Jeremiah (Stud Ranch 5)

But I couldn’t think of any of that right now. I had to be smart. Strategic. Obviously trying to empathize with him wasn’t going to work. But maybe I could appeal to him in other ways.

“So what’s the plan here, brother?” I asked, making my voice monotone and staring him in the eye. “You want to kill me, but what are you going to do with them?” I nodded toward the three people on the floor. “What do Jeremiah or Charlie’s parents have to do with this? Be smart. You need an escape plan.”

He laughed in my face. “Escape? I’m not the one tied to a chair, bitch.”

I tilted my head to the side. “No, but even if you kill me, kill all of us, where do you go next? You need money, Buck. You never got what you deserved, isn’t that what all of this is about? Dad screwed you over. But you can still make it right.”

His hand came to my throat and he squeezed. “Shut the fuck up! There’s nothing left of Dad’s money. You said so yourself.”

I nodded, feeling my eyes bulging as he squeezed my windpipe off. I was only trying to stall for time, but what if I only pissed him off and made him kill me quicker? Shit. Oh shit, I couldn’t breathe!

But he finally let go of my throat and I gasped for air as he demanded, “Talk.”

“You’re right,” I finally said, my voice raspy from being choked. “But they do.” I nodded back toward the floor, this time at the Winstons. “They have a lot of money. And they’ll pay up for him. He wasn’t wrong about that. But only if they’re alive and able to pay the ransom.”

Buck frowned, and I could tell his alcohol-befuddled brain was struggling to follow the logic of what I was saying.

“They’re rich,” I said, offering what I hoped were the magic words. “I mean, really, really rich. You stumbled into a jackpot and didn’t even know it.”

He reached for his gun again and raised it back toward me. “You better not be trying to trick me.”

I shook my head vigorously. “You saw the wedding they were paying for and the clothes they wear. Check the label on her jacket. It’s Chanel, and not a knock off. All you have to do is go drop them somewhere with instructions on how to pay you. And they’ve been unconscious the whole time so they won’t know how to trace you back here. Just think,” I said, rushing now that I saw he was considering my words. “You could get everything you always deserved and then be over the border to Mexico before anyone even realized what was going on. You’ll live like a king there.”

He was imagining the life I was picturing for him; I could see it on his face. Then he looked back down at the floor at the two older folks, then to Jeremiah.

“What if they don’t pay?”

“They’ll pay.”

He glared back at me. “What if they don’t?”

I swallowed. “Then you do whatever you were already planning to do with us.”

He smiled at that. A slow, cruel smile. “Who says I won’t even if they do pay?”

I let him see the tremble in my lip, and it wasn’t just for show. He might be drunk and not too bright, but he was also unstable and violent. He was completely unpredictable and I had no idea what he might do next, if he’d listen to what I was suggesting or slug me in the stomach again.

But then, as the seconds ticked interminably by, he finally shoved his gun back into the holster at his side and leaned down. He grabbed Mrs. Winston roughly by her arms and kicked the door to the shed open. He started dragging her out the same way he’d dragged her in. I winced at how painful it looked but she was still completely knocked out, limp as a stuffed doll as her body bumped ruthlessly over the wooden step at the door’s threshold.

I stared at Jeremiah, willing him to move, to twitch—anything—but he stayed as still as stone for the five minutes it took Buck to get Mrs. Winston to the car and come back for Mr. Winston.

Mr. Winston wasn’t quite as inert as his wife, though. Was he starting to wake up from the tranquilizer? He groaned and his eyelids fluttered when he hit the same sharp wooden step at the doorway. Buck paused, but when Mr. Winston immediately fell silent again, he continued to drag the slight man over the punishing, uneven ground.

I closed my eyes. I wanted to start squirming and immediately start fighting my bonds. But no. Be patient. Just be patient. He’s almost gone.

I waited to hear the engine in Buck’s shitty little truck start up, straining to listen. I was straining so hard to hear faraway sounds that when the door to the cabin slammed open again, I jolted in surprise.