by Piper Stone
“Oh, I assure you that Johnathon Parker will go to meet his maker very soon,” Jack smirked. “However, when I found out who you were, I was excited to make the move here.”
“What are you talking about?” I barked.
“You don’t remember murdering two innocent people?” he asked, his eyes shifting into darkness.
I bristled. “That was a hell of a long time ago.”
“Yeah, well, I never forget or forgive!” Jack spit out, his chest heaving.
“Who the hell are you?” I tried to figure out if I’d seen him before his move to Cheyenne.
He took a step closer. “The woman you killed was special to me. That little girl? My daughter.”
I heard Holland’s horrified gasp but everything else was muffled, roaring into my ears. My hands were shaking. “You’re lying.”
Jack snorted. “I wouldn’t lie about that. I planned on revenge from the moment you left town. Finding the bitch here as well was merely a perk. One. Delicious. Accident. Now you both die.”
“No!” Holland moved several steps in his direction.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Jack shifted the gun toward her until she stopped.
I waved my hand, hoping she would back off. “Fuck you.”
“I think you’re the one who’s fucked.” Jack pointed the barrel at my head.
“You’re never going to get away with it,” I offered.
“I guess we’ll see about that. My father has some hefty connections, including in the FBI.” Jack’s laughter floated toward the tops of the trees.
The asshole was proud of himself.
“I don’t think you want to fight the Michenzo family. Do you?” Jack asked quietly as he placed the silencer on the end of the barrel. “That wouldn’t bode well for a famous cowboy like yourself.”
“I said, drop your weapon. I’m not going to ask you again.”
Holland’s eyes were pleading, her fists clenched. She shifted, moving one foot out from the other, darting her eyes from Jack back toward me.
I could hear sirens in the distance, the noise catching Jack’s attention.
“The answer is,” he murmured, “no.”
All time seemed to stand still, the air sucked out of the entire forest as Jack leveled the gun in my direction before making a split-second change. In a whirlwind blur, he managed to pop off two shots, both in Holland’s direction.
There is such a thing as practiced reflex. There is also the gut instinct that we all have buried deep inside, the innate knowledge when something is about to happen. If only we would listen.
Pop!
“Oh!” Holland went down onto her knees, cradling her head in her hands.
Jack’s eyes opened wide just seconds before he fell to the ground.
I took several long strides, standing over the motherfucker then finally kicking him over onto his back. The bullet had entered his neck in an upward angle. I never missed.
Franco Michenzo’s, aka Jack Samoa’s eyes were wide open, only they were no longer filled with amusement, only horror as he faced his own death.
“Montana. Oh, Montana.”
Her intense cry dragged my attention away. I rushed to her side, crouching down and yanking her against my body. “Did he hurt you? Are you shot?”
“No. Nothing. I’m fine,” she whispered. “I was just trying to leave and the car was suddenly behind me. I was just trying to get away.”
“Oh, baby. It’s over. You’re safe.” I kept my eyes on the asshole, half anticipating he’d go for his gun.
“I’m so sorry. I’m just so very sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” She was shaking, her hands like ice. The sirens were closer, this time a welcome sound. “We need to get out of here.”
“It’s never going to be over. Never,” she whispered, taking several deep breaths.
“We’ll figure it all out.” I gently guided Holland to her feet, making a wide berth away from Franco. The how I wasn’t entirely certain of.
“You don’t understand what they’re capable of.”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here. The sheriff is on the way.”
Holland didn’t fight me as I half carried her into the woods. Hearing the sound of footsteps, I pulled her to the side just as Garland appeared, several of his deputies following him.
As well as the man I suspected as being the very man hunting Holland.
“What is he doing here?” I demanded, pulling her behind me.
Garland grinned, swaggering closer. “That’s Brody. I figured you two had met. I couldn’t tell you about his identity as you might imagine. See, he’s been doing a little undercover work for our department.”
Brody grinned as he approached. “Keeping an eye out for riffraff.”
“So, you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Garland asked, attempting to look over my shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you to let us handle this?”
“Then Holland would be dead by now,” I retorted. “You’ll find Jack’s or Franco’s body just past the line of trees.”
Garland shook his head. “Jesus. Christ. That’s all I need with the damn Feds.”
“I’ll make certain the fucker is dead,” Brody said, already moving toward the bank of trees.
“I need to get her out of here.” I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“I’m fine,” Holland insisted.
Garland looked from one of us to the other. “All right. Take her home, but you know we’re going to have some questions for both of you. I assure you, the Feds are going to be crawling all over your ass now that you were involved in the shooting.”
“Yeah, I know.” I didn’t wait for any other instructions. I simply wanted to get her to safety.
“I think I could use a drink. Is it five o’clock yet?” she asked, giving a half laugh.
“We’ll make an exception.” I pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.
“Montana! Get down!” Brody’s voice called from a distance. “Michenzo is running.”
I swung around, immediately jerking us both to the ground after hearing gunshots.
“No. Not again,” she moaned, still clinging to me.
“Stay low but move,” Garland instructed. He and the other deputies took off racing in different directions.
I half crawled forward until we were behind a tree before standing. “We’re going to the left then out to the road. You understand?”
“Yes.” She scanned the perimeter, her face pinched.
I noticed Brody’s approach, jogging backward as he swung the gun from right to left. “Stay behind me. Now go. Go!”
My grip on the gun firm, I made certain we were crouched low as we took off. Another gunshot was followed by a haunting thud.
Then the single crack of a limb directly behind us.
Another shot was followed by Brody grunting.
I swung around, able to see that Brody had been hit but was refusing to leave us.
“You’re good, cowboy. I will give you that. One more inch and I wouldn’t be standing here. Get the fuck out of the way, cop. I have no issue shooting you.”
“Over my dead body,” Brody shouted.
I sucked in my breath hearing Franco’s taunting remark, once again yanking Holland behind me.
“Then you’re all going to die.” Franco laughed.
Another moment lost in time, only the single shot didn’t come from my gun or Brody’s.
Brody raced toward the asshole, pointing the gun at the man’s chest.
As Holland yelped, struggling to move backwards, trickles of blood appeared, crawling along Franco’s forehead. He dropped to his knees, falling flat on his face, and this time I had no doubt he was dead.
Garland was mumbling under his breath as he slowly walked forward, finally grinning, the gun still firmly planted in his hands. “What? My case. Can’t allow the Feds to have all the fun.”
Several deputies swarmed around the body, one of t
hem crouching down. “He’s dead,” the deputy said. “What do you want us to do with him?”
“Call the Feds. Technically their property,” Garland growled.
“I’ll be happy to do that,” Brody said, snorting then spitting on the man.
I was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.
“You knew about Brody?” I snapped.
Garland eased his gun into his holster. “You know my instincts are usually spot on. Brody’s new on the roster and not from around here. I needed an inside into the bars, rodeos, and other locations a cop can’t just walk into without people clamming up. He gathered enough evidence in a few days that making a case would have been easy. If the damn Feds hadn’t walked in.”
I watched the large man as he paced the ground, a phone in his hand. “I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“That’s what they say about you, Cobra.” Garland laughed. “You two all right?”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Did you get my note?” Holland asked.
The question seemed to come from out of the blue. “Yes, and we’ll talk about the fact you were going to leave without saying goodbye later.” I nearly crushed her against my chest given the boosted adrenaline, every emotion running on high octane.
“Do you have the... second envelope?”
I eased back, lifting my eyebrows. “I do. Why?”
Garland narrowed his eyes. “Envelope?”
“With you?” she asked, purposely pulling away.
I reached into my back pocket, tugging the unopened envelope into my hand. “What are you going to do with it? You don’t even know what’s inside.”
“That’s blood money, I mean, if there is any. I don’t know the contents and don’t want to.” Holland took it out of my hand, tapping her finger on top before walking toward Garland. “My father couriered this to me before he was sent away to prison. Whatever is inside, hopefully you’ll know what to do with. That isn’t a part of my life. Deborah Parker died along with my mother, but Holland Kennedy has a rich and wonderful life to live. Can you do that for me, Sheriff?”
Garland seemed surprised, giving me a look as if asking for approval.
“The woman has her mind made up,” I offered.
He shrugged then placed the envelope inside his shirt. “If it’s what I think it is, I don’t think we want anyone to know about this anyway. At least not right away. Do you?”
“Not a soul,” she answered, giving him a respectful nod.
As he walked by, he patted me on the shoulder. I was damn lucky to have a good friend.
“Does that mean you’re sticking around?” I asked as I walked her out to her truck.
“As long as you’ll have me. I’m tired of running. I love it here. Clean air and water. A nice-looking cowboy or ten.” Grinning, she winked.
“Then you’re going to have to learn about rules. Lots of rules.”
“I think I can handle that.”
I glanced back at the pathway one last time. Whatever was going to happen, we would face it together.
I chuckled at the thought. It was amazing how a good woman could change a man like me.
Chapter Seventeen
Holland
I stood in the hallway, listening for any sign of him. There was nothing but the vibrant clicking of crickets coming in from the open window in the kitchen, the sound more comforting than I’d ever noticed before. It had been a very long few days. I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep my half chuckle/half groan from escaping. Who was I kidding? Eight very long days had gone by.
Everything was practically a blur, far too many ‘final conversations’ with the local law enforcement and the Feds. They at least seemed satisfied that I’d had neither any knowledge of the recent extortion attempts on the ranchers or anything having to do with my father. There had been dozens of arrests from Chicago all the way to California, the scheme much larger than anyone had realized. Casinos were big business, additional states having approved their existence.
Although Don Antonio Michenzo had been indicted, refused bail, and was currently awaiting charges for a massive list of crimes, what the Feds couldn’t promise me was absolute safety.
Or Montana.
But the vendetta had been Franco’s against the love of my life. Maybe that had died with him.
I had a feeling I’d be watched from time to time. With no sign of obvious wealth, maybe the few who were left of the Michenzo crime family would leave me alone.
Garland hadn’t spoken a word about the envelope and I honestly had no desire to find out the contents. Thankfully, my father was safe, transferred to a secure prison, and promised early release for his cooperation. Then he’d get his wish of moving into the witness protection program.
Have a nice life, Daddy.
At least my information had proven to be helpful, even landing Julia a promotion. She’d attempted to warn me about Jack’s true identity, but I’d ignored all the phone calls, including the ones from Montana on that fateful day.
And Montana’s father had finally called. While their relationship was tense, at least they were talking.
I placed my hand on the door, counting to five before opening and slipping inside. I left the door ajar and moved behind his desk, easing into his sturdy, cushy leather chair. I was absolutely one hundred percent disobeying him, the man I called ‘sir,’ but I couldn’t help myself. The last rodeo of the season was in two days and I was determined to walk away with some prize money.
I had several new clients, wonderful people who trusted me with the welfare and safety of their adorable animals. But the clinic was still in ruins, at least in my mind. While handy with a hammer, Montana had his hands full at the hospital, taking up Jack’s, or Franco’s, slack.
I was determined to make inroads on my own and the rodeo would give me a needed boost.
The laptop was still humming, ready for use. I quickly navigated to the files he’d thought he’d hidden from me.
Sneaky cowboy.
He should know better than to hide anything from me.
As I began to watch, I was fully engaged in every move Montana made. He really was a brilliant surgeon and bull rider and damn good at keeping me in line.
Well, two out of three wasn’t bad.
I stopped every few seconds, watching the placement of his knees, the way he added just the right amount of pressure, and the fluidity of his upper body. He seemed to have everything in a perfect union.
“Hmmm... I can see this thing with rules needs to be etched in your forehead.”
The overhead light was flipped on, the voice was husky low, and the man standing in the doorway with his arms folded wasn’t just mildly unhappy.
He. Was. Pissed.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” My voice was far too whiny. I’d been caught red-handed. That would equate to a crimson ass.
“Better yet. I think they need to be carved into that bottom of yours.” Tilting his head, Montana’s eyes twinkled even in the harsh lighting.
I was more befuddled than ever before, fumbling to try to get out of the program, basically slamming the lid on the laptop, drawing another deep sigh from my man.
Hmmm...
My man. The words had a wonderful ring to them.
“What are we going to do about all your indiscretions and the fact you simply refuse to stop cursing?” he asked in a casual manner.
Even standing in boxer shorts and nothing else, his rippling muscles screaming out like a beacon of wanton sin, he was formidable. “I don’t know, sir. I mean, you could just put me to bed.”
“Oh, I plan on doing that as well.” He crossed his legs, jutting those sexy hips of his forward.
“O-kay. I’ll just go then.” I slipped out from behind the desk, quite cognizant that I was standing in a skimpy teddy with zero underwear.
“Not so fast. Not without a hard spanking.”
“But sir...”
“No ‘but sir’ is going to wor
k, young lady. You’ve had a tough few days but that doesn’t give you the right to sneak into my office in the middle of the night. Now does it?”
“No, sir.”
I could tell he was having difficulty hiding his grin. The sad thing was he was serious. I had a list of rules to follow, including a bedtime, especially when we didn’t spend the night together.
“Lean over the desk.”
No use in sulking. That wasn’t going to do me any good. I shuffled until I was able to lean over, watching as he moved to a cabinet. What in the world was he getting?
“I took the liberty of purchasing a few things that I knew would come in handy,” Montana said as he opened the two doors.
I grabbed the edges of the desk, trying not to whimper. I hated late-night spankings out of the blue. No, I hated spankings. Period.
But they had been beneficial.
Somehow.
Maybe.
Biting back a groan, I pressed my face against the cool wood, trying to keep my naughty mouth shut.
“A nice cane will do you some good.”
“A cane?” I shot up from the desk, glaring over my shoulder.
His smile was far too wicked. He pushed the small of my back before rubbing both ass cheeks. “I think you’ll look wonderful in stripes. Don’t you? Maybe it will teach you not to push your luck.”
“Maybe.”
Montana sighed before lifting my teddy all the way up my back. “This is going to hurt.”
If he said him more than me, I’d kick him. I was certain of that.
As I heard the first whooshing sound, I held my breath. Fire and pain exploded in my mind and every muscle the second the stalk was brought down across the entire width of my bottom.
“Oh. My. God!” My yelp was high-pitched, my entire body bucking.
“Stay still. You know the drill.”
He delivered two more in a row, moving from top to bottom.
“Oh. Oh. Oh.” I realized I deserved the spanking, but I could go blind. Mad.
Nutso.
I kicked out, trying to stay in formation but all I wanted to do was scream at him, throw things.
Another four were issued, one hitting the tops of my thighs. Now the tears began to fall.
“You are such a naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice like smooth velvet sliding between my legs.
