High-Caliber Cowboy

by B. J Daniels

  The night was black, the clouds low and dark. Behind the pickup, dust rose like ghosts chasing after them.

  He tried not to drive too fast, but at the same time he wanted to put distance between them and Brookside.

  Anna leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to think.”

  She’d found what appeared to be evidence that her mother had been in the institution. But even more disturbing was finding out that her father had visited Helena during that time.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Mmm,” she said in answer.

  He reached over to cover her hand with his free one. He gave her fingers a light squeeze.

  A lone tear coursed down her cheek. He lifted his hand to thumb it away. He’d noticed earlier that she’d been crying, her face flushed, eyes red.

  He hadn’t said anything, not knowing really what to say. Just as he didn’t know what to say now. The ledger seemed to confirm that her mother had been in Brookside—just as she’d feared. They still didn’t know for how many years she was locked up there, or even if she still might be alive somewhere.

  But the big question the ledger raised was why visit a woman Mason VanHorn supposedly hated so much he’d had locked up?

  Brandon glanced back almost as if he thought some intangible evil might be chasing them. The set of headlights surprised him. Frank Yarrow had gone down first. And since there were no turnoffs and the road ended at Brookside, where had the vehicle come from?

  There hadn’t been another car at Brookside. At least not when they first got there. Was it possible someone had driven up while they were inside?

  In the rearview mirror, he watched the lights growing brighter and brighter as the vehicle grew closer, coming up fast behind them.

  Brandon touched his brakes, hoping the driver could see the flash of his brake lights through the dust. The car didn’t slow. It was headed right for them.

  “What is it?” Anna asked. She was sitting up, staring at him. She glanced back. “There’s someone behind us?”

  “Hang on!”

  “He’s going to ram us,” Anna cried.

  The cab filled with light as what appeared to be a black SUV smashed into the back of the pickup with a jarring crash.

  There was no way to pull off the road or get away from the other vehicle. Brandon fought to keep the truck on the road as he went into another hairpin turn.

  The SUV slammed into the pickup again, this time making it fishtail. The back tires slid toward the edge of the cliff. Brandon turned the wheel and righted the pickup, hitting the gas, hoping to put a little space between them.

  Through the headlights, he could see another sharp curve coming up, remembered it from earlier, knew that was where the vehicle behind them would hit again.

  On one side, he had the mountain; on the other, a cliff that dropped in a tumble of rocks.

  He couldn’t outrun the vehicle behind them and it would be suicide to try.

  But the curve was coming up quickly and if he was hit from behind while in that tight curve—He had only one chance. He glanced over at Anna. “Brace yourself.”

  He punched the gas, spinning the rear wheels as he sped up, churning up as much dust as he could. The SUV’s headlights disappeared behind them in the cloud of dust. He was almost to the curve. He couldn’t see the SUV behind him but he knew it was there, probably coming up fast behind him again. The driver knew the road. He wasn’t trying to scare them. He was trying to kill them.

  Right before the curve, Brandon cut hard into the side of the mountain. Along with the initial impact came a shower of dirt and rocks that flew up over the top of the pickup.

  “Hang on!” he yelled over the thunderous roar as the pickup dug into the mountainside, coming to rest precariously, leaning to one side. If it rolled, they were both dead. An instant later, they were struck from behind, only a glancing blow as the vehicle clipped the back bumper and scraped along the side of the truck as it careered past, taking the side mirror with it.

  Anna let out a sound. Not a scream, but a cry as the other vehicle shot past, barely making the curve.

  Brandon only got a glimpse of the dark-colored SUV, then it was gone.

  “Are you all right?” he cried, looking over at Anna as dust and darkness settled over the pickup.

  She nodded, her eyes wide in the lights from the dash. He reached over and cupped her pale face in his palm. “My God, you’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing. I just hit my head on the window,” she said. “Is he gone?”

  Brandon nodded. “He’s in front of us. He’ll take off, afraid we’ll come after him.” He opened the glove box and pulled out a packet of tissues. “Here.” He pressed several into her hand. “It’s not bleeding badly, but I’m taking you to the clinic to have you checked out anyway.”

  He hurriedly shifted the pickup into reverse. The tires spun for a moment, then caught as he backed up onto the road and sat for a moment, trying to collect himself. That had been too close a call.

  “He tried to kill us,” she said, her voice growing stronger.

  Brandon got the pickup moving, thankful he hadn’t blown a tire or worse. He just wanted off this mountain and away from Brookside.

  * * *

  “MY FATHER DRIVES a dark-colored SUV,” Anna said when they reached the highway. There was no sign of the vehicle that had tried to run them off the road.

  Brandon looked over at her. “A lot of people drive dark-colored SUVs around here. Anyway, he had no way of knowing we were at Brookside.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes swimming in tears. She wiped at them. “When he called me, I told him where I was. He wanted to see me. He said if I’d meet him, he would tell me the truth.”

  Even in the dim light from the dashboard, she could see his shock.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” he said. “Frank Yarrow could have told a number of people he was showing me the building. I don’t believe the person driving that SUV was your father. He’s in his sixties.”

  “And strong as an ox,” she said.

  “But he wouldn’t try to kill you,” Brandon said adamantly.

  She wished she could be so sure.

  At the clinic, he helped Anna inside against her protests that she was fine.

  “Is Dr. Ivers here?” Brandon asked the receptionist.

  “Can you call him?”

  “I’m here,” said a voice behind them. Brandon turned to see Dr. Taylor Ivers. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “She hit her head,” Brandon said.

  “It’s nothing,” Anna protested.

  “Step in here, please,” Dr. Taylor Ivers said as she drew back a curtain in the small emergency area. She let Anna pass, but stopped Brandon. “You may wait out there.”

  She closed the drape in his face.

  The woman was as obstinate as her father, Brandon thought with a curse. He couldn’t sit in one of the half-dozen chairs in the small waiting area. He paced.

  Fortunately, Anna appeared in only a few minutes, a small bandage on her temple. “She said I’m fine, just as I told you.” She glanced back. “I liked her. Didn’t you say her father was a real curmudgeon?”

  He laughed, letting out the breath he’d been holding. Anna was fine. “Taylor has his bedside manner.”

  “She was very nice to me,” Anna said. “She was telling me she might stay here in Antelope Flats and continue her father’s work in infertility.” Anna cocked her head at him. “Maybe it’s just you she doesn’t like,” she joked.

  Brandon glanced back. Dr. Taylor Ivers watched them leave, a frown on her face. He figured it was for him. Anna might have something there. The woman certainly didn’t seem to like him.

  Brandon drove back to the marina. The small fishing boat she’d rented was tied up at the dock. She didn’t see any of her father’s men waiting for them as they climbed into the boat and started across the lake in the darkness.

  The lake was quiet. Ligh
ts glittered along the shore. Campfires flared from in the pines, and she could smell the smoke and the water. She heard the murmur of voices around the campfires and music carrying on the summer night air, the sound broken only occasionally by laughter.

  They were both silent on the ride across the lake, both lost in their own thoughts. Brandon pulled into the dock in front of the dark cabin, tied up the boat and led the way up to the porch.

  “Let me make sure we don’t have any company,” he said, and left her on the porch to go inside.

  A few moments later, several lights came on inside and the door opened. She looked at him framed in the doorway and threw herself into his arms—just as she had wanted to do all day.

  He cupped her face in his hands and dropped his mouth to hers again.

  She sighed as he deepened the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips parting in response to the heat of his kisses. “Brand,” she whispered against his hot eager mouth. “Make love to me.”

  Brandon pulled back to look at her. The sounds of the warm summer night wafted around them. She smiled. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He laughed softly and kissed her with the longing that had been building up inside him all day. Then he swung her up into his arms as he carried her inside.

  She tossed his hat aside and kissed him as he worked his denim jacket off and tossed it onto the floor. Her kisses were teasing, her fingers tangled in hair at the base of his neck as he worked her jacket off.

  She slowly began to unbutton her shirt. He watched, mesmerized. The fabric fell open, exposing skin that had never seen the sun. Her white breasts rose and fell with each breath, the dark peaks hard against the silk of her bra.

  She grasped the front clasp with both hands and in one swift movement, the bra parted and her breasts were free.

  He pulled her to him, his thumbs flicking over the already hard nipples. She let out a groan and pressed against him as he cupped her wonderful breasts in both hands, bending to kiss the rosy tips.

  She slithered out of her boots and jeans as he suckled one breast, then the other. She moaned, her head back, her silken white neck exposed.

  He kissed her, caught up in the glorious feel of her body, her mouth, her long dark hair tangled in his fingers as her fingers worked the buttons on his shirt, then his jeans.

  When he lifted his lips from hers, they were both naked. He held her at arm’s length to look at her, soaking up every inch of her luxurious body with his gaze. Goose bumps rippled over her skin, her eyes radiating desire.

  She pulled him to the floor, to the bed of clothing and jackets.

  His skin was wonderfully browned from working on the ranch without his shirt, his shoulders muscled, his arms strong and well-shaped just like his slim waist and hips.

  She trembled as he drew her against him. Her skin felt on fire, his touch a flame that burned across her, setting her center ablaze. She’d dreamed about this moment, but never in her wildest imagination had it been this amazing.

  He touched her face as he lay beside her on the floor, his fingers trailing from her cheek, down her throat to her breasts, his gaze locked with hers. His fingertips moved across the plain of her stomach.

  She could feel the heat radiating off his body. His masculine scent filled her. He let out a low chuckle as if he knew he had her cornered. The sound reverberated in her chest, making her heart pound a little faster.

  She closed her eyes as his fingers found her center. He gently spread her thighs. She caught her breath, then let it out in a pleasured sigh as he made love to her.

  Her senses rose with each touch, each caress, until she was soaring higher and higher. He leaned over her and she looked into his face. She trusted Brandon McCall with her life. But with her love?

  She met his pale blue eyes and at that moment she knew she was about to surrender her heart to him, as well. That surrender came with no promises. She knew he didn’t believe they stood a chance in hell of being together. She might never be able to change his mind.

  “Anna?” he whispered.

  She smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around him as he gently filled her. She stared into his eyes, matching his wonderful rhythm as he took her higher and higher until she thought she couldn’t stand any more. And then he released her.

  She cried out, the pleasure so intense, her body quaked under his. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed away the wetness on her cheeks, smiling down at her. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been crying.

  It took a few minutes to catch her breath. During that time, he gazed down at her as if memorizing her face.

  “I used to dream about what it would be like to kiss you,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. “I never dreamed…” She sighed. “Brand.”

  He kissed her, curling against her on the floor. “We could go to the bed,” he whispered.

  She laughed. “I’m sure we will. At some point.”

  And she fell asleep in his arms, as if that day on the curb, when they’d shared the cherry Popsicle, they’d also shared this destiny.

  * * *

  BRANDON WOKE, shocked to see that it was early afternoon. He was starved and tried to remember the last time he’d eaten. They’d picked up a couple of burgers on the way to Brookside. That had been almost a whole day ago. No wonder his stomach was growling.

  He rolled over in the double bed and looked at Anna. He couldn’t believe they’d slept so late, but then they’d been up half the night making love and talking.

  He stared at her. Last night in her arms, he thought everything had changed. But as he looked at her, he knew nothing had. They’d been kidding themselves. They’d needed each other. Fear did that to people. When she opened her eyes this morning, she would see that he was right.

  It was time to go to Cash, to tell him everything, to let the law handle this. It was time for Anna to go back to Virginia and the career she obviously loved. He would be on his way to law school in the fall.

  Her face was soft in the warm summer light. She looked like an angel, her dark hair spread out around her face. Even knowing how foolish it was, he wanted desperately to kiss her.

  Don’t fall for this woman, he warned himself as he slipped from the bed and followed the trail of dropped clothing, picking up each piece until, by the time he reached the living room, he was dressed. He checked Anna again to make sure she was still asleep, then closed her door. He would run across the lake to the store by boat and be back before she even knew he was gone. He might even have time to stop by the sheriff’s office.

  But if he did that without her, he would feel like he was betraying her.

  He glanced out the window and saw children already splashing at the edge of the water. Opening the door, he heard the hum of boat motors. The air smelled of pine and water; summer smells. He breathed it in, remembering last night and Anna in his arms. He’d never felt so close to anyone before in his life.

  He started down the steps when he saw movement off to his right. An instant later, he felt the pinprick of the needle in his arm. He tried to turn, tried to fight off the men who caught him before he hit the ground. Their faces were the last thing he saw before darkness. VanHorn’s men.

  * * *

  ANNA WOKE to a sound. She opened her eyes, forgetting for a moment where she was. With a rush, she remembered the lake cabin—and Brandon. She smiled and started to close her eyes when she realized that the spot next to her on the bed was empty.

  “Brand?”

  No answer. She sat up. “Brand?”

  Maybe he was out on the porch. Or down by the lake.

  She got up, drawing the blanket around her as she walked into the living room and stopped cold.

  A large redheaded man was sitting in a chair by the window. From his reaction, he’d been waiting for her to wake up. She’d never seen him before, but she knew from the look of him why he was here.

  “My name’s Red. Get dressed. Your father wants to see you.”

  “Where is B
randon?”

  “You should ask your father about that.”

  She picked up her clothing, keeping an eye on the man. He watched her, his face expressionless, as she backed into the bathroom with her clothing in hand and shut and locked the door.

  The window over the tub was too small even if she’d wanted to escape. But she was ready to face her father. She had to. He had Brandon. Turning on the shower, she stepped under the spray, trying not to think of what her father might have done to him. She had to stay strong. Her father could smell weakness.

  For years, she’d let Mason VanHorn feed her lies. Worse, he’d kept her from the ranch she loved. She hadn’t put up a fight.

  Now he had Brandon.

  Her father didn’t know it yet, but he was in for the fight of his life.

  She showered, dried and dressed quickly, berating herself for not realizing that Mason VanHorn would use every resource available to him to find her. And his resources were many. She’d known they weren’t safe, wouldn’t be safe until this was over.

  Stepping out of the bedroom, she looked to the large redheaded man still seated where she’d left him.

  “I’m ready. Take me to my father.”

  * * *

  BRANDON WOKE with a headache and a horrible taste in his mouth. His arm ached where the needle had gone in. He wondered what they’d given him.

  Opening his eyes, he blinked in the cool darkness, disoriented and still feeling the effects of the drug.

  He pushed himself up, his eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light. He was in a small old building of some kind—four rough-hewn log walls, a heavy wooden door, no windows.

  Anna. Where was Anna?

  Stumbling to his feet, he lumbered to the door and tried to open it, not surprised to find it barred from the outside. He leaned against it, waiting for the nausea to pass, then slammed his shoulder into it. The door didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed his aching shoulder and listened.

  A little light leaked through the cracks in the logs. He leaned against the wall and started to check his watch, but it was gone. How long had he been here?

  Pressing his eye to one of the wider cracks, he peered out, surprised at how dark it was. He found a wider crack and peered out, trying to figure out where he was.