Lone Star Burn_Lost Soul

by Sandy Sullivan

  Dean drained his beer and stood. “I will call my friend tomorrow and give him Libby’s number to contact you so you two can talk. It might take a while for all the loose ends to be tied up.”

  “I know it takes longer to prove someone is innocent than it does to prove they are guilty.” Brock stood too. It was time to go home to Libby. “Thanks for your help with this. I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve it, but I’m grateful all the same.”

  Dean reached into his back pocket and handed him a business card. “Call me if you need anything until then. I’ll help if I can.” The two of them shook hands. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Brock watched Dean walk through the bar doors as the weight of the last fifteen years disappeared from his shoulders. He felt like he could actually breathe again.

  The waitress came by to see if he wanted another beer. “No. I’m fine. Here you go,” he said as he tossed some money on her tray before heading for the doors.

  Today had been one of the best days of his life. A job had fallen into his lap, and he now had someone who would help him clear his name. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

  Wanting to get home to Libby and tell her his news, he pulled out his cell phone to call a cab. He needed to save the few dollars he had left before his first paycheck, but he could afford to take a cab tonight. It wouldn’t be long before he had a steady income again.

  After he made the call, he stood off to the side of the building as he waited. People milled about, moving in and out the doors wanting to enjoy the evening. He propped his shoulder against the corner and watched.

  A sharp jab in the middle of his back brought his attention into harsh clarity.

  “Don’t turn around.”

  “I don’t have much money, man.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “What do you want then? Sticking me in the back is the coward’s way. Face me if you want to kill me.”

  “I’m not here to hurt you either, Callahan. I’m here to warn you.”

  “Warn me about what?”

  “There are people who don’t want the truth known. Dr. Reynold’s will be hurt if you don’t let go of the past. The person responsible for the murder knows you are digging.”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, and I’ll let it go. No one has to know you said anything.”

  “I can’t. They’ll know.” The guy’s voice rose in pitch. It was apparent he was terrified. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. She wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “The woman?”

  “Yeah. It was meant to scare her into leaving.”

  “Why?”

  “The baby.”

  “The baby?” Think Callahan. Who? He tried to figure out what the guy meant. It wasn’t clear. None of this made sense. Brock could feel the knife in his back shake. If the guy got antsy, he might do something stupid like shove the knife in a little too far. As it was, it stuck right near his liver. “The baby belonged to someone who didn’t want its parentage known?”

  “Yeah. Affairs can get messy like that. Someone important?”

  “Yes, but you need to stop digging into this. You are free now. Leave it be or someone will get hurt. Important people know how to make folks disappear and never be found, even people as well liked as your friend.”

  “Libby?”

  “They’ll hurt her if you don’t stop. I’ve heard them talking.”

  “I’ll kill anyone who hurts her.”

  The sharp jab disappeared. “Let it go.” The man’s voice bled into the darkness.

  Brock spun around hoping to get a glimpse of the man, but he was nowhere to be found. “Son of a bitch. I need to warn Libby. That’s probably why someone broke into her house. They were trying to warn me they knew about us and that they would hurt her if I didn’t leave it alone.”

  The cab arrived a moment later, and within seconds they were speeding down the road toward Libby’s house.

  When they pulled up in front, there were several lights on. Brock quickly paid the driver, ran up to the front of the house, and pushed open the door.

  What he saw took his breath away.

  Libby sat in the middle of the room buck-ass naked, tied tightly to a chair. A gag filled her mouth. Mascara ran down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with terror as she shook her head and glanced to the side.

  A man he didn’t know stood leaning against the doorjamb between the living room and the hallway with his arms were crossed over his chest. His demeanor was relaxed, but Brock could tell he was coiled tight. The guy was as tall as he was, but not quite as muscled or broad across the chest.

  “Well, well. It’s about time, Callahan. I thought you’d never show up.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “You don’t need to know that, asshole. All you need to know is that you and your lovely lady there are going to die tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “You know too much. You should have died in prison like we’d planned, but you didn’t. You managed to survive and come back here.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, man. Let us go, and we’ll go somewhere else, move somewhere else. You don’t have to kill us.”

  The man smiled, showing a few missing teeth and those that weren’t gone were rotten. “You don’t get it do you? You don’t have a choice in the matter.” He moved toward Brock as a knife appeared in his right hand. “And after I’m done fucking you up, I’m going have a little fun with your lady there. She’s a pretty little piece of fluff, and I’m sure it’s real sweet right there between her thighs.”

  His vision went red at the thought of this asshole raping Libby. Brock knew he would have to fight for his and Libby’s lives. Luckily, one thing he had learned in the pen was how to fight with knives or shanks. It was the only thing most of the prisoners had to hurt or defend themselves with. Hand to hand combat had also become something he was pretty good at.

  The two of them circled each other as Brock gauged what the man’s strength and weaknesses might be.

  Libby whimpered as she struggled with her bonds. He risked a look at her just as the man lunged, slicing through the skin on his right side. Blood seeped through and it hurt like a bitch, but it made Brock that much madder. He jumped toward the man, spinning to his left at the last minute when the guy sliced through the air. He grabbed the guy’s wrist right above where he held the knife, twisted it around behind him, and shoved his arm up the middle of his back until the guy screamed in pain. The knife clattered to the floor at their feet. Brock kicked the weapon away, watching it slide under the couch.

  He pushed the guy face down on the couch as he struggled to remove the belt at his waist. Working as a wrangler for years made him an expert at hogtieing someone. He didn’t have a full coil of rope to really tie the guy, but his belt would work in a pinch. Once he got it loose, he set it on the couch beside the man, yanked both hands down to the middle of his back, and then wrapped his belt around the man’s wrists.

  The man continued to kick his feet to try to get free, screaming cuss words, and threatening both of them when he got loose. Brock made sure he wasn’t going to get a chance.

  Brock worked the ropes on her loose until she could move. “Easy, baby. I’ll get you free in a second, but I need to use these on him to keep him secure until the cops can get here.”

  She pulled the gag out of her mouth. “You can’t call the local police, Brock. Call Dean Carlton. He has friends with the state patrol.”

  “I ran into Dean earlier.”

  “Good. Call him.” She rubbed her arms. “I need to get some clothes on. He caught me coming out of the shower.”

  Brock touched the red marks on her breast softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  “We can talk about this later.”

  Her eyes were haunted. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy to get over.

  “I’ll be right back.” A small smil
e lifted the corners of her mouth before she turned and went down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Brock grabbed the ropes from the floor and finished tying the guy up so he couldn’t get loose, then stuffed the gag that had been in Libby’s mouth into his so he would shut the hell up.

  He pulled out his wallet where he’d stuffed Dean’s card, grabbed the phone from his pocket, and walked into the kitchen to call.

  “Carlton.”

  “Dean? It’s Brock Callahan. You wouldn’t still be in town, would you?”

  “Not really, no. Why?”

  “I need your expertise and your connections to the state police. When I came home from the bar, there was a man here in Libby’s house. He had her bound to a chair and threatened to kill both of us. He had a knife.” Brock looked down at the blood on his shirt. He might need a few stitches. “I also had a visitor outside the bar. I can’t tell you about it on the phone though. If people know about me and Libby and are willing to kill us, the house is probably bugged or something.”

  “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. I have a friend who is a detective with the state police department. He’s clean and on the up and up.”

  “Thanks, Dean.”

  “No problem.”

  The phone went dead as Libby walked back into the room wearing a sweatshirt, sweatpants, socks, and tennis shoes. It was eighty degrees outside, but she absently rubbed her arms as if she was cold.

  Brock pulled her into his embrace, hugging her tightly to his chest. “I’m so sorry, Lib,” he whispered. “I should have been here to protect you.” She clung to his back with her hands balled into fists. He could feel her shoulders shaking with sobs she tried to conceal. “Ssh. It’ll be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  In no time at all, Dean and his friend pulled up in front of the house. He knocked softly before pushing open the door and walking inside.

  Brock was struck again by the stature of his new friend. Dean Carlton was not a man to mess with.

  “You okay?” Dean asked as he moved toward them. He motioned to his friend and introduced him as well. “Beckett Chishom. He works with the state bureau of investigation.”

  Brock stuck out his hand and introduced himself and Libby.

  The guy looked around before jotting down some notes on a pad of paper he’d pulled out of his shirt pocket. He tipped his head to the side, whispered something in Dean’s ear, and then walked outside.

  Dean leaned closer to Brock and whispered, “I’m going to put him in Beckett’s car and then we can talk in mine.”

  Brock nodded and ushered Libby outside. They probably wanted to make sure they could talk without being overheard.

  The back door was open to Dean’s SUV. He pushed Libby gently inside and climbed in behind her. Dean and Beckett sat in the front.

  “So what exactly happened in there?” Dean asked.

  Brock went into detail about what he’d found when he came home. Libby added her part after she found the man in her house when she got out of the shower. Brock put his arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She cuddled into his chest like a lost puppy.

  The particulars about Brock’s run in with the man beside the bar came next. He told Dean about the entire conversation, leaving nothing out.

  “It sounds like there is some big people involved in this.” Dean rubbed his chin and glanced over his shoulder at Brock. “The man didn’t tell you anything more about who might be involved?”

  “No. He was terrified though. I could hear it in his voice. Why he came to warn me, I don’t know, but I appreciate it.”

  “You might have to leave town for a while,” Beckett added as he flicked his cigarette out the window.

  “I can’t. I have a business here. My practice wouldn’t survive if I wasn’t here. There is no one else to do it,” Libby cried.

  “I understand, Dr. Reynold’s, but your life is in danger.”

  “I get that. I’ll hire someone to protect me, protect us, but I won’t run.”

  Brock turned her and cupped her face. “Libby, I don’t want you hurt. If anything were to happen to you, especially because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

  “I’m not afraid, Brock. I won’t let these assholes ruin my life, our lives. I’m done with this.”

  He pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “My little hellion.”

  “We’ll get through this, Brock, together. I won’t let fear define me.”

  “All right. We’ll stay, but we are hiring someone to protect you twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Fine.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “And tomorrow, we are getting a dog, a really big dog.”

  All three men laughed, but Brock knew, she wasn’t kidding.

  Chapter Nine

  Stars twinkled above their heads as they laid in the back of her truck. A thick blanket cushioned their backs, two pillows at the top of the bed to lay their heads on, and a light blanket to cover them should they get cold.

  The night was perfect.

  Her head was cradled on Brock’s chest as he played with her hair lying across her arm. His heart beat in a strong rhythm beneath her cheek.

  It was late fall in Texas, but the night was still warm enough to be here like this with him, enjoying the low bawling of a cow in the distance, the crickets and frogs making their noises, and thinking about their future.

  Today, it was over.

  Brock’s name had been cleared and the record of his time in prison was gone. Not that he would ever be able to forget those fifteen years, but at least it no longer blackened his name.

  He was a free man.

  “How do you feel?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re free now. You’ve been exonerated.”

  He shrugged. “It hasn’t really sunk in yet, I guess. We’ve been living in fear the last couple of months, always looking over our shoulders, always afraid someone will be waiting for us when we get home. It will be nice not to have that anymore, but to find out the mayor of Bard was the one behind the murder because he’d fathered her child? I just can’t wrap my head around that. And knowing the sheriff here in town set me up all because he didn’t like me? I really wish I could see his face when he’s put behind bars and the inmates find out who he is. They don’t take kindly to cops.”

  She shivered.

  “Cold, baby?”

  She thought about that for a minute. She really wasn’t, but if it would get Brock to hold her a little closer, then maybe she was chilled. “A little.”

  “Here.” He pulled her closer to his side and drew the blanket over them.

  “To think, the sheriff sent men to my house to frighten me by breaking in. I still don’t know how he knew about the date, but it doesn’t matter. It’s scary to realize he had access to alarm codes too.”

  “That’s how they got in. He had the code to yours, and he gave it to them.”

  “I know, which means they could have come into my house anytime day or night. That thought terrifies me.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to worry now. As long as I’m with you, no one will ever hurt you.”

  They’d taken their boots off when they’d settled in. Now, she could rub her bare foot up his leg. She loved touching him everywhere.

  She snaked her hand up the inside of his shirt. His skin was warm on her hand. The hair sprinkled over his chest and abdomen tickled her palm as she skimmed it up his belly and then back down toward his groin.

  “Woman, you’ll be the death of me.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to make love out here under the stars?”

  “I would love to make love to you out here, Lib, but there is something I want to do first.” He sat up, bringing her into a sitting position with him. “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while now, but it never seemed like the right time. I know it isn’t much since my job doesn’t pay very well right now, but—” He reached over under the edge of the
blanket and pulled out a blue ring box. “I love you, Lib. I always have. From the moment you looked up at me with those pretty eyes like I’d hung the moon, you’ve been the one who has held my heart. You are what kept me sane while I spent all that time in jail. You are my woman and my life. Will you marry me?”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She’d wanted this more than anything in the world for so long, she couldn’t believe it was here. The day she’d seen him in the diner after he’d come back, she couldn’t believe he was back in Bard. Now he was hers and they would build a life together like she’d always wanted. If she’d only say yes. “Yes!” She threw herself into his arms, kissing all over his face as he laughed and hugged her. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  “I love you too, darlin’. Now put this here ring on so everyone in the county knows you’re mine for now and always.”

  She sat back and held out her left hand. As he slipped the ring on her finger, she glanced down and admired the beautiful ring he’d chosen. It was simply gorgeous.

  They didn’t need a lot. All they needed was each other.

  This was a new beginning for the two of them. Their lives had come full circle from the day she’d watched him disappear on the bus headed for prison. He was her love and her life. Nothing would ever come between them again.

  The End

  About the Author

  Sandy Sullivan is a romance author, who, when not writing, spends her time with her husband Shaun on their farm in middle Tennessee. She loves to ride her horses, play with their dogs and relax on the porch, enjoying the rolling hills of her home south of Nashville. Country music is a passion of hers and she loves to listen to it while she writes.

  She is an avid reader of romance novels and enjoys reading Nora Roberts, Jude Deveraux and Susan Wiggs. Finding new authors and delving into something different helps feed the need for literature. A registered nurse by education, she loves to help people and spread the enjoyment of romance to those around her with her novels. She loves cowboys so you’ll find many of her novels have sexy men in tight jeans and cowboy boots.