Double Play: Ambushed! / High-Caliber Cowboy. B.J. Daniels

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      Outside Las Vegas, Nevada

      AT FIRST ALL Vince saw was darkness as the trunk lid swung upward, then a blinding light. He recoiled, drawing back into the tight space, covering his head with an arm, gasping for what he feared would be his last breath.

      When something touched his shoulder, he cried out.

      “What’s wrong with you?” Angel demanded. “You get sunstroke or something in there?”

      Vince peered out from under his arm. He’d expected to see a knife in Angel’s hand. But all Angel held was a flashlight. “You blinded me.”

      Vince could see his brother frowning. “You need help out or what?”

      Vince shook his head. He’d just spent fifteen years in prison with murderers and worse, but he’d never been as frightened as when that trunk lid had swung open. It made him sick that he could even think his half brother would kill him. What kind of man was he?

      “My legs are asleep.”

      “Here, take my hand,” Angel said. Awkwardly, Vince crawled out of the trunk with Angel’s help.

      “So?” Angel said as Vince stood and tried to get feeling back into his limbs. Just as he’d suspected, Angel had driven out to an isolated part of the desert. He could see lights in the distance on the interstate and hear the distant hum of the traffic. His chest ached, heart still pounding too hard. He sucked in the hot desert night air and tried to calm himself.

      “I’m okay,” he said as if trying to reassure himself.

      “That’s all you have to say?” Angel sounded disappointed, angry. “I got us out of Vegas with dozens of cops chasing us. You think that was easy back there?”

      Vince shook his head. “You saved us. You’re the best. Thanks.”

      Angel nodded. Clearly he’d hoped for more but Vince wasn’t up to it right now.

      “Yeah, well, don’t forget it. You need me.”

      Vince put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I do need you,” he said, his voice breaking with emotion.

      “You sure you’re all right?” Angel asked again, eyeing him.

      “Fine. Great. I’m great.”

      “Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Angel said, slamming the trunk.

      Vince walked around to the passenger side and threw up in the sagebrush before climbing into the car.

      “Where to?” his brother asked, sliding behind the wheel.

      With still-trembling fingers, Vince took the laptop from the backseat where Angel had put it. He booted up the program and waited for the GPS tracking device to tell him exactly where they could find Molly. It was time.

      Antelope Flats, Montana

      MOLLY SAID SHE loved POT ROAST, Cash thought as he put the leftover roast and vegetables in the microwave.

      Was she just being polite? He didn’t think so. She’d almost seemed impressed. He smiled at the memory. If she was Jasmine, she was definitely an improved version.

      The Jasmine from seven years ago had been the pickiest eater he’d ever known. She ate like a bird, always worrying about her weight, but also very finicky about what she ate. She would have turned up her nose at pot roast. Her tastes ran more to expensive restaurant cuisine, takeout, anything that came in white boxes or fancy-shaped foil impressed her.

      The doorbell rang. Cash swore. He wasn’t up to seeing Jasmine’s brother Bernard. Not now. And he didn’t want to put Jasmine-Molly-whoever she was through another scene.

      He moved to the door and looked through the peephole, already deciding that if it was Bernard, he wouldn’t let him in.

      It wasn’t. It was Shelby, his mother. And she knew he was home and, therefore, wouldn’t give up until he opened the door.

      He swore under his breath and glanced up the stairs as she rang the bell again. Molly was still in her room. Now if she would just stay there until he could get rid of his mother. He opened the door before she could ring the bell again. “Shelby.”

      “I know I should have called first,” she said as she stepped past him and into the foyer. “I wanted to see how you were.”

      “I told you—”

      “I know what you told me,” she said, stopping in the center of the hallway to turn back to look at him. “I’m worried about you.” She sniffed the air and smiled. “At least you’re eating. But I hate the idea of you eating alone.”

      “I’ve been eating alone for years.” He hadn’t meant to say it so sharply. “I’m fine. Really.” He needed to get rid of her before Jasmine came down.

      She was eyeing him as if she didn’t believe he was fine. “I’m so glad you’re coming out for dinner tomorrow night.”

      He’d completely forgotten he’d agreed to that. What would he do with Jasmine? He couldn’t leave her. “Listen, Shelby, about that—”

      But his mother wasn’t listening. She was staring at Jasmine’s pale pink jacket. He’d hung it by the door when he’d brought in her suitcase.

      “You have company?” she asked, sounding surprised.

      At just that moment, Jasmine appeared at the top of the stairs. She stopped, almost stumbling as she saw that he wasn’t alone.

      “Jasmine?” Shelby whispered, grabbing hold of Cash’s arm to steady herself, a look of horror on her face.

      CASH STARED AT HIS MOTHER. Not only had Shelby recognized Jasmine, she also sounded stunned to see her and not the least bit pleased. What the hell?