Loving Deep: Steele Ridge Series Page 27

  “I’m here for you, Britt. We’re all here for you. There’s no need for you to act the father figure anymore. If anyone tries to hurt our family, they have four Steele boys to deal with now.”

  “Five Steeles. Evie deserves a ranking after the shot she landed on Ferguson’s smug mug.”

  A smile creased Grif’s face at the same time light arched over his body. Britt turned to find a vehicle approaching. The quarter moon didn’t provide enough illumination to identify the vehicle.

  “If that’s Maggie, Norwood’s going to bolt.” Britt shrugged off his backpack. “Did you bring a weapon?”

  “Do I look like I cart around a gun? I thought we were coming here to pick up a wolf.”

  “I’ll put my rifle in the front seat of Old Blue.” Britt sent him a sidelong glance. “You do recall how to pull the trigger, Slick?”

  “Shut it.”

  Glad he’d had the foresight to point his truck down the two-track, Britt deposited his rifle and flicked on his headlights, then sidled up next to his brother. “Let me borrow your phone.”

  Grif handed it over.

  Britt punched in a number.

  Evie answered on the second ring. “Hey, Grif.”

  “It’s Britt. I don’t have much time. Can you call Deke, explain what’s happened, and ask him to head over to Choctaw Road to check on Calypso?”

  “Of course. Everything okay there?”

  “Norwood’s coming down the track. Tell Deke to take extra precautions.” Britt clicked the phone off and passed it back to his brother before Evie could ask more questions.

  “Looks like an SUV. Dark,” Grif said.

  “Can’t be Maggie’s cruiser.”

  “Norwood then.”

  The silhouette of a single figure in the vehicle’s front cabin came into view.

  “Where’s Ito?”

  “You told Norwood to come alone.”

  “That was a lifetime ago. Everything’s up for grabs now.”

  The SUV pulled to a stop.

  “You want me to handle Norwood?” Grif asked.

  Britt considered his brother’s offer. Grif had far more experience in negotiating volatile situations, and not knowing where Randi and Carlie Beth were only added to the already high stakes. But Britt couldn’t hand this problem over. He’d gotten them all into this and he would damn sure get them out it. “I got this.”

  Norwood exited the vehicle and paused near the front fender. “Steele.”

  “Norwood.” Britt peered through the vehicle, searching for a set of canid ears. “Did you bring the female?”

  “Of course.” Norwood gestured to the back of the vehicle. “Shall we?”

  Britt shared a meaningful look with his brother, who nodded his understanding, before following Norwood to the back of the SUV.

  Norwood pressed a button on his remote and the back hatch lifted. What couldn’t have been more than three seconds seemed an eternity.

  A large metal crate took up most of the SUV’s trunk compartment. Inside the locked crate laid Randi, bound and gagged.

  Still as death.

  35

  Britt lunged for Norwood, grabbing the poacher by the throat and lifting him up on his toes. “Get her out of that fucking cage. Now!” The fury pouring into his muscles overrode the pain caused by his bruised rib.

  “Easy, brother.” Grif grabbed his wrist. “Don’t snap his neck before we get the key.” More quietly, he added, “And Carlie Beth.”

  Norwood didn’t flinch at Britt’s reaction, though his red face turned a satisfying blue. The bastard had anticipated his rage, hoped Britt would lose his shit when he saw Randi’s motionless body.

  Dear God, he couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive. “Is she breathing, Grif?”

  His brother bent close to the kennel. “Yes, the hair over her face is rising and falling with her breaths.”

  “Be glad that’s the case, Norwood.” Britt loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. “The key.”

  “We have a few things to negotiate before I set your friend free.”

  “I don’t negotiate with brutes and senseless killers.” To Grif, he said, “Get the bolt cutters out of the left side compartment.” He kept a pair in his truck so he could take down old or unnecessary barbed wire fencing, which helped keep migrating wildlife from getting tangled in the wires.

  Norwood glanced over Britt’s shoulder, catching Grif’s eye. “Perhaps you could talk some sense into your brother. After all, it’s your girlfriend’s life on the line, not his.”

  In the next instant, Grif shoved Britt aside and hammered Norwood in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Norwood came up spitting blood. “What have you done with Carlie Beth?”

  “I thought at least one of you would be levelheaded. Looks like I’ll have to adjust my communication style to that of caveman.”

  “Enough of your games, Norwood,” Grif said in a cold, emotionless tone, one Britt had never heard his brother use before. “Where’s Carlie Beth?”

  “Safe for now.”

  “We’re going to wipe your accounts clean for this, even the hidden ones,” Britt said.

  Norwood checked his smart watch. “I believe you’ll find such an undertaking impossible now that Jun Ito’s disabled your brother’s hacking operation.”

  Britt’s gaze snapped into the direction of Tupelo Hill, where he’d left Jonah and their mother. Alone. Had Reid made it back in time to protect them?

  “Don’t believe me?” Norwood flicked a hand at Britt. “Go ahead, call him. Then we will discuss my plan for this evening.”

  Jonah picked up on the second ring.

  “Everything okay there?”

  “Jun Ito trashed my computers.”

  “Are you and Mom all right?”

  “We’re good. The Green Beret saved the day. Ito’s down.”

  Relief nearly buckled Britt’s knees. Thank you, Reid.

  “The bastard didn’t find my laptop, though.”

  Britt paced away. When he was certain Norwood couldn’t see him, he winked at Grif, setting his brother at ease.

  “Time’s up, Steele,” Norwood warned.

  “Do you need backup?” Jonah asked.

  “Maggie’s on the way. Gotta go.”

  Britt tossed the phone back to Grif.

  “Such a shame about young Jonah’s computers,” Norwood said. “Though I don’t suppose it’ll be a hardship for him to replace everything.”

  “Ito failed.”

  “Your mind game won’t work on me. I received confirmation from Ito ten minutes ago.”

  “He missed Jonah’s laptop.”

  “An easy fix.” Norwood hit a button on his smart watch. “Ito?”

  “No, shit for brains.” Reid’s voice carried through the small speaker. “Karate Dude is trussed up like a peacock.”

  Britt vowed to buy Reid drinks for an entire year.

  Norwood disconnected. “This turn of events hardly matters.” He sent a superior smile to Grif. “I’ll secure your cooperation through the lovely Miss Parrish.” To Britt, he said, “I hope you weren’t too attached to those wolf pups. I’ve decided they’ll make excellent future sport for our members.”

  “The good thing about narrow-minded, obsessive people is that they’re predictable,” Britt said. “The pups aren’t going anywhere.”

  “I do hope you’ve stationed more than one protector. If not, he will have his hands full very soon, if not already.”

  “You lose again. Watters is dead. Ferguson and Taylor are in custody.”

  “Dead?”

  “Shot by Ferguson.”

  “You lie!”

  “Call your friends,” Grif said. “They might have a hard time answering their phones, but I’m sure Sheriff Kingston won’t mind assisting.”

  “Down to one,” Britt said. “Now tell us where you’ve stashed Carlie Beth.”

  The arrogance that had been present on Norwood’s face since he’d stepped out of his vehicle now f
altered. His attention shifted from Britt to Grif as he put distance between them.

  “Don’t even think about running,” Grif warned. “There’s nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you.”

  Norwood ripped open his jacket.

  “Get down!” Britt pushed Grif away and reached for the weapon holstered at his side.

  But his brother was having none of it. Grif recovered and slammed into him just as Norwood fired his gun. Grif’s body jerked.

  “Griffin!”

  Britt eased his brother to the ground.

  Another blast from Norwood’s weapon and the bullet lodged in Britt’s shoulder blade, pitching him forward.

  “Sonofabitch!” That hurt like a mother. Torn between chasing after Norwood, calling 911, and grabbing the first-aid kit, he yelled at Grif, “Where are you hit?”

  Grif pointed to his side.

  “Exit wound?”

  His brother nodded. “I’ll live.”

  “I need to go after him.”

  “You’re in worse shape than I am.”

  “Watch over Randi. There’s a first-aid kit in my truck.”

  “Dammit, Britt!”

  Britt took off after Norwood. Even wounded, he began making headway on the slower, older man. As blood drained from his body, his face turned cold, his fingers grew numb. His vision blurred.

  Norwood glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened at Britt’s close proximity. Desperate, the poacher fired a shot at him. The bullet went wild. Norwood lost his balance, slipped, and he stumbled, his arms cartwheeling to keep himself upright.

  Surging forward, Britt threw his good shoulder into Norwood’s back, tackling him to the ground. Pain sliced through Britt’s side. Norwood went down hard, his breath punched from his lungs by the packed dirt. His pistol went flying into the brush.

  Unable to move, Britt allowed his two hundred and twenty-five pounds to immobilize Norwood. He lay there, atop the bastard, like a damned beached whale. He hoped Grif couldn’t see him from this distance. Living something like this down would take years.

  “Britt, you okay?” his brother yelled.

  “I’m fine. Norwood’s down.”

  Norwood squirmed. “Get the hell off me, redneck.”

  Britt slid more fully atop his prisoner and crammed his forearm into the back of Norwood’s neck. “Where’s Carlie Beth Parrish?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Wrong answer.” He pressed harder. When he did, he noticed an active mound of sandy dirt. “Last chance to do the right thing, Norwood.” Britt shook off the black spots crowding into his peripheral vision.

  “And lose my chance of watching you and your brothers dance around like headless chickens? You stole from the wrong man, Steele. Happy hunting.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Britt scooped up a handful of the mound and dumped it on Norwood’s head. It took a few seconds for the ants to recover. When they did, Norwood screamed.

  With his hands lodged beneath him, Norwood couldn’t fend off the attack. Britt had no idea if the ants were biting the poacher, or if it was just the sensation of having bugs crawl over his face and into every available orifice that turned the arrogant brute to a wailing child. Either way, the ants had him singing like a soprano.

  “She’s in my vehicle!”

  “That’s Randi. Where’s Carlie Beth?”

  “My truck. Tied up on the back floorboard.”

  “You’d better not be lying.”

  “See for yourself.” He spat out an ant. “Now let me up.”

  Britt started to roll off his prisoner, but stopped as an idea formed. “I have a few more questions.”

  “What?” He gagged. “What for God’s sake?”

  “Did you, or one of your cronies, kill Barbara Shepherd and sabotage Miranda Shepherd’s business?”

  Norwood howled with laughter between hacking coughs.

  “Time for more fun.” Britt forced Norwood’s chin around and up so he could see the mound of ants he still had to work with. “I’ve got plenty of friends who are itching to play.”

  The poacher struggled in earnest, almost knocking Britt off his roost.

  “Confess, and I’ll spare you my friends’ happy dance on your face.”

  A stream of violent, life-threatening oaths flowed from his captive’s lips.

  “All right, but I tried to keep this civil.”

  Britt scooped up a handful and slowly poured the ants on Norwood’s head. A few made a run up Britt’s arm. He ignored them.

  Norwood shrieked. “Yes, damn you! Ferguson killed the old bitch when she wouldn’t sell, Watters set up the bad investment, and Taylor cut the power to the cooler.”

  “All under your direction?”

  “No! I had nothing to do with the Shepherd woman’s death.”

  Satisfaction and sadness sent Britt’s forearm into the poacher’s neck, forcing the bastard to gasp for breath.

  Before he did something that would send him to prison, Britt rolled off and came face-to-face with a fender. With the racket Norwood had been making, he hadn’t heard the squad car’s approach.

  The deputy peered over the hood. “Evening, Britt.”

  “Hey, Deputy Blaine. Did you catch his confession?”

  “Sure did. So did my dashboard camera.” He nodded toward the anthill. “Effective device.”

  Dashboard camera. Fucking great. “After he’s bug-free, could you take care of him? I need to check on my friends.”

  “Yes, sir. Sheriff Kingston already filled me in. Said to do what I could.”

  Britt got to his feet, splaying his right hand out to steady himself. His tussle with Norwood had jarred his injured shoulder so badly that the entire left side of his body was numb.

  “Can you check Norwood’s pockets for a key? It’s for a lock.”

  The deputy cuffed Norwood, ignoring his prisoner’s pleas to free his hands. Blaine dug into each of the poacher’s pockets, finding nothing. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Where is the key, Norwood?”

  The stupid bastard looked like he was going to refuse to answer. Until Britt eyed what was left of the anthill.

  “Driver’s side visor.”

  “Smart man.” Britt made his way back to Grif, who was trying to operate a pair of heavy bolt cutters to free Randi. But he had lost too much blood. “Hold up. Let me get the key.”

  “Where’s Norwood? Did he say where he’d left Carlie Beth?”

  “He’s with Deputy Blaine.” Britt flipped open Norwood’s visor and the key fell into his palm. He opened the back door. “Check the floorboard.”

  Grif stumbled around to the side of the vehicle. As soon as he looked into the SUV, the ferocity marring his features softened. “Found her.”

  Jamming the key into the crate’s lock, Britt twisted it one way, then the other until he heard a click, felt the release. Swinging the door open wide, Britt untied Randi’s arms and legs. Her eyelids fluttered open. Britt released a shaky breath.

  “Randi,” he coaxed. “Try to sit up.”

  “What happened?”

  “You had a run-in with Norwood.”

  Panic flared in her groggy eyes. “Carlie Beth?”

  Peering through the SUV, Britt watched his brother remove Carlie Beth’s gag and restraints. He spoke to her in soft tones, his movements slow and gentle.

  “Grif’s got her. She’ll be fine.”

  “Thank goodness.” She squinted at her surroundings. “Am I in a dog crate?”

  “Come on.” He held out a hand. “Let’s get you out of there.”

  “Britt, I—”

  He kissed her softly on the lips. “Save your explanation for later. I want to inspect your wounds right now.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Of course, I am.” Angry, terrified, guilt-ridden. He touched a trembling finger to her cheek. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

  She noticed him favoring his left arm. “Are you hurt?”

  When
he didn’t answer, she scrambled out of the vehicle to inspect his body. She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re bleeding! Dear Lord, there’s so much blood.”

  “I’m okay.” Britt coaxed her into the crook of his good arm. “It looks worse than it is.”

  “Norwood got him while he was trying to play hero,” Grif threw out.

  Britt glared at his brother.

  “Have you called for an ambulance?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  By the time the gang arrived a few minutes later, he and Grif had managed to get their bleeding under control, with the ladies’ help. The strain of blood loss had them both sitting on the edge of the tailgate next to Randi and Carlie Beth, who were still fighting the effects of some kind of knockout drug.

  Maggie sized up the entire scene in one thorough glance. “All of this to save a wolf?”

  “Not just any wolf,” Randi said. “A critically endangered species, a breeding female, a mama snatched away from her pups.”

  Concern twisted in Britt’s stomach when he saw Evie and Brynne trailing behind Deke. He couldn’t see any visible injuries, but the two women were subdued. No doubt shaken to the core by their skirmish with Ferguson and the others.

  “Does Aunt Joanie know what you boys have been up to this evening?” Maggie asked.

  “Some of it,” Grif said. “If you fill her in on all the details, I’ll lock you up in your mama’s chicken coop again.”

  “Touchy, touchy.” Maggie gave Grif a pointed look. “Need a ride to the hospital?”

  “Clean exit wound. I’ll take care of it later.”

  “Let me know if you’re successful in hiding your wound from Aunt Joanie.”

  Grif turned to Carlie Beth. “I really don’t like her.”

  “I do.”

  “How about you?” Maggie asked Britt.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I see that Mom, Jonah, and Reid are all right.”

  “What’s happened?” Brynne asked, concern breaking through her somber mood. “Is Reid hurt?”

  “He derailed Ito’s plan for knocking out our”—Grif shot Maggie a wary glance—“um, Internet project.”

  “Sweet Mary,” Maggie said with a shake of her head. “Don’t tell me.”