Page 67 of Waiting for Devon
“All I really need is a computer, then. Or you can take me to the bank.”
“Oh, hell no,” Harry declared. “They’ve got them security cameras everywhere.”
Devon decided not to tell him about the cameras in Barrington Industries’ parking garage. The cops were probably searching for her. Jack and…Reed, too. “Well, gentlemen, I’m sure we can find a solution to this dilemma. I swear on my baby’s grave I’ll give you every dime I have if you let me go.”
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but someone else stepped into the shack. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
All three froze. A chill crawled up Devon’s spine. The situation just turned far more dangerous for her. A bald, tattooed, hulking man with a long, forked beard leered at her. He pointed a powerful handgun at them. Recognizing the newcomer, she gasped, “You!”
“Uh, hey, Digger,” Smitty greeted him with a timid smile.
“Shut the fuck up,” Digger ordered. “When you said you were coming into some money, Horseface, I wondered what you had up your sleeve.” He turned back toward Devon. “I warned you. Now you’re up shit creek.”
“Harry and Smitty work for the Barringtons. They’re not going to hurt me. In fact, we were just negotiating, right, boys?”
“Uh, right,” Harry agreed. “Negotiating.”
“You’re messing with my affair.” Digger waved his handgun toward Harry.
“Is that so?” Devon lifted her chin. “Seems like you’re messing withmyaffair.”
Digger’s cold eyes bored into her. “You’d be smart to watch your mouth.”
“Don’t forget she’s engaged to Shane Barrington.” Harry tried to brazen his way out with a lie.
“So?” His gaze roamed over Devon’s body, and she shivered.
“So, we snatched her for a ransom. But I have a better idea. We’ll sell her to you. A looker like her and a doctor to boot should fetch a handsome price on the black market.”
Digger glanced at Harry, and his eyes widened in amusement at the idiocy of Harry’s offer. “You’re shittin’ me, right? You owememoney, and I’m going topay youto get it back?” His eyes met Devon’s. “These guys are hilarious.” He fingered his beard. “But I like the idea. I know some interested dealers who will pay a pretty penny for someone with your body and brains. You’ve been a thorn in my side ever since you opened that fuckin’ clinic, so I’ll be gettin’ rid of two problems. One I’m handlin’ as we speak.”
“What do you mean…?” Harry’s voice trailed away when he saw the murderous expression on Digger’s face. He started to shake and held up his hands. “No, don’t…we can work together…she’s worth a lot…”
Smitty’s head swiveled between Digger and Harry. “Oh, hell no. I’m not involved…just tryin’ to help a friend…”
“Too late.” Digger lifted his arm and pulled the trigger.
It happened so fast neither man had time to turn tail and run.
Devon screamed as Harry and Smitty both dropped dead from a single gunshot to their foreheads. She knew from their wide, unseeing eyes there wasn’t anything she could do to help them. Though weak and terrified, she made a valiant effort to save herself by lunging for the rake off to the side, but Digger caught her.
Wrapping his powerful arms around her, he murmured close to her ear, “I think I’d like to sample the merchandise before I sell it.”
Devon wasn’t completely helpless. She jabbed Digger in the ribs, stomped on his instep, and bit his forearm. Fighting like a tigress, she managed to surprise and hurt him enough to wriggle out of his grasp. Heart pounding, blood pumping, she twisted away from him. During the scuffle, he’d dropped his handgun, and they both lunged for it. Devon reached it first.
Without hesitation, she cocked the 9 mm Beretta, aimed, and fired four rounds, two in each of Digger’s kneecaps. Howling in pain, he fell to the sandy floor of the tin shack.
“For fuck’s sake! You shot me!”
Pulling off Digger’s T-shirt, Devon ripped it into strips and fashioned them into tourniquets. “Don’t mess with a military brat. I can shoot a flea off a rat. This should control the bleeding until I can get help.”
She scrambled toward Harry’s body, and, grimacing, she searched his pockets for a cell phone. Her heart lifted when her hand enclosed around one, and she darted past Digger to check for service outside the shack. No luck. However, there were two vehicles at her disposal. She discovered keys in the ignition in the Cadillac and returned to Digger.
“Which way…?”
Devon panicked when she realized Digger had passed out, probably from blood loss and pain. She checked his pulse to be sure. Slow and steady. Not knowing how long it would take to get to a point where she could call for help, and functioning purely on adrenaline, she ran back to the fancy Cadillac that she figured belonged to Digger. Without cell service, she couldn’t access Google Maps, so she would have to find her way out of the flatlands of Texas on her own.
“Head north,” she muttered. “North.” Glancing at the blazing blue skies, she judged the position of the sun and pointed the nose of the Caddy in what she prayed was the right direction.
