by Nicole Helm
“I agree. That’s why I need a few hours at the station. Talk to Lizzie. Look at some documents Hart found. I need my concentration on this case for a good two hours. And I can’t do that with you around.”
“You flatter me, princess.”
“Get dressed. I’ll drop you off at Rightful Claim, as long as someone can be there with you. I don’t want you being alone. I’ll put in my few hours at the station, and then...” She chewed on her bottom lip again.
“And then what?”
She trailed the fingertips over his beard. “I’ll come and find you.”
“You had better.” He kissed her, meaning for it to be soft, subtle, just to prove he could. But it evolved somehow, as it always did with her. Wildfire and need. “We both need showers before we go, don’t you think?”
“We are not both going to fit in my shower,” she said with a breathless laugh.
“But we could give it the old college try,” he returned, tugging her toward a door that had to lead to the bathroom. And when she went with him willingly, laughing and naked, he figured things might just be all right after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Laurel drove toward the Bent County Sheriff’s Department after dropping Grady off at Rightful Claim, not exactly feeling rested. She was still tired, because she’d grabbed maybe just three hours of sleep. But it had been good, heavy sleep. And something like giddiness was keeping her going.
She was a little embarrassed at that. How much excitement and drive this whole Grady thing had given her. She should calm down. She should be rational.
She and Grady were in some very odd circumstances and it was likely causing heightened feelings...or something. The reality of themselves was possibly a little different outside of the bedroom.
Which was all her fear talking, actually. Because last night and this morning had been good. The kind of good that was overwhelming. The kind of good you had to work for and sacrifice things for. In equal-ish measure.
She blew out a breath. She didn’t have time to really work through all that. She had to question Lizzie, and see if the ballistics report had come back yet. Her focus had to be the job, and then she could figure out her personal life.
Because that was the priority list of her life. Always had been.
Why did it suddenly feel like a weight?
She shook her head, focusing on the sun rising behind her. Which was when she realized the same car had been following her for a while now. The same kind of car Clint had mentioned when describing the man who’d taken Lizzie.
The car was far back enough she couldn’t make out the letters and numbers on the plate, but she could tell it was yellowish. Just as Clint had described.
She inhaled, then slowly breathed out through her mouth, focusing on being calm and following procedure.
What if they’ve been following you since before you left Rightful Claim? What if someone is following Grady?
She couldn’t focus on that. She had to focus on what to do in her here and now. Because she’d left Bent city limits, and the sun was only just beginning to rise. The highway out of town was deserted, and the current stretch she was on was at a high enough elevation that the shoulder was mostly guardrail to prevent cars from going off the slight rocky cliff.
Taking a glance in her rearview mirror as often as she could, she grabbed for her radio without looking at it.
“Dispatch. 549. Rush traffic,” she said as calmly as she could manage.
“Go ahead 549.”
Before she could get the next words out of her mouth, an engine roared close—too close. She flicked a glance in the rearview mirror just in time to see the black car plow into the back of hers.
She jerked forward, her face smashing into the airbag as she felt her car skid forward and then sideways, metal screeching against the guardrail. That noise reminded her of how precarious her situation was. Because if this car succeeded in pushing her over it, she’d be tumbling down a pretty steep, rocky drop.
She ignored the pain in her head and focused on her grip on the wheel. She jerked it as far to the right as the airbag would allow, braking as hard as she could while she did so.
She had to get out of the car. While it offered some protection, she could be more agile on foot. And possibly run down the steep ravine without plunging to her death.
She couldn’t see anything with the airbag in her vision, but the screeching of the guardrail had stopped and so had her movement. She imagined the attacker was reversing to plow into her again, so she had to act fast.
She pushed hard, opening the door open and scrambling out of the car as she disentangled herself from the airbag and seat belt. She grabbed her gun out of her belt as she looked around, trying to find the other car.
It had indeed reversed and was now speeding toward her. Laurel didn’t have time to think twice—she ran and jumped over the guardrail, half running, half stumbling down the rocky hillside.
If she drew him into a chase, she could shoot him. Of course, he likely had a gun himself, but at least she’d have a chance to fight back. She glanced behind her—nothing but rocks and bent guardrail.
She surveyed the landscape in front of her. It was mostly open, though there were a few swells of land she might be able to hide behind with enough of a head start.
The biggest problem was she didn’t have her radio or her cell. All she had was her gun. So, she kept running, checking over her shoulder every few minutes for signs of someone following her.
She was maybe halfway to a decent cover of rocks and swell of land when a figure appeared, stepping over the guardrail. He was wearing all black, including a ski mask, just as Clint had described the man who’d taken Lizzie.
Well, he was not going to take her. She raised her gun, tried to aim, only to realize her vision wasn’t clear. Blood was dripping down into her eyes. Blood? Where had that come from?
She tried to blink it away, finally becoming cognizant of the fact her head was throbbing and burning. In the adrenaline of the moment, she hadn’t realized she’d been hurt, but some of that reality was getting through to her now. The world tilted, but she breathed through it and fired off a shot in the direction of the man in black.
She didn’t even try to see if she’d hit her target. She started running again, trying to figure out where she was. If there was somewhere she could go. She was injured and isolated, but she wasn’t outnumbered, probably, and just because she was hurt didn’t mean she was witless.
After another scan of the area, and remembering where she’d been on the road, she realized she was close to the back entrance to the Carson Ranch she’d dropped Grady off at the other day.
She didn’t want to lead this man to the Carsons, but she didn’t have a choice. She needed a phone. She needed help. If she at least got to the property, she might get hurt, but maybe someone would find her before she was killed. Maybe.
A shot rang out and she winced at how close it sounded, but nothing touched her. Still, it was too close for comfort, and proof the man was armed with a deadly weapon.
Lungs burning, everything in her body a painful, aching throb, Laurel tried to pull up her shirt and wipe away the blood that was impeding her vision as she ran.
But even without blood in her eyes, her vision was getting blurrier. She felt dizzy and sick but she knew she had to keep running. Someone was after her. The man who’d killed Jason, who’d kidnapped Lizzie. It had to be him.
She got to the back entrance of the Carson Ranch without the man catching up to her or firing off another short. She just had to get to the house, or maybe Noah would be out somewhere close working. Someone who would hear something, do something. She had to hope and pray for that, because she knew her time was running out.
Her legs buckled and the world around her was suddenly dark instead of the picturesque fall morning. She didn’t qu
ite realize she’d fallen until her shoulder hit the hard ground.
She tried to get up, but her body wasn’t listening to her mind. She could hear approaching footsteps closing in on her.
Dimly she hoped Grady was okay and at Rightful Claim, working and giving Vanessa a hard time. She swallowed at the nausea threatening, praying she’d left enough clues and wreckage for whoever found her to figure out who this man was and where he’d come from.
Somewhat belatedly, she realized she still had her hand on her gun. The gun. She placed her finger on the trigger and when it sounded like the man was right on top of her, she managed to roll onto her back and shoot.
* * *
GRADY FROWNED AT his phone with growing irritation. He’d been patient all morning and not called Laurel to see what was going on. But it was nearly two o’clock and there’d been no word from her. Not to him. Not to Clint.
Grady tried to convince himself she’d found a lead and was following it. He tried to convince himself she was doing her job. If something had happened, wouldn’t he have heard something? If not from Laurel herself, from someone.
Then again, why would anyone think to tell him about the goings-on of Laurel Delaney?
When Dylan Delaney stormed into the bar before they’d officially opened for the day, everything in Grady went cold and still.
The Delaneys did not come into his bar.
“Where is she? What have you gotten her messed up with?”
Grady stood behind the bar, willing his temper to behave. He’d never cared for Laurel’s brother the slick, arrogant banker who only’d ever looked down at any Carson in his bank. But Dylan was her brother, and maybe he knew something that Grady didn’t. It’d grate more if he wasn’t so worried.
“What do I have your cop sister mixed up in?”
“She might be a cop, and this might have more to do with the case she’s working on, but when Carson property is involved, so are you. I know it.”
“What are you talking about?” Grady demanded, keeping himself unnaturally still. He couldn’t react yet. First he needed facts.
“My sister disappeared. They’ve traced footsteps and blood to your property, and there’s a lot of talk about how you left the station with her last night. So I want to know what you did to her.”
Grady pushed out from behind the bar, ignoring Dylan’s demands. He pulled his phone out and dialed the ranch. No answer. He dialed Noah’s cell, which went straight to voice mail. Ty was in the back, and if he’d heard anything, he would’ve told Grady by now.
“Ty,” Grady called, already to the door. “Lock up. Meet me at the ranch.” He didn’t wait to see if his cousin would listen. He called Vanessa. Nothing.
He took his keys out of his pocket as he swung out the front doors.
“You don’t walk away from me, Carson,” Dylan threatened, hot on his heels.
“I’ll fight you after your sister’s been found, if that’s what you’re gunning for. But I’ve got more important things to do right now than deal with you.” He got on his motorcycle.
“I’m following you,” Dylan shouted over the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, as if that was some kind of deterrent. Grady didn’t even respond.
He took off, breaking every possible traffic law to get to the ranch. There was a cop car parked at the front of the house, but he didn’t see anyone in it. He scanned the land, heartbeat thumping painfully in his chest.
Blood. Blood. She was bleeding somewhere, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.
Except she’d gotten here. His property. There had to be something he could do. Had to be.
Dylan’s car pulled up next to him, windows down. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do.”
“I’m going to find her,” Grady replied. Some way. Somehow. There was nothing else to do.
“Why are you going to do anything? The police are searching for her, and if you had anything to do with—”
“I don’t have anything to do with it. I love her.” Which was not exactly a surprise admission, just an uncomfortable one.
“That’s... You’re a Carson.”
“Yeah, I’ll worry about that some other time.” He scanned the area again, trying to figure out where to start. He had to stop jabbering with Dylan and actually think. Formulate a plan.
“They’re at the back entrance,” Dylan offered. “What’s the quickest way?”
Grady frowned at the sleek sports vehicle Laurel’s brother drove. “That car isn’t going to make it over this hard terrain.”
“It will,” Dylan said, everything about him severe and determined. “Now, what’s the quickest way?”
“Follow me.” Grady took off, narrowly missing wrecking out when he went over a swell of land too fast, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered aside from finding Laurel.
When they reached the back entrance, there was a whole area taped off with caution tape. The deputy who’d searched the Adams’s house with Laurel the other day frowned in his direction as Grady swung off the motorcycle and stormed toward the tape.
“You’re going to have to stay back,” Hart said firmly.
Grady only did so because he knew the guy was trying to do his job. He glanced at the crowd. Three deputies. And Noah.
He went to stand next to his cousin. “Tell me what you know.”
“No signs of a vehicle,” Noah said. “But Laurel’s car was found crashed into a guardrail on the highway. Someone rear-ended her, but the car that caused the accident is nowhere to be found. The cops found a trail of blood that led here.”
“That’s a mile at least.”
Noah nodded grimly. “Vanessa’s with Clint and another officer at the house. I’ve offered to search the higher elevations on my horse, but they’re still making a decision.”
“Screw that.” Grady looked at Noah’s horse tied to a tree, placidly standing a few yards off. “I’m going.”
“There’s the old stone church up on the ridge. It’s the only kind of place to hide anywhere near here,” Noah said quietly, angling them away from the deputies gathering evidence and talking earnestly. “Unless someone picked her up on the road, but the cops don’t think so. I told them about the church, but—”
Grady shook his head. “They’ve got their procedure, but we don’t. I’m not waiting around. I’m going to take your horse up there. You and Delaney go back and get more horses, rifles, whatever you can. We search for her ourselves.”
Noah looked suspiciously at Dylan. “You really want to take him?”
“I’m her brother,” Dylan interjected. “Finding Laurel is all that matters.”
Noah nodded at that. “All right.”
“Wait until I’m gone, then take my bike. It’ll be quickest to get back to the barn.” Grady handed Noah the keys. “I’m going to ride Star right up the property line to the stone church. You cut up from the barn the opposite direction. Got your cell?”
Noah nodded.
“You see anything, anything comes up, call. I’ll do the same. Something big happens, 911, cops, whatever. The only important thing is finding her safe, and keeping yourself out of harm’s way. Got it?”
“What about keeping yourself safe?”
Grady didn’t bother to lie. “I’ll do what I have to do. Whatever it takes.”
“Grady—”
But he was done arguing and standing around. He strode over to Noah’s horse and untied the reins from the tree. He mounted Star and gave her neck a quick pat before leading her away from the group and tape.
Once he had a little space, he urged her into a trot. Straight toward the ridge that would lead him up to the old stone church that had been abandoned probably a century ago, and sat just off Carson property, owned and tended by no one.
“Hey, where are you going?” one of the deputies shouted.
Grady didn’t bother to answer. He was going to find Laurel. One way or another.
Chapter Seventeen
Laurel heard voices. Unfamiliar voices. She knew she had to open her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to manage it. Her head hurt, with so much pain she could barely think past it.
But there were voices, and even though everything hurt and jumbled together, something inside of her knew she had to listen to those voices.
“What kind of idiot are you? There’s no way out of this. You’ve screwed everything up,” a man’s voice hissed, all restrained fury.
“We could kill her,” the other voice suggested, as if he were suggesting getting dessert at a restaurant.
“You could kill her,” the man retorted. “She did shoot you, after all. We could call it self-defense, perhaps.”
“I’ve done all your dirty work,” the second man returned, clearly not happy about it. “All of it.”
“That’s what I pay you for, and this... You’ve made this an irreparable mess. You should do all the dirty work when you were the one to muddy it all up. A simple job.”
“Simple? Kill two guys and kidnap a girl?”
“You failed at one of those, and the girl was safely returned. You’re in the clear there.”
The second man laughed bitterly. “I’m not doing another thing for you until I get my full compensation.”
“No full compensation until we take care of this problem.”
Nausea rolled through Laurel, but she tried to breathe through it. Some of the confusion in her mind cleared, even with the constant ache in her head. The fact they hadn’t killed her yet meant something.
She had a chance. A chance to live. A chance to escape. If she could only act.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus.
She thought she could maybe open her eyes now, but figured it would be best if she gathered her wits before she gave any indication she was conscious. Formulate a plan. Obviously they had weapons. There were two of them, and only one of her.