44. What a Fucking Phenomenal Way to Die #2
She stops and pulls me to a halt. “Why did you stop her?”
“I woke up alone in bed this morning. Why?”
“I’m confused. How are the two even related?” She puts both hands on her hips, and the motion pushes her tits forward in her sports bra. “Eyes up here, Ranger.”
I fight the smile that dances on my lips. “What were we talking about?”
She growls and stomps off, mumbling under her breath something about men and boobs and one-track minds.
I catch her hand and twist her into my arms, bringing my other hand to cup her face, taking her mouth, plunging deep. Her growl becomes a moan, and she softens into me, melting in my arms. She wiggles to get closer, and I’m fifteen again, trying to get my dick not to respond at every turn.
I pull back, keeping her cheek in my palm. She has fire in her eyes and when I drop my gaze to her lips, her sharp intake of breath is visible on her red, swollen lips.
I take her mouth again, pulling her body deep into mine, letting her feel what she does to me. When I come up for air, I see Brighton walking down my porch steps and heading our way.
“Don’t move,” I whisper into Emberleigh’s ear as I position her in front of me, using her to hide my erection.
“Betting you’re wishing my invisibility shields were working now, aren’t you?” She leaves me bereft, with a raging boner, and walks to my sister. They exchange pleasantries and say something I can’t hear before Brighton gives her a quick hug and continues on to the stables.
“That was nice of her to come check on Colt.” Emberleigh throws the comment over her shoulder as she sashays that tight ass in her tiny running shorts up the porch stairs and into my house.
I follow her, taking the stairs three at a time, and see her in the kitchen downing a glass of water.
I stalk toward her and take the glass of water from her hand, setting it carelessly on the counter, sloshing water everywhere before dropping to one knee and taking her pert nipple into my mouth through her bra, thumbing the other one as I suck.
“It’s like being a teenager again every time you’re around. I’m always hard.” Just as her sounds tell me she’s close, I stand, drop a peck on her lips, and turn for the door. “See you at lunch, baby.”
Her huff of frustration follows me out the door and down the stairs.
I adjust my jeans as I walk toward the office. Buyers are in town and we have horses that need showing. As much as I’d like to lay Emberleigh down and spend the day in bed, there’s shit to do. And that shit keeps a roof over our heads and Cheerios in the pantry.
I return later than I’d like and definitely later than I planned to the front door open.
The cool air of the house greets me on the porch before I get inside.
I grab the knife from my belt, because something feels off.
The normal sounds of our home are absent.
There is food scattered on the kitchen floor.
A chair from the table is on its spine, but the plate and glass in front of it are barely touched.
Emberleigh and Colt are gone.
I call for them with no response.
I tear through my bedroom. Crib is empty.
I throw open Emberleigh’s door to nothing.
The bottom falls out of my stomach as hollowness takes up residence.
The bedroom, which is just storage now, smells like it’s been closed up for weeks on end.
The bathroom medicine cabinet is open, contents spilled all over the floor, but no Emberleigh. No Colt.
I run now. I look around the side of the house where Emberleigh’s SUV has been parked since I got past my suspicions of her. The white Tesla is gone. “In case of emergency… Or a Target run,” she’d said.
And I trusted her.
Fuck.
Something colorful catches my gaze, and I stand over it, like a snake coiled to strike. Her phone, face down in the gravel. Screen cracked. Edges busted.
I grab it and put it into my pocket as I slide mine out of my pants.
“Pop. They’re gone. Something is wrong. I need your help.”
I’m so fucking tired of asking for help. I should be the one helping, not the weak one who needs constant assistance.
I hear his “On my way,” before the click of the disconnect and stand, hands on hips, staring around the ranch property. It feels like forever but is probably less than three seconds.
“Fuck!”
I run to my truck and find Pop as he hurries down the path. He jumps in, far more agile than I would have expected, and is on his phone as we get to the ranch gates.
“Yeah.” The pause might as well last a decade. “Eli, Kimp. Colt’s gone. Emberleigh too. Who do we call?” I hear Eli’s voice but can’t make out his words. “A couple of hours maybe, but no idea.”
Pop turns to me as I drop the pedal, heading for the main highway. “When was the last time you saw them?”
“Seven. Emberleigh at seven. Colt, maybe six. Before I went to work.”
“You hear that?” Pop asks, speaking with Eli.
“Uh huh.” Pause. “On it. Yep. Thanks.”
Pop pulls the phone away from his face before pushing buttons. “Exton, still have access to those cameras?”
He turns to me. “Eli is getting with the sheriff’s office. Wonders if the cameras picked up anything.”
I yank the truck onto the gravel shoulder and smash the emergency flashers button. I grab my phone and pull up the doorbell app. I see it at the same time I hear Exton’s voice.
“Looks like something with Colt.”
“See that.” My heart drops to my feet as I see Emberleigh cradling Colt, running down the steps toward her car. She drops her phone, pausing to look down at it before looking at Colt’s face and leaving it in the dirt, jumping in her car, holding him to her chest, and peeling away.
My head wants to explode.
I yank the truck back out onto the highway, narrowly missing a sports car that wouldn’t survive the meeting of our bumpers. He honks and gives me a one-fingered salute. I pay him no mind. Gravel crunches and tires spin. I have no time to think of anything but my family.
Pop must disconnect with Exton.
He’s talking to someone. I can’t make out the words and don’t care to.
The thrumming in my ears drowns out everything but the dull roar rising in my chest. I’m keeping my shit together, but just barely. I make the next left and blow through town for the local hospital.
I see her white SUV at the front entrance, driver’s side door ajar, and throw my truck in park. I jump out, keys still in the ignition, and burst through the doors.
“Emberleigh!”
“Sir, you need to—” The front desk receptionist is young. She takes one look at my face and the words die on her lips.
“I need to find my son. Emberleigh?!”
“Mr. Ranger?” That comes from behind me—from a man standing between double metal doors. “Can you come with me, please?”