Colton On The Run
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“Honest.” The smile that broke across his handsome face could have healed a thousand wounds. “I don’t have an answer for you other than I think it means you know I don’t mean you any harm.” It was the way he said it, not as a question exactly, but the inquiry was there nonetheless. Her mind raced for a response as Leo turned his attention to the welt on her upper cheek.
“But someone did. Mean me harm,” she added as if needed. “Who?”
“Again, I don’t have an answer.” He tossed the soiled cotton ball onto a napkin and retrieved three butterfly bandages from the kit. “I’m not sure we’ll know until you remember who you are. And it’s doubtful we’ll find that out without help.”
“No police.” The protest was out of her mouth before she even thought the words. The very idea of talking with the police was enough to turn the coffee in her empty stomach to bile.
“They might recognize you.”
“Why?”
Leo smiled, but for the first time, there didn’t seem to be any humor behind it. “You’re not from around here, Jane. Your clothes, your hands. Your hair. You. You don’t live a rancher’s life. And around this part of Roaring Springs, that would make you stand out. I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think you’re a country girl. There.” He pressed his fingers against the bandages. “Now, let’s see your feet.” He scooted his chair back and patted his thighs. “Up.”
“Um. Okay.” She drew her feet up and did as he requested. The second his hands landed on her feet, she shivered. Strong, determined fingers examined the soles, pressing and checking for open wounds. “How bad?”
“Not as bad as I thought. You’re going to want to stay off them for a day or so. Let them heal a bit.” He repeated the process he had with her head, cleaning the scrapes with alcohol before applying ointment and covering them with gauze that he secured with tape. “What’s this?” He angled her left foot to the side, narrowed his eyes as his fingers gently grazed her skin.
She shook her head, that sick fear clogging her throat.
“They look like finger marks.”
Jane squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to shake. “I know,” she whispered. But that was all she could manage. Watching him, she took comfort in the shift of expressions over his face. Concern gave way to curiosity, which sharpened to anger at her words. But his touch didn’t change. The featherlight pressure of his fingers danced along her skin like a healing balm.
“Those socks should help.” He picked up the pair of thick, white socks from the table. “Besides, you shouldn’t be moving around with a head injury. We’ll give it a day or so, see how you’re feeling, then discuss what comes next.”
“What comes next?” Panic dropped over her again like a blanket.
“People are bound to be missing you, Jane. They’re bound to be worried. If you aren’t going to let me go to the police or take you to the hospital, then we’ll have to find those people ourselves.”
“Or I could just stay here.” Here, in this pretty little country kitchen with sunflower curtains over the windows and a collection of teapots behind one of the glass-door cabinets.
“You mean hide,” Leo corrected. He slipped the socks on her feet, gave her ankles a quick pat, then placed her feet back on the floor. “Wrist, please.”
“Lord, I’m such a mess.” She winced, remembering the feel of that saw blade scraping against her skin. “He was going to come back.”
Leo’s hand stilled for a moment before carefully dabbing at the scratches. “Who was?”
“He. They. Whoever left me in that shed.” And just like that, the anxiety and terror she felt when she’d first come to overtook the panic at the thought of leaving. “As soon as I woke up, as soon as I realized what was happening, I knew whoever took me was coming back.”
“Tell me what you remember about where you were.”
“Mmm.” Jane frowned and wished she’d get used to that stinging sensation coating her skin, but the pain was offset by Leo’s tender touch. “It was an old shed. One window. One door. I’d been tied up. Obviously.” She lifted her hand as proof.
“Rope.” He traced a finger over the burns among the cuts. “Not duct tape. Interesting.”
“Why? Duct tape might have been easier to cut through.”
“Maybe. What was in the shed?”
“Garden tools. A lawn mower, shovels. That kind of thing.” Her mind raced back there. “And old woodworking tools, too. The door wouldn’t open.”
“So you broke through the window.” He reached behind himself for a pair of tweezers.
“How did you—Ow!”
He plucked a tiny shard of glass out of the side of her wrist and held it up for her to see. “Glad there weren’t any in your feet.”
“Me, too.” She watched him examine every inch of her hands and wrists and forearms. “You sure you aren’t a doctor?” She felt her face warm again, and wished she didn’t sound like a teenager with a crush.
“I did some emergency first aid up in Alaska over the years. Nothing major, but what you learn sticks. Most of the time.”
“So you aren’t a rancher? But I thought—”
“I am now.” He rubbed a soothing salve into her skin before wrapping her wrists in gauze. “This was my grandparents’ place. They passed last year, so now it’s mine.”
“The pictures in the bedroom.” Jane looked behind her toward the photographs she could see perched on the dresser. She’d glanced at them earlier. An older, laughing couple. A young woman holding a grinning baby she assumed was Leo. A man, a more intense version of Leo, standing in full military uniform. “Your family.”
“Yes. My grandmother Essie showed us off at every opportunity. One thing that isn’t lacking in this house is photographs.” Even the smallest smile lit up Leo’s face. “Every celebration, every get-together, we had to take photos.”
“What about your parents? Did they not want to take over the ranch?”
“My mother died when I was little. My father was in the army for most of my childhood, so I lived here when he was deployed.” He cleaned up the kit, threw away the garbage, washed his hands and dropped a few slices of toast into the toaster. “He served three tours in the first Gulf War. I was supposed to go live with him when he was discharged, but he came back...different. So he moved in here with us. Until he died.”
The thought that Leo Slattery was alone in the world, that he’d lost all his family, pierced something inside her. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”
“It’s life.” He didn’t shrug, didn’t try to make light of it, but what he said rang true. “Bad things happen, Jane. To all of us. It’s how we deal with it that matters.”
She resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “It’s a bit early in our friendship for you to be sending subliminal messages. I’m not going to the police.” The very idea still made her shudder.
“It wasn’t subliminal if you got it.” The grin he tossed her eased the uncertainty that continued to course through her. “Maybe you didn’t take such a big whack on the head after all.”
“Oh, I think I did.” In fact, the headache was coming back full force. “What painkillers do you have in that magic box of yours?”
“Let’s get some food into you first. Don’t want an upset stomach on top of everything else.” He set a plate of eggs in front of her and retrieved her toast. “Wait.” He opened a cabinet near the refrigerator and pulled out a jar. “It isn’t toast without my grandmother’s blackberry jam. Trust me.” He opened it and set it on the table.
“I do.” The fact that she did still didn’t make sense. But it did bring her the only semblance of peace she could find at the moment.
“Jane.” He caught her hand as she stabbed her fork into her breakfast. “We’re going to find out who you are and who hurt you. I promise.”
“You do?”
“I do. And I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” The determined glint in his eye convinced her. Settled her. Warmed her. “I’ll get you home, Jane. You have my word.”
Chapter 3
Since coming back to the ranch, Leo had grudgingly adjusted to the poor internet connection and cell service. One of the reasons his plans for the ranch were on hold. Difficult to run a business these days without being online. But for now, a landline was all he had.
The absence of anything other than local channel television hadn’t been a disappointment as he much preferred books or music to wind down his day, and he had his grandfather’s vinyl record collection on permanent rotation. But as he stood in the doorway to the living room, where Jane had curled up on the sofa, tucked in under his great-grandmother’s hand-stitched quilt, he realized how many problems technology could solve for his current predicament.
Predicament.
Odd choice of words for a beautiful interloper.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” He set a glass of water and new cup of java on the coasters on the coffee table. “I can postpone the repairs until—”
“Unless you plan to stand there and watch me sleep, there’s nothing more you can do for me, Leo.” She snuggled down on her side, her eyes already drooping. “I’m just going to sleep for a while.”
“Yeah. Well, since I’m not going to be here to check on you, I set the kitchen timer for an hour.”
She flicked her gaze to his.
“If you won’t go to the clinic in town to have your head checked, that’s the trade-off. When you get up to turn it off, set it again. I mean it, Jane.”
Her nose scrunched. “That’s such a silly name. And I don’t need a babysitter.”
Leo wasn’t so sure. “Hey.” He crouched so they’d be eye to eye. “It’s either the timer or I pack you into the truck and take you to the clinic.”
Shuddering, she ducked her chin and curled into herself. “They’ll call the police.”
Which was what Leo’s gut was telling him he should have already done. Someone had attacked her. Kidnapped her. Stashed her in some secluded shed so he could come back and do whatever he’d planned to do with her. “Then I think dealing with a kitchen timer should be an easy enough compromise.”
“Logical. That’s irritating.”
She might have meant it to be teasing, but he saw the flash of fear in her lovely brown eyes at the mere idea of calling the authorities. “I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours. TV remote is by the chair over there. Some movies are on the shelf. Help yourself to whatever you need.”
“I just want to sleep,” she murmured even as her eyes drifted closed.
“Yeah. Sleep.” Leo knew he should leave. But he found himself positively transfixed by the vision of this beautiful, strong-willed, mystifying woman on his sofa. He didn’t want to leave her. But he couldn’t stay, either. Not when there were chores to be done and questions to answer.
The sooner he got to both the better. He stood up and patted his leg, quietly calling Ollie. The dog obeyed, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “You stay with her, boy. Okay?”
Ollie whined, no doubt realizing he wouldn’t be venturing outdoors much today.
“How about we go with steak for dinner,” Leo offered with a gentle, encouraging pet.
A quiet bark of approval set his mind at ease. “Then you keep an eye on Jane. I’ll be back soon.”
Leo retrieved his jacket and hat and headed outside, his boots hitting the ground with purpose as he walked to the barn. The morning breeze had obscured most of the barefoot tracks Jane had left on her arrival, but an occasional drop of dark blood gave him a good enough trail to follow, which he did, into the tree line on the far end of the property.
Admiration and anger mingled inside Leo as he realized just how far and how difficult her walk had been. She had to have been disorientated. Dizzy. Confused. And yet somehow, she’d found her way here.
Broken branches and disturbed shrubs gave him a general idea as to the direction she’d come. It was a good two, three miles in before he’d hit anything resembling a road, but that road would circle back and outline a good portion of Roaring Springs. Not that he’d had much time to explore as of yet. But maybe this was the excuse he’d been looking for.
“First things first.” He needed to get that line of fence repaired before the cattle decided to test its strength. Leo returned to the barn and house, circled around to the front porch and climbed into his truck.
He made the drive up and around to the far end of the property in silence with the windows open and the Colorado summer breeze his chosen companion. Not quite as entertaining or comforting as Ollie, but he felt better about leaving Jane knowing his dog was with her.
It wasn’t long before he’d loaded up the feed trailer at the silo, and made a more efficient trip up to the herd. Normally he let them graze the pasture, but he needed them away from the fence line, so he deposited the feed well away from the sagging sections of fence. Tomorrow he’d move them to the northern pasture, which should give him a breather for a couple of days.
* * *
They thought he’d killed her.
He’d have found the idea of murdering Skye Colton amusing if it didn’t irritate him. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself? He could have. There had been plenty of opportunity, given his proximity to the friendliest and most outgoing of the Colton offspring.
Reason overruled him. Killing Sabrina Gilford had brought enough attention. Attention that included the FBI, and they were nobody’s fool. Better to play it safe. Stick to the plan. Remain where he was, in plain sight, watching every move the Coltons and Gilfords made.
Every day he listened to the worry, felt the barely retrained fear over Skye’s disappearance, the dead women he’d all but laid at their door. It fed him. Nourished him. Emboldened him. The tension gave him a particular kind of jolt, and wasn’t nearly as satisfying as squeezing the life out of those women. One after another after another.
Maybe...maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was time to strike harder, deeper, rip their hearts right out of their chests by eliminating their precious Skye. Maybe...
Tight lips stretched into a thin smile as he allowed himself to daydream watching the life drain out of those lively brown eyes. Pleasure shot through him like an intoxicant as his mind raced, settled. Planned.
Perhaps, he told himself as he offered a pleasant smile to the group of guests who passed by him on their way to The Chateau. Perhaps it was time he joined in the search for Skye Colton.
* * *
It was after noon before Leo wrapped the last coil of barbed wire hard and tight around the metal post. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, he tipped his hat back and surveyed the cattle in the distance. He hadn’t been far off base thinking they’d be up for testing the fence line, but for now, all was secure on the Slattery Ranch. As far as he knew, anyway.
He gathered his tools and the last of the wire, slung it all into the bed of his truck before drinking the last of the water in the cooler he kept. Even as he considered what should be done next, he rethought his to-do list. It had been a few days since he’d done a fence check on the west end of the property, but he had something more important in mind.
Which was why, after dropping off the feed trailer, he didn’t stop at the house. He kept driving. Right out the gate, off the property and onto the fifty mile road that would take him into town.
* * *
By the time the kitchen timer beeped for the fourth time, Jane gave up any hope of sleep.
“Probably part of his evil plan from the start.” She tossed off the quilt with a growl loud enough to startle Ollie, who did a quick spin and check to see if he’d missed an intruder.
“Just me, boy. Ready to strangle your owner.”
The German shepherd made an odd noise in the back of his throat. Jane froze halfway off the sofa, wondering just how much the dog actually understood. “What got your attention? My growl or the word owner?”
Ollie barked. Jane swore the animal grinned.
“At least one of us is having a good day.” She climbed off the sofa and trudged into the kitchen, pushing the button to silence the DEFCON 1 blaring that cut through her head like a knife. Maybe Leo was right. Maybe she should have her head checked out.
Or maybe she should just take another painkiller. She shook out a pill and downed it with a full glass of water. The view out the kitchen window was enough to take her breath away. The distant mountains provided the perfect country backdrop to the lush acreage and land stretching before her. With the barn and stable on the other side of the house, she could see far and wide, and memorized every curve, every hill, every...shadow.
Jane gasped and dropped to the floor. Ollie came over immediately and pushed his head against her chest as her heart pounded. She squeezed her eyes shut as fear roiled through her. The buzzing in her ears returned, blocking out rational thought as she tried to filter through what she’d seen in a glimpse. A man on horseback, along the top ridge of the property. Leo had taken his truck, hadn’t he? He hadn’t come back without telling her, right? Was she wrong? Was she imagining things?
Skin clammy, hands shaking, she gripped the edge of the sink and pulled herself up, peeking over the edge of the window ledge. Her gaze froze on the solitary figure on horseback turning one way, then the other. He was so far away that logically she knew he couldn’t see her. But she could see him. Who was it? Did Leo have someone on the ranch he hadn’t told her about?
She should have asked him. Stupid, stupid! She should have gotten all the information she could before urging him to leave. Not that she couldn’t protect herself.
Heart hammering in her throat, she pushed herself up, watching the figure as she blindly reached for the knife block on the counter.
She wrapped her hand around the thickest handle and pulled the carving knife free before ripping the curtain closed. She crouched on the floor again, knife clutched in her hands, close to her chest.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Jane whispered to herself, but the fear wouldn’t dissipate. Behind closed eyes, the flashing lights returned. Red. Blue. Bright. Blinding. The ghostly sound of heavy boots approaching had her crying out and darting to the other side of the kitchen, still crouched into as tight a ball as she could manage. She took long, deep breaths, coaxing herself to pry her eyes open, and when she finally did, she found she was alone. Other than Ollie, there was no one in the kitchen—just shadows and her own terror.
“No one knows you’re here. No one could.” But even as the words seeped out of her mouth, she knew she couldn’t believe it. She didn’t even know her own name let alone what anyone outside this house would or wouldn’t do.
She couldn’t take any chances. Here, alone, with no one to trust, she needed to feel safe. She kept low, moving along the edge of the cabinets until she reached the living room. Before she could talk herself out of it, she darted to the windows and pulled the drapes shut. Then she raced through the house and did the same in every room.
The Slattery house went dark and dormant. Ollie abandoned his stance by the door and followed her from room to room, a low concerned whine issuing from his throat. If dogs could speak, she had no doubt he was telling her to calm down. To try to relax and not worry that every person outside the house was the one responsible for hurting her and stashing her in that shed.
But she couldn’t stop. Not until she found the darkness again. The last room had no curtains. The bookshelf-lined study was both practical and elegant, with a heavy desk and an outdated desktop computer situated on top. She bypassed the array of files and papers, the opened mail and the stack of unattended envelopes in favor of the corner, where she dropped down and huddled. She struggled to breathe around the feeling that her lungs were going to explode, all the while hearing the intermittent pounding of footsteps and wailing sirens. Dim sunlight streamed in through the western-facing window.
Ollie inched toward her, lifting his paws onto her updrawn knees.
Her arms ached. Her fingers had gone numb around the hilt of the knife. But she wasn’t letting go. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Ollie blinked big, concerned eyes at her.
“It’s okay, boy,” Jane lied. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” But she couldn’t do anything more than close her eyes and rest the back of her head against the array of books behind her. “He’ll be back soon. Leo will be back.” Leo. She forced the image of the ruggedly handsome cowboy into her mind, shoving away the darkness, the fear, and focused only on him. “Leo will be back.”
She wasn’t safe. Not here. Not inside. Not outside.
Whoever had locked her up in that shed was still out there. Looking for her.
But why? Who was she? What had she done that could have made anyone do what they had?
More importantly, when was she ever going to feel safe again?
* * *
Leo grabbed the first parking spot he found near M&P Grocery, the small mom-and-pop store located in the blink-and-miss-it town of Juniper Grove. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the hustle and bustle of Roaring Springs with its restaurants, shops, businesses and nightclubs, but Leo was the kind of man who preferred simpler offerings. Juniper Grove, less than an hour’s drive from the ranch, was perfect for those looking for a more sedate side excursion with its kitschy antiques stores, gift shops and down-home atmosphere. But today? Today he was keeping his ears open. Small towns absorbed information like industrial sponges. And even smaller businesses like M&P Grocery? It was the perfect place to start.
He grabbed his hat before climbing out of his truck. His trips into town weren’t infrequent, but this time of day put him in the middle of what would be considered the lunch rush and the lively energy of workday frenzy. The plate-glass windows of the diner across the street were filled with customers sipping on milkshakes and gobbling down burgers. The solitary gift shop had their OPEN signs ablaze to welcome the trickle of customers. He’d forgo the bookshop this time around, and he didn’t need to stop at the hardware or the feed and supply store located a few doors down. Instead, he focused his attention on the grocery and stocking up on supplies.
Leo tipped his hat in greeting to the elderly pair of women hurrying out of the store, each with a reusable bag curved over one arm, and a drippy, strawberry ice-cream cone clutched in the other hand.
“Afternoon, Leo.” Clarice Summers called from behind the front register. She tucked the too-tight blouse down over her obviously pregnant stomach with a grimace of frustration. “What brings you out and about today?”
“Just stocking up. Weekend’s gonna be full.” He pulled out a cart and made quick work of the meat section. One thing about living in cattle country—there was always plenty of selection. He looked at the plastic-wrapped packages of chickens and cringed. Did Jane like beef? Should he get some chicken just in case?
His culinary skills were passable; not that his grandmother would have agreed. But he’d pulled his own weight up on the pipeline and filled in a time or two for the kitchen help. Up there, you did what needed doing whether you were capable or not. You just dived in and hoped for the best.
While he’d certainly had his share of female companionship in his twenty-seven years, he’d never lived with a woman long-term. Would Jane prefer salad? Seafood? Or would her memory loss work in his favor? Maybe he should have thought this out a bit more.
By the time he loaded his items onto the conveyer belt, he felt better about his selections. Pasta, fresh vegetables. And dog treats for Ollie. Not too much he could screw up. One thing he did know how to make was his grandmother’s buttermilk biscuits. Add a pile of strawberries and they make for perfect shortcakes.
“Branching out, I see.” Clarice grinned at his larger than usual grocery haul. “One would think you were stocking up for the winter.”