Rancher's Hostage Rescue. Beth Cornelison

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       Chapter 4

      Dave’s head throbbed, but when he tried to raise a hand to his aching skull, he found his hands bound behind his back. He groaned and blinked against the overhead light that glared in his eyes.

      He was on the floor. Why was he on the floor and—?

      Angling his head, he discovered his feet were bound as well. A surreal notion of danger flooded him, setting his senses on full alert even before he could muddle through fog that muddied his brain. He turned his head, squinting against the light as he tried to place himself. The decor was familiar, yet...different. Helen’s room? Why—?

      Reality crashed on him like a boulder, crushing him. Helen was dead. Bank robbery. Gunman at Helen’s house.

      Lilly! His breathing accelerated, keeping time with his pulse, as he thought of Lilly alone with the bank robber. If he’d hurt her, if he’d...touched her... He couldn’t even think the more accurate word without fury scorching his veins. He tried to sit up, and the pounding in his head sent him back flat on the floor. Slowly.

      So...head injury. The robber had smacked him on the temple. Hell...

      A movement to his left snagged his attention, and he angled his head to peer into the shadows under Helen’s bed. A fluffy black-and-brown cat with a white chest blinked at him. Meowed softly.

      But... Helen didn’t have a cat. So where...?

      The sound of voices drew his attention away from the cat and toward the bathroom.

      “I’m sorry.” Lilly’s voice. “I didn’t—”

      “Shut up!” A male voice. Presumably the robber. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk at all! Just finish up with this and keep your trap shut. Okay?”

      The man’s hostility set Dave on edge. The guy was armed, unpredictable and currently alone with Lilly. Dave rolled on his side and curled his body so that he could see his feet. He had a thick band of clear tape around his ankles. Then tape had also been looped around the leg of the bed. He was useless to defend Lilly if the dirt wad tried to hurt her.

      “Do you want something for the pain?” Lilly asked, her voice drifting in from the bathroom. “I have Tylenol here, and I think I have ibuprofen in my purse. Assuming you didn’t lose the bottle when you snatched my purse from me.”

      “Screw that. I have some of the good stuff. Serious painkillers.” There was a beat of silence, then the robber bit out a curse. “Left my pills in the car,” he grumbled.

      “I can get them for you,” Lilly offered.

      The cretin chortled. “Like hell you will. You’re going in there with your buddy. Are we done here?”

      “I—”

      “Never mind that.” He heard a clatter. “We’re done.”

      Dave tensed as he realized they were returning to the bedroom. He had no plan, and he scrambled mentally. Should he pretend to still be unconscious? Was there anything nearby he could use as a weapon? His hands might be bound behind him but if the opportunity arose...

      “Well, look who’s awake. Won’t be trying any more of your stupid tricks now, will you, Hero?” The robber shoved Lilly’s shoulder. “You. Get over there with him. On the floor.”

      Lilly gave the gunman a disappointed look. “Is that really necessary? I’m not—”

      “Yes,” the man replied, his expression sour. “It is necessary. Until I figure out what I’m gonna do with you two, how I’m gonna get out of town with this delay... Hell, if I’m going to leave town. Maybe hiding out here for a couple days is my best bet. Huh?”

      Lilly stood motionless, staring at him. Her shoulders were back, and her eyes glowed bright with challenge.

      Dave’s stomach swooped. What was she doing? Challenging a desperate man with a gun was asking for trouble. The thug had already proven his willingness to kill innocent bystanders. Dave tested the bindings on his wrists for the hundredth time. Nope. If the gunman attacked Lilly, he’d be useless to her. His incapacity clawed at his soul. He had to find a way to protect Lilly, to rescue her from this lunatic before she was hurt.

      “Go!” The man gave Lilly’s shoulder a nudge and took a roll of packing tape from the top of the dresser.

      Lilly trudged over to Dave and squatted beside him on the floor, taking a moment to check the bump on his head. “How do you feel? Any nausea? Double vision?”

      She touched his face, just below the spot on his head that ached from the robber’s assault. Even the slight pressure of her fingers sent lightning bolts streaking under his skull. He sucked in a breath, startled by how much his head hurt—and by how good her cool touch felt on his skin. Despite the pain from the knot on his brow, Lilly’s soft caress, the concern in her green eyes and the subtle floral scent that surrounded her were a heady combination.

      Dave shook his head slowly. “No. None of that. Just a sore skull.”

      The screech of tape ripping from the roll redirected his attention to the robber. “Yeah, boo-hoo. You shot me. This—” he pointed to the bandage on his side just below his armpit “—ain’t no picnic, either. So stop your griping.”

      Dave’s attention went to the revolver tucked in easy reach in the waist of the man’s threadbare jeans.

      “He wasn’t griping,” Lilly said, glancing over her shoulder. “I asked him about his symptoms.”

      Dave lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at Lilly, surprised to hear her defend him. She might hate him for his history with Helen, but they were united by their captivity at the hands of the bank robber. A frail and unfortunate connection, for sure, but not one he would dismiss. They needed to trust and depend on each other if they were going to survive this ordeal.

      “Hands behind your back,” the cretin barked, kneeling beside Lilly.

      Sighing, she complied. “What are you going to do with us?”

      Dave was wondering the same thing. If the robber meant to kill them, wouldn’t he have done that already? Why bother binding them and holding them hostage if he meant to be rid of them?

      “I don’t know.” The thug began wrapping the packing tape around her wrists, and she grimaced. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Mr. Hero there screwed things up when he shot me. I should be a hundred miles from here by now.”

      “Going where?”

      The robber jerked a startled gaze toward Dave when he spoke. “Away from this Podunk town. That’s all you need to know.”

      “In that rattletrap?” Dave said and scoffed. “You’d be lucky to make it fifty miles before something essential fell off or gave up the ghost.”

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