Texas Baby Sanctuary Read online

  Afterward she’d worked with Sam to find hiding places in every room for a loaded weapon where Mikey couldn’t reach. And now she sat on her bed making decorations out of materials she’d found in the attic for tomorrow’s birthday party.

  Sam had spent most of his day working with his brothers on perimeter safety for the house. And as the day wore on, his expression and his attitude seemed more and more concerned. Even though he’d said very little, she could tell. He prowled the rooms in a sort of harsh silence, most unlike his usual congenial attitude.

  Grace was torn. If this place really had become that dangerous, she wanted to take Mikey and leave the area. Run again to somewhere else where the baby would be safer. Anywhere else.

  On the other hand she’d started to fall in love with the ranch and the people on it. If she had only herself to consider, she would stay and wait for Jose to show up. In fact, she would be quite happy to end her running and take a stand right here on the ranch with Sam.

  Maybe that idea would be something to consider. Hiding the baby somewhere else, with someone she could trust, so she and Sam could lead Jose off in another direction—hopefully to capture.

  But could she leave Mikey? Not knowing how he was doing? Not watching him grow and making sure he was truly safe and happy?

  A fist of cold fear gripped her heart at the thought. What could she stand to give up for the safety of her child?

  Everything.

  But the idea would take a lot more thought. She’d need to talk it over with Sam.

  Coming out of her deep introspection to check on her napping baby on the blanket beside her, she noticed the dusk beginning to crawl in through the windows. Night was always the hardest time. Ever since Jose had taught her to fear silent shadows. To fret over every whisper of noise in the dark.

  Sam’s attentions had gone a long way toward changing her attitude about nighttime. But tonight she felt the shiver of fear clear down to the marrow of her bones. She wanted the night to be over, despite still hoping for a repeat performance of last night in bed with Sam.

  A faint rustling noise came from somewhere outside the room. It could be coming from anywhere. The sound seemed to her as if someone were sneaking across wood floors in their stocking feet. The hair on her arms stood on end.

  “Hey, there you are.” Sam opened the bedroom door and flipped on lights. “Everything okay?”

  Mikey awoke at the noise and light and managed to sit up all by himself. “Mooh.” He waved his hands, opening and closing the fingers.

  “What’s he want?” Sam stepped closer.

  “His dinner, I think.” Grace waited until her heartbeat slowed and then slipped off the bed. “I’ll go down and fix him something.”

  “Let me.” Sam picked up the baby and waited for her to stand.

  “That would be nice. It’ll give me time to put up some of these party decorations in the front room.” She grabbed an armful of the brightly colored balls and the Happy Birthday sign she’d made.

  She followed Sam and the baby out the door and down the stairs. “Have your brothers left?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Travis and I worked most of the afternoon setting booby traps on the windows. And we rigged up a few nasty tricks in spots around the backside of the house, too.” Sam shifted Mikey in his arms. “While Gage was here, he measured and checked the electrical circuits for the installation of an alarm system for the doors. He thinks the manufacturer can overnight a new system by tomorrow.”

  “That’ll make me feel safer.” But not as safe as having Jose back in jail would make her feel. “Sam, can we talk later tonight? I have an idea and I’d like to run it by you.”

  “Sure. After Aunt June brings out the groceries and Mikey is down for the night. Okay?”

  “That’s fine. Do you think June will get here quickly? It’s getting dark.”

  “In the next half hour or so. She has to return Jenna to the ranch after watching her for Travis this afternoon. She’ll be stopping at Travis’s place first.”

  That sounded good. The sooner they could lock up the house for the night and barricade themselves inside, the better Grace would like it.

  In the meantime she very much needed to ease the tension in her shoulders and speak in low, clear tones so the baby wouldn’t notice her fears. Kids picked up on those things.

  * * *

  Grace stood on a small stepstool, finishing off her arrangement of decorations on the enormous wood and stone fireplace mantel in the front room. As she worked, she’d been listening to bits and pieces of Sam’s voice while he jabbered to Mikey and fed him dinner in the kitchen.

  Earlier this afternoon Sam had pulled all the drapes and closed the downstairs shutters. She couldn’t see out, but then no one could see in.

  Still, she knew the last fading tendrils of sunset must be on the western horizon. She was feeling antsy and her nerves were edgy. Every little noise in the house sent her heart racing.

  She sure wished June would hurry up. To keep herself from collapsing with the stress, Grace began to hum. Starting with the “Happy Birthday” song.

  Just as she finished tacking down the last nail to hold up the large sign she’d made, she heard a soft knocking at the front door. At last.

  Jumping down, she raced to the door and threw back the locks. “About time you arrived, June,” she said as she wrenched the door wide open.

  But it wasn’t Sam’s sweet-faced aunt on the other side. Instead two dark men stood on the threshold; both of them holding big, black pistols—aimed in her direction!

  She started to slam the door in their faces, but they’d already barged inside. The bigger of the two grabbed her from behind and closed his big palm over her mouth.

  “Silencio,” he whispered in her ear.

  The guy’s hand stank of sweat and horses. On his breath, the smell of coffee and peppers. And the whole obnoxious odor seemed mixed with the stench of horse manure. Her stomach rolled.

  “Where is el niño de Serrano?” The other gunman hissed his question in broken English mixed with Spanish.

  She started to whine and squirm, trying to break free. Sam had hidden a gun behind a vase on the mantel. If only she could reach it, then these two goons wouldn’t act so tough. But the guy holding her tightened his grip and the man that had spoken shoved his gun in her nose—hard enough to make her see stars.

  “No noise. No trouble. Or I shoot. I shoot baby.”

  Oh, dear Lord. Mikey. Her heart pounded and she began to shake, the tremors coming from somewhere deep in her gut. But she wasn’t ready to let fear overtake her senses. She needed to remain calm. And wait for her chance.

  She hadn’t really believed Sam when he’d said they needed to be more careful. That Serrano must be closing in. It had seemed impossible. But she would never doubt him again. If they both lived through this night.

  The man with the gun in her face whispered to his companion in Spanish. “You check upstairs for the baby. Take the woman. And be careful not to let her call out. I will search downstairs. The lawman will be close by. Watch for him. He has to die.”

  * * *

  Sam rose from his chair to pick up their dirty dishes. Baby Mikey had fallen sound asleep in the middle of his supper. Little guy must be tuckered out from all the fresh air today.

  As Sam turned to the sink, he heard a strange noise. Not the same sounds of Grace working in the front room that he’d been hearing. He’d grown used to those over the past half hour. This sounded more like someone coming through the front door. At first he thought his aunt June must’ve arrived. But an instant later he realized that couldn’t be true. He hadn’t heard any vehicles driving up. And the rumbling sound June’s old truck made was unmistakable.

  Never hesitating, Sam gently picked up Mikey and a handful of dish towels. Finding a good spot on the floor behind a sack of flour in the pantry closet, he made a nest of towels for the baby. Laying Mikey in the center of the nest without disturbing him, he closed the door and pray
ed the boy wouldn’t wake up or cry out in his sleep.

  Grabbing his forty-five from a canister on the counter, Sam flipped off the lights and waited a second for his eyes to adjust. Then moving to stand behind the swinging kitchen door, his every sense went on alert. He listened carefully, heard footsteps on the stairs and knew someone was prowling around downstairs, too.

  Damn. He’d been sure Serrano’s men were close, but not this close. He should’ve taken more precautions. Or better yet, moved Mikey and Grace somewhere they would have greater protection.

  Where was Grace? Sam was torn between staying in the kitchen to guard Mikey’s hiding place and stealing down the hall to find her.

  But he didn’t have long to consider the options.

  The sound of someone creeping along the hallway and coming closer was unmistakable. Only one set of footsteps. Good and bad news. Sam would have no trouble overpowering a lone gunman, but then he would probably have to deal with another man somewhere else in the house. Someone who might have Grace with him. Whatever Sam did next must be done quietly.

  Then there it was. A faint squeak of the kitchen door hinge. The door inched open slightly and the shadow of a handgun preceded whoever it was into the room.

  Sam held his breath, not making any sound, and waited. But the gunman was careful not to rush into anything. The weapon, a small-caliber German model, came through first. Next a hand appeared. A forearm.

  And when a man’s shoulder was just past the edge of the door, Sam shoved his weapon into his jeans’ waistband and placed both hands against the wood. In a burst of power, he slammed the full force of his body against the back of the door in a surprise move.

  The heavy old door made a good weapon as it hit its target. A thud and the sound of bone crunching. Then a groan. And the weapon went skidding across the waxed, pinewood floor.

  Sam ripped open the door, stepped around it and reached for the man’s injured arm.

  The guy cursed in Spanish as Sam wrenched the obviously broken arm and drew him into the room, letting the door swing closed behind them. Sam was on him before the would-be gunman could catch his balance.

  They tumbled across the floor and in seconds Sam had the guy pinned. Before he could yell out and warn his buddy, Sam closed the goon’s big open mouth by shoving a fist into his teeth.

  A sharp pain reverberated up Sam’s arm when he connected, but the gunman thankfully fell silent. Sam shook him by the shoulders a couple of times and still got no response. Shaking out his aching hand, Sam stood and quickly ripped the cord from the window blinds to tie the assailant’s hands and feet. Finally satisfied the guy was immobilized, he stuffed paper towels into his still-bleeding mouth to keep him quiet.

  Grace. He had to locate her fast. Since he hadn’t heard anything from her, Sam was positive another gunman must be holding her captive. And—what?

  Searching for the baby? Had to be.

  Sam left the lights off and slid out into the hallway with his forty-five back in hand. Starting up the stairs, he was careful not to step on any loose floorboards. He remembered the location of every single squeaky board from his teenage years.

  At the top of the landing he stopped to listen. Noises were magnified in the darkness. He thought he heard a high-pitched whine, like a woman in distress. But he couldn’t distinguish where the sounds were coming from. Until he saw a light seeping under the master bedroom door.

  No other way to enter the bedroom but through that door. So Sam prepared himself in the hall, put his hand on the knob and burst into the room, hoping surprise might win half the battle.

  But what he saw took him back for a second. A big burly man lay sprawled across the bed on top of Grace. Holding her in place with his body, the assailant kept her quiet with one beefy hand over her mouth.

  Fury erupted in Sam like a sudden violent volcano. In that second all his training—all his vows to do everything by the book—every single thing that made him a lawman and a human being, went right out the window.

  He’d killed before, but never in a blind rage such as this one. Closing in on the man, he felt a snarl twisting his features. As he grabbed the man by the shoulders, adrenaline surged and he roared out his anger.

  As if the guy were a lightweight, Sam bodily lifted him off Grace and swung him around. A well-placed knee doubled the guy over and Sam’s first punch rolled him onto the floor.

  Still seeing red, Sam grabbed a handful of shirt to hold him steady then pounded his fist into the goon’s face. Over and over. Every punch was payback for a day that Grace had suffered.

  “Sam, stop!”

  He wasn’t sure how many times she’d said it before he finally lifted his head. With blurry eyes and foggy brain, he looked at her.

  She stood over the two of them and appeared to be fine. “Don’t hit him anymore, Sam. Where’s Mikey?”

  Mikey. He’d forgotten about him. “I left him sleeping on the floor of the pantry.”

  Grace turned and started for the stairs.

  “Wait.” Sam hauled himself off the belly of the downed goon. “Don’t go near the other gunman. Give him a wide berth in the kitchen.”

  “Is he tied up?”

  “Yeah. But maybe you’d better wait for me.”

  Without waiting or saying a word, Grace turned and dashed toward the stairs. Sam couldn’t blame her. He was every bit as concerned about Mikey.

  Still, he would have to deal with this unconscious beached whale before he could join Grace and Mikey in the kitchen. Looking down with disgust, Sam shook his head.

  These two gunmen were Serrano’s. That meant the head of the snake was still out there somewhere. Sam ground his teeth and found a length of cord to tie the bastard. As he did, the jerk seemed to be coming around. He mumbled something in Spanish. Sam ignored him.

  But soon he would demand answers from one of these two. Wondering which of the gunmen would be the easiest to crack, Sam considered his options. He wanted Serrano. Now more than ever. How much would it take to make one of them give up his boss’s whereabouts?

  Sam had no compunction about torture. Not when Grace and Mikey’s safety was at stake. But he didn’t want to question these two in Grace’s presence. Her psychological state was fragile at best. He couldn’t put her through the ordeal.

  But he needed help dragging both goons outside and finding somewhere private to interrogate them. He thought for a second about calling Gage.

  Then the thing that had been sitting in the back of his mind finally broke through all the other thoughts. Where the hell was his aunt June? What had happened to her?

  Instead of calling Gage, Sam pulled out his cell and called Sheriff McCord. The dispatcher at the Sheriff’s Office said he was out on a call but would try to put Sam through.

  When McCord answered, Sam began by giving his name.

  Before Sam could add anything else, the sheriff interrupted. “I’m just coming up your porch stairs, son. What’s your location in the house? Do I need backup? Your brothers are on the way.”

  “Upstairs, Sheriff. First door on the left. I have it handled. Where’s my aunt June?”

  McCord walked into the bedroom ten seconds later. “Your aunt is right outside, Chance. She arrived here and found the door open. When she noticed the downstairs was dark and there were two Bar-C horses saddled and tied out front next to your truck, she called Travis and he sent a copter to pick me up. I ordered her to hold her position outside. I’ll let her in as soon as we’re sure it’s secure.”

  The sheriff helped Sam haul the chubby gunman to his feet. “You have another one of these creeps still in the house?” he asked.

  “Downstairs in the kitchen. But he’s subdued, too.”

  “Where’s the woman and the baby?”

  Mikey. And Grace.

  As he took off down the stairs, Sam’s world began to spin. It hit him how close he’d come to losing everything. Too damned close. Sam vowed this would be the last time he’d take any chances with either of th
eir lives.

  He had to find Serrano. The man had to go.

  Chapter 19

  Jose Serrano quit grinding his teeth and tried to breathe. Frustration gripped his gut as he looked around his hiding place. Staying here at a decent motel on the outskirts of San Angelo, Texas, he was no more than forty miles outside the town of Chance. But it was too far away from the action for him to be involved—or to give him the opportunity to see his own son.

  Now he also had to face a small setback. He’d been secretly keeping a close eye on his two empleados Hector and Pedro. And had sent a trusted local man, a second cousin, to watch what they did. He didn’t trust Hector. And it looked as if he’d been right to be skeptical.

  Hector es un besugo! The fool hadn’t taken time to make a good plan for the kidnapping and was apprehended as a consequence. The stupid one, Pedro, was off to jail along with his compadre.

  Fortunately for them they could not tell the authorities a thing concerning his whereabouts. They hadn’t known Jose had entered the United States a few days ago. Still, for their disobedience and impatience, they would find a nasty surprise awaiting them in prison. He had prison spies and people ready to do his bidding in both the Texas and federal prison systems.

  He dismissed thoughts of the two morons with a toss of his chin. His more immediate goal was to have his son. He was eager to see the boy for the first time. Would his child look like his side of the family?

  Miguel. The woman had named his son Miguel after her own grandfather. That was another treachery she would soon regret.

  But the boy was young yet. His child could learn to accept a new name.

  Calling his bodyguard in from the room next door, Jose ordered the preparation for their departure. Arrangements had been worked out yesterday with the cousin for Jose to steal into the town of Chance and hide out in the cousin’s home. Plans made long before Hector and Pedro were captured earlier this evening.

  The best way to win in this kind of situation was to outsmart—not overpower—the opposition. And Jose was sure he could do just that. He knew every detail of Sam Chance’s background. And by now he had enough information on the man to predict his next move.