Six months earlier . . .
Emrys
It was all my fault the guys with guns had caught up with us.
I knew they wanted to hurt us.
I knew they were faster than us on their dirt bikes and ATVs.
I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us.
They were dumping bodies in the river like they were garbage, and I knew if they caught up they were going to do the same to us.
I understood they were willing to go to extreme lengths to protect acres and acres of an illegal marijuana farm hidden deep within the national forests of Wyoming. They couldn’t afford to let us leave the mountain alive. There were some secrets worth killing for . . . and this was one of them.
I knew all of that, but I still forced Sutton Warner to stop.
I wasn’t as comfortable on horseback as he was, especially at the blistering pace he’d set for us to get safely back to his family’s ranch. The rest of the group I’d been vacationing with had branched off in different directions trying to outrun the drug growers and armed men protecting the fields hidden deep within the Wyoming wilderness. Sutton and I were the smallest unit: just the two of us tearing through the forest at breakneck speed. The hope was that we would be able to get to the ranch and call for help before anyone else got hurt. We were supposed to be moving faster than any of the other groups, but there was no way to gauge if that was true. Sutton’s older brother and another guest, who had been searching for a harmless vacation like I was, had already been seriously injured when the dealers pinned down our campsite in a hail of bullets. In the blink of an eye, our circumstance deviated from the peaceful, serene week in the mountains I’d planned with my best friend. Now, it was a life or death race against some seriously bad guys packing some seriously big guns.
Sutton wanted to keep going; I was starting to breathe heavily and was having a hard time staying upright. It had been non-stop movement since we’d split up. There was no time to stop and rest, no time to eat, and no time to think about just how dangerous our situation was. The horse I was barely staying on was also starting to show signs of fatigue. The poor, overworked animal kept stumbling and was fighting every jerk of the reins and every tap of my heels against its heaving sides. I hurt from the top of my head to my toes, and I could hardly see the big, blond man sitting on his horse in front of me. He hadn’t said much when we’d started on this journey. Hell, he hadn’t said much before we started. He didn’t hide the fact that he considered my tagging along on his furious trek back to the safety of his ranch a burden and hindrance. He’d mentioned more than once that he would be twice as far along if he didn’t have me to worry about.
He wasn’t very friendly or very nice. He hadn’t given me a single encouraging word since we started out. But he did stop anytime I told him I needed a break, and I fully believed he would do his absolute best to make sure no harm came to me. He was alert and aware of everything happening around us, hyper-focused on the task at hand. He was equally as worried about his two brothers, the men who had acted as guides on the trip and led the rest of our motley crew through the woods. A lot had happened over the course of the last week, and this scramble away from killers was just the tip of the iceberg. My best friend was somewhere out in the wilderness with Sutton’s older brother, and they were also running for their lives. Lucky for her, that particular Warner seemed to like her just fine and didn’t treat her like she was a nuisance—unlike my current companion.
I could see Sutton was annoyed with me when I told him we had to stop again. I knew he wanted to argue with me, that he didn’t think it was a good idea, but I literally couldn’t stay in the saddle anymore. My ass had gone numb an hour ago. The horse stumbled and listed to one side. I was too tired and too stiff to react properly and slid sideways in response to the jerky motion. I hit the ground with a yelp and heard the blond man swear softly under his breath. He pulled the speckled Appaloosa he was riding around and swung out of the saddle in one fluid motion. If I hadn’t been so close to passing out, I would have swooned at the gesture. Before coming on this trip, I’d been reading a lot of romance novels featuring sexy cowboys and rugged ranchers. A hot boy in tight jeans and cowboy boots had always been a secret fantasy of mine. I liked that they were a throwback to what I imagined a real man was like. One who could kill his own dinner and change a tire. The kind of man who knew how to take care of women in and out of the bedroom. There weren’t any of those kinds of men hanging out in my social circle in San Francisco. I knew a lot of artists and poets. I attracted actors and musicians. I ended up with creative types who never seemed to have a steady income and wanted me to give them a place to stay more than they wanted me. I had been giddy when we stepped onto the Warner Ranch and were greeted with three different varieties of real-life cowboys right out of the gate.
Cyrus Warner, the oldest of the three brothers, was what my best friend Leo called ‘not- quite-a-cowboy.’ He looked more like a biker crossed with a CEO. He was big and gruff . . . unquestionably badass. There was something a little bit dangerous about him. He had style and flair that was unexpected so far away from the civilized world, and it was just as easy to picture him in a boardroom as a barn. He was the executive kind of cowboy. He was the one who had turned the dying ranch into a profitable vacation destination.
Lane, the youngest brother, was as stereotypical of a cowboy as one could get. He had bright blue eyes, wavy, dark hair, and deeply tanned skin. His long legs had been encased in too-tight Wranglers and his too-handsome face was marked by a charming grin that indicated he knew exactly how to work all the goodness he had going on. He was the one you could easily find on a cowboy of the month calendar, shirtless, holding a gangly foal. The quintessential cowboy fantasy come to life. Most definitely the one who made girls from the city swoon and trip over themselves with a flash of his smile.
Sutton was an odd mix of both his brothers. He was the most traditionally handsome of the three of them with his shaggy, blond hair, and dark green eyes. He was shorter than Cy but taller than Lane, not that any of them were hurting in the height department—something I always noticed since I was on the tall side myself. He had on the standard boots and jeans, which he was obviously comfortable in, but he didn’t seem like he enjoyed being on the ranch, at least not as much as his brothers did. He wasn’t stern and silent like his older brother, and when he spoke it was with a sarcastic slant and biting rudeness that was sharper and more pointed than his affable younger brother’s humor. He moved sure and steady across the property, but there was anger in every step. Ever the reluctant cowboy. The one who didn’t know how to be anything else, but clearly found the role confining. Of course, he would be the one who caught my eye and sparked an interest that had been missing for quite some time.
It was always the broken boys who called to me. All I wanted to do was fix them. I was habitually sacrificing my own happiness to help whatever wounded bird ended up in my nest.
Sutton reached out a hand and pulled me to my feet. I ended up with my hands on his hard chest and my head tilted back so I could meet his gaze. His mouth was pulled in a tight line, but there was heat in those dark green eyes that he couldn’t hide as my body pressed into his.
“Are you okay, Em?” His voice was gruff and I wasn’t naïve enough to think it was all from his thinly veiled impatience.
He’d noticed me noticing him. And maybe he’d noticed me back, not that he seemed happy about the fact.
I dipped my chin down and exhaled a long breath. “I will be. I just need a couple of minutes. I’m not used to this kind of exertion and adrenaline. I feel like my heart is going to beat right through my chest.” And my thighs were burning from holding onto the horse for dear life.
I put a hand over the pounding in my chest and watched as his gaze followed the movement. He blinked a few times and then set me away from him like my skin had suddenly sprouted thorns.
“I’m gonna take the horses down by the river and see about getting them some water. Find a place with some cover to hide until I get back. Try and stretch out your muscles. The ranch is only another day’s hard ride. Once we get back, you can rest for as long as you need. Push through the pain, Em. Leo is counting on you.”
He would have to bring up my best friend who was also sprinting through the woods to safety. The only reason either of us were in this predicament in the first place was because of me. I’d been the one who decided this wilderness retreat would be the perfect way for her to heal her broken heart. Little did I know it was going to be the oldest Warner brother who was going to accomplish that goal, not the week-long escape of our girls-only retreat.
I was getting ready to tell Sutton I would crawl behind a massive pine tree and hunker down until he returned when the first shot rang out. It hit the flank of Sutton’s horse, sending the massive animal bolting. The noise the injured horse made broke my heart. Sutton moved without a sound, throwing his big body over mine and taking us both to the ground. The growl of motors instantly surrounded us, making my horse dance away nervously.
We hadn’t been fast enough or gotten far enough away.
It was too dangerous to stop but I made him do it anyway.
The dirt bikes circled us, and even though I had my face buried in Sutton’s neck where he was acting as a human shield, I could see no less than four assault rifles pointed at us. After climbing off his dirt bike, one of the men walked to us and kicked Sutton in the ribs hard enough that I swore I heard bones break. Sutton gave me a squeeze telling me to stay calm and he only let out a faint grunt at the attack. I didn’t even realize I was screaming at the top of my lungs as they pulled him off me and shoved the muzzle of a gun under his defiantly tilted chin. The guy who kicked him reached down and grabbed me by my tangled ponytail. He jerked me painfully to my feet and pulled me way too close to his face. His eyes bored into mine and I could see every evil, ugly thing he had planned reflected back at me.
“The rest of them will come for you when they realize you’re missing. They’ll find the injured horse we’re cutting loose. They’ll know we found you. Until they show up, we can have some fun with you. We’ve been stuck in these mountains for a long, long time. The men have been dying for some easy entertainment.” Turning to his fellow thugs, he held up my arm and said, “Boys, meet your entertainment.” He grinned at me and it made my stomach twist into a thousand knots.
“Don’t touch her!” It didn’t matter they had us outnumbered and outgunned. Sutton lunged for the man who was holding me hostage, only to have the man behind him crack the butt of a rifle on the back of his head. Instantly, he went to his knees. Crimson flowed freely, turning his light hair red. He shook his head and fell forward, catching himself on his hands. The guy who hit him took another swing, making me scream and forcing my feet to move involuntarily toward him.
The guy holding my hair hostage grabbed my face in a punishing grip and growled, “If you fight me, if you make getting you back to our camp difficult, I will put a bullet between his eyes. After all, they only need to come for one of you.”
Helpless, I looked at the unconscious man on the ground, tears silently sliding down my cheeks. He told me we shouldn’t stop, that we only had one more day to reach safety. This was all my fault . . . again. Everything up until this moment had been mine to own, and if something happened to Sutton, it’d be all on me. I nodded stiffly and reached up to wipe my hands across my wet face.
A couple of the men threw Sutton’s limp, bleeding body over the back of the horse they hadn’t let get away. My hands were zip-tied together in front of me and I was put on the front of a four-wheeler, a gun pointed at my side, as we drove back through the woods. I cried the entire way. I wanted to throw my body sideways, wanted desperately to try and escape, but I couldn’t chance them shooting Sutton. He shouldn’t have to suffer or die because of my weakness or inability to stay on my horse.
When we reached their ramshackle campsite, the guy holding me wasted no time in dragging me into one of the white tents. Another man dumped Sutton was unceremoniously on the ground, and I was shoved down on a filthy, smelly air mattress. Between one blink and the next, both my shirt and bra were cut away, leaving my torso bare.
I couldn’t help but struggle. I kicked him in the chest. I beat at him with my tied hands. I twisted away, even as the knife he used to cut my clothes dug into my flesh—drawing blood as my skin split open. I was screaming so loud he shoved my torn shirt in my mouth to keep me quiet. He bit my exposed nipple so hard I gagged. He held me down with a hand on my face, making it hard to breathe as he pulled off the rest of my clothes. I wanted to disappear. He wasn’t the only armed man in the tent. There were two other men present, practically salivating as more of my body was uncovered. They seemed to enjoy it more the harder I fought.
I managed to bring my bound hands down in a blow to the head of the man pawing at me. A wild kick brought my foot close to his balls, but I went deathly still when that dirty knife, already shiny with my blood, dug into my cheek. I felt it dig into my soft skin as the man smiled at me again. “You think you’re better than me, better than this? All bitches are the same. We’ll see how special you think you are when your face is in pieces. You’ll beg men like me to take you, to take care of you. No one will want you when I’m done carving my initials into your skin.” The knife dragged across my skin again and I felt like I was drowning in my own blood. I could feel it trickling down the side of my neck and into my ear. I could feel it touch the corner of my mouth and the iron tang made me want to vomit.
The knife skipped over my ravaged chest and sliced across my stomach. When I felt the blade between my legs I closed my eyes and prayed that I would never open them again. I wanted to die. Teeth dug into my skin, stinging and sharp. No one had ever touched me against my will before. I’d never been someone who felt totally helpless. I had no idea how I was going to survive this . . . if I was going to survive this. I felt the sting of the blade dig into the fleshy inside of my thigh and rough fingers probing at the apex of my thighs. I sobbed behind the gag and tried to pull away again, but I wasn’t allowed to move. I was on the precipice of being forever changed and there was nothing I could do about it.
Suddenly, there was a commotion coming from where the other two men in the tent had been waiting impatiently for their turn to violate me.
Sutton was no longer unconscious.
He was wide awake and he was raising hell. He had somehow gotten hold of one of the men’s guns, since they had been too distracted watching what was happening to me. He fired off a round taking one of the men down before the other jumped him. They grappled on the ground for the weapon while the man on top of me climbed to his feet. He was hitching up his pants and reaching for his own weapon when another shot rang out. Suddenly, the man fighting with Sutton dropped to the ground. Sutton staggered to his feet, the ugly, black gun steady in his hands even though he was still bleeding heavily from his head wound.
“Let her go.” The two men faced off, neither looking like they were willing to bend.
“Why would I do that? I was just starting to have fun.” I was covered in blood and bite marks. My skin was shredded and raw from the knife.
I wouldn’t physically survive any more of his fun.
“I’m not going to let you touch her again.” His voice was raspy and the look in his eyes was deadly serious. I scrambled to put my pants back on and to get as much of my shredded shirt back over me as I could. It wasn’t easy with my hands bound and covered in slick, wet blood. I managed to cover my chest, but the fabric immediately turned scarlet from my bleeding wounds. I was climbing to my feet and moving toward Sutton when another man entered the tent.
This one had an aura about him that made chills race up and down my spine. He took one look at the men lying on the ground—bullet holes in both—and pulled out a pistol. He shot Sutton twice in the chest, not saying a word as he did so. No warning or remorse showed on his face as he watched the blond man pitch forward. I screamed again and ran to where he had fallen to the ground, again catching himself on his hands. I put a hand on his back, but I could hear his gasping breath and see the way his skin went white. His eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped on the ground, his face in my lap.
“How did you let this happen?” The man with the pistol motioned to the two dead men on the ground.
The man who had very nearly raped me shrugged. “I was distracted and the cowboy was more determined than I thought.”
The newcomer turned the pistol on the other man and pulled the trigger just as coldly and calmly as he had when he shot Sutton. “We don’t have time for distractions.”
The man collapsed in a heap as his executioner turned to me. I was talking softly to Sutton, trying to get him to respond. I could feel his pulse go thready and weak. He wasn’t going to make it. Almost as if he could read my mind, the newcomer told me, “He’s a dead man. None of you are getting off this mountain alive.”
He was wrong on both counts.
Sutton almost died . . . but he didn’t.
I watched the life fade out of him, watched his eyes go dark and his chest stop moving. But those drug dealers didn’t have any idea how stubborn the Warner brothers were or how protective they were of one another.
Not even a minute later, Cy showed up out of nowhere with the cavalry and managed to rescue both of us. Sutton barely made it. No one was sure how he survived the flight to Billings, Montana and the intense, lengthy emergency surgery that followed . . . but he had.
I owed him my life and so much more than that.
I wanted to stay by his side.
I wanted to hold him and thank him repeatedly.
I wanted to take care of him the same way he had taken care of me.
I wanted to fix him.
I wanted to get the chance to let myself fall in love with him because I was sure I could. No one had ever taken care of me before, let alone taken a bullet and nearly died for me.
But as soon as he opened his eyes, he told me to go. He couldn’t speak since he had a breathing tube down his throat but he was so upset, so distressed at the sight of me, he made his brothers give him pen and paper so he could tell them that he wanted me gone.
He didn’t want anything to do with me. After a while, I realized I couldn’t blame him for sending me away. After all, I was the reason he was in this shape. I had nearly gotten him killed. He’d sacrificed himself to save me and obviously regretted it. The man had a family and a daughter to raise. I’d nearly taken him away from them.
He wanted me out of his life . . . so I left.
I left my job, my friends, my family.
I left everyone trying to help and heal me.
The thing was, no matter where I went or who I was for the day, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were things left unsaid between Sutton Warner and me. He was in every thought; he was trapped inside every feeling.
He followed me everywhere I went.
I’d left a piece of myself, a chunk of my heart, back with the cowboy who had saved my life, and if I ever wanted to move forward, if I ever wanted to be complete again, I needed to go and get it back.