by S Doyle
“I didn’t want to give you the chance to blow me off. I wanted to talk to you. Apologize. Maybe try to explain some stuff.”
“You don’t have to,” she mumbled. “I know why you were mad. I shouldn’t have been late just to fix my hair. That was a stupid reason and it’s disrespectful to be late.”
“But your curls were perfect,” I teased. She let out a huff of laughter.
I bumped my shoulder against her and then, because I liked it, liked the feeling of her pressed against me, I stayed there. She didn’t move away so I assume she liked it, too.
“Okay, now talk to me, to Sheriff Pine. What has you so spooked?”
She stood then, and I thought it was going to be another trick to avoid answering me. Instead she brought back her cell phone. She put her thumb on it to open it and then she showed me what was on the screen.
It was a picture of her. From today. In the red leather jacket. Making her way across the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly.
“Someone sent you a picture of you? A fan?”
“I don’t think so,” she said softly. “I think it was him.”
“Ex-boyfriend?” Because that would have made sense. Someone who’d had Brin and didn’t want to let her go.
She shook her head but said nothing else.
“Brin,” I growled, suddenly desperate for the answer.
“I don’t want to tell you,” she insisted. “You’ll think…”
“I’m not going to think anything,” I snapped at her. “I’m going to believe what you tell me. Now tell me who the fuck took this picture of you.”
She jerked again and I realize it probably wasn’t fair. She’d been afraid since she got the picture. Afraid when someone was suddenly banging on her door. Now I was trying to bully her. But I needed answers if I was going to help her.
“Is that how you interrogate all your victims, sheriff?”
I stood then, so I would tower over her. Brin was tall, but at six-two I forced her to look up at me.
“I do what it takes to get answers.”
She crossed her arms around her middle and sat back down on the couch. “I want you to know you have been a total jerk tonight. And I made you cookies.”
“So noted,” I said, sitting down next to her, facing her. “Now talk.”
“Remember the stalker? The one you thought my publicist hired to create buzz for me. Yeah, well, my publicist, which I don’t have, by the way, didn’t hire the stalker. He’s real. Now you can say how it’s all made up for TV and that I’m just pulling a stunt and go along your merry way. I know what I’m going to do.”
“I saw you sobbing on the floor, Brin. I heard you scream. I don’t think you’re pulling a stunt.”
“You didn’t think the stalker was real.”
“No,” I admitted. “I saw a banner on entertainment news. I thought it was made-up horseshit. You’re telling me now it isn’t, so I’m listening. How did it start?”
“He’s been around since the show started. Emails. To the show’s website originally. It was pretty standard stuff. I love you, Sabrina. I want to make you mine. I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t too out of line from the normal fan mail. But then it started coming to my personal email and it freaked me out. I would close the account and open another, only to have that account hacked. Nothing then that really scared me, but in these last few months something has changed. He hacked my social media, which I had to shut down. Then the emails became more lurid. More intense about what he was going do to me. Then it was phone calls. Then…the cat. This feral cat that lived behind my house in the hills. It was killed. Put on my doorstep for me to find. It wasn’t like a pet or anything. I did leave it dry food… Anyway, that was it. I wanted to be done with the show, anyway. This just made that decision simpler.”
“Except he sent this picture to your phone.”
She nodded. “Which means he was in town. Plus he called me the other day on my new number. I have to change my number again. Ronnie and Bea are going to know something bad is up, and Ronnie doesn’t need this with everything she has going on.”
She stood again and started to pace.
“That’s why you’re carrying?”
“Do you blame me?”
“You know how to shoot?” I asked her.
She rolled her eyes at me. “My father was Hank King. I think it might be the only thing he taught us. That and we weren’t sons.”
I nodded. “Fine, you know how to shoot, but would you shoot?”
She seemed less certain about that. “I don’t know. But like I said, it doesn’t matter. When I saw the picture… He’s here and I need a plan.”
“You keep saying he,” I said, jumping on her certainty. “Are you sure of that? Do you think you’ve seen him?”
She nodded. “I think so. I was in Dallas. On a jogging trail. There was a guy in a hoodie and it looked like he was watching me. When I took off I could have sworn he started to chase me. I ran to other people to get help but when I turned around he was gone. I could have been paranoid. I don’t know anymore. Maybe I am making this all up.”
I didn’t see paranoia, I saw escalation. Emails, calls, threats, and finally confrontation. The picture was a warning. Letting her know he was close.
“What did he say on the call?”
“The voice was distorted. But he said that I couldn’t run away and that soon we would be together.”
“Is that what you’re doing back in Dusty Creek? Running away?”
She fell back down onto the couch. “I guess. I’m also trying to figure my life out. I didn’t want to do the show anymore. I knew that. It’s a risk, but I have enough savings that I thought it was worth it to take a step back and think about what I wanted for my future.”
That didn’t make sense. What risk? Sabrina was a King. “You keep saying that, about the money and the show. Like you had to work.”
“Uh, yeah. You think Hank was going to fund my life in LA? Hell, no. He had a condo there and even that was off-limits. He was as pissed at me for leaving as he was at everyone else. Why do you think he left everything to Clayton? Oh. I guess you didn’t know that.”
I shook my head and cursed softly under my breath. “Hank didn’t leave his children this ranch, his fortune?”
She snorted. “Oh, he left it to his child. His male child.”
“Dylan.” I had only met Dylan one time. He’d come out to the ranch for a summer, and there had been a Fourth of July blowout my family and I had attended. I knew his story, but I didn’t really know Dylan. Which I suppose pretty much summed up his family’s relationship with him. Dylan was like ether. There was always a whiff of him around but you never actually saw him.
“Dylan has until the wedding to come home to claim King Industries. If he doesn’t, then it all goes to Clayton. It’s a lot of money to walk away from but we all believe Dylan is never coming back. If he doesn’t, Clayton inherits everything.”
This time I stood. Too irritated to sit. “Fuck me. Hank really was an old bastard wasn’t he? It wouldn’t have occurred to me he wouldn’t have protected you. So all that time in LA, you were on your own?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t like I worked the streets, Garrett. Relax. I had rich friends who put me up. I had tons of clothes and jewelry I could pawn. And I was Sabrina King. If I walked into a store and tried on something that made me look fabulous, nine times out of ten they would just let me have the clothes as long as I said where they came from. I was a walking advertisement. When I got the show that only increased. I guess I didn’t think of that when I walked away. Now I’ll have to buy my Choos at retail price!”
“Can we focus on what’s important?” I snapped.
She pouted. “You mean on the guy who wants me to be his. I would rather not.”
“Stop pretending, Brin. You’re scared. Legitimately.”
“I am. But I told you I have a plan.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m going
to hire a bodyguard. Somebody who knows how to shoot and will shoot. It’s the only way I’ll feel safe.”
I didn’t like it. The idea of some store-bought cop with hulking muscles and a big gun looming around her all the time.
Why? Why didn’t I like that?
I didn’t think on it too hard. I just rolled with what my gut was telling me. And it was saying that there was a better way to protect Brin.
“I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do what? Find me a bodyguard?”
“Better. I plan to be your bodyguard.”
10
SABRINA
Pine’s Ranch
“I don’t think this is such a good idea.” I put the bag he’d made me pack down in the foyer and wondered for the thousandth time how he had talked me into coming back to his ranch with him.
“What do you mean? It’s a perfect idea. You need protection and I’m the sheriff.”
“Last time I checked you were responsible for all the citizens of Dusty Creek but I don’t seem them camped out in your living room.”
“Yeah, well, no one other than you is under an immediate threat. Besides, you’re a target at The King’s Land. Everyone knows who you are and where the ranch is. Now he has no clue where you are and that’s to your advantage. You let everyone in town think you’re still at the ranch and this can work. Tell me again the timeline of events. When did it become scary?”
“I told you I had been getting emails for as long as the show has been on, but it feels like it was after Hank’s funeral that things just seemed to go from weird to crazy to super intense. I came home and we found out about the will from his attorney, Madison. Then everything blew up between Ronnie and Clayton…”
“Wait,” he said, coming to a pretty obvious conclusion about their upcoming wedding. “Is Ronnie only marrying him because she has to? Because that’s not right. There has to be a better way. Contest the will. Something.”
I shook my head, trying to understand what Ronnie was thinking. “Honestly, I didn’t understand why she was doing it at first. Probably for Bea, maybe me, too. But the crazy part about it was that they had never stopped loving each other. Now they’re together and really happy.”
“How is that for irony?”
“I know. Right. But back to your original question, that’s when it got scary. After the funeral.”
He seemed to think about that for a second and nodded. “It makes sense that Hank’s death might have triggered this person to act. It was national news. He would know it happened and would see you as being more vulnerable now.”
That was almost funny. “More irony. They wouldn’t know how unprotective of his daughters Hank actually was.”
I made my way back inside to the kitchen. All of the food he’d been planning to serve was still out. I realized two things. I was hungry and there was a reason I had left in the first place.
“I can fire up the grill. There’s still time to save dinner.”
He came up behind me and then around to the refrigerator. “You can put your stuff away if you like. Down the hall, last door to your right. It’s my old room and I haven’t had a chance to turn it into a proper guest room, so ignore all the trophies and stuff.”
Right. Because Garrett wanted me to sleep in his room tonight. “Not good.”
He poked his head out of the fridge and was now holding a plate of chicken he’d prepared for grilling. “Did you say something?”
I shook my head. Instead I went back to get my bag and then I made my way past the kitchen down the hall that led to the bedrooms. The Pine family home was a sprawling ranch with an old Spanish hacienda feel to it. I also knew he raised rodeo bulls and had a stable out back with two horses.
I opened the door and stepped inside a teenage boy’s room. His dresser was covered in the various athletic trophies he’d won. There were ribbons and school certificates, too.
Maybe it had been easy for him. After all, Dusty Creek High School had probably only had five hundred students total. It’s why Jennifer had wanted to send me to private school. She felt my education would be lacking if I went to a local school.
I, however, had been determined to go for at least one year where Garrett had been going. It was one of the few battles I won with Jennifer because Hank didn’t concern himself all that much with a girl’s education.
Now here I was. In the place I always wanted to be. Only not an hour ago he’d basically listed all the many ways he didn’t like me.
I inhaled and thought I could still smell him. High School Garrett. Protector Garrett. It was my most favorite smell ever. I was less certain about Bodyguard Garrett.
I made my way back down the hall taking in all of the family pictures hanging on the walls. Garrett was an only child and his parents had been a little older when they had him, so all the photos were of him at various stages of life. Baby, toddler, teenager.
I stopped in front of the picture where he was on one knee in his high school football uniform.
That Garrett made me feel awesome.
Today’s version made me feel…cautious.
When I got back to the kitchen I could see the sliding glass door was open and Garrett was laying out chicken on the grill. I could also see he’d poured me a new glass of wine.
“Not going anywhere now, I suppose.” I took a healthy sip from the glass.
“Okay,” he said, coming back inside. “Another thirty minutes and we should be good.”
I nodded.
“It will almost be like I didn’t jump down your throat earlier.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“No, I’m pretty sure you don’t. Look, Brin, I wasn’t trying to call you out for anything other than being too hard on yourself. I think you’ve got it in your head that you have to be this perfect version of Sabrina King or no one will want you around. That simply isn’t true.”
I had evidence to the contrary but I wasn’t going to point that out.
“How does this work?” I asked him instead.
“How does what work?”
“You being my bodyguard. Am I just supposed to stay here all day? And how long does that last? I need a way to end this.”
“The only way that happens is if we catch him or he loses interest.”
“There won’t be any new episodes of Cowboy Princess but I’ll be in reruns forever.”
“So we catch him. You said he approached you in Dallas. If he did it once, he’ll try it again. When he does I’ll be there.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be. But from everything you’ve told me, he’s escalating. Especially if he chose to follow you to Dusty Creek. You were right to put Jack on alert. I’ll make sure everyone around here knows to be on the lookout for any strangers. And I’ll have my deputies do drive-bys at The King’s Land when they can. I’ll need the code for the gate.”
I nodded.
“You should have told me, Brin. That first night at the bar, when you left, that’s what you meant about wanting me to believe you.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think you would.”
“What happened was five years ago,” Garrett said, not looking at me. “You could have given me a little credit for getting over it.”
“What happened was an hour ago,” I countered, reminding him of our fight.
He sighed. “Fair enough. You can always go, Brin. Stick to your original plan and hire someone.”
“It would be simpler.” Simpler. But, if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t think I would feel any safer than I did right now.
He nodded even as he approached me. “Yeah. It would be. A lot. Because I bet the person you hired wouldn’t have spent all day thinking about how he wants to kiss you.”
Gulp. “Did you just say that?”
“Yeah, Brin. I just said that. Now, how about we eat some fucking chicken. Okay?”
GARRETT
“Shouldn’t we talk about the kissing thing?” Brin
asked, even as she picked apart the chicken breast with her fingers. I’d given her three pieces, at which she’d rolled her eyes, but at least she was on to her second piece.
That pleased me. Feeding her pleased me. Having her here when I knew there was danger for her outside…pleased me.
“No,” I said, taking a slug of my beer. I didn’t know why I had told her. I just knew it was the reason I had jumped all over her earlier this evening. She made me wait. I’d been waiting for her, and when I considered why I had been so damn anxious it was because I knew I wanted her.
“But you said it.”
“I said it because I meant it. Hiring someone might be easier and better for both us.” Even if the idea made me cringe. Because now I could admit that the reason I didn’t like the idea of someone protecting her was because I wanted to do it.
“Is that what you want?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t. I want to do it. I want to protect you. Why? Because, let’s face it Brin, throughout your life I’ve done it the best. From bullies, from your father, your mother. Then you go off to LA and the next thing I know someone is stalking you.”
“You say it like it’s my fault!”
I did. Because all of it was her fault. Making me feel like I was about to jump out of my skin when she was around. Making me want to kiss her. Making me want to tear apart anyone who would even consider laying a hand on Sabrina King.
Sabrina King was mine. She had been since she was eleven years old and was so damn enamored of me she could barely speak whenever she saw me.
Which was the problem. Because I didn’t want a woman again. Not in a serious way. I didn’t want all that came with it. To be with someone like that…there needed to be trust. I flat-out didn’t have it to give anymore.
“Your staying here makes sense. He won’t know to look for you here. A bodyguard wouldn’t give you that. Unless he took you to some remote place and locked you up for a while.”
“I didn’t want to do that,” she said even as she sucked barbecue sauce off a finger. An act that wasn’t helping the whole I-can’t-kiss-her thing. “I wanted to come home. Help Ronnie with the wedding.”
