The Gilded Cage (2 page)

Callie sighed. “You know how Dad is. Grumbling about Jell-O and wanting to escape out the window when the nurse turns her back. I tried to tell him that most people take minor heart attacks seriously.” She rolled her eyes, but Fenn didn’t miss the flicker of shadows that followed.

He wished he could ease her worries, but he didn’t know how to fix something like this. Heart attacks were one of the few things Fenn couldn’t control. Jim would either get better, or he wouldn’t, and he and Callie would have to deal with whatever happened when it happened.

They walked over to the medical tent. A doctor wearing jeans and a white coat waved them in before turning back to a female barrel racer with a nasty cut on her forehead. There were four portable medical tables and a massive emergency care kit inside the tent. Most of the injuries suffered here were scrapes, cuts, and occasional bruises.

Serious injuries were always a possibility if there were any bull-riding activities. The Walnut Springs rodeo staff were worried enough about it to post an ambulance next to the medical tent just in case a mad dash to the nearby hospital was needed. Fenn had never needed any treatment after a ride, not once since he’d started this as a teenager. The thought was a bit humiliating that he’d ended up here at the age of thirty-three. Damn, he was getting old, or maybe it was all of the mileage he put on his body, the hard labor on the ranch and the riding. He definitely wasn’t a youngster like Callie.

He eased down onto the medical table farthest from the other rider, then lay back on it. His entire body went limp, as though finally realizing it could relax. The adrenaline had run its course, and now he was crashing. Everything hurt. The full-body crash to the sand had not been kind. His chest felt as though something heavy was still pressing down on it, squeezing any air out and barely letting oxygen back in. Every bone in his legs and arms ached, as though his entire body had been beaten by a baseball bat. His ankle hurt the most; the pain radiated off it in sharp pangs. Getting his boot off was going to hurt like hell.

“You okay, Fenn?” Callie’s sweet, adorable face appeared in his line of vision as she leaned over the table and stared down at him.

“Do me a favor, kid. Take off my boot before my ankle swells.”

“Sure.” Callie disappeared from view, and then the pain hit him like a passing coal train as she tugged the boot off.

He hissed, arching his back and then muttering several choice curse words before the agonizing pain eased somewhat and his vision stopped spinning. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose.

“I’m so sorry. I bet that hurt,” Callie’s hand touched his forearm, stroking him lightly.

“It’s fine.”
Never show them you hurt
. The age-old mantra came to him from the gloom of the past, slicing his chest with inner pain. He’d made that vow so long ago, but he couldn’t seem to remember why. He patted her hand before he rubbed his temples with his fingers.

His mind kept jumping back to what he’d seen as the bull had been throwing him. None of it made sense…he’d seen things…heard things. None of it really made sense. Was he going crazy? Finally having a psychotic break? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had such concerns. When he was eight years old, his father moved them out to Walnut Springs, and he’d had terrible headaches and hallucinations.

It was only after he’d spent a few months on pain meds and in therapy sessions that the pain had gone away. But when he was thirteen his father died, and the nightmares and headaches came back. Jim Taylor and his daughter Callie had saved him. He’d moved onto the Broken Spur and started working to pay his way. The home Jim offered him had been a wonderful escape from the realities of living as an orphan. The Broken Spur was his home now, and the bank would foreclose on it in a matter of weeks. The thought was a depressing one. He’d had the chance to save it tonight and he’d blown it.

“Callie?” he asked, opening his eyes again.

“Yeah?” She was gazing at him, her eyes full of adoration and puppy love. He’d tried to ignore it, but he knew she adored him. It was a pity he just didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get the money. I promised Jim I would.” His throat tightened. His eyes burned and he blinked hard several times. What was it Jim used to say? Cowboys never cried. Funny, Jim was closer to being his father than Lewis, Fenn’s actual father, the mysterious man who’d said little and kept them clothed and fed with odd jobs around town for five years before he’d died.

Callie tried to flash him a smile, but it wilted at the corners of her mouth. “It wasn’t your job to save it. Don’t blame yourself. Dad and I will figure something out. We may still qualify to modify the loan. I’ve been trying to get the paperwork filled out. There’s still hope.”

Hope. He didn’t like hope. It was a fickle emotion that often yielded no results. Yeah, he wouldn’t be betting on hope anytime soon. Not only that but whenever he thought about it, the mere idea of hope filled his heart and soul with an all-consuming despair. It was a visceral reaction he couldn’t explain, like recoiling from a snake. He just reacted without knowing why. He only knew that he would never trust
anything
to hope. The only thing he could bet on was himself.

The doctor helped the other patient out of the tent and after the woman left, he wandered over to Fenn. With a grunt, Fenn managed to pull himself up into a sitting position and face the middle-aged doctor.

“Heard you got thrown from Tabasco.” The doctor smiled pleasantly as he talked, as though discussing a near-death experience was completely normal.

“Yeah. My right ankle hurts.” He raised his boot-free foot up. The doctor lifted his leg at the calf and then rolled the ankle gently. Fenn huffed harshly as pain shot through him again.

“It’s moving fine. It’s a nasty sprain.” The doctor picked up his small clipboard and jotted a few notes on it before he looked at Fenn, smiled and clicked his pen and tucked it into his coat pocket.

“Treat it with ice for the next several days, keep it elevated to reduce swelling and…” The doctor was still grinning, as though amused by some private joke. “No riding. I know you boys are the worst sort of patients when it comes to restrictions, but I mean it. No riding.”

“Fine,” Fenn grumbled. The injured ankle was then wrapped up tight in a brace and Fenn took the crutches the doctor offered.

“Good. Come see me at the clinic tomorrow if you need anything for the pain or you think it’s getting worse.”

“Will do.” Fenn promised as he slid off the exam table, landing expertly on his good leg. He pushed his hat down on Callie’s head. She laughed and tilted the brim back so she could see.

“Let’s go home.” The vision of that red-haired beauty running across the sand, little bare feet flying as she saved him and risked her own damn neck…that was something he had to forget, but he knew he was going to spend the rest of the night thinking about her and how he’d like to punish her for doing something so stupid.

Who was she? And more importantly, why had she risked her life to save him?

H
ayden Thorne’s heart was still pounding a little hard, her breath a little shallow, and her palms still hurt from scratches she’d received when she’d climbed over the rail to avoid death. Had she really jumped into an arena to challenge an angry bull? A little half-hysterical giggle escaped her as she collapsed onto the small twin bed in her cheap motel room in Walnut Springs, tugging her red dress down her thighs. Her hands still shook from the adrenaline.

Yeah, she had actually done it.

She’d saved Fenn Lockwood’s life. The missing boy in the pair of twins kidnapped at age eight, twenty-five years ago. Emery, the younger of the twins, had miraculously escaped, but never spoke of what might have befallen his brother Fenn. The world had assumed his silence meant Fenn was dead. How wrong they’d all been. He’d been here in Colorado all along, living as a rancher. He was alive. A fact that still shocked her and filled her with a sense of wonder and excitement. Bringing Fenn home could do so much—for him, for his family, for his brother. Fenn’s loss had devastated so many people, including her brother, Wes, who was Fenn and Emery’s childhood friend.

She reached down and tugged off her Jimmy Choo pumps. The black leather was badly scuffed. She’d have to get another pair soon. They were probably ruined by the crowd during the panic following the accident when the stupid bull had thrown Fenn like a sack of potatoes. Why couldn’t he just play polo like his twin? Why did he have to be a bull rider?

She let the shoes drop to the floor. She still couldn’t relax. She was too keyed up for anything else. What she wanted to do was find Fenn and tell him everything. She had tried to find him after she’d gotten out of the arena with the help of a couple of riders. They had enjoyed leering at her chest before she’d gone to find her heels. They’d even trailed after her, making all sorts of comments that would have made her blush if she hadn’t had other things on her mind.

Once she’d found her shoes, she’d asked around again for where Fenn had gone after he’d left the arena, and she’d been pointed toward the medical tent. By that point, it had been empty except for a polite middle-aged doctor who was busy packing up his supplies. A couple of giggles, a smile, and she’d earned decent directions to a place called The Broken Spur, a place where Fenn worked.

She slid her hand into the tiny, almost hidden pocket of her dress and touched the slip of paper she’d scribbled the directions to Fenn’s ranch on. Fenn’s residence at the ranch was not something she had shared with her older brother Wes. He could try to bully her into going home all he liked, or into staying out of the way, but she didn’t care. This was her mission and she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She wanted everyone back home to take her seriously.

Being a daughter of one of the richest families on Long Island’s Gold Coast was not the perfect dream most people might think it would be. She was a bargaining tool, a pawn for her parents to gain political power and influence. She was marriage material, nothing more. She wanted to shake her parents up, get them to open their eyes and see that she wasn’t just a frilly dressed ninny, but a woman who could actually change the world. Bringing home the long-lost golden boy might just change their minds about her, and doing so would also make sure the people she cared about were finally safe. It wouldn’t be easy, either. Someone wanted to kill Fenn Lockwood and she would not only bring him home but save his life. Just like she’d done tonight—even though tonight she had not expected Fenn’s potential killer to be a damn bull.

Something clicked in the key card slot of her motel room door and she jerked as her brother Wes Thorne suddenly stormed into the room.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded.

He waved a key card in her face. “I told the manager I needed to check on you. Wasn’t a lie. Do you know how much trouble you’re in? Flying off the island without telling anyone you were coming here? This is dangerous, Hayden. Really dangerous. Fenn has a target on his back.” Her brother so full of tension she could feel it coming off him in waves. She knew just how much finding out that his childhood friend was alive, after being presumed dead for twenty-five years, had affected him. It was a shock to his system, and it was showing in his frayed nerves.

“You better be booking the first flight out of here tomorrow morning. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Hayden cocked her head to one side and frowned.

“I’m staying, Wes. This is important to me. We have to tell him who he really is.” She perched on the edge of the cheap motel bed and watched Wes pace across the smoky gray carpet.

He still wore his expensive Hugo Boss suit from a business meeting he’d attended earlier that day before catching a flight from Long Island. She was in her short red Valentino dress. Neither of them was dressed for a last-minute trip to a small Colorado town. But here they were, dressed to the nines and arguing over how to save Fenn Smith, or rather, Fenn Lockwood.

Wes paused in his tigerlike pacing and raked a hand through his red hair. They were so alike in looks, but where she was fair skinned, Wes bore a faintly golden tan that she envied.

“You really screwed this up, Hayden. You aren’t even supposed to be here. Emery sent me here to find his brother, not you. You’ve never even met Fenn. Hell, he was gone two years before you were born. If he remembers anyone, it will be me. I should be the one to go to him, and explain everything that’s happened.”

Hayden crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at her brother. He was such an ass sometimes. He was thirty-three and she was twenty-three, and he loved to use that ten years between them to put her in her place. It was exactly why she’d reserved their family’s private jet and flown out here before Wes could get here. She wanted to make a difference, to help. She hadn’t finished school at Princeton a year early and gotten an MBA just for fun. She was not going to become some glorified trophy wife. No. She had other plans and they started with her being the one to bring Fenn Lockwood home to Long Island.

Wes opened his mouth as though to continue to berate her, but was interrupted when his cell phone buzzed. He slid it out of his trouser pocket and answered.

“Royce? What is it? I’m in the middle of something—” His eyes darted to her and he continued to frown. “What?” His face paled and he leaned back against the wall, listening to whatever Royce was saying. Royce Devereaux was one of Wes’s best friends. Wes, Royce, Emery, and Fenn had all been inseparable as children.

“What’s the matter?” Hayden whispered as she got up off the bed. Her heart, which had only begun to slow down, began to beat hard against her ribs, almost bruising them.

Her brother didn’t look at her as he talked. “The hospital? How soon will we know anything?” He stayed silent for a second, then nodding to himself he sighed. “Call me when you know more.”

Hospital?
Hayden’s body turned rigid. Something must have happened to Emery, or to Sophie, the woman Emery had just fallen in love with, the woman who’d helped him discover Fenn wasn’t dead. Sophie was a friend, a
good
friend. Hayden tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
Please don’t let it be either of them.

He seemed about to hang up before he rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. I saw him. From a distance. Almost got himself killed when a bull threw him.” He chuckled a little. “Guess some things never change. I’ll check in tomorrow if I don’t hear from you before then.” Wes hung up the phone and looked at her. All his anger was gone.

A terrifying uneasiness settled in her stomach. Something was really wrong; she could tell by the look on his face.

“Wes…” She almost called out, but stopped. Maybe whatever it was, she couldn’t handle it.

“The assassin made a move tonight. Kidnapped Sophie at a party and got Emery and his bodyguard Hans to go after them. Emery shot the bastard, but Sophie is…well, she’s in bad shape. Royce said she was stabbed and shot during the battle. They’ve just arrived at the hospital. Sophie’s in surgery.”

The world closed in around her and she threw out a hand to catch herself against the wall before she fell. It had been bad enough a few days before when Emery’s friend and hacker, Cody Larsen, had been kidnapped and beaten to within an inch of his life by Antonio D’Angelo, the assassin bent on killing Emery.

“Oh my God!”

Wes wrapped her in his arms, the protective brother in him apparently winning out over the irritated side he usually showed her. “It’s going to be fine. Sophie’s tough. She’ll pull through.”

“It’s all my fault, Wes. I got her into the Gilded Cuff. If I hadn’t, she might never have met Emery, and she wouldn’t be…”
Dying
. The word choked her. She buried her face against his chest. The guilt and the fear for Sophie hit her like a train—no stopping it, just devastation and blinding pain.

“Shhh. I know things are going to work out.” He sounded so sure, but that’s what big brothers were for. They convinced you things would be okay. As much as she wanted to believe him, though, she wasn’t a little girl anymore and she knew the darkness the world held.

He patted her back and then released her. She collapsed back onto the bed, sucking in raw breaths as she struggled to focus, to calm down. Having a meltdown right now wouldn’t do Sophie or Emery any good.

“I need to make a few calls. I’ll be in my room next door. Don’t go anywhere.” Wes pulled out his sleek black cell phone and dialed a number as he headed for the door. They’d both gotten rooms at the only motel with available rooms. When she’d first flown out here, she hadn’t thought through where she’d spend the night. After she’d run into Wes at the arena he’d made a call to this motel and booked them rooms for just one night. Tomorrow the town would be emptied of tourists and the nicer hotels would have rooms available. Classier accommodations would definitely be more up her alley. She may be an independent, educated woman, but she also liked the finer things in life. Outdoorsy, she was not. The door slammed as her brother stormed out, not that she cared. He could fume all he wanted. She’d beaten him here fair and square. Her shoulders dropped, and she expelled a breath of relief.

Sophie was hurt. Her friend was in the hospital because of her. This had to stop. She couldn’t let anyone else she cared about get hurt because someone wanted to kill the Lockwood twins. She was going to figure out who was behind this and put an end to it.

A smile curved her lips. Wes was busy talking on his cell phone in the other room. She could sneak out to her rental car and drive up to the ranch tonight and he wouldn’t even know she’d left. After hearing about Sophie, it was impossible to sit still. She grabbed her high heels, stepped into them, and snatched her car keys up from on top of the boxy old TV. With a quick tug she pulled the red dress’s hem down her thighs. Not an ideal outfit for this trip, but she’d left mid-cocktail party when she’d heard where Fenn was supposed to be. She’d barely had a chance to throw a few things in a bag before she’d sped to the airport and caught her flight.

The motel parking lot was quiet and dark. Only a few beams of light escaped the partially closed curtains from a few rooms. A glowing neon sign hung above the entrance to the parking lot that read “Rabbit Hole.” Two pink rabbit ears flashed above the motel name, which reminded her vaguely of a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Hayden tilted her head back, soaking in the velvety expanse of the sky above. A thousand stars winked and flashed like diamonds tossed into an abyss. Their defiant shine made her own resolve all the stronger.

The new black Jeep Wrangler she’d rented for the week was a beauty, even if it was nothing like the cars back home. There they all drove Audis, Jaguars, Aston Martins, and Mercedes. She’d picked the Jeep because it was practical, but also ruggedly appealing. She climbed into the car and started the engine. As she followed the directions the doctor had given her, she ran over her speech again and again, trying to get it just right. Fenn supposedly remembered nothing of his past, or of the family he’d been stolen from. How could she even begin to tell a man that for the last quarter of a century he’d been living a lie? He wasn’t a bull-riding native of the state of Colorado. He was Fenn Lockwood, one of two heirs to a vast fortune. He would likely become part owner in Lockwood Industries with his brother and father as soon as he returned home to Long Island. His entire life was about to change drastically. There weren’t words to cover all of that.

The person who should be here was Emery. She’d heard that twins had deep connections. It made sense that Emery should have been the one to reach out to Fenn, but she knew Emery wouldn’t leave Sophie, not while she was fighting for her life in the hospital.

The whole story of how Sophie and Emery had met was a bit crazy, to be honest. Sophie, an investigative reporter, had turned up on Long Island asking about Emery, and wanting to interview him about being the sole survivor of the famous Lockwood kidnapping. Hayden had bumped into her at a local book store where Sophie had been attempting to find some books on the Lockwood family and the kidnapping and they’d started talking about their favorite romance novels and immediately hit it off as friends. Sophie had confessed her plan to try and meet Emery. Hayden, unable to resist the temptation of riling up her older brother’s best friend, had given Sophie a way to meet him and get her story. She’d sensed that Sophie might be good for Emery and might help him break out of his reclusive habits and get him to live again. She hadn’t been wrong.

Of course no one, especially not Hayden, had expected Sophie to discover Fenn was alive. Sophie and Emery’s computer genius friend Cody had discovered that Fenn hadn’t died all those years ago. They’d hacked into a computer belonging to a hired hit man and found all of the information on Fenn’s life in Colorado. Somehow he’d ended up in Walnut Springs and apparently didn’t remember anything of his past life.

Except for Emery’s inner circle, everyone still believed Fenn was dead. Sophie had wanted the story of a lifetime—not for the fame it would bring her, but in hopes that it would help her handle her own grief over losing a friend to a sexual predator when she was a child.