“You are not setting foot in the jail to talk to a criminal,” the normally calm man bellowed.
“She doesn’t have to,” Monroe stated. He grabbed his radio and ordered one of the deputies to bring the personal belongings of the only two men currently behind bars at his station to the Bar B.
A rather large crowd had formed. Everyone from the Shooting Star was there, along with the firemen who had stayed in case they were needed. Hearing what was happening on the police band, the paramedics showed up with half the town following.
The deputy drove in with lights and sirens blazing and everyone gave a cheer. Sheriff Monroe stretched out a tarp that had been among the things they’d moved into the yard and spread it across the barn floor. Taking two manila envelopes from his deputy, Monroe dumped out the contents.
Two sets of keys, shabby wallets, a pack of chewing gum, a black comb with several teeth missing. Van bent down next to the sheriff and sifted through the items, turning over one of the wallets to find an electronic key fob that wasn’t attached to any keys.
She pointed to the device. “There’s your key to the steel box.” She closed her eyes as if recalling her vision. “Point it at the door then press both the blue and red buttons at the same time.”
As the sheriff moved toward the box, everyone other than Brock stepped back. He held his breath, his gaze fixed on the seam as Monroe pushed the button. A loud click sounded and the panel slid slightly inward then slowly rolled back into the six-inch-thick steel wall.
With a silent prayer, he stepped through the doorway and into a black hole. He grabbed the flashlight from his belt and flicked it on. Hearing a soft sob, he turned toward the sound.
Alive!
Thank God, she was alive. Brock took his first deep breath in days.
Everything inside the room was black. The only bit of color was the woman curled into a tight ball. The amazing woman who’d always been so fiery and full of life appeared broken, a shell of her former self.
His stomach clenched as he heard noises from outside and turned to Monroe, who stood in the doorway staring down at Tink with pity and sorrow tightening his features. Seeing such emotions on all those faces would kill whatever was left of the proud woman.
Not wanting to leave her, Brock reluctantly moved to the door and spoke in a low tone she wouldn’t overhear. “You have to get all those people out of here. They mean well, but that crowd will only make this worse for her. Make them all leave before I bring her out.”
“The women from the Shooting Star won’t go.”
“Yes they will. You tell them I said that I’m bringing her home but we’re going to need some space. Van will understand.”
“Done,” Monroe agreed. “When you come out everyone except the paramedics will be gone. I’ll pull my truck inside the barn and close the outer doors in case anyone doesn’t listen.”
Brock nodded and shook the sheriff’s hand. He took a deep, calming breath before moving over to the bed and squatting down on the floor. Everything in him wanted to scoop her up and hold her tight. Holding back the instinct wasn’t easy. But since he didn’t know what she’d been through, he had to take this nice and slow.
“Hey there, hellion.” He kept his tone soft and soothing. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Her head snapped up and she threw herself against him, knocking Brock onto his ass. Tink wrapped around him, squeezing tighter than a python and pressing her face against his neck. God, did it feel good to hold her curvy little body close.
“Brock.” She gripped him harder. “Don’t let go.”
“I’ve gotcha, darlin’. Everything’s going to be all right.”
For a long time he simply held her close, rocked her and talked. What he said didn’t matter and could have been complete gibberish. His voice calmed her so he was content to sit on the hard floor and talk all day long if that’s what she needed.
He glanced down her body, trying to push aside thoughts of what she may have endured. Her sweater and boots were fine but the skirt was shredded and tied around her waist. As much as he feared the answers, the time had come to ask some questions.
“Tink.” Cupping her chin, he turned her face toward his. “Did they hurt you, darlin’? Did they…” He couldn’t even bear to say the word rape. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
“No.” Her voice came out rough, sounding as if she had a sore throat. “They planned to rape me.” She shook her head. “Not me. They thought I was Savannah. Said this was about payback for what she did to Wyatt Bodine.”
He wanted to go kill the two men sitting in the jail then head over to the state prison and take care of Wyatt. Brock struggled to keep his rage in check. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten Tink even more than she already had been.
“They grabbed and poked at me. I just played dead because they said I had to be awake and know what was happening. T-then they left me in here alone.”
Hearing that they had dared to touch her ripped his heart out. He breathed a sigh of relief that at least she hadn’t been raped.
More than three days in the silent, dark room must have been torture for her. He had to get her out of the damn box and far from Wyatt’s property.
“I want to get you out of here now, darlin’. Take you back to the ranch. Okay?”
Her grip had loosened a bit but now she held on tighter than before. He thought that if it were possible for her to crawl beneath his skin she would. “Now don’t get scared. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” she mumbled into his neck.
He would have promised her anything in that moment to ease her fears. Promising to stay by her side was easy. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight. “I promise, darlin’.”
Rising to his feet, he held her cradled against his pounding heart. He walked into the barn to find Monroe waiting as promised. He stopped long enough to let the paramedics assess her then Brock slid into the back of Monroe’s truck with Tink in his lap, meeting the sheriff’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
“She okay?”
He nodded.
“Where we headed?”
“The ranch. I want to get her home.”
Monroe didn’t bother with opening the barn doors, he just drove through them. When the sunlight hit the vehicle, Tink’s agonized scream sliced right through his chest.
* * * * *
“Why do you keep rubbing your forehead?”
Kate lounged at the foot of the bed, giving Tink that “concerned friend” stare she’d come to know too well.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I have a headache from answering the same questions so many times.”
“On the rag, huh? That sucks. Want me to snag some of Millie’s chocolate chip cookies for you?”
Tink growled, giving voice to her increasing frustration. “Isn’t there anyone else on this ranch you can go bother?”
“Whoa, okay. The bitch is back. I can take a not-so-subtle hint.” Kate climbed off the bed and made a hasty retreat.
Tink had lain in bed for two damn days, eaten everything the well-meaning busybodies had pushed on her, and she still had barely enough energy to get up and go to the bathroom.
The first day they all harped on her about not going to the hospital to get checked out. She probably should have gone and seen a doctor because she had a major case of whiplash from Brock’s mindboggling switch from hot to cold.
She actually preferred the love-hate thing they’d had going compared to the way they carried on now. At least they’d been on a level playing field when insults and confrontation had the predictable result of explosive lust. Somewhere along the way she’d missed a vital change in the rules and didn’t know what to do anymore.
One minute Brock had been tender and concerned. He’d carried her out of that black hole, showered her with affection, acted possessive. He’d treated her as if he cherished her. Promised to stay with her.
Then wham—freaky bipolar
mood swing.
She wasn’t the only one who’d been shocked when he carried her into the main house and dumped her in a guest bedroom instead of taking her to his bed. At first, he’d lingered nearby, checking on her often. Then the gaps between his visits grew longer.
Brock’s confusing actions had her mind working overtime. How the hell had she been so wrong about everything? She had thought there was something special between them. Apparently staking a claim on her body had been nothing more than empty words spoken in the heat of the moment.
She’d sure as hell never let a man dominate her before, in the bedroom or anywhere else. But letting Brock go all he-man and take control had been a rush. He’d given her more pleasure than she’d ever known, taking her to dazzling heights and waiting to catch her. Giving him so much power over her was frightening, but also a decadent delight. One she’d love to repeat. Not that it would happen with him keeping his distance.
Every so often her cell phone chirped to remind her she had voicemails. Tink was pretty sure she didn’t want to listen to her messages and had been avoiding the phone. “Fuck it. Might as well get it over with.”
She grabbed the phone, flipped it open and clicked the voicemail icon. The first message was from Wednesday evening.
“You better not even think of backing out on my party, woman,” Kate’s voice teased. “I hope your flight was good. Can’t wait to see you!”
The next message from Kate lacked the teasing tone. “Where the hell are you? You’re late.”
Another had a timestamp from Monday morning. Tink groaned before even hearing Barry Riseman’s whiny voice. “Where the hell are you? You’re late.”
She sensed it coming, knew it would be on there and still her stomach dropped when she heard her boss’s next message. “Since you seem to have no interest in your job you can go find a new one. You’re fired!”
Great, now she was really screwed. No job, her savings wrapped up in merchandise for the Vibratorium, and no idea what to do about anything.
She needed a job and wanted to accept the partnership Kate had offered. Resisting had been easier when the offer had been for just a job. Partnering in a business with Kate and Steph was like a dream come true. But not knowing where she stood with Brock left everything else up in the air.
No way could she live on the ranch and see him every day without wanting him. And he was a man, he wouldn’t go without for long. She already knew how painful it was to see him with someone else. Tink couldn’t handle facing that on a regular basis. It would hurt less to leave her best friend and dreams behind and slave away at some shitty job for the rest of her life.
* * * * *
Since he cleaned the stables every day, Brock did the task by rote, which left him too much time to think. Of course, Tink starred in his thoughts.
He’d never get the image of how he’d found her out of his head. It had been seared on his brain. Her strong spirit broken, that fiery spark extinguished—a vulnerable, empty shell of the woman she’d been. Everything he’d loved about her had been stamped out.
“You’re wrong and you know it.”
He glanced over to where Van leaned against a stall door, rubbing her expanding belly. “You been peeking at my thoughts?”
“Doesn’t take a mind reader when it’s plain to see in your eyes and the slump of your shoulders.”
Before he could stop the telltale move, his spine stiffened and he squared those shoulders.
“She’s still the same strong woman. And she can still handle everything you can dish out.”
“No!” he snapped then turned and unleashed his anger on his well-meaning friend. “Tink cannot handle the things I want and need. No woman can. I had that proven to me many years ago and I’m not willing to put another woman through the same misery.”
Van shook her head and sighed. Then the little brat walked right up to him and punched him in the chest, directly over his heart. The unexpected move knocked him back into the slatted wall.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“For being a moron. Go ahead, tell me about what happened in the past so I can punch holes in your idiotic theory.”
“You want to know about the beast?” he barked. “Fine! I’ll tell you what a horrible judge of character you are. You think that D/s stuff on Jesse’s website is extreme? Ha, that’s tame compared to what’s inside me, the things I crave. You want to know why I never date or fuck a woman without another man involved? Because I can’t. She wouldn’t survive the beast if he got free.
“Lily didn’t and she understood the world I’m from and my expectations. My sick desires took a vibrant woman and left her in pieces. I sucked the very joy for life right from the marrow of her bones.” He pointed in the direction of the house. “You want to see me break that vulnerable woman who has already been through so much? Well, I won’t do it. Never again.”
Van didn’t back down from his anger and didn’t say anything for several minutes. Long minutes where he felt as if she stared straight into his soul, took the beast’s measure and found it lacking. Arching her brow, she finally asked, “You done?”
Brock threw up his hands in frustration. “Isn’t that enough?”
Van poked her finger in his chest, marched him backward and pinned him to the wall again. “Did you stop to consider that in one night, Tink managed to stir this supposed ‘beast’ that you’d kept under lock and key for a decade, without incident. And what happened that night? Did the beast devour poor little pathetic Tink?”
She jabbed her finger harder, as if trying to drive her message straight into his heart. An anger he didn’t know she possessed rolled off Van in hot waves. “No! Tink took on the big bad beastie, met him face to face and came out on top.”
His anger rose with her lack of understanding. “Yeah, that’s why she ran scared, because she could handle my dark side.”
“Stupid!” She punched his chest again. “You let that rigid control slip because you recognized her strength. You saw your perfect match. And did you bother to ask why she ran? What she was afraid of?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Nooo, you assumed that you had it all figured out. Well, you’re wrong. What if she wasn’t afraid of that side of your nature but her own response to it? Did you ever think of that?
“Did you for one second imagine maybe you’d managed to tear down the shields that had protected her heart for so long? That you’d touched a part of her no one else ever had? That perhaps she enjoyed taking on your beast and longed for more?”
No. Brock shook his head. None of that could be true. He’d seen the shattered woman and knew she needed someone tender and sweet, not a man with a dark stain on his soul.
When he spoke, his voice came out soft, defeated. “You just don’t understand.”
The little witch punched him again, severely testing his patience.
“No, Brock. You’re the one who doesn’t understand.” Van gave him a look full of pity, then turned and walked away.
None of their friends understood that the best thing he could do for Tink was to push her away. Her best chance at a happy, normal life was without him in it.
* * * * *
“I really wish you’d reconsider.”
Tink sighed. She and Kate had been down this road a dozen times. “You know I can’t.”
Kate flopped down on the bed. “I should probably let you off the hook and pick another maid of honor but I’m not that noble. I need my best friend by my side when I get married.”
“Ha,” she scoffed. “Like I’d let you. I earned the right to be maid of honor. You’re not giving that to anyone else.”
“But if it’s too hard. If you don’t want to see—”
“Don’t piss me off, woman.” Tink dropped down next to Kate and grabbed her hand. “No ornery cowboy is going to keep me from watching you wrap a ball and chains around Jesse Powers’ ankles.”
As she’d hoped, the tension was relieved and they shared a good laugh.
<
br /> “Damn, I’d love to have been a fly on the wall when the sheriff read Dickhead Riseman the riot act. I still can’t believe he fell for Sheriff Monroe’s threats.” Kate smiled brightly. “Poor DH never knew what hit him.”
The sheriff was a hell of a man. When he heard she’d been fired for not showing up at work, he’d demanded to speak with Barry. Sam Monroe had been amazing, threatening DH with a prolonged court battle and even jail time if he didn’t apologize, take Tink back and give her a raise.
“I still can’t believe DH agreed to the sheriff’s demand that I get two weeks paid vacation over the holidays.”
“Speaking of which,” Kate pointed at the clock. “If we don’t get moving you’re going to miss your flight and even Sheriff Monroe won’t be able to save your job.”
She nodded, grabbed her bag and headed downstairs where the others waited. Millie immediately drew Tink into a tight hug. “Take care, honey child.”
As Tink turned, the older woman landed a stinging slap on her ass. “Ow! Watch it old lady or I’ll sic my bulldog on you.”
“Ha! The sheriff don’t scare me none.”
No, but Tink noticed a definite shiver run through the woman at the mere mention of him.
She received hugs and kind words from all but one conspicuously absent resident of the ranch. Brock had avoided her as if she had a contagious disease. Fine with her, his absence made leaving the Shooting Star a whole lot easier.
Chapter Nine
Each day closer to the wedding, Brock grew more tense and agitated. All his friends had lost patience with him weeks ago. Too bad. He had a right to his shitty mood. Not a day had gone by that he hadn’t wanted to drop everything, fly to Denver and find Tink. Then like some Neanderthal, he’d toss her over his shoulder, bring her back to the ranch and never let her go.
Yeah, and ruin her life. Stupid!
She’d arrive at the ranch in a few days and it was going to take a hell of a lot of willpower to keep his distance from the one woman with the ability to bring him to his knees. The next two weeks were going to be pure hell. If it weren’t for his best friend’s wedding, he’d go on a vacation of his own and miss the hellion’s visit.
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