by Maira Dawn
Skye met his hard blue stare and gave him the direct answer he wanted. "Bad, really bad."
Immediately, the men stilled.
"Jesse hasn't had an appointment in a month. He tries so hard to be tough, but he is just a little boy. I need to get to him." Skye's voice broke. "I need to help him."
"How come you waited til now?"
"I helped him. I did. It was better for a while, and now--now I got word it's not. I've always done whatever I could, anything I could. I had people check on him. I called his school. I crossed lines. But see, now it doesn't matter, there are no more lines. You're right, now nothing matters." Skye's voice strengthened as she became more determined. "Now I can take him away from that man. No one will stop me."
"His dad?" Dark-hair asked, his voice cracking on the words.
"Yeah, his dad."
The men exchanged a glance, and Dark-hair didn't hesitate. "Get in the truck. We'll get the rest of your stuff."
"What? No!" Darting a wide-eyed gaze from one man to the other, she asked, "I mean, what are you saying?"
Dark-hair growled his irritation, "You want to get that boy?" He waved his arm toward the vehicle as he glared at her. "Get in the truck. Now."
Skye returned his scowl for a few seconds before she realized his anger was no longer directed at her. She turned and obediently climbed into the vehicle as she threw a glance over her shoulder at him.
Oh boy, please don't let this be a mistake.
Dylan climbed into the truck after the girl. As he started the vehicle, he looked her over again. With care, Skye had settled herself in the exact middle of the seat, then pushed some of her smooth, dark hair behind her ear.
She kept her eyes on the floor, the fight gone now a plan was in place. But Dylan remembered them. Those eyes blazed like green lightning when she was angry. Though her skin was several shades lighter than his, her color was up. Her natural rosy glow deepened telling him she was still uncomfortable.
Dylan tore his gaze from her and cleared his throat. He wasn't sure whether to be in shock or awe she could hot-wire his truck. Women like her were a mystery to him. Walking around like their biggest problem was their messed-up coffee order. He remembered all the times he'd seen her in town. Course she'd never noticed him. Then here she is tryin to take his truck.
Dylan rubbed the stubble on his jaw with a calloused hand. He'd treated her bad, he thought, but she'd taken him off guard. Soon as he'd realized who she was, there were--was something. He didn't know what to do with that.
His head was still spinning. 'Sides it's better not to get too close to anyone with people dropping like flies. He threw a glance her way and pressed his lips together. Keeping his distance would be hard.
Dylan could swear his mouth dropped open when he saw the woman slither, jeans first, from the floor of the truck onto the ground. He’d come to a complete stop when she stood, and he saw it was her.
Skye. Skye Jackson. Big shot doctor from Ohio. After Dylan saw her that first day in town, the sun had shone a little brighter, and he’d asked around Colton about her.
Her dad was from Colton. He'd married and brought his wife here, even started his family here, but moved to Ohio when his children were young, but she still had cousins in town.
The answers varied as to the exact time Skye came to Colton, but Dylan remembered the first time he saw her. And every time after that. Whenever he came to town, he searched for her.
He always found Skye. He reckoned he couldn't call himself much of a tracker if he hadn't. Besides, her routine didn't change much. Around two o'clock, she got coffee. Down the sidewalk, she would go, dressed in her best clothes. She'd click away on those high heels that pert, little nose just slightly higher in the air than it should be. Something about that challenged him, attracted him.
But there was another side to her too, because everyone liked her, every single person he'd talked to about her. So much so, that once they realized his interest, they clammed up.
Didn't want a Cole boy sniffing around her. They're probably right.
Dylan gave Skye one last glance before he turned his attention to his driving. Thinking about the task at hand, old memories of his own upbringing teased at the back of his mind, haunting him. He gripped the hard steering wheel tighter, then shook his head to clear it.
He hadn't been able to look at her when she teared up over the boy. If he didn't do anything else for her, he'd help her rescue this kid. For her and for the boy. Dylan looked at Skye sitting there with her hands in her lap, trusting them. That woman would've got nothing but hurt without us.
Dylan shot a glance over to his brother. Wade nodded. They agreed, they were gonna save that boy.
Chapter Twenty
Stalled
The weathered truck bounced down the pothole-filled road. Sandwiched between the two large men, Skye did feel like the little girl Brown-hair had called her.
And why am I in the middle, anyway?
Skye tried in vain to make herself even smaller. The men had ripped the sleeves from their t-shirts, so their smooth, powerful biceps and shoulders were bare. They were nice to peek at, but she tried to avoid contact with them.
I guess I should just be happy the dead carcasses are not sitting on my lap. For a moment, Skye swore Dark-hair had been thinking about bringing them into the cab of the truck. But after a brief hesitation and a regretful squint, he'd slung them into the back. Skye grimaced. Probably right on top of my stuff.
Since social skills didn't appear to be the men's strong suit, Skye took the lead in introductions with a nervous timbre to her voice. "I'm Skye Jackson from over near--."
Dark-hair stopped her. "Yeah, we know who you are."
"Oh, have we met before?" Secretly, Skye tried to observe the man. Now he’d calmed down, she could see how handsome he was. She was sure she would have remembered him. And the ridiculously broad shoulders her eyes played along, despite his somewhat tattered clothing. On top of those, the man had an energy about him she hadn't quite figured out, but it reminded her of something left on the stove at a simmer.
Dylan darted a look out the side window. "I seen ya around."
Skye twisted her bracelets round and round causing them to jingle. Well, that certainly clears things up. She nodded. "I moved here a couple of years ago. I'm Tom Jackson's cousin."
"The cop, right?"
"Um, yes."
Skye second-guessed her decision to get in the vehicle when the men exchanged glances above her head. What is that about? Are they some sort of mountaineer outlaws?
Since the men had yet to offer their names, Skye cleared her throat and prompted, "And you are?"
With offhanded tone and a wave of his hand, Brown-hair volunteered, "I'm Wade Cole, and this is my brother, Dylan."
"I can't thank you enough for the ride, Wade, and Dylan." Skye searched for a topic that would interest them. She figured out one and said, "So, is it hunting season? With bows?"
The brothers both turned to stare at her as if she was some kind of odd bug before returning their gaze to the windshield.
"Yeah, it's bow season," Wade said.
Skye glanced down at herself. Do I look like someone who would keep up with that? What do they keep mistaking me for someone who knows anything about hunting? Skye gave up trying to find a subject they had in common, her mind turning to Jesse, and they drove in silence.
Dylan grunted his approval that the small talk was over and sped along as fast as he could while missing the worst of the potholes. Wade stared out his side window.
At one of the endless stop signs, the truck sputtered, coughed, and stopped.
Another delay was more than Skye could take. "Piece of junk," she muttered under her breath, frowning. She bit her lip when she realized they heard her. Don't insult their stuff.
"Hey! Watch it!" Dylan growled at Skye, taking the affront to heart. He scowled at her, his blue eyes darkening with disapproval. "It's just stalled."
Dylan half-hu
ng over the steering wheel as he twisted the key a few times, getting nothing but more sputters. Skye stared at the ignition, willing it to work. She waited, her body winding tighter and tighter, as he turned it a fourth, a fifth and a sixth time.
"I'm sorry, but I can't wait until you get it started. Excuse me." Neither of the men moved when she scooted closer to them on the seat indicating she wanted to leave.
Dylan paid her no attention as he worked, without success, on getting the truck started. Wade stared at his window, tapping his finger along it as he chased down a small, leggy bug.
"Please let me out of the truck." Jesse's house wasn't far from here. She would go back to her original plan of waiting outside the house until he came out.
The men continued to dismiss her, and a wisp of fear went through her as worry transferred from Jesse to herself. She had gotten in this truck with strangers, and she knew better. Skye looked at them again, their muscular bodies, their hard expressions, their many weapons. She bit the inside of her lip. Her alarm over Jesse had led her to do something foolish.
Panic edged her voice. "Let me out now." She gave each a hard nudge, but rock-like, neither brother moved.
Dylan turned toward her and raised an eyebrow. "Just where do ya think you're going?"
Skye's stomach lurched, but a second glance to his face showed no threat. She let out a slow breath. Regardless, perhaps it was best to go now. "Dylan, I told you where I'm going. Now let me out."
"Yeah, well, when you can get past us, you can get out. For now, you're stuck right here."
Skye's eyes widened despite her efforts to stay calm. Oh, excellent! The world is turning into a nightmare, and I'm either stuck with two of the bossiest men I've ever met or being kidnapped. She glanced over her shoulder wondering if she could fit through the truck's small slider window.
"'Sides it's gonna start. It always does."
Skye opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, the truck fired up. Dylan gave her a triumphant glance that said he knew all along what he was doing. Skye rolled her eyes both at his haughty gaze, and the fact she was indeed stuck now. He ignored her irritation. Instead, he let a smirk curve one side of his mouth as he put the vehicle in gear and took off down the bumpy road.
Chapter Twenty-One
This Part
Skye's heart raced faster the closer they got to Jesse’s house. "Here," she said when the property came into view.
When Dylan stopped the truck, the three looked over what had once been a driveway but now seemed more like an overgrown dirt path through the trees. The only item marking it was a weathered, rusty mailbox leaning half-way over a grassy ditch, the address painted in white, uneven letters. Skye wondered if a younger Jesse drew on the postbox, or a drunk Frankie.
Tension built in the two men as they pulled in the drive. They were on alert. The strain was contagious and caused Skye's throat to dry.
Dylan eased the vehicle down the long driveway. Skye clenched the edge of the seat impatient to get to the end. She bit her lips together as Dylan halted the truck a short distance from the house and parked, then scanned the forested property.
Skye didn't see much change since the last time she visited, except perhaps, for a few more pieces of garbage in the yard. Frankie's home was little more than a falling-down wooden shack with bits of white paint claiming better days. Scavengers had devoured any food thrown out leaving containers and bottles in the sparse grass. To a passer-by, it would have seemed another derelict property, but Skye knew what this house was. A shiver trailed her spine. And what happened here.
Skye scooted up on her seat. "Let's go."
"You're staying here. We gotta make sure things are okay," Dylan said.
"They are okay. No one is out here."
"He could have a gun. There could be dogs. We don't know what we're gettin into here."
Skye stared at Dylan. "Let me out."
Dylan continued to watch the house and yard without acknowledging her.
"You don't have to help with this part," Skye said.
Dylan snorted. “I know Frankie too.” He opened his door and got out of the car, watching for any movement as he did so.
Skye shot him a look. That wasn’t all that surprising. It was a small town. She hopped out, and squeezed around him, heading toward the door.
"Slow down," Dylan warned. Skye's only wish was to get to Jesse. If I go faster, maybe they will too. Frankie won't give me any trouble with these two standing behind me.
Skye walked the mud sidewalk to the front door. A dull smacking thud she couldn't place came to her from inside. It sounded again and again. Then a muffled cry.
Skye stumbled to a stop. It was the heavy smack of a leather belt on exposed skin.
Nauseous, Skye put a hand to her stomach and ran for the door. Jesse! The poor, poor boy! Dylan and Wade's feet thudded up the sidewalk behind her.
Conflicted emotions played across Wade's face. "This is a family matter. Best leave it alone."
Skye had no response for him but turned to Dylan. His pained expression told her he understood precisely what was going on here.
Dylan gave Skye a reassuring nod. "I'm with ya." Wade followed his brother's lead.
The front door stood ajar a few inches. Skye jerked it open the rest of the way. Her stomach quivered when she caught sight of Jesse.
He huddled against the wall, cringing in anticipation of the next blow. His shirtless body half-turned from his father to help shield himself from the attack. His skinny arm raised as if he could ward off the strike.
Frankie towered over the boy. He took another swig from the near-empty whiskey bottle he held in one hand before raising the belt again with the other. Unmoved by the welts already swelling on his son's body from this beating and the solid purple bruising remaining from the last one, Frankie staggered toward Jesse.
Skye hauled in a long, shuddering breath, as her heart exploded with pity, sorrow and rage.
Her vision became murky. Her chest ached, and soon fury was the only emotion she felt. She had never felt true fury before, certainly nothing close to this.
It fueled her as she stormed toward Frankie.
"Stop. Wait," Dylan hissed behind her, "I said stop!" The air stirred beside Skye's shoulder as his hand missed catching her.
Skye would not be stopped. She had fought for children her whole life from a chair, an office. Now she was face to face with the abuse, she would fight harder. Her muscles tightened, alert and ready.
Focused on whipping his son, Frankie was unaware of the trio invading his home. He raised the belt for another blow, twisting it in his fist as he sought a firmer grip.
Without conscious thought, Skye moved in.
Stepping behind Frankie, Skye reached up as his grip loosened on the band. The strap cracked against her palm. She gasped in pain but managed to wrap her fingers around the leather strip. Skye yanked it from Frankie's grasp.
Quicker than Skye would have imagined possible, she turned and pulled a startled Jesse from the floor. She grabbed his hand and ran, dragging him beside her. She didn't get far.
Surprised, but always ready for a fight, Frankie swung toward her. His muscles bunched. His angry face reddened. He launched himself at her.
One of his hands seized the back of her neck. Another went around her waist. His fingers gouged the soft area under her ribs.
Rage still boiled Skye's blood, but now panic edged it as Frankie yanked her backward. Skye gasped and reacted. Frankie's belt was still in her hand. She gripped it so fiercely the leather edges curled.
Skye released Jesse and let Frankie pull her in. Then she turned and raised her arm high. With every bit of anger and strength she had, Skye lashed the leather strap at him.
Buckle end hit Frankie full in the face. The crunch of bone and cartilage sounded around them. Blood poured from his nose and cheek, running down his neck.
Skye froze at the sight of what she had done.
Frankie fell back but was
quick to regain his footing. He grabbed at Skye again.
Wade howled, “Move!" His voice reverberated on the bare walls. Skye responded. Turning toward the door, she pulled Jesse along with her.
She arched her back as Frankie's hand scraped across it.
"Come on, Jesse, run!" With wide eyes and shaking legs, Skye and Jesse made it to the front door where Dylan pushed them past the threshold. Skye shot a wild look up at him to find his eyes boring into hers.
Skye glanced over her shoulder. Dylan took several large steps, pushing his gun to Frankie's head as he growled, "Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! Ya better stop right there, if you know what's good for you."
That was when Skye knew they were safe.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Temper of Dylan
As Skye and Jesse ran for the truck, the men stayed back to make sure Frankie wouldn't follow. Skye wasn't sure how they would do that until the sound of fists against flesh came from the house.
She hesitated as she reached toward Jesse's quaking body. Skye felt dizzy and numb. She couldn't imagine how the encounter affected him. Though Jesse didn't lean into her, he accepted her touch.
"It's okay now, Jesse. You're safe, it's all over," Skye said with a gentle whisper. His eyes wide, Jesse glanced back over his shoulder a few times. When he didn't see his father following, his shaking slowed.
With a bowed head, Jesse asked, "Are they beatin on my dad in there?"
Skye winced and shot a look toward the house. "I believe they are."
"Can't say I’m sorry about it."
Skye brushed the hair from his eyes. "You don't have to be. Not today."
After getting him settled in the truck's cab, Skye stood on the running boards and fished around the truck bed for her backpack. It held a first aid kit, food, and water. She had packed it for any need Jesse would have.
