Hunted Love Box Set: Big Game, Bounty, Captured (26 page)

The sun fell across the bed but exhaustion still threatened to suck Kate back into restorative sleep. Luckily guilt caught up and convinced her to get up. Otherwise, she might have lain there all day, curled into Jakob's body. But she had a ton of work to catch up on, and it wasn't going to do itself.

Still reluctant, she slipped out of the bed without waking Jakob. Good, he needed the rest to finish healing. The thought sent a wave of fresh fear cascading through her. What if that bullet had been two inches to the right? She wouldn't be worried about him getting enough rest, that was for sure.

Shaking off the morbid thoughts, she pulled on her jeans and a t-shirt and padded barefoot into the hall. A quick visit to the bathroom and she headed for the kitchen. Coffee and breakfast first, work second.

She paused at the entrance to the kitchen, surprised to find Rita already up and busy. A platter of French toast sat by the stove while she removed sizzling bacon from a skillet.

Rita turned and smiled. "I hope you don't mind. I thought we would all need a good breakfast. And then your employee, Alan, stopped by to see what you wanted him to do for the day. I offered him coffee and he mentioned that since your housekeeper fell ill, your workers were making do with cold cereal. I was already planning to cook, so I made enough for them too."

"Wow, Rita, thank you!" Gratitude brought a smile to her face. "You didn't have to do all that, but I'm glad you did. The boys deserve something good." And they did. They'd been incredibly patient with the food situation while she procrastinated on hiring someone. "Where's Falon?"

Rita handed her a plate, along with a coffee mug. "Dig in." She grinned. "Falon is still asleep. That ride must have been rough on him too. Or he's just a sleepy-head."

Kate dropped into a chair with her plate piled high and her mug full. "You had a long ride all the way from Kentucky." The first bite of the French toast drew a moan of delight from her. "This is delicious. Makes me glad I got here before Jakob and Falon. I have a feeling there'd be nothing left if they made it first." Another bite while Rita sat down across the table with her own plate. "I get why Falon came, since he knew Jakob before. But why did you come?"

Rita shrugged and took her first bite. "It's hard to explain. I only just met Falon a few days ago. Something about him…" She shook her head. "Never-mind, it's silly."

Kate added more syrup to her French toast. "If anyone is silly, it's me, so I understand. I fell for Jakob, hard, within a few minutes of meeting him. I've only know him couple weeks, and already, I can't bear to imagine life without him."

"Yeah, but did you climb on a motorcycle with him, leave your business and responsibilities behind, and ride halfway across the country with him?" She shook her head. "I didn't think so. But that's exactly what I did. The worst part? I really don't know why, except I wasn't ready to let him go yet. It doesn't make sense."

"True, I didn't do any of that. Instead I rode out into the wilderness with him, no privacy and no possibility of escape if things went bad. And then, like an idiot, I dared him to spank me." Kate snapped her mouth shut the instant she realized what she'd said. Whatever possibility for friendship she might have had with Rita just went swirling down the drain.

Rita's eyes widened for an instant and she carefully placed her fork on her plate. Deliberate movements as she lifted her cup for a long sip of coffee did very little conceal the shaking of her shoulders as she struggled to hold laughter back.

"God, I can't believe I said that!" It'd be really great if the ground would just open up and swallow her about then.

Rita sputtered a little, but managed to keep a mostly straight face. "I'm a little shocked I didn't say something like it." She went serious. "The truth is, I never believed anything other than lust happened right away, and in my experience, that burns hot and bright and fades fast. When Falon walked up to me at the Rattlesnake, I knew he was different. Sure there was lust, but the more I talked to him, the more I realized I wanted to find out what more there could be. So here I am." She shrugged a little, as if there were no words to describe the concept.

Regardless, Kate got it. "Yeah, exactly that. I never expected…" She let the words trail away. Rita clearly understood that part, too. Kate smiled and shook her head. "So, now that you've given my hands a taste of real food again, I'd better get on hiring that new housekeeper, before they revolt. Just wish I had a real clue where to start. I can hire good people to work with the horses almost with my eyes closed, because I know every detail of what's involved. But a housekeeper? Hell, I'm lucky if I can run the coffeemaker and make canned soup."

"You could let me help. I could at least narrow down the applicants for you. I know what it takes to run a kitchen like you know what it takes to work with horses."

Those words created a remarkable sense of relief for Kate. She hadn't realized exactly how stressed she'd been with the task. "That would be great. You sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course. It would give me something to do while Falon and Jakob are figuring out what to do about Kellen."

"Well, if you're sure, I would welcome the help."

By the time they finished breakfast and discussing exactly what all Kate needed from a potential housekeeper, first Falon, and then Jakob, wondered in, searching for food. Rita suggested a second cup of coffee while they all decided how best to spend the day. Kate agreed happily, grateful for the chance to just listen to Jakob's voice and watch him.

After breakfast, Jakob and Falon headed outside to speak with Ray about defensive measures, while Kate led Rita to her little office. It only took a moment to log in to her email and find the responses to her Help Wanted notices. Almost forty people had inquired about the job.

Rita quickly eliminated roughly half, the ones obviously just going through the motions of looking for work. Of the remaining applicants, she deleted the emails from those who weren't qualified.

Kate watched in awe. Rita had taken fifteen minutes to do what would have probably taken her days. "How are you so sure which ones to get rid of?"

Patiently, Rita explained how to spot the casual ones, and then those who were serious about wanting a job, but simply lacked the skills or experience for what she needed them to do. "It looks overwhelming at first, but once you've done it a few times, you'll develop a feel for it. The next part is harder though. I have to rank them, from best to worst, looking at qualifications, experience, and whatever else I can find to indicate if they'd be suitable."

They worked side by side, Rita going over the emails while Kate balanced her accounts and ordered feed. Losing Chaser to the mountain lion was going to hurt. His babies always brought top dollar, money she counted on every year. She had to find a way to make up for the lost sales. At least she had two more years of his progeny to sell. They would bring even better prices with the news that they were the last foals he fathered. Too bad he sired almost entirely female babies. Having a Chaser son would help slight to make up for the loss.

When the phone rang, she glanced at the clock out of habit. Almost five o'clock. Unbelievable. The whole day had gone by in a flash. She answered the phone, a little surprised to hear Ray's voice on the line.

"Miss Kate, you'd better come out to the barn. You'll want to hear this." His words sent a chill of fear through her belly. His tone promised bad news.

"Give me five minutes. I'll be there." She hung up. "Shit, something's wrong. I have to get to the barn fast." She started for the door.

Rita stood. "I'm coming too."

When they reached the barn, Kate sensed trouble before she even walked into the alley. Damn, something big had gone wrong. Ray and all the other hands were gathered, along with Jakob and Falon, all wearing grim scowls.

The hushed conversation halted and Ray looked up. "Miss Kate, a little bit ago, Kyle and Steve came in. They'd gone out to look for you when Sunny came back without you. I sent them over to the west and to loop around to the north, over by Blackwell's. They found something. I'll let them tell you."

A sick feeling settled in her stomach while an oppressive sense of dread threatened to crush her alive. She turned to the men Ray indicated.

Kyle, nineteen years old and well over six feet tall, seemed unsure what to say. But Steve had a speech impediment and preferred to let someone else do the talking. So Kyle stammered a bit, took a deep breath, and just spit it out. "Miss Kate, we found Ol' Devil's herd about half a mile from the stock tank out there."

Kate nodded and tried to keep from showing her impatience. "Okay, that's not unusual, it's their range."

Kyle shuffled his feet, clearly dreading what he had to say. "Right. But they were dropping from exhaustion, all lathered. Several had nosebleeds, and they all had cuts and bruises. They'd run hard until they were ready to fall over, so hard they didn't avoid brush and obstacles, just went through. We weren't sure, hadn't seen them this year, but I think there was a mare and maybe two foals missing."

Rage blew through Kate like a freight train on steroids. The struggle to contain it seemed hopeless. Finally, she achieved a measure of control. "What were they running from?"

Kyle shuffled again, even more nervous. "That's not all, Miss Kate. They were milling, wanting water and afraid to go to the tank. We worked out the trail. They'd been run back and forth, maybe a mile. They'd get close to the tank, and get run off, then they'd get run back toward it. They were cooled off already, so it had been a good while and they needed water bad. We finally got a halter on Ol' Devil and led him in to the tank and the rest followed, so they got water. After that, we hit their back trail." He paused. "Miss Kate, someone ran them horses with ATVs."

In the silence that followed, Kate fought to breathe through the helpless fury. "My God, who would do that?"

Kyle shook his head. "The ATVs crossed over onto Blackwell land and headed straight towards that hunting thing the son has."

She met Jakob's gaze, glad to see his anger. "Alexander. Fucking bastard." Deep breath. Another. "I need two fast horses, packed light."

Ray sighed. "You sure, Miss Kate? It would be faster to just drive over there. And the law needs brought in. If he had this done, he has to pay."

"I'm sure. I have to see it for myself. And I need pictures. He's going to do more than pay for the damages. He's going to pay for cruelty to those horses." Her mind raced, trying to cover every eventuality.

"I'm going, too. Ajax needs to be ready." Jakob's clenched fists and gritted teeth spoke as clearly as his words.

Falon glanced at Rita. "Ray, I'll need a horse too." He turned to Jakob. "Don't even say it, man. The last time you went out, you got ambushed. You need someone watching your back."

Jakob took a breath as if to speak, but only nodded.

"I need to go too." Rita stared them all down. "I can ride, and shoot, and track. The more eyes and guns, the better for something like this."

Preliminary plan in place, the barn turned into a flurry of activity as preparations were made. Kate returned to the house with Rita to pack food and other essentials, while keeping their supplies limited to one pair of saddlebags per person.

A bit later, Jakob and Falon came in to get whatever they might need. The array of weapons the two produced acted as a grim reminder of the danger they might be riding into. There was no help for it, though.

The thought of what those poor horses had gone through brought tears to sting her eyes. It had to be made right, and money wouldn't do that. No, she needed Alexander Blackwell's blood.

Kellen lifted his hand in a signal to Hack and veered off to the right of the column for the third time, breathing carefully through his nose. As soon as the wheels stopped rolling, he puked his guts up again. This whole job was just fucked the hell up. Granted, he was no saint, but this was fucking twisted.

He spat one last time and leaned on the throttle to rocket back to the column. Fucking ATVs. Slow and clumsy. Finally he slipped back into his position at the head of the column. For the first time in his life, he almost wished the Hell Raiders had chosen someone else to ride in that place. The responsibility suddenly felt heavier than the whole planet. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Dying horses, that's what. He would never ride far enough or fast enough to get that out of his head. Damn Blackwell. Sure, they were just dumb beasts, but nothing deserved that, not without having done something nasty first. And those animals, especially the young ones, had never done anything malicious. Taking part in that shit left a really bad taste. One he was going to spit all over Blackwell's shiny shit kickers.

Well, at least that part was over. They just had to spread out and wait. A very pissed off Kate Holt would eventually come after them. But for the time being, they could blow off a little steam. He'd twisted Blackwell's arm into providing companionship for the night. The boys were getting antsy, so a little free pussy would help settle them down.

Not so long ago, he'd have been at the head of the line for his share of that. Lately, however, the whole concept bored the fuck out of him. The time had come to re-evaluate things. Maybe he should step down from the Brothers Presidency. The member MCs looked to their President to keep peace or make war as the situation warranted, but more than that, he had to keep the money flowing for them. Keeping shit-eaters like Blackwell happy took up too much of his time.

He had a choice to make. Withdraw from the Brothers of Sin Presidency, and most likely take the Hell Raiders out of the lucrative arrangement, or find a way to tap back into whatever part of his personality had decided to go on vacay.

The nine-hole golf course Blackwell had carved into the rolling meadows below the big house appeared over the next rise, and offered an excellent opportunity for a little fun. Rather than skirt the carefully maintained greens, Kellen headed straight for the center, the rest of the Raiders hot on his tail.

With a whoop to signal the others playtime had come, he goosed the throttle to make the big knobby tires of the heavy utility bike cut into the sod. Another tap of the throttle and he muscled the machine into a wheelie. A broad grin spread across his face. The little sports models were hard to keep on all four, but these big work beasts took sheer strength and skill to stand up. He dropped it back to the ground and swung wide to survey what the others were doing.

Lefty lined his machine up with a small rise and gunned it hard, throwing big chunks of earth twenty feet. At the top of the little hill, the bike left the ground for a few seconds and came down with ball-busting force in the middle of a little sand pile. With a wicked grin, Lefty slung his weight side to side and sent sand flying in a huge arc behind him.

True to form, Hack cut a series of deep furrows by gearing down and hitting throttle and brake simultaneously. Trip spun donuts and the others took turns playing follow-the-leader through increasingly complex stunts. The designers of the ATVs would most likely be horrified at what the machines were being put through.

Kellen had no doubt whatsoever how Blackwell would react to the new landscaping of his golf course. Satisfied, he circled one hand above his head in a signal for the Raiders to wrap it up and led the way to the area they'd claimed as their camp. With the ATVs safely parked, the men gathered around the banked campfire, ready for the next orders.

Kellen grabbed a beer to wash the rest of the puke out of his mouth, spitting the first few mouthfuls out, then downing the rest. With a second bottle secured to rid him of the nausea, he collected his thoughts and joined the others.

"Doing okay, boss?" Hack's quiet question to Kellen caught the attention of the others.

"Yeah, man, think I ate something that didn't agree with me. No biggie. I'm good now." A moment of weakness pointed out to the other men was not cool. He'd have to talk to Hack about that later. Bastard was doing that sort of thing more and more often lately. "Okay, listen up. The Red Demons rolled out this morning. Their part of this job is finished, so we don't have to worry with them stabbing us in the back anymore. At least for now. We have the rest of today to kick back a little. Tomorrow we start watching for our target to show up. We're supposed to have company coming, so just make sure you get some shut-eye and be ready for a long day coming up."

Whoops and grins of anticipation told how glad the men were to host female guests. Kellen chose a log someone had brought close to the fire and sat to watch the preparations. The younger men took the time to wash off the dirt they'd accumulated during the long day. The two old-timers didn't bother. Hack and Trip, returned from the decorative pond the men had turned into an impromptu bathtub and fired up Blackwell's big fancy grill.

Movement up by the house caught his eye, and Kellen watch as the golf cart headed their way. Before he left Blackwell's fancy hunting lodge, he fully intended to fuck up the wiring in the son of a bitch in defense of wheeled vehicles the world over. But for the time being, he watched it approach. This time, someone sat in the front with Blackwell.

Kellen rose to await their arrival. Fully aware of the old adage that intimidation was the biggest part of any battle, he slid the .45 semi-auto from its home on his hip and made a show of checking the loads. The magazine clicked home as the whirring electric motor whined to a halt, and when Blackwell's fancy boots hit the ground, Kellen chambered a round.

Fuck. His weasel little brother climbed out behind the rich bastard. That kid had been nothing but a thorn in Kellen's side since the day his whore mother announced she was having another kid. With his old man pulling a long hitch in prison and her cheating revealed, the bitch dumped Kellen off with the neighbor and ran off with the other man.

When the kid turned eighteen, he tracked Kellen down and wanted to bond or some shit like that. Kellen had no interest in Drew, weak little bastard for all those fake muscles. He'd have written him off right away, except the kid had some powerful connections, ones that Kellen found useful for a time. Pissy thing was, Drew acted like Blackwell was the crown jewel in those connections. To Kellen, that fucker was more like the village idiot, not a connection to be proud of.

Blackwell still wore his wannabe garb, complete with Sons of Anarchy patches for his own fucking charter. Kellen still couldn't decide if the bastard actually thought that shit was for real, or if someone had used it to take notes and brief him on outlaw MCs, or what. Hell, it could even be a joke for all he knew.

Drew came up beside Blackwell, dressed a little more realistically. Except the patches on the front of his cut looked familiar. Rage built in a slow burn, increasing with every step the kid took.

"Hey, Big Brother, 'sup, man?" Drew swaggered up as if he owned the place.

"Turn around, kid, let me look at you."

Drew shrugged his big shoulders with the sprayed on tan and turned in a lazy circle. Finally, he faced Kellen with an insolent grin. "Like what you see, Brother?"

Kellen clenched his fists. "Take that cut off."

"What?" A confused frown crossed the carefully manicured face.

"You heard me. Take the fucking cut off."

Understanding dawned. "Oh, you mean my vest? You like it?" He slid the cut off, making a big show of holding it for Kellen to see.

A reddish haze blurred Kellen's vision, but not so much that he couldn't clearly see the full Hell Raiders patch on the back of that cut. His fist flashed out to meet his half-brother's jaw.

Drew collapsed in a heap at Kellen's feet while Blackwell looked on in astonishment. Kellen grabbed the fake cut and used his belt knife to cut off the Raiders patches. "You, mother fucker, are most certainly not a Hell Raider. You have no right to wear this patch." He spat on the kid. "You no longer exist." He turned to Blackwell. "Your genius plan was taken care of. I suggest you start delivering on the beer, food and pussy right away. My boys are fired up and they won't be patient for long."

Still furious, he stalked away to throw the fake patches into the fire. Of all the idiotic things the kid could do, that was absolutely the worst. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Blackwell bending to help his useless half-brother to his feet. Something about the physical dynamic between the two caught his attention, and he turned to watch.

Blackwell kept touching Drew, tipping his head to look at the livid mark Kellen's fist left, then took his arm to help him walk. Huh. Fuckers were gay.

Kellen shook his head and grabbed another beer as the golf cart whirred to life and headed back to the house. He called Hack over. "Supposed to have company coming. I want it all wrapped up by two a.m. and the boys ready to ride by seven. We have a lot of ground to cover and I'm not letting Barger slip through my fingers."

"Yeah, boss. Consider it done."

Satisfied his orders would be carried out, Kellen stalked away, still furious with Drew. He needed to talk to Vicky, clear his head.