Rustler's Heart (A Kinnison Legacy Novel) (3 page)

She leaned her head against the window and watched the limitless blue sky give way to a dusty twilight. Dozing off and on, she awoke to a black velvet sky sprinkled liberally with stars. There were few times she could count that she’d seen the sky awash with stars. The garish lights of Vegas always blocked them from view. Her eyes drifted shut and the gentle rocking motion of the bus lulled her to sleep.

“Nope. I made it clear, Wyatt. You invited her. She’s your responsibility.”

“I forgot that Aimee had scheduled dinner tonight with Pastor Tony and his wife. Come on, man. I just need you to go pick her up at the bus depot.”

“Sorry, I have plans.”

“Dammit, Dalton. You stubborn son of a….” Wyatt paced the living room, Sadie dutifully at his heels.

Rein peeped open an eye. He’d laid down in the living room, exhausted and unable to haul himself upright to shower after they had moved all the furniture into the cabin. But he’d listened to this tirade for the better part of fifteen minutes. Enough was enough. “You two sound like bitchy, old women,” he mumbled.

“Shut up,” they replied in tandem.

He turned to his side and snuggled with the throw pillow on the couch.

“Wait. I’m sorry, Rein. Have you got plans for tonight?”

“You’re looking at them, Wyatt. I’ve busted my butt for the last forty-eight hours trying to get that cabin into shape for your sister.”

“Half-sister,” Dalton interjected.

“Dalton, do you intend to be an ass the entire time she’s here?” Wyatt asked. “I actually thought that of the two of you, you would be the more open-minded.”

“Thanks, Wyatt,” Rein mumbled into the pillow. Had he the energy, he might have smacked his ungrateful brother.

“Fine, I’ll call Aimee and tell her we have to reschedule.”

Rein waited a heartbeat for Dalton’s apology. Meantime, he fought the urge to knock Dalton’s head off. “Would it kill you to drive down to Billings?” He looked at Dalton through blurry eyes.

“I told you. I have plans.” Dalton growled.

“Jesus. Criminy. Fine, I’ll go.” Rein pushed to his feet, winced and grabbed his lower back. Four-thirty in the afternoon, and he felt like an eighty-five year old man with arthritis.

“Where the hell is she supposed to be?”

Wyatt slapped his hand on Rein’s shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, man. Thanks.”

“Here’s the number of the bus and there is her cellphone number. She gets in at eleven-fifteen. The bus station’s not in the best part of town, so don’t be late. I don’t want her to sit alone down there.”

Rein nodded, took the paper, and stuffed it into his pocket.

“You know, in case you’re interested, I’ve been doing a little research on our mysterious half-sister,” Dalton stated. He moved Jed’s desk and flipped open the laptop.

“Give it a rest, Dalton,” Wyatt said.

“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?”

“No,” Wyatt barked in response.

“Yes,” Rein countered. “What did you find out?”

Dalton settled back in the chair and pointed at the screen. “Says here that she attended the University of Nevada, interior design program.”

“I told you that.” Wyatt folded his arms over his chest.

“Just verifying, bro.” Dalton glanced over the screen at his brother. “Doesn’t say whether she graduated.”

“Anything else?” Rein asked.

Dalton frowned, his dark brows pressed together as he studied the information. “It gives her last known address. It looks like an apartment.” He paused then looked at Wyatt. “Parents, deceased—mother, Eloise.”

Wyatt spread his arms. “There, are you happy?”

“Yeah, well there’s something else here that you might find interesting.”

Wyatt shook his head.

Rein moved slowly, favoring his back as he walked over and stood behind Dalton.

“It says her last place of employment was the Kit Kat Club.”

“Did you search engine it?” Rein nudged him.

Dalton tossed him a smug grin and hit one of the keys. A slow vampy, bump and grind tune blasted from the site, which left little doubt to the type of entertainment the club offered. If that wasn’t enough, the pictures of voluptuous women with triple-X covering the strategic parts of their bodies cinched any remaining doubt. Rein searched the faces and had a hard enough time trying to determine which of them might be Liberty. He looked up and met Wyatt’s steely gaze. “None of them look young enough to be her.” This unexpected news did little to ease the already mounting tension between Wyatt and Dalton.

“She said she quit school and had her reasons. We don’t know what circumstances drove her to take a job there,” Wyatt said calmly.

“And she very well might have been a cocktail waitress or bartender.” Rein jumped on that positive bandwagon, hoping to diffuse the ticking bomb in the room. “Hell, they have tons of female bartenders in Vegas.”

“Turn it off, Dalton. You’re through with your investigation,” Wyatt warned.

Rein looked from one man to the other. There were few times that Wyatt took that particular tone with anyone, much less Dalton. He clapped his hands once. “I’m going to go take a shower and grab something to eat. I need to stop by Tyler’s and talk to him about the plumbing in one of the cabins. Then I’ll head down to Billings.” Rein looked at Dalton. “If you want to join me, you are certainly welcome.”

Dalton dropped the lid to the laptop. “Nope.” He pushed away from the desk. “Since one of us has dinner plans, I guess the other one is in charge of chores.” Grabbing his cap and jacket, he stomped out the door. Rein glanced at Wyatt who stood staring where Dalton had been.

“I don’t think until this moment, I realized how wrapped tight to the point of selfish I was about my mom and what she did to us.” His gaze met Rein’s. “I think maybe Dalton’s going to have a tougher time letting go of all that he’s been through.” He sighed, clearly concerned over his brother’s welfare. “I appreciate you doing this.”

“He’ll come around. Give him time. He’s just protecting the only family he’s got.”

***

Rein had to remind himself of that a few short hours later. He checked his watch again—eleven o’clock. He hadn’t ridden a bus, much less heard of many who’d for opted that mode of travel, except maybe charter tours of senior citizens. With the numerous changes and faster means of transportation, the majority of bus stations fell into a state of disrepair, and the one he waited at had to be at the top of that list. As a rule, very little made him uncomfortable. More a lover, than a fighter, he could still hold his own. He scanned the dimly lit station. The flickering of can fires made by vagrants dotted the area outside the stations chain link fence. Though he doubted that would keep them from entering the depot. The place gave him the creeps, not to mention it made him damn curious as to the type of woman who’d choose this form of travel at this hour. She either was extremely naïve or had the balls of a prize bull, with a degree in some type of martial arts added as a plus.

The sound of the bus brought his head up from the game on his iPhone. He pulled out the number Wyatt gave him and dialed it not once, but twice, and received her voice mail. She sounded a whole lot older than twenty-one. He sat in his truck and watched each person climb off the bus with the idea that when she appeared, he’d instantly recognize her. Only five people departed. One man made a hasty exit to his parked car and another checked something on his phone before he stepped to the street to hail a cab. The rest entered the station, but in the low light, he couldn’t see well. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, pocketed his phone and keys, and hopped from his truck, his eyes peeled as he approached the station.

Stepping inside, his senses were immediately challenged by the acrid smell of urine, bleach, and the sight of overstuffed trash bins. One person crouched in front of a vending machine awaiting his order, while another man studied a wall map. Unless Liberty wore a man’s disguise, there were no other people in the station.

He pushed his hat up, stepped outside, grateful for the fresh air though it mingled with a heavy diesel smell. Maybe she hadn’t gotten off the bus yet. “Excuse me.” He walked over and stood at the base of the open bus door. The driver jotted something down on his clipboard. “Has everyone departed from the bus?”

The man did a quick glance down the aisle and nodded. “No one left onboard. You check the bathrooms inside?”

“Wyatt?”

That
was definitely the voice from the voicemail. It skirted up his neck like silky fingers and made the tiny hairs stand on end. He turned to face her. “I must have just missed you—” The words halted with his brain. Cold dead. He blinked, afraid he might be too tired, and seeing things. “Are you…Liberty?” He tried not to sound incredulous.

“I am,” she replied as though nothing at all appeared out of the ordinary. She had a massive green duffle bag hooked over one shoulder. His gaze traveled down her long black leather trench coat, to the triple-buckled motorcycle boots on her feet. Admittedly, he had a moment, though very brief, when he wondered what she wore under that coat, but he ran like a man with his hair on fire away from the thought. And tried to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“My uh, name is Rein.” He chuckled and tried to cover it with a cough as he eyed her hair. Though dark like Wyatt and Dalton’s, it hung loose and straight to her shoulders. But it was the brilliant neon blue highlight that streaked down one side that he couldn’t stop staring at. Her deep brown eyes—also a family trait—regarded him with equal curiosity.
A wig?
He shook his head, realizing he hadn’t finished telling her his name. “Rein Mackenzie.”

Her dark brows pinched together and for a split second, he saw the resemblance to Dalton. Something he would never reveal to him.

“Oh, you’re the guy Wyatt talked about. Jed’s nephew.” She peered at him.

He figured that he had to look about as strange to her in his conventional cowboy wear, as she did to him. He reminded himself of that as he pointed to the truck and followed her. The folks back home were in for quite a treat and Halloween was months away.

“Here let me take that,” he offered and reached for her duffle.

“Thanks.” She relinquished it to him. He did a double take when he caught the flash of silver on her tongue.

“Uh, are you hungry?” He squinted, trying to see when she spoke, if her tongue was really pierced. “It’s about an hour back to the ranch. Probably someplace near that’s open all night.” Preferably a drive-through, though he kept the thought to himself.

“That’d be great. I’m famished,” she said as she struggled free of her coat. Rein dropped her bag in the back of the truck and waited to assist her into the cab. His gaze fell to her backside bent over the front seat and what was left of her black mini skirt and spandex leggings. She handled the look well, given it appeared she had legs a mile long. She stuffed her coat up into the cab and jerked down her black hoody sporting a faded
Guns & Roses
insignia emblazoned the back He caught a flash of skin above her waistband, just enough to make him feel guilty for wanting to see if she bore any tattoos. He’d bet money that she had one, if not more. First impression, she looked like the lead in an R-rated vampire slayer movie.

“Be careful. Watch your step.” He gave himself a mental slap and hurried forward to help her in the cab. She gingerly grabbed the bar and hauled herself up gracefully into the seat.

“Did you happen to get my text messages?”

“Nope, I’m afraid not.”

“Is there someone back home that needs to know you’re here?”

“No, there isn’t.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “Mr. Mackenzie, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not twelve years old.”

As if he needed to be reminded of the interest she sparked in him. He brushed it off as her eccentricity. “Right.” He shut the door, fished for his iPhone, and frantically texted Wyatt as he walked around to the driver’s side. He wanted to make damn sure they were awake when they arrived back at the ranch.
Going to stop for a bite to eat, and then head home
. He paused at the door and rubbed his hand over his mouth, a nervous habit when he found himself perplexed by something. With a sigh, he climbed into the truck and busied himself with his seat belt.

“Who were you texting?” she queried.

“Wyatt. Just to let him know you were safe and sound.”

“He was worried? That’s so big brother of him.” She grinned. “By the way, my name is Liberty…Liberty Belle.”

Rein glanced at the young woman who looked tough enough to spit nails. “No last name, or is it Belle?” Her mascara-laden, coffee-colored eyes met his. She wore far too much in his opinion. But he had to give her credit, while the overall effect seemed a little dark…no…make that
a lot
dark, it was oddly sexy on her. Rein batted away the silly notion.
What? Sexy? Where’d that come from?

“No, Belle is my middle name, and also my stage name. Both my parents were in the business. My full name is Liberty Belle Stenapolas.”

He toyed with pursuing the topic of her vocation, but decided her brothers should be the ones to delve into that first. He kept his focus straight ahead and swatted away the myriad of questions that kept popping up in his brain.

“Hey, are you okay?” She leaned toward him and searched his face. “Are you sure you know how to get us out of here?”

Rein blinked, snapping out of his reverie. He started up his truck and shifted into gear. He knew easily how get them out of there with no trouble. But more to the point, what kind of trouble was he bringing home to Last Hope Ranch?

***

She understood now what the monkeys in the zoo felt like. Liberty averted her eyes from the blatant stare of the ruggedly handsome, dark-haired man she guessed was her older stepbrother, Wyatt. At his side stood a petite blonde, presumably his fiancée. Rein, who’d offered to bring in her bag, placed it at her feet. He glanced at her and cleared his throat. “Is someone going to say something?” He shot a pointed look to the other man, startling him from his reverie.