Ladd Haven

by Dianne Venetta

  Travis didn’t think much of her. Despite Felicity’s protests to the contrary, Casey accepted that he didn’t like her, believed she was “beneath” him because she wasn’t going to college. Evidently, a few classes here and there didn’t count as going to college. Travis didn’t approve of Troy’s choices either. But Travis was an over-achiever. He aced everything he did. A guy like him didn’t understand doubts, insecurities. He didn’t understand when people strayed off course. Felicity said to give him time, he’d come around. Casey disagreed. Travis had no interest in straying off course—not from his life plan and not from his opinion.

  Felicity sat next to him and said, “Travis, guess what?”

  His gaze trailed Casey as she sat across from them, filled with mild alarm. He was probably wondering why Felicity had invited her to join them. Warily, he asked, “What?”

  “Troy and Casey are getting married! Isn’t that great?” His gaze hardened, a reaction that said it all, and one he quickly tried to cover as she continued, “She told him about the baby and he proposed.” Felicity lightly punched his shoulder. “I told you he’d do the right thing.”

  “About time,” Travis replied.

  Casey shifted her gaze to the back as Jimmy emerged from the kitchen, arms loaded with plates of food. Totally ignoring her, he walked to a table on the other side of the diner. He didn’t make eye contact, didn’t smile. He was grim. Gloomy. Shafts of remorse stabbed through her. She should never have dragged him into this mess in the first place. She and Jimmy were friends, but when Troy left, Casey had leaned on him all the harder. She’d needed him—someone—and Jimmy was it. Troy’s unexpected departure had hurt. She’d been sure he had dumped her. Why else would he have skipped the state without telling her?

  Casey’s heart wrenched. Tracking Jimmy to the kitchen, she knew she’d hurt him. A part of her had always known that he wanted more than she’d been offering. Even when Troy was here and the two were together. At work, after their shift, Jimmy always stayed late to help her finish closing out—because she was slow, taking her sweet little time to get things done.

  They’d talked and laughed, but she’d never been interested in more than being friends. Not in her darkest days had she wanted to be with anyone but Troy. Pulling her gaze away from Jimmy, as their friendship pulled away from her, Casey stared at the plates of food before her—crispy drumsticks, steaming mashed potatoes soaked with a melting patch of butter in the middle—and felt the full brunt of his pain and disappointment. Jimmy was a good guy. He deserved someone to love him. That someone just couldn’t be her.

  The sunset ride long since returned, the horses cleaned and put away, Delaney closed the books for the day and pushed back in her seat. Slants of afternoon sun cut across the stalls, painting the white wood in creamy gold. It was her first week on the job in full swing, and she was still getting a fix on how she wanted to run things. She needed to establish a flow, a rhythm. She needed her employees to work as a team, be in sync with her expectations and those of the guests. Kicking her boots up onto the desk, she laid her head back and laced hands together across her stomach. So far she was pleased. The men she hired were strong and reliable, the female riders equally as capable. Especially Troy. Only a few days on the job, but already he was proving himself a standout, staying late, volunteering for extra jobs. She’d been delighted by Casey’s surprise. It appeared the two were working through their differences. A good thing. Troy clearly loved the girl and she loved him.

  Exhaling a sigh, she ran a mental review of the entire staff. Most of the employees had come to her on strong recommendations from area ranches, one of them a man from the Foster’s ranch. Misgiving spiked her gut. Gerald’s call to apologize for the evening-gone-wrong with Felicity came to mind. Seems he understood something more happened to her daughter than a case of sick belly. He was right, though he didn’t seem to understand the extent of it.

  Which didn’t prevent Delaney from appreciating the gesture. Gerald was a good man, a generous man. He might not have ended up with the woman of his dreams, but he stood by the woman of his choice and his family as a loyal and devoted husband should. It was a respectable trait in a man. Unfortunately it wasn’t a trait he passed on to his son, Jack.

  Visions of Jack acting the good son, entertaining his lovely daughter in his lovely home soured in her belly. At least it was a charade that didn’t last. Felicity finally understood what Delaney had been dealing with all these years. Unfortunately, she learned it the hard way. It must have been painful for her to flee that house like a scared mouse. Jack had called, demanding what she had said to Felicity, as if Delaney were the cause of his troubles. Reeling in her legs, she placed hands to the arms of her chair and pushed up from her desk in one fluid motion. Try again. She wasn’t the troublemaker. Ruining lives was Jack’s job.

  Turning out the office light, Delaney went to say goodnight to Sadie. It was a ritual she’d begun since her mare’s first night in the new stables. Delaney wanted Sadie to know she hadn’t been abandoned, only moved to a new home, a home they would continue to share. She smiled inwardly. Sadie had exhibited a case of the jitters when a dozen new horses entered the stables the next day, taking up residence alongside her. Delaney shook her head. Like she would forsake her precious baby for some other horse. She chuckled. Guess animals were like humans that way. They needed reassurance they were loved.

  Rounding the corner to Sadie’s stall, she clicked her mouth. The horse turned and shook her white-blonde mane with a soft nicker. “Going home, baby girl,” Delaney said, reaching through the metal bars to stroke the flat space between her eyes. Big brown eyes blinked as the horse pushed up her nose. Delaney rubbed a hand beneath the velvety muzzle, the whiskers tickling her fingers as she scratched along the horse’s jaw line. “We’re going to have fun tomorrow. You and I are taking a group out on a trail ride.” Cupping the rounded jaw bone, Delaney moved her hand back and forth then scratched behind the horse’s ear. “You up for it? Promise I won’t bring that rowdy Brandy with us.”

  Brandy was an Arabian they’d acquired from a ranch in Nashville. Sadie didn’t care for her at all, surprising Delaney one day with an uncustomary nip to the horse’s side.

  Sadie’s ears pricked forward. “What’s up, girl?” Delaney laughed softly. “Afraid old Brandy is listening?” Stiff ears began to twitch. Brown eyes grew alarmed. Delaney’s antennae shot up.

  “Talking to your horse?”

  Hairs rose on Delaney’s neck at the sound of Jack’s voice.

  “Careful,” he said, “or people are going to think you’re crazy.”

  Delaney recognized the thick edge in his voice. He’d been drinking. Slowly, she turned from her horse. Ten feet away, Jack stood like a sheriff ready for a pistol fight. Legs slightly parted—probably for balance’s sake—his hands hung by his side. As expected, his eyes were glazed red from a day at the bar. “What do you want, Jack.”

  He snickered. “Stopped by to pay my old lady a visit.”

  “Go home.”

  “Now what kind of reception is that?” He swayed ever so slightly. “You treat all your guests this way?”

  Ignoring the barb, she repeated, “Go home.”

  “I don’t want to go home. I want to discuss our daughter.” He took a step toward her and Delaney went on high alert. “What poison have you filled her with this time? She’s not returning any of my calls.”

  Disgust overrode any and all caution as she said, “You’re the poison, not me.” Behind her, Delaney heard Sadie snort.

  “I invited her to dinner. She had a wonderful time. She went home and now she won’t speak to me. Fill in the blank.”

  “Someone told her the reason I left you. That you’re an abuser.”

  “What?”

  Jack seemed genuinely surprised but Delaney didn’t care. The dinner was the reason her daughter wasn’t speaking to her either. “Yes. It was a fact I left out and your family filled in.”

  Anger stormed his
dark features. “You’re a liar. No one told her a thing. I was with her the whole time and no one said a word.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. She came home and told me.”

  “You’re lying. Same as you’ve always done.” The change in his demeanor sent shivers across her skin, causing Delaney to instantly assess the accessibility of her gun. “You’re jealous she accepted my invitation to dinner and decided to fill her head with ugly lies.” Jack closed the distance before Delaney could step clear. He trapped her against Sadie’s stall and hissed, “Nothing’s changed. You’re a lying bitch but this time you’ve gone too far.”

  “Jack.” She pushed back, his breath putrid in her face. “Stop it!”

  “Why should I?” he growled, hands pinning her shoulders. “You didn’t see fit to stop with your lies about me.” He rammed her against the gate, the metal grill gouging into her shoulder blade. Jamming one arm sideways across her chest, his other hand went to her stomach, digging under her shirt.

  Panic stabbed at Delaney. “Stop! What are you doing?” she shrieked. Sadie whinnied in fright. Several nearby horses began to follow suit.

  Delaney struggled against Jack, fear warring with disbelief. He was heavy, strong, his fingers clawing at her skin as she shoved at them.

  “I’m gonna teach you a lesson once and for all,” he ground out, his alcohol-soured breath filling her nostrils. “I’m gonna teach you not to mess with me.”

  “Jack, you’re drunk—you’re hurting me!”

  He laughed as she tried to push him off, his size working against her. He tore at her shirt. She brought a knee up between his legs. Slipping on the hay, Jack lost his footing. Delaney broke free. He sprang toward her but she dodged him, narrowly evading the swipe of his hand. “Dammit, get over here!”

  Pulse pounding, she swiped the hair from her eyes. Sadie reared up, hooves hitting the gate to her stall. Delaney’s heart went out to her mare. Stop, Sadie. You’re going to hurt yourself!

  But the animal seemed to be working off the adrenaline of the others. The stables were layered in panic, horses distressed by the shouts. Delaney bent down for her gun. Jack came after her, but his movements were slowed by drink. She sidestepped him, but he caught part of her pant leg. She whipped out the pistol from her boot. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

  Comprehension blazed in his gaze as she leveled stiff arms. Chest heaving, she said, “I mean it, Jack. Not another move.”

  He eyed the weapon in her hands, a sardonic smile curling his lips. “Still packing heat, I see. Moved up to an automatic, huh?” He nodded casually, as though he weren’t wearing a target on his chest. “Nice move.”

  “I swear I’ll shoot you.”

  From his crouched position, he chuckled. “You don’t have it in you.”

  “Try me.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, that’s what I was trying to do.”

  Delaney didn’t like Jack’s sense of ease. Allowing him space to regain his wits wasn’t wise. Operating under the influence, he was likely to make a dumb move, a move that could cost her. Staring down the line of her arms and over the black metal gun, Delaney slowed her breathing. “Get out of here.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Not until I finish what I started.”

  “You are finished.”

  He laughed again, as though he didn’t take her seriously. “Remember the days when we used to do it in the stables? As I recall, you enjoyed it. One of your favorite spots.”

  Finger curved around the trigger, she muttered, “I’m warning you, Jack.”

  “They were some good times.” He eased back onto his heels, set a hand to the ground to steady himself. “Before you got all flighty, that is.” Jack pulled a gun. Delaney hesitated.

  A dark figure lunged.

  In the split second, she screamed. “Troy!”

  The gun fired. Troy connected with Jack mid-air, two bodies hitting the ground with a thud. Horses shrieked. Cries pierced the rafters. Shock streamed through her limbs.

  Oh no... Troy!

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fear curdled in her stomach. Had she hit Troy? Had she hit Jack?

  Troy sunk a fist into Jack’s face. A thunderbolt of relief coursed through her. Rising up again, Troy slammed another one into Jack’s head.

  Troy—where had he come from? As he proceeded to beat the living daylights out of Jack, Delaney grabbed at his shoulders. “Stop, Troy, stop!” She didn’t see any blood. Not on him or Jack. “Let him go!”

  Jack rolled them, careening the two men into her. Delaney jumped but the momentum of their bodies caught her on the ankle. She tripped, slammed to the ground. The gun tumbled from her grasp. Like a crazed maniac, Troy continued pummeling fist after fist but Jack broke free. Spotting Delaney’s gun, he dove for it. Troy twisted.

  “Not so fast, boy.”

  Delaney’s pulse kicked at the sight of Jack’s gun aimed at Troy. On hands and knees, Troy remained immobile, his hand inches from her pistol. “Get up,” Jack commanded.

  Slowly Troy rose. Delaney leapt up and rammed shoulder first into Jack. Troy snatched her gun from Jack’s hands as he went down. Standing over him, Troy trained the gun on Jack’s head.

  Delaney shrieked, “Troy, no!”

  Dark eyes blazed hot with fury. “Give me one reason.”

  “Casey!” she cried out. “Casey,” she repeated breathlessly. “Casey is your reason.”

  In a sudden fit of movement, Troy kicked at Jack’s unconscious body. Whipping the hair from his brow, words seemed to hang on his lips, but he didn’t utter a sound. He didn’t have to. The combination of innocence, shock and anger in his eyes said it all.

  Delaney’s heart broke. “I’m sorry, Troy.”

  Confusion slammed into his expression. “You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for,” he snapped angrily.

  Delaney bowed her head. But she did. She had almost shot a man.

  Jack.

  Moaning, he writhed on the ground beside her. She had almost killed Jack. Almost shot Troy by accident. A shudder passed through her, shockwaves rippling in its wake. Leg muscles withered as a wash of light-headedness knocked her off balance.

  “Miss Delaney? Are you okay?”

  No. She wasn’t okay. She needed to sit. She needed to breathe, to think.

  Troy shadowed her to a wooden bench parked against the wall. Broad chested, the black T-shirt strapped tightly across his torso, he gingerly set the gun down beside her on the bench. He shot a glance over his shoulder, concern swamping his gaze. “You want me to get you a glass of water?”

  She shook her head. No. She didn’t need water. She’d almost killed Jack. She’d almost killed Felicity’s father. Flashback images inundated her—his cocky grin, his disgusting breath, his disturbing moves. Delaney closed her eyes. “I almost killed him.”

  Troy was calm, even-toned. “You did what you had to do.”

  Did she? What would have happened if Troy hadn’t stepped in when he did? Would she have killed Jack? Would she have been justified?

  “I heard enough to know he would have got what was coming to him.”

  Jack emitted a long groan. From the periphery of her vision, she saw him roll to his side, reach for his face. It was bloody. Bloody from the beating Troy inflicted and not from a gunshot wound. Peering up at Troy, she mumbled, “I think he was going to rape me.”

  His face reddened. “Don’t talk that way. It ain’t necessary.”

  Because it was over. She glanced at Jack. For the time being, it was over. Would he try again?

  A sliver of fear poked at her. Nick was gone. He’d be gone for days. Turning, she took in the sight of Jack’s battered body. If she’d killed him, he wouldn’t be back. Ever.

  Delaney didn’t say another word. Troy, gun in hand and a guarded eye on Jack, went to calm the horses. At Sadie’s stall, she could hear him whispering soothing words to her mare. He went to the next and the next, systematically reassuring the animals. Then he called Cal.
In the quiet of the stables, she could hear his every word. “Yes, Mr. Foster. She’s here. They’re both here. Yes, sir. I think you need to come quick.”

  Cal arrived within ten minutes. Resting her head against the wall, Delaney watched him go to his brother, held in place at gunpoint by Troy. The two exchanged harsh words. Then Cal conferred with Troy. She felt detached from it all, as though she were watching a movie play out before her, a movie in which she didn’t have a starring role. She wondered idly where the bullet landed. Was it in the ceiling? Entrenched in hay? Implanted in a wall? Thank God it hadn’t hit a horse.

  Cal walked over to her, his features steeped in concern, his fair skin tinged pink. He seemed calm, tranquil, unsullied by the scene splayed out before him. Neat and tidily dressed in his business khakis and white button-down, he looked too clean. Out of place. “Delaney, are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want to press charges?”

  The question dropped out of the sky. Confusion swam in her skull. “Press charges?”

  “Jack attacked you. I can call the police but you’ll need to provide a complete statement.”

  A statement. She would have to relay the details of what happened. It would become public knowledge. Nick would find out. Felicity would find out. Delaney shook her head. She didn’t want to do that to her daughter. She’d have to confide in Nick but she didn’t have to add injury to her daughter’s current suffering. “No.” She stared at Jack, standing now, flanked by Troy. The man wasn’t going anywhere until they said so.

  “Are you sure?” Cal pressed.

  “I had a gun. He had a gun.”

  “Yes, but he attacked first.”

  “And I almost ended it. I almost killed my daughter’s father.”

  The severity of her confession lodged deep in his gaze. Clearly, Cal wanted to dispute the fact. He wanted to defend her, but he couldn’t. She had drawn her weapon first. She had intended to kill. Explaining that in a court of law would amount to “he said, she said.” Delaney could feel emotion churning within the man before her, words brimming on his lips, but Cal simply replied, “I can’t let this pass. I can’t let this go.” Then his gentle brown gaze nearly undid her. “So help me God, I would have killed him for you, Delaney, I swear I would have.”