Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Fucking hell,” Tucker snarled as his lips disengaged from mine.
As for me, I whimpered my protest as he pulled his hand away from my breast and shifted to the side to snatch his ringing phone off his coffee table.
“Someone better be dying,” he muttered before he connected the call. “Yeah?”
Since he was mostly on top of me, I felt his body string tight. Tucker’s latest sex-induced fog started to lift, leaving me to contemplate my position and how I’d found myself on Tucker’s couch with Tucker on top of me. This was after he’d yanked me into his arms and kissed the ever-loving hell out of me. An effective maneuver he’d used to shut me up—one he’d also used in my hotel room.
That was, both times he’d been in my hotel room. The first being when he told me where he’d intended to take us. The second, when he took me back to pick up my suitcase and I argued—albeit feebly—about checking out of the hotel to stay with him. That kiss was rough and raw and lasted a really long time. So long, all the fight left my body. The same thing happened when we got back to Tucker’s place and his kiss from the hotel had worn off, leaving me in tip-top shape for another argument. And that was how I’d ended up on Tucker’s couch, with his hand on my breast, his tongue in my mouth, my hands exploring—one testing the firmness of his ass, the other combing through his soft hair, and me arching into his hand wanting more.
My contemplation ended when Tucker knifed up, taking me with him.
“We’ll be right there,” he said into his phone and pulled me to my feet.
The vestiges of fog vanished at the look on Tucker’s face.
“What’s—”
I didn’t finish my question before he tagged my hand and pulled me around the coffee table while speaking to the caller, “We’re fifteen minutes out.” Then he glanced down at me and asked, “Baby, where’s your gun?”
My gun?
What the hell?
“Is Allyson?—”
“Lizzy. Gun?”
“In my purse.”
“Get it.”
Tucker let go of my hand, I moved to the kitchen table where I’d set my bag, and nabbed my Glock. I did this not liking the urgency of his demand. Hell, the fact he’d requested me to be armed didn’t give me good thoughts.
We’d left Jessica’s house a little over an hour ago. Allyson had readily agreed to our plan. Jessica had taken some convincing, but just as Nick had suggested, Tucker and I used the dead friend card. Thankfully not in a gross way. The gentle reminder we needed a way in to help find Beatrice’s killer had sealed the deal. Allyson was all for our help and she’d talked her sister around, allowing us to use the high school friend route. During our visit, Allyson told us Mackenzie had called her and asked her to come back to Tennessee for Beatrice’s memorial. According to Allyson, Mackenzie had sounded sincere and shaken up. She further reported Mackenzie had been firm in her request, making it more of a demand than an appeal. Jessica had wavered in the time we’d spent talking the sisters through our plan, which had only fueled Jessica’s worry. But in the end, she’d come back around.
As a precaution, Jessica agreed to allow TC to put a tracker on her car and phone, and she’d carry a panic button. Tucker calmly explained the tracking was overkill and wouldn’t be necessary, but since we were using her as part of my cover, we wanted her protected. We’d also left her with all the guys’ phone numbers programmed in her phone. All the guys included Lenox, Levi, Clark, and Jasper—the OG Triple Canopy men who would also be available to her if she needed them.
We were leaving for Tennessee tomorrow.
Our plan was in place.
It was all good when we’d left.
Now Tucker was demanding I get my gun.
So, no, I wasn’t having good thoughts as I hooked my holster on my belt, still listening to a one-sided conversation.
“Copy that.” Another pause. “We’re leaving now.”
“What’s—”
“I’ll explain in the car. Let’s go.”
Tucker was at the front door holding it open impatiently waiting on me. I hustled to him, then through the door. He stopped only to lock up before he was on the move to his driveway, beeping the locks. My ass was barely in the passenger seat as he was firing up his Yukon.
“Belt up.”
I belted up.
Tucker backed out, shifted into drive, and shot forward.
The speed in which he drove through the development he lived in was another point of concern. Earlier on our way in, he’d driven like a grandpa. Now he was accelerating around the corner like a NASCAR racer.
“Tucker?”
“Matt Kessler,” he weirdly said and stopped.
Matt worked at TC. I’d met him, liked him, but didn’t understand why Tucker was bringing him up when he was blowing through a stop sign without slowing down.
“What about him?”
“He and his wife, Chelsea, own a small ranch just outside of Hollow Point. He’s forty-five minutes away with Luke meeting with a client. His alarm tripped. Logan’s on his way to Matt’s house but he needs me there as back-up. Chelsea’s not answering her phone and she was supposed to be home.”
Not Allyson.
“Though she could be out riding. Service is spotty out in the back field of their property.”
“Riding?”
“They have horses. Chelsea used to do rodeo…or ride rodeo…however you say that. She rode bulls and did barrel racing. She still rides, gives lessons, but no longer competes.”
“She was a bull rider?”
Holy shit. That was crazy. Impressive but crazy.
“Wasn’t there but I’ve seen the video of her last ride. The woman is fearless. I don’t know how Matt did it, sitting in the stands watching his woman get tossed around by a pissed-off three-thousand-pound bull while she held on one-handed for a full eight seconds. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she had to get off that animal and run for the rails before getting shanked by an angry bull horn.”
The pride and admiration in Tucker’s tone made my belly clench.
I’d never be brave enough to ride a bull. And I’d be hard pressed to get on the back of a horse. I was a city girl, horses weren’t my thing. They were big and kicked and had a mouthful of gigantic teeth.
I didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, his phone rang, saving me from having to come up with something.
Tucker tapped a button on his steering wheel and connected the call.
“You already at Matt’s?”
“Almost,” Logan answered. “But, fuck, I see smoke.”
“Smoke?”
“Yeah, I can’t see what’s on fire but there’s a fuckton of smoke coming from the direction of Matt and Chelsea’s. How far are you?”
“Be there in five.”
Tucker had said we were fifteen minutes out, less than five minutes ago. I glanced at the speedometer. Now that we were on the highway he was pushing eighty with that number inching up as he passed the Honda in front of us.
“See you soon.”
The call ended.
“Shouldn’t you call Matt?”
“Fuck no. Not until we have something to tell him.”
Right. That made sense. He was forty-five minutes away, his wife wasn’t answering her phone, and his alarm had gone off. A report of a fire that might not have anything to do with his house would cause undue worry.
“Chelsea’s smart,” Tucker told me. “If the house was on fire she’d get out.”
I assumed since she had horses she’d have a barn.
“If it was the barn?”
“She’d save her horses,” he gritted out and accelerated.
The next few minutes were silent.
That was, until billowing smoke came into view.
“Christ,” he growled and took a turn way too fast.
The SUV fishtailed. My hand shot to the dash to steady myself as Tucker righted the vehicle.
A moment later he repeated the too-fast-corner trick before he sped down a gravel driveway, the smoke coming from behind the house somewhere, but the source still unknown.
Tucker skidded to a halt in front of the house, then carefully turned onto the grass and parked off the driveway to prevent blocking emergency vehicles that were undoubtedly en route.
“We’ll clear the house first,” he said.
I jumped out of the Yukon and the smell of smoke immediately assaulted me.
I met Tucker around the back of the SUV and asked, “Shouldn’t we check the fire first?”
“Logan’s on that.”
I didn’t know how he knew that and I didn’t ask. I followed him to a side door. He fished out his keys, unlocked the door, and entered first. I unholstered my Glock and trailed behind him through the empty garage. Empty in the sense there were no cars.
“I don’t hear the alarm,” I noted.
“That’s why we’re clearing the house first. No sound means Chelsea hit the panic button. That sends a silent alert to Matt, TC’s control room, and the nine-one-one dispatch.”
How in the world had we beat the police if they’d been alerted before Tucker got the call?
I didn’t ask that, either. Instead, I silently entered the house behind Tucker. Thankfully, the house was well lit by the waning sun. There was a glass jar candle burning on the stovetop. The kitchen looked neat and clean, no signs of struggle. The dining room was visible from the kitchen, chairs all pushed into the table, upright, nothing out of place. Tucker jerked his head to the left and my eyes followed to the open door. I went left, Tucker continued to move to the dining room. I briefly peeked around the doorframe, staying to the side, and saw an empty laundry room. I stepped in and looked around. Saw a basket of folded laundry on top of the dryer. I touched the clothes, finding them warm.
Lit candle. Warm clothes.
Chelsea had been doing laundry when something caught her attention. I glanced out the small window and saw nothing but smoke rolling across an open field. I shuffled in front of the window, looked right, and that’s when I saw flames.
A barn was almost fully engulfed. A woman was at the mouth of the open door, smacking a big brown horse on the ass. Logan was at the fence opening a gate.
Shit .
“Tucker!” I shouted and holstered my gun. “She’s outside with Logan.”
Without waiting for a response, I darted to the door. Once I hit gravel, I sprinted across the small grassy area and very ungracefully scaled a metal gate. Logan saw me first. I ignored him yelling my name and beelined to the woman.
“How many more are in there?”
Chelsea startled then looked back to the burning barn.
“Two.” Was all she said before she bolted.
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
I ignored Logan’s shouted warning and followed Chelsea into the burning barn.
Thick smoke filled the air. I crouched as low as I could and ran to catch up with Chelsea.
“Where are they?” I yelled over the crackling wood.
“Back. Far right.”
Of course they were. Up front would be too easy.
Suddenly I slammed into something and tripped. My knees landed on the ground with a thud. Pain shot up my back, dirt and sawdust kicked up around me as my hands caught before I face-planted.
“Are you okay?” I felt a hand curl around my bicep, Chelsea’s smoky silhouette next to me.
“Go. I’m fine.”
She let me go. An alarming sound of wood falling brought me to my feet. By some miracle only bestowed by the horse gods, I found my way to the back. Chelsea was opening the door of a stall. I moved to the other one, found the handle hot, powered through, and swung open the door.
“Come on, horse,” I called.
The beast didn’t move.
“How do I get it to move?” I called out.
“Go in and smack her ass.”
Smack her ass?
Good lord, I was going to die. If not by flame by a horse kick.
I rushed into the stall, got behind the animal, and tapped its rump.
“Come on, move, girl.”
The horse moved. Unfortunately, it sidestepped, trapping me next to the side of the stall.
I tapped it again, this time harder.
“We have to go, horse. Move.”
I didn’t know where Chelsea was but now would be a good time for her to come in and get her horse.
It must’ve been the smoke inhalation or the adrenaline of being in a barn that was on fire making horrible crackling sounds, and the fear it was going to collapse around me that sent me climbing up the wooden slats of the stall. With no good sense, I climbed onto the back of the horse, grabbed a fistful of its mane, and did what I’d seen cowboys do in movies. I dug my heels into the gigantic beast’s side and yelled, “Giddy up!”
“Where are you?” Chelsea yelled.
I didn’t answer. Though I would’ve if I’d had breath left in my lungs, however, it had evacuated in a whoosh when the horse shot forward out of the stall, turned swiftly, and took off.
“Oh shit!” I heard Chelsea shout as the horse galloped past her.
“What the fuck?”
That was Tucker from inside the barn somewhere. Not that I could see where he was since my eyes were closed. I then decided it would be a good idea if I held on tighter. So I leaned forward, wrapped my arms around the horse’s neck, and prayed to all that was holy the animal knew its way out. If not, we were dying together.
Suddenly the heat and smoke receded. I didn’t open my eyes but I did breathe in fresh air.
“Liza!” Logan shouted.
Since I didn’t know how to make the horse stop running, I thought it best to just hold on until she decided she was tired. Hopefully, I’d still be on her back and all my bones would be unbroken. I pried one eye open, saw we were in the open field I’d spied from the laundry room window, and decided this was good because it was a fenced off area so we wouldn’t end up in Hollow Point proper. I shut my eyes tight again.
“Whoa, Rebel!”
Thank the sweet Lord of salvation, Chelsea was close.
“How do I stop?”
“Let go of her neck and lean back.”
Was she insane?
“I’ll fall!”
“I’m gonna rope her but I can’t without catching you. Lean back.”
Chelsea was a bull rider, a barrel racer, a rodeo-riding badass. I really didn’t want to fall to my death after I’d survived a burning barn, not to mention it’d be painfully embarrassing. But I wanted off the horse more than I cared about my pride. I slowly released the horse's neck, found purchase by grabbing two fistfuls of coarse hair hoping I wasn’t scaring the poor thing, and leaned back as far as I dared. It was also a good time to open my eyes.
I saw Chelsea on the back of a gray horse, swinging a rope over her head. She swung it out and let it fly. The hoop lassoed around the horse’s neck and Chelsea took control.
“Slow, Rebel.”
We slowed.
Chelsea closed the distance between us, bringing her next to me.
“Liza, right?”
“Yup. Though if I make it off…what’s the horse’s name?”
“Rebel,” she supplied.
“If I make it off Rebel in one piece, I’m changing my name to Annie Oakley.”
Chelsea smiled then sobered. “Thank you for saving her.”
“Honestly, I’d say no worries, I’m happy I could help. But I’ve never ridden a horse, so while I’m happy she’s safe I’m worried how I’m gonna get off.”
She wheeled around to face the barn. Tucker was running across the field. Logan was standing amid a gaggle of firefighters suited up and ready to tackle the fire. How I missed the sirens approaching could only be explained by my near-death experience. Now that I had my wits about me, the sound of sirens and the smell of smoke hit me. And there I was joking while Chelsea’s barn was burning and her animals were in danger.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be blathering on,” I quickly told her. “All your animals are safe, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks to you. Rebel’s a cantankerous bitch on the best day. When she’s spooked she’s damn near impossible. I figured I’d get Trigger here on his way then help you get Rebel out. I didn’t think you’d climb on or I would’ve warned you she only likes me.”
The closer Tucker got, the more the look on his face became clearer.
He looked pissed.
As in really pissed.
“Ut. Oh. Tim looks unhappy.”
How did Chelsea know that name?
“Tim?”
“Sorry. I met him as Tim. I know his name’s Tucker but Tim’s the man who kept me safe until Matt could save me. Long story. I’ll tell you about it one day when Tucker doesn’t look like he’s ready to murder someone and my barn’s not on fire.”
Right.
Damn.
The fire .
It’s not that I forgot the building was on fire. The flames were licking the sky right in front of me. It was just that Chelsea was so calm.
Chelsea slowed us to a stop about a hundred yards out, swung her leg over her horse’s neck, and dismounted. If that was how you exited a horse, I was never getting down.
“Go on, Trigger,” she said and patted the gray horse’s bum. He slowly ambled in the opposite direction of the barn.
“What in the fuck were you thinking?” Tucker seethed on his approach. Rebel stepped back and shook her head.
“I swear I will kick your ass, Tucker Mitchell, if this horse bucks me off because of your bad attitude.”
“Bad attitude?” he yelled. “Are you shitting me?”
“Whoa, Rebel,” Chelsea cooed and pulled on the rope.
Tucker paid no mind to the agitated animal as he strode to the opposite side where Chelsea was standing, reached up, and plucked me off Rebel.
Well, that solved that.
When my feet were back on solid ground, I took a moment to thank the horse gods, gave Rebel a soft rub in thanks for not killing me, then I turned to Tucker.
“I’d thank you for helping me down but I’m pissed at you.”
“Why the hell are you pissed at me?”
“Maybe because you came stomping across the field scary-pissed-off yelling and spooking Rebel, putting my life in danger.”
“Woman, you put your life in danger running into a goddamn burning building.”
“So?”
Chelsea was pulling the rope off Rebel’s neck, shooing her away. Now was not the time for me and Tucker to get into a kickdown-knockout argument.
“Maybe we table this until after the fire’s out,” I suggested.
Tucker tipped his head back, blew out a breath, and shook his head. When he looked back down at me, he looked no less pissed, but I knew he was going to drop it.
“Matt’s almost here,” Tucker told Chelsea.
“Right,” she mumbled. “And I take it you or Logan tattled and told him I went back in for Trigger and Rebel.”
“Nope. Didn’t have to. Your husband’s not stupid.”
Chelsea didn’t move. Which was surprising. I figured as soon as she was done dealing with me acting like a runaway bride on the back of an untamed stallion, she’d rush back to talk to the firefighters.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Gah. What a stupid question .
“Yeah,” she breathed.
“Sorry. That was a dumb thing to ask.”
“No, really, I’m okay. All my babies are out and Matt will be home soon. It’s just a barn. We can replace it.” Her head turned toward the house. “And the fire didn’t spread. Our neighbors have goats and pigs. I’m just grateful it didn’t catch the field or their hay shed on fire.”
It was hot and dry; it was a miracle the fire hadn’t gotten out of control.
Tucker stepped closer to Chelsea and threw his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him and sighed.
“Thanks for coming,” she murmured.
“Always.”
Tim’s the man who kept me safe until Matt could save me.
For some bizarre reason remembering what Chelsea had said, seeing her lean into Tucker for support, it made me remember the mysterious phone call from Crystal.
My stomach roiled and it had nothing to do with watching the fire blaze or the adrenaline that was quickly leaching out of my system, or my unexpected, unwelcome wild ride bareback.
Tucker made it clear he wanted to be with me. He’d said he loved me.
But who was Crystal and where did she fit in?
A shiny black Chevy slid to a stop behind a fire truck.
Without a word, Chelsea tore out of Tucker’s embrace and took off in a full sprint. Matt was out of his truck, and with one hand on the top rung of the fence, he catapulted himself over before sprinting to Chelsea.
I wanted that.
I wanted a man who would jump a fence like it was nothing and run full speed to get to me. Not because I was in danger, because he knew I needed him. Because he knew there was no place safer than in his arms. Because he needed to give me what I needed. This wouldn’t be a chore or a job to him, he’d do it because he was driven to do it out of love for me.
That was all I ever wanted—not to be a chore or a burden. To be wanted. To be loved. To be worth something.
“Lizzy?”
I tore my gaze from Chelsea and Matt and focused on Tucker.
“You scared the fuck out of me, baby. But goddamn, you’re stupid brave.”
Tucker reached for me but I stepped back.
I didn’t want him to touch me, too afraid whatever spell of goodness his words had cast over me would be broken.
I glanced back at Chelsea and Matt. His hands were cupping her cheeks, tilting her head back. Her hands were hooked onto his forearms.
If there wasn’t a burning barn behind them, the scene would’ve been picture perfect. Or perhaps it was perfect because behind them a barn was ablaze and their sole focus was on each other.