Under Lock and Key

by Sylvie Kurtz

  She didn’t need anyone.

  Eclipse’s choppy walk echoed the turmoil of her thoughts. She forced herself to smooth them out. This was her favorite part of the day, and she wasn’t going to let Tyler Blackwell or Freddy Gold ruin it.

  A strip of woods surrounded her land. She’d purposefully let the saw briars and thorn bushes grow wild, not allowing any room between the towering oaks and diminutive mesquites for curious onlookers to trespass. If the macabre shadows the whole created weren’t enough to keep people out, then the threat of copperhead snakes, black widow spiders and scorpions that bred in the tangled mess usually were. The only way from here to the neighbor’s fields beyond was through a maze only she knew existed. No one dared cross her front gate except the local teenagers, and they were harmless.

  Melissa loved the forbidding landscape she’d created. Creepy from the outside, paradise on the inside. Flat open land for riding, a pecan grove to the south of the castle, a peach orchard to the west and a pond and scattered oaks in the pastures for the horses made up her world—her very own little Camelot inside Hansel and Gretel’s haunted forest.

  At the edge of the woods, she stopped Eclipse, stroked his silken neck and found herself scanning the trees for shadows that didn’t belong. Damn Tyler Blackwell. She didn’t want to believe him. Sable and Tia would not plot against her. She was sure of that. They’d talked about the trust fund. They’d talked about her intentions. They knew she planned to share.

  What about Freddy? Did he have anything to gain by scaring her? According to her mother’s wishes, Freddy would inherit the Gold part of the estate she’d left Melissa should Melissa die before he did. She’d invested all of that into the horses. But that was nothing compared to what Freddy had earned on his own. On the surface he seemed to lack for nothing.

  What about Tyler? Could he have started this whole warning scare to revive his dead career? A prize-winning reporter known to keep digging until he got what he wanted made Tyler Blackwell a risky adversary or a helpful ally. Which was he? He hadn’t wanted to dig for a long time, and maybe his skills had dulled during the past year. Was that the reason Freddy had sent him? To ensure his failure? If the warning was true, if someone did want to harm her, was Tyler a help or a liability?

  The play of light and shadow across the planes of his face fascinated her. The shape and flex of muscles and tendons in his arms and hands intrigued her. His brown eyes flecked with gold spoke volumes—far more than he knew—and captivated her. In them she’d seen intelligence, depth and raw pain. But also determination. Out in the courtyard, in the soft light of the moon, her fingers had itched to sketch him as feverishly as they wanted to hit him. She didn’t like the confusion he’d brought in his wake.

  Melissa urged Eclipse into a trot and into the briar maze.

  Her primal awareness of Tyler irritated her. Beguiled her. Was it simply because he was male? No, Brent West-field, the conniving reporter who’d betrayed her faith, had stirred no such curiosity in her. She shook her head. Another stupid fantasy, courtesy of Dee’s romantic movies. She’d have to insist on a mindless action adventure for next week.

  Eclipse snorted his displeasure at the slow pace. Melissa waited until they had stepped out of the maze before she urged him into a canter. They flew over the top of a hill onto a wide meadow. In the middle of the field stood an unexpected knot of people. Melissa brought Eclipse to a halt and backed into the shadows of the surrounding trees.

  She rubbed Eclipse’s neck as she took in the scene. A man, a woman, three children of various sizes, a telescope. The Andersons and their brood. Their discussion was lively and they hadn’t noticed her.

  The man pointed toward a constellation. “See those five stars that look like a W? That’s Cassiopeia.”

  “Wow!” a boy exclaimed. “I see them. I see them.”

  “My turn, my turn!” A girl jumped up and down. “I wanna see!”

  The woman distracted the child by pointing up. “See those three stars in a row? That’s Orion’s belt.”

  When the baby fussed in his mother’s arms. She cooed at him, offering a breast.

  Melissa’s heart contracted, and familiar longing melted through her as sweet and sticky as honey. A baby. A little boy, a little girl, of her own. Bonds of love, not obligation.

  Another fantasy best forgotten.

  She signaled a turn on the haunches, then hugged the edge of the woods back to the mouth of the maze.

  The sound of a branch cracking had Eclipse pricking his ears forward. Melissa halted. In spite of the night’s warmth, a cold shiver snaked down her spine.

  Her gaze scoured the shadows. What was she looking for? A man with a gun? A telltale bead of red like in the movies? She could see nothing in the dark. No slithering shadow. No laser sight aimed at her heart. Not even the glowing yellow eyes of a wild animal.

  Just ordinary night noises. And she’d let Tyler’s theory mutate them into murder.

  She set Eclipse into a walk. She’d been afraid Tyler’s proposed article would eat away another part of her soul. What he’d done was twice as ingenious. Already, with just a few words, he’d shrunk her small world by half. What was next?

  She couldn’t let him do that. Her life was too narrow already. If she let him steal any more of it, then what would she have left? She plowed back into the maze toward home and emerged in the pecan grove.

  The play of moonlight through the pecan leaves delighted her. She nudged Eclipse into a trot and started chasing the light patterns. The easy grace of Eclipse’s movements, the majesty of his bearing, the power flowing through his sinewy muscles, slowly filled her body and calmed her mind until a soft melody took over and made her one with her horse.

  Dancing among the light and shadows, fear and danger, time and place, dissolved.

  TYLER HOBBLED out the small wooden door near the rose garden as fast as his still-aching ribs would allow. What was she thinking of, traipsing out in the open like that? How could she have gone and made herself a perfect target, knowing there was someone out there who wanted to harm her?

  Was she just stubborn or plain stupid? That was what happened when someone received no socialization. When he caught up with Melissa Carnes, he was going to teach her a thing or two about manners.

  He thought he’d scared her into the relative safety of the stables. His tactical error had been giving her space to absorb the seriousness of her situation. Instead of considering his own theory of relativity, as he’d hoped, she’d escaped to the very last place she needed to go—riding outside the castle walls.

  He wanted to strangle her, and he didn’t understand why he should care so much about her welfare when she obviously didn’t.

  As he climbed over the white board fence to take a shortcut across the pasture, he shook his head. Maybe he’d been out of the game too long. Maybe the rules had changed.

  No, he decided as a broodmare ambled between him and her foal, it was the situation that warranted a different approach. Melissa wasn’t a criminal who needed rope to hang herself. She needed boundaries to keep her safe.

  And whether she liked it or not, her safekeeping was his responsibility. Whether Freddy’s hunch proved right or wrong had no bearing on taking precautions.

  Tyler scanned the woods for the spot where he’d seen her disappear, but could find no opening in the snarl of briars and trees. With the moon nearly full she should have been easy to follow. Where had she gone? Dressed all in black and riding a black horse, he could only hope she would make a difficult target for anyone who had harm in mind.

  Not having her in sight had him stalking the length of the woods with teeth gritted. Night sounds surrounded him—cicadas, some creature foraging, the occasional snort of a broodmare out at pasture. A bat skimmed the treetops and screeched, making him silently swear. From somewhere on the other side of the dark tangle came the soft footfalls of a horse.

  When he found her, she was going to get an earful. For one thing, she wasn’t as delic
ate as Freddy thought her. He had a feeling people tended to pussyfoot around her because of her condition. But as far as he was concerned, this was political correctness carried too far. Someone had to tell it like it was. This might be her little world, but for now he had to take charge. She’d just have to live with that fact until Freddy discounted the warning or they found out who had something to gain by disposing of her.

  The snap of a dry branch stilled him on the spot. Its echo crazed the night like aberrant thunder. The scent of something nasty wafted to him on the breeze, revving his adrenaline. He had to find Melissa and fast.

  Something moved in the gloom. Just a shadow, he told himself as he watched the purple-black blur on the pitch-black skeleton of briars and branches. Then it moved again. Coyote? No, too large. Deer? Surreptitious footsteps crackled dry brush. Too heavy to belong to night creatures. Too light and creeping to belong to someone with a right to be there. The sense of danger had his scalp crawling, his senses heightening. Tensing against the coming confrontation, he took a few steps toward the shadow moving away from him in the woods.

  Behind him Melissa exploded out of the woods.

  He whirled, ready to shout to her when something stopped him.

  The wind became the only sound of the night. It caught the edge of her shawl, uncovering her head. Another invisible tug sent the silk floating out behind her, forgotten. Moonlight gleamed blue ribbons on her dark hair. Lithe figure astride the powerful horse, she made the stallion dance without appearing to ask for anything. The horse wore no saddle, no bridle. Only a rainbow rope she wasn’t even holding hung around the horse’s neck.

  Like a whisper, they wove in and out of shadows. From the horse’s footfalls came music. Woman and horse moved in perfect unison. Moonbeams flitted on hair and mane, caressed womanly curves and equine haunches, rippled through a tail held proudly. Every movement was fluid, graceful. Half pass. Pirouette. Passage. Serpentine.

  Magic.

  His muscles relaxed. His pulse slowed. The cloak of threat disappeared. He’d been chasing crooks and exposing lies for so long he’d forgotten the world could be a beautiful place.

  He’d never seen anything so magnificent.

  The sight of the liquid waltz sliced something sharp right through his gut, stealing his breath. Something deep and primal. Something pure. It sent a surge of emotions rushing through him, and he wasn’t sure what to do with them. So he watched and lost himself in the magic.

  The reason for the beauty of the dance soon struck him. The horse wasn’t an obedient creature bending to his mistress’s request. He was a partner, enjoying the dance as much as she. Could he hear the music of his footfalls? Did it sing in his soul? It must, for even from this far a certain joy resonated from both beast and woman. The witch had him completely under her spell.

  Then a report exploded, breaking the trance that held him in place. Before he could think, he was running.

  But just like what happened with Lindsey, he was too far away to reach Melissa in time.

  Chapter Six

  Heart pounding, Melissa reacted instinctively to the sharp crack that rent the night. Stop, drop and roll. The drilled-in command had nothing to do with guns, but it was the first thing that sprang to her mind. She was halfway down Eclipse’s back to the ground when someone tackled her the rest of the way, knocking the wind right out of her. Staying close to her, Eclipse pranced nervously. The attacker’s viselike grip tightened threads of panic that rippled through her in their adrenaline cocktail.

  Wheezing in fast, sharp breaths, imagining Tyler’s cold-blooded assassin, she fought off the weight pinning her to the ground. As she bucked and kicked, the edge of her boot connected with a hard shin, drawing a curse out of the madman. Her elbows connected with ribs, making him hiss. Her fist reached for his hair and pulled.

  “Stop moving,” he growled.

  Tyler, not an assassin.

  She let go, deflated. From her squashed position, she heard a second report, then a series of choked sputters that identified the perpetrator of the shot as a bad muffler. The popping of gravel on the dirt road on the other side of the woods sounded like a truck pulling a horse trailer. Just the Quarter Horse ranch down the road.

  As relief coursed through her, she forgot all about the imaginary assassin and became horrifyingly aware of her exposed face. Scouting for her fallen shawl, she felt her pulse start to gallop once more. Hatred of her accident was hot and fluid and all encompassing. The years no longer divorced her from the pain. She felt it sharp and hot, throbbing through every line of scar on her face, arm and leg. The child’s cries echoed in her mind, stuck in her throat. All he’d see was the witch. Clawing at the ground for traction, she tried to squirm out of Tyler’s hold, to go anywhere but here, but his arms only tightened around her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She fought his hold.

  “Don’t move.”

  “Let go of me, you jerk.” If he hadn’t woven all those conspiracy theories for her, she would have known the difference between a backfire and a gunshot and not fallen to the ground like a scared eight-year-old. “This is all your fault.”

  “I told you riding out here wasn’t a good idea.”

  “I was perfectly safe until you tackled me.”

  “It could have been a gunshot.”

  “It was a muffler. Get off me.” She pushed against him, felt him tense.

  “Stop. Moving.”

  Something about the strained tone of his voice stilled her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ribs,” he choked out.

  Great! He’d gone and hurt himself playing hero.

  He sucked in a breath and rolled off her, then lay on the ground beside her. She didn’t know if she should slap him for scaring her or send for help. Except slapping him would require facing him, and she couldn’t do that. Not yet. “Serves you right. What were you thinking?”

  “That I’d take a bullet for you and save your sorry hide. Though why, I don’t know.”

  “My hero.” She let sarcasm drip from her voice as she scrambled to her feet. Take a bullet for her? He hadn’t really thought that, had he? She went to Eclipse and stroked him to calm him down, to calm herself. Draping her hair over the left side of her face, she risked a glance at Tyler.

  He was whiter than the moon under his tan and the frown pleating his forehead looked painful. She wanted more than anything to find her shawl, cover her face and hide in the shadows, but the torment twisting his face had her kneeling beside him, keeping her good side toward him. She wasn’t a witch. He had to learn that before he could see past the ravages of fire on her skin. She reached toward him, then drew back, not knowing what she should do. “Did you break anything?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Can you get up?”

  He closed his eyes and swallowed. “Give me a minute.”

  “I’ll get someone to help you.” She sprang up, but he grabbed her wrist and held her in place.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  She wrenched her wrist free. “You’re in pain.”

  “It’ll pass.”

  “More like ‘pass out’ from the looks of you.”

  He rolled to one side and, using his elbow, pushed himself to a sitting position. “You need to get back inside.”

  “It was just a car backfiring.”

  “I heard someone in the woods.”

  “That was just me.”

  He shook his head. “Someone on foot.”

  She remembered the crack of a branch, the sense of evil that had crawled down her spine. Had someone really been there? “Just an animal.”

  “No.”

  Not wanting to dwell on the possibility, she focused instead on the sweat beading his forehead. She didn’t like the glassiness of his eyes, either. She needed Grace or Deanna. They would know what to do. What if he did pass out? “There’s no way you can walk.”

  “You go. I’ll follow.”

  He was carrying this macho stu
ff too far. “Oh, that’ll look real good, especially if you pass out and get bitten by a snake. The town would have a field day if you died in my pecan grove.” She slid an arm around his waist to support him. There was no way she could carry all that lean hardness back to the castle. “Up you go.”

  He bared his teeth in a painful wince. She cringed with him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Eclipse feels like an overstuffed chair. If you can get on him, I’ll lead you back.”

  “I’ll w—”

  “There’s a time for heroics. This isn’t it.” Hair still hiding her face, she turned and faced him, letting him hang on to her shoulders. Leaning forward, she cupped her hands for him to use as a stirrup. “Up you go.”

  One of his hands gripped Eclipse’s mane. He hissed in a breath as he raised his foot to her interlocked hands. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  She boosted him up, and he landed heavily on the horse’s back. “Okay?”

  He nodded, bracing his left side with an arm. In silence she led Eclipse slowly across the pecan grove, the pasture and into the courtyard. Tyler was in pain because of her. Maybe there was someone out to hurt her. Maybe there wasn’t. But that didn’t alter the fact that even with bruised ribs, he’d still thrown his body over hers to protect her. He’d been willing to take a bullet for her.

  The heat of shame filled her. If this was simply another way to gain her sympathy, it was working. Big-time. And the last thing she wanted to do was feel anything for a reporter.

  Back in the courtyard, she kept her head bent as she helped him slide off Eclipse’s back. Once he was steady on his feet, she slipped to Eclipse’s off side and screened the marred half of her face with the horse’s dark head.

  “You need a doctor.”

  Cradling his ribs, he shook his head. “No doctor. I’m not leaving.”

  “Go to an emergency room, then, and have your ribs X-rayed.”

  “Nothing they can do for it, anyway.”

  He reached for the snarl of hair clouding her face. Heart thundering against her ribs, she grasped his wrist to push it away. His finger strained against her hold and traced the outline of her face, pushing the hair aside.