Because without Sierra his house simply echoed, empty, shadowed despite the sunshine.
And now he’d driven her away. Or maybe, she’d simply run from him. Just like Esme.
Ian’s stomach pitched and he hovered over the sink a moment just in case he lost it. After a moment, he went to the fridge, grabbed a protein drink, and headed upstairs.
He needed to hurt as badly on the outside as he did on the inside.
He changed into a pair of compression shorts, trunks, and a T-shirt and headed to his workout room. There, he wrapped his hands then connected his music system and turned on his playlist. Churned up the music. Centered himself in front of his hanging bag.
Are you ready to tear it up?
He’d started boxing in college, someplace to channel his energy. Relieve tension. It kept him sharp, focused. And, it burned away the chaff of his frustration.
He began to move. Finding his rhythm. His shoulders burned, his abs on fire as he threw his punches. His body began to burn off the headache, the toxins releasing in sweat.
And then, he let go.
He didn’t even hear the footsteps until he saw a profile at the door.
“Ian!”
Ian caught the bag, put his hand against it to keep it from slamming against him. Sheriff Blackburn stood in the doorway, dressed in his uniform.
For a second, everything inside Ian froze.
Oh no. They’d found her.
Ian couldn’t breathe, his legs suddenly buckling. He hung on to the bag.
The music blared as his head swam.
No—please.
Randy came in and Ian turned the music off with his voice command. Silence thundered in the workout room.
Ian backed away, bent over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Hoping he didn’t throw up. “Just tell me.”
“I’m here for your own good, Ian. I think it’s time to shut it down.”
What—? Ian blinked at him. Straightened, staring at him. He walked over to the bench, grabbed a fresh towel, and scrubbed the sweat off his face. Looped it around his neck. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s not in the park, and if she is, she’s… I’m sorry Ian. It’s over.”
“What does it matter to you? I’m not using Mercy Falls resources—”
“No, but you’re disturbing the tourists. You’ve got everyone on edge with your ads, your PSA announcements, your flyovers. There are so many theories about what happened to Esme and Dante, people are afraid to go into the park.”
“And it’s an election year,” Ian snapped. “Let’s not forget that.”
Blackburn’s jaw tightened. “It’s not about that. I’ve seen this too many times before—kids run away. They get hurt, and yes, sometimes they get lost in the park. Esme and Dante aren’t the first, and they won’t be the last. But if she’s in the park, and didn’t run away with this boy, then she’s not…she’s not alive, Ian. And I’m sorry about that. But I hate seeing you killing yourself for an outcome that will devastate you.”
“I’m not giving up. I can’t give up.”
Randy sighed. “Okay. But I’ve got to take Sam back into the fold. He’s been spending too many hours at your disposal.”
He expected this, had been noodling on a solution. “I have an idea. How about if I let you use the chopper for Mercy Falls EMS services in exchange for Sam’s help? He can be a liaison—help me scour the park, and you can utilize the chopper when you need it.”
“And Chet? You’re going to pay for him, too?”
“If he’s willing—sure.”
Because he couldn’t give up. Even if Randy’s words had claws, dug in, reinforced by Sierra’s soft voice, I think she and Dante are together. Safe.
Please.
Still. “So, we have a deal—you can use my chopper, but I get Sam’s help.”
“I just can’t see spending all that time and money continuing a fruitless search.”
And really, it was good Ian had already worked out his stress, because he could go a round with Randy, right now.
“It’s not fruitless. I will find her. And when I do, she’ll know I never stopped looking. Never stopped hoping.”
But even as he said that, Ian knew there was only one way that could ever happen.
Sierra.
Only she stuck by him, gave him the hope he needed. And if he had to, he’d surrender the hope of having her in his arms for the reality of having her by his side as his assistant. He’d simply wait until they brought Esme home to show Sierra that yes, they belonged together.
“You’ve got a deal, Ian,” Randy said. “But the sooner you come to terms with the truth, the sooner you can move on.”
Ian didn’t want to move on. He just wanted to survive. At least, for now.
Ian unwrapped his hands then pulled off his sweaty shirt and headed upstairs for a shower to put on his very best Mr. Shaw.
Sierra didn’t expect Ian to show up on her doorstep first thing in the morning. Not really.
Okay, maybe she hoped it, just a little.
Nor did she intend to oversleep—never in her life had she not gone in to work on time.
But what if she didn’t have a job this morning—?
Okay, that might be overkill. So, she’d kissed her boss…
She’d kissed her boss.
Sierra sank on the bed, watching the clock tick away her future, and stared at herself, her hair up in a messy bun, a hint of lipstick, and the memory of kissing Ian adding heat to her face.
She should stay home. Hide.
Make a run for Wyoming. Because the thought of facing him…
Maybe he’d woken up this morning, had forgotten the entire thing. She should, too.
Except, she so didn’t want to forget it. She’d come upon that truth last night, maybe early this morning.
She refused to be one of those girls who fell in love with her rich boss for his money. But it was never about money. She loved Ian—everything about him, from the way he cared about Esme to the fact that he lived a big, exhilarating, yes, terrifying, but passionate life. And his story about his childhood—the fact that they weren’t so different—made her believe that maybe, inside, Ian didn’t see the gulf between them.
Besides, most of the time he didn’t feel like her boss. And that, probably, was the problem. But if it didn’t bother him, then maybe she should be running toward him.
“Sierra!”
Feet on the stairs, and Willow was banging on her bedroom door.
Sierra opened it and Willow came in, slammed it behind her. Sotto voiced, “Guess who’s here.”
Her mouth opened. “Really?”
“I told you.”
Yes, yes she had. Sierra went to the window, and there he was. Dressed in…what? A suit and tie? A light gray suit with a French blue shirt—she’d ordered it for him for a charity event in Texas. He wore his black Stetson and hand-tooled alligator boots and looked every inch the billionaire rancher.
Striding up her chipped cement sidewalk.
“Get downstairs!” Willow said and nearly pushed her from the room.
Oh.
Sierra felt like a hobo in her secondhand dress, a boring light-blue smock. Apparently, she needed to start dressing up for work.
He was knocking as she yanked the door open.
They just stood there, staring at each other, Ian freshly shaved, smelling like he’d just walked off the pages of GQ. The suit only made his shoulders wider, his torso leaner, and if she ever regretted kissing him, she couldn’t remember.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“You weren’t at work this morning.” His blue eyes were in hers, and for a second, she thought she might be in trouble. Then a hint of a smile tugged on his face and she couldn’t breathe, let alone remember her name.
“No. I, uh…am sure that I have a good reason?”
His smile widened and he gave a nod. “I’m sure you do. Can we talk?”
Oh. Right. “Ian, I�
�m so sorry I left last night. But you’d fallen asleep and—”
He reached out his hand and she stared at it.
“I won’t try and kiss you again,” he said softly, and leaned close. “I promise.”
Oh, shoot.
But she took his hand, and he led her out to the front steps. He sat down on them, right where she’d sat last night bemoaning her stupidity.
Right where Willow had said, If he wants you, he’ll come for you.
And how.
Sierra couldn’t breathe.
He unbuttoned his suit coat as she sat down beside him.
He stared out toward his car. Oh my, he’d brought the Vanquish to fetch her. It gleamed a soft gold in the morning sunlight.
“Okay, I’ll just say it—I’m sorry for last night,” he said.
He was?
Oh. She stilled, surprised at the ripple of disappointment that snaked through her.
“I—”
“You don’t have to explain, Mr. Shaw. I understand.” She managed to say it without her voice wavering. “Really.” Because what did she expect? For him to show up on his shiny steed, sweep her off her feet?
“No, I do need to explain. Because I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. I behaved poorly, and I made you feel awkward. I put you in a terrible position, and I apologize.”
“I’m sorr—”
“Let me finish. You’ve been trying to keep it professional, and I let my feelings for you cloud my judgment, and my honor.”
His feelings for her?
“So, while I don’t want you to call me Mr. Shaw, I do promise that I won’t let this happen again.”
She swallowed, dredged up a smile from the hollow scrape of her throat.
He looked at her now and she couldn’t bear the need in his eyes. “I’m using my best manners to ask you to stick with me. Esme is out there, and I can’t stop looking.”
“Of course you can’t,” she said gently. “But, maybe we should expand our search—”
“I agree. You’re probably right.” He swallowed and it almost hurt her, the way his shoulders rose and fell. “The thing is, I can’t do this alone. I…I need you, Sierra. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had. No one knows me like you do—you anticipate my needs, fill in for my mistakes. You hold my life together, and I can’t run my businesses and look for Esme without you by my side. So, please, stick with me, okay?”
Her breath caught. She closed her eyes, looked away before she let his words make a fool out of her. He needed her. Yes.
But not in his arms. She’d been foolish to let herself think anything different.
Besides, this was enough. Really. She found a smile. “You have me, Mister…Ian. I’m not going to leave you.”
He looked away, and he stared out at his car, a muscle pulling in his jaw. It seemed as if his eyes glistened, but perhaps it was just the sun.
His voice, however, was a little ragged as it emerged. “Good. Because I’m not sure how I’m going to live through this again. It feels like God is against me.”
That stymied her for a second. Because Ian Shaw, handsome billionaire, had everything he could want.
Except, apparently, the belief that God loved him.
“I know I’m not a good person, Sierra. I’ve tried to be. I keep hoping that maybe I’ve done enough to make up for my sins, that God will save Esme anyway. That wherever she is, He’ll keep her safe.”
“Ian. God doesn’t make deals—you don’t have to make up for your sins in order to finagle God into loving you. Or protecting Esme. Your worth to God has nothing to do with your actions. He loves you because He wants to. Because He chooses to.”
Ian seemed to ponder her words for a second, then shook his head. “But what if God doesn’t choose to love me, Sierra?”
Yeah, she got that. Because she could take a good look at her life and fear the same thing. “‘For God so loved the whole world, that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.’ That’s the whole world, Ian, including you.”
He closed his eyes, winced. Then opened them and shook his head. “I don’t know, Sierra. Two weeks ago I was standing at the top of the world, and now I feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff. I don’t know how to climb back up.”
“Ian,” she said softly, “Psalm 84 says that God brings us from strength to strength—but in between those moments of strength, those mountaintops, are the valleys. And of course, they’re dark and they’re frightening and shadowed, and sometimes so deep we can’t see our way out of them. But there is a mountaintop on the other side of that valley—there must be for it to even be a valley. And God is in the valley, too, filling it with nourishment as we stumble along. So the only thing that we can do is keep walking through the valley and believing in the mountaintop ahead.”
He gave a harsh chuckle, nothing of humor in it. “You make it sound easy. Too easy.”
No, not at all, really.
Ian stared at his hands, rugged and cut from his two weeks of searching. “I don’t have what you have. I don’t have faith.”
Oh, Ian. Her heart expanded to fill all the space between them. “But I do,” she said softly. And then, she followed her heart, reached out and took his hand. Wove her fingers between his and closed her grip. “And I’ll hold on to you until your faith shows up.”
He stared at her then, and for a second, she saw it—really saw it. The emotions behind the words, even behind the kiss, something rich and deep right below the surface.
Waiting.
“Okay,” he said, breathing out. Nodding. “Okay.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. Then she let go and stood up. Walked down the steps and stopped, looking up at him. “So, are you going to give me a ride to work in your fancy car? Because I’m really late, and my boss is a little uptight.”
For a second he just sat there. Then a slow grin edged up his face. He stood and slipped on his aviators. Walked out to his car. “I met your boss. He’s a real piece of work.”
“I know. But I like him,” Sierra said, following him. “He’s got a good heart. I’m going to ask him for a raise.” She opened the car door, slid into the smooth, buttery leather seat. Sheesh, the thing still smelled new. She’d have to ask him for more rides to work.
He slid in beside her, fired up the Vanquish. It hummed under his touch. “My guess is that you’re going to get it.”
Thank you so much for reading If Ever I Would Leave You. I hope you enjoyed this glimpse of Ian and Sierra and the start of their adventure. You can meet the entire PEAK Rescue team that Ian has put together, continuing the search for Esme, and discover Ian and Sierra’s continued adventures in Wild Montana Skies, Book 1 of the Montana Rescue series. (Check out the excerpt on the next page!)
I’d love to hear from you—not only about this story but about any characters or stories you’d like to read about in the future. Write to me at: [email protected]. And if you’d like to see what’s ahead, stop by www.susanmaywarren.com
I also have a monthly update that contains sneak peeks, reviews, upcoming releases, and free, fun stuff for my reader friends. Sign up at www.susanmaywarren.com.
Thank you again for reading!
Susie May
Wild Montana Skies
Book One: Montana Rescue
~ Excerpt ~
Add Wild Montana Skies to your collection!
1
Kacey didn’t want to raise eyebrows and alert the entire town to her return. She simply hoped to tame the beast that had roared to life when she spotted the billboard for the Gray Pony Saloon and Grill, off Route 2, on the outskirts of Mercy Falls.
The home of the best hickory rib sauce in the West.
From the look of things, the hangout on the edge of town hadn’t changed in a decade.
Dim streetlights puddled the muddy parking lot, now crammed full of F-150s and Silverado pickups. The twang of a Keith Urban cover swelled as the door
opened. A cowboy spilled out, his arm lassoed around a shapely coed, probably a summer intern for the park service. She wore Gore-Tex pants, a lime-green Glacier National Park T-shirt, and a too-easy smile on her face. Kacey watched as the cowboy wheedled her toward his truck. She tugged his hat down, and he braced his hands on either side of her, leaning down to steal a kiss.
The sight had the power to stop Kacey cold, reroute her down the country road of regrets.
Maybe she should simply keep going, head north to Whitefish, back to the anonymity of a town that couldn’t catalog her mistakes.
Still, the brain fog of two days of driving, not to mention the drizzle of a nagging rain, could be the recipe for disaster on the winding roads that journeyed north through the foothills.
The last thing she needed was to drive headfirst off the highway and die in a fiery crash here in her own backyard. Some welcome home that would be.
Kacey parked just as thunder growled, lightning spliced the darkness, and rain began to crackle against her windshield. The soupy night obliterated the view of the glorious, jagged mountains rising in the horizon.
Another pickup rolled up next to her, the running boards caked with mud. A fleet of what looked like army types piled out, garbed in mud-brown shirts and camo pants. Fatigue lined their grimy expressions, as if they were just returning from a two-day march in full field gear.
With the nearest army base over 150 miles away, the appearance of soldiers had her curiosity piqued. She watched them go in, and a reprimand formed on her lips about donning utility wear off duty. But, like her army psychologist had suggested, some time away from her fellow soldiers might help her heal.
Keep her from derailing twelve years of distinguished service with an ODPMC discharge—or, to her mind, the old Section-8, Maxwell Klinger designation.
She wasn’t crazy. Just…exhausted. Maybe.
She couldn’t let the war follow her home. Let it destroy the best part of herself, the part she’d left behind in Montana.
The part of her that desperately needed a definition of life that included words like safe and normal.
If Ever I Would Leave You: A Montana Rescue Prequel Page 9