by Willa Okati
Vanner spits out a string of curses.
Heath has to choose between two devils, both of which boast sharp and pointy pitchforks. "Lucy, stay right there, okay?" He slides one bare leg off the bed and gets up, flashing his friend with far more than he'd ever intended. "Just don't... holler, or anything. Okay?"
"I think I'm more likely to laugh." The hand over Lucy's heart drifts up to cover her mouth, which is indeed curling into a still-shocked but increasingly broad grin. "You and Vanner, huh?"
Heath blushes, wishing to high heaven he was anywhere else. "No point in lying, is there?"
"Nope." Lucy's grin is too broad to hide behind her fingers. "Heath Gitane, you sorry dog. How long has this been going on?"
Vanner says, from under his pillow, what Heath's too confounded to voice. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Me? Not a thing. I'm not fucking my brother."
Vanner cringes.
Heath, who knows Lucy better, studies her body language. He can't figure it at all, but she's not upset, not puffed up with righteous wrath like he'd have expected. She looks like she's just shy of bursting into giggles.
He crosses his arms and sighs, resigned. "If you laugh, so help me God..."
Lucy swallows down a chortle and holds two fingers up. "Scout's honor."
"Heath, what in the hell's wrong with her?"
Heath shakes his head. "She's always been a nutcase." All the same, he can't stop boggling at her. Of all the reactions he ever thought he'd see from anyone, this is about the last on the list. "What...?"
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. You're going to hell, you sinners. Spare me, Heath. Like I haven't seen the way you look at Vanner since the day I met you."
Vanner sits bolt upright. "You what the fuck now?"
"I'm not blind, and I'm not stupid. Heath never watched you like he did some other riders, no, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who ever saw anything, so don't tie your tail in a knot." Her lips twitch. "Looks like Heath wants it for something else."
Heath feels faint. He grabs Vanner's hand to steady himself. Vanner's shaking. "Lucy, don't you joke. Don't even."
She sobers. "I'm not. Look at me, Heath. I'm on your side. I won't pretend I understand this, no. But I won't pitch a fit, either."
"I thought you wanted him for yourself," Vanner says. He swallows, dry and rough.
"Excuse me?" Heath tears his hand away to demand. "What was that?"
Vanner mumbles and refuses to meet Heath's eye.
"Well, yeah, I wanted him." Lucy's frank as ever. "Who wouldn't? Both of you are God's gift for anyone who likes to look at pretty things."
For some reason, that's what makes Heath turn pink.
"I play a lot, Heath." Lucy walks toward him, not looking at his lube-shiny genitalia, not once. She touches his bare chest like it's a benediction. "Playing is all it ever was. I wanted you to find someone who'd be good for you. If it's him, well, that's pretty weird, but you take what you can out of life."
"And you had to bust in here through the fucking window to tell us all this?" Vanner's dealing with his fear through the medium of anger. For all his roaring, Heath can feel the terrified shaking of Vanner's limbs and hear it threaded through his voice.
"We can trust her," he tries to soothe. "She's never betrayed me."
"Don't mean she won't."
"Would both of you shut up?" Lucy backs off a few steps. "The window was overkill. I didn't know you two were... well... and I wanted to get your attention."
"You did that, all right."
Heath pops Vanner one. There's something worrisome in Lucy's sudden nervous twisting of her fingers. "Don't yell at me, okay? I heard a girl, earlier. Screaming. In here. Before you took off like the seat of your pants was on fire."
Vanner hitches forward. If looks could kill, Lucy would drop dead between one heartbeat and the next. He's right on the edge of how much he can take and Lucy's walking a thin, thin line. "What about her?"
Lucy bites her lip. "She's not... look, I saw her when Vanner walked her to the next room over, okay? And she's not quite all there, is she?"
Vanner's lips curl back over his teeth in a silent dog's snarl. Heath grabs his twin's shoulder and squeezes hard. "She's different."
"Who is she?"
"No one you need to know about," Vanner barks, cutting Heath off before he can reply. "You leave her out of this."
"Yeah, well, I would, except she's why I had to bust in here." Lucy chafes her wrists. "I went to get a Frosty and when I came back, I was just in time to see a god-awful ugly truck pulling out of the lot. Too new to belong here."
There's an ugly, sick feeling curling in the pit of Heath's stomach. "And?"
"And I found this on the sidewalk outside her door." Lucy digs in her jeans pocket and comes out with a sight that makes Heath's blood run cold, makes Vanner give a cry like a wounded animal.
A tiny doll with baby cheeks and no hair.
"Heath." Vanner's panicking, his façade barely worth anything anymore. "Heath."
Heath tries twice to talk around the icy cold knot in his throat before he can form the words. "Did you see anything else?"
"No. But I asked a woman at the soda machine. She said it was a big, tall man in weekend cowboy gear that took off with her--"
Heath doesn't hear the rest. All he takes in is Vanner's pained cry and the clench of Vanner's hand around his, spearing him with a sharp, hot pain as a finger bone comes dangerously close to fracturing.
Marybeth's gone, and it's Sidney who took her.
"I'll kill him," Vanner breathes.
Uh-uh, thinks Heath. I'm killing him first.
***
Vanner can't move. Can't think. Damn near can't breathe. It's like a kick to the gut from a bull the size of a truck, like having his head shoved in a cask of mud. He doesn't realize that he's breathing, all right -- breathing too fast -- until Heath sits heavily down beside him and claps his hand over Vanner's nose and mouth.
Feeling floods back over Vanner as he cusses and smacks Heath, trying to make him let go.
"Uh-uh." Heath hangs on with the devil's own grip. "You stay with me, Vanner. I need you in your right mind, and that's not an option when you sound like a broken accordion."
Vanner shoots Heath a filthy glare. Heath doesn't back down. "Breathe," he orders. "In and out. Nice and slow."
"I might have a paper bag in the truck." Good God Almighty, what's Lucy still doing here? She doesn't even have the good grace to be going to pieces herself, just stands there assessing him.
He manages to pry Heath far enough off to grouch at her: "Get, woman."
"You picked a charmer, Heath."
"Get!" Vanner tries to bite Heath's hand when it comes firmly back to its original smothering position. He garbles the next through Heath's palm, but thinks he makes his point. "Don't need you here."
Heath pinches the skin of his thigh, tweaking up some of the hairs like he's a teenage girl tormenting her boyfriend. "We do. She's the last one who saw Marybeth." He swallows visibly, throat working. "And who knows Sidney Morocco's the one who took off with her."
"Who's Sidney Morocco?" Lucy asks. "Wait. Wasn't your sponsor someone with the same last name? I thought he was an older guy. Real friendly. Yeah, I remember him now, Mike Morocco."
"Meet the younger generation. Reverse evolution."
"I could see as much for myself." Lucy shudders.
Vanner bucks hard enough to shake Heath off. "He's a prince among men," he drawls, standing. Let Lucy get an eyeful if she wants; he's got more important things to worry on. "And he's got what's ours. Gonna get it back. Go!"
Heath gets to his feet. Doesn't look like he's too concerned about being bare-ass naked either. He grips Vanner's shoulder, and Vanner's point of view narrows to his twin's face, his twin's eyes, and his twin's lips. "Vanner, you listen to me," Heath says, punctuating the order with a hard shake. "We will get Marybeth back. Swear to God, we will." He stops shaking Vanner. "Wait. Ha
ng on. How did you know about Sidney Morocco?"
"You wanna talk about this now?" Vanner tilts his head at where he remembers Lucy standing. "I can. Don't know if you'd like it."
"I'm not worried about keeping any more secrets, Vanner. She's heard most of the big deals already. The more Lucy knows, now, the more she might be able to help us."
"I'd do that anyway," Lucy says staunchly. Vanner can't see her, but he knows she's sticking out her chest. "I don't turn my back on my friends."
"Yeah, but you can flaunt your tits at 'em, can't you?" Vanner snipes, the last word leaving his lips not a split-second before there's a terrible impact to his jaw.
He comes up spitting blood from a split lip, his vision jangled and his ears ringing, facing a look from Heath that could kill. "You'll be nice to her. Are we clear?"
Vanner can't believe his eyes. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
Lucy doesn't try to defend herself. Vanner tries to look at her to see if she's cooking something up. She surprises him by blushing and looking away; her shoulders lift in a small, uncomfortable shrug. When she glances back, it's with a moue of apology.
Huh. Vanner processes that. He's not inclined to look kindly at her, but it's hard riding a person's best acknowledgment that they've done wrong.
All right, then.
"Let go," he says. "I won't yell nor hit."
"If you do, I'll put you on the floor, and we really don't have the time for pissing contests right now."
"Do you have time to put some clothes on?" Lucy sounds embarrassed. "Doesn't feel right to watch you two fight naked."
Vanner rolls his eyes. In his opinion that's shutting the barn door after the mule has gotten loose.
Heath elbows him. "Be a gentleman for once in your life, Vanner. Toss me my jeans from the other side of the bed. And don't you think I've forgotten what I asked you earlier," he adds, catching the denims and shoving his legs into them. "We're talking about this sooner rather than later, you and me."
Lucy bites her lip. Vanner knows she's dyin' to ask. Give her credit, she doesn't.
"Thanks," he begrudges. "Obliged."
Lucy tugs at a lock of her carrot hair. "Maybe it's the last thing you'd want and I'm wasting my breath making the offer, but... is there any way I can help?"
Not without telling her still more, Vanner knows.
Heath touches him, gently this time. He glances at his twin and reads the message in his wry smile easy as the words on a printed page. Might as well, Heath's telling him. We need whatever she can give us.
"Maybe. Let me think." Vanner turns from Heath and heads for where he remembers his clothes landing before they hit the bed. God Almighty, it's like Heath's still got his dick wedged up inside; he can feel his twin's heavy weight and hard pressure. His dick's a little too affected by the ball-numbing terror otherwise consuming him mind and body to get excited, or he'd crumble under the guilt.
Marybeth is gone, disappeared because he and his twin were too damn horny to keep a proper lookout; because he himself was stupid enough to put her in a room by herself where this kind of shit could happen at any time because he was all over the moon at the notion of having Heath one hundred percent to himself.
Vanner knuckles his forehead. When did things get so damned complicated?
Probably when they hit bottom in that ravine. His world turned upside-down in more than a few ways that late afternoon.
Okay, then. Damage is done. It's repair work that needs taking care of now, and he can't handle this alone no matter how much he's itching to. His elbow's out of commission for a while.
Vanner hoots under his breath. Fuck him if he hadn't even thought about what it'd mean for his horsemanship and the upcoming competition.
He bets that never slipped Sidney's mind for a red-hot second.
Fuck, this chafes. Vanner stalls as long as he can, shaking out his T-shirt and pulling the old cotton over his head. He finger-combs his disheveled hair and even finds an old rubber band to hold the mess out of his face. Scrapes his jaw and finds it stubbly. Winces when he turns his head and realizes Heath's gone and sucked up a big welt on his neck. Oh, yeah, that's perfect right there.
Damage control, he reminds himself. All right. A man's gotta take care of his family.
"You wanna help, then help." Vanner turns to face Lucy. "You don't hear everything. Just what you need right now."
Lucy nods. "I'm listening."
"We -- I -- swore to take care of that girl. Marybeth. She's ours to keep safe. She's not..." Vanner chokes on the confession. "She's not right in the head, is what doctors say."
"But that doesn't matter to you?" Lucy presses gently. She makes a leap of logic that frightens Vanner a bit. "She's your sister, isn't she?"
"She is." Vanner's gonna do this like a man should. "She's ours to protect. Sidney has her, and he's bad to the core. So we get her back."
"Ransom?" Lucy suggests. "Don't you dare get proud if that's the case. I'll lend you what you need."
Vanner bites back his instinctive rejection of her offer. "I doubt Sidney's too interested in cash." He makes a big show of pounding his fist into his palm. "Either way, we're gonna settle this like men." The lie hurts him.
If there's any way he can keep Heath from finding out the truth, he will.
Trouble is, that's looking less and less likely all the time.
***
It's not hard to figure out where Sidney's taken their Marybeth, even though he's not sent a ransom note nor anything else helpful they could take to the police if they dared. They wouldn't have, but Sidney doesn't know everything -- Vanner hopes -- and he's banking on Sidney not wanting to leave traceable evidence. He's the kind of slimy, smart bastard who'd think to avoid such things.
He'll invade their second home, too, the rodeo ring itself, and laugh at them all the while.
Vanner and Heath, they'll take care of this under the cover of the same sort of shadows. In, out, and no one's the wiser.
Lucy isn't sharing Vanner's determination or Heath's silent support. "I don't understand. Why's he doing all of this?"
"Best if you don't know," Vanner grunts. "Use the damn gas pedal, would you?"
"Don't you tell me how to drive, and answer my question. Why does this Sidney character have it in for you? I mean, I never knew about your sister, and I thought Heath and I were pretty close." She chooses then, of all moments, to wink over at Vanner. "Not as close as you, I see, so it looks like there's a lot I don't know."
Humor in this situation does not endear Lucy any further to Vanner. He grumbles something that's not words, nothing Heath could get worked up over, and slouches down in the truck seat. All three of them packed in the front, silently agreeing that no one wanted the disadvantage of having to crawl out the back.
"Lucy, please." Heath sounds tired. "I love you like another sister, but if you don't know then they can't question you later."
"Question me about what?" Lucy prickles up at Vanner's twin. "What are you planning on doing?"
Neither Heath nor Vanner answers that. Lucy's quiet for a long moment, all the way through a crossroads four-way light blinking yellow in every direction.
Finally, she nods. "All right."
Vanner breathes a little easier.
"Thank you." Heath says it for him.
"On one condition."
Vanner grits his teeth.
"Tell me what on earth is going on with Sidney Morocco. I'm not asking that you tell me anything I don't absolutely need to know, honest." Lucy draws an X over her heart. "It's not just my curiosity here. I need to know. If he's the kind of man who's established behind the scenes, he might try to pull the same kind of stunt again. Once you're safe and your sister's safe, odds are good you won't be the last."
Damn her for making sense, anyway. Vanner sighs and nods almost imperceptibly at Heath.
"You already know he's Mike's son. He's taking over the business now that Mike's had some heart troubles."
"I h
adn't heard Mike was ill."
"You're hearing now."
"Huh." Lucy taps one of her front teeth, giving the lie to how all her attention's not focused on the road they're driving. "A sociopathic, power-hungry rodeo devil. They should warn you about this kind of crap in the horoscopes. I must be crazy, even thinking about letting you face him on your own."
"Lucy," Heath warns. He takes Vanner's hand. It's damn girly, but Vanner's glad to have something tangible to grip. "We know what the score is."