Legacy of Lies

by Jillian David

  “Second place?”

  “Yeah, but now we have the upper hand. Not only have I ruined his life, but now I have the power to destroy his family. All of the rats in that nest. I’ve been given a mission, you see.” He glanced around, eyes bulging. “Sh, don’t tell.” He grinned like he’d half-cracked. “Don’t tell. Now that’s funny. Like you’ll survive to tell anyone. I’m mining for something special. Something that will make me powerful for the Great One.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He snapped his hand up, and she braced for the slap that didn’t come. Opening one eye, she saw that he’d frozen right before contact.

  He blinked and frowned; a flash of the old, normal Hank flitted over his features, then disappeared again. “Can’t tell you. Only we need the Taggart ranch property. Any way we can get it. And if it hurts Garrison Taggart, even better. That’s part of the mission.”

  “Hurt Garrison?”

  “Oh, yes. Hurt all of them. Hurt the legacy.”

  What in the world? “But how does this involve Zach and me?”

  “Well, see, I’ve asked very nicely for old Austin Taggart and his kids to sell the ranch. Many times. And they keep saying no.”

  “Okay ...”

  “No. Not okay. If they’re not going to help me get what I want, I’ll have to destroy what the Taggarts have and take what I need.” Spittle formed at the corner of his mouth.

  “That’s crazy,” she whispered.

  The crack on her cheek made her see stars. Her face throbbed like a hot iron pressed into it.

  His face hovered inches from hers as he screamed, “Not crazy. Not crazy. No one is crazy. You don’t even know half of what I’ve done and what I’m capable of doing. The Great One has given me a calling. No one messes with us.”

  Holy mother of Christ. Apparently he had obtained an all-consuming, deity-based, destroy-the-Taggarts ideology. Not good.

  Trying to hold her ground, such as it was, she said, “So. The barn?”

  He pointed a thumb at himself. “Yep, that was me.”

  “The dead animal?”

  “Guilty.” He chuckled.

  “My kitchen window?”

  “Didn’t you like my ball and chain coming through the glass? It was a little excessive to make a joke but so completely worth it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You and I are broken up, you know.”

  He squeezed her breast and snorted when she cried out. “Thank goodness and good riddance. You’re trash, and everyone knows it. Fat, too.” Patting her on the hip, he continued, “No, I didn’t want you. I only wanted Garrison to think that you and I might get back together. I just wanted to screw with the guy.”

  Asshole. May he rot in hell. She bit her cheek to keep her face expressionless.

  She wasn’t trash, Hank was. He had no right to judge her. Screw him. An intelligent, cute woman like her could attract a sexy guy like Garrison. Hank needed glasses and his head adjusted.

  However, now was not the time to tell him to where to stick his stupid ideas.

  Now was the time to pray.

  “So if I’m not worth anything, let me go.”

  He pressed a thumb into her still-throbbing cheek and grinned. “That hurt? Good. You’re here because lover boy wants you. Why, I don’t know. But here’s the deal: Anything the Taggarts wants, I will make sure they cannot have. And I will make sure they suffer the loss. Every. Single. Time.”

  “Fine, I’ll stop seeing him. Problem solved. Now let me go.”

  “Not that simple. I’m going to use you to send a clear message.”

  “Message?”

  “No one fucks with us. Time for respect. Even more important, it’s time for the Great One to emerge.”

  “God.”

  “No, God isn’t here, my chunky ex-girlfriend.”

  He flicked open the blade again and drew it down the neck of her blouse until the rip of fabric echoed too loud in the shack.

  His insane eyes danced in the lamplight.

  She couldn’t feel her hands, but she sure could feel the cool air on her chest.

  He grinned. “You’re all mine now.”

  Chapter 24

  The flurries had stopped, and frigid, dry air now gusted through the forest. Garrison’s lungs burned with each icy inhalation.

  It had been more than an hour since he left Zach with his sister and Eric. Would Zach be okay?

  Too much time wasted, and Garrison still hadn’t found Sara.

  Time was running out.

  Hope threatened to knock him off the horse—a faint glow of light on the snow! It led to a rough trapper-type shack. Zach’s footprints had long since faded before Garrison had arrived at his destination. Thank God for Shelby.

  Leaving his horse tied to a tree several hundred yards away, Garrison grabbed his shotgun and crept up to the structure. He sidled around to the single window and peered through the hazy, cracked glass. A familiar figure paced in the center of the room. Son of a bitch, he would break Hank’s hands in a million places so he couldn’t touch her again.

  Sara hung from her arms but stood on tiptoes. He could see only her profile, but from the way her head tipped back and forth like she was writhing, and the fact that she bit her lip, she had to be suffering.

  On her cheek, not a shadow but a dark bruise colored the skin.

  Pressed against the building wall, he took deep breaths. Shit, he was already in a crouch, muscles tight, ready to burst in there and drive his fist through the back of Hank’s skull. But he couldn’t. If went in there, proverbial or literal guns blazing, Sara could get hurt. He had to plan carefully.

  He might not be able to bring Hank to justice in the next ten minutes, but Garrison would gladly settle for getting Sara the hell out of here right now. Hank’s turn would come.

  Without taking his eyes away from the view through the window, he set down the gun and slid his arms out of the coat.

  Between gusts of wind, the voices inside the shack filtered through to his ears.

  “No one fucks with us. Time for respect. Even more important, it’s time for the Great One to emerge.” Hank could take his Great One talk and shove it up his ass. Even better, Garrison would be happy to do it for the guy.

  “God.”

  Sara’s strained voice shredded Garrison’s heart. He couldn’t risk firing in there with a weapon. Not with Sara inside.

  Hank leaned in close to her face. “No, God isn’t here, my chunky ex-girlfriend.”

  Goddamn Hank. Sara was beautiful, smart, and sweet. And her curves were amazing.

  Then Hank flipped open a knife, and Garrison went on instinct, edging toward the door. He heard him say, “You’re all mine now.”

  The sound of fabric tearing ... Garrison exploded into the structure, knocking the door off a hinge on his way to Sara.

  At a dead run, he tackled the guy. Hard to say which satisfied him more: the shock on Hank’s face or the bone-crunching thud as he drilled the asshole into the floor. They rolled together until slamming into a wall with a shower of dirt and splinters.

  Garrison drove a knee into Hank’s chest.

  Hank shifted and kicked Garrison’s knee, collapsing it.

  Shit, where was the knife?

  Hank loomed over him, punching and swearing. Garrison’s head snapped back hard enough to see stars. Only Sara’s panting gasp kept him conscious.

  Which was good, considering Hank was now trying to slice a horizon line into Garrison’s face.

  He kicked the knife out of Hank’s hand and head-butted him, dropping the guy to the floor where he lay, unmoving. Long may it last.

  Garrison staggered to his feet, head throbbing, his knee trying to buckle again. Although he couldn’t walk a straight line, he was determined to reach Sara. His forehead stung, and he wiped away blood that blinded his left eye.

  “Oh my God, your head,” she gasped. White lines of pain surrounded her mouth.

  “Forget my head. You’re getting
out of here.”

  He picked up Hank’s knife on the floor and sawed at the ropes around her wrists.

  As the ropes fell free, she crumpled to the ground with a gurgled cry. He patted her on the shoulder, and she flinched and cried out.

  Kneeling next to her, he chafed her purple, cold hands until some color returned.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She shook her hands, but then her expression contorted from relief to pain. She hissed, “So sting-y. Oh my God, they hurt.” Studying her hands in her lap, she said, “I can’t lift them.”

  Rubbing more gently, he kept up the friction on her hands. He wouldn’t be responsible for his actions if Hank had permanently damaged her nerves. “You’ll be able to soon, I promise.”

  Careful of her bruise, he dabbed her tears with his sleeve. Unable to clutch at him, she flopped her hands near the front of his shirt. Her effort to hold him? Heartbreaking.

  “What about Zach?” she whispered. Her eyes were wide and searching.

  “We got to him in time. He’ll be okay.”

  “Thank God.” She sagged against him.

  Her sobs cracked open his heart. Tonight, he had nearly lost two people who meant the world to him.

  A groan got his attention.

  “Don’t move,” he ordered Sara. Bad news if the blow to Hank’s head hadn’t kept that man down. Garrison didn’t know how much more fight he had left in the tank. “What the hell, Hank?” he yelled as the man sat up and staggered to his knees.

  He spat to the side. “This is all your fault, Taggart.”

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “If you’d fucking sold me the ranch, none of this shit would have ever happened.”

  “Excuse me?” Such twisted logic defied reason.

  “You had your chance to end this peacefully. Sell the ranch and everyone would have been happy. But no, you people are stubborn. Attracted too much attention.” Hank whispered between bloody lips, “That’s why we’re going to destroy all the Taggarts.”

  “One, we’re not interested in selling anything. It’s our land. Two, why do you want it so much? And three, why do you want to destroy my family?”

  “That’s for us to know and you never to know.”

  “Anything to do with the mining?”

  “The fuck you know!”

  Like coming off a springboard, Hank launched himself from a crouched position and drove his head into Garrison’s midsection, knocking him to the ground. Unable to breathe, Garrison blinked back dimming vision. The fists pummeling against his head helped to wake him the hell up as stars burst behind his eyes with each blow.

  Hank’s well-placed blow shot pain straight through to the back of Garrison’s skull. His nose made a sickening, wet crunch.

  The guy was getting the better of him. This bastard was stronger than any person should be. But Garrison couldn’t fail.

  Because if he went out of commission, who would protect Sara?

  Hank had departed the realm of insanely pissed off and irrational four punches ago. Homicidal would be the next stop. If he neutralized Garrison, then he’d kill her for sure.

  Garrison was the only thing that stood between Hank and Sara.

  A snap of wood registered in the periphery of his hearing. When Hank turned toward the sound, Garrison landed a solid uppercut on the man’s jaw. Damn, stung the knuckles. Where was Vaughn when he needed him? His brother loved brawling and MMA shit. He’d be perfect in this fight.

  Garrison blinked against blurry vision that created four Saras and four awful Hanks.

  Speaking of which, the man sprawled back against the wall, then like the damn Terminator, sat back up again and crawled to his feet. Blood dripped from his mouth, and he wheezed. But he kept coming.

  Sara swayed on her feet. She held a wooden leg from a chair, pressed between her two palms. The tip of the wood drifted toward the floor. She had no grip strength. If Hank got his hands on the weapon, the nut job would bludgeon them both.

  “Sarita, put that down,” Hank crooned. He spat a glob of blood onto the floor.

  Sweat beaded her forehead as the wood piece shook.

  Move, damn it. Move. Get over there and help her. How long until Garrison’s head would be clear enough to function?

  Hank had turned his back on him. Bad mistake. Garrison blinked away blood and slowly worked himself to his knees, inching closer to Hank.

  Sara flicked a glance at Garrison and stood straighter. “So, Hank, why’d you kidnap me, anyway?”

  Good job, Sara, buying more time. He fought to get the cobwebs out of his head. Son of a bitch, it felt like he was moving through sludge.

  Hank barked what passed for a laugh. “Like I said. If the Taggarts want it, I will have it. Or take it away from them. That includes you.”

  “Why?”

  “Part of my calling.”

  “You said that before. What do you mean?” She frowned.

  “The calling is from the Great One.” He wheezed. “Since neither of you will leave this shack alive, I’ll let you in on a secret. I’m about to become the most powerful being in the world.”

  “What?” she said.

  “You’ll see. My lord whispered the plan to me one night. If I follow instructions, I’ll be the new Great One.”

  “Okay, that sounds interesting,” mumbled Sara.

  “Ah, you don’t believe me. That’s okay. Let me tell you what else I’ve done.” Hank rubbed saliva and blood from his mouth onto the back of his sleeve. “Pretty boy here used to have a wife, right?”

  Garrison froze.

  “That was a year ago, right?” Sara asked.

  “Yeah, his bimbo wife left him.” He laughed and spat. “For me.”

  Surely, that knife had just been plunged into his chest and then twisted. Tiffani? With Hank? Ridiculous.

  “What?” Garrison roared.

  Hank spun around. “Hey, look who’s awake. Who do you think told her to clean out your bank account before she left you?” He crooked a thumb at his chest.

  Garrison’s head started to throb, and it had nothing to do with the concussion. “You’re lying.”

  Sara dropped the end of the chair leg to the floor and leaned over on it. How was she even remaining upright?

  The insane asshole had the gall to sneer. “She never loved you, Taggart.”

  “What do you know about it, Hank?”

  “Oh what a tangled web we weave.” His singsong voice grated on Garrison’s nerves. “She should have been mine all along, Taggart. I wanted her from the get-go. But our love had to wait.”

  “In what alternate universe?”

  “When you brought her home that Christmas break from college to show her around town—that’s when I knew I had to have her for myself.”

  “Why?”

  “You always got the best of everything. You were the most popular guy in school. You always got the girls. You have the best property for—” He clapped a hand over his mouth. “Anyway. Enough was enough. It was time for me to get something I wanted.”

  Blood drained out of Garrison’s head until he shook it to clear his muddled mind. “So, you and Tiffani ...?”

  Hank snickered. “First of all, let’s be honest here. In the beginning, she really wanted your brother, Vaughn. Not you or me. Anyone could see it. Maybe that’s part of why your brother left town last year.”

  “What?”

  “Oh. Oh? You didn’t know, did you? Oh my, oh my. That’s why big brother left. Affair. Couldn’t keep his hands off your wifey. Too bad his noble gesture to exit stage right didn’t matter in the long run.”

  “You’re lying.” A strange pressure began behind the temples. Insistent. A force begging to be let out. Begging to discover the truth. Begging Garrison to rip the truth out of the asshole’s head.

  “No, no. As time went on, after Vaughn left, you paid far more attention to the ranch than to Tiffani, and she grew to love me, as it should have been in the beginning. And how
she loved me! Over and over. Said I was way better in the sack than her dull husband.” He licked a cracked lip.

  Garrison had to breathe hard to control the sensation pushing out from the inside of his mind. Almost like hands reaching out to Hank. “Where is she?”

  “No longer with us, sad to say.”

  If Hank could be believed, this explained why Tiffani hadn’t contacted him in over a year. “Tell me.”

  “Nope. Sorry. End of story. She died in Salt Lake City. Fell in with the wrong sort of people, sadly.” Hank advanced, grinning. “Look, you want bad things to stop happening? You want to keep your family safe? Sell the ranch. Leave. It’s real simple.”

  “Why are you so fixated on the ranch?”

  “I gave you a chance, Taggart. You lose.”

  When Hank lunged at him, the blow ricocheted Garrison into the wall.

  Hank wrapped a hand around the front of his neck until a train-engine roar of sound filled Garrison’s ears. He could not pass out. Not now. Not with Sara vulnerable.

  Blackness tunneled in on him; the howl of pressure in his head turned into a desperate force.

  Then he heard a loud sound that refocused him for a split second before losing consciousness.

  • • •

  With a scream and an ungraceful lurch, Sara clocked Hank on the back of his head with the broken chair leg.

  Hank crumpled, once again still.

  Hopefully, it had hurt. He deserved to suffer after what he’d put her and Zach through. Not to mention hurting Garrison.

  She dropped the piece of wood, fell to her hands and knees, and then rolled onto her side, shaking, as the reality of the situation sank in.

  Blinking, she stared at the man who slid down the wall and sagged into a sitting position. The enormity of the near-death experience made her gut churn.

  “Garrison? You’re here?”

  Blood trickled down his forehead. “No place I’d rather be.” She winced in sympathy at his lopsided, bruised grin.

  “But how did you find me?”

  “Very good directions.”

  A hot flutter in her chest choked her. “What about Zach? He’s out there! You have to find him.”