by Rita Herron
Except...for that doll... The truth dawned, making her chest squeeze. It reminded him of the mother he’d lost as a child, and the fact that his father had betrayed her with Barbara.
That Joe had a second family. One who stood to throw a monkey wrench into their family business by taking part of it.
She wasn’t part of the family.
That was the reason he didn’t want her to have the doll. She was not a McCullen and no matter how much Joe loved her, she never would be.
A desolate feeling overcame her.
If Ray didn’t want her to have that doll, he certainly wouldn’t want her to have a piece of his father’s ranch.
* * *
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU, Ray? You ran off like something was wrong.”
Ray chewed the inside of his cheek. He hated lying to his brothers and had to tell them about Bobby and Scarlet soon.
But not tonight.
“I’m sorry. I had some business to attend to, then a man came out of nowhere, ran me off the road and attacked me.”
“What?” Brett’s voice rose an octave. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, just bruised.” His ego had taken a beating, too.
“Do you know who it was?”
“No, a big guy, two hundred pounds, scruffy. But it was dark and he came at me so fast that I didn’t get a good look at his face.”
“You talk to Deputy Whitefeather about it?”
“Not yet. But I will.” Scarlet had to talk to him about getting that restraining order, too.
“Why did you call, Brett?”
A heartbeat of silence passed, and Ray regretted his defensive tone. They were brothers. Brett didn’t have to have a reason.
“I found Hardwick, but I haven’t talked to him yet. I’m outside The Silver Bullet where I spotted his truck. I thought we might confront him together.”
Ray glanced at the bedroom. In light of the night’s events, he hated to leave Scarlet alone. What if Pullman returned?
Yet...if he stayed he’d be tempted to go back inside, apologize for being a jerk and ask her to give him another chance to love her.
He’d call the deputy to come over. Whitefeather could get the restraining order underway.
“I’ll meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”
Brett agreed, and Ray fought guilt over keeping silent about Scarlet. But he would tell Brett soon. He’d have to.
Tucking his shirt back in his jeans, he fastened his belt, retrieved his gun and Stetson and went to the bedroom and knocked. Regret needled him as Scarlet opened the door.
Pain glinted in her eyes, but she quickly lifted her head and masked it.
“That was my brother. We may have a lead on the arsonist. I’m going to meet Brett to question the man.”
“Fine.”
Her curt tone told him all he needed to know. She was ticked off.
“I’ll call Deputy Whitefeather and tell him about the attack on me, and about Pullman. I’ll ask him to come by and get the ball rolling on the restraining order.”
She gave a quick nod. “Thanks, Ray.”
He hesitated, tempted to pull her against him again and assure her everything was all right. But he couldn’t promise that it would be, not until he talked to his brothers.
And not until he found out the truth about the fire at the ranch.
“Scarlet, I—”
“Just go, Ray,” Scarlet said. “You were right to put a halt to things.”
Her look dared him to argue. He couldn’t. He agreed with her.
But that didn’t mean he liked it. Hell, he still wanted her with a vengeance.
* * *
SCARLET PROMISED RAY she’d keep the doors locked until the deputy arrived.
But she was seething inside. She might understand Ray’s hesitation over sleeping with her. And she should be grateful he’d left. But her body still tingled with need.
She wasn’t the kind of girl who slept around. In fact, she’d actually climbed into bed with only two men in her life. Well, not men. Boys.
Once at seventeen when she’d first entered college, and she was young and foolish and thought she was in love. But she was inexperienced and happily-ever-after to her meant exclusivity and marriage. To him it had meant sex with no hassles.
The second time, she was twenty-one and had dated a prosecutor, but he’d decided to join a law firm that focused on defending hardened criminals. He’d wanted the money—and she hadn’t been able to stomach the people he represented. Not after the violence and abuse she’d seen in her own life and through her work.
She made a cup of tea to settle her nerves, then heard the rumble of an engine and hurried to the window to make sure Pullman hadn’t returned.
The deputy’s car rolled to a stop and turned in the drive. Relieved, she set her tea on the coffee table, then unlocked the door.
Deputy Whitefeather looked solemn as he strode up the steps. “Miss Lovett, Ray McCullen called and said you had trouble.”
“Yes.” She gestured for him to come in. “I need a restraining order against Lloyd Pullman.”
“Tell me what happened.”
She offered him some coffee, but he declined. So she led him to the den, explained the circumstances with Pullman’s daughter and described the way the man had tormented her earlier.
The twisted man didn’t realize that by threatening her he’d hurt his chances of regaining his child.
* * *
RAY SPOTTED BRETT’S truck when he pulled into the packed parking lot of The Silver Bullet.
Brett met him in the parking lot as he climbed from his SUV.
His brother caught his arm and frowned. “Hell, man, you did take a beating.”
Ray had forgotten about his black eye and the bruises. “Don’t remind me.” He should have been faster to his gun.
“You been inside?” Ray asked.
Brett shook his head. “Figured I might need backup.”
Ray nodded, and they walked into the bar together. Cigarette smoke clogged the air, and the room smelled of beer and whiskey. Country music was piped through the speakers, some sad song about a man losing a woman, which made him think of Scarlet.
Except Scarlet was not his woman and never would be.
Laughter and conversation echoed from the bar and a dart game was underway in the back corner. Two biker-looking dudes occupied the pool table.
Ray swept his gaze through the crowded room, and Brett nudged his elbow, then gestured toward a young man in his twenties with a goatee, cowboy hat and boots. The watch on his left arm looked expensive, and so did the signet ring he wore on his right hand.
Cowboys didn’t usually make that kind of money. Maybe he’d earned his by working for the enemy.
Brett started toward the bar and Ray followed. He strode to the opposite side of the man while Brett moved in on the other. The man had just tossed back a shot and ordered another.
Brett indicated that he and Ray wanted a shot, and the bartender set three on the bar.
Hardwick went to pick up his glass, and Brett laid a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk, man.”
Ray set a hand on the other. “Yeah, Hardwick.”
Panic flashed in Hardwick’s eyes, the kind born of guilt. He slid off the barstool and sprinted through the crowd, pushing people in his haste to escape.
“Dammit,” Brett muttered.
Ray cursed, too, then took off running.
Chapter Fifteen
“I can’t believe he’s running!” Brett said under his breath as Ray and his brother chased after Hardwick.
It certainly made the man look guilty.
Ray shouldered his way through the crowded bar, keeping his eyes on Hardwick
as the ranch hand pushed his way to the front door. Brett darted the opposite direction hoping to cut Hardwick off before he reached the exit.
A brunette in a low-cut blouse touched his arm. “Buy you a drink, cowboy?”
Ray shook his head and forged on, catching glimpses of two other women attempting to snag Brett’s attention. Although Brett had been a flirt and had had women galore when he was on the circuit, he barely noticed these ladies. He was completely devoted to Willow.
Ray spotted Hardwick elbow a couple aside in his haste to escape, then he darted out the door. Ray rushed by the bar and made it to the exit before Brett, but Brett caught up quickly as they ran outside.
Ray paused to scan the parking lot, the music still blaring behind them, this time the song about a man and his dog.
“There, he’s getting in his truck.” Brett gestured at a black pickup and a custom tag that read “BIGMAN”. Hardwick wrenched the door open and jumped in.
“Stop, Hardwick!” Ray shouted as he jogged through the parking lot.
By the time he reached Hardwick’s truck, Hardwick was screeching from the parking lot.
Ray grabbed his keys from his pocket and motioned to Brett. “Come on, we’ll take my Range Rover.”
The two of them jogged to his SUV and got in. He fired up the engine and roared from the parking lot in chase. Tires squealed as Hardwick sped up and veered onto a side road.
A little sedan pulled out in front of Ray. He cursed and slowed, irritated that another car was coming toward him, and he couldn’t pass it.
“Up there!” Brett pointed to the truck.
“I see it.” Finally the oncoming car zoomed by, then another. Ray sped up and zoomed around the sedan. Accelerating, he rode the edge of the road until he made the turn.
Hardwick raced around a curve ahead. Ray punched the gas and the Range Rover lurched forward, eating the distance between them.
Hardwick took a turn too fast and an oncoming gas truck appeared out of nowhere. Hardwick swerved to avoid it, but lost control and his truck left the road, flying toward a ravine.
Hardwick swung the truck to the right to avoid careening over the edge and diving into the hollow, but the truck spun out, then flipped to its side and skidded into an embankment. Glass shattered and metal crunched, sparks flying as it finally crashed to a stop.
“I’ll call it in,” Brett said as he reached for his phone.
Ray slowed the Range Rover and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, then jumped out and sprinted toward the vehicle.
It was upside down, the passenger side crunched against the embankment. He dropped down to his knees to look inside. The air bag had deployed and Hardwick was strapped in, upside down, and blood dripped down his face.
His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving.
“The ambulance is on its way,” Brett said as he ran up. “How is he?”
“Hard to tell,” Ray said. “He’s unconscious.”
Ray reached through the broken glass and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive, but pulse is weak.”
A siren wailed in the distance, indicating help was on its way. Hardwick groaned and tried to open his eyes.
If he died, they’d never get any answers. “Why did you run, Hardwick?”
Another moan, and the man turned his head toward Ray.
“Did you set the fire at the barns on the ranch?” Brett asked.
Hardwick moved his head as if to shake it no, but it was difficult to tell. A siren wailed and the ambulance careened down the road toward them.
“Tell us,” Brett said. “Did you set the fire?”
“No,” Hardwick mumbled.
“You were working for Bennett?”
Hardwick coughed up blood, then faded into unconsciousness again. The ambulance roared to a stop, a fire engine on its tail.
Ray and Brett stepped aside as the rescue workers hurried toward them.
He didn’t know if Hardwick would make it or not. But if he regained consciousness, they’d force him to talk.
* * *
SCARLET RUBBED HER ARMS, wondering where Ray was.
“I’ll make sure the restraining order is in place and that Pullman knows about it,” Deputy Whitefeather said. “Ray said he asked him about cutting the brake lines but he denied it.”
“I wouldn’t expect him to confess.”
“If he did it, Scarlet, we’ll find some way to get him.”
“Thanks,” Scarlet said. “I didn’t want it to come to this.”
Deputy Whitefeather gave her a sympathetic look. “It’s not your fault. From what you’ve told me about the man, it sounds as if he has a pattern of abuse. He needs serious counseling and anger management classes.”
“He also needs to stop drinking,” Scarlet said. “I told him all this, but it only made him more furious.”
“Sometimes it takes the court and a little jail time to knock some sense into people.”
Even then it might not work. “The sad thing is that his child suffers. That little girl needs a father.”
“Every kid does,” the deputy said in a gravelly voice.
Scarlet didn’t know the deputy very well, but she sensed they might be kindred spirits.
“Your father wasn’t around?”
He shook his head, his long ponytail sliding over one shoulder. “No, I grew up on the reservation with my mother. I didn’t even know my father’s name until recently.”
“I’m sorry,” Scarlet said softly. “It sounds like you and I have some things in common.”
The deputy’s eyes darkened and, for a moment, she thought she detected some strong emotions pass through them. Pain. Anger.
He was a handsome man. Big-boned, tall, tan skin, high cheekbones, eyes dark brown and soulful. Sexy.
But he didn’t stir the same kind of need inside her that Ray McCullen did.
He heaved a breath and stood. “You know the McCullen brothers?”
Scarlet twisted her hands together, not sure how to answer that question. “I just met Ray. But I knew their father, Joe.”
Deputy Whitefeather’s brows rose in question. “You knew Joe McCullen?”
“Yes.” Scarlet thought of Joe and had to smile. “I lived in the children’s home outside Laramie. Joe volunteered there. He also donated money to build a new house. We named it The Family Farm.”
“Really? That was nice of him.”
“He had a soft spot for kids without families.” Scarlet debated how much to tell him, but chose her words carefully. “He brought horses over twice a month and gave us riding lessons. I guess you could say he became a father figure to everyone there.”
The deputy’s jaw twitched. “I never knew the man myself, but I heard good things about him. Maddox took his death hard.”
“I guess he was closest to Joe,” Scarlet said.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You must have been upset, too.”
Scarlet’s chest ached with grief. “Yes, I loved him. He actually helped place me in another home when I was around ten. He...was always there for me.” It made her sad to think she’d never see him again.
With all the trouble that had happened this week, he would have been the first person she would have called.
Now she’d called on his son Ray...
But that had to end. When his brothers discovered the truth about Barbara and Bobby and her, the McCullens probably wouldn’t want them in their lives.
The deputy’s dark gaze met hers, and once again, Scarlet had the uncanny sense that he wanted to say more. Turmoil colored his expression, one she didn’t quite understand.
“Here’s my card, Scarlet. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Deputy Whitefeather. B
y the way, did Ray tell you that someone ran him off the road and beat him up?”
“Yes.” His demeanor changed, suspicions flaring in his eyes. “It does seem like someone’s out to get the McCullens.”
He couldn’t possibly think she’d hurt Ray or the McCullens. But Bobby might... “I hope you find whoever did it. It could be the same person who set that fire.”
The deputy squeezed her arm. “Don’t worry, Scarlet, we’ll get to the bottom of this. Just keep your doors locked and call me if Pullman shows up again.”
She locked the door when he left and prayed no one else came to her house tonight. Not Pullman or Bobby.
Or Ray.
If he returned, she wouldn’t be able to resist asking him to stay.
* * *
IT TOOK FOREVER for the firefighters to extract Hardwick from his truck, board him and transport him to the hospital.
The medics said he had a concussion, cuts and abrasions, and they were worried about internal bleeding.
Ray drove Brett to retrieve his truck at The Silver Bullet, then they met at the hospital. If Hardwick regained consciousness, they wanted to be there to question him.
Ray went straight to the coffee machine while Brett called Willow to check on her and Sam.
Ray brought his brother a cup of coffee and sipped his own. It was weak but warmed his throat, and after being up most of the night he needed the jolt of caffeine.
Brett removed his Stetson and raked his hand through his hair. “Thanks, man.”
“Look, Brett, we may be here for hours. Why don’t you go on home to Willow and Sam?” A twinge of jealousy niggled at Ray. Brett and Maddox both had families now, women who loved and cared about them.
Nobody gave a damn about him.
He’d always liked it that way. But Scarlet’s face flashed in his mind—an image of her nearly naked, her cheeks flushed with passion—and he had an urge to go back to her tonight.
Brett glanced up at him, a sheepish look on his face. “I do miss them, but I don’t want to let you or Maddox down, Ray. Finding out who set fire to those barns is important. They might try again.”
Ray’s gut tightened, feeling more connected to his brothers than he had in years. “You’re right. If they attack the ranch, they attack us. All the more reason you should go home to your wife and son,” he continued. “They need you. And someone should be on the ranch in case something else happens.”