Midnight Sins (51 page)

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What the hell was going on? Why was Archer

Tobias arriving in his official SUV. Whatever it was, it

couldn’t be a good thing. It never had been before

when the sheriff had shown up. Though, Rafe had to

admit, Archer was a damned sight better sheriff than

his father had ever even considered being.

“Sheriff’s here,” he told his cousins quietly as that

feeling of panicked need, that urge to hurry and get to

Cami intensified.

Immediately Logan and Crowe were up and

moving.

They didn’t bother racing to their rooms to dress.

They snagged the jeans, T-shirts, socks, boots, and

jackets they kept in the boot room just for such times.

Those times when they were too lazy to dress and

could have regretted it.

By time Archer Tobias pulled into the drive and

parked, they were dressed and ready for whatever the

world, karma, or fate decided to throw at them. They

were also waiting at the end of the drive for him.

The cameras were on and recording, audio was

functioning, and everything set to record anything that

might or might not affect the final outcome if Archer

had arrived in any official capacity.

They were stepping through the gate as Archer

stepped from the vehicle, his expression heavy

enough that Rafe felt that first tight clench of his chest.

Moving from the vehicle, Archer faced the three

of them, though his gaze was clearly focused on Rafe.

There was something in Archer’s eyes that had a

small, shadowed corner of Rafer’s soul clenching in

terror.For the first time in his life, Rafe refused to allow

the impulsive intuition he sometimes carried free.

“What are you doing here, Arch?” Rafe growled.

“I’m sorry about this, Rafe.” Archer shook his

head as he breathed out wearily. “I need to know

where you were last night after you left the dance.”

Rafe felt his jaw lock. Every damned time there

was a robbery, an attempted rape, a stolen car,

whatever, it seemed the sheriff headed to the ranch if

they were in town.

First it had been Archer’s father, and now it was

Archer. The fucking past kept repeating itself, and

each time it did so, it just pissed Rafe the hell off

more. He was damned sick of it too.

“We came back here, Archer,” Crowe informed

him when Rafe refused to answer.

“Did anyone see you?” Archer glanced above

their heads to one of the few cameras that could

possibly be detected. If a person was knowledgeable

enough to know what to look for. “Do you have a time

stamp on the recording the camera would have

made?”

“I have a stamp,” Crowe said. Rafe felt his lip

curling in disgust that Archer was even here for the

Corbin bastards.

And hell yes, Rafe’s cameras were timestamped.

The cousins had learned early to protect

themselves, and they’d learned to make damned sure

to watch every step they made where this was

concerned.

They didn’t take chances. They’d learned young

to watch their backs against circumstantial evidence.

Archer tilted his hat back and propped his hands

on his hips as he stared back at them. “I just asked,

Crowe.” He turned back to Rafe.

“And I just answered you definitively,” Crowe

informed him. “That way, there’s no

misunderstanding.”

“I didn’t expect we would have a

misunderstanding.” Archer’s gaze connected with

Rafe’s. “Would anyone know how to mess with your

system? How to make certain your arrival wasn’t

recorded?”

Rafe glanced at his cousins as they shook their

heads, their gazes sharpening on Archer’s now. “We

don’t spread our business around, Arch,” Rafe told

him. “But to answer your question, no, no one should

know anything about the system or even that it exists.”

They had friends now, where they hadn’t had

before, security specialists who had assisted in the

installation and programming of a security and

surveillance system that would be almost impossible

to crack.

But the questions Archer was asking had that

cold, tight fist to Rafe’s chest clenching again. He

could feel it; something wasn’t right. Something had

happened.

Something had happened that Archer was

hesitating to tell him.

That meant something that could potentially force

Rafe or all three Callahan cousins to lose the control

they had kept such a firm grip on in the past months.

There were few things that could or would

threaten that control.

For Rafe, there was only danger or harm to his

cousins or to—

Rafe felt his body tense.

The truth was there in Archer’s eyes, in the

somber cast of his expression. And there was only

one connection they had that would put that look in the

sheriff’s eyes.

“Ah God,” Rafe whispered, feeling as though he

were choking, ready to gag from the implications of

that look. “Fuck, is she okay?”

He could feel the world suddenly threatening to

crash down on him. Not Cami. Ah God, please,

please not his Cami.

Logan and Crowe jerked toward Rafe as

Archer’s hands dropped from his waist, one hand on

his weapon.

Cami. Sweet God in heaven.
Ah God, something

had happened to Cami.

“How did you know?”

“Answer me, damn you.” Rafe could himself

begin to lose his control, fury building, burning.

Evidently Archer saw something in Rafe’s eyes,

that killing rage Rafe could feel beginning to burn

inside him. It convinced the sheriff to start explaining

fast.

“She’s alive. Bruised, scared to damned death,

and suffering a concussion, the doctor thinks, but

she’s alive. She was still unconscious the last I saw

her, but before she passed out she was asking for

you,” he sighed.

“We’ll follow you and the sheriff, Rafe,” Crowe

told him as he pulled his keys from his pocket, his

attention focused on getting to Sweetrock, rather than

the sheriff or any other questions he might have. “We’ll

bring her back to the ranch.”

“Now, hold on,” Archer began to protest.

“Argue on the way to the hospital,” Rafe

suggested as he strode to the sheriff’s vehicle. “I don’t

have time for this; let’s roll out.”

He was jerking open the passenger side door

and sliding into the passenger seat as he pushed

aside a clipboard, a book of tickets, and several other

packets that lay there.

“I didn’t invite you to ride with me,” Archer

informed him, though he slid into the driver’s seat and

put the vehicle in gear.

Behind them, Crowe and Logan threw dirt and

gravel as Crown’s Denali tore from the drive and

raced ahead of them.

“I’m going to give those bastards a ticket,” Archer

muttered.

“Wait until we get to the hospital,” Rafe

suggested. “But tell me what happened.”

Archer pulled out onto the main road and laid his

foot to the gas to catch up with Crowe and Logan.

“She was attacked last night just after arriving

home from the social,” Archer told him. “Her alarms

went off, alerting her neighbors and calling nine-oneone.

When I got there, she was leaning against the

bottom of the staircase. It looks like he hit her in the

head several times, and he has a hell of a fist if her

head is anything to go by. She was displaying signs

of a concussion, a severe one if my guess is right.

Her dress was ripped down the front and she kept

saying your name. It took me forever to figure out she

was asking for you rather than accusing you. Just

before she passed out, she said she had to ‘warn

Rafer.’”

She was asking for him. She was trying to warn

him, of something.

His pride had done this. If he had gone with her

as he’d intended, followed her home, and slipped in

the back door, then he would have been there for her.

She wouldn’t have been hurt. He would have made

certain of it. He would have never allowed some

bastard to lay the first hand on her.

“You should have called me sooner.” His fists

were clenched at his knees, the need for blood

pounding through his veins. “Waiting wasn’t a good

idea, Archer.”

The sheriff should have called immediately.

They’d be discussing that when Archer wasn’t driving

and Rafe wasn’t desperate to get to Cami.

“I’ve been a bit busy, Rafer,” Archer informed him

mockingly. “There was a friend to get to the hospital

for X-rays and MRI. There was a crime scene to

process. All those sheriffy little things that take up so

much damned time.”

“You could have saved close to thirty minutes by

simply calling me.”

“I had to make sure you had the camera proof

that you were here when she was attacked,” Archer

stated. “I wasn’t certain and I had to be certain that the

cameras on the outside of the house were cameras

or really the birdhouses that were built around them. I’ll

need your permission to have the security consultants

copy the digital and send it to me.”

“Get a fucking warrant,” Rafe snapped. “Fuck the

bastards that don’t want to believe what’s right in front

of your eyes. Do you think I’d fucking hurt Cami,

Archer? I thought we knew each other better than

that.”

Archer’s hands tightened around the steering

wheel, his knuckles turning white as his jaw clenched,

the muscle there flexing rapidly before he spoke.

“Rafe, there was a yellow ribbon tied around her

bed pillow,” Archer finally stated as he sliced a hard

glare toward him. “I’m sure you know exactly what kind

of response that news is going to raise when it gets

out.”

Rafe froze.

A yellow ribbon around her pillow. It could only

mean one thing and that simply wasn’t possible.

“He’s dead. Crowe killed him twelve years ago,

Archer. Thomas Jones can’t be killing again.”

“Yeah, I know he’s supposed to be fucking dead,”

Archer burst out furiously. “Son of a bitch, he’s a

fucking nightmare for this town, Rafe. Do you think I

wanted to see that goddamned ribbon and its perfect

bow tied around the pillow on Cami’s bed? The one

opposite the one she slept on. The one a lover or a

husband would use.”

The yellow ribbon.

Thomas Jones had tied a yellow ribbon around a

pillow of each of his victims’ bed pillows. Never the

pillow they used. Always the pillow a lover would use.