Chapter 14
The professional concern that had weighed Mariah down for the past several days lifted at the sight of Garrison wheeling Shelby toward the main hospital doors Thursday afternoon. Next to her strode a recovered Eric, who had likely refused wheelchair transport. But Vaughn hovered next to him.
Avoiding eye contact with Vaughn, Mariah approached the group in the lobby. "This is so great to see."
"I'll say." Garrison's serious expression had finally relaxed into a brief smile.
"Thank you again, Doc." Eric's voice cracked as he rested a hand on Shelby's shoulder. "For everything."
Mariah shook her head. "A lot of folks pitched in to help. A massive team effort, and it was worth it. Now don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad to be kicking you out of the hospital."
Shelby grinned in the direction of her boyfriend. "Ha. She couldn't wait to be rid of us. You think I was a bad patient here? Just wait 'til I get home."
"You're not moving off the couch or the bed or doing anything without help. Period." Eric crossed his arms and glared at Shelby, making Mariah laugh.
The smile briefly lit Vaughn's face. "Poor Eric. He doesn't know how stubborn Taggarts are when they want something." His glinting gaze lasered on Mariah.
Her heart stopped.
Cutting her eyes away from him, she bit her lip. She must have imagined the double entendre.
"Well, folks, I need to go on a house call before the snow flies tonight. You all get home safely and take care." Mariah waved.
Eric and Garrison wheeled Shelby out the front doors.
Vaughn remained behind, a large, quiet figure in front of her.
"Where's your house call?"
She peered around him at the heavy, gray skies. "I can't say. HIPAA protection and all."
"Where?" It was almost a demand. "I don't want you going somewhere unsafe."
A pique of anger sparked along her last nerve. "Okay, mister. Look here." She came within an inch of poking him in his solid chest. "You can't flash hot and cold like this, going from the caveman act and then indifference and then back to the caveman. It's not fair. We're friends, right? So you need to back down."
His thick, dark brows shot up. That big smile only increased her frustration. "I only meant that if the call is out in the boonies, not only could I help you find it, but I have a way better vehicle than your Mini to manage dirt roads." He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his worn jeans, drawing her attention to a very un-friend-like location. "I'd hate to see you break that pretty car."
"Are you being sarcastic?"
"Not really." Honest. Straightforward. "Well, a little sarcastic about your ridiculous car, but the rest of it, no. I just want to help. Because we're friends."
Her lungs deflated. She wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor before him. "Wow, my bad." She rubbed her neck. "I made a couple of assumptions. Sorry."
"Yeah. We all make assumptions." He blinked. "So where are you headed?"
"Brand ranch."
"No." A chill and a wave of discomfort accompanied that one word.
She stepped back. "Yes. And why is that your problem?"
"Number one, I don't trust them farther than I can throw them. Number two, you're not going out there alone. And number three, the road to their place is wretched. Your car won't survive the trip." He ran his hand through his dark hair, the light catching auburn pieces. "Fuck, I hate those guys."
"So don't come. I can get there on my own."
A muscle popped in his jaw. "No. I said I'd help, so I'll help. Get your stuff and let's go."
"Don't act so happy about your offer, Robin Hood." Without waiting to see if he followed, she stomped back to her office, exchanged her white coat for her wool one, and slung her satchel with basic home visit equipment in it over her shoulder. Spinning around, she went nose to chest with a warm, male scent.
Yum.
Not yum. Friends.
Besides, she was still mad. She stepped back.
"Can I carry that for you?" His low voice flowed over her like a caress, making her hips ache.
Tilting her head far back, she scowled at him. Damned corner of his sexy mouth twitched. Yeah. He was so busted for making fun of her.
"Fine." With one fluid motion, she slid the bag off, picked up a little momentum, and swung it into his rock-hard gut, triggering a muffled oof. She brushed her hands together. Good.
Ignoring the raised brows and whispers behind hands of the medical assistants and nurses, Mariah hurried out the side door and into the cold dusk. The frigid air smelled of impending snow.
"Where's your car?"
"Truck," he muttered.
"Okay."
"It's Eric's and it's not fancy."
"Who needs fancy?"
As they approached the old, beat-up Ford, her heart sank. She'd need a rope ladder to get into the passenger seat.
He opened the door. "Jump," he said.
"What?" She gave a lame bounce with her feet, and his hands clamped around her waist, lifting her in a smooth motion into the truck. Then the satchel hit her in the gut.
Oof.
He grinned as he closed the door.
Well played.
He climbed in with ease and pulled out of the parking lot.
"Do you know how to get there?" she asked after he steered the vehicle away from town.
"Unfortunately, yes."
"I know Hank Brand kidnapped Sara and Zach, so it's understandable that you don't like him. Hank disappeared, didn't he?"
"Yeah."
"But what about the rest of the Brand family? Izzy seems really nice. And her mom is kind of... interesting."
He snorted. "Let's see. You've met Wyatt, and he's a real piece of work, as you well know. He was tormenting Shelby a few weeks back. If he's switched over to bugging you full time, let me know and I will put a stop to it."
"Pretty sure I can handle Wyatt Brand."
He snorted again.
As the truck rolled down the highway, Vaughn flicked his eyes to her and back to the road. "What skills exactly do you have to handle someone like Wyatt?"
She crossed her arms. "I know you aren't making fun of me."
"How could I?"
"Precisely." She rubbed her neck. "Well, I can throw hot coffee like it's no big deal. And being a medical professional, I do know about ten good ways to kill a person and not leave a trace."
His head whipped around. "Really?"
"No. Just kidding." She flicked a nail with her teeth. "About the coffee, that is."
A real, live smile cracked his stone face and made her mouth turn upward in response. "Good one," he said.
"So why do you hate the rest of the Brand family?"
The smile fled. "The Brand family has been after our land for years. They likely burned down our barn and stole cattle. Probably drove Dad to his stroke."
"You don't know that's all true."
"We have enough proof," he snapped.
"Okaaay."
He opened his mouth and closed it.
"Is there more?" she asked.
His knuckles turned white around the wheel. "Garrison had an ex-wife, Tiffani. She betrayed Garrison with Hank Brand, drained the account, and left."
"No way." She studied his hard profile. He held his breath. "Wait. There's more to that story."
"What are you? Psychic?"
"Nope. Good reader of people."
"Damn." He sighed. "Before she left Garrison and fell in with Hank, she went for me."
Her jaw dropped. "You two had an affair?"
His long pause did not reassure her. He rested a fist on the wheel. "Depends on how you look at it."
"Seems like a straightforward question with one of two answers."
He didn't answer.
"So that's why you left?"
"Hell, yeah, I wasn't going to torment my brother."
"You sacrificed your life on the ranch, with your family, to save Garrison's marriage?" Why did she get the feeling he was leaving out important information?
"It's not as altruistic as it sounds." He signaled to make the turn onto a chip-sealed county road. "And it didn't work. Sounded like she was unhappy regardless of who she was with. Hank swept her off her feet, she did as he suggested and destroyed Garrison, and the rest is history." Another pause. "Only that's not all of it. She died a while after hooking up with Hank."
"What happened?"
"No one knows. Hank disappeared after kidnapping Sara and Zach, so by the time I got here, he was long gone. No Hank to question."
"Wow." She looked out at the gray, snow-swept landscape. This tormented and tough-as-nails guy had a real soft spot for his family—to the detriment of his own future. She studied his hard profile. "What about the rest of the Brands?"
"At best, they have been unhelpful."
"At worst?"
"We think they're dangerous and willing to do whatever it takes to get our land."
"Still doesn't make sense in a state the size of Wyoming. Free-range grazing and all."
"Goes way back to a conflict between now-deceased Mr. Brand and Dad." He rubbed his jaw. "But I thought that spat was long buried. Who knows? The Brands are vindictive. They're erratic and they're getting worse." He pulled the truck to a stop a hundred feet before a dirt lane. No street number or mailbox. "Sure you want to do the visit?"
Her scalp prickled. She toyed with the latch on the bag. "While I respect the background information, I still need to take care of my patient."
"Give me your phone." He held out his hand. "Please." When she complied, he punched in his number and handed it back to her. "If ever you need help, call and I'll be there." He squinted at the phone again and exhaled a curse. "Actually, the damn thing might not work at their house. We're out of bars on the phone here. Dead zone." Putting the truck into gear, he stared at her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. "If something happens in the house, just scream really loudly. I will get to you."
A real shiver hit her as they bounced down the rutted dirt road. "Aren't you being a little melodramatic?"
"No. I have a shotgun on the rack behind us. I will use it if necessary."
Her heart rattled in time with her teeth as the truck bounced down the rutted lane. "You're not serious."
"Aren't I?" The muscle jumped again in his jaw, and his knuckles blanched as he gripped the wheel. "Look."
He braked twenty feet in front of a run-down, wood-sided ranch.
Two men approached, one on each side of the truck. They aimed their rifles.