Rifling through a small phone book the mailman had left the other day, Lisa dialed the only mechanic she could find.
After reassurances that someone would come to tow her truck to the shop, Lisa dropped the phone on the table and flopped her arms open, palms up, and stared at the ceiling. What was she going to do? Ryan would think she didn’t want to date him. Seriously this time.
Yet, surprisingly, she’d never wanted anything more. What an odd feeling, to be excited to see someone because he made her feel good and not because she wanted to make him like her.
~~~
Knock-knock-knock.
Lisa lifted her head from the couch pillow and blinked at the low afternoon light. When had she fallen asleep?
Knock-knock-knock. This time more impatient.
Oh crud! The mechanic had already arrived to pick up the truck. She stumbled to her feet, crossing to the door in a rush. Swinging open the door, Lisa pushed her limp curls from her face and froze.
Charlie – in all his dark, brooding glory – grinned impossibly from her doorstep.
Lisa couldn’t move. Transfixed by his blond hair peeking from under the black felt Stetson as it complemented his blue-eyed gaze, she couldn’t even swallow.
“Hello, Lisa. Did you miss me?” His rasp warmed her but not like Ryan’s warmth, more with a burning sting, like a branding. He dropped his hand from the top of the door jam and stepped forward like he was going to come into her house.
The possessive movement snapped Lisa from her trance. She rushed forward with the door on her side like a shield and blocked his path. Chilling her voice and narrowing her eyes, Lisa ground out. “Isn’t there a warrant out for your arrest?” He’d escaped during a prison riot a couple years back – the one Devlyn Caracus had died in.
Oh, how she’d desperately hoped Charlie would die somewhere by the side of the road.
His chuckle frosted inside her, the same sound he made before every punch he’d ever thrown, every slap and kick. His mirthless noise did little to calm her. Instead, she tightened her hold on the door handle and put her foot on the inside to help her keep it shut as much as she could. She wasn’t stupid. The man was bigger than she was, stronger, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t put up a fight. This time she would try to anyway.
He leaned forward, bracing his arm on the trim beside his face and traced her cheek with a finger. When he reached her chin, he pinched her skin, his eyes hard above a smile filled to the brim with charm. “I heard there’s one out for yours as well, darlin’.”
Charlie’s endearment crashed around her, reminding her of the good times – the attraction, the sweet gifts he’d bring when he returned with her father’s gang after a raid, the things he would say after taking his anger out on her, the letters he wrote her from prison.
From prison. For being such a terrible man.
Lost in thought, waging a war on herself to keep it together, Lisa missed the tell-tale sign that he was going to lean in and kiss her. Once his lips met hers though, she jerked back and then spit in his face. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
Features darkening with anger, Charlie narrowed his eyes and dug his fingers into the soft spot between her shoulder and neck. He squeezed as he growled. “You’re going to regret changing your name and disappearing. Then you’re going to tell me all about your daddy’s treasure.”
Lisa struggled, pulling and pushing at the door, at his grasping fingers. His hand clawed at her waist and dragged her partially onto the front stoop. She kicked his shin, ducking backward in fear as he roared.
His grip loosened and she fell to the ground, scooting back inside and slamming the door. Reaching up she turned the lock.
But too late. He slammed into the panel, hurtling her inward as the frame cracked. “I missed you, love. You’re going to make me forget prison. Got it?” And Charlie lifted his fist, the tight ball she swore she’d never see again, and he swung it toward her face.
She closed her eyes, focusing on keeping conscious.
But the fist never landed.
Opening her eyes, she jerked back as Ryan pulled Charlie’s arm, swinging his entire body around.
Ryan didn’t wait for Charlie to gather his balance. He sent an uppercut to Charlie’s jaw, snapping the man’s head back. Charlie fell, arms flailing, but not for long. He collected himself in an instant and lunged toward Ryan, tripping over Lisa’s outstretched legs and falling headlong into her rescuer.
Fumbling for something, anything to use as a weapon, Lisa’s fingers fell on the phone. She couldn’t hit Charlie with it, but she could call for help. She dialed 911, hoping Trixie was on duty to answer.
She did. “911. What’s your location?” Trixie yawned. Things were usually slow in Colby.
“Help, send help, Trixie. It’s Lisa Trinkett in the townhomes. Hurry!” She dropped the phone as Ryan and Charlie rolled across the floor toward her. At the last second, she crawled onto her couch and lifted her legs. She wasn’t a screamer, but with the thuds and cracks echoing in her home, she was tempted to scream like mad to get someone’s attention.
In seconds, sirens filled the early evening air.
Charlie shoved Ryan hard and turned, scuttling out the door.
Breathing hard, Ryan slumped onto the couch beside Lisa. He dropped his head back to the cushions and closed his eyes. Mauve coloring staked the site of bruises over the left side of his face as well as his forehead.
Tentatively, Lisa reached out, then yanked her fingers back. “Let me get some tissues.” A box of Kleenex sat on the coffee table and she pulled it into her lap. One at a time, she pressed a clean tissue to the abrasions on his cheekbone and at the small stream of blood from his nose.
Yells and shouts punctuated her movements followed by boots pounding on the pavement to her door dangling open.
But instead of Pete or Bob, the two officers usually on that time of day, Jason Mendez poked his head through the doorway and perused the situation. His eyes narrowed. “Was that Charlie Childress?”
Lisa avoided Ryan and focused solely on Mendez. “Yes.”
“I’ve been looking for him for a while now. Care to explain why he would come here – to you – if you don’t have anything to do with Caracus?” Mendez flexed his jaw, the move sharpening the strength of his face under the low-tilted Stetson.
Swallowing, Lisa shifted, gripping her fingers together between her thighs. “He’s my ex-fiancé.” She glanced at Ryan when he inhaled tightly, but he stared at the ceiling with the tissue held to his nose.
Mendez’s smug smile adjusted the slant to his eyes. He crossed his arms. “Looks like you have some talkin’ to do.”
And she did, but not until she could get Ryan to look at her.
Ryan
Chapter 14
Crack.
Ryan’s whip slipped through the summer morning air and disintegrated the fog feet from the fence. The bison male closing the distance to the damaged pole stopped and turned, redirecting himself from freedom.
Shaking his head, Ryan curled the leather around his pommel and slid from the saddle. Early morning rides helped clear his head, plus with the report of more wolves in the area, he checked his perimeter often. Good thing too, that fence wouldn’t hold much of anybody in – or out – in its current state.
Gloves on, Ryan jerked his hammer from his tool belt and approached the fencing that had bent from its main pole. Easy enough fix, all he would need were a few nails and some lifting muscles.
A bison female moved closer, the hulking shape of her back obscuring the thinner, more cow-like shape of her calf. The young one’s lighter coat gathered dew as he bent at an uncomfortable angle to suckle his mother’s teat. The mama moved along at an amiable pace, turning before she closed the distance between herself and Ryan. Seemingly bored, she chomped onto a tuft of grass without even breaking her ambling stride.
“Thatta girl.” Ryan relaxed his shoulders. He’d almost had to grab his whip and crack it. That close
to a mother bison was not the smartest thing he could do. But keeping them away from the fence hole had a higher priority than avoiding a stampeding herd or a charging mother.
Lifting the pole, he hammered three 10-penny nails through the weathered end, anchoring it solidly to the post. Yes, he hit the hammer harder than necessary. Every circular indent into the wood reminded him of the punches to the gut he’d processed. And the knuckle marks he’d left in that man’s cheekbone.
Arriving at Lisa’s house the night before had started with all kinds of excited expectation. Then he’d had to stop that man from punching her in the face.
She hadn’t tried getting away.
Too much of himself was going into Lisa. Too much thought and nervous anticipation. He couldn’t focus on his breeding schedule for the next year because he wanted to think about the gold glints in her dark hair when the sun hit it just right. And her smile. Great, he sounded like a poorly written parody of a love song. Next thing he’d be waxing about how green the trees were or how the water sang in the creek.
He fell back to sit on his butt, wrapping his arms around his knees and clasping his hands together. Not one of Charlie’s punches had hurt half as much as hearing that Lisa’s ex had returned. By the look of it, Charlie wasn’t there for a happy-to-see-you-let’s-get-back-together kind of a thing.
With Wanda back to see Jesse and his own confusing emotions about that and now with Lisa’s ex in the picture, maybe things weren’t supposed to work out between Ryan and Lisa. He hated complicated. Complicated ended up hurting others and Ryan wasn’t fond of pain.
Pounding hooves thudded dully on the damp field. Ryan lifted his head and sought out the source of the sound.
Speeding toward Ryan astride Pig, the veterinarian’s horse, Slate MacAllister yelled. “Heeyaw!” Reins flipped from side to side as he pushed his animal even faster through the bison speckled field.
Startled, Ryan jumped to his feet, tucking his hammer into his tool belt and moving to stand beside his horse.
Slate didn’t slow until the last minute, bounding down from the saddle before his animal had even stopped completely. Bright red splashed across his light blue button-up shirt and covered his arms and hands. Flecks freckled his face and neck.
“Ryan! Hurry! Come with me. I can’t do this alone and Robbie’s in town with Ronan.” Slate’s hands glistened with still-wet blood.
Climbing into the stirrups, Ryan nudged his horse closer to Slate who immediately followed onto his own saddle again.
Pulling abreast of the other rider, Ryan knitted his eyebrows. “Another wolf attack?” The wild canines had grown ballsy, attacking closer and closer to the houses and town. If someone didn’t get started filling the tags on the vicious animals, they would soon cause more damage – maybe even fatal to humans.
Slate kicked his horse’s rear flank, the spur on his boot catching the light. “No, man, this is so much worse than wolves.”
Worse than wolves? Bears didn’t come down that far from the forest. To create that much blood, it had to be wolves. Slate had to be wrong.
Picking up the pace with each stride, they raced across Noland fields and then traveled parallel to the fencing separating Ryan’s land from the MacAllister land known as Lonely Rivers.
They came to a stop beside the ditch Ryan had cleared the other day.
The fence had been redamaged.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Ryan couldn’t even determine what was wrong with the posts with so many bodies massacred and piled atop each other like garbage. His bison. His livelihood.
He hadn’t even thought to check there last night. When he’d gotten home from the exhausting ordeal at Lisa’s, he’d gotten Jesse to bed and then he’d sulked in his room until he fell asleep.
“I counted six, but I couldn’t save any of them. I tried. Some of them were still struggling when I got here.” Slate had lowered his voice and crossed his arms. Sadness drowned his eyes in unshed tears.
Ryan didn’t hide the ones coursing down his cheeks. He didn’t mean to cry. He wasn’t a dang baby, but six head of bison was a lot of money. Money he could’ve used for more therapy, more investment for his and Jesse’s future, so much more.
Swiping at the stupid tears on his face with the back of his glove, Ryan choked on his question at first. “Uh, um, how did you know to look over here?” MacAllister dealt in hospitality which didn’t include bison livestock. During the summer he would let Ryan’s herd graze through his fields to give the guests a little extra thrill, but he didn’t usually cross into Noland property. There wasn’t a reason to.
“I got this on my door a little bit a go. I was just heading in to make coffee and heard a noise. If I hadn’t walked by when I did, I wouldn’t have gotten it until I did my own rounds at about ten.” Slate passed over a smaller yellow sticky note which simply read. “It’s mine.” “I didn’t think much of it until I got a phone call a little later where the guy said that he’d just seen a bunch of cows in a ditch on my property. That made more sense than it’s mine, you know?” He shrugged, rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up his smeared forearms.
“What’s whose?” Ryan muttered, fingering the bright paper and chewing his lip.
Slate shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard about the incident in town. Could it have anything to do with that?”
“It could. But… I’m not sure. Lisa wasn’t very forthcoming and the guy, well, he didn’t exactly stay to get my contact information.” He stared at the block letters. He didn’t like being jerked around. He knelt down, close to the edge of the ditch and pointed toward the jagged opening below a dead bison’s chin. “Knife?”
Slate followed suit and pointed toward another’s Achilles’ tendons. “I’m not sure. Definitely man, definitely with tools of some kind. But how did they move the bodies like that? They’re roughly the size of Volkswagens. Not necessarily moveable by any one man. Who visited Lisa?”
“Charlie Childress?” The man hadn’t seemed like a Charlie and he certainly hadn’t fought like one, either.
“Are you sure?” Slate turned to Ryan and gripped his shoulder, pulling Ryan to his level and not releasing his position. “If it’s the Charlie Childress that ran with the Caracus gang not too long ago, you’re going to need to involve the cops. That gang came up here a few years back and tried causing some mischief with Robbie and Ronan and me.” He eyed Ryan, carefully searching for some sign that Ryan knew what he was talking about.
“Yes, I believe they’re one and the same.” Ryan watched the small stream run red out of the newly fixed fencing and out to the culvert. He’d never seen so much blood. The death in front of him had no purpose. No real intent, other than to be malicious and Ryan didn’t understand it.
Slate stood, turning to Ryan who stood as well. Gripping Ryan’s biceps tight, Slate peered into his eyes. “Let’s pretend it’s the same one that ran with the Caracus gang. That group is nothing to laugh at. They don’t have morals and won’t hesitate to hurt anyone in their path. You call me, right away, if you get wind of them. We’ve dealt with them before. You only win with numbers.” He patted Ryan’s shoulder and nodded toward the pile. “Let’s get them up out of the water and then we can go call Eddie. He’s going to want to get out to dress them as fast as possible so you don’t have too much waste.”
Eddie, the county butcher, would have his hands full with six bison.
If the killer was Charlie, whatever he claimed as his, Ryan suddenly wanted with a vengeance.
Lisa
Chapter 15
Eyes swollen and puffy from crying all night – something Lisa swore she’d never do again – she attacked the cinnamon rolls with a vengeance. Not even the cream cheese frosting remnants in the creases of the aluminum foil pan were safe.
Milk did little to polish it off.
She flopped onto the couch, her stomach roiling, and stared at the ceiling. The texture and paint matched the bedroom and she rolled to her side.
Ry
an hadn’t said anything before leaving the night before. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Lisa bet he probably didn’t feel very comfortable with Mendez and two officers and a neighbor milling around. But that didn’t mean he needed to ignore her either.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Lisa lifted her hip and pulled her vibrating phone from under her butt. The screen identified the caller as Sara Beth. Rolling her eyes, Lisa answered. “Yeah?” She hadn’t realized how hoarse her voice had gotten because of the cry fest.
“Lisa? It’s Sara Beth. Are you okay?”
“Yep, what’s up?” Lisa wiped at the permanent moisture under her eyes. Sara Beth didn’t need the details of Lisa’s life – and she wouldn’t get them, whether she needed them or not.
Resisting Redemption (The Redemption Series Book 3) Page 8
