The hairs rose on his arms at the threat in her tone. “What do you mean by that, Sarah?”
“Really?” She sneered. “I can’t believe you.” She turned around and stormed off, but turned back and pointed at him. “You are going to call me and apologize when everything between you and her goes to hell. And I’m going to tell you that I told you so. Mark my words.”
She stomped into the house, slamming the door behind her.
There seemed to be a lot of that kind of thing happening in his life right now. He hadn’t said anything to start this, yet here he was, dealing with a potentially dangerous suspect, who was coming after his family, and two women who wanted to have him chase after them.
Luckily, the repairing of the loft’s flooring waited.
He walked back to the barn, making sure to close the door to keep some of the residual warmth from the animals from getting lost to the cold. Clark looked over at him, smacking his lips as though asking for a pellet.
“Keep wishing, you little rebel,” he said, but the horse made some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate.
The horse threw his head, nickering a response that he didn’t have to guess too hard to know was a rude comeback.
“That kind of talk isn’t gonna get you what you want, old boy,” he said, with a slight laugh.
He walked over to the bench. Hanging on the wall above it was a collection of farrier tools, scissors, hoof picks and the like. His stress was nothing a little hammering wouldn’t help bring back under control. He grabbed the supplies he’d need and the board and made his way up to the loft. One of the horses huffed and stomped, and there was the shuffle of hooves and heavy bodies as he carefully stepped around the hole in the floor.
He put down his supplies and ran his finger along the rough, saw-cut edge of the floor. It still didn’t make any sense to him why someone would have done this. Merle had been the one who intended to come up here to get the decorations. Which meant that someone must have been coming after him, but Colter’s father was one of the most likable people he knew. Sure, he was quiet and a bit stoic with people he didn’t know, but if anyone needed anything he would be the first person there to lend a hand.
His mother was the same way.
This all must have had something to do with the threat—they really were targeting members of his family, yet none of his brothers or their significant others had mentioned anything suspicious or off-putting to him. Then again, he hadn’t mentioned any of this to them, or their parents, either. Maybe they were trying just as hard as he was to make sure everything kept running smoothly.
He wouldn’t have put it past them, to try their best to keep a secret of that magnitude. They had all been through enough over the years that when push came to shove they would all do whatever it took to make sure the people they loved were safe. It was the one thing they all had in common—aside from their love of animals.
Picking up the box of wood screws, he let it slip from his cold fingers and crash to the floor, spilling its contents all over. Several of them rolled off the edge of the rough-cut hole in the floor.
“Son of a nutcracker,” he said with a grunt as he caught more from falling into the hole.
He didn’t need them getting into the pellets bin below. If one of the horses got a screw, he’d never get over the guilt.
He scooped the screws into the box and, getting up, made his way over to the boxes where several had rolled. On top of the box closest to him was a green cap with a red star on it. It was the kind that could be found on a beer bottle. He picked it up, flipping it over in his fingers.
When he looked up, something green caught his eye from in the shadows behind the box. He moved the box. Behind it were three empty green beer bottles. The same kind of bottles as the one he had found near the cattle guard.
Beside the bottles was an old, grease-smattered towel. Several pieces of it were gone, and a piece had been ripped free and was sitting near one of the bottles.
He moved another box, bumping it against something. He stepped carefully over the green bottles, not touching them as he moved. There, sitting in the darkness, tucked behind another box, was a plastic gas can.
He took out his phone and dialed. Wyatt answered on the first ring.
“Hey, brother. How’s it going?” Wyatt said, sounding glad to hear from him.
He hated to ruin someone else’s day as well, but he needed to bring him in on this—he couldn’t let something else happen if he could stop it. “I need you at the ranch. Are you close?”
“I was just leaving my house. What’s going on?” Wyatt asked, the excitement leaching from his voice.
It didn’t take Colter long to tell him about his findings and the events over the last few days—including the picture.
Ten minutes later, there was the screech of metal as Wyatt entered the barn, phone still in hand. “I’m up here,” Colter said, with a nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me about all this before?” Wyatt asked, stuffing the phone into his pocket. “I can’t believe you, of all people, would allow this kind of thing to go on for this long without getting me involved. It was stupid, Colter. Stupid as hell. Who knows what this person is capable of.”
Colter sighed. He should have known this would be how Wyatt would react. He had always been a little bit of a pessimist when it came to human nature, while Colter had always been more of an optimist. Up until now and the recent events at the ranch, Colter had thought his brother was wrong—that living a life focused on the evils that another could do was unhealthy. Yet now he had to admit that maybe that kind of thinking was better for a person. At least you could be prepared when the worst happened.
“You know, Colter, someone could have gotten hurt.”
Someone had already gotten hurt and her name was Whitney, but he wasn’t ready to tell his brother about their relationship and all the things he’d come to learn about her and her past. His brother would immediately want to ask him questions—questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to answer, at least not without talking to her again. Especially after Sarah’s accusations.
They had shaken him. He was sure Whitney had told him the truth about her past and all the things that had happened in Kentucky, but from the way Sarah had spoken, there was more to it than what Whitney had told him.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Whitney wouldn’t have lied to him. No. She wasn’t the kind. And who knew where Sarah had come across the information? Probably from Facebook or something equally as unreliable.
“Why can’t you take anything seriously, Colter?” Wyatt asked, coming down on him full force.
“This has nothing to do with me not taking things seriously. I’m taking this as seriously as a heart attack. I just thought I could handle it,” he said, trying to make his brother understand.
“You thought you could single-handedly take on a potential killer? What were you thinking?” Wyatt took out his camera and started snapping pictures of the bottles and the scene. “Something like this could go federal... Did you ever think about that? Can you imagine if the FBI found out that there was someone potentially making bombs at the ranch?”
“I’m not stupid, Wyatt,” Colter said, picking up his saw and cutting the hole square so he could fit the board into place and taking a minute to cool off before he said something he regretted.
Wyatt was just upset. He had every right to feel the way he did about Colter concealing the truth. He would have been pissed if his brother had done the same thing, but Wyatt had to understand that there was more to all this than just a secret.
Colter set down the saw as he finished his cut. “I was fully aware of all the things that could happen, Wyatt. That’s why I wanted to handle this myself. I didn’t want anyone else getting involved. The more people who are involved, the higher the chances of everything going haywire
.”
“That’s ridiculous, Colter.”
“No, it’s not. The last thing this ranch needs is more drama. Mom and Dad are already struggling to make ends meet. Don’t you realize that everything is at stake?” He slid the board into place as Wyatt moved toward him.
Wyatt squatted down and held the board in place. “Are they really that bad off?”
Colter nodded. “If this stuff gets out, it’ll only get worse. I didn’t want to risk it.” He screwed the board into place. “As long as we work together, you and I—and this place—we got a chance. United we stand...”
“Divided we fall,” Wyatt said, finishing his sentence.
There was the sound of the barn door opening, and they fell silent. Colter looked over the edge of the loft. Standing just inside the door, looking as though she wanted to be anywhere else but there, was Whitney. She looked up at him, her hand still on the barn’s door.
Wyatt looked over the edge and forced a smile. “Heya, Whitney. How’s it going?”
“Hey,” she said, with a little wave. “I saw your car outside. What’s going on?” She frowned up at him.
She must have been upset still, rightly, but Colter didn’t want to talk about it in front of his brother. Knowing Wyatt, he would point fingers at her as a suspect—right now he’d be looking at everyone with that cynical scrutiny of his. Whitney didn’t deserve that kind of thing. She’d already been through so much, and in his gut Colter just knew that, regardless of what Sarah had accused her of, she wasn’t capable of that kind of evil.
Wyatt leaned over. “Does she know everything?” he whispered.
Colter nodded. “We found more, Whit. Someone has been up in the loft and making more of the Molotov cocktails.”
“Is that why you called your brother here? You think I have something to do with it?” Whitney asked, wringing her hands nervously.
“What?” Colter asked, confused.
“You know, after what Sarah told you. You don’t think I’d really do something like that, do you?” Her voice was strained, making her sound as though she was on the verge of tears. “I promise... I don’t know where she heard something so stupid, but I loved Rudy. I loved...I loved it all... I love that world. I miss it so much.” She covered her face, masking her tears as they fell.
Colter climbed down the ladder and walked over to her, taking her into his arms. Wyatt and his opinions be damned. “You’re okay. I know you. I know you wouldn’t do something that heinous. She’s just jealous and upset.”
She shook in his arms as she sobbed. “I thought that coming here... Everything would get easier. That I wouldn’t have to face it every day... That I could start fresh.”
“Shh... You don’t need to cry. You are starting fresh. We’re starting fresh. And more than anything, I want you to know that I trust you.” He ran his hand over her hair, trying to soothe her. “You’re okay.”
Wyatt made his way down from the loft, and as he hung the hammer and saw on the wall behind the bench, he gave Colter a questioning look, but Colter wasn’t sure if it was because of their relationship or the things that she was saying. Either way, he would have to answer a slew of questions when he and Wyatt were alone.
Whitney stepped out of his arms and moved backward toward the open barn door as though she suddenly had realized where she was standing. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It was just—”
“No worries,” Wyatt said, waving her off. “I know how it can be. Gwen and I have been through a lot, too. Sometimes you just have to communicate. At least that’s what she tells me,” he said with a chuckle.
Whitney smiled, dabbing at her cheeks. “I’m not a crier, I promise.”
“I know you’re tough stuff. My mother wouldn’t have just anybody working for her,” Wyatt said, clearly trying to make her feel better.
He and Colter both knew only too well that their mother and father didn’t always have the best judgment when it came to the hiring they did for the place. They always had a soft spot for sob stories and hard-up cases, but Colter appreciated his brother’s gesture to make her feel better.
Whitney looked over at him, and he could see that she was thinking the same thing.
“Thinking about Mom and Dad,” Wyatt continued, “do you think that we should tell them anything?”
Colter shook his head. “I think we could tell Dad, but he’d tell Mom. Let’s just wait until Yule Night is over. In the meantime, is there anything you can pull from the bottles? Fingerprints or anything?”
Wyatt nodded. “We could, but that would involve getting my department in on this. And if they think we should get the ATF or FBI out here... Well, that’s a whole can of worms that I don’t want to open.” He ran his hands over his face. “Maybe keeping me in the dark on this one wasn’t such a bad idea. I can’t not investigate this, Colter.”
“Thanks for finally seeing things from my perspective, man,” Colter said with a chuckle. “You need to give us a few days, at least until after the party, before we start getting other people involved. Hopefully by then, this will all have stopped or we will have the person responsible in custody.”
“We’re going to have to work fast,” Wyatt said. “Do you guys have any idea, any clues as to who may be behind this?”
Colter shrugged, but Whitney glanced outside.
“Whitney?” Wyatt asked as he must have noticed her reaction.
She nibbled at her lip. “I...I just have a feeling that Sarah is involved. Whoever is doing this has to know something about how the ranch functions. She has been around a lot lately.”
“Why would she do something like that? And threaten everyone?” Wyatt asked.
She looked over at Colter and then down at the floor.
“Let’s just say that Sarah has some misplaced feelings when it comes to me,” Colter said, trying to take some of the pressure off her.
Wyatt gave him a knowing look. “So she’s a jilted lover?”
Colter almost choked and had to cough to clear the distaste from his mouth. “No. We’re not lovers. We went out once, but it was nothing like that. But, even so, I don’t think she would stoop to hurting or threatening anyone on the ranch. She made a point of telling me that her success depends on the ranch’s success. I just don’t think she has it in her. She may be imperfect, but she’s not evil—not like that.”
“You found this all out when you went out with her?” Whitney asked, shock infusing her words.
“It was right after her divorce. We were set up, and it didn’t go well. Seriously, it was bad. I think that’s why she wants another shot to make things better this time.”
Wyatt shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with what was happening in front of him. “I’m going to step out back,” he said, walking over to the side door of the barn. “When you’re done...” He clicked the door shut behind him.
Colter tried to ignore the tangle of nerves that had descended on him. The last thing he wanted to do right now was fight with Whitney. He had been hoping that they could just move forward, that everything could just be forgiven and forgotten, yet when emotions got involved, it always seemed to go awry.
He turned to face Whitney, and as he opened his mouth to try to reassure her, she came rushing toward him, flinging her arms around him. She crushed her mouth to his. She ran her tongue over the bottom of his lip, sucking and pulling it between her teeth. It felt so good, soft and warm, yet flecked with the scraping of her teeth against him. It was everything great about a kiss—promises of more, heat and passion, yet the dangerous hints of the kinds of pains that always came with ecstasy. He loved everything about it—and her for it.
He pressed her against the wall of the barn and lifted her hands above her, holding them with one hand as the other searched for her skin beneath her winter coat. He slid his hand up, unque
stioning, unwavering in his need to feel her. He pushed his hands under the edges of her bra and cupped her soft skin. She was so warm, but as he ran his finger over her nipples, they pressed against him like perfect little nubs. He wished he could lift her shirt and pull them into his mouth. He wanted to taste her so badly that he moaned.
She sucked in her breath, and the cold air glazed over the place on his lips made warm by her kiss. God, she could do things to him that made him long for her like he had never longed for anyone before. He wanted to take her, here, now, hard.
There was the creak of the side door. “Guys, you have to take a look—” Wyatt stopped and cleared his throat.
Colter slipped his hand out from under her jacket, and taking a moment to collect himself, he turned to face his brother. “What is it?”
“I, uh, think I found something,” Wyatt said, but he stared at the ground as Whitney readjusted her shirt and jacket.
Colter tried not to feel sorry for himself as they made their way out of the barn, following his brother. It always seemed that as soon as something started going right, the world had a terrible habit of getting in the way.
He slipped his hand in Whitney’s. If nothing else, at least she had seemed to forgive him and maybe had implied that they could really, truly start fresh. He’d take her kiss as a good sign.
“Look,” Wyatt said, stopping near the side of the barn and pointing at a set of tire tracks in the fresh snow. “Do you notice anything strange about them?”
Colter shook his head. They looked like regular tire tracks, but then again, he wasn’t trained in forensics.
“Look right there,” Wyatt said, squatting down and pointing at the pattern. It was deep and made up of a pattern of triangles and ridges. “That right there is a new set of tires. Look at the tread. And based on the pattern, it’s not just any set of tires, but BF Goodrich All-Terrains.”
Mr. Taken (Mystery Christmas Book 3) Page 12