Читать книгу Cowboy's Texas Rescue - Beth Cornelison - Страница 11

Brady poked another log into the fireplace, then rose to his feet, groaning when his injured leg throbbed in protest. Rubbing his thigh where the bullet had left a deep gash, he clenched his back teeth and cursed under his breath. He hoped the damn cowboy was freezing his ass off, gasping for his last breath.

As he rubbed his hands together, warming himself in front of the fire, he studied the pictures on the mantel. Most were of the brunette he’d carjacked. Baby pictures. Prom pictures. Rodeo pictures. High school graduation. He had to admit, the girl had been a looker. Pretty face, hot body.

Brady grunted. So what if she’d packed on a few pounds recently? He’d do her. In fact, maybe he’d been wrong not to bring her with him. Six years in the pen was a long time to go without any tail. He shrugged and turned to hobble into the kitchen.

The power had gone out five minutes after he’d broken in the brunette’s house. At first he’d panicked, thinking it meant the cops had found him and were executing some kind of takedown. But one look out the window at the howling wind and whipping snow had eased his mind. Blackouts during winter storms were pretty common. Ice or tree limbs on the power lines. Wind-fallen power poles.

Brady opened the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer and leftover lasagna. He had no way to heat the lasagna without electricity, but even cold, the leftovers were a hell of a lot better-tasting than the glop he’d eaten in prison. Forking up huge bites straight from the container, Brady headed into the bathroom next. Surely the brunette chick had some kind of pain reliever in her medicine cabinet.

Setting the lasagna aside, he opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink and had to hold the bottles close to the fading sunlight from the window to read each label. The first two were for nausea, prescribed to someone named Marian Harris. The brunette was Chelsea, so maybe Marian was her mother? Whatever. He tossed the bottle aside and went on to the next.

Bingo. Marian also had oxycodone for pain. Thank you, Marian. He popped two and washed them down, cupping water from the faucet into his hand. Any extra pills he didn’t use, he could sell for gas money or food. Maybe trade for sex. With a gloating smile, Brady pocketed the bottle, reclaimed the dish of lasagna, and headed back to the living room. Things were starting to look up for him.

Turning from the dead old man, Jake shuddered and heaved a dejected sigh. Brady had definitely been here.

Tensing, Jake swept another keen glance around the stable, listening. He moved from stall to stall, searching, looking for clues that Brady might still be in the area. But other than Sadie and three restless horses, no one was around.

Because there were no footprints or tire tracks in the thin layer of snow surrounding the stable, Jake concluded that Brady had been there and left before the snow started in earnest. Had probably arrived at Mr. Noble’s within minutes of locking Jake and Chelsea in the trunk. Which gave him at least an hour head start to have been here and left again.

Gritting his teeth, Jake returned to the first stall. Kneeling by the body, he felt for a pulse, even though the man’s wound left little doubt he was dead. The old man’s murder shook loose old memories and left a gnawing anger inside him. He’d seen His share of dead bodies on the job, but being back in Texas, heading to his father’s hospital bed meant his mom was not far from his mind. Another senseless tragedy. His chest tightened with the grief he’d carried for the past twelve years.

A sense of urgency pounded through Jake. A killer was on the loose, and Jake’s lack of transportation, communication or weapon put him at a distinct disadvantage. He refused to cede the upper hand to a scum like Brady, but he couldn’t abandon Chelsea until he knew she was out of danger.

Sadie sniffed at her master’s hand, and Jake scratched the dog’s ear. “Sorry, girl. Let’s close this place up and get back to the house.”

After putting blankets on all of the horses and securing the stable doors, Jake led Sadie by the collar back to the house. Sadie gave a hard shake as she trotted inside, flinging droplets of melting snow. Jake headed back to the living room, dreading breaking the news to Chelsea that her neighbor was dead. Murdered. “Chelsea?”

The sofa was empty. The living room was dark and silent.

His gut tightened, and his hand reached instinctively for his gun. Which Brady had stolen. Silently, Jake mouthed a curse word and moved deeper into the house. Sadie followed him, giving him a curious look and a tentative tail wag.

Before he reached the hallway to the bedrooms, a thump from the opposite end of the house drew his attention. Sadie heard the noise, too, and hurried off toward the kitchen, tags jingling. Jake followed, and as he eased toward the kitchen, he noticed the gun cabinet in a recessed corner of the living room. The case doors stood open, and every rack had been emptied.

He clenched his back teeth. Wherever he was, Brady was now well armed.

Another scuffling noise from the kitchen drew his attention, and he continued in that direction, picking up a fishing trophy from a bookshelf to use as a weapon if needed. He peered around the corner into the dim kitchen. Saw no one. Sadie paused to sniff around her food bowl.

A squeak of hinges pulled his gaze to a utility closet at the other side of the room. Then Chelsea’s voice. “Oh, thank God.”

Sadie raised her head and perked her ears.

“Chelsea?” Jake crossed to the closet.

“In h-here.” She pushed the utility room door open and shuffled out, into a weak beam of light from the kitchen window. “Gas water heater.” She shot him a wide grin, and Jake’s breath backed up in his lungs. Her bedroom eyes sparkled, and her smile transformed her face. Sure he’d noticed her sexy mouth before, but he hadn’t really appreciated how attractive she was. Okay, her near-nudity had been distracting, and because of their dire situation, he’d tried to keep his mind on the business of saving her life. But gentleman or not, he’d have to have been dead not to notice her womanly curves and smooth skin.

A flash of heat swept through him, reminding him it had been months since he’d been with a woman. Down, boy. Wrong time and place.

Chelsea pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders as she stooped to give Sadie’s head a pat. “I c-can have a hot b-bath!”

Jake set the trophy on the kitchen counter and cleared his head. “No. I mean…later. A hot bath now could cause heart arrhythmia.” Her grin faltered, and he felt as if he’d kicked a puppy. “But hot water is good news. We can fix something warm to drink and wrap you up with a hot water bottle.”

His body tightened, and heat crawled through him. That wasn’t all he wanted to wrap around her… .

She shuffled to a kitchen chair, the dog at her heels. “The b-bad news is the kitchen phone is c-cordless, too. We have n-no way to call the c-cops, unless we find a cell phone.”

Jake grimaced. He considered for a moment keeping his recent discoveries to himself but decided Chelsea needed the truth. “Actually, there’s worse news.”

She met his gaze, her mesmerizing green eyes wide with alarm. “Did you find Brady? Is he here?”

“No, not that I can tell. But…he was.” Jake dragged a hand over his mouth and sighed. “The gun case is open and empty.”

Chelsea puckered her brow. “That doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“I found Mr. Noble in the stable.”

She sat taller, stiffening her back as if bracing for a blow. “And?”

“He’s dead. Gunshot wound to the head.”

Chelsea gasped and slumped back in the chair, shaking. “Oh, my God…”

“I’m sorry. We’re you close to him?”

“I—No, not really. I mean, he’s been our neighbor for as long as I can remember, but…it’s just—” Her gaze drifted down to Sadie, and she stroked the dog’s head. “Sad. Scary.”

“My best guess is Brady came upon the house shortly after he left us locked up, searched the house and took whatever he thought he might need. He ran into Mr. Noble and shot him rather than leave a witness. Don’t know yet if he shot him in the house and dragged him to the stable or killed him there. Hell, Noble could have confronted him with a weapon, for all I know. But however it went down, Brady armed himself from Noble’s gun cabinet and was gone before the hardest snow started.”