Stone Cold Cowboy (2 page)

Connor backed up several steps, then turned and walked away without sparing her a single look, let alone an apology for his cowardice. She expected it, but it still hurt, leaving a pit in her stomach and an ache that squeezed her chest tight. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her brother had proven more times than she could count that he'd cover his own ass over anyone else's, including his own sister's.

Her heart ached worse than her face, jaw, and bloody wrists combined. How could he just leave her here? How could he turn his back on her like this and live with himself?

A wave of terror overtook her. Against her will and knowing it wouldn't change her brother's mind, she gave in to her growing fear and screamed, “Connor, help me.”

The devil dude laughed. “He owes too much money to go against me and help you. You've got some guts trying to fight me, but here's the thing—unlike your brother, I handle my business and any witnesses. Now, I said I wouldn't kill you, but I never said I wouldn't let the cold do that for me.”

The tears she'd kept at bay filled her eyes and spilled down the side of her face into her hair. She lost all her bravado and begged, “Let me go. I won't say anything. I just wanted to keep him out of trouble. That's all. Please, let me go. I'll walk home like you said. I won't tell anyone about this.”

He cocked his head to the side and smirked, though it wasn't reassuring. “Nice try. I might have believed you, but then you had to go and take a shot at my nuts. Now I'm going to teach you a lesson.”

He pulled the rope close and tied one end to the wire around her wrists. She tried to pull free and scramble away, but she only ended up hurting worse when he wrestled her into submission, her hands crushed under his punishing grasp. Once the rope was secure, he finally rose up and took his weight off her middle. Finally, she could breathe easier, but her breath stopped when he walked right over her head, yanked the rope, and dragged her over the mud and grass. She rolled to her stomach, pulled back on the ropes, squealing out in pain when the wire dug into her skin, and rushed up to her feet. Better to trot after him like a dog on a leash than get dragged over the ground.

“Please, let me go.”

He didn't respond, just walked right up to a big tree. She pulled back, not wanting to get tied to the trunk, but he had other ominous ideas. He held the rope close to her by one hand and used the other to toss the other end of the rope up and over a high, thick limb. He pulled the slack tight, then pulled again until her toes barely touched the ground. She wiggled to get free, but it only hurt her wrists more. Fresh blood trailed down her arms. She kicked out her feet, trying to get him to let loose the rope. He anticipated her move, drew his knife again, and slashed at her legs in a wide arc, catching her across her left thigh and right knee. She yelled in pain and stopped struggling, stunned he'd cut her. The sting burned like fire.

“Keep it up. I like it when you bleed.” The menacing
note of truth in his words sent a bolt of fear through the denial in her mind that he couldn't be serious. But he was.

Afraid that all her fighting would only lead to more pain, she hung there, trying to think of anything she could say to change his mind about leaving her strung up in the biting cold. Even now, her skin felt like ice. She wiggled her numb toes, hoping to restore circulation. Thanks to the wire around her wrists, she couldn't feel her hands.

He came toward her again, this time with his eyes on her breasts that were now at his eye level. He reached out to touch her. She pulled her knees up to her belly, planted her feet on his chest, and shoved him away. “Don't you dare touch me.” The order didn't hold as much weight when she ended up swinging back and forth from her hands, grunting in pain as each movement made the wire bite deeper into her skin.

He moved forward again. She kicked at him again and again, her body swinging and twisting from the rope. She ignored the excruciating pain. Too soon she tired and swung back and forth, unable to pick up her legs and strike out at him again. Defeat tasted vile. She swallowed the sour taste, hoping she didn't disgrace herself more and vomit.

He smiled and laughed, planting a hand on her belly and pushing, sending her swinging yet again. He'd been taunting her, tiring her out so she couldn't fight him off anymore. She'd played right into his hands. She needed to be smart, think, find a way out of this despite the reality staring her in the face—she was well and truly screwed.

“If I had more time, and those assholes weren't
so fucking stupid and could finish this job on their own . . .” He left the rest unsaid. He didn't need to finish. The leering gaze he swept over her body said everything. Her mind conjured one gruesome thing after the next; all of them made her stomach pitch, bile rising up her throat.

After so many minutes holding her up, he struggled to hold the rope and tied off the end around the trunk of the tree, leaving her dangling in the wind. The devil dude grabbed the bundle of barbed wire and brought it back. He wound one end around the wire at her wrists to anchor it, then wrapped the rest around both her arms, down over her shoulders. The sharp edges dug into her skin like little bites of pain.

She couldn't help the tears anymore, or the pleading in her voice she hated. “No, please don't do this.”

“I like it when you beg, but seeing you bleed gets me off.” He rubbed his hand over his crotch and leered at her again.

She met his lust-filled gaze, unable to watch him stroke the bulge in his jeans, knowing at any second he could change his mind, dump her back on the ground, and torture her a whole other way. “Please. The cold is enough. I can't get free. You don't have to do this.”

He cocked his head and grinned. “I don't have to. I want to.”

He put the truth in his words to work and pulled the wire around her back and across her chest, once, twice, and over her breasts. To punish her even more for getting in her licks earlier, he pulled the wire on both sides of her tight, making the barbs pierce her thin bra and skin.

“No.” She bit back another yelp when he pulled the wire even tighter.

“Uh, the trucks will be at the meeting place in an hour. We need to go if we're going to make it in time and before it gets dark,” Tony said from behind the devil dude.

“I'll be right there. Gather up any strays and start pushing the herd down the valley again.”

Tony left without another word and without bringing his gaze up from his toes.

The devil dude glared at her. “You've cost me a lot of time.” He wound the wire around her hips, then around one thigh several times and across to go around the other. The wire bit into the knife wound, making it bleed even more. Tighter and tighter he bound her legs until he had her feet wrapped so tight her ankle bones ground against each other.

He tossed the rest of the wire to the ground at her feet. He pulled the knife out again and held it up in front of her. The waning sunlight glinted off the already bloody blade. Her heart stopped. She didn't dare breathe or take her gaze from the deadly weapon and the man who liked to use it.

He jabbed her in the gut with his fist and the air whooshed out of her. She tried to suck in a breath, but ended up coughing before she could refill her lungs. She prayed he didn't hit her again.

“If you somehow manage to get out of this, you say one word to anyone, I'll hunt you down and make this”—he pointed the knife up and down her bloody body—“feel like a hug compared to what I'll do to you next time.”

“Please, let me down. You can't leave me here.”

The sharp point of the knife dug into her side between two ribs, piercing her skin, but not sinking deep.
Damn, those shallow punctures hurt like hell. Exactly his intention. He pushed, sending her swinging and the knife slipping free. Lucky for her, he didn't hold the knife there for her to swing back into.

“Pray the cold gets you before the wolves.” The devil dude lived up to his wicked tat with that parting shot.

“You can't leave me here,” she screamed at his retreating back. “Help me! Connor, you can't leave me here,” she bellowed. “Connor!”

She waited, hoping he'd do the right thing for once. For her. She'd saved him so many times. This time, she needed him.

The wind whipped up again, pushing against her back. Not a sound reached her. From her place on the hill and behind the cover of trees, she couldn't see the valley, the cows, or even her brother.

No one came.

He didn't come.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook with the sobs wracking her body.

I'm going to die here.

Not one to give in easily, she wiggled, trying desperately to get free. Her toes barely touched the dirt. The more she moved, the more dirt she displaced, until she hung with no purchase on the ground. If he wanted to torture her, he'd picked the perfect way to do it. The more she moved, the worse things got. The wires bit into her skin, sending fresh dribbles of blood down her body. The cut on her side bled freely down her stomach, soaking her panties. She couldn't hold up her weight, so her body dragged her down, making her wrists and shoulders ache.

A branch snapped. Her gaze shot up. The devil dude
stood ten yards away with her clothes tucked under his arm. He shook his head and smiled. He liked making her crazy, seeing her struggle, and knowing she didn't have a chance in hell of getting out of this alive.

She stared him down, not letting him see the fear growing inside her anymore. She used what little strength she had left to curse the bastard. “I hope those Kendricks find you. I hope Rory Kendrick finds you. Then you'll be sorry. You'll see. He'll make you pay.”

Yeah, Rory would make him pay for the cows. Who would make him pay for what he'd done to her? No one. She'd die here abandoned by her brother and alone.

R
ory followed the tracks in the mud. After four hours in the saddle, his anger simmered. If he caught up to the men who'd stolen his cattle, he'd kill them just for making him chase them across his land and that of two neighbors. He'd noticed the thefts over the last three months. It started off slow. A couple cattle here. A few more there. At first he'd thought it nothing but strays working their way deep onto the property. He'd eventually find them. That all ended when, on a part of the property they rarely used, he spotted truck and trailer tire tracks on an old dirt fire road that wound its way out to the highway. If his guess was right, whoever stole his herd today was headed for another rarely used road and a bunch of cattle trucks. If he didn't catch up to them soon, they'd get away and he'd never find out who'd been stealing from him and his family.

The cold wind pushed him and his tired horse forward. He pulled his coat tighter around his chest, thankful he'd remembered his gloves and hat. When he started out looking for the cattle, he never expected to ride this far and long. He craved a hot cup of coffee
and a bowl of chili. His empty stomach grumbled with the thought.

The wind shifted direction and blew down from the hills to his right. His horse slowed and shied, stepping back several steps and turning to face the hill. Rory searched for any sign of a predator that might have spooked the horse. He didn't see anything, but he did notice the muddled tracks in the dirt. Several horses had converged at this point. He spotted human tracks. Three men and either a younger teen or a woman, judging by the smaller shoe prints.

Why the hell did they stop here?

A fifth horse stopped a short distance away. Another set of large shoe prints walked toward the group. A crushed patch of grass indicated someone fell and rolled. He took it all in, including the drag marks leading up the hill and into the trees.

So, the would-be cattle rustlers got into an argument. Maybe someone came to his senses and tried to stop the others from doing something that could land them in jail for the next ten years.

Rory nudged his horse to follow the tracks leading into the trees. To avoid lopping off his head in the low branches, he dismounted and tied his horse to a thick branch. The horse still shied and spooked at some unseen threat. He wondered what the horse knew that he didn't.

Something didn't sit well with him. A strange shiver of awareness came over him, like someone had eyes on him. He pulled the rifle from his saddle, checked it to be sure all was as it should be, and headed up the hill to the rise. He stopped short near the top.

His eyes saw the gruesome image in front of him, but his mind refused to believe it.

The woman hung by her wrists from the tree. Dozens of punctures left ribbons of blood flowing over her body and limbs . . . everywhere. The majority of the blood came from a cut at her ribs and the slash marks across her thigh and other knee. Her head hung down with her chin resting against her chest. Her lips and skin were tinged blue from the bitter cold. He reached for her face, hoping, begging God, the universe, everything that was good and holy in this world to please let her be alive.

He pulled off his leather glove and touched her frozen cheek. Her head snapped up, her eyes flew open, she screamed and wiggled, trying to get away, but all she did was make things worse. The wire dug into her again. She went limp and moaned, and the sound settled heavy in his chest. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out again.

“Oh God,” he whispered like a prayer.

The sweet woman he'd seen around town, usually chasing after her delinquent brother. Sadie. Yeah, he'd asked around about her after she'd slammed into him coming around the corner in one of the aisles at the feed store. He'd felt a shock of heat slice through him, leaving behind a warmth he'd never felt. She'd backed up two steps, apologized, then stepped back another three steps when she looked up at him, and gasped. He scared her, but he didn't know why. Probably had something to do with that bar fight her brother tried to start with Colt and nearly got her punched in her pretty face. He'd saved her and that no-account brother of hers.

He scanned the wire up her arms to the way it was bound around her wrists, along with the rope holding her up and tied around the tree trunk. If he undid the rope, she'd fall to the ground and the barbs would drive into her body even deeper. He needed to cut the wire off her, then let her down.

“Sadie, it's Rory Kendrick. Do you remember me?”

Her eyes fluttered but never opened. “You're supposed to go after them.”

“Who?”

Another soft moan escaped her blue, cracked lips.

“I'm going to cut you down. Hold on, Sadie. I'll be right back. I promise.”

He ran down the hill to his horse. He shoved the useless rifle back in the scabbard, dug through the saddlebag, and found the wire cutters he kept there in case the cattle broke through a fence and got tangled. He pulled out the scarf he'd forgotten was in there and a knit cap. He'd drunk most of the water he brought along. The two inches of water in the bottle would have to do for now. He'd get Sadie to the hospital.

How? She was in bad shape. He couldn't ride the four hours back to the ranch with her in the saddle. She'd been tortured enough. He couldn't put her through a grueling ride, too.

Unsure how to take care of her, he ran up the hill to do what needed to be done immediately. He hated to hurt her, but getting her down meant cutting her free and pulling the wire out of her skin.

Seeing her strung up like that stunned him again. He feared he'd never get the gruesome image out of his mind. He skidded to a stop in front of her and fell to his knees. He started at her feet and snapped the
wire around her ankles free. He unwound the wire up to her knees. Whoever had done this had made sure to inflict the maximum amount of pain. The barbs were spread out, but the way they wound around Sadie ensured nearly all of them bit into her pale skin. Some of the punctures would heal, but the deeper ones would leave lasting scars. Not as bad as the ones in her mind, he feared.

“Stop,” Sadie whispered, her body shaking. She barely had the strength to wiggle to get away from him and make herself swing again.

Rory grabbed her thighs and held her still. She tried to kick him away, but he held her in place. One of the barbs sliced his palm. He pulled free, hissing at the sting it left behind. The thought of amplifying that pain more than a hundredfold over his body made his stomach tight and his heart sink. He tried not to imagine the agony Sadie felt, but he couldn't help himself.

Resolved to the task ahead, he used the cutters to snip the wires up the front of her, then he went to her back and did the same. Some fell to the ground, others remained stuck to her body. Those he gently pulled free at her sides, dropping the bloody mess to the ground. Once he had all the wire off up to her wrists, he scooped it all away from her feet and went to the tree. He untied the knot on the rope and gently lowered her down. With the slack let out, he walked back to her before she fell on her back. He held the rope in one hand and wrapped his other arm around her to hold her up. Once he had her secure against him, he let go of the rope. Her arms fell, her bound hands hitting the top of her head. She yelped in pain.

“I'm sorry. I should have thought about how much
your shoulders and hands must hurt from being pulled up like that.” He held her with one arm and worked his jacket off with the other, switching hands to hold her to get the jacket free. He wrapped it around her back and gently laid her in the soft grass and mud. He pulled the jacket around her, hoping his warmth worked its way into her cold skin soon. The shearling lining would help hold in the heat.

At least the snow had thawed and the temps had risen above freezing. Otherwise, she'd be dead by now. She wasn't in great shape, but he thought she'd make it. If he got her the help she needed soon.

Her arms and wrists were sticky with blood. He cut the wires, but they'd dug into her deep. He peeled them away, his stomach souring at the sickening way the wire pulled out of her skin. He needed something to wrap the raw wounds and stop the bleeding. He pulled off his thermal and used the wire cutters to slit the material. He tore it into strips and used two to wrap around her wrists and hands. He used another thick swatch to press against the deep cut at her ribs.

“Hhmm. Stop. H-hurts.”

“I know, I'm sorry.” Rory pressed harder on the bleeding wound. “Are you cold?”

“N-no. Numb.”

Fuck. A very bad sign. If she couldn't feel the cold anymore and didn't shiver, her body was shutting down. Hypothermia had set in. He needed to get her warm, and fast.

He shoved the rest of his shirt under her back and pulled it out the other side. He tied the ends off in front of her, tight around her middle to keep pressure on the small but deep wound at her side. He closed the coat
around her, not caring that her arms weren't in the sleeves. He pulled the knit cap over her head and ears, hoping that helped keep what little body heat she had left from dissipating with the wind.

The cut on her thigh had stopped bleeding. The nick across her knee on her other leg didn't look bad on its own, but add it to the collection all over her body, and he cringed.

He wrapped the scarf around her feet and ankles, wishing he had something more to keep her warm. Short of stripping himself bare and freezing his ass off before he got her to the help she needed, he'd done all he could for her right now.

Dehydrated, she needed water, especially on her chapped lips. He unscrewed the lid on the water bottle, slipped one hand beneath her neck to hold her head up, and tilted the bottle to her lips, pouring the water in slowly. She sputtered, but then drank deep.

“That's it, sweetheart. Go slow.” He wished he had more than a couple ounces to give her, but she drank what he had and settled again. He left the bottle on the ground, along with the wire cutter and bloody wire. He'd send the cops back here to investigate and clean up.

“I'm sorry to do this to you.” He slid his hands underneath her and picked her up, pulling her close against his chest. She squeaked in pain as he settled her in his arms. That piercing sound tore his heart to shreds.

He'd never been sentimental. Not since his parents died in an avalanche when he was just a kid. He'd taken on his role as protector for his younger brothers and worked hard to raise them and keep his father's ranch above water. Hell, he'd put his whole self into being
the head of the family. Yes, they had their grandfather to look out for them, but Rory had taken on the role of head of the family and business early on. Granddad was getting older, though that didn't tame his wild-at-heart ways and outrageous behavior. Rory had to be the serious one.

Still, this slip of a woman got to him on a deep level. One he didn't want to acknowledge or think about. So he tucked his emotions back in the box he kept them in, buried deep in his heart, and did what needed to be done.

He walked down the hill with her, trying not to jostle her too much. He approached his horse, wondering how to get in the saddle without draping her over his horse and hurting her more. He looked around, trying to find a way to make this easier. He spotted the boulders nearby, grabbed the reins, and led his horse over to the rocks.

Even as a kid he hadn't needed mounting steps, but with Sadie bundled in his arms, this would make things easier. He stopped the horse next to the rocks, climbed up on the boulder, turned to his side, put his left foot over the horse's back, and lowered himself into the saddle as slowly as he could so he didn't spook the horse. He fell harder than he'd like the last foot or so and the horse pranced, but didn't try to throw him and the extra weight he carried.

“That's it, boy.” Rory settled Sadie against his chest and on his lap. He grabbed the reins and kicked the horse to move. They rode down the valley toward where he thought the cattle rustlers took his herd. Better to get to the road here than try to take Sadie all the way back to the ranch. He tried to picture where they were
in relation to his place and the neighbors' houses. No matter which way he worked out the journey, they were all too far.

Rory pulled the reins right, leading his horse up a tall hill, hoping he'd get a cell signal way the hell out here. The chances were slim, but he had to try. The horse took the steep terrain at a lumbering lope, jostling Sadie against him. She twisted to get more comfortable and ended up with her face buried in his neck and her chest pressed to his. His coat kept her warm and helped to keep him warm, too, though his bare back froze. He held her close and tilted his head to press his cheek to her forehead and add what warmth he could to her.

The horse made it up to the rise and he scanned the area, making sure the bastards who took his cows and did this to Sadie weren't near. He pulled his cell from his back pocket and swiped his thumb across the screen. Great, not only was his battery at twenty-four percent, but he had only one bar. Even if the call went through, it would probably be dropped.

“Come on, give me one small break,” he said to the sky, knowing his chances were slim.

He hit the speed dial for the ranch, hoping his grandfather or one of his brothers actually picked up.

“Yo, what's up?”

Rory had never been happier to hear Colt's voice. “Grab some blankets, the first aid kit, and hall ass down to Miner's Road where it cuts close to the creek. You know the place?”

“What the hell happened? Why are you way out there in the boondocks?”

“Don't ask questions, just get moving, or a woman is going to die.” He hated to speak his worst fear. Her
still body, shallow breathing, and utter quiet sent fear shivering through him that had nothing to do with the dropping temperature.

“On my way. Need anything else?”