58
A horse has stomped on my head. And apparently my stomach, too.
Waves of nausea crest over me, and I shiver, wanting to sleep, wanting to curl up and die.
The sedative state clouding my brain has worn off, leaving a numb fog. My tongue feels glued to the roof of my mouth. I lick my lips, my throat raw and dry as I swallow.
Hard, cold ground beneath my body. A faintly musty smell that reminds me of a basement.
Where am I?
My eyes fly open. The dim light sears, and I flinch, touching a hand to my throbbing temple. My shaking deepens.
Wire.
It’s all around me.
Holy shit, it’s a cage.
I sit up. The pounding from my head has entered my heart.
Slowly, I scan my surroundings. I’m in what resembles a four-sided, 10-by-10 wire security room.
Mesh on all sides, with diamond-shaped holes big enough to put a hand through.
A door on one side. The thick steel base is mounted to the cement floor.
Though the light’s dim in the room, it’s not dark.
There are two small, narrow windows high above me offering a glimpse of dull sunlight.
Morning. It’s morning.
My mind whirls. Rewinds.
Last night.
Last night…
Wyatt changing the flat tire. Wyatt twisting his body so I wouldn’t be hit. Wyatt—
I jolt, breathing hard.
Wyatt.
My heart drops when I see him.
He lies face down on the ground, in another cage pressed up directly against mine. His left ear crusted with blood, his hair matted and red.
Breath catching, I crawl to him. Before I can reach him, I’m stopped by a violent tug. I look down, realizing that my wrists are shackled together and attached to long chains that are hooked to the back corner of the cage.
I can only go so far. I can’t reach him.
“Wyatt,” I croak. My voice is hoarse and raw. “Wyatt, wake up. Please wake the fuck up.”
Silence. Then I watch as Wyatt lifts his head. His deep, throaty groan has my eyes closing in relief.
He’s alive. Thank god he’s alive.
“What the fuck?” he rasps, pushing himself into a sitting position. There’s the rattle of chains, and I see he’s restrained in the same way I am. He shakes them with a growl. Then his entire body tenses, as if he’s remembering the events of last night.
Breathing hard, he twists around. His eyes flare in relief when he sees me. “Fallon. Baby, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Tears well in my eyes, but I force myself to keep it together. If he knows how I feel, he’ll lose it. “I’m okay. How’s your head?”
He rubs his brow, wincing. “You know, I’d say it feels a little worse than the time we both busted our faces at the NFR.”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
He scans our surroundings. My stomach drops as his face clouds with panic. “Where the hell are we?”
“I don’t know.” I swallow. “It’s Tripp.”
“Figured that out pretty fuckin’ fast.” He looks around our prison. His jaw drops. “These are the animal pens that were stolen from Zeke’s Hardware.”
Wyatt stands, wobbly, and takes two steps toward me before he’s violently yanked to a stop. His face darkens, rage there. The chains drag as he slams his cuffs against the steel of the box we’re in. “Motherfucker,” he bellows, his voice echoing around us. “You piece of shit motherfucker!”
I laugh bitterly. “Can you believe this? Second time in my life I’m trapped by a fucking man.”
Whoever the hell my guardian angel is, I’d like a word.
“Fallon.” The rattle of chains, Wyatt’s deep voice, have me looking up.
Eyes holding tight to mine, he’s on his knees as close to me as he can get through the cage. Inches apart. He slides a hand across the cement floor. I do the same. Wishing I could reach him.
That’s when I’m hit with a horrific sight.
Wyatt’s wedding band is gone.
“He took your ring,” I whisper, and Wyatt’s face goes red with outrage.
Suddenly, I’m hit with clarity. With horror. Tripp wants me. Wyatt? He’s just collateral damage.
“He wants me,” I whisper. Vomit swirls in my stomach, and I have to clamp my mouth together not to gag. “Tripp. That’s why we’re here.”
Wyatt’s eyes are wide and horrified.
A frazzled breath pops out of me. I lean low and rest my brow on the floor, closing my eyes and forcing back emotion.
This can’t be fucking happening. Not again. Not this again.
Fear has me frozen. Petrified.
“I can’t do this,” I choke out.
“I know, baby.” Pain in his voice. We’re both thinking of Aiden. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
I do. The only sound the tremble of my breath.
Then the rattle of chains.
Wyatt’s on the move. I open my eyes and sit upright to find his serious blue eyes locked on me. “We’re gonna get out of this, you hear me? My brothers, they’ll be looking for us. Hell, they’ve probably already sounded the alarms.”
He’s right. They will. There’s no way they’d miss our truck on the side of the road on the way home from Nowhere. If I know one thing, the Montgomery brothers will raise hell to find us.
Still, how much time do we have? Where are we? Why the fuck is Tripp doing this?
I’m trying to put it all together in my whirling brain when a door creaks open.
I freeze.
At the sound of boots on the stairs, Wyatt’s expression turns uneasy. We lock eyes, rise together. I wonder which one of us will go crazy first.
“Good morning,” Tripp says as he walks into the room. He’s in his outfit from last night. In his hands, there are two bottles of water. Looped around his belt buckle is a key ring.
Wyatt grips the wire of his cage tight and gives Tripp a look more vicious than any of mine. “You’re dead,” he swears. “You’re fucking dead.”
Tripp ignores him, barely sparing Wyatt a glance as he passes his cage and moves to mine.
“Nice place.” I try to tamper my resentment, my rage, but I can’t. It spews out of me. “It’s very American Psycho of you.”
Tripp chuckles, setting a bottle of water near Wyatt’s cage. “That’s a good one, Fallon.” He looks at me through the wire. “I knew you’d hate it, but what could I do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe not put me in a fucking cage?” I shout, and my voice echoes in the basement.
“C’mon, cowgirl.” Tripp grins, so innocent it’s enraging. “Let’s work this out.”
“Don’t call me that,” I hiss. The only one deserving enough to call me that is Wyatt.
“You’re safe here, Fallon. I just want to talk.”
“So talk.” I jerk my chin at Wyatt. “And let him go.”
Wyatt growls. “Fallon.”
“You hit him,” I say, ready to dig the man’s eyes from his sockets. “You hurt him.”
Tripp looks insulted. “I couldn’t hit you. Not with your migraines.”
“How fucking nice of you,” I say dryly. A stalker with a conscience. Hysterical laughter bubbles in my throat, but I choke it down.
“Where is it?” Wyatt demands. Urgency tightens his shoulders, his voice. “Where’s my fucking wedding band?”
“Wyatt,” I hiss. “That’s the least of our problems.” To Tripp, I say, “Why? Why am I here?”
Tripp shrugs. “I thought it was obvious. I love you.”
It’s said so calmly that bile rises in my throat. My heart races in my ribcage.
Wyatt swears low under his breath.
The key slides into the lock, and I flinch.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” Tripp says, which terrifies me. He continues. “I have always loved you, Fallon. You made me come out of my shell, you protected me, you were my only friend.”
The door swings open, and Tripp steps inside. He glances at Wyatt then back to me. “If you try anything, I kill him.”
I dip my chin in acknowledgment. Back up as he enters deeper. My breath is panicked. My cell is too small, too tight. Nowhere to go.
“The first time I saw you on a horse, you were like a goddess.Do you know how long I have loved you, Fallon?” I cringe as he steps closer. “Since fifth grade.”
“That long, huh?” Despite wanting to puke, I force myself to make conversation. In my periphery, Wyatt paces his cage like a prowling lion. Tracking our movement. His eyes full of rage and worry.
My gaze slides to the work bench along one of the walls. On top of the bench are vials filled with white powder. Strange veterinarian supplies. Resting beside the bench is my cane.
“That long.” Tripp hands me a bottle of water. I uncap it, needing it for my raw throat, for something for my shaking hands to do. “I love you, Fallon. I do. I’ve loved you all these years. Watching. Waiting my turn. But others had you first.
“It was just never the right time. You were always working. And then there was Aiden. But when you started riding bulls, I saw my shot.”
I gulp the water then ask, “What shot was that?”
“To be there for you. To help you.” Tripp’s expression turns dazed, dreamy.
“You were up on that bull, and I knew you were riding for me. Everything you did in the rodeo, it was for me. You made me feel like I was right beside you. Only I needed something to make us closer. Something that could never tear us apart.”
Tripp’s face twists. “I already knew what Pappy had planned. I heard him talking one night. The fucking idiot. So I took my chance.” He shakes his head.
“The plan was to help you, not hurt you.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I was going to take care of you and get you back on your feet. And then I knew you’d see that it was me. It was our turn to be together.”
His words sink in slowly.
That day I rode Goliath Jim comes back to me with extra clarity.
The dizziness in my head.
The ground rushing up to meet me.
Minutes earlier, Tripp offering me that bottle of water.
“You’re the one who hurt me,” I say slowly. I look down at the water bottle in my trembling hand.
Fuck.
Water. The nightmares. The man in my dreams. They were all telling me something. That Tripp Hendrix is a delusional fucking monster.
My eyes widen. Hatred and anger are like a blade in my chest. “It wasn’t Pappy who drugged my drink. It was you. You—you put something in my water the day of the ride.”
I glance over at Wyatt. Eyes wild, he’s pale and shaking.
“I—” I touch my temple.
Wyatt goes terrifyingly still like he already knows what’s happened.
Tripp grins. “Something wrong?”
I try to focus. Black spots dance in my vision. But I manage to gasp out, “You…asshole…”
The water bottle falls from my hands. It clatters on the cement floor. I try to back up, back away from Tripp, but I stumble.
Tripp takes me in his arms. His clammy hand palms the small of my back. “I got you.”
“Oh, Jesus, no,” I moan softly. My brain turns to fog, dizziness like that day in the ring.
Wyatt explodes, thrashing at his cage like a feral animal. “Get the fuck away from her!” His scream’s guttural, anguished. He can’t get to me. It’s killing him. “You’re dead! You’re in the fucking ground!”
Fierce and explosive rage rises in me. I hate him so much. “You’re as bad as Aiden,” I whisper, trying to hang on to the last bits of consciousness.
“No.” Tripp yanks me closer to him. Bares his teeth, finally showing me the monster inside him. “Aiden didn’t know what he had. I do.”
A wave of dizziness hits me. My head falls to the side, my eyes catching Wyatt’s before I pass out.