Authors: Mandy Harbin
She pulled up next to her truck and darted into the house for her keys. She’d have to take her truck to Trent’s, but she could make it there in less than twenty minutes this time of morning. She grabbed her purse and fished out her keys as she jogged out the front door, but froze at the bottom step when she saw a man standing next to her truck.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
She hadn’t seen the second man soon enough. Pain exploded on the side of her head, and she fell to the ground. Two pairs of boots walked up to her. She tried to push onto her hands, but the throbbing disoriented her. She blinked several times, watched as blood trickled down to her hand from her head. When she looked up again, the morning rising sun glinted off a raised pitchfork.
She couldn’t move as it swung toward her, but her lungs reacted. No one was close enough to hear her scream, but she did it anyway. It was the only sound she heard before the tool landed on her, knocking her into complete blackness.
Chapter
Eight
Dawson
stood still, staring down at the little sheriff. He’d called the police immediately after Brindle left, which he still couldn’t believe she’d just walked away from him like that. Nobody ever defied him. Never. Surprisingly, he hadn’t been mad at her for ignoring him. If anything he respected her for it. Showed she wasn’t willing to back down from anyone.
Of course, there was a part of him that wished she’d reserve that mettle for people
other
than him, but at least he knew she had a backbone. Even if he completely disagreed with her tactics.
“You say the foal disappeared this morning?” the sheriff asked.
“No. I said the foal was here last night, and then she was gone this morning. The alarm went off about forty minutes ago, alerting us to unauthorized access to a gate.”
“And where were you when the alarm went off?”
“Ms. Attree and I were at the main house and were awoken by it.”
He made a non-committal sound as he jotted on his notepad. “Where is she now?”
“She believes one of the ranch hands is responsible, so she’s looking into that angle.”
“I see,” she sheriff said and shut his notepad. “Look here, Mr. Winthrop, those Attrees are a worthless lot. That girl’s daddy has been in and out of trouble for years.”
Dawson’s jaw ticked. He didn’t like anyone calling Brindle worthless. “Be that as it may, Ms. Attree is a respected asset to this ranch. I trust her implicitly.”
“Sir,” a younger police officer said as he jogged up. “I found this.” He held up an evidence bag with what looked like a needle. “A horse tranq. Was on the floor of Ms. Attree’s bedroom.” He handed it to the other cop. “And one of the employees witnessed her talking to two men. He swore one looked like Sid Attree, Jr. By the time he made his way over there, they were gone.”
As he stared at the bag, he asked, “How long ago?”
“’Bout twenty minutes. Said he’d just dropped of a new schedule and exited to the south. Heard an ATV and watched Ms. Attree arrive. He was going to try to catch her to discuss changing one of his guys to a later shift when he saw her talking to a man that fits the description of her father. His view to the other man, who actually stood closer to her, was obstructed by porch railing, so he couldn’t describe him. Just said he was tall and build like a man.”
The older sheriff turned to Dawson. “You still trust her now? Sid Jr. is her father. And this,” he held up the bag, “doesn’t look good.”
Dawson ignored him and focused on the other man as all con consuming dread filled him. “Did he notice anything out of the ordinary? Hear anything?” he snapped.
“Ah, no sir, he did not. He’d been some good ways away when he’d witnessed her arrival. Had in ear plugs from working the wood chipper.”
“So how could he be sure it was her father she was talking to?”
“Er.” The officer looked to his boss and glanced at Dawson again. “Because Sid is six and half feet tall with long braided hair. Always wears a leather vest. Hard to mistake him for anyone else.”
The urge to run after her was almost too powerful to ignore, but Dawson knew when to bring in men more equipped to handle dangerous situations. He didn’t care about that needle. He
cared
about Brindle. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the number to his head of security. Without greeting he said, “I need everything you have on Sid Attree, Jr. Brindle Attree is missing and was last seen with him and an unidentified man. I want her found. Now.” He hung up without waiting for a reply, and turned to the sheriff. “I want every employee here questioned, starting with Trent Presley.”
“Look, mister, Brindle Attree is the boss at this ranch. She knows the ins and outs. Word around town is you might be closing down this place, which means her days are numbered here. Makes sense for her to snatch a little prize of her own to make some cash. Not easy getting a job around here.”
“She’s not a criminal,” he said with a calm he’d crafted over years of dealing with ruthless businessmen.
“But her daddy is. She was seen with him, and you have a horse missing. Like I said, this don’t look good.”
Dawson leaned in really close, almost nose-to-nose with the man. “My grandfather left this ranch to Brindle. She has
no
reason to steal from herself. Now if I have to tell you again to find Trent Presley, I will have your job. Do you understand me?”
The older man’s face turned red and he sputtered before saying, “All right.” He turned quickly and stormed off, the younger officer hot on his heels.
Worry and impatience warred within him, and he couldn’t sit still waiting on answers. He waved at one of the ranch hands. He needed a ride back to the house to get his SUV. But he also knew he needed help right now. He dug out his cell phone again and hit the number he hardly ever called.
“Yeah?”
“Gage. I need your help. It’s personal.”
It was very, very personal indeed.
Chapter
Nine
Brindle’s
head ached, but she didn’t dare look up. She stared at the drying blood on her sleeve and listened to her father and Trent argue about what to do next. She should’ve known Trent was part of this. She got the feeling that they hadn’t intended on taking her, but she’d shown up while they were at the house, going through Dawson’s things, looking for money and anything of value. She hadn’t heard them say anything about the horse, and she had to fight to keep from asking.
“I say we ransom her,” her worthless father said. Of course, he’d say that. Didn’t matter that she was his flesh and blood.
“They aren’t gonna pay nothing for her,” Trent said with derision.
“We can leave her here and meet up with Bob. He said Torres is gonna pay us a lot of money for that horse. I say we focus on the sure thing.”
Torres? The manger at the neighboring stud ranch? Why would he want a baby female horse? At least she knew the newborn was okay. Well, that they hadn’t intended on harming the poor little thing.
And Bob? Surely not Bob Kerry? He was one of her employees. One of the hardest working men she had. Bob was a common name. It could be anyone. But Torres? She knew deep down that they were talking about the jerk she’d had many dealings with over the years.
One thing she kept saying a silent
thank-you
over was the fact they these two had no idea
she
was inheriting the ranch. If they had any clue about that, they could ditch whatever plans they had for the horse, even kill her to cover their tracks, and focus on using her to get whatever money the wanted.
A phone rang.
“Why don’t you take that outside,” Trent said.
Her father answered as she heard him walking away.
The air in her lungs froze when Trent’s steps came closer to her. She closed her eyes right when his boots came into view.
“Look at me, doll. I know you’re awake. You never could fake sleep.”
She ground her teeth together before looking up at him. His smile was soft, but she knew the danger that lurked beneath it.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he whispered as he knelt before her. “Your old man is gonna take the fall for the horse heist. ’Course, he’s a greedy old sonofabitch. Figured you’d be out there with the police for a while and wanted to get some of rich boy’s loot.” Trent laughed without any humor and then his gaze hardened on her. She couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver that enveloped her. “But I know you’re sitting pretty on that ranch.”
Uh-oh.
“Oh yeah, I know it’s yours. Heard you talking to Ritchie Rich about it. I’d wanted to swoop in and finger your old man behind the missing foal. Be the hero and all. But you showing up ruined that. So plan B.”
“Which is?” she asked.
“I know you hate your daddy. He’s still going down. But now, instead of me pretending to be the hero, I’m gonna give you the chance to cooperate.”
She watched him, waiting for the rest. How did he expect her to cooperate with him? He wasn’t making any sense.
“You continue playing possum, and when then time’s right, I’ll knock out your old man. When the police get here, I’ll say I saw him carrying you away, so I followed and saved you.”
She gaped at him. Surely she hadn’t heard him right! “Why on Earth would I go along with this?”
“Because if you don’t, I’m gonna tell Sid all about his daughter’s inheritance. You either play nice with me or deal with your sleazy father.”
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered heatedly, even though she knew how crazy it was to even say that. Yes, he would do such a thing. Of course, he would. “You’re a jerk.”
“That’s no way to talk to your future husband.”
Her mouth fell open.
He raised a challenging eyebrow.
Everything slowly made sense. “You were going to try and win me back.”
“Yep. Now we can drop the pretense.”
“No way in hell would I ever marry you,” she spat.
“Sweetie, you have no choice. The man outside isn’t the only one you have to worry about. You don’t play along, then that pretty boy who’s been hovering around will think you’re behind the missing horse. When your dad was busy looking for buried treasure in suitcases, I was planting some evidence against you.” He ran his hand down her hair and she jerked away from him. He grabbed her face to still her. “No choice, darlin. Now be a good little girl, and let me take care of my father-in-law, so we can get outta here.”
He shoved her head to the side as he let go and stood.
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“I already have.”
A crash sounded outside, and her head jerked in the direction of the sound.
“What the hell was that?” Trent muttered. He walked toward the door, but before he made it half way there, it crashed opened.
“Get down! Get down!” someone ordered as men filed in wearing armor and carrying guns.
Brindle huddled as much as she could in her chair instinctively. She hoped it was help—good guys—and not a bunch of men working for her dad, joining in on this nightmare. Her body shook as a whimper escaped. Then she heard the sweetest voice.
“Brindle?” Dawson shouted. She looked up in time to see him barreling through the door. One of the men in black struggled to get handcuffs on Trent, and they partially blocked her view of Dawson, but she didn’t miss when he punched that jerk and came straight for her without stopping.
“Mr. Winthrop, you’re not supposed to be in here,” one of the men said and grabbed his arm.
“Gage, get your man off me,” Dawson said deathly soft.
“Roc! Let ‘em go.”
Dawson shoved the other man loose and finally reached her. He worked on untying the knots and said, “You okay?” He ran his hands down her once her arms were free and then cupped her face. “Who hit you?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’re
both
dead.”
“You’re here,” she breathed.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Trent said he planted evidence and I was hateful to you.”
“Shh.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I know you didn’t do anything. I never thought you did, sweetheart.”
“Dawson,” she breathed, relief crashing over her in waves.
He tilted her head before his mouth landed on hers. The feel of his lips … of his
support
was too much. A tear leaked over and her lip trembled as she returned the kiss.
He broke away and rubbed his thumb over the wetness of her cheek, the action soothing her. “Everything is going to be all right.”
“Ms. Attree. We’ve recovered your horse.” She frowned at the officer. He looked almost nervous. “And I want to personally apologize for doubting you. Mr. Winthrop told us the truth about the ranch and—”
She gasped, her gaze flying to Dawson. “You didn’t.”
“I had no choice,” he said softly. “Your protection is more important than anything else.”
“But the will. The ranch has to be sold now. I mean—”
“I don’t care about that.” He pulled her out of the chair and held her to him. “You’re the only thing that matters.”
She felt so right in his arms. Perfect. Protective.
Loved.
It almost lessened the blow that the ranch had just slipped through her fingers.
Almost.