Chapter 14 #2
“Around eleven. Said he had meetings in town.” Mack’s voice grew smaller as understanding dawned. “I’ve been working the south pasture all day.”
Rowan drew in a breath. Stared at Mack’s truck.
Alden had maybe a thirty-minute head start. In the right vehicle, Rowan could catch him before he reached the county line.
“Rowan.” Sierra’s voice, soft.
He stilled. No. He wasn’t going to leave her. Or Huck. Sheesh—what kind of person was he that he’d even consider—
“Rowan Wallace.” Sierra’s voice.
He looked down at her. She’d pulled off the oxygen mask, her eyes clear and focused despite everything she’d been through. “Go get him.”
He blinked. Shook his head. “No—I’m not leaving you.”
“Jackson’s here. Mike’s here. We’re safe.” Her voice grew stronger. “But if you don’t stop him now, he’ll disappear. And then we won’t be safe, will we?”
Rowan swallowed. Looked at Saxon, who stood, hands on his hips, breathing hard. He gave him a shrug, a look. “She’s not wrong.”
Sierra reached for his hand, her fingers wrapping around his with surprising strength. Her dark eyes held his, steady and sure.
“Go get him, Hammer.”
She should feel grateful. Relieved.
Instead, someone had scooped out Sierra’s insides, turned her hollow. Smoke still saturated her hair, turning it greasy, and every time she closed her eyes, she saw flames.
Saw Huck, tied to a chair, bruised, terrified.
Saw Rowan in a fist fight, or diving out of the window of his burning house.
So yeah, she just wanted to go home and get in her bed. Thankfully, Bailey had Huck, was feeding him junk food from the cafeteria, and frankly, Sierra couldn’t leave the hospital without talking to Morrie.
He might help her make sense of all this.
The crutches rubbed against her palms as she maneuvered through the doorway of room 314 at Renegade Mercy General Hospital. Three hours had passed since Rowan pulled her from the burning house. Two hours of X-rays and breathing treatments and doctors poking at her scraped knees and twisted ankle.
And one hour since Rowan had finally left her side and headed out on a manhunt. Martinelli made him take backup, but the look on her man’s face suggested they might just get in the way.
She didn’t know how she felt about that.
But she had a different mission.
Walt Morrison lay propped against white pillows, his weathered face pale against the crisp hospital linens.
IV lines snaked from his arms to bags hanging on metal poles, and the steady beep of monitors filled the room with electronic reassurance.
His eyes opened as she settled into the visitor’s chair, the oxygen cannula under his nose turning his voice thin.
“Sierra.” His words came out raspy. “You okay? What happened?”
“Long story. But I’m fine.” She positioned her crutches against the bedside table. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone used me for target practice.” Morrie attempted a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But breathing. Thanks to that man of yours finding me.”
“Rowan’s not—” Sierra stopped herself. “He’s not exactly mine.”
“Please.”
She smiled. “Fine, yes.”
“I could see it from the first day he walked onto the ranch.” Morrie’s eyes sharpened despite the pain medication. “Man looks at you the way a drowning person looks at the shore.”
Heat crept up Sierra’s neck. “We’re complicated.”
“Most worthwhile things are.” Morrie shifted against his pillows, wincing at the movement. “Sierra, I need to tell you some things. About your grandfather. About what really happened.”
The monitor beeps seemed to accelerate. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t think Elway died in any ATV accident.” Morrie’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I saw Alden Jenkins talking to him the day before he died. Saw them having words near the south pasture.”
Sierra’s chest tightened. “What kind of words?”
“Heated ones. I think he threatened you. Maybe even Huck.” Morrie’s jaw clenched, and the monitors registered his rising blood pressure. “Your grandfather suspected Rousseau, but he began to believe Alden was involved too. The land deals, the intimidation, all of it.”
“So Alden killed him?” Probably Morrie didn’t need to know what Alden had done to her and Huck, given the beeping of his heart monitor.
“Elway got sick that night. Real sick, real fast. Same symptoms we’ve been seeing in the cattle.” Morrie’s eyes fixed on hers. “I think Alden poisoned him with whatever he’s been putting in the water supply.”
She knew it—really knew it, in the bottom of her soul, but it didn’t make hearing it easier.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because Elway made me promise to keep you and Huck safe, not to get you involved in whatever he was investigating.” Morrie’s hand found hers.
“Made me swear I’d watch over you both if anything happened to him.
” Morrie squeezed her fingers gently. “He was building a case, Sierra. Had documentation, photographs, financial records. He believed the Shadow Syndicate was behind it all.”
“The papers in his safe.” Sierra’s voice came out as a whisper. “I found them. I told Detective Martinelli about them.”
“Good. He always said you had steel in your spine, just like your grandmother.”
The door opened, and Mike entered carrying a coffee cup. His rumpled suit looked like he’d slept in it, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“Morrie.” Martinelli nodded to the man in the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot, but grateful to be vertical.” Morrie’s tone held wry humor despite his condition. “Sierra been telling you about what Elway found?”
“She has. And it correlates with what we’re discovering about Jenkins’s operation as well as Rousseau’s involvement.” Martinelli pulled up another chair, setting his coffee on the bedside table. “Sierra, I need to ask you some more questions about the evidence your grandfather collected.”
“Of course.”
“You said he had maps showing targeted properties. Were there any other ranches marked besides the ones we already know about?”
Sierra closed her eyes, trying to remember the documents she’d found. “The St. Claire place south of town. The Hendrick spread. The old Kowalski ranch that sold last year.”
“All of them have significant lithium deposits,” Martinelli said. “And all of them were approached by Rocky Mountain Land Development before the harassment started.”
Morrie’s mouth tightened. “It’s my fault I got shot.”
“What?” Sierra frowned at him.
“I found more tracks, by the river, near where our water supply got fiddled with, and started to follow them. I saw a man in the distance—didn’t get a good look at him, but my guess is that he got a good look at me.
Shot me off my horse. I broke my radio in the fall—and then…
the next thing I remember was waking up here. ”
“That’s not your fault,” Sierra said, standing up.
“Yeah, it was. I was on Jenkins land.”
A nurse appeared in the doorway—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and efficient movements.
“I’m sorry, but the party is over. Mr. Morrison needs to rest,” she said, checking his heart rate monitor tape.
“We’ll go,” Martinelli said, standing and gathering his folder. “Morrie, thank you for the information. We’ll need a formal statement when you’re feeling stronger.”
“I’ll be here.” Morrie’s voice was getting weaker as the pain medication pulled him toward sleep. “Sierra, you take care of yourself. And Huck.”
Sierra leaned forward and kissed Morrie’s forehead. “Thank you. For everything. For watching over us all these years.”
Not alone.
In the hallway, FBI Agent Quinn Morley stood talking quietly with another agent near the nurses’ station. Sierra had met her on the way in. Pretty, with black hair and dark eyes, she wore dress pants and a white shirt. When she saw Martinelli approach, she excused herself and walked over.
“Detective. Ms. Blackwood,” Quinn said. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been through an episode of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “We’re going to need your full statement about the kidnapping and what the perpetrators said to you.” She took out her phone. “Anything you can remember about their conversations, their plans, their associates.”
Associates? “Like Tank, the guy who hit my son? And Billy, who wanted to just shoot me? Or how about Alden Jenkins, my son’s sort of grandfather who tried to burn him alive? Those perpetrators?”
Quinn held up a hand. “I understand this is personal—”
“This isn’t just personal. This is…it’s…” She stared at her. And then…“Justice.” She stepped back. “Rowan’s justice. Finally. If Jenkins hadn’t come after him, we’d never know that…” She looked at Mike. “The land belongs to Rowan. All of the Jenkins land. It’s his.”
Mike nodded. “That makes terrible sense.”
She turned back to Quinn. “Alden Jenkins wanted me to sign papers transferring the ranch to him. Said he’d kill Huck if I didn’t.” Sierra’s voice steadied as she recounted the events. “He knew about the lithium deposits under our property. Said the ranch was sitting on top of something valuable.”
“Okay.” Quinn put away her cell phone. “Ms. Blackwood, I want you to know that we take these threats very seriously. We’ll have agents monitoring the situation until all perpetrators are in custody.”
“There you go with the perpetrators again. Alden Jenkins is behind this. Find him. He’s the perpetrator.”
“Yes. What happened to you and your son was just the latest in a long pattern of intimidation and violence. But it’s not just him. There are others behind this.”
“The Shadow Syndicate,” Sierra said.
Quinn frowned.
“It was in my grandfather’s notes.”
“I’ll get a copy for your office,” Mike said to Quinn.
Sierra looked at Mike. “I need to get Huck.”
The elevator arrived with a soft chime, and they rode down in silence, Mike shifting weirdly. Finally, “For the record, Rowan is a good man.”
She glanced over at him. And then gave a small laugh. “What is that—your approval?”
He lifted a shoulder. Looked away. “Maybe?”
“Thanks, bro.”
He swallowed. “Now, that hurt.”
She laughed and Mike smiled.
His phone rang as soon as he exited the elevator. “Martinelli.”
Sierra couldn’t help herself. She paused, listening. He nodded. “When?”
She stopped at the concern on his face. Frowned.
“Keep trying.” He hung up.
“What? And remember, I know when you’re lying.”
His mouth tightened. “Rowan’s phone went dark.”
She stared at him. “I thought you said you were sending backup.”
“We did—we went to the mayor’s office, but no one was there. And Alden’s phone has fallen off the grid too.”
She stared at him. “You don’t know where they are.”
“Could mean anything,” Mike said. “He might have turned off his phone to avoid detection.”
“Or Alden found him,” Sierra said quietly.
“We have BOLOs out,” Mike said. “State police, federal agents, local search and rescue. If they’re out there, we’ll find them.”
Not if Rowan didn’t want them to. “We need to get home,” she said finally.
“I’ll drive you. And stay until Rowan gets back,” Mike offered. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you.”
She picked up Huck from the cafeteria and got a hug from Bailey. “Call me if you need anything,” Bailey said.
The automatic doors opened, and the cool evening air washed over them.
Somewhere out there in the darkness, Rowan had morphed into the previous version of himself.
She—they—needed that version tonight. Right now.
But…Rowan, please come home.
The words carried on the mountain wind, a prayer and a promise wrapped together. She would wait. She would hope. She would believe in the man she loved and the future they could build together.
But first, Hammer had to survive the night.