ALWAYS YOURS

by Shiloh Walker

  Dylan’s suppressed an amused laugh and said, “Damn it. These people…”

  “I grew up in the same place you did, Dylan, I learned the same fucked up facts of life.” He slid Dylan a narrow look out of flinty green eyes, all the humor and laughter gone as he warned, his voice low and hard, “Don’t push me. I’m already pissed enough as it is.”

  As Dylan punched the gas and shot around the truck, his kid brother’s words echoed in his mind. She’s your woman. People don’t fuck with the family...

  My woman.

  Mine.

  Narrowing his eyes, he reached for his cell phone. “No. They don’t fuck with the family.” Casting the sun a cast, he wondered just how much time they had. How much he needed. When a low, gruff voice came onto the voice and said, “Unless the damn sky is falling, go the fuck away.”

  Laughing, Dylan said, “Come on, Chicken Little. I got bigger problems than the sky falling. I need hands and eyes.”

  ****

  Flopping on his back, Jerry lay staring at the ceiling after Dylan had hung up. “Well, sure as hell beats just a Christmas card,” he grumbled as he climbed from the bed and grabbed his pager before punching a number in and the last three digits, letting people know it wasn’t an urgent official manner.

  But it was something they’d want to know about anyway. Nearly a year. Nearly a damn year of silence and then this…hell. Well, it did beat a Christmas card.

  And this could be…fun.

  Within thirty minutes, he had gotten a hold of seven guys, seven Rangers, active or otherwise…and most of them could even be there by nightfall.

  Dylan was smiling a grim smile as he took the exit to Slade.

  He didn’t even have to pull into the parking lot for Renee to notice him. She came swaying out of the gas station the moment he turned onto the scenic pike and she inclined at her head at him ever so slightly as she moved back to the truck, chatting over her shoulder to an older man and lady. She was behind him and trucking on down the pike before he had even turned around.

  “Sure she’s a cop? I think she’s got part blood hound in her,” Dylan said, shaking his head as she moved up on his bumper. “How the hell did she know I’d take the street?”

  “Renee is a good cop,” Shawn agreed amicably. “And if you try to give her the same song and dance you read me, I hope you’re ready to get her fist in your gut.” He straightened as Dylan pulled off the road into a scenic, over night campsite and he grunted. “Cops like her just might have kept you and me a little more on the straight the narrow.”

  Shawn cocked his head, watching with interest as Renee climbed out of her car a few heartbeats later, not parking, not paying, just studying the map. After tracing her hand over it, she cast a smile at Dylan and one lid dropped in a wink over her sharp eyes as she moved back to her truck, moving within a few feet of them “…too bad so sad…sorry ‘bout of your luck,” she said in a soft sing song voice, her mouth curving up.

  Dylan started to go after her only to stop, turning and studying the map. She had traced her hand over the Whistling Arch area. Damn it. Dealing with a woman—

  Shawn started to chuckle. Turning, Dylan saw him kneeling on the ground just as a truck pulled in, drawing a camper behind it. The man nodded easily and called out, “Time to get some more fishing in. They bite like crazy ‘round here come evening.”

  Dylan’s back tensed. That was his man, the one in Slade he needed to talk with. His gaze whipped back to Shawn and he rasped, “This scene is quickly losing amusement. Care to tell me what is funny?”

  The younger man stood up and in his hand he held a map. Identical to the one Renee had just been studying, one that they were handing out in the local restaurants and hotels detailing all the many must-see sights in Natural Bridge Park. Renee had dropped it as she moved by them, and not one of them had even seen it.

  Dylan kept his eyes on the camper as he deposited money in the self-depository as Shawn ambled over the map, studying it with narrow eyes as he slapped Renee’s map against his hand, whistling under his breath. “I don’t know why in the hell I let you drag me out here, Jackson,” he said, reaching up and plowing a hand through his hair.

  The Jackson elicited a sneer from Dylan. He had hated that name for as long as he could remember. “Jackass,” he said mildly as he came up to study the map. “Wish it was a little more detailed. The information about the park on the web sucked.”

  “You guys from out of town?”

  Shawn’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard him coming up behind them. Dylan had, but that silence, almost complete total silence as he moved, he didn’t like that. “Yeah. Out of Somerset. Looking for a couple of places to maybe do some pictures later of my girlfriend.”

  “Pictures, huh?” Mick Langes asked, a hint of a smile on his mouth. He had a scraggly beard, dark blondish hair, powerful muscles under a worn blue t-shirt. He looked just like a hundred other guys in the rural Kentucky county looked. Except for those eyes, Dylan decided. He didn’t like those eyes.

  “I’m a nature photographer, free lance. But I do commissions from time to time,” Dylan lied. “With fall coming up, I thought this might be a good place. The rocks, the untouched look of the place. The…privacy.”

  Shawn laughed. “He likes taking nekkid pictures of his girl.”

  Kris would either blush to the roots of her very red hair over that, or punch Shawn in the gut.

  “Damn. Some guys have all the luck,” Mick said, grinning, moving up to the map. “If you’re looking for rock formations, privacy… then you need to steer clear of this part.” He indicated a wide circle and said, “This loop here, all the rocks are too easily accessed and bunch of new age hikers love to come out there anyway. What else you need?”

  “Just good light. Good rock formation, I’d like a bridge that doesn’t have all the railing and modern touches added. We’re hanging around for the night, pitching a couple of tents,” he said smoothly. “I want to go ahead and scout out the areas I plan on using, maybe bring her up here this weekend and get a few done now, see what they look like. I want the colors of fall in it.” Now that really wasn’t a half bad idea…Kris naked on one of the rock formations, leaning against the arch with the sun spilling down on her face, that dark red hair spilling all over her shoulders.

  A vicious smile curled his lips. Later. After he tore apart the bastards who had dared to threatened to her.

  Something in Mick’s demeanor changed, going from easy going good ole boy to a watcher. Oh, he was still smiling, still laid back and easy as can be, but a subtle tension had filled him. They needed a better guy watching than this one. “Staying the night? Well, if you really have some hours to kill and don’t mind a good long hike to get there, you need to try out this one,” Mick suggested, pointing to an area far off the route, as far away from Whispering Arches as he could get.

  “This area isn’t really named, but it’s full of younger arches and a ton of formations that just are out of this world. The younger arches aren’t quite as pretty as Natural Bridge, but it’s gorgeous. And it’s in the national park, inside Daniel Boone. They kept a little more of the…nature there. Plus, not too many people hit that spot. So, there’s your privacy.”

  And, studying the map, Dylan figured if the average Joe was going to hike that faintly dotted smaller loop, it would take the better part of a day. Or more. “And how do I get there?”

  ****

  Mick felt the cold sweat dry off his body as the two men drove back out of the small parking lot, pausing to check the map, the younger of the two pointing down the road that would lead to Daniel Boone National. Shit. That little encounter had made him a little more nervous than normal, even though he had watched this area on these nights for the past three years, and had even had to deal with yammering tourists, free-loving wannabe hippies, retired and vacationing cops.

  Tons of photographers came through here. They loved the place. Mick couldn’t care less. He couldn’t hunt in the forest and
he hated fishing. Well, he wasn’t supposed to hunt in the forest. He had taken down a prize buck or two in here while killing time on sale nights.

  Licking his lips, he wondered about the ‘return’. It wasn’t something that happened too often. But Courte hated lost revenue. And if no other buyer was interested, the good ole boys could buy her, combine enough money and have at her. Their own personal little slut.

  He scowled, thinking of the last one. Little bitch had gotten away though—darting out into the woods, running like a demon possessed, screaming. Mick sneered. Stupid bitch. Her run had taken her head long off one of the cliffs. She had still been breathing when they found her, some forty feet below, her breath rattling in and out of her lungs.

  Mick had laughed at her. “Well, you ended up in a worse place, bitch, didn’t you?” He had been furious. It had been more than a year since they had been able to keep a girl to themselves. All the merchandise had to be untouched, unsoiled. And if it came back, and it did, sometimes…of course, they never kept them for long. Around these parts, that was just foolishness.

  But a month or so of having a piece of ass any time he wanted it, however he wanted? Nudging her with his foot, he had sneered and taunted, “Getting a coupla fucks looks pretty sweet now, don’t it?”

  But the girl…Mick shifted, wishing he hadn’t started thinking of that.

  The girl had looked at him, head on, as Courte came through the woods, his pale blue eyes icy with rage as they studied the dying girl.

  She had looked at them, and smiled, a peaceful, relieved smile before her eyes moved into the empty space just over Mick’s head and she breathed her last. That smile had stayed with him, haunting him at nights. Like a harbinger. And Mick had decided maybe it was time to pull out. Not because he gave a damn about the fear he had scented on her. He loved that, but because when she had looked at him, he had felt a fear.

  A sickening one.

  Yeah. He was getting out. He’d collect his fee for tonight, get a piece of ass if it was there.

  And then he’d clear out. Grab what gear from the trailer he needed and just be gone.

  Courte could find another hard ass for this job.

  ****

  Kris stood on the path at the foot of the small arch.

  Something broken ran through her heart, twisting its way through her soul, until her throat ached with the sob that was inside, just begging for release.

  The one called Slvrnghtgale…Kris had the oddest picture of a singing butterfly, captured in cage, wings broken, battered. And as Kris watched, something ephemeral rose from that dying butterfly with the sweet voice, and she watched as it rose upward.

  Throat tight, she turned around, studying the small spot, memorizing it. She’d have to bring Dylan back here. After. Tears threatened to blind her before she blinked them away as she knelt as stroked her hand down the smooth piece of stone.

  That girl had died here.

  She studied the rather ornately placed steps that led up the rock wall. Hell if I’ll walk up to the front walk. Her legs were aching, her body weary. Ditching her car in a parking lot more three miles away, she had followed something inside her gut to this spot.

  But now that voice was silent. It wasn’t going to provide her with a map to get up to whatever lay at the top of the carved and carefully set stone stairway. Not that it wouldn’t be nice…because she was getting tired of standing under the camera, trying to figure out a way to move away without them realizing she was there.

  That last, screaming warning, no words… just a sudden tension that tore through her had been the last thing she had picked up before whatever had led her simply went silent. She had frozen as the camera started to swing back her way and with sheer desperation, she had dove for the spot under it, hoping for only one camera.

  As the camera swung away again, Kris moved, refusing to look back. She had about fifteen seconds before it swung back to where she was…

  Fourteen…

  Ten. Rocks scrambled under her feet as she leaped a stone and prayed there was none around to hear her. Twenty more feet. She stumbled over a knobby, exposed tree root and hissed, mentally counting. Five. With a furious curse, she dashed behind the outcropping ahead right as she hit the mental count of two. And she hoped she hadn’t messed the count up.

  Of course, if she had… “I’ll deal with that then,” she answered, shaking her head. Right now, she had one hell a steep cliff to climb. With a heavy sigh, she studied it for a long moment before picking her path. And then she set upon it, placing her feet carefully, reaching for every hand hold and measuring every single step she took before making it.

  If she fell, now wouldn’t that just make a lovely surprise for these bastards to find? Maybe some of the men like their kidnapped victims older, out of their teens…Kris’s mouth twisted in a snarl. Please, take me on. Somebody out of the teenage years, somebody not so easily broken. Somebody who had learned how to fight.

  They don’t want them strong, not these men. They want them easy to break, and bend. The words, like so many things of late, whispered through her, not in her mind, but through her, echoing inside her mind, her soul.

  Others take strong ones, they love the breaking of them. These men want them—pliant. Accepting of their fate. They want them to fight at first…but that’s just because they like breaking them.

  Kris focused on the next set of rocks as she walked around the small, worn path. It was a rocky hike up, but she and Dylan had done harder climbs. Dylan…

  Damn it.

  He was coming.

  She could feel it…how was that possible? Against the mossy green leaves that had wound their way up and covered the rocky walls of the mountain, she rested her brow. “This is…enough. I don’t want or need anything else in my head,” she whispered. “I’ve gotten this far, I don’t want anything else intruding on my head.”

  Resolutely, she set her shoulders and shoved everything beyond getting to the cabin behind a stonewall she envisioned inside her head. After the cabin, she’d deal with these other chaotic, troublesome thoughts running loose in her head.

  But for now…reaching up, she grasped at an exposed root and hauled herself up grimly. For now, the cabin.

  By the time she had cleared the mountain, her legs quivered with every step she took and sweat dripped off her body. Her stomach rumbled and growled demandingly and her breath was rasping in and out of her lungs. But she was standing on level ground. And through the trees, she caught the gleam of sun on glass.

  “So. I’m here,” she murmured. “Now what…”

  Keeping behind the trees, studying the house, the ground, it wasn’t easy crossing that distance. It shouldn’t have taken no more than fifteen minutes. By the time she got done measuring every last footfall, and checking for signs of cameras, Kris had spent damn near forty-five minutes crossing the distance. And nearly three hours, just hiking to get to here. Damn it, this is taking too long.

  “What are you going to do when you get in there? You don’t have a gun, you don’t have any clue where you really are, or what is there,” Kris murmured to herself, shaking her head as she edged a little closer to the gleaming wooden fence that edged the entire house. It had been constructed damn close to rocks that formed the southern boundary line, so close a man wouldn’t be able to get through.

  But she just might have a chance. And it was a decent hiding place, along the level part, before the mountain soared up into the sky again. Gritting her teeth, she started to edge her way through, listening, but there was no sign of anybody on the inside of the fence. She just had to hope her luck held out.

  ****

  If that woman’s luck held out it was gonna be a damned miracle, he thought, his heart freezing in his chest as she somehow managed to evade almost every single line, every laser that would have alerted the men of her arrival.

  If he hadn’t already deactivated them.

  But damn if he wasn’t impressed. Maybe Dylan had rubbed off on her, he
thought. She was pretty damned good, not just for a civilian. Not settling for the fast route in order to get out of sight, but pacing herself, looking for the quietest way. Settling back against the rock, he looked around and wondered how much longer he was going to be waiting.

  ****

  They had windows, all over the damn house. Even the part that butted up against the mountain at times had the ceiling angling in such a way so that whoever was in the room could stare up at the night sky through the opening in the trees, wide, open sun roofs gracing many of the varying angles of the house.

  It looked like a pile of wooden blocks gone mad, with the highest part built against the rock wall on all of one side, the angles of the house built into the sharp angled wall before the mountain fell away into the open air.

  And down there, through one of those windows, she saw a girl. And then another as she walked by the door, rubbing her bare arms, her head swiveling around madly. Looking for escape. And a third, sitting in a corner. Not cowering, Kris decided, more…accepting.

  But she was a little too accepting. And her buyer hadn’t wanted her that accepting. They wanted her to fight it a little. All of them.

  Kris worked her way to the very edge of the flattened piece of rock she was sitting on, trying to figure out where to go from here.

  Get the girls out. That was what mattered. Getting them out. But how…

  Setting her jaw, Kris edged forward and started to swing a leg over. Might as well find out.

  “Bad move, sweetie,” a soft low voice said.

  Kris froze, fear skittering through her, freezing her blood, closing her throat. It took a minute, but then her heart starting to resume beating at a normal pace, and irritation bloomed. Then anger came.

  Damn it, she knew that voice.

  Taking a deep, slow breath, she lifted her head and looked around, studying the narrow strip that she could see in front of her.