by Kate Kinsley
Once I get used to the rhythm of his footsteps, I grow more comfortable. It’s not as bad as I envisioned it, although she’s taking it easy on me.
The walk takes about half an hour before we get to the wooded area, and she keeps going down a path. At the end of the trail is a clearing and a lake with a thin, wooden pier. The water mirrors the sky above. Around the edges are pines, chaotic in their spacing, but never more than a few feet without a tree. The only sounds are the soft whispering of the trees and the random chirping of a bird.
It’s breathtaking.
Dismounting off her horse, she ties the reigns to a nearby tree.
I do the same and secure Spartan.
Unbuckling the saddle bag from Lacey, she swings it over her head and walks to the end of the makeshift dock.
“I didn’t realize this was part of your ranch,” I admit, admiring my surroundings. It’s quiet and picturesque, like living inside a painting. I follow her and take a seat beside her.
“It goes to the edge of the lake,” she says, pointing to the other side. “The cattle come down here sometimes for water.” She unpacks a plate of cheese and a bottle of Shiraz. After she uncorks the bottle, she pours us each a glass.
“It’s beautiful here,” I murmur. Looking down into the crystal-clear water, I observe the stones at the bottom. There are as many hues of brown and grey as there are on a painter's wheel, with some sprinkles of red and white. Nothing like the lakes in New Jersey.
“That’s why I wanted to show you. I come here when I’m stressed or need a time out.” I glance back up at her just as she’s handing me a glass of the dark, burgundy colored liquid. Holding up her glass, she toasts, “Here’s to new beginnings.”
We clink our glasses and sip the peppery flavored wine. Shifting, she leans into me, and her shoulders and neck muscles relax.
It’s a perfect place—with the perfect person.
Ryan
It’s been two weeks, and I’m finally starting to get the hang of this rancher stuff. Even though I’m not required to, according to Montana, I still like to help out with some of the manual labor. It saves me from going to the gym and Brandi told me as long as I don’t exert myself, it’ll be good for me. My grip has increased since starting my physical therapy, and lifting bales of hay is harder than any of those exercises she has me do.
We’d just finished a late lunch and I’m about to engage in conversation with Mike when a scream comes from the house. Not an “I dropped a bottle” scream, but a “fear for my life” scream.
Spinning, I sprint through the barn and down the stone path. I throw open the back door and look for Montana. “Abby, where are you?”
“In here,” she shrieks from the opposite end of the house. Sounds like she’s in Avery’s room. I make it across the house in seconds, and find Montana holding a crying Avery. “Careful,” she says, pointing to the floor. There’s broken pieces of pottery and glass everywhere.
“What happened?”
“I was doing laundry and I heard a noise in Avery’s room. She’s notorious for pretending to nap, so I went to check on her,” she sobs, trying to wipe away the tears with one arm. “There was a man standing over her bed. At first, I thought it was you, but he had a ski mask on.”
I don’t need to hear any more.
“Where did he go?”
“When I screamed, he spun around, so I hit him with a lamp. He cursed and ran down the hall. I don’t know where he is now.”
“Stay here,” I command. “Do not move. I’ll be right back.” If there was a time I wish I had my sidearm, today is it. I’m a perfect shot with my right hand—using my left will at least get me an injured intruder.
I search room after room, but come up empty. Just as I’m about to go check on Montana, I hear a noise from the living room window. Looking outside, I see a figure running down the long driveway toward a vehicle. I throw open the front door in an attempt to chase him down. The intruder gets into the front passenger side of a four-door black sedan, and the car skids away from the house.
I stop and memorize the license plate.
Now, I need to check on the girls.
Jogging back to the house, I head straight for Avery’s room. The toddler is sitting up looking at a picture book on her bed as Montana squats to pick up the broken pieces of lamp. “You all right?” I ask, bending down to help her.
“Yes…I mean…I don’t know.” Falling to her knees, she begins to cry.
I glance over at Avery, who’s immersed in her story. Looking back to Montana, I kneel next to her and pull her into me. She throws her arms around my neck and sobs into my chest.
“I’ll find whoever did this. I promise,” I whisper into her hair as I rock her back and forth.
With a little patience, I finally get her to relax and stop crying. She lifts her head, looking up at me with tear-stained cheeks.
Large, liquid hazel eyes that hold such an intelligence and serenity, it’s impossible for me not to be held prisoner by them.
Even when she’s crying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t apologize.” I stand, then help her to her feet. “I got a plate. You have a friend in the police department, right?”
“I do,” she answers, surprised I knew that little fact.
“Call him. I think it’s time we meet.”
Abigail
Falling into his arms like a damsel in distress is so unlike me.
Thing is, it felt right.
I felt completely safe for the first time in months, if not years.
I’m as anxious as Ryan is to find out the asshole who was in my house, so I call Tanner.
“Abigail, you all right?” he asks. I never call him during working hours unless it’s an emergency—and there have been a few of those over the last six months.
“No,” I answer, sitting down on the bar stool at the end of the island. Ryan watches me from the doorway. “Can you come to the ranch? Something’s happened and I don’t want to discuss it over the phone.”
“Yeah. Can you give me about fifteen minutes?”
I nod as I answer, “Sure.”
“See you in a few.” Then the line goes dead. I toss the phone on the kitchen island and place my hands over my nose with my elbows on the counter.
“Let me go check on Avery,” Ryan says as he walks toward her bedroom. As he passes me, he brushes his hand along my arm.
There's that static again.
That crackling in the air that happens whenever I get within a foot of him. It’s enough to make the little baby hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I stand and shuffle to the refrigerator, pouring myself a glass of white wine. I don’t drink often, but today, it’s justified.
As I sit back down, Ryan returns with Avery—or I should say Avery returns with Ryan. Her tiny fingers are wrapped around his huge index finger as she leads him into the living room. Pointing to the television, she says, “Cartoons.” He complies, picking up the remote and turning it on. She claps when her show comes into view.
“Care to join me?” I ask as he walks back into the kitchen.
“Sure. Don’t get up. Just tell me where the glasses are.”
He moves toward the cabinets. “Second cabinet to the left, bottom shelf.” Locating a glass without a problem, he reaches into the refrigerator and finds the bottle of white wine on the door. After he’s poured himself a glass, he takes a seat next to me. “Tanner should be here in a few minutes,” I tell him between sips.
“You think he’ll be able to help? I can always call—”
“Let’s see what he has to say. Could just be a random break in.” Saying it out loud doesn’t help me to convince myself.
He was in Avery’s room.
He knew what he wanted and where it was located.
That makes my skin crawl.
“All right.”
Just as I finish my glass and I’m about to get up for an
other one, there’s a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Ryan commands, moving toward the entrance before I can object.
Standing, I peek into the living room. Avery is entranced as usual with her favorite Disney show. I pour myself another glass just as the two men walk back into the kitchen. Tanner moves toward me and pulls me into an embrace. “Ryan told me what happened, are you all right?”
“Yeah. Just a little shaken up,” I answer, holding the glass of wine in the air.
“You didn’t get a good look at him?” Tanner asks as I sit back down. He takes out a small notebook and a pen from his back pocket.
“No. He had a ski mask on and was wearing all black.” Tanner takes the seat across from me and writes down all the information, including the make of the vehicle, and the license plate Ryan got off the getaway car.
“Give me a minute. I’m gonna call this in and see if the car was stolen or if the idiots used their own car.” He stands and pulls out his cell phone from his jacket pocket, then walks toward the front door to make his call.
“What do you think?” I ask Ryan, who’s standing next to me.
“I don’t know. I’m not familiar with this part of the country. If this happened in Jersey, the car would’ve definitely been stolen.”
Ever since the masked man left, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something’s off. That this wasn’t some random break in. My gut tells me Danny’s involved…but he’s in prison.
Tanner walks back into the kitchen, his face grim. “What is it?” I whisper.
“Well, the plates on the car definitely didn’t belong to the vehicle Ryan saw,” he starts, taking a seat at the counter. Turning to Ryan, he says, “Are you sure you saw a black sedan?”
“Clear as day.”
“Well, the plate should be on a white SUV.” Tanner places his elbows on the counter and intertwines his fingers. Leaning his chin on his thumbs, he adds, “The white truck was reported stolen.”
“I had a feeling that plate wasn’t going to turn up anything,” Ryan mumbles, moving to stand behind me. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he starts to knead my knotted muscles.
“There’s more,” Tanner sighs.
“Spill it,” I insist, rolling my neck.
He takes a deep breath, then says, “Danny’s lawyers got his case dismissed.”
I tense underneath Ryan’s skilled fingers. “Wait. How is that possible?”
“It appears there was a break in the chain of custody.” Tanner runs his fingers through his short hair, appearing just as frustrated as I am.
“Wait—what exactly does that mean?” I ask, confused.
Placing his hands flat on the counter, Tanner explains, “The chain of custody for evidence is a paper trail that documents who collected, handled, analyzed, or otherwise controlled pieces of evidence during an investigation. In order to keep these standards, it’s crucial that the chain of custody is an unbroken trail without any gaps.”
“So, where was the gap or discrepancy?” Ryan asks Tanner as he continues to work on my twisted muscles.
“I can’t prove it, but I’m pretty sure Richard had someone on the inside mislabel his blood test bag, deeming it inadmissible.”
“Mislabel how?”
“Well, it disappeared.” Tanner’s face twists as he shrugs.
“We all know he was shitfaced! I watched him drive away with my daughter after he’d had at least a bottle of bourbon! To go and get her ice cream for Christ sake. He hit and killed that innocent woman!” My voice increases in volume with each word uttered, and I bite the inside of my lip to try to calm down. I don’t need Avery getting upset.
“Without that blood test, it’s hearsay. According to his lawyers, the woman ran a red light.” The look on Tanner’s face says it all. His eyes drift to the floor as he clenches his jaw.
He’s given up.
Danny wins.
Again.
“Wait. Who the hell is Richard?” Ryan asks.
“Richard is my ex-father-in-law,” I snap. “He absolutely had something to do with this! Tanner, there must be something we can do!”
“It’s too late. His team of lawyers already filed the motion to dismiss.”
“When?” I blurt, fear paralyzing me.
“Yesterday morning. Danny was released last night.”
The absolute horror of Danny being released completely immobilizes me. The more I think about him roaming free, the more I feel discouraged and utterly terrified. “He came for her,” I whisper under my breath. “It was Danny.”
“Abigail, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Tanner says, trying to calm me down. “He’s not that stupid. He knows you have a restraining order against him and Avery is in your sole custody.”
“He won’t care. His family has money. He’ll take her far away.” This can’t be happening. It’s my worst nightmare come to life.
Tanner reaches across the table, placing his large hand in my tiny one. “I’ll request surveillance on Danny. If he sneezes, I’ll know about it. In the meantime, stay home—it’s the safest place to be right now.” Releasing me, he stands and turns to Ryan. “Keep her safe,” he mutters as he walks toward the front door.
“Always,” he whispers back.
Ryan
As Tanner exits, I turn back toward Montana. Her emotions are evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. I glance past her to check on Avery. She’s still content watching some cartoon with talking puppies.
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I whisper, “He’ll never hurt you again.” She’s staring down at the counter, refusing to look at me. Using my index finger, I gently lift her chin. Those beautiful irises are filled with pain. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Avery. He’ll need to kill me first.”
It's as if my words snap her out of some trance she was in. As I look into her eyes, all the beauty of the universe could never compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turns her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them, I see she would fight to the end for her life.
Fight for Avery.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. All I want to do is comfort Montana—and kissing her is the only way I know how. I lean in, slow at first, making sure she’s aware of my intentions. Arching in a little closer, our foreheads touch. Christ, I can’t fight against the thoughts running through me. Her very smell floods my senses, and I’m momentarily frozen. When she doesn’t back away or try to stop me, my lips touch hers. We kiss, and the world falls away. It’s slow and soft and comforting in ways words could never be. Sparks fly in every direction, and warmth spreads throughout my entire body.
I dedicate my life to being with her from this moment. If I lost her, I would lose myself.
It’s over before it began.
As she breaks away, she whispers, “Thank you.”
Her smile is breathtaking.
Standing straight, I run my fingers through my hair. “For what?”
“For being here.” She backs up, then turns her attention to Avery, who’s still sitting quietly on the floor. With a quick glance my direction, she adds, “For reminding me I’m not alone.”
Montana squats down on the floor next to Avery. “Momma, I hungy,” she states, her eyes still glued to the television.
“What do you want for dinner, peanut?” She reaches over and tucks a stray lock of Avery’s golden hair behind her ear.
“Chicken nuggets,” she answers as she swats her mother’s hand away.
“Give me a few minutes.” Montana stands and comes back into the kitchen. “You hungry?” she asks, opening the freezer.
“I’m good. Still full from lunch.” Pulling out a bag of nuggets, she arranges a few on a tray. “I think I’m going to go for a walk outside.” She nods, then places the tray in the toaster oven.
Exiting the front door, I stand on the porch looking down the long driveway. Night has fallen fast upon the land. No more than a
n hour ago, the sky was painted in hues of red, orange and pink, but all color has faded, leaving only a matt black canvas with no stars to be looked upon. I don’t like how dark the front of the property is. Anyone could sneak up and I wouldn’t know it until it was too late. First thing tomorrow, I’m installing motion sensor floodlights and an alarm system.
No one is going to get into this house without me knowing it.
Ever again.
Early the next morning, I make the trip to purchase motion sensor lights and a security system. I was able to find a Home Depot about an hour outside of Eagle Rock and get everything I need. As I reach the top of the driveway and park the truck, Montana is exiting the house with Avery. “Preschool,” she mouths as she walks by with the toddler.
Good.
I don’t want her complaining about how much I spent.
She’s getting these updates whether she likes it or not.
I spend the majority of the morning hanging flood lights with the help of Trey. I purchased six—just enough to make the front of the house light up like a stadium. The security system is easy enough to install. I made sure to purchase the one that comes with an app for your phone. She can see who’s at the door without opening it, and talk to them as well.
Technology is an amazing thing.
As if she’s psychic, she pulls up as I’m installing the last of the cameras. “You hungry? You missed breakfast,” she says, watching me, her hands on her hips.
“What?” I ask with the most innocent voice I can muster.
“What is all this?” Her eyes roam from light fixture to light fixture. Good thing she hasn’t seen the—
“And what is that?” she asks, pointing to the front door.
“I told you I was going to take care of this. The front porch is too dark, you needed more lights.”
“No one comes here! And I like it dark.”
“Yeah. So do intruders,” I counter.
Her eyes narrow as her mouth twists, folding her arms across her chest. “This must have cost a fortune,” she mutters, displeased.
