As the thought that she’d been played by Jared took root and grew in her mind, rage filled her vision and tightened her throat. She struggled to swallow it down. Tom had been right. She couldn’t trust anyone. She’d endangered the compound.
She shoved everything but survival instincts to the back of her mind as her gaze searched the darkness. Clinging to the shadows, she headed for the toolshed. There would be more ammo and at least one shotgun stored there. Whoever was coming for her would get the fight of his life.
But before she could reach the shed, a figure came racing toward her from around the side of the house. The large size and broad build indicated a male, and he was armed. One of the outbuildings exploded behind him and the flash of light illuminated his features right before the concussive wave of air knocked them both on their asses. Her head snapped back and hit the hard ground. Some part of her was surprised there was no steam coming off her as the heat of her anger met the cold spring night. She blinked to regain her focus, and a primitive drive urged her to get to her feet, to face the threat that lay only yards away. She’d seen the face of her enemy in that single moment, had recognized him.
It was Darren, the counterfeit cowboy.
Jared coughed into his sleeve and blinked back tears as a waft of smoke hit him in the face. He’d reached the inner perimeter and just gotten out of his car when an explosion rocked the night. Someone had cut the power supply to the electric fence, relieving him of at least one barrier. His gun at the ready, he stuck to the edge of the pine forest and scrubby juniper bushes as he skirted the outer building that was engulfed in flames.
Skye was here, somewhere. On his phone, he brought up the Three Fortunes property map with the parcel boundaries. He’d even found a satellite photo or two that detailed the structures. There was a main house, probably the original homestead. A shed to the rear of the house, next to a greenhouse and plot of farmland, butting up against the tree line. A couple of small rustic cabins. An old barn. And a boxlike rectangular building that could have been a garage for large farm or ranch equipment, but was probably more, given the rumored function of this ranch—and given it had been the building targeted by that first blast and was now going up in flames.
About a dozen men had gone running into the night after that blast. Then the gunfire had erupted. It was too dark and smoky to see who was targeting whom, but things were now eerily quiet.
If Jared hadn’t decided to follow Darren when he’d left the Roadhouse a few minutes after Skye, if he hadn’t seen Darren talking to another man in the parking lot before they drove off together in the direction of the ranch, if his gut hadn’t urged him to get moving and take a chance that Skye would see him again, he wouldn’t have heard the explosion or seen the chaos and been here to help. If he could help, that is. He knew only one thing… he had to find Skye.
There was a truck that looked like the one he’d seen in Malibu, but many of the ranch vehicles looked the same. It was parked in the yard, just outside the main house. Was that where Skye lived? On instinct, he headed toward it.
Gasping more from the shock when she was knocked to the ground than from the smoke that was blowing from the burning bunkhouse, Skye ignored her protesting muscles and crawled on top of Darren’s prone body before he could react with so much as a moan. His weapon was gone, probably flying out of reach after the impact of the blast. His eyes flicked open and he began to fight her, trying to dislodge her from his chest. Hanging on like a bronco rider, Skye refused to give him an inch.
“Be still,” she said in a harsh, commanding tone. “You’re bleeding, and flailing about is just going to make it worse.” Blood trickled from a wound near his temple and she spied a dark shadow in the grass that could be a rock. It must have stunned him when he hit the ground.
“Get off me, bitch,” he said, but his words lacked heat. In fact, fear flickered across his face. It made her pause for a split-second—until she remembered what this man was doing to her family’s ranch.
“Who do you work for?” Her thighs clamped, pinning his arms against his ribcage and keeping him from grabbing her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, until his struggles quieted and she relaxed her grip. “Why are you hurting the people I love?” When he didn’t answer her question, she thumped his head into the hard ground again, though she avoided the rock. She had a four-inch knife tucked into her right boot if she needed it, but Darren didn’t seem to be putting up a fair fight. Besides, at the moment, he was unarmed.
He moaned and blinked his eyes open again. “You don’t want to know.”
“Is Jared here? What are you after?”
The fear written on Darren’s face, illuminated by the light spilling from the house and the flames from the now-engulfed garage, stilled her. A gun for hire shouldn’t give in so easily, or be so inept at fighting back. “I had to find you,” he said. “You’re my redemption.”
“Redemption?” That made no sense. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than she’d thought.
Another round of gunfire sounded from the distance. Shit. She had to find cover. The backyard was wide open. The trees had been removed years ago so they could see anyone approaching the house from any direction. The exposure was double with the flames lighting things up as if it was noon. She scrambled to her feet. “Get up.”
“I’m supposed to bring you to him—”
“Get. Up. Now.” When he was too slow to respond, she reached out and took his hand to help him, keeping her muscles bunched in preparation to react if he tried something, but he was as resigned as a boy facing a whipping for misbehavior.
“I didn’t have a choice.” His eyes darkened with some unnamed emotion. Was it regret or something darker? He reached into his front jeans pocket. “I need you—”
“Stop right there,” she shouted, her fingers inching down her leg toward the knife in her boot. Did he have a weapon in there? Adrenaline rushed to her limbs, fueling her for a fight if he pulled something on her.
“I just want to show you—”
“Don’t move!” Jared’s voice rang out from the trees off to the side. Was he yelling at her or Darren? She put her hands in the air as she saw Jared approaching, a gun in his hand.
Unfortunately, Darren didn’t stop his motions. The light in his eyes turned almost maniacal and he took a step toward her as he pulled his fingers from his pocket.
A shot rent the night air. Darren crumpled to his knees as his hand fully withdrew from his pocket. A scrap of something fell from his limp fingers.
It took Skye a split-second to react, for her brain to process the shock. Darren had been shot. And not by her.
As Jared shifted closer, she spied Darren’s gun in the grass a few feet away and lunged for it, then scooped up the paper that had fallen from his hands. Needing some space to reassess the situation—and Jared—she backed away.
“Skye?” Jared swung his aim toward the tree line behind them as he spoke to her. “I didn’t fire that shot.” His words turned into fog in the chilly night air as his head swiveled to take in the surroundings. Sweat had mingled with smoke from the fires and smeared along his face and neck like war paint, indicating he’d been at the bunkhouse. He reached out to touch her arm and she jerked away. “We have to get to safety.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but being in the house was safer than being out in the open. And if he tried anything, she had a gun. She hurried to the cover of the house while Jared covered their six. Only seconds after she entered, he bolted the kitchen door and joined her on the floor, below the level of the windows. She kept the gun pointed at him, though his look was filled with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Hell, no, I’m not okay. People are attacking my home and you might be one of them.” She scooted away from him.
“Skye, I didn’t shoot that guy. There’s someone else out there.”
“A friend of yours?”
He scowled. “I’m alone. I’m certainly n
ot with them. I saw that guy from the Roadhouse—”
“Darren. His name was Darren.” Or at least, she thought it was.
“Friend of yours?” He shot her own words back at her.
“No, he’s part of the attack.” Which made her feel ridiculous about how she was treating Jared. Even if he shot the guy, he’d probably done it to protect her—or to keep Darren quiet about whatever he’d been about to say to her.
“I saw him call someone right after you left, then he left the Roadhouse a minute later. I followed him. Another guy was waiting in the parking lot, and they took off like bats out of hell. I was still a ways down your driveway when the first explosion went off and I hurried to help.”
“Help?” She couldn’t hide the doubt in her voice.
“Yes.” He didn’t try to follow her as she backed up farther, toward the doorway that led to the living room.
“Where’s this other guy that Darren came here with?”
Jared shoved a hand through his hair, streaking it with soot. “I don’t know.” He tucked his gun in the back of the waistband of his jeans and crawled forward, stopping next to her and cupping her face in his hands so that she had to meet his gaze. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m not going to hurt you. I need you too much.”
Shock at his words had her rooted in place, gripping Darren’s gun. He surprised her by releasing her to reach out and brush a long strand of hair from her cheek. The tender gesture socked her in the solar plexus, even as it lit a fire that burned a trail straight to her belly, but she couldn’t let her guard down. “Darren said the same thing.”
“What?”
“That he needed me. I was his redemption, whatever the fuck that means. He was going to turn me over to someone. Was that someone you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Was it Stone? He paid my uncle a visit tonight, while I was at the Roadhouse. Basically told him to disown me.”
“What? How could Stone control your uncle like that?” Anger glinted in his eyes, outrage on her behalf.
But was it real?
“Great question,” she said. “Further evidence that I can’t trust anyone.” She jerked her face from his hands and sent him her fiercest glare. “I’m going to leave now, and you’re not going to follow.”
He raised his hands at his sides. “Reach into my jeans pocket.”
Alarm shot through her at the prospect of getting any closer to him. “Why?”
“My business card is in there. I was going to give it to you at the bar so you could contact me when you changed your mind—”
“When?” She croaked out a laugh. “Not likely.” There was too much craziness attached to Stone and anyone connected with him—including, apparently, her uncle.
“When you’ve had time to think about it, I think you’ll realize we need to work together if either of us is going to get what we want.” He tipped his head to indicate his right pocket. “Go on. It has information on the company I own with Devlin Grimm. Call him. He’ll vouch for me. I also wrote my home address and phone number on the back.”
Tentatively, she leaned toward him. He didn’t move, didn’t even flex a muscle. With two fingers, she reached into his pocket and withdrew the card.
“Go ahead and leave,” he said. “Get to your truck. I’ll cover you. Call me tomorrow. I can help you find Loretta Sheldon.” He dropped into a crouched position and crept to the front window, gesturing that she should make a break for it.
Her breath had caught in her throat. He knew how to find Loretta? And he was letting her leave? This had to be a trick. But she didn’t see another option. Her brain screamed at her to get out while she could.
A few seconds later, she was in her truck, which thankfully hadn’t become a target for the attackers’ explosives, though the barn was ablaze and the bunkhouse was a lost cause. She didn’t see anyone, friend or foe—or Jared, and she wasn’t sure which camp he fell into—as she sped away from the ranch until the orange glow became a small flicker in her rearview mirror.
Only then did she remember the scrap of paper that had fallen from Darren’s lifeless fingers. A few minutes later, when it was clear she wasn’t being followed, she pulled to the side of the road and retrieved Darren’s paper from the pocket where she’d stuffed it. She frowned at the half of a playing card. An eight of diamonds. She flipped it over and held it to the dashboard light to try to see it better. Her breath froze in her lungs. On the back of the playing card was the logo from Legacy Hotel and Casino. The bottom half of the card was missing. The jagged edges where the card had been torn were worn and soft as if Darren had been carrying it around for months.
From her other pocket, she withdrew Jared’s business card. Her thumb brushed over his embossed name as she read his contact information below it. Global Security Solutions. Didn’t mean he was trustworthy. He’d said he wouldn’t stop her from leaving, wouldn’t follow her, and he hadn’t. He was leaving the decision to work together in her hands. But trusting him went against everything Tom and Viper had taught her. It went against her most basic instincts. Then again, Tom’s behavior had done a sudden one-eighty. Tom had told her to leave and not come back. She hoped he’d gotten to safety, along with the other ranch residents.
She glanced in the rearview, but there was nothing but a black void behind her. No Jared, and no answers, either.
Finn paced his Las Vegas condo. It wasn’t posh or extravagant by any means, except for the movie memorabilia that decorated every wall. His insomnia kept him from falling into bed. Or maybe it was waiting for news that had him wound up. It was like anticipating a callback for a primo part. There was always too much time to run the performance through his mind, replaying how it went down, what he could have done differently. Too often, he’d been passed over.
But he was in control here. He got to do the casting, using the resources at the disposal of the Redemption Club. Had he chosen the wrong men for the job?
Finally, as he poured his third mojito, his phone rang. “Is it done?” he asked.
“Darren’s dead.” Tristan’s voice was like cold steel. “Had to off him before he told Skye everything. Jesus. Where’d you find him? The guy was a chickenshit. Even used his real name.”
“Fuck.” Finn should have gone himself, but he had to have an alibi or a shitstorm of epic proportions could rain down on him, and it wouldn’t come from the cops. “What’d you do with his body?”
“Left it there.” Disgust filled Tristan’s words, as if he would spit on the ground if he could. “Bennigan and Skye were there. Darren was about to tell them everything. I could tell, man. What else was I supposed to do?”
“And Loretta’s dad?”
“Dead. I made sure of it.”
At least one thing had gone right. Mark Sheldon wouldn’t be looking for Finn anymore. “How?”
“Created a bit of chaos and took advantage of it. Shot him and burned down the building he was in.”
“You’re sure he’s dead?”
“I stayed to make sure he didn’t come out with the others.”
“Good. And Skye? Will she come looking for Loretta?” Finn would never have chosen to lure Loretta, the young woman Tristan had brought to a Vegas party over a month ago, if he’d known this would happen. But she’d been too easy to resist. He’d employed his usual pickup lines, and the girl had been flattered, desperate to become an actress, by whatever means.
“I didn’t get Skye.”
“Fuck.”
“Unfortunately, she won’t be your only problem.”
Finn slammed back the rest of his drink. “Hit me.”
“Stone was here.”
Finn froze. “What?”
“He came to the ranch tonight.” Stone was part owner, but from what Ryan had said, Stone had never even mentioned Three Fortunes. It was only because the property was in the Redemption Club ledger that they’d discovered it. His current interest could
only mean he’d learned Skye had come looking for Loretta, who was from the ranch. Finn’s bowels threatened to fail him as he realized Stone was close to discovering what Ryan and Finn had been up to.
“What did he do there?” Finn asked.
“Met with the guy who runs the place, Tom Hamilton. Left about twenty minutes later.”
“That’s a long conversation.” Shit, what could they have been talking about? “Did he visit any other parts of the ranch?”
“I don’t think so. But I had to get out of there to back up Darren at the Roadhouse. I’m at the Hunting Grounds now and the girls are secure. That’s all I know, man. Except…”
“Fuck, what now?”
“You may have to deal with the cops. Loretta wasn’t even eighteen.”
He cursed again. He’d known she was young and naïve, but that young?
“Yeah. I’m sorry, man. I never would have brought her to a Club party if I’d known she was underage.” Kidnapping charges wouldn’t be the worst of their legal problems if they were caught. “At least Mark Sheldon didn’t go to the police, and now he can’t. There’s only Skye to handle now.”
She sounded like enough of a problem. Finn bit back his anger. “Let’s hope the cops won’t come looking for Loretta since her father’s gone. Maybe nobody will care.” Except for Skye, if she was Loretta’s friend. And Stone, if he’d learned anything from his visit to the ranch. “Is Bennigan with Skye now?”
“I don’t know. I got the hell out of there while I could.”
“So you just gave up?” Finn cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he gathered the tattered threads of his composure. “You failed.”
“So, my redemption…?”
“Has not been achieved. You still owe me.” Finn used some centering techniques from acting class to calm himself and adopt the persona required to deal with complete morons. He reminded himself that Tristan was a friend, and loyal to the Club, and to Finn, in particular. “See if you can pick up Skye’s trail. I need her.” Maybe sweetening the pot would push Tristan to pull out all the stops. “If you find her, and eliminate any other complications, I’ll let you in on the hunt, when she’s ready.”
Stacking the Deck (Redemption Club Book 1) Page 8