by Debra Webb
“Swear to me that you won’t mention Ryan to Court ever again.”
He rolled his eyes and blew out a breath. “Why not?”
“Because I said so,” Sabrina snapped, out of patience herself. “Ryan and I are none of Court’s business. I don’t want him snooping around here and asking questions, that’s all. So just don’t say anything else.”
“Fine.” Charlie flung the word at her. “Why would I want to talk about the brat, anyway.” He stormed out into the darkness, slamming the door behind him.
Ryan whimpered at the loud sound. Sabrina cuddled him closer, tears rolling down her cheeks. What on earth was she going to do? Why hadn’t her mother stayed here and raised Charlie like she was supposed to do? Instead, three years ago, she’d signed her part of the ranch over to Sabrina, gotten married again and moved to Florida, putting the past, Charlie and Sabrina included, behind her. She hardly ever called to check on them. Just more proof that Sabrina couldn’t count on anyone but herself. Court’s handsome face floated before her eyes but she blinked him away. She couldn’t count on him, either. Hadn’t she already learned that the hard way? Two times over.
The only person she had to help her was poor old Mrs. Cartwright. What would she do when the elderly woman grew too poorly to see after Ryan? How would Sabrina get any work done on the ranch then? How would she run after Charlie?
Sabrina dropped into the rocking chair and began the slow, rhythmic motion that would hopefully lull both her and Ryan into sleep. Lord knows, she needed the rest. Please God, she prayed, watch over my little brother. Sabrina was truly at her wit’s end.
Court sneaked back into her thoughts as she finally drifted toward sleep. Every instinct urged her to trust him. To ask him for help, but she couldn’t risk her heart again, could she? Before that elusive answer came, exhaustion overwhelmed her and Sabrina was asleep.
“YOU’RE CERTAIN THIS MAN with whom you saw Benson speaking was a federal agent?” Sitting behind his desk the next morning and appearing completely relaxed, Neely searched Court’s face, looking for the slightest mannerism that might contradict his words.
Court met that analyzing gaze head-on. Neely might not show it, but he was shaken by the possibility. “I’d know a fed anywhere. You can shoot ’em and bury ’em in the same suit.”
Five seconds passed before a knowing smile overtook Neely’s solemn expression. “So, Brother Brody, what would you suggest we do about this traitor?”
Ferguson piped up, “Joshua, I think we should—”
Neely cut Ferguson off with one uplifted palm.
Court glanced at his opponent briefly, then shifted his gaze back to Neely. Just one more strike against him in Ferguson’s already low opinion. “I think Benson should pay for his disloyalty.”
Neely considered the answer for a time. “I agree,” he said finally. He pinned Court with a look that conveyed a great deal more than any words could. “Under my command, the punishment for disloyalty is death.”
Court inwardly tensed. He had expected this, but, still, hearing the sentence announced shook him.
“Brother Brody, you are to take care of the traitor in any way you see fit.” Neely hardened his already granite glare. “As long as the job gets done, I have no desire to know the intimate details.”
Court stood. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
“Wait,” Neely said, staying his departure. When Court turned back to him, Neely reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a Ruger nine-millimeter handgun. “Use my personal weapon,” he suggested. “I will destroy this evil among us through you.”
Court nodded and accepted the weapon. “Thank you, Joshua.” One final look at Ferguson as he left the room told Court that the man was not only madder than hell, but scared…scared that his position as number-one confidant to Neely was in jeopardy of being usurped. If Court had his way, it would be.
SABRINA READIED the children for playtime. Though the compound didn’t provide any of the typical playground equipment, a walk in the fresh air and sun would do them all good. Not to mention it would give her a chance to look around for Charlie. Her chest still ached with the hateful words that had passed between them last night.
However, there was nothing she could do at the moment but be here for him. She only hoped that her presence would be enough. She was certainly powerless in any other capacity within these secured walls.
Sabrina halted abruptly at the bottom of the steps outside the meeting hall. She blinked and looked again just to be sure that what she thought she was seeing was right. Court was ushering a man to his truck. Maybe twenty or thirty others were standing around watching as if the act had some kind of significance. The other man slumped into the truck on the passenger side and Court closed the door behind him. Sabrina jerked with shocked surprise when she got a glimpse of the weapon Court tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
He’d forced that man into his truck at gunpoint. Her heart sank to her stomach. This couldn’t be right. There must be more to this than she knew. Court wouldn’t do such a thing. Sabrina quickly ushered the children back into the classroom, then hurried back outside.
“Jed!” Sabrina moved up beside the ever-vigilant soldier.
After spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice and saliva onto the dusty ground, he glared, annoyed, at her. “What is it, woman?”
Sabrina ignored the way he addressed her. She needed information. If she angered him he certainly wouldn’t tell her anything. “What’s going on?” She nodded toward the truck Court had just climbed into.
“Court’s taking care of a traitor.” Jed spat again. “That’s what happens to those who ain’t loyal to the cause.” He stared at her with an accusing glare. “I wouldn’t be forgetting that if I was you.”
She felt the color drain from her face. Jed had to be wrong. Court would never do anything like that. I want to be like Court. Charlie’s words rang out inside her head. Court couldn’t have changed that much. She wouldn’t believe it. But she’d seen the gun with her own eyes. Maybe she’d been right not to tell him about Ryan, after all. Every fiber of her being rejected that possibility. She simply could not believe Court had fallen so far.
Sabrina stared at the truck as it lurched forward through the crowd on its way to the gate. Suddenly, as if sensing her eyes on him, Court looked her way. Their gazes locked and something she couldn’t quite define passed between them. He turned away first. In guilt? This was the man she had once loved with all her heart…the father of her child. What had happened to change him so?
Who was he now? Sabrina shivered at the answer she didn’t want to admit but saw no other way to explain his actions. He was one of them. She surveyed those standing around her, watching Court drive away with the traitor. And, if she couldn’t stop him soon, Charlie would become one of them, as well. She shook her head, still struggling with what to feel. She didn’t have to figure any of this out, she knew with all her heart that what was happening here was wrong.
Very wrong.
SABRINA DROVE AS FAST as her old truck would go toward home…and Ryan. She still couldn’t believe what she had seen with her own eyes. How could Court have become that kind of man? He just couldn’t have. She called to mind the night they had spent together two years ago. They had made love twice that night, but in between the kisses and the touching they’d talked. He had told her all about the Bureau, or at least as much as he could. He loved his job, loved D.C. That restless heart of his had finally settled onto something that made him truly happy. If only it could have been her.
She shook that last thought away. She remembered his fervent talk of helping bring felons to justice. What had happened to warp that idealism? Sabrina refused to believe he intended harm to the man he’d driven away with in his truck. There had to be some other explanation for the gun.
There simply had to be.
The fact that Joshua Neely was a very persuasive man niggled at her firm belief in Court. And even she had noticed the quick climb Court ha
d made within the militia ranks. There could be no denying that Court was giving his all to Neely’s every command.
But why?
What was it he’d said? I don’t want to talk about the Bureau or D.C. I’m trying to put that behind me. Something very bad must have happened for him to turn his back on all that he had spoken so enthusiastically of just two years ago. Sabrina rubbed at the ache starting in her right temple. She didn’t need anyone else to worry about. She had enough of her own problems. Court would just have to work out his own troubles. But Charlie was so taken with him.
The truck jerked and shuddered, then, with one final sob, the engine died. Sabrina wrestled it to the side of the road while it was still rolling. She stomped the brake pedal and shoved the old gearshift into Park.
“What now?” She blew out a disgusted burst of air and checked the fuel gauge. It showed a half-full tank. She tapped the glass covering it just to make sure it stayed there. Maybe the gauge had malfunctioned. But it remained square in the middle between the E and the F. If she had enough fuel, what was the problem?
She opened the door and hopped out. Shoving her hair behind her ears with the impatience bursting inside her, she moved to the front of the vehicle. Though she was no mechanic, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. With monumental effort, she raised the heavy, ancient hood. The alien structure beneath that stared back at her squashed the last of her hope. What had she expected? She only knew which parts were the radiator, which required the occasional addition of water and the place where she poured the oil when it registered a quart low on the stick, which was frequently. The rest was nothing but a conglomeration of gadgets and metal.
She stepped to the side of the road and stared first in one direction, then the other. Surely someone would come along. She laughed, the sound unfamiliar to her ears. Yeah, someone would come along, all right. Maybe tomorrow.
Determined not to be outdone by a mere truck, she reached inside, grabbed a clip and tucked her hair up out of the way. She rarely wore it down, and she’d chosen today of all days. Walking hadn’t gone out of style as far she was concerned. It couldn’t be more than six or seven miles to Mrs. Cartwright’s place. She’d surely make it by dark.
Just as Sabrina headed in the direction of home, she heard a vehicle coming up behind her. The sound of tires crunching over gravel had never sounded so good. Relieved, she turned to wave down the driver.
Instantly, her jubilation drooped.
It was Court.
CHAPTER FIVE
COURT BRAKED HIS truck to a stop behind Sabrina’s old green ’69 Chevy truck. Since the hood was up, he decided it was safe to assume that the problem was more than a lack of fuel. She stood, her hands braced against the left front fender, glaring at him. With her tight jeans, the T-shirt and length of brown hair streaked with gold and fashioned in some sort of half-bun, half-ponytail, she was far too welcome a sight for his comfort. With the next puff of sultry air, she swiped a wisp of hair back from her face, then turned toward him and planted both hands firmly on her hips in preparation for telling him to get lost, he suspected.
Court smiled, a gesture that relaxed across his mouth and took him by complete surprise. It wasn’t her expression of annoyance that sent his lips curling upward, it was how much she reminded him of that little girl who used to follow him all over her daddy’s ranch. Tall, almost lanky, but over the past couple of years she’d filled out in all the right places, he noticed with growing appreciation. Time and maturity had sculpted the once girlish and impish features of her face into that of a beautiful and seductive woman’s. He suddenly remembered how he’d loved to tug on her ponytail all those years ago. She would get fighting mad when he teased her that way. Within minutes her irritation would be forgotten, though, and she’d trudge along behind him once more. And then he’d do it again just to watch the metamorphosis from starry-eyed back to ready-to-kick-his-butt.
God, only Brin could make him recall his youth with any fondness at all. Court pushed away the past and climbed out of his truck. He hadn’t stopped to reminisce, she needed help with her truck. Despite the fact that his old heap was a couple of years newer than hers, the ’71 Ford he drove looked a hell of a lot worse for wear. But it ran like a new one. Court hadn’t cared how the truck looked, only that it got him where he needed to go, in a hurry if necessary. And he damned sure didn’t want to get stranded on one of these long, deserted stretches of Montana road.
Like Sabrina had. He frowned at the idea of her being stuck out here all alone, especially at night. She’d have to be more careful about maintaining her vehicle. It could be hours or the next day, even, before anyone happened down this road.
Bracing himself for her fury, Court adjusted his hat and started in her direction. “What’s the trouble?”
She heaved a mighty sigh. “Well, now, if I knew the answer to that I’d fix it and be on my way.”
“Run out of gas?” he suggested, biting back a grin as he brushed past her.
“Hell, no.” She followed him to the front of the vehicle. “It just sputtered for a minute or two and then died. But the gas tank’s half full.”
Court scanned the engine. The strong, unmistakable scent of raw fuel mingled with the heat rising from it. He removed the wing nut and lifted the air filter and cover from the carburetor and set it aside. He checked the choke, which appeared to be working properly.
“Try starting her again.”
Sabrina quickly scrambled into the cab and turned the ignition. It still wouldn’t start. An excessive amount of gas pumped into the carburetor, flooding it, as he suspected it would.
“Okay. Hold on a minute,” he called out to her. Court skirted the hood and leaned into her open window. “Got a hammer or wrench?”
Still eyeing him suspiciously, she reached down and fumbled beneath the seat. When she rose she handed him a pair of pliers. “Will this do?”
Court pulled off his hat and placed it on top of the cab for safekeeping. “It’ll do fine. Give me a minute and you can try starting her up again.”
She nodded, her gaze slightly less suspicious.
Maybe there was hope they could settle this thing between them, after all. That would definitely be a good thing. He didn’t like this gap dividing them. He strode back to the front of the truck and tapped the carburetor housing a couple of times with the pliers in just the way his older brother had taught him too many years ago to count. The carburetor in Court’s first truck had had a penchant for sticking. A couple of good taps and the float would unstick, allowing the choke to function properly once more.
“All right,” he called out around the raised hood. “Give it another try.”
Sabrina did as he told her, and this time the engine almost started. She looked to him for further instructions.
“That’s got it.” After replacing the carburetor cover, he slammed the hood shut and walked back to her door.
“Then why won’t it start?” she demanded crossly.
“The float was sticking,” he explained patiently. He knew she didn’t want to spend one unnecessary moment with him, and that stung more than his ego. “Give it a minute for some of the extra fuel to dissipate and it’ll start.” He passed the pliers back to her.
“Thank you.” She tossed the tool onto the floorboard on the passenger side. “I appreciate your help,” she offered without meeting his gaze.
“You’re welcome.” He studied her profile, remembering every little curve and hollow, the satiny feel of her skin. She’d just graduated from high school when they made love that first time. He hadn’t intended for it to happen, though he’d wanted her so badly he could taste her. At nineteen most guys didn’t care how they got their sex, as long as they got it. But Court had cared. Sabrina was much more than just another score on his rutting card. She meant a great deal to him for reasons too complicated to explain. And he was very much aware that she hadn’t ever been with anyone else. He hadn’t wanted to take advantage of her feelings
for him, or her innocence. He knew that she still had stars in her eyes where he was concerned. But in the end, neither one of them had been able to stop. He’d left Montana the next week.
He’d left Sabrina.
And she hadn’t forgiven him, for that time or the last.
He was a selfish jerk.
Court swallowed the regret that welled in his throat, threatened his ability to take a breath. He knew he’d hurt her, but, at the time, he just couldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay now. But he could try to make amends.
She sat like a statue behind the wheel, staring straight ahead. Several moments passed before Court realized that she didn’t intend to say anything else.
He would have to take the first step. “What’s the deal with the Double K?”
Her gaze shot to his at the question. “What do you mean?”
“Where are all the horses?” He replayed what he’d seen at her place and shrugged. “I didn’t see any when I was there the other day.”
Pain shattered the irritation in her eyes. “I have horses. You just didn’t see them.”
“And where were they then?”
Silence.
An uneasy feeling crept behind the defensive shield Court fully intended to hold in position between what his heart wanted to feel and what his head told him he should. “I don’t mean to be unkind, Brin, but the place looked in pretty bad shape. The house needs painting. I noticed a lot of fencing that needs repairs. Who’s taking care of the ranch for you now?”
The look of pain evaporated as fast as it had appeared, only to be replaced by another blaze of what looked like anger. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I take care of the place myself.”
His uneasiness sharpened. He rested his hands on the open window. “You don’t have any hired help?”
“No.” She resumed her vigil of watching the road directly in front of her.
Something Daniel Austin said that first day Court had seen Sabrina echoed in his ears. “Did you sell all the horses? Have things gotten that bad for you financially? Where’s your mom? I thought she married again.” He fired the barrage of questions at her, earning himself a heated glower.
