by Silver James
The girl turned stubborn and remained silent.
Time for a hard truth. “You don’t wanna go to juvie, hon. It’s a tough place. They’ll chew you up and spit you out. Whoever you’re afraid of can get to you there, one way or another.” He watched her throat work as she swallowed hard.
He wanted to shake some sense into her. This was not a bad kid. A scared kid. A distrustful kid, but not a criminal. He softened his voice. “You gotta trust someone.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Round, frightened eyes fixed on him and her voice quivered. “They hurt people.”
He slowly stretched out his hand and with two fingers under her chin, lifted her face so she had to look at him. “Miz Rodriguez is working to get it fixed so you can stay with me out in the sticks. I have a ranch outside of Tarpley. Be harder for them to find you, right?”
The girl looked undecided, but she eventually whispered, “I suppose.”
“What you need to know about me, hon, is that I don’t lie. I’ll always tell you the truth. If I say I can keep you safe, and help you find your way, I will. Thing is, you need to respect me enough to do the same.”
He was interrupted when her stomach grumbled. Loudly. “Yeah, I figure you are pretty hungry. Hang on, sugar. I’ll go find you somethin’ to chow on. You want a soda pop?”
She nodded as he pushed back from the table and stood. The girl craned her head back to look up at him. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
“What flavor?”
“Anything but orange.”
That got a grin. “I’m not guaranteeing what I scrounge up. This is the sheriff’s office. There’s no telling what’s in the vending machine or how long it’s been there.”
“That’s okay. Anything will do.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
Elena met him in the hallway, eyes shining with hope, a smile curving her lips and he stopped dead. He wanted to pull her against him for a hug. He wanted to take her mouth in a kiss. He wanted…no. She was a social worker. A professional. And he was trying to get official sanction to take the girl behind the door he’d just closed to his house so he could look after her, could help her heal, and maybe could get her home. That’s when it hit him—the difference. He’d once had a home, he and Rosie. Now he had a house. A big, empty, rambling wreck of a ranch house.
He squared his shoulders and gave Elena a nod, cutting off whatever exuberant thing she was winding up to say. “We aren’t there yet. I’ll get some sugar in her. Try again.” He tilted his head toward the bullpen. “How’s that going?”
“Pamela is being a pu—” She cut off the word. She tried very hard not to curse—in any language. She amended her original thought. “Her usual pain. The ranger is giving her what-for. I’ve faxed in the paperwork and Ranger Riggs has the judge on stand-by to sign off on it. I’ll make sure we get her home with you before the night is over.”
The perks of living in a rural county included knowing the judge by his first name. He’d never doubted that the girl would remain under his wing. He strode away from Elena, not wanting to think about her. She was a complication he didn’t need. One problem at a time. First, the girl.
He hit the vending machines. Got a Dr. Pepper, a Coke, and a Sprite. Someone would drink whatever the girl didn’t. He got chips, pretzels, a bag of chocolate chip cookies, and a Snickers candy bar. He turned around with his loot to find a deputy standing there holding a plastic sandwich bag.
“It’s fresh. My wife made it and just dropped it off for my dinner. Roast beef and cheese with all the trimmings. She can pick off anything she doesn’t like.”
And there it was, another perk of living here. A lost kid scared and hungry and men offered up their own dinners to make sure she ate something healthy. “Thanks,” he muttered, adding the sandwich to his stack. When he walked into the interrogation room, he stopped dead. Elena sat in the chair he’d vacated while the girl was backed all the way into the farthest corner, her thin arms wrapped around her chest.
“Problem?”
Two sets of eyes cut to him at the sound of his growled question.
“I have to go,” the girl whispered.
“No, everything is fine,” Elena said simultaneously and louder.
He gave Elena a telling look and though her back straightened and her eyes narrowed, she acquiesced to his unspoken order. “I’ll be outside,” she told the girl. “In case you need me.”
As the door closed behind him, Pops set all the items in his arms onto the table. “Come sit and eat. Start with the sandwich.”
He hooked the nearest empty chair with his boot and dragged it to him. Settling into it, he slouched down, stretched out his legs, crossed them at the ankles. Non-threatening. Casual. Patient. It took five minutes before the girl unwound enough to approach. She was as skittish as a feral kitten so he didn’t move as she eventually perched on the edge of the chair opposite. After she made her selections, he asked if he could have the Coke. She nudged it in his direction.
With deliberate ease, he snagged the can and popped the top. She opened the plastic bag and examined the sandwich. Then she sniffed it. “No horseradish?”
Pops almost laughed but he caught it between pressed lips. “You like horseradish?”
“Yeah. On roast beef.”
“I’ll make note of that.”
“Don’t bother,” she mumbled around a big bite. He didn’t correct her manners. Didn’t matter if it was feral kids or kittens—you had to pick your battles. “I can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
She chewed and swallowed but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “They hurt her.”
“Who?” He wasn’t sure if he was asking who got hurt or who did the hurting. He’d settle for either answer because it would be a step forward.
“I’m not a runaway.” She changed the subject.
Elena almost missed what the girl said, but it was obvious Pops heard it loud and clear. A muscle ticked along his tightened jaw. “Things bad for you at home? They kick you out?”
No, no, no, she thought. Wrong direction.
The girl’s head jerked up and startled eyes met his. Elena leaned forward. Something was happening. She held her breath. Pops had hit on something. Was he actually getting through? Apparently, yes. So okay, maybe he was smart when it came to damaged kids and maybe this time he knew more than she did. With luck, they’d have a break-through. Elena had a sick feeling that the girl truly wasn’t a runaway, that she was a victim of human trafficking. Her heart lurched at the thought. No matter the situation, she’d do whatever it took to get the child safe, whether that meant a reunion with blood family, or finding her a new family that would love and protect her.
A long moment passed before the girl’s tongue darted out, wet her lips and her mouth moved like she was getting ready to speak. Then fear flickered across her expression and she clamped her mouth shut, her lips forming a thin line. Elena sighed and slumped back into the desk chair one of the deputies had pulled up for her. She rubbed her temples and noticed the large clock up on the wall. No wonder she was tired. It was almost midnight. That’s when she realized her supervisor was nowhere to be seen. She deflated against the back of the chair in relief. She glanced around, saw the ranger with one hip hitched up on an empty desk. He looked up and grinned as he held up a piece of paper. She couldn’t read it at that distance, but she recognized the form. Temporary custody. Signed with a bold hand.
“You gotta talk to someone eventually, sugar. Might as well be me since I’m sittin’ here and I’m in a position to help.”
She’d inhaled the sandwich, chips and pretzels, guzzling both the Dr. Pepper and the Sprite in between bites. Now she was finished with the cookies and had peeled back the wrapper on the Snickers.
“Did they hurt you?” He kept his voice soft. “Your family? Is that why you don’t want to go home?”
“No.” She set the candy bar on the table.
“
Then why haven’t you called them?”
The girl sat so still, Pops wondered if she was breathing. Lips pressed tightly together, eyes closed, hands dropped to her lap and probably clasped. When she finally drew in a breath, it hitched in her chest. “They hurt her.”
Back to this again. “Who, sugar?”
“The Hell Dogs. On the River Walk. They hurt that lady. Elena. Because of me.”
Well…okay. An answer to both questions. “Elena will be fine.”
“They’ll hurt her again. They’ll hurt you. They’ll hurt anyone who tries to help me.”
“Why?”
Her eyes glistened and he checked out his boots, ignoring the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. If she cried, he wouldn’t be able to help himself. He’d gather into his arms and—
“I don’t know. They took me. Brought me here…” She looked around and jerked slightly as she remembered where she was. “Well, not here. Texas. San Antonio.”
“Where are you from?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell,” she whispered.
“Did they hurt you?”
She winced and cowered away from the question. Pops stiffened and he heard a loud noise from outside. He fought his immediate and very visceral reaction. Judging by the sounds beyond the room, he wasn’t the only one. “You can tell me.”
She raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes round in terror. “You don’t understand! If I tell, they’ll kill—” A sob choked off the rest of her words.
“Okay, baby girl.” He scooted his chair to the table, reached over and took her hand. “Will you at least tell me your name?”
He again got big eyes from the girl, and then, finally, one word—her first name.
“Joy.”
Chapter 8
Joy hunched against the passenger door of the big pickup, the man’s words playing through her head. Be harder for them to find you. No it wouldn’t. Once the Hell Dogs picked up her trail, they’d sniff her out, but she’d be gone before then. She wouldn’t let anyone get hurt, not even strangers. Maybe, though, when she took off again, she’d leave a note behind so Mr. West could call her family, let them know she was okay. Well, as okay as she could be given she’d been kidnapped, escaped, and was on the run to keep everyone safe.
She couldn’t figure this man out and that worried her. She hadn’t trusted a soul until a big man with dark hair and haunted eyes tore open the door to the cell where she’d been raised. Nate Connor. The man who became her dad despite everything. She hadn’t known her name or how old she was. She’d simply been a number, a lab rat locked away in a secret facility out in the bayous of Louisiana. When Nate carried her out of that place, she’d been terrified of everything. She’d never been outside. Never felt the sun or grass, or squished mud between her toes. Then Nate and Jacey entered her life. Along with the other Wolves. They’d rescued her, given her a home. Given her love. She learned to trust the others, eventually, but they’d had to work hard to earn it. Even Liam.
Memories of her life in the lab made her tremble. She curled up even more. Wolves were secret. Had to remain secret. Bad men wanted to do bad things to them. Which is why she had to keep running. She had to protect the Wolves and their mates, Protect Liam and Micah and Gracie. Little Sally and Sally’s big brother Cody, though he didn’t carry the gene. She couldn’t let them be experiments like she’d been.
Trust was fragile, like a dandelion. Trusting Nate just came naturally. Sort of like Mr. West. Could she trust him?
“Yes,” he said, like he could read her mind. “You can.”
She sucked in a breath. Mind reading wasn’t possible. Okay, sometimes the Wolves and their mates had like a Mr. Spock mind-meld thing going on but this? No way. But…
“Pops.”
“Excuse me?” She glanced over at him still, a little freaked and a whole lot confused.
“Most folks call me Pops. Like I mentioned back in the sheriff’s office, been a whole passel of kids pass through my house for one reason or another. Some only stayed the night. Others lived there for a few years.”
He sounded—and looked—sad. Because the kids came and went? Or was there another reason. He offered her a half smile as his eyes returned to the road. “Last ten years, most the kids have been short-term on an emergency basis. Sorta like you.”
She couldn’t help herself. She had to ask. “Why’s that?”
“My wife died.”
She sucked air into her lungs in a loud whoosh. He’d lost his wife. And he’d loved her. She could tell by the way his face went both soft and stoic. But not blank. Not like the Wolves. She rubbed at her chest. She missed her family. And she was positive they’d be going ballistic and crazy because she’d been taken. Yeah. When she took off, she’d have to leave a note so he could call her dad. Or maybe Mister Mac because Mister Mac was scary, but he wouldn’t be as scary crazy as her dad. Except he would. Liam told stories about what it was like when he was kidnapped by those Black Root people. Mister Mac and Miz Hannah—Liam’s mom and dad—went hunting with all the Wolves. That’s how everyone ended up in Louisiana. That’s how they found her. Liam. She blinked away tears. Liam was her…something. Just like Black Root wanted her DNA, they’d wanted Liam’s. All the Wolves.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, returning her attention to the man driving her to his home. “About your wife. My dad would go crazy if something happened to Mom.”
“He loves her.” Pops kept his voice soft.
“Yeah.” The word sighed out. “She’s his…one.”
Unsure how to interpret what she was saying, he remained silent. From the sound of things, she loved her family—and they loved her. Which didn’t square with her refusing to call them. Still, he’d learned to be patient. Once kids started talking, they tended to keep doing so. As a rule. This little gal was proving to be a tough nut to crack.
“How did she die?”
“Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” He was. The ache Rosie’s absence created would always reside in his heart.
Ten years, handsome. Think maybe you should consider moving on?
“No.”
The girl stirred and in the subtle light from the dash, he realized she was giving him an odd look. “Sorry. I tend to talk out loud to myself. Comes from living alone.”
That got him a quick twitch of her lips that almost translated into a smile. “I know someone who does that. She says it’s the only intelligent conversation she gets. And she definitely doesn’t live alone.”
That startled a guffaw out of him. “I surely do understand that sentiment, sugar.”
He turned onto a county road and headed deeper into the country. As the crow flies, the Four Points wasn’t far from the center of Tarpley, but it seemed a world away, tucked back into the cedars, oaks, and cypress trees of the Hill Country. He turned again, his truck rattling over the pipes of the cattle guard and then his lights reflected off the limestone blocks of the ranch sign, carrying the ranch’s name and compass brand.
“Four Points Ranch,” he explained. “And our cattle brand is a compass, only the W for west is at the top.”
“Because that’s your last name.”
“Yup.”
He pulled up in front of the main house. The sprawling two-story home was built of limestone with a metal roof. A wide front porch ran the length of the front and wrapped around one side. The porch provided the base for a covered balcony jutting from the second story. As they climbed out of the truck, a couple of ranch dogs ran up, barking with tails wagging madly. They danced around Pops and sniffed curiously at Joy. She let out a happy coo, dropped to her knees and buried her hands and face in the thick fur of a black and white dog almost as big as she was.
“That’s Big Jake,” Pops said. “He’s pretty much top dog around here.”
A smaller dog darted in for pets and then dashed off, only to return, nosing Pops closer to Joy. He rolled his eyes. �
�That’s Chisum. He’s a cattle dog.”
“I like dogs.” Joy’s voice sounded small.
“Good thing. They’ll both likely be sneaking in to sleep with you.” He gestured her toward the house and once he unlocked the door, waved her inside where he beeped in a code for an alarm system. “It’s late so I’ll give you the full tour in the mornin’. My room is down here. All the guest rooms are upstairs.” He eyed her. “You gonna be okay with that?”
Confused, Joy looked everywhere but him before saying, “Sleeping upstairs?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “Yeah. You sleepin’ upstairs. With the dogs.”
She tilted her head, studying him. Pops was struck with the idea that hers was a very old soul—or she’d been through some horrific things in her short life. He wasn’t particularly thrilled by either scenario.
“I’m not afraid of you, Mister Pops.”
“Just Pops, darlin’.”
“Okay. You won’t hurt me and you aren’t creepy. I have the feeling that you’ll do everything you can to keep me safe. That’s the problem. You can’t. The people who are after me? They hurt people. They kill people. And they don’t even stop to think about it. They want me bad so I can’t stay long. Can’t let you get hurt or dead just because I’m under your roof.”
“What did they do to you, Joy?”
She shrugged and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Not what you’re thinkin’. Not yet anyway. The Hell Dogs are bad, Pops.”
“Okay, baby girl. I’ll keep that in mind. C’mon. You can pick out which room you want.”
He was surprised when she chose the room with a denim comforter, bandanna pillows, and a cowboy motif. “Why this one?”
She glanced to the open door across the hall. “Closest to the bathroom.”
He laughed at her logic. “Darlin’, this house has six bedrooms, four full bathrooms, and a half-bath downstairs, what some folks call a powder room.” He shrugged. “I guess cuz ladies could go in there to powder their noses when they were too embarrassed to say they had to pee.”