Fractured Steel Page 5

  “I need to get the bullet out, or there are going to be problems even a vet won’t be able to cure.” I looked at one of the bodyguards. He nodded, shut the door and I heard the distinctive sound of a padlock.

  I took the blindfold off and doctored the bullet wound as best I could. I pushed my pinky into the wound, touching the bullet, but luckily it was not close to the bone. With some tranqs, alcohol, needle, thread, and a pair of sterile needlenose pliers, I could probably get him taken care of, even if a bit crude. But we’d need antibiotics, and I had no clue if Rupert had the supplies.

  The trailer’s side door opened, and a black bag was tossed in, landing near Gage’s head. The door closed and locked. The partition kept Gage and Five separated, but at least the big duffel bag landed in a position I could doctor both patients and not make a lot of movements.

  I pushed through the partition into the area Gage lay and grabbed the bag. Squatting, I opened it and found medical supplies for Gage and Five. The truck, an F-350 diesel, rumbled, the smell of burning fuel familiar and strangely comforting. The trailer was a fifth wheel, the five foot wide hitch welded into the bed itself, was locked in place with only a slight bump. The sound of gears grinding to start the new journey my only warning. I braced myself, waiting for the steady sound of asphalt of the nearby highway.

  The driver steadily pushed the truck to highway speed, and remained steady enough for me to take care of Five. I turned to Gage with what was left. I was a raging bitch for taking care of the horse first, but the stallion was important for my survival. If I was truly honest with myself, the thought of Five in danger, feeling pain, caused my heart to hurt. His survival was a beacon, a light I could see and hold onto.

  I had one more container of water, and I used it to clean Gage’s wounds. He’d been tortured and moaned whenever moved. They’d taken two long strips off his back, and one strip across his chest, including one nipple. I found scorch marks and detected the smell of burned roast. They’d cauterized some of the bleeders.

  In the bag I found five different burn creams, penicillin, gauze and tape. I gave him a tiny dose of the horse tranquilizer, hoping it knocked him out.

  Bandaged, with both shirts under him to keep the dirt out, I sat in the corner, watching. My broken left arm throbbed, every recent injury screaming. I’d given everything to the two of them, and paid for it. Tears from the agony slipped down my cheeks, and I tried to ignore the pain.

  Five swayed with the motion of the trailer, head down, under the influence of the massive tranquilizer dose I gave him. Gage’s breathing was shallow, but remained steady.

  The heat in the trailer, combined with the smell of manure, blood, and cooked flesh made me nauseated for hours. I sipped some of the water, keeping an eye on the patients. We stopped once and I popped up, looking for a way to escape. But one glance at the two still under the influence of the drugs, and I couldn’t take the chance. Gripping the opening, I held the tears in check. If I got out, I could tell the police, have them find the trailer. Yet I knew what Rupert would do, and Gage’s son needed his daddy if I could arrange it.

  Damn, I’m arrogant. As if I’m some kind of superhero.

  I watched two bodyguards walk around the trailer, realizing they’d stationed themselves at the doors. But the truth was, they needn’t have bothered. I was trapped by my own psychology, the need to take care of the weak. Sighing, I sat and braced myself against the trailer wall.

  The routine continued for two days. Stopping for gas, every other time I was handed a new sealed gallon container of water, escorted to an outdoor restroom, given a sealed sandwich, and new drugs for Gage and Five. The truck would stop at various parking spots off the highway, guards would stand near the doors, and we’d remain for two hours.

  We headed north, as the days remained warm, but nights grew crisp and cold. The humidity was gone, and if the smell of the area meant anything, we’d left Kansas, drove through Colorado, and were currently somewhere in Wyoming. The small windows provided a view of the landscape, and I recognized the lights of Cheyenne, the mountains keeping guard over Laramie, and the deserts of Sweetwater County. I saw the high desert mountains of Rock Springs when we turned north on Wyoming Highway 191.

  My patients fought raging fevers, and I tried to keep them comfortable. Dad had given me plenty of lessons in field medicine, but I wasn’t a damn doctor.

  We stopped outside of Yellowstone, and I shivered in the cold night air. I requested a blanket, and they provided one for Five and Gage. I stood, in scrub bottoms, crocs and a bra, shivering so violently I could barely keep my balance. I broke the safety rules and moved into Five’s area, snuggling into his broad, muscled chest for warmth.

  By morning, we were out of Yellowstone and quickly eating highway in Montana. We turned to the northeast, and I watched Bozeman come and go.

  Where in the hell are we going? The route they’d taken was out of the way, adding a lot of unnecessary miles and time.

  Another day landed us outside of a tiny town in the southeast section of Montana. Rosebud, with an interesting history, but only three hundred people left, and a half hour drive from the more populated Miles City. I’d been in the area a few times for their annual summer rodeo and auction.

  The truck turned onto a dirt road, if it could be called that. I braced myself, noting Five’s twitching muscles and shuffling feet to keep balanced. Gage moaned as he bounced against the hard floors.

  We pulled into a well-kept stable yard, quite different from the road. I estimated a good one hundred acres from the main road, and hidden. I looked around the yard, finding a new stable and an old Victorian two story house, complete with gingerbread accents, newly painted. The lawns were manicured, and everything looked to be in great shape.

  Doors to various vehicles opened and closed, and Rupert’s face popped up, scaring me. I closed my eyes and ground my teeth, taking several deep breaths before looking at him.

  “This is my home. You’ll behave here, and won’t have such an easy time escaping.” He grinned.

  I glanced behind him and found Johnny walking next to a tall male form. They clapped each other’s shoulder and strode into the big Victorian. I knew that walk, the swagger, which managed to overcome a new limp. I had intimate knowledge of the long, lean lines. Jake, my Jake. Holy. Shit.

  I met Rupert’s eyes, hoping none of the broiling emotions showed. His expression said otherwise.

  “Ah, I see you didn’t put all the pieces in place. So much for you to learn, I’m going to have some real fun helping you learn the truth.” He patted the steel sides of the trailer and walked off.

  The back of the trailer opened, and Five’s head jerked up. I undid the lead rope and shoved his head under my arm. He relaxed. I continued to stroke his neck, murmuring nonsensical words. The two burly men leered at my lack of clothing. Over the trip, I’d given it all to Gage. I stood only in panties, bra and crocs.

  “Well, come get him,” I smiled. It wasn’t pretty or welcoming. I could see what one of the guys wanted to do, and it had very little to do with the horse I was keeping calm.

  “Lead him out.” They backed away.

  I grabbed the blanket off Five and wrapped myself in it. The air was frigid, and without the horse’s body heat, I’d quickly be useless from shivering. Five’s fevered brown eyes followed my every move. I whispered, hoping he didn’t get out of control when he saw the sheer amount of people surrounding the trailer.

  It was a bit weird, so many people waiting for Five to come out. If he wanted, no one could hold him, and if spooked, I’d be shit out of luck.

  I put my arm over his eyes, maneuvering him slowly with pushes and whistles. It took a few minutes, but we cleared the trailer ramp. Just as his back feet hit the gravel surrounding the yard, someone reached out and patted Five’s injury.

  Five reared with a shriek of pain, and I held onto his halter. I was lifted in the air, slung around by his powerful neck. My weight brought him down. He tried slinging
me off again, kicking and bucking. I heard the crude stitches rip out of his hide, and he screamed.

  “Get the damned tranqs!” I yelled. I didn’t give a shit about their safety, but if Five kept going, he’d do more damage. “Don’t stand there, you morons, get the tranquilizers!”

  I heard feet pounding in the trailer and a shot from an air gun. I saw a metal tube sticking out of Five’s neck, and in seconds, he lost steam, slowly falling to the ground. I helped lower him to the ground, keeping his head up, doing my best to ensure he didn’t acquire more injuries.

  I heard the Plaster of Paris crack and split, and the torture of the injury shot through my body. My knees shook, threatening to let me fall. I concentrated on the throbbing, letting it help bring control.

  I stood, breathing heavily, in my underwear, the cast barely hanging on, looking for the person who’d hit Five’s rump. I stalked him, hunting. He backed away, hands in the air. I took a running leap and jumped onto his chest, punching and screaming as I rode him to the ground. He hurt my Five, he could have … the rage ruled my thoughts and actions. I rolled off, feeling every piece of gravel. I left imprints of blood, and several rivulets of red flowed down my chest and thighs.

  “You may have me as a prisoner, but that was flat out stupidity. You could have caused irreparable damage!” I stared at the guy instincts said was the leader.

  “You are correct, Miss. I will rectify the issue.” The man was massive, but spoke in a well-educated cadence, with a clipped German accent. He towered over everyone, built like a brick house. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a semi-auto pistol, and shot the guy in the head. “Anyone else want to make the same mistake? When it comes to the horse, you will obey her in all things regarding the care of the stallion.” He put the gun up, and walked to the house.

  I stared at the dead body on the gravel.

  Killing the moron was not what I had in mind, and the death was my fault. The next question to cross my mind was, Why do I give a damn?

  Chapter Eleven

  I was led into the house and upstairs. The room was part of the attic at one time, but turned into a small room with a three quarter bath. The ceiling sloped on two sides, painted a garish purple on the top half of the walls, and black wallpaper on the bottom, kept apart with a white chair rail around the entire room. A small twin bed took up a corner, with a four drawer, cheap dresser opposite. I had one window overlooking the stables, and I watched as they tended to Five’s wound. Not long after, Gage was pulled out of the trailer and carted in the house.

  The door opened and Rupert walked in. “I can count the death of two people as your fault. You’ll learn eventually there are consequences.” He placed a pile of clothes on the bed. “I’ll have two people guarding you at all times, as you seem to prefer mayhem.”

  I watched as he set shampoo, soap and other toiletries on the bed. “How much longer are you going to keep me? When do you plan to kill me?”

  “Oh, my dear. It seems our dear partner, Wolfgang, has taken a liking to you. He decides your fate. Now, please clean up and get dressed. You will join us for dinner. And, Karen? Behave.” He gave me a gracious bow and exited the room.

  I trembled with the need to throw something, anything. To explode, to jump out the window, to end it. I was in a world I couldn’t win. Rupert was right, it was my behavior which caused the death of Beth and the guy in the yard. The blame for Gage’s torture could be laid at my feet.

  I grabbed the clothes and toiletries, marched into the small bathroom and turned on the spray of the corner shower. I ripped off the last of the cast, gingerly took off the bra and panties, hissing through my teeth as I peeled the blood soaked garments from my skin. I tossed them into the room. Belatedly, I realized I’d left the door open. I turned, grabbed the knob and slammed it shut.

  I found pieces of plastic, mangled and crudely cut, among the clothing. After several moments, realized it was meant to stabilize my broken arm. I slid it in place, using the bread ties to tighten it against my skin. Crude, ugly, badly done, but it would do the trick. I hoped I could get real medical attention soon or I’d need major surgery to correct it. If I got out of the situation alive.

  The water hurt every injury, but I stayed. The pink rivulets down my stomach and legs mesmerized me for uncounted minutes. I waited for the water to clear. It never did.

  I completed the lather-rinse-repeat five times. I wrapped a towel around my body and walked into the bedroom. Someone brought medical supplies and laid them out. I spent forty-five minutes stitching and bandaging.

  I dressed in black scrubs and pulled my hair in a thick, wet braid.

  The sun moved behind the horizon, and I watched as Five was led into a small paddock by the big German. He was another piece of the puzzle I’d been handed. Why was an educated killer interested in a horse? I wasn’t going to question too much, especially since he could be a second avenue to survival.

  As I watched, Wolfgang stopped and glanced around the yard. He looked at the window, and I caught a good look of his face. It was masculine, with some harsh lines, but would attract women to the Alpha Male vibes he threw off. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but the coal black hair meant they were likely brown. Something flashed across his features, too fast for me to interpret.

  I backed away, understanding the feeling of a doe in the sights of a hunter.

  I sat on the bed, thoughts forming a tornado. I couldn’t seem to hold onto one, but they were so powerful, I felt beaten and battered. I lay down, relaxing into the mattress, enjoying it after the bottom of a trailer.

  I woke to find myself curled in a fetal position, facing the door. Light streamed in from the hallway, and a tall male leaned against the frame.

  “So, you set me up. But damn, Jake, it took you ten years? Talk about long term thinking.” I sat up, pushing stray curls out of my face.

  “It wasn’t like that, Karen, I promise.” He moved forward, one hand reaching for me.

  “Right. Listen, I’m not in the mood. Johnny has done some pretty decent damage to my lady parts, and frankly, the sight of you makes me sick.” I stared at him, certain he could see my true feelings.

  He dropped the arm and stepped away. “There is a lot more to this than you think, and believe it or not, it really is about you and Five Alarm. Choose your enemies wisely, Karen.” He turned and left, locking the door.

  I frowned, and buried my face in my hands. Whispering into the darkness, “Damn it, Daddy, what do I do now?”

  The moon was waning, leaving little light to see the pasture. I pulled the cheap drapes to the side, and tried to find Five Alarm. He stood near the gate, where Wolfgang left him. His muzzle was on the ground, his big body swaying slightly and legs splayed. They couldn’t keep him drugged indefinitely. It would harm him beyond repair.

  Wolfgang walked into the pasture, out of place in suit and tie, left a bale of hay, checked the water and left. He knew something about horses, although nothing telling. He secured the lock on the gate and strode to the house, stopping to look at my window. He smiled as I stared at him. He nodded once and went inside.

  I listened for footsteps, but nothing. My shoulders dropped and I lay on the bed. Over and over, every time I finally fell to sleep, I dreamt of Beth’s death, or Wolfgang shooting the guy in the head. Sometime before the sun came up, as dawn began to press down the night, I dreamt of Gage and his son. A question circled, one I couldn’t answer. Who was Gage’s father? I hoped he was important enough to help.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wolfgang woke me, his hand, hot but gentle, on my arm, “Come, Miss. The stallion has worked his way through the tranquilizers and you need to care for his wounds.” I heard him take a few steps from the bed.

  I sat up slowly, pain ripping through my chest, the crude stitches pulling. I stared up and met his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were the lightest blue, with a dark ring on the outside of the iris. Breathtakingly beautiful eyes. Although he wore a cold expression, deep w
ithin his eyes I saw heat, and a lot of it. I tore my gaze away, knowing I wouldn’t get through to him.

  I stood, waiting for my knees to give out, grateful when they didn’t. I pulled my hair out of the braid, ran fingers through the mess before putting it into a tight French braid. I slung the thick rope of hair behind me, slid on the crocs and headed into the bathroom. I started to close the door.

  His big hand stopped it, “I apologize, Miss, but you must leave the door open according to our host.”

  “Host? The guy is a kidnapper, thief and murderer. Host? Really? Your education and that’s the best you can do?” My hand remained on the doorknob.

  “You do make a good point, however, I am not here against my will. I will continue to refer to him as my host. You may not close the door.”

  “Fine.” I relieved myself, washed my hands and put on deodorant. Circumstances weren’t in my favor, but I wasn’t going to insult Five with bad body odor.

  We left, Wolf’s steps silent and graceful. I stomped my way through the house, announcing to all and sundry I was coming.

  Rupert met us at the door, wearing new jeans, a heavy sweater and turtleneck. He looked ready to rock the nightlife in Miles City. “She give you any problems, Wolfgang?”

  “No, she was fairly polite. Now if you will excuse me, I have some correspondence that must be taken care of before we depart.” He gave a small bow and left on silent Kenneth Coles.

  I stood, trying to remain in a relaxed posture.

  “Come, Karen, you must tend to Five Alarm. He will be journeying out of the country very soon. Wolfgang has paid a good price for the horse, and he must return home soon.” He took an arm and pulled me out the door.

  I followed, turning over the new information, and unable to make a lick of sense out of it. A German buyer, one with no compunction whatsoever about killing? An even better question, when would my usefulness run out? I cursed silently, mentally making note of several new ones.