Heartland (23 page)

She flinched, more from his touch than from pain, and fought down the growing hysteria by grasping onto the fact he hadn’t killed her--yet. As long as she was alive, EJ had time to figure out where she was, or she could find a way to get away from him.

“You’re living with the sheriff.” He grabbed hold of her chin and forced her toward him as he cleaned the blood off her face. His cold eyes narrowed as he looked pointedly at the mound of her belly her tank top did little to hide. “You can’t be that far along. Is he the father?”

Unable to move away from his surprisingly tender touch, she stared into his eyes and for a beat they didn’t belong to a deranged stranger, but instead to the man she once loved as her daddy. An uncomfortable pinch of grief twisted her heart. She didn’t know why he asked, but she considered her answer. True, most people would have been surprised to know she was seven months pregnant based on the size of her baby bump, although she’d grown considerably larger in the past two weeks. Her doctor had told her she’d most likely grow fast in the last trimester.

Why had she been adamant about not entertaining the thought of EJ stepping in as father to her baby? Had the reason been about preventing her daughter the same confusion she’d had? Sure Fabian could come into her little girl’s life and suddenly want to be her father, but she’d always know about him. Emily was divorced, and although Fabian was abusive and manipulative, her ex hadn’t tricked her as Mike had her mother and father.

When the real reason for not wanting EJ to make a claim on her baby hit her, she gasped. If Mike hadn’t manipulated Momma into marrying him, if her father had honestly not wanted her mother, Mike would still be in Emily’s life. Most likely she’d still call him Daddy and would still love him as such. She wanted to protect her baby not from Fabian coming back and wanting to be a father, but from the pain of losing the man she would undoubtedly love as Daddy.

But EJ was nothing like Mike, and on the flip side, Fabian was nothing like Seth. Fabian honestly didn’t want his child. His demanding she take the cocaine the other day proved that. EJ loved her baby. He’d shown her how much at her OB appointment. During the sonogram, he’d held her hand and stared at the monitor showing a black and white shadow of her baby while an utterly awed expression came over his handsome face. It was the face of a father, and it was about time she acknowledged it.

She lifted her chin and gazed into the eyes of the man who had never been her father. She may have loved him as such, but Mike Ritter had never truly loved her or her mother. “My ex-husband was the sperm donor, but her father is EJ Cowley.”

With a snort of harsh laughter, Mike stood and dropped the bloody cloth in the bucket. “Her? Well, too bad neither man is going to meet his daughter.”

His words shuddered through her making her cold to the bone. “What are you going to do to me?”

Laughing, he picked up the bucket, went to the door, and tossed the water outside, then set the pail on the floor. Without turning, he spoke in a low, deadly calm tone as if they were discussing the weather. “I’m going to kill you, but maybe not as soon as I’m done with you.” What did he mean? He looked over his shoulder at her. “I’ve decided to not be hasty in my revenge. The brat will help me get the hell out of this country.”

The ruthless, ugly smile he gave her as he stepped toward her sent ice through her, and she tried to shrink as far against the wall as possible. She wrapped her arms around her knees, wanting to protect her baby. “What are you going to do to us?”

He leaned down and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. The sudden change in position sent a stab of pain through her head, and his sour smell turned her stomach. He pressed her against the wall, bringing the whole length of his body against her, when she felt the telltale ridge pressing against her belly, she wanted to scream and tried to twist away, but with her dizziness and the bindings on her limbs, she couldn’t even move.

His lips were close to her ear and his hot breath burned her skin. “You’ve become a beautiful woman, Emily. I must have jacked off a thousand times while looking at one of your magazine pictures.” The image he conjured made her gag, but if he noticed, he ignored her and went on, “You know the real reason I cheated on your mother with Tammy Jo McAllister?”

She stared into his crazy, bloodshot, brown eyes and shivered.

He shifted her to the cot and pushed her down onto the filthy mattress. As he shrugged out of his shirt, he said, “You.” Her surprise must have shown through her utter horror. “I never was sexually attracted to your mother. God, I could barely get a hard on around her. It was too much like fucking my sister.”

Her mother had told her much of the same thing once that her marriage to Mike had not only been loveless, but sexless as well.

He tossed his shirt on the floor and pulled off his undershirt. As he resumed his sickening speech, he reached for her hands. “You were eleven then. A beautiful girl, and I wanted you.” He unbound her hands, but before she could even think of fighting, he retied her wrists to the metal bed frame above her head. “I had to find a woman to take my mind off you. I may have sold girls who ended up being someone’s sex toys, but I couldn’t risk making you mine. Tammy Jo presented herself. She was still beautiful and as rich as King Midas. I took her up on her offer. Besides, your mother’s money was running out. I couldn’t touch any more of it.”

He smiled that ugly grin again and feathered his fingers over the side of her face. She flinched her head to the side, and he snorted. “I used to stand in your doorway when you’d come to stay with Tammy Jo and me, and I’d watch you sleep.” He gave her a sly grin. “Then when I fucked her, I pretended she was you. Her baby was conceived after one of those times.”

When he reached for the rope on her feet, a terror more devastating than dying numbed her senses. He untied her feet. She fought him by kicking and stabbing with her bare heels, until he punched her in the swollen mound of her baby daughter. She let out a scream of pain as hot tears burned her face. The nausea she’d been fighting since waking rushed up her throat. She turned her head and retched over and over, but since she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since that morning, nothing came up but bitter bile.

He stripped her of her shorts and panties, then tied her legs spread eagle to the bed frame. When he stood, he grabbed the front of her tank top and gave it a hard yank between his hands. The thin material gave away and ripped neatly down the center. He brushed his hands over the tops of her breasts, down the valley between to the clasp of her bra in the front. When he pushed the lacy cups aside, he sucked in a breath, then palmed her breasts.

After a moment of painfully pinching and fumbling her nipples, he stepped back and reached for his belt. His cold gaze pinned her to the bed as surely as the ties did. “I’m going to fuck you, Emily, until I’m tired of you. Then I’ll decided if I want your brat or not.”

She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the violation. Her uterus caught in a gripping cramp, making her groan. Had he hurt the baby when he punched her? If she could, she’d kill Mike Ritter.

When the back window shattered with a loud bang, she opened her eyes.

Chapter 19

The large map of McAllister County taunted EJ from the wall in his office. He’d studied the outline of town with its neat crisscross of streets and houses, and the large pastel shaded shapes, representing the tracts of land in the county. Green indicated state lands, pale blue showed the historical Rose Ranch once owned by the McAllister family. Yellow, pink, lavender, and orange represented the ranches, making the square county look like an Easter crazy patch quilt.

Where the hell could he have taken her?

Every road and street in the county was blocked. Not even an ant could cross the county line without notice. If his officers, the FBI, Texas Rangers, State Police, or the five county firefighters he’d deputized didn’t block the roads, the neighboring counties had them shut down.

For at least the fiftieth time he traced a finger from the far northwest corner of the county where the car had been found that morning, to the Matheson’s ranch two miles from the car where a horse, bridle, and saddle had been reported stolen three days ago. EJ scratched at the bristly beard growing in. He’d bet his ranch Ritter stole the horse, after dumping the car. But where in God’s name did he go after that?

To his place and Emily. Oliver had wakened long enough before going into surgery to tell Clint Grier he’d seen a saddled horse by the barn and was going to investigate when he was shot. Jason was still in critical care, but was expected to live. Both men were. God, he prayed they survived. Emily would blame herself if either one of them died.

EJ traced the obscure trails from the Matheson Ranch to his own, circumventing the town and avoiding the main roads. It definitely was possible and probably could be done in a day of hard riding. Where had he been hiding out until this morning? He had to have been close enough to know when EJ had gotten the call the car had been found.

“Has the magic wall told you anything yet? You’ve been staring at that thing for an hour.”

EJ turned to Clint Grier standing in his doorway. “Maybe.” He proceeded to tell Clint about his thoughts. Circling the ranches out on River Road, he said, “He’s holed up here somewhere.”

Clint narrowed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. “I already checked out the Ritter ranch. He’s not there. The old line cabin he’d used to house the illegals he’d filtered through the county was torn down after his arrest eight years ago. No one on the Circle R has heard from him either.”

EJ twisted his mouth up in thought and stared at the ranches he’d encompassed in his invisible outline: the Ritter’s Circle R, his place, his brothers’ spreads, and the Double K. He didn’t have any line shacks. His uncle had torn them down years ago. Neither did his brothers’ ranches.

He tapped his finger on the yellow shape representing the Double K. The ranch didn’t have any line cabins either, but a memory lurked in the corner of his mind like a spider in a web. With numb fingers, he pulled his cell from its clip on his belt and hit the number for Tucker’s phone.

Two rings later and without preamble, his brother snapped, “Did you find her?”

“No.” EJ held Clint’s gaze as the other man waited. “Hey, do you know if the Kendalls still use that old hunting cabin in the northwest corner?”

“Yeah, it’s still there. Seth isn’t much of a hunter, but Vince and I have used it to watch deer.”

A million thoughts clamored in his brain. Could Mike make it this easy to find him? Or had he been hoping hiding in plain sight would make him invisible? A shudder went through EJ. The bastard almost fooled them. “Thanks, bro.”

Tucker asked, “Is that where you think he’s keeping Emily? EJ, the only way to get back there is on horseback or ATV.”

“I’m hoping that’s where he is. Saddle five good horses for hard riding and have two of the flat-bedded ATVs gassed up, too. Have them ready in twenty minutes, Tuck.” He hung up and put his phone back on his belt, then grabbed his hat off his desk. “C’mon. I want five of the best riders we have in the department and two EMTs to meet me at the Double K.”

* * * *

The ride over the Double K was taking longer than he’d hoped. The ranch was seven hundred acres of flat pastures and hay fields, but the cabin had been built near a creek in a thick grove of ponderosa pines, hackberry trees, and a ton of underbrush. Cutting across the pastures in the darkening evening, with only the light from the headlights on the ATVs guiding them had been hard, but now that they reached the grove, EJ reined in. The cabin was a good five hundred yards away, but they’d have to walk in or risk being heard. He swung out of the saddle of his borrowed horse and went to the ATVs. The two EMTs watched him approaching.

“We can’t go any farther,” George Wallace said when EJ stopped beside the slight man of about fifty. “I thought your brother said there’s a path to the cabin.”

“There is, but here we can hide the horses and go in on foot. I want you both to stay here until I radio you.” He pointed to the south. “Follow the edge of the grove until you get to a trail. About fifty feet. You can’t miss it.”

George glanced into the dark in the south and frowned. “Okay. Dave and I will stay here until we hear from you.”

EJ clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

His men dismounted and tethered their mounts on low branches of the trees, then they silently followed EJ through the brambles toward the cabin. Afraid that Mike would either have the trail booby-trapped or be watching it, he advised a plan to approach the cabin from the windowless side, then circle around. The going was tedious and his heart ached with each agonizingly slow step. What if Mike had already killed her?”

What if his lack of actual planning got her and his men killed?

He pushed the questions out of his head the best he could and focused on pushing through the underbrush.

“Hey, do you see that?” Clint asked in a low voice by his side.

EJ peered through the thicket and his heart leapt to his throat. He pulled his Glock and fingered the trigger. A silhouette of a man came from the creek side of the cabin carrying what looked like a bucket onto the porch. Tethered to the side of the porch was a horse, directly in line of him and Ritter. He sighted down the gun, itching to take a shot, but he couldn’t risk missing or hitting the horse. When the door opened, dim, yellow light illuminated him for a moment before darkness swallowed the porch again when he disappeared in the cabin. EJ let out the breath he was holding and lowered the gun.