Bestselling Authors Collection 2012

by Trish Morey; Day Leclaire; Natalie Anderson; Brenda Jackson; Ann Voss Peterson

  EFRAIM HELD HIS GUN at the ready and strode toward the flash of movement he’d seen between clumps of sage. Probably an animal. A pronghorn antelope darting across the land or a coyote scrounging for food or scampering after a rodent. But deep down he feared it wasn’t something so innocuous. Whoever had shot Fahad was still out here. Watching him. Following. He sensed him.

  At least he hoped the gunman was following him and not Callie and Fahad.

  He could no longer see them. He hadn’t been able to for quite a while now, even over this open stretch. But he could see her horse’s fresh tracks among sagebrush and prickly pear. And at his pace, he had to be closing in on her. Of course, with only the faint glow of the sun from beyond the mountains, seeing anything was becoming a challenge.

  A slight rustle carried on the dying wind.

  Ahead, vegetation grew a little taller, a little more lush. A clear indication of water. Probably a creek. He pulled out Callie’s rifle. Lifting it to his shoulder, he peered through the scope and scanned the area.

  No horse. No man. But also no animal. At least not one he could see.

  Whoever was out there was very good. Either someone who knew the land, or someone trained to disappear. He could be lining Efraim up in his sights right now, and Efraim wouldn’t even know he was there.

  Not until the bullet hit.

  He tried to clear his mind, to focus on what his senses told him, not what his imagination could invent. Whoever was out there had been following Callie or him or both since Fahad was shot. He hadn’t shot back since his second attempt in the badlands, but that didn’t mean killing them wasn’t his aim. Efraim just wished he knew why the man was playing with them like a cat plays with its prey before devouring it.

  Dry soil crunched under his boots. The wind had died down with the fall of night, and the air was still, making every sound loud as gunfire. He breathed deeply, searching for the scent of burning tobacco, the sharp tang of a man’s sweat, something, but all he could detect was the ever-present fragrance of sage flavored with a distant hint of pine.

  He lowered the rifle. Another thing he hadn’t seen was any sign of a ranch, and that had him worried. It couldn’t be too much farther, could it? He hoped it was as close as Callie thought. And he could only pray Fahad was still alive and strong enough for it to matter.

  The hiss sounded from the prairie floor, like the shake of a maraca, louder than the wind.

  Oh, hell.

  He looked down at the earth in front of him.

  The black coil of a rattlesnake lay near a clump of sage. Again, it sounded its deadly warning.

  Efraim took a slow step backward. Then another. In all the riding and climbing he’d done in Rattlesnake Badlands, he hadn’t seen a single one of the reptiles. They’d probably been hiding from the hot sun. This one had ventured out to enjoy the cooler evening air.

  He took several more backward steps.

  The rattle faltered, then stopped. He’d barely drawn a breath when another sound came from behind him. The unmistakable clack of a rifle chambering a round.

  “Turn around and I’ll blow your head off.”

  The voice sounded American. A local, or at least a pretty good imitation of the accent. A slight tremor vibrated under the words.

  Efraim gripped the rifle. He slid his finger to the trigger guard.

  “Throw the rifle down.”

  Could he spin around, aim and fire before the man could take him out? He doubted it. He’d proven himself quite a marksman in the canyon. Now, with what sounded like only a few yards between them, hitting Efraim would be child’s play.

  “I said throw it down.”

  It would be smarter to wait for a better chance. He just prayed it would come before the bullet did. He tossed Callie’s rifle to the ground.

  “Put your hands up.”

  Efraim complied. Hands raised, he scanned the area, straining to see in the dim light. Sagebrush hulked in low, gray mounds, but he could see little else. Nothing he could use for cover.

  Boots crunched on dry ground. The steps came closer, moving up behind him.

  Efraim held his breath. He could feel the man closing in. Only eight feet away. Four. Two. Efraim no longer had his pistol or Callie’s rifle, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. He slowed his breathing, focused his mind, ready to move.

  The footfalls stopped. Efraim could sense him bend down, hear him grab Callie’s rifle.

  Now.

  Efraim slashed a hand downward, grabbing for his belt. The dagger decorating the buckle looked like simple ornamentation, but it was anything but. His thumb found the release button at the same time his fingers hit the tiny dagger. He pulled the small blade clear and spun around.

  The man was a dark silhouette, the last glow of twilight behind him.

  Efraim slashed, hit flesh.

  The man let loose a guttural sound.

  Efraim reversed direction, bringing the blade back, striking again.

  This time his enemy was ready. He lifted the rifle. Blade hit barrel.

  The dagger wrenched from Efraim’s hands. The rifle barrel numbed his hand and plowed into his side.

  Pain shot through his ribcage, making it hard to breathe. He struck out with his bare hands. His knuckles glanced off the man’s chin.

  The rifle hit again.

  His whole chest seized with pain. Gasping, Efraim hunched forward, trying to protect his ribs, trying to breathe.

  The man was on him in a second. His knee drove into Efraim’s back. Dirt and grit ground into his cheek. He struggled for air but nothing came.

  “Hold still.”

  Efraim finally choked a breath into his lungs. Dust came with it. He coughed, his side on fire. The entire middle of his body wreathed in pain.

  His dagger.

  It had flown out of his hand when the rifle barrel hit. It had to be here. Within a few feet. He scraped the ground in front of him with his free hand, but hit nothing but sagebrush and prickly pear.

  “Hold still.” The man shoved his knee harder into Efraim’s back. “Right now, or I’ll blow you away.”

  Each inhale seared like a hot poker in the side, but at least he was breathing. He felt something hard press into the back of his head.

  “Is he dead?”

  “Who?” Efraim managed to choke out.

  “The one I shot.”

  Efraim dug his fingers into the dirt. He didn’t know if Fahad was alive or dead, but either way he would strangle the man with his own hands. He would avenge his cousin. His blood. Fahad would do no less for him.

  “Is he?”

  “No.”

  He let out a breath with a whoosh. “Why are you here?” The man’s voice cracked.

  Efraim smiled. It was one thing to gun a man down from a distance. Looking through a rifle scope made everything seem unreal, like watching a violent movie or playing a video game. Americans loved their violence as long as it was at a distance. Pretend. Or in someone else’s country.

  Efraim knew how to deal with it close up.

  He had to be calm, to clear his mind. He’d struck too fast with the knife. Played it too recklessly. He’d assumed he was faster than his enemy. As fast as he had been years ago when he’d fought for Nadar. He’d been wrong. But he didn’t need to be faster. He was smarter. This time he needed to think. And when he got an opening, he needed to make it count.

  The guy had him pinned to the ground, but his weight rested too much on Efraim’s back. In that unstable position, Efraim could throw him off balance and flip him. He’d already proven himself more fond of throwing threats around than bullets. He’d give Efraim another chance. Cracked rib or not, Efraim could take him. He tensed, ready to make his move.

  “Efraim?”

  Callie.

  Bloody hell. She must be near. She must have heard voices. And knowing what he did of her, she was probably on her way to help.

  Efraim could feel the man tense at the sound of her voice. He still had his rifle,
probably two, because he’d taken Callie’s, as well. Maybe that was what he was waiting for…for all three of them to be together. Maybe he was following, being as quiet as he could, biding his time so he could take them all out at the same time.

  “Efraim? Is that you?”

  She was closer. Riding straight into his trap. Straight toward a man with a gun.

  Efraim couldn’t let Callie be his target. “Callie? Run.” He bucked backward, trying to unseat the man.

  The man was too quick. He shifted his weight off Efraim and brought his fist hard into Efraim’s side.

  Into his cracked rib.

  Pain ripped through his body. A gasp tore from his lips. For a second, he couldn’t move.

  Gritting his teeth, he forced his body to function. He sprang upward and back, but the man was off him and he connected with nothing but air.

  A shadow moved to the left.

  He spun to the side with a kick. This time he hit flesh.

  The man grunted but kept moving. Running. Not toward Efraim or the sound of Callie’s voice but away. Footsteps ground on dry earth and faded into the night.

  Efraim tried to run, to give chase, but after a few steps, he knew it was no good. He slumped forward, bracing his hands on his knees. Pain tore through his side, making each breath agony. Cracked rib for certain. Maybe two. He forced himself to straighten, took a few steps in the direction the shooter went, then doubled over again.

  “Efraim? Are you okay?”

  He turned toward her voice. All he could make out was the silhouette of a horse carrying two riders. She was near him, only a few feet away. But he couldn’t see her face.

  “Efraim?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  “I heard voices. Fighting. What happened?” Her voice trembled, frightened for him, not sparing a thought about what she was rushing into.

  At once he felt grateful for her concern and angry that she’d exposed herself to such danger. “You should have run for the ranch. You shouldn’t have risked coming back for me.”

  “And let you die?”

  “I wasn’t going to die.” He was close enough to see her face now, her golden hair. But he couldn’t read her eyes. But there was something, the sheen of tears on her cheeks…”Callie? You’re crying. What happened?”

  Her breath hitched. “I’m so sorry, I—I think Fahad is dead.”

  Chapter Four

  Efraim didn’t want to believe Callie’s words, but somehow he knew they were true. He stumbled forward, reaching the horse’s side.

  “His pulse, I checked. The first time, it felt weak. But this last time…I couldn’t find it at all.”

  Fahad was slumped to the side, Callie gripping the fork of the saddle, stretching her arm like a gate to keep him from falling off. Efraim had to wonder how long she’d been riding like that.

  “Do you want to check? I mean, to make sure?”

  He glanced around. Sagebrush dotted the ground around them, darker hulks in a dark world. The gunman could be anywhere. Twenty feet away, and they might not be able to see him. “We need to get out of here. Can you hold Fahad upright a little longer?”

  “I think so.”

  He had a feeling she would, no matter how numb her arm became, no matter how slick the saddle leather felt under her fingers. He had to hurry.

  Again he scanned the darkness. The fight had thrown off his sense of direction. With the clouds low and no sign of the sun’s glow behind the mountains, he couldn’t get his bearings. “Which way?”

  “To your right.”

  He turned the way she’d suggested.

  “See the big sage and Russian olive? That’s the creek that runs through my family’s ranch. We can follow it right to the Seven M.”

  He took the palomino mare’s reins and started leading her toward the larger shadows. He pulled in short breaths, pain shooting through his side. He struggled to listen, to hear the rustle of human boots moving through the sparse vegetation. But the only sounds that reached him were the four-beat rhythm of the horse’s walk and the faint creak of the broken-in saddle. After a while, he added the gurgle of the creek to his list. In the distance, a dog barked.

  “You hear that?” Callie asked. “The dog. That’s my dad’s border collie.”

  So they were getting close. Not that it mattered for Fahad. But at least Callie would be safe.

  Fahad. Dead.

  He still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept it. “Try to find his pulse again.”

  Callie shifted in the saddle and the horse stopped. She brought her hand to Fahad’s neck. Seconds passed. She met Efraim’s gaze and shook her head. “You check.”

  He reached up. Callie took his hand and guided it to Fahad’s throat. As soon as Efraim touched his skin, he knew. It felt cool, much cooler than it should. He didn’t have to search for a pulse, but he did anyway.

  A weight bore down on his chest. His throat thickened as if filled with sand. He’d thought the pain of a broken rib was bad. This was much worse. He tried to swallow, to take a breath, but he couldn’t.

  Fahad had told him leaving the ranch was dangerous. He hadn’t listened. He hadn’t cared about the danger to himself. It had never occurred to him the danger would be to Fahad. And now to Callie McGuire, as well.

  Efraim wasn’t a devout Muslim, but he wished he were more devout now. Maybe then he’d know what prayers to offer for his cousin’s soul. Maybe then he could breathe. Maybe then he’d know how to feel.

  He looked up at Callie, bravely holding on, cradling Fahad’s body, even though she had known for quite some time that he was dead. She’d done it for him, Efraim knew. To give them time to get closer to the ranch and away from the gunman. But even more, to give him time to accept that his cousin was, indeed, gone. “Release your grip.”

  Even in the dark, he could sense her searching his eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He nodded. “You’ve done enough. I will take him.”

  She let go. Fahad slumped to the side and into Efraim’s arms. He held his cousin’s body while Callie slid to the ground, shaking the blood back into her arm. He was heavy, but Efraim could only half feel the weight. The knowledge that he wouldn’t have died if not for Efraim’s actions weighed far heavier.

  His legs faltered.

  Suddenly Callie was beside him, her hand on his arm, her voice in his ear. “Put him down.”

  Efraim staggered. He dropped to one knee. The darkness around him blurred. The pain in his side grew and spread until it swallowed all of him. He lay Fahad on the ground and let a shudder take him. Another followed and another. “It’s my fault,” he managed to choke out.

  “No.” Callie brought her hand to his cheek. She wiped his face, then turned him to face her.

  He knew she wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to feel. At least not what he was feeling now.

  She looked so soft, so beautiful, so caring. Even in the darkness, her eyes sparkled like the clearest water. Her hair draped over her shoulders like a veil.

  He pulled her to him, cupped his hand around the nape of her neck, brought his lips to hers. She tasted sweet, yet salty, her tears mixing with his own. Tears shed for him, he knew. And for Fahad, whom she’d hardly even met.

  He knew he shouldn’t be kissing her. And yet he needed this. At this moment, he felt like he couldn’t do without it.

  She was something, this woman. Strong and determined, yet with a tender heart. What he wouldn’t give to stay in her arms, to make her his. To wake every day to a woman like this. To let her be his reason for living.

  An impossible dream.

  Efraim ended the kiss and looked down. He knew he should feel ashamed. How could he kiss a woman over his cousin’s dead body? How could he claim warm feelings for himself when his actions had sentenced Fahad to his death? Yet although he accepted the blame for Fahad following him to the badlands, he couldn’t manage to regret kissing Callie. T
hat he kept for himself.

  She took his hands in hers. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  He looked up at the sound of her voice and found her watching him. It was all he could do to keep from kissing her again. “How can I not?”

  “It was his job to protect you.”

  “And I made him follow me because I refused to listen. I never thought, never considered I was risking others’ lives, not just my own.”

  “You had your reasons for riding to Rattlesnake Badlands. Reasons that weren’t selfish. And Fahad did his job. He tried to make sure you were safe. The man who shot him, he deserves the blame.”

  He nodded and gave her fingers a squeeze. Fahad had fulfilled his responsibility to Efraim. It was now Efraim’s turn. “You are right.”

  “We’ll tie him on Sasha. We’ll take him to my family’s ranch and call the sheriff. He will find whoever did this and make him pay.”

  “No.”

  She lowered her brows and tilted her head, as if she wasn’t following.

  “Fahad is my family, my blood, not the sheriff’s.”

  She frowned, a crease digging between her eyebrows. “You have to leave this to the law, Efraim.”

  He let out a derisive laugh he could feel shoot down his side. “The law can’t avenge Fahad. I can.”

  “That’s not the way things work here.”

  “As far as I can see, things don’t work here very well. Otherwise Amir would not be gone. Stefan would not have been attacked. Fahad would not be dead.”

  “You’re upset. You just lost your cousin. It’s understandable. But we are a nation of laws and the law works. It does.” She nodded as if she could will him to agree. “Sheriff Wolf is a good man, an honest man. He’ll give Fahad justice.”

  He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t angry. He merely felt cold. Resolute. He looked away from her, not wanting to see what was in her eyes, not wanting to have his resolve shaken. It would be so easy to be tempted to selfishly forget Fahad, forget what he owed his security man, his cousin, his blood, and instead lose himself in the woman in front of him.

  The spark of a light caught his eye.