Stranded With The Detective

She looked over her shoulder. On the other side of the road, at the edge of the tree line, was Detective Colby Vale, sitting on top of a beautiful bay gelding. But it wasn’t the horse that drew her attention or even the angry expression on Colby’s face.

It was the ominous-looking pistol in his right hand, aimed at her mount.

“You wouldn’t shoot a horse,” she said. “That would be cruel. And mean.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m a cruel, mean guy. You willing to bet the life of your horse to find out?”

She thought about everything he’d done since the moment she’d met him. He’d been polite, even when she wasn’t. He’d been nice and, above all, fair. He was bluffing. Had to be. No way was he the type of man who could kill an innocent animal.

Her hands tightened in the mane. She turned back toward the ditch, ready to send Gladiator bounding to the other side.

“He’s a beautiful animal,” Colby taunted. “You sure you want to do this?”

She hesitated. He wouldn’t shoot. Would he? She’d seen his eyes earlier, admiring Gladiator. And for him to have ridden that bay after her, without her hearing him, meant he knew his way around horses. He knew how to guide them on a trail and keep them quiet. Only someone well-acquainted with horses could do that. And someone that comfortable around horses could never do the horrible thing he was threatening to do.

Could he?

Palmer was familiar with horses. And Piper couldn’t imagine him hesitating for one second if he had to kill a horse to get what he wanted.

Her shoulders slumped. “Fine, you win.” Sighing heavily, she pressed a knee against Gladiator’s side and turned him around.

Colby threw his leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. “Walk him toward me. Slowly.”

She grudgingly squeezed both legs and Gladiator obediently started forward. “He really is my horse. This is all a huge misunderstanding.”

“Which can be straightened out in front of a judge. You shouldn’t have run. You’ve only made things worse.”

“And you shouldn’t have—look out!”

Colby jerked around. The man Piper had just seen hiding in the shadows brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of Colby’s head. He collapsed to the ground like a popped balloon.

Piper kneed Gladiator to send him galloping down the road for help. Rough hands grabbed her around the waist, plucking her from the horse’s back. Gladiator trotted down the road without a rider as Piper twisted and kicked out with her legs, suspended in midair.

“Let me go!” she yelled, trying to look over her shoulder to see who was holding her. She sucked in a breath when she saw Palmer’s face. The cruelty she’d only sensed before was now on full display in the tilt of his grinning lips.

“You want me to let you go? No problem.” He opened his hands.

She dropped to the road like a rock, her hands skidding across the asphalt, her right hip bearing the brunt of the fall. She rolled to her side, gasping at the pain that rocketed up her spine. Her hands throbbed like they were on fire, the skin scraped off, leaving them bloody and raw.

Palmer crouched over her. “You know the saying.” Laughter was heavy in his voice. “Careful what you wish for.”

He slammed his fist into the side of her jaw.

* * *

PIPER’S JAW ACHED. Her hands throbbed. Electricity seemed to jolt up her hip and spine every time she moved. But her aches and pains were nothing compared to what was going on with Colby.

He still hadn’t woken up from where one of Palmer’s henchmen had so brutally hit him with his pistol. His pulse seemed far too fast to Piper, his breaths too shallow.

She cradled his head in her lap, her back braced against the cold metal in the back of the small truck that looked like a million other trucks the average guy might rent to move into a new apartment or a small house. But instead of holding chairs and a table, or stacks of boxes, this one held only her and Colby. And it was currently parked in the woods.

Palmer was on his cell phone on the other side of the clearing, standing by Piper’s truck and trailer. He must have had one of his men steal it from the fairgrounds after he’d captured her and Colby. Why he’d steal a vehicle when he had his own was a mystery. Unless the black truck and trailer had been stolen too and he’d decide to ditch them.

Regardless, now both Gladiator and the bay that Colby had been riding were loaded into her trailer. But they might as well have been miles away for all the good that did. She was even less close to bringing Gladiator home now than she’d been at the fairgrounds.

There were three men with Palmer. One she’d only heard and hadn’t seen. He was the driver of the truck that she and Colby were inside. Another was sitting in the driver’s seat of her pickup. The other stood about fifteen feet away from the opening to the back of the truck she was in, arms crossed, watching her. He was the same man who’d brutally knocked Colby unconscious. The same man who’d dumped Colby’s body into the back of the truck as if he were a sack of garbage.

Piper winced at the memory. There were goose-egg-size bumps on both sides of Colby’s head now. And despite her best efforts to apply pressure, the laceration on the right side of his scalp kept bleeding.

Trying not to be too obvious about it, she glanced around to get her bearings. They’d been driving for about an hour, give or take. It was impossible to know for sure without her cell phone and watch, both of which had been taken from her.

Even in winter, the pine tree branches were thick with needles and blocked out most of the sunlight overhead. Piper couldn’t tell which way was east and which was west. So even if Colby woke up and they could figure out a way to escape, where would they go? One wrong turn could send them deeper into the woods, hopelessly lost. This time of year, they’d probably die from exposure.

Colby groaned, his legs shifting restlessly. His eyes were still shut. Was he waking up? He was definitely in pain, judging by the way he kept wincing and pushing with his feet.

The man who was watching them headed toward Palmer. Piper had a feeling that was a bad thing.

Colby groaned again.

“Shh, hush. It’s okay,” she said even though it wasn’t. She smoothed a hand down the side of his face, gently petting his neck like she would have done if he were Gladiator. He settled, responding to her whispered words and gentle touch. She couldn’t help smiling. Who knew that a grown man could be comforted just like a horse? She had a feeling that Colby wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Is he awake?”

She jerked her head up, her smile dying a quick death. Palmer stood just outside the opening at the back of the truck. She tightened her arms protectively around the wounded man in her care.

“No. He’s restless because he’s in pain. He needs a doctor. Head wounds are dangerous. You need to take us to—”

“No doctors. No hospitals. Now, get over here so I don’t have to shout.”

Bristling at the idea of leaving Colby alone, she hesitated.

“Do it now or I shoot your new friend.” His hand dropped to the pistol openly strapped on his hip.

She reluctantly lifted Colby’s head from her lap and scooted out from beneath him, gently lowering him to rest against the grooved metal floor.

He winced again, and she whispered an apology, even as she straightened and walked to the truck opening. Her hands, her hip, everything throbbed in rhythm with her pulse. But she did her best to push thoughts of her injuries out of her mind and to focus on the man standing in front of her, the height of the truck making them just about at eye level now.

Given the violence that Palmer had already dealt to both her and Colby, she knew they were lucky to still be alive. Prodding his temper didn’t seem like a good plan, so she did as she was told and tried not to let her hatred for him show in her posture or the way she looked at him.

“Has he said anything?” Palmer asked.

“No. He’s still unconscious.”

“You sure about that? My guy said he heard him say something.”

She flashed a look of irritation at the man standing a few yards behind him.“Detective Vale groaned. I wouldn’t call that saying something.”

He chuckled. “Feisty, aren’t you? Just like your horse.”