Forsaken

by Sarah Ballance

  Colt closed one eye in a sadistic wink as he stared down the barrel, then lowered the weapon he’d pulled from beside the chair and cradled it like it was a child.

  Still, she didn’t breathe. “What are you going to do?”

  He gave a chilling laugh. “Not sure. I guess you could say my plans went awry. I figured I’d kill Gage, let you sit in jail for his murder, and I’d walk away from the whole lot of you. Time for Plan B. How about you give lover boy a call and see if he wants to join the party?” Colt picked up a bottle from beside the chair. Only then did Riley notice empties strewn on the floor.

  Great. Now he was drunk. “You killed Dawson.” It wasn’t a question.

  He turned up the bottle and drained it, then threw it to the floor. “Aw, come on little sister. Don’t tell me you were sleeping with the sheriff too?” He stood, and to her disbelief, he took several steps toward her. Holding out his hands, he grinned and said, “See? Almost like new.”

  She backed until she hit the table she’d dropped her keys on two days before.

  Colt followed, only stopping when his face was inches from hers. Then he smirked and turned for the kitchen.

  Riley clutched her bag and sank to the floor. Colt recovered. Colt walked. Colt…threatened her. And he had killed two men.

  Gage.

  Then she remembered her cell phone. It had a full charge when she slipped it under the plant stand before fleeing. Hands shaking, she fumbled with her fingers to retrieve it from beneath the low shelf and pressed the power button. She had just enough time to dial 9-1-1 before Colt slammed the refrigerator door and returned from the kitchen, another bottle in hand. Leaving the connection open, she pushed the phone back under the plant stand before he could see what she was doing and prayed somehow someone would come.

  Taking in the anger in Colt’s expression, she amended the prayer for her rescuer to be someone other than Gage.

  Colt stood at the front window, staring out. “Things can turn on a dime, can’t they?”

  Small talk? He wanted to engage her in small talk?

  “Whattsa matter?” he asked without looking at her. “You’re not happy to see me? Not proud of your big brother? Overcame a hell of a lot, you know.”

  He had. And they could have moved on, if not for his thirst for revenge. Damn him. She stared until her pity for what the accident had taken from Colt boiled into disgust. “You really would have killed Gage?”

  He turned from the window, a sick smirk on his face. “Nope. I will kill Gage.”

  “And how does that make you any better than he is?” she dared ask.

  “Who cares? Ever heard of an eye for an eye?”

  A bitter chill slithered through her. Those were Gage’s exact words when he’d appeared in that very room, his own gun trained on her skull.

  Colt crossed the hardwood, abandoning the window for the corner and the chair where the Sharps waited. “Funny thing is, I didn’t mean to kill Billy Lawton, but it works out just fine. Two sets of eyes, you know.” His tone turned bitter, and he dropped in the recliner. “One for mom, one for dad. The sheriff was just icing.”

  Lovely. “They’d be so proud,” she said.

  Colt grabbed the rifle, faltering with the sudden movement. Whether it was from the beer or his old injuries, she didn’t know.

  Before he could once again train the heavy weapon on her, she felt for Gage’s gun in her bag and raised it, pointing it at Colt’s chest.

  To her surprise, he laughed. “Not scared, little sister. You never were much with the hand guns—but the long ones?” He grinned and gestured with the Sharps. “Best damn shot I know. Besides, you’d never shoot me. Not after living with all of that guilt all these months. You might be heartless enough to talk yourself out of blame for the past, but now?” He waved the rifle in an upright circle. “Kind of hard to deny culpability when you pull the trigger.”

  Hands shaking, back against the wall, arms propped on her knees as she sat on the floor, she stared him down over the barrel of Gage’s revolver. “There’s a big difference between an accident and cold-blooded murder,” she said.

  Colt laughed. “Still defending lover boy? He lied to you. He never quit drinking.”

  “We’ve covered that. But whether he was honest with me or not, I know he wasn’t drinking the night Mama and Daddy died.”

  “Yeah? And just how can you be so sure?”

  “Other than being with him all day, you asshole, I kissed him. Didn’t taste a thing. Also of note, he passed the BAC.”

  Hatred flashed deep in his eyes, but before he could speak, the rush of tires on gravel drew his attention to the window. From her vantage point on the floor, she couldn’t see who pulled up, but from the urgent roar of gravel flying, she could guess.

  Gage.

  Colt grinned. “Well, lookey here. He was even quicker than I expected.” With a sick laugh, he dropped the beer to the floor and hoisted the Sharps, taking aim through the broken window. He winced as though it pained him to lift the gun, but that didn’t stop him from stealing a hard eye down the barrel.

  She didn’t dare doubt he meant business, and only one thing stood between Gage and that bullet: her.

  When the roar of a gunshot shattered the silence, she didn’t blink.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gage hit the ground rolling. Was someone shooting at him, or…Riley! He crawled between two vehicles, unsure of the direction of the gunshot. Behind him, sirens wailed. It was about time. Considering proximity, they should have been there first.

  Hopefully none of them were too late.

  Shoving common sense aside, he ran to the house. If Riley had been shot, every second counted. He didn’t have time to question his sanity, because he knew nothing mattered without her. His life meant nothing if…no.

  He drew to the corner of the porch, backing into the crevice between the house and the door. He allowed himself a split second to wonder what his next move should be. Had the shot come from indoors or out? It didn’t matter. Riley had to be there, and because he couldn’t see her from where he stood, he was going in.

  He ripped the crime scene tape from the door casement, wishing like hell he had his gun. As it was, he was going up against at least one firearm empty-handed, so he’d have to rely—stupidly—on the element of surprise.

  Making as little noise as possible, he tried the lock.

  The knob turned in his hand.

  Emergency lights flashed at the end of the driveway. He was out of time. He wasn’t about to go explain himself or get shot trying, which left him with one choice. He threw open the door.

  The first thing he saw was Riley. She stood shaking from head to toe, but her outstretched arms were steady. At the end of them, locked in a white-knuckled grip, was his gun.

  Across the room, Colt lay still on the floor in front of the broken picture window. His thigh was soaked with blood, the stain spreading rapidly over the denim. His eyes hard and wide—laced with shock—he fixed his gaze on Riley, his face ashen.

  The Sharps lay next to him, well within reach. Had Colt noticed it?

  Gage spoke slowly, forcing calm he didn’t feel to infiltrate his voice. “Everything is okay, Riley. Everything is fine. Just keep the gun on him, okay?” Gage didn’t mention the part about getting the rifle out of Colt’s reach, not wanting to give him any ideas.

  Without waiting for an answer from Riley, Gage edged across the room. Keeping a careful eye on the man he used to call a friend, Gage stuck out his foot to kick the Sharps away from Colt.

  Just as his boot touched the barrel, his leg was jerked from under him.

  Gage barely heard Riley scream through a white noise of panic. Colt had his hands on the gun, and Gage didn’t want to think of the damage that rifle would do at close range—or of the potential for disaster if Riley got trigger-happy with his revolve
r.

  Thrown off balance by Colt’s attack, Gage came down hard, his wounded shoulder hitting the hardwood before he could break the fall. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t have the luxury of caring. For a man who was supposed to have no feeling in his arms, Colt put up a hell of a fight. The rifle was too long to be pointed at either one of them, so they were stuck at an impasse, the barrel jostling between them as they battled for control of the weapon.

  Their tug-of-war was going nowhere fast. Gage didn’t want to risk taking a hand off the gun, leaving him with just one advantage: position. He scrambled on his knees until one came down on Colt’s wounded thigh, the other landing in efficient proximity to his groin. Gage knew he’d hit pay dirt when Colt grunted, his grip loosening on the rifle. He didn’t wait for a written invitation—he jerked hard on the gun, tumbling away from Colt in the process.

  This time, when his shoulder hit the floor, he felt the pain rattling everything from his teeth to his toes. “Watch him,” he said to Riley, his limbs shaking with the effort of getting to his knees. As soon as he had his bearings, he grabbed the butt of the gun and pushed it toward the front door.

  Colt would have to come through him to get to it.

  Only then did Gage breathe.

  Then the noise broke through. Sirens, shouted ultimatums, doors slamming—a barrage of sound careening through the shattered sanctuary of Riley’s childhood home.

  “Cell phone under the plant,” she said, her voice shaking. “It’s nine-one-one. Tell them it’s okay.”

  He found the plant, leaned down and felt for the phone. When he touched the screen and saw a call was connected, he gave her a questioning look. But it didn’t go further than the back of her head, and he suspected he wouldn’t be able to draw her attention from her brother if he tried.

  “This is Gage Lawton,” he said into the line. He gave Riley’s address. “Tell the cops to stand down. We’re unarmed, and we’re coming out. Hands up, the whole nine yards. And send an ambulance. The bad guy took a bullet to the thigh.”

  Ignoring the cries of “Sir? Sir?” emanating from the device, he set the phone on the table.

  “It’s over, Riley,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get Colt some help for that gunshot.” He put his arms around her and gently untangled the gun from her grip. “We need to go outside, hands up, all that jazz. Everything is okay.” God, this had to be killing her.

  She let him take the gun. He set it on the floor near the front door and put the Sharps down next to it. With his foot, he pushed one gun then the other through the open doorway. Looking at Riley, he said, “I’m sorry. I’d change it all if I could.”

  She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “Forget it, Gage. It’s over.”

  It’s over. Was she talking about Colt, or… The thought sliced through him, that simple phrase as potentially devastating as any he’d ever heard. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed her forgiveness—how much he counted on it—but he didn’t have time to contemplate the emptiness inside. Motion through the doorway caught his eye. Swallowing his questions and his regrets, he held his hands to the side and walked onto the porch ahead of Riley, wondering why the hell those words had to be so final.

  Riley spent the next six hours fielding questions for which she had no real answers.

  No, she didn’t know her brother wasn’t in the rehab facility. No, she hadn’t talked to him in over nine months, and no, she had no idea he’d recovered. As for why he’d done it, she could only guess it was bitterness. Revenge.

  Spite.

  Whatever it was, it broke her heart. It was one thing to lose him due to a rift—that much she largely understood. In her heart she couldn’t believe he’d kill her, but the fact remained he murdered two innocent men and had—in the most literal sense—set his sights on Gage.

  Where had they gone wrong? In her mind, Colt was still her big brother—her hero. Her thoughts drifted back, years ago, to the day her father said the Sharps was too heavy for twelve-year-old Riley. Colt had sneaked it out of the house and taught her to load the black powder until she aced the process, then steadied her young arms until they grew strong enough to control the gun without his help.

  Colt had taught her to shoot with that old Sharps.

  Now, he just wanted to hurt her with it.

  He’d survive her gunshot, but she wasn’t sure how he’d fare with two cold-blooded murders to his name, including that of the sheriff. That would be up to the courts. As for why Colt couldn’t just get better and go on with his life, she’d never understand. Would she ever stop wondering why, or what she should have done differently?

  When the Barefoot police department finally released her from the interrogation room, Gage was standing in the hall outside her door. His arm had bled again, the stain now dull and damp on his sleeve. He’d run his fingers through his hair a few times, and the five o’clock shadow he routinely wore was rapidly pushing midnight.

  But he was gorgeous.

  He looked up, offering a cautious grin. “Not so good to get hauled in with a wallet full of fake identification—especially after riding into town in a stolen truck.”

  She tried to smile. “Yet you got out before I did.”

  Instead of replying, he opened his arms to her and pulled her against his chest.

  Riley sank against him, finding solace in the quickening of his heartbeat, the strength of his hold. Through the dirt and the sweat and the fear, she found a place of belonging—not the police station, so much, but with him. Anywhere.

  After a long moment, he kissed the top of her head and turned, leading her toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Maverick waited for them on a bench outside the police station, his head in his hands. As they neared, he looked up. “You two finished?”

  Riley winced at the double meaning. Were they?

  From the look Gage gave her, she’d have sworn he wondered the same thing.

  He spoke first. “Hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

  Maverick laughed. “You know damn well you’re a colossal pain in my ass.” Glancing at Riley, he added, “Sorry for the language.”

  “I’ve heard worse.”

  Gage snorted. “Are you kidding me? You’ve said worse.” Dodging a swat, he turned his attention to Maverick. “So what’s the verdict?”

  “They’ll spend months putting all of this together, so consider this preliminary. Looks like Colt and Tom staged the accident so they could switch Colt and Jake.”

  “Another accident?” Riley asked.

  “Colt’s transport to rehab T-boned another car,” Gage said. “The driver was taken to the hospital. Apparently, they switched bodies in the confusion, and then Jake rode to the new facility in Colt’s place.”

  “And the rehab people never noticed?” Riley asked.

  “How would they? It’s a residential facility,” Maverick said. “They might have taken his vitals, but they weren’t running medical tests or anything. At least not on Colt…or Jake, rather. And if they had, who’s to say they’d have noticed any anomalies? They’d have to make a direct comparison to do so.”

  “Besides that,” Gage added. “Jake was a dead ringer for Colt. Even when I was within arm’s reach, I didn’t recognize the difference between them until I saw a tattoo.”

  Riley frowned. “Colt said he moved in with Tom. But why would he hide his recovery? Why not get better and…and live?”

  “Revenge. Maybe he planned all along to set you guys up,” Maverick said. “Kind of hard to be pinned for murder when you can’t move your arms or legs.”

  Gage shook his head. “I’m almost impressed.”

  “All right, folks.” Maverick slapped his knees and stood. “The truck I loaned you has been confiscated.” He cleared his throat. “And Tehcotah Rehab isn’t pressing charges, but the joyride is over. Looks like
I’m playing taxi. Where to? Law says anywhere in the county is okay with them, but no further than the line.”

  Riley and Gage exchanged glances. “Home,” she said.

  “Home?” Maverick asked. “I stand corrected. Almost anywhere in the county. You’ve got brand new crime scene tape up and direct orders not to cross it.”

  “No,” she said, her voice soft. “Wherever Gage is going. Home.”

  Gage’s boyish grin lit the night.

  “If he’ll have me,” she added shyly.

  Maverick shook his head. “No worries. I’ve spent the last few months listening to all the ways he’d like to have you. Consider yourself in. Or him in. Whatever.”

  Gage snorted. “Geez, man, kill the moment, wouldya?”

  “In my defense, I need to put a damper on it so the moment doesn’t happen in the back seat of my car. Now, where to?”

  Gage looked at Riley and grinned. “That RV still empty?”

  “Yep.”

  “And buy us breakfast before you drop us off?”

  Maverick shook his head and led the way to his car. The lights flashed as he unlocked it. “You’re a pain in the ass, Lawton.”

  “And one more thing,” Gage said as they piled in the car.

  “Isn’t there always?” Maverick sighed. “Now what?”

  “I’m gonna need a truck.”

  “We need to talk.”

  Gage glanced to the source of those softly spoken words. Riley. She never failed to take away his breath, but if he wanted to wax poetic he’d swear she also held a piece of his soul. For that reason, though his heart stuttered at the sight of her, the words that fell from those gorgeous lips left a hole in his chest. “You do realize that’s on the top ten list of things you should never say to a man?”

  They were back in the RV. Gage would have preferred a room with a view—or at least an ounce of sunlight—but Barefoot, Oklahoma was fresh out of luxurious hotel suites. Already, he was planning where to take her when they were released from the confines of the county lines. Aspen, maybe. Or the Canadian Rockies. She’d mentioned once that she wanted to go skiing. If he went careening down a mountain and broke every bone in his body, maybe she’d treat him to a sponge bath.