by Casey Hagen
“Can I play it now?”
“That’s what it’s here for. You go for it,” Ryan said.
Ryan assumed Ivy would sit in a chair, maybe on the couch, or on the ledge of the fireplace, but no. Ivy dropped into the center of Ryan’s lap, just like they did every time they played together. Ivy took the neck into her hands as if she had been born to it. With a few swipes of her fingers, she adjusted to the new guitar and played the melody Ryan had taught her.
She played it with a fearless confidence that only a child can.
Ryan met Slade’s eyes, her heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes. She’d never seen that look from a man. She’d read about it, seen it in movies, but never had that look been directed at her.
Her heart tripped in her chest and the part of her that she locked away, that hadn’t fallen for him, tumbled over the cliff into a free-fall so exhilarating she felt it to her toes.
This man and his little girl had crawled right into her heart and made a home there.
Now what?
***
She made her escape to the barn, slipping away when everyone was fawning over Ivy’s new guitar. She had never been comfortable with praise, so she left before any attention shifted to her.
Steeling her spine, she stepped up to Satan’s stall. She had been playing in here every so often in an effort to get used to the horses. Her fear had faded, replaced by a healthy dose of caution and respect for such large, powerful animals.
Satan padded over to the gate and stuck his muzzle out for a scratch.
“Hey, boy. How are you doing, huh?”
He blew out a breath and pressed his head against her shoulder. The action would have freaked her out a week ago, but not tonight.
Ryan felt Slade’s presence before she saw him. “Is the concert over?”
Slade approached her, his big steps gobbling up the distance between them. Smoke dropped to the ground at the entrance of the barn, ever patient. “It’s over. Lisa claimed a headache, so Ivy stopped playing.”
“That’s too bad.” She wanted to believe the best about Lisa, but she had to wonder if the headache had more to do with feeling like Ryan one-upped her in the present department. She had news for Lisa: they weren’t competing. At least, Ryan wasn’t. She had left competition in D.C., and she had no intention of competing again.
He bumped his shoulder against hers. “You had to have spent a lot of money on that guitar.”
“She earned it,” Ryan said.
“You’re good to her. You’re good with her.”
“She makes it easy.”
“You and Satan are practically best friends now.”
She smoothed her hands over Satan’s neck. “I don’t know if I would go that far, but we’re getting there.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“Slade—”
“Hear me out. You love Ivy, she loves you, and you’re making a home here. Why not stay, see where this can go?”
“I have a life I abandoned. I need to handle it before I can settle anywhere.”
“I can respect that, but after you do?”
“I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can give you.”
Slade cradled her face in his big hands. Attraction burned hot. Her skin tingled. Heat settled low in her belly. She wanted him again. Their time on the haystack hadn’t been enough. She wanted the soft sheets of a bed, with the breeze blowing in the window to cool their heated bodies. She wanted to sleep beside him, wake up with him.
She wanted it all.
She wrapped her hands around his wrists and searched his eyes. There it was again. That look. She wanted to wake up and see that look every day for the rest of her life.
“I can’t say that I’ve ever wanted anyone the way I want you,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“Buttering me up, Cowboy?”
“Would it work if I did?” he whispered as he hovered over her lips.
She smiled as his lips grazed hers. “It just might.”
His heat surrounded her. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand against her lower back, pulling her against him, the other buried in her hair.
Before, feeling confined by a man, a man so much larger, would give her pause, but not with Slade. He had been careful with her. Gentle in every way. Even when they made love, he gave her control. Every time he cherished her, and didn’t hurt her, he erased a crack in her confidence.
She no longer flinched. She didn’t hesitate. She stayed calm and cool in the presence of men, something she’d lost when Carter hit her.
Slade gave it back.
Slade’s phone beeped on his hip. “Ignore it. I’m going to.”
She laughed against his chest. “Check it, it might be important.”
He glanced down at his phone. “It’s Lisa. Ivy is going to bed. Wants me to read to her.”
She playfully pushed him away. “Go. She’s missed you.”
“You really don’t mind, do you?”
“Mind what?”
“Ivy cutting into our time.”
“Ivy doesn’t cut into anything. You’re her dad first; it’s one of the many things I admire in you.”
He tugged her against him hard and kissed her, growling against her lips. “I love how you include her.”
“Always,” Ryan whispered.
“I love you…” Slade said. He went stock-still, like he hadn’t expected to say the words. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. A storm swirled in his own.
“You regretting your words already, Cowboy?” Ryan asked with a laugh. She steeled herself for him to take the words back. She would live. She was a survivor that way. Funny, she’d felt very much like a victim when she arrived in Fort Mavis.
Not anymore.
“No regrets,” Slade said, his eyes locked on hers.
“Go to your daughter. She’s waiting for you.”
He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead, lingered there, and then he was gone. Smoke followed along.
Satan blew out a breath and bumped his head against hers. “What do you say, big boy; if I open this door, will you be good?”
He grabbed her hair with his lips, but no chewing this time. Progress.
“Let’s do it then.” She slid open the latch on the bottom and had just started to slide the top when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Slade, I wasn’t kid—” Her words were cut off by a large hand that locked on her throat.
“Slade’s not here, you little whore. So who’s going to save you now?” He shook her hard. “Huh, you little bitch?”
Cutter’s voice slithered over her skin. He clutched her throat tight, tight enough to make it hard to speak, but still allowing her to breathe.
Satan paced; every time he walked by the paddock door, he kicked at it.
Cutter grabbed her by her hair and shoved her against the wall. “You’re going to get just what you should have gotten that night at Lucifer’s.”
His dark eyes narrowed on her and an evil smile spread across his lips. “You know what? I think I might just take a little something else first, before I give you just what you deserve.”
She darted for the door, but he was faster. His arm shot out, his fingers biting into the skin around her ribs. He snapped her back against him. He laughed, blew on her ear, all while his hand kneaded the flesh just below her breast.
He was going to rape her.
“Cutter, think about this. You can still walk away. You can walk right out that door and I’ll never say a word about you being here.”
“You think I believe that, whore? Nah…I have something better in mind. You’re going to love it,” he growled in her ear.
The sound of his zipper echoed over her harsh breathing and Satan’s distress. The other horses had joined in, pacing and kicking, some whinnying even.
Think, Ryan!
Position. If she brought back her left elbow, she would catch him in the center of
his stomach. Then what?
Damn it!
Her heel. Elbow, heel. Okay. She waited, prayed he would change his arm position, and when he went for the button of his jeans he gave her the opening she needed.
She bent her arm, brought it forward and, with a quick snap, buried her elbow in his gut. A fraction of a second after the contact, she stomped her heel onto his foot.
His grip loosened when he grunted in pain, and she made a break for it.
Ten feet from the exit he caught her by the back of her shirt. She struggled, the fabric tearing and buttons popping. Blood roared in her head. She was so close, just a few more feet.
Her shirt tore free, the force sending her falling forward into the dirt. Hay and small rocks dug into her hands and knees. She pushed herself up just to have him grab her by the hair again and drag her back into the barn.
“Thanks for the help getting your clothes off, bitch. That’ll make this a whole lot easier,” Cutter sneered.
Holding her by the hair he dragged her up, right into his face, and smacked her.
Hard.
The coppery taste of blood burst into her mouth. He threw her to the ground and dropped down on top of her, pinning her with his hips. She flailed, striking out at him, hitting him in the chest, shoulder, and neck. She kicked and used every last bit of energy to twist her body and thrash.
If the son of a bitch was going to rape her, she wasn’t going to make it easy.
Please, God, let someone hear what’s happening!
She thought of Ivy. What if Ivy found her out there?
Raped.
Beaten.
Left for dead.
The horses paced and hammered against their paddocks, their hooves loud, their distress a living, breathing thing in the otherwise-calm Texas night.
Just the thought gave her a renewed energy. She took the deepest breath she had ever taken and screamed with everything she had. She screamed until her throat burned. She screamed until she choked from the dryness of the air. She screamed as she flailed and made it as hard as possible for him to pin her down.
Then she went for his eyes. She dug her thumb into his eye socket, satisfied with his pained scream.
Next thing she knew he hit her again; this time, so hard her hearing turned fuzzy, everything blurred, and pain…so much pain, exploded in her cheek.
“You fucking cunt! I’m going to fuck that temper right out of you. You hear me?” he screamed at her.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Satan, free from his paddock, looming over Cutter. “I hear you, you son of a bitch.”
She spit in his face, a mix of blood and saliva. Cutter pulled away, reaching an arm out, ready to swing at her again. One more hit and she was done. She wouldn’t be able to fight.
Satan reared up at just the right moment, taking Cutter out with his front hooves. The hoof that caught Cutter’s jaw knocked him off of her. She scrambled back and watched in fascination and horror as Satan reared again and again, bringing his front hooves down on Cutter, over and over.
“Dear God!” Myra shouted from the barn entrance. “Slade, Levi, Will, hurry!” Myra yelled as she took hold of Ryan’s arms to help her up.
“Satan saved me,” Ryan whispered, her voice thick with tears.
Myra took great care turning Ryan’s face. “Jesus, child, what you suffered in here.”
Ryan smiled. Pain shot through her cheek, but she didn’t care. “I’m okay. I fought back.”
Myra searched her over. “Of course you did. I hope you got a few good licks in yourself.”
“Several,” Ryan laughed, shocked she even could.
Slade skidded around the corner, took one look at Ryan, and snapped. With a growl, he ran for Cutter. He pushed Satan back and dragged Cutter up by his collar. “I fucking warned you.” Slade pulled his fist back, punched Cutter, then pulled his arm back and did it again. He didn’t stop until Levi and Will grabbed him and pulled him back. Even then he strained to get to Cutter.
“Slade!” Ryan called to him.
He turned, took one look at her, and said, “Let me go.” He tore free of their grasp and headed straight for her, wrapping his body, his warmth, his protection around her like a cloak.
In his arms, the pain evaporated. She was home.
8
The sheriff’s deputies didn’t finish interviewing everyone until after midnight. Slade paced, he had to, otherwise he was going to lose it and he couldn’t afford to do that right now. He didn’t want Ryan to see that.
When the deputies finally finished their interviews, she headed right for him and his open arms waited.
“Doc Stevens needs to x-ray that cheek,” he said against her hair.
“Slade, it’s fine,” Ryan mumbled against his chest.
He had hugged her every chance he got since the attack. She had refused an ambulance ride to the hospital, making him crazy with her insistence that she was just fine. She didn’t look fine. The right side of her face was a mess of welts. Her right eye was partially swollen shut. Her clothes had been torn in the attack, and dirt smeared her porcelain skin. Just the thought of what might have happened had Satan not gotten out, or had Myra not heard the ruckus when she was getting some air, left a cold pit of fear and rage coiling deep inside him.
“He’s x-raying it and that’s final,” he said. He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. The terror he’d felt upon seeing her, the rage that bubbled over, giving him the urge to kill, it all rioted in him now, still, and he had not one damn clue what to do with it all.
Chances were Cutter had some broken ribs, maybe some internal bleeding, and from the look of things, Slade had likely broken Cutter’s nose. He would pay for his actions tonight with his freedom and a hefty dose of pain.
Slade was working on being okay with that.
With his arm around Ryan, he started walking them toward his truck. “Come on. We’re riding out to meet Doc Stevens at his office. He has equipment there. It’ll save the hour-long trip to the hospital, but you’re getting checked.”
She looked up at him. “Slade, you’re being a bit dramatic, aren’t you?”
He opened the door of his truck and helped her up. She climbed in, her motions tentative. Cupping her chin, his gaze roamed her face. “If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn’t think I was being dramatic.”
“I know I must be ugly right now.”
A guttural sound escaped his throat. “It has nothing to do with being ugly. You fought him and survived. You’ve never been more beautiful to me than at this very moment, but it also kills me to see what he did to you.”
“He hit me, but I got in some good hits of my own. I assure you, I fought him.”
“Did he…” Slade hesitated. He had to know, but hated asking all the same. “Damn it, did he try to rape you?”
“Yes.”
His clenched fingers on the door frame turned with force. “Son of a—”
“Stop that. He didn’t do it. I’m not traumatized in that way.”
“I should have been with you.”
“Why? Because you’re my babysitter now? I’m not going to be made to feel like I need a keeper at my own home.”
His lips twitched. “Do you realize what you just said?”
“That I don’t need a keeper?”
“About being home.”
She laid her hand over his clenched one and guided his palm to her heart. “Because I think I am.” She curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her. “I love you, Slade. If tonight taught me nothing else, it’s that I have to say how I feel when I feel it, in case I don’t get another opportunity.”
He kissed the unbruised side of her jaw. “I love you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “And I’m not letting you go.”
She smiled, the split in her lip protesting the movement, but she didn’t care. “Good.”
They spent another hour at Doc Stevens’ office, but after an x-ray h
e determined that there were no fractures in her cheeks. Slade didn’t miss the “I told you so” look she aimed his way. The doctor prescribed heavy doses of Ibuprofen and a lot of bed rest for the next week, to allow her body to heal from the trauma.
Doc’s use of the word trauma made Slade cringe. Jesus, what Cutter had done to her. What would they have stumbled upon if Myra hadn’t decided to check on the strange noises coming from the barn?
The bastard.
Edmund Frayley had some explaining to do.
Ryan snuggled against Slade’s jacket she had balled up against the door. Within minutes of their return trip home, she fell asleep while he seethed.
Every light in the house burned and there, parked off to the side, near the bunkhouses, was Edmund-fucking-Frayley.
Myra and Levi appeared on the porch as he circled around to Ryan’s side to help her out. He opened the door carefully. “Hey, we’re home.”
She raised her head slowly and winced. “Mmmmm…ouch.”
“Yeah, take your time. I’ve got you.” He helped her down out of the truck and passed her off into Myra’s eager hands.
“Good Lord, child. You must be about ready to crawl out of your skin. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Myra supported Ryan with an arm around her shoulders. Levi joined in on the other side.
Ryan leaned her head against Myra’s for a moment. “Thank you.” She turned to Levi and gave him a smile too. “You, too, Levi. Thank you.”
“It’s no trouble, girl. Let’s get you inside so Myra can get you cleaned up.”
“I love the sound of that,” Ryan said.
Slade waited until they were inside before turning to Frayley. “You have a lot of nerve showing up here after what happened.” Slade advanced on him.
Frayley put his hands up. “Just hear me out.”
“The fuck I will. Why don’t you take a look at what he did to her? My daughter is here, my family, and he came here and attacked her.”
Frayley scrubbed a hand down his face and all of a sudden, in the light shining from the bunkhouse, Frayley’s gray pallor and the slump of his shoulders said it all.