Pretty Reckless (Entangled Ignite) (21 page)

Chapter Seventeen

After a long-winded bitch fest with my conscience, I was able to coerce myself out of the truck and into the house. I splashed cold water at my face, catching a glimpse of the dark circles creating craters beneath my eyes, and told myself to grow some balls. My life was in shambles, and I was eyeballing the damn culprit down.

Also, Boomer was still missing—or at the very least, still not here.

I’d also left a few things at Nathan’s—like my badge—that I was sure to need today.

I showered, brushed my teeth, and got dressed in my regulation shirt and a pair of jeans with worn knees, and headed for the kitchen.

There was coffee spilt on the countertop, a plate of cold eggs and toast sat next to the coffeemaker, and an empty bottle of Jim Beam was resting in the sink. A chill ran through me.
Shit
. Nathan had been here. The same way I’d left my badge behind last night, I hadn’t thought to get my house keys back from him, either.

Feeling more than a little leery, I lagged over to the counter, dumped the stale coffee down the sink, and switched on the coffeepot. What part of “here’s your ring back” had the man not understood? But maybe because I hadn’t thrown it onto his front lawn when he’d told me to keep it…maybe that had been enough for him to believe I wasn’t serious.

Damn, damn, damn.

I opened the fridge, ready to storm its contents for a carton of creamer, but lost all concentration when I saw the Post-It note stuck to the freezer door:
Dobbs called while you were sleeping. Boomer checked in. He’s over at his mother’s place—Nathan.

I blinked, staring at the jagged, scribbled handwriting. Slamming the fridge door closed with my butt, I reached for the cordless on the adjacent wall, punched in the sheriff station, and waited. Three excruciating minutes later, and Elroy’s voice stung my ears.

“Pistol Rock Sheriff Station,” he said.

“Good morning, Elroy.” My voice was sharp and unfriendly. “Can I speak with Dobbs?”

He slurped, choked, and then the line went dead.
Come on
. How inconsiderate. Then, “Laney?” he wheezed.

I throttled the phone the way I wanted to throttle him. “I’m still here.”

“Haven’t seen Dobbs or Gunner yet today,” he said, “and since we’re on the topic, aren’t
you
supposed to be working?”

While I wanted nothing more than to rush into work, I first needed to go to Nathan’s and pick up my badge, my house keys, and whatever else I’d left there so that maybe my
former
fiancé would get the message that I didn’t just have cold feet, we were
off
. The icky prickly feeling that he’d been here while I’d slept over at Gunner’s and might have done anything he liked to my place was just…really unnerving.

I sighed into the phone. “I’m sort of busy. Did you say Dobbs never called here about Boomer this morning?”

“Like I said, both guys are a no show.” Elroy huffed annoyed.

The little bit of ‘it’s gonna be bad’ intuition that seemed to live permanently between my shoulder blades twitched. I hung up and dialed Gunner’s cell. It went straight to voicemail. I left him a message to stop by my place later and disconnected. I should be used to spells of bad luck, but hell, this one was eating me alive. It was time to nail this coffin shut, since I didn’t plan on digging two graves. I grabbed my truck keys off the counter and headed for the door. Then I saw the briefcase Nathan had left sitting next to my backdoor.

Again, that spot between my shoulders itched. What had Luke said about Nathan’s financials and him begging for a loan from Mitch?

Giving myself only a second to think better of it, I picked up the briefcase and walked out the door.

…

The white tan line on my ring finger seemed to wink bitterly at me as I reached for the doorknob of Bovine Health Services. I did not want to be here. The instinct to turn and run was strong, but I beat it back, turned the doorknob, and stepped into my ex’s place of employment.

Inside, the clinic was dark. The shades had been drawn, and the door to Nathan’s office was wide open. I looked at the front desk. Empty. Caroline, his receptionist, must’ve had the day off. I scooted past the coffee table, entered the office, and switched on the light.

A trailer park would have fared better in a tornado.

Nathan’s desk was cluttered with papers, the floor was scattered with picture frames, and the file cabinets were spitting out folders. I crossed behind the desk and picked up one of the frames. Someone was not a happy camper—our engagement photo was ripped to shreds. My skin crawled. Either Nathan understood that I’d meant what I said about leaving him and had let himself in to wander my house anyway, or he’d followed me last night and seen me go to Gunner’s.

I set the frame back down on the desk and was about to leave when I spotted the orange pill bottles spilling out of the bottom desk drawer. I went over, shuffled a hand inside the drawer, and pulled out a couple. Ketamine. Not damning in itself, but I’d be willing to bet that his unlocked desk drawer was not the usual place to store the prescription anesthetic.

I rummaged around the drawer a little more and pulled out a stack of bounced checks that were stuffed in the back. Whoa. No matter what nasty or insincere face Nathan had shown me over the past few days, I really hadn’t been expecting Luke to be right about his money problems. Every payment, from the mortgage on the clinic to Nathan’s medical insurance, had bounced.
Sorry little shit
.

It appeared that the pieces Gunner had been trying to put together last night before we got sidetracked were starting to add up. I wasn’t sure why I was shocked. It wasn’t like Pistol Rock was a hot spot for young and ambitious professionals looking to relocate. Folks either came here to escape a crime, or they were born and raised here and come to the conclusion that there is no escaping. When I thought back over his time here—his time with
me
—Nathan had always been an awkward fit.

I wadded up the checks, grabbed a handful of the bottles, and stuffed them into the back pocket of my jeans. Never mind my badge or my house keys or any other bits of my life that I’d left in his place across the way. No way was I doing anymore waiting around. I pushed through the office door and bolted out the front door.

It was time to leave. I could feel the burning itch under my skin, but I didn’t ever want to have to come back here again. I hustled upstairs and grabbed my badge out of the back of the drawer where I’d left it, then yanked my duffel bag from the closet. Hurriedly, I began to stuff it with the few belongings I’d kept at Nathan’s. A few pieces of my favorite sexy lingerie were missing. I scrabbled through the dirty clothes and shoeboxes scattered about the bottom of the closet, only to come up empty-handed.

Fuck it,
I told myself
, it’s not like you don’t have other pairs of fancy pants.

I zipped my bag and slammed the bedroom door behind me, sprinted down the stairs, and made haste to my truck.

That ominous feeling between my shoulder blades escalated into a full-fledged panic attack at the sound of tires crunching gravel up the driveway. I turned around, stalled with a hand on the door, to see Nathan blocking my escape with his pickup. As I watched, he flung open the door and stepped purposefully out of the cab. Dried mud stuck to the cuffs of his stained jeans, and his shirt was covered in grime and sweat. Dangling from his right hand was the half empty twin to the whiskey bottle I’d found in my kitchen. A slow, evil smile crept across his stony face.

“Leaving so soon, babe?” he asked.

I fumbled with my keys and slung a foot into my truck. “I just came by to pick up my stuff, but Elroy called, says he needs me to come down to the station.”

He narrowed his green eyes, grunted, then chugged back what was left of the whiskey before tossing the empty bottle to the lawn. Then he stepped forward and latched hold of my arm and jerked me out of the truck and onto the gravel. “I need you to see something.” Then he dragged me across the lawn and back through his front door.

He slung me into a chair at the kitchen table and stormed about, slamming cabinets and flinging open the fridge to pull out a beer. He fell back into the door and chugged, watching me while he finished the bottle.

“Well, spit it out,” he ordered while wiping his mouth clean.

It had occurred to me the other night that he might be losing it, but I’d tried as hard as I could to ignore the way he’d treated me and believe it was something passing. Pretty stupid, now that I thought about it, and me some kind of cop and all, but seeing how hostile and dangerous he looked in the morning light, all I could think was to lie through my teeth.

“I’m not sure what you want me to spit out,” I said as calmly as I could. “We broke up last night so I came by to clear up my stuff and get it out of your way. I brought this”—I dug two fingers into the watch pocket of my jeans and dragged out his diamond, glad that I’d thought to retrieve it from the glove compartment before I hit his office—“just in case you changed your mind and wanted it back.”

Nathan rolled up his sleeves and placed his elbows on the table, giving me a frightening smile. “I thought you were a better liar than that, honey. Do you think I’m stupid?” The smile widened as he leaned in closer and whispered, “Tell me, whore, was it easy spreading your legs for Gunner?”

We stared at each other for a tense moment, making assessments of the impending damage. Then he snatched me up by the shirt collar and barreled a fist into my jaw. My upper lip tasted of blood, all tangy and metallic. I blinked, barely able to focus as I scooted back against the wall, and swiped my mouth clean.

He crouched in front of me and jerked my chin up when I flinched. “It’s a pity,” he said, stroking my cheek. “I always thought of you as pretty.”

Trembling with fear, I still managed to capture enough saliva to spit in his face. “Asshole,” I bit out.

He roughly shoved my face away and wrapped a hand around my throat. “You haven’t seen the half of it, darling,” he countered and hauled me savagely to my feet. Eyes on my face, he pulled my handcuffs—fuck, he had
my handcuffs
; the last time I’d seen them, Gunner’d used them to handcuff the guy who’d assaulted me to a pole in front of the station—out of a back pocket. “I think we could use a drive.” He let go of my throat and twisted my arms behind my back, palms outward, and ratcheted the cuffs tightly around my wrists. “We need to sort some things out. Don’t you think?”

A couple of minutes later, I saw my Glock sticking out of the back of his jeans as he strapped me into the back seat of his extended cab.

“Hold on tight,” he told me, “it’s going to be a bumpy ride.” Then he stamped a foot on the gas and gunned it in the direction of my house.

A few minutes later, my house rolled into view. Nathan cut the engine and dragged me out of the truck and toward the house. I tried to jerk free and run, but he caught me. We tussled, but between the handcuffs and Nathan’s fury-enhanced strength, I lost.

Nathan tugged me inside. Nothing could have prepared me for the freak show my living room had become in the short time since I’d left it. Candles lit every table, and roses in every shade of pink made it look like the Pepto-Bismol fairy had lost control of her wand.

“I thought we could honeymoon early.” His voice oozed sweetness as he took the handcuffs off and pulled me into his arms. “I hope you like pink.”

It was a struggle not to gag as I stared into his calm, emotionless face. “You’re crazy,” I said, trying to break free of his hold. “You know that, right?”

A smile creased the corners of his mouth, and his hands sunk down my back to my ass and molded me against his fly. “I drove around all morning debating whether to wash my hands of you. Laney, you almost ruined everything,” he said and squeezed me tighter. “But I’m better now, and I’ve decided to give you a second chance.”

Well, shit me. Was I supposed to feel excited, grateful, or just plain disgusted? I was having trouble picking just one until my nose grazed the stubble cloaking his neck, and I smelled the sour stench of sweat lingering on his skin. That’s when my instinct for self-preservation took hold.

Rocking onto the tips of my boots, I placed my mouth inches from his ear. “I know all about the drugs, Nathan,” I whispered, “and just curious, honey, but was it easy putting that bullet through Bosley’s head?”

Gently, he pushed me away and smiled. “Not as easy as it’ll be to put one through Gunner’s.”

The air caught in my lungs, and my eyes flew wide as he turned his head and planted his tongue between my parted lips. Instinct alone allowed me to go limp, open my mouth, and give him all I had. When he thrust his erection against me, I smiled into his neck, tugged him forward—and rammed a knee into his stiff dick.

“Holy
fuck!
” He fell in a ball on the floor, taking me down with him.

For a moment, I was immobile beneath his weight. Then I pushed him off and reached for the gun stuffed into the small of his back. The cold metal slicked across my palm as I clasped the trigger and gained my footing. I’d barely had time to admire my cleverness when the wind got knocked out of my lungs, and I was on the floor with a boot slamming into my side.

Pulling myself together, I blinked through the bone-deep pain and came face-to-face with Nathan, hovering above me with the 9mm in hand, looking like a rabid dog.

“Thought you had me,” he said, waving the gun at me. “But I know something you don’t.” He looked over his shoulder, and I heard the clump of boots in the hall. Tugging at the elastic waistband of his trousers, Sheriff Dobbs entered the room.

“I have a partner,” Nathan said. He grabbed ahold of my hair and ripped my head forward. “Laney, I think you know Jimmy Dobbs.”

Dobbs squatted to look at me with that dirty, old man smile that always gave me the creeps. “I bet you weren’t expecting this, sweetheart,” he said and spat a string of Copenhagen down the left side of my face.

…