Chapter Nine

As Logan drove down the winding two-lane blacktop, his phone vibrated insistently in his shirt pocket. With a sigh, he retrieved it and saw a message from Dixie, causing him to immediately slam on the brakes. The SUV skidded sideways on the road's slick surface before coming to a stop. He quickly checked the rearview mirror for any cars behind him before pulling over onto the shoulder of the road. His heart pounded in his chest as he read the urgent message again.

Help!

Logan's mind raced with worry as he tried calling her back, only to be sent straight to voicemail. He knew Dixie well enough to know that she would never reach out to him for help unless it was truly dire.

Taking a moment to scan for traffic, he made a hasty U-turn and headed toward her place. He sped down the road but didn't switch on the lights or siren because he didn't know what was going on and if someone was there with her, he didn't want to alert them. He slowed down as he approached her house. He noticed a car parked on the shoulder of the road across from her driveway and immediately called in the license plate number. Shutting off his headlights, he parked in her driveway, and waited for a response, but kept his eyes glued to the house. His gut churned with unease. It was never wrong .

"Logan? The tags belong to a rental car registered under the name Scott Jenkins. I ran his name, and he's associated with Jimmy Cortez," Nevada's voice came over the radio.

"Shit," Logan muttered under his breath before telling Nevada he was sitting in Dixie's driveway.

"Do you need backup?"

"Yes, come in silent," he replied, giving Nevada Dixie's address.

"On my way."

Turning off the vehicle's engine, Logan opened his door and closed it quietly behind him. Unsnapping the retainer button on his holster, he withdrew his weapon and crept toward the house. Stepping onto the porch, he saw that the door was open and heard Dixie's voice raised in alarm.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Just give me the fucking journal and I will. We know you have it," responded a man's voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Get out!" screamed Dixie, her voice quivering with fear.

Logan heard flesh hitting flesh followed by Dixie's screams of pain and knew the man had struck her.

"Give me the fucking journal or I'll kill you!" the man shouted again.

"C'mon, Nevada," Logan whispered urgently, knowing that he couldn't wait any longer. When Dixie screamed once more, he knew he had to act. Taking a deep breath, he held his weapon in front of him and entered the house. He gritted his teeth as he saw the man holding Dixie in a chokehold with a gun pressed to her temple.

"Drop the weapon," Logan said, causing the man to look at him, still not releasing his hold on Dixie.

Before Logan could do anything else, the man aimed his gun at him and fired, hitting Logan and knocking him to the floor in excruciating pain. Dixie screamed his name. Through blurred vision, he watched as the man forced Dixie out of the house. Trying to get up, Logan found himself unable to move due to the intense pain radiating from his body.

Laying there helplessly, he heard a car starting up, then it sped away. He wasn't sure how long he lay there before Nevada arrived on scene.

"Damn it. Logan!" Nevada knelt beside him in concern.

"I'm… okay. My… vest stopped… the bullet."

"Yeah, but it still can cause some damage. Hurts like a bitch, doesn't it? Where's Dixie?"

"That bastard took her. Put an APB out on that car, please." Struggling to sit up against the wall, Logan took deep breaths trying to ease the pain. He had to find Dixie and make sure she was safe. If anything happened to her, he couldn't live with himself.

"Alright. Don't move," Nevada ordered sternly, his gaze intense as he looked at Logan while he called in the All-Points-Bulletin.

"I can't just sit here. I have to go after her." With great effort, Logan managed to stand up but immediately doubled over in pain, placing his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

"I called the others and Sam is on his way here. Brody, Paul, and Mark will be out looking for the vehicle, which is what I need to do. You stay here until Sam arrives."

"I think this was the same guy who broke into her house before. He told her he wanted some journal, but she told him she didn't know what he was talking about." Logan sucked in a breath and groaned at the pain it caused.

"Just sit down, Logan. We've got this."

"Nevada…"

"Sit down. Sam will be here soon. In fact, I hear a siren. I'm leaving. Stay still." Nevada walked out the door while Logan leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.

Logan heard the siren shut off and knew Sam had arrived, then he heard Nevada's vehicle start and drive off.

Sam entered the house and walked to him. He squatted and put his hand on Logan's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

"Go to the hospital and get checked out."

"No."

"Excuse me? I didn't ask, Logan. You could have a cracked rib or worse. You're going to hurt like hell and have a lot of bruising."

"I've been hit before in a vest, Sam. I need to go after Dixie."

"I've been shot in the vest before too, and I know how painful it can be. You will go to the hospital and if the doctor says you can return to work, then you can. If you refuse to obey an order, then I'll fire your ass. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Logan grumbled.

Sam helped him up. "Do you want an ambulance?"

"No, I can drive. It'll hurt, but I'd rather go and get it over with."

"Alright. I'm going to look through the house and check for fingerprints."

"I doubt if there are any. He wore gloves." Logan stared at Sam. "Would you really fire me?"

"In a fucking heartbeat." Sam grinned, then began walking through the house.

Despite the pain, Logan grinned. He slowly made his way to his vehicle, opened the door, and climbed inside, swearing with every movement.

****

Dixie sat in the passenger seat with her arms folded across her chest as tears rolled down her face.

"Why did you have to kill him?" she asked in a choked voice.

"Because I had to get you out of there and he was in the way. Boss won't be happy, but it couldn't be helped."

"Where are you taking me?"

"It doesn't matter, but I'm going to make you tell me where that journal is."

Dixie shivered at his words. She had no idea what journal he was talking about.

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

"Your father kept a log of all the money transactions he did."

"He's been in prison over two years!"

"We know exactly how long he's been in prison. Your father likes to talk. He told his cellmate he could get Cortez arrested with a journal he has. Apparently, it has all the transactions he did for Cortez, and the money he got for him. So, that journal needs to be destroyed."

"What makes you think I have it?"

"Where else would it be? The FBI took everything and if they had found it, they would have arrested my boss, but since they haven't, we figure you have it."

"Well, you figure wrong, jackass."

"We'll find it one way or the other even if we have to tear your house apart."

"You didn't find it the last time you ransacked my house," she snapped.

"We didn't have enough time, that's why I went back. I tore everything apart this time, then when I heard you pull up, I had to get out, but then thought it would be the perfect time to have you give it to me."

She sat up when he stopped in front of a house and looked at her.

"Do not move. I'll come around to get you."

"Wonderful," she muttered. She watched as he got out and closed the door. The minute he did, she opened her door and ran.

"Hey!" he yelled but she kept going. She didn't care if he shot her, she was not stopping. Who knew what he had in store for her, but she didn't want to stick around to find out. Especially since he told her what was in that journal. Why tell her if he was going to let her live?

When he tackled her to the ground, the wind was knocked out of her. She rolled to her back and fought him. She scratched his face with her fingernails, making him cry out in pain. The last thing she remembered was him drawing his fist back and punching her.

****

Logan walked into the hospital, holding his hand across his chest. He knew there was going to be bruising, but he needed to get checked out, then look for Dixie. He gingerly sat in a chair after checking in and waited.

Damn, he hated going to the hospital. It was always hurry up and wait. He hurt like a bitch. They could just wrap his chest, and he'd leave. He couldn't think of what could be happening to Dixie and it made his gut ache. He had to find her.

"Mr. Townson?" a nurse asked when she entered the waiting room.

"That's me," Logan said, then tried to get to his feet, hissing in a breath at the pain.

"Wait. Let me get a wheelchair for you." She quickly made her way to where a few sat and pushed one to him. "Let me help you up," she said.

Logan nodded as he stood. She took his arm and helped him lower into the wheelchair. He groaned at the pain.

"I'm so sorry. I'll take you to a room. The doctor won't be long." She pushed him down a hallway, then into a room to wait for the doctor. "So, you were shot?"

"Yeah, in the vest. But it still hurts."

"Oh, I'm sure it does. Good thing you had the vest on, though."

"Yes, ma'am."

After an hour of getting through the exam and x-rays, he was finally told he had several cracked ribs and a lot more bruising would be showing up. He was given pain meds and told not to work for a week. He was to rest and nothing else.

"Damn it," he murmured as the nurse pushed the wheelchair to the doors. "Here is fine. I can walk to my truck."

"Are you sure? I can push you over to it. The less you move, the better."

Logan sighed. "Alright."

The nurse laughed. "I can tell you're not going to like the time off."

"You have no idea." He pointed to his truck, pushed the fob, and she pushed the wheelchair to it, then helped him to his feet. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Townson. Take it easy or you'll be back here."

"No offense, but I sure as hell hope not."

She smiled after he got into the truck, then pushed the empty wheelchair back into the hospital.

Logan took a deep breath, put his head against the steering wheel and groaned. He sat up, started the truck, and pulled out of the parking lot. There was no way he was calling Sam and telling him he wasn't to return to work. If he lost his job, so be it. He had to find Dixie. He called Nevada to get an update.

"Logan? Did you get checked out?"

"Yeah. Where are you? Any word on Dixie?"

"No. We're still looking. Are you allowed to return to duty?"

Logan shook his head. He didn't want to lie, but if he told Nevada no, would he tell Sam? Taking a deep breath, he swore at the pain.

"No—"

"Then why the hell are you calling me?"

"Damn it, Nevada, if it was Courtney, what would you do?"

"Fuck," Nevada muttered. "I get it, but if Sam finds out…"

"He won't unless you tell him. Otherwise, you didn't hear from me."

"And if Sam calls you?"

"I don't know. Is there anything on that car?"

"Nothing. We're all searching for it."

"Shit. Okay. I'm going to drive around too."

Logan—"

"I'll be fine." He disconnected.

He decided to head to Dixie's house. Everyone should be gone from there and he wanted to check the place out.

Pulling into the driveway, he swore when he saw the yellow crime scene tape. He parked his truck, opened the door, and slowly stepped out.

"Son of a bitch," he swore again. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't stop now. He put his holster on since he had to remove it before going into the hospital. Even that hurt. He held his weapon at the ready and entered the house with his flashlight illuminating the interior. He swore at the mess .

Whoever they were, they wanted that journal, and he wanted to know why. Making his way into the living room, he looked around. Furniture was turned over and the sofa and chair had been slashed with the stuffing pulled out. He walked down the hallway and glanced into each room. When he reached Dixie's bedroom, he swore again as he looked at all the drawers open and clothes strewn across the room. Every drawer was empty but apparently, they didn't find what they'd been looking for.

After looking around and not finding anything he could use, he started to return to the living room. As he walked along the hallway, something hit him on the back of his head and he fell to the floor, losing consciousness.

Logan regained consciousness as he was being dragged by two men into a room.

"Place him in the chair and secure him there," the deep, menacing voice of Jimmy Cortez commanded.

Logan's heart raced as he struggled against the tight grip of the men holding him. He had stumbled upon a dangerous operation and now his life was at risk. But he couldn't let them harm Dixie. He'd die first. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw her tied to a chair, blood under her nose, and her eye swollen. He wanted to kill whoever did this to her. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and he knew she thought he was dead from being shot.

"How are you involved in this, Cortez?" Logan demanded, fear and anger coursing through him .

Cortez merely grinned, unfazed by Logan's question. "None of your business, FBI Special Agent Townson."

"I'm not an agent anymore," Logan retorted, trying to maintain his composure despite the situation.

"Right, okay. None of your business Deputy Townson." Cortez sauntered over to where Dixie sat, her eyes wide with fear. He placed a hand on her trembling head. "What is she to you? I mean, I know she's McCarthy's daughter, but she means something to you."

"She means nothing to me," Logan replied through clenched teeth, knowing that he had to let them think she didn't mean anything to him, or they'd use it against them both.

"Nothing to you, huh? Then you won't mind if I have some fun with her." Cortez sneered.

Logan thrashed against the men holding him, desperate to break free and defend Dixie. Every movement caused pain, but he didn't care.

"You touch her and you're a dead man," Logan warned, his voice laced with hatred.

But Cortez only laughed, taunting Logan further. In a moment of desperation, Logan mustered all his strength and pushed against one of the men holding him, causing him to loosen his grip. Logan swung a fist at the other man but they both quickly regained control and punched him repeatedly until he doubled over in pain.

"Stop it!" Dixie's voice echoed through the room; her eyes filled with tears as she pleaded for mercy for Logan .

Ignoring her cries, Cortez stared at Logan. "Sit him down, tie him up, and take her upstairs." He motioned for the men to bring Dixie to him. "Put her in my bedroom," he said as he smirked at Logan.

Logan's blood boiled with rage as he watched helplessly as Dixie was dragged away. He looked at her, "I won't let him hurt you."

One of the men punched Logan again, causing his nose to bleed. But he refused to back down, spitting blood defiantly at the man.

"I will fucking kill you." Logan seethed with fury and determination.

Cortez chuckled. "I'll deal with you later." Then he walked from the room.

Logan knew that no matter what happened, he had to protect Dixie at all costs. He watched the two men leave the room and close the door behind them. He heard the lock turn.

Logan glanced around, wondering how he'd get out of this. He had to get to Dixie. If Cortez or anyone touched her, Logan would end up going to prison for murder. Of that, he had no doubt.

****

Dixie stared at Cortez as he walked toward the door. She was terrified but refused to let him see her fear. She was so worried about Logan. If they killed him, she'd want to die, and she never told him she still loved him. She swore if she got out of this, she would.

"Sit down, Ms. McCarthy," Cortez said.

"Fuck you," she snapped .

"My, what a mouth you have on you. Such a pretty woman too. No need to talk like that."

"I'll talk how I want."

When he walked toward her, she leaned back in fear.

"Don't worry, Ms. McCarthy, you won't be harmed as long as we get the journal."

"I don't have it."

"You must. You just don't know it. Your father is a smart man, not smart enough to not get caught, but smart, nonetheless. I can guarantee that journal is somewhere in your home, and I want it."

"How do you expect me to find it?"

"Did you get anything from your father's house that the FBI didn't seize?"

Dixie frowned then realized she did have something from the house. Her mother's desk. Before she could give anything away, she shook her head.

"No. Nothing. The FBI took everything."

Cortez's eyes narrowed. "Why is it that I don't believe you?"

She shrugged. "I couldn't care less if you believe me or not. I cannot give you something I don't have."

"I'll kill Townson," Cortez said.

"I don't have it. I swear. If I did, I would give it to you."

"Well, we're going to take you to your home tomorrow, and we will all look for it. One of my men will stay behind and if we don't find it, Townson is dead. Get some rest, Ms. McCarthy. You're going to need it."

After looking at her once more, he walked from the room, closing the door behind him and locking it.

The next morning, Dixie sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted from a sleepless night, when one of Cortez's men entered the room.

"Get up."

"Why?" Dixie asked, feeling a sense of dread wash over her.

"Just get up. We're going to your house to find that journal."

"I already told you; I don't know where it is."

"It has to be there somewhere. Get up," he demanded.

Dixie sighed and reluctantly got to her feet. She followed him out of the room as he grabbed her arm tightly and led her down the stairs.

When they reached the living room, another man motioned for her to sit on the sofa. Her heart raced when she saw Cortez enter the room.

"I hope you're ready to help me find that journal, Ms. McCarthy."

"What if I can't? Like I said, I have never seen it before."

"If you can't, we'll kill Townson."

"He's nothing to me," Dixie snapped, trying to downplay her connection with Logan.

"Well then, it won't matter to you what happens to him, will it?"

Tears pricked at Dixie's eyes as she imagined Logan being hurt. She had wanted to die when she thought he'd been killed. She clenched her jaw and glared at the man. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation or where Logan was or if he was even alive. She fought back tears at the thought of him being dead.

"Just because he's nothing to me doesn't mean I want to see him suffer. If you hurt him, I will not help you find that journal."

"We could just kill you instead."

"If you kill me, the police will be all over my house and you'll never get it. Assuming it's even there," Dixie pointed out.

"There's nowhere else it could be," Cortez stated confidently.

"But how do you expect me to find it?"

Cortez grinned, and Dixie had to fight the urge to slap him. She knew he was onto her, that she likely had something from her father's house. But she couldn't let him know she had any idea what he was talking about.

"Let's go."

"Can I use the bathroom?" Dixie asked, hoping for a moment of privacy.

Cortez sighed irritably. "Fine. Take her to the bathroom," he instructed one of his men.

"I don't need an escort," Dixie protested.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to let you roam around alone?" Cortez snapped back.

"Maybe not quite that stupid," she muttered.

"Watch what you say, Ms. McCarthy," Cortez said.

"Fine, but he is not going in there with me," Dixie insisted.

Cortez nodded in agreement, and the man led her down a hallway. As they passed different doors, Dixie strained her neck to try and spot Logan. Finally, they stopped at a door and the man gestured for her to enter. Dixie stepped inside and quickly locked the door behind her. She walked over to the window and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

"Damn it." She finished her business, rushed to the sink and washed her hands. She opened the door cautiously, but the man was gone. She tiptoed across the hall to a closed door. She glanced over her shoulder before quietly opening the door and peering in. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Logan, tied up in a chair with his head down.

Quickly, she ran to him, whispering his name. "Logan? Please look at me."

He slowly lifted his head, and she gasped at his swollen face. One eye was completely closed, his lip split, and there was dried blood under his nose.

"Dixie, you have to get out of here," he said through clenched teeth.

She wrapped her arms around him but pulled back when he groaned.

"God, Logan, I thought you were dead. When that man shot you…" She put her forehead against his and cried.

"My vest stopped the bullet. Please, get out of here before they come back. I don't want you hurt."

"They want me to find a journal that my dad had. I don't know where it is, but they think it will implicate Cortez. He's after it because my dad told his cellmate he could put Cortez away."

"It's probably your dad's attempt at getting a lighter sentence if he can turn in Cortez to the FBI. They've been trying to catch him for years for embezzlement and money laundering. Cortez uses powerful connections to manipulate men like your dad into doing illegal acts for money."

"So, my dad thinks if he turns in Cortez, he'll get a plea deal?"

"That's likely his plan. The cellmate must know Cortez and got word to him. Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

"I don't know where it could be, but right before Dad was arrested, I took my mother's small desk to use for my computer. But I've been all through the drawers and don't remember seeing any type of journal."

"That has to be where it is. It could have a false bottom in one of the drawers. Do not let them near it if possible. If they find it, we're both dead."

"Logan, I'm so scared to leave you here."

"I'll be fine. Just do what they say."

She lightly kissed his sore lips. "I love you, Logan."

He stared into her eyes. "I told you I wouldn't tell you again unless you asked me to."

"I'm asking you."

"I love you, Dixie. I always have and I always will. Please believe me."

"I do. I do believe you, Logan." She lightly kissed his lips. "If we get out of this, you're going to marry me, Logan Townson."

"Hey, get the hell out of here," the man who led her to the bathroom entered the room, walked to her and grabbed her arm. She tried to jerk away from him, but he was too strong. He pulled her from the room, and she kept looking back at Logan with tears rolling down her face.