by Becky Avella
There he was. Sean was right there smiling at her. He’d grown a few inches and put on a few pounds since that picture was taken, but it was still him. She traced the outline of his face with her index finger.
Sean had signed his photo in the scratchy handwriting typical of teenage boys. She couldn’t remember now if she’d ever read what he’d written back then. She’d been collecting signatures at the time, got his and then moved on to her next admirer. It was hard to read his message now through the burning blur of her tears. “Keep shining. Love, Sean.”
He had always seen her through a different lens, saw her standing in some golden light that wasn’t real even after she’d broken his heart. She wasn’t—and could never be—the woman he’d imagined. And that right there might be the greatest loss she’d ever experienced in her life, losing someone who believed in her and valued her like that. It was unbearable.
“I’m so sorry, Sean.” Her voice broke over a painful sob.
She’d been so blind. She had to have known all along how special Sean was—she just hadn’t admitted it to herself. Probably because she’d known she could never be good enough to deserve him. She’d had a chance to tell him tonight at the school, but she’d allowed her fear to keep her silent.
“I love you,” she whispered like a confession, but clarity had come too late. Sean would never hear those words.
She wrapped herself into a tight ball and ground the palm of her hand into her chest, trying to massage out the pain. It was useless. There was no recovering from a loss like this. He was gone, and he’d taken her heart with him. She’d have to learn to live without it. To live under Blake’s new rules.
What would Gram say if she could see her now? No doubt Gram would give her a tongue-lashing. Jackson women were not allowed pity parties like this.
“Getting knocked to your knees is fine. It’s a good place to be,” Gram always said. “But feeling sorry for yourself is not.”
Deanna pushed her weary body off the floor and returned to the window. Gazing into the starless, moonless void was like looking into a mirror. The light that was so clear in Sean and Gram was just as clearly missing from her.
She heard Sean’s voice. I can’t do it on my own. Can you, Deanna?
She’d put all of her faith in herself, just like her father had taught her to do, but she’d come up lacking. “What am I supposed to do when I get to the end of me, Dad? Then what?”
Maybe she deserved to be here in this prison of her own making. Maybe she really was the morally bankrupt woman Blake thought her to be. She’d told Sean she was different than she had been in high school, but where was the proof? All the evidence said she was still the girl she saw on those yearbook pages even if she didn’t want to be anymore.
She put her palm flat against the glass. There had to be a way out, a way to be free. If only she knew how. She didn’t have Gram’s and Sean’s spiritual compass, but she did know where they found it. She dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
God, I am so lost.
NINETEEN
Sean’s body screamed, his head throbbed and now he was scratched up and out of breath from his climb up the steep, sage-covered hill. At least the aches and pains proved he was still alive. He’d lost count of how many times he’d cheated death in less than twenty-four hours. He’d probably have to do it again before the night was over.
He fought the need to cough as he sucked in a lungful of thick air. The smoke was getting worse. He pulled his T-shirt up over his mouth and glared out at the eastern horizon. Dots of scattered spot fires decorated the hills below him like Christmas lights, too many for him to count. And beyond that, a stream of red and gold slashed across the top of the horizon, looking like molten lava about to drop, lapping up everything in its path, including the ranch directly below it. His ranch. He closed his eyes. He should be there. But Uncle Paul was right. Deanna always came first.
The fire was so close. What if he couldn’t get her out before Blake decided to evacuate them to some new location? Blake’s estate was a well-guarded fortress. He’d counted two armed men patrolling the perimeter of the property, and who knew how many more were inside the sprawling ranch house? It was a good thing it was the middle of the night because the scraggy bush he hid behind would be completely useless in the daylight. He probably looked like one of those cartoons where an elephant tried to hide behind a telephone pole.
He eyed the grounds, looking for a closer hiding place. His gaze gravitated toward the stables and the darkness under its eaves. It might be decent enough cover if he could get to it without being seen. Every light in the house was on and the surrounding yard and outbuildings were lit up with spotlights. The patio door into the kitchen beckoned him. That was the quickest way in, but that path would leave him too exposed. His scrawny sagebrush might not be much, but he was cloaked in shadow here. If he abandoned it, he’d be stepping into a spotlight.
His window of time for this rescue was shrinking by the minute, and once Ransford figured out that Sean was still alive, he’d send out the big guns to finish the job.
The crunch of boots on gravel hit Sean’s ears. He stiffened and peered through the bush. The closest guard was only ten paces away and coming directly at him. Sean dropped, trying to melt into the hard ground. Don’t see me. Don’t hear me... But even the soft inhales through his nose felt too loud. Surely the guy could hear the thunder of Sean’s heart. Sean prepared to pounce if he had to. The element of surprise had been his friend so far. He might have to rely on it again.
The guard stopped and rested his rifle in the crook of his elbow. He was so close Sean could have kissed his boot. One more step and he’d kick Sean in the head, but he never looked down, just gazed out toward the distant lights of Kinakane instead of down at Sean.
“Better let us go before that fire gets here,” the guard mumbled, but he was talking to himself. “Not paying me enough to die that way.”
Sean followed the man’s gaze. The molten glow along the horizon did look closer.
The guard patted his breast pocket with his free hand. Finding that pocket empty, he patted down his hips next. “Bennett,” he hollered over his shoulder to the other guard. “You got a smoke?”
Whoever Bennett was, he was too far away to hear the request for a cigarette, so the man trotted back toward the main house. Sean’s whole body deflated as he watched the retreating guard.
He risked raising his head again. This might be the one time all night that those two men were distracted. Deanna was behind one of those glowing windows, so close yet so far from him he could scream. It was time to go in, but he still had no clue what to do. He wasn’t a spy or a soldier or a cop with a SWAT team behind him. He was a simple cowboy with nothing more than love and a borrowed handgun.
Deanna would be able to work with less. She’d proved that at the town-hall meeting when she called out Greg Martin in front of everyone. She didn’t waste time with some cost-benefit analysis. She just acted.
Now it was his turn to leap into the unknown. It was like riding rough stock. He never knew what bull or bronc he’d draw at a rodeo, and he wouldn’t know here what he’d face inside until he was already facing it. But if he didn’t go in after her, who would?
Lord, make me brave. Show me how to get her out of there without getting us both killed.
“I’m coming, Deanna,” he promised as he propelled himself off the ground. But at that exact moment, a vehicle rumbled up the front driveway blaring its horn. Sean froze at the edge of the darkness as both guards ran toward the front of the house with their guns raised. What was this?
The truck’s tires squealed to a sudden stop and then Uncle Paul jumped from its cab, firing his gun in the air.
“Ransford!” he bellowed. “Ransford! I’m looking for you. Come out of hiding, you coward.”
Sean grinned. U
ncle Paul had come through with the diversion after all! At the sight of him, Sean’s vision blurred. He didn’t know if he was ready to forgive his uncle yet. He didn’t even understand the full depth of all that he had to forgive. But he was so relieved for the help, and despite everything, he still loved him.
“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Sean whispered from his hiding spot.
“Drop your gun, Loomis,” one of the guards instructed Paul.
Uncle Paul snorted. “Why don’t you come and take it from me,” he said, pointing his gun at the man’s chest. “I’ve got no beef with you, Bennett. I’m here to have a little chat with Ransford. Get him for me.”
Uncle Paul was taking too much of a risk for Sean to waste time hiding. Ready or not, the chute was open. It was time to cowboy up and ride this bull or pack up and go home. Sean stepped directly into the bright spotlight and sprinted, not toward the stables’ shadows but directly for the house. He was going in Deanna-style.
* * *
Flee.
It wasn’t audible, but the thought was so insistent it might as well be. Flee? How was she supposed to do that? She had no weapon, no escape route, only this overwhelming sense that now was the time to get out.
She could try to break the window, but the noise would draw the guards. The only way to freedom was through the door and directly past the guard. Uh, hi. Don’t mind me. Just going for a little walk.
Yeah, that would work.
God, I just got done telling You I’d trust You. That I’d follow Your lead. So, what now?
God was bigger than her, bigger than Blake Ransford. If He wanted her out of here, He’d get her out.
Or He might not. Her life was up to Him now.
Deanna’s hand shook as she reached for the doorknob. She held her breath and cracked the door enough to peek into the hallway. She couldn’t see her guard’s face, only his long, outstretched legs and the tip of the shotgun he held across his lap.
She swallowed. His posture was relaxed. Maybe he was asleep. Should she risk sneaking by him? She placed her hand flat on the door and prayed for courage before she pushed it open a little more.
That’s when the yelling started.
Deanna froze. A man’s voice shouted, deep and angry but not clear enough to make out the words. Then a gun fired. Deanna jumped, and her guard’s legs disappeared from her view as he popped out of his chair. If he had been sleeping, he was wide-awake now. Deanna shut the door fast, her heart thudding. Had he seen her?
The commotion grew louder. It sounded like it was coming from the front of the house. She strained to hear. The shouts were muffled, distant. An engine revved outside and was answered with more angry voices. They all must be outside.
She reopened the door and peeked her head around it in time to watch her guard jog around the corner, his gun raised. For now, the hallway was deserted. She sucked in a breath, her legs bouncing with energy. She had prayed for a way out. Was this her answer? It seemed too easy.
Deanna slipped out of the room and flattened against the wall. Indecision paralyzed her. Being impulsive had gotten her into so much trouble throughout her lifetime. God, do I run?
She pushed off from the wall and ran for the kitchen. She cringed as her boots hit the hardwood floor, praying that all the focus would stay on whatever was happening outside and not on the noise she was making.
She entered the pitch-black kitchen and slid behind the island, panting to catch her breath. Every gasp for air was accompanied with a prayer of gratitude. She was almost out. Almost free. And no one had stopped her yet. The glass door leading to the patio was right there, her escape only a few paces away from where she hid. She popped into a crouch position, but she paused. What about Blake’s alarm? Once she set it off would there be enough time to get away?
She leaned, ready to bolt, but the shouting was clearer in here than it had been in the hallway. One voice rose above the others, stronger, angrier. That voice must belong to the man who’d shot the gun.
“Where’s my nephew!” he demanded.
Nephew? Wait. She strained to hear. Then her stomach dropped. That was Paul Loomis out there, demanding answers about Sean. She glanced at the door. Her escape was so close, but the thought of how Paul would feel when he found out what had happened to Sean sickened her and stopped her from leaving the kitchen.
The sound of another gunshot dropped her to her knees. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. The men were back inside now. “I said, take me to Ransford,” Paul demanded. “I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”
Paul had been so sad back at the school it had almost broken her heart just to look at him. How much worse would it be now? But there was nothing she could do. No matter how bad she felt about it, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t protect Paul. Not from Blake’s men and their guns. And not from the blow of grief that would slam into him the moment he learned the truth. Sean was dead. She couldn’t undo that.
All she could do was survive long enough to find someone who could actually help them. She could go back to the sheriff’s department and talk to someone other than Austin. Maybe Sue Lloyd could help her. Sean had seemed to trust her.
Deanna sprinted for the door. She flung it open but instead of stepping out into the night air, she slammed into a solid wall of muscle going the opposite direction. The impact of the collision knocked her onto her backside.
She popped back up and swung her fist as hard as she could at the man’s head, ready to fight her way through the door. Even if it had been short-lived, she had tasted freedom. She would not be a prisoner again. He ducked and grabbed her around the waist like a football dummy. She pounded on his back. “Let me go!”
“Nice to see you, too,” he grunted.
Time stopped. She didn’t hear the screaming alarm, couldn’t think about anything other than that voice. She knew that voice. And that touch. She knew that gentleness.
The kitchen swam around her. Could it be true? Maybe she was hallucinating, her brain rebelling against the disappointment of one more setback by making up something to give her hope. Maybe this was really just one of Blake’s guards. He’d take her back and make her stay in that awful room again.
But no, this was too real. She was far too cynical to have thought up such a happy ending, and she didn’t have the creativity to conjure up such a realistic version of Sean. Her heart pounded as she accepted the truth. These were Sean’s arms holding her.
She collapsed into him, letting him hold her up. She felt warmth where he kissed the top of her head. She pulled back, needing to see his face, but he didn’t let go of her hands, as if he needed to believe she was real, too.
“How did you know I was coming?” he asked.
“You’re alive,” she cried.
“For now,” he yelled, but Deanna could hardly hear him above the mechanical screaming. The alarm!
Sean pulled her through the patio door, into the night. She tripped after him, still shocked that he was there, that they were touching each other. That connection, the place where their hands matched up, was her proof. He wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He was real and in front of her. Not dead.
Sean’s voice broke into her sluggish thoughts, reminding her they weren’t safe yet. He commanded her to do what they’d been doing all day long.
“Run!”
TWENTY
Hand in hand they ran, silent except for the thud of their boots on the dry grass. It felt so right to have Deanna next to him again, to have her hand in his. Sean wanted to acknowledge it, to celebrate it, but there was no time to enjoy their reunion, no chance to ask or answer any questions. Escape was all that mattered.
The outdoor lights flooded the yard and lit their progress. If anyone looked, they would be seen. Sean hated the vulnerability, hated being back in the sp
otlight. He strained his ear to gauge how well Uncle Paul held up against Blake’s men, but the blaring house alarm made it impossible to hear. Sean couldn’t stop to look. Trust God. Trust Uncle Paul, he told himself. He had no other choice.
They would be spotted soon, and the bush where Sean had hidden before was too far away. They had to duck out of sight before they got shot.
“This way.” Sean pulled Deanna toward the stables.
“Have they seen us?”
“Not yet. But soon. We can hide in here.”
Deanna skidded to a stop. “It’s the first place they’ll check.”
Sean dropped her hand. “Got a better plan?” he asked.
“That’s your department.”
“Not anymore.”
They crashed into the dusty interior of the stables and doubled over, their hands on their knees. They gulped in the air, choking on the dust they’d stirred up. Dusty as it was, it was still cleaner than the thick smoke outside.
“You don’t have a plan?” Deanna cocked her head at him. “For real?”
Sean straightened, his hands on his hips. “I hadn’t thought past rescuing you. I didn’t expect it to be...”
“So easy?” It looked like a struggle for her to not laugh. “Did I mess up your knight in shining armor moment?”
A horse snorted behind Sean, apparently annoyed they’d dared to invade its space.
“I didn’t know Blake kept another horse,” Deanna said. She opened the stall and patted the animal’s neck. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’re friends.” Over her shoulder she told Sean, “I thought Star was Blake’s only horse. This guy must be new.”
As Sean’s eyes adjusted, the horse’s tall outline and arrogant stance stood out from the rest of the darkness. Maybe this was their answer. The silence outside made Sean antsy. Those men would find them soon. In fact, he was surprised they weren’t here yet. “We can ride him out of here.”