Stallion of Ash and Flame (Siren Publishing Classic) (15 page)

“I put it in the oatmeal.”

“No wonder Ignition acted jealous. You must smell like a horse to him.”

She’d said it lightly, jokingly. Trail couldn’t help wondering what her reaction would be when she found out he could shift into a stallion. Of course, her deepest self knew the truth.

He sat across from her, watching as she tasted a fork full of the scrambled eggs. “Not bad,” she complimented. “Especially if I remember this is the Sheriff’s brain after you get done with it. Good Lord, I’m a bundle of nerves.”

He snorted a small chuckle. “Believe it or not, I didn’t remember I’d said that. You wore me out, honey. I was hungry.”

She eyed him a moment. “I’m not certain I did...actually. That must be an extra potent oat crop you grow in your world.”

“Around three hundred varieties,” he admitted.

She shook her fiery copper hair back. Even though she’d used barrettes to pin it back, her long tresses draped over her shoulders. “Good job taking care of the horses. Thanks.”

After polishing off his eggs and taking a long swallow of his coffee, he offered, “I’ll prove my worth, yet.”

Finished, she shoved her plate away. “Kind of hard to make the leap. First, I’m thinking of you as a hired hand. Now—” She didn’t continue. “Should be a quiet day as far as anyone showing up to ride. I left a note on the announcement board saying I was out running errands for the day. Course, with my luck someone will show up when bad-guy butt is here.”

Standing, she picked up their plates. “I’ll let Luke and Spook do a preliminary cleaning on all the dishes. Then I should move the pickup, so it looks like I’m gone.”

“Want me to move it behind Rory’s workshop?” He kept his tone neutral and low.

She blew out a sigh, her shoulders dropping with the weight of her life, with the ferocity of their circumstances. “Yeah, cowboy, I’ll get the keys.”

“The ones hanging by the door?”

She nodded.

“I got it,” he assured, rising.

“What’s Pork Belly waiting for?” she tersely snapped.

“He wants to catch you off guard, make it look like just a routine round of questions.”

“The good ole’ boy, then shoot you in the back approach.” She whirled around, headed for Luke and Spook.

“That’s the one, honey,” he murmured to himself, striding for the front door.

Grabbing her keys off the hook, he psi-felt for the correct key, matching the frequency of her truck with the ignition key. He walked outside as if doing a hired-hand job for her and sensed the firestorm of events about to occur. It was as if he could smell it on the warming winds gently sweeping over him.

Rory’s workshop sat between the house and the stable, located far enough away that the backside wasn’t visible to anyone who arrived to visit their horses. Parking, he stepped out and scanned all around him for several moments. Automatically, he flowed his palm above the tire tracks, erasing them as he moved back to the house.

His boot hit the first step of the porch, and he heard Chief’s warning the same time he saw Sheriff Colgan’s patrol car pulling onto the highway in his mind’s eye.

She opened the door. “He’s coming, isn’t he?”

Trail gave her one nod. “I won’t be far behind.” Their gazes met and locked as she stepped outside, letting the door slam.

“No.” She halted before him, standing on the second step. “Go watch over the horses. Make sure nothing happens to them.”

Despite his savage urge to deny her, Trail didn’t argue with her. This was what she needed, to feel in control. “Yes, ma’am.”

He wheeled around, breaking into a trot toward the stable while streaking his awareness toward her and connecting them. Now he could observe and feel everything that happened and know when to intervene, all while taking a tour of the Sheriff’s mind.

From the shaded entrance of the stable, he watched her stride resolutely down her drive until she disappeared. Floating his sixth sense above her, he felt her volatile, yet cold determination to take on her enemy. Part of it had been born out of her sheer disgust and outrage over his immoral criminal activities. Yet, most of it was for her brother. Her fists were clenched, her nails digging into her palms. Her chin jutted with challenge.

Once Sheriff Colgan turned onto her drive, she marched faster, intercepting his effort to drive around her. She planted herself in front of his car and folded her arms. He felt her enraged glare.

Sheriff Colgan took his time getting out of his car, finally emerging as if he’d arrived to do her favor, and she better be grateful for it. He hitched up his gun belt before striding a few steps alongside his car.

“Stay off of my property, Sheriff. If you got something to say, say it.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you was waitin’ for me to show up. Is that true, Ms. Winston?” The Sheriff aimed a deadly glance at her.

“Sure, suit yourself, Sheriff.” She cocked a hip. “I saw your car when I came down to get Chief.” She abruptly waved her arm in the paint’s direction. “Are you going to arrest me for that?”

“I had a complaint against you.” He paused, waiting for her to beg and crawl into his trap.

“Why, Sheriff, if I chased after you every time I received a complaint against you, I wouldn’t get anything else done.” She glared like a pissed off goddess, and Trail had seen a few of those.

“This is serious, Seneca.” His voice boomed with authority, and his palm rested on top of his gun butt.

“I’m serious,” she shot back. “This is harassment.”

“I have a complaint I need to check out. And you can start by answering a few questions.” He took another couple of steps toward her.

She didn’t move an inch. “You can start by answering my questions. Who made the complaint?”

“Why, you know I can’t tell you that.” His tone both wheedled and demanded. “Let’s get this over and done with. I’m gonna have a look around your property. And you’re
gonna to be polite, young lady, while I take a look.”

“What are you looking for?” Ice vied with the fire racing through her veins.

“I had a complaint of marijuana. One of your boarding people smelled it.”

“Is that so? Where’s your search warrant?” She angled her head like a fighter about to throw one wicked punch. “In fact, where’s the SWAT team? Or are they on their way?”

“Thought I’d give a look see, first. Make it easier on all of us.”

“Why? Is the complainee not reliable? Gee,” she sarcastically sliced, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you just want my little ranch for your very own.” She paused, icing him with a stare. “Bring the evidence with you...Sheriff?”

He gave her an exasperated glare, hatred in his stone-cold eyes. “I’m about to arrest you for obstructing an officer in his duty.”

“What duty? The duty to plant weed and take away an innocent person’s property?”

Pointing his finger like a weapon, Sheriff Colgan looked like a man about to blow his top higher than a volcano. “You think you got rights, missy. You ain’t got squat or piss. Your precious property is inside the Constitution Free zone. One hundred miles from the Mexican border. I can do whatever I want.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “Why? Are you secretly joined at the hip with Homeland Security?”

It was Pork Belly’s turn to pause. Furious as a frustrated bull, his face reddened. He stabbed his finger back toward his car window. “I can get on the horn right now and call Homeland Security.”

She hesitated for one heartbeat. “While you’re at it, why don’t you get a search warrant?”

“I don’t need no stinkin’ search warrant,” he thundered. “I told you I got every right to search your place, where I want, and for as long as I want. And I want to start now.” He lurched forward.

She took a step to the side in reaction. “Since this is a so-called Constitution Free zone, I assume I don’t have to abide by any rules or regulations, either. Or give any due consideration to your rights as an individual.”

“What the fuck?” His jaw went slack before he curled his lips tightly in a snarl. “You’ll do exactly as you’re told, bitch.”

“Got the camera rolling, Sheriff? This is a legitimate call, isn’t it? You know, you signed off on it, or something like that.”

“You give me one more instant of trouble or mouth, I’m arresting your brother—”

“No, you won’t,” she coldly interrupted. “I’ve got you on vid, making drug deals.”

Sheriff Colgan froze, still as if he’d been shot with a thermal ray gun.

Stunned himself, Trail didn’t begin his brain scrambling technique soon enough. His alteration was fended off by the Fire Starter who psi-shielded their human tool. Shedding his clothes with his phase ability, he shifted to full-blooded stallion and charged out of the stable, his hooves digging into the gravel and dirt.

Knowing he could race faster on the grass beside the drive, he changed course slightly, his hooves now pounding on the ground and tearing up the turf. The instant he saw her, he screamed his intent to do battle, his ears flattening. She backed away from Sheriff Colgan, who advanced dangling a pair of handcuffs. Hearing him, she spun around. Both of them stared, their bodies paralyzed as he galloped like a demon toward them.

“You better control that stallion of yours, or I’ll shoot him straight in the heart.”

“He’s not mine. I don’t know who he is.” He watched her seize the opportunity to put more distance between herself and Pork Belly.

Drojovv heard the slide of the Sheriffs gun out of the holster. He sprinted, stretching his neck out, ready to sink his teeth in and rip out a huge hunk of the flesh. He could taste it already.

“No,” she shouted. “Don’t shoot him.” Stepping between him and the Sheriff, she called, “Here, boy. Come here.”

Keeping his fierce stride, Drojovv jumped to a new course and targeted the side of the patrol car. Wheeling around, he lashed out with a hind foot, cracking, then smashing in the back passenger window.

“Shit! I swear I’m gonna kill that crazy horse.”

Spinning around to the rear of the car, Drojovv dug his back hooves in and reared. Furiously, he drummed his front hooves on the trunk, leaving imprints. His blood savage to protect her, and to kill, he struck the hood until Sheriff Colgan rushed him. Bugling, he leapt down, charging as Pork Belly raised his revolver.

“No!” He heard her scream, trying to protect him from the bullets.

Seeing through his blood-red rage, he snaked his neck. His teeth trapped the Sheriff’s forearm, and he crunched down, then ruthlessly twisted. The gun flew out of Pork Belly’s grip. He grimaced with excruciating pain, and grunted, not yelling because obviously shock had him in its grip. Drojovv head-butted him against the side of the car. Rearing, he attacked with his hooves, pummeling his chest and shoulders until he was utterly cowed.

Wild with the need to make certain Seneca would never be harmed, Drojovv flailed his hooves around the Sheriff’s upper torso. Both car windows shattered.

“Get him off me. Get him off me,” Pork Belly pleaded. He clutched at the door handle.

“He’s not my horse. I don’t know his name,” she shouted. “What the hell do you want me to do? I don’t have a cell phone. I can’t call 911.”

Drojovv dropped down to his front hooves. His muscles bunched to launch another attack. He eyed his enemy’s upper arm, then threatened with his teeth. Blazing with power, the stench of Sheriff Colgan’s panic pleased him.

“Shoot him. He’s feral.”

“And if I miss, hit you with your own gun?”

“Shit, shoot his ass. I don’t care. Just get him away from me.”

“Gee, Sheriff, if only I had my own gun.” Her voice cut brutally. “But then you would have tried to shoot me down.”

Drojovv felt her approach him carefully.

“Just get him away from me. I’ll leave.”

“Come here,” she crooned softly. “Come on, big guy.” She moved closer, until she stood near enough to touch him. “You’ve won. I promise.” Very slowly, she reached out, her hand flattening on his neck. “I’m going to take your belt off.” She spoke to the Sheriff. “Don’t move.”

Drojovv snorted his own command to Pork Belly and pawed once.

“Okay, yeah, do it.” Sweat poured in rivulets down the side of his blood-drained face.

Keeping her palm on his neck, she gradually worked the belt free. “Okay, big guy, I’m going to loop this around your neck, and you’re going let me lead you away from here. And if the bad guy makes one wrong move, I’ll let you go.” She stroked him several times, then gently looped the belt around his upper neck.

Standing still, he watched her look at the Sheriff. “You fucking bastard. If you ever touch one hair on my brother’s head, if you ever come after me again, I will release those vids. If you send anyone else to do your dirty work, I’ll have them released. That’s right, they’re spread all over the country. Anything happens to me, or anyone I care about, they go public. And if you don’t believe me, chew on this, you big fat fucking bastard. I know exactly where you’ve done your disgusting immoral drug deals. Near Eagle Eye Point.”

Sheriff Colgan’s eyes widened significantly, and his fear odor increased because she spoke the truth about the location. He nodded, slobber escaping from the corners of his mouth.

“Come on, big guy,” she crooned with utter sweetness. “Let’s go.” She gently pulled on the belt.

Drojovv allowed her to lead him away and kept his bearing somewhat docile. She halted them about ten feet away, her gaze glued on the Sheriff. He jerked open the car door, practically ripping it from the hinges. Heedless of the shattered glass, he jumped into the seat. It took him several tries to start the engine. Slamming the car into reverse, he backed up like he was in a chase movie and peeled away.

“Probably won’t be the last I’ll see of him.” Pivoting to him, she softly stroked down the length of his face. “Where did you come from? And what do I do with you? Just let you go? If I do, the evil bastard will probably hunt you down. By the way, thanks for coming to my rescue. I needed it.”

Drojovv twitched his tail, then gently nudged her with his muzzle.

“I know I’ve never seen you before. And I’d know if you belonged to my neighbors. They would have called bragging about you. Unless you’ve just arrived. Maybe that’s it. Come on, I’ve got a spare stall for you.”