“She’ll be ours.”
He hung up and shot to his feet. He had his own damage control to manage. If Stone was suspicious, he might ask Ryan questions. Ryan would have Finn’s hide for letting Tristan into a big hunt for free, but without Tristan’s work, there would be no big hunt. Ryan would have to agree that the outcome would be so much more satisfying when they had a true hunter as prey.
Skye Hamilton. She would be his, and he’d make her a star.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Skye woke at dawn to unfamiliar surroundings. It took her a few seconds to remember how she’d ended up in the log home in the middle of the much smaller Pinebrook Ranch. Then the memories came crashing down.
The destruction and chaos at the ranch.
The devastation of Tom telling her to get out.
The confusion over whether to trust Jared.
Her gut clenched at the thought of facing the day, but instead of dwelling on things she couldn’t control, she pushed herself out of bed and contemplated her next move. Forward movement was the only option, especially if someone—Stone?—was after her.
In accordance with the individual escape plan she’d developed years ago, Skye had driven to their neighbor’s ranch. She’d slept restlessly in the home of Diane and Phil Barton. It was quiet, empty. The Bartons lived five minutes from Three Fortunes. Growing up, Skye had worked with their horses and become friends with the couple. They’d long since caught the travel bug and liked to leave for weeks at a time, and had sometimes hired Skye to do some things around the house while they were gone. They’d given her a key and invited her to help herself. They wouldn’t be back for a month, after their son’s wedding in San Diego and the long post-wedding cruise they’d booked for afterwards to relax. She could hide here for that month until the confusion and pain passed.
But danger and bad fortune would find her. Better to confront it, head on.
Darren had said his objective was to obtain her, for somebody, and that she was his redemption. Was he acting on Stone’s behalf, or someone else’s? Either way, others might come for her. Now she had to figure out what the hell Darren had meant by redemption, and who wanted her—besides Jared.
And she had to figure it out fast. Standing still was a sure way to get caught, especially since the attackers had to have seen her truck at the ranch and would be on the lookout for it. And Jared obviously knew about her vehicle.
Seeing him at the ranch in the middle of the firefight had been a shock. He denied being part of the attack, denied shooting Darren, but he was always there, always in the thick of things. For all she knew, the attack was his version of live fearlessly and play ferociously or some bullshit like that.
But there had also been genuine intensity in his eyes when he’d nearly begged her for a few minutes of her time, when he’d told her to call him. He’d said he needed her, and she believed that. But for what? What would he expect in exchange for helping her find Loretta?
And then she had to consider that the attack had possibly given her a clean slate. Skye Hamilton could now move on, start a new life with a new identity. Again. She’d been banished from the ranch, anyway. Why should she care?
Because it had been home.
She showered and dressed in one of the changes of clothing she kept in the truck. She’d have to be out in public for this stage of her plan, but didn’t want to draw attention to herself, so she was thankful the jeans and a white button-down shirt that nipped in at her waist gave her a bit of feminine flare but were nondescript. She kept the top two buttons undone, not to the point of immodesty, but interesting enough to shift attention away from her memorable eyes.
In the tiny kitchen, she scavenged through the cupboards, silently vowing to pay the Bartons back for the beef jerky and granola bars she took. Leaning against the counter, she consumed one of the bars without tasting it.
You never know what—or who—you might have to use to survive. She heard Viper’s voice in her head, imparting one of his lessons. This morning’s tools of survival? Granola bars and jerky. The work truck the Bartons left in their detached garage. And the angry fire that burned in her gut.
The insensitive morning sky had lightened to a blend of rosy orange and soft blue that was supposed to be beautiful as she made her way to the garage. Skye only saw flames against the backdrop of a dark night. Mr. Barton’s truck was cleaned and fueled, the keys behind the visor. Skye wondered what it was like to trust so confidently and completely. She added borrowing the vehicle to her debt.
She avoided driving by the ranch, not certain what, or who, she might run into if she went back. Heading east on Interstate 40 toward Flagstaff, she merged onto old Route 66 to take her into the quaint downtown area just north of the train tracks, parked the Barton truck on a quiet residential side street, and walked the few quick blocks into the business district. The bank was her first stop. From her safe deposit box, she retrieved her envelope containing identification documents, a burner phone and charger, and a couple thousand dollars in cash. Viper’s friend had created new papers for everyone in the compound a couple years ago. Though she wasn’t ready to give up her identity, the new cards could be useful as she put her plan into play. Once she charged the phone, she hoped to find a voicemail from Tom, who was the only one who had her number, saying that he’d reached safety—if he wanted to talk to her anymore.
Your own fault, her conscience nagged. Her chest ached. Surely, he’d had time to reconsider evicting her from his life. Either way, she wanted to know what, exactly, Stone had told Tom to make him turn her out.
With the cash, she purchased a used vehicle at the car lot a few streets over. The tiny coupe had apparently circumnavigated the globe, based on its odometer reading, but the price was right, and wouldn’t deplete all of her cash.
She drove to the recreation center where she kept a gym locker, and retrieved her backup stash. Inside the backpack, there was a spare handgun, some additional cash and ammunition and several changes of clothes. She put it on the floor of the passenger seat and thought about her next move. There were only two paths open to her, it seemed—to pursue her pursuers or to move on and let the attack go. And give up on finding Loretta.
In the end, she couldn’t let the asshole who’d torn apart her family and lured Loretta from her home get away with it. Besides, there might be others coming for her, if Darren’s message could be believed.
At the downtown library, she used her new identity and the public computers to search the Internet for news of the incident at the ranch. One paragraph summed up the devastation that had changed her life forever. According to the report, several buildings had suffered various degrees of damage. There were two casualties but the names were yet to be released. Skye’s pulse accelerated as she searched for more information, finding none. One of the bodies had to be Darren, but who else had died?
Trying to stifle her frustration at the lack of information, she accessed Mark’s credit card account, but there had been no further charge activity on it since the Kingman convenience store.
She searched for more information about Robert Stone—in particular, his relationship to Legacy. Darren’s card was tied to it all. The Legacy website pronounced the location was a posh hotel-casino complex in Las Vegas, not far from the Strip. The reviews indicated it catered to the wealthy and promised elegance as well as a good time. From what she’d seen during her brief visit a couple of days ago, she couldn’t argue otherwise. And Stone would be there. According to Emily, Stone was hosting another party tonight.
It looked like Skye was heading back to Vegas for a good time.
Skye hadn’t contacted him. The afternoon after Jared had seen her at the firefight and made the decision to let her go, hoping it would forge the trust he needed from her before moving forward, he still hadn’t heard from her.
He’d stayed in a nearby motel overnight, doing his best to rid his hair and clothes of the smell of smoke and hopin
g Skye would contact him if she needed help. Not that he expected her to. God, the pain and vulnerability he’d read in her eyes, beneath the layers of distrust and anger, haunted him. Had her uncle truly turned his back on her because of something Stone said? Had Stone really been to the ranch? When Jared called Meyer and Duffy to check in, they said Stone had ordered them to take the day off yesterday, but they were back to guarding him today. If Stone had come to Arizona, he hadn’t stayed long. Just long enough to wreak havoc in Skye’s family.
Even when Jared’s family drove him nuts, they’d known he’d be there for them.
Except you weren’t.
Fuck.
He hadn’t been there when his mother had been murdered by her latest boyfriend. So he’d tried to make up for it when he was discharged. But Chelsea had found him overbearing and pushed him away.
He apparently sucked at knowing what to do with the women in his life. But he’d be damned if he screwed up again.
Using his GSS credentials and a contact at the Las Vegas Police Department, he went into the Coconino County Sheriff’s office to ask for an update on the chaos at the ranch.
“Two dead bodies,” the deputy sheriff reported.
Jared’s gut clenched. Skye had made it out, hadn’t she? “Who?”
“Darren Boscoe.” Apparently, Skye’s cowboy had given his true first name. “And Mark Sheldon. Each shot in the chest.”
Mark Sheldon. The man Jared had questioned briefly in Malibu. The man who’d accompanied Skye to California. Was she grieving for Mark? Did she even know he was dead?
“Everyone else scattered,” the deputy reported. “The place is like a ghost town. Of course, that’s what we’d expect from an anti-government group. It’s not like they’d come to us if they needed help. Hamilton and his crew don’t trust anyone.”
He tried thinking like Skye. If he were alone, looking for whoever was after him, where would he go next?
He’d go to the source, Robert Stone.
So he drove to Vegas. Maybe there was one female on the planet he could please. He drove straight to Haley’s high school to pick her up. He’d take her out for a little Tuesday surprise, maybe grab one of those blended frozen coffee drinks she was into. He could use a little pick-me-up, too, mostly from his little sister’s company.
As Jared pulled up to the school, he caught Haley’s eye. A few seconds later, she’d extracted herself from her circle of friends and launched into Jared, wrapping him in a warm hug. She’d been especially affectionate in the past few months, since Chelsea had withdrawn. It didn’t take a family counselor to tell him that Haley was anxious, upset, and needy. Not a good combination in an already spirited seventeen-year-old girl.
“You’re back!” she exclaimed.
“I’m back.” He gave her an extra squeeze. She looked so much like a younger version of their mother, with her blonde hair flowing loose around her shoulders and her wide smile transforming her face. His heart clenched. “What’s new, kiddo?”
She pulled away and wrinkled her nose. “Why do you smell like a chimney?”
Though he’d showered at the motel, maybe he should have taken the time to stop by his house to put on clothes that hadn’t been in the same room as the ones he’d worn last night. And to shave, he added as she reached up to scrape a palm against his stubble.
“You should take better care of yourself.”
“I missed you, Bossy Pants,” he teased.
Some of the concern in her eyes lifted. “Please tell me you’re here to take me home.” At least one of his sisters was excited about staying at his house.
“Still working on that. I may have to leave town again soon.” She frowned and he hastened to reassure her. “It’s only for a few more days, I hope. Once I find Chelsea, I’m staying put.” The other kids releasing from school were spilling over the sidewalk where they stood. “How about we move this discussion to the coffee shop down the street?”
“But I have to go to Aunt Jane’s after?”
“Afraid so. Not for much longer, though.” In a few days, she’d be eighteen, and in six weeks, she’d graduate. Still, she’d mentioned sticking around for college, and he could give her a stable foundation to call home. “Besides, at least you have a safe place to live, right?”
“Aunt Jane’s on a bender.”
“A what?” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and some poor kid smacked into him from behind.
“Watch it,” the boy said, then paled as he looked up from his cell phone to see Jared’s glare. The boy hurried away with a mumbled apology.
Jared barely noticed. “Did you say a bender?”
Haley tugged him along to his car and slapped the back of her hand against his shoulder. “Not that kind of bender. She just won’t stop yelling at me, all because I had Griffin over and forgot to leave my bedroom door open.”
It was a good thing Griffin wasn’t here right now, or he’d plow a fist into the boy’s face. He got in the car and took several calming breaths before pulling out into traffic. “You forgot?”
“Okay, so maybe I did it on purpose. But it’s only because we were listening to music, and Aunt Jane hates my music. I didn’t want to bug her, or have her embarrass me in front of him, you know?”
He did know. He wasn’t so far out of his teens that he could forget that kind of teen angst, or the grip of teen love. Or what seemed like love. He’d had a few crushes in his time, but having an exotic dancer for a mother had a way of making one face the facts of life early on. And watching their mother go through men like tissues didn’t inspire a romantic notion of love. Jared wondered if he’d ever find a partner he could trust to love him—and not to leave when life became monotonous.
Being away in the military when Phoebe Bennigan had been murdered had taught him even more life lessons, like the burden of guilt was an unshakeable one. There were lessons he wished he could protect his sister from, but she had to learn some things for herself.
Lessons like, some people don’t stay forever, but the ones who matter will choose you over anything else. Or so he’d heard. Also important was surviving until you found the people who would stay. The ones who loved you deep enough, hard enough, would withstand the hard knocks life would throw your way.
“Haley, you have to obey your Aunt Jane’s house rules. At least for a little longer.” He parked and followed her into the coffee shop.
“Don’t worry. I won’t mess things up for us. I know I need Aunt Jane, but I’d rather it be you.”
The knife twisted in Jared’s heart as they placed their orders. “How are the birthday party plans coming along?”
Instead of boosting her mood as he’d intended, Haley’s frown deepened. “Not sure there’s going to be one. She won’t let me have it at her house.”
“I’ll talk to her. We’ll figure something out.”
“Whatever.” She sounded like she didn’t believe him.
“You only turn eighteen once. Email me the details of what you want and we’ll make it happen.”
She sent him a tentative smile. “Only if you have time. I know you’re busy looking for Chelsea. That’s more important.” Before she turned away, there were tears in her eyes. Lately, her emotions tended to swing back and forth like a wrecking ball slamming against his heart.
“Any news from Chelsea?” she asked.
“No, sweetheart. I haven’t heard from her.”
“Me, either.” She frowned down at her drink. “I thought, maybe with my birthday coming up, I might hear something.”
He hadn’t told Haley he suspected something, or someone, was keeping Chelsea from contacting them. He made a mental note to check in again with the LVPD detective he’d contacted when he’d realized Chelsea wasn’t coming back on her own. Despite the information Jared had sent him, the detective’s current theory was that Chelsea had indeed left town for the fresh start she’d threatened, but he’d promised to keep his eyes and ears
open for any new information. Jared had interpreted that to mean he had to go out on his own to find Chelsea.
Despite the argument he’d had with Chelsea a couple weeks ago, he couldn’t believe she would just disappear. First of all, she wouldn’t leave Haley. But she’d also written faithfully to Jared, every week, during all the years he’d been stationed away from home. After all their family unit—messed up as it was—had been through, he had trouble believing she would simply abandon them over a ridiculous argument, in the need to display her independence. They’d been too close—if not geographically, emotionally. And if that wasn’t enough evidence Chelsea hadn’t intended to disappear, there’d been no activity from her credit cards. The detective had pointed out her accounts had been maxed out, so she could be living on cash. But dancing had been her main source of income, so leaving her client address book and costumes behind didn’t make sense.
He visited with Haley a bit longer, encouraged her to keep her grades up, even with graduation only a few weeks away, and drove her to Aunt Jane’s. He headed toward his own home, where he’d have just enough time to get ready to provide security for Stone’s party tonight, but as he was pulling into the garage, his phone rang. His pulse stuttered, hoping the call was from Skye finally reaching out, but he soon recognized Dev’s ring tone.
“I’m in Vegas,” Jared reported before Dev could give him heck.
Dev snorted. “I know. That’s not why I called. I just got done with a very interesting conversation.”
Skye. “Yeah?”
“With Skye Hamilton, but I’m guessing by the shit-eating grin I hear in your voice that you already knew that part. You might have given me a heads-up.”
Stacking the Deck (Redemption Club Book 1) Page 9