Read Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled) Online

Authors: Kat Murray

Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled) (24 page)

BOOK: Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled)

9.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

Bea waited until Jo was gone before asking quietly, “You really are hung up on him, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be so upset if it was just about business. Pissed, yeah. But not upset.”

In one last ditch effort to play it cool, Peyton pointed out, “I do love the ranch, you know.”

“Of course you do. God knows why, but you do. Bless you,” Bea said to a server who dropped off another round of drinks and took their empties. Peyton stared at the fresh bottle, wondering when she’d polished off the first. “The bigger question is, do you love him?”

Luckily, Peyton hadn’t taken a sip yet of her new drink. “I . . .”

Bea smiled softly and reached over to pat her arm. “There, there. It’ll be okay.”

“Smart ass.”

“We share the same genes.”

Peyton stared down at her own self, dressed in what Bea had termed barely acceptable jeans and a simple blue shirt, the hair she kept in one braid for practical reasons, the fact that she didn’t own makeup at all. Oh yeah, they were two peas in a pod, the Muldoon sisters.

As if reading her mind, Bea sniffed. “Well, sometimes the gene pool is a little shallow. Don’t worry, I’ll catch you up.”

Like hell, Peyton thought. But she smiled in spite of herself and traced a finger through the drops of condensation on the bottle.

Before she could find a lighter topic to move on to, Peyton’s phone buzzed. Glancing at it, she saw the envelope icon indicating she had a text message from an unexpected number.

“Billy?” she murmured, then flipped the phone open.

“Billy,” Bea repeated, taking a sip of her girly drink from the tiny straw, brow scrunched in concentration. “That cutie high schooler? Honey, I think it’s great you’re opening yourself up to new experiences. But if you think being with Red would cause negative gossip, then you and—”

“Hush.” She mimicked a beak closing with her fingers. “I don’t know why he’d send me something this late. Probably a misdial. I think there’s someone he’s interested in at school. Maybe he . . .” Peyton felt the blood rush from her head as she read the message. “Shit. Bea, we gotta go.”

“Now?” Bea stared at her half-full drink. “We just got here.”

Peyton tossed a twenty and a ten on the table—likely an overpayment for the drinks, but she wasn’t waiting around for the bill—and hopped down. “Haul ass, princess. Something’s up at home.”

Chapter Twenty-one

“I
f you don’t mind me giving you a little advice . . .”

Trace started, rocking back on his heels as he paced through the tiny apartment.

“I do mind,” Red answered, knowing it was pointless. Though Trace wasn’t drunk, he was slowly but surely plowing through the beer with full steam. No real reason why, it seemed. Red wasn’t about to judge. Sometimes a man just needed to let loose with other males.

Even if one of the males in question hadn’t celebrated his first birthday yet.

“Too bad. I say screw what people think.”

“Including me?” Red chuckled when Trace’s face went blank with confusion. “Sorry. You were making a point?”

“Hell yeah. You two thought you were so clever, sneaking around. But Emma knows all.”

“Emma?” Red went a little white at the thought. That woman was scarier than a two-ton bull headed right at you in an open field. Nowhere to hide. “Emma knows?”

“Of course Emma knows. Emma’s all knowing.” Trace looked disgusted Red would even question the thought. “I’d be willing to bet most people knew already around here. They were just keeping their traps shut ’cause they like Peyton and their paycheck.”

“Not everyone will keep their traps shut. Not everyone likes Peyton.”

“Because she’s a girl? Yeah. Fuck them.” Trace shot a guilty glance at his son, dead asleep on the makeshift pallet he’d created out of his jacket on the floor. “Sorry, bud.”

“I think he’s still conked out.”

“Yeah, well, the books say to start curbing the language early. They’re sponges, you know.”

No, he didn’t know. But it amused Red that Trace scoured through parenting books looking for answers. He was a good guy, Trace Muldoon. Not at all what he’d expected. But that’s what he got for making assumptions based on a profile built up through the rodeo media.

“She’s done with me. I’m not going to force myself on her.”

“She’s not done with you. I know my sister. She’s not a quitter. She just hasn’t figured out an angle yet. Give her some cool-down time and try again.”

Amused, Red crossed his arms and propped one foot up on the chair Trace had evacuated to pace around. “You giving me tips on how to pick up your sister?”

“Hell no. I’d rather you stayed away from her.” Trace shrugged. “But it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? Might as well be you rather than someone else.”

“Better the devil you know?” he mumbled.

Trace saluted him with his bottle. “Got it in one.”

Red’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “I thought you said your sisters went out for some girls’ night thing.”

“They did.”

“Then why is Peyton calling me?” He answered. “Peyton, what’s up?”

“Red, thank God. Billy texted me and there’s trouble at the house and Trace is there with the baby and I didn’t want to call him unless I knew what was going on and—”

“Peyton, slow down.” He stood, body going on high alert at the panic and fear in his woman’s voice. “Slow down, baby. Trace and Seth are here in my apartment. They’re fine.”

“Thank God,” she breathed, and he heard her repeat what he’d just said to someone else. A feminine voice echoed her gratitude. Bea’s voice.

“Where are you?”

“Driving home. Well, Bea is, I’m riding shotgun. Luckily he texted before we’d drunk too much to drive home. Now listen. Billy said he was out at the barn, staying over with one of the grooms. When he went out to take a leak, he caught movement by the main house, like a person walking around the back, by the kitchen door. Knows it isn’t Emma—her car isn’t there. I know it’s not you or Trace. So it’s someone up to no good. I thought Trace might be in there and—”

“Say no more. When you get here, keep the car down by the end of the drive and lock the doors. Don’t come out unless you hear the okay from me or Trace. Keep your cell phones ready to call either 911 or one of us for help.”

“Dammit, don’t shut me out like some incompetent girl. I can help!”

“You’ll help more by staying alert and ready to call the cops if I need you.” He didn’t wait for her answer, just hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. As he pulled his boots on, he looked at Trace. “Trouble at the main house. I’m gonna go scope it out.”

“I’ll come with.” Instantly looking dead sober, Trace was grabbing his jacket before he looked down once more at his son. “Or, shit. I guess not.”

“Guess not,” Red agreed. “I’ve got it. Just keep your phone ready. Maybe stand at the bottom of the stairs, keep the door cracked so you can listen for the kid and you’ll hear in case I need you.” With a last tug, his boots were on and he headed down the stairs as quietly as he could. Sound carried far in the dead of night, with nothing else going on and the air so open.

Once his feet hit grass, he hurried as fast as he could, as soundlessly as possible, creeping through the shadows and staying alert. He calculated the best way to approach the house without being spotted. And his mind hovered on the edge, terrified who he would find sneaking around.

He feared it would be his father. Almost knew it would be.

He’d made it to the barn without any problems when a muffled, deep shout cut through the night. Giving up all ideas of stealth, he broke into a sprint and followed the sounds of scuffling, the curses, the dull, unforgettable sounds of fists hitting flesh.

In the dark, as his eyes adjusted, he located two figures brawling in the dirt near the tree he and Peyton had once met under. It was no contest, one man outsizing the other by almost half. He heard a yelp and knew by the tone of the sound the smaller figure was Billy. Immediately he leapt into the fray, doing his best to spare Billy any more blows while prying the other man from the teen’s lax body.

“Jesus!” Red fought to knock the man to the ground. Though not as tall as Red, the stranger packed almost as much weight and didn’t go down easily. Finally, he managed to wrestle the man to the ground and pin his arms behind him. He whined and yelled like a little girl when Red wrenched his arm a littler harder than necessary. “What the hell are you doing out here, Bill?”

“Trying to keep him from escaping.” The teen stood, wiped at his nose with a sleeve. Red could easily guess it was blood he mopped up. “I didn’t want him to get away.”

Red couldn’t see well enough in the shade of the tree to make out any features, not to mention the man was facedown in the dirt. But he knew from the shape of the body, it wasn’t his father.

Relief, cool and sweet, swam through his system a moment before anger and rage blocked it out like an eclipse blocked the sun.

“Get. Off.”

The voice, now clear and concise, led him to the stranger’s identity in an instant.

Sam Nylen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Red resisted the urge to shove the man’s face in the dirt a little harder.

“Why is that kid here?” he shot back, earning him an extra knee to the back. He grunted, then muttered, “This is kidnapping or something. You can’t hold me here.”

“Bill?”

“Yeah, boss?”

Red smiled a little at that. “Text Peyton again, tell her to call the cops, and that we’ve got this under control. We’ve got a trespasser and possible burglar.”

“Sure thing.” He heard the clicking sounds of the teen’s phone as he wandered away to catch a little spare illumination from the front porch lights around the corner.

“Burglar?” Nylen’s voice rose to a squeak. “I’m no burglar. I made a mistake. Drove here on accident. I used to live here, you know. Too much to drink. Can’t hold that against a man. No harm done, I’ll just head on out and—”

Red pushed his knee farther into his back, silencing the poor excuse for an excuse. “Shut up. Save it for the cops. I know it was you in my office, and my apartment, both times. Might as well tell me what you were looking for before the cops get here. I might just forget to mention to the police about the other break ins.”

“Your apartment?” He laughed, but the sound was more like a wheeze. “I sure as hell didn’t go in there.”

“How’d you break in to the office?”

“Had another key made before I got sacked. Idiot woman never changed the locks.”

“Shut up,” he said absently, leaning harder on his chest. So Nylen admitted the office, but not the apartment break ins. Which meant . . .

“Do you know my father?”

Nylen spit some dirt out the side of his mouth. “Shitty card player. Talks too much when he’s drinking.”

Pieces fell into place. Of course two lowlifes like his father and Nylen would manage to meet up in a town this small. Magnetic pull of scum to scum, cheat to cheat. Which meant . . .

“Where’s your car?”

He didn’t say a word.

“Red?” Billy’s voice was hesitant. Damn. He’d forgotten Bill was still there. “Arby’s heading this way, and Tiny’s with him.”

“Good.” Red stood for a moment, planting his boot in the small of Nylen’s back. As the two men approached, he called out, “Hope you brought some zip ties.”

Tiny scoffed. “Why bother?” He stepped around Red and sat on the man, causing Nylen to gasp for breath. With a sneer, Tiny bent over to look Nylen in the face. “You can’t know how good it feels to finally give you what you deserve, you son of a bitch.”

“This all you got?” Arby asked Red quietly.

“All I . . . what?” Red turned to him.

Arby tilted his head toward the main gate. “Thought I saw a car down there. Glint from the spotlight caught on a rear bumper. Mighta been wrong though.”

Red clapped a hand on Arby’s shoulder and walked around to the front of the house. After a few moments, he started to sprint for the gate. If someone was in the car, he’d never catch it. But he’d have a good look.

He skidded to a halt as he caught sight of his father’s own truck parked in the shadows. He’d recognize the truck anywhere. And more, his father sitting in the driver seat. When Mac caught sight of Red, he threw the car in reverse and made a sloppy three-point turn. Gravel flew as he stepped on the accelerator and left M-Star in the dust.

“No honor among thieves,” Red muttered to himself, heading back to the main house.

“Peyton said she called the cops; they should be here soon.” Bill’s face split in a wide grin and he bounced on his toes. “She said we shouldn’t do anything heroic and she also wanted me to tell you that she thinks you’re a big—”

“That’s fine, Bill.” He smiled a little. “I get the point.” He tilted his head a little, staring at Nylen’s completely motionless body. “Can he breathe down there?”

Arby shrugged and leaned against the tree trunk. “I’m not all that inclined to check.”

The crunch of boots on gravel had everyone stiffening. But then he heard Bea yell Peyton’s name from around the front of the house and they all relaxed. Bill jogged over to direct them.

“He’s where? It was who?” Peyton could be heard a mile away with that yell. She rounded the corner, looking like hell on wheels and twice as pretty. He’d never seen her in anything but her work gear. Or, well, nothing at all. But in a pretty top and a pair of clean jeans, with her unbraided hair flowing around her shoulders, she was something to see.

As much as he could see in the dark.

He stared once more at the man on the ground. He’d had a part in catching the bastard red-handed. Maybe, just maybe, this was the opening he could use to work his way back in with her. He’d take all the help he could get at this point.

“Redford Callahan, you big idiot!”

So much for gratitude. “What?”

“You could have been killed!” She walked up and shoved at his shoulders with her hands, anger spitting from her eyes. “You don’t know if he was armed or alone or anything! How could you just do that?”

“Bill snuck up on him first,” he replied, silently apologizing for tossing the kid under the bus.

“Billy Curry!” she shouted over her shoulder. “You and I are going to have a long talk tomorrow morning!”

“Yes, ma’am,” came his resigned reply.

Kneeling down, Peyton squinted at the man. “Is that . . . no. You’ve got to be . . . Sam Nylen?”

“One in the same,” Red agreed.

Peyton laughed harshly. “I see it’s just our night to run into each other, isn’t it? First you insult me at the bar, now you break into my house?”

“I didn’t break in anywhere!” he protested.

“He insulted you?” Red asked at the same time. Leaning down low, he said quietly, “I’ve got a mind to let you up and give you a running head start, just so I could chase your sorry ass down and kick the shit out of you again.”

Tiny laughed at that.

“No point. Bea’s already called the sheriff,” Peyton said somewhat glumly, as if disappointed she wouldn’t get to witness the ass kicking.

BOOK: Taking the Reins (Roped and Wrangled)

9.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads