Chapter 16
Sapphire
The guest room Rose had shown me to earlier was exactly what I’d expected. Clean and practical. A double bed with a patchwork quilt that looked handmade, a timber dresser that had seen better decades, and a window that looked out over the dark expanse of Koolaroo Ranch.
I dropped my backpack on the bed and put the Chivas box on the bedside table.
I unclipped my duty belt, put it on the side table, too, pulled out my Glock, and checked the magazine.
I had eight rounds left in the gun and two full spares in my belt pouch.
Thirty-eight rounds total. That had better be enough to take down those two assholes.
I doubted they had Glock rounds out here on Koolaroo.
I headed into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and caught sight of myself in the mirror.
Bloody hell. My hair was scrambled all over the place, sticking up at odd angles like I’d been electrocuted. And there was blood on my cheek. Dried and dark.
Was that Wayne’s blood?
My stomach clenched.
Jesus. No wonder they’d all stared at me when I’d walked into that dining room. I’d had blood on my face all this time.
I scrubbed at my cheek, and as I watched the water in the sink swirl pink down the drain, I tried not to think of Bruce and Wayne’s bodies in that kitchen. I could lose my badge for failing to report that crime scene. I had damn good reasons. I just hoped they’d be enough.
I stripped out of my filthy uniform and stepped into the shower, cranking the taps as hot as they’d go. The water beat down on my shoulders, washing away the grime, sweat, and horror of the longest day ever.
I would’ve stood there until my skin pruned if the temperature hadn’t kept lurching between scalding and freezing. My muscles ached, my head pounded, and my chest felt like someone had wrapped a vice around it and kept cranking it tighter.
I toweled off, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, and dragged a comb through my wet hair until it stopped dripping.
Then I crawled into bed.
Exhaustion hit me like a freight train, but my mind refused to shut down.
It kept cycling through everything that had happened.
Bruce and Wayne Henderson’s bodies, sprawled across that kitchen floor.
Bob actually shooting at me. Frank’s brutal confessions.
The murdered runaway named Kat. Ancient handprints on cave walls.
The Branson siblings closing ranks like a damn fortress every time I’d asked a question.
And Kayden.
Always Kayden.
He drifted through my thoughts like a tornado, fierce and wild and impossible to ignore.
I punched the pillow and rolled onto my side, trying to force my brain into neutral.
It didn’t work.
His face kept surfacing. That stupid grin when he’d yelled yeehaw. The way he’d looked at me under those stars, like he had a thousand things to say and no idea how to start.
How he’d taken the bullet and kept moving like it was nothing.
Shit. He was wounded. I sat bolt upright.
I’d been so focused on getting answers and finding Frank and Bob that I’d completely forgotten Kayden had been shot today. The wound had still been bleeding when he walked out of the kitchen. I bet that stubborn bugger still hadn’t treated it.
I should check on him. Make sure he’d cleaned it properly. Bandaged it.
I groaned and flopped back down.
No. He’s a grown man, Sapphire. He can sort his own shit out.
Besides, he’s a liar. And a damn good one.
That’s what kept niggling at me. How easy it had been for him to lie to my face. How smoothly he and his siblings had clammed up the second I’d started asking the right questions, protecting each other, protecting their mounting secrets. They were a tight family, I’d give them that.
Except for Frank. The hatred they showed for him was genuine. I believed that completely. Hell, after hearing those confessions, it was more than justified. Frank Branson had been a monster parading as a hardworking cowboy.
Bob was a lying bastard, too.
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached.
Bob had lied to me for years, conducting criminal activities right under my nose while I’d been looking up to him and learning from him.
Hell, I’d wanted to be an amazing cop, just like him.
There had to have been signs, red flags I’d missed because I’d been too focused on being grateful that he’d given me a shot as a police officer.
I felt like a complete fool.
But come lunchtime tomorrow, I’d have both those bastards in handcuffs. Frank and Bob. Justice for the young runaway, Kat. Justice for Bruce and Wayne. Answers to all that laundered money. An end to this nightmare.
We just had to find those cunning bastards. I hoped that cave was the right place.
A thought slammed into me, and I bolted upright.
What if Kayden and the others took the chopper to the cave tonight? What if they were planning to leave without me?
I threw back the sheet.
No damn way was that happening.
I needed a plan. Something that didn’t make me look paranoid or desperate.
I could take the first aid kit to Kayden showing legitimate concern for an injured civilian. And once I’d treated his wound, I could sleep on his sofa. Keep watch. Make sure nobody went anywhere before five a.m.
I pulled on my socks and sneakers, then shoved the Chivas box into my backpack and my dirty uniform on top of that.
I picked up my Glock, ejected the magazine one more time, and slid it back into place.
Thirty-eight rounds against Bob and Frank and whoever else they had working for them.
It didn’t feel like nearly enough ammunition.
I slipped the gun into the side pocket of my backpack along with the two spare magazines and my duty belt, making sure everything was within easy reach.
I slung the pack over my shoulder and went looking for Rose.
I found her in the kitchen, wiping down the benches. She looked up when I walked in, and for a split second, something flickered across her face. Worry, maybe. Or guilt.
Then it was gone.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m fine, but I just realized Kayden never treated that bullet wound. I thought I should check on him and make sure it’s cleaned and bandaged properly.” I kept my tone professional. Detached. “Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?”
Rose nodded and pulled a green tackle box from under the sink. “Here you go. Make sure he actually does it. He can be as stubborn as a Luna, one of our milking cows.”
I chuckled. “Oh, don’t I know it.”
A sad smile ghosted across her lips, and for some strange reason, I wanted to pull her into a hug. I knew the Bransons had been through hell lately, but this woman looked like she’d survived her own war. “You sure you’re okay? I’m a good listener.”
She huffed and waved her hand like she was shooing away a fly. “I’m sure you are, love. But I’m heading to bed now.”
“Well, let me know if you need anything.”
“Hey, that’s my line.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
I clutched the handle of the first aid kit. “Oh, I don’t know which room is Kayden’s. Can you point me—”
“He’s in the loft. Above the stables.”
“The loft?”
“Yeah. Kayden claimed that space when he was a teenager and never left.” She reached into a cupboard and pulled out a flashlight. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I followed her through the homestead and out onto the back verandah. The night air was cool and still, and the empty space had the kind of quiet that felt dense enough to touch. A sliver of moon had popped up from the eastern horizon, giving enough glow that I could see cows in the paddock.
Rose turned on the flashlight and aimed the powerful beam toward a large silhouette against the brilliant, star-scattered sky.
“Walk through the middle of the stables to the back. You’ll find the ladder there,” she said. “Just call out before you climb up. He doesn’t like surprises.”
I bet he doesn’t.
“Thanks, Rose.”
She hesitated, like she wanted to say more, then just nodded and headed back inside.
As I crossed the yard, brittle grass crunched under my sneakers. The flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the wide barn doors that stood open like a gaping mouth. Inside, horses shifted in their stalls, ears pricking at the sound of my footsteps on the straw-littered concrete.
My heart was pounding, and it had nothing to do with walking in the dark.
Professional, Sapphire. Keep it professional.
I found the ladder at the back where Rose said it would be. I gripped the first aid kit with one hand, adjusted my backpack, and started climbing.
“Kayden?” I called out. “It’s Sapphire.”
“Oh, hey. Come on up.” His voice drifted down, threaded with amusement as footsteps pounded on the floor above me.
I reached the top, set the first aid kit down on the ledge, and hauled myself over the edge.
Kayden stood three feet away, barefoot and shirtless, wearing gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips. His hair was damp like he’d just showered, and he smelled like soap and another scent I couldn’t place. But it was distinctly him. Clean. Manly. Damn distracting.
The bullet wound on his upper left arm was still bleeding.
And he was grinning at me like I’d just made his entire night.
Cocky bastard probably thought I’d come here for him.
Well, I had, technically. Just not the way he was thinking.
“Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?” He winked.
I held up the first aid kit. “You need to treat that wound.”
His grin widened. “Right.” He stepped back, gesturing me into the loft with a sweep of his arm like he was inviting me into a palace.
I stepped inside. The space wasn’t large, but it was all Kayden.
Practical. Masculine. So completely him, it made my chest ache.
A king-size bed dominated one corner, the sheets rumpled like he’d been lying there before I’d climbed up.
A small dining table with two chairs sat near the window.
A makeshift kitchenette ran along one wall in rough timber, with a hose rigged for running water, and shelves stocked with tins and bottles.
No sofa.
Damn it.