by Marla Monroe
Sierra turned off the light and climbed into bed, feeling as if she’d won a race only to have been disqualified after accepting the trophy. Everything crashed down around her once more. She tossed and turned for over an hour, and just as she was drifting off, something jarred her awake. She listened but heard nothing more. She was just about asleep again when the sound came again, only much closer this time. It was probably Sedona getting in late.
She reached over to turn on the bedside lamp on and froze when the light revealed what she’d heard.
Chapter Sixteen
Thorne toed off his boots in the laundry room and set them on the boot tray before stripping out of his nasty, muddy clothes. Rollan walked in seconds later and groaned as he removed his own boots, setting them next to Thorne’s on the tray.
“What the hell did we think we could run a ranch for anyway? I’m sure this was your fucking idea in the first place,” Rollan muttered as he undressed, wincing when it pulled on his shoulders.
Thorne winced as he watched the other man undress. Rollan had taken a nasty fall when they’d been trying to pull the stupid steer out of the damn water where it had gotten stuck. First they’d had to cut up an old tree that had demolished a small section of fence, then they’d had to work on the fence while the hands rounded up the cattle that had managed to get out.
Rescuing the fucking steer had been the crowning glory of their day, leaving both of them exhausted, muddy, and sore all over. Poor Rollan had gotten the worst of the stuck steer though. He’d have a hell of a bruise in the morning on that shoulder. Hell, he’d be lucky if he could move in the morning.
Off and on, he’d been plagued by thoughts of Sierra, wishing he could get up the nerve to call her and ask if she wanted to come over for a beer or something. He just wanted to hear her voice. The foreman he’d sent to work over there had kept him appraised of the weird animal escapes that had been going on but said she was doing fine and seemed to be happy enough. That hadn’t helped his feelings one bit. Then again, she wouldn’t tell a stranger her problems either.
“Did you hear me?” Rollan yelled, punching him none too gently in the arm as he washed up.
“Sorry, what?”
“I want to go see Sierra tomorrow. I don’t care if she did ask for some time. There’s no reason we can’t just check on her. Hell, we own the ranch now anyway. We can drop by to see how things are going,” Rollan said.
It had bothered them that she’d gone and signed the papers and then sent them by the foreman for them to sign them. It all felt like passing notes under the teacher’s nose or something. Thorne felt like she’d been making a statement by sending the paperwork instead of bringing it in person. It was as if she was saying stay away until I can figure things out. He was tired of staying away as much as Rollan was.
“I agree. We’ll go over after morning chores. If nothing else, maybe she’ll let us know how she feels now that the pressure of keeping the ranch going is off her shoulders,” Thorne said.
“I’m going to shower. It’s your turn to burn the soup,” Rollan told him before stomping off.
Thorne sighed. He hated cooking and hated feeling out of his element even more. He’d never had to try and figure out a woman before. No one had ever affected him like Sierra did. Now, when it mattered, he wasn’t sure how to talk to her, to feel her out on what she wanted. He’d give her anything she needed if it would help move her in with them.
After taking his shower, Thorne dressed in jogging pants but didn’t bother with a shirt. All he would be doing before bed was fixing soup and relaxing for an hour or so with a beer or two. It was already pushing nine, and five came early for them these days. Neither of them slept worth a damn, worrying about how to convince Sierra to give a relationship a chance.
He’d grabbed his wallet, belt, cell phone, and change from his jeans before coming upstairs, but hadn’t checked his phone for messages. He shoved the phone in his pocket to check after he got the soup started.
By the time he’d managed to open the two cans and heat them on the stove, Rollan had made it back down, wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. While he threw together some sandwiches out of stale bread, Rollan stirred the soup. They talked about the problem they were having with the hay baler then sat down to eat. By the time they’d finished and were loading the dishwasher, it was after ten.
“What time do you want to drive over to see Sierra?” Rollan asked as they opened a beer and walked toward the living room.
“Probably around nine or ten. We need to make sure the hands get the fencing materials out to the west pasture and finish fixing those loose boards.”
Rollan nodded and sat down on his favorite recliner. Thorne started to sit when his cell phone dug into his thigh. He pulled it out, remembering that he’d planned to check his messages earlier. He did that now and cursed when he realized he’d missed a call from Sierra at some point.
“What is it?” Rollan asked with a frown.
“I missed a message from Sierra,” he said.
“Well listen and tell me what she says.” Rollan sat forward on the chair and waited while he listened.
Thorne smiled when he heard her voice, but worried when she didn’t say anything other than she wanted to talk and for them to call her when they got the message. He hoped she was just nervous about calling them and not planning to tell them she’d changed her mind and didn’t think she wanted to spend more time with them.
Please let her want to talk about moving in soon. I don’t think I can wait much longer.
“She just said she needed to talk to us and to call her back when we could,” he said as he dialed her number. It rang several times but went to voicemail.
“Maybe she’s in the shower,” Rollan suggested.
“It’s almost eleven now. She’s probably in bed. She’s used to getting up at the crack of dawn like we do. I’ll call her in the morning to let her know we’re coming over,” he said.
Rollan nodded but Thorne could tell his friend was antsy just like he was over why she wanted to talk. All he could do was wait until the next morning now. They finished their beer and headed up to bed. It proved to be a long night for Thorne. He figured Rollan was in the same boat.
After dozing off and on for several hours, Thorne finally got up and dressed for the day. It was almost four, so there wasn’t any reason to try for another hour of sleep. As he headed down the stairs, he smelled coffee and knew Rollan had given up even before he had.
“Can’t sleep?” Rollan asked.
“Nope. What are we, teenagers worrying over a prom date?” Thorne asked him.
Rollan chuckled. “Sure as hell feels like it to me. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. I can’t help it. I love her. I want her here with us where she belongs. I get how she needs some time, but can’t she take it here where we can take care of her?”
“I suppose that defeats the purpose of figuring out how she feels about a relationship with us,” Thorne said.
“How soon can you call her?” Rollan asked when they’d sat down with filled coffee cups.
“Hell. I’d call her right now except she’s probably sleeping. I’d rather she be in a good mood when she talks to us. Maybe about seven or seven fifteen.”
“Damn, that’s three fucking hours from now,” Rollan groused.
Thorne felt the same way but kept it to himself. All night he’d had a bad feeling about her phone call. He wasn’t sure why, but it bugged him enough he dreamed about her one of the few times he’d fallen asleep. She’d been trying to call them for help and they’d ignored their phones ringing. By the time they’d listened to her frantic messages, she’d been gone and they hadn’t know where to find her.
He shivered just thinking about it now. He’d spent whatever sleep he’d managed searching for her. When he’d finally given up trying to sleep, they hadn’t found her in his dream. Now he wondered if he should wait until seven to call. How angry could she get if he told her he loved her and
was worried something was wrong?
They spent the next hour scrambling eggs and burning toast. Once they’d cleaned up after themselves it was nearing six. He’d just about decided to risk her wrath and call early when his phone rang. Both he and Rollan froze at the sound. Then he grabbed it out of its holder on his belt and answered it without checking the caller ID.
“Hello,” he said.
“Thorne? Is that you?” Sedona’s voice sounded strained and shaky. Thorne couldn’t help but be disappointed that it wasn’t Sierra’s voice on the other end.
“Hey Sedona. It’s me. What’s wrong?” he asked, knowing it wouldn’t be good.
“Something’s happened to Sierra.”
* * * *
Pain nudged Sierra awake. Her head ached and her mouth felt as if someone had coated her tongue with powder. What was going on? Why couldn’t she get up? Every time she tried to roll over and sit up, something held her back and that throbbing pain in her head and left shoulder only made it harder.
It took her a few seconds to realize the reason it was so dark was because she had a blindfold covering her eyes. Blindfold? What was going on?
In a rush of images, everything came back to her, tearing a gasp from her followed by a low moan. She’d been kidnapped. She remembered hearing something and thinking it was Sedona returning from Riverbend, but when she’d turned on the light, it was to find Dexter standing in her bedroom holding a gun in one hand and a cloth of some type in the other.
He’d smiled at her and she couldn’t remember anything else. Why did her shoulder hurt so much? She was sure he’d drugged her with whatever had been on that cloth from the way her mouth and head felt. More than likely, he’d dragged her somewhere as well. Her entire body felt bruised.
She tried to move and figure out where she was, but her arms were tied above her head to something. With the blindfold on, she had no idea if she was still in her own home or not.
Oh, God! Sedona. What if she comes home with Dexter here? What will he do to her?
Sierra tried to fight down the panic, knowing it wouldn’t help her to lose it. She needed to think. What did she know? Her hands were tied to something with rope. She could feel the fibers of it biting into her wrists. Her legs were free. She could move them. She concentrated on what she was on top of and decided it might be the floor since it was hard, not soft like a bed. Finally she listened and inhaled. It was quiet, so nothing gave away where she might be. Her nose told her she was somewhere musty with stale air.
What would smell like that? Old buildings that hadn’t been opened in a long time, caves, or basements would all have that smell. They weren’t anywhere close to any caves, so she threw that out. That left a basement or an old deserted building. She was fairly sure that if she were in a basement, it would be slightly cooler, but she wasn’t sure. There was an old abandoned ghost town about an hour from her ranch. That was a good possibility. If she managed to get free, she would know how to make it back home.
If she managed to get free. That was going to be the hard part. What did Dexter expect to gain by bringing her there? She wondered where he was as well. Did he plan to leave her there to die of thirst? Somehow that didn’t seem like something he’d do. He liked to enjoy causing pain and discomfort. If she’d learned anything about the bastard, it was how much he enjoyed toying with someone. He’d be back. She hoped she was gone by then.
Sierra concentrated on her wrists and the rope that tied her to something. She inched her way up until she could trace her fingers over a bar. Next to it was another one. She’d been right. He’d taken her out to the old ghost town and she was in the jailhouse tied to the cell bars. If she remembered right, there was only one cell and the door had been removed so no one would get shut inside and be unable to get out.
She had no idea how long she struggled with the rope in an attempt to loosen it, but she was sure at least thirty minutes or more had past. Her nails were broken down into the quick and she could feel the blood from where she’d rubbed her wrists raw run down her arms. Nothing she’d tried had worked. The rope wouldn’t loosen. It wouldn’t fray against the iron bars, and it seemed to get tighter the more she struggled. Her hands were all but numb now.
She’d made another discovery while trying to get loose. Her left shoulder seemed to be messed up. More than likely, it was dislocated. It had made trying to do anything with the rope a lot harder since she couldn’t use that hand much at all.
She settled down to rest for a few minutes and thoughts of what Dexter had planned for her soon had her heart racing and her head aching even more. She’d long since lost the ability to make any saliva to keep her throat wet. Now her mouth had grown even dryer with fear. Sierra gagged several times when the dryness got harder to handle.
The longer she lay there feeling helpless, the more certain she became that he’d just decided to leave her there to slowly go crazy from thirst until she dried up and died. How had he gotten inside the house? She’d made sure that all the locks were in place. She hadn’t set the chain on the back door since Sedona would return and need to be able to get inside. Still, they had dead bolts on the doors.
What would her sister think when she wasn’t there? At first she’d just assume she’d gone out to work on the ranch, then when she didn’t show up at lunch, she might get worried and start asking the hands if they’d seen her. After that, would she call Rollan and Thorne? If she did, maybe they would look for her. It wouldn’t matter though. They hadn’t been in the area very long. They wouldn’t know about the old ghost town.
Every time she started to feel a bit of hope, she talked herself out of it. At this rate, Sierra figured she’d die of worry or despair before Dexter could do anything to her if he planned to. Several times she grew quiet, trying to keep her breathing to a minimum so she could hear better, but it was deathly quiet where she was. Since the cell was in the back of the old jailhouse, unless someone was awful close, she wouldn’t hear anything.
Please, God. Help me out of this. I want to tell the guys I love them and I’m sorry for putting them off.
A thump had her jerking her head up to listen closer. For few seconds, she didn’t hear anything more. Then a door scraped and she heard the soft tap of shoes as they drew closer. Dexter was back. Anyone else would be talking or if looking for her, calling out. Ice filled her bloodstream as fear tried to choke her.
She stilled her body so that maybe when he walked in, he would think she was still out. Maybe she could learn something from him if he thought she was unconscious. Why bother? She couldn’t do anything with what she learned. Dead women couldn’t talk.
A door opened so close she thought it would hit her foot. He had to be standing in the doorway now, looking at her. Sierra remained as still as possible, trying to slow her breathing to appear normal for someone still unconscious.
“You’re not fooling me, bitch. I know you’re awake. We have a lot to talk about, you and I. Oh, and I have a bone to pick with you. Now where do we start?”
She heard him step closer, then something dragged across the floor. It squeaked and she realized he’d pulled up a chair and sat down only a few feet from her.
“Answer me, slut!” Dexter shouted, kicking one of her feet.
“Go to hell! Why in the world would you kidnap me when you’re already in so much trouble?” she shouted back. “They’re going to know you’re behind it when I’m discovered to be missing.”
“Oh I’ll be long gone by then, Sierra. I’m going to Mexico when I finish with you. I’ve already got my place set up over there. I’ll just drive across the border and that’s it. By the time they find you, there won’t be much of you left,” he said with a wild laugh.
“They’ll find you and drag your ass back,” she said.
He just chuckled. “So, let’s begin. Do you know what you’ve cost me? Besides my job and my father who disowned me, I’ve lost my fiancée, Darcy. She is refusing to marry me. They’ve seized my house and almost everythin
g I own here in case it was paid for by ill-gotten funds. You’ve cost me quite a bit, Sierra.”
“I didn’t do anything to you, Dexter. You did it all yourself. You lied and cheated me and who knows how many others out of money and land. You deserve all of that and more, you bastard.” Sierra fought to keep from crying. She was so frustrated and angry at being helpless again, especially to him.
“You can talk all you want, sweet Sierra. I’m going to enjoy what you’ve denied me for years now. I might have lost my fiancée, but I’ve got you right where I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he said in a sickly sweet tone.
“You come near me, and I’ll kick your balls all the way up your throat,” she promised with a growl.
“I love that you’re going to fight me. It will make it so much more fun to fuck that cunt of yours. After I’ve had my fill of you, I’ll slit your throat while I come.”
She had to fight to keep from throwing up at his words. He was sick, deranged, but he didn’t deserve to go to a mental institution. He needed to go to jail where he lost all of his freedom with a world of other criminals who would love nothing more than to take out their frustrations on him. Yeah, that would be a good ending for him.
Soft hands grabbed her ankles, startling a scream from her throat. She kicked out in an attempt to dislodge the hold he had on them. She managed to kick free of one hand, but the other one held on. She used her free foot to stomp and kick at the hand still clutching the other ankle. The entire time she kicked and fought, Sierra screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping that if anyone was near, they might hear her screams. She prayed it hurt Dexter’s ears and pissed him off.
“Be still, you worthless slut,” he hissed out as her foot made contact with something again.
She feigned exhaustion as she slowed her kicking in hopes it would lure him close enough she could get him in the face. Sure enough, he moved closer to try and grasp her other foot. She aimed a little above where she heard his grunts and connected with something solid that crunched. Dexter howled and dropped her other leg.
