by Nancy Bush
“Excuse me a minute,” Sabrina said. She felt hot and couldn’t see straight. It was nothing to her. This wasn’t her story. But Colton … with Pilar? She ducked down the hall by the restrooms.
Her cell phone rang at that moment and she looked down at the screen. She didn’t know the number, but she thought the area code was Montana.
Her throat was tight. She didn’t want to talk to him. She felt too raw, too let down. Even though her emotions were all out of line, she couldn’t help it.
The cell phone rang her default tone once again and she screwed up her courage and answered, “Hello?”
“Hey, Sabrina.” Colton’s warm tones came through the phone. She could tell he was happy. Could hear it in his voice. What would he hear in hers?
“Hi,” she said shortly.
“You want to get that coffee tomorrow?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve … got a lot to do.”
“On Sunday? Okay, then, how about dinner together tomorrow night?” he pressed.
“I don’t know.” That at least was the truth.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, I just …” She drew a breath and told herself there was no time like the present. If she wanted an honest relationship with Colton—no, wait—if she wanted any kind of relationship with him, including just friendship, they needed to be straight with each other. Starting now. “I just heard that Rourke is your son.”
For a long moment, there was only the sound of the wind in the background and she sensed that he was standing outside. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Is it true?”
He made a strangled sound, then ground out, “Yes, but it wasn’t supposed to be out there yet.”
Her heart dropped again. “Oh. When would it be out there?”
“Listen, I can’t really get into all this right now. I’m at Ricki’s and—”
“Don’t worry. You don’t need to explain. It’s your life, Colt, and I’m just—a friend. Let’s talk later. Good-bye.”
Her hand was shaking as she slid her cell phone from her ear and ended the call. Damn it all. She really needed to get her head together where Colton Dillinger was concerned, but she feared it wasn’t going to happen.
The killer stared into the lantern in the center of the cabin and watched the dancing flame. It was time.
And it was time to get out of here. He stood and surveyed the dilapidated shack. It had probably been used for a hunting cabin back in the day, but now it stood empty, the thin walls shaking when the wind raced through this section of the valley.
With no electricity or running water, the place had all but been forgotten, but it had provided him the shelter he’d needed. Located close to the Dillinger spread and tucked into the woods, he had been able to come and go without being noticed. There were many other hideaway spots for him to lie low; he had a particular cave he liked.
But now things were about to change, so it was time to move on.
Besides, the old hunger gnawing inside him, his constant companion these days, was raw. Angry. The beast needed to be fed.
Ignoring the cold that blew through cracks in the walls, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a near-empty bottle of Jim Beam, who had, of late, been his only friend.
Well, except for the girl.
“Here’s to you,” he said, lifting the bottle and looking into the darkened corner of the room where she sat, propped against the wall. She was permanently seated, frozen that way. Her eyes were hollow, her skin a transparent, bluish tone, and the drizzle of blood on the corner of her mouth had dried and frozen in place.
He took a long swallow and grabbed one end of the tarp, shaking it open. He couldn’t keep her hidden here forever. And though she hadn’t started to decompose yet, not with these frigid temperatures, he was tired of looking at her. The thrill was gone.
“Sorry, baby, but I’m going to have to let you go,” he said as he finished his drink. Capping the bottle, he tucked it into his pack again. Opening the tarp was easy. Dragging her onto it was more of a challenge, but he was strong. Smiling to himself, he secured the tarp with baling twine from a spool he’d stolen right from under the old man’s nose. Take that, you prick!
Hoisting her half-frozen and oh-so-dead body onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, he hauled her outside into wind so cold it iced his eyeballs. He closed his eyes and felt his way to the pickup, thinking of the corpse’s destination.
The perfect way to ruin a wedding. A sacred place, defiled.
“This is good-bye, darlin’,” he said as he tossed her into the truck bed next to the gas can. Her body landed with a hard thunk and the old can rattled. “It’s been fun, but it’s over.” He double-checked to see that the tailgate was secure. He wouldn’t want her sliding out before he was ready.
A gust of wind screamed through the canyon, and he climbed inside. He slammed the door against the wind, fired up the engine and tossed his gloves on the other seat. Anticipation thrummed through his body, and he couldn’t resist digging into his pocket and touching the teeth. His trophies, sharp and smooth. The sound of them clicking against each other brought him a pang of satisfaction.
Only two so far, but by this time tomorrow he’d have at least one more to add to his collection.
Yep, he thought, shifting the truck into drive, it was time to hit the Dillingers where it hurt.
Sabrina twisted off the knobs of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. The hot water had eased the kink in her neck, but not her mind. Nothing could wash away the ache of disappointment. Colton had forgotten to fill her in on a big chapter in his life.
He had a son.
She kept trying not to think about it. No point in probing it under a microscope, because it was what it was. But it stung, and no amount of sweet-smelling shower gel or hot water could wash that kink away.
She unwrapped the towel and let her dry hair spill over her shoulder. Still naturally blond and thick. She was considering putting it up in a twist when she saw one dark paw slip beneath the door.
Claudia, ever curious, was sending her a message. “Okay, okay, I get it.” Sabrina opened the door and the cat poked her dark head inside. “Hey, there,” Sabrina said as Claudia stepped into the small room and hopped onto the closed lid of the toilet.
The doorbell chimed and Sabrina gritted her teeth. Thinking they would go away or leave a package if it was a deliveryman, she rewrapped her hair in a towel, and put on her bathrobe. She was determined to ignore them, but then the bell became persistent.
She’d wanted a night to hole up in her sweats, drink a little wine and throw herself a pity party—uninterrupted—but the incessant bell was not going to allow that.
Hurrying down the stairs in bare feet, she peered through the peephole.
Colton Dillinger leaned insolently against the post supporting the roof of her small porch. So, he was here. She should have known he wouldn’t wait to try and explain.
“Okay …” she warned herself, her heart beating a little faster as she turned the latch. “You are the worst kind of fool,” she muttered as she opened the door.
He straightened, all six foot two inches of him. Snow feathered the air behind him, a dotted halo of white surrounding the man she had spent most of her life alternately dreaming about and trying to forget.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked.
“From our phone conversation, I kinda thought maybe we should have a face-to-face.” The timbre of his voice caused a little spark of adrenaline to shoot through her body.
“Hey, it’s not my business. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I was out of line. I, um, hope things work out for you and your son, I really do.” Oh, Lord … she could feel tears gathering behind her eyes. “So, um, I’m going to say good night.”
She swung the door closed, but it met with a barrier.
Colt’s boot.
“C’mon, Sabrina,” he said.
I don’t want you here. But
she released her grip on the door. “You’re really going to do this, aren’t you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Great.” She turned back to the living room.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He followed her in, his boots ringing on the floor, and echoing in her heart. What the hell was he doing here? Why was she even letting him inside?
Because you want him here. You know it and he does, too. All those defenses you built up over the years, Sabrina, they’re thin as paper and falling down. You love him. You’ve always loved him, and that’s the problem. Oh, God … She folded her arms over her chest protectively, hoping he didn’t notice the fact that she was trembling.
He tossed his jacket and hat onto the arm of her overstuffed couch. “Look, I’m sorry you found out about Rourke before I could explain.”
“It’s all right.”
His sharp gaze met hers and charged her with the lie. “It’s clearly not.”
“It’s not my place—”
“You keep saying that, but you’re looking at me as if I’ve hurt you, or let you down, or both. Which I get, because I took off after the fire. But this”—he spread his hand—“I didn’t know about Rourke. I fell in with Pilar in the wildest of my rodeo days. It wasn’t long, and I know what you’re going to say—it was long enough.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“After Pilar I pulled my life together. I met Margo and I guess I put the demons to rest. And then Darcy came along and we were happy, but then …” He lifted a hand and let it drop. “You know the rest.”
“I’m sorry you lost them,” Sabrina said, her resolve turning to water.
He nodded. “It’s been five years. I’m okay. I don’t want this”—he moved his hands to include her and him—“to be some kind of … grief counseling.” He hesitated, glancing up at the ceiling. “Oh, hell. I know this is sudden, and trust me, I didn’t expect it, but the truth is I just want a chance to start over, or pick up where we left off, or just plain spend time together.”
He was killing her with this. Making her feel her fears were insignificant, and maybe they were. She gestured for him to sit down, and when she sat on the couch, he dropped down beside her. For a moment she remembered making out on her parents’ sofa, and then later, making love. To this very man.
“Before I reached the age of twenty I was crazy in love with you,” he admitted. “But I knew I was too young to take on a wife, and you were barely legal. Then there was the fire, and everything got screwed up in my head. A shitload of guilt. I was on a downward spiral, and I didn’t want to take you with me. I loved you, Sabrina, but I knew you deserved better.”
“I loved you, too,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat.
“I’m sorry for being young and stupid.”
“No …” She lifted her hands, warding him off. “It was what it was.” The fact that she’d never gotten him out of her system wasn’t his issue.
“Who told you about Rourke?”
“Mia Collins. She overheard Pilar talking about it.”
“Mia. Huh. No one was supposed to know yet except Ira.”
“Ira knows?” she said, surprised.
“It was the leverage that got me to come to the wedding.” He sat back on the couch and let his head drop back. “But I’m glad I’m here. I was hanging out with Rourke today for the first time, watching football at Ricki’s. Trying to get to know him a little better.”
“How’d that go?”
“Okay, I think. He wants me to know that Chad Larson’s his father, no matter what anybody says, but he liked that I was on the rodeo circuit. I told him I’d try to get him on a horse, though Pilar thinks it’s too dangerous.”
Sabrina almost laughed. “Way to get in good with the kid’s mom.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “She’ll probably have me tarred and feathered.”
He turned to her, and though she didn’t face him, she was acutely aware of the heat that came off his body beside her. What would it take to turn, to slip into his arms and lose herself in his warmth?
Don’t think about it, she told herself.
“I can’t turn back time. I don’t even want to. But I’m here now, and when I think about the future, it’s hard to imagine it without you,” he said.
Oh, how she wanted to turn to him and burrow into his warmth, to trust him again. Was it possible, or just a pipe dream?
To give herself some room, she stood up and went to the window. “What exactly do you expect of me?” she asked, turning back to him now that there was a safe distance between them.
“A chance.” He cocked his head. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Dating,” she said. “Spending time together.”
“Whatever you want to call it. You and me together. That’s what I want.”
And what about when you go back to Montana?
“What about you? What do you want?”
Yes. What? She closed her eyes for a second and bit back the response that leapt to her mind. I want you, Colt. I’ve always wanted you.
“I can’t think with you draped on my couch,” she said honestly. “A few days ago—no, wait—even today, I was telling myself and the whole world that I was over you, that there was nothing between us.”
“A lie.”
“Probably. Yes. But … this is all too fast … I need some time, so I think you’d better go.”
“If that’s what you want.”
She couldn’t respond because, damn it, she really didn’t know what she wanted.
He grabbed his hat from where he’d tossed it and got to his feet. “Okay, I’m out of here. But I’ll be back.” He actually cast her that roguish smile of his. “I’ll wear you down, Sabrina. You know I can be a persistent bastard.”
“I do know that.”
His boots clicked on the vestibule floor and then he was gone, as quickly as he’d come. Through the door, down the steps and across her lawn, where his boots made impressions in the blanket of fresh snow.
She picked up the cat and stroked Claudia’s soft fur as Colton climbed into his truck and drove off. She stood at the door for a minute or two, watching his taillights disappear in the night, and scolded herself for feeling like she’d just made a terrible mistake.
Colton switched on his windshield wipers and turned off the radio. With snow falling and a few drinks under his belt, he knew he had to keep his focus on the road.
When he’d left Sabrina’s house, his head reeling, he’d stopped at a local watering hole for a couple of beers and a hard mental shake. It was good to see some of the old guys at the bar, but it didn’t make him feel any better.
It felt like he’d blown it. He’d thought that he could convince Sabrina to give him another chance, but now he wasn’t so sure.
He drove out of town still chiding himself. Just seeing her again had awakened long-slumbering feelings in him, but she didn’t seem to feel quite the same.
He considered turning around, driving back to her house and pleading his case all over again.
“Don’t be stupid,” he told himself, glancing in the rearview mirror.
He switched on the radio only to hear the plaintive notes of George Michael singing “Last Christmas.” Before he heard the sad lyrics about “once bitten, twice shy,” he snapped it off. This isn’t helping, he thought as he barreled down the state road toward the Rocking D.
Half a mile farther he noticed a glow on the horizon, an eerie yellowish shadow. All but obscured by the snow, it seemed to move and shift like a ball of light.
What the hell?
Fire?
A large ball of it on the hill beyond the fence line.
“Jesus! No!”
With a sick feeling he realized the old Pioneer Church, the site of his father’s wedding, was going up in flames!
“Son of a bitch.” In his mind’s eye and only for a split second, he saw the fire eighteen years ago, the raging flames, excruciating h
eat and charred beams of the old homestead.
He hit the brakes and reached for his phone, intent on calling 9-1-1, but his cell wasn’t in the cup holder. It wasn’t on the dash, or in the empty seat next to him and it definitely wasn’t in any of his pockets. He figured it must’ve slipped out of his jacket pocket at Sabrina’s place.
“Damn it to hell,” he muttered, hitting the accelerator, his tires spinning. The Explorer shuddered, sending snow spraying to the side of the road as it jumped forward.
He switched on the emergency flashers and repeatedly hit the horn, hoping to wake up anyone who might be nearby, though the few surrounding houses were, for the most part, empty, the result of his father buying out the ranchers at the bottom of the market.
No doors flew open.
No porch lights snapped on.
No one raced across his porch to help.
“Damn!”
He reached the lane that led to the church and turned the wheel. His heart raced, his blood pounding in his ears. In horror he stared at the approaching inferno as thoughts of the fire that had shaped his youth clamored to the front of his brain. This time, he hoped to God there was no one inside.
Chapter Thirteen
Slumped on the sofa, Sabrina snapped off the news where warnings about another storm bearing down on this part of the state, and a plea for anyone who had seen the missing California woman to come forward, topped the hour. Depressing news. Even the tips on roasting a Christmas goose had made her feel bad, since she had no plans for the holiday.
Mom was going to be in Cheyenne with her sister, Mavis. Though Sabrina had invited them both to come to dinner in Prairie Creek, she and Mavis had decided to stay home for the holidays. Sabrina had secretly fantasized about spending Christmas with Colton, but now that seemed remote. Probably impossible. Of her own making, sure, but she felt the need to be cautious. She’d carried a torch for him half her life. She needed to be smart. Decide if this was what she really wanted and whether she could believe Colton felt the same.
