Sassafras snorted as she walked slowly along Catwalk Trail behind Wade Larson’s fence line. In the darkness, the Chiricahua Mountains loomed around them like dark sentinels, and Rylie tried not to think about what Skylar had said to her, about this being too dangerous.
Reggie...
Stop it.
But it was too late. Rylie felt chilled to the bone even though it wasn’t that cold.
She was here for Levi. She had to help her brother, because it was damned obvious Clay Wayland was happy with his stupid arrest. He wouldn’t be out here looking for the real thieves.
Sass snorted again. “Shhh.” Rylie patted the mare’s neck. “We need to be extra quiet, girl.”
The horse tossed her head like she understood. The yeek-yeek creak of the saddle seemed so loud Rylie was pretty sure it could be heard in the next county, never mind the plink-thunk of Sass’s horseshoes kicking against trail rocks.
As if on cue, coyotes sang in the distance, adding eerie to creepy and lonely. Rylie shivered. She took a deep breath and caught a whiff of pinon, juniper, and horse. Familiar. Soothing. She tried to let it calm her nerves, but that was definitely a no-go. Her heart did an uncomfortable tap dance in her chest, picking up speed with each turn and jiggle on the trail.
Rylie crouched in her saddle, squinting along the top of the brush line to catch a glimpse of the water tower. The moon was a few days past full, so still pretty bright, and the clear, starry sky seemed to add a little light on top of that. She listened, holding her breath and shutting out the rush of blood in her ears.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing but trail sounds and coyotes.
With any luck she’d beaten the bastards to their meeting place.
When she was still far enough away that she could safely leave Sass, Rylie dismounted and tethered the mare to the nearest tree.
Is this where Skylar left the trail when she nearly got herself killed by cattle rustlers last year?
The thought made Rylie’s guts ache with sudden fear, and she wanted to slap herself for letting her mind gibber like some whiney, scared little schoolgirl.
Nothing was going to happen. She’d listen, get what she could, then get the hell out of there.
Rylie tried to sneak down the trail, but every stick snapped like a gunshot, and the pebbles and rocks under her shoes sounded like a smaller, steadier shooting gallery. Tiptoeing was out of the question if she didn’t want a sprained ankle, so she just moved slower, more carefully, gulping in fast breaths as quietly as she could.
About a hundred feet from the water tower, she found a cluster of boulders that blocked the trail off from the rangeland. They were pretty big, and she was small enough that she didn’t think she’d have a problem staying out of sight. It was too dark to read her watch. It had to be getting close to nine.
Her heart pounded even harder and her mouth grew dry when she heard the tires growling up the dirt road leading to the water tower. Seconds later, the deep hum of an engine made her ears vibrate.
Headlights stabbed into her eyes, and Rylie blinked and sank lower behind the boulders. She couldn’t quite believe this was actually playing out like she thought it would. Maybe the universe had decided Levi needed a break. She hoped to hell that was the case.
The roar of that engine got louder, and Rylie realized she wasn’t hearing a pickup. No. Bigger. A semi, maybe, or something close to it. Sounded like it was working hard, pulling a big load. The big vehicle whipped past her hiding place like some sort of medieval dragon, gears grinding and rocks shooting away from its grinding tires like shrapnel.
As pebbles pinged off the boulders in front of Rylie, the truck rolled to a stop, air brakes hissing. The engine shut off, but the cab lights came on and the beams stayed on bright, bathing the whole area beneath the water tower in an eerie crystalline blue.
Rylie tugged at her ear and tried to slow her breathing as she squinted through a crack between the boulders.
Come on, come on. Let me see you, assholes. Faces, names. Come on...
Doors slammed—one, then two, and Rylie bit back a gasp. Two men. It had to be both of the guys she overhead at Skylar’s reception. She leaned into the boulders. Rock scraped her shoulders, and she willed her eyes to adjust to the glare.
Definitely a semi with a black cab and some sort of indistinct circular logo on the door. It was parked less than a hundred feet from her hiding place, and it was hauling vehicles. Trucks. They looked just like new trucks, stacked on one of those trailers auto dealers used to transport vehicles for sale. They were all silver and black, freshly painted, and be damned if at least two of them didn’t look like they used to be hers.
Behind all that was a second vehicle, small and boxy-looking, but she couldn’t see it plainly. She hadn’t heard the sound of the smaller vehicle with all the noise the semi had made.
“At least you’re on time,” said a man’s voice from the other side of the cab.
Rylie almost jumped out of her skin at the sound. That was Voice One, familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She should know it, she’d definitely heard it before, but she just couldn’t put her finger on who it was.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Voice Two. “Funny.” Keys jingled like somebody threw them. “It’s all your problem now. Happy driving.”
A shadowy figure peeled out of the glare into the darkness behind the semi, and all of Rylie’s instincts caught fire. She heard a scream in her head, and hoped to God she hadn’t made any noise.
She knew Voice Two. And she’d know that scrawny build and that fake-ass swagger anywhere. Voice Two, the other man she’d heard at Skylar’s reception—it was Reggie Parker. That bastard who’d tried to rape her when she was in high school.
How the hell had he gotten back here—and gotten into this?
Rage boiled through her, making her breath ragged, and she had to hold back a low snarl.
She could just imagine Reggie getting contacted by somebody who knew what happened back then, or somebody who found out and decided to use it to his advantage. No doubt Reggie was the same slimy, lazy jerk he’d always been, and he probably jumped at the chance for some twisted form of revenge—like stealing the Thorn trucks and helping to frame Levi for the crime.
Rylie took a deep breath, leaning her whole body against the cool bulk of the boulder. If she’d brought a gun, she probably could have shot this bastard after all. As it was, she had a pocket- knife as her best defense—and two good running shoes. It was time to go. She didn’t have both faces and names, but she had something. A lot more than something.
But God, how she wanted to go settle the score for what Reggie tried to do to her, and what he was trying to do to Levi. She’d love to kick him in the balls so hard he’d forever sing falsetto in the St. Jude’s Boy’s Choir. Too bad she couldn’t get close enough to permanently damage the bastard’s family jewels and not get herself killed in the process.
She took a few slow breaths, then as she heard a car door opening, she crept back toward the trail. A few yards, and she’d reach Sass and they’d head out.
Her sneakers seemed quiet enough, and with each step, the tightness in her chest eased a fraction—
Until she put her foot down on a loose rock, slipped, pitched sideways, then crashed to the ground.
Pain fired through her senses and she heard herself cry out as she kept rolling, grabbing for sticks, for limbs, for anything that might stop her fall.
Agony—
And then she hit those boulders head-first.
***
After he left a message for Chloe Somerville to wait for him at the jail and got on the road, Clay made the ten-mile drive to Wade Larson’s ranch in about eight minutes flat. Problem was, he had to park a good quarter mile away, just to make sure he didn’t alert the bastards to his presence.
By the time he found Sassafras tied to a tree, then reached the water tower, it was at least a quarter past nine, the time Rylie had apparently thought the rendezvous was supposed to be. He drew his service-issue Glock and eased through the mesquite bushes and brush, pulse hammering in his ears, until he spotted the water tower.
Where’s Rylie?
Worry battled with fury as he scanned each inch of terrain for any sign of her. This was the same spot on the trail where Skylar MacKenna-Hunter had almost gotten killed last year. Bad omen. He could see a bunch of boulders straight ahead, and he made his way to a spot where he could look between the big rocks and see what was happening under the tower.
In the moonlight, he saw a large tow trailer behind a semi, and beyond that—
A goddamned beat-up Gremlin.
Son of a bitch.
If it came to shooting tonight, Clay hoped he got to be the one to take down Hazard Quinn—but what mattered right now was Rylie.
He heard voices, saw a couple of men dragging something alongside the big semi—and his gut knotted.
Not something. They were dragging Rylie.
Fuck!
Clay clenched his teeth. He had no idea if there were more men or just the two he could see. He wanted to charge out and shoot them both, but he couldn’t risk getting taken by surprise. If he played this wrong, he’d lose her, and that just wasn’t happening.
Plan it. Pick your shot. Then take it.
He focused on his targets.
Hold on, little wildcat. I’m coming.
***
The idiots dropped Rylie like a sack of potatoes and started arguing right away. She didn’t even hit the ground too hard, and she kept right on faking being out of it, keeping her limbs loose and still except for the hand she was inching toward her pocket. The knife might be little, but it was deadly sharp, and it was all she had.
Her head hurt like hell where she’d cracked it on the rocks, but she’d only been addled for a second or two. Long enough for them to jump on her, and for her to realize playing dead was her best chance to get out of this alive.
“Just roll her off to the side and leave her,” said Voice One, and Rylie knew now she was dealing with Deputy Hazard Quinn. “Wayland’ll make this a vendetta if she goes missing.”
“She saw us.” That was Reggie, whining as usual, but trying to sound mean to intimidate Quinn. Once a bully, always a bully.
“She’ll wake up groggy and not even believe her own memory—if the coyotes don’t make a meal out of her.” Quinn’s words were starting to come out fast, maybe a little desperate. “Either way, I’ll have the trucks over the border and you’ll be on a plane to Mazatlan. Let’s blow, man. This place needs to be history.”
“No.” Reggie again, this time with a little more menace. “She comes with me. We’ve got unfinished business.”
Rylie’s fingers closed on the pocket knife. She slipped it slowly, slowly out of her pocket, careful to barely breathe, to keep her eyes mostly closed, slitting her lids just enough to keep track of the two thieves about to come to blows beside her.
Both men had on jeans and dark T-shirts, and they looked ready to travel. Tonight was the night they were wrapping up their operation, she had no doubt. They’d have been piss in the wind by morning if she hadn’t screwed it all up.
“We don’t have time for this shit.” Quinn’s voice was definitely getting squeaky. “I think Wayland’s on to me. Everybody had to know Gary Woods had help in the department... shit, did that bastard ever screw me good. I lost everything when I lost the income I was getting from him, but I’m an inch from getting it all back, with interest. Don’t screw it up for both of us just because you’ve got some grudge with Rylie Thorn.”
“You knew I had a grudge.” Reggie was starting to sound triumphant, like he knew he had Quinn where he wanted him. “You read the files about her supposed attempted rape back in high school. That’s why you called me and offered to cut me in on this deal. You knew I’d say yes. She comes with me.”
Quinn swore. “Look, by now Wayland’s figured out I’m the only one who could have planted that ledger on Thorn. We’ve got to get moving.”
They framed my brother. The knife in Rylie’s hand felt cool and powerful and familiar. Clay probably knows that, but he had to arrest Levi to give himself enough time to get the goods on this asshole.
Maybe she wouldn’t kill Clay after all—assuming she lived to see him again. Which was a pretty damned big assumption at this point. Rylie knew she should be completely terrified, but more than anything, she felt pissed.
No, not pissed.
Furious.
Her skin was so hot her temperature had to be nearing boil, and her teeth kept grinding together. Bastards. Reggie and Quinn both, stealing trucks and letting Levi take the fall.
And unfinished business?
Yeah, damned straight. And she’d be the one finishing it tonight.
“You always were an asshole,” she mumbled, knowing Reggie would hear her.
“What?” Reggie Parker leaned down over her, so close she could smell the stink of his hot beer breath in her face. And that cologne that had brought back horrible memories before.
Where was the fear? The terror?
All gone.
Rylie almost smiled.
She knew she was in danger, but she didn’t feel trapped and helpless anymore. She wasn’t sixteen, and this dirtbag definitely wasn’t some all-powerful god or demon who could hold her down again.
“Well, well,” Reggie muttered. “You’re awake after all—and still a wild little thing.”
Nobody but Clay gets to call me wild. Nobody ever again.
“Dickhead,” Rylie said, and she spit in Reggie’s face.
He lurched back, pawing at his eyes like she’d thrown acid on him. What a pussy. It galled Rylie to remember that she’d thought he was so handsome in high school.
“Knock it off!” Quinn was saying. “I mean it, Parker. We have to go.”
As Rylie sat up, her head throbbed, but she was still smiling.
“Get out of here,” Reggie growled at Quinn, and then Reggie came at her. “This is for old time’s sake, Rylie—and it’s gonna be fun.”
He leaned over to grab Rylie by her upper arms and her hand moved before she formed a full thought.
The blade of the pocket knife caught the bastard right where it counted, its sharpened blade punching through fabric and straight into flesh. She pulled hard and twisted. She powered through the cut, using every ounce of strength from her hours and days of hurting over what he’d done to her, from her years of feeling less-than because of her father, and her mother, and useless pricks like Reggie Parker.
Parker let out a howl like a coyote with its leg snapped in a bear trap. He threw himself backward and fell beside her, then rolled back and forth kicking his legs. Blood didn’t just trickle, it poured out of Parker’s groin, spurting between his fingers as he held himself like he was trying to make sure none of his pieces fell off.
“Good luck with that,” Rylie muttered, feeling a flicker of something like total, jabbering insanity.
Quinn started yelling. Rylie still had hold of the knife, but as she staggered to her feet and turned toward Quinn, she saw his gun, drawn and aimed right at her face.
Okay. Here’s the fear.
Icy terror flooded her in one huge, crippling rush. She shook all over, staring at that muzzle of his service pistol. She dropped the bloody knife and put both hands up like the bastard would really care that she was surrendering.
This is it. This is where I die. And I didn’t even get to tell Clay I get it—and that I’m sorry.
“Bitch!” Reggie screamed, whipping back and forth on the ground and bleeding like crazy. “The bitch stabbed me! I’m cut. I’m dying!”
Quinn’s hand shook. He stared at Rylie. “Didn’t want to have to do this, but—”
The shot blasted through Rylie’s senses, and every muscle in her body failed. She hit her knees, eyes closed, breath hitching, waiting for the agony of her face shattering into a dozen pieces.
Nothing happened except two more shots, a lot more hollering from Reggie, and Deputy Quinn falling backward, big bloody patches blooming across his T-shirt.
The night seemed to explode all around her then, with headlights and searchlights slicing in from every direction.
“Get down, Rylie,” somebody bellowed. “Get down now!”
She knew that voice.
Clay.
Rylie went face-first on the ground, her arms covering her head. Shouts erupted like fireworks, four voices. No wait, five or six. Maybe even seven.
“Secure the perimeter!”
“Thermal scanner says it’s just these three and the shooter by the big rocks.”
“DEA. Nobody move!”
And then some guy, sounding a little queasy, rasped, “Jesus. Man down. Call an ambulance. I think somebody cut this dude’s dick off—right through his jeans.”
A more familiar voice called, “Wayland, is that you behind the boulders?”
“Hunter,” Clay answered. “About damned time you showed up.” “Good shooting,” Zack Hunter called back. Then to his men, “He’s clear. Let him through.”
Rylie lifted her head out of the dirt and saw Clay coming. Her chest squeezed, and she thought her heart might actually dissolve. She got to her feet before he reached her, swayed, then felt his arms around her, felt the hard muscle of his chest against her face.
“You crazy little shit,” came his low, warm rumble in her ear. “Don’t you ever do anything this insane again, you hear me?”
But he never gave her a chance to respond. He kissed her face, her hair, her nose, and then her mouth. A hard, passionate, feral kiss that seared through Rylie like wildfire. She felt marked and possessed, and for once in her life, she reveled in it.
When he finally raised his head, he looked down at her with so much caring and love she couldn’t think straight.
“I don’t care about your issues and all that no-commitment crap. You and I are getting married. And the sooner the better, ’cause I sure need to keep a closer eye on you.”
Rylie blinked as what he’d said sank in. A warm feeling spread through her, a feeling like nothing she’d ever known before. She licked her lips, and then smiled. “All right.” Her voice sounded shaky, but she kept going. “But only so I can keep an eye on you, too, Sheriff.”
“Damn, Rylie.” Zack Hunter loomed beside them then, catching her attention. His dark hair seemed to glimmer in the moonlight, and searchlights glared against the scar than ran down one side of his face. “Did you take a sword to this guy? He might bleed to death before we can—you know—get it all sewed back together.”
Rylie shrugged, still feeling hazy and now giddy on top of that. “What can I say? He pissed me off.”
“Do the world a favor,” Clay said through clenched teeth. “Don’t get in any hurry to put Humpty Dumpty together again. He tried to rape Rylie in high school, and he would have gone after her again tonight if she hadn’t defended herself.”
Zack looked from Rylie to Clay, then back to Rylie. “Reggie Parker. I remember that bastard now. Sky’ll be impressed, after she gets through being nine kinds of mad that you took such a huge chance with your life.” He paused, then shot Clay a grin. “Friendly word of advice, Sheriff. Don’t piss her off.”
Clay gave the man a solemn nod.
As Zack walked away, Rylie yelled, “I want my knife back as soon as it’s processed. It’s special, okay?”
Zack waved a hand to let her know he’d heard her. Then more ICE agents came swooping in, and Clay was kissing her again, and Rylie didn’t want to worry about anything else, ever again.