I found my cell phone in the cheap little bedside table and still with a charge. I pulled up the contact list and found the rarely called number.
It rang twice, and a grumpy voice answered. “What the fuck do you want at this hour?”
I blinked rapidly and realized I’d called at two in the morning. Shit. “Sorry, Chuck. It’s Karen.”
I heard bedding rustle, several grunts and the sound of a hand rubbing on a five o’clock shadow. “Damn girl, you’ve gotten yourself in a pickle. Do they know who you are?”
I took a deep breath, “No, and they won’t either, uncle doesn’t need it. Listen, there is some serious shit going down. I’m going home tomorrow, to Laramie. I need your help.”
“Call me when you get home.” He hung up.
I smiled, a real one for the first time since it all started. The Congressman had political contacts. I had a few that would knock his proverbial socks off.
Chapter Eighteen
Maria drove to Laramie. The two and half hour drive was nothing, time flying, considering I didn’t see any of the landmarks, staring out the window lost in thought. We drove through the pass, and I directed her south of Laramie, to the ranch. I’d long ago made arrangements for the horses to arrive a week ago, Five Alarm’s groom having agreed to stick with the horse. He also took over the care of the entire herd, meaning I owed a lot to the man I knew nothing about, other than he could handle my stallion.
Arriving at the ranch, I invited Maria to stay, rest, but she was adamant to return to Denver. With a hug, I watched her go. I turned and looked over the living room.
The first pass showed nothing remained to remind me of the night so long ago. All of the furniture was replaced, the floors scrubbed, Rage gone. I noticed more lights installed, and a new security system. Thank goodness for Dad’s old friends. I didn’t call anyone, avoiding the issue. But they’d come in, taken care of it all, and left, never saying a word.
I worked my way around the house, hating the crutches, but aware the need for them. I flinched at the entrance to my office. I stood as straight as possible, pushed the door open, waiting. Swallowing hard, I went inside, one hobble at a time.
The pounding of my heart and the sight of the big mahogany desk caused panic to set in, and trying to run backwards, I dropped the crutches, stumbled, lost my balance, and landed hard on the injured hip. I cried out, trying to crawl away, arm throbbing. I heard soft footsteps, tried to breathe past the band around my chest. Dots appeared in my sight, and I couldn’t see where I was going.
“Easy, Ms. Karen, easy.” An open paper bag was shoved over my nose and mouth, and I lashed out. Gentle hands swatted them away. “No, breathe into the bag.”
I looked up and recognized Five’s groom. He knelt close, every movement exaggerated, expression blank. The silver blue eyes watched every move I made. I noticed a scar on his throat, partially hidden by the shirt.
“Keep going, that’s it.” His voice soothed, required me to obey. A nice baritone, low, easy, calming.
I reached up and grabbed the bag, scooting away a little more, watching him closely. He stood in a slow motion, hands up as he backed away. My heart started to slow, and the little dots left my eyesight.
“It’s not unusual, considering what you’ve been through. I heard you fall, and ran in here.” I noticed his soft, light southern accent. “It’ll take awhile, I think you need to stay out of the office. May I help you up?” He pointed at the crutches.
I nodded. He didn’t grab the crutches and come at me, he used the crutches to stand and sidestepped to me. Without facing me, he held a hand out. I dropped the bag, straightened my healing leg, and clasped his forearm. He crossed an arm over, grasped a forearm, and slowly pulled until I found my feet. Without facing me, or turning away completely, he handed over one crutch at a time.
While it seemed weird for him to do it all sideways, I felt … safer. In control. It hit what he was doing. He was treating me like an injured horse, one who doesn’t trust her handlers. Smart man.
“Thank you. Please, call me Karen?” I held out a shaky hand.
“As long as you call me Brent,” he smiled and completed the handshake. I instantly understood why Rhonda loved Five’s groom. It was the smile. Everything was in that smile, a promise to be gentle, or hard if needed. A deep tan indicated a life outdoors, and lines framing his mouth showed a propensity to smile. Keen intelligence shone bright from his eyes, and a deep understanding of those around him. I could remember the same look in Dad’s expression when I was very young.
“Deal. Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see that,” I looked out the big bay window, watching the horses against the mountain backdrop.
“I’ve been there, I know. Don’t be embarrassed. Listen, can we go into the living room? I need to talk about Five Alarm and the horses,” he waved a hand in a gentlemanly gesture toward the door.
“Yeah, I think that would be best.” I smiled and moved past him.
He left me in the living room, trying to get used to the new micro-suede furniture. Plush, soft, and a dark beige, someone’s wife had added blue, green and purple pillows to all the furniture. I smiled as I sat on the new chaise lounge, putting both legs up and tossing a throw over them.
Brent walked into the living room, carrying big mugs of coffee, carefully setting one on a table next to the chaise. I wrapped my hands around the warm ceramic and stared into the light brown liquid.
“How did you know I like a lot of creamer?” I frowned.
“You had five varieties in the fridge, according to Mrs. Johnston. They went shopping this afternoon, replacing all of them. I took a guess,” he shrugged.
Bless that woman, I thought. She’d been one of the few to take me up on the offer to work here, and from all accounts, settled right in as cook and maid.
“Tell me about Five. How is he holding up?” I sipped and almost puddled at the wonderful taste.
“Flighty as hell. The vet wasn’t sure he’d make it, but that is one stubborn cuss. Nine hundred and forty-two stitches, broken ribs, most of an ear ripped off, and blind in one eye.” He shook his head, and took another drink.
“Wait, what? He was that bad? Why so many stitches?” I set the mug down, intending to make my way to the stables.
“All of us went through major trauma in Oklahoma. I managed to hide several of us in the underground storage until you found a way to get the cops to come around. Jerry and Rhonda had the storage specifically built to hold up against the tornadoes, and it saved our lives.” His eyes met mine.
I gasped. I could see raw pain, guessed memories must plague him every night.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were down there.” My head fell back. “I failed in so many ways.” Memories banged on the door I kept them locked behind, and I choked back tears. I shook my head, wiped away the tears and pulled up my metaphorical big girl panties. “Please, Brent, accept my apologies.”
His eyebrows shot up, and his face darkened as he leaned forward, “What the hell are you apologizing for? Did you know you saved ten lives? Did they tell you that? From the look on your face, I’ll say no. What assholes.” He pointed a finger at me, anger and admiration creating a beautiful expression, “Listen here, young lady, everything you did, everything you endured, set three children and seven adults free. We waited long, agonizing days hoping they’d leave. They slaughtered everyone else, buried them out back. Don’t ever apologize for doing what you did, what you had to do.” He slammed the mug on the coffee table and stood, pacing to the window looking over the front of the property. “I can only imagine what you dealt with. And you lived, you survived. Then asked if I’d help. My god.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
I didn’t know what to say. I sipped the coffee, not able to look at him. I had no clue about the underground storage. My head came up at the sound of him turning on a heel. I flinched at his expression.
“I’ve been informed we need more security, especially for yo
u.” He stared at me.
“No need. I have my own reinforcements.”
“When will they be here?” he frowned.
“Late tonight. They’ll take care of everything.” I raised my chin. If I knew Chuck, the little bastards better be on the run, and become damn good at hiding.
“Will they stay here?” He gave the house a calculating once over.
“Yes, but will bring their own equipment and sleeping quarters.” I smiled, liking the confusion drawing out his features. He ran a hand through dark brown hair, tugging a little on the ends.
“Do I want to know?” He met my gaze.
“No, you don’t. They aren’t friends of Jerry or Rhonda, never knew my dad. But they are good friends of mine.”
“Okay, boss. You ready to go and see Five? He may react better with you. He attacks anyone else who gets too close.” Brent held out a hand, standing sideways to me.
I took the offered hand and stood. It seemed to soothe him. Talk about old school. He took slow steps, allowing me to set the pace.
I heard Five Alarm long before I saw him. I could hear the frantic pacing along the corral fencing, his continual trumpeting, the frantic neighs.
The moment I saw him, I choked on a yell of despair. Five was torn up, healing wounds over his entire body, moving in choppy steps, the once copper bright hair dull, mane and tail filled with masses of knots. Three bright pink scars crisscrossed his face, one going across the right eye, rendering him blind. I dropped my crutches, giving soft whistles as I shuffled to the fence.
He stopped, ear twitching, skin twitching. I gave four short whistles, followed by a long wolf whistle. He neighed in greeting.
“Oh, my beautiful boy, what have I done to you?” Memories of watching the trailer fall into a slow roll, the rig jackknifing, screams overpowering the sounds of the accident, tried to take over reality. No, not now, not right now, I screamed inside, knowing exactly what the stallion was going through. “Easy, Fiver, easy, my love. I’m here.” I grabbed the fence, muscles twitching from exhaustion, hands shaking. I waited for him to approach, to accept me.
He snorted, raising his nose to smell the air. A breeze blew at that precise moment, carrying my scent. I made noises he’d recognize. I watched him go still, and stop the trumpeting. I used the fence to move closer, talking in low tones, talking about nothing.
He sidled to the fence, leaning against the ironwork, softly snorting, using the left eye to watch me. We stood, looking at each other, neither moving. I blew on his face, releasing the softest whistle possible. He cocked a back hoof, licked his lips and lowered his head, releasing soft snorts. I reached out and touched the one uninjured spot.
Time had no meaning. My beautiful stallion was hurt, inside and out, unsure of everyone and everything. He only had me, the one person he knew from the moment of birth. I was too damaged to be of any help. I let the tears fall unheeded, not caring I’d spent many a day and night in tears, wondering if the ordeal would ever end.
If I would ever reach a place of peace.
I lightly ran a hand over the once powerful neck and noticed the loss of three hundred pounds. Normally in the eleven hundred pound range, I guessed him at eight hundred now. Muscle was gone, leaving only a broken horse standing next to a fractured woman.
I didn’t dare touch his ears, especially with one missing. Instead, I put a hand under his chin, gently lifting his muzzle. Taking a chance, I did something I used to do when he was barely a yearling. Running my cheek over his, making low noises in my throat, followed by whistles. He lipped my ear, but didn’t bite.
“Oh, sweet boy, it’s me. Never again. Just never again,” I whispered.
I turned to Brent, “Help me inside the paddock.”
Brent nodded once, moved in slow, deliberate steps, and picked me up. Under normal circumstances, I would have yelled to be put down, but to get close to Five Alarm, I needed help. Once inside, I wiggled a little and he set me down, holding my waist. I glanced over a shoulder at him, but saw nothing threatening.
Brent walked me to Five Alarm. I gently pried Brent’s hands off, and put a hand on Five’s face, whistling. With painful, shuffling steps, I pushed under the stallion’s head, into his chest, and hugged his neck. Five lifted a hoof and tried to wrap it around my waist, chin against my back. I pushed my hip out, almost losing my balance, but Brent moved swiftly to hold me up.
I hugged Five, stroking the uninjured spaces on his neck. My tears soaked the dull hair. I promised he would get better, would live, survive, would show the world what a scarred horse could do. Determined to never be caught by surprise again. Even if I had to become a stone cold killer for a second time in my life.
Chapter Nineteen
I left Five in the paddock, eating hay and calm. I wanted to bunk in the stables, but Brent put a foot down and said I was full of shit if he would allow it until reinforcements arrived. He didn’t like my question of who the hell he thought he was to order me around. He pointed at my crutches.
He won.
Chuck rolled up in the morning, driving a massive RV, followed by six big, black SUVs. The expression on Brent’s face was made for YouTube. It became more comical when five men exited each SUV, and four more walked out of the RV, followed by Chuck.
Former Army Lieutenant Colonel Charles Raymond Maximus Darbonne looked in his early thirties, despite closing in on fifty-three. I quelled the urge to pop my body to attention and salute. Chuck stood a good six foot four, with a military high and tight haircut, eyes a hard emerald, skin a light tan. Precise and deadly, he moved like a soldier. If it wasn’t for his smile, I’m fairly certain Brent would have run for the hills. The smile made him human, the one thing that kept a reputation as The Terminator in check.
He walked over, picked me up and hugged me close. “Ah, Karrie, what happened? Why didn’t you call?” He set me down. “And I brought the whole fuckin’ cavalry.”
I peeked around his chest, “I see that, Chuck. Duuude.” I waved, recognizing most of them. “We have a bit of an issue, and it involves some high end people.” I stepped away, angling my body to view everyone.
“You’ve been gone too long, Barnes.” The use of my last name wasn’t lost on me. “Listen, we need to get set up. I have ten of them on you, the rest are going to help me out.” His tone brooked no argument.
I reached up, pulled his head down, and kissed a cheek. “Missed you, too, big guy. When you’re done, come in, I’ll have dinner ready and we can discuss.” I turned and Brent handed me the crutches.
“Did you really shake off your experiences the first time, Karen?” Chuck put a hand on my shoulder.
I glanced at his hand, not turning around. “I thought I did. I was wrong.” I hobbled to the house.
*
Dinner consisted of the squads’ favorite things, mostly meat and the appearance of vegetables. I recounted the whole story, from beginning to end. Chuck listened, and Robbie, a favorite friend in combat, asked all the pertinent questions. Robbie took notes on an iPad, while eating as if it was a last meal. Some habits never die.
I gave several bedrooms to the guys, we created a rotation, and decided who was horse-friendly. Brent didn’t say much and I let him listen. He was in charge of the stables, he needed to know who would be where and when.
“Did you say Jake was part of this whole shit-storm?” Chuck crossed his fork and knife on the plate, pushing it aside. One of the men stood and began clearing the table.
Dang, he brought lackeys too.
“Yeah, I didn’t know until I grabbed Gage and Five Alarm.” I looked at a wall, concentrating on a picture of my father.
“Now he, and his brother, are hunting for you?”
“As far as I know. I think they are the ones who shot my attorney.” I pulled Gage’s notebook from under my butt and handed it over. “Gage told me not to read it, to hand it over to my attorney. I peeked and wanted to read further, but never got the chance.”
Chuck opened it and I
stood to help with the dishes. Robbie was behind me in an instant, hands on my shoulders, gently holding me in the chair. I turned and gave the look it deserved, but he gave a slight shake of his head. I didn’t try to leave the chair again.
“The Senator Michael Wheeling’s son, huh? Yeah, I know him, and a few things about that particular Senator. I’ll take care of his BS, he’ll leave you alone. We’ll see if we can’t find the two brothers, locate another attorney, and I want to check into the Director you spoke to. Something is off,” he held my gaze.
“I don’t know what it is. Hell, why is the German government involved? Did you know they want my head for killing their guy? And what does this have to do with Five Alarm? At first I thought it was all about the money, but now I don’t know.”
He nodded, stood and pointed at a few of the men. They all stood and scattered in various directions. “I can’t tell you everything yet, but I can say, you and the stallion are at the center of it all.”
I sat back with crossed arms, knowing better than to ask.
He walked to stand next to my chair, “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. We’ll take care of it.” He kissed my cheek and left.
Brent stood, grabbing my plate and glass, taking it into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of Jack Daniels and a two liter of Coke. “I think we need this.” He handed me a shot glass and opened the two liter. I threw back four shots of whiskey and took a long swig of the Coke.
I wiped my mouth with the back of a hand. “No kidding.”
We shared the rest of the bottle, and I stumbled to bed. The men knew me well enough to make themselves at home without a fuss. The world spun, but I welcomed it. I opened the door to my room and stopped. The light was on, the bed neatly made, and a sleeping Rottweiler puppy, complete with a little blue bow, sleeping in the center of the mattress. A big note read, “A Guardian for a Guardian.” The handwriting was all Chuck. I smiled.
I grabbed the pup’s warm, limp form from the bed and opened the French doors leading into the backyard. I let him down, waiting. I had to think of a name for the innocent puppy. Dodger? No, didn’t fit. Baker? Ewww, no. It was going to take time to find a moniker.
Fractured Steel Page 9
