He lifted the covers on the opposite side of the bed, holding back the spread so she could get in.
She hesitated at the edge.
"I'm not proposing anything indecent," he said softly. "You need sleep."
He got a glimpse of her sweatpants and T-shirt as she slid into the bed. He flipped the covers over her. He whistled for the darn dog. Moments later, toenails clicked on the floor.
"Lie down," he told the mutt. There was a scrabble of nails and then a whumph as Hound settled on the floor at Molly's side of the bed.
She was lying straight as a board, staring up at the ceiling, her arms at her sides. She wasn't going to fall asleep that way either, so he shifted closer, snugging one arm around her waist and nudging her at the same time.
She rolled so that her back was to his chest, his knees pressed in behind hers. The covers separated their bodies. Even so, he could feel her tension.
She let her head settle on his shoulder, and he tucked his chin close to her ear.
He wouldn't take advantage, no matter how much he reveled in the feel of her in his arms. She was vulnerable, afraid. She needed him, and he'd do his best to be what she needed, if it meant little sleep or no sleep. If it meant following her across the state, or across the country.
It took longer than he wanted, but finally her breathing evened out and she relaxed against him. His arm fell asleep where it was bent beneath her pillow.
He didn't dare move.
He let his eyes drift closed, too.
17
We kissed. And you panicked.
Cord chopped through the ice at the pond's edge, the muscles in his shoulders aching. It was so cold, he'd probably need to do it again in a few hours. The cattle needed water.
He hurried back to his truck, sliding into the warm interior. He'd left the heater blasting.
He needed to get back to the ranch house. He'd left Molly sleeping—finally—in his bed, snuck out to care for the cattle. An ice storm had blown in overnight and was still going strong, covering the windshield in a thin sheet of ice even though he'd only been out in it for ten minutes.
In this weather, there was no way Toby was getting anywhere in a sports car with rear-wheel drive. Before he’d left this morning, he'd checked the dirt road in both directions and the padlock on the gate. No signs of Toby. Molly would know that the weather would help protect her. And Cord had left a note on the kitchen table.
But he didn't want to be gone long.
We kissed. And you panicked.
He couldn't get Molly's words out of his head.
She was right. He wanted to be with her, but he was scared of failing her the way he'd failed Noah and, later, West.
He was furious that Toby was coming after her. She was the sweetest, kindest, most authentic person he'd ever met. She didn't deserve this.
And maybe in the beginning, he'd tried to keep her at arms' length, but he was done lying to himself.
He wasn't falling anymore. He'd fallen hard into love with Molly.
Maybe that's what he should've told her instead of trying to use logic to convince her to stay. He'd panicked at the thought of her leaving, walking right into Toby's trap.
Everything was quiet when he arrived back at the ranch house.
Good. Molly needed the sleep.
He brewed a cup of coffee and stared at the spice cabinet for an inordinately long time, then snatched the cinnamon and plunked it on the counter to add to the coffee pot.
He decided to tiptoe upstairs and check on her. If she was up and about, he’d ask her what she wanted for breakfast.
It was only when he stood in the open doorway of his bedroom that he realized she was not in the bed. It was neatly made as if she hadn't been there at all. He whirled, straining his ears for any sign that she was still in the house. Nothing from down the hall, nothing from the bathroom, nothing anywhere.
His heart pounded as he thumped down the stairs at a jog. There was no note in the kitchen. And no sign of her phone.
He grabbed his off the counter and dialed her number. It rang multiple times and finally clicked over to her voicemail, the kind with no recorded message. Just a computerized voice telling him to state his business.
Where was she?
The scent of percolated coffee was making him nauseous. Didn't she realize he would be worried?
Or was she gone? Had she left the way she’d tried to last night?
He glanced out the window, afraid of what he would see there. Her truck was gone. The gate had been swung wide open.
Had she left on her own? Why?
He called the sheriff’s office.
They told him that if he couldn't be sure whether she left on her own or under duress, they couldn't do anything. Not until it had been forty-eight hours.
He called Iris next. She hadn't seen or heard from Molly either.
Hound was lying in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"What do you think I should do?"
The dog whined, and its tail thumped one slow tap on the floor.
"I'm going to go find her."
Where the drive met the dirt road, he parked and got out. His boots slipped on the ice and he had to go slow to steady himself.
He scoured the ground for any sign of Toby's car. There were no tracks in the grass. On the road, he couldn't tell one tire track from another—and there were plenty, thanks to the deputies and Rick coming by. Everything was covered in a thick layer of ice that was only getting thicker.
He slammed into the truck and headed for town.
Hold on, honey.
* * *
Molly’d had a devil of a time navigating to the shop in town on the icy streets. At least there was nobody else on the road. No other cars to hit.
No red Mustangs.
She needed to get back to the No Name before Cord discovered she was gone. Except, she’d probably already blown that, considering how long the drive had taken her.
Last night when Cord had threatened to run away with her, it had shifted something inside of her. Sort of like the iconic movie moment when the Grinch's heart grew three sizes in one go.
She loved him. And she wanted to be with him.
And he needed the No Name, even if it was to be free of it. Which meant she needed to finish the tractors so the sale could go through on Monday. And Rick had left her a voicemail in the early hours of the morning that one of the parts had been left behind at the store. She couldn't finish without it.
As soon as she got the final part she needed from Rick, she’d call Cord, assure him she was all right. But she wasn’t about to take her hands off the wheel right now. Not as ice pelted her ancient truck and her tires fought for purchase on the slick road.
Nobody else out today, thanks to this terrible weather. She knew Rick was in his store, but he’d told her he’d be closing early. No customers thanks to the weather.
Once she had the part, she could hole up in the living room at the No Name and rebuild the transmission, maybe talk Cord into starting a fire. She could imagine it now, the crackling flames, the pot of chili she’d fix for dinner, maybe with a side of cornbread. The comfort of the house that had come to mean so much to her. Cord’s memories there were painful, but hers would always be sweet. If he sold the place, at least she’d always have her memories.
Finally, she angled into a spot in front of the parts store and killed the engine.
The passenger door jerked open, and Toby’s face seemed to fill her vision, made everything else go dark.
She froze, hands clutched on the wheel, voice stuck in her throat. Not that anybody would hear her if she screamed.
Not that she dared.
Toby aimed a handgun at her face, dead eyes trained on hers.
And it all faded away. The cozy fire, the bubbling chili, the comfortable home, and the man she loved. All dissipated like her breath in the cold air, gone almost as if they’d never existed at all.
As if they’d only ever been a dr
eam.
And this, this nightmare, was the only real thing in the icy world.
She was stupid. So, so stupid. She'd walked right into Toby's clutches.
He climbed into the truck, still pointing the gun at her. She couldn’t pry her hands off the wheel and she was buckled in—too late to escape.
“Start driving. Out of town.”
Her eyes blurred with tears as she followed his order. The tires slipped and then caught and the truck lurched forward.
She was going to give Cord something else to blame himself for. He already held himself accountable for what had happened to Noah, even though there'd been three others present that night.
She didn't want that for him.
Maybe she could talk her way out of this.
"How did you find me?" She couldn’t help the way her voice shook.
"Today? I got lucky. You didn't even see me."
He hadn't been driving the Mustang today. She’d scoured every parking spot on Main Street before she’d pulled in. Did he have another vehicle?
"No, I meant here. In Sutter's Creek."
"It's not hard to install a GPS tracker on a vehicle. They're surprisingly cheap when you buy online."
She wanted to close her eyes but didn't dare take her attention off the road. Toby had known all along where she was. She'd never been safe.
"What do you want from me?"
"The same thing I've always wanted. You. Just you."
Somehow, the lack of malice in his words scared her more than anything else. He was talking as if they were having a regular conversation.
"I told you before, I don't feel that way about you."
He shrugged. "You will."
"I could never have feelings for somebody who kidnapped me. It's not right."
He shook his head. "You'll see. Once we get back home, you'll see."
Back home? If he were stupid enough to take her back to Austin, maybe the police would have a shot at finding her. But the unholy light in his eyes made her itch to bolt from the car. She had a very bad feeling that, even if it were Toby’s plan, she’d never make it all the way to Austin.
"I'm in love with Cord."
He smacked her across the cheek with the butt of the gun. It was so unexpected that she lost control of the truck. The tires skidded on the pavement, and she had to navigate back between the white lines. Her face throbbed, as if she could feel blood swelling beneath her skin already. Tears smarted.
"Don't ever talk about him again." Now there was malice in Toby's voice. Pure hatred.
She struggled to focus on the road. Her attention spun out. It was too much. Keeping track of Toby’s hand with that gun. Worrying about Cord. Trying to stay alive.
How was she going to get out of this? How was she going to escape?
* * *
After two hours of combing the back roads and weaving in and out of every street in town, Cord pulled off the side of the road. He threw the truck into park and slammed his hands against the steering wheel.
What if Molly had really left him? She’d claimed she had feelings for him, but the little boy inside of him, the one Mackie had beaten and shamed, questioned whether he could really deserve Molly's love.
Maybe she was right to go.
Except the Molly he'd to come to know wouldn't leave without a good-bye. She faced her demons head on. She might've run from Toby, but that was because she tried to get help, and no one had been there for her.
If Molly had left him, she’d have told him straight out. Was it possible he missed a note back at the ranch? He was too far out to get back quickly. He unlocked the display on his phone, ready to dial up Iris and ask her to go over to the ranch house and look for a note, when he noticed a notification for a voicemail.
From Molly.
His heart jumped into this throat, and his finger shook as he hit the icon that would play it.
His heart sank. It wasn't a message after all, just the sound of road noise.
Wait. That was her voice, muffled as if she were far away from the phone.
And a man's voice. Was that Toby? A combination of sickness and anger flushed through him.
The message ended and he hadn't caught any of the actual words.
He cranked up the volume and replayed the message.
"I told you before, I just don't feel that way about you." Her voice.
There was more that Cord couldn't make out. Then, his voice: "You'll see. Once we get back home, you'll see."
Home. Austin?
Cord's hands shook as he dialed the sheriff's office. He relayed the message he'd heard and spent too long figuring out how to forward them the voicemail from his phone. All the deputies on duty were already out, tending to people who'd gotten in car accidents thanks to the ice, including one with major injuries. There was no one who could scour the roads immediately, though the dispatcher promised to send help as soon as she could.
Cord hung up, feeling desperate. Soon wasn't going to be enough. Molly was already in Toby's clutches.
If they were headed toward Austin, they would've taken the southbound branch of the state highway. He turned his truck that direction.
The slow pace made him frantic. When he sped up too much, the truck's tires lost traction and he slid.
But Toby had at least three hours head start. He could be anywhere.
And Molly...
Was she hurt? Frightened? No doubt she was living her own personal nightmare.
He needed to find her.
He left the town limits behind, moving at a snail's pace on the two-lane state road. Another hour passed, and his hope was dying with each breath. The roads were deserted, the sky gray.
He was approaching a concrete-and-steel overpass when he caught sight of her truck off the side of the road, crumpled into the concrete barrier. The front of the truck was obliterated, smashed into the concrete.
No. No no no.
He parked farther back than he wanted to, afraid to slip on the ice and send his truck crashing into Molly’s.
His boots hit the ground, and he tried to run, but the shoulder was a sheet of ice and he couldn't get traction.
As he jogged in what felt like slow motion, he saw the entire passenger side of her truck was crumpled into nothing against the concrete barrier.
"Molly!" he shouted.
Nothing was moving, and the eerie stillness terrified him.
There was no other traffic, no one for him to flag down for help. He fumbled for his phone even as he was moving toward the crumpled truck. He dialed 911, yelled his location to the dispatcher in those few frantic moments, fearing they’d need an airlift, if she was still alive.
He went around the back of the truck, because there was no way he could've pried open the twisted metal that was the passenger door.
On the driver's side, the door had been flung open. The driver seat's was empty. He braced himself, forced himself to look inside the cab.
It wasn't Molly's body crushed in the mangled steel.
Relief made his legs week, and he sagged against the door.
The man who must be Toby was almost unrecognizable. And unresponsive. Cord didn't spare a single second to try and get a pulse.
Where was Molly?
He scanned the roadside, registering for the first time a trail of blood, as if she’d dragged herself away from the crash site.
A dark bundle was half-hidden behind the far side of a concrete barrier. Almost out of sight, which was why he hadn't seen her at first glance.
He ran toward her, almost losing his footing.
"Molly," he cried.
She didn't move.
Blood on the ground had frozen into the ice, covered in another layer that was preserving it in a kind of morbid clarity. She'd been out here too long, exposed. Was there even a chance she was still alive?
He fell to his knees beside her, reached for her. "Molly, honey."
She was facedown. Her left wrist was twisted, broken, and he tried
to be as gentle as he could as he rolled her over. There was some small voice shouting in the back of his mind about doing damage to her spine, but blood matted her hair and stained the shoulders of her jacket, and he had to find out where it was coming from.
She was still breathing, the slight rise and fall of her chest brought such a sweep of relief that tears threatened.
She had a huge gash at her hairline, a bump bigger than a plastic Easter egg showing where she'd hit her head.
Blood covered her shirt, too, and he lifted the garment to see an ugly looking bullet wound in the flesh of her side. It was oozing blood. He lowered her shirt and pressed his hand against it to try to stop the flow.
How long had she been here, helpless and bleeding?
Sirens sounded in the distance. He couldn't bear to look away from the woman he loved.
"Please stay with me, honey."
Time blurred and flashed as a sheriff's deputy joined him, some kind of first-aid kit in-hand. He tried to patch injuries that needed stitches, not Band-Aids.
It might've been minutes or it might've been longer before a helicopter emblazoned with a red cross landed nearby. Dirt and ice chips sprayed into Cord's face beneath the rotor wash, but he wasn't leaving Molly's side.
They loaded her onto a stretcher, then into the helicopter.
He tried to climb in after her.
“Sorry,” the EMT said. “No room for you. You’ll need to drive.”
He watched as the copter flew away, taking the woman he loved.
18
Molly was suffocating under a blanket of darkness. She couldn't seem to swim through the layers of black on black to wake herself up.
Her thoughts came in broken snatches.
Cord.
Toby.
Pain.
The No-Name.
Cord.
* * *
In the awful conditions, it took Cord ten times as long as it should've to make it to the nearest hospital with a trauma center.
The hospital in Dallas was bustling, apparently catering to a whole host of people who thought it'd be fun to drive during an ice storm.
His Small-Town Girl Page 13
