Love in Xxchange: Rory's Last Chance (16 page)

Rory thumped Chance’s belly, not hard, just enough to get his attention. “There’s no point in banging your head against a brick wall, Chance. All that would do anyway is cause more trouble. Somehow or another, Ian would find a way to make it so.”

Not if he never saw who kicked his ass. Chance saw the narrowing of Rory’s eyes and knew his lover was reading him too well.

“So, what were you planning to do, send Bo to Art as bait?”

Chance squirmed under that penetrating stare. He stopped petting Rory’s hair and buried his fingers in his own instead. “No, not…not exactly.”

Rory continued to look at him, waiting patiently while Chance battled back the flush stinging at his cheeks. “I was gonna see if Bo would call and make an offer on some cattle, you know, arrange to meet up with Art to discuss prices first, then go see the stock.”

“And was Bo ever going to be meeting with Art?” Rory’s lips compressed to a thin white line when Chance shook his head. “So what was the brilliant plan?”

Chance flinched at the sarcastic bite in his lover’s words, but now that he’d been busted, even he had to admit it had been a stupid plan. Despite the potential for it being a satisfying one, if Art became confrontational like Chance suspected he would.

“I just wanted to talk to him, and it wouldn’t have been Bo meeting with that son of a bitch. It would have been me, waiting in the hotel room—”

Rory pushed himself up on one arm and rolled his eyes. “And you really think Art would have showed up? That he wouldn’t have got suspicious?”

Now Chance felt a flicker of anger. He scooted around until he was sitting . “It isn’t completely uncommon to conduct business in a nice hotel room. I would have thought of a reason for the meeting to take place there; that’s what I was going to discuss with Bo.

He’s…creative, you could say.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Rory agreed. “But it was still a stupid idea. Art would have walked away when he saw you, or, more likely, he’d have come into that room and taunted you until—”

Chance only thought Rory’s narrowed eyes earlier was a glare—now he knew better.

This was definitely an angry glare, Rory’s dark eyes snapping with temper as red streaked RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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his high cheek bones. Chance had to fight against the impulse to apologise and create a bit more space between them.

“That was your whole plan, wasn’t it?” Rory’s voice was rough and low, nearly vibrating with anger, and Chance found himself with a hard on in seconds. Not that he’d mention it, not right now, anyway. That blazingly pissed-off expression his lover was wearing made it clear there was only one subject being discussed right now.

“Well, I admit that I knew Art might—”Chance began.

“Might? Might?” Rory stood up and paced before turning back and pointing at Chance.

“You knew damn good and well that Art would definitely go off when he saw you!”

Chance didn’t bother denying it. “I knew there was a good chance, yes, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything about it unless Art became violent.”

“Which he would,” Rory growled out.

“Which he would,” Chance echoed. He caught one of Rory’s hands and pulled, halting his lover’s pacing. “Can you blame me, Rory? Really, do you blame me?”

Rory clasped Chance’s hand and sat beside him on the couch. “I don’t blame you, Chance, but you can’t just…you can’t just do something like this. I don’t need revenge, but I do need you. And together, we need to take logical steps to prevent Art from doing anything like this again.”

“And what would those logical steps be?” Chance was getting a bad feeling about this.

Rory rolled his head against the back of the couch and looked at him. “We need proof.

He took pictures, I doubt he got rid of them. They’d be his trophies, right?”

Chance’s stomach heaved. He didn’t want anyone seeing those pictures of Rory being violated and used. That was what Rory was talking about though, wasn’t it?

“What happens if we manage to get those pictures, and pictures of whoever else Art’s,”—Chance couldn’t push the word ‘raped’ past his lips—“hurt?”

Rory shuddered then stiffened beside him. “Then, I guess, we…we have to go to the police, don’t we? Or should we do that first?”

At least Rory wasn’t talking about doing this alone, Chance thought. He shouldn’t have tried to handle it by himself, either, but he’d been so angry…

“I don’t know if there’s a statute of limitations,” Chance mused, “and if we contact the police, do you think they’re going to take us seriously? Or will they go out and do a half-assed interview and give Art a heads-up, inadvertent or not?”

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Rory huffed, a sound of pure irritation slipping from his lips. “Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t just take my word for it and break down his door to find proof. If they even believed me, they’d want to interview him, and then Art would have an opportunity to dispose of any proof he had.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Chance thought his original plan to just beat Art into a vegetative state was sounding like a winner once again.

Rory sat up straight and patted Chance’s shoulder. “We need to find out where the pictures are, then contact the police. But how can either of us do that? I can’t step foot on the ranch, and I can guarantee you won’t be allowed on it, either.”

“We need to talk to Annabelle,” Chance said, thinking out loud. He jerked Rory back down to the couch and waved his hand when Rory started to speak. “Not to have her go looking, but she might be able to give us an idea of Art’s schedule, and maybe we can figure out a time and a way I can look for those pictures.”

Rory looked like he was about to protest, his eyebrows knitting together and his lips tipping down in a frown. He grumbled then looked at Chance. “Okay, I see your point, and I know why you want to be the one to sneak onto the ranch—that way, I’m not violating Ian’s edicts. I just… I don’t like the idea of you being in Art’s place by yourself.”

“We could ask Bo to go along after all,” Chance said, not too keen on the idea, because they’d have to confide in Bo. It wasn’t a matter of trust, but a matter of not wanting his lover to have to go through the telling of it again.

“We could,” Rory agreed. “He would be able to keep an eye out while you looked.

Guess it’s a good enough plan for now.”

Good enough was probably the best they could come up with. Chance stopped Rory in the hall, gently pushing him up against the wall. Rory gave him a steady look; Chance couldn’t detect any nervousness at the prospect of talking to Bo in his lover’s eyes.

“You sure this is what you want to do?” Chance knew the answer before he even finished asking the question.

“It’s what I need to do,” Rory clarified. “And that’s why I want to do it.”

Chance nodded. He wouldn’t argue with his lover; Rory knew his own mind, and Chance knew his lover’s strength. But more importantly, he knew this man’s heart, and as he closed his eyes and opened himself for Rory’s kiss, Chance clung to that knowledge as surely as his lips clung to Rory’s.

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Annabelle hadn’t like their plan to sneak onto the Mossy Glenn, and she’d had no qualms about letting Rory know it. When she reluctantly agreed to help, he should have been suspicious. His sister had always been every bit as stubborn, if not more so, than he was.

Still, neither him or Chance had a clue that she would take matters into her own hands.

Rory lifted his hat and swiped a forearm across his brow to keep the sweat from running into his eyes. Dropping the hat back in place, he looked at the barbed wire fence.

The wire was stretched taut and the repair was made. Rory stood up and was strolling over to Rama when his cell rang. He pulled the phone from the clip on his belt and saw Annabelle’s number. Rory flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear.

“Hey, sis, what’s up?”

“Rory…I found them.” Annabelle’s voice was thick with tears. Rory frowned; Annabelle wasn’t a crier.

“Sis, what’s wrong? You found what?”

“The p-pictures.” A sob came across the line as shock stopped Rory in his tracks at the realisation of what pictures his sister had to be talking about.

“Jesus, Annabelle.” Rory pushed a hand against his stomach, trying to shove down the wave of nausea that hit him. “Don’t look at them! Just get out of Dad’s office and—”

“I’m not in Dad’s office!”

“Then where—” Rory’s mouth snapped shut. “Are you in Art’s bunk house?”
Please,
God
, he prayed silently,
let her say no.

“Yes. I had to, after you told me.” Annabelle’s voice was now as shaky as her breath. “I won’t let him get away with it!”

Rory closed his eyes, fighting to stay rational when panic kept trying to take over. “Get out of there. Leave everything and get the fuck out of there, Annabelle.”

“No. He isn’t even here; he drove Daddy to town.”

Rory could hear the rustling of papers over the phone. “God! Rory, he has dozens of pictures—not just of you. There’s several men, and he’s…he’s—” Annabelle’s breath hitched.

“Please.” Rory’s legs gave out and his butt hit the ground. “Annabelle, please quit RORY’S LAST CHANCE

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looking and get out of there.”
Oh God, were any of those men Chance?

“I think I should call the police, Rory. There’s plenty of pictures with him in them, and there’s writing on some of them. Names and…and evil notes.”

“Stop, please.” Rory watched as sweat dripped from his cheek to the dirt. “Those pictures don’t prove anything—the police would need proof that they weren’t consensual.

Art isn’t going to confess, and a lot of his victims probably won’t want to testify, either.” He knew he didn’t.

He could hear the sound of a drawer scraping open, then a startled gasp from his sister.

“Women, oh God, Rory, he has pictures of women, too!” A shadow fell across Rory and he looked up to find Chance watching him, a concerned look on his face.

“Annabelle, get out of Art’s room!” Rory pushed himself up and turned away from Chance, unable to deal with the look on his lover’s face and the tension and fear boiling up inside of himself. “Please, if they come back—”

“I told you, they’ve only been gone a few minutes. It will be hours before they come back. And I am not walking away from this.” Annabelle’s voice held a stubborn streak that Rory knew only too well.

“You don’t know that! What if they have to turn back around for some reason? What then?” Rory wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to his sister because he’d been stupid enough to mess around with Art. Chance’s hand gripped Rory’s shoulder and pulled him around. Chance held his other hand out and gestured for the phone.

“Please, baby.” Chance’s eyes held so much tenderness that Rory felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“Annabelle, Chance wants to talk to you, okay?” Rory heard his sister’s swift intake of breath.

“He’s…Chance G, isn’t he? Your boss, Chance Galloway?”

Rory closed his eyes and nodded, whether to Chance or to the question he suddenly didn’t have the voice to answer. Art had obviously kept Chance’s pictures, too.

“Annabelle, this is Chance—” Rory watched Chance pale, though the man didn’t look surprised. “Yeah, the same one. Look, are you sure Art and your dad won’t be back soon?

Rory is very worried about you.”

Rory could hear his sister’s voice but he couldn’t make out her words. He kept his gaze locked with Chance’s as Chance listened to whatever it was Annabelle said.

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“Okay, why don’t you do this? Close everything up, slip out of there and back to your place, then call the police?” Chance’s hand slid from Rory’s shoulder to smooth up and down his back.

Rory was torn—his pride didn’t want anyone else knowing what had happened to him, but to let Art continue…it was unthinkable. His pride was nothing compared to what Art did to people. Rory stepped closer to Chance and wrapped his arm around his lover’s waist.

Chance reciprocated by pressing himself up against Rory’s chest.

“Yes, Annabelle, I would be willing to talk to the police.” Chance looked at Rory and arched his brow. Rory nodded, ignoring the knot of fear in his gut. “Rory will, too, though if we can keep him out of it—”

“No!” Rory shook his head so hard his neck popped. “We can do this, together.” He held Chance’s stare until his lover nodded.

“Yeah, he is a stubborn cuss, but I love him.” Chance chuckled briefly, his face lighting up with laughter as he looked at Rory. “Yes’ ma’am, I do, and I promise to take good care of him for you.” Chance winked and handed Rory the phone.

“Wow, he sounds like a sweetheart.” Annabelle said in a wistful voice. Rory snorted and rolled his eyes at Chance.

“He’s a lot of things, sis, but a sweetheart…“ Rory grinned as Chance pinked up with embarrassment. “Aw, you’re right, he
is
a sweetheart.” Rory hissed as Chance pinched his butt, hard. He narrowed his eyes at his lover and mouthed ‘payback’.

“You told him I called him a sweetheart? Rory, you ass!” Annabelle’s amused voice made Rory smile. “He’s gonna think I used that term just because he’s gay!”

Rory laughed and nuzzled Chance’s neck. “Did you?” Might as well tease his sister now before all the shit hit the fan.

“No! I said it because it’s true!”

Rory heard the door shut over the phone. “Are you out of there?”

“Yes, I am, and walking up the porch steps to the house right now.” The sound of a screen door slapping shut was carried over the call. “Look, seriously, Rory, I love you, okay?

And I’m sorry, but Art can’t get away with this; there was so many—” Annabelle’s breath hitched again.

“Hey, no, Annabelle, it’s all right.” And it would be, eventually. Rory had to believe that. “You’re right—he has to be stopped, so make that call and then call me back, okay? And RORY’S LAST CHANCE