Searching For Love (Contemporary Cowboy Romance) (Carson Hill Ranch series: Book 2) (12 page)

“Promise?” Gracie asked with a residual sniffle.

“I promise.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“One hundred percent. Both pinkies, even,” Miranda answered with a supportive smile. She tugged on her sister’s stray curls and leaned over slightly in her saddle so she could link her arm through Gracie’s. She let Gracie fill her in on everything she’d missed on the drive,
and then answered a few questions about what their plans were now that she and Casey were back home.

Home,
Miranda thought as Gracie rambled on.
It certainly means something different for me now than it used to.
She, too, had lost her mom, even if the pain of that loss wasn’t as sharp as it was for Gracie. Miranda had been out on her own and on her own two feet for a few years when Mom had died, but Gracie was still so young that she needed a mother. Miranda had tried her best to make a home for Gracie, but it was a pathetic home at best.

Now, she and Gracie had their best chance in years to be a part of a real family, one where different people came in and out all day long, laughing and supporting each other. Loving her very own rugged cowboy was just an added benefit to being a part of this family.

Miranda spotted Casey up ahead and admired the effortless way he rode, as though being a cowboy was so much a part of him that it was impossible to separate it from him. Her heart thudded in her chest when she realized he was checking on his wife—
oh my God, I’m his wife,
she remembered for the hundredth time—as he turned in his saddle and looked back in her direction, giving her a thumbs up sign to see if she was okay back there.

I can’t believe it
, she thought, an involuntary, giddy smile breaking out on her face.
This is real. He’s really mine…

Somewhere in the fog, Carey could hear a voice, and it was laughing.

It was a menacing laugh, made all the worse by the fact that Carey could feel himself trapped by the weight of his own body, unable to move or react. A kick to the ribs made him groan in pain, but that was the only response he could give while semi-unconscious.

Carey was only vaguely aware of what was going on, but he heard distinctly different sets of footprints stomping through the house, not even attempting to be quiet. He phased in and out of consciousness, but came to just enough to know that he should at least pretend that he was out cold, letting them think he wouldn’t be a threat.

“This one’s half-dead and useless,” he heard an unfamiliar voice call out. “
Go check the house and see who else you can drag out here.” Retreating footsteps thudded across the wood floors, followed by the sounds of different doors opening and closing as a search was underway.

Carey had to will himself to stay silent as gun shots rang out somewhere down the hall, followed by raised voices. Another gun shot sounded, then it was silent. The radio crackled near where Carey had been keeping watch, but there was no voice: Amy’s code for something wrong.

Barely able to turn his head for the throbbing pain in his skull, Carey tried to look around the room. He couldn’t see anyone, and so was jolted sharply when a hand landed on the back of his neck. “Carey?” Amy whispered in his ear, the fear coming through in her shaky voice. “Can you hear me? Carey!”

He moaned in response, letting her know he was at least alive. He heard her sigh of relief then felt her breath near his ear as she spoke. “Stay put, don’t try to get up. I’ll be back. I’m going to make sure everyone in the kitchen is okay, then go look for the others.”

Everything he felt told him to scream for her to come back, to tell her to stay and not put herself in any danger. Carey winced as he finally rolled over, able to open his eyes for a moment but shutting them again when the ceiling above him continued to spin. When he could finally look up without being flooded with nausea, he forced himself first to his hands and knees, and then to his feet. There was no way he was letting Amy face this alone, not when she’d had to overcome her own fears and lack of confidence.

This was his land, damn it! He was the oldest Carson here now, and he no longer cared that his brother had left home. Carey wasn’t going to stand in his brother’s shadow, a place that he’d put himself in of his own free will, when there were people here in danger. He staggered to the kitchen, holding on to the nearest furniture as he moved. He was confused by a bloody hand-print on the wall next to the door frame but instead of being sickened when he realized it was his blood, left there by his unsteady hand, he was angry. Rage coursed through him at the people who had invaded his family’s happiness and threatened women and a teenage boy.

Carey shoved through the kitchen door and grabbed a wooden chair, knocking it to the floor and stomping on one of its legs to break it off. He picked it up and hefted it before walking through the rest of the house, feeling his way through the dark.

The sound of voices from his father’s office stopped him, and Carey immediately crouched down to avoid being seen by anyone who may be keeping watch. He slunk along the floor until he could see around the door frame, looking into the office that was illuminated by his father’s desk lamp.

NO!
Carey thought.
Not her!

He watched in horror as Crazy Mack dragged Amy roughly by the arm and threw her onto one of the sofas. He stood over her, blocking Carey’s view for a second. The ringing sound of a slap vibrated off the ribs surrounding Carey’s heart. That was all he needed to launch himself through the door at Mack, tackling him from the side and landing on top of him with a satisfying crunch.

Carey rained down blow after blow on Mack’s face, enjoying the beating in a way he would have never thought possible. He had never struck another human being in his life and never thought he would have needed to.

Now, it took every bit of his strength and self control not to kill him.

“Carey! Stop!” Amy said quietly, evenly, coming up to him and bringing him back to reality with the calmness of her voice. “He’s done, Carey!”

Carey stopped his fist in mid-swing, looking around as the room came back into focus. His eyes settled on Amy, and he stared into her large eyes as he worked to bring his breathing back to normal. He looked down at his hands, at the blood that peppered his knuckles, wondering for just a second how it had gotten there. His eyes traveled to where Mack lay only semi-conscious, then back to Amy, pleading with her silently to not think of him as a monster.

“What have I done?” He asked her, the question hanging in the air between them without an answer. “Are you okay?” He finally demanded. She nodded; the effects of the intrusion finally crashing over her until she sat back, trying to control the shaking that came over her violently.

Carey crossed over to her, wiping the offensive blood from his hands on his own clothes before he gathered her in his arms, holding her against him as her nerves recovered from what had happened. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and letting it soothe her.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I heard shooting earlier,” he asked, trying to look her over for any signs of damage.

“Yeah. The sheriff.”

“The sheriff shot at you?” Carey demanded, enraged all over again as he continued to look to see if she was okay.

“Well, not exactly,” she explained in an oddly detached voice. “He thought he was going to. I fired off those shots and took him down.”

“You mean you killed him? Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m really sure,” she answered quietly. “I hated to do it, but when he drew his weapon I knew he meant business. I had to dispatch him before he went looking for the others.”

“Anders!” Carey yelled, remembering the others and jumping up from the sofa, pulling Amy by the hand toward the kitchen. They broke through the swinging door into the darkened room and paused to let their eyes adjust until Carey remembered that the power had been restored before Mack and Matthews stormed the house. He flipped on the light switch by the door and froze when he saw the empty kitchen, the cots almost stripped and one or two of them over turned.

“Anders! Where are you?” Carey called out as Amy ran to the back door to see if anyone had left to the porch. A freezer door opened a crack before Anders burst through, dragging the others out of the freezer, wrapped in the thin fabric blankets. Even though the power had been out, the large walk-in freezer had retained most of its chill.

Anders grabbed Carey and hugged him, fighting back tears. “We all went in the freezer when I heard the gun shots,” the younger brother explained.

“We sure did,” Amanda spoke up, beaming at the boy. “He’s a genius. He got us all in there, and even thought to bring the blankets.”

Carey looked at Anders with an entirely new respect. This wasn’t just the sickly younger brother they’d all looked after growing up. He might not be a ranch hand or know his way around the barn, but Anders was important to the ranch in other ways, ways Carey or the others would never have been able to fill. He ruffled his brother’s hair for a second before hugging him close again.

The sound of approaching vehicles made them all freeze. Now that the sheriff was dead and Mack was practically hog-tied and unconscious, there was no way of knowing how many other people were in on his drug business. Amy drew her gun and retrieved Carey’s rifle, tossing it to him as he ushered the others back into the freezer, making sure they had their blankets again.

Carey and Amy watched out for each other’s backs as they crept toward the front door, dropping down when several pairs of headlights shown through the thinly-curtained front windows.  They were at a disadvantage, staring as they were directly into the lights beaming through the remaining glass.

A knock on the door was almost a welcome relief, because Carey decided anyone bent on hurting them probably wouldn’t knock first. He approached the door with Amy beside him, her gun pointed in front of her toward the floor. “Who is it?” he called out.

“DEA, responding to a call,” the gruff voice called out. Amy shook her head no, warning Carey not to open the door.

“Why would the DEA just happen to show up here?” She whispered tensely. “
Something’s not adding up.”

“That was me,” Anders called out from the kitchen door. “I called Dad and had him contact them when I heard you and Amy discussing it. It’s okay!”

Carey looked from Anders to Amy for confirmation, but Amy only shrugged before nodding in agreement. She kept her gun ready as Carey opened the door, relieved when he saw the officers and the lead agent’s outstretched identification. He showed them in, pointing to the locations of Mack and the sheriff, then ran over and grabbed his younger brother.

“You’re pretty much a genius, did you know that?” He asked, rubbing his knuckles lightly on Anders’ head. He released a very embarrassed Anders and with his other arm, he pulled Amy to his chest. He kissed the top of her head before thinking better of it and finding her mouth with his own. He left a lingering kiss there as the others politely became very occupied with righting the overturned cots and folding the discarded blankets.

“You need a vacation, Officer McDade,” Carey said, still holding her. Amy pressed against him, enjoying the security of Carey’s embrace.

“I believe I do. In fact, you practically owe me a vacation. I came out here for a good time with cowboys. And you’re the only cowboy I see, so…” She left her sentence hanging as she playfully opened the first button on his shirt, pulling back the fabric and placing her lips against a smooth, undamaged area of his skin.

“So?” Carey teased in a thick voice, trying to keep his wits about him as Amy began working free another button. “Am I hearing you right, that you still want a cowboy vacation? I’ll have to get to work on that. How about we head out first thing in the morning after everyone gets back? We can take ourselves a nice, long,
real
cowboy vacation?”

“With the horses? And the sleeping under the stars? And all that good stuff?” She hinted slyly, running her hands up Carey’s biceps.

“There will be sleeping at some point,” he shot back, playing along.

“I do have a couple of concerns, though,” Amy cautioned him, her brow wrinkling slightly.

“Oh, really? And what might those be, Officer?” He asked, eyeing her skeptically as he joined in on her joke.

“For starters, I want a smarter horse this time. It doesn’t have to pass an IQ test or anything, but it does need to know how to walk forward without trying to kill me. Backward is still negotiable.”

“I think I can arrange that,” Carey said with a stern, businesslike expression. “Any other requests? Goose down duvets? Spa robes? Little mints on your pillow, maybe?”

“Nope. I don’t need those kinds of things. But I do have a question,” she said, stepping closer and peering up at Carey with a serious look on her face.

“What would that be, ma’am?” He replied innocently.

“Do we have to bring the cows along this time?”

Carey threw back his head and laughed before feathering her lips with kisses, spectators be damned. Without breaking their kiss, he bent slightly until his arms were around her waist, then lifted her to his height and walked with her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and out the front door to stand under the stars in front of the house. Amy left her arms wrapped around Carey’s neck as he gently set her feet on the ground, their kiss deepening as her hands wound their way into his hair. He pressed her body against his, holding her so close she could feel his heartbeat against her skin.

He finally broke the kiss and lifted her chin gently with his fingertips, looking into her eyes. “What if your vacation didn’t end?” He asked nervously. “What if you loved ranch life so much that you stayed?”

“Out here?” She asked, surprised. “A city slicker like me? Please, Texas wouldn’t know what to do with a Detroit cop running around all over the place. And what would I do all day without the excitement of the city to keep me busy?”

“Well, we do find ourselves in need of a sheriff lately, and you are the one who first made the connection between the sheriff and Mack, and the drugs. I bet you’re just the kind of cop we need.” He kissed her deeply again, then said, “And I think you’re just the kind of woman I need.”