To Love and Protect

By Dee Gibbens

Darcy O'Donnell had endured six months of living hell after being beaten, raped, abducted, and her father murdered.  When the opportunity finally came for her to escape, she took it, knowing that if she were caught she would be killed.

Officer Logan McCade, Louisiana State Police Troop A, Baton Rouge, was working graveyard shift when a sports car passed him in excess of 90mph: a death wish for this narrow, unpredictable country road on a dark foggy night.

Knowing that Adam Vangard would not rest until he caught the woman who had escaped his clutches, Logan vows to protect her at all costs, even if it means sacrificing his own life to save her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Gibbens
• Release date: May 11, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386263623

Dee Gibbens

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Born in New Orleans in 1947, adopted at three months of age, and raised in a small rural community in northeast Louisiana, this “Daddy’s Girl” will proudly tell you that she was a “chosen” baby.    Louisiana French (Acadian) by birth, Dee is a country girl at heart. At the age of six, she got her first pony and rode horses all through her high school years. Now in the Seventh Decade of her life, Dee is realizing her dream:  her first published book, For Better Or For Worse.    “Writing has provided both emotional and creative outlets for me for as long as I can remember.   It’s my way of venting when I’m sad or angry…or ecstatically happy.  It’s fun to create word pictures of a fantasy world, the people who occupy it, and then breathe life into them.    It’s addictive!”                                                                                                                       Dee Gibbens              

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Darcy O’Donnell’s father, Patrick Earle O’Donnell, was owner and CEO of O’Donnell Construction International headquartered in New Orleans, Louisiana. Her mother had died unexpectedly of a heart attack two years ago, and Darcy’s father had been devastated. Fearing that he might fall too deeply into depression, Darcy had moved out of her apartment in Baton Rouge and moved back home to take care of her father.

A year earlier, Darcy and her father had met Adam Vangard, owner and CEO of Vangard Shipping, at an art auction in New Orleans: a fund raiser for victims still displaced from the ravages of Hurricane Katrina five years prior. It was obvious that Adam was enamored with Darcy, but she was well aware of his reputation as a rich playboy. She had no interest in him, and certainly no desire to be another notch on his headboard. It was only because of  his persistence with constant phone calls and gifts of flowers he sent to her office that she finally accepted an invitation to dinner. She would have to tell him face-to-face that she was not interested in starting a relationship with him.

Adam Vangard was not a man who accepted no for an answer. If anything, Darcy’s refusal to be one of his trophies made him all the more determined to have her. He was all about winning: especially with women. Most women he romanced were easily won over by lavish gifts, his money, and his well-rumored, double king-size bed big enough for four people with ample room to maneuver. However, Darcy O’Donnell was a woman with brains as well as looks, unlike the ditsy bimbos he usually sported on his arm.

Darcy knew Adam wasn’t pleased with her refusal to see him after a lavish evening of dining and dancing. Oh, he had been very suave and civilized when they had said goodnight, but she had felt his agitation despite the smile that graced his handsome face. The firm set of his squared jaw, the almost feral glint in his gray eyes, the way he walked away without looking back—made her feel uneasy. Adam was known for his violent temper, and she could only hope that her rejection of his romantic overtures wouldn’t have an adverse effect on her father’s business dealings with Vangard Shipping.

A week after their dinner engagement, Adam and two of his bodyguards paid a visit to the O’Donnell mansion on Saint Charles Avenue in New Orleans on the pretense of discussing a new business deal. Adam had called ahead of time, stating that he was in town for another meeting and wanted to stop by to discuss an idea he had for building a branch office for Vangard Shipping in Hawaii. It was a ploy to get to Darcy. Things turned ugly in a hurry. Adam’s bodyguards severely beat Patrick O’Donnell and held him back while Darcy was repeatedly raped in front of him. Darcy was abducted and her father murdered. That had been six months ago, but for Darcy, it had been an unending nightmare and an eternity of sheer hell on earth.

ONE

Once—only once—had Adam left Darcy unbound. He’d had way too much to drink at his soirée that evening, but that was nothing unusual. He always drank before he went to her. The more he drank, the more aroused he became. The more aroused he became, the more he enjoyed his sick little games with her. Darcy O’Donnell was his property: his sex slave, plain and simple. He had raped her, kidnapped her, ordered his goons to murder her father, imprisoned her, and shared her. Yes sir, he was the Big Bad Wolf and Darcy was his Little Red Riding Hood.

Adam wasn’t exactly a lesson in stealth as he approached Darcy’s room. She heard him stumbling down the hall, fumble with the keys to her locked door, and she was ready for him. She knew that she had only one chance to make her escape. In all probability she might die in the process, but she chose to die rather than go on living the hell on earth Adam had created for her these past six months. Darcy quickly turned off the ceiling light and positioned herself behind the door. She listened for the key to slip into the latch and the soft click of release. The door slowly opened. When Adam stepped through the doorway and flipped on the light, Darcy lunged for him.

Caught off-guard, Adam blindly reached out for her, but Darcy kicked him hard in the groin, followed by a swift upper right cut to the jaw. She shoved him backward with all the strength she possessed and prayed that it would be enough to knock him down. It was. Adam fell, hitting his head soundly against the steel frame of the hated rack he used to torture her, and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Darcy wasted no time checking to see if Adam was dead or alive. Frankly, she hoped that he was dead. The only thing that mattered to her now was that she get the hell out of that room and away from Vangard Mansion as fast as humanly possible.

She quickly stripped Adam of his Armani dinner jacket to cover her near-naked state of undress and stepped cautiously into the dimly lit, but thankfully empty hallway. After locking her captor inside her room where he lay unconscious, she found her way through a maze of corridors to a back fire escape and thanked God that the night was overcast. The clouds would help hide the moon, and the massive live oaks would further help to shadow the expanse of lawn to give her an even better chance of getting to the garage undetected.

Darcy slipped through the side door of the garage and eased it closed behind her. Lady Luck was definitely on her side this night. The only car key on the set that she had found in Adam’s pocket was the one to his new Bugatti, which once on the open road would get her well away from the mansion in a hurry. With the party still in full swing, and guests coming and going, one more expensive car leaving the premises wouldn’t attract unwarranted attention if she was careful. The goons stationed in the gatehouse were always armed, but they wouldn’t know a Bugatti from a Porsche in the dark. The tinted windows would further prevent them from recognizing her.

With nerves of steel, Darcy started the car and backed slowly out of the garage. Her heart pounded wildly as she gripped the steering wheel to begin an easy, casual course down the long, oak lined drive and past the guardhouse as if she were just another one of Adam’s party guests. When a last she was out of sight of the front gate and safely onto Highway 190, she gunned the engine, speeding as fast as the Bugatti would take her toward Baton Rouge and freedom. She prayed that somewhere along the dark stretch of this country road she would be stopped by a state trooper before Vangard’s men realized she had escaped.

Highway 190 is a narrow rural road that runs parallel to Interstate 10, west of Baton Rouge. There’s nothing much back there but small homesteads, pastureland, and swamp. If you blink, you just might miss a small settlement. It’s quite a change from the busy interstate.

Logan McCade couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t wanted to be a Louisiana State Trooper. His father had been on the force for thirty years until a near fatal encounter during a drug raid put him on permanent medical disability. His older brother, Danny, also a trooper, had been mortally wounded during the sting and died later that same night. From that night on, Logan vowed to be the best damn Trooper on the force, just as his father and brother had once been.

At two hundred twenty-five pounds, and six-foot-four in his bare feet, Logan made a most intimidating force to be reckoned with in any encounter—friendly or otherwise. Very few people gave argument when he issued them a ticket, but he always followed up each encounter with a warning to the driver to be more careful in the future. He had his Irish father to thank for his physical size, but he gave full credit to his French mother for his thick, raven-black hair and dark brown eyes that turned dangerously black whenever he became angry.

This night was like any other when Logan patrolled the dark, lonely stretch of road and he was ready for a much needed coffee break. He found a place to pull off the road and parked his patrol car beneath the low-hanging branches of an ancient oak heavily laden with Spanish moss. He reached across the seat for his thermos and poured the hot brew of Community Coffee into his favorite LSU travel mug. He took a deep, welcomed swallow, closed his eyes, and savored the rich dark blend.

Ahhh. Good ole Community, Logan said aloud to himself. Louisiana’s State Coffee, and for good reason. He took another sip, yawned, and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Christ, he muttered. It was only a quarter past midnight, but his shift didn’t end until two o’clock. He reached into the console, pulled out a pack of extra-strength Tylenol, and popped one into mouth. He should have taken the damn thing an hour ago when his headache first started, but he hated taking meds when he was on duty. He chased it down with another sip of coffee, then leaned his head back against the headrest to wait for the pill to do it’s voodoo. He raised his hands and began slow circular massages to his temples with his fingers. Shit! Come on two o’clock! Damn, he felt like holy hell. He closed his eyes against the pain, hoping that he would be able to will the damn migraine away. He hoped beyond hope that things would remain calm for the rest of his shift. He was in no mood to issue tickets. However, it was Friday football night: not only for all the local high schools, but for LSU. All he wanted to do right now was to go home and sleep off this god-awful headache.

Darcy had driven only ten miles when she heard the scream of a siren and saw flashing blue lights in the rearview mirror. Tears of relief streamed down her face. Thank God, she cried aloud. She swerved the car off the road and onto the rough, almost non-existent shoulder of loose gravel, and skidded to a stop. She threw the car door open, bolted out of the car, and ran toward the patrol car that was now pulling off the road. Her feet were bare, but she was oblivious to the sharp gravel and rough pavement that bit into them. Get me away from here, she screamed into the night. Please! We have to hurry before they find me!

Logan caught the hysterical woman in his arms, but not before noticing how little she had on. Whoa, there, Ma’am. It’s okay. You’re safe now. Try to calm down and tell me what’s going on here.

There’s no time for that, Darcy cried. They’ll realize I’m gone and they’ll come after me! Please, we have to go now! I can’t go back there! I’ll die before I go back!

Go back where, Ma’am? Who’s after you? He peered into the foggy darkness behind them, but there was nothing to be seen but the lonely highway. He turned his attention back to the woman in his arms.

We have to leave now, Darcy pleaded frantically, as if she hadn’t heard the officer’s questions. If they catch me, they’ll kill me! She was sobbing now and shaking uncontrollably.

No one’s gonna hurt you, Ma’am. I promise. You’re safe now, Logan repeated in a low, calming voice as he tightened his hold around Darcy’s shockingly thin body. He helped her into his patrol car, then went around to the trunk to retrieve a fleece blanket to cover her. She was clearly in shock, and that concerned him. Is that your car, Miss?

N-no. I-I stole it to escape! Oh God, Darcy said in a shaky voice as she shivered beneath the blanket. He’ll kill me when he finds me! Her eyes grew wide with terror.

No one’s gonna find you, Logan repeated. I’ll protect you now. You have my solemn promise. In the light of the patrol car, he noticed several nasty cuts and bruises on her face. He guessed her to be at least his age or younger. She had been badly beaten, and judging from her lack of clothing, she had probably been raped, as well. His blood boiled at the thought. I’m going to call 9-1-1, Miss. You need to get to a hospital.

NO! He’ll find me there! That’s the first place he’ll check when his men don’t find me out here! Darcy’s head felt as if it was going to explode. She clenched her eyes against the pain. A wave of nausea followed another dizzy spell and she fought to keep from getting ill.

These people, whoever they are, won’t find you. You’ll have police protection, Logan assured her. I need your name, Miss, and the names of the people who did this to you.

What? Darcy stared at the officer in front of her as if seeing him for the first time.

Your name, Miss, he asked again in a soft voice. What’s your name?

D-Darcy...Ohhhh! A low, agonized moan sounded deep in her throat. She listed to one side and collapsed into Logan’s arms, and into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

Logan radioed 9-1-1, then called for police backup and gave his location. Frank, I need you here pronto! Do you still have those tarps in your trunk?

Roger that. Never without ‘em. What’s up? He floored the accelerator and raced toward Logan’s location with lights flashing and siren screaming.

I have an unconscious woman in my car. There’s reason to believe she’s being pursued. I want this car concealed ASAP.

Headed that way, Padnah. Be there in less than five. I’m out.

Frank McDougall and Logan had grown up together in False River, a small community about forty minutes west of Baton Rouge and not too far down the road from Logan’s present location. The two young men had begun their police training at the same time, and they had gone through a lot together over the years. There was nothing in this world that they wouldn’t do of each other. They were always ready for any emergency, courtesy of their Eagle Scout Training. Frank always carried two or more tarpaulins in the trunk of his patrol unit in the event he was called to an accident where mangled bodies were either still inside the vehicles or lying on the side of the road. Passing motorists didn’t need to be gawking at the deceased, so he used the tarps for cover until ambulances arrived on the scene.

Frank soon spotted Logan’s patrol unit and pulled off the road in front of the parked Bugatti, shoved his car into park, and gathered the tarps out of the trunk of his car. What’s up with the playboy sports car, he asked Logan as they hastily covered the car.

Our vic stole it to get away from whoever’s after her, Logan replied. When the car was completely covered, Logan turned on his heels and sprinted back to his patrol unit. She’s bad off, Frank. She’s been beat to hell and back. He leaned in over Darcy’s still form and brushed the damp hair away from her face. I think she’s running a fever.

Holy shit, Frank exclaimed in a soft curse when he got a glimpse of Darcy’s face in the dim lighting of the car. He’d seen more than his share of battered women, but this one was really bad.

Damn it all! Where the hell is that ambulance, Logan muttered impatiently.

"Take it easy, ami. They’re havin’ to come out here from East Baton Rouge. With the LSU/Ole Miss traffic it’s chaos tonight, not to mention all the DUI accidents and fights that come with after-game rage. It’s also a full moon, he added, and rolled his eyes. According to the squawk box, Our Lady of the Lake is the only hospital in the area with an available ambulance right now."

Shit! I should have taken her in myself. Hell, I could have been halfway to the damn hospital by now!

Lo, it ain’t like you to get all antsy like this. By the way, you look like crap. Another migraine?

Yeah. Logan clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was bad before I pulled her over, he said, glancing down at the woman in his car, but it’s worse now. Guess her hysteria is contagious. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from Darcy’s sleeping form. She had long, auburn hair and a fair complexion, but what little he had glimpsed of her body when she collapsed in his arms, she was badly undernourished. She was beautiful, despite the cuts and bruises that marred her face. "You didn’t see the fear and the torment in her eyes, Frank; or hear the terror in her voice. She kept screaming over and over again, ‘we have to get out of here. They’ll kill me if they catch me.’ Someone is after her, mon ami, and from the looks of that set of wheels, that someone has deep pockets and probably some badass thugs sniffing out her trail. We have to keep her safe."

I’ll run a license check while you stay here and play guardian angel, Frank said, patting Logan on one shoulder. "I’ll call for extra backup, too, juuuust in case unwelcomed company drops by for a little chat."

Good idea. Be sure your shotgun’s handy...just in case, Logan added as Frank walked back to his own patrol unit. He reached into his pocket and popped another chewable Tylenol. "Looks like it’s gonna be a long night, cher," he muttered, looking down into the face of the woman who lay unconscious on the backseat of his car. He slid his shotgun from its leather holster and made sure it was ready for action. If the men looking for Miss Darcy tried to get to her, they’d have to go through him and Frank first...and that damn sure wasn’t gonna happen, Not on his watch.

TWO

Logan ran escort for the ambulance back across the Mississippi River and straight to Our Lady of the Lake in East Baton Rouge. Frank and two other troopers stayed behind on Highway 190 to guard the stolen car which would be towed to a secured enclosure at Troop A Headquarters and held as evidence in a possible kidnapping/rape case. Chances were that the owner of the Bugatti would not report the vehicle missing because his victim would be able to identify him.

The more Logan thought about Darcy—or any woman—being beaten and abused the angrier it made him. You’d think that after four years on the force he’d be used to seeing cases like this, but he knew he never would. Abuse to women, children, and animals were hot buttons with Logan. If men wanted to beat the hell out of each other, then by God let them have at it, but leave the innocents alone. After what seemed an eternity, Logan and the ambulance pulled into the hospital parking lot and the emergency room bay.

Doctor Amos Barrow was on duty and waiting for them at the door. Logan breathed a silent prayer. He had known this man most of his life, and this night he needed a huge favor. If anyone could pull strings for him, it was Amos Barrow.

She’s been badly beaten, Doc Amos. My educated guess is that the fact she’s clad only in lingerie and a man’s dinner jacket is because she’s been raped, as well. While the EMT’s wheeled Darcy into triage, Logan briefed Amos on all that had transpired up to the point where Darcy had lost consciousness. "I’d consider it a personal favor, Doc, if you would admit Darcy as a Jane Doe. If what she says is true, these animals are gonna be hot on her trail soon, if they aren’t already. Right now her life is in danger. There can’t be too many women around here named Darcy, and using her real name would be like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull."

Logan, you know I don’t condone the practice of falsifying records, but in this case, I have to agree with you, Amos replied. "I’ll admit Miss Darcy as Jane Doe tonight, and talk to the hospital administrator first thing tomorrow. However, I don’t foresee any problems having the matter approved."

Thank you, Sir.

They should have my patient prepped by now. Excuse me while I go examine her. Amos didn’t miss the look of deep concern on Logan’s face. Are you okay, son?

I will be. I just hate seeing women beat to shit!

I know. So do I. I’ll have a full report in writing tomorrow.

If it’s all the same to you, Doc Amos, I’ll hang around until you finish up.

It may take a while, Logan.

It’s okay. Anyway, I’ll feel better bein’ here...just in case anyone comes around asking questions, Logan replied. That was certainly one reason. The other was that he just couldn’t leave Darcy there alone. If she were to regain consciousness, he wanted her to know that he hadn’t abandoned her. He had promised her his protection and he wasn’t about to break that promise.

Amos gave Logan a pat on one shoulder. Coffee’s fresh. Go help yourself and go to the private waiting room. I’ll come get you when I’m finished with Darcy. With that, he turned and disappeared into the examination room where his patient waited.

Logan waited until the door closed and breathed a deep sigh. Yep. It was gonna be a long night for sure. He headed back toward the nurses’ station. A mug of Community sure sounded good right now.

Logan checked his watch for the hundredth time. It was four o’clock in the morning, but he wasn’t leaving the hospital until he knew how Darcy was doing. He told himself it was because he needed to know some facts to put on his police report, but it was more than that. Maybe Frank had been right to call him Darcy’s guardian angel. He had the distinct feeling that