Chapter 38
thirty-eight
Maggie rolled over in the warm nest of blankets, her body still humming from Anson’s touches. She stretched lazily, savoring the pleasant soreness between her thighs—evidence of a Christmas Eve well spent. Anson would be back soon from the barn, and they could pick up exactly where they’d left off.
She reached for her phone, checking the time—barely ten minutes had passed since Boone had dragged Anson away to deal with Rook’s thrown shoe.
Not long enough for him to finish, but she didn’t mind the anticipation.
The waiting was delicious, knowing what would happen when he returned.
Knowing that something fundamental had shifted between them.
She was staying in Montana.
He was letting her in.
They were finally, finally moving forward together.
A branch scraped against the side of the cabin, and she turned toward the sound, then scoffed at her own jumpiness. So much for being the fearless DIY queen. After years of Landry’s threats, she’d grown hypervigilant. But Landry was still in Billings. Ghost had confirmed it just yesterday.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Nessie:
Don’t think I didn’t notice you two skipping breakfast. Saved you cinnamon rolls. Also, your ass better be at dinner or I’m sending River to drag you both there.
Maggie grinned and texted back.
We’ll be there. Promise.
Footsteps crunched on the porch steps. Heavy, purposeful. She tucked her phone away and pulled Anson’s flannel shirt closed, not bothering to button it.
“That was quick,” she called out. “Did Rook cooperate for once?”
The footsteps stopped.
“Anson?”
No response.
She sat up straighter, a strange prickle working its way up her spine. Something wasn’t right. Anson would have answered.
The doorknob rattled.
“Hello?” She slid from the bed. “Who’s there?”
More rattling, harder this time. Then a fist pounded the door.
“Magnolia! I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door!”
She froze, the blood turning to ice in her veins. That voice. She’d know it anywhere, had heard it in her nightmares for months.
Landry.
“I have a restraining order,” she shouted, fumbling with the buttons on the flannel. “You’re not supposed to be within five hundred feet of me.”
“Just open the goddamn door.” His voice sounded strange—higher, more frantic than she remembered. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She moved backward, putting the bed between her and the door. Her toolbelt hung on a nearby chair, and she grabbed her hammer, curling her fingers tight around the familiar grip. “Leave now, or I’m calling the sheriff.”
“I just want five fucking minutes!”
The pounding intensified, and cold sweat trickled down her spine. The door shuddered on its hinges.
“I swear to God, Maggie, if you don’t open this door…”
Something slammed against the wood—his shoulder, his foot, she couldn’t tell. The impact made her jump, and she clutched the hammer tighter.
Where the hell was Anson?
Where was anyone?
The cabin was too far from the main house for anyone to hear her shouts. The nearest building was the forge, empty except for the kittens and Bramble.
She was alone.
CRACK!
The door frame splintered as Landry smashed into it again. One more blow would do it.
She darted for the bathroom—the only other room in the cabin, the only place with a lock—but she wasn’t fast enough. The door gave way with a crash, and Landry lurched into the cabin.
He looked terrible. His once-handsome face was gaunt, his eyes too bright, skin sheened with sweat despite the bitter cold outside.
His sandy hair stuck up in unwashed spikes, and he twitched like someone had hooked him up to a low electrical current.
He’d lost weight—a lot of it—since she’d last seen him.
But worse than his appearance was the frantic energy that rolled off him in waves.
Whatever he was on, it was something hard.
“There you are.” His gaze fixed on her, and his mouth twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Took me long enough to find you.”
“You need to leave.” She raised the hammer, hating how her hand shook. “Right now, Landry.”
He stepped farther into the cabin, not even glancing at the hammer. “Jesus, Maggie, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
“About what?” If she kept him talking, someone would come looking for her. Anson wouldn’t stay away long.
“The show.” He raked a shaking hand through his hair. “They’re moving it here. To Montana. For you.”
“How do you even know that?”
“Taryn called. Said Harris told her the news.” He laughed, the sound harsh and brittle. “Did you know they fired her? All because of that restraining order bullshit. We both lost everything because of you.”
“Because of me?” Fury surged through her, momentarily eclipsing her fear. “You destroyed our partnership with your addiction. You threw away our relationship. You broke into my house, messed with my head, stalked me across half the country!”
“I never fucking stalked you. It was all in your head.” He took another step closer. “I loved you. I still love you! We were so good together, Maggie. The ratings were amazing. The fans loved us.”
“There is no us, Landry. Not anymore.” She kept the hammer raised. “I’ve moved on.”
His gaze flicked around the cabin, taking in the rumpled bed, the clothes scattered on the floor, then he focused on her bare legs and the hastily buttoned flannel.
His pupils were huge, black nearly swallowing the blue.
“This is what you left me for? Some backwards ranch hick in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “And you don’t want to meet him or his friends. Get out before I scream and bring them running.”
They wouldn’t hear her, but he didn’t know that. She just had to convince him otherwise.
A vicious sneer replaced his desperate smile.
“Is that what you think? That your big, strong cowboy will come save you?” He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the sour whiskey on his breath, the chemical tang of whatever else was in his system.
“Nobody knows I’m here, Magnolia. I borrowed your friend’s car and snuck in, right past that scary-ass security guy. Nobody’s coming.”
Oh, God. What friend? Who had he hurt?
“You’re wrong.” She tightened her grip on the hammer, calculating the distance between them. One good swing if he came any closer. “Anson will be back any minute.”
“I watched him leave with some guy built like a linebacker. They headed for the barn on the other side of the property.” His eyes never left her face. “We have time.”
“Time for what?” She edged sideways, trying to keep the bed between them. “I told you, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“One episode, Maggie. Give me a chance to show them I’ve still got it. That we’ve still got it.”
“That’s not happening. Ever.”
“They’ll give me a second chance if you vouch for me.” His voice took on a wheedling tone. “You owe me that much.”
“I don’t owe you anything. And even if I did, even if I gave you the episode, it wouldn’t change a damn thing for you. My God, have you seen yourself lately? You think you’re camera-ready?”
“You owe me everything.” He slammed his fist against the wall, making her jump. “I gave you your start! I convinced Harris to give you that first guest spot. Without me, you’d still be posting shitty DIY videos on YouTube!”
“You bastard. I’ve earned everything I have.”
“On your knees?” His lip curled into a sneer. “Is that how you convinced them to move the show here?”
Pure, white-hot rage flooded her veins. “Get. Out.”
He lunged, and she swung the hammer in a wild arc. The metal head connected with his shoulder. He howled, stumbling backward, eyes wide with shock and rage.
“You crazy bitch!”
She gripped the hammer tighter, adrenaline surging through her veins as she raised it again. “I told you to leave.”
He lunged again and caught the flannel shirt in his fist. He yanked, and the momentum ripped the buttons, exposing her breast to his lecherous gaze.
She tried to hit him again, but his other hand shot out with shocking speed and caught her wrist in a bruising grip.
“Always so fucking stubborn.” He squeezed until her fingers went numb, and the hammer tumbled to the floor. “It would be so easy, Magnolia. Just tell Harris you want to do one episode with me.”
“Let go of me.” She tried to twist free, but his grip was unrelenting.
“Or what?” He yanked her closer, his breath hot against her face. “You’re going to sic your cowboy boyfriend on me? Or maybe his inbred friends?”
She spat in his face.
It happened so fast. His free hand cracked across her cheek, snapping her head to the side. Stars burst behind her eyes. Then he was shoving her backward, slamming her against the wall hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
“Look what you made me do,” he hissed, pressing his forearm across her throat. His other hand pinned both her wrists above her head. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. Why do you make everything so difficult?”
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Black spots danced at the edges of her vision.
“Just say yes,” he urged, easing the pressure slightly. “Say you’ll help me, and this can all be over. We can go back to how things were.”
“Go… to… hell.”
His face contorted with rage. He pressed harder against her throat, and she felt herself fading, the edges of the room going dark.
Then suddenly, violently, the pressure was gone.
A silver beast hurtled through the doorway in a blur of teeth and fur.
Bramble.
He slammed into Landry with such force that both of them crashed into the small dining table. Wood splintered beneath their combined weight. Landry screamed, the sound high and terrified as Bramble’s enormous jaws closed around his arm.