Tying You Down (20 page)

He hadn’t talked with Jo about David Smith aka David Hearn and he needed to. With the trauma from the accident and making sure she was cared for, he hadn’t found the right time to tell her what Garrett had learned. The fact that Tate hadn’t yet was going to piss her off. He’d sit down with her as soon as he checked on the cattle and got back to the ranch house.

As soon as Tate was finished with this chore and telling Jo, he intended to head to town and find David Hearn himself. Anger burned beneath Tate’s skin as he thought about what Hearn was doing to Charlee. Tate wondered if he’d be able to stop himself from knocking the shit out of the man.

After the stock tanks had been poisoned, Tate and his men were being vigilant in making sure it didn’t happen again. The poisoning had cost not only money from the loss of cattle, but the time it took his men to drain the tanks and cleanse them so that no traces of the poison remained, and then the tanks had to be refilled.

Why the cattle had been poisoned remained a mystery. The sheriff’s department had been out, but the only clues at each stock tank were prints from waffle-soled boots and the tracks of what looked to be a small pickup truck. All of the vehicles used on Tate’s ranch were larger work trucks.

The nearby ranchers were all friendly and as far as Tate knew none of them had reason to attack him personally by poisoning his cattle. It just didn’t make a damned bit of sense.

Ranger moved beneath Tate in a smooth, easy gait. The Palomino whinnied and bobbed his head like he was agitated. It was almost like he could sense something wasn’t right.

Tate patted him on his neck. “What’s up, boy?”

The gelding bobbed his head again, but continued to trot toward the stock tank in the west pasture.

Fat raindrops started coming down, sinking into the thirsty earth and wetting Tate and Ranger. Tate pulled his Stetson down lower over his eyes as the rain started to pelt his windbreaker and then the rain started falling fast. Puddles formed in the uneven earth and Ranger’s hooves splashed in the water.

Tate was a good ways from his ranch when his phone rang. He slipped it out of its holster on his belt and saw that it was Garrett.

“Where’s Jo?” Garrett said the moment Tate answered. “Is she with you?”

“She’s back at the house.” Tate frowned at the urgency in Garrett’s voice. “I’m fifteen minutes from home.”

“You need to get to her as fast as you can,” Garrett said. “I’ll call Mike to get the sheriff’s department out there.” Mike McBride was Garrett’s brother and happened to be the county sheriff.

Tate’s heart jumped into his throat as he turned his horse and was heading back toward his ranch through the rain at a gallop. “What the hell is going on, Garrett?”

“I just got a tap on David Hearn’s cell phone and have been listening in,” Garrett said. “He has a hit out on Jo and his hit man is on his way to your place.”

Cold chills shot through Tate. Shoving his phone into its holster, he pushed his horse to the limit to get back to Jo.

Over and over in his mind he thought about how much he loved her. She was going to be okay and he promised himself that he was going to tell her he loved her.

He prayed to God that he would get there in time.

* * * * *

Jo sighed as she set down the e-book reader on her lap and leaned her head back against the rocking recliner’s headrest. The book she’d been reading was so intense that she felt the tension throughout her body. Maybe reading such a high-action, emotion-packed book hadn’t been the best of ideas when she was laid up like this. Maybe she should have downloaded a sweet romance without an action-adventure plotline to it. Her good arm was getting tired of holding up the e-reader, too.

She was going to go stir-crazy sitting here, being inactive. She was used to being energetic and having a busy lifestyle. As busy as one could in a small town. She couldn’t even pick up a hobby or activity that didn’t require two hands. Not that she could think of one at the moment that required only one hand—other than reading.

Tate had helped her dress again and she wore another one of Tate’s big T-shirts and a pair of one of three stretchy shorts that Charlee had brought to the ranch. Tess and Charlee had both been out to see her at Tate’s ranch and Jo wished that at least one of them was here now to talk with.

Charlee seemed as enamored as ever with David, yet quieter about their relationship. Jo hadn’t pressed her. She just couldn’t help but feel that he was all wrong for Charlee. Hell, Jo was sure David was wrong for Charlee. Everything Jo had inside her told her that he was after Charlee’s money and that here was something truly off about the man.

Rain started a pitter-patter on the house and soon it was coming down hard. She wondered how Tate was doing. She doubted a little thing like rain would deter him from what he needed to do.

Jo groaned as she felt the insistent the call of nature. Damn. Tate promised he wouldn’t be more than an hour, but it hadn’t been long ago that he had left and she couldn’t wait. She looked at the nearby wall, about three feet away, where her lone crutch waited, taunting her. How the hell was she going to get to the crutch, make it to the bathroom, and do what she had to do? Not only was one side of her body in casts, the other side was bruised, and sore, and weak from the accident, too.

Determined not to let anything defeat her, she sat straight in the chair, grasped the armrest with her good hand, and pushed herself to her good foot. She felt so lopsided that she teetered, with one half of her body bandaged and in casts, and the other half sore. She balanced herself with her hand on the armrest then hopped on one foot while moving around the side of the chair. When she reached the headrest, she gripped it and stared at the wall. Why did Tate have to set it so far away? Probably to encourage her to stay in her chair.

She took a deep breath, tossed her long braid over her shoulder, and hopped the three feet to the wall. She was forced to balance herself once by putting a slight bit of her weight on her broken leg and her eyes watered from the instant pain.

As soon as she reached the wall, she leaned hard against it, catching her breath. This sucked. It really sucked.

Could be worse,
her mind said and she told that little voice to shut up. Right now she just needed to get to the bathroom and there was no waiting around.

She leaned with her back against the wall and put the crutch under the armpit of her good arm. And then she slowly started to work her way across the tile floor to the guest bathroom, praying she didn’t slip and fall and break another limb.

It was a slow process, but when she reached the bathroom, she gave a huge sigh of relief. But then she had to figure out how to take care of the rest of the job.

It took her a while, but she felt triumphant when she finished. It was the little things.

After she washed her hands, she opened the door to the bathroom. At the same time she heard the front door creak open. Knowing that Tate would wonder where she was, she called out, “I’m in the bathroom.” She’d actually be grateful to have him help her get back to the recliner. This little journey had been exhausting.

She pushed the door all the way open as she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. She balanced herself on her good leg, while gripping her crutch with her hand.

A shadow fell across the hallway and she smiled to say hi to Tate. The smile froze on her face.

It was a man. A man with a gun. The gun pointed at her.

Terror screamed through her and her whole body went entirely still.

In an instant she saw that he was a big man with a hard face and a linebacker build.

“You just won’t die.” The man had a rough gravelly voice that pushed more terror through her.

“What?” Confusion and fear made it difficult to make sense out of why a man had a gun on her and was saying something about her not dying.

He shook his head. “Carbon monoxide would have done it if your damned boyfriend hadn’t showed up. And the accident—don’t know how the fuck you survived that.”

Chills rolled through Jo and she gripped her crutch tighter. The police’s theory had been right. Those weren’t accidents. “Why—why are you trying to kill me?”

“Money.” The man grinned. “Hearn paid a good price to get rid of you.”

“Hearn?” Her voice was shaking. “I don’t know anyone named Hearn. Who is he and why?”

The man shrugged. “What does it matter?

“It matters because you want to kill me.” She tried to stall him. Maybe Tate would come back early.

“Whatever.” The man waved his gun. “Something about an inheritance.”

One thing after another ran through her mind. “An inheritance?” she said out loud, not knowing what he was talking about.

Jo felt like she would throw up at the same time she fought to figure out how to stay alive. She felt the cool metal of the crutch in her grip and she slid her hand down and wrapped it around the metal support.

The front door squeaked as it creaked open. It had to be Tate.
He could be killed,
Jo’s frantic thoughts shouted at her.

As the man’s attention shot down the hallway, which was hidden from the front door, Jo lifted her crutch and slammed it down on the man’s hand.

A shot rang out and the man howled as Jo screamed, “He’s got a gun! Run!” right before she slammed the bathroom door in the man’s face.

She grabbed for the knob to lock the door. Her feet slid out from under her and she went down hard on the tile floor. Pain shot through her body as her leg and arm casts slammed against the tile and she felt bones shift. Her vision blurred from the incredible pain that shot through her.

“Bitch!” The man tried to shove the door open, but her body was blocking it.

Wood splintered above her head as he fired shots through the door.

Everything went quiet.

More shots.

A man’s scream.

A hard thud against a wall down the hallway.

And then nothing.

* * * * *

Tate was off his horse and bolting into his home the moment he arrived, water pouring down on him. He didn’t see any vehicles, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t in the house with Jo or had already been there.

The moment he walked into the home he saw muddy footprints and his heart thudded. He called out her name then heard a man’s shout came from down the hall, followed by Jo’s scream, “He’s got a gun! Run!” and then there was shot after shot.

Tate had never felt so much terror in his life than he felt for Jo. He couldn’t be sure she’d been hit, and if he ran down the hall he was liable to be shot and killed before he could rescue her.

Heart pounding, he moved toward the hall and reached on top of the living room curio and grabbed the .38 revolver he kept there with snake shot shells for rattlesnakes. He took the safety off the gun and eased around the wall to look down the hallway.

And came face to face with a man holding a gun.

Tate ducked back around the wall and dropped to one knee as shots were fired. The place on the wall where he’d been standing exploded into splinters and drywall powder.

He stayed low and tried to calm his breathing and his beating heart. Fury burned in his blood as he thought of Jo’s scream and the shots fired.

Holding his revolver in a two-fisted grip, he swung around and aimed for the man’s face. He squeezed the trigger just as the man pointed his own gun.

The man’s face exploded into raw hamburger from the snake shot.

He screamed. His gun fired off a wild shot, barely missing Tate.

The man fell hard against the wall and dropped to the floor, his hands to his bloody face. One eye had been obliterated and blood flowed over the other eye. He raised his gun, trying to see Tate with the blood in his one eye.

Tate was on his feet and he kicked the gun out of the man’s hand. The weapon went skittering across the tile, down the hallway.

The man tried crawling toward Tate, but Tate brought the butt of his own gun down on the back of the man’s head, knocking him out cold.

“Jo!” he shouted as he stepped over the man and went to the bathroom, his heart thudding. The door was full of bullet holes.

“Thank God.” Jo’s voice came from behind the door. “I’m in here.”

Tate opened the door and saw Jo trying to get to her feet with her good arm and leg. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

He glanced down the hall at the man who was still out cold. “Stay there, honey. I’ve got to get this guy tied up.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she said and he couldn’t tell if it was hysterical humor, relief, or the remnants of fear coming out with the words. Maybe all three.

Tate picked up the man’s gun and stuffed it in the back of his jeans. Still holding his own revolver with the snake shot, he stepped over the man, making sure he wasn’t moving. He hurried to grab some duct tape that he had in a kitchen cabinet and returned. He taped the man’s hands behind his back then wrapped the duct tape around his ankles.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Garrett had said he’d call the sheriff’s office and it sounded like the posse was almost here.

When the man was secured, Tate went to the bathroom. Relief flooded through him again as he went to Jo and helped her to her feet. She collapsed against him, as if she couldn’t hold herself up anymore.

“Thank you for saving me.” She wrapped her arm around his neck as he lifted her into his embrace. She rested her head against his chest. “If you hadn’t come, I don’t know what would have happened.”

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he said as he stepped past the man in the hallway, careful not to step in the blood.

“He didn’t shoot me or anything.” She let out her breath. “I just hurt like hell. I think my leg broke again.”

Sirens were cut as they reached the house and as Tate was setting Jo on the couch, there was a knock at the door.

A shout followed the knock. “Sheriff’s Department. We’re coming in.”

“We’re here and we’re okay,” Tate shouted. He sat on the couch beside Jo. As the door opened he realized his hands were coated in blood from the attacker and the blood was now on Jo, too.