by Layne, Lyssa
“What does this have to do with your hunt? Or with me?” Montana’s heart pounded. Some of this she’d learned from her search on the internet, but hearing it firsthand was painful. So was the realization she was nothing to him but a rebound screw. She fought tears. Later, when she was alone, she’d give in to them, but not in front of him.
“Joel wanted me to get out of town while my security system is being updated. We came here to hide.”
“I see.” But she didn’t really. “You think your ex-wife followed you to Colorado, tracked us to the cabin and stole the horses like a thief in the night?”
“Told you it was farfetched.” He chuckled without humor. “Teal’s idea of roughing it is a four-star hotel. And I doubt she can ride.” He paused a moment. “Horses, that is.”
A pang of jealousy shot through Montana so hard it rocked her. She knew he’d been married—who didn’t?—but thinking of him sexually with another woman now turned her stomach.
“You think she’d go so far as to kill you to get her music?” To her surprise, Montana’s voice sounded normal.
“In the heat of the moment, like stabbing me with a letter opener, yes. Flying to Colorado, riding into the mountains and stealing horses, no.”
“What about hiring someone to do it?” Montana shook her head. She was losing it. Buying into such an idea was pure craziness.
“Doubtful.” He drank again. “I’m sure it’s your nut job ex, not mine, hiking like a pair of mountain goats.”
“Probably,” Montana said. “But why? Tom doesn’t care who I see. We’ve been broken up for years.”
“Ego, baby. He doesn’t like you being with another man. And he really doesn’t like it being me.”
A fuzzy memory fought to surface. A figure. A stick. Someone hitting her. Knocking her out. Montana sank onto the cold ground. “Johnny, did Tom leave the cabin the other night after we did?”
He frowned. “I don’t think so. Why?”
She touched her forehead. “I think someone bashed me in the head.”
“What?” Johnny stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“I can’t be certain, but I think someone might have cracked me on the noggin.” She furrowed her brow, trying to remember, but the action hurt her still-sore forehead.
“Baby, I think we’re making ourselves nutty with all these theories. You ran away from me and tripped, remember?”
“Yeah. I know.” She didn’t want to be reminded of her flight. Still, an uneasy feeling lingered. She pushed to her feet and indicated the tracks again. “I’m guess it’s Tom riding a small horse.”
Johnny screwed the cap back on the bottle and replaced it in the saddlebags. “Yeah. Probably.”
As she turned away and headed down the trail, Montana’s thoughts churned. The odd tracks stuck in her mind. Why would Tom be on one of her horses? Especially such a little one.
He wouldn’t.
By now the gelding, along with all Montana’s other horses and mules, would be back in her pasture.
She thought of the horses she’d seen at the Marsh camp. Evan’s bay. Charlie’s sorrel. A big pinto she was certain Tom rode. The guy stood over six feet tall and weighed at least two-fifty. He’d ridden all his life and wouldn’t choose a small horse. She hadn’t paid special attention to any of them, but she was also sure none had chipped hooves. A horse without shoes on this rocky ground would go lame very quickly.
Her thoughts turned to Johnny’s ex-wife. She sounded like a real winner. What had he seen in her? Montana recalled pictures she’d seen of the big-breasted blonde. Sex. Apparently the woman could sing, too. Johnny had had a lot in common with her.
Was Johnny still in love with Teal?
He’d divorced her, but the pain when he talked about his ex had been obvious. Montana knew the heartache of being cheated on, and she hadn’t even been married to Tom when he slunk around behind her back.
Getting over that kind of betrayal would be tough, if not impossible. No wonder Johnny still had hurt in his eyes when he talked about the woman he’d loved enough to marry.
Montana had been a temporary interlude to help him forget.
Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She wasn’t completely naïve; she knew Johnny wasn’t in love with her, but being the bed buddy to help him get over his wife stung. Tears formed and she blinked them away. Crying in front of Johnny was not an option.
Shannon’s words rang in her ears…whatever you do, don’t fall in love.
Too damn late.
She’d stepped onto that bridge the first time she slept with Johnny. Turning around mid-stream was impossible. In a day or two he’d go back to his life and she’d be left with a broken heart.
She stiffened her shoulders. No sense crying over things she couldn’t change.
~*~
By the time they’d walked a couple hours, Johnny was mad enough to spit guitar picks. He hadn’t liked Tom Kerrigan from the moment he’d laid eyes on him. When he’d found out the football player was Montana’s ex, he’d instantly despised the guy.
Unwilling to examine that too closely, he let it go, chalking his feelings up to guys who both had their eye on the same chick. Montana swore her ex didn’t have designs on her. Johnny had to disagree. Jealousy had been coming off the football star in waves so strong Johnny could smell it. He wanted Montana bad.
Fuck that!
The jerk wasn’t getting his hands or any other body part on his girl.
His girl?
For now. When he went home was another matter. He couldn’t figure a way to keep seeing Montana when she lived in Colorado and him in L.A. They’d had fun. Best to leave it that way.
The trap Teal caught him in was too fresh to go there again. He’d lost his right arm because of her. He couldn’t afford to lose anything else.
Like his life.
Had Teal gone so far as to strand him in the snowy mountains? He snorted. Ridiculous. What he’d told Montana was true—if it didn’t include room service, Teal wasn’t interested. He didn’t think she’d ever been around a horse and doubted she could saddle one, much less ride through the rugged terrain with a guide. Absolutely not alone.
Would she hire someone to do her dirty work?
Highly unlikely.
He couldn’t see how hurting or killing him would do her any good. His Last Will and Testament didn’t include her and she had no way to get her CD upon his death. The whole notion of Teal having anything to do with this was absurd. No, their long walk lay squarely on the shoulders of Tom Kerrigan.
Johnny passed the time thinking of all the ways he could hurt the man when he caught up to him. Pain would be involved. A beating would be too good for him. Maybe he’d sue for physical distress. He thought he was in pretty good shape, but walking above ten thousand feet had him longing for his old buddy Gunsmoke.
Montana didn’t seem to have any such problems. She strode out with her typical determined walk. His gaze caught and held on her hips as they swayed. Damn, she was sexy. Walking would be next to impossible if he didn’t get his mind off her long legs wrapped around his waist and onto the task at hand.
The woman had his mind on his cock like none other. He loved the ladies and he loved sex, but he couldn’t remember being this crazy for a chick. Not ever. Not even Teal’d had him so constantly worked up.
If the storm hadn’t chased them out of their little love nest, he would have been perfectly content to stay wrapped up in Montana’s arms all winter long. The CD, the band, Teal—they all seemed so far away and unimportant when he was with Montana.
What kind of spell had she cast over him?
He’d never been willing to put music second to anyone. The idea that he could freaked him out.
Deep in thought, he didn’t notice Montana had stopped until he stumbled into her back.
“Shit.” She shot him a look of aggravation.
“Sorry.”
“Not you. Look.” She pointed with her rifle. They’d left
the trees and stood on a high mountain trail overlooking the same deep valley where he’d seen the herd of elk. That seemed so long ago now. Wind whipped the snowflakes again, making visibility poor.
“What am I looking at?” He peered through the blizzard but didn’t see anything other than swirling gusts of snow.
“Our horses.”
“What? Where?”
She pointed with a jabbing motion. “There. Across the valley. By those big pines.”
He lifted his binoculars and searched until he spotted the missing equines. “I see ’em. They’re tied to a tree.”
“What?” She pulled her own field glasses from her coat pocket and sighted the animals. “Damn it. You’re right. I thought they’d holed up because of the storm, but it looks like Tom decided to leave them instead. Good thing we saw them there. I lost the trail a ways back because the snow’s too deep.”
“Great. Let’s go grab them,” Johnny said.
She gave him a grim look. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
She heaved a sigh. “We have to either go to the main camp and backtrack, or cross Hanging Bridge. If we go to camp it’s a long walk back straight uphill.”
“Let’s go the shorter way,” Johnny said immediately.
“With this snow, the Hanging Bridge will be slick and dangerous.” She sounded like she was about to have a root canal. Heights didn’t bother him. But the sooner he had a hot meal and a soak in the hot springs, the better.
“We’ll go slow,” he urged.
“Okay,” she agreed with obvious reluctance.
“Hey.” He grabbed her sleeve and hauled her against him. He covered her surprised gasp with a kiss. Although he would have loved to deepen it until they were both weak in the knees, he released her. “Chin up, okay?”
“Okay.” She adjusted her rifle on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Johnny didn’t think he’d ever met a woman like Montana in his life. No drama. No tears. Just doing what had to be done. Tough didn’t begin to describe her. But she tempered it with a soft touch and a kind heart.
Remarkable.
He tried to imagine any of the women he knew in this situation. Impossible. They’d be in hysterics—wringing their hands, sobbing and falling apart.
Teal would have lost her mind over this kind of thing. Hell, she lost it if she broke a nail.
Even Adrian would be all worked up.
His respect for Montana, already high, grew by leaps and bounds. She was one of a kind. The kind a man would be proud to call his own.
They walked for about thirty minutes with only the mournful cry of whipping wind filling their ears. Johnny wished he had a way to duplicate the sound. A synthesizer could mimic it, but imitation wasn’t as eerie or soul wrenching as the real thing. Maybe he’d work on it for the song he’d been playing around with.
Montana stopped and turned to face him. “This is the start of Hanging Bridge. Let’s eat first so we’re not shaky.”
He suspected her need to eat was more a stalling tactic than concern about low blood sugar, but he nodded. “Sounds good.”
She removed the scabbard from her shoulder and sat on the trail, crossing her legs Indian style. “I’m starving.”
“I could eat a bear.” Johnny laid his gun aside, opened the saddlebags and pulled out their lunches. “But I’ll settle for a ham sandwich.”
Montana’s hand shook when she took the sandwich from him. Johnny covered her free hand with his. “It’s going to be all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She managed a wry smile. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say to you?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
After lunch, Montana stood and lifted her rifle. The snow had intensified to a full-blown blizzard. Although not afraid of most things, she hated heights. The Hanging Bridge was one of her worst fears, but the horses on the other side of the valley left them no choice but to cross the granite shelf shadowed by a sheer drop-off on both sides. The trail left little room for error.
Death by freezing or death by falling. Neither sounded good to her.
She looked at Johnny. “Watch where you step and be careful.”
He gave her a cocky grin. “Got it.”
On shaking legs, Montana turned toward the cliff.
Trying to control her trembling, she took a first step onto the narrow granite wall. This high, the wind had cleared the trail, making it easy to see. Keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her, she took one slow step after another. Swirling gusts buffeted her, pounding hard. The high-pitched whine stretched her nerves tight.
The length of the rock formation was only about five hundred feet, but it seemed more like five thousand. Refusing to look over either edge, she inched forward. Sweat trickled down her back and along her hairline. Her breath came in short gasps. A pebble under her foot rolled and she slipped a little.
“Damn it.”
Johnny said near her ear, “You’re okay.”
With a stiff nod, she continued.
A sudden blast of wind hit them so hard it spun Montana sideways. A scream ripped out of her throat and she windmilled her arms.
As if in slow motion, she saw the valley floor and the cliffs closing in on her.
Terror closed her throat and she couldn’t breathe. She was going to die on the boulders below.
Johnny grabbed her coat and hauled her back against his solid body. He wrapped his arms around her upper chest. “I got you.” He turned her and hugged her in the safety of his arms. “Shhh, baby. You’re safe.”
She nodded, unable to speak. Another gust of wind rocked them and Montana held onto Johnny for dear life. Finally, she managed to force words out of her tight throat. “We have to get off this ridge before we fall and end up as mincemeat.”
“Hold onto my coat and follow me. We’re only a hundred feet from the end of this thing.” He released her. “Hang tight and don’t let go.”
“Okay.” Montana did as he instructed.
With a death grip on his coat, she allowed him to lead her across the pass. Solid as a hundred-year-old pine tree, Johnny braced against the wind. Like a pair of dancers, they moved in unison until the trail widened and dropped into the pines.
Once they were safe, Johnny spun around and again took Montana in his arms. She shook like a leaf, allowing him to support her. His strong arms held her upright while her legs wobbled.
“I’m sorry,” she said against his chest. “I hate that place.”
“No worries.” He drew back a little and looked into her eyes. “You’re the bravest woman I know.”
“I about lost it out there.”
“But you didn’t.” He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek.
She gazed at him with all her love for him shining in her eyes. “Thanks to you.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Don’t read too much into it, baby. I would have done the same for anyone.”
Stunned, Montana pulled free of his embrace. “Got it. Let’s go.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Montana’s heart thumped along with the chorus in her head. How could she have let Johnny see her emotions like that? The fear? Her love for him? She’d lost his respect all the way around. Not only could he not follow a guide who lost it in a bad situation, he now knew she loved him.
Anger at both of them filled her—toward him for being such a jerk, and her for being foolish to fall in love.
The next couple of days were going to be rough.
As they dropped along the canyon wall, the storm didn’t seem quite as fierce. The wind didn’t push so hard here and the spinning snowflakes were less than on the ridge. Somehow, though, for Montana it seemed colder. Grayer.
She suspected the days until her heart recovered were going to be dreary and long.
In the meantime she had to pick up her chin and remember not to let Johnny glimpse her bare feelings again.
As they began to wind up the steep hillside on
the other side of the valley, Montana lengthened her stride. When she got hold of Tom, she was going to kill him with her bare hands. She had a hard time believing he would do something so malicious as to take their horses. But who else would?
She couldn’t think of a soul.
Where were Charlie and Evan?
Their mother was one of Montana’s closest friends and her sons were close to her, too. They would never condone such an act. Tom might be their buddy, but they loved Montana and wouldn’t ever allow Tom to do her physical harm.
Neither had seemed to dislike Johnny either. They had no reason to find a problem with him. Their friendship with Tom was not enough to turn their eyes away while he took Montana’s horses.
None of this made a lick of sense.
A neigh rang out over the mountains, echoing among the peaks like a church bell. Montana picked up her pace, eager to see her animals.
At a wide spot in the trail, she spotted the two horses and mule tied under a copse of large pine trees. She hurried to them, petting their necks and checking legs for any injuries. Everything seemed fine.
Until she looked at their halters.
Each had been buckled on the right side of the head, not the left as they should be. She ran her fingers under the nylon strap, observing the strange fit.
“Johnny, look.” She indicated the halters. “These are backwards.”
“So?”
She glanced his way. “Someone put these on who didn’t know what they were doing. Tom wouldn’t do this. He’s been riding all his life. He knows how to halter a horse.”
“Maybe he placed them wrong to throw us off,” Johnny suggested.
“Maybe.” But she didn’t think so.
Johnny moved away and began scouting the ground.
“What are you looking for?” Montana unbuckled the backwards halter on Sunflower and placed it correctly on the little palomino. She moved to the dun, then the mule, and corrected their tack, too.
“Hoof prints.”
She moved beside him. “See any?”
He pointed. “There. The same ones with the broken toe like we saw up above.”
“Yeah. They’re identical.” Montana walked back to the horses and scanned the area around them, looking for footprints, but the restless horses had churned up the earth. “I don’t see any human tracks here though.”
