Stolen Heart: The Hearts of Sawyers Bend, Book One

by Layne, Ivy

  My life wasn’t just about me anymore. If I died, everything Sawyer would pass to Bryce. My siblings would lose their livelihoods, their home. Hope would be alone with no one to look out for her.

  Looking back up the side of the mountain, I thought about the direction I’d run, and how far I’d come after I’d turned off the Heartstone drive. Below me, the fading light showed an endless sea of trees and not much else.

  I could drag my bruised and bleeding body back up the side of the mountain and follow the road back to the house, but I’d be exposed and vulnerable if the pickup truck came back for another shot. Or I could risk a hike through the woods and hope I knew where I was.

  I thought I did. Standing, I used the tail of my shirt to wipe my face, aggravated to see the gray fabric rusty with blood. Fuck. Another glance at the sky and I started to move. I’d come a long way by the road, straight out from the house and then right on the main road perpendicular to the drive. Theoretically, if I headed away from the road, angled back the way I’d come, I should end up near Heartstone.

  My brisk pace turned into a trudge sooner than I would have liked. With each step, I felt every rock and branch and log I’d bounced over as I’d rolled down the side of the mountain. Somewhere, I’d slammed my still healing shoulder into a log or a rock and it ached like a bitch. I had a cut on my forehead that wouldn’t stop bleeding, the salty, warm fluid stinging my eyes. Despite the cold, I wanted to take off my shirt and use it to bandage my head, but the temperature was dropping as the sun set. Until I found a solid landmark, I wouldn’t run the risk of hypothermia.

  No water, no food, no phone. Fucking idiot. As I followed the bearing I’d set, I castigated myself. No more running without a phone and a weapon. Maybe no running by myself for a while. I’d have to get the gym at the Manor set up.

  I kept my mind busy running through lists of things to do. Otherwise, I’d start to worry. What if I didn’t find the house? What would happen when Hope realized I was missing?

  Ignoring my aches and pains, I stepped up my pace as the ground leveled out. A glimmer of light peeked through the trees. Finally. I never thought I’d be grateful Heartstone Manor was so fucking big. Gradually, step by step, the house took shape through the trees, looming over the flat land surrounding it. Lights flickered in windows here and there.

  Relief flowed through me and I found the energy to break into a slow jog. I just had to get to the house. Call West. Get cleaned up before anybody saw me. I headed for the side door by the mudroom. Nobody used it since everyone came in through the garage or the front door, but I was betting it would be unlocked with everyone moving in. If I could get through the mudroom, I’d use the elevator to go upstairs, and from there it was a short walk to our room.

  The door handle resisted before it turned, the hinges squeaking as I pushed my way into the mudroom, relieved to find it empty. I strode across the hall to the elevator, also empty. So far, so good.

  A short ride up, the elevator doors opened, and I ran out of luck. Royal was walking by and stopped, startled by the sound of the metal grate as I pushed it out of my way. His eyes landed on me and his face went pale. I must look like shit.

  “What the fuck happened to you? You look like you got hit by a car.”

  “Close enough. Lower your voice,” I said, checking the hall. Empty. I turned and jogged toward my room, Royal on my heels. “Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Do you have West’s number in there?” I asked. I didn’t want to call in front of Hope if she was in the room, but we needed West.

  “Yeah. What you want me to tell him?”

  “Tell him there was an accident and I need him at the Manor but to keep it quiet. Come in the side door by the mudroom.”

  Royal focused on his phone but followed me, lingering just outside the door of the master suite, knowing without my saying that I didn’t want Hope to hear the call. If I could jump in the shower before she saw me, she wouldn’t worry.

  I opened the door, Royal talking quietly behind me. The coast was clear. He followed me in, shutting and locking the door behind us. I heard him say, “Yeah, good, I’ll meet you downstairs and bring you up. No, he’s in one piece but he looks like hell. Didn’t tell me what happened.”

  “You’ll let him in?” I asked, scanning the room for Hope.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it, but what the fuck, Griffen? What happened?”

  “Griffen?” Hope’s voice came from the bedroom or the closet. Crap. Then louder, “Griffen! Oh, my God, Griffen!”

  I turned, holding my hands up. “It looks worse than it is, I swear.” I had no idea if I was lying. I was pretty sure I wasn’t. I didn’t feel great after taking a nosedive off the side of the mountain, but head wounds bleed like a bitch and all the blood on my T-shirt made things look worse than they were.

  She crossed the room and stood in front of me, arms tight around her chest, hugging herself, breath coming in rough gasps.

  “I’m fine, Buttercup. Don’t freak out. Everything is okay.”

  “What happened? Tell me what happened right now, or I swear to God—”

  “I’d like to know what happened, too,” Royal added, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression far more concerned than I would have expected.

  “Hold on a second, and I’ll tell you.” I went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, running water on it. The sight of my face in the mirror told me exactly why Hope was freaking out so badly. My attempts to wipe up the blood had only spread it all over the place, my hair crimson and sticking up in spikes. The cut on my forehead was close to the hairline and not that bad, but it still bled sluggishly.

  I shoved my head under the sink faucet, letting the water wash away sweat and dirt and dried blood. Knowing Hope and Royal only had so much patience, I grabbed a towel and dried my hair and face, keeping the washcloth to hold against the cut.

  I came back out to the sitting room to find Royal positioned by the window, probably watching for West’s car. Hope hovered in the middle of the room, her eyes stark, still hugging herself.

  “Tell me what happened. I’m not waiting for West to get here,” she demanded.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Griffen

  I was on the road, on my run, and a truck came up behind me. I thought it was going to pass, but instead, it tried to run me down. I jumped off the shoulder, rolled down the mountain a little, and walked back to the house. I look worse than I am, I promise. I got banged up a little, but I’m not hurt.”

  Hope reared back at those words and swung her fist into my sore shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re not hurt, you asshole. There’s blood everywhere. Your legs are scratched up and your clothes are torn. We should take you to the hospital. As soon as we talk to West, we’ll go to the hospital.” Her words spilled out in a rush, gaining speed with each one.

  “I don’t need the hospital, Hope. Calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down. Now is not the time for calm. You got hit by a truck!” The last came out in a screech.

  “I didn’t get hit by a truck,” I hedged. “I’m fine.” She wasn’t buying it.

  Fists flailing, Hope screeched again, “Don’t tell me you’re fine. You’re covered in blood.”

  “Hope—” I sent Royal a beseeching look. I couldn’t remember ever seeing Hope this wound up. Ever. With everything we’d been through, she’d been cool as a cucumber. She’d walked right into the prison earlier and hadn’t blinked.

  It occurred to me that the stress of the last week had been piling up on her, all while she acted like our lives were business as usual.

  Eventually, it would have been too much for anyone, but this? Her new husband coming home beaten and bloody after admitting he’d almost been run over? That was enough to push even the calmest person over the edge.

  Royal gave a helpless shr
ug but said, “Hope, he’s okay. West is on his way and we’ll figure out—”

  “Don’t you patronize me, Royal Sawyer. Just because he says he’s fine and you say he’s fine doesn’t mean he’s actually fine. We need to go to the hospital. He could have internal bleeding or something.”

  Not sure what else to do, I crossed the room and roughly pulled Hope into my arms, wrapping her tight. Her pulse fluttered in her throat, her breath shallow. Her fingers closed on my shirt, gripping tight. “Griffen,” she breathed.

  I dropped my mouth to her ear. “I promise you I’m okay. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about this. Do you trust me?”

  She leaned back and looked up into my eyes, the warm brown of hers brittle with fear. “You know I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  “Then trust me when I tell you I’m okay.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Royal straighten and head for the door. West was fast. Taking advantage of being alone, I cupped Hope’s face in my hands and kissed her, trying to tell her everything I didn’t have the words for with the press of my mouth to hers.

  When I pulled back, she said, “You promise you’re okay?”

  “I promise. I’m banged up and I’ll probably be bruised all to hell tomorrow, but I didn’t break anything, and the cut on my head feels like the worst of it.”

  Hope drew in a deep breath, straightening, pushing away her fear and panic. My wife was so strong. Raising a hand, she probed around the edges of the cut on my head. “I think it’s done bleeding. You need a hot shower. Maybe a bath.”

  “I’ll get a shower after we talk to West.”

  Royal pushed open the door and West followed him in. West’s reaction to the sight of me was better than Royal and Hope’s, probably because I’d cleaned up a little, but it wasn’t great.

  He shook his head. “I just saw you a few hours ago. What the fuck happened?”

  I gave him a quick rundown of the events since the truck had pulled up behind me.

  “Did you get the plate? See the driver?” West asked.

  “The light was already going. I can tell you they weren’t short or fat, but other than that, I couldn’t see much. The truck was dark. I’d say navy or black, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Not much to go on,” West said. “Did it hit you, or did you get out of the way fast enough?”

  “It didn’t miss me by much, but it missed me. You’ll probably get DNA samples from half the trees and rocks on the side of the mountain, but I didn’t leave any evidence on the truck.”

  West turned to Royal. “Where were you when this happened?”

  All three of us looked at West in surprise. He thought Royal could have done this? West stared back at us as if his reasoning were obvious. “If something happens to Griffen, Royal’s next in line since your father disinherited Ford. That’s a helluva motive.”

  The confusion washed from Royal’s face, replaced with disgust. “You know me better than that, West.”

  “He would’ve had to be fast,” I said, rolling the idea through my mind. I didn’t like the idea that Royal might have tried to kill me, but someone had. “I rolled halfway down the mountain, and I think I took a direct path from where I landed straight back to the house. He wouldn’t have had much time to ditch the truck and make his own way back, but he could have done it.”

  Royal stared at me, fists clenched at his side. I wanted to apologize, but the truth was I didn’t know Royal anymore. I wanted to believe my brother wouldn’t try to kill me, but it wouldn’t be the first time one of my siblings betrayed me. I’d be an idiot to assume everyone around me was on my side. Especially considering I knew at least some of them would like nothing more than to see me gone.

  “That’s a helluva motive,” West repeated.

  Hope looked to me and then said, “Except Royal isn’t next in line.” When I didn’t signal her to stop, she gave Royal a sympathetic look before explaining, “Prentice’s will wasn’t straightforward. He removed Ford from the line of succession. But unless Griffen and I have a—unless there’s a—if anything happens to Griffen before Griffen has an heir, Bryce inherits everything. Royal only comes in to play after there’s a child. Not before.”

  “Bryce?” West asked, incredulous. “Your cousin Bryce? That fuckwit? Last time he was here, I had to give him a DUI. Does he know about the will?”

  “He hasn’t had any communication from Harvey,” I said, “but that’s not a guarantee he’s in the dark.”

  Royal shoved his hands in his pockets, shaking his head in disbelief. “God knows I don’t want it. Seriously, I don’t. But Bryce? I guess I’m headed out to buy you two a crib. I was going to give you shit about getting married so fast, but if that’s the way the will rolled out, you better get working on my niece or nephew.”

  At the sight of Hope’s stiff face, I said, “Shut it. We’re not having a baby just to protect the Sawyer line of succession. That’s fucked and you know it. Hope is not an incubator and I’m not some stud to carry on the Sawyer genes. We don’t have to worry about it. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “It will if you don’t stop being an idiot,” Royal said, echoing my own thoughts. “Dad is dead. You don’t believe Ford killed him any more than I do. But someone walked into this house and shot him dead in the middle of the afternoon. That person is still out there. As long as we don’t know who it is or why they did it, we don’t know that any of us are safe. Especially you. And if Bryce is what we get if something happens to you, then you’d better fucking start being smart.”

  West agreed with him. “No more going running by yourself. Get a treadmill or come to town and I’ll go for a run with you when I’m off shift. Don’t go anywhere without your weapon and your phone. Don’t go anywhere without telling someone where you’ll be and when you’re getting back—”

  “You do know what I used to do for a living, right? I don’t need a lecture on personal safety.”

  “You do as long as you’re being a dumbass. Just because you used to be a Ranger and security to the stars doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable,” West reminded me.

  “Obviously,” I said, gesturing to the scratches and streaks of dirt covering me. I let out a huff of breath, hearing myself and knowing I was being an ass. “I’ll be careful. I know what happened to Dad,” I said to Royal. “I assumed whoever killed him did it because of something isolated to Prentice. A grudge or a business deal gone wrong or something. We all know most of the people who knew him hated him.”

  West shook his head. “I think we can throw that theory out the window. If this was about a grudge or business deal, it wasn’t isolated to Prentice. Either the motive was connected to you, or this isn’t about you at all. It’s about your family.”

  Royal threw his hands in the air. “Well, that’s not vague. If we’re looking for people who might have a grudge against the Sawyers, that list isn’t any shorter than the list of people who hated Prentice. What are we supposed to do? Just hang around and wait for him to try again?”

  “Or her,” Hope added. We all turned to stare at her. She raised an eyebrow. “You guys have tunnel vision. Whoever killed Prentice did it with a gun. They had to have been a good shot because you only recovered one bullet, right?”

  West nodded in confirmation.

  “Nothing says a woman can’t be just as good a shot as a man. And when you’re looking at the list of people who had a reason to hate Prentice, there are probably more women on it than men, considering. This could have started with Prentice, but now it’s about all of you.”

  She turned to West. “You said it this afternoon. Griffen coming home, everyone moving back into the house—if the killer wanted to end the Sawyers, that’s only going to piss them off. And there are just as many people who hated Prentice over his personal life as there are who hated him because of business.”

  Royal dropped his head to sta
re at the carpet. “Fuck. Good point. As far as I know he wasn’t involved with anyone. Not for a while. There was someone a few years ago—I don’t know who—just that he hinted it was getting serious and then he never said anything else about her.”

  “You never know,” West added. “People can hold a grudge a long time and then one day—” He made his fingers in the shape of a gun and mimed firing a shot. “I need you to come in tomorrow and make an official report. If anything else happens I want to make sure we have it all on file.”

  I nodded and glanced at the clock. “If we’re done, I need to get in the shower. Savannah’s going to call us to dinner any minute, and I don’t want to show up like this.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Royal said to West.

  I looked to Hope after they left. “You okay?”

  She clenched her teeth, shaking her head. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I lost it, I just—you had blood everywhere and—”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I was careless and left my phone and my weapon back here. I won’t do that again.”

  “See that you don’t,” she said tartly.

  I caught her hand in mine. “Want to join me in the shower? Wash my back?”

  Hope bit her lip and glanced at the clock. She stared at the ceiling for a heartbeat before tilting her head to the side. “You can’t get my hair wet.”

  “It’s a deal,” I promised. I didn’t get her hair wet in the shower, but I did manage to take her mind off my attempted murder, if only for a few minutes. The shower was quick, but I made the most of every second.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Hope

  They arrived in two huge black SUVs, stuffed to the gills with gear. The Sinclair brothers, Cooper, Knox, and Evers, and another man I hadn’t met when I was in Atlanta. Hawk Bristol. Griffen greeted them with a warmth that reminded me how distant he was from his own family. He might be surrounded by Sawyers, but these were his people.