Rescue at Cardwell Ranch. B.J. Daniels
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The fool woman’s and that cowboy with the Southern accent who’d rescued her.
That rationale didn’t make him feel any better. He’d had one woman who’d fought back before, he thought, tracing a finger across the scar on his neck. But he hadn’t let her get away and she’d definitely paid for what she’d done to him.
The possibility of not only failure, but getting caught was what made it so exciting. He loved the rush. But he also loved outsmarting everyone and getting away with it. Last night should have gone off without a hitch. The woman was the perfect choice. He’d done everything right. If he hadn’t had to knock her out... Even so, a few more seconds and he would have had her in the trunk. Then it was a short drive to the isolated spot he’d found by the river.
His blood throbbed, running hot through his veins, at the thought of what he would have done to her before he dumped her body in the Gallatin River. He had to kill them for his own protection. If he were ever a suspect, there couldn’t be any eyewitnesses.
Except last night he’d left behind two eyewitnesses—the woman and the cowboy. Had either of them gotten a good look at him or his vehicle? He didn’t know.
A costly mistake. He mentally beat himself for not waiting until he could leave town before grabbing another one. The northwest was like a huge marketplace, every small town had perfect spots for the abduction and the dumping of the bodies. Small-town sheriff’s offices were short on manpower. Women weren’t careful because people felt safe in small towns.
Also, he had the perfect job. He traveled, putting a lot of miles on the road every year with different vehicles at his disposal. He saw a lot of towns, learned their secrets at the cafés and bars, felt almost at home in the places where he’d taken women.
But last night, after a few weeks unable to travel, he’d been restless. The ache in him had reached a pitch. His need had been too strong. He’d never taken a woman in his hometown. One wouldn’t hurt, he’d thought. No, he hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d taken a terrible chance and look what had happened.
He gingerly touched the side of his head where she’d hit him with whatever canned good had been in her grocery bag. Fortunately, other than being painful, the bruise didn’t show through his thick hair. His shin was only slightly skinned from where she’d nailed him with her high heel and his fingers ached. No real visible signs of what she’d done to him. Not that he didn’t feel it all and hate her for hurting him.
It could have been so much worse. He tried to console himself with that, but it wasn’t working. The woman had made a fool out of him. It didn’t make any difference that he shouldn’t have gone for so long since the last one. But it had begun to wear on him. Otherwise, he would never have taken one this close to home. He would never have taken the chance.
The television flickered. He glanced up as the news came on. This was why he couldn’t let them live, he thought, as he watched the story about a botched abduction at the small, out-of-the-way grocery store the night before. He waited for the newsman to mention the woman’s name and put her on camera to tell of her heroic rescue by the cowboy. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes—but more than anything, he needed her name.
The news station didn’t put her on air. Nor did they give her name or the cowboy’s who’d rescued her.
Furious, he tried several other stations. He’d gotten a good look at her last night after he’d punched her and had her on the ground.
But he foolishly hadn’t bothered to take down her car license number or grab her purse. He hadn’t cared who the woman was. She’d been nobody to him. But now he was desperate to know everything about her. All the others, he’d learned about them after their bodies were found. It had never mattered who they were. They’d already served their purpose. Now it was inconceivable that he didn’t know the name of the only woman who’d ever gotten away.
Without her name, he wouldn’t be able to find her and finish what he’d started.
* * *
STANDING IN THE hospital room half-dressed, McKenzie tried to still her trembling fingers. The morning sun was blinding. Her head still ached, but she’d kept that from the doctor. After the police had left, he’d made her spend the night in the hospital for observation. Today, though, she had to get back to work. It was the only thing that could keep her mind off what had happened. Worse, what could have happened if someone hadn’t stopped the man.
“Let me,” her sister said and stepped to her to button the blouse.
She stood still, letting her big sister dress her—just as she had as a child. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have called but I needed a change of clothing before I could leave the hospital.”
Shawna shook her head. She was the oldest of nine and had practically raised them all since her mother had been deathly ill with each pregnancy, especially with her last baby—McKenzie.
“Mac, I would expect you to call because I’m your sister and, after what you’ve been through, you need your family.”
She didn’t like needing anyone, especially her big sister. “I didn’t want to be any trouble.”
Her sister laughed. “You have always been like this.” She straightened McKenzie’s collar. “You’ve never wanted to be any trouble. So independent. And stubborn. There. You look fine.”
She didn’t feel fine. From an early age, just as her sister had said, she had been fiercely independent, determined to a fault, wanting to do everything herself and driven to succeed at whatever she did. She was still that way. Nothing had changed—and yet, after last night, everything felt as if it had.
It was as if the earth was no longer solid under her feet. She felt off-balance, unsure—worse, afraid.
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave the hospital?” Shawna asked, studying her.
“The doctor says my head will hurt for a while, but that I should be fine. I need to get to the office and reassure everyone. I had to fire one of my employees today.” She swallowed, her sore throat again reminding her of the man’s arm around her neck. Had it been Gus Thompson? The thought made her blood run cold. “I’m sure everyone is upset.”
“You can’t worry about them right now. You need to think about yourself. Just go home and rest. I can stop by your office—”
“No, this is something I need to do myself.” She saw her sister’s disappointment. Shawna lived to serve. “But thank you so much for bringing me a change of clothes.”
“What do you want me to do with the clothes you were wearing?” she asked, picking up the bag. Her pretty new suit was blood-splattered from the now bandaged head wound. So was the blouse she’d been wearing.
“Throw them away. I don’t want them.”
She felt her older sister’s gaze on her. “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with the suit or the blouse. Once I get them clean... It seems a shame—”
“Then drop them off at Goodwill.”
Her sister nodded. “Are the police giving you protection?”
“They really can’t do that. Anyway, there’s no need. If it was someone I know, then they don’t believe he’ll try anything again with them involved. And if it was random...then the man could be miles from here by now.”
Shawna didn’t look any more convinced than McKenzie felt. “I guess they know best.”
“I’m going to stay in Big Sky tonight. I have a client I need to see up there this afternoon so I’ll spend the night and come back tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to go home with you to your condo and wait while you pack?”
She thought of her empty condo. “No. That’s not necessary.” But even as she said it, she was already dreading facing it alone. “I know you need to get back to your job.” She stepped to her sister and hugged