Born To Be Wild (3 page)

She only hoped nothing horrible had already happened to Lucy, and that when they found their daughter, she would still be the bright, cheerful, and innocent girl she had always been.

The alternative was unthinkable.

…

“Annie, wake up, please wake up!”

Having freed herself of the seat belt, Lucy leaned over and tried to shake her friend awake. Blood shot all over her from where the metal pole had gone through Annie, pinning her to the seat of the bus. Lucy tried desperately to stop the flow. Oozing between her fingers and over her hands, Annie’s blood was warm and sticky, and the smell made her stomach churn.

The bleeding wouldn’t stop and Annie wouldn’t wake up no matter how loudly Lucy called her name. She got the sinking feeling she couldn’t save her friend, but she couldn’t stop trying… She just couldn’t.

With a lurch, Lucy started awake from the familiar nightmare, only to face a strange darkness. Her heart was pounding and she could hardly take a breath.

Dim light from the moon filtered through windows in a room she didn’t recognize, giving her a limited view of her surroundings.
Where was she?
This wasn’t her bedroom. She checked her hands to make sure they weren’t bloody. Then, on wobbly legs, she got up from the bed and tottered to the door.

Locked.

No, no, no! She had to get out of here!

Had to get home.

Mom was going to kill her.

Banging on the door, she yelled, “Hello? Are you there? You locked the door! I have to go home now!”

No matter how much she banged or shouted, she got no answer.

She should have been on the bus, but she hated getting on it anymore. She always tried to find a way to distract herself until the last minute, but this time she’d waited too long, and the bus had left without her.

And then she…she…

She wasn’t sure what had happened. Frowning, she tried to remember. She couldn’t. She didn’t know how she had gotten here, or even where “here” was.

Her head still wasn’t clear. No matter how hard she tried to remember what had happened, everything after seeing the bus rumbling away down the street was one big blur…

And now she was locked in a strange room.

Afraid.

The sensation whispered through her, making her shiver.

What was going to happen to her?

She’d been wondering that for months now. She was afraid all the time.

She groped for the wall switch and turned it on, flooding the room with light. The walls were pink, the fluffy bedding purple. Obviously a girl’s room.

But why was she in it?

Desperate to get out of the unfamiliar room, desperate to get home, she went to the window and saw that she was on the second floor. No easy way down. There was a tree, but it was too far away to climb out onto a limb.

She would have to jump…maybe miss.

Thinking about it made her stomach twirl.

What if she fell and got hurt all over again? She was barely healed from the bus accident on the outside. And inside…

Fear soured her mouth, stopping her from even trying.

This time she might not be so lucky.

This time she might be like those other kids.

This time she might be dead
.

Chapter Three

“We should get something to eat,” Micah said. It was after ten and no one was walking the streets on their route.

“How can you even think about eating?”

He glanced at Isabel. Even in just the moonlight, she looked pale and overly stressed. She needed to eat. “We need to keep up our strength. For Lucy.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“We don’t have to be hungry. We just have to get the food down.” He made a turn, swinging the truck onto a road that would take them away from the center of town, down to the main drag with plenty of places to get something to eat. “Taco, burger, or chicken?”

“For a minute there, I thought you were going to tell me you’d learned to cook.”

“I do cook. Out on the range, a man has to eat. I do a lot of things I didn’t used to do.”

Like standing up to his father, he thought with a stab of residual anger. If only he’d had the backbone to do that twelve years ago…

But there was no use focusing on regrets right now.

“Taco, burger, or fried chicken?” he asked again.

Isabel sighed. “Your choice.”

Micah drove to a fast food place that had all three, and leaving Isabel in the truck to call her family, he went inside and ordered some of everything.

No matter what, he was going to get food into Isabel. She couldn’t function without fuel. And not without sleep, either. No doubt she’d fight him on that, too. He was just as worried about Lucy as she was, but he also knew they had to take extra care of themselves, or they wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly while searching for their daughter.

When he got back into the truck, Micah put the huge bag on the backseat. Isabel was just finishing a conversation on her cell.

“Okay, Poppi. I promise I’ll call the minute I hear anything.” She listened a second, then said, “I love you, too.” With a broken sigh, she let her hand holding the cell drop into her lap. “I tried Mama again and had to leave another message. I don’t know why she hasn’t called me back.”

“Maybe something is wrong with her cell.” A shame, Micah thought, because Isabel could use her mother’s support. Starting the truck, he said, “I need to call my family, as well.”

“You should do that.” Isabel’s voice went flat.

Since he used the truck’s speaker system to call hands-free, Isabel could hear everything, though she stared out the passenger side window as if trying to distract herself. She didn’t like his father any more than he liked hers. Thankfully, Dad didn’t say anything to set her off. His whole family had gathered together to await any news.

“If the police haven’t found her by daybreak, we’ll start again,” Micah said. Inconceivable that his daughter should be out there all alone in the dark. Or maybe not alone.
He couldn’t go there
. “We’ll go back to the school, find someone who can tell us what happened.”

“You’re gonna find her,” Gramps said. “We’re gonna get our girl back.”

“I’ll call the moment we know anything,” Micah promised.

By the time he clicked off, he was pulling up in front of Isabel’s house.

Looking like death warmed over, she was hardly able to swing open the truck door.

Protective instincts stirring despite himself—he knew better than to let down his guard—Micah leaped from his seat and slammed the door closed behind him, then ran around to the passenger side to help Isabel out of the truck.

When he tried to put an arm around her to steady her out of the vehicle and onto the walkway, she said, “I’m fine, Micah.” She wiggled out past him.

But when she tried closing the passenger door, he put out a hand to stop it. “The food.”

He reached in back and fetched the bag before following. She’d unlocked the front door by the time he caught up to her. He reached around her to open it.

For a second…one short second…she met his gaze. He read something in her expression that called to him. Something that flashed him back to the past for a few seconds. A connection that used to be ever-present, like a live wire between them. Then he blinked, and she looked away and entered the foyer. Its bright orange walls and contrasting dark stone floor were incongruously cheerful.

Isabel said, “Maybe you should take the food home with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. And you’re eating.”

“You can’t stay here.”

“Then I’ll sleep in the back of my pickup. You don’t honestly think I’m going back to the ranch before we find our daughter?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she admitted, looking utterly defeated.

“That’s because your brain needs fuel. Kitchen,” he ordered.

She glared at him for a moment, and he thought she would argue, but he could see the exhaustion and, yes, despair written in her face and body. Dark circles below her hazel eyes dimmed the light from them. Her shoulders slumped. She appeared to have turned inward on herself.

Not giving up was nonnegotiable. He would do whatever it took to make her embrace hope. They would find their daughter. They would.

“C’mon. I don’t have enough energy left to carry you.”

Despite her murmured protest, Micah slipped an arm around her back and urged her through the living area. Touching her made him soften a bit, made him remember the things he’d forced himself to forget.

The room was a testament to Isabel’s love of color. While the adobe walls and kiva fireplace were white, the couch was burnt orange, the chairs striped with orange and turquoise and magenta. Blown-up photographs she had taken lined the walls. The one of Lucy hugging Isabel’s horse, Crank, on the Falcon Ranch made his throat go tight.

The kitchen was equally bright, with the same white walls, burnt-orange cabinets and countertops of Mexican tile with a colorful flower pattern. Sighing, Isabel slumped into a seat at the turquoise wood table and made no effort to check out the bag he set directly in front of her.

“You’d better find something in there you’re willing to eat,” he said, opening a cabinet, hoping to find plates.

“It’s the next one,” she said, and, to his relief, she dug into the bag.

By the time he got out dishes, flatware, and a couple cans of soda from the fridge, she’d at least spread the boxes of food over the middle of the table.

“We need to plan strategy.” He sat around the corner from her, bumping knees.

She immediately moved hers so they weren’t touching.

A little irritated, he asked, “What would you like?”

“Chicken.”

He pushed the box of chicken right in front of her. If her taste hadn’t changed, it was her favorite, grilled with a spicy serrano barbecue sauce. After she chose a piece, he set cartons of slaw and string potatoes in front of her, as well.

“I’ll be lucky to force anything down.”

Biting into a burger, he grunted in response.

Despite her protests, she ate more than he’d expected. Some things didn’t change. She wore her food. Barbecue sauce decorated the corner of her lip and her chin, making him remember the first time they’d eaten this chicken together. He’d kissed the sauce away. Crazy in love with her, he’d kissed other things, too, all that she would allow. He forced his mind from the sweet memory. There were more important things to think about, like how they were going to find their daughter.

“How well do you know Lucy’s teacher?”

“Fairly well. Actually, I know most of the teachers. I do a lot of volunteering for family events. I do photos for the school website and newsletter.” Pushing herself away from the table, she asked, “Are you done? I should put this stuff away.”

Noting she seemed a little more vital now that she’d eaten, he said, “Go ahead,” but plucked a piece of chicken before she could close the box. “What about the principal?” he asked.

“Principal Rivera? I’ve worked directly with her.”

Isabel took the containers to the refrigerator. Having the principal on their side was a plus, Micah thought.

“So you think Principal Rivera will let us go into the classes to talk to the kids?”

“I assume so. I mean, why wouldn’t she?” Isabel furrowed her brow. “Do you think one of the kids noticed what happened to Lucy?”

“Someone had to. She couldn’t simply have disappeared into thin air. Someone had to have seen something. Count on it.”

He was, anyway. He had to believe their little girl wasn’t lost to them forever.

“What about the police?” Isabel put away the last of the food. “Detective Ochoa may be planning to do the same.”

“Then call him in the morning. A kid would be more likely to talk to you than to a cop.”

She nodded. “You’re right. Yeah, okay, I’ll call him first thing.”

She pressed her mouth into a tight line, something Micah had rarely seen her do. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears again. He knew she was trying to control her emotions so she wouldn’t cry. The thought put a lump in his throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from trying to comfort her.

Pulling her to his chest and wrapping both arms around her, he pressed his cheek to her hair and murmured, “It’s going to be all right, Isabel. We’re going to find her. Lucy will be back with us before you know it.”

Isabel remained in his arms.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Not crying.

She was hardly breathing.

Micah wondered what she was thinking. It was as if she’d cut herself off from everything and had blanked her mind so she could put the awful possibilities to rest for a while. He pulled his cheek from her hair and tucked a thick strand back behind her ear as he used to do, so that he could look down into her face. That gorgeous face that haunted his dreams. Her thick lashes were spiked with the tears she wouldn’t let fall. Her hazel eyes swam in nightmare-dark pools of fear. The tip of her snub nose was pink against the pale skin of her face. Her lips trembled, but she fought letting him see it, just as she had that day on Suicide Hill.

The day his life had changed forever.

The day he’d given his heart to her.

I love you, Isabel.

Though he thought it even now, he couldn’t say it. The day she’d disappeared without so much as a good-bye, he’d felt dead inside. He didn’t ever want to feel so lost and heartbroken again. Lucy had been his salvation.

I still love you…I always will…

He couldn’t say it, not with words.

Staring at her tight mouth, the corner still smeared with barbecue sauce, he couldn’t help himself. He dipped his head and licked. Sweet, hot sauce made his tongue burn. Her quick intake of breath and the familiar cry at the back of her throat set the rest of him on fire. Her lips parting against his made his heart thunder with something he hadn’t felt for more than a decade.

He covered her mouth and thrust his tongue into her the way he dreamed of thrusting his flesh into her wet heat. She wrapped her arms around his neck, a leg around his thigh, and he was lost. Pressing her into the refrigerator, he rocked against her. He was already hard, ready for her, when she slipped her hand between them and found him through his jeans. Quickly, she undid his belt and slid the zipper open and released him.

Gliding his hands along her sides, he lifted her blouse from her pants and slid his palms along her flesh until they cupped her breasts. She moaned into his mouth, circled him and pulled her hand up his shaft to his head. He flicked his tongue deeper, flicked his thumbs against her nipples until they hardened and grew and threatened to split her lacy bra.

He tore his mouth from hers and found a nipple, drawing the cloth-covered flesh deep into his mouth where he suckled until she melted, tearing herself from him to get down on her knees.

The refrigerator was the only thing holding him up. His arms braced against it, he watched her work her magic on him. Even as a teenager, she’d instinctively known exactly how to enslave him. The breath caught in his throat as the wet warmth of her mouth sheathed him, her tongue flicked against the tip, and she pulled him inside, one agonizingly slow inch at a time.

But he didn’t want to come this way. He wanted to be deep inside her, to experience once again the thrill of her body moving with his, to make her cry out in ecstasy again and again, finally joining her once she was sated.

So he pushed himself from the refrigerator, reached down and cupped her chin, freeing himself…

And then froze as their gazes connected.

What the hell were they doing?

Their daughter was missing and they were about to have sex?

What was he thinking? This was crazy.

Still staring into his eyes, Isabel rose to her full height. He could tell she had similar thoughts. That she was appalled at what they had started. He was trying to find the words that would make it all right—maybe that they were just trying to find comfort in a terrible situation—when she backed away from him.

She gasped, “You can sleep in Lucy’s room!” and then fled the kitchen.

And him.

Again.

…

What had she been thinking? Isabel stripped and stepped into the shower. How had she let Micah get to her the way he had? Worse, how had she responded so mindlessly?

She’d let down her guard for a few moments, but she wouldn’t do that again.

A cool shower drove the remaining tendrils of sexual heat from her, but it did nothing for the humiliation she’d felt the moment they’d broken that physical connection. Twelve years ago, she had vowed to never, ever let Micah touch her again, and until today, she’d kept that vow.

Her emotions were all over the place because of Lucy. Dread for her daughter had made her reach out to the one person in the world who loved the girl as much as she did. Now they had to join forces to rescue their child.

Isabel knew she had to put out of mind that Micah never fought for her…never fought for them. She hoped that now, at least, Micah would be the man she’d expected him to be when she’d learned she was pregnant.

As to what had almost happened a little while ago…they’d clung to each other in fear, that was all.

That had to be all it was.

No matter what they’d had in the past, what was done was done, and it couldn’t be changed.

They couldn’t go back in time…