Lone Rider (6 page)

“Please,” she said now. “Can't we stop? Just for a few minutes?” He'd given her a drink of water back down the mountain, but her throat was dry again, her mouth dusty, lips cracked. “I need more water.”

“Ya need to keep walkin'. Ya said people'll be comin' lookin' for ya. If ya don't want 'em dead...”

Was someone looking for her yet? She couldn't bear to think about spending days up here with this man. Nor could she stand the thought of what would happen once they stopped and made camp.

She'd pleaded with him to let her go. “I won't tell anyone.”

He'd laughed at that. “That's what they all say.”

Her blood had curdled at his words. “I have money.”

He'd seemed interested until he'd realized she meant back at her father's house.

“I'm worth money,” she'd heard herself say. “My father will pay for my return unharmed.” She had known what she was suggesting was more than a little dangerous. But it was the only thing she could think of that might keep this man from killing her. If he knew that she was worth more alive than dead...

“Oh, yeah?” Ray had seemed only mildly interested. “How much do you think you're worth?”

She had no idea. “A million?”

He'd laughed again, harder this time. “Sure ya are. Anyway, I don't need no money up here in the mountains. A woman, though, I been hankerin' for one for weeks. And now I got you.”

Those words had sent a shudder through her, and she'd shut up. There was no negotiating with this man. She had nothing to negotiate with.

Even as the sun set and twilight turned the mountainside to silver gray, Ray kept going, urging her horse on from high in her saddle, jerking at the rope he'd bound her with and half dragging her deeper into the mountains.

She could barely see where to step as daylight vanished and the trail filled with deep shadows. She stumbled and almost fell again.

“Ain't far now,” Ray said. “Got jest the spot.”

* * *

D
ARKNESS
CAME
QUICKLY
in the dense pines of the mountains. Once the sun set, a cool breeze had moved through the trees. The shadows grew longer and blacker.

Jace had been following Bo's trail for hours. The going was slow because he'd often lose it in the thick bed of dried pine needles and have to find it again. He'd seen the remains of other campsites. Telltale blackened rock rings with the remains of a campfire marking the sites. None of those had been used in the past twenty-four hours, though.

Which meant Bo hadn't wanted just a night of camping. She'd been set on total isolation farther back in the mountains. Knowing that gave him no peace of mind. More and more, he thought Bo Hamilton had looked to get away from civilization. But was it because of a guilty conscience and saddlebags full of loot? Or was there more to it?

He could understand wanting to escape a situation. Many times he hadn't been able to deal with his sister. He'd wanted to turn his back, run away from the problem. But he hadn't, and neither would Bo Hamilton when he found her.

Jace realized he wouldn't be able to track Bo much longer. He needed to make camp before it was too dark to see.

But just as he started to look for a spot to spend the night, he saw the footprints in the dirt. The tracks were man-size, large, moving in a scraping manner that dislodged a lot of dirt.

What caught his eye, though, was the fact that the tracks
crossed
Bo's horseshoe prints. Someone had walked past after she'd ridden up into the mountains.

Swinging out of the saddle, he studied them in the waning light. Seeing the man's boot prints in the dirt, he decided he wouldn't build a fire tonight. He staked his horse some distance away from where he'd rolled out his sleeping bag.

The last thing he wanted was to become the hunted, because if he was right, Bo Hamilton was on the run—and she wasn't alone.

* * *

W
HEN
R
AY
FINALLY
quit dragging Bo up the mountainside in the dark, she collapsed on the ground in tears. Her wrists were rubbed raw from the rope cutting through the duct tape he'd bound her with. The fabric of her shirt was torn at both elbows, the skin beneath it scraped and bleeding.

“Get up,” Ray ordered as he swung down from her horse. “And stop yer blubberin' or I'll give ya somethin' to cry about.”

She couldn't move, couldn't walk another step. Nor could she stop crying. The sobs racked her body, generated by fear and exhaustion and the bitter taste of defeat. She was at this man's mercy, and he had proven he was merciless.

He took an intimidating step toward her. She closed her eyes and curled into a tight ball, bracing herself for the kick. To her surprise, he bent down close to her.

“Ya done good,” he said, his voice sounding both surprised and pleased. “Yer tougher than ya look.”

She didn't feel tough as he dragged her to her feet. As he untied the rope from her wrists and peeled off what was left of the duct tape, she flinched at the damage that had been done.

“There's water in that creek over there. It'll make ya feel better if ya clean up.” The tenderness in his voice suddenly frightened her more than the gruff ruthlessness she had come to associate with him.

Before she could protest, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the water. It was full dark now, the sky overhead lit with stars and the gleam of a full moon as it rose up behind the pines to the east. The creek's surface shimmered in the silken light.

Easing her down on the creek bank, he pulled off her boots and her socks. When he reached for the buttons on her jeans, she tried to pull away.

He slapped her hard enough to snap her head back. “Don't fight me. Don't ever fight me.”

She swallowed, her skin stinging from the slap. Closing her eyes, she felt him fumble with the buttons of her jeans before he jerked them down to her ankles, then off. She pressed her eyes closed more tightly, expecting him to remove her panties, as well. Tears leaked from beneath her lashes, but she was sobbed out.

Instead, she felt his fingers on her shirt. The snaps loudly
clacked
as he jerked her shirt open then eased it off one shoulder, then the other. She hugged herself, praying he wouldn't try to remove her bra.

“I'll help ya into the water,” he said next to her ear a moment before he lifted her into his arms again. Wading out into the creek, he lowered her slowly into the icy water.

The cold took her breath away as she balanced precariously on the smooth silken surface of the rocks beneath her, the water up to her thighs. He let go of her. She wobbled there in the middle of the stream, water rushing around her. The freezing water made her lower body ache.

“Wash yerself,” he ordered, taking a step back, but not so far that he couldn't reach her if she tried to scramble out of the creek and up the adjacent bank.

* * *

R
AY
FELT
DESIRE
curl in his belly as he watched her. He didn't know how much longer he could contain himself. He wanted her, and it didn't help that he could take her so easily. There was no one around to hear her screams. No one around to be the wiser. Once he disposed of her body...

And what a body it was. His ache had a choke hold on him, and yet something inside him wanted more from her. He'd had women, but none like this one. He wanted this to be different from the others, most of them women he hadn't even had to force himself on. But they'd all left him feeling empty. This one, he thought, would be different. But only if she came to him willingly.

The thought almost made him laugh. Women didn't find him...attractive. Especially one like this. He wasn't bad looking for such a big, hulking guy. That was usually what reeled in the desperate women he'd known. It was when they'd seen his temper or got a glimpse of the darkness inside him—that's when they wanted nothing to do with him.

He couldn't hide that part of himself. At least not for long. He would end up hurting this woman. He always did. He would see the change in her eyes—just like he had the others. One minute they were fine with him. The next all they wanted was to put as much distance as possible between him and them.

But they never got away easily. He was too big, too strong, too fast for that. Even hurting them, though, hadn't given him the satisfaction he so desperately wanted, needed. Ultimately, they all left him, and he ended up feeling empty and alone.

For once, he wanted a woman to want him—with all his faults.

He stared at little Bo-Peep. She was different. She was the kind of woman he would never have stood a chance with off this mountain. Hell, she dressed like she had money. Even her horse looked expensive. Didn't she say her daddy would pay a million dollars for her?

He'd laughed at the time, but now he wondered if she hadn't been telling the truth. What had she said her name was? Bo Calder. The name didn't ring any bells. She'd probably been lying about the money as well as her name. Not that it mattered. For all his dreaming of her coming to him willingly, he doubted she would last the night.

CHAPTER SEVEN

B
O
CUPPED
SOME
of the water in her hands and brought it to her face. The icy cold had a numbing effect. She let it run down her arms, washing away the last of the blood but making her scrapes and cuts burn.

“I been thinkin',” Ray said, his tone softer, deadlier. “Ya and me...” He let his words trail off.

She looked over at him. He'd taken off his shirt and now splashed water up on him, under his arms, across his stomach. She hadn't realized how big he was, but standing in the creek he looked like a giant.

He saw her staring at his scars and quickly looked away. She did the same. Her legs were numb from the snow-fed stream by the time he waded out to her. He lifted her into his arms again and carried her back to a large flat rock on the creek bank.

She wished her entire body were as numb as her hands and legs. She tried not to flinch at his touch, sensing that anything might set him off.

His sudden kindness filled her with both hope—and terror. Did he feel sorry for her because he knew what was coming next? She watched him out of the corner of her eye. What was he thinking? She could well imagine given how he looked at her.

“You ain't married,” he said. “I ain't never been married, not really. I've shacked up with my share. None like you.” He stopped.

The almost full moon had reached the tops of the pines, sending an eerie light over the landscape. A hush had fallen over the mountainside. All of it felt surreal as if she was caught in a never-ending nightmare.

No breeze stirred the pines. Even the faint murmur of the creek beside her seemed far away. She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling from the cold and the terror of what would happen next as she watched him retrieve her clothes.

“Put these on,” he said and looked away.

She swallowed, trembling with both fear and relief. She felt as if she'd dodged a bullet. But only momentarily, she reminded herself. She'd seen the naked lust that had lit his eyes brighter than even the rising moon.

Her heart pummeled her ribs. She pulled on her jeans and shirt, her fingers shaking uncontrollably as she tried to button her jeans. He'd put his shirt back on, covering the array of scars she'd seen across his chest and back.

“I'm just sayin' we could be good fer each other up here. I'd take care of ya.” There was something pitiful about the way he said it.

Her head jerked up as she realized he was asking her to be his mate up here in the mountains. The insanity of it couldn't have made any of this seem more terrifyingly real. She said nothing, couldn't have spoken if she'd wanted to.

“Ya must be hungry,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “Come on.” Picking up her boots and socks, he motioned for her to follow him back to the open spot where he'd left her horse. He'd opened himself up to her. Something in his look warned her that if she tried to run, things would go very badly for her.

She followed him, walking barefoot on painfully sore feet. He looked back at her once over his shoulder, and even in the light of the rising moon, she could tell he was pleased she hadn't tried to get away.

Bo took a breath, then another as she fought to understand this change in him. He wanted her to like him, and yet at the same time there was a heartlessness about him that would make him hurt her without flinching if things didn't go as he wanted.

This change in him seemed so incongruous that she felt as if she were walking a tightrope across a deep canyon. One wrong step... She took another deep breath. He'd said she was tough. Well, she would have to be. He wanted her to like him, she told herself again. If that meant he wouldn't force himself on her... She could only hope for time—and an opportunity to present itself for her escape.

She couldn't chance failing, because there was no doubt in her mind what would happen then.

* * *

J
ACE
WATCHED
AS
the moon rose over the pines and scattered the mountainside with fool's gold. He rested against a large tree trunk as he leaned back into the dark shadow of the boughs and kicked himself mentally for thinking this was going to be easy. He should have known finding someone as complicated as Bo Hamilton wouldn't be easy.

He'd first noticed her at grade school the day she walked into the building. He'd been a second grader, Bo a kindergartener. He'd seen something on her freshly scrubbed face, a stark determination as if she'd made up her mind to take on kindergarten as though it was a battle to be won. He'd loved that about her right away.

His attempts to get to know her had been rebuked, though. She didn't seem to make friends easily, standing like she was in her older sisters' shadows.

Jace rubbed a hand over his face. Since that day he'd been chasing Bo Hamilton, he thought with a curse. And she had been distancing herself from him. Listening to the night sounds, he wondered where she was tonight.

What if she had taken a different way out of the mountains? What if she was already back in town? What if he was on a wild-goose chase?

No. Bo was still up here. Had she been headed back to face the consequences, she would have traveled the most direct route—the same one she'd taken when she left.

She could have camped at any of the spots on the way back into the mountains, and yet she'd kept going. Where had she been headed?

He suspected she hadn't had a plan, or she would have taken a credit card and headed for the airport. Instead, she'd gone camping? He reminded himself that she was a cowgirl. This was her country as much as his. This was where he found peace. Maybe this was also where she found it.

Had she, though? She couldn't have brought enough supplies to last more than a night or so back in here. He also couldn't picture her roughing it for long. So where was she?

Jace told himself that eventually she would have to ride out of the mountains. She hadn't dropped down into the other drainage on the Shields River side—at least not yet. That appeared to be the way the man whose tracks he'd seen had come up.

Oh, yeah, what if she is in a Wilsall bar right now having dinner and a drink with that man?

He shook his head as he studied the moonlit mountains he would ride into come sunup. The pieces didn't fit. Jace felt a shiver even though the night wasn't that cold. He couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't the only one now sharing these mountains with Bo.

Praying for sunup, he told himself he should try to get some sleep. He would keep following her trail tomorrow. He would find her if he had to follow her to Mexico.

He breathed in the cooling night air. Even though it was summer, it would get cold tonight. He was glad he'd brought an extra sleeping bag. The dark night sky had filled with white stars that twinkled above the treetops.

Was Bo Hamilton looking up at all those stars right now?

Trying to put her out of his mind, he closed his eyes. The image of his sister filled his thoughts. Em would be worried that she hadn't heard from him by now, but she knew him. She knew how, when he set his mind to something, he stuck with it.

“I wish I was like you,” she'd said more times than he wanted to remember. “I let life knock me off course.”

“Not anymore. You're strong. You have Jodie to think about now. She will help keep you on the straight and narrow.” Even as he'd said the words, he'd known it was more complicated than that. And so had Em.

They both worried something could happen to divert her from her best intentions.

He opened his eyes as an owl flapped by overhead, its wings catching flashes of moonlight. He listened for closer sounds. The crunch of dried pine needles under a boot heel. The sharp crack of a limb as a shoulder brushed against it. The stumbling sound of a horse as it came down the trail.

He heard nothing but the faint breeze high in the pines.

Jace closed his eyes, his rifle cradled in his arms, as he thought about what a surprise it would be for Bo Hamilton when he found her. He couldn't wait to see the expression on her face.

* * *

“T
HIS
IS
NICE
,”
Russell said after he and Sarah had eaten a late dinner out on the porch overlooking the valley. She knew he didn't like leaving her up here alone, and she appreciated his company. He tried to come up every day. He always brought food and water and anything else he thought she needed. He was so thoughtful, so caring that she couldn't help being fond of him.

But it worried her that he might be getting too attached to her. He'd actually mentioned marriage. She'd ignored the comment as if she hadn't heard him, but knew she had to be careful or Russell would get the wrong idea.

“Yes, nice,” she said.

He cleared his throat. She could tell there was something he wanted to talk to her about, but he wasn't sure how to broach the subject. She waited, half-afraid of what he might suggest.

It had grown dark, but she could still see his face in the starlight. “I've been doing more research on memory loss.”

Sarah was relieved he didn't want to talk about the two of them, let alone marriage. But she didn't want to discuss her memory loss, either.

“It's cooling down,” she said as she rose and picked up their coffee cups to take them back into the cabin. He had to have known bringing up the subject would upset her, but clearly it was something he needed to say.

“I know you hate talking about your condition,” he said as he followed her inside, where he turned on lights to chase away the darkness. “I'm sure it haunts you every day. But the more I read, the more I think I know why you can't remember.”

They'd had this discussion before. “You believe Buck did something I couldn't live with.”

“I do.” He was convinced whatever had happened took place between the time she gave birth to the twins and drove into the river. “You wouldn't have left your children and driven your vehicle into an iced-over river in an attempt apparently to kill yourself unless you felt there was no other way out.”

“Maybe you just want to believe that,” she said, hating the irritation she heard in her voice. “Maybe I'm a selfish, crazy woman. Or maybe it was postpartum depression from suddenly having so many children that I felt overwhelmed.”

“I don't believe that, and neither do you.” Russell took a breath and let it out slowly. He appeared half afraid to voice his suspicions because he knew they would upset her. Not to mention that they were outlandish. “How can you be so sure that Buckmaster Hamilton wasn't the man who picked you up that night and took you somewhere, saying he was going to get you help?”

She couldn't be sure, since she had no memory of that night. But Russell had told her the news reports said her vehicle had broken through the ice. With her car half submerged, either she'd been ejected or she'd climbed out, fallen through the ice and floated downriver.

According to what Russell had heard around the valley, she'd been found by an old hermit named Lester Halverson, who'd hauled her out of the river, given her warm clothing and promised to keep her secret.

Just before he'd died, he'd apparently confessed the truth. So much for keeping her secret. He'd told the sheriff that she'd made a call and someone had picked her up in the middle of the night. He hadn't known whom.

“It makes sense that failing your attempt at suicide, you would call your husband after almost drowning—especially if you were depressed and feeling overwhelmed,” Russell was saying. “Was there anyone else you would have turned to?”

Living out on the ranch, she hadn't made many friends. She'd gotten pregnant with Ainsley. Two years later, Kat had come along, and then Bo and then Olivia and then the twins. It was the life she wanted. She'd been happy, she was sure of that. So it made sense that if, at some low point, she stupidly tried to kill herself, she would have called the man she loved, Buck Hamilton, because there hadn't been anyone else to call.

“So you think Buck, convinced that I needed help, took me to a mental hospital and had me locked up? Wouldn't there be a record of it? And if there was, you know the media would have found it by now.”

“We're talking about
Buckmaster Hamilton
.”

“He wasn't that powerful twenty-two years ago.” He might not even have been that powerful today. Sarah paced the small kitchen. “So your theory is that Buck had me locked up in some...institution all these years?”

Russell said nothing as he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.

“And what? I
escaped
? That still doesn't explain why I can't remember those years, why my last memory of Beartooth is the birth of my twins.”

Russell sat up straighter, leaning toward her as he spoke. “That was your last
good
memory. Whatever happened occurred after that. It's why you can't remember it.”

She shook her head. None of this made any sense.

“What if I'm right and he had your memories...wiped away? It's called brain wiping,” he said, rushing on before she could stop him. “It's not science fiction. It's being used in treating patients with horrible memories that have kept them from living full lives.”

“You can't believe that Buck would have my brain
wiped
.” She felt horrified at the thought.

“Even back before he became a senator, he had friends in high places.”

“Buck is not a monster, and only a monster would...” She couldn't even bring herself to say it.

Russell rose but stayed where he was, as if he realized the last thing she wanted him to do was touch her right now. She was scared. Scared that he might be right.

“Just think about it,” he said cajolingly. “Even you can't imagine what would have made you leave your six daughters. But I'm betting your husband knows.”