by Elle James
“Jenna?” he said.
“Bastian, oh, thank God.” She practically fell into his arms, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I don’t think I could have walked another step.”
“What happened?” He started to lead her toward the sheriff’s office. When she stumbled, he bent and scooped her up into his arms.
“Who’ve you got, Bastian?” Angus asked.
“It’s Jenna Ferguson,” the sheriff answered.
“Meyers,” she corrected. To Bastian, she said, “You don’t have to carry me. I can walk.”
“I’ll let you down, when we get inside.” He nodded toward his brother. “Door.”
Angus hurried toward the door and pulled it open.
Bastian carried Jenna inside.
“Take her into my office,” the sheriff said. “You can set her on the couch in there.”
Bastian stepped around the front desk and marched down the hallway to the last door on the right. Inside the sheriff’s office, he eased Jenna onto the couch and sat beside her, slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “What happened?”
Jenna gave him a weak smile. “Nice to see you, too.” She looked past him to Angus and the sheriff. “I’m just glad I made it back to town. Could I get a drink of water?”
“I’ll get you some.” Angus left the room and returned with a bottle of water.
Jenna drank half of it before she finally pushed away from Bastian and straightened her shoulders. “I was out on Black Water Road to show a property to a family who, by the way, didn’t show. Since I was out there, I drove a little farther down the road to a cabin owned by Russell Mahon. I understand he’s been gone from Montana for ten years. I thought I’d check it out for a possible listing, since he hasn’t bothered with it for a decade.”
“And you had to trailblaze through the woods to get to it?” Bastian asked, impatient for her to get to the reason why she was so messed up and exhausted.
She frowned. “I’m getting to that. Anyway, the place was overgrown and dark. Really dark. Someone had hung black sheeting in the front windows. Which I thought strange. The front door was locked, so I went to the back of the cabin and the windows weren’t covered, nor was the back door closed properly.” She drew in a deep breath, her face growing pale.
Bastian’s gut clenched, but he didn’t say anything, letting her get to the point on her own.
“There was a chair inside, with ropes, a car battery and jumper cables.” Her gaze met the sheriff’s. “And the floor was sticky. I think it was covered in blood.”
Angus swore.
Bastian’s heart stopped beating for a long moment, and then pounded hard against his ribs. He stood. “Where was the cabin? Black Water Road?” he started for the door.
“Wait,” she grabbed his arm. “There’s more.”
Bastian returned to sit beside her, holding her hand.
“I heard engines coming up the drive, so I went back around the cabin to see who was coming. Two men drove up on motorcycles. They parked beside my Jeep. I couldn’t get to my vehicle.” Her eyes filled. “I was afraid if they were the ones who’d been inside the cabin… Well, I was afraid, so I ran.”
“You did the right thing,” Bastian said.
She nodded. “I know that now. I ran into the woods. They came after me. When I couldn’t run anymore, I hid behind a tree. Then a man grabbed me from behind and threw me under a bush.”
Bastian’s free hand clenched into a fist. That would explain her disheveled appearance. “One of the men from the motorcycles?”
She shook her head. “No, he was a…a mountain man with a long beard. He hid me from the two men. They ran right past us, and they were carrying guns. Rifles like they use in the military.”
“Who was the man who hid you?” Bastian asked.
“I don’t know. He didn’t talk. He just pointed and urged me to follow him. I couldn’t go back to my Jeep. Not when those men might be waiting for me to return. I didn’t have a choice but to follow the bearded mountain man. He saved my life.”
“How did you get here?” the sheriff asked.
“I followed him through the hills for what felt like forever, until we came to a trail that led into town. It led to the road out by the cemetery. I came straight here.” She held the sheriff’s gaze. “You had to know about the cabin. I think someone was tortured there.”
Bastian met Angus’s gaze. “Dad.”
Angus turned to the sheriff. “We have to get out there.”
Bastian rose to stand beside his brother. “The sooner the better.”
“Let me call in a couple of my deputies. You can’t go out there alone. Not if those men are heavily armed.”
“How long ago was this?” Bastian asked Jenna.
She glanced at her watch. “About four hours ago.”
Sheriff Barron stepped out of the office to put out a call for his deputies on patrol to head out to the Mahon place on Black Water Road.
Angus pulled out his cellphone. “Colin and Duncan need to know. They’ll want to be there.”
Bastian paced in front of the sheriff’s desk, his stomach roiling at the thought of their father being subjected to torture. “We have to find him.”
Angus nodded, pressing the phone to his ear. “Mom, give me Colin or Duncan. No time to explain. I just need one or the other.”
Sebastian understood why he didn’t want to tell their mother anything yet. She’d be beside herself if she knew her husband had been tortured.
“Duncan,” Angus said. “Get Colin and meet us at the turnoff onto Black Water Road. I’ll explain when you get there.” He ended the call and glanced at Bastian. “Ready?”
Bastian nodded.
Jenna pushed to her feet. “I’m going with you.”
“No,” Bastian said. “It’s too dangerous.”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “I know it’s dangerous. I was there. But you don’t know where the turnoff is. The driveway is overgrown.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “And my Jeep is out there.”
“Bring her,” the sheriff said from the door. “My men and I will go in first and clear the site before we let you and your brothers in.”
Bastian didn’t like the idea of Jenna going with them, but he didn’t argue with the sheriff.
The sheriff led the way out of the office. “My men are on their way out to Black Water Road. I told them to meet me at the highway turnoff. Like I said, we’ll go in first.” He climbed into his service SUV.
“I’ll drive,” Angus said and hopped into the driver’s seat.
Bastian held the door open for Jenna to climb into the back seat behind Angus. Then he hurried around to the passenger seat.
He’d barely closed his door when Angus shifted into gear and followed the sheriff out to the highway.
Bastian turned in his seat, realizing for the first time, he hadn’t bothered to ask if she was all right. “You’re Molly’s friend, aren’t you?”
Jenna’s gaze met Bastian’s. “Yes, I’m Molly’s friend.” That he could forget so easily sent her straight back to her high school days when she’d been in love with him, and he had only known her as his kid sister’s little friend, if he’d recognized her at all.
Bastian McKinnon had been Jenna’s world. High school football player, motorcycle riding bad boy with a really big heart.
He’d looked and acted tough, but she’d watched him nurse a horse back to health, play with a kitten and hug his favorite dog. And he was good to his little sister, even when she tagged along with her friend.
Bastian McKinnon had been the man Jenna had set her bra on. But he was in love with his high school sweetheart, Lauren. They’d been inseparable throughout high school. They’d even talked about going to the same college when they graduated.
Only Lauren didn’t make it to graduation. One night, one drunk driver and a head-on collision sent Bastian and Lauren to the hospital. Bastian was treated and released. Lauren died of massive in
ternal injuries. She hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt, and she’d been thrown through the windshield.
Jenna remembered Bastian’s face at Lauren’s funeral. Stone cold and haggard beyond his eighteen years. He’d blamed himself more than the drunk driver who’d hit them.
Instead of college, Bastian enlisted in the Navy and drove himself hard during basic. His drill sergeant noticed and recommended him for the Navy SEALs BUD/S training.
Bastian hadn’t been back home often. He made it every other year to visit his parents, but he didn’t stay long. And he laid flowers on Lauren’s grave. After all those years, he hadn’t forgotten.
Jenna sighed. After Bastian left Eagle Rock, Jenna had given up any pretense of ever getting him to fall in love with, much less notice, her. She went on to date Corley Ferguson, a football player who had a full-ride scholarship to play college football for Montana State.
“The sheriff called you Jenna Ferguson. I thought your last name was Meyers,” Angus said, glancing back at her through the rearview mirror.
“It is Meyers. I’m divorced,” she said. “I reverted to my maiden name.”
“Ferguson…” Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “I played football with a Ferguson. Otis.” His gaze met hers.
“Not the same one. I married Corley, Otis’s younger brother.”
“Sorry it didn’t work out,” Bastian said.
“Don’t be. I’m not.” Jenna looked away. She’d suffered enough during the seven years they’d been together.
“So, you’re a realtor?” Angus asked.
“I am.”
“How long have you been doing that?” Angus asked, but it was Bastian’s gaze she met.
“A little more than a year.” She’d studied hard while she was still married to Corley, hiding her books from him. He hadn’t wanted her to work outside the home, insisting she needed to cook, clean and focus on bringing him a beer when he demanded one. A job outside the home would make her far too independent.
Corley had a hard time keeping a job.
Jenna had married him right out of high school and followed him to Bozeman and Montana State University. His temper lost him the scholarship during the first semester he was there. After that, his dreams of playing for the NFL were over. He’d returned to Eagle Rock and got the only job he could find, working at the feed store, slinging fifty-pound sacks of horse and chicken feed.
She should have cut her losses then, but Jenna had promised to love, honor and cherish her husband through richer and poorer.
Life wouldn’t have been as hard, had Corley allowed her to get a job. He’d insisted he could support them both. But the money was tight. They’d ended up renting a rundown trailer on the edge of town. Between the cold during the winter and the mice infestation, Jenna had never been more miserable.
She’d stayed with him through the first few years, mostly because she didn’t want to admit she’d made a mistake. During the last years of her marriage, she’d stayed because she didn’t have a way to support herself.
Until she’d found the course on how to get her real estate license.
Not all the years were bad. It wasn’t until Corley started drinking a case of beer every three days that Jenna’s misery escalated.
Corley was a mean drunk. He’d come home from the bar, having spent his paycheck buying rounds he couldn’t afford for the rest of his beer-drinking buddies.
When he came through the door, he’d pick a fight with her and end up slapping her around, and then forcing her to have sex.
Sometimes, he stayed out all night.
Those were the nights Jenna loved and hated. She loved that she didn’t have to put up with him but hated not knowing when he’d show up to hit her again.
One night she’d fallen asleep over her coursework. Corley came home earlier than usual and found her with her study materials. He’d exploded in a rage so violent, Jenna hadn’t thought she’d live through it.
He’d thrown her book at her head, catching her right cheek. Corley yelled, punched her in the belly and the face several times. When she fell to the ground, he’d kicked her in the side over and over, breaking several of her ribs.
He’d left her half-conscious on the floor and gone back out to the bar.
Jenna lay for a long time, trying to bring air into her lungs. When she could muster the strength, she’d dragged herself to the phone, dialed 911, gave her address and promptly passed out.
She woke when the EMTs loaded her onto a gurney and wheeled her out.
Corley arrived in time to ask where they hell they were taking her.
She’d answered, “Away from you.”
He’d lunged toward EMT and would have punched him, but a sheriff’s deputy grabbed him and zip-tied his wrists behind his back.
Once at the hospital, Jenna had asked that they not allow her husband in to visit. Her parents had moved to Florida a couple of years earlier. She didn’t want to upset them and make them spend the money it would take to fly out to Montana to be with her. When the nurse asked who she’d like to notify, the only person she could think of was her best from high school, Molly McKinnon.
Molly had come immediately, remaining by her side throughout her stay in the hospital. She’d insisted on Jenna coming home to the Iron Horse Ranch where Molly lived with her father and mother. For the next couple of weeks, the McKinnons had helped her get back on her feet, physically and emotionally.
Molly had been the one to introduce her to her Krav Maga trainer in Bozeman. Twice a week, she drove Jenna to take the classes with her.
Molly had helped Jenna study for her real estate exam. She passed on her first attempt and landed a job with a local firm.
On her first day at the job, Corley showed up in the office and demanded she get her ass home.
Jenna had stood up to him, with just a few Krav Maga lessons under her belt. Not at all confident in her abilities to take down a man twice her weight.
When she knocked him flat on his ass, he bellowed like an angry bull and came at her.
She’d dodged him, he hit a wall and lay still long enough for her to get outside and flag down a passing sheriff’s deputy. Afterward, she got the county judge to put a restraining order on Corley. He wasn’t to come within twenty yards of her, call her or talk to her.
She’d purchased a gun and was willing to use it if he ever tried to hurt her again.
“They’re all here,” Angus said, pulling Jenna out of the past and back to the present and the horrific setting she’d witnessed inside the Mahon cabin.
Colin and Duncan were waiting in Colin’s pickup. When they saw Angus turn off onto Black Water Road, they got out. Colin rounded to the driver’s side, Duncan to the passenger side as Angus and Bastian lowered their windows.
Bastian gave them a brief situation report ending with, “Someone was tortured in that cabin.”
Colin and Duncan’s jaws both tightened.
“You think it was Dad?” Duncan asked.
Bastian drew in a breath and let it out. “We don’t know. Whoever it was needs help. If it’s Dad, likely he’s still alive.”
Sheriff Barron left his vehicle and walked up to the driver’s side of their pickup. Acknowledging Colin with a nod, he turned to Angus. “We’ll let you lead the way. Once you arrive at the turnoff, stay on this road, just pull forward. Let us go in.” He looked over Angus’s shoulder, capturing Jenna’s glance. “Got it?”
She nodded. “Got it.”
Colin and Duncan hurried back to their truck while Angus pulled ahead of the convoy and drove slowly down Black Water Road.
Jenna slid across the back seat and stared out the window, trying to remember what the entry to the cabin’s driveway had looked like.
“Do you need to sit up front?” Bastian asked.
“Actually, yes. But don’t stop. I don’t want you to slow down.”
“We’re going slow enough, you can crawl up through the middle with no problem,” Angus said. “I promise not to slam
on the brakes.”
Bastian frowned. “It wouldn’t take a minute to stop and let her go around.”
Jenna was halfway across the console already, her gaze on the road ahead as she slipped her leg across Bastian’s.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t think it’s much further. I remember that dead tree on the right.”
The truck’s front right wheel hit a rut. Jenna slipped on the console and bumped her head against the ceiling.
“Damn it, woman.” Bastian grabbed her hips and pulled her down.
She sat hard on Bastian’s lap.
“You need to be wearing a seatbelt,” he grumbled. He reached between them, unhooked the belt he wore and pulled it around to encircle both of them, his arm clamped around her middle to feed the metal into the buckle. Once it was clipped in place, he continued to hold her around her middle.
Distracted by the arm around her middle and the warmth of his body beneath her, Jenna almost missed the turn. The front bumper had passed it when she recognized the area. “There!” she cried out and pointed out the passenger window. “It’s there.”
Angus continued past the driveway and stopped when the trailer he was pulling cleared the entrance.
The sheriff parked his vehicle and got out, drawing his weapon from the holster at his side. He nodded to the deputies.
They disappeared on foot into the heavily overgrown driveway, leading up to the cabin.
Jenna didn’t move. She was almost afraid to breathe, listening through Bastian’s open window for sounds of gunfire, shouts or anything that would indicate what was happening at the cabin.
After what felt like forever, a deputy materialized out of the woods and walked over to their truck. “Sheriff Barron said you could come to the cabin.”
Jenna flung open the door.
Bastian unbuckled the seatbelt and helped her down from the truck.
Once on the ground, Jenna touched her hand to the gun beneath her jacket, comforted by its presence. When Bastian slipped an arm around her waist, she felt even better, knowing someone had her back. She liked the feel of his hand on her side. It wasn’t obsessively possessive, just reassuring and warm.
