by K. F. Breene
“How’d you know she told me?” He reached up for a pitchfork and handed it to her before grabbing a shovel for himself. He wasn’t a huge fan of these menial tasks, but there was no point in complaining about it. Might as well get it done as soon as possible so he could meet up with Sara before his first survival lesson.
“You have a goofy grin on your ugly mug.”
“Yes. Good news.”
Christie stepped over a large pile of horse poop and eyed the stall, deciding where to start. “You going to marry her?”
“I’d like to, but she doesn’t want to be engaged. We’ll probably just be parents for a while before I pop the question.”
“She’s worried about having a baby out of wedlock, though. She tell you that?”
Mike straightened up and eyed Christie. “No. She is?”
Christie rammed her fork under a heap of dirty hay and turned to the bin before answering. “Yeah. She was going round and round about it. I think it’s the peer pressure of how it’s”— she put up some rabbit ears with her fingers—“supposed to be. But it bothers her, I think.”
“I think being a fiancée again would bother her more, though.”
“True.” Christie nodded. “Conundrum.”
“Well, thanks so much for all your help.”
Christie snickered, stabbing more dirty hay.
“So what’s up with Greg?” Mike asked in a nonchalant tone. “You going to let him take you out, or what?”
“Trying to get everyone hooked up since you are?” Christie asked dryly, turning her back to him to work at a different part of the stall.
He noticed the rigidity of her back as she worked. Her turn away from him seemed intentional. “Yup. And he’s into you. Or did you catch that?”
Christie shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll see. Season’s about to end, so there’s really no point in trying to get all swarmy or anything.”
“Where are you going at the end of the season? You have to leave soon for college if you’re going back there.”
Christie straightened up and turned toward him, her expression sour. “I don’t know. I might take a year off from college. I’m just trying to get a degree to please my parents, but I’m bored as all hell, and I hate my major.”
“What’s your major?”
“Communications. It’s easy, general, and makes the folks happy, so…”
“Ah.” Mike picked up a pitchfork so he could spread some fresh hay. “What would you do instead?”
“I don’t know. Get a job. Sara will probably stay here with you, so I was thinking of sticking around. Why not, right?”
“I’m sure she’d love to have a friend.”
Christie smirked. “Am I going to have to fight you to share her?”
Mike laughed and shook his head, looking over as Jake stepped into the mouth of the barn. The older man’s face was closed down and severe, his eyes crackling with rage. Something had happened.
Mike straightened up, unexpected fear stealing his breath. “What is it? What happened?”
“It’s Sara. She’s in the hospital.”
Mike was walking before his pitchfork hit the ground. Christie’s fell a second later.
“Greg found her. He went up for sum’in at the ranch house. She got worked over pretty good,” Jake said in a low tone, leading the way to their trucks.
“Is she okay?” Mike said in a weak voice he barely recognized.
“Broken nose, severe bruises on the ribs.” Jake paused for a moment, finishing the walk in silence. When he got to his truck, he turned to Mike, face a thundercloud ready to break. “Clothes were still on. He didn’t violate her. Just beat on her.”
Something broke in Mike’s chest. It rattled around, each point of contact with his body summoning up unspeakable violence. Anger that he’d never known in his whole life raged through him.
“Wait for it,” Jake said in a low voice, reading Mike. “It’ll come. Gotta make sure your missus is okay first.”
Mike nodded, jaw set, grim vengeance controlling his body, preventing him from breaking down.
Duke could’ve done a great many things that Mike would’ve shrugged off. Including coming after Mike himself. This was not one of them. This was a summons to war, and Duke must’ve known that.
“I’ll drive,” Christie said quietly, hand on Mike’s forearm, stopping him from opening the truck door. “You aren’t thinking clearly just now. Let’s get there in one piece. She’ll need you more than anyone.”
* * *
They didn’t speak on the ride over. They didn’t speak while following Jake into the hospital. Nor did they speak while trying to find the room. It was when Jake was about to walk in that Christie turned to him, her face serious and firm, and said, “Look. I’ve been through this type of thing before. You don’t need to know the particulars, but you do need to know what the victim expects. She’s broken, she’s fragile, and she’s paranoid. She doesn’t need pity. She needs support, which she’ll get from me, and she needs someone who will shield her. Someone who will be the backstop and smother her in safety. That’s you. No one else matters, okay? You cannot show the anger that’s all over your face. That scares women in this situation. You need to simmer down, put on that goofy, loving expression, and convince her that you still love every inch of her despite what she looks like, okay?”
Christie’s face held none of that nonchalant, life-isn’t-dire expression he was so used to. Not now. Instead, pain and past haunts etched her expression in sorrow. Her eyes pleaded—not for herself, but for Sara.
“Of course I’ll still love her regardless of what she looks like or what might have happened,” Mike said softly.
“Then show that.” Christie gave him a scowl a teacher might, waited for his responding nod, and jerked her head toward the door. “Okay, then.”
Mike put one foot in front of the other. He pushed through the empty space. The sterile chemical smell invaded his senses. The white linoleum was streaked with scuffs. And then he saw her. Lying in the bed, sleeping like an angel. Her features were a puffy purple, blue, and yellow. One eye was swollen shut, the other bloodshot.
He stopped walking, sickness twisting his stomach. He turned toward the bathroom, burst through the door, and barely made it to the toilet. He heaved, but the pain in his body couldn’t leave through his mouth.
After everything in his stomach—the breakfast in bed he’d made for Sara—had purged, he straightened up and put his game face on. She didn’t need this pale, shaking thing that looked back at him in the mirror. She needed someone strong but loving to hold her hand and stay by her side. She needed support, like Christie had said.
He needed vengeance.
Each of them would get what they needed.
Back in the room, he glanced at Greg in the corner, face as pale as Mike’s. Jake stood by the door, arms crossed over his chest, standing sentry. Death was in those pale blue eyes.
Christie was by Sara’s head, arm reached down the bed to clasp her hand. She looked up when Mike approached. “This’ll all heal. She just got beat up.”
Mike’s jaw clenched as he claimed her hand from Christie. “Getting beat up is plenty. Are we sure who did it?”
“She was on her own in the bathroom when I got there. No sign of anyone else,” Greg said quietly, eyes on her face.
“Duke,” Jake said by the door. “Had a motive. Has something wrong with his head. Ain’t no one else would do it. We’re as sure as we need to be.”
Mike nodded, gazing at her brutalized face. Tears marred his vision. “Has she woken up since she’s been here?”
“She came to when I found her,” Greg answered, eyes now on his clasped hands. “Asked for you. She passed out again when I was carrying her to the truck.” Greg’s voice drifted away for a second. When it came back, it had that edge that ran through Mike’s body. “I’m going with you when you go after him. She didn’t deserve this. No woman deserves this. He needs to fight someone his own s
ize.”
“That’s not a conversation for a hospital room,” Christie said with a firm voice. “He needs to go to prison. That’s the best thing for him.”
“It’ll be her word against his,” Jake said, glancing out the door. “He’s smart. Knows how to bend the law to get what he needs. He ain’t goin’ to prison unless we can prove it. Her nails are clean, though. Didn’t get a scratch off. No DNA. I doubt he left any on her.”
“Well then, we’ll just have to get creative,” Mike replied.
Chapter 23
The sun had dipped behind the buildings in the center of the small town, the evening rushing in to overcome the day. Mike stood behind the corner of the building, waiting. It didn’t pay to rush things. The enemy would come, wandering, unaware, doing whatever it was he set out to do. That was the time to strike—when the mark thought he was alone performing a mundane task.
Another fifteen minutes and he saw his opportunity.
Duke meandered out of the bar, a smug grin lighting his face. He passed within feet of Mike, completely oblivious to the other man, not looking in shadows as he should’ve been.
That had been Duke’s biggest mistake since day one: underestimating his opponent. Duke thought a man that bowed out was a coward. Mike knew that bowing out meant no one died.
Mike was no longer bowing out of this battle.
He watched Duke stroll to a darker corner, hiding from the lingering sunlight. He took out his member and peed against the wall, grunting with satisfaction.
Mike was behind him in a heartbeat, a ghost. He stood, waiting, until Duke finished, shaking and tucking himself back in. He zipped up and turned. His body jolted backward, squinting as he recognized who stood in front of him.
“I’ve come to collect,” Mike said in a gruff voice. “You’ve damaged something of mine. Sent a message. I’ve come to respond.”
“Is that right?” Duke said with a sneer, his eyes showing what his body didn’t.
Fear.
“Your word versus mine. Isn’t that how this works?” Mike asked, pulling on gloves. It was said the friction burns on Sara’s skin were from leather. Most likely gloves. No DNA was left behind.
Clever.
Duke dug in his pocket and whipped out a knife. With a click, the blade jumped out.
“Wow. A switchblade.” Mike smirked. “How very 1980s of you.”
Duke ticked his head to the right. “Confident to the last, eh, Frost? No witnesses, remember. I don’t even have to claim self-defense. I just have to walk away.”
“You’re an idiot, Duke, if you think a knife gives you a better chance at survival against me.”
Slower than an old man on a sunny porch, Duke slashed at Mike’s middle. Mike stepped to the side, his hands falling with force. He grabbed Duke’s wrist with one hand and smashed the other against Duke’s elbow. The knife skittered across the ground, Duke’s knife hand now useless.
Anger surged within Mike. Images of the bruises on Sara’s puffy eyes overcoming him. Her nightmares as she lay in that hospital bed, flailing her hands and groaning, fueled his rage. Red clouded his vision. He struck out. He tried to claim revenge for a beautiful woman who couldn’t claim it for herself. Tried to somehow fill the aching hollow of helplessness in his core. Tried to drown out the soul-crushing agony of seeing his love in pain.
Tears blinding him, on violent autopilot, Mike lost himself to his fear for Sara. To his terror of something happening to her. It wasn’t until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder that he came to. That he allowed reality to seep back in.
“All right, bro,” Greg said, pulling him away. “That’s enough. Cops are on their way.”
“I got it from here,” Jake said, stepping into the alley.
Greg grabbed Mike’s shoulders and started pushing him away. “Let Jake sort this out. He’ll get the least amount of questions.”
They walked in easy, unhurried strides out of the alley, across the street, and to the waiting BMW SUV. Each climbed in, Christie nodding from the driver’s seat as they closed the doors.
“All set?” she asked in a nonchalant sort of way.
“We’ve got this,” Greg said, staring out the window as she pulled away from the curb. “Jake’ll say Duke tried to take his wallet with that knife and Jake defended himself. He’s been in these parts forever. The sheriff is his best mate. Case closed.”
Christie nodded once. “Never tell Sara. Just say that he got put in jail because of what he did. She doesn’t need to know he would’ve gotten away with it.”
Mike stared out the window, his heart aching. “Did she wake up? Have you heard?”
She’d been in there for a day and a half, only barely coming to a couple of times, and immediately falling back to sleep. Mike had given up all the duties on the ranch he could, but there were a couple of classes he still had to teach. Christie, Greg, or Jake filled in when he couldn’t be there, or when they couldn’t, May came in. They made sure someone was always with Sara in case she woke up.
“She is on pretty serious painkillers. She woke up once but she was all crazy,” Christie said in a quiet voice.
Mike sighed, his eyes misting over again. He could take a great many things, but seeing her in pain broke a part of him he didn’t know how to fix. He’d give his life to see her healthy and happy. He couldn’t imagine any other way.
Greg leaned forward in the seat to put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “She’ll heal, bro. And Duke’s going away. She’s safe. Just stick by her side, and she’ll carry on. I get the feeling that she’ll run through hell if you’re by her side.”
“She might be strong enough, but I’m not sure I am,” Mike admitted, his eyes going hazy as he stared out the window.
“That’s why you have us. You support her, we’ll support you,” Christie said softly. “We’re all a team. She’ll come out okay. Trust me.”
Two things were clear. Christie had been through something serious, and she had a core of steel because of it. She’d become everyone’s backbone in dealing with this. Mike was extremely lucky to have her calling the shots, because he still felt like a day-old kitten. Utterly lost.
* * *
Mike was in a chair next to Sara the next morning, dozing against the hospital bed, when he felt her hand stirring from within his. Her eyes blinked open, unfocused for a moment, before zeroing in on his face. Her lips tweaked into a smile before she winced. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Mikey,” she said in a hoarse voice.
“Yes, baby, I’m here.” He smoothed her hair back from her forehead.
Tears overflowed and wet her face. “I lost it. I lost our baby.”
Mike’s heart dropped. Tears blurred his vision. He’d heard that from the doctor; it wasn’t news. Her dejected look, though, sorrow filling her features, had his eyes overflowing as if he was just hearing for the first time.
He shook his head and stroked her cheek. “Your body has been through so much. Famine, thirst, surviving the wild, surviving an attack, surviving life—so much. It wasn’t a good landscape for a little one. But the doctor says you’ll heal. That you’re healthy. You’ll still be able to conceive. This isn’t the end, sweetie. And I’m right here. I’m always right beside you, okay?”
She nodded, her lips trembling. “Do you still love me?”
He pushed forward, his heart breaking. “Of course I do, dove. Of course I do! More than ever—that’s not true. Just as much as ever, which is more than most people love their entire lives. You and I are forever. It could just be the two of us for the rest of our lives, and I’ll be the happiest man in the world. I have what I’ve always wanted: I have my soul mate. Everything else is just icing.”
Sara’s watery smile filled her face. She nodded, squeezing his hand.
“Plus, the fun is in trying for a baby, right? So we have that to look forward to.” He smiled down on her.
She nodded again. Her eyes filled with relief, even though he could still see the haunting sor
row lingering from her loss. From their loss. He felt that same feeling deep in his core. They’d barely gotten used to the idea that they’d be parents, but to have that joy ripped away in a horrible act of violence hurt the soul. He would always remember the loss, and he could tell she always would, too. But they’d get through it. Together, they could get through anything. He wholly believed that.
“I love you,” Sara said as a tear ran down her face. “I thank God for you constantly. I thank Him for what happened with Phil so I’d be forced to find you.”
“I love you, baby.” He kissed the tear from her cheek.
A sparkle of fear crossed Sara’s gaze before she said in a tiny voice, “Did they find him? Did they arrest Duke? I tried to scratch him or something to leave some DNA, but he was too fast. I couldn’t leave any proof. I couldn’t—”
“Shhh. Don’t worry about Duke. He’s been arrested for assault and drug possession. He’ll be in jail for a long time. He won’t be bothering you.”
Sara’s eyes searched his face. Her brow furrowed as they delved into his eyes. After a moment, her expression cleared and a small smile tickled her lips. “Thank you, for taking care of him.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he replied, squeezing her hand, wanting to pick her up and squeeze her to him. She’d always been able to read him—to see through any lie he tried to tell.
Her eyes fluttered closed. “So modest. So protective. St. Mikey.” With that, she relaxed, her breath evening out. Back to sleep. Safe. Loved.
* * *
Sara winced as she stepped out of the car and onto the ranch. It was nearing the end of the season—the tourists were packing up and getting ready to head on. There were a few more families that would hang on for some last survival classes, but for the most part, it was time for normal ranch life instead of purely a tourist dude ranch.
Sara was excited about it. She wanted to know what it was really like out here, managing a large property and a lot of cattle and horses. Without putting on a smiling face for paying customers, she could just settle into this new place.
