9781618853011NoHoldsBarredChelcee

by Unknown

  He couldn’t change it.

  Could they go on from there?

  She couldn’t place all the blame on his shoulders. She should have been here with him, left Reno with him as he asked her to do. Instead, she’d left him vulnerable to Jillian’s schemes. Could she do less than forgive him when he wasn’t responsible for what happened?

  He hadn’t blamed her for what Smitt Davis did to her in the elevator. He’d been angry for her. Maybe she should be furious with Jillian for what she’d tried to do to Jace. There was little difference in Jillian and Smitt. They were both predators of the innocent. She brushed away the tears spilling down her face. “I think I’m going to be sick a lot with this pregnancy. Can you handle it?”

  His head jerked up in disbelief. “I think so,” he whispered. “Oh, God, darlin’.” He lifted her onto his lap, rocking her back and forth in his arms. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to be hurt. I never in a million years wanted that woman anywhere near you or me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  He stayed with her the rest of the morning. He pampered her, held her head when she was sick, wiped her face, and brushed her tangled hair. He made at least three pots of tea for her and insisted she try drinking it or else she’d get dehydrated.

  In the early afternoon, he left her to take a quick check on the horses in the stables. Lady Di was in premature labor and he was worried the mare would have a hard delivery. Kaycee decided she’d had enough of bed and lying around. She wasn’t the kind of person who was content being idle.

  After a light lunch of chicken broth, crackers, and a serving of an orange flavored gelatin, she felt more human. She showered, shampooed her hair and dressed. When she reached for the knife off her nightstand to slip inside her boot, she discovered it was missing.

  She searched her room, but the knife wasn’t on the dresser either. Maybe Jace took it. At any rate, she’d search more thoroughly for it later. She slammed the door behind her, and hurried to the stables, determined to watch the new arrival born.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.

  Lady Di was down. The baby was in a breech position and the mare was in serious trouble. Her sides heaved with exhaustion. Her nostrils flared and eyes filled with fright. Jace whispered soothing words to the mare, rubbed her belly and patted her head. “It’s all right, girl.”

  Simon Hanks, the local vet was in another county on another emergency.

  Jace paced and kept a watchful eye on the prize winning mare. She grew weaker and weaker with the difficult labor. Kaycee sat down beside the heavily breathing mare and crooned to her, rubbed her neck and bragged on her. The mare raised her head, heaved a deep breath, and shuddered with pain.

  “Can’t you turn the baby?” she asked. “She’s suffering.”

  “I tried. It’s too far up in the birth canal.”

  “Try again, Jace. Please.”

  He donned a pair of elbow length clear gloves and checked the mare. “Damn it!” He shook his head. “It’s still too high.”

  “You’ll lose both of them if you can’t get the baby turned.”

  “Hell, darlin’, I know that,” he snapped impatiently. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be impatient. I’m worried about the mare.”

  Hours crept by, slow torturous hours and all they could do was watch helplessly while the mare labored.

  Jace heaved a sigh of relief when he finally managed to turn the baby, but the mare was so exhausted after the hours of labor the new filly had to be manually pulled from the mother.

  It was after eight o’clock that night before the baby stood on unsteady legs and nuzzled her mother for nourishment. Lady Di was up, graciously encouraging her little one to suckle.

  Jace wrapped his arms around Kaycee’s shoulders and drew her close. “Go get some clean clothes and come to the house. I want you there with me tonight. We’ll shower and I’ll drive us to Havre and we’ll have a late dinner.”

  “I’ll be there shortly.” She turned to leave, but Jace pulled her into his arms. “Not without this.”

  He dipped his head and closed his mouth over hers. Kaycee moaned and held his wide hand against her belly. He spread his palm over her stomach and gently massaged it. Reluctantly, he released her mouth and cupped the sides of her face.

  “Hurry,” he whispered against her mouth. “I’m starving, and not for food.”

  Kaycee giggled. It was the sweetest sound Jace had heard in a long time. He watched his wife with hungry eyes as she walked away from him. She’d finally accepted and made room for him in her life, but she hadn’t given him her heart. She hadn’t told him she loved him.

  He didn’t know if he could live the rest of his life without her should she continue to withhold her heart. Desolately, he wondered what it would take to win and hold her love.

  * * * *

  December10, Wednesday 12:15 a.m.

  Dianna stepped inside the nearly dark stables and frowned. Lady Di’s stall was at the far end.

  The only lighting came from directly behind where she stood near the entrance. Shivering, she hesitated. There was something sinister about the stables she’d never felt before.

  Shaking off the shivers oozing down her spine, she headed through the inky darkness to Lady Di’s stall.

  The animals were still, as if a vile hand kept them subdued. She’d never been afraid to enter the stables before, even when all the lights were out. But this was different. The presence of evil surged into the stables so thick and malevolent she could almost taste it. She shook off the eerie feeling. It was probably left over vibes from her ordering Taylor not to kiss her again. She should never have mentioned it. It gave it too much importance.

  “Asshole.”

  She hated the man. She really did. She had boobs. Maybe not big ones like Jillian’s store bought boobs, but at least what she had was real.

  Swearing as her boots suddenly skidded out from under her, she fell forward, sliding on her belly across something cold, wet and sticky. Yuck! Whatever was spilled on the floor smeared on her arms, hands, across her face, in her hair, and smelled strongly of copper and horse manure.

  Dianna lay there on the stable floor, too stunned to move. Something else teased her nostrils, a faint medicinal odor. Damn, her imagination must be playing tricks on her. One of the horses probably urinated and dumped a pile before being retired for the night and she’d been unlucky enough to fall in it.

  She tried to push herself up, but slipped a second time, coating her skin and clothes with more of the wet stuff. “Shit.”

  Yeah, right, that’s exactly what it was.

  Somehow, she managed to roll to one side and bumped up against something soft and lumpy.

  What the hell?

  She had to get to the light switch. She couldn’t see a damn thing in the pitch black hole on this end of the stable.

  Dianna felt her way down the stalls and groped for the switch in the dark. Her fingers closed over the button and she flipped it up. Light flooded the interior of the building. She looked around, her puzzled gaze taking in the mess on the floor. Her first thought was someone spilled a bucket of red paint on the floor and walked away and left the mess.

  Then her attention centered on her arms, hands, and white tee-shirt. They were saturated with the stuff. Her brows furrowed. She stared at her arms, then turned her gaze back to where she’d fallen. Her mouth worked, but the only sound that escaped was a soft mewling from the back of her throat. The scream simply lodged below her Adam’s apple and refused to travel any higher.

  She stared blankly at the mutilated body lying there on the floor, then abruptly, she leaned over and vomited up the Milky Way she’d had for a midnight snack. “Oh, God! Oh, God!”

  Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart pumped faster than a thoroughbred’s on a race track. She wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand, and ordered her legs to move, but they refused to obey her silent command. She remained frozen in her tracks, her back against the wall.
/>
  * * * *

  Taylor sat at the kitchen table sipping from a cup of steaming coffee and brooding about Dianna ordering him never to kiss her again. And she was right. He should never have kissed her. Never touched her breasts, but he had, and by God he liked it.

  He had to be crazy. What the hell had he been thinking?

  He couldn’t stand the snooty bitch. She had no tits to speak of, but his fingers itched to touch them again. Hell, he wanted to fuck her. Just one time, one time, so he’d have bragging rights. Jace had ruined his sister. He intended to return the favor and when he was done, he’d drop her on her rich ass just like when he kissed her.

  “Ahhhhhh!”

  He jerked when the shrill scream shattered the quiet.

  The piercing sound dragged him out of his contemplation of screwing Dianna.

  Dianna!

  It was Dianna screaming. His heart leaped at the sound of her unholy screams. The coffee cup shattered on the floor.

  He’d been sitting on the porch in the dark when she strolled by on her way to the stables. Disgusted with himself, he watched her vanish inside the barn. She hadn’t had a clue he was sitting there in the shadows hungering for her.

  Taylor cursed the slowness of trying to roll the wheelchair across the rough, uneven ground as he made his way toward the stables. It took forever to reach his destination. His heart chugged fiercely in his chest. Terror pumped through his veins like white lightning. It robbed him of the ability to breathe. Two more screams blasted the obscene quiet, then total silence.

  What the hell happened?

  When he passed through the doorway, he saw Dianna standing at the far end, her back pressed against the wall behind her. Her clothes looked wet and red. He narrowed his eyes. What the hell was all over her? Jesus, had she somehow seriously injured herself?

  “Dianna! What happened? Did you hurt yourself?”

  Her face looked as white as a bar of Ivory soap. Little mewling sounds escaped her throat. A blank, doll-like expression glazed her green eyes.

  “Dianna? Damn you, answer me,” he yelled, his heart pounding. “What happened to you?”

  She didn’t look at him. She didn’t move. She stood there, plastered against the wall, her gaze fixed on something on the floor to her right. Those terrible sounds kept slipping past her lips.

  He drew closer.

  What the hell was smeared all over her?

  Paint?

  He wheeled closer. “Dianna?”

  She turned her head toward him. Her gaze suddenly focused on him, on his voice. She gave a choked sound and sprinted toward him. She darted behind his wheelchair and clung to his shoulders. “Oh, God, Taylor, we need to get outta here.”

  He pulled her around onto his lap. She sobbed wildly. Her arms tangled around his neck and she hung on like someone drowning. Her body quivered, and she kept making those peculiar little sounds. Desperate sounds, choking sounds that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

  Taylor drew her arms from his neck. “Hey, what’s wrong? What is it? How bad are you injured? Christ, you’ve got blood all over you.”

  She shook her head. Her eyes, such an intense shade of green, looked nearly black. Her pupils fully dilated. His breath left him in a rush as he looked past her to the naked body curled on the floor beside the last stall. “Shit! Shit!” His arms tightened around her. He pressed her closer, stroked her hair with unsteady hands. “Are you hurt, baby?” he asked hoarsely.

  Shit, she’d scared him out of ten years of his life when she screamed. His heart still pounded. He held up his hands. They were wet, sticky, and red from touching her hair and back.

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Dianna?” Jesus, his heart felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest. “Are you hurt, sweetheart? Injured?”

  She leaned back, shook her head. Her eyes were huge. Wild. Terrified. Her breath escaped in uneven little hitches, ragged. “I–I w–we have to–to get–to get out of here.” Her teeth clattered together. “No–now, Taylor. We–have t–to get out of here, now!”

  “Easy, baby.” He raked his hands through her wet hair, lifted her face to his. She pushed against his chest, trying to escape his hold on her. “Sweetheart, calm down and tell me what happened.”

  “It’s Jillian! I–I think it might be Jillian.” She bailed off him, bent over, and retched. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” She moaned and dropped to her knees. She pointed a trembling finger toward the body. “I–I’m not sure. I–God, her face is missing. Shit. Shit.” She looked back at Taylor, her eyes round and glistening pools of terror. “I–I—”

  She broke off as he whipped his head around at the slight scraping sound behind them.

  “Jace!” Taylor sighed. Relief swamped him. He suddenly felt as wrung out as an old rag. He didn’t think he’d ever see the day he was happy to see Jace Remington, but by God, this was the moment.

  Jace and Kaycee stood frozen a few feet inside the stables.

  “We were just coming to check on Lady D.,” Kaycee said faintly.

  She buried her face against Jace’s chest and shuddered. Jace brushed his hand down her back.

  “Don’t touch anything else,” Jace said. “Neither of you. I’ll call Danger.” Jace kept Kaycee close to his side and patted her back. “Come with me, darlin.’ You don’t need to be here. Dianna!”

  Dianna looked up at her brother, her face still pale as a bleached bone, her eyes stricken.

  “Bad as I hate to say it, honey, you better wait here for Danger.”

  She nodded and looked at Taylor. “Don’t leave me alone. Please,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me here alone.”

  Taylor’s lips tightened. He gave an abrupt nod of agreement. Wild horses couldn’t pull him away. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said tersely.

  He watched Dianna stare at the drying blood on her hands and clothes. “There’s a tub of water over there in the corner if you wanna wash your face and hands.”

  She nodded and moved to the tub. Dianna splashed water on her face and arms. When she turned back around, she sniffed, her tears mingling with the water sliding down her face.

  Taylor clenched his fists in his lap. He wanted the freedom to pull her into his arms, hold her, and comfort her. He had better sense. Hell, he was half a man. He had nothing to offer her. He’d never have anything to offer her.

  Dianna Remington wasn’t for him.

  The sooner he managed to put some distance between them, the better.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sometimes it’s a little better to travel than to arrive.

  ~ Robert Persig

  (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance)

  Rimrock Sheriff’s Dept.

  Wednesday 11:00 a.m.

  Danger Blackstone grimaced and placed the photos of Jillian Remington’s body to one side. He hated the fact he’d asked Lacey to take the pictures. Lacey might be a professional photographer, but she didn’t shoot crime scenes or snap shots of butchered victims.

  However, his staff photographer was off for at least another week, if not longer from a rattlesnake bite. Lacey agreed to do the job, but he knew it had been difficult for her, doubly so since she’d witnessed a murder a couple of years earlier and was with him when he’d discovered the female bodies in a cave three years earlier.

  Lacey held up well taking the shots of Jillian and preserving the crime scene in pictures for him. She didn’t throw-up until after she snapped every single picture he asked for.

  Hell, he couldn’t blame her for hurling. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more gruesome. Half of Jillian’s face was chewed away, as if an animal had shredded the meat off her cheekbone. Her naked body had so many bite marks and knife wounds it looked like she’d been attacked by a pack of knife wielding piranha.

  She’d been struck above her right temple with a blunt weapon. The skull fracture would cause her brain to bleed and that was most likely the cause of death, but not before she suffered at
the hands of her attacker. Her belly had been sliced open like Rodney Blake’s. Her entrails were draped around her as if the killer had enjoyed creating a macabre crime scene. The M.E. reported she’d been raped multiple times.

  At first examination, the Medical Examiner believed the killing blow was from a hammer, but Danger realized he’d have to wait on the final, official report from the autopsy.

  The x-ray had revealed a fracture in Jillian’s skull spreading outward in a fine, spider web pattern. It appeared as if the slayer had known the exact amount of pressure to apply to keep her alive long enough for the torture he inflicted.

  Two murders, in two days.

  Rodney Blake died a little before midnight on Friday night. Jillian died sometime late in the evening of the following day. There were differences in the way the two died, yet similar treatment to both victims. Jillian hadn’t died from her throat being sliced like Rodney had, but yet, there were enough similarities he believed they were committed by the same perp.

  Rimrock was a small town. What were the odds of more than one murderer running around playing slice and dice?

  He studied the first preliminary report and wondered what kind of sick fuck tortured a woman like that. Danger grabbed his keys off the desk. Damn, he hated going to the Star, questioning Jace, or having to give details about the murder. He wished fervently Rimrock would return to normal, but unfortunately, Rimrock hadn’t been normal for the past three years.

  * * * *

  Dancing Star Ranch

  Wednesday 11:30 a.m.

  Jace scowled when Danger pulled in the driveway, but he couldn’t say he was the least surprised. He was surprised it had taken him the lawman nearly three days to come back to question him. No doubt, he was at the top of the list of suspects, at least for what happened to Jillian.

  He figured the only reason he wasn’t charged with Jillian’s murder and already in jail was because Danger was his best friend, but that friendship could only be carried to a point. If the District Attorney, Adam Wexton, ordered him picked up, then Danger would have no choice but to charge him and haul his ass to jail.