No White Knight

by Nicole Snow

  She bites her lip, looking at me with those glistening eyes that are so much like Libby’s, and yet so different.

  I feel like under their dullness, there’s a spark.

  If she can just remember how to ignite it.

  “I...I still love him,” she whispers.

  I hold in a breath, remembering she’s been abused.

  I’m no shrink, but it’s classic Stockholm Syndrome, falling in love with her asshole captor. Knowing deep down she’s dependent on a monster, but not knowing how to leave him.

  “Tell me one thing. You love him more than you love your sister?” I ask calmly.

  She glares at me, hugging her arms closer to her chest. “Libby and I hate each other, we—”

  “Bullshit, girl,” I interrupt her as gently as I can. “If you hated her, you wouldn’t be so desperate for me to save her.” While she stares at me, her swollen lip quivering, I continue. “Things happen, Sierra. Bad blood. Scars to the heart. At the end of the day, you’re still sisters. Look at me and Blake. Family love’s real, and it holds—and real love would never hurt you like Declan.”

  Reaching out, I lightly touch her arm, just below the creeping bruises.

  They look just like fingertips.

  She flinches and won’t meet my eyes.

  “That’s not love, Sierra.” I let my hand drop away. “He’s using you. And you’re so used to being used that you mistake it for love.”

  “No!” She closes her eyes tightly, pressing her lips together. “That’s...that’s cruel of you to say.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I say. “I get it, he’s all you think you have. But if you help me save Libby, then you’ve got her for life.”

  Sierra doesn’t say anything else, her shoulders hunching.

  Then she curses softly under her breath, thrusts her hand into her pocket, draws out her phone and shoves it at me.

  “Six nine one seven,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “The unlock code. Declan’s in the contacts under Hot Stuff.”

  “Thank you,” I say with everything in me, giving her shoulder another squeeze as I stand, swiping her phone and unlocking it.

  I don’t know what I’ll say.

  I’ve got a few ideas.

  Pacing the office to keep myself calm, Sierra’s head turns to follow me. I tap the speed dial and then wait, listening to the ring.

  If he doesn’t pick up, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  It’ll likely get me arrested, and I won’t feel the least bit sorry.

  Just as long as Libby’s safe.

  On the third ring, the bastard picks up.

  Gone is that slick, silky-talking menace, replaced with the growling, snappy prick he truly is.

  “For fuck’s sake, girl, where the hell did you run off to—”

  “Is that any way to speak to a lady?” I snarl.

  I can’t believe I get that out in a mild, sardonic tone.

  The sound of his voice alone makes me livid.

  Declan goes dead quiet, though in the background I can hear noise—men shouting, things clattering. Sounds almost like a construction site.

  “Holt Silverton.”

  Ah, there’s that sneering, slick-talking tone again.

  “Who else?” I work my jaw. “Listen, I don’t feel like fencing with you, Eckhard. I know you aren’t with the bank. I know you aren’t what you say you are. I know what you want, and I’ll bet you know exactly what I want, too.”

  “Do I now?” he asks slowly, feigning ignorance. “Oh—that’s right. You’re a bit sweet on the brattier Miss Potter, aren’t you?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  And that’s one way of confirming he’s still got Libby.

  Shit.

  “So you’re looking for the Ursa treasure?” I ask. “Because you can dig that whole town up and you won’t find squat. Those old bandits were too smart to just leave their whole cache in town. They left clues, though. Clues I’ve already found. Without me, you’ll never figure out where the stash is.”

  “What is it? Silver? Gold?” Declan sneers. “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I know damn well you’ve been digging all night, and you’ve got nothing but broken glass and old pickaxe heads.” I pause for effect, then add, “And you don’t even know what you’re looking for. I just told you. Silver, Declan. Enough unrefined silver ore that you could get yourself out of a hell of a lot of trouble and live pretty high on the hog once you’re done.”

  Silence again.

  “Name your terms,” he growls back finally.

  “Libby,” I say. “Safe and unharmed. That’s why you took her, isn’t it? Information? Tell me where to meet you. I’ll show you where to find the cache, and you let us walk. Nobody has to get hurt.”

  He makes a scoffing sound. “How do I know you won’t just double-cross me and try to take the silver for yourself? I know that little bitch needs it bad to pay off the bank.”

  Because there’s no damn silver, I think to myself.

  All I say is, “Some shit matters more than money. Libby’s life, for one.”

  “How sentimental.”

  “Guess I am. It says an awful lot that you haven’t once asked why I’m calling you on Sierra’s phone, or if she’s even safe.”

  A dark, ugly edge slips into Declan’s voice. “I don’t have to ask. I know that little whore turned tail and ran to you. She’s got no fucking spine at all.”

  As if he does.

  As if any man with a spine would hit a woman, much less resort to his dirty, underhanded tricks.

  That’s okay.

  I’ll find a way to make him pay.

  For hurting them both.

  “Sierra’s spine is just fine,” I say. “Tell me, Declan, do we have a deal or not?”

  After a long pause, Declan grinds out, “You come alone.”

  “One man for backup,” I snarl. “You can’t expect me to come either alone or unarmed. I’m sure you’ll have me plenty outnumbered anyway, but humor me. No guns.”

  “Whatever. One damn man,” he spits. “Midnight tonight. The ghost town. You come by the southern road from the ranch. Whistle three times when you pass the forked tree with the lightning cut split out of it, or you’ll get shot. Understood?”

  “Understood,” I echo back.

  Then hang up before he can answer.

  I’ve reached my limit.

  One more word and I’d have lost my shit and ruined the whole thing.

  As it is, I’ve only bought less than twelve hours until midnight.

  That’ll have to be enough time to stall him and turn my bluff into a rescue mission.

  I’m already pulling up Blake’s number as I race for the door, Sierra’s voice trailing after me.

  “Where are you going? What’s happening?”

  “Stay here,” I throw back over my shoulder, flinging the door open and launching myself out into the sun. “Stay safe. I’m calling backup. We’re gonna bring Libby home.”

  I know how to get Declan to believe me.

  Just long enough to get him right where I want him.

  Sure, there was treasure out in Ursa.

  I’ve got it.

  I’ve also got the proof.

  And I stop by the house for a minute, racing inside. It’s so empty it reminds me of sleeping alone in Libby’s bed last night, never realizing all that time she was in that bastard’s hands.

  Helpless.

  Needing me.

  And I wasn’t there.

  That’s gonna change real fast.

  I dash through Mark’s old journals, his keepsakes, gathering what I need.

  The journal with all those numbers written on the inside back cover, for one.

  Proof that there’s something valuable in Ursa.

  Proof it’s worth millions, even if I still have trouble believing anyone in their right mind would pay that much for any old rock, even if it’s from Mars.

  Doesn’
t matter.

  I need enough to distract Declan.

  Tucking the journal under my arm, I move—and then, on a whim, I grab that little box with the red rock itself and take it with me, too.

  Before I check my Colt, I make sure I’ve got rounds in the chamber.

  Then I head out to saddle up and call in the cavalry.

  I’m coming, Libby.

  I’m coming for you.

  Just hold on a little longer, honey.

  23

  Hold Your Horses (Libby)

  Everyone knows I’ve got a bit of a violent streak.

  It’s been refined down to an art by the grit it took defending my home from pricks like Declan Eckhard. Anyone who’d dare take the life I’ve built away.

  But that violent streak is nothing compared to the sheer volcanic rage bubbling inside me now.

  I swear, if I wasn’t tied to a rickety old chair with splinters biting into my ass and a bent, rusty nail head threatening to give me tetanus, I think I’d have launched myself straight at Declan by now and torn his throat out with my teeth.

  If there was ever any doubt about the kind of man he is, he’s more than killed it over the last twelve hours.

  Last night, he got me to lower my gun because even if I’m mad as hell at Sierra, she’s still my sister. I can’t let him hurt her.

  So he clubbed me over the head with his pistol.

  Knocked me out cold.

  He dragged me here to Ursa, where I got woken up by a nice right hook to the cheek, only to find myself tied to this chair with my head throbbing fit to kill.

  We’ve been yelling at each other for hours since then.

  He wants me to be afraid of him?

  Fuck that.

  He wants something.

  Even after hours of knocking me around, I haven’t given him anything but lip.

  Every single verbal middle finger I can manage since he’s got my hands bound pretty tight in a mess of ropes.

  I guess he finally got sick of my mouth, though.

  Since afternoon, he’s given up talking, and he’s gone digging.

  He and his goons brought a bunch of equipment up here. Looks like it might’ve been stolen from one of Holt’s sites. They’ve been going at it in the graveyard ever since.

  I’m left alone inside the church between interrogations.

  I can barely see them through the cracked, dusty glass still left in one of the windows. They’re working by floodlights now that it’s dusk.

  The graveyard’s a total mess.

  Markers tossed over, bits of bone gleaming in the white light.

  All they’re finding are long-dead bodies.

  I wish this town was cursed, and all of those people would take revenge for desecrating their graves.

  At least I can take comfort that it’s not going well for them.

  Declan’s getting madder by the second, losing his cool, screaming at his people all red-faced with his neck a bulge of tendons.

  The guys aren’t taking it well.

  I get the impression he owes them money. A lot of money, and that’s the only reason they’re helping him...but he’s treating them like lackeys, and they ain’t too fond of it.

  There’ve been a few comments I overhear here and there.

  Pissy shit, most of it.

  But some of it sounds pretty threatening.

  I wonder if I could use a little smooth-talking of my own to convince them to turn on Declan?

  If only I had something better to offer...

  Too bad.

  But I overhear a few other things, too.

  Yeah.

  These boys are the ones who trashed The Nest. They mutter about how it was pocket change, not even half what Declan owed, and it almost got them arrested.

  That’s the problem with my long-shot plan.

  If they’re so scummy they’d rob an innocent woman to pay back that bastard’s debts...then they’re not people I’d trust not to double-cross me even if I got them on my side.

  Something’s up, though. The last hour or two, Declan’s been in more of a hurry.

  I wonder why the clock’s ticking. It’s getting dark and they’re not even stopping.

  I’m ready to pass out.

  It’s not safe for me to fall asleep here, but I don’t know if I have a choice.

  I’m exhausted, whipped, beat to hell and back.

  Maybe it’s better for me to sleep now while they’re distracted. I’ll be rested and ready for my moment when they finally call it quits to get some rest themselves.

  I don’t know how I’ll get out of these ropes.

  My arms are tied behind my back with the rope woven through the rungs of the chair, while my ankles are hitched to the chair’s legs.

  But if you think I won’t hop down that mountain trail bent over with a chair strapped to my back?

  You clearly haven’t figured me out yet.

  I’m still trying to wiggle my ass so it’s not pressing down so hard on that bent nail head and figuring out how I can sleep without hurting myself worse.

  That’s when I catch a flicker of motion outside on the opposite side of the graveyard.

  My chest thumps and I’m wide-awake again.

  I go stiff, opening my eyes fully without lifting my head, trying not to give myself away.

  If Declan’s coming to screw with me again...

  No, I recognize a ragged head of blonde hair.

  Sierra.

  Crap.

  She’d skedaddled the hell out of here after Declan backhanded her good when I was brought in last night.

  I’d hoped she was gone.

  That one of us was safe.

  I can’t believe she’d come crawling back to that piece of scum after the way he tossed her around.

  She still looks like hell, creeping in with a furtive look over her shoulder. She’s scraped up and dirty, I guess from running through the mountain pass in the dark last night.

  But if she’s still Declan’s girl, why’s she sneaking around, looking at me with her fingers over her lips?

  I get my answer when she skitters closer, drops to her knees behind my chair, and starts working at the ropes.

  I freeze, staring over my shoulder.

  It’s hard to believe it at first.

  Is Sierra actually turning on her boyfriend and trying to help me?

  “Sierra?” I whisper.

  “Shh!” she says urgently in the quietest hiss, fighting at the ropes, struggling at the knots with little frustrated sounds. “I can’t...can’t get—”

  “Slow down,” I whisper. “Look for the loop and try to get your fingers under it. What are you doing?”

  She darts me a sharp look from under her brows, a light in her blue eyes that I’ve never seen before, so fierce it’s glowing.

  “You’re my sister,” she says. “Nothing else matters.”

  I don’t know if I want to cry with relief or scream.

  I just know we’ve got to get out of here.

  If Declan catches her trying to help me, he’ll hurt her even more.

  And she’s my sister, too.

  I can’t let her get savaged to save me.

  So I try to keep my arms as loose as possible so they won’t bunch up and make it harder, but she’s cursing and pulling and making no progress. I think I feel the ropes loosening just a hair.

  Trouble is, this is taking too long.

  “You can’t get it!” I whisper. “Go back to Heart’s Edge. Get Holt.”

  “I did!” she flares, her voice rising for a moment, then dropping again to a terrified hush. “He told Declan some story and agreed to a meeting, said something about getting backup, but I know Declan...I know him, Libby. He’ll kill Holt and as long as Declan’s got you, Holt will let him, that stupid lovesick idiot.” Her jaw sets with determination. “I’ve got to get you out of here before he gets here.”

  Lovesick? Enough to die for me?

  I don’t know whether I’m about
to break, bawling for that overblown hero of a man or because I’m scared to death she’s right about how it ends.

  I shake my head sharply.

  “Go,” I whisper. “We’ll work things out. You’ll just be in danger. I can’t let you—”

  “Can’t let her what, Miss Liberty?” a voice thunders behind Sierra.

  A heavy shadow falls over us both.

  My heart freezes.

  In my peripheral vision, Sierra’s eyes widen, the glassy pale blue of defeat.

  Right before she suddenly jerks out of my field of view, lifted by a brutal hand.

  Thrashing, twisting, I manage to kick the chair around so I can see, but there’s nothing I can do to stop Declan from picking Sierra up in one hand like she weighs nothing, grabbing her up by her hair while she kicks and screams and thrashes.

  “Let her go!” I snarl, yanking at the ropes, but it’s no use.

  He ignores me, looking at Sierra with cold contempt.

  “So you finally decided to turn on me,” he spits. “I always knew you were weaker than—”

  He breaks off with the oddest sound, like he’s just swallowed his tongue.

  Sierra kicks hard, slamming her heel hard into his crotch.

  She’s wearing some cute little kitten heels, by the way.

  Pointy as blades.

  Declan doubles over, his face going white, his eyes bulging. His hand goes limp in Sierra’s hair before flying over his crotch.

  Sierra tumbles to the floor, hitting it hard with a cry.

  “Sierra,” I gasp out. “Run!”

  She struggles up on one arm. “Libby, I—”

  “Don’t worry about me, just go!”

  Declan lets out a breathless roar. “I’ll fucking—”

  He starts to reach for her, still half bent over, wheezing and red-faced and hobbling.

  Sierra rolls under his grasping arm, onto her back.

  With a vengeful little scream, she drives her foot up again and slams him right in the nuts one more time.

  Holy hell!

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard a grown man make the sound that comes out of his mouth right now, like someone just punted a seagull in the gut, high and screeching.

  I also don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of my sister.