. He'd seen them throw Willa into the back seat, so he assumed she was unconscious and still lying there. He refused to consider any other possibilities.

“If they'd wanted to kill her, they would have done it at the cabin,” he reminded himself. They didn't have to take her away if all they wanted was to murder her.

So he had to assume she was still alive. And terrified, if she had woken up. Instinctively he pressed the accelerator again, but he caught himself in time. It wouldn't help Willa if her abductors realized he was following them.

As he crested another hill, he saw the lights of El Paso in the distance. If they intended to take her there, as he suspected, it would be easier to follow them. He could get close to them and blend into traffic.

Griff could follow anyone through a city without being spotted. It was a basic skill in the shadowy world in which he worked. He would blend in with all the other vehicles on the road, following them effortlessly until they finally stopped. Unless the kidnappers were professionals, they would never know he was behind them.

But how did the kidnappers find them? he won
dered uneasily. Maybe they were professionals. Ryan was the only one who knew where Griff had taken Willa, and he wouldn't tell a soul. He wouldn't even tell his family. They'd agreed on that the first time he'd talked to his uncle. There would be no chance of a leak.

He forced himself to block Willa from his mind as they got closer to El Paso. He would need all his attention to follow the car ahead of him without being seen. But without warning, the car turned abruptly off the road and headed into what looked like a pasture.

Griff approached the area cautiously, then saw that there was a narrow dirt road next to a barbed wire fence. He waited until the car was well ahead of him, then he started down the tracks.

He didn't see anything in the distance. It looked as if they were headed for the mountains, and fear gripped him again. Was Willa dead, after all? Were they looking for a place to dispose of her body?

He kept some distance behind the car. He caught occasional glimpses of the sedan as the road twisted and turned, then it disappeared completely.

A few minutes later he spotted a small building in the middle of the pasture. It appeared run-down and deserted, until suddenly a light flickered inside the building. He stopped the truck and watched as a small figure walked out the door, and a few moments later two people carried a third person inside.

It had to be Willa.

He eased the truck into gear again and drove as close to the building as he dared. Sound would carry
for a long way in the clear air. When he could go no farther, he parked the truck so that it blocked the road, then slipped out the door. Easing his gun out of its holster, he headed for the small building.

There was no place inside him for fear or anger. He closed down the part of his mind that was full of Willa, and allowed his instincts to guide him. This was his job, after all. And he was very good at it.

He didn't make a sound as he approached the building. He checked the door silently, finding that they hadn't bothered to lock it. He smiled grimly to himself. They were arrogant and careless. It would make his job easier.

As he crept up to the tiny window, he could hear voices inside. It sounded like a man and a woman, and he thought they were arguing. The woman's voice sounded fearful, and the man sounded triumphant.

We'll see how long that lasts,
he thought to himself viciously. He would save Willa, no matter what.

G
riff eased toward the window to peer inside and assess the situation before he made his move. The two people in the room had their backs to the window. Willa lay on the floor, her hands and feet tightly bound. But her chest rose and fell regularly. She was alive.

And he would make sure she stayed that way.

Her eyes were closed, but as he watched her, he realized that she practically vibrated with tension. She wasn't unconscious, he was certain. She must be faking unconsciousness in order to outwit her captors.

As he looked at her, lying on the hard dirt floor, a wave of admiration and warmth flooded him. He refused to call it anything else. Willa was strong and smart, and she was doing her best to survive

He would die for her, if necessary. Willa was more important to him than his own life.

Willa was safe for the moment, so he transferred his focus to her captors. He needed to find out all he could about the people who had taken her.

“…then we'll call Ryan.” The man's tone was vicious. “He'll change his tune once he hears we have his precious goddaughter.”

“What about the man who was with her, Clint?” the woman asked timidly. “Don't you think he might come after us?”

“How is he going to find us?” Scorn dripped from the man's voice. “That's why we took the time to find this place. No one would dream of looking here. Even the people who own this ranch have probably forgotten all about this building.”

So Clint Lockhart was the kidnapper, Griff thought. He remembered Ryan talking about the man, and the fact that he had escaped from prison. Ryan had been right to be concerned, he thought grimly. Clint had indeed had some mischief planned.

As he listened to Clint rage about how Ryan was going to pay for all the injuries he'd inflicted on Clint, Griff realized that this was the man who was responsible for the attack on his sister Matilda. Deadly cold anger grew inside him. Mattie had escaped injury, but now Lockhart had Willa.

“Are we going to wait here until we get the ransom from Ryan?” the woman asked timidly. Griff wondered who she was. She seemed frightened of Lockhart, which only proved that she was at least a little intelligent.

“I'm going to call Ryan in a few minutes and give him his instructions. I want to listen to the high and mighty Ryan Fortune crawl to me. Then we'll proceed with the next step.” Clint laughed, and Griff realized how mad he really was. Apparently the woman did, too, because she shrank away from him.

Clint's laughter stopped suddenly, and his eyes
flashed at the woman. “What's the matter, Betsy? Are you losing your nerve?”

“No, Clint. I just can't wait to start our new life together.” She moved farther away from him as she spoke.

Clint smiled, but Griff saw the calculation in his eyes. “And we'll do just that once we tie up a few loose ends.”

Lockhart intended to kill both Willa and his accomplice—Griff could see the anticipation in his eyes. He might not even wait until he had the ransom money he was clearly expecting to get from Ryan Fortune. Watching him, listening to him, Griff knew that revenge against the Fortunes was far more important to Clint than anything else.

Griff couldn't wait any longer. He had to surprise Lockhart now. Griff picked up a rock and threw it onto the roof of the shack, aiming for the rear of the building. Clint tensed and spun around, shouting at Betsy, “What was that?”

Clint's back was to the door, and there wouldn't be a better time to surprise the couple. Griff held his gun away from him, and, shoulder to the door, burst into the tiny shack.

He leaped for the older man and knocked him down, but madness gave Clint an unexpected strength, and Griff didn't get a chance to subdue him. Clint rolled over and reached around to his back. When Griff saw the glint of metal, he kicked the other man's hand and sent the gun flying. Clint leaped at him, clawing at his face, but Griff landed a blow to
his head that sent Clint reeling. Griff hit him again, and Clint crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

He looked over at the woman, who was cowering over Willa. “Move away from her,” he barked. “And keep your hands in the air, where I can see them.”

She jumped to obey him, and Griff finally turned to Willa. He needed to secure Lockhart, but not before he made sure Willa was all right. Her eyes were open and she was staring at him, shocked.

“Are you all right?” he asked, dropping to his knees beside her. He skimmed his hands over her face and let his fingers linger. “Did they hurt you at all?”

“I'm fine, I think,” she said, but her voice was shaky. “They knocked me out with some horrible-tasting liquid on a rag, but other than that, I'm okay.”

He eased her onto her side, then struggled to untie her hands. The ropes were cruelly tight, and her hands were red and beginning to swell. “Your hands are going to hurt when I get these ropes off,” he said.

“I can deal with a little pain.” She tried to smile. “In fact, I can deal with anything, now that you're here.”

He had just tossed aside the rope that bound her hands together when he saw Betsy bend down and pick up the gun he had kicked away from Clint. She pointed it toward him, and he threw himself on top of Willa.

The sound of the gunshot echoed in the small shack, and he waited to feel the burning pain. But there was no pain. Slowly he raised his head. Betsy
stood frozen, just feet away from him, a horrified look on her face.

“He was going to kill you,” she whispered.

He turned around and saw that Betsy had shot Clint Lockhart. Griff scrambled to check his pulse. The man was dead, but he still held a gun.

“He always carried an extra gun,” Betsy said, her voice sounding stunned. “He woke up and pulled it out. He was aiming it at you. I had to shoot him.”

“You did the right thing, Betsy.” Griff tried to make his voice gentle. “You saved both Willa and me. And probably yourself.”

At that the woman turned to him. There was confusion on her face. “I don't know what went wrong. I never wanted to hurt Clint. We were so happy together. I loved him.”

“Clint wanted to hurt Willa,” Griff said, untying Willa's feet. “Why did he want to do that?”

“He hated Ryan Fortune.” She twisted her hands together. “He blamed the Fortunes for taking his family's ranch—said that Ryan's dad stole it from the Lockharts. And he said that Ryan framed him and railroaded him to prison for murdering Sophia.”

“None of that is true,” Griff said. His arm circled Willa, but he watched Betsy. He had to make sure she wasn't a threat. “Put the gun down, Betsy. No one else is going to get hurt.”

She immediately set the gun on the floor, and he reached over and picked it up. “We need to call the police,” he said, covering Clint's body with his coat.

Betsy collapsed onto the floor, her hands covering
her face. Griff drew Willa closer as he watched the older woman crying and rocking on the floor.

“Are you sure you're all right?” he asked Willa softly.

Willa rubbed her ankles. “I'm a little sore, but I'll recover.” She glanced over at Clint's body. “This was all about revenge?”

“It sounds that way.” He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. “It's over now, sweetheart. You're safe.” And it wouldn't have happened at all if he'd been doing his job, he thought grimly. He was asleep in the bed they had shared when these two had taken Willa.

He had failed her.

Willa burrowed closer. She was in Griff's arms, which was the only place she wanted to be. “I knew you would find me.”

“I followed the car for a long time. They wouldn't have gotten away with you.”

“I know that.” She looked up at him, knowing that her love for him glowed in her eyes. “I knew you'd rescue me.”

His face hardened. His arms tightened around her, then he set her away from him. “I need to call the police. It's going to take some time to get this straightened out.”

Before she could answer, he picked up Clint's cell phone from the floor. He spoke quickly and tersely, then turned the phone off. “The police will be here in about ten minutes,” he said.

Then Griff redialed, and she realized he was calling
his uncle. He told Ryan what had happened, and that Clint was dead. He listened for a long time, then he said, “I'll bring her home right away.”

When he hung up the phone, his face was expressionless. “I'm going to take you back to the Double Crown Ranch. Ryan said he wants to make sure you're all right.”

“You told him I was fine.”

“I guess he wants to see for himself.”

Griff turned away, and she heard the faint wail of police sirens. In a few moments, the tiny shack would be filled with people, and she wouldn't have a chance to talk to Griff for a long time. “Griff,” she said, urgency in her voice, “promise me you'll come back to the ranch with me.”

“I already promised Ryan that I would bring you home.”

“I want you to promise that you'll stay there with me.”

He scowled. “I'm not going to dump you there and keep going, if that's what you think. I'll have to talk to Ryan.”

“That's not what I meant, and you know it. Promise me you won't leave until we have a chance to talk.”

“Sure I'll talk to you. But there's nothing to talk about.”

Her heart sank, but she reached out and touched his arm. “I think we have lots to talk about.”

“We both have jobs waiting for us, Willa. We both
knew this wasn't going to last forever. You're safe now, and you can get back to your life.”

What if I don't want to get back to my life?
Before she could ask him that question, the door burst open and police officers streamed in. One of them began asking questions, and Griff told them exactly what had happened. Another put a pair of handcuffs on Betsy.

Willa leaned against the wall of the shack and watched, suddenly weary. Her brain was still fuzzy from the drug she had been given, her hands and feet ached, and Griff was going to be difficult. She sank to the floor. She wasn't sure she could deal with anything right now. When one of the police officers appeared in front of her, she gave him her statement, then felt her eyes growing heavy.

 

She became aware of motion and a low, steady hum. Opening her eyes, she saw they were in Griff's truck, and they were driving down the highway. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice still sleepy.

“We're going back to the Double Crown.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “In the middle of the night? Why didn't we wait until tomorrow?”

“I figured you wanted all of this behind you as quickly as possible. And taking you back to your godfather's ranch was the best way of accomplishing that. Someone will go back to the cabin and fetch our things.”

“I'd hoped to have one more night in the cabin,” she said softly.

There was a tense silence. “That wouldn't have been a good idea,” he finally said.

“Why not?”

“You know why not, Willa.” His voice was harsh. “What good would that do? We both know how this is going to end.”

Her heart ached, but she refused to give in to the despair that threatened to engulf her. “I don't know how this is going to end, although I know how I'd like it to end.”

“We were living in a dream world,” he said roughly.

“It seemed very real to me.” She couldn't bear to look at him. She was afraid she would see the hard, remote stranger he had been when they first met.

“We both know what's real, Willa.”

She closed her eyes. She
knew
what they had was real. She just wasn't sure how to convince Griff. And she knew she couldn't do it now, in a car in the middle of the night. “Remember, you promised not to leave before we had a chance to talk.”

“We're talking now.”

“You're a man of your word, Griff. I'll talk to you at the ranch tomorrow.”

She was still so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open. Leaning back against the seat of the truck, she slipped into sleep. But it was a restless one, broken by disturbing dreams.

By the time Griff touched her shoulder and told her
they were back at the ranch, fatigue weighted her arms and legs, and she wasn't sure she could climb out of the truck.

Ryan and his wife Lily, as well as Griff's brothers Reed and Brody and his sister Matilda, were waiting to greet them. Griff looked at her face and swept her out of the car. “Willa needs to sleep,” he told them tersely. “Show me her room, and then we can talk.”

She clung to Griff as he carried her through the house. She kept her eyes closed and concentrated on the sensation of being in his arms again. Too quickly, he set her down on a bed and stepped away.

“Go to sleep,” he said, then his voice gentled. “There'll be plenty of time to talk when you wake up.”

“You'll still be here, won't you?” she said, opening her eyes. She could see the hesitation in his face. “Promise me that you will, or I won't go to sleep.”

Finally he said, “I'll still be here.”

“I'll talk to you later then.”

He turned and left, and Willa felt empty and alone. She yearned to feel his kiss again, ached for him to touch her. But he had walked out of the room without looking back.

She couldn't think about it right now. Her mind felt vague, and she suspected it was a side effect of the drug Clint and Betsy had used to knock her out. She needed to sleep. So she crawled beneath the sheets and closed her eyes.

Griff would be here when she woke up. He had promised that he would be.

And Griff always kept his promises.

 

Griff spent a long time talking to Ryan, glossing over what had happened between him and Willa at the cabin, but telling him all the details about Clint and Betsy. He accepted full responsibility for Willa's abduction, but Ryan brushed it off. “You got her back, and she wasn't hurt. That's all that matters.”