by Dana Mentink
* * *
Shannon jolted awake. Moonlight streamed through the crack in the curtains. The clock read 3:15 a.m. She sat up. The baby was asleep, breathing regularly in the bassinet next to her. She was swaddled in the pink pajamas Evie had found in the attic. Nothing in the room explained what had disturbed Shannon’s fitful rest.
She padded to the window and looked out over the lush hillside that bordered the main road. As she raised her hand to move the curtain farther aside, the moonlight captured the gold on her left ring finger.
You’re playing a part, and so am I. The bitterness in his voice cut deep. She pulled on a robe and tiptoed downstairs for a glass of water. Built when Gold Bar was a bustling mining town, the inn was never silent. There was a constant melody of creaking floorboards, gurgling pipes and the hooting of the screech owl that lived in the tallest pine. How different from the rush of city noise. Lost in thought, she stepped into the kitchen. As she opened the cupboard for a glass, a calloused palm wrapped around her mouth from behind, smothering her scream. Whiskers tickled her ear, sour breath hot on her cheek.
“Well, hello, Doc,” Cruiser murmured. “Enjoying your vacation?”
She gasped, and he eased his hand away a fraction. “How did you know I was here?”
“A little birdie told me. Drove right up from SoCal, soon as I knew where you were.”
A little birdie. The anonymous person who’d called the inn. Shannon wriggled and thrashed, but he held on, his arms like bands of steel. “Stay quiet,” he said. “You don’t want to wake up your mother, right? Or the baby? Heard it was a girl. Ain’t that a coincidence? Dina had herself a girl also, ’bout the same size as yours, I figure. What do you know about that?”
Slowly he turned her around, arm pressed across her windpipe, pinning her against the cupboard. Her hands clawed his forearm. His eyes narrowed. “Got a wedding ring now, too?”
“I told you,” she gasped. “The baby is mine—mine and Jack’s.”
“I think you’re lying, and there’s a penalty for lying. Want to know what it is?”
Now she was fighting for breath, and she knew she did not have long before she blacked out. If that happened, Annabell would be easy prey, and if Oscar, Hazel or Jack got in Cruiser’s way...
“I’m not lying,” she said.
He pressed harder, and her vision began to blur. “Nighty night, Doc.”
FOUR
The music floated through Jack’s earbuds, drowning out the sound of Oscar’s snores and making Jack long for his guitar. He’d often thought he should have picked up another instrument to avoid the guitar-strumming cowboy stereotype, but he’d never cared much what anyone else thought of him anyway. His fingers itched for the strings the way they had since he was four years old. Jack could never be coerced, bribed or cajoled into playing for family gatherings. Music was a private pleasure, one he’d finally shared with Shannon when they’d dated for six months, after she’d arrived the summer of his junior year of high school.
“Please, Jack. Just one song. Something that will make me cry.” She’d beg him to play for her as they sat on their favorite hilltop overlooking the valley. And he would play anything she wanted, anything that would move her and feed her soul. He’d played her favorite piece, “Mallorca,” the day her father left abruptly, the beginning and the end of everything, it seemed to Jack. She’d refused to tell him anything, and that was the day she’d started holding back, shutting down her feelings in a sealed vault he could not breach. He should have realized that something had changed in her, and so had the future they’d imagined together. The lovely piece thrummed through him now, memories of their youth entwined with the melody. He found himself playing it sometimes late at night, despising himself for his weakness.
Some tough cowboy, strumming sad songs at night and pining for lost love. Ridiculous.
Something intruded on his reverie. Still clothed in his jeans and a T-shirt, since he hadn’t packed a bag, he felt the slight vibration that made the photo above his bed rattle. Pulling out the earbuds, he sat up and listened. He heard nothing, but his gut was still tight. His twin brother, Owen, often said instinct was the quietest voice that shouted the loudest. For some reason, his instincts were hollering now.
He tiptoed out of bed and shuffled down the hallway, barefoot. All the doors were closed, and there was no sound of movement. Should he knock at Shannon’s door? Risk scaring her and waking the baby? Or should he send a text, which might startle her as badly as a knock? She was a light sleeper. She had to be a light sleeper in order to thrive in a profession where things could turn upside down in a minute.
Knuckles to the door, he hesitated. There was no light except the silver glow of the moon flowing up the stairwell. He felt again the ripples of unease, which cascaded along his spine like dissonant notes.
Downstairs.
He descended the creaking staircase, keeping to the edges, where the old wood was least likely to squeal, until he heard a thud and a gasp. After tearing down the stairs, he erupted into the kitchen. Moonlight traced the bulky form of a stocky man bending over something on the floor. Shannon! His breath caught, and he dived forward, slamming the guy against the cupboards.
The man Jack knew as Cruiser rolled quickly, his leather jacket squeaking under Jack’s fists. He grunted, wrestling Jack underneath him, until Jack forced him back and off. Cruiser was strong, but Jack was built for long, hard days working two-thousand-pound horses and managing the sprawling family acres. Cowboy tough beat biker muscle any day.
They both shot to their feet. He tried to get a sense of Shannon’s condition. She was somewhere in the shadows, but he dared not take his eyes off Cruiser.
“Shan?” he said. “Are you okay? Answer me.”
“Ain’t this cute? Hubby to the rescue,” Cruiser said, pulling a knife from his pocket. Jack knew knives, and he knew fighting, thanks to his brother Owen’s sometimes painful lessons. No matter how good your skills were, in a knife fight, you were going to get cut. Period. He pulled a chair close to him and held it up. He considered shouting an alarm, but adding Hazel and Oscar to the mix would elevate the stakes even more.
Keep the knife away from Shannon.
“Shan?” he called again. He thought he heard movement this time, but he couldn’t be sure.
Cruiser cocked his head, a grin splitting his face. “You’re some tough guy, huh, Cowboy?”
“Come at me with the knife, and you’ll find out.”
Cruiser’s brow creased in thought. “I think we’ll have to postpone this little dustup. I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I’m sure you got plenty of nosy cops in this Podunk town, and killing one will just cause a fuss. Don’t you worry, though, Cowboy. I’ll be back, and I will shred this inn and anyone in it to find the girl who busted up our boy T.J. and bring his baby home.”
“Told you before—there’s no girl, not here.”
“My informant thinks differently.”
“And who’s that?”
“None of your business.”
Now there definitely was movement at his feet. Shannon got to her knees, surging into the circle of moonlight. She had a coffee mug in her hand and threw the thing as hard as she could. Unfortunately, her aim was off. Jack shifted the chair to protect his head as the cup smashed into the legs, showering him with shards of ceramic.
Cruiser busted out in a guffaw. Jack used the moment to charge toward him, chair first, but he dodged back easily. There was a sound of pounding footsteps, and Oscar barreled into the room, a rifle in his grip.
Cruiser bolted out the door, with Jack on his heels. He would have given anything to have his rope with him to lasso the guy, but skilled as he was, that was a tall order while running barefoot over the gravel. Cruiser had his escape plan ready. A motorcycle was parked on the grass. Cruiser leaped on, kicked the engine to life and sped away.
> Biting back the rage, Jack returned to the kitchen. All the lights were on now, and both Hazel and Oscar were crowded around Shannon. Her eyes were huge, the fear rapidly retreating in favor of anger. Nostrils flared, she gathered her robe around her. Anger. Good. He let out a breath.
“Who does he think he is?” she snapped.
“I called Larraby,” Oscar said to Jack. “He’s on his way.”
Shannon avoided her mother’s questions. “How’d he find us? Did the person you spoke to on the phone tell him?”
Jack realized his hands were balled into fists, so he forced them to relax. “He’s got an informant. Someone close.”
Hazel took Shannon’s arm. “Please, sit down, honey. He hurt you.”
“I’m okay, just winded.” She fingered the imprint of Cruiser’s arm on her throat.
Rage kindled in his belly, deep down, a foreign feeling. He stalked to the window, looking out on the serene pastures that surrounded the inn. Images shot through his brain, the squeak of leather, the tang of sweat, glint of a metal blade. Violence brought home to people who did not deserve it. It boiled his blood.
Cruiser thought he could roll into town and assault Shannon? Terrorize her into giving up Dina’s location or handing Annabell over?
Ain’t this cute? Hubby to the rescue.
Jack’s marriage had ended almost as soon as it began, but at that moment, in the chilly kitchen, he thought he understood what a husband must feel when his wife was under attack. It was a primal, roaring fire that threatened to explode into a conflagration. He could not explain it if someone paid him to. He breathed hard, fighting for control.
She doesn’t want to be your wife, Jack, not really. It’s just a charade.
At that moment, it did not matter. His ring was on her finger, and pretense or not, he would make his stand against Cruiser and the Tide.
* * *
Shannon’s throat pulsed with pain, but she did her best to soothe her mother and convince her uncle to put down the rifle. Oscar left to reassure the guests who had called down to the front desk to ask about the noise.
Shannon thought about Dina, who was running for her life somewhere out in the darkness, desperately hoping her brother would help her.
She closed her eyes, lost in a memory of another day when she’d lived in that very same inn at seventeen years old, waiting for the front door to open or the phone to ring. Daddy loves you, her mother said. He’ll come back.
Daddy doesn’t love anybody, she’d come to realize. He needed adoration, his wife’s, his daughter’s, his mistress’s. Their role was to be the mirror that reflected back to Hal Livingston what he wanted to see.
“Hey.” Jack touched her shoulder, and she whirled toward him.
“You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes flicked to her neck. Her heart beat hard as he skimmed his calloused fingers along her throat. “You should get that looked at.”
She waved him off. “I’m a doctor. Don’t you think I’d know if I was seriously hurt?”
“Doctors are the worst patients, so I’ve been told.” There was no smile on his face.
“No, cowboys are.”
“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t let you clobber me with the coffee mug.”
That deadpan delivery of his. Now she smiled, and so did he. “Throwing isn’t my thing. You know I never hung out on a sports field.”
“Except when you took your nose out of a book long enough to watch me run track.”
“I was doing my part for the home team.”
“Always had my best times when you were there.” He looked as though he wished he had not said it, his gaze dropping to his feet. Part of her wished he hadn’t, either.
He cleared his throat. “Larraby will be here soon. He’ll press for protective custody for you and the baby. He’ll be right.”
“No.”
“Dina’s not telling you the whole story about her brother.”
“I know.”
Chin cocked, he stared at her. “Why are you trying so hard for her, Shan?”
Shan. Why did her nickname sound so soft on his lips? Like they were still a couple.
“I love you, Shan, and you love me, too. Marry me.”
And she had, and her soul had found happiness for the first time in her life, until reality set in. They’d had the world at their feet, but they were different worlds. He wanted this world, small town, close family, simple life. She wanted to escape to the big city, climb the career ladder and prove to herself and everyone else that she was the best in her field. He was waiting for an answer. Why was she risking it all to help Dina? “I’m a...”
“Don’t give me the doctor-responsibility line.”
“It’s not a line,” she snapped.
He moved closer, boxing her in. “Tell me the truth. Why are you willing to risk your life for Dina Brown?”
She could not look away from the brilliant blue eyes, so insightful and filled with that easy confidence that came from having a stable family who showed you what unconditional love meant. Wrapped up safe in a small town. You made your choices, Shannon. She set her shoulders and pushed at his arm. “I’m going to take care of her, Jack, that’s all. If you’re certain I’m making a mistake, go back to the ranch. There’s no reason to continue this marriage farce, even if it amuses you to torture me.”
He took her wrist and pulled her a step closer. Her pulse thrummed in her ears. His mouth was so close to hers, and his voice hard and smooth at the same time. “None of this amuses me.”
She wanted to fire off a glib retort, something scathing, with snap. But she found she could not utter a word. He leaned in as if he would whisper in her ear, but he said nothing, and neither did she, frozen in the grip of their private thoughts.
For a split second, she wanted nothing more than for him to cross the distance between them, to circle her in strong arms that would stave off the fear, press her against his chest so she could hear the slow and steady beat of his heart. Her mouth went dry, and she stepped back.
“I...I need to check on Annabell.”
He released her without another word.
She fled into the room, listening to the sound of his footsteps fading away. Annabell was breathing deeply, lying on her back, with one bitty fist crammed in her mouth. Shannon felt a surge of anger at herself. How had she gone downstairs without her phone, which was, at that moment, across the room, charging next to the bed? How stupid. No, not stupid, she corrected. She hadn’t fully understood the stakes.
Now she did. Cruiser impressed that on her.
Life or death.
Fine. She was used to those stakes. In the ER, she battled against death every moment of every shift, and most of the time, she won. She’d win this time, too. She reached out to feel Annabell’s hands, to be sure the baby was warm enough, when the doorknob rattled. She froze.
Jack? But he would have knocked. As would her mother or uncle. Again the metal handle rattled. A guest? But there were no other rooms on this end of the inn, only hers and the room Oscar was sharing with Jack.
She debated going to grab her phone, but another sound blew all her plans away. It was the sound of something metal sliding into the lock. Not a key, no—more like a file.
Someone was picking the lock.
Phone or baby?
She had only a moment to decide. With a rush of adrenaline, she scooped up the sleeping baby and ran for Night’s Stay.
FIVE
Jack heard Shannon scream as he was halfway down the stairs. This time, he bolted up the stairwell. His stomach dropped to find the door unlocked. How stupid he’d been not to know that Cruiser had brought help.
“Shannon,” he shouted. She wasn’t there, and he was about to check under the bed and in the bathroom when he saw that the door to the adjoining room w
as open. He grabbed a decorative metal tray from the bureau, crouched low and sped through in time to see Viper’s feet vanishing out the open window.
He dropped the tray and grabbed for the boots, but Viper had already dropped to the roof below and hurtled off the edge, sprinting away into the woods. Had he been carrying Annabell? Skin cold with terror, he turned around.
“Shannon?” he called. There was no answer, but the primary door was still bolted from the inside. She hadn’t fled that way. Had he missed her in the Garden Room? Nerves iced over, he almost hurtled through the adjoining door when he heard a muffled voice.
“Jack?”
Wildly, he scanned the room. “Where are you?” he bellowed.
Another muted reply, and now he was on his knees, pawing at the bedspread, pushing aside the curtains.
A knock from the middle of the floor. The faint wail of an infant.
His brain scrambled to figure it out.
“Shannon, where?” He was shouting now, and he didn’t care whom he awakened.
Again came the thump, but this time, he felt it in his palms, which were pressed flat to the wood floor. Following the steady thumping, he crawled until his knees were directly above the vibration. He slid his fingers over the floor until he found the divot, which could easily have been a simple chip in the wood. In a moment, he’d flung open the trapdoor.
Shannon looked up at him from about four feet down, eyes huge, holding Annabell. “I wasn’t sure...at first. I mean, I thought you might be Viper.”
“Where are you standing exactly?” he asked through the waves of relief that crashed through him.
“There’s a secret room on the first floor. No doors or windows. Some of the miners carried a lot of gold, and they wanted it secured.” She quirked a grin. “Occasionally, they needed to hide, also.”
He tossed an offended look at her. “You never told me about any secret room.”
“A girl has to have some secrets to herself. Here, can you take Annabell, and then give me a hand out? There’s a little ladder, but I can’t manage it with her.”
