Badlands Beware

by Nicole Helm

  “I can’t see,” she pointed out, hoping to lighten the moment.

  “You know what I mean,” he replied gruffly.

  “Yeah, I think I do.” Unfortunately that made her all the more gooey-hearted when they had much more important things to deal with. Still, truth for truth was only fair. “I meant it, Tuck. I did. And I...guess I’m attracted to you, too.”

  “You guess,” he muttered disgustedly.

  Which almost made her smile. “I’m still working through all that. I haven’t exactly had a lot of experience with this.”

  He groaned. “Please God, tell me that wasn’t your first kiss.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  He swore a few times, and she had no idea why that made her want to laugh.

  “Look. We need to...go to sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll come up with a plan. No more of...this stuff.”

  “This stuff?”

  “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out when we’re not camping in the South Dakota wilderness, with absolutely no plan on how we’re going to accomplish what we want. For now, we get some rest and focus on the important things.”

  She nodded as though she agreed with him, and let him lead her into the tent.

  * * *

  TUCKER WOKE UP in his own personal nightmare. He had to come up with a plan to save Duke, to keep Rachel safe. To outwit North Star, the Sons and some other group of people out for blood.

  All knowing he’d kissed Rachel. And now she was curled up next to him. Because he’d only had time to grab the pack out of his truck—which was outfitted for one person. A tiny tent and one sleeping bag.

  It was edging far enough into fall that nights were cold, so he’d had to let her cozy up next to him and fall asleep. All while pretending that kiss had never happened.

  It was the only way to survive this. Put a brick wall around his own personal slip-up. Seal it off and forget it.

  But he’d never in a million years be able to forget the feel of his lips on hers. Simple kisses weren’t supposed to...do that. Make you forget who you were and what was important: safety. Hers most of all.

  But he’d forgotten everything except her for those humming seconds—not just the kiss, but her talking to him like she understood him. When it felt like no one did.

  He knew his brothers saw him as an equal. They couldn’t understand that he didn’t feel like one.

  Right now in this warm tent, Rachel’s hair curling against his cheek, the soft rise and fall of her chest matching time with his... Well, he supposed Rachel seeing through his issues was a better line of thought than how good she felt here against him.

  She shifted, yawned, her eyes slowly blinking open. Even though she wouldn’t be able to see in the dim light of the tent, he could see. The sleep slowly lift. Realization and understanding dawning.

  And the way she definitely did not try to slide away or disengage from him, but seemed perfectly content to cuddle closer.

  There was a very large part of him that wanted to test it out, too. To see what it would be like to relax into her. To touch her face again. To recognize the soft curves of her body as they pressed to his. To kiss her and—

  No. Not possible.

  Carefully, he disengaged from her arms and scooted away from her as best he could in the tiny tent.

  “Maybe we should go back. I’ve got nothing. My brothers might have some ideas. They’re better at this than I am.”

  She was quiet for a while as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Are they better at it, or were they just put in a position you weren’t?”

  “You don’t need to keep defending me. I don’t have low self-esteem. I—”

  “You’ve got issues, Tuck. Good news is, we all do. Better news, you have someone around who’s not going to let you believe the crap you tell yourself. So...” She yawned. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee?”

  He didn’t know how to stay in this tiny tent with her looking sleepy and rumpled and gorgeous, talking about how everyone had issues. “I’ve got some instant. I’ll go warm up some water.” He didn’t dive for the tent opening, but he got outside in record time.

  The sun was just beginning to rise and the grass held the tiniest hint of frost. It was cold, made colder by the fact that the tent had been so warm. He shivered against the chill as he zipped the tent back up.

  A piece of paper fluttered to the ground next to him. Tuck whirled around, scanning the area. But there was nothing except the soft whisper of the wind against the rolling hills of ranch land.

  He crouched down, studied the note on the grass. It was wet from the dew, and all he could figure was that it had been left on the tent, and opening the flap had knocked it off.

  He looked around, scanning all he could see for any sign of human life or movement. But the world was quiet, with only the interruption of birdsong.

  He picked the paper up and opened the fold. Water had smudged the first word, but Tucker could figure it out and read the rest clearly.

  Rachel knows the key and the lock.

  Tucker flipped the paper over. Nothing on the back. Nothing else on the front. Just one sentence. That didn’t make any sense.

  The key and the lock? He thought of the key in his pocket. But what did it unlock? And Rachel definitely didn’t act like she had any idea what the key was to.

  “Rach.” He unzipped the flap again and stuck his head in. She was crouched over, rolling up the sleeping bag. He could tell she’d already tidied what few things were inside. “I found something.”

  She yawned again. “I take it not coffee.” She sighed. “What is it?”

  “A note. I... I think this is Duke’s handwriting.” He frowned, studied it. He wasn’t a handwriting expert, and he’d never spent much time scrutinizing Duke’s writing, but it certainly looked like his typical slanted scratch.

  Tuck looked around the campsite again. He hadn’t heard anyone so it was near impossible Duke had left the note for them. He was a big man, and even if he’d been a cop in a former life, stealth was not Duke’s current skill. “It was on the tent, then when I opened the flap it fell to the ground.”

  The only one who knew enough, and had enough access to Duke to get a message to them, was Shay. “Shay must have gotten it to us. She must have.”

  “Is there any way it’s a trap or a trick?” Rachel asked.

  “It wasn’t addressed to us. There’s no signature. It’s written in some kind of code. So, it might not be from your father, but it’s Duke’s handwriting.” He cleared his throat. “As of yesterday, North Star still had Duke. It could be from North Star. They could have made him write it, but I have to believe if they went through the trouble to track us down, they would have just taken us. You especially. Or written a more specific note.”

  “Here. Let me see it.”

  He handed her the paper, though he wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it. She felt the corner of the paper. “It’s Dad. And not like someone made him write it, either. That’s an actual note from him.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “We developed a little system when I was in school. If he had to sign something and he’d done it, he’d poke a little hole in the corner. If there was no hole, I knew I needed to ask him again.” She held up the paper, and sure enough there was a small hole in the corner. “What does it say?”

  “Rachel knows the key and the lock.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. “Me?” She shook her head. “I don’t know anything about that key we found. Let alone what it would unlock.”

  They were silent for the next few minutes, Rachel frowning as if searching her mind for an answer. Tucker studied the note again, wondering if there was more to it. Something he wasn’t seeing. Something more...abstract.

  He looked up at Rachel. She’d gone back to tidying up the tent.
It was less smooth than how she did it at home since she was going by feel rather than lifelong knowledge of a place. Still, she had the inside of the tent all packed up in no time.

  Duke thought she knew what he was talking about, Tucker assumed. Rachel didn’t think she knew anything about the key or its lock.

  “Maybe it’s about your dream. If you know, but you don’t actually know, maybe the answer is in your subconscious.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her dream. Rachel’s arms broke out in goose bumps. As much as she was slowly coming around to the idea her dream might be more reality and memory than fiction, she wasn’t comfortable with her subconscious knowing something she couldn’t access.

  Especially when it came to this.

  “Dad doesn’t know anything about my dreams changing. He still thinks they’re about a mountain lion.”

  “Did you tell him about your dreams?”

  “When I was a kid. When I first started having them. He...” An uncomfortable memory had her chest tightening, like she couldn’t breathe.

  Tucker was immediately at her side. He rubbed a hand up and down her back. “Hey, breathe. It’s all right, sweetheart. Take a deep breath.”

  She managed, barely. The panic had been so swift, so all encompassing, it was hard to move beyond. “I don’t know if this was the first time I had the dream, but I remember being little. I still... I may have even still had the bandages on my face. Dad would sleep on the floor of my room. Mom would try to get him to come to bed, but he would insist. He said he was afraid I’d wander away again.”

  Tucker kept rubbing her back, and it gave her some modicum of comfort as her body seemed to chill from the inside out.

  “I remember telling him about the nightmare and he told me not to tell Mom. That whenever I had nightmares or felt scared, I should tell him. Only him. He said so Mom wouldn’t worry, but...”

  “If your mother didn’t know...”

  “How...how could she have not known? How could he have lied to her? How could he have had me lie to her?”

  “He was in WITSEC, Rach. I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, but you’re supposed to leave your old life behind. Entirely.”

  “It’s his story. The mountain lion. He made that up.” The horror of that almost made her knees weak. He’d pushed her into the mountain lion story, made sure he convinced her the dreams were of that.

  Even when they weren’t.

  “Are you sure?” Tucker asked gently.

  “No. How can I be sure?” Her throat closed up and she refused to cry, but how was she expected to have an answer from a dream? “Everything is wrapped up in a dream that suddenly changed on me!”

  “Hey. Maybe it’s not about your dream. Maybe I’ve got this all wrong.”

  She shook her head. “You know you don’t. You’re a detective. You know how to piece things together.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “What else would I know that I don’t think I know? You’re right. It’s something about my dream, but I don’t know what.”

  “Okay, then let’s work through this like I’d work through any case. We start at the beginning. What’s the very first part of your dream you remember?”

  “Do you really think the answer is in my dream?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. But it might help. To lay it all out.”

  Rachel didn’t think that was possible. She’d spent most of her life knowing this dream might pop up. Except the dream had morphed. From what Dad had pointed her to—to the truth? It was impossible to know for sure.

  Maybe she’d never get rid of the nightmares, but maybe she could find the truth in the way it had changed... Maybe.

  “I’m not sure I know where to start,” she said, her voice rough and her chest tight.

  Tucker’s arm came around her shoulders and he gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Sit. No use crouching around.”

  “No, no. I need to...to move. To be doing something.”

  “Okay, so we’ll go out and break down the tent while you talk. Sound good?”

  She nodded. He helped lead her outside, then led her to the first stake.

  “Do you mind if I do it myself?”

  “Whatever you need, Rach.”

  She nodded once and pulled out the stake. Then she felt around the tent, slowly taking it apart. She didn’t like to camp, but she and Sarah had often put tents up and down around the ranch as forts or playhouses, so she was familiar with the process of breaking down the tent even without her sight.

  Tucker didn’t push. He didn’t ask questions. Nor did he jump in to help take down the tent. He waited until she started to speak herself. “I’m not sure I know exactly where it starts. When I wake up, when I try to remember, it’s just that I’m suddenly aware I’m being carried away.”

  “Carried away from where?”

  “Home. I don’t see home, but I know he’s taking me away from home.” Even knowing she was safe with Tucker, the fear and panic clawed at her. She focused on the tent. “He’s taking me away from...lights. I think there’s a light behind us and he’s going into the dark.”

  “Lights on in the house maybe?”

  “I think so.” Even though it was silly since she couldn’t see anyway, she closed her eyes. She tried to bring the nightmare back to her. She’d seen for the first three years of her life. There were things she could remember, and this dream had always been one of them.

  “Or maybe it’s the stables.” She opened her eyes, frowning. She could tell light was beginning to dawn in the here and now, but she still couldn’t fully make out Tucker’s shape. “It isn’t windows. It isn’t a glow like if it was home at dark. It’s more one lone beam of light. I think it’s the light outside the stables.”

  “So, he’s taking you away from the stables,” Tucker said. His voice was calm and serious and believing. He took everything she said at face value and put it into the puzzle they were trying to work out. “The light on the stables is on the north side. If you’re moving straight away from it, that’s heading into the north pasture.”

  “Or toward the highway.” She felt how right it was, more than saw or knew. Going away from one lone light, heading for the dark of the highway. “The new dream, the changed dream, he’s holding me so tight I can barely breathe. I’m too scared to scream. He’s talking, but I can’t make sense of the words. In my head, they’re just a jumble. I just want my mom.”

  Tears welled up because she still just wanted Mom and couldn’t have her. Couldn’t find comfort in her. She’d been gone for so many years now. Rachel folded the tent poles and blinked back tears, fought to make her voice steady. She appreciated that Tucker didn’t rush her.

  “At some point I notice eyes watching us. They glow a little.”

  “Mountain lion?”

  “At first, that’s what I thought. As me. Adult me.” She frowned. “I think Dad convinced me that’s what I was seeing when I told him about the dream. But when I think about how I saw the eyes move, how it jumps out... I think it was a dog. We used to have dogs then. Lots of them.”

  “Yeah, four or five, right?”

  Rachel nodded. “If this is all real—if it isn’t my three-year-old brain getting things mixed up, or dreams mixing with reality, I think it was one of the dogs.”

  “And it just follows you while the man is carrying you away?”

  “Yes. I’m not scared of the eyes. I’m scared of the man. He’s holding me too tight, and he has...” She trailed off. This was where she didn’t want to go, even knowing she had to.

  “Last time, you said he had some kind of knife.”

  Rachel nodded, folding the tent with shaking hands. “It’s either a knife with prongs, or multiple knives. It’s sharp, and it keeps flashing in the moonlight.” She brought a hand to her scars, and could feel the smooth lines. “It c
ould have made this. Not claws, but this special knife he’s carrying.” Her breath whooshed out of her. “How is it possible?” she whispered. “And what does any of that tell us about a key?”

  “I don’t know yet, but let’s focus on what you do remember. On the dream.”

  “That’s all I remember. The last one I had, the one where he actually cut me? That’s the first time I remember getting that far. Even when I was a kid, he never hurt me in my dream. I woke up before. But in this one, the dog jumps out. The man slashes the knife down and it cuts into me. I can feel the pain and the blood, and hear the dog—barking and snarling. But the dog isn’t the one hurting me.”

  Tucker collected the tent and the poles. She could hear him wrapping it all up and putting it into his backpack. He said nothing.

  “Thank you for letting me take down the tent.”

  “Thank you?”

  “Most people can’t stand to watch me do something myself, at a slower pace than they would go. They have to jump in to help to speed things up.”

  “We’ve got all the time in the world right now, Rach.”

  But Tucker didn’t understand that time didn’t always matter. People’s compulsion with accomplishing tasks made it hard for them to step back. So, she’d just appreciated that he hadn’t needed to do that.

  He didn’t press about the key, or if she remembered any more of her dream. He simply gave her the space to work through it.

  “Do you know where my father is? Where they’re keeping him or hiding him or whatever?”

  “No.”

  “Would Cody know?”

  Tucker hesitated. “It’s possible.”

  “I don’t have the answer to this, Tuck. And Dad clearly wants me to, or thinks I do. He sent us a message, and if Shay was the messenger, it probably wasn’t sanctioned by your group.”

  “No, probably not.”

  “I need to talk to him. It’s the only way.”

  * * *

  TUCKER COULDN’T LET his own personal feelings or issues, as she’d call them, rule his thoughts or actions. Though it was hard to ignore how much it hurt, he couldn’t do this without bringing his brother into the fold.