by LENA DIAZ,
Dillon stepped back. “Thanks for taking care of things. I’ll check on the stallion tonight when we get home. See you Monday.”
Colby forced a smile for Ashley as the group headed to Dillon’s SUV. With all the baby paraphernalia that had to be lugged everywhere they went, Dillon had traded in his coveted red Jeep for a huge sport-utility vehicle. Even though it was cherry red like the Jeep had been, it was still only one step away from a minivan. Colby shuddered at that thought and didn’t mind one bit that he’d be heading home alone today. In a truck.
He wasn’t ready to trade the single life for a baby stroller, or to say goodbye to his prized 4x4 pickup that was so high it required a step side to climb into it. Still, he had to admit, married life seemed to agree with his friends. Three of his SWAT teammates had succumbed to the love bug. Dillon, Chris and Max were happier now than they’d ever been. Thankfully the other members of the team—Donna, Blake and Randy, who was out of town right now—were just as intent on maintaining the single life as Colby. There was only so much lovesickness a guy could tolerate at work every day.
“Excuse me,” a voice called out behind him.
Colby had to jump back to avoid a face full of muzzle. A dappled-gray mare and its rider clopped past him toward the stands where the derby had been earlier. There were a lot more people on this side of the fairgrounds now, milling around and standing in line at the various food vendors to load up on greasy or sugary snacks before the horse show and subsequent race. Horses were being led out of the tent in a chaotic rush.
When it seemed safe to head toward the tent to check on Gladiator and Piper without getting trampled, Colby started that way. A large bay gelding with flashy white stockings and a blaze on its face rushed from the tent, forcing him to hop out of the way again. Its rider jogged beside him, holding the reins. He waved a sheepish apology and Colby waved back.
The sound of pounding hooves had him whirling around, expecting another horse to be charging down on him. But the sound wasn’t coming from the direction of the tent.
It was coming from the parking lot.
He turned in time to see an enormous black horse racing through the rows of parked vehicles, its small rider clinging to the withers and long, thick mane as they galloped toward the trees.
It was Piper. On Gladiator. Bareback, without a bridle to steer him.
Colby cursed and looked around. The white stockings on the bay’s legs caught his attention. The gelding was a good fifty yards away now. He sprinted after the horse and grabbed the reins from the rider.
“Police emergency. I need to borrow your horse.”
He put his foot in the stirrup and vaulted up onto the saddle while the rider was still sputtering in surprise.
“Yah.” Colby slapped the reins and squeezed his thighs, sending the bay into a full-out gallop.
Chapter Four
Piper was forced to slow Gladiator to a fast walk so she could safely thread him through nature’s obstacle course. Even though many of the trees had lost their leaves for the winter, the pines hadn’t, and there were enough evergreen bushes around to make the underbrush thick and cloying. Low branches reached out like spindly fingers to scratch and pull at the horse’s thick mane and tail. Piper’s own long curls had been tucked down the back of her jacket. But the constant movement kept spilling her hair onto her shoulders, getting in her way.
She shoved one of the curls out of her face and then tightened her hands in Gladiator’s mane. If her plan hadn’t failed utterly, she’d have had him safely loaded in the trailer by now. When she’d sneaked into the tent earlier this morning, before the fair opened, she’d been shocked to see Gladiator tied to the boards of his stall. She’d wanted to run right in and free him, but she’d forced herself to wait. With only her ranch manager’s description to go on, she had to confirm which of the men milling around in the tent was Palmer. Once she’d seen him enter Gladiator’s stall, it had taken everything inside her to keep from running in after him right then and there. But his size was a problem. She’d needed a plan. That’s when she’d come up with the idea of disabling his vehicle to get him out of the tent. But first, she’d had to figure out which vehicle was his.
Everyone with a horse in the tent had to register, and that included writing down the makes, models and license plates of their trailers. All she’d had to do was mosey over by the registration table, glance at the clipboards, and she had what she needed to find Palmer’s truck and trailer. If he’d locked his truck, she’d have slashed his tires. Probably. Maybe. She wasn’t in the habit of destroying other people’s property, even if they were low-life horse thieves. Thankfully the truck wasn’t locked. She’d rummaged in his toolbox and used his own tools and a rubber washer to tamper with his battery connection. Unfortunately, she’d dallied too long, watching the handsome cop, and Palmer had caught her before she’d escaped with Gladiator.
The man had screamed when she’d turned the knife toward him. But it must have been a ruse to confuse her. Because then he’d surprised her by slamming his fist down on her forearm and grabbing the knife.
She frowned. He wasn’t anything like he’d seemed at first. There was something beneath the surface, a capacity for cruelty that had the hairs on her arms standing on end. She didn’t know how much of what he’d displayed today was an act and what was real. All she knew for sure was that she didn’t trust him, and she never wanted to come up against him again.
Now all she needed to do was ride deep into the woods and wait out whatever search might ensue. She should be able to hire a driver to bring a horse trailer to some remote location on the other side of these foothills. Then she could meet him there, load up Gladiator and be gone before the cops—and Palmer—realized what had happened.
But what would she do after that?
She could take Gladiator home to Lexington and fight Palmer and Wilkerson in the courts there. It would be easier to prove her ownership around people who knew her and knew her horse. But the Destiny police had ordered her to wait for a judge’s decree. By going against that order, how much trouble could she be in? Was stealing your own horse even a crime?
Clenching her hand tighter in Gladiator’s mane, she used the pressure of her thighs to steer him around a rotten tree stump. He pranced sideways, snorting in agitation.
“Hush now. It’s okay, boy. We’ll figure a way out of this. Don’t you worry.”
She urged him across the road and signaled him to stop in front of a deep ditch so she could figure out where they could safely enter the thick woods on the other side. Path chosen, she angled him a few feet farther down the road, then balanced her weight forward to make it easier for him to jump.
A loud click sounded behind her.
“Jump the ditch, and I’ll shoot that horse right out from under you,” a man’s voice called out.
She looked over her shoulder. On the other side of the road, at the edge of the tree line, was Detective Colby Vale, sitting on top of a beautiful bay gelding. But it wasn’t the horse that drew her attention or even the angry expression on Colby’s face.
It was the ominous-looking pistol in his right hand, aimed at her mount.
“You wouldn’t shoot a horse,” she said. “That would be cruel. And mean.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’m a cruel, mean guy. You willing to bet the life of your horse to find out?”
She thought about everything he’d done since the moment she’d met him. He’d been polite, even when she wasn’t. He’d been nice and, above all, fair. He was bluffing. Had to be. No way was he the type of man who could kill an innocent animal.
Her hands tightened in the mane. She turned back toward the ditch, ready to send Gladiator bounding to the other side.
“He’s a beautiful animal,” Colby taunted. “You sure you want to do this?”
She hesitated. He wouldn’t shoot. Would he? She’d seen his e
yes earlier, admiring Gladiator. And for him to have ridden that bay after her, without her hearing him, meant he knew his way around horses. He knew how to guide them on a trail and keep them quiet. Only someone well-acquainted with horses could do that. And someone that comfortable around horses could never do the horrible thing he was threatening to do.
Could he?
Palmer was familiar with horses. And Piper couldn’t imagine him hesitating for one second if he had to kill a horse to get what he wanted.
Her shoulders slumped. “Fine, you win.” Sighing heavily, she pressed a knee against Gladiator’s side and turned him around.
Colby threw his leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. “Walk him toward me. Slowly.”
She grudgingly squeezed both legs and Gladiator obediently started forward. “He really is my horse. This is all a huge misunderstanding.”
“Which can be straightened out in front of a judge. You shouldn’t have run. You’ve only made things worse.”
“And you shouldn’t have—look out!”
Colby jerked around. The man Piper had just seen hiding in the shadows brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of Colby’s head. He collapsed to the ground like a popped balloon.
Piper kneed Gladiator to send him galloping down the road for help. Rough hands grabbed her around the waist, plucking her from the horse’s back. Gladiator trotted down the road without a rider as Piper twisted and kicked out with her legs, suspended in midair.
“Let me go!” she yelled, trying to look over her shoulder to see who was holding her. She sucked in a breath when she saw Palmer’s face. The cruelty she’d only sensed before was now on full display in the tilt of his grinning lips.
“You want me to let you go? No problem.” He opened his hands.
She dropped to the road like a rock, her hands skidding across the asphalt, her right hip bearing the brunt of the fall. She rolled to her side, gasping at the pain that rocketed up her spine. Her hands throbbed like they were on fire, the skin scraped off, leaving them bloody and raw.
Palmer crouched over her. “You know the saying.” Laughter was heavy in his voice. “Careful what you wish for.”
He slammed his fist into the side of her jaw.
* * *
PIPER’S JAW ACHED. Her hands throbbed. Electricity seemed to jolt up her hip and spine every time she moved. But her aches and pains were nothing compared to what was going on with Colby.
He still hadn’t woken up from where one of Palmer’s henchmen had so brutally hit him with his pistol. His pulse seemed far too fast to Piper, his breaths too shallow.
She cradled his head in her lap, her back braced against the cold metal in the back of the small truck that looked like a million other trucks the average guy might rent to move into a new apartment or a small house. But instead of holding chairs and a table, or stacks of boxes, this one held only her and Colby. And it was currently parked in the woods.
Palmer was on his cell phone on the other side of the clearing, standing by Piper’s truck and trailer. He must have had one of his men steal it from the fairgrounds after he’d captured her and Colby. Why he’d steal a vehicle when he had his own was a mystery. Unless the black truck and trailer had been stolen too and he’d decide to ditch them.
Regardless, now both Gladiator and the bay that Colby had been riding were loaded into her trailer. But they might as well have been miles away for all the good that did. She was even less close to bringing Gladiator home now than she’d been at the fairgrounds.
There were three men with Palmer. One she’d only heard and hadn’t seen. He was the driver of the truck that she and Colby were inside. Another was sitting in the driver’s seat of her pickup. The other stood about fifteen feet away from the opening to the back of the truck she was in, arms crossed, watching her. He was the same man who’d brutally knocked Colby unconscious. The same man who’d dumped Colby’s body into the back of the truck as if he were a sack of garbage.
Piper winced at the memory. There were goose-egg-size bumps on both sides of Colby’s head now. And despite her best efforts to apply pressure, the laceration on the right side of his scalp kept bleeding.
Trying not to be too obvious about it, she glanced around to get her bearings. They’d been driving for about an hour, give or take. It was impossible to know for sure without her cell phone and watch, both of which had been taken from her.
Even in winter, the pine tree branches were thick with needles and blocked out most of the sunlight overhead. Piper couldn’t tell which way was east and which was west. So even if Colby woke up and they could figure out a way to escape, where would they go? One wrong turn could send them deeper into the woods, hopelessly lost. This time of year, they’d probably die from exposure.
Colby groaned, his legs shifting restlessly. His eyes were still shut. Was he waking up? He was definitely in pain, judging by the way he kept wincing and pushing with his feet.
The man who was watching them headed toward Palmer. Piper had a feeling that was a bad thing.
Colby groaned again.
“Shh, hush. It’s okay,” she said even though it wasn’t. She smoothed a hand down the side of his face, gently petting his neck like she would have done if he were Gladiator. He settled, responding to her whispered words and gentle touch. She couldn’t help smiling. Who knew that a grown man could be comforted just like a horse? She had a feeling that Colby wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
“Is he awake?”
She jerked her head up, her smile dying a quick death. Palmer stood just outside the opening at the back of the truck. She tightened her arms protectively around the wounded man in her care.
“No. He’s restless because he’s in pain. He needs a doctor. Head wounds are dangerous. You need to take us to—”
“No doctors. No hospitals. Now, get over here so I don’t have to shout.”
Bristling at the idea of leaving Colby alone, she hesitated.
“Do it now or I shoot your new friend.” His hand dropped to the pistol openly strapped on his hip.
She reluctantly lifted Colby’s head from her lap and scooted out from beneath him, gently lowering him to rest against the grooved metal floor.
He winced again, and she whispered an apology, even as she straightened and walked to the truck opening. Her hands, her hip, everything throbbed in rhythm with her pulse. But she did her best to push thoughts of her injuries out of her mind and to focus on the man standing in front of her, the height of the truck making them just about at eye level now.
Given the violence that Palmer had already dealt to both her and Colby, she knew they were lucky to still be alive. Prodding his temper didn’t seem like a good plan, so she did as she was told and tried not to let her hatred for him show in her posture or the way she looked at him.
“Has he said anything?” Palmer asked.
“No. He’s still unconscious.”
“You sure about that? My guy said he heard him say something.”
She flashed a look of irritation at the man standing a few yards behind him. “Detective Vale groaned. I wouldn’t call that saying something.”
He chuckled. “Feisty, aren’t you? Just like your horse.”
She glanced toward the graceful arch of Gladiator’s neck and clenched her fists against her thighs. “What’s so important to you and Wilkerson about my horse? He could have bought another Friesian somewhere else. Why steal mine?”
He shook his head as if he thought she was crazy. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, stupid girl?”
He suddenly grabbed her jaw in a crushing grip. His fingers bit into the bruised flesh, making tears of pain start at the backs of her eyes. She clawed at him, desperately trying to get him to let her go. He did. But then he grabbed her wrists and shook her so hard that her head started throbbing along with everything else in her pain-racked
body.
Unbidden, tears tracked down her face. Her cheeks flushed hot with humiliation.
His eyes were as black as she imagined the devil’s would be as he pulled her close. A cruel smile twisted his lips. Then he suddenly gave her a brutal shove, sending her crashing to the floor of the truck.
Her right shoulder slammed against one of the ridges in the floor. The pain was intense, immediate, white-hot lava rippling across her nerve endings. The bitter taste of blood filled her mouth as she clamped down on her lips, refusing to allow any noise to escape.
Even though she wanted to sit up in mute defiance, she couldn’t. The pain was overwhelming, raw, debilitating. If she moved, if she opened her mouth the tiniest bit, nothing would emerge but screams. And once she started, she might never stop.
His cruel laughter echoed through the hollow confines of the truck as he reached for the rolling door overhead.
“Caraway?”
She blinked, desperately trying to focus through the pain, to face whatever else he was going to dish out. She wanted to scramble to Colby, throw herself on top of him, to protect him. But it was beyond her abilities at the moment to even straighten her throbbing arm from the awkward angle in which it had landed.
His smile faded, and in its place was a look of such loathing that she couldn’t help but cringe against the back of the truck.
“Spoiled little rich girl, always too good for everyone else. You don’t have a clue who I am, do you?” Spittle flew from his lips as he hurled the words at her like daggers. His knuckles whitened around the rolled-up door overhead.
Spoiled little rich girl? What was he talking about? She’d never been rich in her life. The land was heavily mortgaged because her father had used the equity like a bank, taking out loans against it whenever he needed an influx of cash. She was trying to be more fiscally responsible than her father had been. But it was slow going and at times she was barely able to keep the business afloat.