Cowboy Alibi

Chapter Seventeen

The muzzle of the sleek black pistol twitched toward Jane. “Let go of the horse.”

Jane stared up at Clint Holbrook, fear and anger battling for control. Anger won, but she knew she’d have to play scared awhile longer. Let him think he’d won.

She released Bella’s reins. The mare looked at her as if waiting for direction.

Clint drew his mount up beside the mare and slapped the chestnut on the rump with his reins. Bella jerked and cantered a few steps away, then stopped to gaze back at them, clearly confused.

Clint ignored the mare and gestured for Jane to give him her hand. He reached his left hand toward her, the pistol still aimed right at her forehead, forcing her to give him her hand and allow him to haul her up on the horse in front of him.

The saddle horn made for a tight fit, forcing Jane to settle snugly between Clint’s thighs. She gritted her teeth against a wave of nausea, reminding herself that she could bear anything for the chance to make Clint pay for what he’d done to her and the people she loved.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. But she thought it might be safe for Clint to believe she still had amnesia. “Who am I to you that you’ve chased me across three states and killed an innocent woman and two deputies just to get your hands on me?”

Clint laughed. “You’re a fugitive, darling. Don’t you remember? Wanted for extortion in Maryland.”

A lie, of course. He’d held that charge over her head for years, threatening to let the feds know how she’d stolen personal items from several influential congressmen and used them to extort information from the politicians. Information Clint had used to position himself to call in favors that had not only enriched his already massive bank account but given him the means to make further inroads into the personal lives of other powerful lawmakers.

But she realized now that she could easily turn state’s evidence and make Clint’s life a living hell. She wasn’t alone anymore, without anyone to watch her back.

She had Joe.

Despite the gun pressed into her rib cage, Jane had never felt quite so free in her life. Joe would help her. No matter what lies she’d told him, no matter what doubts he might still harbor about her, as soon as he woke to discover her missing, he’d be on his horse to find her.

Clint reached around her. He had a small, sturdy hank of white rope in his left hand. He nudged her side with the gun. “Put your hands on the saddle horn.”

She did as he said, acutely aware of the gun muzzle in her side. Clint wrapped the rope around her hands and the saddle horn, fastening her in place. He sat back when he finished. “You took something from me, darling. When we were living in Colorado. Do you remember any of that?”

She hid a smile. Clint must have been terrified to discover the DVD of Tommy’s murder had gone missing from the safe where she’d seen him hide it. Cracking the safe had been a cinch; there were a few skills Harlan Dugan had taught her that she’d never told Clint about.

“I told you I can’t remember.”

“You obviously remembered your father.”

“Yes. But that’s all.”

“What about the cowboy? Do you remember him?”

“Not from before,” she lied.

“But you know you were his whore, right?”

She clenched her jaw. “Like I was yours?”

“Exactly,” he growled, his grip tightening around her waist. “But I paid better. You’d do well to remember that, sweetheart.”

He fell silent as they reached a steep drop in the path. Jane fought the urge to look behind them for any sign of Joe to the rescue. The last thing she wanted was for Clint to raise his guard. What she needed was for Clint to make a mistake.

And soon.

JOE CAME across the chestnut mare, her reins tangled in the low-hanging limb of a cottonwood tree, about a quarter mile west of the cabin, but there was no sign of Jane. Tamping down the swift rush of alarm, Joe dismounted and tied Jazz’s reins to another branch, taking a quick look around in case Jane had taken a fall. Up ahead, where the side path merged with the main bridle path, he found fresh horse tracks in the dirt-one set moving up the mountain, followed by a slightly fresher set moving away.

He left the mare tied to the cottonwood and mounted Jazz, pushing him into a somewhat reckless canter. The trail could be treacherous at any rate of speed, but the gelding was sure-footed, and Joe was a seasoned rider. He could tell from the tracks he was following that whoever he was following wasn’t moving fast, probably because the horse was now carrying two riders rather than one.

He rode hard for another quarter mile before he caught sight of movement in the trees ahead. Pulling up, he peered through the wall of pines and aspens. There. A flash of gold, a flicker of white-a palomino bearing two riders, he ascertained after a few more seconds. They were about seventy yards ahead, in a place where the bridle path took a wide, curving detour around a rocky outcropping.

Joe dismounted, tying Jazz’s reins around a nearby sapling, and continued on foot, staying close to the boulders, using them for cover. Because he could move straight ahead on foot, while the riders were forced to stick to the bridle trail’s elliptical detour, he ended up ahead of them on the trail, where he waited, gun in hand, for them to ride into view.

He crouched low, hidden behind a large boulder and screened by the scrubby remains of a fallen lodgepole pine sapling. Through its needles, he spotted the riders as they passed a large cottonwood and came into view.

Jane rode up front, while Clint Holbrook sat behind her. His left arm held the reins, while his right hand seemed to be pressing against Jane’s right side. Was he holding a gun to her side? Holbrook’s face was half-hidden by Jane’s head, but Joe had a full view of Jane’s grim expression. As they drew closer, he saw the ropes binding her to the saddle horn.

He couldn’t make a move, not if Clint was holding a gun to her side. But he couldn’t let them get much farther, either. He knew this mountain like the back of his hand, but there were only a few shortcuts to help him keep pace. He couldn’t keep up on foot for long.

He needed a distraction. And that would require Jane’s help. He just had to figure out how to let her know he was there without tipping Clint off to his presence.

THE PALOMINO was tiring, and so was Jane. Riding up the mountain the night before had been her first horse ride in over a year, which would have been enough to make her muscles sore even before she spent the next few hours making love to Joe. Between her aching legs, the uncomfortable cramped position she was in and the rope burns on her wrists, she’d reached the end of her tether.

Where the hell was Joe?

A prickly feeling tightened her stomach. He should be up by now. He should know she was missing. But they’d been riding for nearly an hour now and she’d seen no sign of Joe during the handful of times the trail wound around itself, giving her the chance to peek sideways toward where they’d just been.

A new, paralyzing thought seized her, almost toppling her from the saddle as her whole body went numb. What if Clint had gotten to Joe first, before he met up with her on the trail? She’d been riding around, lost, for a couple of hours before she ran into her captor. He could have been to the cabin, done away with Joe, and circled back to find her just off the trail.

No. Her mind shut down at the thought. She gripped the saddle horn more tightly, closed her eyes and forced down the nausea knocking at her throat. She concentrated on listening to the sounds around her, grounding herself in the tangible rather than dwelling any longer on worst-case scenarios. She heard the clatter of the palomino’s hooves on the rocky trail, the whisper of wind in the pines overhead. The shrill cry of an American dipper sounded from the underbrush a little behind them, reminding her of Joe’s birdcall lessons.

They’d just talked about that last night. She’d done the call for him to distract him from the unknowns that had remained after her first flood of memories…

The cry came again, and Jane suddenly remembered something else Joe had told her about the American dipper. It was a water bird. But there were no streams, lakes or ponds anywhere on Sawyer’s Rise. Her spine straightened. Her heart rate doubled with excitement.

It had to be Joe.

She tugged surreptitiously at her bindings. She’d been loosening the ropes as they rode, working slowly to keep Clint from figuring out what she was doing. With one little pull, the ropes slipped off the saddle horn. She wrapped her hands around the horn again, hoping Clint wouldn’t notice that the ropes were no longer around it.

Now she had to figure out when to make her move. Right now they were on rocky ground, moving downhill again. A fall here could be disastrous. But about a hundred yards ahead, the trail flattened out again, with grassy shoulders along either side of the path.

That’s where it would have to happen.

She bided her time, taking care not to tense up or do anything to draw Clint’s attention. She had to catch him by surprise, and she thought she knew exactly how to do it.

They reached the flat stretch, and Jane took a couple of slow, steadying breaths. Then she sprang, jerking her hands free as she gave the palomino a hard kick in the ribs, trying not to feel guilty about harming the animal.

The horse bucked and reared, giving Jane the needed distraction. She flung herself off the horse, hitting the grassy shoulder with a painful thud. The air whooshed from her lungs, and dark spots swam in her vision.

Please help me, Joe, she thought, gasping for breath.

FROM HIS hiding place behind a scrubby pine sapling, Joe watched Jane hit the ground hard, and for a second, his heart stopped. Then he saw Holbrook bring the palomino under control, swing out of the saddle and move toward Jane, his weapon leveled.

Aiming the borrowed Glock at the FBI agent’s midsection, Joe walked out into the open. “Drop it, Holbrook.”

Clint looked at Joe in surprise, but his aim never wavered from Jane. A feral smile split his face. “Well, if it isn’t the cowboy riding to the rescue. We’ve got ourselves-what is it you bronco busters call it? A Mexican stand-off?” He looked back at Jane, who had finally caught her breath and lay in a half-fetal position, sucking in air in deep draughts. “Can you shoot me before I shoot her?”

“Shoot him,” Jane growled breathlessly, gazing up at Joe from beneath the tangle of red hair that had tumbled over her forehead.

A soft rattle of rocks drew Joe’s gaze briefly to the side. Riley Patterson emerged from behind a stand of lodgepole pines, a rifle aimed at Clint Holbrook’s head. “The real question, Agent Holbrook, is which one of us gets to shoot you first.”

Holbrook turned to look at Riley, his aim drifting to the right of Jane. She scrambled up and raced toward Joe, blocking his aim at Holbrook, but it didn’t matter. Three more Canyon Creek police officers appeared on the bridle trail from their hiding places in the pines, weapons pointed at Holbrook.

Holbrook slowly laid his pistol on the ground and raised his hands. “Patterson, you’re making a big mistake here. They’re the fugitives. I’m trying to stop them.”

“Cuff him,” Riley told the other officers.

WHILE THE officers moved toward Clint to take him into custody, Jane flung herself at Joe, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. He tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and whirled her around, putting himself between her and the others.

“How’d Riley know to come here?” she murmured against his neck.

“There’s a cell tower in the valley just past the bluff. They added it last year. I gave Riley a call before I came out to look for you.” He grinned at her, relief shining in his eyes. “Ain’t technology grand?”

“I love you,” she said, reaching up to hold his face between her hands. “Do you hear me? No matter what else you hear about me in the next few hours, know that I love you.” She hugged him again, looking over his shoulder toward the knot of police officers surrounding Clint.

Suddenly, Clint looked right at her, his blue eyes cold and hard. A mean smile creased his face. And he turned toward the officers who were pulling his hands behind his back to apply the cuffs.

Clint’s right hand found the holster of one of the officers, withdrawing the gun tucked inside. He broke free of them, pushing one policeman into the other two, knocking them all to the ground. Rushing past Riley, who turned too late to stop him, Clint raised the stolen gun toward Joe’s back and met Jane’s gaze over Joe’s shoulder.

Jane reached behind Joe’s back and jerked the pistol out of his waistband. She had no time to think, just pulled it up and pressed the trigger. Once. Twice.

Clint’s gaze widened with surprise. The hand holding the gun fell to his side, the pistol thudding to the ground. He fell to his knees, toppled face forward into the grass, and went deathly still.

Joe let go of Jane and whirled around. Jane saw his body grow stiff with horror as he spotted Clint’s body on the ground and the stolen gun just beyond his outstretched arm.

Riley crossed to Clint, kicking the gun away from his still form. He crouched and felt for a pulse. Looking up at Joe, he shook his head.

Jane pressed her face to Joe’s back and started to cry.

“ARE YOU sure you’re up for this, Joe?” Riley asked as they entered Joe’s house near the edge of town a couple of hours later.

Joe looked at Jane, whose red-rimmed eyes gazed back at him with a mixture of love and anxiety. He caught her hand and squeezed. “Let’s see it.”

Jane released his hand and crossed the room, pausing a moment to look at the makeshift bulletin board where the remains of his investigation still hung from tacks and tape across the entire east wall.

He walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the back of her head, knowing words weren’t sufficient.

She squared her shoulders beneath his hands and moved past the clippings to the upright piano situated in the corner. She ran her hand over the dusty key guard, wiping her hand on her jeans, a half smile curving her lips, and he knew she was remembering the times she’d played the piano for him when they were together. Then she lowered the panel in front, revealing the hammers and strings, along with a small DVD case tucked between the last two strings on the right. She handed it to Joe.

“Now you’ll know exactly what happened to Tommy.”

“Why do you think he kept this?” he asked. “Did he tell you?”

Jane shook her head. “I think he liked to watch it.” Her voice came out low and strangled. “Relive it over and over.”

“Sick bastard,” Joe murmured.

“I’m so sorry, Joe.”

He touched her face, brushing away the tears under her right eye with his thumb. Then he took the disc to the DVD player across the room and pressed Play, steeling himself to see the answers he’d sought for over a year.

IT WAS almost nightfall before the FBI finished debriefing them and Riley told them they were free to go. The FBI agents assured them they believed their story about the murder of the deputies in Idaho, and that there would be no charges pending under the circumstances.

Joe had driven Jane back to his house and was now in the kitchen, brewing coffee and heating some chicken soup in the microwave, while she curled up on the sofa and reacquainted herself with a part of her past she’d once feared lost to her forever.

Joe came into the room bearing a tray with steaming cups of coffee and two bowls of soup. He laid the tray on the coffee table and sat next to her. “Warm yet?”

She nodded, taking the mug of coffee. She breathed in the dark aroma, steeling herself for the final part of the story that she hadn’t yet told Joe.

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” she said.

He took the cup from her hands and set it aside, threading his fingers through hers. He kissed her knuckles. “I love you. I fell in love with you about two minutes after I met you, and not one moment of the hell we’ve been through since then was able to change that. There’s nothing you can say now that will change anything.”

She smiled at his words, so sincere and heartfelt. She knew what it had cost him to let himself love her the first time-what it had cost him to take that chance again, in the face of her lies and secrets. But her last secret belonged to him, too, even if he didn’t know it.

“When I left here, I was pregnant,” she said, blurting it without preamble because there was no good way to prepare him for the truth.

He sat back, a half dozen different expressions fluttering over his face-surprise, confusion and, most heartbreaking of all, a flicker of hope. “We had a baby?”

She tightened her fingers around his. “I lost the baby, Joe. Right after I got away from Clint.”

“Oh, honey.” He stroked her cheek, brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. “I’m so sorry you went through that alone. Why didn’t you call me?”

She licked her lips, wondering if she should spare him the rest of the story. But she didn’t want any more lies, any more secrets, standing between them. “I came here. To find you. I needed to find you.”

She made herself tell him everything-how she’d escaped from Clint’s compound only to start having contractions immediately, how she’d lost the baby at a nearby hospital, then fled soon after being checked out when she heard Clint arrive, demanding to see her. She’d barely gotten away.

“Then I made my way here,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“And saw that wall,” he said, as if realizing for the first time what it must have been like for her to see the clippings on the wall, evidence of his loss of faith in her. He stared at her a moment, his eyes wet and his face twisted with regret. Then he lurched from the sofa and threw himself at the wall of clippings, ripping away the pictures and articles he’d tacked there.

She ran to his side, pulling his hands away from the wall. He resisted, his eyes dull with pain. “Stop it, Joe.”

He dropped his hands to his sides, lowering his head until his chin nearly rested on his chest. “I’m so sorry, Jane. I shouldn’t…I didn’t really think you’d…But I was angry and hurt…”

She took his hands in hers. “We both made mistakes. I should have trusted you with the whole truth in the first place, and maybe Tommy would still be alive.”

He met her gaze with pain-dark eyes. “Did he ever tell you why? Why he killed Tommy?”

She licked her lips. “He didn’t want any witnesses when he took me out of here. It was all part of the power trip he was on. Nobody took anything that belonged to him. And he thought I belonged to him.” She looked away.

“Scary to think he was in the FBI all those years and nobody suspected anything,” Joe said.

“He hid it well. I think maybe that’s what attracted him to that job in the first place,” she said softly. “All that power…” She looked up at Joe. “If only I’d been braver. I could have told someone what I knew and then maybe Tommy-”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “No, damn it. We’re not going to do this to ourselves. It wasn’t your fault. It was Clint’s. Don’t take any of the blame away from him.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Clint’s the one to blame.”

He touched her hand. “What happened after you came here and hid the DVD?”

“I don’t remember. There are two weeks missing between then and when I showed up in Trinity, Idaho. It’s possible I’ll never remember what happened during that time.”

“Oh, baby…”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s over now, isn’t it? We’re still here. I still love you. You still love me, right? We made it.”

He caught her face between his hands, the intensity of his gaze making her breath catch. “I do love you. I never stopped, no matter how hard I tried to make it go away.” He pressed his forehead to hers.

“I know,” she said softly.

He made a soft, sobbing sound and then crushed her to him, slanting his mouth over hers.

She kissed him back fiercely, giving him her strength and love in equal measures. He edged her back toward the sofa, drawing her down into his lap as he deepened the kiss. A few moments later, they broke apart, breathing hard, and gazed at each other in the ensuing silence.

“You’re marrying me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Damn straight,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin beneath her fingers, to hear the pounding of his heart beneath her ear, beating out a cadence of hope and reassurance.

They were alive.

They were together.

As night fell, they reclaimed a life almost lost to them, washing away their lingering pains and fears in a flood of passion, pleasure and love.

“What should I call you?” Joe asked much later, his breath hot on her throat. “Now that you remember who you really are.”

She turned in his arms, nuzzling his jaw. “I’m fond of Jane now.”

He chuckled, sliding his hand over the curve of her hip. “What a coincidence,” he murmured. “So am I.”