Chapter 37 Betrayal
A deep, satisfying ache had settled into muscles Alexandra never knew she had. Every part of her protested the long day at the ranch, yet a profound contentment washed over her exhaustion. She had spent the day under the vast, unblinking Arizona sky, the wind a constant companion as she helped round up cattle. The work was raw and visceral. While the smell of singed hair and the sight of the hot branding iron burning into the animals were unsettling, she had found an unexpected joy in the rhythm of the labor.
She had started the morning on the periphery, holding the herd with the other riders, watching as seasoned cowboys skillfully roped calves and dragged them toward the fire. Then, Mr. Arnold had ridden up beside her.
“I need your help on the ground,” he’d said, his voice a low rumble.
“My help?” Alexandra stammered, feeling wildly out of her depth.
“Sure,” he chuckled, a grin creasing the corners of his eyes. “Time to get you closer to the action.”
Unsure if she wanted to be any closer, she nevertheless followed him toward the branding fire and dismounted, the heat prickling her skin. He handed her a metal object shaped like a pistol but fitted with a needle and a spring-loaded handle, a kind of syringe she had never seen before. “I need you to vaccinate these calves.”
She stared at the device. “But I’m not a nurse.”
Mr. Arnold laughed, a hearty sound that carried over the crackle of the fire. “Don’t need to be. Just stick the pointy end in the fleshy part of the calf’s behind and squeeze. The dose is preset. When you run low, Sandy over there will give you a loaded one. Simple as that.”
“I guess I can do that,” she managed, offering a weak smile.
“Sure you can,” he said, giving her a reassuring slap on the back. “Just keep an eye out for the mamas. They sometimes object to us messing with their babies. Mostly, they’ll just blow some snot in your back pocket.”
Later, his words proved prophetic when a large black cow rushed over, lowered its massive head, and let out a deep bellow, showering the back of Alexandra’s jeans with a warm, slimy spray. She shrieked, dropping the syringe and scrambling away as laughter erupted from the cowboys.
The Alexandra of a few months ago would have stormed off, humiliated. But a new stubbornness had taken root in her. Cheeks burning, she saw a cowboy calmly swat the cow’s face with his hat. With newfound resolve, she retrieved the syringe and returned to her task, her eyes now scanning constantly for any approaching mothers.
The day stretched on, bleeding into a second branding that afternoon. They had risen before the sun, and by the time they finished, all Alexandra could dream of was a hot shower and her bed. Declining an offer to stay at the ranch, she began the long drive home, the day’s events replaying in her mind. She wanted to tell Cameron everything, but doubted she could stay awake long enough.
Pulling into her apartment complex, a surge of irritation cut through her fatigue. Another car was in her assigned spot. The extra fifty-yard walk from the guest parking felt like a mile. She made a mental note to deal with the inconsiderate parker tomorrow as she fumbled for her keys.
Inside, she dropped her bag and headed straight for the master bedroom, craving the steam of the shower. But as she stepped through the doorway, the scene before her stole the air from her lungs. It was surreal, a tableau of betrayal so sharp it didn't feel real. Her mind refused to process it, but her body reacted instantly.
Without a sound, she turned and walked back out the front door. Behind her, she heard Cameron scrambling, his voice calling her name in a panic. She didn't slow down. Her walk quickened to a run as she crossed the parking lot, slipped behind the wheel of her car, and drove away, the life she had known shattering in her rearview mirror.
An hour of Phoenix suburbs blurred past her window, but the image back at her apartment remained, burned onto the back of her eyelids. It was a single, searing snapshot: long black hair cascading down a perfectly arched back; large, flawless breasts; a round, toned body mounted atop her fiancé. When the face turned, stunned at being discovered, she saw the large, dark eyes, the thick lashes, and the full lips of Natalia.
Of course. It was Natalia. A cold dread, a premonition she’d dismissed as paranoia, now settled in her stomach like a stone. She’d felt it when she visited Cameron at the office, an unspoken current flowing between them. Now she had her proof, delivered in the cruelest way imaginable.
Tears came easily, not from a well of sorrow, but from a profound exhaustion that left no room for rage. The anger was there, a banked fire deep inside, but she lacked the energy to even strike the match. So she drove, an automaton guided by instinct, the salt of her tears drying on her cheeks. The image wasn’t just cruel because of Cameron’s betrayal; it was cruel because he had chosen a woman who embodied everything she was not. Natalia was an image of effortless perfection, the smooth, dark skin, the soft curves, the way her body moved for him. The memory flooded her senses again, and a sob escaped her lips.
Suddenly, Phoenix felt like a cage. She turned the car north onto the highway, the city receding in her rearview mirror. Her phone, silenced long ago, lay dark on the passenger seat. Cameron had called a dozen times since she’d walked out, but she had no desire to hear his lies or stammered excuses. The thought of her belongings back in the apartment was a fleeting pang, immediately dismissed. She never wanted to see that place again. She just needed to run.
She found herself on the same interstate that had brought her to Arizona. As she passed the Maverick station where Cameron had met her on her first day, the sobs returned, raw and ragged. She pressed the accelerator, desperate to outrun the memory. A glance at the speedometer showed she was topping ninety, and a sliver of self-preservation made her ease off. The last thing she needed was to explain her life to a state trooper.
Reaching Interstate 40, she followed the signs west toward California, acting on pure impulse. Los Angeles. It was a destination, and that was enough. By the time the lights of Kingman appeared on the horizon, her energy was gone. She pulled into a Motel 6, wanting nothing more than a shower and a bed. She wanted oblivion.
The hot water did little to wash away the memory, but it soothed her frayed nerves. She slipped between the stiff, clean sheets and fell into a restless sleep, the scene of betrayal playing on a loop in her dreams. She was startled awake hours later by a sharp knock, followed by a cheerful, "Housekeeping!"
Alexandra didn't respond. The call came again, and she heard the cleaner try the door, only to be stopped by the security latch. "Excuse me," the voice said, and the door clicked shut. Alexandra rolled over, trying to coax herself back to sleep, but it was useless. The vision returned, Cameron and Natalia, and silent tears began to trace paths toward her pillow. She was beyond sobbing now, adrift in a sea of pure numbness.