Chapter Fifteen
Joshua O’Brien eased his foot off the gas pedal. His Jeep shuddered before the power died. He was out of gas in a flash flood thirty miles from the family ranch in Bluff, Texas. He cursed his floating gas gauge as he pushed open the driver’s side door. Running two towns over to Harlan to pick up a box of donations to be auctioned off at his family’s annual Christmas Benefit wasn’t exactly his idea of an exciting Friday night. When the Nelson widow had opened the door in her red silk bathrobe and then offered him a nightcap, he’d been even less thrilled. Drawing the short straw to make that pickup—and deal with the seventy-year-old Mrs. Nelson—was just one in a long list of reasons that Joshua wasn’t cut out for the family business at the Longhorn Cattlemen Ranch and Rifleman’s Club and it made him miss his job in law enforcement that much more. Could he make his temporary leave permanent in order to stay on at the ranch? The decision could wait.
He shook off his bad luck, grabbed a gas container from the back and trudged through the ankle-deep water. According to his phone’s GPS, there should be a gas station a few blocks ahead. He figured he could walk there and back quicker than one of his brothers could drive into town from the ranch to get him so he set out on foot rather than make a call for help and admit his own stupidity.
It was the kind of pitch-black night outside that made it hard to see much past the end of his nose. His eyes would adjust in a few minutes. A bolt of lightning raced sideways across the sky, emphasizing layers of thick gray clouds as far as he could see. This storm wasn’t passing anytime soon. Joshua checked his surroundings. He’d passed the quarter acre cul-de-sac lots and was now walking past a field with overgrown grass. The bad weather must be keeping everyone indoors because the roads were empty. That meant no chance of hitching a ride.
A flash flood alert had already buzzed on his cell. If he hadn’t been distracted thinking about his parents’ murder investigation then he would’ve filled up the tank sooner, instead of sloshing through water that was rapidly gathering on the roads and sidewalks while wearing his good boots.
He still couldn’t think of a soul who’d want to harm his folks. His father, a self-made millionaire cattle rancher who’d owned a few thousand acres in Bluff, Texas, had built his business on handshakes and hard work. His mother, the matriarch of the family, was as kind as she was giving. Joshua and his five brothers had inherited the lion’s share of the family business, which included a successful rifleman’s club. A token share went to their aunt and uncle, same as it had been when his parents were alive. The brothers had voted to give a devoted worker a piece of the pie.
Joshua’s investigation experience told him to look at those who were closest to his parents, the ones who had the most to gain. Skills honed by Denver PD told him to look for motive, means and opportunity. The only people who stood to benefit from his parents’ murders were him and his brothers. None of his brothers had motive. Each was successful in his own right and the O’Briens had always been a loving, close-knit bunch. It couldn’t be one of them, which led Joshua to believe that someone had a beef with his parents. It was the only thing that made sense. And he drew a blank there, too. There were no secret affairs, no emotional dramas with friends. His parents were exactly as they appeared on the surface. Generous. Kind. Loving.
The sheriff was checking every angle. He was a close family friend and Joshua knew he was taking the news just as hard.
A warm glow, most likely a streetlight in the distance, meant Joshua was getting closer to the station. At least it wasn’t freezing cold outside like it had been recently. Christmas was three weeks away and weather this time of year was unpredictable.
Another bolt of lightning helped Joshua see that if he cut through the field he’d get to the station faster. He took a step onto the land and knee-deep grass. Heavy rain. Tall grass. Horrible luck. Looking down caused water to run off the rim of his Stetson, but he didn’t care. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, which meant he’d been on foot for a solid fifteen minutes already. The station was ahead and he stepped up his pace through the field. As he made the clearing he noticed a teen, maybe sixteen years old based on her petite build, walking ahead of him. Was someone else stranded in this crazy weather?
She seemed a little young to be out walking on a night like this. He started to call out to her when a flash of lightning blazed across the sky and he caught sight of a man watching her intently from behind the trash bins of the gas station. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Joshua counted three seconds in between the flash and the noise. That meant lightning was right on top of them.
Joshua’s pulse spiked as he spotted another man crouching at the edge of the field as the unsuspecting teen kept bebopping along. She must have no idea the amount of danger she was about to walk into. And Joshua didn’t either because he counted a third man closing in on her from the east. How many others were there?
Based on the way she made the occasional stop to shake her arms or perform some other dance move, Joshua figured that she must be wearing earbuds. That wasn’t her brightest move for a couple of reasons. For one, she didn’t need to be wearing electronics in a storm. For another, it meant she wouldn’t hear him even if he screamed at the top of his lungs. That would, however, alert the men bearing down on her like hunters closing in on a quarry.
Damn, his shotgun was locked inside his Jeep.
Dropping to crouching position, Joshua tried to make himself as small as possible—not exactly easy with his six-foot-four-inch frame—as he shifted all his attention to the teen. She kept her head down. She was wearing jeans that were plastered to her legs and a couple layers of tank tops slick from rain.
And she had no idea what was about to go down.
The big question was how Joshua was going to get her out of this mess. Staying low was his best chance of not being noticed. He palmed his cell, moving closer. Could he call his friend Tommy Johnson, the sheriff? Probably not without being seen. The light from his phone could give him away. If the men saw him, he had no idea what they were capable of doing to him and the girl. Then again, an ill-timed bolt of lightning would have the same effect.
His Jeep was too far away to run back and get his shotgun. The men would be long gone with the girl. He focused on the teen as he moved closer to the gas station. She had a tiny frame and hair for days that she was trying to wrangle into a ponytail. Even wet he could see how thick it was. With her back turned, Joshua couldn’t see the details of her face, but the rest of her looked straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Scanning the area, watching the men, Joshua knew that this was a coordinated kidnapping attempt. Outnumbered by at least three to one, Joshua calculated the odds of getting to her and they weren’t good.
Could he use the darkness to cloak them both? One wrong move and he’d be exposed. She wouldn’t have a chance on her own. He needed a plan and yet there was no time to make one. If the men got to her first it would be all over. No way could he handle three against one without a weapon of his own. He’d turned in his service weapon and had stopped carrying his backup since he spent most of his time with cattle on the ranch.
Joshua glanced down at the gas container in his hand, sloshing around what little leftover contents were at the bottom. There hadn’t been enough to get him to the gas station, but there might be enough to create a diversion. Distract the men for a few seconds and grab
