Thanks to all you readers for your continued support and kind words and for being dedicated members of the Samcedes fanfiction family. Standard disclaimer: I own probably ten percent of this story, the rest of the credit goes to the author Delores Fossen and creators/writers of Glee.
Triggers: More Violence
Chapter Eleven
Mercedes didn't even try to tamp down the fear that was spiking through her. And she hated that she was tucked away at the ranch while Sam was out there facing down a killer.
Or walking into a trap.
Either one of those could be deadly.
Ryder might be injured. Heck, he might even have been kidnapped by one of his own hired thugs. He could even be dying. But that didn't mean Ryder wouldn't use his last seconds on earth to deliver one final blow to her. Killing Sam would be the ultimate blow. Ryder could destroy both Sam and her by doing that.
That thought hit her so hard that Mercedes had to sink down in the chair at the kitchen table. Spencer was already seated, and he was monitoring the scanner for reports from the cabin. At first, he'd tried to do the "monitoring" through headphones, but Mercedes had put a stop to that. As hard as it was for her—she had to hear what was going on.
So far, not much.
Sam, Steven, and Adam were in a holding pattern, and it was as if time had stopped. Just to give herself something to do, Mercedes forced herself to her feet and went to the kitchen window to keep watch. She also slipped her hand over the gun that she'd tucked in the back waist of her jeans. That was yet something else she'd talked Spencer into doing. She doubted that Ryder could get to the ranch, but she didn't want to be unarmed if that happened.
When she got to the window, she immediately spotted the ranch hand on the back porch. He was armed with a rifle—as was the one on the front porch. They'd stay in those positions, guarding her, until Sam returned.
"The bomb squad gave the all-clear," Spencer relayed to her a split second before she heard that static-laced info come through on the scanner.
That was a relief, but Mercedes knew this only put Sam one step closer to going into the cabin and facing, well, whatever he would face there. Maybe Ryder. Maybe one of his uninjured henchmen.
When her lungs started to ache, she released the breath she'd been holding and moved to the other side of the window so that she'd have a different angle for keeping watch.
She could see the barn, but there wasn't anyone near it. That was because Sam had put hands on the road to stop anyone from just driving up. It wasn't foolproof though, and they all knew it. There were ranch trails that coiled and cut all around the property, and someone could have parked on the main road and used those trails to get close to the house.
"Sam's going inside," Spencer said.
The deputy was watching her now, volleying those cautious glances at her, probably making sure she wasn't about to have a panic attack. She wouldn't. Even though there was plenty of panic inside her, she would keep it together for Sam's sake. It might cause him to lose focus if he heard she was having trouble.
The conversation she'd had with Sam started playing in her head. The l-word had been part of that, and while it hadn't exactly sent Sam running, she wouldn't hold him to anything he'd said to her in that moment.
Well, nothing except that "I swear."
He had sworn to her that he'd come back safe, and she latched on to that like a lifeline.
"Sam's in with Ryder," Spencer told her. "Steven said Ryder's bleeding out. Dying."
So, that was true, too. Part of her wanted to be there so she could look the snake in the eyes, so that he could see that he hadn't beaten her, after all. Another part of her just wanted him to go ahead and die, and then Sam could come back to her.
The static hissed and crackled, and she caught bits and pieces of Ryder and Sam's conversation. Ryder said something about Goolsby and settling up. Then, it was as if the static cleared for her to hear—clearly—what he said next.
"I didn't kill your father nor that deputy."
Yes, that was Ryder's voice all right, but it wasn't exactly a news flash. He'd said something similar during one of his phone calls. Mercedes didn't believe him. Or rather she didn't want to believe him. But if he'd indeed killed them, then this would have been a time for him to brag. After all, he was dying.
"I'm not the only monster on your turf, Sheriff," Ryder muttered. "Save yourself and Mercedes if you can."
That alone could have put her heart in her throat, but Spencer drew his gun and hurried to the window. He pushed her aside, but she could still see the barn.
"Do you think that means Ryder sent another gunman?" she asked.
"Maybe." Spencer didn't take his attention off the backyard. "Or it could be Ryder's parting shot."
Yes, with just those handful of words, he could rob them of any peace and have them looking over their shoulders.
That might have given her some relief. If Mercedes hadn't seen the movement by the side of the barn. For just a split second she thought maybe someone had peered out, so she watched, holding her breath again.
But nothing.
Obviously, every nerve was zinging inside her, and it wouldn't take much for her to see a bogeyman. Not Ryder though. He was dead. She wasn't mistaken about Spencer saying that, but instead of feeling any relief or celebration, Mercedes could sense that something was indeed wrong.
There was a strange sound. As if something had smacked against the side of the house. The ranch hand shifted in that direction. So did she and Spencer, and again, they waited.
Not long this time though.
She felt the jolt of adrenaline as smoke started billowing out from the side of the house. Mercedes didn't think this had come from a fire. No. It was pure white and thick, and even though she was no expert, she thought it might be from some kind of smoke bomb. That would explain the strange sound she'd heard just seconds earlier.
Oh, God.
There was no good reason for someone to do something like this. But there was a bad one. Someone had gotten onto the ranch, and that someone was about to launch an attack.
Mercedes got confirmation of that when she heard the next sound. One that she had no trouble recognizing. It was a gunshot.
Sam tried not to think. He just drove as fast as he could and hoped if Ryder was telling the truth, that he would get to the ranch in time to stop anything bad from happening to Mercedes.
I'm not the only monster on your turf, Sheriff.
Of course, Sam had known that, but he had no idea which monster Ryder meant. Or if the man was just blowing smoke during his last seconds alive. Still, Sam couldn't discount pieces that just didn't add up.
"If Ryder didn't kill your father and his deputy, who did?" Adam asked. He was familiar with the case, anyone in the area was, but he probably didn't know the details like Sam.
"Marley, maybe," Steven answered. Like Sam and Adams, he was keeping watch around them on the drive back because one of Ryder's assassins could be waiting along the road to do one last bidding for a dead boss. "It'd be a lot easier if it was Marley," his brother added in a grumble.
Yes, it would be, considering their other two suspects were both marshals who could be hell-bent on covering up the murder of a prostitute. Cooter could be doing that because he'd been the one to commit the murder. Sue, because she wanted to protect Cooter or because she'd been so jealous of his affair that she'd murdered Kitty in cold blood. Whatever their motive, if it was either of them—or both—it could mean the danger wasn't over.
Hell, it could be just beginning.
Sam had already texted one of the hands to let him know to stay vigilant. He hadn't sent the same message to Spencer though, but that's because it would have alarmed Mercedes even more than she already was. Besides, if the hands saw anything, they would alert Spencer, and his deputy could take things from there.
His phone rang, and when he saw Evander's name on the screen, Sam took the call and put it on Speaker. "Is it true? Is Ryder really dead?" Evander asked the moment he was on the line.
"It's true. But he didn't confess to killing Dad or Anthony."
That caused Evander to curse, something Sam considered doing. He wanted this tied up in a neat little package, too, but more than that he needed to make sure Mercedes was okay.
"I'm on my way to the ranch now and am only a few minutes out," Sam added. There wasn't any way to tell Evander that Ryder had left him with a bad feeling in his gut. Especially since Ryder always made him feel that way. "Something's wrong," he admitted. "I have to get to Mercedes."
That didn't help Evander's profanity. "You'd better have backup with you."
"I do. You stay there with Tina. Ryder might have left some orders from the grave, and he could have sent someone after Tina."
"No one will get near her." Evander's voice was low and dangerous, exactly how Sam felt. "Make sure you do the same for Mercedes."
"I will. Gotta go. There's another call coming in." And his heart skipped some beats when he saw Spencer's name on the screen.
"We've got a problem," Spencer immediately said.
Yeah, and the deputy didn't have to explain exactly what that problem was. Sam heard the gunshot.
"Is Mercedes all right?" Sam snapped.
"For now. Just get here as fast as you can," Spencer insisted, but not before Sam heard a second shot.
Obviously, Adam and Steven heard the shot, too, because both of them drew their weapons. Getting ready for whatever they were about to face. Sam readied himself, too, and he pressed down hard on the accelerator, trying to eat up the distance between Mercedes and him.
Spencer didn't stay on the line with Sam. Probably because the deputy was trying to move Mercedes somewhere out of the line of fire. That steadied Sam, some. Spencer was well trained, an experienced deputy, but Ryder's hired guns had likely honed their "craft," too.
"What the hell?" Steven grumbled when they took the turn to the ranch, and they saw the thick white smoke billowing around the house.
Sam's first thought was an explosion. There'd certainly been enough of those after Ryder had turned up in Blue Ridge. But this was no explosion. Someone was trying to smoke Mercedes and Spencer out of the house.
Ahead of him, the hands that Sam had left at the gate were already in their trucks, heading for the house. Good. That meant he'd have plenty of backup. Unfortunately, the hands might not be a match for professionals.
"Call them," Sam instructed Steven. "Tell the hands to hold back until I get ahead of them."
Sam didn't slow down while his brother did that. He just kept speeding toward the cattle gate, then past it. Thanks to Steven's call, the trucks pulled off the side, and Sam sped by them.
There was no sign of Spencer or Mercedes. Also, no sign of the hand who should have been on the front porch. Of course, with that thick cloud of smoke, it was hard to see anything.
Sam pulled up closer to the house, and he cursed when he spotted the hand. Facedown. Maybe dead. And again, he mentally kicked himself for not being here. He'd let Ryder lead him into a trap, after all. It just hadn't been the trap that Sam had been expecting.
The anger boiled through him, and Sam wished Ryder was alive only so he could kill the bastard.
"Stay in the cruiser," Sam instructed Adams and Steven.
It took everything inside him to give that order for them to stay put. He needed to get to Mercedes—but if they got out, a hired gun could pick them off one by one. That wouldn't help Mercedes, and it could get someone else killed.
Sam pulled off the driveway, crashing the cruiser through the fence and across the yard. Once he got to the side of the house, it was like driving blind because the smoke was so thick. He prayed that he wouldn't run into Mercedes or Spencer, and that's why he pressed down on the horn. Yes, that would alert a gunman, but the odds were the thug already knew they were there.
In fact, that could be the thug's plan.
Ryder's plan.
It twisted at him to think that the killer wasn't done with them yet.
Sam finally made it past the smear of smoke, and he caught sight of the back porch. Again, what he saw there wasn't good. There was another ranch hand lying in a crumpled heap. Worse, there was a second wave of smoke, and this time it wasn't coming from the yard but rather the house. It was billowing out the back door.
Sam's phone dinged with a text message, but since he didn't want to take his attention off the house, he handed it to Steven.
"It's from Spencer," Steven relayed. "Mercedes and he are coming out the front and they need cover."
Sam didn't waste a second. He threw the cruiser into Reverse, plowing back through the yard until he reached the front porch. This time he didn't stay inside. He threw open his door. Adams and Steven did the same, clearing the way for Spencer and Mercedes to hurry into the cruiser once they got out.
His heartbeat was thudding in his ears, making it hard to hear, and the smoke was stinging his eyes. Still, Sam kept watch, waiting—and praying—for Mercedes and Spencer to appear.
The front door finally flew open, and Spencer came out. The moment he spotted Sam, he reached back, taking hold of Mercedes's arm.
Spencer had her.
That caused both relief and adrenaline to slam through Sam, and he ran onto the porch so he could help get her to safety. However, when he reached the steps, Sam saw something else.
Or rather someone.
A beefy man came up behind Spencer and Mercedes. And with the smoke billowing around her, the guy hooked his arm around Mercedes's neck, snapping her back against his chest and out of Spencer's grip.
And the man put a gun to her head.
For just a breath of a second, Mercedes thought she would be able to get to Sam. She thought they would all be okay and get out of this nightmare. But that all changed—first when she saw the fresh look of terror on Sam's face.
Then, she'd felt the arm around her throat.
And the gun.
A thousand thoughts and feelings hit her at once, but the one that pierced through that frenzied whirl was that this could get Sam killed. But Sam dove for cover. So did Steven, Adam, and the hands. Sam landed on the side of the stone steps, but he immediately shifted his position, levering himself up and bringing his gun.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you, Sheriff," the man behind her growled, causing Sam to freeze. "That'd be a real bad idea."
Mercedes didn't recognize the voice, but then this was probably one of the thugs that Ryder had hired. A way of tying up all those loose ends and she was the ultimate prize because she was the one who'd gotten away.
Tina, too.
And it sent another layer of sickening dread over Mercedes that at this very moment one of Ryder's goons might be doing the same thing to Tina as this one was doing to her. At least she could fight back, but Tina wasn't in any shape to do that.
"Let her go," Sam snapped. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and every muscle in his body looked primed and ready for a fight. A fight that couldn't happen as long as this snake had a gun to her head.
Mercedes needed to figure out what to do about that.
"Not gonna happen," the hit man answered Sam. "But here's what we're gonna do instead. All of you and any other hands you've got stashed nearby will put down your weapons and back up. If you do that, nobody dies."
Sam didn't budge. Neither did Spencer, Steven or Adam. There were also four ranch hands who were behind cover at the backs of their trucks.
"And I'm to believe you about no one dying?" Sam fired back. "There are two men down, one on the back porch and another just a few feet from you."
"They're not dead. Just stunned and drugged. My boss didn't want any unnecessary collateral damage."
That was laughable. Ryder didn't care who was killed in this as long as he got Tina and her. Maybe Sam, too. Mercedes didn't know how deep Ryder's hatred for Sam went, but Ryder could have included him in this cleanup detail.
"My boss only wants the lady here," the thug added. "I'll be taking her for a little ride. I'm to show her something and then let her go."
No one hearing that believed it. Especially not Mercedes.
"Guns down," he repeated. "Then, put your hands up so I can see them."
The man jammed the gun even harder against her head. So hard that Mercedes couldn't hold back a wince and a soft groan of pain. Then she felt the blood from where the barrel of the gun had dug into her skin.
Sam saw the blood, too.
He cursed, his grip tightening on his gun. Mercedes kept her gaze on him, silently pleading with him not to do anything. Not like this. The thug could literally gun Sam and the rest down while using her as a human shield.
She felt the blood trickle down the side of her face, and Mercedes figured that was the tipping point for Sam. He couldn't save her, not here anyway. Like her, he had to wait for some kind of opening and pray that this jerk made a mistake. The other hired guns for Ryder certainly had.
"Dakota, you can come out now," the goon said. "I'm gonna need a little help here."
Mercedes cursed softly when she heard the footsteps, coming from behind her, and even though she couldn't see Dakota, she felt it when he reached in and put a pair of plasticuffs on her wrists.
"Don't make me hurt her to get you to obey," the thug warned Sam. "I can start putting bullets in her. It won't kill her, but it'll hurt—bad."
Mercedes had firsthand experience what it felt like to be shot. And it did hurt. But not as much as seeing that look in Sam's eyes. He was blaming himself for this. He was reliving the other nightmare of when she'd been held at gunpoint.
With his eyes still locked on hers, Sam tossed his gun to the side, lifted his hands. One by one, the others followed suit. Almost immediately, her captor started moving with her. Dakota was likely watching their backs.
"I'm gonna need a vehicle and keys," the goon said when he reached the steps with her. "I'll take that red truck." Other than the cruiser, it was the one nearest to the house. "And remember, if any of you tries to shoot me, the bullet could go through me and into her. Plus, I'm sure my own finger would tense and I'd end up shooting her in the head. Wouldn't want that, now, would we?"
Mercedes tuned him out. Tried to tune out the flashbacks, too, and with each step she took, she tried to figure out how to stop this. She tested the man's reaction by dropping down her weight a little.
"That'd be a good way to get the sheriff killed," he whispered in her ear. "Despite what I just told them, he's the one I'll shoot if you don't cooperate. He's the only one who'll die. I doubt you'd be able to live with knowing you killed him."
She wouldn't, and that's the only reason she stopped. It was best to get away from Sam and the others. Yes, they would go in pursuit, but once she was in the truck with this snake and Dakota, she might be able to cause them to wreck if she threw her body against the steering wheel. It was risky, but anything she did would be.
"Back up," Dakota yelled out to the hands. And they did.
When they reached the truck, Mercedes heard the engine still running, and the man didn't waste any time shoving her inside through the driver's door. He followed her, shutting the door, and Dakota got in from the other side, trapping her in the middle. Only then did she get a look at their faces.
Strangers.
Dakota was thin, very short, and wiry, and he was loaded down with assorted weapons. The one who'd snatched her was bulky and built like a wrestler, which meant she wouldn't be able to hold her own physically with him. Maybe, though, she wouldn't need to do that if she could send the truck into the ditch.
Mercedes tried to get out of the plasticuffs, more as a distraction since she knew they would hold. She wiggled her shoulders.
And the pain exploded in her head.
She hadn't seen the blow coming from the butt of Dakota's gun, but she certainly felt it. It blurred her vision and knocked the breath out of her.
"Settle down," Dakota warned her. "I don't have orders to kill you, but that doesn't mean I won't."
Despite the searing pain, Mercedes latched on to those words. "You expect me to believe Ryder didn't leave orders to kill me?"
Dakota lifted his shoulder. The gesture was casual enough, but there was concern, or something, in his dull blue eyes when he glanced behind them. Sam was no doubt already in pursuit.
"I'm supposed to give you a message from Ryder Lynn," Dakota said. "Just carrying out a man's dying wish. I'm to tell you that Ryder was telling a fib when he said he didn't kill the sheriff's dad and that deputy. That's the word Ryder told me to use—fib." Judging from Dakota's oily smile, that amused him.
It didn't amuse Mercedes, but it was definitely something Ryder would have said. "Why did he fib?"
"How the hell should I know?" Dakota snapped. "The guy was a couple of cards short of a deck if you know what I mean. He said he killed them both and that I should tell you, that you should call the sheriff and let him know, too."
With that, he took out a phone and pressed the button for a number that was already programmed into the phone. Her vision still wasn't clear, and her head was throbbing like a bad tooth, but Mercedes had no doubts that Dakota was calling Sam. A moment later, she got confirmation of that.
"Sheriff Evans," he said, his voice as fierce and clipped as she figured his expression would be.
"Tell him what Ryder said." Dakota passed the phone to her.
"Sam," Mercedes managed after she cleared her throat. She wanted to sound strong with the hopes of making this easier for Sam. If that was possible.
"Mercedes." Not fierce and clipped this time when Sam spoke. But there was so much worry.
Dakota rammed his elbow into her side, obviously his way of reminding her to get on with the message. "Ryder apparently told these men that he had indeed killed your father and Anthony."
"Ryder wanted to set the record straight," Dakota added in a snarl loud enough for Sam to hear.
"And why would Ryder want to do that?" The fierceness was back. "Why would he care what I know or don't know when he's dead?"
"Don't know, don't care," Dakota answered. "I'm just the messenger here."
"Yeah, one who kidnapped a woman from my home."
Dakota chuckled. "I guess that had to get your goat, what with you being a lawman and all. Don't worry, Sheriff, you'll get her back in one piece. More or less," Dakota added, sneering at her. "My advice would be for you and your fellow badges to back off and let this play out."
There was nothing Sam would want to play out when hired thugs and Ryder were involved.
"You need to make sure Tina is okay," Mercedes blurted out, knowing it could earn her another bashing. Or worse. Still, she had to try. But Dakota didn't hit her again. He merely ended the call and put his phone away.
"We're almost there," the driver said, causing Mercedes to glance around to see where they were.
And the chill rippled like ice over her skin.
Because this was the road to Serenity Inn.
Oh, God. The last time she'd been here, Ryder had nearly killed her.
While she fought to hang on to her breath, Mercedes reminded herself that Ryder was dead. That didn't help, though, because he wasn't the only one who could murder her and Sam. Hired guns could do that, too.
The inn came into view, and even though it was daylight, it looked spookier than it had the night Ryder had taken her there. Most of the windows had been boarded up, and the ones that hadn't been were just dark holes of broken glass. They reminded her of eye sockets.
The driver went through the side of the yard, or rather what was left of it after the explosion, and as if they'd rehearsed it, both men got out, the driver dragging her after them. A man got on each side of her, and they ran with her into the inn. The moment they were inside, they padlocked the door from within. Since the lock looked new, she guessed they'd been the ones to put it there.
Mercedes forced herself to breathe. Hard to do because the stale air inside was clogged with dust, mold and other smells she didn't want to identify. Even in the barely-there light, she could still see the foyer floor. And the bloodstains that were there.
Hers.
Outside, she heard vehicles braking to noisy stops. Sam and the others, no doubt. Dakota took out his phone, and she saw him press Sam's number again. He didn't put the call on speaker, but she was close enough to him to hear when Sam answered.
"Tell me what it'll take to get you to release Mercedes," Sam demanded.
"I haven't been paid to negotiate with you, but you should keep yourself and your men back, Sheriff. One more step, and you could all go kaboom."
Mercedes shook her head, not wanting to believe that, but Dakota took out a small device. It was the size of a cell phone and looked like the remote control for a toy car. It had two switches, one labeled Arm, and the other, Execute, was about two inches below it.
When Dakota hit the switch and a green light flared on, her stomach went to her knees. But Dakota smiled.
"All ready to go now," he said, his thumb moving to hover over the second button. Execute. "If I press this, it's gonna be too late for all of us."
The man had just armed a bomb.
Sam immediately motioned for Steven, Adam, and the hands to stop in their tracks. This could be a bluff, but if Ryder was involved in this, then he could have hired someone to set another bomb.
But Sam was beginning to think that was a big if.
Something about all of this wasn't right. If Ryder wanted revenge against Mercedes, why hadn't his thugs just killed her at the ranch? Of course, maybe Ryder just wanted it all to end here, like a sick full circle.
Another possibility came to mind, too. Ryder could have left instructions to use Mercedes to draw out Tina so he could finish her off, as well. It wouldn't work. Mercedes wouldn't lure out Tina even if it meant saving herself. Besides, Tina had no memory of her anyway.
"Why bring Mercedes here?" Sam snapped. He wasn't even sure the hired gun was still on the line, not until he responded.
"Just following orders. And speaking of orders, here's one for you, Sheriff. Start walking toward the inn. Just you. None of your little helpers. I've got my hands on a controller for the bomb, and the light is blazing green. That means it's ready to go, and I've got my thumb over the button that could put you in a lot of pieces."
Sam looked at the window on the bottom right. It was boarded up, but there was a gap between two of the boards, and Sam saw someone peering out at him.
"You said there were explosives," Sam reminded him. That wouldn't stop him. One way or another he was getting inside so he could try to save Mercedes.
No. Not try. He would save her. Sam refused to think differently.
"Oh, there's a boomer out there all right, but you can follow what's left of the stone walkway to the side of the porch. Remember that part about only you coming. If not, the blast goes off and your girl might get hurt. These walls aren't that thick."
That kicked up his pulse several notches, and he felt the slick layer of fear slide over him. It wasn't the first time he'd felt it, but the stakes felt higher than they ever had before.
"You know this could be a trap," Steven warned him. His brother and the rest were behind the cover of their vehicles—where Sam wanted them to stay.
Sam nodded, and without ending the call, he slipped his phone in his shirt pocket to free his hands. He started walking. He'd picked up his gun from the yard at the ranch before he left, and he still had it out of his holster. If he got the chance to use it, he would.
With each step, his heart beat faster. His chest went fist tight. And it took everything inside Sam to fight away the flashbacks from that other night.
He didn't look down at the ground. Didn't want the distraction of remembering the spots where his father and Anthony had died. Sam just kept walking, and once he made it to the side of the porch, he climbed up.
"What now?" Sam snapped to the caller.
"Come on in." The welcome was coated with the same kind of mockery that Ryder favored, and Sam heard what he thought was someone disengaging a lock on the front door.
He knew in his gut that if he went, he'd be gunned down.
Sam slowed, taking a closer look at the gap in the window. No one was peering out at him now, but he could see inside.
Mercedes.
