Stone Cold Cowboy(49)

Sadie worried about Rory, moving around the back of the barn and approaching the truck. He wouldn’t have much cover. If he got into the truck, Derek and Connor might spot him. Sweat broke out on her brow. She kept to the shadows, barely breathing, hoping they stalled these two losers long enough for the cops to arrive.

Connor leaned over and zipped the first duffel bag closed, grabbed the handles, stood up, and tossed it straight into Derek’s chest. “Take that to the truck. I’ll pack up the last of this, then we’re out of here.”

Fear tore through Sadie’s guts. She couldn’t let Derek catch Rory.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sadie stepped out of the shadows, the rifle butt tucked up against her shoulder, the barrel aimed right at Derek’s chest.

Derek dropped the bag and walked back into the dim light, smiling in a way that sent a shiver of fear dancing up her spine. “You came back for more.” The glint of excitement in his eyes shone brighter than the light gleaming on the knife he pulled from his back.

“Take one step and I’ll shoot you dead.”

“Yeah, right. You can barely hold that gun, let alone hit the side of this barn.”

Sadie kept her gaze locked on Derek but addressed her brother. “Who taught you how to shoot, Connor?”

“You did.”

“Who never misses?”

“You.” Connor tugged at his hair and swore under his breath. He scratched at his leg, then his arm, and wiped the sweat from his face. Dark circles marred the undersides of his eyes. His pale skin made him look sickly, but it was nothing more than the drugs he kept pumping into his system. Just looking at him made her sad.

“Seriously, Derek, don’t fuck with her. You got away with it once, doesn’t look like she’ll let you do it again.”

“That’s right.” Sadie sent Derek the same menacing smile he’d given her.

Derek took a step toward her, testing her. She fired, missing his head by a good six inches and blasting a chunk of wood out of the workroom wall next to him. Splinters sprayed his hair and shoulder.

“I said don’t fucking move.”

“Don’t you fucking move.”

The deep voice startled her, but the hand that gripped her hair and the gun barrel pressed to the underside of her chin stunned her. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stopped, and her mind went blank except for one thought. I’m dead.

The man holding the gun moved from the side to stand in front of her, just off to the side of the rifle she still held pointed at Derek.

“You just had to come out of the shadows,” he whispered for only her to hear. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

She eyed him wondering what he meant. Wasn’t he with Derek and Connor? He looked like a thug. Shaggy dark hair brushed his shoulders and tattoos wove up his arms—an intricate tribal pattern overlaid with a twisting vine of wicked blades for leaves, an open rose in full bloom, and an ominous skull in the center of his forearm. But his softly spoken words and the resignation and regret she caught in his eyes said there was more to him than the tough exterior.

He nudged the rifle with his shoulder. “Toss that to your brother.” His deep voice demanded one thing, but the hand softly holding her hair at the back of her neck said something else altogether.

She slowly lowered the rifle from her shoulder, held it by the barrel and stock, and tossed it to Connor.

“Put that thing in your truck bed, then come back,” the man ordered her brother.

Connor rushed to do his bidding.

“You’re going to get it now,” Derek mocked. “Shoot that bitch, Trigger.”

Sadie swallowed hard at the menacing nickname.

Trigger cocked up one side of his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder. “Get that shit packed up.” His gaze locked on hers again. He pulled her close and barely spoke above a whisper. “Reach into my jacket. Find the inside pocket and pull out the slip of paper inside.”

She glanced over Trigger’s shoulder. With him standing in front of her, Derek and Connor couldn’t see what she was doing. The gun still touched her chin, but barely pressed against her skin. She reached inside his jacket, traced her fingers over the lining, and felt the outline of a folded piece of paper. She reached up and into the pocket to pull it free. She crushed it in her hand and let her arm fall to her side again. “Good girl. Contact DEA Special Agent Cooke. Give him that paper. You can’t save your brother from what’s coming, but you can save yourself.”

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Do what I say. I’ll get you out of this barn without that fuck hurting you again.”