Beyond Control

by Kat Martin

  “You don’t have to worry about supper,” Josh said, surprising her. “I won’t be home.”

  She wanted to ask him why, but she had a hunch she didn’t want to know. “All right.”

  “In the meantime, stay away from Satan.”

  “His name is Star.”

  He made no reply, just shook his head, turned and strode away. She watched the movement of his muscular behind and tried to ignore the hot tug low in her belly.

  She wished she had a disposable phone so she could call Lisa. Her best friend was an expert on men. Surely she could suggest a way to deal with the situation Tory found herself in.

  She thought about catching up to Josh, asking him to buy her a cheap disposable phone, but she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

  She thought about tomorrow and the riding lesson he had promised to give her. Images arose of a different sort of riding, and heat scorched her face. Tory shoved away her embarrassing thoughts and headed for the house.

  Chapter Eleven

  Josh pulled his white Ford F-150 up in front of Jim Stevens’s house, a nice brick ranch-style not too far from town. Randy was out of high school but as far as Josh knew, the kid still lived at home.

  Josh hadn’t lived in Iron Springs that long, but the town was small enough he already knew a lot of people. The story written about his career as a marine sniper had made him a local celebrity.

  The help he’d given Beau Reese and the Pleasant Hill Police Department during a hostage rescue two months ago had made him even more recognizable—unfortunately.

  Josh climbed out of the truck and walked up the cement path, climbed the steps, and knocked on the front door. It took a while, but when the door finally swung wide, Randy Stevens stood on the other side of the opening.

  “You got a minute?” Josh asked.

  The lanky black-haired teen glanced over his shoulder as if checking to be sure no one was around. “I guess so.” He stepped outside and closed the door.

  “You hear about the fire over at my place?”

  Randy shrugged his slim shoulders. “Everybody in town heard about it.”

  “Sheriff Howler talk to you?” Josh asked.

  “About what?” Randy stuck his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “About the possibility you stole five gallons of gas from me, I fired you, and as payback you used the gas to burn down my barn.”

  Randy’s dark eyes flared, then went hard. “You got nothing on me, soldier man. You think I burned down your barn, prove it.”

  “I didn’t say you did it. I asked you if the sheriff talked to you about it.”

  “He and my dad are friends.”

  “Fine, then I’m the one asking you. Did you burn down my barn?”

  Randy smirked. “You shouldn’t have fired me.”

  Josh clamped down on his temper. “You aren’t even going to deny it?”

  The kid just shrugged. “I didn’t say I did it. I know my rights. I’m not sayin’ nothin’.” But the look on his face made it clear he was the one who’d set the fire and he was proud of what he’d done.

  Fury sent a jolt of adrenaline into Josh’s veins. “What about the horses, Randy? Killing helpless animals didn’t bother you?”

  Randy’s spine stiffened. “I knew you’d get ’em out. They weren’t in any real danger.”

  “You little shit.” Josh grabbed the kid by the front of his T-shirt and shoved him up against the wall. “You damn near got a woman killed! You really want to spend the rest of your life in prison for murder?”

  “Let me go!” Randy squirmed.

  Josh slammed him up against the wall again. “You come near my place, I swear I’ll shoot you on sight. And one thing you’ve probably heard about me—I don’t miss.”

  The door swung open and Randy’s father appeared. “What’s going on out here?”

  Josh let Randy go, but stood between him and escape. “I’ll tell you what’s going on. That spoiled kid of yours burned down my barn and nearly killed my horses.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Jim Stevens was black-haired like his boy, but filled out in the chest and shoulders from years of hard work. “Randy would never do a thing like that.”

  “You don’t think so? Why don’t you ask him?”

  Stevens’s gaze swung to his son. “Tell the man you had nothing to do with that fire.”

  Randy glanced away.

  “Randy, tell Josh you weren’t involved in the fire.”

  Randy looked at Josh. “Okay, I didn’t do it. He’s just making it up.” He turned back to his dad. “Happy now?”

  Stevens caught his son’s chin and held it immobile. “Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t set that barn on fire.”

  Hot color rushed into Randy’s face. At nineteen, he was plenty old enough to know right from wrong.

  “Did you set that barn on fire?” his father pressed.

  Randy’s mouth thinned and his narrow face went iron hard. He jerked away. “He had it coming! He had no call to fire me!”

  “Good God!” Jim Stevens looked appalled. “This is what comes from your mother’s refusal to discipline you. I let her raise you and look how you turned out! I should have paddled your ass years ago instead of letting your mother spoil you rotten. Now get in the house!” He shoved the kid inside and slammed the door behind him.

  Stevens shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

  “You’re not going to be able to ignore this, Jim. If you do and it happens again, someone might get killed.”

  Stevens blew out a shaky breath. “I won’t ignore it. I promise you. I’ll figure a way to make it right.”

  “You can’t make this right for your son. That won’t solve anything. Randy has to make it right for himself.”

  Stevens ran the back of his hand over his mouth. “You’re right. I’ll call Emmett Howler, turn the boy in myself. My wife will go ballistic, but maybe if I’d stepped in sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Josh just nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” Stevens said.

  Turning, Josh walked back to his truck, got in, and fired the engine. Making a U-turn, he headed back the way he had come. It was five o’clock somewhere and he really needed a drink.

  He checked his watch. Hell, it was five-thirty right now in Iron Springs. Pulling onto the highway, he headed for Jubal’s Roadhouse. After his run-in with the kid, it was way worse than a Lone Star night. He needed a shot of Jack Daniel’s.

  The good news was, Damon Bridger hadn’t set the fire. At least for now, Tory and Ivy were safe.

  He hit the hands-free button and pushed the number for the landline he used for business. He’d been putting off hiring someone to design an Iron River Ranch webpage and set up the ranch’s bookkeeping and tax records, but he’d need to do it soon.

  The phone rang a couple of times before Tory picked up, which reminded him to buy her one of those throwaway phones to use when she was in the trailer. He didn’t like her being over there with no way to communicate.

  “Tory, it’s Josh,” he said.

  “Hey, Josh.”

  Just hearing her voice made his groin tighten. He couldn’t believe it. “You don’t have to worry about Bridger. Randy Stevens set the fire.”

  “Oh, God, that’s the teenage boy you hired?”

  “Randy’s nineteen. Grown up enough to know the difference between right and wrong.”

  “Did the sheriff arrest him?”

  “Not yet, but odds are he will. His father’s taking care of it. I trust him to handle it.”

  “At least it wasn’t Damon. I can’t tell you what a relief that is.”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’ve got to go. You and Ivy have a good night.”

  “You too,” she said softly.

  He was hard by the time he hung up. It made no sense. She wasn’t even his type. He liked big, buxom women, the kind who could handle what a man his size
had to give. Not some petite little female half afraid of men. For him sex was a stress reliever. He didn’t want to have to hold back, worry about hurting the lady in his bed.

  He stopped by the grocery store to pick up a couple of items and buy that phone, then headed for Jubal’s, even more in need of a drink after talking to Tory. When his phone rang, he hit the hands-free. “Josh Cain.”

  “Josh, it’s Noble Blanchard.” The guy he’d bought the ranch from. “I got your call about the stallion.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “I bought that horse as part of a package deal, just the way I sold him to you. The previous owner was a fella named Porter Sturgis. Sturgis is kind of an a-hole, if you don’t mind my saying. Treats his stock really poorly.”

  “Makes him worse than an a-hole in my book.”

  “Sturgis had the stallion for a while, but the horse was raised from a colt by a woman named Amanda Bonner. When she was killed in a boating accident, the horse was sold to Porter.”

  “You think Porter’s mistreatment was what made the stallion so crazy?”

  “I hate to spread gossip, but yes, that’s what I think.”

  “I appreciate the help, Noble.” And it might just be the answer to the question he’d wanted answered.

  Why did the stallion respond to Tory and no one else?

  After talking to Noble, Josh believed the obvious might be correct. The horse trusted her because she was a woman.

  He ended the call as he pulled into the parking lot of Jubal’s, a false-fronted wood-framed building at the edge of town that looked like something out of the Wild West. Even had a board walkway out front.

  Jubal’s was a locals’ joint that served good food and cheap pitchers of beer. The place catered to both cowboys and bikers, mostly without trouble. Mostly.

  As he shoved through the swinging doors, peanut shells crunched beneath his boots. Pool balls clacked on green felt tables in the back, and Garth Brooks sang “Friends in Low Places” from the digital jukebox in the corner.

  He hadn’t expected to see Cole and Noah sitting at the bar or Linc’s blond wife, Carly, seated at a battered wooden table next to her high school girlfriend, Brittany Haworth, a blue-eyed brunette.

  At the moment, Britt’s gaze was locked on Cole, though he didn’t seem to notice. When she realized Josh had caught her staring, her cheeks turned apple red.

  He bit back a smile as he approached, leaned down, and kissed his sister-in-law on the cheek. “Hey, Carly.”

  She turned. “Josh! It’s so good to see you. It seems like ages. You remember my friend Brittany, don’t you?”

  “Sure.” He smiled. “Hey, Britt.”

  “Hello, Josh. Why don’t you join us?”

  He pulled out a chair and sat down, then turned back to Carly, who was picking at the last of an order of French fries. “So you and Linc are back at the ranch?”

  “I’m staying out there. I had some stuff to do at work.” Carly was the owner of Drake Trucking. She and Linc had met when a drug lord had threatened Carly’s business. “Linc’s in New Mexico. Work’s been really crazy for him lately.”

  At the bar, Noah spotted Josh and waved, and Josh waved back. “Have you met Noah Beal and Cole Wyman?” he asked, thinking of the pretty brunette who seemed so interested in Cole.

  “Cole went to community college with Britt,” Carly said. “Linc introduced us to Noah in here one night. They’re friends of yours?”

  “They work for me. Great guys.” Josh waved them over and both men slid off their stools and walked over to the table.

  “Ladies.” Noah, always friendly, flashed a warm smile. Cole gave a curt nod of his head.

  “Why don’t you two join us?” Carly suggested.

  “Why not?” Noah agreed. The men pulled chairs up to the table. Josh ordered a shot of Jack Daniel’s to settle him down and a Lone Star to quench his thirst. He bought Noah and Cole each a fresh beer. The women hadn’t finished the ones they were drinking.

  They talked for a while, mostly about the fire. “I heard it was arson,” Carly said. “Have they caught the guy who did it?”

  “It was a kid who worked for me. I left it to his dad to handle things. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about it happening somewhere else.”

  “That’s a relief,” Carly said.

  They chatted a little while longer. Finally Noah rose from his chair. “I hate to have to leave such sterling company, but I’ve got a sexy wife waiting for me at home and a job that starts early in the morning. ’Night, y’all.”

  Cole had barely said three words and Brittany hadn’t talked much, either. Didn’t look like that relationship had much chance of getting off the ground.

  “I better be going, too,” Cole said.

  “Me too,” said Brittany.

  “Why don’t you walk Britt out to her car?” Josh suggested, figuring maybe he could give his friend a little push. “You never know who might be lurking out in the dark.” Though there was rarely any sort of problem at Jubal’s.

  Cole nodded. “Sure.”

  Brittany flushed. “You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

  Cole’s head snapped up. “Why not? You think if trouble comes, I won’t be able to handle it?”

  Britt’s dark eyes widened. “No, of course not. You’re in amazing shape. I don’t think any guy in here would be stupid enough to go against you.”

  Cole blinked as if he were coming out of a fog. He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’ll walk you out. Make sure you get to your car okay.”

  Brittany beamed. “Thank you.” She was a beautiful woman, which Cole had just seemed to notice. Or maybe he’d noticed a long time ago, but after losing his legs, no longer had the self-confidence to do anything about it.

  As soon as they were gone, Carly stood up from her chair. “I have to go, too.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Before he had the chance, Billie Joe Hardie stepped in his way, a tall, leggy woman in a short, tight skirt, with lots of blond hair, big cleavage, and plenty of it on display.

  She flashed a sexy smile. “You aren’t leaving yet, are you, honey? I was hoping you’d buy me a drink.”

  “My car’s parked right in front,” Carly said. “I’ll be fine. Have fun.”

  Waving her fingers in farewell, she was gone before he could stop her, and aside from the shot of Jack, the reason he had come to Jubal’s tonight was standing right in front of him.

  He hadn’t known for sure she’d be there, but he had definitely hoped so.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked as she sat down in the chair across from him.

  “Same as you, hun.”

  The waitress walked up just then, a willowy blonde named Rita who went with one of the bartenders. “What’ll y’all have?” she asked.

  “The lady wants a shot of Jack, Rita.”

  “You got it.” Rita returned a few minutes later, set a shot glass down on the table, and wandered away. Billie Joe picked up the whiskey and tossed it back, set the glass sharply back down.

  “I’ve got a bottle of this stuff at home,” she said. “You ready to blow this joint and have a little fun?” Billie Joe smiled and he caught a whiff of her strong perfume. She moved, giving him a look down the front of her low-cut blouse.

  His gaze went over the blowsy woman in front of him. When had his tastes shifted from too much of a good thing to smaller was just enough? When had the notion of taking this woman to bed become more a chore than a pleasure?

  It was crazy, but suddenly leaving the bar with Billie Joe was the last thing he wanted. He took a long draw on his beer, set it back down.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check, Billie. I’ve got a couple of things I need to do out at the ranch.”

  She gave him a seductive glance from beneath the heavy mascara on her lashes. “Well, now, that’s a real shame, cowboy.”

  “Maybe next time.” But he didn’t think so.

  He’d fi
nd someone else, he told himself. There had to be a woman somewhere in Iron Springs who appealed to him, someone besides a tempting little redhead who was nothing but a handful of trouble.

  Finishing off his beer, he crossed the room, shoved through the swinging doors, and walked out into the humid Texas night. Along with the hard truth that Billie Joe wasn’t the woman he wanted, he didn’t like leaving Tory out at the ranch alone. Not until things settled down and he could be sure she and Ivy were safe.

  He didn’t want to think about the restless night he’d be facing. For two cents, he’d turn around and walk back inside, at least get a little sexual relief.

  Instead he climbed into his truck, fired up the engine, and drove back to the ranch. With any luck, by now Randy Stevens was in jail. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about an arsonist.

  Only a brutal stalker and the woman and her little girl he had sworn to protect.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lisa curled up naked beneath a scratchy wool blanket on the mattress in the corner. Her wrists were bound in front of her with nylon ties, her ankles also bound. She had been locked in the basement since Damon had broken into her Phoenix home, tased her, and taken her to a log cabin somewhere in the Arizona mountains.

  At least the gag was gone. There was no reason to scream for help when there was no one around to hear her. She had tried, yelled until her throat was raw, but it hadn’t done any good. As Damon had known it wouldn’t.

  Just thinking of him brought a rush of tears and sent a shiver of revulsion over her skin. He was an animal. A monster. The night he had brought her to the cabin, he had tied her up, beaten her, and raped her. Her ribs ached and her lip was split and swollen.

  She had tried to fight him, twisted her ankle trying to get away from him, but he was strong and he was brutal, and he clearly got pleasure out of her resistance.

  How had he fooled her and Tory so completely?

  She thought of killers like Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacy, guys people had thought were really nice. Just like Damon.

  She shivered. Would he go as far as murder? Maybe he already had. She knew his identity. How could he let her go?