by Nicole Snow
Practically everyone.
I’m sure he’s encountered his share of deranged fans, too, like the girls who came after him when he was America’s favorite teenage vampire heartthrob. Strangers on a selfish mission to upend his already messy, mysterious life.
Hello, I’m deranged!
“Grace, I—”
“Don’t say it, Ridge. I’m the one who should be sorry.” I keep my gaze glued to the windows, searching the area lit up by the headlights for the horses. “I know what your privacy means to you, and should’ve realized that when you got after me. It’s just...” I’m searching for a justification, a reason why I believed he’d use me as a tool for his career.
Stupid, I know.
All signs point to him meaning it when he calls himself retired.
“I’m the one who started it and got up in your business,” he says. “I told Jackknife Pete we were engaged that night at the bar, so...I get how you thought I’d told others, too.”
“But you wouldn’t have,” I argue. “You came here for privacy, a clean start, and now, thanks to me, you won’t have it any longer.”
I’m downplaying it so much. The reality is far worse.
And that reality slaps me across the face when he looks at me, his eyes twin blue fires, and asks, “Tell me one thing, Grace. Who the hell’s at the top of the pyramid? Who’s the real man after you?”
I instantly know he’s referring to Dad’s comment this morning. My stomach churns so hard bile rises in the back of my throat.
It’s the least he deserves, isn’t it?
An explanation.
He’s done so much for me, and now he’s wrapped up in the same sick chase I never would’ve wished on my worst enemy.
Without him, Dad and I would be—I clamp my back teeth together. I don’t even want to think where we’d be without Ridge Barnet right now.
“I told you, Dad hooked up with bad people years ago. Their leader is a man named Clay Grendal. I honestly don’t know the specifics, Dad never told me how they worked or what they did together, he never wanted me to know everything. What I do know is...Dad was involved when he worked at the railroad. He helped them with cargo, I think, probably tweaked manifests and oversaw transfers and such.”
“Yeah, he couldn’t have been in deep. They wouldn’t have even let him walk away,” Ridge says.
I nod weakly. “I don’t know what happened, but Dad decided to break away while he could. I was young, still a teenager then. We moved out of the city to the farm. Life was good, and then Mom got ill. Health insurance couldn’t cover everything, much less what she needed to really be comfortable and keep Sellers’ Pumpkins going. So Dad refinanced the place, but it still wasn’t nearly enough.”
I have to stop. Swallow. Blink back the tears.
He reaches over the center console, grasping my hand. “It’s okay. Now that everyone knows where you’re at, including this Grendal trash, we can fix it. The bastard just played his hand.”
It isn’t fair.
How those words coming from a heart in the right place can be so dead wrong.
Doesn’t he understand this isn’t one of his movies?
It isn’t that easy.
The ice-cold confidence in his voice chills me to my toes.
My throat locks up. I squeeze my eyes shut, holding back tears.
Nothing gets better with Clay knowing where we are. I’m sure he knows how to take Ridge apart piece by piece to savage my protector, my shield, my island of sanity.
Because of me, the next article those gossip mills write might be an obituary.
12
No Buts (Ridge)
I give Grace’s hand another squeeze before releasing it to hold the steering wheel, needing both hands to keep the truck steady on the rough unpaved roads between the fields.
She’s had one hell of a day.
It’s my job to make sure it ends without another death blow to her heart.
I have to find those damn horses.
Can’t help but feel partly responsible for this slip up, too, even if looking after Nelson took priority and nobody could’ve remembered what happened in the barn.
I wish I hadn’t jumped to conclusions this morning and barked so much shit at her.
Yeah, I’ve been screwed over by so many women that I’d assumed—expected—her to be like them.
It was arrogant, asinine, and wrong.
The only reason she’s here is because of her dad, not to sell me down the river to coyote muckrakers.
Paranoid and stupid barely covers it.
I’m Ridge Barnet. Billionaire. Award-winning actor.
Known by all, scorned by many, still adored by some.
She should want to be here because of me. It’s humbling how egotistical I’ve been, always assuming I could crash into someone else’s life, even with good intentions, and they’d fall to my feet in gratitude.
Maybe I needed that barbed wire tongue lashing to plant my feet back on solid ground.
This is more serious than I realized.
And now I know this freak after her, Nelson, and all of us isn’t some small-time thug with a few hired guns. He’s got the brains and resources to hit us in ways I hadn’t imagined.
No script ever written had stakes this high.
I need to find the horses, get her home, and get a hold of Faulk, ASAP, to dig up everything he can on Clay Grendal.
I’m going to have to talk to Bebe, too.
She’s been blowing up my phone all day, ever since the story broke to the press. I just have to figure out how to spin this leak to my advantage first.
Ideally, to Grace’s advantage, too.
“Ridge! It’s a horse, right over there,” she hisses, sitting up in her seat, pointing to a spot just off the road.
I see the horse she’s pointing at, standing near a grove of trees at the edge of the headlights.
“Wait, wait, that can’t be them,” she says, confused and deflated. “That looks like...a black horse?”
Sure enough. I recognize the beast with the coal-black coat and white streak on his head, his mane billowing in the wind.
“That’s Edison.” A hint of excitement rips through me, and I hit the brake. “Shit, and here I thought he’d stop pulling his Houdini escape tricks sooner or later...”
“Edison?”
“Yep. Drake and Bella Larkin’s old boy. Possibly the smartest horse on the planet if you ask anyone in town. He made quite a ruckus before I showed up here.” I crane my head to see, letting out a soft whistle. “Damn. I think we’re almost to Big Fish Lake. It’s on the other side of those trees.”
We slowly bounce over the snow-packed ruts as I hit the gas again, getting closer to the trees. “Hold up. I had a feeling he wasn’t alone...see between those two big trees, in front of the pines?”
I lift a hand, pointing to the spot.
“Rosie and Stern! Oh my God.” She leans forward, closer to the dashboard, smiling so pretty I could kiss her right here. “Edison looks like...he’s keeping them company? That’s crazy.”
Once again, the horse proves why he’s a bigger celebrity around here than me.
He glances at us and tosses his head, as if to say, damn right.
Edison kept Rosie and Stern from getting closer to the frozen lake. They could’ve broken straight through with the kind of melt we’ve had, or slipped on the ice and shattered a leg.
He’s barricaded them in by the trees, or maybe he’s using whatever weird secret signals horses have to warn them.
“Now you see why he’s a legend around here. Dallas folk say he’s half bloodhound, but I think he’s half sheepdog tonight. The way he tracked his owner, Bella, all the way to town one time...”
I don’t get a chance to finish. Grace whirls, throws her hands around my neck, and I swear to God she’s squealing.
“I can’t believe we found them!” She jerks away, flustered, leaning back in her seat. “Sorry.”
Finally,
a lucky break. We’ll need a few more before this shit’s over and life can get back to normal.
An odd knot forms in my stomach as I glance at Grace, bringing the truck to a stop so we can figure out how to handle the horses.
Hell, what normal is that? My life’s never been average, and hers hasn’t, either.
Me, I was born into strange, high-stakes living, but the fact that Grace was thrown into a cauldron against her will?
That pisses me right off.
Whoever Clay Grendal is, he’s about to find out that he chose the wrong mark.
My unit in Afghanistan took down demons who’d wasted entire villages while plotting bigger attacks abroad. And I didn’t have a billion dollars at my disposal then.
One two-bit mobster from Milwaukee should be a stroll through the park.
Frankly, though, when I look at Grace again and see that wispy blonde hair tucked around her smiling face like a halo, those soft blue eyes shining like a piece of the sky, I don’t care if I have to walk through hell for her.
I’ll do it in a heartbeat.
I’ll fight the whole damn world to keep her as happy as she is right now, seeing her horses ready to come home.
It takes a few hours to get the horses back in the barn, including making sure Edison gets home to the Larkin ranch and his mare, Edna, safe and sound.
By the time Grace and I leave the barn, I can see how exhausted she is.
I also know she’s barely eaten today.
We walk straight to the guest cabin. Tobin throws the door open as soon as we step onto the porch, his expression actually readable this time. He’s full of concern.
I’d texted him when we’d left, told him to make sure Nelson never found out the horses ran off.
The old man doesn’t need a setback.
“All’s quiet on this front,” Tobin says to me, nodding politely at Grace.
She smiles softly while removing her coat.
I step up and help her out of it, and can’t resist running my hand down the small of her back.
Draping it over the back of the couch, I watch her walk straight to the bedroom to check on her father.
“Miss Owens and I were discussing sleeping arrangements,” Tobin tells me, a cautious note in his voice.
“Yeah?” I pull my eyes off Grace as she enters the bedroom and pushes the door shut. “What about them?”
“Well, she needs to stay here, in the cabin with Nelson considering the round-the-clock care we’ve agreed to. There are only two bedrooms,” Tobin says, glancing at the nurse. “She says she can sleep on the couch, however, I said there’s hardly any reason for that. We have spare rooms in the main house.”
He’s right. I nod, yet question why he’s looking at me expectantly.
“And?”
He lifts his chin in that haughty way he has, adjusting his spectacles. “I trust you’ll let Miss Sellers know gently, while I carry her suitcase over.”
Oh, shit.
It dawns on me why he’s dancing around and why he doesn’t want to be the messenger.
She’s not going to like being separated from her old man when he’s this sick, even by the short distance from house to cabin.
Still, he’s right.
The couch I’m leaning on with its cushions tucked in a rustic frame of solid cedar is made for looks, not comfort. Nobody would get any quality rest sleeping on this thing.
Nelson was only able to make it tolerable for naps with lots of blankets, extra pillows, and the fact that he’s utterly sleep deprived.
Nurse Owens and Grace both desperately need their beauty sleep.
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell her,” I bite off.
My quickening pulse and the tension in my jeans tells me I like the idea of Grace being in the house.
One unruly part of me with a mind of its own loves the idea, at least.
The knot in my stomach tells me to fucking behave.
It also reminds me I’d probably have an easier time wrestling a porcupine than convincing her to go along with this plan.
She walks out of the bedroom, relief written on her face. “Has he been asleep the whole time?”
“Not quite,” Owens says. “He was awake long enough to eat some soup and whine about me hovering over him.”
“Sounds like him, all right,” Grace says, a laugh slipping out of her.
I’m glad Nelson’s still in fighting spirits. Plus, it gives me a good idea of how to get Grace over to the house and convince her to stay put.
Hell, she’ll sleep on the floor in the cabin if I don’t.
I sweep her coat off the couch and look at my valet.
“Tobin, I’m going to take Grace over to the house. Fix us some sandwiches, please?” I give the order direct to him so she can’t refuse.
“Oh, it’s fine. I’m not that hungry,” she says.
“I am. And I don’t fancy eating alone,” I tell her firmly.
She shakes her head, shoulders bowed up. Her hand pushes her gold locks back behind her ear as those blue eyes flash a warning.
Aw, hell.
Here we go.
“We have some...urgent matters to discuss,” I growl, trying to put my inner caveman back in his box and channel Tobin’s diplomacy.
Yeah. Part of me feels bad saying that because she looks so worn out, but it’s in her best interest.
“If the sandwiches can wait, then I’ll stay here to keep Miss Owens company and ensure she’s set up properly,” Tobin says, giving me a knowing glance.
I grin internally and smother a laugh.
Can’t say he never goes out on a limb for me.
I’m pretty sure the list of people Tobin ever liked keeping company ends with me and Mother. He damn sure doesn’t want to be the one to get Grace to sleep in the house because he knows he’ll lose.
Not me.
“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him.
Walking over, I hold out her coat.
Grace gives me a slow, heavy look and sighs, turns around, and shoves her arms in the sleeves.
I help her into it and place a hand on her back to steer her to the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells the nurse.
“No worries, I’m sure he’ll sleep comfortably all night,” Owens says. “If not, I’ll be here. That’s what you’re paying me for.”
Grace nods and walks out the door.
“Seriously, I’m not hungry, Ridge,” she says the second I shut the door behind us.
“You will be. We’re not waiting up for Tobin. I make a mean sandwich. Grilled onions, cheese, and bacon that’ll knock you on your ass. Ass, baby.”
“Um, I think I’ve had enough surprises for one day.” She spits out what sounds like a half laugh. “Is there anything the infamous Ridge Barnet can’t do?”
“No,” I say, because I want her to believe it. “There’s a whole team of quacks still trying to discover my kryptonite.”
I want her to believe that I’m going to get her out of this mess.
So fucking far out of it that they’ll never have to deal with a vicious little troll like Grendal again. I texted his info to Faulk a little while ago, and I’m waiting to hear back.
Once we’re in the house, she leaves the room to use the bathroom.
I wash my hands and dig the ingredients out of the fridge to make us a couple of my death-by-decadence sandwiches. I also pull some hot cocoa out of the cupboard, this imported stuff Tobin buys.
Can’t say I have much of a sweet tooth, but it’s done the trick in the past when he serves guests who do.
I go easy on the chocolate. Caffeine will only keep her awake, and she needs sleep after what we’ve been through.
“I said I’m not hungry,” she pouts, standing at the entryway to the kitchen.
“Too bad, you’re eating, woman, so get over here,” I tell her, sliding a plate across the breakfast bar along with a glass of water. “Have a seat.”
She takes a stool at the counter and
plops her chin in one hand. A heavy sigh sizzles out of her as she looks at the sandwich and takes a bite.
“It’s tasty, I’ll give you that. Happy now?” she whispers, still chewing, taking another good-sized chomp.
“Now I am. Clean your plate before the cocoa or we’re gonna have issues, darlin’.”
“I don’t know what to do, Ridge. You’re in real danger. So is Tobin, and Jackie, and...everyone who gets mixed up in this. We’re tainted.”
“Jackie?” My hand pauses as I finish assembling my own dinner.
“Miss Owens, the nurse?” She huffs out a breath. “The lady you must be paying a fortune for, instead of me. I don’t know how you can—”
“Grace. Money’s the least of my concerns. Look around,” I tell her, spreading the mayo thick before setting the knife down, loading onions over the bacon, and pressing my bread together. “I learned a long damn time ago life isn’t always about chasing more coin.”
“Says someone who’s never had to do without it. Money’s why we’re in this mess with Clay.” She slaps a hand over her mouth, suddenly wide-eyed. “Um, sorry. That was rude of me. I didn’t mean...”
“It’s understandable,” I say. “I was set real pretty from the day I was born, even without Mom’s career adding to the family coffers. My grandfather co-founded an airline, one with the first big commercial routes to Hawaii and the rest of the Pacific. Dad inherited his seat on the board, and then it was merged into a major carrier. Never had to do without it, but I have been without it.”
She looks at me like she can’t imagine how.
“The Army,” I explain. “My bank account was still full, but in Afghanistan, that didn’t do me a lick of good. I couldn’t spend a dime. We had to stretch everything with whatever the good old U S of A supplied us.”
Her eyes flash in the mellow light, something like respect shining brightly.
“How long did you serve?” she asks softly.
“Just a couple tours.” A heaviness settles in my chest. “My mother didn’t want a son in the military, always risking his neck overseas. She wanted her boy on the silver screen, following in her footsteps.”