Clay: Armed and Dangerous (20 page)

Sass snorted again. “Shhh.” Rylie patted the mare’s neck. “We need to be extra quiet,
girl.”

The horse tossed her head like she understood. The yeek-yeek creak of the saddle seemed
so loud Rylie was pretty sure it could be heard in the next county, never mind the
plink-thunk of Sass’s horseshoes kicking against trail rocks.

As if on cue, coyotes sang in the distance, adding eerie to creepy and lonely. Rylie
shivered. She took a deep breath and caught a whiff of pinon, juniper, and horse.
Familiar. Soothing. She tried to let it calm her nerves, but that was definitely a
no-go. Her heart did an uncomfortable tap dance in her chest, picking up speed with
each turn and jiggle on the trail.

Rylie crouched in her saddle, squinting along the top of the brush line to catch a
glimpse of the water tower. The moon was a few days past full, so still pretty bright,
and the clear, starry sky seemed to add a little light on top of that. She listened,
holding her breath and shutting out the rush of blood in her ears.

Nothing unusual.

Nothing but trail sounds and coyotes.

With any luck she’d beaten the bastards to their meeting place.

When she was still far enough away that she could safely leave Sass, Rylie dismounted
and tethered the mare to the nearest tree.

Is this where Skylar left the trail when she nearly got herself killed by cattle rustlers
last year?

The thought made Rylie’s guts ache with sudden fear, and she wanted to slap herself
for letting her mind gibber like some whiney, scared little schoolgirl.

Nothing was going to happen. She’d listen, get what she could, then get the hell out
of there.

Rylie tried to sneak down the trail, but every stick snapped like a gunshot, and the
pebbles and rocks under her shoes sounded like a smaller, steadier shooting gallery.
Tiptoeing was out of the question if she didn’t want a sprained ankle, so she just
moved slower, more carefully, gulping in fast breaths as quietly as she could.

About a hundred feet from the water tower, she found a cluster of boulders that blocked
the trail off from the rangeland. They were pretty big, and she was small enough that
she didn’t think she’d have a problem staying out of sight. It was too dark to read
her watch. It had to be getting close to nine.

Her heart pounded even harder and her mouth grew dry when she heard the tires growling
up the dirt road leading to the water tower. Seconds later, the deep hum of an engine
made her ears vibrate.

Headlights stabbed into her eyes, and Rylie blinked and sank lower behind the boulders.
She couldn’t quite believe this was actually playing out like she thought it would.
Maybe the universe had decided Levi needed a break. She hoped to hell that was the
case.

The roar of that engine got louder, and Rylie realized she wasn’t hearing a pickup.
No. Bigger. A semi, maybe, or something close to it. Sounded like it was working hard,
pulling a big load. The big vehicle whipped past her hiding place like some sort of
medieval dragon, gears grinding and rocks shooting away from its grinding tires like
shrapnel.

As pebbles pinged off the boulders in front of Rylie, the truck rolled to a stop,
air brakes hissing. The engine shut off, but the cab lights came on and the beams
stayed on bright, bathing the whole area beneath the water tower in an eerie crystalline
blue.

Rylie tugged at her ear and tried to slow her breathing as she squinted through a
crack between the boulders.

Come on, come on. Let me see you, assholes. Faces, names. Come on...

Doors slammed—one, then two, and Rylie bit back a gasp. Two men. It had to be both
of the guys she overhead at Skylar’s reception. She leaned into the boulders. Rock
scraped her shoulders, and she willed her eyes to adjust to the glare.

Definitely a semi with a black cab and some sort of indistinct circular logo on the
door. It was parked less than a hundred feet from her hiding place, and it was hauling
vehicles. Trucks. They looked just like new trucks, stacked on one of those trailers
auto dealers used to transport vehicles for sale. They were all silver and black,
freshly painted, and be damned if at least two of them didn’t look like they used
to be hers.

Behind all that was a second vehicle, small and boxy-looking, but she couldn’t see
it plainly. She hadn’t heard the sound of the smaller vehicle with all the noise the
semi had made.

“At least you’re on time,” said a man’s voice from the other side of the cab.

Rylie almost jumped out of her skin at the sound. That was Voice One, familiar, but
she couldn’t place it. She should know it, she’d definitely heard it before, but she
just couldn’t put her finger on who it was.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Voice Two. “Funny.” Keys jingled like somebody threw them. “It’s
all your problem now. Happy driving.”

A shadowy figure peeled out of the glare into the darkness behind the semi, and all
of Rylie’s instincts caught fire. She heard a scream in her head, and hoped to God
she hadn’t made any noise.

She knew Voice Two. And she’d know that scrawny build and that fake-ass swagger anywhere.
Voice Two, the other man she’d heard at Skylar’s reception—it was Reggie Parker. That
bastard who’d tried to rape her when she was in high school.

How the hell had he gotten back here—and gotten into this?

Rage boiled through her, making her breath ragged, and she had to hold back a low
snarl.

She could just imagine Reggie getting contacted by somebody who knew what happened
back then, or somebody who found out and decided to use it to his advantage. No doubt
Reggie was the same slimy, lazy jerk he’d always been, and he probably jumped at the
chance for some twisted form of revenge—like stealing the Thorn trucks and helping
to frame Levi for the crime.

Rylie took a deep breath, leaning her whole body against the cool bulk of the boulder.
If she’d brought a gun, she probably could have shot this bastard after all. As it
was, she had a pocket- knife as her best defense—and two good running shoes. It was
time to go. She didn’t have both faces and names, but she had something. A lot more
than something.

But God, how she wanted to go settle the score for what Reggie tried to do to her,
and what he was trying to do to Levi. She’d love to kick him in the balls so hard
he’d forever sing falsetto in the St. Jude’s Boy’s Choir. Too bad she couldn’t get
close enough to permanently damage the bastard’s family jewels and not get herself
killed in the process.

She took a few slow breaths, then as she heard a car door opening, she crept back
toward the trail. A few yards, and she’d reach Sass and they’d head out.

Her sneakers seemed quiet enough, and with each step, the tightness in her chest eased
a fraction—

Until she put her foot down on a loose rock, slipped, pitched sideways, then crashed
to the ground.

Pain fired through her senses and she heard herself cry out as she kept rolling, grabbing
for sticks, for limbs, for anything that might stop her fall.

Agony—

And then she hit those boulders head-first.

***

After he left a message for Chloe Somerville to wait for him at the jail and got on
the road, Clay made the ten-mile drive to Wade Larson’s ranch in about eight minutes
flat. Problem was, he had to park a good quarter mile away, just to make sure he didn’t
alert the bastards to his presence.

By the time he found Sassafras tied to a tree, then reached the water tower, it was
at least a quarter past nine, the time Rylie had apparently thought the rendezvous
was supposed to be. He drew his service-issue Glock and eased through the mesquite
bushes and brush, pulse hammering in his ears, until he spotted the water tower.

Where’s Rylie?

Worry battled with fury as he scanned each inch of terrain for any sign of her. This
was the same spot on the trail where Skylar MacKenna-Hunter had almost gotten killed
last year. Bad omen. He could see a bunch of boulders straight ahead, and he made
his way to a spot where he could look between the big rocks and see what was happening
under the tower.

In the moonlight, he saw a large tow trailer behind a semi, and beyond that—

A goddamned beat-up Gremlin.

Son of a bitch.

If it came to shooting tonight, Clay hoped he got to be the one to take down Hazard
Quinn—but what mattered right now was Rylie.

He heard voices, saw a couple of men dragging something alongside the big semi—and
his gut knotted.

Not something. They were dragging Rylie.

Fuck!

Clay clenched his teeth. He had no idea if there were more men or just the two he
could see. He wanted to charge out and shoot them both, but he couldn’t risk getting
taken by surprise. If he played this wrong, he’d lose her, and that just wasn’t happening.

Plan it. Pick your shot. Then take it.

He focused on his targets.

Hold on, little wildcat. I’m coming.

***

The idiots dropped Rylie like a sack of potatoes and started arguing right away. She
didn’t even hit the ground too hard, and she kept right on faking being out of it,
keeping her limbs loose and still except for the hand she was inching toward her pocket.
The knife might be little, but it was deadly sharp, and it was all she had.

Her head hurt like hell where she’d cracked it on the rocks, but she’d only been addled
for a second or two. Long enough for them to jump on her, and for her to realize playing
dead was her best chance to get out of this alive.

“Just roll her off to the side and leave her,” said Voice One, and Rylie knew now
she was dealing with Deputy Hazard Quinn. “Wayland’ll make this a vendetta if she
goes missing.”

“She saw us.” That was Reggie, whining as usual, but trying to sound mean to intimidate
Quinn. Once a bully, always a bully.

“She’ll wake up groggy and not even believe her own memory—if the coyotes don’t make
a meal out of her.” Quinn’s words were starting to come out fast, maybe a little desperate.
“Either way, I’ll have the trucks over the border and you’ll be on a plane to Mazatlan.
Let’s blow, man. This place needs to be history.”

“No.” Reggie again, this time with a little more menace. “She comes with me. We’ve
got unfinished business.”

Rylie’s fingers closed on the pocket knife. She slipped it slowly, slowly out of her
pocket, careful to barely breathe, to keep her eyes mostly closed, slitting her lids
just enough to keep track of the two thieves about to come to blows beside her.

Both men had on jeans and dark T-shirts, and they looked ready to travel. Tonight
was the night they were wrapping up their operation, she had no doubt. They’d have
been piss in the wind by morning if she hadn’t screwed it all up.

“We don’t have time for this shit.” Quinn’s voice was definitely getting squeaky.
“I think Wayland’s on to me. Everybody had to know Gary Woods had help in the department...
shit, did that bastard ever screw me good. I lost everything when I lost the income
I was getting from him, but I’m an inch from getting it all back, with interest. Don’t
screw it up for both of us just because you’ve got some grudge with Rylie Thorn.”

“You knew I had a grudge.” Reggie was starting to sound triumphant, like he knew he
had Quinn where he wanted him. “You read the files about her supposed attempted rape
back in high school. That’s why you called me and offered to cut me in on this deal.
You knew I’d say yes. She comes with me.”

Quinn swore. “Look, by now Wayland’s figured out I’m the only one who could have planted
that ledger on Thorn. We’ve got to get moving.”

They framed my brother.
The knife in Rylie’s hand felt cool and powerful and familiar. Clay probably knows
that, but he had to arrest Levi to give himself enough time to get the goods on this
asshole.

Maybe she wouldn’t kill Clay after all—assuming she lived to see him again. Which
was a pretty damned big assumption at this point. Rylie knew she should be completely
terrified, but more than anything, she felt pissed.

No, not pissed.

Furious.

Her skin was so hot her temperature had to be nearing boil, and her teeth kept grinding
together. Bastards. Reggie and Quinn both, stealing trucks and letting Levi take the
fall.

And unfinished business?

Yeah, damned straight. And she’d be the one finishing it tonight.

“You always were an asshole,” she mumbled, knowing Reggie would hear her.

“What?” Reggie Parker leaned down over her, so close she could smell the stink of
his hot beer breath in her face. And that cologne that had brought back horrible memories
before.

Where was the fear? The terror?

All gone.

Rylie almost smiled.

She knew she was in danger, but she didn’t feel trapped and helpless anymore. She
wasn’t sixteen, and this dirtbag definitely wasn’t some all-powerful god or demon
who could hold her down again.

“Well, well,” Reggie muttered. “You’re awake after all—and still a wild little thing.”

Nobody but Clay gets to call me wild. Nobody ever again.

“Dickhead,” Rylie said, and she spit in Reggie’s face.

He lurched back, pawing at his eyes like she’d thrown acid on him.
What a pussy.
It galled Rylie to remember that she’d thought he was so handsome in high school.

“Knock it off!” Quinn was saying. “I mean it, Parker. We have to go.”

As Rylie sat up, her head throbbed, but she was still smiling.

“Get out of here,” Reggie growled at Quinn, and then Reggie came at her. “This is
for old time’s sake, Rylie—and it’s gonna be fun.”

He leaned over to grab Rylie by her upper arms and her hand moved before she formed
a full thought.

The blade of the pocket knife caught the bastard right where it counted, its sharpened
blade punching through fabric and straight into flesh. She pulled hard and twisted.
She powered through the cut, using every ounce of strength from her hours and days
of hurting over what he’d done to her, from her years of feeling less-than because
of her father, and her mother, and useless pricks like Reggie Parker.