The Gilded Cage Read online

  Fenn opened Hayden’s door, grasped her by the waist, and set her down, holding her a few seconds longer than another man might have, and she was grateful. Her legs were as unstable as jelly. His large palm on her lower back remained, heating her skin through the material of her shirt.

  “You able to walk?” His tone was less challenging and gentler.

  Her nod was barely more than a shaky jerk. “Yep. Just give me a minute. Maybe distract Callie so she won’t see me fall on my ass?” she begged.

  Fenn rolled his eyes, and then dipped down and grasped her by the upper thighs, throwing her over his shoulder.

  “What the—”

  Smack! His hand hit her bottom, and she just held on tight to the back of his shirt as he walked into the ranch house. Blood rushed to her ears and she swallowed her embarrassment, but she was also seriously relieved she didn’t have to walk.

  “Everything okay?” Callie’s voice came from nearby.

  “Yeah. She’s fine. How are the horses?” Fenn carried on their conversation easily.

  Callie hesitated and Hayden could picture Callie trying to puzzle out why Fenn was carrying her like a sack of potatoes.

  “They’re fine. The new feed arrived while you were out mending the fence. I put it away and cleaned the stalls.”

  Hayden winced as Fenn climbed the porch steps, and his shoulder dug into her stomach. The screen door creaked and then they were in the house. Fenn strode to the living room and tossed her onto the leather couch. Despite its softness, she oomphed as the wind was knocked from her lungs.

  “Thanks a lot, Prince Charming,” she muttered as he walked out of the room. Callie dropped down into the chair next to the couch.

  “What was that about?”

  Hayden shrugged. “Fenn and I have very different definitions of what we think is helpful.” She struggled to sit up and a groan escaped her as her whole body protested the movement. Giving up, she flopped back onto the couch.

  “You okay?”

  “If I had a dime for every time someone’s asked me that in the last few days…” Her reply came out more growly than she intended. “Sorry. I’m just exhausted. How do you guys do this all day?”

  Callie snorted. “Lots of practice. Years’ worth.”

  “I don’t get it, though. I go to the gym and stuff. Why did building a fence wear me out?”

  “It’s a full body’s work, spread out over a day. It would exhaust even the best of athletes, trust me.” Callie propped her feet up on a little leather ottoman and sighed. “Want to just make a pizza and watch movies? That’s the best cure for ranch work.”

  “That would definitely work.” Hayden wiggled her booted feet, feeling almost giddy with her full-bodied weariness.

  In the next room, the house phone rang twice before it stopped. Hayden closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Jim’s voice. It was muffled and she couldn’t hear what he was saying, she could only hear him talking. Then everything went silent. A minute later the sounds of boot steps on wood caught her attention.

  “Dad?” Callie asked just as Hayden opened her eyes and forced her protesting body to sit up.

  Jim leaned into the doorway, a cordless phone in his hand.

  “That was Sheriff Holt. They analyzed the semi’s tires from last night’s accident.”

  Hayden noticed Jim’s unusually pale face. “Mr. Taylor, what is it?” There was more; she could sense it like an animal could sense the change in the air before a coming storm.

  “He says it looks like someone shot out the tire on the semi-trailer.”

  Chapter 15

  What?” Fenn appeared behind Jim. His hair was damp, and he’d obviously changed clothes. A small towel was in one of his hands as he wiped his face dry. Hayden hadn’t moved from the couch, but he was already showered and changed.

  Jim smoothed a thumb over the black plastic cordless phone.

  “Holt said the accident on the mountain may not have been an accident. Can you drive into town tonight and meet with him? He wants to go over your statement again and make sure he hasn’t missed anything.”

  Fenn nodded slowly, but his gaze switched to Hayden. The way his eyes narrowed and his lips thinned, she could almost hear his unspoken question.

  “It could be him,” she said quietly, knowing Jim, Callie, and Fenn could hear her.

  “‘Him’?” Callie fidgeted in her chair.

  “The man sent to kill Fenn.” Wes’s voice made them all jump. He’d come into the living room on the side opposite from where Fenn and Jim were standing.

  “This was the danger you mentioned, wasn’t it?” Jim crossed his arms over his chest.

  The momentary silence in the room was almost deafening.

  “Yes. He acted sooner than I guessed he would. That’s a bad sign. Men like Antonio and whoever replaced him are hired killers. It’s like fighting a hydra and cutting off one of its heads. Just because you strike one down, doesn’t mean you’ll escape. More grow in that one head’s place.”

  “Hydra, huh?” Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully. “If I remember, the only way to kill a hydra is not to cut off the heads but to pierce the heart.”

  Wes’s grim smile showed his respect for the older rancher.

  “Exactly. We need to figure out who is hiring these men, why he’s hiring them, and put a stop to it.”

  “Him? How do you know it’s a man?” Callie asked.

  Wes walked over to her chair and rested his hand on the back of it.

  “Because the first kidnapping happened when Fenn and Emery were children. Emery confirmed there was more than one man then. Even though the assassin’s dead, I’m sure another man has taken his place. Statistically, women aren’t this violent, so I doubt we’re dealing with one now.”

  “Makes sense,” Jim said. “So what’s the plan? How do we find this body of the hydra?”

  “Emery is still trying to figure out that part.” Wes met Fenn’s gaze. “We need you to start trying to remember what happened. You may have heard something that Emery didn’t during your captivity. Think.”

  Fenn’s hands fisted and Hayden noticed the white-knuckle grip with a fair amount of concern.

  “I told you. I don’t remember anything.”

  Wes shot him a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him.

  “You may not remember everything, but you’re remembering some things. Even if they are small, focus on them. We need you to remember. Otherwise we’re all in danger. Being with you almost got my sister killed last night. Think about that. The longer you drag your feet and refuse to go home, the more Callie, Jim, and Hayden are in danger.”

  “Not you?” Fenn raised a brow and frowned.

  “I am, but I came into this situation with all the facts. You were my friend long ago. I’d do anything for that little boy, even for the memory of him. I want that friendship back and I’m not afraid to fight for it. I’ve accepted the risks. They haven’t.” Wes inclined his head in Hayden and Callie’s direction.

  Wes softened his expression and his tone. “You already lost one family to a madman. Do you really want to lose another?”

  Fenn cursed and threw down the small towel. “You’re a bastard, you know that?” He jabbed a finger at Wes.

  “Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Wes shrugged and flashed a dark grin. “So, let’s go talk to the sheriff and see what we find out. Mr. Taylor, would you mind keeping an eye on these two?” He reached for Callie’s shoulder reflexively, but then seemed to catch himself. Hayden didn’t miss the movement. Her brother was interested in Callie?

  Oh…Everything made so much more sense now—like why he’d agreed to stay at the ranch as opposed to a hotel. But Callie wasn’t right for him, or at least wasn’t the type of woman he usually dated. Jaded women in their late twenties were more to his taste. He liked submissives, too. He never dated outside the D/s lifestyle. Callie was only twenty and seemed completely innocent. Wes would eat her up like the big, bad wolf. Hayden thought this wo
uld have to be stopped before Callie got hurt.

  “We want to come to town with you,” Callie insisted, pleading with Fenn. Hayden expected him to agree; she would have in his place.

  But he didn’t.

  “No, you all should stay here. I don’t want to take a chance on any more car accidents.” As he spoke, he looked straight at her, his eyes dark and full of some emotion she was too afraid to read. She and Callie wouldn’t win this battle. She was stubborn, but not stupid.

  “Callie and I will stay here. We’ll do a girls’ night.” She winked at Callie, who just gaped at her for a few seconds before slowly nodding.

  “Fine. Sure. We’ll stay.”

  “Good.” This time Wes brushed the backs of his fingers over Callie’s cheek, a subtle show of a dom’s approval of her submission to the situation, before he walked toward Fenn. “Let’s go.”

  A delicate blush bloomed over Callie’s cheeks as she watched Wes and Fenn leave. Jim shook his head and sighed.

  “I’ll throw a pizza in the oven for you girls. Don’t get in trouble,” he teased, but there was weariness in the faint lines around the corners of his mouth and eyes. The moment he was out of the room Callie bounced in her chair.

  “So what’s the plan? Do we sneak into town? Follow the guys?” Her eagerness was endearing, but Hayden shook her head.

  “No. We stay here and wait. Trust me, I love flying off the handle with impulsive decisions, but I think they may be right. We would be no use to them down at the station. I remember less of the accident than Fenn.” Hayden repressed a little shiver as memories of the icy rain, the blasts of lightning, and the frightening cliff side came rushing back.

  “I don’t want anyone else to go through that, assuming they’re lucky enough to survive.”

  Callie’s shoulders slumped, and she settled back into the chair. Coda nuzzled one of her hands until Callie scratched her behind the ear.

  “I guess you’re right. I just want to do something. I hate this helpless feeling.”

  It was a feeling Hayden knew all too well, on many fronts of her life.

  “Why don’t you get a movie going, and I’ll help Jim with dinner?” Hayden forced herself off the couch and walked on stiff legs to the kitchen.

  Jim was putting a frozen pizza in the oven when she came in. His warm smile made her feel welcome and happy.

  “Thank you for convincing Callie to stay here. She’s so young, and I forget that sometimes.”

  Hayden waved a hand. “It’s easy to. She’s more emotionally mature than a lot of girls her age.”

  Jim chuckled. “She would be. Not having a mother when she was growing up makes a girl become her own mother in a way. I’m glad she’s met you. She needs friends.” He opened the fridge and pulled out some lettuce and other items for a salad.

  “Let me do that.” Hayden collected the food and waited as Jim fetched a large bowl. Then she started throwing the salad together. There was something cathartic about cooking a meal. She’d rarely had an opportunity to do that before. Her parents had a live-in cook. The idea of anyone making their own meals appalled them. It was one of the many things she disagreed with them about.

  As she and Jim worked together on the dinner, a deep sense of peace settled inside her. She’d done a hard day’s work, the efforts to show for it by the newly mended fence, had the aching muscles and now the reward, a home cooked meal. This was the kind of life she’d been raised not to appreciate, but it was everything she wanted. The only thing she needed to complete the picture was a certain man with a kiss to end all kisses.

  * * *

  The sheriff’s station was fairly empty when Fenn and Wes walked through the doors. Crime wasn’t much of an issue in Walnut Springs. A few deputies were lingering around desks, shifting paperwork about. The most populated part of the station was likely the overnight holding area for drunks and bar brawlers.

  “Not much crime,” Wes observed quietly.

  “Nope,” Fenn confirmed.

  One of the deputies sat up straighter in his chair, his hands resting on his hips.

  “Can I help you?”

  Fenn raked a hand through his hair. “We’re here to see Sheriff Holt. I’m Fenn Smith.”

  The deputy’s eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet. “Just a minute.” He jogged to the back of the station and ducked into one of the several offices along the back wall.

  Wes chuckled. “I have a feeling they aren’t used to mystery gunmen blowing out tires. You might be a new celebrity around here if word gets out.”

  Fenn sighed. “Wish it wasn’t for that reason.”

  Sheriff Holt walked out of his office, a worried frown on his face. He was in his early forties, and Fenn had known him since they were young. Holt was ten years his senior but had been a hell of a bull rider in his day.

  “Good to see you, Smith. Come into my office.” He waved them back. Fenn, closely trailed by Wes, navigated the arrangement of desks and deputies as they headed to the rear, where the sheriff’s office was.

  Taking one of the chairs opposite Holt’s desk, Fenn sat and placed his palms on his thighs, feeling oddly nervous.

  Holt looked him square in the eye. “Someone trying to kill you, Smith?”

  A stifled laugh came from his right. Wes apparently thought Holt’s blunt question was amusing.

  “I’ve been told that someone is after me. I’m still working through it.”

  “Want to share the details?” Holt’s question sounded a lot more like a demand.

  Fenn shot a glance at Wes. “How much should we tell him?”

  Wes’s amusement died so quickly that if Fenn hadn’t just seen the spark in the other man’s eyes he would have doubted it had ever happened.

  “Sheriff, we’re dealing with a very sensitive situation here. Can we count on your discretion?”

  Holt placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, then finally gave a nod. “Nothing you say will leave this office, but if my people are in danger, I will act regardless of discretion.”

  “That’s fine,” Wes said. “To be brief, Fenn Smith is actually Fenn Lockwood. I assume you’ve heard of the kidnapping from twenty-five years ago that occurred in Weston, Long Island?”

  When Holt nodded, Wes continued. “The person who hired the kidnapper all those years ago is making another play to finish the job—not kidnapping, but murder.”

  “Murder? You’re telling me someone wanted to murder two little boys? Why?”

  “We don’t know,” Fenn said. “But it’s obvious that’s still the plan.”

  “Jim must have told you what I said about the semi-trailer tires.”

  “He did.” Fenn’s fingers dug into his thighs as rage surged deep within him, like the molten core of a volcano. The thought of anyone trying to kill him while Hayden was there…She’d probably been considered collateral damage to the shooter. The woman he’d grown fond of, was fairly obsessed with on more than one level, would have died…because someone wanted him dead. It infuriated the hell out of him.

  “Good. Glad he did. Do you remember anything else that happened at the time of the accident? We need something to go on.”

  Fenn wished he had answers, had anything he could give Holt, but there was nothing to remember. The truck, the blowout, the crash—there was nothing else.

  “I don’t remember seeing anything else. I’m sorry. Any guesses as to where the shooter positioned himself?”

  Holt smiled, but it was a grim expression that offered no comfort. “That’s one thing we were able to figure out. One of the boys in my unit is an expert marksman. He believes the shooter took a vantage point at the top of the hiking trail overlooking the part of the road where you had the accident. We sent a deputy up there, but the rain washed away all traces of anything we might have used as evidence.”

  “So what’s your plan, Sheriff?” Wes asked in all seriousness.

  Holt cleared his throat and scowled at Wes. “I’m sorry; I didn’t catch y
our name.”

  “Wes Thorne,” he said.

  “And how exactly do you fit into all of this, Mr. Thorne?”

  “He’s my friend,” Fenn said automatically. “From a long time ago. He’s here to help me.”

  He could feel Wes’s gaze on him, but he didn’t look at the other man.

  “Listen Holt, keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. I plan to leave for Long Island soon, and I’ll bet the shooter will follow me there. All I need is for you to keep an eye on things. Can you do that?”

  The Sheriff shook his head, smiling a little. “Of course. It’s part of my job. I would have done it whether you asked me or not.”

  Fenn stood and held out his hand to shake Holt’s. “Thank you.”

  “Good luck.” Holt escorted them out and to the front doors of the station.

  Once they were outside, Fenn turned to Wes. “I need a drink. You in?”

  “Yeah I’m in. Lead the way.”

  Fenn crossed the street and headed for a red-bricked bar called The Dark Coyote. It wasn’t an average bar—a few special additions to its design made it fairly unique. He couldn’t wait to see Wes’s face when they went inside.

  “Why do I smell livestock?” Wes muttered as they pushed the heavy wood door open and stepped into the bar.

  Bright yellow lights attached to a series of wood beams along the ceiling shone down on the bar’s inhabitants in bright pools of color.

  “Holy hell,” Wes said.

  A laugh escaped Fenn’s lips. Half the bar was an open floor space where couples were dancing; the other half had a small fifty-by-fifty-foot circular paddock with a sandy bottom where a man was riding a bull.

  “Bet you’ve never seen that before, huh?” Fenn nudged Wes with his elbow.

  “I definitely haven’t. Is that even safe?”