The cat stands and plods toward the trailer. I’m not sure if I should move or not with the way he’s staring at me. Though his look seems more disinterested than before, the kind of oh, you again? looks he’d give me in my barn.
“He knows you’re a good guy,” Willow tells me.
“Yeah, well...” I trail off, listening to the beat of Faulk’s footsteps pounding up the metal stairs to the catwalk.
Less than a minute later, he’s got Niles Foss in custody, totally disarmed, and moaning like the pitiful bitch he is as Faulk frogmarches him down to the ground level.
The tiger lets out what sounds like a satisfied grunt as he stomps up the metal door into the trailer.
All in a day’s work, he says with the swish of his tail.
Fuck it. I grin like the madman this insanity is turning me into.
As soon as we’ve got the ramp door closed up and locked, with half a dozen deputies pouring into the building, I grab Willow and give her another, long, thorough, earth-moving kiss.
It doesn’t last as long as I’d like when Jacob Cook joins the fray.
The refuge owner explains how the Foss duo called him shortly after Willow did, pretending they had a tiger needing a home. He’d explained that he already had a new one coming in and couldn’t take any more.
Then Niles and Priscilla showed up this morning with guns and tied up his wife. Took her hostage. Said they’d feed her to the lions one piece at a time if he didn’t go along with their scheme.
“Still, that’s a poor excuse for my behavior. I’m terribly sorry, Miss Macklin, quite mortified beyond belief that I put you in this position with that brute and his banshee,” Cook tells Willow, adjusting his spectacles with a sad glint in his eye. “The other man who was with them, the one who beat up your driver...he kept a gun trained on my poor wife practically all day. And when it wasn’t him, it was the other sick puppy with the baseball bat.”
“He’s Priscilla’s brother, Wilco,” Faulk says, pointing to the man I ran down outside the compound, now in the back of a squad car. Priscilla and Niles were already hauled away in custody for medical attention.
“Do you recognize him?” I ask Willow.
“He worked at Exotic Plains and was always waiting on the Queen Bee hand and foot. He deserves what’s coming.” Shaking her head, she purses her lips. “I have to call my father...”
I pull out my phone and hand it to her. “Here. Use mine.”
She punches a series of numbers into the phone and steps away from where the police are still clustered, asking questions and taking statements from everyone on the scene. I find my nephew in the tumult and lay a hand on his shoulder—gently because he looks like he’s been through a shredder.
“Weston? You should let the medics take you in once they show up,” I tell him. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the ER?”
“Aw, hell, I’ve had worse.” He flashes a lopsided grin that blurs into his exploding bruises. “We got lucky, Uncle Grady. Damn lucky. They knocked us out the minute we pulled up and we woke up shut up in the trailer with Bruce...then that Cruella de Vil nutjob started beating on the trailer with a baseball bat, trying to get Bruce pissed as a bull.”
“Fuck,” I grunt, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Even though we’re in the clear, my heart stomps in my ribs.
I came too close to losing her, to losing them both.
“She did us a favor,” Weston grinds out, swiping a hand over his face and wincing.
“Come again?”
“I mean, if it hadn’t been for her banging around, getting the tiger pissed, I never would’ve remembered the safety pins near the roof,” he says with a sigh. “Willow helped me up on a wheel well, and we got that door unlatched just in the nick of time. Then Willow ran out screaming before anybody knew what was happening. You should’ve seen him charging out, all teeth and claws. He went after that psycho bitch like a hellfire missile. I was heading for the cab of the truck after Willow insisted, hoping they’d left the keys, but then you caught up to us and...well, the rest is history.”
I grin, still in awe the tiger didn’t just rip that evil woman to shreds.
While he’s going into details, I hear Willow telling her father she’s fine.
“I’m glad as hell you’re in one piece,” I tell him, pounding his back.
“You and me both. Better they nailed my face than my hands,” he says, lifting his thick palms up and staring. “Shit, if they’d busted up my fingers, no telling if I’d ever be able to work on an engine again...”
“I won’t forget what you did for us today, West. You ever need money to expand the shop, you know who to ask.”
He looks up at me and smiles like I just handed him the moon. He’s a good man, another McKnight rebuilding his life, figuring his shit out, and if I can help him find a few more missing pieces, I will.
I step away, closer to Willow, and hear her telling her dad that he doesn’t need to come.
She’s fine, she insists.
For the thousandth time, thank God. I wrap an arm around her, unable to keep my hands to myself.
Quiet tears come flowing down her cheeks. I can tell she’s trying to hold it together, even as the day’s insane stress overwhelms her.
“Here.” I reach for the phone. “Let me talk to him.”
She passes it over. Her father is talking about flights, and I wait till he’s done before saying, “Mr. Macklin, my name’s Grady McKnight. I just want to assure you that Willow’s safe. I have two young daughters myself, so I feel your concern. You have my word that I’ll find her a place to rest, without letting her out of my sight.”
“Grady...you’re the friend who just rescued her, correct?” Peter sounds every bit like the worldly, educated man I imagined.
I glance down at Willow and smile.
“Yes, sir. My friends and I did the saving, but I have to tell you, she was already well on her way to rescuing herself by the time we got here.”
Her father chuckles. “Sounds like my girl. I’ll be catching a flight home to the States tomorrow. Where will she be?”
“Dallas, North Dakota,” I say intently. “Just a stone’s throw from Dickinson.”
“Excellent. I’ll be there as soon as possible, and Mr. McKnight, thank you again.” His voice cracks. “That girl is my world. I appreciate your assistance with keeping her safe more than I can put into words.”
“I can see why, sir.” My throat feels thick. “I’m gonna let you say bye to her now.”
I hand Willow the phone and tug her closer, folding my hands around her waist, as she agrees with her father’s need to see her. The call wraps up with a few more emotional goodbyes and tears on both sides.
“That’s the only reason they hired me,” she says, giving back the phone. “To extort money from my father.” She wipes at her eyes. “I should have known. I’m no expert on big cats. No expert on anything, really.”
“Hey, woman.” I tighten my hold, a promise in the pressure that screams forever. “What happened was their fault—not yours by a mile—and I think you’re goddamn brilliant.” There’s more I want to tell her, but now’s not the time or place.