Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) (5 page)

“That’s a hard question for me to answer, Sheriff. I really don’t know. I know Stratford seems to have something he’s holding over Montgomery, which was why the latter tolerates his presence in the town. After all, it used to be all Stratford land.” Trent knew Stratford had sold a big parcel of land to Montgomery to establish the ranch. “Stratford hangs out more with the twins.”

“Twins?” Trent stiffened. “Both of them?”

“Well, yeah. There’d been rumors for a while that Stratford was sleeping with Cassie after that unfortunate incident with Stratford’s cousin.”

“What unfortunate incident?”

“I’d just joined the sheriff’s department then, but six years ago, when Cassie was twenty-four, she was dating Stratford’s cousin. He was hospitalized...”

“Hospitalized for what?”

“Stratford had the hospital records sealed, so I really don’t know what happened. A date gone bad. Stratford’s cousin got too excited with uh, you know, and Cassie got pissed. He ended up in bad shape and was hauled away in an ambulance. But the deputies who responded to the scene said he was cursing her and calling her a bad lay.”

Trent wondered how Cassie put up with such notoriety. It wouldn’t be easy. Was that why she was prickly? “Wait, you said Stratford had the records sealed? She’s not a minor. Where’s the cousin now?” Trent had an overwhelming urge to beat the guy up, but it seemed Cassie had already done so. “Did he just keep quiet?”

“He left town shortly thereafter, never to be heard from again. Stratford took Cassie in, making it known in the whole county that she was off limits to gossip. Also, he protected her, basically barring any man from ever making a play for Cassie again. That was how the rumor started that he wanted her for himself. There’d also been hushed talks from the deputies who responded to the incident that Cassie was hard to control. I think she was thrown into lockup for twenty-four hours. There were also rumors that she was crazy.”

“Where was Montgomery and her brother when this was happening?”

“Oh, they were working in the background. I think that’s when an unlikely partnership sprung between Montgomery and Stratford, although they were rarely seen together.”

“So you’re saying Cassie is not Stratford’s woman?”

“Old news. I don’t think they’ve ever been together, seeing that Wyatt Stratford has a steady string of girlfriends. Poor Cassie though, I think she’s infatuated with him.”

Trent’s mouth tightened. There was no denying he was experiencing a stab of jealousy. He’d never reacted this way to any woman before. Although it was probably his imagination, there was some vulnerability behind her tough exterior, some innocence she was trying to hide, and it called to his protective side.

“Sheriff, I got to tell you.” Brooks hesitated for a beat as if gauging his receptivity. “Although Stratford barred any local guy from making a play for Cassie, it doesn’t mean she’s celibate or...” His deputy’s voice trailed off, as if trying to find the right words.

“You said she likes men just fine.” Trent reminded Brooks of what he had told him.

“Yes. She’s never had a relationship that I know of since that incident with Stratford’s cousin. I mean, she’s had a few hookups, but never with a local guy and never for more than two weeks, and she likes them rough looking.”

Trent narrowed his eyes, not liking what he was hearing. “And you know this because?”

“Men talk. You know when we go out for beers and stuff. I know a couple of our deputies tried to make a play for her, Stratford be damned, but she shot them down. They said they’d see her at a bar with a guy for a week or two. And then the guy’s gone and she’d be hanging out again with her brother or the diner owner.”

“Millie?”

“Yes. Ms. Cross.”

In some ways, men could be the worst gossips, especially when there was unrequited attention involved.

“Are you trying to warn me off Ms. Reed, Brooks?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Sheriff.” His deputy’s face reddened. “I just don’t want to see you getting hurt and you seem a lot interested.”

He is, dammit. Am I that obvious?

“You get I’m a man of thirty-six?” Trent asked instead.

“Well, yeah.”

“I spent ten years in the army in more hostile territories than you can ever imagine.”

Brooks nodded.

“I’m not a teenage boy experiencing his first love, Brooks.” Trent’s voice held an amusement he wasn’t feeling, because Cassie was indeed stirring heady emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’ve been hardened by war and I’ve had four failed relationships. I think I can handle a little rejection.”
 

Brooks looked doubtful.
 

“And that is if I were interested,” Trent added for good measure. “Which I’m not.”

It was a lie, of course. His survival instincts were telling him to stay away from her, and yet every other cell in his body yearned to see her again.
 

He was fucked.

CHAPTER FOUR

Her feet pounded the grassy shoulder of Route 623. The weighted vest she was wearing was beginning to slow her down, but she had to build up her endurance since she’d been slacking for the past few months. It didn’t sit well with her that Lucas had whooped her ass so easily in the boxing ring yesterday. They were both MMA fighters for Wyatt’s illegal fighting matches. These tournaments were held in the far reaches of the county between two rock formations in the cover of night and illuminated by tiki torches. A very primitive setting that played up the mystique of the fight. No one could fault Wyatt for lack of imagination and gimmick. Contenders would arrive via off-road vehicles, and occasionally via helicopters, but the latter was discouraged because of the attention it might attract. Bets were made online on an interface that ensured full anonymity and proved untraceable by the feds on the Darknet.
 

Cassie leaped over debris on the road and continued running while pumping her arms to give her more speed. Six years ago, she went through what was called the “gloaming.” The time in her kind’s life when their extreme strength rapidly disappeared. When they become nothing more than human. Emotions clogged her throat at the loss. What accompanied the “gloaming” was months of aggression as her testosterone levels fluctuated with the plunge in HGH—Human Growth Hormone. She’d wanted to beat the crap out of everyone and to control everything. For example, sex. That was when she had broken Tommy’s arm. He’d been clumsy and was trying to force himself on her; she went a bit crazy. In an effort to save face, he began spreading rumors that she was lousy in bed. Boy, did that sting, and though she’d had sexual relations with other guys since then, she couldn’t bring herself to let go during the act. So she avoided sex unless her vibrator wasn’t doing its job. But that incident with Tommy had sparked Wyatt’s suspicion of their “otherness.” She’d had one of her episodes when there were some “visitors” at the ranch, and she managed to take down three of them before Colt shot her with a horse tranquilizer. Wyatt unexpectedly dropped by and witnessed that. It was then Wyatt put forth the idea of using Cassie in his underground fights. Back then, they were no more than smalltime, redneck, backyard entertainment. Cassie, of course, had the unfair advantage when she could easily beat male fighters even when she tried to dial it down. As her strength diminished, she had to fight more within her weight and gender class, but she and Lucas had catapulted Wyatt’s little pastime into a lucrative business. He had other strong fighters now who Lucas had been training at the gym. Colt had talked to the twins about retiring when Cassie had suffered her first loss eighteen months ago. Wyatt had promised one last fight. And then another. Even though she had experience now to offset the loss in strength, she knew her days were numbered. The beatings were starting to take their toll, and she was recovering less quickly.

Cassie was so deep in her thoughts, she didn’t register the revving of an engine through the music in her headphones until it was almost too late. She attempted to jump out of the way as something black and metal tried to plow her down. It still managed to catch her hip, sending her flying across the shoulder into a shallow ditch full of rocks.

Her head and right side exploded in pain. Her vision dimmed at the edges as she fought against blacking out. Pushing to her knees, every nerve ending in her body screamed with adrenalin, ready to fight in case someone returned to finish her off. But no one came. She forced herself to stand, gritting her teeth as her body protested.
Pain is a lying bitch, Scout. You can’t feel any pain.
Didn’t her mentors at Chrysalis teach her that? She walked, or rather, limped along. She was wearing running shorts and there was a lot of blood dripping down her right leg, but it was probably because all the blood had pumped into her limbs when she’d been running. Damn it, the ranch was a good two miles away. She took off her weighted vest and dragged it behind her. It was going to be a long, excruciating trek, and though she was thankful for the shade provided by the trees, it did nothing for the stifling humidity of high noon on a Georgia summer.
 

She’d probably been walking ten minutes when she heard a vehicle approaching. This wasn’t a much traveled road, so whoever wanted to kill her must have decided to finish the job. Her eyes quickly scanned the ground for a weapon. Spotting a broken tree limb and a baseball-sized rock, she bent down and retrieved the items, nearly buckling from the shooting pain in her leg. When she straightened and turned around, ready to throw the rock into the windshield, she realized in dismay who had come upon her.

The sheriff.

Just her luck.
 

He got out of his truck and stalked toward her, his eyes deeply assessing and his face thunderous with rage

“Cassie? What the fuck happened to you?”

*****

After only three days of mental conflict, Trent found himself driving toward Montgomery Ranch. He’d tried calling earlier to let Cassie know he was dropping by to check on her to make sure Bowman wasn’t still bothering her. It was a lame excuse to see her, but it was all he had. A man with a husky, strained voice, like he’d been smoking all his life, answered the phone instead of the answering service this time. His name was Mac, although Trent later found out from Brooks that his name was Dugal McKenzie, who was the caretaker of the stables.
 

Route 623 was a narrow but picturesque drive shaded by a canopy of trees on either side. About half a mile in, he saw some skid marks that were out of place on an isolated road like this. It wasn’t raining and there was foliage aplenty, so the wildlife didn’t have to venture from the woods to forage. The tracks looked fresh, but he could be mistaken. Did it happen last night?

His investigative brain soon took an alarming turn when he spotted a female form hobbling along the side of the road.

Cassie.
 

Upon hearing his vehicle approach, he watched her scramble almost to the ditch and quickly turn around with her arm thrown back as if she was about to pitch a baseball. The stark relief on her face sharpened the protective instinct in him. But when he took in the blood on the side of her head and down her leg, it didn’t take a detective to figure out that she’d been attacked. Rage threatened to snap his control as he took a deep breath before getting out of his truck. He walked steadily toward her, noting a hint of guilt on her face. He filed this away because his mind and his chest were too full for further processing.

“Cassie?” he growled. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“I was out running.” She dropped her impromptu weapons. “I stumbled and rolled into the ditch.” She gave a fake laugh as if chiding herself for her clumsiness.

Taking another deep breath, Trent said, “Let’s try this again. What happened to you?”

“I told you—”

“Stop. Lying,” Trent gritted through clenched teeth. “There were skid marks about a third of a mile from here. What happened?”

“It seems you’ve already pieced the events in your mind,” Cassie replied dryly.
 

“I’m not in the mood for your sass, Cassandra!”

She waved her hand toward the direction of the skid marks. “A vehicle deliberately tried to hit me. Or maybe scare me.”

“Did you get a good look at the make and model?”

“No, just its color. Black.”

“Come on,” Trent grabbed her arm firmly to lead her into his truck, but she jerked against his hold.

“I’ll get blood all over your seat.”

Trent glanced heavenward, praying for patience. When he stared back down at her, he said, “Cassie, either you get in the pickup willingly or I’m physically putting you in it. Make your choice, but either way you’re with me.”

Defiance lit her eyes as her mouth pressed together in a stubborn line, but he gave her as good as he got. With his hand not holding her, he opened the passenger door. “What’s it gonna be, hellcat?”

“Did you just nickname me?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and Trent had no idea why he found her reaction so adorable. He fought the grin forming on his lips as she held his eyes for three seconds longer before getting up into his truck without another word.

Considering this a triumph, especially when dealing with her, he allowed himself a small smile as he rounded the vehicle to get in beside her.
 

*****

“The ranch is the other way!” Cassie cried in alarm as the sheriff executed a three-point turn to direct the truck back to the way he came from.

“I’m taking you to County Hospital.”
 

Oh. Hell. No.

“Turn back.”

“No.”

“Turn the hell back!”

“You need to get looked at.” Trent glared at her. “There’s a bump on your head. You might have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion. I fall off horses all the time and I do know how to land.” Partial lie, because she didn’t anticipate this, and she did hit her head on something, but she didn’t black out.

“No wonder,” he muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m not budging, Cassie. You’re going to see a doctor.”