by LENA DIAZ,
Wait. He’d asked if she had a clue who he was. She knew him? No. She’d never seen him before. Had she? Nothing about his profile was familiar. Nothing. Not his voice, not his huge, hulking build, not even his soulless eyes. Was this a case of mistaken identity? What did he think that she’d done to him?
He glared at her, his evil eyes making promises that had her wishing she could die right then rather than face whatever torture he had planned.
“Poor little Piper Ann. You still don’t get it. Listen up, daddy’s girl. It was never about the horse.”
The door slammed down, leaving her and Colby in utter darkness.
Chapter Five
Pain. It was Colby’s whole world. Surrounding him. Curling and rocking through every joint. But mostly, it pounded through his head, as if someone was hitting his skull with a hammer. From the inside.
Nausea coiled in his stomach. Where was he? What was happening? The last thing he remembered was sitting on top of a bay ordering...someone... Piper? Yes, the woman with the beautiful green eyes and the adorably sassy mouth. That was her name. Piper. Piper Caraway. He’d ordered her to... What? She was on a black stallion. She was... Yes, that was it. She was stealing the Friesian stallion that may or may not have been hers. He’d ordered her to turn the horse around. Then what? Nothing. Nothing but darkness. And pain.
His eyelids were sandpapery, heavy. It took an extreme force of will to open them. He blinked, recoiling against the darkness surrounding him. He couldn’t see anything. Was he blind?
“Shh, it’s okay.”
He froze at the sound of the woman’s voice. Piper’s voice, above him. While the rest of his body was cold and uncomfortable, lying on hard, unforgiving ridges, his head was cradled in a soft, very warm lap. He tried to lift his head, then groaned at the renewed pounding in his skull.
“Easy now,” she whispered again. One of her hands feathered through his hair. She patted his head and idly ran her fingers down the side of his face, all while whispering “It’s okay” and “Settle down, boy, settle down.”
Settle down? Boy?
“You do know that I’m not a horse, right?”
Her hand stilled on his cheek. “You’re awake?”
He blinked again. No use. He couldn’t see anything. “I think so. Where are we? I can’t see a dang thing. Why is my head on your lap? And why are you...petting me?”
A strangled laugh sounded above him and she jerked her hands away. “Sorry. I thought you were still unconscious. I was trying to, um, soothe you. It’s dark in here, that’s why you can’t see.”
Her reassurances about the darkness staved off the growing panic about possibly being blind. But the loss of the warmth of her hands almost made him groan again. Perhaps there was something to that “soothing” after all. He lifted his head, gritting his teeth against the pain racking his entire body.
“Easy. I mean, be careful.” Her hands gently but firmly pushed against his shoulders, helping him to sit up. “Take it slow. I think you may have a concussion.”
No “may” about it. He could feel the world spinning around even though he couldn’t see it. Whatever had happened to them was bad. And it was still happening. He needed to figure this out, fast, and protect her. Lying around wasn’t going to help either of them.
He braced his hands flat against the floor on either side of him to keep from falling over. Only it wasn’t a floor. It was cold and hard, with metallic grooves. The muted sound of an engine carried to him, echoing around them. Everything seemed to be bouncing, moving.
“We’re in a truck?”
“A small moving truck, maybe a twelve-footer, like you’d rent to move into a dorm. We’re sitting near the cab. The door rolls up and it’s locked. Trust me. I tried to raise it.”
“Who—”
“Palmer, along with three thugs. Palmer’s carrying a pistol on his hip. I’ve seen the others with rifles but at least one of them has a pistol since he used it to knock you out. He’s the one who threw you in here. He and Palmer are driving this truck. The other two are driving my rig. Gladiator and the horse you stole are in the back.”
“I didn’t steal him. I borrowed him.”
“I’m sure that makes the owner feel reassured, especially right now, not knowing where his horse is or whether he’s okay.”
A twinge of guilt shot through him. But there was nothing he could do about the horse or its owner right now. “You’re right. But this...scenario, isn’t exactly something I anticipated. Any idea why they’re driving your trailer instead of his? Or where they’re taking us?”
“I’m thinking his was stolen and he ditched it for mine. As for the rest, some things he said make me think he believes I did something to him. He called me ‘spoiled little rich girl,’ which I assure you I’ve never been. The ranch has been handed down for generations. But it’s never come with money. It’s always been a struggle to hold on to it.”
“Then he’s mistaken you for someone else?”
“I don’t think so. I did at first, but now I’m not sure. He called me daddy’s girl and Piper Ann, both of which my daddy used to call me. How could he know that if he didn’t know me?”
Listening and thinking seemed to be making his nausea worse. But he had to muddle through, figure out what was happening and make a plan before their captors stopped the truck.
The truck hit a hard bump and Colby could hear her suck in a sharp breath.
“You okay? Are you hurt?”
She let out a strangled laugh. “It’s a little worse than that. We’ve been bumping around back here for a couple of hours. If we don’t stop soon, it’s going to get messy. My bladder is about to burst.”
He smiled in the darkness. His own situation wasn’t much better. He stretched his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness. Now that he was sitting up, the pounding in his head had dulled to a low throb. He reached up to touch the left side, which was the source of most of the pain. As soon as he touched it, a lightning bolt seemed to shoot down the back of his neck. He stiffened, and suddenly two warm hands were pressing against his chest, then running across his shoulders to his hands, pulling them down.
“Don’t,” she urged. “You got hit pretty hard. I had the devil of a time stopping the bleeding.” A pause, then she asked, “It’s not bleeding again is it?”
Her hands slid up his arms as if to find his head, but this time he captured them in his to stop her. The warmth and softness of her touch had fired across his nerve endings, sending blood racing through his veins and igniting a whole new cacophony of pain as his whole body seemed to come alive, aware. Had he been unfocused around her before? Because now, he was completely focused. On her. All he could think about was her soft hands, and the pleasure-pain of having them slide over his body.
Piper Caraway was a very dangerous woman.
“Colby? Are you okay?”
No. He let out a shaky breath. “I’m...fine. My head isn’t bleeding.” At least he didn’t think so. At this point, he didn’t really care. He just wanted to get his breathing back under control before she realized her effect on him. Normally he was more disciplined than this. It must be the concussion. He was thinking crazy thoughts. Thoughts that were incredibly inappropriate given their situation.
“Oh, well, good.” She tugged her hands from his.
He had to force himself not to reach for her again. How insane was that? Just how hard had Palmer’s thug hit him?
“You didn’t really answer my earlier question.” He was desperate to tilt his world back on an even keel, to assess their situation. “Are you okay? Did Palmer or his men...do anything...to you?”
When she didn’t answer, he leaned closer until he could feel the delicious warmth of her skin radiating out. He cleared his tight throat. “Are you all right, Piper?”
He must have startled her because she jumped, h
er thigh hitting his. “A little, um, chilly, but otherwise fine.”
There was a lightness to her voice that made it sound like she was amused about something. He had no clue what. But she’d said she was chilly, and he didn’t want her to be cold. So even though touching her with his thoughts so scattered was about as dangerous as touching a match to a powder keg, he reached out to pull her close and offer her his body heat. When his hands settled around her bare waist, he froze. His mouth went as dry as dust.
“Piper?” he croaked, then coughed to clear his throat. “Are you...naked?”
This time she did laugh, a joyful, robust sound that was so rich and honest and so unexpected that he couldn’t help smiling. Everything about her surprised him. Maybe that was the problem. No one surprised him anymore. The fact that she did had him unbalanced.
“No,” she said when she stopped laughing. “But I did sacrifice my shirt for the cause.”
“The cause?” He raised his hand and touched his scalp more carefully this time, feeling the sticky dried blood. “You mean me? You said you tried to stop the bleeding. You used your shirt?”
“Did I mention the back of this truck is empty except for the two of us? There aren’t any first-aid kits lying around. I used my hands at first. But I couldn’t get enough even pressure that way. My shirt was the only thing I could think of.”
“You could have used my shirt.”
“And leave an injured man both cold and bleeding? I’m not quite that selfish.”
The words sounded flippant, but he detected an underlying hurt in them.
“Where’s your jacket?” he asked. “You had one the last I saw.”
“Apparently I smart-mouthed Palmer one too many times. He pulled over to check on us and I might have called him a few names. He took my jacket in retaliation. Leaving me to shiver in my bra and jeans was my punishment.”
Colby immediately shrugged out of his jacket, then tried to settle it around her shoulders.
She jerked back. “What are you doing?”
“You gave up your shirt for me. The least I can do is give up my jacket. I’ve got a thick flannel shirt on. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re wounded. I’m not taking your jacket.”
The sound of the engine subtly changed. Brakes squealed. The truck slowed. Colby braced himself against the back wall as the truck came to a stop.
They were both silent. The sound of voices carried to them from the cab. The driver’s door popped open, then the passenger door. Shoes crunched on dried leaves, coming toward the back of the truck.
“We’re about to have company.” Colby found her in the dark and pressed his jacket around her shoulders. “You want to face Palmer and his men again with or without a shirt? Your choice.”
She grabbed the jacket and he could hear the waterproof fabric rustling as she shrugged her arms into the sleeves.
A quick check at his waist confirmed what he’d already assumed. His gun, holster, everything he could have used as weapons or to contact his team were gone.
As the lock rattled at the back, he checked one more hiding place, his right boot. He slid his fingers inside the top edge. The cold handle of his hunting knife was still nestled in the built-in sheath. He wasn’t completely defenseless after all.
But bringing a knife to a gunfight wasn’t the best plan. It was the last resort of a desperate man. And he wasn’t desperate. Not yet. He needed to assess their situation before he showed all his cards.
He jerked his hand back, leaving the knife in his boot as the door was shoved upward. It slammed into the slot in the roof, bouncing against the top before settling.
Colby moved in front of Piper, shielding her from view. But her sharp intake of breath told him she’d leaned around him and saw what he was seeing—three rifles pointed directly at them.
Palmer stood in the middle with the pistol that Piper had mentioned holstered at his waist. The other three thugs looked like they were eager to pull the triggers on their rifles. All they were waiting for was their boss’s okay.
“What do you want?” Colby demanded, using his sternest cop voice.
Palmer motioned for the man on his right to move back. “What I want is for both of you to get out of the truck. Now.”
Chapter Six
Colby stood beside Piper only because she refused to let him stand in front of her. The stubborn woman seemed to think he needed her help to keep from falling. She had one arm around his waist and her shoulder was snugged up beneath his armpit.
Judging by the grins on Palmer’s men, they thought he was near collapse, too. Fine. If everyone believed that he had one foot in the grave, then he’d do whatever he could to reinforce that image. Being underestimated by one’s enemies, especially when they had guns and he didn’t, was an advantage. And he and this brave woman beside him could use every advantage they could get.
He wobbled on purpose. Piper gave him a worried look and tightened her arm around his waist. He gave her a slight smile, trying to let her know that he was faking his weakness without warning the others. But he had no way of knowing whether she understood.
In the truck he’d been bounced around and nauseated. Now that he was standing on solid ground, his stomach had settled and his mind was clear. Adrenaline pumped through his body, erasing the weakness and numbing the pain. Now all he had to do was figure out how to disarm four gunmen without getting Piper or himself killed.
No problem.
He almost laughed at the absurdity and hopelessness of the situation, which made him realize that his bruised brain wasn’t thinking quite as rationally as he’d believed.
Palmer said something low to the man on his right, a short young wiry guy who either shaved his head on purpose or had inherited really bad genes. To the uneducated observer, bald-guy didn’t appear to be much of a threat. But Colby had many years of law enforcement behind him. Baldy was the type of miscreant who made Colby extremely nervous. He was too calm, too still, too bored looking. And the prison-tat teardrops on both of his cheeks told a frightening story. He’d killed before, at least twice. He probably wouldn’t even blink at murdering a cop and a woman.
Bald-guy nodded in response to whatever Palmer had told him. He lowered his rifle and headed to the cab of the pickup that was towing the trailer. Piper’s rig was parked directly in front of the moving truck. And although Colby couldn’t see the driver’s door from where he stood, the distinct sound of it opening, then slamming shut, told him that the man had just gotten inside. The question was why?
He could feel Piper tense beside him, probably wondering the same thing and worrying about her horse.
As if in answer, Palmer approached the remaining two men, who were only slightly less threatening looking than the first had been. One of them had tattoos. The other didn’t. Both held their rifles steady. But neither of them seemed to have the same poise, the same eerie stillness their counterpart had. Still, Colby didn’t doubt for a second that they’d pull the trigger if ordered to do so. And they wouldn’t think twice about it.
After whispering to his men and waiting for their answering nods, Palmer straightened and looked at Piper, then Colby. “Take off your boots. Both of you.”
“Over here,” Piper told Colby. “There’s a log. We can sit there and I’ll help you.”
He tightened his arm around her shoulders, stopping her as he addressed Palmer. “Why do you want us to take off our shoes?”
The rifle that had been pointing at Piper swung toward Colby.
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Palmer said.
Piper gave Colby a pleading look. “Come on. It’s not worth arguing over.”
He disagreed, especially since his knife was hidden inside his right boot. That knife might not be much of a chance, but it could be their only chance.
Seeing no way around it, he hobbled and stumbled his
way to the fallen log. Piper crouched in front of him, her back to the gunmen as she tugged off his left boot. He made a show of leaning down to help her so it wouldn’t raise a red flag when he leaned down to help her with the other boot.
When she slid her fingers in the edge of his right boot, he subtly pushed them against the hilt of the knife. Her gaze shot to his and without even pausing she smoothly pulled the knife out and shoved it into the front pocket of his jacket that she was wearing. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Hurry up,” Palmer called out from behind her.
She yanked Colby’s boot off, gave him a lingering look, then turned around and set it down beside the first one. A few minutes later, both of them stood barefoot except for their socks. But even thick winter socks couldn’t protect them from the cold. Colby’s toes were already tingling and burning. From the way Piper was shifting her feet, she wasn’t doing any better.
Palmer held both pairs of shoes down by his side while his men kept their rifles trained on Colby and Piper.
“This is where we say goodbye.” Palmer sounded almost nostalgic.
Colby glanced at Piper, then rubbed his left hand up and down her arm as if trying to keep her warm. Once again, her intuitiveness impressed him. She subtly shifted her body and he was able to tuck his hand into the pocket where she’d hidden the knife.
“What do you mean?” Colby tried to stall for time. “You can’t plan on leaving us here. We’ll freeze to death.”
“You won’t have time to freeze to death. And trying to run away won’t get you far either.” He shook the boots and grinned at his cleverness.
Both of his men grinned, too. They each had a Mossberg Patriot, great for hunting deer. But that’s not what they were hunting today.
Palmer looked at Piper, his smile fading. “Your mom was nice to me when no one else was. She sneaked me some homemade chocolate chip cookies once. I never forgot that. It’s way more than my own parents ever did for me.”
She frowned. “Who are you? How did you know my mom? And my dad? You know he called me Piper Ann. How do you know that?”