Chapter 10
10
“A t least look the other way while I take a piss,” Nikki said, using intentionally crude language to throw off the jerk that had followed her around a bale of hay.
“Fine,” he grumbled.
The house was far. She was a decent runner. Could she make it before being snatched again? If she blew this escape attempt, it would be even more difficult to convince these bastards to let her move until she was tucked back in the house hours away from Saddle Junction.
The shoes she’d worn might be fashionable, but they were terrible for running. So far, she’d made them work, but blisters had already formed and broken. Raw skin rubbed against leather. Slipping the shoes off could help with speed but might tear up her feet even worse in the process. On balance, it was a risk she had to take. A rolled ankle during a sprint would be even more devastating to her escape plans.
The risk she didn’t want to consider was the possibility no one was home. A truck was parked next to the farmhouse. That had to be a good sign. It didn’t necessarily offer a guarantee. Folks had multiple vehicles.
Curly turned away after she shot him another disgusted look. It was now or never.
Nikki quietly toed off her boots and then bolted toward the house. She had a ten-second head start before she heard one of the men yell, “She’s running. Get her!”
Heavy footsteps fell behind her. Curly was close.
Nikki pumped her arms harder as a burst of adrenaline kicked in. Curly took a swipe at the long hair flowing behind her as she ran faster. Turning around to check on him was too risky. Even slowing down for a second could mean getting caught. Another swipe. His hand made contact with the ends of her hair.
Shit.
Nikki closed her fists and pumped harder as her handbag bounced around. Curly made a move for her purse. Missed.
Faster.
She’d cut the field in half. A cramp in her calf nearly caused her to stumble. She couldn’t afford it.
Run.
Something told her there’d be a price to pay if she got caught this time.
“Help!” She said a prayer someone would hear her and step out onto the porch, preferably with a shotgun. Then she recalled the law enforcement officer who’d visited her middle school class. He’d warned never to scream for help. He’d said always scream fire instead. Folks didn’t always respond to the word help. But they always came outside to check on a fire.
“Fire!” she screamed, scanning the area around the house, the truck, searching for any signs of life. She shouted the word over and over again in between gasps for air as she closed in on the house.
Nothing.
As she approached the steps, Curly’s meaty hand caught in her hair. He yanked her backward. She lost her balance, and both came down hard on the ground. Nikki scrambled to her feet but lost her handbag in the process.
“Fire!” she shouted one more time, even though hope was a blinking lightbulb about to burn out, plunging her into internal darkness.
She got to her feet a second before Curly. Moe was already charging toward them, huffing and puffing. He was a locomotive about to steamroll right through her.
Nikki dodged his grip by a half-second. She bolted toward the back of the house. A barn sat half a football field away. Could she get their first? Lock herself inside until the owners came home?
She had to try.
Sidestepping Moe’s grasp a second time, she pivoted left and banked toward the barn. Rocks and weeds stabbed her feet, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. Head down, she made a run for it.
Halfway across the yard, she heard the sweet sound of Garth Brook’s voice pumping out from the barn. Someone had to be inside, listening.
Again, she shouted fire.
The music must’ve been too loud inside to hear her. Two-thirds of the way across the yard, a strong hand gripped her shoulder, whirling her around and causing her to stumble. She twisted all the way around, broke the grasp, and smacked the hand away in the process.
“Bitch!” Moe growled. Then, he got a good hold on her. He slammed her to the ground so hard all the air in her lungs came out with a sharp pain.
Nikki couldn’t rally her body to move, no matter how much her brain told her to get the hell up.
The next thing she knew, she was being dragged by her right ankle. Her left side might be weaker, but she managed to kick at the vise-like hand.
Moe muttered a curse as Curly caught up to them. “Grab the bitch’s other foot, will you?”
Curly tried, but she bucked and kicked, landing a heel where no man wanted to be hit. Curly doubled over; the wind knocked out of him. When he caught his breath, he came at her in a fury.
Nikki rolled around, breaking Moe’s handle on her. She kept rolling, bowling Curly over as he tripped over her body. The aches and bruises were racking up, but freedom would be worth it.
Pushing up from the ground, she forced herself to make a second run at the barn. She was so close to getting help thatshe could almost taste her freedom.
The music grew louder as the song came to a crescendo. The sound of footsteps behind her said both men were back in the chase and gaining ground. The barn was close. Shouting would do no good over the music, so she decided to save her energy and use every ounce of strength to pump her arms even harder. Faster.
Moe pushed ahead of her. What was he doing? Why didn’t he grab her by the hair or the back of her shirt? Why was he outrunning her?
She darted to the left in case he decided to turn around and block her. It was obvious she ran toward the barn. It was obvious someone was inside. It was also uncertain. A scrawny teenager could be in there. A brittle-boned grandfather could be inside those walls. All her hopes of escape resided in the idea of a strapping figureinside who could handle both men. Three, if the driver had decided to join the others in pursuing Nikki on foot. And if the person playing the music couldn’t handle these guys physically, she prayed they would have a shotgun nearby.
Steps away from the barn, Moe turned around and spread his arms out so he could block entry.
Nikki had to dig deep to keep running. Could she make it around the other side of the barn before Curly grabbed her? His heavy breathing sounded like a freight train coming up behind her.
An outstretched hand swiped at the back of her blouse. He grabbed a fistful. Could she break free before he dragged her backward again?
The song ended as she jerked out of Curly’s grip.
“Fire!”
Conrad stood in front of the junk drawer in the kitchen, rummaging around for a pen and paper. He located a To-Do pad for shopping lists hidden underneath the jumble. After two tries, he found a pen that still worked. Then, he scribbled a message to Nikki that read: Please let me know you’re okay. -C
Slipping outside, he checked her vehicle’s door and discovered it was unlocked. He folded the note once and slipped it into the cupholder instead of on the driver’s seat as he’d originally intended. The odds of Nikki being the one to pick up her vehicle could be slim. Placing the note in a conspicuous spot could cause it to be intercepted. The cupholder gave the note a chance of making it into her hands. The seat was too risky.
He needed to know that she’d made it home safe and sound. The manner in which she contacted him would be up to her. She could send a pigeon for all he cared, but he hoped she would deliver the news in person. Then again, his face might be the last one she wanted to see again. She might have come to her senses and was happy to put as many miles between them as possible.
Heath’s warning came to mind. The term overprotective didn’t begin to cover Nikki’s stepfather. By her account, Heath was good to Nikki. Leaving the property wasn’t an option, so it wasn’t like Conrad could show up at her home to verify she wasn’t being mistreated or held against her will.
He scanned the driveway. At least he was home now. He might not be able to leave the ranch, but he could keep himself occupied until the killer was found. He could do a little digging, possibly convince one of his brothers to follow up on any leads.
Speaking of brothers, Beau came riding up on his new mare. He dismounted and tied the reigns to a nearby post before walking up to Conrad.
“You made it out,” Beau said.
Conrad was still trying to get a good read on his half-brother. He’d at least been willing to give the man a chance after Beau had been summoned to the ranch for the will reading. The other siblings didn’t trust Beau as far as they could throw him. Other than being cantankerous from the get-go, Beau hadn’t shown any signs of wanting anything more than he’d said—to be part of the Sturgess family.
“I did,” Conrad said, lifting his pants leg so Beau could see the new hardware. “And I get to keep this on so my movement can be tracked.”
“I wish I’d been the one to pick you up,” Beau said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kade wanted to be the one.”
“He’s used to being the older brother,” Conrad said. “Hell, he was more of a father to us than Beaumont ever was.”
“Some habits die hard, I guess.” Beau shrugged. “But I’ll never be able to prove myself if I’m not part of the family, you know?”
“You’re doing everything you can,” Conrad reassured. “Be patient.”
“Kade is hard-headed,” Beau continued.
Conrad didn’t want to talk about his older brother’s shortcomings, especially since the man had just bailed him out of jail while Beau had been doing—what?—out joyriding on his new mare?
“Give him time,” was all Conrad said.
Beau issued a sharp sigh. “I guess. My tombstone will never read, Here lies a patient man. ”
“I should probably go inside,” Conrad said, motioning toward his ankle. “I’m not real sure how much leeway I have with this thing.”
“It’s not easy, but you can slip out of those,” Beau said before seeming to catch himself. “I saw a YouTube video on it once.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Conrad said. “In the meantime, I might need your help with an errand or two.”
“I’m here for you, man. Whatever you need. All you have to do is ask,” Beau said. He’d made attempts to get to know Conrad. Beau could be rough around the edges and clashed with Kade to an unholy degree, but Conrad hadn’t seen signs of his half-brother taking after Beaumont. Not in the couple of months he’d lived at the ranch.
Conrad nodded before heading inside the house. On the ride back to the ranch, Kade had filled Conrad in on the mystery woman that was Beau’s mother. Apparently, Travis had dug into her background. He’d believed Beau and his mother could have been behind the recent attempts on Chloe’s life, so he’d investigated the woman. She’d apparently used multiple names over the years, and the landlord of her last known address had no idea where she’d disappeared to this time. Beau had been tightlipped about his mother.
Inside, Conrad pulled out enough fixings to make a decent sandwich. He poured a cup of coffee next and sat down at the big granite island. As much as he wanted to think about anything besides Nikki, his thoughts kept circling back to her. She’d lost her father and was most likely still trying to process the news. It had taken days for him to come to terms with losing Beaumont. Conversations he should have had with Beaumont but hadn’t ran in a constant loop through his thoughts.
It would have been nice to sit down with his father and have a real conversation over a beer at some point. The chance was gone now.
Kade walked through the backdoor. He’d immediately split off to check on Bree and his daughter after arriving at the ranch.
“You want something to eat?” Conrad asked, pushing the plate away. Eating had sounded like a good idea but he’d lost his appetite thinking about the lost opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with Beaumont.
“No, thanks,” Kade said, taking a seat next to Conrad.
“Have you read the letter from Beaumont?”
Kade’s eyes widened, taken back from the question. “No.”
“Did you burn yours?” It wouldn’t surprise Conrad if Kade had set his on fire.
“Thought about it,” Kade admitted. “But no.”
“Do you mind if I ask what you plan to do with it?” Conrad continued.
“I haven’t decided,” Kade said. Beaumont had written each of his children a letter. Beau hadn’t talked about what was in his letter and dodged the subject when Conrad had brought it up. Conrad had yet to ask anyone else. He’d tossed his in the top drawer of his dresser. “What about you?”
“Nope, haven’t opened mine.” He took a sip of coffee.
“I keep wondering what the point is,” Kade said after a thoughtful pause. “Is it just so Beaumont can have the last word?” He issued a sharp sigh. “Because I’m not interested in hearing what he has to say if there’s no way for me to reply.”
“I’ve been thinking along the same lines,” Conrad murmured.
“An apology wouldn’t undo all the damage that man did,” Kade said.
“No, it wouldn’t,” Conrad said. “An apology would’ve been a good place to start, but where would it go from there?”
“My point exactly,” Kade agreed. “Are we supposed to forgive all those awful things he did to us because of a few hollow words?”
“Beaumont could have attempted to make things right in the will,” Conrad said. “Instead, he brought in a half-sibling none of us knew anything about, shocking everyone.”
“An even bigger shock is that there’s only one out there,” Kade stated.
That was true, too.
“Considering our father’s reputation, we can’t be certain others won’t pop up,” Conrad said.
“That’s a very real possibility.” Kade got up, and then poured a cup of coffee. He reclaimed the seat next to Conrad. “We need to talk about your defense.”