Cherish and Protect: a small town romantic suspense novel (Heroes of Evers, TX Book 6)

by Lori Ryan

  “I think maybe I was wrong,” Laura said quietly, to his back. He stiffened.

  “About what?”

  “About Pres. I think maybe you’d be good for each other.”

  James wanted to shake her and ask what the hell had given her that idea, but he recognized the overreaction and clamped down on it.

  “I don’t think she needs me messing with her life.” He hadn’t clamped down on his emotions hard enough if the rigid edge to his tone was any indication.

  “Why do you say that?” Laura had a way of softening her questions.

  Still, he didn’t have an answer for her. Didn’t she understand he was poison to everyone around him? Damn it, she’d been on the receiving end of his poison. Why couldn’t she see that he was bad for her? Bad for Presley?

  Not for the first time, he knew he’d been selfish in taking Laura up on coming to the ranch when he got out of the hospital and was released from the Army. He’d been selfish, though. He hadn’t had any place else to go and coming here meant he hadn’t been forced to think about where to go or what to do. It had been the easy way.

  And it had been wrong. He needed to get out of here. To put some space between himself and the people who loved him. The people he loved. They’d all just get dragged into the shit pile in his head if he didn’t watch it. They’d start to hope he might someday be normal, and that wasn’t possible.

  “Hey, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking in that overtaxed brain of yours.”

  “Overtaxed, huh?” He asked.

  “Yeah, overtaxed. Why do you think you shouldn’t be involved with Presley?”

  “I’m just not, it’s not, I . . .” He didn’t know how to say it. “I don’t want to hurt her the way I’ve hurt everyone else. I’ve got so much shit happening in my head right now, I can barely function. There’s no way I won’t drag her down with me if I let myself get close. I can’t do that to her. It’s bad enough after years of letting you down, I’m living off of you and Cade now.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Laura leaned to one side, as though she could come around to see his face, despite the fact that they were on top of a horse. “What does that mean? You’ve never let me down.”

  James’s laugh was bitter. “I left you in a hellish marriage for three years. If that’s not failure, I don’t know what is.”

  “Stop this horse,” she said, taking him by surprise. She hit his back with a small fist for good measure.

  “Laura—” She didn’t let him finish. She pounded her fists on his back in a way only a little sister can do.

  James slowed Tess to a stop and gave Laura his arm to help her slide to the ground.

  “Get down here.” She had both hands on her hips, letting him know she meant business. Not that he couldn’t ride away, but he wouldn’t do that to her.

  He slid from the saddle, then spent a few minutes focused on Tess, slipping the bit from her mouth but leaving the bridle in place so the horse could tear at the grass under a nearby tree.

  When he turned back to Laura, her eyes flashed. “You have never once in your life let me down, James Lawless. You’ve been there from the day I was born when no one else was.”

  She didn’t have to name the no-one-elses in that statement. Their mother had died when Laura was too young to remember her and their father had been emotionally abusive and cruel. It had been the two of them against the world growing up.

  But then Laura had met Patrick Kensington, a man who came from money and power. The Kensingtons were a powerful family, with several senators in the lineage and the kind of money that would never run low, even if the family did nothing to grow their coffers. James hadn’t seen through Patrick Kensington’s charade. Hadn’t seen him for the monster he truly was. James had signed up for the Army and taken off, moving from basic into a specialized program that had him in black ops training before he knew it. There were few chances for him to call home and visiting wasn’t an option most of the time.

  Still, the few times James had called her, he’d been put off by her husband, always with an excuse about why Laura couldn’t call. He’d emailed with her only to find out years later, it had been her husband emailing all that time. James hadn’t seen through any of it. Hadn’t realized how controlling her husband was. Hadn’t seen that she was in trouble. And Laura had paid the price, because she was living in a home where terror reigned and her husband treated her worse than their father ever could have. Her husband’s brand of abuse had been physical instead of just emotional. He’d raped and beaten her on a regular basis.

  James didn’t say any of that. “Didn’t I?”

  She shook her head, moving now to reach up and put her hands on his shoulders, despite the difference in their height. “No, you didn’t. It wasn’t on you. What happened with Patrick was not on you, do you hear me, James?” She said each word slowly, clearly as though dealing with her three-year-old. “And I wouldn’t trade any of it.”

  James stepped back, letting her hands fall. “What? How the hell can you say that?”

  She smiled at him, a small smile that tipped the corners of her mouth back, but it was a sad gesture. “How could I want to change it? My journey isn’t one that I would have chosen. And yes, I have regrets. But it was the journey that brought me to Cade. It gave me my daughter. It’s the journey that brought me to a place where I’ve known more joy, more kindness, more love than I ever could have hoped.”

  James couldn’t breathe, but Laura went on, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside him.

  “But more importantly, James, it was my journey to take and it’s my journey to own. You can’t have it. You can’t have the responsibility for it. You can’t have the burden of it. I won’t let you.”

  James could only stare at Laura. She was so damned strong. So much stronger than the girl he’d left years before after her wedding day.

  There was only one problem, though. She could absolve him of his sins against her. She could tell him he couldn’t own the failures where she was concerned.

  But she didn’t know the half of it. She didn’t know how fucked up things were inside his head. She couldn’t know that he would only drag Presley down if he let her get close. He wanted so badly to cling to all of them and let the people and the ranch take on some of his burden, but what would happen if instead of fixing him, it spread this dark poison that was in him to all of them? What if he did nothing more than drag them all down with him?

  13

  Even with all the people and horses surrounding her at one of the region’s biggest horse shows, Presley didn’t think she would be able to get the feel of James’s kiss out of her head. It had been days and still, she relived the moment again and again. She tried to force her mind to go to the look on his face when he’d realized what they were doing and, she guessed, who he was doing it with. Regret didn’t begin to cover the emotions he’d been feeling. The emotions that had been evident in his expression.

  Instead, nothing but the kiss, the feel of his hands on her, the feel of his mouth as he’d moved to her neck, seemed to consume her thoughts. She couldn’t get the images to stop.

  Their horses had been brought to the grounds twenty-four hours in advance, as required at all United States Equestrian Foundation competitions at the Grand Prix level. Presley had arrived the day before and was expected to be ringside any minute to watch her competition, but she found herself holding back, waiting in the barn to try to catch a few more minutes of solitude.

  She let herself into the tack room. In a few minutes, the barn would be alive again with people, but for now it was blissfully quiet, the scent of leather and straw and horses a soothing balm.

  Presley could see out into the barn aisle through the open door of the room, but she knew from her position at the back of the small space that she wouldn’t be visible to anyone unless they looked directly in. If someone came into the tack room, she’d say she dropped a hair band and was looking for it.

  The sound of
a whinny came to her from down the aisle. There was nothing out of place about the sound. Until it changed. There was a loud bang that was unmistakable, the sound of a horse’s foot hitting the side of the stall, then the sound came again and again.

  Presley shot from the room, seeing a flash of dark color coming from down at the end of the barn. But her eyes went to a stall a few doors over.

  When she reached the stall and looked over it, she shouted for help, then slipped in. The horse lay on his side, seizing as stiff legs hit the side of the small space again and again. She thought it was one of Harry’s horses. Davenport. She’d seen him a few times at previous shows.

  Presley knew she was taking a risk. A seizing horse was dangerous, pure and simple. Still, she let herself in the door and went to the horse’s head, pressing her weight on it to hold it in place.

  She was joined by others, one of whom was the veterinarian. Within minutes the seizing was under control and the horse lay breathing in great gusts and snorts, sweat slicking his body.

  “What happened?” The vet asked her, a little accusation lacing the words.

  “I don’t know.” Presley took a breath and nodded at the aisle. “I was in the tack room when I heard him kicking.”

  The owner of the horse came down the aisle then and there were several questions fired back and forth from the owner and the vet. Within minutes, there was someone from the show organizers present. At the end of it, when it became clear the horse had no history of seizures and nothing in his recent medical history to suggest he would have one now, blood was drawn to see if the horse had been dosed with something.

  Presley couldn’t tell if the veterinarian was blaming her or the owner when he said, “My guess is someone tried to inject something into a vein and hit the carotid artery instead. The seizure would have been immediate.”

  Presley thought of the flash she’d seen when she came out of the tack room. Had it been a person exiting? She thought so, but she wasn’t sure. She bit her lip. “I think maybe someone was leaving when I came out of the tack room. I saw someone. But it was only out of the corner of my eye. It might have been someone just walking past the doors.”

  Harry came in, but his attention went right to the horse and stayed with it. The horse’s owner and several show officials then spent over twenty minutes questioning her before they seemed to understand she didn’t have any more information to offer them. She simply hadn’t seen or heard anything that could help.

  “Presley!” It was her mother’s voice behind her and the anger in it told Presley her mother was going to make a scene. Fantastic. Someone had let her mother know she was all but being accused of drugging a horse. “What’s going on here?”

  The show officials had the sense to look a little embarrassed. One of them rushed to assure her mother they were just talking to her in the hopes she would remember something that could help them.

  The vet had taken blood samples to see what had been given to the horse. He found swelling at the site of the injection but finding out what had been pushed into the artery might give them a clue as to who was behind it.

  If it was a drug designed to steady the horse, to calm him before going into the arena, that would suggest the owner might be behind it. As it was, the owner was looking more than nervous now that Presley’s mother had shown up. In all likelihood, they were probably hoping her father didn’t arrive on the scene.

  If the drug was one to pump the horse up, it could have been a competitor hoping to throw the horse off, make him have a bad ride. The horse was pacing at the moment, but that could be the result of the stress of having had the seizure. He might crash any minute.

  Presley and her mother left the area, leaving the mess for the show officials and vet to sort out. She’d told them all she could, and frankly, she was ready to go home for the day. This show wasn’t so far away from Evers that they needed to stay overnight.

  “What were you doing in there?” Her mother hissed as they walked away, a smile plastered on her face in case anyone was watching. They were watching, of course. News had spread about the incident to at least everyone in the vicinity of the barn.

  I was hiding from everyone?

  That answer probably wouldn’t do. “I was looking for something I thought I left in the tack room.”

  Her mother raised a brow. “On a day when you aren’t even riding?”

  “I was in there earlier talking to Becky. I dropped a hair tie.”

  “You dropped a hair tie and thought you’d, what? Pick it up off the ground and put it back in your hair?”

  Presley didn’t answer. She didn’t know what her mother thought she was doing in the room. “Are you and Dad finished for the day? I thought Becky was the last to ride.”

  “She was, but your dad is waiting to watch a prospective student ride.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Sandy Barrow might be looking for a new coach.”

  “Really?” Presley was surprised her father would consider taking her on. Sandy was notorious for her tantrums and for switching trainers as often as she switched out her shirt during a show. Which was a lot. “What on earth would make him consider…” She didn’t finish the question. It had never been her place to question what her dad did, and it wasn’t any more now than it had ever been.

  Her mother gave her a hard look as they moved through people and horses, working their way to the long trailer that had hauled their horses and those of her father’s students to the show.

  Right, Presley thought. She had forgotten. You don’t argue with the great Lawrence Royale, even if he wasn’t around to hear it.

  She shook her head. If her father wanted to take on a student who would give him nothing but grief, why should she try to talk him out of it? It wasn’t any of her business.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m going to sit in the truck for a bit. My ankle is aching. I want to put it up.”

  It wasn’t a lie. She’d moved much too quickly on it when she’d seen the seizing horse thrashing on the ground.

  “Did you reinjure yourself?” There was accusation in the tone.

  “It’s nothing, mom. I’m just tired. It hurts more after I’ve been on it a while.”

  She limped away, climbing up into the Suburban they’d followed the trailer in, leaning against one door and stretching her leg across the seat. She must have fallen asleep that way, because she woke some time later with a stiff neck and her father tapping on the window.

  “Wake up, Pres. We’re leaving.”

  Presley winced as she sat, putting her hand to the tight heat that flashed in her neck. She hit the button to unlock the car.

  It became clear right away that her parents were fighting as they slid into the front seats.

  “Where’s Becky?” Becky had ridden to the show with them that morning and Presley assumed she’d be riding back with them.

  “She’s riding back in the truck.” Her father’s words were stiff. Enough so that she paused in buckling her seatbelt.

  He was really angry.

  Her father backed out of their spot in the grass field that had served as parking for the trailers and turned them toward the road. It was slow going, having to stop routinely as horses were led through the vehicles on the way back to their trailers.

  Presley was thrown back to childhood. Her parents didn’t fight more than other parents did, she thought. But whenever they did fight, Presley had always felt like it was somehow her fault. She would try to figure out what she had done and what she could do to fix it.

  As the silence in the car dragged on, she ran through the day. “Is this about Davenport’s seizure? I wasn’t hurt. And I was only trying to help.”

  Her mother sighed. “Leave it alone, Presley.”

  The sneer that crossed her father’s face startled Presley. He could be cold and calculating, he could freeze you out when he wanted to, but the kind of scorn she’d seen in his eyes just then wasn’t something she was used to seeing in him.
/>   Unease crept over Presley. “I don’t think I want to leave it alone.”

  If her parents thought anything of the fact she hadn’t listened, they didn’t say anything. In fact, they seem to be in their own world right now. There was something unspoken between them, and it was large and looming and more than a little terrifying to Presley. She was thirty years old, but she suddenly felt like a ten-year-old again.

  She could drop it, let them ride in silence for the rest of the two hour drive back, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want this feeling and she didn’t want to let them make her feel like a child.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” She didn’t add a please, there was no question at the end of her sentence. “Now.”

  Her father opened his mouth to speak, but to Presley’s surprise, her mother cut him off.

  “Lawrence!”

  Her father shot her mother look. “What? You don’t think she has the right to know?”

  Her mother didn’t answer, only turning to look out the window.

  Silence reigned for several more minutes before her father spoke. “Your mother decided that with you out of competition, she needed to see to it that your standing wasn’t affected in any great way.”

  Unease had spun into dread as Presley looked from her mother to her father and back again. “Oh no, Mom, you didn’t. Davenport? What did you do?”

  Her mother was silent, not even turning her head.

  “Dad?”

  Her dad didn’t answer. Neither of them spoke the rest of the ride home, leaving Presley to think about what she knew without being flat out told. Her mother was responsible for whatever drug had been pushed into Davenport.

  Presley’s mind spun. If it had been a Fédération Equestre Internationale event instead of a USEF one, the security at the stables and tents would have been much stricter. FEI events required badges to get through security.

  No matter the security or lack thereof, Presley was intelligent enough to know that her mother wouldn’t have done it herself. It wasn’t her mother she saw leaving the stable that afternoon. She’d have hired somebody. Likely one of the grooms at the stable or one of the hired hands behind the scenes who was paid by the hour to take on the extra workload of running the show.