Divine Charity [Divine Creek Ranch 18] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Heather Rainier

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t have to do anything. I watched while they tried to get the mess he’d made all unknotted and didn’t say a word.”

  “No?”

  “Not a word. After a while they gave up. They replaced it all, same as Ransome and Val are doing for you.”

  “And you made them swear to never touch your shit again, right?”

  Grace grinned. “No, after they replaced it, I showed them the proper way to handle all my lingerie. You should’ve seen their eyes—like a new calf looking at a gate. They’ve never touched any of my lingerie ever since.”

  “That’s one way to handle it. I think I traumatized my guys.”

  Grace shrugged. “They’ll never forget again, will they?”

  “Nope.”

  As she inspected a small straw cowboy hat, Grace said, “Don’t worry, sis. They’ll get the hang of being with you. Something’s bound to go cock-eyed every now and then. You talk about it and move on, right? Next time, when Justin gives them a heads-up about something, they’ll listen better.”

  Charity nodded, smiling as she recalled the apology that had been so obvious in their eyes. “It’s not like I won’t screw up occasionally, too, I suppose.”

  An hour later, they were standing at the cashier register while Bernadette got all of their purchases ready to total up.

  “Have you heard from Jessica Bright?” Charity asked.

  “Yes. Bella is nearly a month old and growing like a weed.” Grace was quiet for a second and then softly said, “I think Tank and Troy are a little smitten with both Jessica and Bella, although Jessica seems oblivious. She’s helping Lydia in the ranch kitchen when she can and I think she has put out feelers for a job.”

  “What does she do?” Charity asked as she held open the door and carried their purchases out for Grace, who was under orders to not lift anything.

  “She’s an optometrist. She’s considering staying in the area since she likes it here so much. At least she seems like something is holding her here in the area. I like knowing she’s with Lydia and LuAnn and they seem determined for her to stay in the area. Jessica and the baby are safe out there for now. She thinks they may have figured out how Dornan traced her to Divine.”

  “How?”

  “The guys and Lydia took her to Houston to check her mail and her apartment.”

  “Was it broken into?”

  “Not in an obvious way, but her desktop computer was missing.”

  “Oh, so he must’ve found proof of where she was staying somehow?”

  “That’s what they think anyway. It makes me nervous to think of him still out there somewhere. Jessica deserves a chance to have a normal life for her and her baby.”

  Charity keyed the remote on the trunk of her new vehicle as they walked up to it.

  “You talking about that cute little Jessica Bright?” a man Charity didn’t recognize said as he climbed out of his truck and walked up as if to offer them a hand. He was dressed like a ranch hand but Charity didn’t recognize him. “Here, let me help you with these. They look heavy.” Charity didn’t release the bags as she looked him full in the face.

  The man wore a cowboy hat, jeans, boots, a barn jacket, and a plaid shirt but something was off about him. The attire didn’t seem quite right on him. And no one in their right mind would wear a heavy barn jacket on such a warm day. He was clean cut but there was a wiliness about him and he held eye contact with them too long, which she found disconcerting.

  Grace and Charity exchanged a look and Grace said, “I was talking about my sister who recently moved to Ohio.”

  “Nice try, bitches.” The menace in his growling voice made shivers run up Charity’s spine, followed by cold fingers of fear when he parted the front of his jacket to reveal a gun tucked in his waistband. “We need to have a talk. You cooperate and you’ll both live, no problem.” His eyes shifted around the half-full parking lot as customers came and went.

  “What do you want?” Grace asked in a measured tone.

  “Jessica Bright. She have that baby yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Boy?” he asked sharply.

  “Girl,” Charity replied, frowning when he ground out a low, filthy curse. “We won’t take you to her, if that’s what you want.”

  “Got no use for a girl. You Grace Warner?” he asked, peering at Grace’s abdomen. Charity wanted to stop her but Grace nodded. She had a really bad feeling about this.

  “Perfect. You’re coming with me. Climb up,” he gestured toward his jacked-up truck.

  Grace shook her head. “I can’t and why do you want me?”

  “I did my research and had a backup plan in case that little bitch whelped a girl. I heard through the Divine grapevine that you’re carrying a boy. I’m not leaving this town empty-handed. Val Teller and Ransome Cross cheated me out of my kid so it only makes sense that I replace my kid out of their family.”

  “Cheated you?” Grace slid both arms around her abdomen and gaped at him. “You’re not serious.”

  “Serious enough to shoot you and your friend if you don’t cooperate,” he said, gesturing at his gun.

  Grace gestured to the brace that was visible beneath the collar of her maternity blouse. “I can’t get in your truck. I have a broken collarbone. I can’t lift myself into that vehicle and it’s too high to climb.” Charity was grateful she was still in the brace.

  He cursed again as if it was her fault he hadn’t planned his kidnapping very well and then finally said, “I’ll help your damn fat ass into the truck.”

  Charity knew if they got in that truck, Grace was good as dead. She envisioned jumping in it and driving back and forth over his profane ass for insulting Grace’s body and threatening them both. “Why do you have to have her? Take me.”

  “I plan to keep her until she pops out that kid. I can’t breed you so I don’t need you, bitch. All I want is the kid.” Charity recalled hearing that this asshole, for by this point she was sure they were dealing with Trevor Dornan, had been attacked and castrated by a fellow inmate while in jail.

  “What happens after she has the baby?”

  A nasty smile crossed the bastard’s face. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I know someone else who’d like a shot at a proven breeder. But you? You’re dead weight. I don’t need you. Now get her in the truck before I put a bullet in your brain.”

  There was only one thing she could do.

  “No,” Charity said, positioning Grace behind her.

  “Charity, what are you doing?” Grace asked, fear resonating in her voice as she looked around the parking lot.

  “Keep your voice down, bitch.”

  Charity raised an eyebrow. “You’re not taking my sister. You can’t risk shooting her for fear of damaging the baby, and you won’t shoot me for fear of drawing attention. If you do, you’ll never be able to get her in the truck on your own and you can bet she won’t cooperate with you.”

  “Nope,” Grace said from behind her.

  “I’ll shoot her in the foot. That’ll motivate her.”

  “No it won’t,” Charity countered, praying for enough time for someone to see them and get suspicious. “Then she definitely won’t be able to climb, and she could get an infection and lose the baby or die.” Just keep talking.

  “I have first aid supplies at home. I even know a thing or two about birthin’ babies.”

  Grace whispered, “Ew.” Charity bit her lip to keep from grinning, which would be a life-threatening action, given that sweaty asshole’s state of mind.

  “Help her in the truck,” he said, reaching for the gun.

  “No.”

  He got right in her face. “Do it now, bitch, or so help me—”

  Bingo. “That’s Ms. Bitch to you, motherfucker.” Charity pulled back and popped him right in the nose with the heel of her hand, just as Hank had taught her and her friends, then shoved his hat down on his face, which had to hurt something fierce on his busted nose. She
kneed him in the groin next. He didn’t have any nuts left but she figured she should cover whatever bases she could while she had the chance.

  “Son of a bitch!” he shouted as he doubled over. Taking advantage of his incapacitation while it lasted, she jumped on him and screamed, “Run, Grace! Call 911! Help!”

  “You fucking crazy bitch, get off of me!” He reached inside his jacket and she wrestled with him to keep the gun firmly lodged in his pants but he had his greater bulk and strength on his side and he fought hard to free the gun.

  “You’re not taking my sister, or my nephew, you jackass. You thought you could just walk up to any pregnant woman and order her to do your bidding? I’ll show you—”

  He got the gun free and she heard someone scream nearby and the sound of running feet as they fought for the gun in his hand. He gained the upper hand and pulled an arm back and slapped her in the side of the head, which made her see stars. She blinked and shook her head and jumped at him trying to grab for the gun again as he brought it down so the barrel pointed right at her.

  “Not so clever now, are you?”

  “Look around, nitwit, your prize is safely inside the store by now and the sheriff is likely on his way. You’re surrounded by witnesses. You shoot me and you just add to the list of charges. Are those sirens I hear?” Her heart beat so loudly it sounded like a drum in her ears.

  He grimaced and growled as several people hid behind cars, either speaking into their phones or taking pictures with them. In her peripheral vision, she saw the black and gray uniform of a sheriff’s deputy, she wasn’t sure who, creep toward Trevor Dornan’s truck.

  Dornan peeled back his lips and snarled at her as sirens wailed ever closer. “This is all your fault, you mouthy cunt.”

  Keep him talking, Wyatt mouthed as he climbed into the passenger side door of the truck, out of Dornan’s line of sight.

  “Well, I’ll give you points for adding a little variety, dickhead. ‘Bitch’ was getting old. Give it up, Trevor. You can’t win.”

  “All women are bitches, only good for one thing, and it’s not over, not by a long shot, bitch,” he said as he backed toward the open door of his truck. He reached for the steering wheel, as if ready to jump up into the truck and at the last second, he reached back with the gun in hand.

  “He’s gonna shoot!” someone screamed nearby. Charity turned and ran, shielding herself with her handbag, the only thing she had with her as Wyatt leaped at Trevor from behind. The gun went off.

  She tripped over her own feet as she rounded the back of her car, landing hard on her hands and knees. “Ow. That stings.” She huddled as she listened to the scuffle taking place on the other side of her car until she finally heard Wyatt growl into his radio, requesting an ambulance and assistance. The sounds of renewed scuffling worried her and she curled into a ball, unable to crawl away because the strength seemed to have deserted her arms and legs.

  “I’ve got him secured, Charity. You okay?” Wyatt called.

  “Yeah.” She turned so she was sitting on her ass on the warm asphalt and looked down. When she’d fallen, she’d landed so hard that she’d ripped the knee of her blue jeans and scraped the skin beneath. Yeah, those jeans were definitely toast. Her hand shook as she examined the scrape and then she realized her whole right arm trembled.

  She thought it was just shock and an overabundance of adrenaline in her system until she saw the blood coursing down her arm. As if seeing the source somehow flipped a switch, pain suddenly flared. “Whoa. That’s not just a scrape.” It dawned on her that she’d been shot. As a phlebotomist used to the sight of blood, she was more than a little put out with herself when her vision went fuzzy.

  Bernadette reached her first, took one look at her arm and said, “The EMTs are on their way, honey.” She ripped off the cardigan she was wearing and wadded it up to press against the wound. Charity hissed in pain but held still.

  Someone else in the crowd coaxed her to lie back as she asked, “Where’s Grace? I told her to run.” She could hear more sirens coming closer.

  Bernadette smiled encouragingly at her. “She’s fine, honey. She’s inside where she’s nice and safe. We’re gonna get you taken care of real quick.”

  “She’s okay. That’s good.” To her own ears her voice sounded slurred.

  The last thing she saw was Eli Wolf as he ran up with his kit and set to work. “Hey, ass-kicker, we gotta stop meeting like this.”

  “Ain’t this some shit, Eli?” she asked with a weak smile and then everything went gray.

  * * * *

  Val’s heart pounded wildly as he ran through the emergency room doors with Ransome at his side. Grace had called him and Ransome out on a jobsite just a few minutes before, telling them only to get to the hospital, and that Charity had been shot by Trevor Dornan.

  God, please let her be okay! This is our fault! Thanks to their jobs, they’d placed people they loved in danger. The topper was the fact that she’d been so upset with them earlier that morning. He hadn’t had time to smooth that over yet, neither of them had.

  He spotted Justin standing at the reception desk with Grace and Jack. Val studied Justin’s face as they both strode over to him, searching for a sign as to Charity’s condition. The man looked like he’d aged ten years.

  Grace nodded at something Justin said and smiled at them and that gave him hope.

  “She’s okay,” Justin said, laying hands on both their shoulders. Relief surged inside of Val.

  “Where is she? How is she?” Ransome asked, sounding about as desperate to see her as Val felt.

  “They’ve removed the bullet from her upper arm and they’re taking care of the wound right now. She’s lucky.”

  “She’s crazy is what she is,” Grace said, stroking her bulging abdomen. “That guy—Trevor Dornan, wanted me to get in his truck, and do you know what Charity did?”

  Oh hell.

  “She pushed me behind her and told him no. ‘No.’ Can you believe that? I was ready to wet my pants I was so scared and she told him, ‘No.’”

  Justin gazed at Grace and Jack and smiled. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Actually, it sounds just like her.”

  Val nodded. “It does.”

  Jack and Grace explained to the two of them what had transpired in Cheaver’s parking lot and Val said, “He wanted to take Grace because he couldn’t find Jessica?”

  This is our fault.

  “That and also because Jessica had a baby girl. He wanted a boy, and in his mind, Grace was a likely candidate to give him that, since it’s no secret she’s carrying a boy,” Jack said. The fire in his eyes told them how he felt about Dornan’s strategy. The possessive way he laid his hand over Grace’s abdomen said he was going to have a hard time letting her out of his sight for a while. Val couldn’t blame him.

  Ransome ran his fingers through his hair and said, “I’m so sorry.”

  “What?” Grace asked, looking mystified.

  Val nodded in agreement. “You nearly got kidnapped, Charity got shot, Jessica and her baby have had to hide out— it’s all blow-back from one of our last jobs. We drew Dornan’s crazy ass here.”

  Grace waved a dismissive hand and shook her head, a confident grin on her face. “No, Val. Let me tell you, ‘crazy’ has a habit of finding its way to Divine on a regular basis. We’d never hold the two of you responsible for the actions of that lunatic.”

  Val shook his head, unwilling to accept her ready explanation. “If this had ended differently, if you’d had no choice but to do what he’d said, if he’d—God forbid—actually killed Charity. That would all be on us.”

  Grace reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Talk to Charity about it, okay? I doubt she feels that way and I know I don’t. Jessica sounds like she’s happy to be here with her baby and now she no longer needs to hide. Don’t take on unnecessary guilt, Val. We’re happy you’ve made Divine your home and we wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

  Giving Grace an affirmin
g nod, Justin said, “She’s right. And you should already know how Charity feels about that, too.”

  The doctor came out and spoke with them about Charity’s injuries. They’d removed the bullet from her upper arm and she’d needed stitches. Because he’d prescribed intravenous fluids and antibiotics, he wanted to keep her overnight.

  They followed the doctor back to her curtained cubicle in the emergency room and the knot in Val’s chest finally unfurled when she looked up as the pale blue privacy curtains parted for them. The slow, playful smile on her face said she was feeling very little in the way of pain. “My guys,” she said in a wispy voice. She tried to sit up but the nurse cajoled her into staying where she was.

  The doctor was about to leave when Val stopped him. “Where’s the bastard who did this to her?”

  The doctor pointed down the curtain-lined corridor to a closed door. “He’s restrained to his bed in isolation and there’s an officer with him. He’s got a concussion from when the deputy tackled him, besides the broken nose. My understanding is that state law enforcement is already on their way to pick him up.” The doctor smiled at Charity with admiration in his gaze. “I heard what she did. That’s one brave lady and I’m damn glad I could patch her up for you.” He looked like he wanted to say more but put Charity’s chart in its receptacle and moved on.

  There was only one chair and it was on the other side of the bed. Val didn’t care as he went to her and kneeled down on the tile floor and took her hand. He shuddered in relief and looked up at her with a grin, trying to not contemplate how this could’ve all turned out different and remembering how much she didn’t like being in the hospital.

  “For someone who hates coming to this place, you sure do seem to spend a lot of time hanging out here, baby.”

  “Shh,” she said in a loud whisper, pointing to the nurse and giggling. “I don’t want to hurt their feelin’s. They’ve been so nice to me and they can’t help it that I hate it here.” She fell back against the bed and sighed happily as she closed her eyes and then whispered, “Whoa, the room is spinnin’. I feel fun-nun-nun-ny.”