Chapter 15
The image of a man pointing a gun at Mariah sucker-punched Vaughn. Escape plan needed. Now.
His ability tingled and sparked to life, and he clamped his teeth together, releasing the control over his gift. The urge to protect himself and Mariah surged, jackhammering his fucking skull.
He scanned the property still visible in the house lights illuminating the darkness. One main building and numerous large garages and barns. He stopped in a snow-dusted dirt and gravel open parking area.
There wasn't much cover.
Not only would he have a slim chance of protecting himself if Wyatt or—he squinted—damn it, Tommy Brand with his scarred eyebrow got a shot off, but no way could Vaughn keep Mariah safe as well. The two men still pointed guns.
Vaughn's vision went red.
Why hadn't he insisted that she stay away?
Because that stubborn woman would've gone with or without his help, all to do her job.
Before Vaughn could tap out a text and hope it would reach home, Tommy rapped on the window with the tip of his gun barrel and hollered, "Hands on the wheel, Taggart. Get out of the truck slowly." Vaughn dropped his phone to the floorboard where the guys couldn't see it.
Wyatt knocked on the passenger side; Mariah yelped. The color drained from her face and neck.
Now Vaughn needed to kill that man for scaring her.
He pounded again on the window, his face steaming up the outside of the glass next to Mariah.
Her hand shook as she scrambled to unlock the door. With a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder at Vaughn, she clambered down into the dirt and snow-covered parking area.
After yet another tap, Vaughn barked at Tommy, "Unwad your panties. I'm coming." He kept his hands where the man could see them, stepped out of the truck, and hurried around the front of the vehicle. Anything to get closer to Mariah.
But it wasn't close enough. He was stopped before reaching the porch.
"What the hell are you doing here, Taggart? Thought this was a goddamned doctor visit, not you taking a tour of our property." Wyatt spat on the ground and stood in his way. "Besides, you're trespassing."
At least the guys had set the guns down against the house. Still too close for comfort.
"I drove the nice doctor down your piss-poor excuse for a road, so she could do your family a favor. If you don't want her to care for your mother, we'll get back in the truck and leave."
"Suits me fine," Wyatt growled.
A third man exited the house. With that sleeveless shirt, the guy had his own bulging guns on display. Dread turned to concrete in Vaughn's stomach, and his blood pressure did a swan dive.
He would recognize those dead, ice-blue eyes anywhere.
"Linc," he gritted out. "What the hell are you doing with these losers?"
The hulking man sneered, "Helping out around the ranch. Aunt Patty's been sick and all."
Fuck. How had he not connected that Linc was related to the Brands?
Wyatt snickered. "Taggart, you must know my cousin, Lincoln McDowell. Linc, meet pansy-assed Vaughn."
The Brands just got better and better.
Linc flexed his arms. "Oh, we know each other. It's been, what, four years? Doesn't matter. We'll finish our discussion later." In the octagon. Of course.
Vaughn curled his hands into fists, eager to start the fight early.
Mariah glanced over at Vaughn with a frown, and he gave a tiny head shake. He needed to get her out of the worsening danger. And loose cannon Linc McDowell personified "worsening danger."
"Hi, Doc," Linc sneered. "Long time no see."
Her spine went ramrod straight.
What the hell? When had Mariah seen him before?
Christ, everything about this place screamed wrong. Even the air felt heavy, sour.
Vaughn's power begged him to stand between her and Linc. But even though the guns weren't actively aimed at them, he didn't want to do anything to endanger Mariah.
She clutched the bag and squared her shoulders. "Well," her voice cracked, "I should take a look at Mrs. Brand, and then we can be going."
"Right this way," Linc announced.
She took stiff steps into the house.
Linc leered at her backside as she walked past him.
Vaughn almost lost his mind. Permanently. He wanted to tackle the guy. The only thing that stopped him was the threat of Wyatt and Tommy's shotguns. He took a step toward the house.
"Stay right there, Taggart." Wyatt spat another glob onto the ground. "Linc will take good care of her."
Crossing his arms, Vaughn leaned against his truck. "So, he's your cousin?"
"Well, second cousin. From Laramie. In town for the big fight coming up." The barking laugh had the same effect as salt on Vaughn's raw nerves. "It's not too late for you to back out. Linc put his last two opponents in the hospital. I think one guy is still drinking through a straw." A sniff. "Such a shame, your face being so pretty to begin with and all."
"We'll see." He monitored the house, every sense straining for some clue as to how Mariah was doing. Was Linc being a jerk? Stupid question.
Hurry.
Time crawled as the snow fell more heavily. In the silence, he could hear the tiny blap of snowflakes on his leather jacket. His stomach growled. Damn it, in times like this, he sure did want something strong to drink with zero nutritional value and a hell of a kick to it.
Idle time took chunks out of his soul.
He propped a boot heel against the front bumper of his truck in an effort to act casual while Tommy and Wyatt hovered. The tingle in his mind remained at a low level. Not a three-alarm power eruption. Yet.
Somehow, he'd know if Mariah were in immediate danger. He hoped.
While he waited, he memorized the visible layout of the ranch and the hills behind the house, with flat fields on one side and thick forest stopping at the outbuildings on the other. The house was made up of a main structure where several additions appeared to have been tacked on in a series of drunken afterthoughts. Near a large, metal Quonset hut outbuilding sat three rusting vehicles on blocks and large equipment partially hidden under large tarps. Kerr had mentioned that the Brands were doing some mining. This likely confirmed the activity.
Every few minutes, Wyatt snickered.
"What's so funny, Brand?"
"Lady doctor doesn't know that it's dangerous to hang out with a Taggart." The idiot's eye twitched.
"All right, I'll bite. What the hell are you talking about?"
"Well. Garrison's girlfriend got hurt after she started seeing him. And that other pretty boy got messed up good and proper after dating Shelby. Coincidental. Don't you think?"
Like a spark hitting a hissing Bunsen burner, his power shot to full flame. Wyatt backed up a step. Good. "You wanna go on record? You taking credit for something?"
"Now why would I do that? Everyone knows I'm innocent. So says my brother."
"Sheriff Tommy?"
The asshole in question tipped an invisible hat and tapped the butt of his gun on the warped wood of the front porch. A scarred eyebrow rose. Just like old times.
"Convenient, isn't it?" Wyatt grinned, his face shadowed with the house lights behind him.
Vaughn shoved his hands in his front pockets and tried to ignore the flakes of snow melting on his head. "Yeah, real convenient. Like getting away with murder."
"I haven't killed anyone." The unspoken "yet" chilled Vaughn's blood.
The man snickered and darted glances around the compound, like he expected to see someone.
Or something.
The background rumble of Vaughn's power blunted his ability to focus.
Where the hell was Mariah? It was full dark. How long had she been in there?
Wyatt spat on the ground. "So you'd better steer clear of lady doctor. For her safety."
Vaughn closed the five feet between them, ignoring any risk to his own health. "The. Fuck. You. Say." No one threatened Mariah. He'd had enough.
As he grabbed the man's shirtfront, Vaughn's power began to expand again, like a bubble that searched for her, wanting to keep her safe inside the sphere. Wanting to repel Wyatt far away from Mariah. An ache formed over his temples as the energy grew.
Wyatt's mouth gaped and his feet slid away from Vaughn, as if pushed by an invisible impulse. "Back away, Taggart, if you know what's good for you. One day, you'll be at our beck and call. Soon. You'll see."
Damn it, as badly as he wanted to hand this bastard his teeth, Vaughn needed to focus on Mariah's safety. His ears buzzed as he fought a gut-twisting need to get her far away from these armed nut jobs. He stormed across the porch to the front door.
As he reached for the handle, the door opened. Carrying her coat over one arm and the satchel over the other shoulder, Mariah stepped onto the porch. Under the halogen light, her eyes swam in a pale face. Her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate.
Linc appeared right behind her, dwarfing her. Looming. Vaughn wanted to move her far away from that man. Now.
"Get out of here, lady," Wyatt growled and motioned at her. "You too, Taggart. Get right in the truck and leave. Don't help her. She can manage. Hands on the wheel after you close that door. No funny business."
Vaughn gritted his teeth and did as he was told, swinging up into his seat and slamming the door.
With jerking movements, like her limbs had locked up, Mariah walked to the truck and, after two attempts, opened the door of the truck. In a clumsy move where her foot slid off the bottom step, she finally managed to clamber in. When she shut the door, she stared straight ahead and didn't move.
He'd seen that blank expression last night, when he screwed up in the parking lot, but tonight it was a million times worse, like a complete void. His gut churned. What had Linc done to her? Half of Vaughn wanted to exit the truck and pound a confession out of the guy. The other half wanted only to remove Mariah from this place.
"Get out of here, Taggart. Don't show your face on our property again or we'll shoot first and ask questions later." Wyatt yelled, reaching for his gun.
He turned the key in the ignition, and sweat cooled on his brow when it took two tries for the truck to start. Mariah sat like an ashen statue, hands clasped in her lap, staring out the front window. She still wore the satchel. Her coat lay in her lap.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as he made a sloppy K-turn, the truck wheels kicking out slushy gravel.
"Fine," she whispered, not moving.
She looked anything but. "Put on your seat belt."
With one shaking hand, she reached back and tried to pull the strap around. She couldn't do it. Tried again. Failed and gave up. Stared out the window again. What the holy living fuck was going on with her?
He hauled ass down the ranch road like the demons of hell snapped at his heels, the back end of the truck whipping from side to side. Careening onto the county road, he put another few miles behind them before yanking the wheel and pulling off onto a shoulder. Hopefully, the truck wouldn't sink in the soft earth and snow, but he needed to figure out what was going on with Mariah.
He smacked the dome light on, illuminating the moisture that glistened on her pale cheeks.
"God, Mariah, are you all right?"
She opened and closed her mouth. No sound came out. She stared straight ahead.
What was he supposed to do?
If Linc had so much as touched her, Vaughn would trek back there and start a title fight early.
"Damn it." He slid over to the middle of the bench seat and pulled her sideways onto his lap. The coat and satchel fell to the muddy floorboard. Please, let this be the right thing to do. Tremors racked her delicate frame, enough to shake his own bones.
"Talk to me. What happened?"
Trying hard not to startle her, he worked his arms around until he surrounded her stiff body and clutched her tightly to his chest. He rested his chin on her head. Shudders continued to rack her, and he had no solution other than to hold her.
Something bad had gone down. This woman saved lives for a living, faced down death, yet here she sat, quietly going to pieces in his lap. Every inch of her radiated sheer terror.
The contained suffering tormented him more than loud weeping ever could. With a wince, he released his ability. It bubbled up and settled over the woman in his arms. He breathed easier.
He had to protect her. His soul required it.
Dramatic much? Vaughn, of all people, should know that emotions needed to stay out of this interaction. If he were smart, he'd keep any feelings tamped deep down. He had another life to return to back in New York. Entanglements in Copper River weren't part of his plan.
Also, his track record with women? Poor. Which was yet another reason...
He rubbed his cheek on her silky hair. Lots of stuff didn't fit into the plan.
According to the digital clock on the dash, another fifteen minutes passed in total silence. He let go of her long enough to turn the heat up in the idling vehicle. Then he cradled the side of her head with that same hand, easing her deeper into his chest. He stared at the falling snow the truck headlights illuminated.
Finally, her muscles went limp. He held still. After another few minutes, the shaking subsided.
He felt her deep, shuddering breath echo in his own lungs.
"Sorry." Did he mistake her whisper of sound?
"You're fine." His voice came out like sandpaper. "Take your time. We're in no hurry. Are you okay sitting here?"
A nod of her head against his chin.
When she turned so that her cold lips brushed over his neck, that tiny movement took him as close to heaven as a bastard like him could ever get.
He'd stay like this forever, if that was what she wanted. Sit in the sauna of the truck cab and sweat to death, if it meant she'd be warm enough. And safe enough.
Another ten minutes elapsed. The snow continued to fall in front of the truck's beams. Peaceful. Calm.
Everything Vaughn was not.
After another sigh, she rested a small hand on his forearm. "Thank you."
"Any time." What would a real man do right now? Hell if he knew. "Uh, want to talk about what happened? Did Linc do something in there?" It took concentration not to tighten his muscles.
"I guess. Um, those guys with the guns and being inside that dark house triggered a flashback."
"From what?"
She squeezed his arm. "From when I was a kid. Men with guns trapped me in a room while other people beat my brother."
Holy fuck.