Chapter Twelve

Dyson gunned the engine as they watched Aiden take off on one of his thoroughbreds in the direction that they had seen Carla disappear.

“What in hell happened?” he called over to his brother. “Everything was fine when I went to take that dang call. Next thing I know all hell had broke loose!”

Matt shook his head. “I was just trying to convince her that she could talk to us, that’s all.”

“Talk? She did a darn site more than that! And how in hell did we end up being the bad guy? From what I’ve heard we’re not a patch on that fuckwad from Wyoming!”

Matt shook his head, miserably. “I don’t know. She just got all defensive and the next thing I know she thinks we slept with her in some crazy, misguided attempt to squeeze a confession out of her!”

“No wonder she was running away!” Dyson moaned. “It wasn’t the fuckwad she was trying to escape from—it was us!”

“Fuck!” Matt looked mortified and his brother immediately wished he’d kept his theory to himself.

They were travelling east now, toward the Missouri, where they guessed Carla would be taking a break. That horse would need a drink if nothing else.

“They can’t get far,” Aiden’s voice came over the speakerphone, “the horse hasn’t got that much left in him. Had a good long run this morning, she won’t be able to ride him longer than a half-hour by my reckoning.”

“Well that’s good to know.” Dyson replied with relief.

The car had to take a different route as Aiden followed Carla’s trail into some woodland.

“We’ll still head for the river,” Matt told their friend over the speaker.

“Think he’s OK about us heating things up with Carla?” he asked his brother after muting the phone.

“I sure hope so,” Dyson said with a despondent sigh. “I can’t help thinking he’d have a lot more to offer her than us, though. I mean, just look at that spread. Our farm’s almost on its knees while his ranch is flourishing. He’s got that beautiful house where ours is still in need of a good lick of paint to say the least. Perhaps she should have gone with him after all.”

“Listen to yourself, bro,” Matt replied in disbelief. “We’ve got a lot more to offer the girl than him. After all, we’ve got us!”

Dyson hooted with laughter at his brother’s confidence. “Yeah, you’re right, buddy. How could any girl wish for more, eh?”

“Exactly!” Matt held his hands up.

“Are you there, Sheriff?” It was the radio this time.

Dyson felt a sudden thud in his gut as he answered the stranger.

“Go ahead.”

“Sergeant Ron Biggleswade here, Sheriff. Sheridan police. We’ve arrived in Cavern County but had a tip off that our mark has been spotted just south of Pierre. Somewhere near the river, we believe. He’s travelling in a red pickup. You anywhere near there?”

“Fuck!” Matt’s jokey demeanor vanished in a nanosecond.

“We’re headed that way now. Any idea whereabouts, Sarge?” Dyson’s voice was tight as he tried to remain calm.

Stepping on the gas, he sped off in the direction he was given. Matt was already on the cell talking to Aiden, who sounded as pissed as they were.

****

Carla could tell the horse was getting tired. Poor thing must have already worn himself out before she even took over. They slowed down and headed toward the river. Once there she jumped down and watched as the beautiful chestnut immediately started to drink.

“Thanks, boy,” she murmured. It wouldn’t be fair to push him any further so she left him resting in the early afternoon sunshine and set off on foot. At least she’d put some miles between herself and those dang Shearers, and they wouldn’t be able to follow her if she stayed away from the roads. She thought she’d seen someone on a horse headed her way a while back, with another rider some way behind him, which was good in a way. They were bound to need water at some point, so would probably pick up the horse she had just abandoned.

She headed toward some mountainous terrain, then veered off into dense woodland. Under the shelter of the trees it was quite dark and she shivered as the sun left her back and the chill surrounded her. As she ventured further into the thicket she was aware of a mist following her where the woods edged the winding river. It gave a slightly eerie air to the scene, which was only enhanced by the silence which engulfed her as she continued to walk away from the water.

Her only consolation in being lost and so far from civilization was that those dang Shearer brothers would never find her out here. She chewed her cheek angrily as she recalled the way they had made her feel earlier—used and rejected. She only hoped that her parting shot—about whether they could tell when they were being used also—would have any resonance with them. Despite knowing in her heart that what she was implying wasn’t in the slightest bit true, she couldn’t let them think they had won.

Tears began to trickle down her face and she couldn’t be sure whether it was anger or hurt which had caused them—probably both. She wished so much that Aiden hadn’t found her last night, and that she hadn’t had to face the twins again. It would have been easier all ’round if they’d just thought she had had a change of heart and left town.

After an hour or so she spotted a derelict woodsman’s hut in the distance and sighed with relief. The damp mist which surrounded the woods had caused a fine drizzle to descend all around her and she felt cold and uncomfortable.

Only a small portion of the building still had a roof, and she made a beeline for that part. The floor was made of stone and weeds grew up between the cracks, creating a carpet of soft grass and moss underfoot. She sat on a dry patch and eagerly pulled the sandwiches from her bag. Although slightly squashed, they tasted delicious and she thought back to the kind lady who had made them. Aiden Fielding sure seemed to have it made with his fancy house, and Mrs. Redman obviously looked after him well. He was a kind guy and very handsome, but somehow she found her mind drifting, as always, back to the gorgeous Shearer brothers. Although not quite as refined as Aiden, there was a raw sexiness about those guys which affected her body like no one on earth. They didn’t need the expensive ranch or the housekeeper—they had themselves. The way those guys were tuned in to each other was an aphrodisiac in itself—they seemed to know exactly where and when to touch her, the right words to murmur into her ears and their timing was impeccable.

Admonishing herself, she clenched her thighs together as her imagination began to run into overdrive, and she quickly finished her food. With a deep breath she realized that her whole body ached and she was beat. She couldn’t hear a sound, even the birds had stopped singing and she guessed the rain was about to get heavier. Tucking the bag under her head, she decided to chance a quick nap until the weather improved. She was well-hidden and would hear if anyone came near—she never slept that heavily when she was on the move.

It felt like she had only just nodded off when a sound startled her. She shot up, grabbing her bag. It could only have been a twig snapping but it was enough. It was a disturbance. Squeezing herself hard against the rotting wall, she could hear her heart pounding as the blood surged through her ears. She heard that snapping sound again, closer this time. Someone was coming.

Aware that she was nothing more than a sitting duck in the shelter of the old hut, she slowly crept to the edge of the broken wall, craning her neck to see what was causing the noise. As she did so she knocked some of the rotten timber from the corner of the building, and there was a scraping sound followed by a loud thud as several planks of wood became detached and fell onto the exposed stone below them. Damn!

The air disappeared from her lungs and she felt her whole body turn to ice as the racket resounded in the still, damp air. There was nothing else for it—she ran. The trees barred her route and the uneven ground tried to trip her up as she fled the little shack in the semi-darkness and drizzling rain.

“Oh no you don’t!” A familiar voice snarled from right behind her and she turned in horror just as a bony hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Your running days are over, bitch!”

Jerome Pearson practically threw her into a tree and she felt her legs turn to jelly. His face was ugly, contorted into a fearsome sneer that told her he wasn’t about to accept any kind of explanation. Then his fist came flying into her face while he had her pinned, helpless and terrified, against the thick trunk. He had the strength of a bulldozer and she felt her head swim as pain engulfed her. For a second she thought she was about to pass out, but she wasn’t that lucky.

“Where is it?” he demanded, snatching the bag which had fallen to her feet.

Mortified, she watched as he one-handedly emptied her clothes onto the wet bracken. His other hand held her tight. He even searched her toiletries bag but clearly couldn’t find what he was looking for.

“What the hell have you done with it, bitch?” He shook her violently before slapping her around the face.

Tears flooded her eyes as she stared at the blurry figure in front of her in disbelief. Pain seared her head and she felt sick.

“Where’s my damn money, you thieving whore?” He spat into her face as he yelled at her, still shaking her mercilessly.

Fear turned to anger at his audacity.

“Y-your money?” She admonished herself for the tremble in her voice, but it was the best she could muster.

He stared at her incredulously. “Well, you didn’t think it was yours, did you? If you’ve spent it I’ll…”

“No!” she spat the word at him venomously.

“Then where is it? Have you hidden it here?” He gestured angrily toward the shack. “Show me!”

Her legs buckled beneath her and she slipped on the damp grass, slamming her knees hard on the ground. He didn’t care—he just tried to haul her back toward the wooden building.

“Get up, bitch!”

His hands came around her arms and he dragged her to her feet.

Although a quivering wreck, the anger inside her spurred her on and she kicked him hard on the shin. As he let out a howl she began to run deeper into the woods. The heavy thud of his footsteps rang in her ears as she tried to escape, but she didn’t look back.

As his hand reached out and grabbed her again she tore a thin branch from a nearby tree.

“Get away from me!” Her voice rang out in the deserted woods, echoing around them, as she swiped the branch to and fro.

Jerome’s face was a picture as he let go of her in surprise. “What the hell…?”

“You had no right stealing from anyone, let alone Mr. Roberts,” she yelled at him angrily. “He had been nothing but kind to me and so had his wife!”

Jerome sneered at her then he actually laughed. “So? He had money and I needed some.” He sounded incredulous, which only angered her even more.

“That doesn’t give you and your buddies the right to steal it from him!” She swiped the branch in front of her again, swaying it from side to side as he attempted to edge nearer.

“My buddies? Is that what you call them? They’re nothing but a waste of fucking space! I told them to stay out of the way of the damn cameras but did they listen? Did they fuck! Every one of ’em got caught on the fucking CCTV then the bastards ratted to the cops on me! Even accused me of running off with the fucking cash ’cause of you!” He lurched forward one more time and she swiped his arm with the branch.

“Me? How in hell did all this become my fault?” She screeched at him as he howled in pain, clutching his arm.

“You stole the fucking cash—and don’t try to deny it! Only thing is they think it was a put up job—as if I’d trust you to get in on it!” He was pointing a bony finger at her now and she did her best to hit it with the branch, too.

“I didn’t steal it! I took it back for Mr. Roberts,” she hollered at him. “It’s his money, not yours!”

“Oh yeah, then how come the cops are after you for it? The old guy sure hasn’t admitted to getting it back—I wonder why that is?” His smarmy attitude was getting to her now and she swiped the branch one more time.

He made a grab for it with his good hand and yanked it painfully out of her fingers. In an instant he was towering over her with the branch held above her head. She cowered into a heap on the wet ground in front of him.

Sickness roiled within her and she braced herself for the pain she just knew could be her last. As dread flooded her body she thought she would have imagined her life flashing before her eyes. But it wasn’t her life she was thinking of—it was two men. Matt’s sensual smile and Dyson’s tender touch filled her thoughts. She wanted them, needed them, loved them. The realization strengthened her as she stared defiantly into the cruel face of her nemesis.

Pure evil emanated from his screwed up, mean eyes and his chest was puffed out like an action hero from an old comic-book. But he wasn’t a hero. He was a bastard. And this bastard had the means and the motive to end her life. Now.

“I’d think twice about that if I were you.” Dyson’s deep voice broke the still silence which seemed to last an age.

Trying to work out what was going on, Carla chanced a look over Jerome’s shoulder, where she saw a gun pointing at the bastard’s right temple. Her heart must have missed a beat because straight afterward she could hear nothing but its rapid thump, which rang in her ears, momentarily blocking out everything around her.

She watched the hatred in Jerome’s face turn to shock and he dropped the branch onto the ground beside her.

“Good choice.” Dyson held his gun in place while someone cuffed the bastard and led him away.

As soon as Jerome was removed from her line of sight she saw Dyson’s gorgeous face and he reached for her with his strong arms. Somewhere behind her she could hear Matt’s soothing tones and she crumpled into their arms as the tears ran down her face.

All around her people were talking and moving, but for a few precious moments none of it mattered. She was in the guys’ arms and that was the only place she ever wanted to be. Their scents and their warmth surrounded her as she let herself sink into their tenderness and lose herself in them.

“We need to get you checked out, darlin’.” She looked up into the deep green eyes of Matt, who was examining her face closely, his finger caressing her wet cheek.

She nodded. Her head throbbed and she felt sick, but somehow it didn’t seem half so bad now that they were with her.

“We’ll meet you up at the hospital, Sheriff.” A man she didn’t recognize called over to them. He wore a police uniform.

Dyson acknowledged the guy with a wave of his hand.

Carla frowned in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“Wyoming Police. They’ve come over from Sheridan. They’ll want to talk to you once we’ve got you patched up.” Dyson sounded quite matter of fact, seemingly unaware of the feeling of utter dread he had just instilled in her.

“I’ll get the horses back. Let me know how she is later.” Aiden Fielding called over to them before heading off.

Her head swam as the guys helped her into the SUV, and Matt held her close in his strong, warm arms. She had hoped that Jerome had been lying when he said that the cops from Wyoming were after her for the theft of the cash. Of course they would be! Part of her had felt a little triumphant when he’d explained that the rest of the gang had not only got caught, but they had also ratted on him. To think that they also accused him of stealing the cash was an added bonus in her mind. The idea hadn’t occurred to her that night when she’d taken the money and run—all she could think of was getting the cash away from them and back to its rightful owner. But she hadn’t. Damn! Despite her good intentions of returning the money to Mr. Roberts she had done nothing about it. How in hell was she supposed to explain all this?