Cherise Sinclair - Edge of the Enforcer

“My ranch.” While Zander stroked her shoulders, soothing her, she said, “I told you—remember the phone call about a pretty boy? I went to the ranch. To see.” As her shaking eased, as she did her best to think, she froze. What was she doing? She’d—oh God —she’d told them about Victor. Told them—

“Too late now, babe,” Zander whispered into her ear. His stubbled cheek rubbed hers. “Get it out.”

Simon was crouched in front of her, expressionless. She looked to her right. Logan leaned on a stump, arms crossed on his chest, gunmetal-blue gaze on her. She heard her voice saying the words, “I killed him.” She’d dug her own grave; might as well finish burying herself.

They’d turn her in—they’d have to. A tremor ran through her.

Zander squeezed, reminding her she was on his lap. In his arms. “Spit it out. Afterward, we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

How to fix it. “You can’t. I tried.” Misery drained her hopes into the ground. Down and down and down. “They’ll kill me.”

He shoved her face into his chest, and she inhaled the wild clean scent of him, as if he’d been born in a pine forest. “Nobody is going to kill you,” he grated out.

She clung for a moment, unable to let go.

“Let’s go through this step by step, pet,” Simon said quietly, and she raised her head. “You went to the ranch. What happened?”

“I drove there at dark, only I wasn’t sure exactly where to look. ‘Hey, Parnell, got a pretty boy for you. I’ll stash him in the usual spot at your ranch.’”

Like a book on tape, her voice kept going, reciting the movie in her head. “Victor’s car wasn’t at the main house. I found it at the old one.” Knowing she was stalling, she tried to explain how the original ranch house was used occasionally for guests during hunting season. Victor hadn’t been there or at the broken-down stable.

She walked across the flattened ground toward voices coming from the aged metal shed used to store broken machinery.

There was a high, muffled scream.

“You little bastard, hold still!” Victor’s voice.

The door opened under her hand…and she froze. An unshaded bulb cast light over a young boy, barely past puberty, lying on the concrete floor. Wrists and ankles tied together in front. Gagged. Jeans pulled down.

Victor stood there, unbuckling his belt.

“What are you doing?” Her voice emerged shocked. Stupid.

Somehow, Simon’s black gaze came into focus—she was still talking, wasn’t she? She said to him, “I should have run. Should have—”

“Tell us,” Simon prompted.

His face dissolved as she felt Victor’s hands grab her and throw her. “I hit the crates…” Her voice didn’t sound real as she kept talking…

She’d slammed into a pile of wooden crates a few feet away from the boy. Blinking, half-dazed, she stared around her. Ranch machinery had been shoved against the metal walls to make room for heaps of small boxes and the stacks of long cases. One crate lid was pried off, showing gleaming rifles. “Guns? What are you—”

“Jesus, you’re a stupid cunt. Why would I want a cunt like you when I can fuck sweeter meat? Like him?” He nudged the terrified boy with his shiny dress shoe and buckled his belt as he walked over.

Cold grew inside her. “Why?” Her numb lips had trouble forming the word.

“This place. Miles of emptiness right along the border.”

My ranch? He married me to get the ranch?

He had. He smirked at her, so smug, his chest puffed up with pride. She’d kissed that chest. Kissed him.

Sickness twisted her stomach—and as she breathed in the snowy mountain air, she heard herself whimper. Zander’s arms tightened around her. “I got you, baby. I got you.” Warmth. Safety. Caring. She folded it in, made it her own.

“Go on, pet,” Simon said. “Let’s get through this.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I said to him—to Victor— ‘You’re smuggling.’ He jeered at me.” Word by word, she continued, tracing the path of the nightmare she’d walked so many times before.

“ You’re smuggling.” Somehow she had to get up. Free the child. Find help. She couldn’t. Her head spun like a dust devil when she strained to move.

Victor sneered. “Aren’t you so smart when it’s all laid out?” He reached behind him where his coat was draped over a crate stack and pulled out a pistol. “Drugs and fresh meat in, weapons and ammo out. Rake in the cash.”

Her land had been in her family since Texas was settled. The Rayburn honor was polluted by this bastard. Anger flared inside her; fear clogged her throat.

He waved the pistol. “Guess I’m going to be a widower sooner than I figured. Travis’ll find your body eventually. Your family’s heard me tell you not to take long rides by yourself.”

They had. And now she knew it hadn’t been because he cared, but to keep her from blundering into the men doing the smuggling. She felt as if she were drowning in filth.

He never loved me . And she’d made love with the monster, let him inside her. “You bastard.”

“Hell, you married me for my money,” Victor snapped. “You just didn’t realize I married you for your ranch.”

As her words echoed in the air, beneath her, holding her in the snow, Zander went rigid. “Jesus, you did marry him for his fucking money.”

She turned and saw his face.

Cynicism twisted his expression, filled his gaze with ice. Even while she sat on his lap, he was…distant. Gone. He blamed her. He actually thought she was as greedy as his wife. Again. His rejection seemed to burn through her, crisping every support beam to ash, letting the last few timbers fall around her.

“Lindsey.” Simon directed her attention back. “How did you get away from your husband?”

She wanted Zander’s arms—no, no, she didn’t. She didn’t want him anymore anyway. Not if he could think that. Yet losing him…hurt far more bitterly than losing her ranch, even her life.

As her skin chilled, she wrapped her arms around her waist. She was the sole support and comforter for her own self. Why did she keep forgetting that? “No more questions.”

No more help. No more friends. And now, she had to leave. Run. Start over…again. Another strange city. Buy a different name. Find a new job.

Don’t ever try to find friends or lovers again. The future had turned dark, not from clouds on the horizon but from an engulfing blackness.

Zander wasn’t holding her anymore. He was so distant, he could have been in a whole different county. She pushed to her feet.

Her legs trembled, but she could walk. Their old tracks would lead her back to the lodge.

“Lindsey.” Simon had risen to his feet. “We need to hear the rest and figure out how to fix this.”

She couldn’t keep from looking at Zander. His face was expressionless, his eyes flat and cold, as if he’d never met her before. She wanted to kick him.

To cry.

The deadness inside her grew, a black hole sucking away all warmth. She’d move on again…to nothing. Why hadn’t she just let Ricks kill her? “No need. I’ll be gone within a half hour.”

Zander didn’t speak.

“Hey, deVries , thanks for believing in me.” She burned to say more, to scream at him, but her throat closed with sobs instead, and she walked away.

The trail down kept tripping her as her blurry eyes missed seeing logs and rocks. Eventually she realized footsteps trailed behind her. Hopes rising, she turned.

Not Zander. Logan.