Bridal Falls Ranch Ransom (7 page)

She raised the .41 and searched for the man in blue, the man who’d attempted to kill them.

Next to the flat rock at the side of the pool she spotted him.

A shudder quaked through her body, rippling out from the epicenter smack in the center of her chest. She hesitated. Rage bubbled inside her. It scared the hell out of her, but she tapped into her anger, dialed in a spot just to the right of where the thug stood and squeezed off two rounds, one after the other.

The percussion struck the rocks. Her eardrums rang.

She sucked in a quick breath, laced with the metallic tang of gunpowder. She wasn’t going to be a victim today.

She had four more rounds to prove it.

Defiance gelled in her veins and resurrected her courage.

Raising the pistol again, she took aim, but this time she pointed it straight at the dot of blue and squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Seven

J.P. hesitated next to the tamarack tree to listen, desperate to put a measure of certainty to the dull popping sound coming from the clearing below his position.

Pistol shots. Two of them.

Was it possible he’d danced around the shooter, leaving him a path straight to Eve?

A single muffled pop confirmed his concern, and alarm went viral in his bloodstream. He took off down the mountain at a dead run, jumping over brush and limbs, determined to nail the SOB before he pried Eve from behind the falls.

Ready for a fight, he covered the last twenty feet of his descent and launched into the clearing with his makeshift club raised in battle.

Empty.

Caution raked over his senses as he scanned the edges of the perimeter for threats before stepping forward, focused on the remains of Eve’s tattered sketch pad lying on the ground next to the rock.

His heart rate amped up, sending waves of panic coursing through him. Pulling in a breath, he fought a barrage of horrific images that flashed inside his head.

A large boar hunting knife was stabbed through Eve’s drawing, pinning it to the ground, but he focused on the smudge of blood smeared across the corner of the page.

“Eve!” In two steps he reached the water’s edge and dove in headfirst. Had the kidnapper made good on his threat?

Pushing through the water, he surfaced at the base of the falls. Clawing his way through the narrow slit between the boulders, he prepared for what he might find.

“Ryker!” Eve dodged to the left and pushed up against the rocks with her shoulder. “You scared me!” Taking a deep breath, she willed her heart rate down.

“I heard gunshots.” Pulling himself up into a sitting position, he studied her as he slicked water from his face. His eyes shone vibrant blue and alert. His mesmerizing intensity made her want to move closer.

“He came to the water’s edge. I took aim and fired.”

“You hit him.”

Regret stretched across her thoughts and settled in her chest. “I killed someone?”

“Relax. You didn’t kill anybody. There wasn’t enough blood. You winged him.”

“Blood?” A shudder crept through her. She closed her eyes for an instant to get her emotions under control. She’d seen too much blood. The realization she could have killed the sniper moments ago needled holes in the courage she’d managed to muster when she’d squeezed the trigger.

“Don’t go soft now, Eve,” J.P. said. “If he’d have made it across the pool, I don’t think mercy would have been on his mind. He put a hunting knife through your sketch pad.”

Fear fingered each vertebra of her spine. “You think he planned to hurt me? Cut me up?”

“I think he would have attempted to if he’d gotten in here.”

She tried, but she couldn’t swallow past the knot in her throat. “I want to get out of here. Go back to the ranch. I’m sure by now Edith has alerted Devon that we’re overdue. The crew will come looking for us.”

“Reinforcements. Nice job. Maybe they’ll see the shooter on his way out. Hard to miss a man carrying a .308 rifle, wearing a bloody blue shirt.”

“You found a shell casing?”

“Yeah, and a boot track. Not much, but it could get us a lead.”

Where was the man who’d kissed her less than an hour ago? She suddenly needed him again. Needed to feel his arms around her. Needed to make a connection with him.

J.P. witnessed the shift, watching desire sculpt Eve’s beautiful face and soften her rigid stance as she moved slowly toward him.

Guilt walked over his insides, trampling a blaze of need so hot it stole the breath from his lungs. If he kissed her again, he’d be a goner. He’d never be able to get enough of her brand of intoxication. Better to evade temptation here and now while he was sober.

“About that—”

“Kiss.” She eyed him with a seductive glance that set his libido on fire.

“I took advantage. It won’t happen again.”

Disappointment morphed her features. Her eyes narrowed for an instant before her lips compressed in a tight line.

“I understand. We were both caught up in a Wild West moment, is that it? One hot kiss for the ugly girl before the cowboy swims away.” Turning, she picked up her hat, slipped through the opening in the rocks and disappeared beneath the water before he had time to stop her.

“Dammit.” Irritation crushed his nerves as he picked up the discarded .41 and shoved it in the holster at his side. He had the sensitivity of a box of rocks sometimes. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he had no right to want her like this. To need the stroke of her hand on his skin. The silky sensation of her body next to his. She’d realize that fact once he told her about his involvement in her half sister’s kidnapping case.

Kicking himself ten times harder than she ever could have, he slipped into the water and went deep, breaking the surface of the pool just as Eve reached out to pull the knife out of her sketch pad.

“Stop!” he yelled as he climbed up on shore. “Don’t touch it. It’s evidence.”

She yanked her hand back and collapsed on the grass.

J.P. scanned the clearing for any potential threat, moved to the edge of the rock and sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered without looking up. “I don’t expect you to want me. What man in his right mind would? My face is—”

“Dammit, Eve.” J.P. winced; a surge of frustration circled through his body in a millisecond. “Is that what you think, that you’re damaged goods?”

She looked up. Her blue gaze layered with pain so deep it mirrored the depths of the pool in front of them. His heart squeezed in his chest.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to have your identity ripped from you. Everything I was is gone. Who could bear to look at me when I can’t stand to look at myself? Who could ever live with this?” Reaching up she slapped her palm against the side of her face, partially covering the ruddy patch of scar tissue stretching from her cheekbone all the way down the side of her neck.

Sympathy lodged in his chest. Somehow he had to change her perception to make it match his. Going to his knees next to her, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

A shudder rocked her body. She tried to push away, but he held on to her, refusing to let go. “Everyone’s looks fade, Eve, by accident, by gravity. It’s what’s inside a person that matters. It took guts to defend yourself today. It took guts to fight through your ordeal next to that highway. Your will to survive is your strongest asset now. Use it.”

Eve relaxed against him. It was hopeless to fight him; he was stronger than she was. Unconvinced, she let his words soak into her brain, but it was his nearness that acted like balm on her soul. How long had it been since anyone had spoken to her with any sort of reason?

Her therapist? Sometimes. Her mother and stepfather? Once in a while. Thomas? Never.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then pushed back and stood up. “Let me have a look at your arm.”

He came to his feet and turned his left shoulder toward her. “It’s a flesh wound. Probably done bleeding by now.”

“Good, because I need my veil back.”

Slanting a look in J.P.’s direction, she saw a measure of defeat play across his features.

“What? I’m not going to show my face to everyone. That’s my choice.”

“You showed it to me.” He caught and held her gaze. A cord of attraction passed between them, locking them in its web.

“You’re different.” Reaching out, she untied the knot holding the veil in place and worked to avoid his eyes. He had her on this one, but she wasn’t sure how to explain the new awareness circulating inside her. What did she feel?

Trust? Yes. She trusted J.P. Ryker. With her life and her marred face. Of that she was certain.

Freeing the veil from his arm, she dabbed at the shallow wound. “Any deeper, you’d be in serious trouble.”

“Thank you, Nurse Ratchet.”

Amused, she turned for the water and rinsed the blood out of the filmy fabric, then wrung it out and shook it free in the afternoon breeze.

Grabbing her hat up off the flat rock, she secured the veil to it and positioned it on her head. She bent over, picked up the baggie of assorted pencils the gunman’s bullet had left untouched, straightened and shoved them in her back pocket.

“I’m going to need your satchel for the evidence.” He motioned to the knife and her sketch pad.

“Sure.” Eve reached down and picked up the bag.

“Hold it open for a minute.”

She watched him unfasten the button at his sleeve cuff, then work to pull the wet fabric down around his fingers.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Protecting evidence. The shooter had to have touched the handle of the knife. Maybe we can recover a print if he wasn’t wearing gloves.” Pivoting away from her, he turned his back.

“Oh.” Heat rippled through her body as she watched him go to his knees. The fabric of his shirt pulled tight across the broad expanse of his upper back and shoulders, molding to every gorgeous layer of muscle.

Her mouth went cake-flour dry. Annoyed with herself for staring, she turned her gaze on a focal point above him and tried to get her brain to track.

“Eve.”

“Huh?”

“The satchel. Can you bring it over here and hold it open?”

“Yeah.” Refocused, she stepped close to him and held the bag open, watching him lower the knife slowly in.

“One more thing.” He squeezed the remains of her sketch pad in half and forced it, bloody smudge side down, into the satchel along with the knife.

Pushing to his feet, he took the bag from her. “Are you okay? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine. Let’s ride,” she said as she turned and headed for the trail opening where the horses were tied. “I have to get back to the ranch and redraw the gown while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

J.P. stared after her, unsure if anything he’d said a minute ago had changed her perspective; he hoped it had. Goose bumps erupted on his arms, making him aware the sun had dipped behind the mountains. The air held a decisive bite. It didn’t help that his clothes were wet and his weapon almost empty.

Caution worked his nerves. They had to get off the mountain before dusk settled in to obscure their visibility. The shooter could be waiting for them anywhere along the trail.

J.P. hurried to where Eve had untied their horses and put the satchel of evidence into his saddlebag. “Do you think Devon will come looking for us?” Looping the reins over his horse’s head, he reached out and hung on to Eve’s mare while she shoved her foot into the stirrup and mounted up.

“We’re three hours overdue.”

J.P. put his boot in the stirrup and swung aboard. “We’ve got to push these horses if we want to make it home before dark.”

Eve nodded, then reined her horse onto the trail and trotted away. J.P. took up the rear, scanning the woods for movement as he listened to the steady clip-clop of the horses’ progress.

Devon Hall knew Eve was in danger. He’d told him as much. With any luck he’d come armed with more than a damn pistol. Still, if Eve had wounded the shooter badly enough, he was probably long gone by now and seeking medical attention somewhere. The possibility could provide them with a clue to his identity. The closest hospital in Cascade would be required by law to report a gunshot wound to the police.

In the distance the spiking notes of a wolf’s howl raised another round of cold creeps on his arms and across his chest. Tapping his heels against his horse’s flanks, he moved up alongside Eve, determined to come between her and anything they might encounter on the trail.

“What’s the matter, city boy? Never heard a wolf call?”

“Something like that.” He was pretty sure she was grinning under her hat. “I can belt out a mean wolf whistle, but I’m more concerned by the prospect of coming face-to-face with a man and his .308.”

Reaching up, she flipped the veil up onto the brim of her hat and shot him a worried glance. “You think he’s that determined to kill me?”

“I’m not sure.” They topped out on the peak of the ridge and started their descent along its spine, riding side by side in the gathering dusk.

“But it seems unlikely he’d shoot you if he wanted you to pay the ransom.”

“Maybe he was aiming for you.”

J.P. considered her suggestion. Granted, he would have to be lying on a slab before he ever let anything happen to her. But who knew that? Who knew with him out of the way, Eve would be vulnerable?

“Who knows I’m here to protect you and find the kidnapper threatening you?” he asked, breaking right with her onto the main trailhead.

“Edith and my parents who are in Europe for the next month.”

“What about the friend who referred you to me, Tina Davis?”

“I didn’t give her any details.”

“That leaves Devon Hall who knows you’re in some sort of danger.”

“Well, someone else has to know. I’d trust Edith and my folks with my secrets, and I have.”

The trail turned hard to the left, but Eve reined in her horse. “Whoa. Do you hear that?”

“What?” J.P. pulled back on the reins and sat taller in the saddle. “Hoofbeats. Coming up the trail toward us.”

“It could be Devon,” she whispered.

Concern sluiced in his veins. “Take cover.”

Without hesitation, she maneuvered her horse around behind a clump of buck brush and pulled up short.

He urged his mount around the twist in the trail as a riderless horse trotted toward him. Devon Hall’s horse?

“Hold up,” he urged the animal, catching the blood bay by one of the loose reins swinging from its bridle. “Easy,” he coaxed, watching the horse’s eyes widen in fear. “Eve.”

Trotting out onto the trail, Eve stopped her mare next to J.P.

“That’s Devon’s gelding, Hannigan.” She stared down the trail in front of them. “He had to have come this direction.” In the descending darkness, her eyes picked out a form sprawled in the middle of the path.

“Look! There he is.” Worried energy infused her body. She spurred Ginger forward, only to be stopped when J.P. reached out and caught one of her horse’s reins before she could move past him.

“Whoa, Eve.”

“I’m not a horse.” She glared at him, doubting he could even see her expression in the gathering gloom. “He’s injured!”