“Did we really just do that?” she asks long after I’ve pulled myself out of her and rolled to the grass beside her where we lay, fingers entwined.
“You regret it?” I ask.
“No. Is that strange?”
“If it is, then we’re both strange. I fucking loved it.”
She rolls her head to the side to look at me. She takes her hand from mine and puts it to my cheek, moving her eyes deliberately from my gaze to my lips, to my hair, and my jaw.
I chuckle. “What?”
“I’m just trying to take it all in. Everything has happened so fast in so many ways, but in others it feels like it has been forever. I know you better than I knew men I dated for months, but then at the same time it feels like this has all been so brief and fast I could wake up and it’d all be a dream.” She laughs at herself, looking down self-consciously. “I’m just making sure if I do wake up from all this that I remember you. I never want to forget your face. I don’t want to forget your smell, how it feels to kiss you. I don’t want to lose any of it.”
“Hey,” I say, cupping her cheek and kissing her. “I’m not going anywhere. And even if I was just a figment of your imagination I’d follow your ass back to reality. I’d find a way.”
She laughs. “Somehow I think you would.”
“See? You already know me so well.”
15
Mila
Getting out of the house before Lucas woke up wasn’t easy by any stretch. I learned over the past week that he’s up before the sun every day, and happy to be at that. I wish I could say the same as I drag my tired self out of the car and up to the local sheriff's house. But if I know Lucas at all, and oddly enough, I think I know him very well already, he’s going to give up the ranch to keep me safe.
I can’t let him do that. Maybe he thinks he’ll get over it, or that it’s the honorable thing to do. Whatever his reasons, I know one thing. When I first talked to him about his father by the lake and watched the way his eyes grew distant and pained, I saw how much the ranch means to him. It’s not just a piece of land. It’s a part of his past, and a part of his father. To him, if he never finds peace with the ranch he’ll never find peace with his father, and I can’t let him give that away for me.
Besides, I think I’ve got the perfect plan.
I knock on the door of the sheriff's house and wait, feeling more than a little nervous. It can’t be much past four in the morning, and I’m definitely waking him.
It’s nearly a minute before the door swings open to reveal a man in his fifties who squints up at me from baggy eyes. “This had better be good, sweetheart. I was in the middle of a dream about Vannah White, and she was about to show me something really nice.”
I clear my throat, trying not to laugh. “I need your help, actually. I know you probably have no idea who I am, but--”
“You’re the new girl. The reporter, right? Came to town a few days, caused a big fuss with Lucas and Cynthia, then you and Lucas disappeared together. You better believe I know who you are.”
“Oh,” I say, a little taken aback.
“It’s a small town and there’s really not much to keep an officer of the law busy around here. When someone new shows up, I keep tabs,” he says with a shrug. “You said you had a problem?”
“Yes, well, um. This is going to sound insane, but I think someone is trying to kidnap me. Someone you might know. Ronnie Tate?” I say, pulling nervously at my fingers.
He narrows his eyes and leans against the wall before spitting a ball of phlegm past me to the grass outside. “Know ‘em? Yeah, you could say that.”
“Okay… well, I was thinking maybe you could help me catch him in the act.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Like a trap?”
“Yes! Exactly. I was thinking maybe I could wait somewhere in public and you could follow me with a couple officers once I leave. That way, if Ronnie tries anything, you’ll be there to stop it and arrest him.”
He purses his lips thoughtfully. “This doesn’t sound strictly legal, you know.”
I let out a disappointed breath, feeling the hope I’ve been starting to nurture drain out of me suddenly. “So you can’t help?”
“I didn’t say that. Did I? Come in. I’ll get some coffee started. Whatever we do, I’m not about to do it without caffeine.”
I step inside the house and take a seat at the small kitchen table, which is nicked and scratched from years of use, like almost everything in the house. He pours the coffee grounds into a surprisingly nice looking coffee machine, but I guess, as a cop, he probably makes a priority of having his coffee made the way he likes. Still, it looks oddly out of place in a home that has clearly been furnished on a tight budget.
He gets the coffee started, brushes imaginary dust from his hands, and gives me an odd look. “Well, I’ve got to take a leak. If you’ll excuse me,” he says, moving toward a bedroom to my right. I catch a glimpse inside the room when he opens the door and have to do a double take at the size of the TV on his wall. It must be seventy inches. That, and the wardrobe beside his bed was some sort of perfectly maintained polished wood that looked incredibly expensive.
I tap my fingers on the table, mind buzzing as a growing sense of unease creeps over me. But why should a few nice things get my hairs standing on end? So what? The small-time cop clearly lives by himself, and he probably just saves up his paychecks for a splurge here and there. It’s really not groundbreaking, and it’s no reason to start acting weird.
I manage to calm down a little, but soon I’m wondering how long it takes him to use the bathroom. I glance at the clock, not sure exactly how long I’ve been waiting, but sure it must be at least five minutes by now.
With a pounding heart, I decide to take a small risk. I stand and creep as quietly as I can toward his room. I hear the officer’s voice coming through the wall as a muted rumble. I have to press my ear to the door to make out what he’s saying.
“...then hurry the hell up,” he whispers. “Her little boyfriend could be on the way for all I know, and I don’t want to be here when the shit hits the fan.”
I frown, backing slowly away from the door. I don’t know exactly what I just heard, but I don’t need to. I know enough. I can’t trust this man, and I should’ve never come here by myself. I turn to leave, but just as I’m passing through the front door, I hear the sound of heavy footsteps following me.
I break into a run, scrambling to fish my keys from my purse, but trying to dig them out while I’m running at full speed is almost impossible. I come to a stumbling stop by my door, slamming into the car and dropping my bag in my haste. “Shit!” I gasp, falling to my knees and rummaging for the keys. I don’t dare take my eyes from my search, but his footsteps are getting closer. Louder.
My fingers wrap around the keys and just as I’m pulling them from my bag, a hand clasps around my shoulder.
I scream, falling back and taking a wild swing with the key toward the man.
He jerks his hand back. “Fucking bitch,” he growls, quickly regaining his composure and lunging for me.
I scramble backwards, narrowly dodging his attempt to grab me. I get back to my feet, but he’s not far behind me when I take off toward the main street of town, which is at least a quarter mile from his isolated home.
It’s not long before I’ve put considerable distance between us, but the sandals I’m wearing make running awkward and tiring. My lead slowly shrinks, and I can soon hear the wheezing breath of the sheriff getting closer and closer.
I can see the town not too far away, but this early in the morning, I know I would still need to make it a decent ways into town to find any hope of help. I won’t make it. There’s no way.
I stop abruptly, turning to face him as he comes barreling towards me, huffing and puffing. He makes a lurching grab for me, throwing his weight behind the motion. I sidestep him with fractions of a second to spare and immediately strip my sandals, throw them at his prone form for good measure, and
take off back in the direction of my car.
It shouldn’t be that taxing of a run, but I’m not exactly in marathon shape, and by the time I reach my car, the sheriff has nearly caught up with me. I shove the key in the lock with shaking hands, open the door, yank it shut, and hit the locks. A split second later, the sheriff comes slamming into my window, face full of fury.
I turn on the car and drive, not even caring if I run over his toes. He jumps back as I pull off, but I see him running inside, probably to grab his keys and come after me.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I scream, slamming my hands on the wheel as I drive as fast as I dare away from his house. I feel like an idiot. A complete idiot. Although I suppose it’s a forgivable mistake to think I can go to the police for help without them turning out to be some corrupt slime bag who wants to help the people trying to kidnap me and steal Lucas’ ranch.
Either way, I should’ve just told Lucas what I was planning. At least he’d know where to find me if something went wrong. Damn it.
I just need to get back to the ranch. One way or another, I know if I’m back with him, everything will be fine. I just need to get back.
But just as I take the north road out of town and toward the ranch, I see two black cars come tearing up the main street of town, straight toward me. I push the gas down as far as it goes, but my crummy little car just groans with effort and barely increases pace.
The cars are gaining on me, and I can even see the sheriff's cruiser with its lights on not far behind now. I drive straight through gate in front of Lucas’ ranch, laying on the horn and praying he hears in time to help.
The front door to the ranch swings open in the distance, and I see Lucas emerge with a rifle in his hand. My relief is only temporary, because when I look in my rearview, all the cars are gone. I come to an abrupt stop just in front of Lucas’ ranch.
He sets the rifle down on the porch and rushes to the car to help me out, cupping the back of my neck carefully and checking my face. Concern is written all over his features. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to find a way to keep you from selling the ranch,” I say, turning to look over my shoulder. I pause, staring toward the broken gate and watching with bewilderment. “Where did they go?”
“Where did who go? And you realize you drove straight through my gate, right?”
“I’m sorry about the gate, but there were cars chasing me. The sheriff was one of them.”
Lucas takes a half step back and gives me a long, searching look full of confusion. “You realize it’s not even five thirty in the morning, right? You’re telling me you managed to get involved in a car chase before I even woke up?”
“I know how it sounds. But I went to try to get the sheriff to help me catch Ronnie, and I think he was working with Ronnie. He said he was going to the bathroom, but he was gone for too long so I listened in and--well--I’m pretty sure he was talking to Ronnie. I tried to run and he chased me. He called me a fucking bitch and tried to tackle me, but I made it to the car and tried to come here as fast as I could and--”
“Hey, hey,” says Lucas soothingly. He pulls me in and I press my cheek against his chest, closing my eyes and breathing in the comfort of his scent. “You’re okay. But listen to me,” he pushes me back gently by the shoulders so I’m forced to look into his eyes. “You don’t ever go off like that again, okay? Not right now. Not till we’ve figured this out. We’re in this together, and as impressed as I am that you had the balls to try what you did, I would’ve been really pissed if I had to go on a murderous rampage to get you out of my brother’s hands because you snuck off.”
“You’d go on a murderous rampage for me?” I ask with a grin.
“I’d drop a fucking nuke if I had to.”
I laugh. “Okay, make me a deal. If you ever have to decide between saving me and dropping a nuke, do me a favor and just let whoever has me have me.”
He glares. “Not a chance. If you don’t want me to go dropping nukes, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t get captured.”
I give his shoulder a playful punch. “Asshole. Sweet asshole,” I add reluctantly.
“Not an adjective I ever thought I’d hear to describe an asshole, but I’ll take it.”
I look at my car and the huge dent in my hood that’s hissing smoke from where I hit the gate. “That doesn’t look good, does it?”
“Not very. I’ll patch her up once we figure this Ronnie thing out. Far as I’m concerned, I’m glad you trashed your car. It gives you one less way to pull another stunt like that again until things are safer.”
I cross my arms. “I still have legs,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
“We’ll have to figure out a solution to that, but damn, I like your legs,” he says with mock annoyance. “It’ll be a shame to remove them.”
The humor in Lucas’ face fades as he looks out into the distance. I feel what he feels, too. We can joke away the situation we’re in for a while, but everyday it feels more real, more pressing. It creeps into my mind in the quiet moments between laughter and smiles with Lucas. I see Ronnie in the darkened corners of rooms and in my nightmares. Now I’ll have to add the wrinkled face of the sheriff to those fears.
“The sheriff’s name is Earl, and I’d damn well believe he’s corrupt. When he heard about the oil companies trying to buy out the ranch a few years back, he tried to put pressure on my dad to sell. He pulled out some bullshit excuse about how my dad would need to pay a cut to the town because of some ancient ordinance that said the whole town was built on top of a reserved property. Said the town owned ten percent of everybody’s land. Funny enough, the dumb bastard even told us to write the checks out to his name, because he was supposedly the one in charge of distributing the money.”
“What did you guys do?”
Lucas smiles at the memory. “My old man wasn’t a fool. He got a lawyer, checked the document, and found out it was a forgery. Earl only kept his job because he had connections with the mayor, but even that almost wasn’t enough. Anyway, Earl promised he cleaned up and he’s made a show of it for the past few years, but I never believed him.”
“It makes sense. Your brother probably knew he could be bought. But that means we can’t even count on the police to help us.”
“All the more reason for me to sell. Look, Mila. I’ll manage. This is real. My brother is a fucked up man and he’s capable of some serious evil. If we try him on this, he won’t bluff. He’ll make a move, and then it’ll be too late to go back and try to take the easy way out.”
I shake my head. “I won’t let you sell it. There has to be another way. Somehow. We’ll figure it out.”
“We don’t have time to figure it out. I don’t know why they backed off chasing you, unless they’re thinking you’ll go out on your own again and they can save themselves the trouble, but I also don’t think they’ll wait long to try something.”
“Maybe they didn’t come because you said if you died now, the ranch wouldn’t go to your brother, right? He probably knew they couldn’t fight back if you attacked them. That means he’s not willing to kill you, at least.”
“Small comfort,” says Lucas. “Because he’d do anything to you if he thought it meant I’d give him what he wanted. But hell, I’d give him everything I owned to keep him from laying a hand on you. I don’t know if he’d stop though. Once he got you I’m afraid he’d do something terrible out of spite, even if I gave him what he wanted right away.”
“Well, I have you to protect me. So we don’t need to worry about that.”
Lucas pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. “That’s damn right.”
16
Lucas
Mila and I sit on the steps of the porch, watching the road leading to my property in silence. It has been at least an hour since Mila came crashing through the gate like a madwoman, and the sun is rising now to the east, blasting away some of the chill in the morning air. I’m overcome by a fatigue, a se
nse of growing annoyance that I can’t just have her, that there’s still an obstacle standing between us and the peace we deserve.
My eyes drift to the rifle leaning against the porch and my mind is stained with dark thoughts--images of a hole opening in my brother’s chest and the peace that would follow. I shake my head slightly. No. I don’t care what my brother has become, I’m not going down that path. I know what my dad would think if I did. He raised me better than that.
However this ends, it doesn’t end with body bags. But if Earl is really working for Ronnie, getting any kind of legal help is going to be tough. Unless.
“Hey. We need to get on the road,” I say abruptly. Mila jumps at the sound of my voice.
“What?”
“I have a plan. Come on.”
She follows me and we hop in the old farm truck, which has more rust than paint at this point, but it does the trick, taking one of the back roads out of my property. I explain the plan to her as we drive the twenty or thirty minutes outside of town to where I ditched the police cruiser yesterday. I hop out of the truck and head toward the cornfield beside the road. I can see the crushed path from where I drove the cruiser through the field, so finding the car isn’t hard.
“I can’t believe it’s still here,” says Mila.
“Hardly anyone drives this road,” I say. “Besides, it hasn’t even been a full day.”
“I just mean, don’t the police have some kind of GPS to track their cars or something? I would’ve thought they would’ve found it by now.”
“I don’t think so. But we’ll make sure they get it back,” I say with a grin. “You remember the plan, right?”
“I remember,” she says.
I pull her close and stroke her hair. I try not to let dramatic thoughts sneak into my mind, but I can’t help feeling the fearnthat I might not make it out of this in one piece or with my freedom. “I love you,” I whisper.
Miss Matchmaker: A Small Town Romance Page 12