The Cowboy Wins a Bride (The Cowboys of Chance Creek) (22 page)

Definitely high, she thought. Daniel looked furious, which set her heart thumping, but the two behind him terrified her. One had begun to smile, a feral expression like a pit bull spotting its prey.

"They're still mine," she said loudly, desperately hoping that if she acted tough she could bluff her way out of this. Beside her, Morgan pulled out her phone and lifted it to her ear.

"Ethan," she managed to say before Daniel lurched forward, ripped it out of her hand and threw it across the garage. Morgan retaliated with a swing of her bat, but she only held it in one hand and the blow bounced uselessly off Daniel's shoulder. Claire scrabbled for the crow bar, realized it was outside and grabbed for the snips, instead. She held them in front of her like a shield. Daniel just laughed.

"Kyle, take care of that one." He pointed to Morgan.

One of the goons in the doorway lunged at her and she walloped him hard with the bat. He grunted, grabbed it and yanked it away from her, tossing it to Daniel, who caught it easily.

"Take her up to the house," Daniel said. He ran a hand down the bat's length and grinned. "Have your fun, but make sure she doesn't make any noise." Before Claire could react, Morgan scrambled onto the pile of boxes, but Kyle grabbed her ankle, jerked her back, and tossed her to the floor, pinning her wrists behind her back.

"Morgan!" Claire cried, trying to push the man off of her. She shoved against his nylon-covered shoulders, but he elbowed her, knocking her to the ground as he stood up, tossed Morgan over his shoulder like a saddlebag and hauled her outside. The other one followed, shutting the door behind them.

Claire surged to her feet, desperate to go after her, but Daniel stepped into her path, the bat held high as if he were about to swing. "Don't worry about her," he said as the men's ugly laughter and Morgan's muffled shrieks died away in the distance. "Worry about yourself. Ron and Kyle like to have their fun, but who knows? Maybe she'll like their games." Her stomach curled as she watched him warily. If he was saying what she thought he was saying, she would tear him to pieces with her bare hands. He took a step forward. "I don't play games, though. I've had enough of your interference."

Morgan was right, she thought wildly as he advanced. Daniel was definitely on something. His eyes had a gleam she didn't recognize, and his wiry body was taut with energy. He tightened his grip on the bat and raised it.

She held up the snips, their long handles giving her some bargaining room, at least. His first swing nearly ripped them out of her fingers, but she managed to block him, barely. Her palms stung from the force of the collision and she retreated a step, backing up against the pile of boxes behind her. Daniel wound up again.

"I'm going to enjoy watching you die."

Feeling behind her, hoping against hope she could scramble on top of the boxes and get away from Daniel, one of the flaps came free, and she realized it was the box she'd opened earlier. What was in it? She felt around frantically. Tiles. Grasping the top one, she pulled it out – one of the Bologna marble tiles Carl had gone on about.

Daniel began to swing and she did the only thing she could – threw the heavy square with all her might. It caught him flush in the face, splitting his cheek until it blossomed with blood.

"Damn it!" Daniel dropped the bat and clapped his hands to his face. Claire scooped it up and ran for the door, pulling it open and slamming it shut behind her, wishing she could lock him in.

Somehow she had to get Morgan away from those two monsters and both of them to her car. As she dashed across the lawn she felt her pocket. Thank goodness – she still had her keys. She raced up the back steps, opened the door carefully and peered inside, the bat held ready. The room she entered was only dimly lit, but she heard a cry and a thump from behind a door down the hall. She bit her lip to keep from calling out to Morgan. The only shot she had was to catch her captors by surprise.

When she opened the door, however, all thoughts of stealth went out of her mind. Morgan lay on the bed, her blouse ripped open and one of the men – Kyle – straddling her. The other man sat in an easy chair as if ready to watch a television show.

She only hesitated a second before she launched herself across the room.

"Get off her! Get off my sister!"

* * * * *

A light was on at 6500 Old Hardin Way when Jamie pulled up in front.

"That's Claire's car," Ethan said, pointing to where it sat across the street. He opened his door and in moments all of them were out of the truck.

"Hold up, let's check things from the outside first," Jake said.

They all froze as a woman's voice called out, muffled but definitely in distress.

"Claire!" Jamie took off like a shot, raced across the lawn and pounded up the three concrete steps to the front door. Footsteps echoed behind him. The door was locked and he scanned the house for another way in.

"Window," Rob said. He jumped off the stoop, picked up an empty terra cotta flower pot and hurled it at the plate glass front window. It shattered and Rob ducked, then knocked a few shards off the lower edge and began to climb in. Jamie waited his turn impatiently. Claire was in there. She needed help.

Once inside they tore through the house until they came to a back bedroom whose door was wide open.

Jamie barreled inside, the others close on his heels, to find Morgan, her shirt torn nearly in half, beating a man over the head with a table lamp. Claire was tussling with a second man, who was trying to wrench a baseball bat out of her hands.

Rob pushed past him and tackled the man with Morgan on the bed. As he heard the smack of fist against skin, Jamie went for the other one, the goon trying to wrest the bat away from Claire. Wrapping an arm around his throat, he wrestled him to the floor. Claire delivered a blow with the bat across his knees that set the man bellowing. When Ethan and Jake joined in, together they subdued the two men in a matter of seconds.

"Daniel," Claire gasped, bent over and breathing hard like she'd just run a race.

"What about him?" Jamie growled.

"He's…"

"I'm right here," a new voice said from the door. "Miss me already, Claire?"

Jamie heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked. The itch between his shoulder blades told him the gun was pointed straight at him.

"Fuck off, Daniel," Claire said, her eyes blazing.

"No, I don't think I will," Daniel said. "But I do think I'll kill you. After I kill this asshole."

Jamie felt the gun's barrel against the back of his head.

"No!" Claire cried.

"Drop it!"

Jamie would know that voice anywhere. Cab. He closed his eyes and expelled a gust of air when the pressure of the barrel disappeared and Claire surged forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Jamie!"

A glance over his shoulder told him what he needed to know. Cab and several other men in sheriff's uniforms swarmed into the room, quickly taking Daniel and the other two men into custody. Glancing from one shocked face to another, he saw that Ethan and Jake had thought he was a goner.

Rob was too busy comforting a crying Morgan to notice anything else. Claire gripped him like she would never let go.

He never wanted her to let go.

As he went to hug her back just as tightly, he remembered he had promised not to touch her. Claire looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "To hell with the bet."

He bent down and lifted her into his arms, carrying her out of the house and onto the front stoop. He sat down as gently as possible, and perched her on his lap. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, still clinging to him. "He wanted to kill me."

He hugged her tighter. "I've got you. No one's ever going to hurt you."

She burrowed into his embrace. "Jamie." Her voice cracked and his anger soared again. How dare anyone terrify Claire – his Claire? He turned to look for Daniel again, only to see him hauled out of the house in handcuffs, barely able to stand as two officers dragged him off. A deep breath restored a little calm. Justice would be done. Claire was safe now.

Safe in his arms.

* * * * *

Hours later they were back in the Big House, gathered in the living room while Autumn served tea and coffee cake. None of them would be good for anything in the morning, Claire thought, but who could sleep?

She sat next to Jamie, who'd kept an arm around her every moment since back at Daniel's mother's house. Although the night was warm, she was wrapped in a blanket. She couldn't stop shaking, a fine tremor that even made drinking tea difficult.

She felt sick. All of this was because of her greed. Her need to prove to everyone she was worth something. Thank God all the supplies Daniel stole were unharmed. She would arrange to return every last one of them first thing tomorrow. But going after him like that – without help? Morgan had almost been raped. They both could have been killed.

She took a ragged breath. The others were scattered around the room, talking in low voices. Rob stuck as close to Morgan as Jamie was sticking to her.

"Were all those boxes things for my house?" Jamie asked softly.

Pain flooded through her as she forced herself to nod.

"Seems like a lot."

He was being as gentle as possible, she knew. Time to fess up. All she could do was hope he wouldn't hate her guts. "I kept changing my mind. I kept buying more. I just couldn't get the design right."

"I liked your first design, you know." He stroked her hair.

"I know. I kind of went crazy. I wanted the Whitfield contract so bad." She took a shuddering breath, trying with all her might to stop her hands from shaking.

His arm tightened around her. "I wish you cared as much about my home as you do about his."

"Jamie." Tears stung her lids again as she put a hand on his thigh and turned to face him. "I do care about your home. I care about it a lot."
I care about you a lot,
she wanted to add, but she couldn't – not when she'd messed up so badly. He had to hate her for what she'd done – trying to make his perfect log home into a stupid showplace just to impress Carl. And for what? To get back at Daniel, a man she should have left behind months ago?

Jamie was right. All this time she'd kept her focus on Daniel instead of paying attention to him. Worse – she'd judged him and found him wanting based on nothing except for her own jealousy. She didn't deserve his compassion now. She deserved his disgust.

"It's no mansion."

"I don’t care about mansions," she said, wishing she'd never heard of Carl Whitfield or his stupid contract.

He kissed her on the cheek and Claire blinked back tears. Why was he being so nice to her?

"It's predictable." His kiss trailed down her throat to the base of her neck.

She drew in a quick breath, hardly daring to move. "I love predictable," she whispered.

He titled her chin up until their gaze met. "I hope you love unpredictable, too."

Her lips trembled and she knew she was one breath away from breaking down. But Jamie didn't look angry, or disgusted, or even put out.

"I'm so sorry," she said, and the tears did fall, sliding down her face as fast as she could wipe them away. "I…"

"Shh." Jamie pulled her close. "I don't care about the house, or how much money you spent or anything but the fact that you're safe and here with me. I love you. You know that, right? Tell me you know that, Claire."

She sobbed and buried her face in his chest.

"Claire." He bent over her, stroking her back.

"That's the first time you said it." Her voice was high and thin.

"Said what, honey?"

"That you love me."

He stilled and she could tell he was thinking. "I guess I thought you always knew. I've loved you about as long as I've known you. I've wanted to marry you practically all my life."

She pushed away from him, straightening up until they were eye to eye. "Your proposal was real?"

"Of course it was real. I've been telling you that for weeks."

All the fight went out of her at once. Jamie loved her. He really loved her. "You win," she said shakily. "I don't want to travel around the world. I just want to come home."

"Claire, I don't want to keep you from having adventures, or doing the work you love or any of it – understand? If you'll be my wife I'll help make all of your dreams come true. Just let me be by your side."

"Okay." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Jamie searched her face, as if looking for the truth. "You mean that? You'll stay with me? You'll marry me?"

She nodded and hid her face in his neck as he pulled her close again.

"Claire Cruz, you've just made me the happiest man alive."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Several hours later, after Claire had cried her heart out in his arms, and he'd nearly shed a tear or two himself, they'd come to a more peaceful place where they could talk about life together; their hopes and dreams. They even managed to talk about the house, about returning to Claire's initial design. They daydreamed about living in it together, and working together, traveling someday, and as they designed a life together, Claire's fear passed away and a smile returned to her face.