Chapter 34
Seth rolled onto his back for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling above him.
Every time he closed his eyes, another memory took its place.
Shylo riding Daisy beside him. Her smile as they ate breakfast at the Front Porch Café.
Their first kiss in the glade by the creek. The nights they'd made love.
He frowned. That wasn't a phrase he'd ever used before. It had always been sex. But with Shylo... somehow, it had become something more. Something special.
Maybe that's why it hurt so damn much.
He couldn't think about the good without remembering what came with it—the secrets she'd kept.
With a muttered curse, he threw back the sheet and swung his feet onto the floor. The glowing red numbers on the alarm clock announced it was a little after twelve-thirty.
Giving up on sleep, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. The refrigerator hummed softly as he grabbed a can of cola from the top shelf. A sharp hiss filled the quiet when he cracked it open.
After slipping his feet into a pair of moccasins, he stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him.
The porch swing creaked beneath his weight as he lowered himself onto it, one foot planted on the weathered boards to set it in motion.
Thick clouds had swallowed most of the moon, leaving the ranch draped in little more than shadows.
Beyond the porch, the familiar outlines of the main house, barns, and corrals faded into the darkness, while crickets and tree frogs carried on as though nothing in the world had changed.
Everything had.
He'd spent the afternoon avoiding Shylo and trying to convince himself that he hated her for lying to him.
It hadn't worked.
He understood now—or at least he understood enough. She hadn't come to Hazard Falls looking for love. She'd come looking for answers... and maybe a measure of justice for a lifetime spent wondering why her father had wanted nothing to do with her beyond a child support check every month.
He could even understand why she'd kept the truth from him after they'd met.
That didn't stop it from hurting.
Her smiles. Their kisses. Every conversation they'd shared since she'd arrived now warred with what she hadn't told him. He hated she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth.
What he hated even more was that he couldn't seem to stop loving her.
A faint, indistinct sound broke the quiet.
Seth's head came up, and he held perfectly still, listening. But only the familiar sounds of the ranch reached his ears. His gaze swept the darkness. Nothing moved.
It had probably been some critter nosing around for food.
He lifted the cola can to his lips, but something made him pause.
A shadow slipped between the trees bordering the yard.
Maybe it was whoever had watch duty tonight. Tucker had everyone rotating two-hour shifts.
Except that the figure moved from one patch of darkness to the next, slow and deliberate, as though trying not to be seen.
Every muscle in Seth's body tightened. If it was one of the ranch hands, they had no reason to hide.
He set the cola can on the porch floor and eased off the swing, careful not to make it squeak.
His gun sat inside on the kitchen counter where he'd left it after cleaning it earlier that evening.
Going back to get it would mean opening doors and making noise.
If someone were sneaking around the ranch, they'd disappear long before he got back outside.
Instead, he slipped off the porch, keeping to the darkness as he moved from one patch of shadow to the next.
The figure crept toward the house.
Seth shortened the distance between himself and the figure, one careful step at a time, as his pulse thudded in his ears. Then came the unmistakable snick of a lighter, followed by a tiny burst of orange.
The flame illuminated a familiar, unshaven face for the briefest instant.
Troy.
In his other hand, a glass bottle with a rag stuffed into its neck flared to life—a Molotov cocktail.
Oh, shit.
Seth lunged, his shoulder slamming into the man as he drew his arm back to throw. The impact sent the bottle flying off course. Glass shattered, and flames erupted across the side yard instead of engulfing the house, but they were still dangerously close.
Troy hit the ground with a grunt, but recovered fast, twisting beneath Seth and driving an elbow into his ribs.
Pain exploded through Seth's side. Ignoring it, he answered with a hard right to Troy's jaw. His fist connected with a satisfying crack.
“Son of a bitch!” Troy swung back, his punch glancing off Seth's cheek as they grappled for position.
Seth grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, trying to pin him, but Troy bucked violently beneath him. They rolled through dirt, scattered rocks, and brittle grass, each fighting for leverage. The fire crackled only a few feet away, its angry glow throwing wild shadows across the yard.
Troy planted a foot against Seth's hip and shoved, sending him sprawling onto his back. Before he could get away, Seth launched himself forward and wrapped both arms around Troy's waist.
The force of the tackle sent them tumbling once more. Neither held the upper hand for more than a second.
Seth hooked an arm around Troy's neck and bore down, trying to gain control. The asshole thrashed beneath him, nearly throwing him off.
The struggle carried them several more feet before Troy finally tore one arm free.
He shoved Seth far enough to create a sliver of space, rolled onto one knee, and swung.
But Seth got his forearm up in time. The punch glanced off it instead of his face.
Before Troy could recover, he drove another fist into his ribs.
A muffled curse escaped Troy's lips as the fight continued.
Somewhere behind them, someone shouted.
Seth barely registered it.
Troy didn't react either. Instead, he snarled and drove his knee into Seth's stomach.
Air whooshed from Seth's lungs. He doubled over just long enough for the other man to wrench free. Stumbling backward, Seth fought for another breath as Troy scrambled to his feet.
His hand disappeared beneath the hem of his shirt.
Shit!
Steel flashed in the firelight.
Troy leveled a gun at Seth.
He froze. There wasn't enough time to close the distance, and no place to hide.
This was it. His life was over. And he'd never told Shylo that he loved her.
A gunshot shattered the night, and he braced for the impact.
It didn’t come.
Instead, Troy jerked violently, his eyes widening in surprise before he crumpled onto the gravel, the gun slipping from his fingers.
For several pounding heartbeats, Seth couldn't move. Then he looked over his shoulder.
Shane stood about three yards away, both hands wrapped around his pistol, the muzzle still trained on Troy.
Around them, the yard had erupted into controlled chaos.
In various states of dress, Tucker and the ranch hands rushed toward the blaze with fire extinguishers, garden hoses, and shovels, throwing dirt onto the burning grass.
Paige and Mya stood well back, with Ashley clutched tightly against her mother's shoulder.
“Seth! Are you okay?”
As he got to his feet, Shylo hurried toward him, her pajama shorts set mismatched with the boots she must’ve shoved on before rushing outside.
“I'm fine.” Every inch of him ached, but he ignored it.
He held up a hand to stop her in her tracks before stepping toward Troy to confirm he was no longer a threat.
Never taking his eyes off him, Seth nudged the gun away with his foot, then crouched beside him.
Blood seeped through the thin T-shirt and pooled beneath the body. Shane had hit him square in the chest.
The lack of movement and vacant stare told Seth everything he needed to know, but he reached for a carotid pulse anyway.
Nothing.
He nodded at Shane, who holstered his gun and turned to help the others.
Seth’s relief lasted only a heartbeat before he noticed the flames creeping through the dry grass, drawing closer to the house and bunkhouse.
“We've gotta help with the fire.” Without waiting for an answer, he ran toward the others.
Shylo was right behind him.
By the time the volunteer fire department arrived, the Triple-R owners and employees had already extinguished the flames. Firefighters spent the next fifteen minutes hosing down the scorched grass and soaking the surrounding area to make sure no hidden embers could reignite.
Red and blue lights flashed across the ranch yard.
Police officers moved from one person to the next, taking statements while paramedics checked everyone for injuries and smoke inhalation.
Mya had already taken Ashley back inside, away from the lights, noise, and acrid smell of smoke.
Off to one side, Troy's body lay covered with a white sheet as they waited for the coroner to arrive.
“I thought it was whoever was on watch,” Seth told Lane, “but they wouldn’t sneak around like he was. It was obvious he didn’t want to be seen.”
Shylo stepped beside him and held out a wet towel. “For your face.”
Only then did Seth realize how much soot, dirt, and blood had dried on his skin. “Thanks.”
He wiped his face and hands, the cool cloth soothing the stinging scrapes. When he lowered it, Shylo was still standing there, worry etched across her face. He wanted nothing more than to reassure her, but Lane was waiting.
“So, uh... yeah, he was staying in the shadows,” Seth said. “That's when I knew something was wrong.”
Lane jotted down another note while Seth absently wiped more soot from his hands with the damp towel.
His attention drifted past the officer, taking in the activity around the yard.
Firefighters were rolling up hoses. Paramedics moved from one person to the next.
Shane was talking to Chief Hughes while Tucker stood nearby with several ranch hands, answering questions from another officer, Tad Winslow.
A nagging feeling took root low in Seth's gut. He scanned the yard again. Someone was missing.
Then it hit him. “Hey, where's Jamie?”
Lane looked up.
Shylo frowned and slowly turned, searching the yard herself. “I... I don't remember seeing him after I ran out of the house.”
Neither did Seth.
“Shane! Tucker!” he called. “Jamie's missing!”
Shane glanced around, and then his expression hardened. “Shit. Everybody spread out. Find Jamie.”
Without another word, everyone fanned out across the ranch. Ranch hands headed for the barns, bunkhouse, and equipment sheds while officers and firefighters searched around the house and parked vehicles. Everyone called Jamie's name as they disappeared in opposite directions.
Seth headed for the front porch. The ranch hands had spent most of their shifts there between rounds, and if Jamie had gone to investigate something, he'd likely have started from the front of the house.
There were no signs of a struggle. No flashlight lying in the grass. No movement beyond the porch.
He cut across the front yard toward the line of trees separating the small pasture from the county road. A few yards away, Shylo searched the same stretch of property, weaving between the trees as she called Jamie's name.
“Jamie!” Seth shouted.
The darkness beyond the trees offered no reply. Seth scanned the ground as he walked, his pulse climbing with every step. Please be okay.
“Jamie!”
Still nothing.
“Seth! Over here!”
He spun toward Shylo's voice.
She stood between two cottonwoods, staring down at the ground.
Seth broke into a run and slid to a stop beside her. Jamie lay crumpled at the base of the cottonwood, blood matting the hair above one temple.
“Paramedics!” Seth shouted, dropping to one knee beside him. “Hey! Over here!”
Jamie's eyelids fluttered, then he blinked several times before squinting up at Seth. “What... happened?”
Relief washed through him before a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Dude, you missed all the fun.” He shook his head. “I’ll tell you about it later. In the meantime, what the hell happened to you?”
Jamie winced as he reached for the lump on his head. “Uh... I’m not sure. I thought I saw something and went to check it out.” He frowned. “Next thing I knew, it was lights out.”
The sound of running footsteps grew louder as an EMT and paramedic hurried over with their equipment, followed by Shane, Tucker, Lane, and half a dozen others.
“Easy,” the EMT said, kneeling beside Jamie. “Don't move.”
Seth rose and stepped back, giving them room to work. The adrenaline that had carried him through the fight, the fire, and the frantic search for his friend began to ebb, leaving every bruise and scrape demanding attention.
Without thinking, he slipped an arm around Shylo's shoulders. She leaned into his side as they watched the crew examine Jamie, neither of them saying a word.
It wasn't until several long moments later that Seth realized he still had his arm around her. His muscles tensed, but he made no move to let go.
Neither did she.