Cassie's Cowboy Crave: Witness Protection - Rancher Style (Sweet Montana Bride Series)

by Kimberly Krey

  Finally Cassie’s foot connected solidly with his upper thigh, the tendons tightening as he groaned. She repeated the action, managing to strike higher, and sensed a shift in his grasp.

  Without a second’s pause, Cassie shrunk to her feet, tearing away from the bony cage of his arms, and bolted for freedom. One long stride took her through the bathroom doorway. Another had her closer to the opposite door. She stretched out her arms, anxious to turn the knob and escape, her hand just inches from the dull brass.

  She saw him approaching from the corner of her eye. Heard his beastly breaths as he gained on her, and felt the crippling blow as he lunged, knocking her down with the force of his weight.

  Cassie crashed into the closed door, her lower body trapped beneath his lanky form. She couldn’t let it stop her. She would crawl with him on her back if she had to, but Cassie was determined to get that gun.

  Her face remained pinned against the wood as Cassie reached for the doorknob. With every shred of energy focused on the act, she stretched her hand, the tips of her trembling fingers just grazing the doorknob, not quite able to make it turn.

  She cried out as Reynold clenched a mean grip on her bare legs, digging his nails into her skin. The sight of the doorknob – the key to Cassie’s escape – grew further from view as he dragged her backward toward the room.

  Had she not dropped her arms to support herself, Cassie’s head would’ve crashed onto the floor. As it was, the button-up shirt crumpled beneath the great pull, causing her stomach to skid and burn along the linoleum.

  A new wave of adrenaline shot through her body, and Cassie thrashed and screamed with reborn vigor. With each kick, Reynold’s grip loosened a bit more. Finally he lost hold of one leg completely, allowing Cassie to turn onto her back. But before she could yank herself free of him, Reynold secured the other leg with both hands, tugging harder as Cassie reached for anything that might slow him down.

  As he pulled her partway into the room, the hard surface beneath her head, Cassie gripped the doorframe on either side, using the leverage to keep her in place. Small, wooden pieces flaked away beneath her nails as she dug in, fingers aching, arms trembling.

  Reynold yanked harder, his sunken eyes fierce and angry. “Don’t you think I know your secret?” he spat. “Does this look like a marriage to you? Separate rooms. Letters from old lovers. Forced kisses with something to prove.”

  Cassie couldn’t help but get distracted by his words. Letters? But then she remembered. Outside in the backyard – she’d discarded Griffin’s letter in the trash that day. The day Reynold found the spider in her hair.

  “Now I’m the one with something to prove,” Reynold said.

  She glanced near his feet as Oscar approached, the orange cat lengthening his back as he stretched. Reynold followed her gaze, glaring at the cat before kicking it away with the side of one foot. Ollie, who’d been approaching the scene as well, leapt back onto the bed.

  Reynold held tight to Cassie’s leg while reaching toward the animal. Only it wasn’t the cat he was after – it was the spider. With an outstretched arm, Reynold raised the jar high over his head.

  Cassie flinched as he thrust it toward the ground, the glass shattering against the hardwood floors with a sharp, shrieking clatter.

  Reynold bent down and secured a jagged piece of broken glass in his hand, smiling as he watched the spider scurry toward the opposite wall. “He’s going to take care of his business.” Reynold pressed the pointed shard against Cassie’s ankle, pricking the surface of her skin. “And you’re going to play nice while I take care of mine.”

  A thin stream of crimson trickled from the small wound. The phone rang in the other room, and Cassie’s heart thumped impossibly faster. “Shane will be back any minute,” she warned, her fingers losing their grip on the frame.

  A deviant smile crept over his lips. “Then we better hurry.”

  ~+~

  When Shane saw the warm glow of light in Cassie’s room, he sighed in relief. Perhaps she simply hadn’t heard the phone ringing. Still, he was anxious to see for himself that she was unharmed.

  He shut off the engine, climbed out of the truck, and bolted toward the front door. The cool metal of his keys felt heavy as he fumbled for the right one. Shane told himself he was overreacting as he shoved the key in the lock in a frantic rush, but when a sudden scream shrilled from Cassie’s bedroom, he knew his hunch had steered him right; Cassie was in danger.

  A surge of fiery heat shot through him like a bolt of lightening, fueling him as he burst through the door and raced down the hall. A loud ruckus sounded from Cassie’s room as he heard yet another scream, this one muffled.

  Already, he was halfway to his room, picturing the gun at his nightstand. The two cats met him in the hallway, and Shane sped past them, tearing into his room where he grabbed his gun. The door leading to the bathroom was closed, but not locked, yet Shane was certain the one leading to her room would be locked for sure. Rather than test the thing, he lifted his foot and kicked it, solid and hard by the doorknob.

  The loud crash announced his entrance, revealing a sight Shane would never forget. “Get off of her or I’ll shoot,” Shane said, his arms straightened before him.

  Cassie’s legs were bare, but a shirt covered the rest of her as she struggled beneath Reynold on the bed. Reynold still wore his clothes, telling Shane what he wanted to know.

  “I said get off!” Shane couldn’t recall even one time the quiet intern had looked him in the eye, but as Reynold trained his gaze on him, Shane saw the rudiments of a soul so dark it made him shudder.

  Reynold dragged one hand over Cassie’s thigh before lifting it in the air. “I’m getting off of her,” he said. “I’m getting off.

  It was then Shane noticed the swollen claw marks on Reynold’s face. And the deep red scratches along his hands and arms – evidence of Cassie’s attempts to free herself. In that moment Shane wanted to kill Reynold. Wanted to put a bullet through his traitorous skull as he climbed awkwardly off the bed. Every move was achingly slow. Clearly methodical. Each making Shane more anxious. The barrel in his gun was less than half-full. The first two pulls of the trigger would offer nothing but hollow clicks.

  At last, Reynold slunk to his knees on the opposite side of the bed – no doubt hoping it would shield him.

  “Come over here, Cassie,” Shane said, vaguely noting she wore his shirt. Her cheeks were red, her face wet with tears, and her body trembled as she moved to climb off the bed. Her gaze met his, the look in her eyes pleading with him. As Shane held the gaze, urging her to move quickly, Reynold seized her from behind.

  “She’s not going anywhere yet,” Reynold said. “I’m not done with her.”

  Shane gave the trigger a pull, nodding as it came to a shallow click. “The hell you’re not.” He aimed the gun at the top of Reynold’s head, the only part that was not shielded by Cassie or the bed.

  “Sounds like you’re out of bullets,” Reynold said.

  Shane took one step forward. “I’m not.”

  Cassie yelped as Reynold’s arm snaked around her throat, putting her in a headlock.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Reynold warned, grunting as he tightened his grip. Only then did Shane notice the thin trail of red pooling from Cassie’s lower rib. And the jagged piece of glass that caused it, held snuggly within Reynold’s grip.

  Shane took another step. And then another. More tears streamed down Cassie’s face.

  “The closer you come, the deeper this glass goes. If you cock that gun again I’ll cut her insides out before you can pull that trigger.”

  Without another thought, Shane lunged forward, thrusting the butt of the gun against Reynold’s head. Cassie screamed in the chaos of twisting arms and sharp fists. There was no denying Reynold was tougher than he appeared, but Shane was stronger and had much more to lose.

  “Go call 911,” Shane hollered as Cassie escaped. She raced out of the room while Shane wrestled with Reynold, dodging
the glass in his fist. Shane managed to clock him upside the head with the gun once more, but the kid still held strong.

  Reynold retaliated by striking back, thrusting the broken glass toward his face. The sharp sting along his temple told Shane he’d missed his eye by less than an inch. And though he could feel the warm spill of blood trailing down his face, Shane knew it was nothing compared to the damage done to Reynold’s own hand. His grasp on the piece was so tight it cut into the tendons, sending a bright stream of blood down his wrist and the back of his hand.

  Just as Shane thrust Reynold face-down against the floor, pinning his rigid arms behind his back, Cassie stepped into the room, dodging the broken glass while reciting the address there at the ranch.

  “You’re a fool not to shoot me,” the kid growled. “I’m only going to come back for her.”

  Shane thrust his knee deeper into his back as he cocked the gun once more, heated fury roaring within him. “Not if I can help it.” Shane shoved the barrel flush against the back of his head, wondering if he could really do it. There’d been a deadly threat over Cassie since before she’d arrived. One that was far from reach and out of view. But this guy – he was right there. Right then. And Shane had an unbearable itch to rid the world of him.

  “Shane, don’t,” Cassie breathed in barely a whisper. One hand covered the speaker of the phone. “Please, don’t. You’ll regret it. The police are on their way. And I think I hear the ranch hands pulling up too.”

  Shane hoped she was right; he’d hand this guy over to Randy first chance he got. At least Randy wouldn’t be as tempted to kill the disturbed outcast.

  “Why listen to her?” Reynold asked, his words muffled. “She’s not even your wife.”

  The comment triggered a response in him – touching a raw and reckless nerve. Shane shoved the barrel harder against Reynold’s head. “You got a death wish?” When no answer came, Shane shook his head, gathering the truth in his silence. “Here,” Shane said to Cassie. “Take the gun from me before I blow this kid’s brains out.”

  Cassie tilted her head, eyeing the thing like it was on fire. “Are you kidding?”

  “Maybe she’ll have the cajones to actually use it,” Reynold muttered.

  Shane’s blood reached a fevered peak. “Take it, Cassie. I’m about to snap.”

  With the phone to her ear, Cassie gave him a silent nod of consent.

  “Don’t shoot it,” he said as she took it from him.

  She rolled her eyes in return. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Ouch.” Shane flinched as Cassie pressed the cool washcloth against the cut on his face.

  “Sorry,” she said, hiding a hint of laughter bubbling in her throat.

  Shane gave her a sideways glance. “You don’t sound very sorry.”

  “I know.” A small laugh escaped. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m delirious or something. I mean, it’s three o’clock in the morning, we were almost killed just hours ago, and after getting stitched by some EMT you went to high school with, we spent over a half-an-hour trying to hunt down a dumb spider. It’s just…” She tried to gather her thoughts as she dabbed a swab of cotton with peroxide, addressing the wounds on Shane that hadn’t needed stitching.

  Shane shifted further back onto the counter, looking at her warily. “Just what?”

  “I don’t know. I was about to be raped or killed or whatever he was going to do to me. And when you came, I was relieved in one sense, but even more terrified in another, over what he might do to you. It was the worst moment of my life.” She fought back a sudden chill.

  The peroxide fizzed as she patted the thin gash above Shane’s eyebrow, the smaller of the two cuts on his face. “So now, the absence of that fear and anxiety, the knowledge that I’m okay and you’re okay – all of it has me feeling kind of … high.”

  “Well,” he said. “I’m glad, I guess.”

  Cassie smacked him in the arm. “You guess?”

  Shane met her gaze and sighed. “You had a pretty big meltdown after the guy left, Cassie. Which is normal and all. But I’m sure that’s not the end of it. Chances are you’ll be haunted by this whole thing for years to come.”

  Cassie gulped. The way he’d said it, the somber look in his eyes, made her realize he was talking about himself as well. It made sense though. Both she and Shane had at least one gash that’d required stitches, and therefore, more long-term healing. Most likely, when it was all said and done, there’d still be a scar – one that would fade only with time.

  She imagined the same must apply to their emotional scars as well. They too, would require time to heal and fade.

  “I’m hoping the exterminator can come tomorrow,” Cassie mused aloud, stepping back to observe her work.

  “Me too.” Shane shook his head. “Here I’ve been worrying about the Lawson brothers this whole time, thinking that if we can keep you safe from them we’re home free.” His eyes narrowed into an aimless glare. “Only to find out we had some sick, messed-up kid – one set on hurting you – living right below us. Was a good thing Randy found that journal,” he said. “It’ll pretty much tell the court whatever disturbing facts they need to know about Reynold Baxter – quiet drifter, puzzled loner, and threat to any woman out there.”

  Cassie sighed, nodding wordlessly.

  “Come to think of it,” Shane said, “I’m starting to wonder if something is wrong with you.”

  She scowled at him. “What do you mean?”

  A smile came to his lips, reaching that dimple in his cheek. “I mean, who in tarnation has people out to hurt them every darned place they go? It’s like you attract this kind of thing.” He chuckled, full and hearty, covering a sore spot over his gut as he did.

  Cassie grabbed the washcloth from the counter and tossed it at him, giggling when it hit him square in the face.

  “Think that’s funny, do you?” he asked, coming to a stand before her.

  She smiled. “Yep.”

  “Well, I’d get you back, but seeing that you’re wearing my favorite shirt and all, it’ll have to wait.”

  Cassie’s face flushed warm. Even as Shane had helped dress her wounds, he hadn’t mentioned the shirt. Of course, she’d managed to pull on a pair of jeans before help arrived, but there was no way she’d go back into that room tonight. She eyed the tear in his shirt, the blood stain surrounding it. “Is this really your favorite shirt?”

  Shane shrugged. “You pick out any of those shirts hanging in my closet, drape it over that body of yours, and it’ll be my new favorite.” He gave her a wink. “Just like that.”

  Shane strode past her and into his bedroom, leaving the door open wide. Cassie gathered up smooth band aid tabs, wet cotton swabs, and hung the washcloth to dry. Before flipping off the light, she eyed the wadded towels beneath her door, praying it would keep the horrible spider away.

  “I wonder if we should put towels under this door too,” Cassie said, stepping into Shane’s room.

  He had his shirt off, wearing only a pair of loose-fitting boxers. She raised her brows as she eyed him questioningly.

  “They’re shorts,” Shane said in response. “And no, I don’t think we need to barricade this door too.”

  Cassie glanced over his closet. “Any preference before I choose?” she asked, looking for another familiar shirt.

  “Just one that buttons down the front like that one does. Dang, that looks sexy on you.”

  She hid a smile, tugging a light blue shirt off the hanger, and headed back to the bathroom to change. When she came back out, the hem of his shirt reaching the middle of her thighs, Shane was already planted firmly on the floor. His head rested on a pillow, while a blanket covered the lower half of his body. His bare chest, tanned, toned, and distracting, taunted her as she made her way to the lamp.

  The sheets felt like cool silk as she slid into his bed. She imagined the spider once more, remembering what Reynold had said about it hating to c
limb. “You know,” she said. “If you wanted to sleep up here too, I’m sure we could behave. I’ve got nothing but sleep on my mind right now.” Okay, so maybe that was a lie, but she’d meant the other part; they could behave if it meant keeping him and his perfectly handsome face off the floor where the spider might get him.

  Shane sat up, lifting his brows as their eyes met. “Nothing but sleep?”

  She nodded. “Mmm, hmm.”

  His eyes ran a slow gaze over her face before wandering slowly down the length of her, scanning the bed as if the covers were see-through. “Think I better keep here. You may have nothing but sleep on your mind, but if I slipped beneath those covers with you, that’d be the last thing on earth that would come to mine.” And with that, he rested his head on the pillow once more. “Night, Cassie.”

  Cassie reached over to flick off the light, a smile pasted on her lips. “Goodnight.”

  ~+~

  Cassie pulled open the oven door and rejoiced with a triumphant cheer. Finally – a successful batch of home-baked bread! Her prior attempts had proven to be an utter disaster – the flat, hardened loaves more like bricks than bread. She shook her head, recalling Randy’s remark to Shane the other day after dinner. “Cassie sure is a fine woman,” he’d said, “but that girl don’t know crap from Crisco.” The comment earned Randy a well-deserved slug in the arm from Shane. Not to mention a scorching glare from Cassie. This batch was sure to shut him up.

  The heat grazed her skin as she bent down to retrieve the loaves. Using a set of worn, crocheted hot pads, Cassie removed each pan, a wide smile on her face. Golden bread – rounded, light, and lovely – lay perfectly in each one. The aroma was amazing. She couldn’t wait to spread butter on a warm, thick slice and eat it while reading the rest of her novel.

  Cassie had earned a bit of downtime after such a productive day. She’d weeded her thriving garden, scrubbed the kitchen floor, and even managed to make Betty’s famous crock-pot stew (hopefully Cassie’s wouldn’t take on an infamous title of its own). She planned to share it with the ranch hands, but only if it turned out as it should. There’d be no more jokes at her expense.