by Jillian Neal
“I am going to prove Brant is doping that bull, then I’m coming right back here. You were wrong about me being Sapana. I have to save him, not the other way around. Look, I don’t have time to argue with you. I have to find something proving Brant’s an asshole and get it to the PBR board in time to get Dallas Devil disqualified from tonight’s rodeo. I love you. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Take your things and J.J.’s things, just to make me happy, Sapana.”
“Fine,” Summer hoisted her bag into her arms. “But stop calling me that.” When she’d loaded J.J. and all of his stuff into the old truck, she hugged Ekta good-bye. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
Ekta simply waved. “Remember, Whirlwind, you are made of things the world can never take from you. Even when all seems lost, the macaw and the hawk will fly together. It is time.”
Sick to death of hearing about Native American bird legends, Summer finally got Ekta’s truck to crank. “Okay, little man, we have to find prescriptions, or papers, or the actual shots, or something in the hotel room. I need you to help mommy.” She tried to remember the name of the steroids Luke had told her about when she’d asked a few days ago.
“Ma-ma,” J.J. babbled beside her. “Tin.”
Her heart sank. He’d started doing that a few days ago whenever Austin was around. “Yeah, I miss him, too, but we have to save him. He needs us.”
She sat in the parking lot of the Cheyenne Suites Hotel and debated. Everybody anxious to show off their money always stayed there. Mostly Wrangler and Stetson execs and stock contractors. She could go in with J.J. in his carrier, tell them she was Brant’s wife — she gagged from the thought of ever having to voice those words again — and tell them she lost her keycard. There was a better than decent chance that people at the hotel had seen Brant taking his whores back to his room though. Things could get dicey quickly.
Plan B was most definitely illegal, but she wasn’t backing down now. Brant’s truck wasn’t in the parking lot, nor was her ex-mother-in-law’s Cadillac. Well, that was good. Parking Ekta’s truck near the door to get in and out quickly, she strapped J.J. back in his carrier and prayed he’d be quiet. Cheyenne was already alive with people that morning. The hotel lobby was busy. Now, she just needed to figure out which room was Brant’s.
Approaching the front desk, she racked her brain.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Uh … yes. Um, well, I need to know which room, Brant Preston is in. I’m … meeting him here.”
“Oh, my gosh, are you Summer Sanchez?”
Hopefulness welled in Summer’s chest. “Yes, I am.”
“My daughter is such a huge fan of yours. She was so upset you weren’t riding anymore. We’re saving up to buy her a horse. She’s working out at the Colbert’s stables, saving her money and practicing when she gets a chance. Would you mind if I got your autograph for her?”
So much for anonymity. “Oh, I’d be happy to. What’s her name?” Trying to force a smile, Summer scribbled her name on a hotel notepad.
“I’m really not supposed to do this, but since we’re friends … Just don’t tell my manager.” The woman began typing on her computer.
Slumping against the counter in relief, Summer glanced at the front doors to make sure Brant wasn’t coming back. Hopefully, he’d landed himself in a pot of scalding water after the incident with Dallas Devil.
“There’s a room registered to a Jean Preston. Is that the one you’re looking for?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s his mama.”
“They’re in room 318.”
“Thank you.” Summer raced to the elevators. She hit the three and then realized that she had no real idea how to get in a room without a key card.
‘This one’s on me. Take care of him for me. Fly high, macaw. He needs you.’ The words in a mischievous male voice echoed up from her soul, but she and J.J. were the only ones on the elevator. A gasp stole her breath. Chill bumps skittered across her entire body. Who was that?
“Bye-bye-bye,” J.J. began waving to no one. “Bye-bye.”
“Shh,” Summer soothed. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped off. Scanning up and down the hallway, she followed the Rooms 315- 345 signs. Keeping her head down, she scooted past Brant’s room when a maid parked her cart beside room 316. Pretending her room was further down the hall, Summer kept a close eye on the hotel maid. The woman had a universal keycard on a stretchy bracelet attached to her wrist. How the hell was she supposed to take that?
Another mischievous chuckle in that same male tone shook through Summer. The woman pulled the bracelet off and set it on top of the cart after opening the room next door. Unable to believe her luck, Summer swooped in, grabbed the card, unlocked Brant’s door and tossed the key back on the cart. Whoever was helping her was a really, really good friend.
Slipping into the room, she scowled at Brant’s luggage. Everything about him made her want to vomit all over his clothes and then rub them in his bed, but there was no time.
She went through his toiletry bag and then all three of Jean’s make-up bags, looking for a syringe case or bottle of meds from a vet’s office. Nothing. The maid would be in his room next. She had to hurry.
Heading to Brant’s suitcase, she cringed as she dug through his nasty-ass clothes. She patted the bottom of the cases, making certain there wasn’t a hidden compartment or anything. Where would he keep the steroids? Surely not on his trailer. Bull loaders would be in and out of that, as would the PBR reps that checked the animals.
Her eyes landed on Jean’s Louis Vuitton suitcases. Of course. He would let his mother take the fall for it. Carefully unzipping the first case, she dug through the designer jeans and western wear. Bitch had some of J.J.’s clothes in there. She forced herself not to take them. No one could know she’d been in there. Trying to be quick and thorough proved difficult, so Summer slowed her frantic search, but nothing appeared to be in Jean’s duffle bag. Hoisting her suitcase onto the bed, she carefully unzipped the front pockets only to reveal a pair of gaudy-ass cowgirl boots. Moving onto the main compartment, she threw the top back and dug through clothes, J.J.’s blankets, and a pack of diapers. Grinding her teeth over the obvious attempt to make her buy J.J. things he needed using up what little money Brant gave her, she started to unzip the interior zipper pocket when something caught her eye.
“Bingo,” she whispered as she lifted a manila folder out of the very bottom of the case. It would’ve been better if she could’ve found the actual bottles he was using, but this would have to do. Brant would have been methodic about the prescriptions and receipts. His father would’ve insisted. She sat on the bed and flipped open the folder.
Stumbling bleary-eyed onto the main drag through Cheyenne, Austin pulled his hat lower to cover his bloodshot eyes. He wasn’t certain how’d he gotten there. He’d wandered around all night long, slept for a few minutes in somebody’s pasture, then got up and started walking again. Max hadn’t said another word to him, and he had to get it together. He had to get Summer back today before she demanded that he take her back to Cody for her truck.
Forcing himself to put one boot in front of the other, he slunk into Paramount Coffee. Having to clear his throat three times before he could make audible words, he refused the barista’s concerned gaze. “Large black coffee.”
“You okay there, cowboy?”
“Been better.”
The woman offered him a smile and poured his coffee. “Would you look at that.” She gestured out the large plate-glass windows that constructed the front of the coffee shop. “I thought those were woodpeckers at first, but they’re macaws. Must’ve escaped from somewhere. Look at ‘um go.”
Austin blinked rapidly, trying to bring the red-plumed birds into focus. “I’m a bit of a bird watcher. Have dozens of feeders all over my yard,” the woman explained.
‘All right, Max, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Silence. Max’s voice seemed to no lo
nger be housed in his soul.
Means two birds escaped from a pet store west of here. Get it together, you moron. He ordered himself.
“Thanks,” he lifted the coffee in appreciation and left the shop. His eyes landed on the PBR tent at the Frontier Days Western entrance. Without any real thought, he headed that way, downing the coffee as he went. His gut offered him nothing. He couldn’t get a feel for his upcoming ride, if he even chose to attend. Nothingness closed in on all sides, consuming him.
He’d downed enough of the coffee by the time he reached the tent to at least make out faces. Travis Anders was in line awaiting his day sheet. Two PBR reps were speaking in heated whispers just outside the tent. Austin didn’t have the wherewithal to make out their discussion.
Colton Jones approached. “Hey, man, you okay? I heard what happened yesterday. That’s crazy. How the hell did that bull get in there?”
Austin couldn’t answer. His eyes zeroed in on Travis Ander’s hands. There were prod marks all over that damned bull’s hide. “It was you,” he choked. Grabbing Anders by the collar, he jerked him away from the woman handing him his paperwork and shoved him hard on the ground. “It was you! You motherfucking asshole, do you realize what you’ve done?”
“Mr. Camden, calm down,” the attendant reprimanded.
Incensed rage burned through Austin’s veins. He jerked Anders right hand upwards. “Those are prod marks from the hotshot he used on Dallas Devil. It was you. I knew it wasn’t Preston. He’d never endanger his daddy’s prized possession like that. How’d you do it? How’d you get him out there?”
Anders jerked his hand away, but the reps from the PBR that had been outside the tent were on him in an instant.
“Got in a hurry trying to get out of practice and get the bull down the chute before someone saw you, grabbed the wrong end of the prod. I’m gonna kill you!” Austin roared.
“What the hell?” Luke raced into the tent. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“It was him. I told you it wasn’t Brant.”
“Mr. Anders, we have a few questions.” One of the reps hoisted Anders to his feet before Austin could pound his revenge into his skull.
“I’ve got to get to Summer. It wasn’t Brant.” Half-crazed, Austin sprinted out of the tent with Luke hot on his trail. “I need my truck.”
“Fine, but let’s take mine for now.” Luke gestured to his.
Chapter Twenty
Summer’s hands shook as she stared down at the documents. She willed herself not to be sick. Her heart struggled to beat. She cradled J.J. to her and tried to figure out what to do next. ‘I will do anything, Summer. Hell, I’ll run away with you and never look back. We’ll never see Brant again. Just please.’ Standing and working on instinct alone, she took the forged copies of her son’s birth certificate and social security card, closed up the folder, returned it to the suitcase, and left everything just the way she’d found it. She may not be worth saving, but J.J. was. Slipping from the hotel room, she debated going straight to the police station. “Remember, Sapana, you are made of things the world can never take from you. Even when all seems lost, the macaw and the hawk will fly together. It is time.”
“Tin,” J.J. whispered as the elevator doors closed, seeming to understand that something was very wrong.
“That’s right.” Summer convulsed as she folded the only proof she had and kept the papers fisted tightly in her hand. “We’re going to find him, and tell him that we need him, and that I never should have run away like that. And that I love him so much. And I can’t do this without him. We’re going to keep you safe. I promise, J. I promise.”
Flooring Ekta’s truck, she tried to see through the hot tears pouring from her eyes. She made it to the ranch cabins just as Austin leapt from Luke’s truck.
“It wasn’t Brant,” he bellowed as she flung herself out of the truck and flew into his arms. He wrapped her up so tightly she almost believed that together they could save her little boy.
“He’s going to take him. He’s going to kidnap him. I found the paperwork.”
“What?” Austin released her just long enough to cradle her face, wipe away the steady stream of tears, and brush a tender kiss on her lips. “Please say you’re here because you need me as badly as I need you.”
“I do, but Austin, listen to me,” she pled.
“Where’s the real birth certificate?” Luke asked.
“I have it,” Summer clung to Austin. He hadn’t let her out of his arms yet, and that was perfectly fine by her.
“Same birthdate, though.” Luke pointed out.
“This one isn’t signed.” Austin swallowed harshly as he studied the documents. “Why wouldn’t Brant go ahead and sign it? There’s not mother’s or father’s signature.”
“Well, he’s the kidnapper. Guess he figures he can sign it anytime.” Luke continued to pace. The way he constantly watched out the front of the ranch cabin made Summer shiver.
“There were passports, too, but they weren’t forged. I think they were gonna take him out of the country and then bring him back in a few years. They have family in Ireland.”
“You left the passports there?” Austin’s voice was rough and rigid, but it was the only thing that soothed her at all.
“Yes, I left everything I could. I thought maybe they wouldn’t notice the paperwork was gone for a few days. Give us a head start; that is, if you still want to run away with me. I have to get J.J. away from him, Austin, and I can’t ever come back.”
“I would run away with you in a split second, baby, but we’re not running from this. We’ve got him right where we want him. Hard to maintain custody if you’re in prison. We’re loading up my truck and heading to Pleasant Glen. We’ll talk to the sheriff there and then to the federal agents if we have to. Kidnapping isn’t exactly something his daddy can buy his way out of. He’s gone way too far this time, and you just found plenty of rope to hang his sorry ass with.”
“This is why he set Dallas Devil out in that arena yesterday. He didn’t want me to have any help when he took off with J.J.” She shuddered against him, and he tightened his hold on her.
“He didn’t put that bull in the chute, sugar. It was Travis Anders. I was trying to tell you. I knew it wasn’t Brant. He’s not going to risk more trouble with the PBR, especially with this. He wouldn’t want anyone paying too much attention to him. I’ll bet he was gonna sell off Dallas at the end of Cheyenne, make a shit ton on the prize bull, and run.”
“So, Anders was what, trying to get you killed?”
“Trying to keep me from competing at the very least.”
“If Anders just wanted you out of the competition, why did he keep going through your bags? I mean, that was him too, right?” Summer asked.
“No.” Realization of everything that stood to do them harm settled harshly in Austin’s gut. His heart had finally located a steady cadence as soon as she’d raced into his arms, but now he had to protect her with his very life if that was necessary. “Holy hell that was Brant. He was after my phone. I’ve got a recording of him saying that we get J.J. until the end of Cheyenne. I’ll bet that’s what they were after. You were supposed to give him back tomorrow per the custody agreement. I got him to give you a few more days.”
“It wasn’t Brant.” Summer buried her face in his neck again. “It was either Jean or one of the stupid lackeys that work for his dad. Brant never left Dallas Devil at the qualifications, remember? I told you they were evil. We need to get away from here, right now.” She climbed out of his lap and that sense of panic that had been his constant companion returned immediately.
“Give me your phone, darlin’. I get to call you that again, right?” He still couldn’t find steady ground. Everything had happened too quickly.
Her broken smile was far worse than her tears. “I’m so sorry, Austin. I was just so certain I was ruining your life, and now I really am.”
“You haven’t ruined anything. I
will fight day in and day out for you, and together, we will fight for J.J. No matter what it takes, we fly together. You promise me you’ll never run away again.”
“I swear, Austin. If we can really get Brant put in jail, and I know J.J.’s safe, I’ll marry you whenever you want. I just can’t do this alone.”
“You never have to be alone. Now, let’s get back to the Glen where everyone knows me and my family, and everyone will help me keep you safe. We’re out here in Brant’s territory, and we’re just asking for trouble. Give me your phone.”
Summer handed over her cell phone. “What are you doing?”
“You need anything off of here? Numbers, email addresses, anything?”
“No, I know Ekta’s number, and my mom’s, and my grandmother’s by heart. I don’t even have email, and I never call anyone else. Hey, we could go to my grandmothers. The Zunis will keep us safe.”
“And that’s the very first place he’ll look. Everyone on the circuit thinks I’m from Oklahoma where Minton’s home offices are. By the time they’ve figured out where the ranch is, Brant will be rotting under the jail.”
He dropped Summer’s phone on the laminate floor and stomped it with the heel of his boot until it was in a million unrecognizable pieces.
“Why did you do that?” she gasped.
“Because he pays the bill on that thing, meaning he can easily have the location pinged. I’ll buy you a new one once we’re out of Cheyenne.”
“What about yours?” Luke inquired.
“He’s got my number since I made him leave that message, but he’d have a harder time getting someone to trace it since he doesn’t pay the bill on it. I need to get in touch with Mom and Dad so they know what’s going on. I have to talk to Minton. I sure as hell won’t be riding anymore.”
“Okay, just hear me out,” Luke edged closer. “I’ve been thinking. I should stay here. I can keep an eye on everything and keep up with Brant. I’ll stay outta sight, but I can give you the head’s up when he figures out what she found. Switch phones with me. If they ping your number and find me, who cares? Brant doesn’t have any idea who I am and would never suspect that I have your phone, so the message will be safer with me. You get them home and hidden. I won’t leave Cheyenne until Brant does.”