Ellie walked up to the maître d’, “I hate to be a bother …”
“What can I do for you, Mrs Moreaux?”
She hesitated, “Can I get an escort to my pickup? There’s a man in the parking lot …”
“Of course, ma’am. Give me a moment.”
A voice from behind her, “Mrs Ellie Moreaux?”
She turned, an older, barrel-chested man was standing there, thick silver mustache, weathered face, sharp gray eyes, “I don’t know if you remember me, Ms Ellie, but we met at the Ranch Roundup …”
She interrupted him with a smile, holding out her hand, “7T Ranch. Mr Drummond, isn’t it?”
He grinned, taking her hand, “Yes, ma’am. Ben Drummond. This is my wife, Brenda.”
“Hello, Ellie,” Brenda said taking Ellie’s hands in both of hers, “I’ve wanted to meet you ever since I saw your ride on Yardbird.” A steady look, “Did we hear correctly that you need an escort to your pickup?”
Ellie looked at Brenda, small and slim next to her husband, and felt the tenseness in her shoulders relax, “Yes, but please don’t trouble yourselves …”
“Nonsense,” Ben rumbled, “It’s no trouble at all.” He looked at the maître d’, “We’re going to escort Mrs Moreaux to her pickup, and we’ll need a table for four when we get back.”
“Very good, sir.”
Brenda took Ellie’s arm, and they began walking to the parking lot, Ben on the other side and two 7T hands falling in behind.
They stepped out into the Texas afternoon sunshine, and Ellie felt a stab of relief. And a wash of sheepishness. The man wasn’t there. Silly, dramatic girl, she thought. “I’m sorry for wasting your …”
“Boss,” the hand’s voice was soft, but firm, “Left.”
She looked, and he was there. Black baseball cap, sunglasses, surgical mask, jeans, hands in the front pocket of the gray hoodie. And she could feel his gaze on her, her shoulders tensed in response.
“That him?” Ben Drummond’s voice was mild.
“Yes, sir.”
“Paolo, Jimmy.”
“Boss.” Both cow hands started moving towards the man, spreading out.
The man’s head turned slightly, observing the cowboys moving to flank him, then his hands came out of the pocket, the fingers of his left hand curling under the hem of the garment.
Drummond moved quickly, faster than a gentleman his age and build should have, stepping in front of the women, balanced, left foot slightly forward, right hand sliding under his sport coat to land on the butt of his pistol.
The man paused, his head moving from Drummond to the advancing cowboys, then he let go of the hoodie and both hands came up to chest level, palms down, fingers spread. Faintly Ellie heard the pop as Drummond unsnapped the retention strap on the holster and he slowly shook his head at the man.
Abruptly a white van pulled in front of him, blocking their view, the sound of a sliding door slamming closed, the van pulling out of the parking lot, horns sounding from the street.
Ellie blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, “Well, that was certainly something” she gave a brief relieved chuckle, “Thank y’all, I’ll just …”
She stopped as Brenda took her hand, “Aw, hell no, Ellie honey.” Her eyes were fierce, “You’re going to come inside, sit with us, and drink a glass of tea until Fort Worth PD gets here.”
Ben let go of the butt of his pistol, and turned, spreading both arms and making chivvying motions, “Thinking bourbon myself,” he herded the women back inside the building, “but, sure, tea is good, too.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure there’s actually anything here.” The Ft Worth PD sergeant looked skeptical.
“Now, see here,” Drummond sounded irked, and the sergeant raised his hand in a peace gesture, “It’s a busy city parking lot. We all know it’s dumb, but people wear those masks,” He looked at Drummond steadily, “Your hands were closing on him in what some might consider an aggressive manner, and you had your hand on a gun.” He shrugged, “I’d’ve … pardon me.”
He turned slightly hand coming up to his lapel mic, the faint crackle of static in his earpiece. Brenda laid her hand on her husband’s arm, and Ellie wished she were anywhere else.
The sergeant blinked, activated the microphone, “Merge those case numbers, please.”
He let go of the mic, and got his pen out of his pocket, looked at Ben Drummond, “My apologies, Mr Drummond. That van was reported stolen this morning.” He switched his gaze to Ellie, “So, Mrs Moreaux. Any idea who might want to kidnap you?”
Ellie blinked, Oh, she thought, an unusual glow of anger lighting her stomach, That bitch.
This is actually a red herring. Everyone thinks Elizabeth is behind this attempt, but it’s actually Carter Stephenson.
We are introduced to Carter in a scene I’m currently working on at the Fort Worth Petroleum Club, where Elizabeth was trying to arrange for him to have an affair with Ellie. What Elizabeth doesn’t know is that Carter has screwed-up by double-selling shares in a Midland-to-the-Gulf gas pipeline called Solstice Midstream. He needs Alan’s contacts with the Texas Railroad Commission and the financial backing of Taylor Oil and Gas to calm his investors down long enough to start making money, which will allow him to fix the situation.
If he doesn’t get Alan’s backing he’s looking at financial ruin, civil lawsuits, and probable criminal charges.
Ellie shuts him down pretty hard at the Petroleum Club, but he knows how fond Alan is of Ellie, so he thinks that he can schmooze Ellie into talking her father into backing Carter, and he decides to “run into” Ellie at a cafe in Henrietta so he can enlist her aid.
Ellie thinks it’s further attempt at an affair, there’s a bit of a scene — I think, still working on that one — and storms out of the cafe. Carter follows her to the ranch, where one of his security team grabs her arm to make her sit and listen to what Carter is actually trying to say.
Remy does Remy things, and both security types1 become kinetic meat shields long enough for Ellie to stop Remy from turning Carter into a Pez dispenser.
Carter’s family gets him out of jail, get the charges dropped — “misunderstanding, and all that” — and Carter (justifiably scared of Remy)2 decides that kidnapping Ellie to force Alan3 to help is the next best course of action.
This scene is his first attempt, but everyone is set-up to believe that Elizabeth is behind it, which gives Carter the breathing room for a second — successful — attempt.
I’m at the stage where I can’t write fast enough to get the scenes out of my head.
Sigh.
Oh, and I’d like to remind everyone that these are literally just passages I’m brain-dumping onto the page. Yes, they need editing. Badly. Yes, there seem to be some character inconsistencies. Yes, I overuse some words. First Draft, guys.
Ian
These are the Russians Buk is water-boarding with tea later.
This is why Carter makes the tactically stupid decision to grab Remy, too. He figures if he can execute Remy the nightmares will stop.
I never said the little bugsnipe was smart. And if you think this is too dumb for real life — I’ve got a 26-year career in Law Enforcement that’s giggling at you.
"And if you think this is too dumb for real life--I’ve got a 26-year career in Law Enforcement that’s giggling at you."
Forget twenty-six years. The dumb stuff you see people do within *a* year is absolutely wild.
Rough draft it may be but I am already sold on the story