Rescue My Heart
Page 4

Her.
She ran a finger over the frame and asked the question she didn’t know she’d been holding on to. “So, how is it that you ended up in Sunshine again when you told me you wouldn’t ever be back?”
Three
Holly held her breath for Adam’s answer, but he ignored the question and headed toward the far end of the loft, and the tall dresser standing there.
“You’re right about the weather going to hell,” he said. “It’s all over the news.”
“Which is why we need to find my dad quickly,” she said.
He shook his head. “There’s no we.”
Disappointment rolled over her like a wave. So he wasn’t going to help. “Okay,” she said, having no idea why she was surprised. “I’ll go alone. It’s not like it’s the first time someone’s walked away when I needed them.”
The silence was weighted, and she bit her tongue. She hadn’t meant to go there, but apparently she was holding on to some resentment. A lot of resentment. Who knew? Unable to take it back, she strode to the door and, dammit, fumbled with the handle. Before she could get it open, Adam’s hand settled on the wood above her head, holding it closed.
He had long fingers, and more than one scar on them. His forearm was corded with sinew and felt too close. Intimate. She closed her eyes and took in the scent of masculine soap and warm, male skin. He wasn’t touching her in any way, but she felt him surrounding her just the same. And the bigger problem? Her body remembered his. Remembered…and ached. She thunked her head to the door, desperately searching for balance—which wasn’t going to happen, not with him so close.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he said.
Processing his words, she turned and flattened herself against the wood, staring up at him, relief filling her hot and bright, so that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “You’re going to help me?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I go alone.” His eyes were shadowed, his mouth tight and grim.
And she realized something else that she’d missed when she’d first soaked up the sight of him, dazzled by his perfection.
He seemed utterly and completely exhausted.
And, she realized in horror when he turned away from her and headed back to his dresser, injured. At the sight of his back, she gasped. “Adam.”
He didn’t respond.
Shock.
She stared at the long, jagged laceration on his shoulder, along with the bunch of other scratches and bruises all over him, as if he’d been dragged over rocks. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” He pulled a pair of sweats from a drawer.
“It’s more than nothing.” Her gaze was glued to the blood dripping down his back as she moved close, helplessly drawn in. “It’s—”
He dropped his towel to the floor, fully exposing his body in all its bare-ass na**d glory.
And there was a lot of glory.
She sputtered, torn between slapping a hand over her eyes and staring at the finest stretch of broad back and perfect male ass she’d ever seen, while he calmly stepped into his sweats and pulled them up.
Sheer feminine appreciation had won out, of course. She didn’t even attempt to cover her eyes—which is how she caught his wince and hiss of breath when he straightened.
“I’ll leave at first light,” he said, turning to face her.
“Adam, what the hell happened to you?”
Ignoring yet another question, he moved to the door, opening it for her in a direct but silent invite for her to go. “I’ll call you when I get to Diamond Ridge,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” He set a hand on her stomach.
She was shocked to immobility at the unexpected touch. Every muscle quivered, and she was completely distracted by it, so that when he gave her a gentle push over the entryway and then shut the door in her face—not quite as gently—she could only blink in surprise.
“Hey.” She tried the door, but he’d locked it. She rapped her fist on the wood. “Adam.”
No answer. Hands on hips, she stared at the door. “Are you kidding me?”
She could almost hear the proverbial crickets but not a word or a breath from the man inside. “What, are we teenagers and stupid all over again?” she asked through the door.
Nothing. Unbelievable. “Adam, you can’t be serious.”
But apparently he was.
Swearing beneath her breath, she left a strip of her Jeep’s tires on the asphalt peeling out of the parking lot. She was halfway home before her wits caught up with her. There were few people on earth who could light her temper. In fact, she could count them with three fingers: her father, Grif, and Adam.
Especially Adam.
Apparently he still had that ability, which really chapped her hide. It would be one thing if she’d ever, even once, been able to return the favor, but his fuse was notoriously slow and long-burning, and it had never been directed at her. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever even heard him raise his voice. Nope, Adam’s temper, when it blew, was a quiet explosion.
Internal.
She could remember once being with him when they’d come across someone beating his horse on the trail. Two days later the local paper had printed an article about a horse theft. No one had ever found the horse or caught the perp.
But sure as Holly knew her own name, she knew Adam had stolen that horse.
Fast-forward to the night he’d been late-night drag racing and a cop had died while chasing him and his friends…Not twenty-four hours later he’d signed up for the military.
That was the thing about Adam. Despite not ever toeing the line, he had a moral compass that always pointed to Do the Right Thing.
This is how she knew he’d do exactly as he’d said—he’d go out after her dad. Alone. Damn him.
The drive home to the Reid ranch house was on a narrow two-lane road, lined by the Little Eagle River. It was beautiful, and she often stopped at the bridge to watch the river flow by. Not tonight. Tonight she paid no attention to anything but getting home. The place had been built just outside of Sunshine, on the biggest of all the Reid ranches. There were lots of buildings on the land—barns, storage, bunking for the ranch hands, and the Reid offices, which held their staff.
The main house was huge, large enough for each of the three Reids to have their own space when needed, though Grif was rarely here. For that matter, her father was rarely here, either, preferring to travel among all the ranches under his empire.
Holly went straight to her office and began an e-mail to Grif about her plans to leave to search for their dad in the morning, because no matter what Adam thought, she was going. But she was surprised to have Grif IM her before she could send it.
ShootFirst: Hey, bossy pants.
NYGirl: Grif! How are you? You okay?
ShootFirst: Fine. You back in NY yet?
Grif would say he was fine even if he had limbs falling off, but the New York question made her wince. He kept bugging her about not getting sucked into the ranching business just for their dad’s sake, reminding her that she’d gotten out of Sunshine and shouldn’t cave to family expectations, that she should follow her own path.
This was because Grif and Donald couldn’t spend more than five minutes in the same room without Donald laying on the guilt about Grif not wanting to run the family empire. Their fights were legendary, no doubt having something to do with two alpha males not being able to share space.
For the most part, Holly enjoyed sharing space with her father. The sheer amount of time it took to run his ranching conglomerate grew every year, and she was extremely busy. She had two office staffers to help her, and it took the three of them working full-time to keep things afloat. Gone were the days where she could work from New York or from wherever she wanted to be.
But also gone were the days where she wanted to work from somewhere else.
NYGirl: I’m not going back to NY. I’m staying in Sunshine.
ShootFirst: Christ, you did it. You let the old man get his hooks in you. What does the husband think of this? Tell me you left that asshole.
Holly would tell him that over her own dead body.
NYGirl: Forget about me. Dad went hunting and he’s been gone three days. I’m worried. He’s not moving as fast as he used to, not that he’d admit it. But Deanna says that his horse threw him last week. He never said a word to me about it. I’m worried he’s out there, hurt. What if a wild animal cornered him?
ShootFirst: He’s the wild animal. And he’s fine.
Fine again. Holly rolled her eyes.
NYGirl: He’s not answering his phone or returning texts.
ShootFirst: Prob no reception.
NYGirl: I have a bad feeling.
ShootFirst: Like the time you had a feeling about Santa Claus and we had to climb on the roof and wait for him?
NYGirl: Hey, you falling off that roof was your own fault.
ShootFirst: I nearly broke my neck, not to mention my ass.
NYGirl: And yet you live. I’m going to Diamond Ridge to look for him, Grif.
ShootFirst: No. There’s weather moving in, and the old coot can take care of himself.
NYGirl: Why are you keeping track of our weather?
ShootFirst: Because Kate’s going to the balloon races this weekend. She’s got a blind date with one of the racers, and she’s going up in his balloon—which is pure insanity by the way.
Holly sat back and stared at her computer screen. Kate Evans was Holly’s best friend. Grif had been home exactly once this year on leave, and he’d stayed for a total of two weeks. The first week he’d done nothing but sleep. The second week he’d spent in the company of old friends like Adam and Dell, mostly in the local bars.
Kate was a second-grade teacher. In the presence of a male older than seven, she tended to get nervous and started spouting useless science facts. She was funny and smart, and an amazing friend, but she was swamped with family obligations and spent exactly zero time in bars. There was no way she and Grif had managed any time together. Holly would have known.
Wouldn’t she have known?
NYGirl: How do you know Kate’s going to the balloon races?
ShootFirst: Facebook.
NYGirl: You’re stalking my friend on Facebook?
ShootFirst: She poked me. She was being friendly, sent me a long newsy note. That’s what people think we want over here, news from home.
NYGirl: Don’t you?
NYGirl: Grif?
ShootFirst: Don’t go out to Diamond Ridge or Mount Eagle alone.
Interesting subject change. Grif wasn’t “friends” with women. He went through women like other men went through socks. And Kate wasn’t the one-night stand type—though she’d give a perfect stranger the shirt off her back.
If Grif had taken the shirt off Kate’s back, Holly would have to kill him. And that’d be a shame, since she loved her brother’s stubborn, nosy, interfering hide. Mostly.
ShootFirst: Stay home, Holly. I mean it. I’ll get ahold of Adam. He’ll check things out.
NYGirl: I’ve already contacted Adam. He said he’d go.
And no matter what he thought, she was going with him.
ShootFirst: Let him handle it, then.
NYGirl: Grif, you can’t micromanage me from 7,000 miles away. Be safe. Love you.
And then, because she’d discovered this was what worked best with both of her two well-meaning but more than slightly overbearing male relatives, she logged off. “Oops,” she said out loud. “Bad connection.”
She took another moment to send e-mails to her staff and Red, the ranch manager, letting them all know her plans in as much detail as she knew them. She also put in a call to Kel to tell him what she was up to. Because unlike her father, she wanted people to know where she was.
Then she got a backpack together with extra clothes, food, and since she knew exactly how quickly things could change out there, she added stuff for an overnight—not that that was going to happen.
Adam had said he’d leave at first light, but she was going back to Belle Haven now because, one, she didn’t trust Adam. And, two, she didn’t trust Adam. He was likely to take off in the middle of the night just to make sure she didn’t tail him. She’d sleep in her Jeep if she had to. Yes, she was being paranoid, but she was also being proactive, tackling the things in her control.
Letting go of the things not in her control.
Or at least attempting to let go of the things not in her control. That part was still a work in progress.
The lights were on in the building so she took the stairs again, determined to have a calm and rational two-way conversation with Adam about the morning. But when she knocked on the door, it swung open and then she was sucking in a breath, unprepared for the sight in front of her.
Adam was sprawled out facedown on his bed still in only a pair of sweatpants, snug across the best ass she’d ever seen, low-slung enough as to be almost indecent. He was holding stoically still—though swearing viciously into his pillow—as Dell pulled a needle through the skin of his shoulder, stitching him up.
Four
Oh my God.”
At the soft, distressed female voice coming from the doorway, Adam gritted his teeth. He didn’t have to turn and eye the leggy blonde to get his blood pressure rising—her voice was enough. Normally it rose his blood pressure and a certain portion of his anatomy at the same time but not tonight. Craning his neck, he glared up at Dell. “You didn’t lock the door.”
“No,” his brother said calmly. “My hands were full.”
Milo had been sound asleep, but the yellow Lab lifted his head now, assessing the new visitor. Clearly deciding she wasn’t a food source, he yawned and closed his eyes again.