Tall, Dark and Cowboy (26 page)

“Galt,” Lacey whispered. “Damn.”

Chase gritted his teeth and clutched the wheel as the pickup bounced over the prairie, the trailer bouncing behind it like a heavy ball and chain. It swung first to one side, then the other, constantly foiling his efforts to keep clear of rocks and clumps of sagebrush. His eyes were fixed on the ground in front of the headlights, so he was startled when a movement to one side caught his attention, and he turned to see two horses galloping past.

Sheba and Jimbo, headed home. Lacey must have spooked them somehow. At least she’d managed to get the heavy blankets off their backs. He hoped she’d found the note. She must have. Otherwise surely he’d have passed her by now, because she wouldn’t realize she was walking into danger. He clutched the wheel and sped up.

He hadn’t gone far when Galt’s old claim cabin appeared in the distance, lit up like a church on Christmas. Dang. The old man spent most nights sitting on his porch, that damn shotgun on his lap, guarding what was left of his land and his life from intrusion—even well-meaning intrusion. He was more crazy than mean, but crazy could kill.

If it was Lacey that lit up the cabin, Galt would probably head out there and shoot her without even knowing who she was. Chase cursed himself for not taking the gun. Hopefully the old man would look before he pulled the trigger, and Lacey would have a chance to charm her way to survival. Even Fletcher Galt could probably be swayed by one of her luminous smiles and the glow of those green eyes.

He wondered if she’d had one of her panic attacks. He was pretty sure she’d almost had one when she fell off the horse the other day, and again when Captain stumbled, but she’d managed to get herself under control. He shouldn’t have left her alone, though. Should have left the horse, taken her with him. But then they’d have walked right into Wade Simpson.

He squinted as he neared the cabin. The light didn’t look right. The windows and doors were lit, as if someone had turned on a light inside. But the whole place was lit up, bright against the dark night sky. Lit from the outside.

By headlights.

They
found
her
. He reflexively pressed the accelerator to the floor, then realized he needed to think and jammed on the brakes, shutting off his own headlights. Cruising in there with the horse trailer rattling and banging behind him was hardly a stealth strategy. He couldn’t rescue Lacey if Wade and Janice knew he was there. He’d have to drive down the narrow two-track into the ravine and get as close as he could, then walk the rest of the way.

He peered through the windshield into the darkness, steering the truck down the narrow path through the tangle of brush that choked the ravine. He kept the pickup in low gear and moved slow, but between the hum of the engine and the snapping and cracking of sticks as he eased through the undergrowth, he felt like he was being about as subtle as a brontosaurus.

When he hit the stream, he had to stop. He’d just end up stuck again if he tried to navigate the mud, sand, and boulders.

Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a lockbox and keyed in a combination to reveal his emergency gun—a sleek black Wilson nine-millimeter. He shoved it into his waistband and slid out of the truck, flicking off the light in the cab. He stepped out and eased the door almost shut, knowing the click of the latch would sound like a shot in the quiet night.

He thrashed through the brush in the dark, running upright when he could and scrambling on all fours in the rougher patches. He didn’t see the Jeep until he’d practically run into it. It was parked behind the rocks a short distance from the cabin, and it was empty.

Cody was somewhere around.

Chase remembered Annie’s words as she ran up the steps to the apartment.
I
think
Lacey
might
be
scared
in
the
woods
alone.
Cody must have heard her. But how could he have gotten here so fast? He must have braved the wrath of Fletcher Galt and crossed the sacred ground of the old man’s ranch. Chase cursed himself and moved on. He should have done that himself. Why did he have to be so cautious? Why did he always follow the rules, even when so much was at stake?

Cody would tell Wade’s lady friend everything: that Lacey was here, that Chase was on his way. A cold fist of fear squeezed Chase’s heart. Worry for Lacey, pain for his sister. Disappointment in Cody, and in himself.

I’d trust that guy with my life.
That’s what he’d told Lacey. He was an idiot—a stupid, trusting fool. Outside of family, Cody was the first person he’d trusted since the farm got taken away. He’d forgotten all the lessons he’d learned back in Conway: that everything you depended on could turn on you, that nothing in life was fair, and that people were predators just waiting for you to make a mistake. They lulled you into a state of Pollyanna positivity and then snatched everything you had right out from under your nose.

He’d started to believe different in Grady. Started to make friends, to open up his life. Watching the way Cody took care of Pam, he’d actually begun to believe he could count on someone other than himself.

He’d been wrong.

***

Lacey twisted, flinging out an elbow as Wade’s heavy body fell on top of her. The scent of rage and sweat and hate filled her consciousness, giving way to the smell of gunpowder and metal as he jammed the cold muzzle of a gun against the angle of her jaw.

“Get her into the car,” the woman said.

Lacey felt the gun twitch against her neck as Wade cocked it. “Why bother?” he said between gritted teeth.

“What do you mean, why bother? That’s the plan. I told you, I have a line to Bradford. He hears we have his wife, he’ll forget everything he ever knew about those deals. My dad’ll be in the clear, and you’ll keep your job.”

Wade was breathing hard making the gun shake. It felt like every artificially pumped muscle in his body was tensed. “I already lost my job. I don’t give a shit if Trent talks.”

“
What?
We had a plan, Simpson. And shutting up Bradford is all I care about. You want to kill her later, you can do it on your own.”

“I just want Bradford to feel the pain.” Wade jabbed the gun harder into Lacey’s jaw. “I was never good enough to invite to his fancy parties, but I was good enough to do his dirty work. Good enough to use. I shut up Caldwell’s dad for him. It’s time I got paid.” He was straddling her, one hand holding the gun, the other working at his belt. She could feel him trembling—maybe with rage, maybe excitement. Maybe those were the same things to Wade.

“Get over yourself, Simpson. Caldwell committed suicide. You didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”

“That’s what you think. That’s what everybody thinks.” He switched the gun to his left hand and Lacey bucked hard, thinking she might have a chance to get loose, but his right hand grabbed the back of her neck and slammed her head onto the ground. She felt his fingers snaking around to the front, pressing painfully hard on her throat. Her pulse throbbed against the pressure, then began to flutter and fade. Darkness welled up in her mind—not the dark of the night, but a darkness from deep inside her that flooded her mind and made the real world fade away. “Thirty seconds like this, and she’ll be real easy to handle. Put the gun in her hand, pull the trigger, and boom. Too bad, so sad. She just couldn’t live with what her husband did.”

“Quit it.” The woman shoved at Wade and his grip loosened. Lacey struggled against the darkness, trying to see, trying to hear, trying to find a way to live. She opened her eyes and saw the woman’s feet inches away from her face. She must be brain damaged already, because the shoes were like something out of a nightmare.

“You’re killing her,” the woman said.

“You bet. But not yet.” Wade let go of her neck, but he was fumbling with his pants again. “First I’m gonna show her what it’s like to be used. What do you think of that?”

“I think it’s not what I signed on for,” the woman said. “Get off her.”

The cold metal left Lacey’s skin as Wade swung to point the gun at the other woman. “Shut up, or you’re next. Sad how you tried to prevent your father’s disgrace. You killed her, and then you killed yourself. That’s what everybody will think, and I’ll be long gone.”

“You’re crazy. Crazy.” The woman backed away. “I’m clearing out. You do what you want.”

Lacey heard the woman’s footsteps running away as Wade shoved the gun back under her chin. Even with the gun away from her neck, Lacey couldn’t move. She tried to twist against Wade’s weight, but he was too strong.

Maybe the woman would come back with a gun, or club Wade with the shotgun like she had Galt. Maybe…

An engine started on the other side of the house, and the beam from the sedan’s headlights swung sideways and disappeared. Lacey heard the tires crunching across the ground as the car drove away.

Her only possible protector was gone.

She closed her eyes tight.
Calm, calm,
she told herself.
Calmcalmcalm.
But the fear wouldn’t go away this time. She’d die afraid, but she wouldn’t die without a struggle. She drew in one more desperate breath and arched her back, twisting away from Wade. He slipped to one side and cursed, then grabbed her hair and pulled her toward him.

“Too bad we don’t have some of those nice girlie drinks you liked so much back in high school,” he said. “That would make this better for you.”

Lacey’s stomach turned over and she felt her lunch surging hot at the back of her throat. She was still dizzy, her throat hurt, and Wade was going to kill her once he got done with her—but at this point, she felt like she’d die anyway if he did as he planned.

She turned her head away to avoid his sour breath on her face and came face-to-face with Galt, just a few feet away. His face was twisted with pain now, not anger. A gash on his forehead had streaked half his face with blood, but he blinked as she watched, then pointed his gaze downward.

He had the shotgun. Janice must have dropped it after she hit him. He was trying to get a grip on it, but he couldn’t seem to close his hand properly. He blinked again, his eyes glassy and desperate.

Dammit, Janice had almost killed him. An old man. Killed him to save her father’s golden reputation. Suddenly, what Trent had done didn’t seem so bad. He’d just wanted money. It was terrible, but it wasn’t murder.

Wade was the root of all of it. He was the hate at the heart of her hometown, the festering sore that never healed. He’d hounded her, and hated her, and now he was going to kill her.

She felt her chest constricting, her old enemy stealing her breath. She’d learned to fight her panic attacks by being rational—by taking in the reality of the situation, seeing a way out. But right now, reality was the last thing she wanted to face. There was no way out of this situation. The gun…

The
gun
. It wasn’t pressed against her head anymore. She didn’t know where it was—maybe an inch from her temple, maybe lying forgotten in the dirt. There was a chance Wade didn’t really know where it was either; he was too intent on his other goals. He’d loosened his hold on her to grapple with his clothing.

She had nowhere to run, no way to defend herself—but she had to get away from Wade. His breath, the smell of his skin—she felt like she was going to be sick. She took a deep breath and felt her brain kick back into gear. Looking to one side, she saw only the wall of the cabin and a vast expanse of plains beyond it. There was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run.

But on the other side was Galt—and Galt’s shotgun. If Lacey could just get out from under Wade and grab it, she’d have a way to defend herself.

Lunging sideways, she tore her hair out of his grip and skittered out from under him, scrambling sideways to grab the gun. Her fingers slipped on the bloody stock, but she managed to grab it and bring it up to her shoulder. She grabbed the stock to pump it.

Nothing. It wouldn’t move. There wasn’t a damn thing in the chamber. She’d hoped Wade was too crazed by anger and lust to know that, but without the click and thump of the pump action, the shotgun wasn’t much of a threat.

But Chase had pumped his own gun for her, and it had been empty. There had to be a way. She pressed and squeezed and floundered for what seemed like a small eternity and finally felt something give way—a button in front of the trigger guard. Her other hand shoved the pump forward, and the satisfying clunk changed everything. Now she was the one with the power.

She watched Wade’s face as he took in his new situation. Malice was replaced by fear, and she suddenly felt powerful and in command for the first time since—well, since the day she’d left home for Grady, before she realized how hard it was to make it on your own.

Wade’s eyes were wide, his mouth stretched into a grimace of fear. Obviously, he didn’t know there was no load in the gun. He’d never been the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, and right now, he was looking at her like he thought she might be the last sight he’d ever see. His hands lifted from his belt buckle, rising in the air.

Maybe she could somehow bluff her way out of this. She surged to her feet and poked him in the chest with the muzzle of the gun, pushing him toward the cabin and away from the small black pistol that lay in the dirt.

She could grab the pistol, but that would mean looking away from Wade. And while he looked scared, he still looked attentive, as if he was just waiting for her to blink. She glanced down at the pistol on the ground, then back to Wade, then back to the pistol.

“Don’t move.” Her voice was so thin and shaky, she was worried he’d figure out she had nothing to fight with. “Stay right there.”

The light from the cabin lit up Wade’s face, making the sweat on his brow almost sparkle and throwing deep purple shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. His eyes were crafty, his gaze flicking from her to the pistol and back again. Suddenly he dropped to the ground and rolled, scooping up the pistol and rising to his knees to aim it straight at Lacey’s heart.