Lone Rider (13 page)

No, he would keep her, no matter what it took. And if anyone came looking for her? Well, they, too, would disappear.

Ray glared at her, wanting to blame her. If she hadn't been so tempting...

“Can I help you with dinner?” she asked.

He blinked.
“Can I help you with dinner?”
he mocked her. “Ya plan on settin' the table or what?”

“I can cook.”

Tilting his head to the side, he eyed her. “A classy bitch like you knows how to cook?”

“I
like
to cook.”

He appraised her. “That's good. I ain't no cook so ya kin do
all
the cookin'. I'll kill the meat for us.” He softened toward her. Maybe this would work out. He was risking his life for this damned woman. It had to work out.

* * *

B
O
FELT
SOME
of the tension loosen inside her. Earlier, Ray had looked as if he wanted to kill her. Now he seemed...pleased. She didn't know how long that would last, but for the moment, she could breathe again.

“Tonight, all we got is more beans.”

She told herself to be careful. One wrong step... “I like beans fine.”

The darkness of the mountains seemed to flow into the pines like ink. Had they not been standing so close, she wouldn't have been able to see his features.

“This'll work out,” he said, so close she could smell his sour breath. There was something pathetically hopeful in his voice, in his face. “Ya will learn to like me.”

Her sisters had always told her she'd make a lousy poker player because her every thought surfaced on her face. She prayed that wasn't true now as she did everything possible not to show her true feelings. She also held her tongue, afraid that no matter what she said, it would be wrong.

After a moment, she held out her taped wrists and waited. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her face. He was looking for any small tell. His gaze fixed on her, Ray slowly pulled his knife from the sheath at his hip and reached for her hands. His hand brushed against her skin. She flinched again and felt his fingers tighten roughly over hers.

“Your hands are cold,” she said, her voice cracking.

His gaze bored into her as he slipped the knife between her wrists. “Not as cold as this knife.”

Ray froze as he must have heard the same sound she did in the distance. To Bo, it had sounded like a foghorn.

He let out a curse as he quickly cut the tape at her wrists. Just moments ago she'd thought she might live through the night. Now, she could feel the tension coming off Ray in waves.

“What was that?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. She hadn't realized how close she was to tears. Ray had recognized it, she was sure of it. Whatever it was, she feared it didn't bode well.

“Daddy's on his way. He'll be here by mornin'.”

She thought she might throw up and would have if there'd been anything in her stomach to come up. The thin thread of hope that had kept her going shredded before her eyes. “
Your
father?”

“Who else's?” he snapped as he moved over to his pack and pulled out what looked like a buffalo horn.

She waited for him to blow it, but instead he stood in the growing darkness, more still than she thought she'd ever seen him. She looked past him to the blackness beyond the trees.
Run!
It's dark enough that maybe he won't be able to find you.

His gaze shifted to her as if he sensed her thoughts. “Wait 'til he gets a load of you. Wonder what he'll do.”

Not as much as she did.

He slowly dropped the horn back into his pack. When he spoke, he ground out his words. “The old bastard'll want ya for himself.”

Just when she thought she couldn't be more frightened... She wished she'd run when she'd first had the thought. She probably wouldn't have gotten away, but maybe this would be over. Because all her instincts told her that once his father found them, things were going to get much worse.

From the growing dark, Ray stepped to her so quickly she started. “Come over here where I kin see ya while I make the fire.”

She did as she was told, watching him as he expertly got a fire going. He opened a can of beans and set them into the coals.

“You didn't expect your father so soon?” Bo asked, trying to understand the relationship between father and son and whether there was a chance she could use it to her benefit.

“He weren't sure when he'd get away.” Ray looked up at her. His blue eyes gleamed in the firelight. “Don't worry. Yer mine. I ain't sharing ya. Not even with my old man. He wants ya?” His voice dropped to the low growl she'd become accustomed to. “He'll have to kill me first.”

She shivered and looked down at the beans. They were bubbling hot, but he hadn't offered her any. He seemed more worried about his father's arrival than he did the search party that would eventually be coming to look for her. She hadn't expected him even to build a fire tonight, worried about the smoke letting any searchers know where they were. She realized that the fire might have been Ray's first mistake.

“I kin handle my old man,” he said without much conviction. “But there's somethin' yer goin' to have to do.” He pulled out the knife. The rising moon caught the blade as Ray held it up in front of her face. “Do I have to tell ya what'll happen if ya don't do what I say?”

Even though the coming night was cold, Bo began to sweat, her pulse a panic against her skin. She had looked past him to the dense shadows of the pines, terrified that what was coming could be far worse than the man standing before her. Now, though, she feared she shouldn't have worried about Ray's father. She doubted she would last the night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

J
ACE
REINED
IN
and listened. He'd heard something. It had almost sounded like an elk bugle, but it was the wrong time of the year. He sat on his horse listening, waiting to see if he heard it again.

The breeze sighed in the tops of the pines. He could hear water running somewhere close by. An owl hooted from a nearby tree, and he caught the flash of wings before it disappeared overhead. But he heard nothing else.

He should have caught up with Bo by now. Even as he spurred his horse forward, watching the mountain slopes ahead, Jace had to question what he was doing. He'd made mistakes with his kid sister. Hell, he'd been a kid himself when he was trying to raise her alone after their parents died.

While he'd done everything he could to protect her, she'd only rebelled all the more. Maybe if he'd been more understanding... Now he knew that Emily had been hurting. Losing her parents at such a young age. Then having a bossy big brother telling her what to do... No wonder she'd rebelled. He would have, too.

So was he doing the same thing now, going after Bo Hamilton? He felt as if he should have learned that there were some things he couldn't control. Bo was definitely one of them. He should have let the senator's men round her up. It probably wouldn't have made any difference in the long run. Bo had bolted, so there was a good chance she was scared or in trouble.

While he hated to think what it would do to Emily, there was nothing he could do now to make this right even if he found Bo and took her back to face the consequences.

Jace kept riding, though, telling himself he was tired and discouraged, but he wasn't the kind of man to give up. He'd find her. It might not matter in the grand scheme of things, but he'd do what he said he was going to do.

After this, he should be able to put Bo behind him for good.

* * *

B
UCKMASTER
JUMPED
AT
the sound of the phone. He snatched it up, hoping, praying it was news of Bo. Instead it was his oldest daughter.

“How is Mother?” Ainsley asked after they'd spoken for a moment.

“She's fine. I saw her earlier today. Have you heard from Bo by any chance?”

“No, why?”

He didn't want to worry her. “You know Bo. I just haven't heard from her for a few days. How is your job going?” She'd taken a position scouting locations for a movie production company.

“The job is great. Since I know Montana, it's easy to find locations for the various films.”

“But?” he asked, hearing something in her voice.

Ainsley sighed. “A reporter has been hanging around. At least, I think that's what he is. He keeps turning up wherever I am.”

Buckmaster couldn't imagine why a reporter would be dogging Ainsley. But as the oldest of his daughters, she would remember her mother better than any of the others. The media couldn't seem to let go of the story about Sarah's return and how it impacted his upcoming presidential race. Still... “Maybe this man's interest in you is...personal.”

She chuckled at that.

“Is he handsome?”

“Dad.”

“So he is.” Buckmaster smiled to himself. He would love to see Ainsley find a good man. “I hope you're at least considering going back to law school. That was always your dream.”

“Dreams change.”

How well he knew that.

“I think I just need a little time off, is all.”

He didn't believe that was the problem, but he didn't push it.

“I have to go. You're sure everything is all right there?” she asked.

“I'll let you know if we need you.” Ainsley had practically raised her sisters. It was time she had a life of her own. “You're missed, though.”

“Thanks.” She hung up, and he stood holding the phone for a moment. Should he have told her that Bo was missing and so was a lot of the Sarah Hamilton Foundation's money?

No. He would wait until he knew something definite. No reason to worry Ainsley when it wasn't yet necessary. Same with Kat, who was off shooting photographs for her upcoming exhibit, and Olivia, who was due to have her baby any day. Harper and Cassidy were a world away. None of them could do anything anyway. It was bad enough that he had to wait, feeling this helpless.

He felt time slipping away. Bo had been missing too long. Jace Calder, who'd been so sure he could find her and bring her back, had been gone more than his estimated twenty-four hours.

Buckmaster tried to console himself in the knowledge that tomorrow the search and rescue team would be going back into the mountains looking for Bo.

He planned to saddle up and go with them, no matter what the sheriff said. He had to know his daughter was all right.

* * *

“Y
OU
'
RE
INVESTIGATING
ME
?”
Sarah demanded as she stormed into the sheriff's office. The woman at the front had followed her back, saying the whole way that she couldn't just barge in like this.

“It's all right, Ann,” Frank said to the woman before turning his attention to Sarah. She could see that he'd been about to leave his office for the day. She didn't care. “Why don't you close the door and have a chair?”

Her anger surprised her. She'd always been passive, letting trouble roll off her like water off a tin roof. Or at least, that's what she'd been told she was like. Meek, sweet Sarah.

Well this Sarah was boiling mad. Her anger was almost scary. She felt as if she was capable of anything. Maybe what Buck had told her was true. Maybe she
had
dropped back into town via a parachute. A woman who was terrified of heights? How was that possible? What if she hadn't jumped? What if someone had pushed her?

Even more frightening was the idea that it hadn't been her first leap from a moving plane. Maybe she'd done it dozens of times—this other Sarah, the woman she only sensed inside her.

“Would you like some water or maybe a cup of coffee?” the sheriff asked.

She shook her head. “I'm fine.” But she wasn't fine, she thought as she sat down in a chair across from his desk. “Buck told me you were investigating me.” She'd known Frank Curry when he used to ride around on a motorcycle and had long blond hair and an attitude. No one had been more surprised when he'd joined the sheriff's department as a deputy. And now here he was, the sheriff.

“There were extenuating circumstances that made an investigation prudent.”

Sarah scoffed. “How dare you investigate me. This is why you wanted my DNA and my fingerprints.”

“I also wanted to help you find out who you've been the past twenty-two years.”

“For my sake? Or is Buck behind this?”

“For everyone's sake, including your daughters.”

Just the mention of her daughters was like a bucket of ice water on her blazing anger. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper. “You're afraid for my daughters?”

“Wouldn't you be given what information we have?” Frank asked.

She met his gaze. “Is it true about the parachute?”

He nodded. “We found your DNA and blood on the chute's harness.”

“How could you know it was my DNA?” Unless her DNA had come up in some criminal database. She held her breath.

“Your daughter Kat was kind enough to offer hers so we could match it.”

Kat, dear Kat. Of course she would be the one. But they could have also gotten it off the broken mug that they'd taken the day she'd refused to give them her DNA. So why involve Kat? Because they had taken the mug illegally and now they were covering their asses. Or were they simply building a case against her?

“You think I'm dangerous not only to my daughters but also to society? No, not to society,” she corrected herself as she realized why she was under scrutiny. “To the future president. What is it you think I've come back to do?”

The sheriff shook his head. “I don't know. Do you?” When she didn't answer, he said, “I'm hoping you can fill in some of the gaps. This is what I know so far.”

Sarah listened, feeling more afraid by the moment as he told her about the night at the river, about the hermit who found her, about her calling someone to pick her up before she disappeared for twenty-two years.

Russell had been right. She shouldn't have come here. She shot to her feet. “I have to go.”

The sheriff rose, as well. “Sarah, I want to help you. If you remember anything—”

“I appreciate that, Frank. I do. Right now, though, no one can help me.” The truth of her words felt like a knife to her heart. Worse, she felt as if she didn't know whom to trust. Her instincts told her that the sheriff was the last person she should confide in—just as Russell had worried—because she had something to hide and didn't even know it.

Buck said that she knew she could trust him, but could she really? Russell didn't think so. And while she trusted Russell, she feared that could change, though, when they found out where she'd been the past twenty-two years.

With that disturbing thought simmering in her brain, she turned to leave.

“Did Buck mention the tattoo to you?” Frank asked before she reached the door.

“That silly thing?” She laughed as she stopped and half turned. Even to her, the laugh sounded hollow. “Too much tequila.”

The sheriff looked surprised, and she realized her mistake even before he spoke. “Then you remember getting the tattoo? So you must also remember what the symbol means.”

She shook her head. “I don't remember getting the tattoo. I can only imagine it must have involved alcohol. If it means something, I have no idea what. Probably the tattoo artist didn't, either.”

Frank nodded as he sat back down. His look of disappointment made it clear that he didn't believe her. She couldn't blame him. She'd always been a terrible liar. Was that true? Was anything she thought or saw in her dreams even true? Russell believed her brain had been wiped of the memories. But he'd also said that false memories could have been planted there.

“Sarah, are you sure you don't have some idea why you would get a tattoo in that particular spot, let alone that particular design?”

“I have no idea about a lot of things,” she said from the doorway and left.

* * *

A
LEX
CHECKED
HIS
phone periodically for the rest of the day, hoping Emily would have gotten back to him about their date. She'd said she might call to talk. She hadn't.

She has a daughter
, he reminded himself. She would have to get a sitter for whatever night they went out. He had to be patient. He didn't want to push her. He got the feeling that if he did, he could frighten her off. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He saw something in her. It wasn't even something he could explain to his cousin Jeff. He liked making Emily smile. It was that simple and that complicated. He looked forward to seeing her every chance he got. It made his day.

“You all right?” Jeff asked.

Alex blinked. He hadn't realized he'd been staring out the front window until he focused on what he'd been staring at. The battered older-model brown Ford across the street. Usually, the man in the cowboy hat would be sitting in it. Right now it was empty.

Grabbing a pen and a scratch pad, he hurried out the front door and across the street. He'd expected to see the man appear before he could reach the car. Alex did his best to act as if he wasn't up to anything. He almost laughed at the thought as he walked along the sidewalk until he was at the back of the car.

He scribbled down the plate information surreptitiously as he kept walking. At the end of the block, he quickly crossed the street. He was almost to the Big Timber Java entrance when he finally stole a glance across the street.

The man in the old black cowboy hat was bigger than he'd looked sitting down in his car. He was dressed in a faded black T-shirt, baggy, worn jeans and what looked like combat boots. Both forearms arms were covered in tattoos as well as his neck. He came out of the hardware store carrying a large sack. As he reached his car and started to open the rear door, he looked in Alex's direction.

Alex quickly stepped into the coffee shop and leaned against the nearest wall, out of sight. He saw Jeff give him a what-the-hell look. He didn't think the man had seen him take down his license number. But he couldn't be sure. When he dared peek again, the man was still standing next to his car, his gaze on the coffee shop.

“What was that about?” Jeff asked when Alex joined him behind the counter. He was still shaken by the intense look on the man's face and the fact that this man had been watching Emily for several days now.

“I got the man's license plate number.”

“What man?” Jeff asked and glanced toward the window.

“Is he still looking this way?” Alex asked without looking up.

“I don't see anyone.” Jeff glanced at what he'd written on the notepad. “What are you going to do with that?”

“I'm not sure, but the man has been watching Emily from across the street in a large older dark vehicle.”

“So you're going to find out who he is and what, kick his ass for looking at your girl?” Jeff asked with a raised eyebrow. “How do you know the guy isn't her boyfriend and he's planning to kick
your
ass?”

“She said she doesn't have a boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh.” Jeff began refilling the napkin bin on the counter.

“She wouldn't lie to me.”

His cousin shook his head. “Just be careful. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into.”

Alex pocketed the paper with the license number on it. Now that he had it, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He could take it to the sheriff and have him run the plate... Probably not. Wouldn't the sheriff need a good reason to do that?