Nella
“Wait. Where are we going?”
I look over my shoulder as we continue right past the driveway to Hart’s Horse Rescue. When I turn back to Fletch, he’s staring straight ahead.
“Fletch?”
With his eyes on the road and his full beard covering half his face, it’s difficult to gauge his expression.
“High Meadow,” he finally shares.
“Why? I want to go home and see my sister.”
“Not a good idea. Not with Crandall still out there. Doubtful anyone knows your sister is at the rescue unless you point them in that direction. Better not make it easy for them.”
“You’re saying she’s still in danger.”
“Yeah. I figure you both are. Safer not to have you in the same place.”
“Who’s going to be looking after her then?”
“Sully and Bo are keeping an eye out.”
I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that nice young man, who seemed so helpful and friendly, turns out to be involved in this. I’d like to believe he was somehow forced or coerced, but he sure sounded in charge when he was yelling and shooting at me.
He freaking shot me.
The real pain didn’t hit until later last night. After the lights were turned low in the hospital room they kept me in, and Fletch had stepped out to let me sleep. Except I hadn’t been sleeping, my eyes were closed but behind them the events kept playing through my mind on a continuous loop.
I didn’t sleep much and I’m pretty sure Fletch didn’t sleep at all. He never went any farther than the chair he’d set up in the hallway outside. When I’d asked him why he didn’t just stay in the room, he said he’d be more alert out there.
I took that to mean I was too much of a distraction. I was determined to find a compliment in there somewhere.
Yesterday morning I was still pondering if I should risk letting him in again, but the moment I heard his voice calling my name the decision was made. I’d be a fool to question the intentions of a man who dropped everything to come and find me. Since meeting him, he’s been right there at my back whenever I was in trouble.
So I’m done questioning him. If he says it’s safer this way, it’s because it is. I may be book-smart, but there is no way that can compete with the wisdom gained from his decades of experience.
“Okay,” I concede, closing my eyes and leaning back against the headrest.
I can feel him scrutinizing me, but he doesn’t comment and the rest of the drive is silent.
When we pull up to his cabin, I notice the sheriff’s cruiser parked outside the ranch house.
“Think he has news?” I ask.
“Could be. Although he may be talking to Jonas about a search he needs help with. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I keep my eye on the porch from where the two men seem to be observing us, while Fletch rounds the front of the truck. He opens my door but when it looks like he plans to carry me inside I stop him. Hell, like any warm-blooded woman, I wouldn’t mind some strapping man carrying me around like I weigh no more than a feather, but I’d rather not have an audience for that. I still have a little pride left.
“Appreciate it but I’ve got crutches. I can walk,” I tell him gently, hoping I don’t offend him.
He glances over his shoulder at the ranch house before returning his gaze to me.
“Sure thing. I’ll just give you a hand down.”
I manage to make my way inside the cabin and am just carefully lowering myself on the couch when there’s a knock on the door. Fletch opens it to Sheriff Ewing.
“For fuck’s sake, Wayne. She hasn’t even had a chance to put her goddamn feet up.”
“Wouldn’t bother her if it wasn’t important.”
“It’s fine, Fletch,” I intervene.
To be honest, I’m just relieved the sheriff’s department is finally interested in what I might have to say.
Ewing sits in a chair on the other side of the small coffee table, while Fletch goes into the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water and two of the pills he picked up at the hospital pharmacy for me. He hovers until I swallow them and takes the empty glass from my hands. Then he perches on the armrest beside me, and slides a cool hand under my hair at the back of my neck.
“Spoke with Martha Crandall last night and again this morning. Her son never came home and she doesn’t know where he might’ve gone to. She was, however, able to confirm he works at Mobilife, but she is convinced this is all one big misunderstanding.”
“The fucking hole in Nella’s leg says otherwise,” Fletch grumbles.
“Hey, I don’t disagree with you, but give the woman a little leeway; she’s just found out her son may have been involved in a double murder. That can’t be easy for a mother to learn.”
Fletch huffs and I put a hand on his knee, which is apparently enough to distract him. His hand immediately covers mine and he glances at me from the corner of his eye.
“So you’re saying you haven’t located Wyatt yet,” I prompt the sheriff.
“Or Willy,” he says, giving Fletch a look. “Do you remember the two punks you caught hunting out of season a few weeks ago?”
“You said the one who took off was called Willy Stubble-something. Same Willy?”
“Stubblefeld. One and the same,” Ewing confirms. “Turns out Willy and Wyatt are related. Cousins. I found that out from the owner of Mobilife who, by the way, swears upside down he doesn’t know anything about anything. He admits Wyatt works for him but also occasionally does custom interior work on RVs on the side, and apparently Willy helps him with that. Brown allows them to use the shop for that on Sundays and Mondays when Mobilife is closed.”
“How convenient,” Fletch comments.
“Quite, although he was rather convincing. He even suggested a few places where those two might be hiding. A couple of hunting camps he overheard Wyatt talking about.”
“That’s why you were talking to Jonas.”
“Exactly,” Ewing concurs. “The camps are in rough terrain and I need the team to lead a search. But the reason I wanted to talk to you, Nella,” he directs at me, “is that nobody seems to know a Graham. Not Martha, not the Stubblefelds, and not Clayton Brown. Are you sure that’s the name you heard?”
I thought it was, but now I’m starting to wonder. After all, I was hurt and scared out of my mind yesterday. Could they have said something else?
“It sounded like Graham, but maybe it could’ve been Grant?”
I don’t say it out loud, but the slight drawl I’ve noticed among the locals might’ve made one sound like the other.
“Grant,” Ewing echoes as he nods. “That’d make more sense.” Suddenly he’s on his feet. “Appreciate your time. You’ve been very helpful.”
I’m still picking my jaw up off the floor when he walks out.
“Wow,” I react, looking at Fletch who is closing the door. “Was that a compliment?”
His mouth twitches.
“May have been. Hard to tell. Ewing isn’t known for being agreeable.”
Fletch
I listen with half an ear to the phone call between Nella and her sister.
I’m starting to rethink keeping the two of them in separate locations. I haven’t heard from Jonas yet, but if the team is going to lead the search as Ewing suggested, we might have a problem. We won’t have the manpower to cover the search, Lucy’s place, and the ranch. Maybe the sheriff can spare a deputy, but I don’t really trust anyone other than myself or one of my teammates with either Nella or Pippa.
When I hear her end the call, I scoop some of the chili Ama must’ve left simmering on my stove in a bowl and walk it over to the couch.
“Here, eat something.”
A knock sounds at the door before I can make it back to the kitchen to grab a bowl of my own. It’s Jonas, who asks Nella how she’s doing before turning his attention on me.
“Briefing, my office in fifteen.”
“Make it the porch and I’ll be there.”
I’ll be able to keep an eye on my cabin from the porch. Jonas nods his understanding before he turns back out the door.
“What was that about?” Nella wants to know.
“Probably logistics on the search. I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll have my eye on you the whole time,” I promise, thinking she might feel unsafe.
“Let me know what’s going on before you disappear?”
There’s something vulnerable in the way she says that, but I suspect it has little to do with any risk of physical harm and everything to do with her emotional vulnerability.
I stop in front of her and bend down until I’m at eye level.
“Done disappearing on you, Babe. Not even if you ask.”
I aim to live up to that commitment, even if it means defying orders and missing out on an opportunity to chase down those fucking degenerate punks and maybe get a few good licks in.
“I should be okay,” she mumbles, her gaze dropping to my mouth.
“I’ll make sure of it,” I promise, my own eyes focusing on her plump one.
I haven’t had a taste of her in far too long. When she bites her teeth down on the swell of her bottom lip, it’s all the invitation I need.
Leaning in, I lick the imprint her bite left behind before slipping my tongue in her mouth. Damn, the spice from Ama’s chili cranks up the heat that welcomes me.
I wish I could sink my hands into her hair, but as it is, they are firmly braced against the back of the couch to prevent me from doing a face plant on her lap. Not that I’d mind in the least, but she was just released from the hospital with a hole in her leg.
It doesn’t stop Nella from sliding one of her hands in my hair, curling around the longer strands at my neck. The slight sting zips along my nerve ends and has me groan against her lips.
“Shit,” she mutters suddenly, and I lift my head.
Forgot about the bowl of chili she’d still been holding in her free hand and half the contents spilled on the scrubs the hospital provided her with to wear home.
“Don’t move,” I say, taking the bowl from her hand and setting it on the coffee table. “I’ll grab something clean.”
By the time I return with a pair of sweats, she’s already working on getting off the dirty scrubs.
“Hang on.”
I brush her hands aside and help her change into the clean pants. Then, for good measure, I take her mouth again, but briefly this time. Don’t want to keep the team waiting.
“I gotta go. I know there’s still some ground to cover,” I start. “But for now, are we good here?”
Her hazel eyes blink lazily.
“I’m feeling fine. I think those meds are hitting me.”
I bet she’s feeling fine on those heavy-duty painkillers.
“Have a nap. I won’t be long.”
Her eyes are already drifting shut when I brush a kiss to her forehead. Then I hustle out the door.
Everyone but Sully is already on the porch, lining up for a coffeepot and mugs—courtesy of Ama I’m sure—sitting on the table under the window. I grab my own and pick a spot on the steps from where I can easily keep an eye on the cabin.
“Wayne Ewing was by earlier, asking for our help huntin’ down Wyatt Crandall and Willy Stubblefeld,” Jonas starts, leaning against a pillar. “The two idiots who shot Nella. They’re suspects in the murder of that couple up near Troy and vehicle theft. Unfortunately, they’re armed idiots, which makes it extra dangerous.” He looks around and makes eye contact with each of us before continuing, “To make matters more complicated, we can’t leave the ranch or the rescue without some kind of security. Nella and her sister might still be targets.”
“Bring the sister here,” Thomas says as he walks up the path to the porch. “Set both of them up in the house. I’m here, we’ve got a top-of-the-line security system, and my gun is always loaded.”
“Jesus, Dad, don’t fucking remind me.”
Bo chuckles and I duck my head to hide my own smile. Jonas’s father is a character.
The old man has challenged each of us at some point to a ‘shoot-out’ to see who could hit more cans off the top rail of the fence. Even though his enthusiasm hasn’t waned—in younger years he apparently won his share of accuracy competitions—his aim is no longer what it was, as is evident from the bullet hole in the fender of the new ranch truck.
Jonas had been livid and threatened to take the gun away from him but Thomas announced he’d have to take it from his cold, dead hand which, according to his son, was always a possibility. It had been a public and highly entertaining exchange that required Alex to step in to calm the waters. Something she’s good at.
The old man’s point had merit though; it would take less manpower to keep an eye on both women here. Jonas thought so too and ends up calling Sully, instructing him to bring Pippa here.
Then he turns to me. “I need you to stay here.” He meets my angry glare head-on and I swallow my objections. “Your anger is more useful keeping the girls safe than it will be in the field. I think it’s obvious those two punks aren’t the masterminds behind whatever operation they’ve got going on, but we need them in one piece to find out who else might be involved.”
I can’t argue his logic. I want to, but he’s right; I can’t guarantee I won’t shoot them on sight for what they put Nella through. Plus, I have high stakes in keeping her safe.
The sharp nod I direct at Jonas conveys I’m on board.
The next twenty minutes are spent strategizing a plan of action and by the time Sully drives up with a mutinous Pippa by his side, the team is almost ready to move out.
They plan to wait until sundown and use the cover of night. It’ll give the team an advantage with their night-vision equipment. In the meantime, Sully can fly his drone to do some surveillance on the hunting camps Ewing mentioned. If we can get confirmation on one single location, it’ll be easier to coordinate a plan of attack.
“Where’s my sister?”
Pippa’s sharp inquiry is directed at me. She’s still slight, but I can see her strength and personality are returning in spades.
“I’ll go get her in a minute. She’s safe.”
The woman’s eyes take in every member of the team before they come to rest on me again.
“What is going on?” She cocks a thumb over her shoulder when Sully hovers, his head bent. “This guard dog won’t tell me anything.”
Thomas has a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scathing glance from both Pippa and the man she insulted.
“Ms. Freling,” Jonas intervenes. “Meet my father, Thomas Harvey. Why don’t you let him show you around while we finish up things out here? Fletch can get your sister when we’re done and they’ll be able to fill you in.”
“The doc’s gonna need to up my meds, I don’t think my heart can take more pretty ladies,” Thomas flirts, stepping up and holding out his arm for Pippa, who takes it with a smile.
We could all learn a thing or two from the old charmer.