Gideon & Gage, Book One

by Hawthorne, Olivia

  Years of rain had washed away the blood and years of neglect had covered the property in tall grass and wild vines that made it all too clear that the property had been abandoned.

  But despite nobody tending to the land, the memories still lived on, rushing back at me like a tidal wave that dropped me to my knees.

  For the first time in my life, I missed New York. I missed the sounds of traffic that flowed in my windows from outside, and I missed my dog, Bella. I knew Anthony would take good care of her while I was gone, even adopt her if I never could return, but it still didn’t ease the heartache I felt to leave her behind.

  Stripping my eyes away from the broken down fence and top of a stone that I wished someone had removed from the property, I climbed the rickety old stairs that led to the large wraparound porch of the house. Beer bottles littered the weathered boards of the porch, graffiti sprayed on the walls, and the windows were broken out entirely.

  Looking around, I wondered how many parties had been held at this place by random teens in the area. Kicking a few bottles aside, I cursed under my breath wondering if the one place I’d chosen to run had been a big mistake. In the past, I would have chased off anybody who came onto the property, but I didn’t have a weapon on me at that moment and I lamented not being able to stop by my apartment one final time to grab my gun.

  I had no other options, and I decided to take my chances in hopes that any kids who had used this place to party were long gone and had no plans on returning any time soon.

  It took most of my strength to push the heavy front door open, my jaw dropping to the floor to see the condition of the once stately house.

  The railing of the staircase leading up to the second floor was missing most of its balusters, and the interior walls were covered with more graffiti that matched the colorful language sprayed across the front porch.

  Idiot kids didn’t even know how to spell correctly, and the drawings they’d attempted were lackluster at best.

  For years, I’d assumed that someone had been looking after the property, but glancing at the scraped up wooden floors and the broken doors, I realized that nobody who owned this land had stepped foot on it for years. Perhaps my grandparents’ heartache was as deep as mine. On the day I’d lost a father, they’d lost a son, and it was readily apparent that they’d blamed this place for his death as much as I did.

  It wouldn’t be easy to live here, to survive off the land that had been neglected and untended for a decade at least, but it was my only option. I didn’t want to burden my family and friends with harboring a fugitive, even if I was innocent of the crime I was accused of committing.

  Letting out a deep sigh, I walked back to Anthony’s car that I’d parked in the barn behind the house to keep it out of view of anybody who might come looking for me. I’d stopped for gas on the trip down to Texas, but chosen to stay out of sight as much as possible. Only risking running inside to pay for the gas, I hadn’t taken the time to pick up essentials, such as food and bottled water. Now was as good a time as any to find a local store, hopefully one that wasn’t connected enough to recognize me from the news.

  That was the only good thing about out-of-the-way, small towns: they didn’t pay attention to anything happening fifty miles outside of their city limits.

  * * *

  The Dodge Store had been in this area since I was a kid. A small grocery store that was converted to also sell gas sometime in the mid-70’s, it was mostly abandoned all hours of the day. Not many people lived in this area and the term rural still wasn’t enough to describe the environment.

  Ghost town, maybe. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see tumbleweed blow across the parking lot as I ambled up to collect as many supplies as I could carry.

  Drinking water was the most essential, followed by food, and hygienic items. After seeing the state of the house, I’d added trash bags to my list, realizing that it was, technically, a luxury item. But I couldn’t help myself. The littered bottles and other trash scattered throughout the house were crushing my heart even more than the memories of what had occurred on that small ranch so many years before.

  Pushing open the dirty, glass door, I nodded towards the cashier at the single register in front. An older man with salt and pepper hair nodded back, jean overalls hanging from his spindly shoulders that appeared as if they’d been broad and muscular when he was a younger man.

  Not seeing recognition of who I was in his eyes, I breathed out a sigh of relief and glanced up at the small black and white television that hung from a side corner near the register. He was watching the local news, barely paying attention as they rambled on about the weather and crop predictions.

  I made my way down the aisles, grabbing canned food and clearing the bottled water from the shelf. I hadn’t taken the time to check the well before I left the ranch house, but I wasn’t taking the chance that when I returned I’d find that it wasn’t functioning. I could bathe in the lake by the house if need be, but I wouldn’t survive long without fresh water to drink.

  Filling my rickety cart to the point where items were spilling over the sides, I pushed up to the register and waited impatiently as the old man rang up my items. He moved as slow as molasses, and I realized quickly that his hearing wasn’t very good. I’d attempted a few pleasant words, but he kept on scanning the items without acknowledging that I’d spoken at all.

  “In national news, a fugitive is on the run from New York, a woman wanted for the murder of the fiancé of wealthy entrepreneur, Oliver Hendricks…”

  My head shot up to stare at the screen as the anchorwoman rattled on about the one thing I didn’t want the cashier to know about. Praying they didn’t flash my picture on the screen, I reached up to pull the bill of Anthony’s ballcap lower on my head. My prayers went unanswered, and soon, a clear image of Diana and me was flashed on the television.

  “…Celebrity bounty hunters, Gideon and Gage Hollister, have been asked by the New York State Police to apprehend Holly McAllister, who is believed to still be located in the state…”

  My heart was threatening to pound through my chest, and I eyed the cashier, relief settling over my shoulders to see him struggling with the scanning machine, his attention kept away from the television screen.

  Fumbling with the handheld wand, he grumbled to himself as he loaded the packages of bottled water into the cart, the anchorwoman shifting the focus of the story to a press conference that occurred the morning after Diana’s death.

  “…I’m offering a reward of two millions dollars for the capture and return of Holly Mc…”

  Shoved aside by a smirking Gideon, Oliver threw my stepbrother a look of disgust when the spotlight was stolen from the fake emotional speech he’d been prepared to give. My stomach rolled with disgust to see the crocodile tears that streamed down Oliver’s cheeks, catching the sunlight as they slid along his skin.

  …You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Hendricks… Gideon said, the smirk on his face deepening the dimples in his cheeks. “We’ll not only find and apprehend Ms. McAllister, but we’ll do so quickly in order to bring her to justice.” With laughter in his arrogant voice, he said, “You can go ahead and make that check out to Gage and myself.”

  I glared up at the screen, my heart dropping into my feet beneath the weight of the knowledge that my stepbrothers were, in fact, on this case. I knew them well enough to know that they would stop at nothing to find me. It didn’t matter that I was family. Their reputations as bounty hunters were on the line.

  I’m sure they would have no problem wiping away any guilty tears they shed with the two million dollars they’d be making from their capture.

  As Gideon rambled on to the adoring crowd, I forced my eyes away from the screen and back to the cashier. He finally finished ringing up my items and looked up to me to say, “That’ll be one hundred and twenty-three dollars, ma’am.”

  Pulling the cash from my pocket, I smiled weakly and counted out the cash, my eyes locked to his fac
e as he peered up at the television screen. I couldn’t risk them flashing my picture again and the cashier recognizing me, so I thought fast, my hand reaching out to knock over a small candy bar display from the counter. The metal rack went crashing down to the floor and I faked surprise, exclaiming, “Oh! I’m so sorry! I’m such a klutz.”

  The man grumbled under his breath before bending over to pick up the candy. Slapping the money on the counter, I apologized again, grabbed the cart and hauled my ass the hell out of Dodge.

  * * *

  Back at the ranch, I unloaded my groceries before covering the car with an old tarp I found in the barn. Critters squeaked as I disrupted their home, my skin crawling to see several large rats scurrying about in search of shadowed corners in which to hide.

  Normally, the sight of anything furry wouldn’t bother me so much, but I knew that where there were rats, there would be snakes, and I danced about hoping that I didn’t stumble upon something poisonous. I didn’t have the proper footwear to prevent a snakebite, and I was becoming acutely aware of the fact that I wasn’t prepared at all for hiding out at an abandoned ranch.

  After lugging everything inside of the house, I glanced out of one of the busted windows to see that the sun would soon be setting over the horizon. I needed to hurry if I wanted to clean the place up and start a fire in order to heat my food and stay warm as much as possible for the night. I decided to check the well in the morning to see if it was still operational, and I hated that I hadn’t had a bath in a little over three days.

  Quickly scrambling about, I picked up all the beer bottles and trash, the glass clinking together as I filled the trash bags I’d purchased. By the time the place was as clean as it was going to get, I dragged the bags onto the back porch and set out to find kindling for a fire.

  Gathering kindling didn’t take very long, thanks to the lack of care that had been taken with the property. Dragging the wood and dead grass inside, I loaded it into the hearth and prayed that the masonry was still strong enough to contain the flames. These houses were built well, back in the day, so I wasn’t extremely worried, but I knew that if a chimney fire occurred, I’d be running for my life once again, this time with no destination to run to.

  The fire started blazing just as the sun set, and the only light I had was the dancing flames. The oranges and reds blazed inside the brick fireplace, casting ominous shadows over the interior walls. Wind started howling in through the broken windows, which caused the flames to jump higher than I’d intended.

  Next to the hearth was a small cast iron, dutch oven that I remembered my father using to cook our meals on the nights my mother wanted a more rustic experience for me to enjoy. I was thankful that intruders hadn’t stolen this piece of my history because it would keep me fed while I was here, plus it reminded me of the good times I’d had as a little girl.

  Filling the pot with different canned vegetables and beef that I’d purchased, I threw together stew, placed the lid back on the dutch oven, and shoved it into the hearth above the flames. It wouldn’t take long for the food to heat, so I leaned back on my elbows and watched the flames dance around the black cast iron.

  Fifteen minutes later and I was eating directly from the cast iron with a plastic spoon I’d had the foresight to purchase from the Dodge Store. The food hit my stomach like a rock, my tummy grumbling because it had been at least two days since I’d last eaten.

  Recovering the pot, I placed it to the side, wishing like hell that I had someplace cool where I could store the leftovers. I knew the food wouldn’t go bad overnight, so I planned on finishing it up for breakfast.

  Living off the land wasn’t an easy task, and I was lucky to have some money to hold me over until I could determine a better plan of survival. My grandparents had taught me how to hunt and trap, and they’d taught me what plants could be consumed and which ones should be avoided. I’d be able to survive out here at least until winter, but I hoped that it wouldn’t take that long for me to figure out how to prove my innocence.

  Anger slithered along my spine at the thought of Oliver sitting back in his mansion, laughing to himself for having killed off Diana for the insurance money and having the dumb luck of blaming the murder on me. I was sure that he planned to claim she’d gone overboard after too much to drink, but I’d ruined that plan by witnessing the murder.

  Now I was on the run and the asshole was probably already moving on to the next poor soul that he would plan to marry and kill.

  The night edged on and I stepped out onto the porch, enjoying the cool wind on my face as the full moon climbed higher into the night sky. Out here, you could see a million stars sparkling in the ink black night and their beauty wasn’t lost on me despite my crappy mood.

  My thoughts were scattered between the past and the present, agony and heartache creeping up when I thought about my father, anger and fear overshadowing that loss when I thought about Oliver and my stepbrothers.

  I didn’t know if Gideon and Gage were smart enough to find me out here, and I hoped they stayed north for at least a few weeks believing that I would have run to a friend or remained in the area. They didn’t know me that well, and I was sure that they were arrogant enough to believe that a woman couldn’t survive on her own in the wilderness.

  Sure, the ranch wasn’t exactly the wilderness, but it was close enough to having nothing to call your own.

  My eyelids felt like heavy blankets and I decided to get some sleep. Almost as soon as I stepped foot through the front door of the ranch house, several lights beamed in my direction from the distance.

  I turned to watch as those lights multiplied and grew closer, quickly realizing that they were headlights from multiple cars. Music filtered through the air, growing louder as the cars approached.

  My heart was beating a staccato rhythm, every muscle in my body stiffening as I wondered if the police had found me after all. From the sound of the music, it wasn’t police cars that were pulling onto the property and it took me only another few seconds to realize that it was kids returning to the house where they liked to party.

  Cursing under my breath, I ran inside and grabbed the fire poker from the mantle of the hearth. It wasn’t the best weapon to have on hand, but it was the only thing I could find as I rushed to find someplace to hide.

  Creeping upstairs, I fled to the back bedroom and threw open the closet door. Spiderwebs covered my skin as I climbed inside, but I had to ignore my fear of eight legged creatures because they weren’t as dangerous as the loud teenagers who were pulling up to the house.

  I’d barely had time to close the closet door when I heard a chorus of young voices coming into the house. Girls were laughing as their men teased and taunted them, someone mentioning quickly that a fire had been started in the fireplace.

  “Well, shouldn’t we look around or something? Somebody was obviously here recently.”

  He was a smart kid, but fortunately for me, his buddies weren’t as intelligent.

  “Whoever the fuck it was is obviously gone, so who gives a fuck? Break out the beer and let’s get this show on.”

  My body was trembling, my hand wrapped so tightly around the iron fire poker that I thought my skin would split. My breath beat out of my lungs in quick plumes and I prayed I didn’t feel something crawling in my hair or over my skin.

  I leaned against the back wall of the closet with tears streaming down my cheeks.

  How the fuck had this happened?

  No matter what I did or where I went, it seemed like all the luck I’d had in life had run out.

  Chapter Four

  “Dad wants to see us,” Gideon said the morning after the press conference. We’d spent the night coming up with anything we could remember about our errant stepsister, Holly. It was always step one when pursuing a fugitive, compiling an idea of who they were.

  It was funny though, after being loosely related to her all these years, neither one of us really knew much about her at all.

  We both agree
d on one thing though. We didn’t think she had done it.

  “What does he want?” I asked, shoving a pile of papers towards him. It was the bounty contract our agent had sent over. I’d signed it, and now Gideon needed his name on it to secure our funding.

  “He’s pissed. What do you think he wants?”

  Gideon bent over and signed the forms. I folded them back in a manila envelope and left them at Richard’s spot at the table. He would be in later to get everything together and arrange the filming schedule.

  Until then, we would wait a while longer before we made our first trip looking for our wayward stepsister.

  “Did you tell him it’s all business?” I asked and sat back in my chair. Our large dining room always became the operations base on any case we took. I can’t remember a single meal eaten at the large oak banquet table. Neither Gideon nor myself seemed to have time to sit down and eat, let alone time for formal dinners in our home.

  We lived on the top two floors in a penthouse near our parents. It was prime New York real estate, a gift from our late grandfather, the Texas oil Barron, Chance Hollister. We were extremely well set up even before the bounty hunter rewards started to trickle in, and now that we had a show, we could retire at any time, if we felt like it.

  We never felt like it though, we thrived on the adrenaline rush of catching the bad guys, and loved the fame and attention brought from the TV series. Ever since we were little kids, we’d been the cops and robbers type. We got to live the fantasy, without the commitment to the police academy or the rules that constrained anyone in law enforcement.

  It was a pretty bad ass job.

  “He wants us to come over there as soon as possible,” he told me, “I guess Madeline is pretty upset.”

  Madeline was Holly’s mom, our father’s third wife and the longest lasting out of the trio so far. Our father wasn’t exactly known for being faithful or attentive, but he had enough money that most women could look the other way.