Travis

An insistent chime drilled its way deep into my brain. I couldn’t reach the cell phone to turn it off, but covering my head with the pillow only muffled it and had the added disadvantage of suffocating me. As I tossed the pillow aside in irritation, waves of searing agony danced along every nerve in my left arm up to my neck and down to my fingers.

I flopped back onto the bed, my plans of smashing the phone abandoned. By remaining perfectly still, I was able to get my ragged breathing under control. The pain lessened some; at least I wasn’t still seeing red and purple flashes in my peripheral vision.

Definitely not the best way to awaken from a deep slumber after the most pleasurable massage I had experienced in my life. Christine’s soft hands had been pure magic as she’d worked at the knots of tension in my shoulders and back. I would have gladly given the same treatment back, eased some of the stress I knew she felt. But when she’d finished, she’d simply lain at my back and held me to her, cocooning me with her warmth and humming softly. Falling asleep in her arms had seemed like a requirement, and I’d allowed myself to drift with thoughts of forever on my mind.

But the other half of the incredible experience seemed to have disappeared. At least she was no longer in my bed. A folded sheet of paper about the size of a small photo provided the answer.

Sleeping Beauty–

Much as I’d love to stay until you wake up, it’s my night to close the bar. Stay home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Christine

So I should rest, huh? Not damn likely with Bull loose and on a vengeful rampage. What did she plan to do if the asshole came to her door again? Invite him in for coffee? She should never have left the safety of the ranch. She needed to stay where I could watch out for her.

Muttering a string of curses under my breath, I grabbed the first pair of jeans I laid my hands on, hopping around my bedroom as I struggled to get into them one-handed. The fire in my arm had my stomach jumping. If I’d eaten dinner, I’d be puking already. I had to do something to control that pain. I managed to fasten the jeans as I stomped into the bathroom. I pulled open the door to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of painkillers. Swallowing the whole thing probably wouldn’t help, but hopefully the two I took would take the edge off the molten agony currently reminding me of the danger we were all in. The danger Christine was in.

Tossing the rest of the water into the sink, I set the plastic cup to the side and returned the bottle to the cabinet. When I swung the door shut, hard green eyes stared at me from the mirror. If anything happened to Christine, I’d kill Bull, slowly and painfully.

Donning a shirt sucked and was managed only with beads of sweat forming on my forehead and dripping into my eyes. Too bad I had no time to just hit the bed to recover. Setting my jaw, I slid my watch onto my left wrist, grabbed my wallet and car keys off the dresser, and, as an afterthought, opened my cell phone to see whose call had awakened me. I frowned at the L.A. area code. Dan —again.

“Sorry, Dan.” Why should I give a flying hoot about a woman who had disappeared and obviously had no desire to be found? The phone went into my pocket, the call unreturned.

The pungent scent of cigar smoke hit my nose about the same time I hit the door to the porch.

Shit. I was going to start parking out the back and using Grant’s teenaged escape route down the tree outside my window.

“Evening,” dad greeted easily.

“You let Christine leave.” I tossed the words at my father without stopping.

“Was I supposed to stop her?” He calmly surveyed me.

I paused my forward momentum and glared. “Yes. She’s safe here.”

A pained expression crossed dads face and he slapped at a mosquito on my neck. “She’s got a business, boy. She has to tend to it or she won’t have it long.”

“She needs to be safe —I need her to stay safe.” I moved toward my car.

My father’s quiet voice stopped me “Travis, I haven’t been in a position to give you advice in a lot of years, so maybe you’ll think it’s late for me to be starting now.”

With an inward groan, I met my dad’s eyes. Now or later, one way or the other, I was going to have to suffer through some kind of lecture. Might as well get it over with. I jangled my keys against my thigh, impatient.

Dad pulled out a cigar, studied it, then sighed and slid it back into his pocket. “Maybe if I’d spoken up more when you were younger, things would be different. But I can’t change the past. I can see you love this gal.”

“Yes, I do.” And trust you to notice.

“Son, you came home missing something. Or maybe missing someone. Did you go looking for what you’re missing —maybe hoping to find it in Miss Christine?”

The car keys fell to the porch with a clink. Frowning, I bent and scooped them up. Only the fear that echoed my father’s question kept my anger at the invasion of privacy in check. Still, I couldn’t keep the chill out of my voice. “She say something to you?”

Dad chuckled. “Nothing I didn’t already see.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t deserve to be your second choice, son. And as long as you keep yourself walled off, separating the pieces of your life you don’t want to talk about, you aren’t making her your first.”

“What the hell does that—?” I huffed out a breath. Trust Justin McGee to pick up on that, too. “It’s not like that. We haven’t had time—”

Dad’s pointed stare halted me in mid-denial. There had been plenty of time, lots of opportunities. I’d just always found a way around the subject, reasons not to talk.

“You know…” Dad picked up a half-empty glass of lemonade and drew lines with one finger in the condensation. Damn, if the man ever said anything straight out without pausing for effect, Old Faithful would probably stop spouting. One, two, three, four, five—

“Love comes with a lot of things.” Almost in slow motion, Justin raised the glass and took a long drink. “Happiness, responsibility. Fear. Open up to her. If she loves you, she’ll understand anything you have to tell her. But don’t smother her with everything you’re feeling right now, son. She isn’t one who’s going to take easy to that kind of love.”

Forcing myself to take a deep, calming breath, I waited a beat then asked, “Are you telling me not to see her tonight?”

Justin shook his head. “I’m strongly suggesting, son, that if you woke up from your nap, missed your girl, and wanted to see her, maybe hold an enlightening conversation, she’ll take it a lot more kindly than the attitude you’re wearing right now.”

The emotions gripping me suddenly drained out, and I nodded. Then I chuckled. “You’re the second person today to give me that advice.”

“Really…” Justin said in a droll tone. “Who would be the first?”

I drew a deep breath, blew it out. Avoiding my father’s sharp stare, I mumbled my answer. “Christine.”

Justin’s hearty laughter followed me to my car. “You know, a lady usually likes to get a call first before a gentleman drops in on her. Gives her time to spruce up a mite.”

Smiling, I reached for my cell and pulled up Christine’s number.

* * *

Dusk was settling into night when I bulleted into a parking spot about as far away from the front door of Valentine’s as it was possible to get. The place was hopping. I’d almost forgotten how current events could alter the lives of the locals, pulling them away from their satellite TV and backyard fire pits to gather where they could talk and analyze and keep score. If they were lucky, they would catch sight of some of the players in the drama.

Which probably explained the endless rows of cars and trucks parked in front of Christine’s place on a weeknight.

Small town gossip had never bothered me when I lived in Pine Haven as a kid. I’d certainly been the subject of it on plenty of occasions. I had to admit it wouldn’t bother me now.

Except for my family.

Except for Christine.

The shit storm that always seemed to find me was swallowing the people I loved.

I was halfway to the door when a figure emerged from the shadows, extra-large and moving like a train in my direction.

“Aw, shit,” I muttered. Just one night, one damn night without a MacKay would have made my whole year.

“You stay away from my boy!” shouted Bull. The blue-white light in the parking lot turned his angry red face a deep purple.

“Bull, now settle yourself down.” Reason probably wouldn’t work but I had to try. “Wyatt helped put out a fire at our place is all. I told him thanks and he left.”

“He’s got no business out near your place.” Bull’s gait was none too steady, but his eyes held enough hatred to overcome any drunk he had going on. “Unless you enticed him out that way.”

“I never met him, didn’t even know he existed until today.” Keep calm. He doesn’t have to know when today. “He showed up, helped out, introduced himself, and left. You don’t want him out our way, you tell him, not me.”

Bull faked right then left, swaying side to side in a blocking tactic, his hands balled into tight and very effective-looking fists. “The boy’s got no call fighting a fire on McGee land.”

Through narrowed eyes, I assessed the situation. My old nemesis was bigger, meaner, and well past rational talk. He was also blocking any avenue of escape into the bar. The door remained closed. Didn’t look like the cavalry was going to arrive any time soon, either.

With a mental shrug, I decided to go fishing. If I was going to have to fight, at least I could get some information. “Why not? Boy was just being a good neighbor. You’d have done the same thing, wouldn’t you, Bull? Unless you started the fire.” I thought about Robert Senior’s threats from the night before. “Or maybe your old man decided to pitch a match our way?”

Bull’s bark of laughter rang across the parking lot, but his forward motion faltered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” My gaze slid to the bar’s entrance, willing someone to step outside, preferably my brother. “Old Robert was full of threats last night.”

Bull frowned. He looked in the general direction of his truck. Had he not been aware of the threats his father had made? The information seemed to throw him off balance.

“You know, you’ve got a good son there. Real considerate and helpful.”

A startled expression flashed in Bull’s eyes, just before his belligerent mask fell back into place. And that flash made me particularly curious, so I pushed a little harder.

“If he is your son.”

Bull’s response was the roar of an enraged animal.

Bulls eye!

The charge wasn’t unexpected, and Bull telegraphed his intent to lead with his right. Gravel crunched under my feet as I easily ducked aside. But I was still on the wrong side of the parking lot, with Bull between me and the door, and I couldn’t duck those mean, meaty fists forever.

“Wyatt’s my boy!” Bull took a step forward. Damn, had he grown a foot in the last decade and a half? “My brother had nothing to do with him. And you’re not touching him, McGee.” He stumbled sideways.

The anger was wearing Bull out. The beer I could smell from several feet away was probably beginning to work its magic as well.

Crouching into a fighting stance, I circled back, holding on to my intent to keep my adversary off balance. “I heard you and Wanda don’t have any more kids, Bull. What’s the deal? Can’t get it up or she won’t have you?”

“Maybe I don’t touch her. I don’t want anyone’s damn leavings.”

So that was it? Had Bull just confirmed he wasn’t Wyatt’s father? Triumph surged, lending me a bit of energy. I’d decide what to do with the knowledge later.

Icy awareness entered Bull’s gaze. “He’s not Mac’s boy. He’s never been and never will be.” So the asshole had added two and two and managed to get it right. Sure was pissing him off that I had figured it out in a lot less than twenty questions.

Time to end the standoff. I edged to the right, found myself blocked by Bull’s quick sidestep. Shit. “How much does a hooker go for these days?” I goaded, hoping to throw him off again.

“How much does that slut you’re doing charge?” countered Bull.

Oops, wrong direction. I slid a glance right and stepped left.

Bull blocked again, a leer contorting his already ugly face. “How about I do her and see whose name she calls out when she has a real man on her?”

I clenched my teeth. “Not gonna happen.” If the fight wasn’t going to be avoided, I might as well be the one to draw first blood. Feinting with my left, I slammed Bull in the nose with my right. My knuckles stung. Direct hit. Blood spattered, then gushed. I followed with a quick left to the jaw, then another right, connecting solidly in Bull’s left eye.

Bull spat. Blood and what might have been a tooth sailed in a shallow arc and landed on the ground. Breathing heavy but with a full-on mad, Bull seemed to puff up, and then he rushed, catching me in the middle of my chest.

I registered my feet leaving the ground, then I was airborne, flipped over Bull’s shoulder. I rolled into the landing, somehow protecting my head as I landed on my back, winded. Before I could roll over, Bull was on me, fists pounding, his drunken aim hitting far more than it missed. The bigger man was sloppy, though and he tired quickly. The opening came and I got an arm between us. Bull’s weight pinned me down, but I was lean and fit. And not drunk off my ass. With the next punch, I moved my head aside so Bull connected with the gravel. That gave me the opening for a pop to the temple. Dazed, Bull toppled sideways.

Rolling in the opposite direction, I pushed onto my hands and knees. I didn’t quite make it to my feet before Bull plowed into me again. I lost track of how many kicks I took to the ribs. The stomp to my chest made my vision dim briefly. When Bull pulled back for another kick, I grabbed his leg and toppled the jackass like an old oak tree.

Once again I rolled forward and thrust to my feet with a grunt, forcing back the tight sensation in my chest that stole my breath. When Bull rushed me again, I ducked left and landed a hard gut-punch with my right. Bull doubled over and I stepped back. With any luck I might just pull out of the fight relatively intact.

Light flashed off the door to the bar, catching my eye.

Something slammed into me from the side. Excruciating heat barreled along my arm, tearing a grunt from deep in my throat. I stumbled.

A knowing gleam entered Bull’s eyes and he struck again in the same place, then again. White-hot torture rolled over me in waves, unchecked by his rush of adrenaline. Bull took advantage of the weakness to grab me at the site of my injury, twisting painfully, a malicious grin distorting his face.

I slumped in Bull’s big-handed grip. Whimpers were torn from my throat, as I struggled to get away from the fire in my arm. Still holding the arm I’d destroyed, Bull hit me in the face with a series of quick, hard jabs.

“I’ll give your little slut the best ride of her life.” Bull gripped my arm tighter, pushing my face so close his stale, beer-laden breath soured my stomach. “Then I’ll beat the shit out of her like I just did to you. Teach her a good lesson. I’ll make her forget you exist. And I’ll do it whenever I want.” He flung me away from him. Gravel sliced into my cheek.

Christine. Have to keep her safe. Can’t leave her alone. Can’t let him get to her.

The ugly thoughts spurred me back to life. Core adrenaline kicked in, giving me the energy to drag myself to my feet. Rage born of fear pushed me past the threshold of agony. I rammed my fist into Bull’s gut. When the big man doubled over, I clasped my hands together and aimed the double fist to the bottom of Bull’s jaw, knocking him backward. A feeling of pure disgust coursing through me, I grabbed Bull by the collar, pulling him up and glaring into his eyes.

“Like.

Hell.

You.

Will.” I accentuated each word with alternating left-right blows to Bull’s face. “You sorry—” With a grunt, I rammed my knee home into Bull’s unprotected groin. “—son of an ugly bitch.” I rammed my knee home one more time for good measure, staggering backward with the force of my own blow, landing on my ass. Bull collapsed to his knees, puking. Shouts came from behind him. Gasping for breath, my head went light. Purple fog began to overtake my vision. I sagged to the side just as a pair of strong arms closed about me and lowered me gently to the ground. I looked up, relieved when I recognized my brother’s eyes. “What… the hell… took you… so long?” I panted before the merciful blackness took me away.