Sorrows and Lace Page 8

  Maybe she was only an Indian, not white. But judging by the mess abusing her at the moment, did she want to be white? Did she want to abandon centuries of culture and honor because of the opinions of white people who’d never done anything for her but cause her pain?

  Sonny kept hold of her hair, dragging her to the door. She raised her hands and gripped his wrist, trying to take her weight off the leash he’d made of her hair. He pulled and she tried getting her feet under her but he moved too fast.

  Her roots screamed for relief, pain ripping at her scalp.

  She struggled with each step when he relented as if giving her a break before he stepped forward and tugged. She opened her eyes and maneuvered her feet to get ready to lunge upward when he paused again in his weird cadence. Step, pause, drag forward, step, pause, drag forward. Step – she braced herself – pause – and there it was!

  Kelsey thrust her body up and twisted, taking him by surprise. He released her hair, stumbling to the side.

  She ran.

  Holy hell, did she run.

  Two steps into the great room where the front foyer emptied, Sonny caught her. Grabbing her around the waist, he slammed her to the ground, pushing the air from her body.

  “Oomph.” Her chin struck the edge of the table leg and they rolled.

  Suddenly, the weight was off her and the oddest sensation of fresh air gushing over her took her by surprise. She blinked. Had she just dreamed the attack? No, she was too sore for that. Never before had he just disappeared mid-onslaught. What the hell?

  Grunts and thuds redirected her thought process. Dazed, she looked to her left where Ronan and Sonny sidestepped face-to-face with fists and shoves. Ronan obviously outmatched the smaller man who shifted and wiggled around Ronan’s frontward attack.

  Slate watched from the hallway, unmoving, but clearly ready for anything in the half-crouch way he held himself.

  As if in slow motion, Kelsey moved her eyes to watch Ronan and Sonny in some weird cowboy and outlaw dance as old as the West.

  Ronan slammed Sonny’s cheek with a right cross. The thud oddly satisfying. Sonny stumbled back, landing against the wall. He pulled himself forward using the side of a large walnut grandfather clock.

  Waiting for his return, Ronan popped Sonny with a couple fast jabs. With absolute control, Ronan seemed to be corralling his opponent toward the front door as if to make him leave or at the very least get his sorry ass outside.

  Another hook to the side of Sonny’s stomach, bringing forth an oomph from him, and Ronan advanced. Having fallen back, Sonny recovered and turned to the side. Pulling out a knife from his pocket, Sonny’s face twisted with malice.

  The glint of light on the knife caught Kelsey’s attention from her position on the ground. She croaked with tight, sore throat muscles. “Knife!”

  Sonny lunged at Ronan.

  The retort of a Colt echoed in the wood-adorned room.

  Sonny crumpled to the floor, moaning. Ronan stood from the protective back-lunge stance he’d taken and moved to stand over Sonny. Slate holstered his pistol and joined him. Another moment passed and Robbie rushed from the hallway to stand beside his brother.

  Hands tight over his stomach, Sonny whimpered as only cowards can. “Y-you shot me.”

  Slate knelt down, lifting the injured man’s hands. He replaced them and turned to Ronan. “Shit. He turned. I wasn’t aiming for his stomach. Tell me what to do. It’s a gut shot. Even if we get him to Colby and the clinic, Becky can’t fix this. She’s a great doctor, but they just don’t have the medical resources for something like this. He’d need to be seen in Missoula or Spokane. He won’t make the trip.”

  Ronan watched Kelsey, not Sonny. He worked his jaw, a tic to the side showing how hard he clenched his teeth. Fire burned and this one had nothing to do with getting in her pants. “We’ll take him to the road and leave him. If his friends can save him, fine. If not, he died a trespasser’s death.”

  Kelsey closed her eyes in relief. She wouldn’t wish death on anyone, but the man that Sonny was didn’t deserve mercy. He deserved justice. A gut shot was going easy as far as she was concerned. If only she had the strength, she’d get up and spit in his damn face.

  She didn’t even look Sonny’s way when he whimpered and gasped for her. “K-Kelsey, you lov-love me. You need m-me.” And then the desperate anger of a man in a helpless situation. “You bitch. My brother will get you. You’ll d-die and then…” Groan. Gasp. “You’re mine. Always.”

  He spoke words of a coward. Whimpered like a man who had lived cowardly and died cowardly. There was nothing honorable about him. Deep in Kelsey’s gut the she recognized the importance of the teachings from her childhood. In her core, she knew he would get his. She turned her head and whispered. “The spirit world will take care of you.”

  He screamed in outrage and fear.

  Ronan and Slate each grabbed a leg and dragged the cursing, squealing jackass out the front door, across the deck, and down the stairs. They must have tried being careful because he didn’t thud going down the steps. Much.

  Robbie fell to his knees beside her, helping her to a sitting position. He searched her for damage. “Are you okay? You look as good as I do.” He grinned which enhanced his own healing split-lip and purple cheekbone.

  “Did Devlyn do that?” She whispered. She’d noticed it at the house, but hadn’t thought too much about it. Robbie had always been rough and tumble and seeing him with bruises and scratches when they were growing up had been more normal than not.

  He chuckled. “No, Slate did.”

  She would’ve smiled if she could.

  Then it hit her. Sonny was right.

  A wave of nausea crawled over her. Devlyn paid back the whole family when one person did something to him. She clutched her hands together in a praying position. But did she pray? Who did she pray for? Devlyn could go after any of them – her parents, her brother, Ronan, any of the MacAllisters, hell, even Becky wasn’t safe.

  The things he did when he was just pissed off redefined atrocious.

  What would he do in his grief?

  Who would he hurt when he found his brother, dead?

  Chapter 13

  There’s a first time for everything.

  What goes around comes around.

  Karma is a bitch.

  No matter how many clichés or sayings Ronan tried consoling himself with, the plain truth was, he’d killed a man. Okay, Slate had pulled the trigger, but Ronan had made the ultimate decision to leave him to rot.

  The ultimate death was on Ronan. They probably could’ve made it to Colby, asked for a Medevac. But the truth was, Ronan didn’t want to leave scum like Sonny Caracus lying around his county. Devlyn Caracus wouldn’t turn anyone in, either. Through investigation, Ronan had learned most members of the gang were wanted in multiple states. He figured he just did taxpayers a service.

  But the guilt still ate at him.

  And a large part of him wondered – okay, worried – that Kelsey had still had feelings for Sonny, even a small part, and would be upset that he was dead. She would rightfully blame Ronan. Although, how she could care about a man who treated her that way puzzled Ronan. As well as he’d always known Kelsey, she didn’t come across as the type to love her attacker.

  Returning to Lacey Caverns in silence, Slate and Ronan ignored the elephant in the room, not speaking.

  Ronan tapped the steering wheel. The silence shrouded him. Slate was probably over in his damn seat, self-righteously condemning Ronan for the choice he’d made.

  Unable to hold it in any longer, Ronan slammed his bare palm on the center console between him and Slate. “I’m a damn coward. Just say it.”

  “What?” Slate turned from the window to watch Ronan, surprise widening his eyes.

  “I didn’t even stay to watch him die. I should’ve tried to at least save him, right? We could’ve called Becky and had her come out. They might have been able to do something with a Medevac… Tim still isn’t b
ack from delivering that baby, but I could’ve driven Caracus to town. I didn’t try. It was too damn easy.” Too many factors had nudged him into just giving up on the man. Yes, he’s a scumbag, and all that. But Ronan had always prided himself on upholding the law – to an extent.

  The conflicting emotions swarmed him. Number one on the list, the one drowning him was the way he worried about Kelsey’s feelings for him. He hadn’t been so uptight about what she thought since they were dating.

  Slate rolled his eyes. “After all the shit you’ve pulled over the years, you’re seriously going to let that get to you?” He huffed in amusement but with more than a sense of derision.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Tempted to jack the emergency brake, Ronan wanted to see Doctor Perfect fly through the windshield.

  Slate frowned. “Really? You mean that you’ve manipulated and lied all these years and you actually didn’t know you were doing it? I mean, really? You tore Robbie and Amelia apart, sent Kelsey away because her heritage offended your parents, you’ve alienated most of the small business owners in town, and you severed our friendship for who knows what reason. That’s just off the top of my head, too. If I had time, I’d probably have a longer list.” He shrugged. “You can be a true jackass, R.J.”

  He had a point. Ronan’s planning and plotting had always revolved around how it would benefit him, his family, or Lacey Caverns. Becoming a banker was a means to an end. Marrying Bethany had been the same thing. He’d taken so many steps for other purposes, he’d lost himself to the importance of the ranch. And he’d doomed a man to die in the process.

  Most importantly, he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved. Damn it, okay, still loved. He’d have to drop his pride and accept it. At least admit it to himself.

  He rested his elbow on the console, steering with his other hand and ignoring the beauty of the green forest bordering the road. Ronan didn’t look at Slate.

  Ronan couldn’t face him, but he had to know – had to find out. He bit out the words. “I stopped talking to you because you went for Kelsey after she and I broke up. My dad told me you were just like your grandpa, so it pissed me off. You’re lucky I didn’t come after you with a damn shotgun. Friends don’t do that.”

  The silence dragged on and finally Ronan glanced at Slate whose lips had parted in surprise. Ronan lifted his thumb from the wheel. “Say something.” He returned his gaze to the road and his driveway about a hundred yards ahead.

  “What the hell do you want me to say? Kelsey and me? Are you kidding? She came over and hung out with us because she missed you so damn much. She’d sit and talk with Amelia for hours about you and what an ass you were even as she asked all kinds of questions about you.” He sniffed then said. “You know, I can’t figure out what you’re so afraid of. What if you lose Lacey Caverns? What will happen? You have so much money, you could by a dozen towns just like Colby. Pick something that will make you happy, instead of tearing everyone down around you.” Slate tapped the vinyl of the door under the window. He didn’t look at Ronan, choosing instead to watch the passing scenery.

  How did Ronan reply to that? He didn’t have an argument. Lacey Caverns as the top priority had been ground into him from the moment he was born. The lesson was a hard one to learn and then just to change?

  Turning onto his driveway, Ronan didn’t reply. What else was there to say? He’d been an ass because he’d assumed Kelsey had gone into Slate’s waiting arms. And why wouldn’t he believe that? Kelsey was beautiful, smart, witty, blunt-as-hell, and willing to fight for what she wanted. Who wouldn’t want a woman like that?

  He shifted the truck into park and they climbed from the cab. Walking beside Slate, Ronan glanced back the way they’d come. How would he face Kelsey? Maybe he could still save the low-life. “Do you think we should call someone?” Did he want to save him?

  “A lawyer?” Slate grinned. He’d always been easy-going in tough situations.

  For the first time in forever, Ronan relaxed enough to smile back at his old-friend-turned-enemy-might-have-turned-back-to-a-friend. “I have those by the truckload.”

  Chapter 14

  Kelsey bent her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her lower legs. She couldn’t breathe and it wasn’t because of the beating she’d just gotten. Hell, it wasn’t even because Sonny was dead or close to it.

  No.

  Freedom was overwhelming. And she was free. He was out of her life. He’d never hurt her again.

  But Devlyn would. He’d kill every last one of them. Every person she’d ever had an attachment to or said a kind word to was in danger of being tortured and killed. Devlyn Caracus didn’t have a moral code or even a conscience. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. And he’d taught his little brother to be just as spoiled and selfish.

  She rested her forehead on her drawn up knees. She wasn’t a crier. She didn’t need to cry about everything, dammit. Fatigue would be her scapegoat. How tired was she?

  Get up and do something, Kelsey. Now. She lifted her head and raised her chin. Almost every part of her hurt. But that wouldn’t stop her from getting off her ass and doing something.

  Rolling to a crawling position, she pushed up from the floor, first one leg and then another. She braced herself with the table, pulling then pushing to stand with its aid. Gasping for air, she looked wildly about the room for something, anything to ground her in reality.

  Had she really just seen Sonny shot in the stomach and then Ronan and Slate took him to leave for dead?

  A dark, deep satisfaction and smug sense of “karma got you dick” gave her the extra fuel she needed to settle onto her feet without holding anything for support. Robbie had faded into the background. He most likely had gone to use the phone to call Amelia, make sure she was okay.

  Kelsey needed some water and to get rid of the cotton-mouth feel she couldn’t shake.

  Tottering to the sink in the kitchen took all her focus and strength. She couldn’t worry about Devlyn until she’d made the thirty or so feet into the kitchen. Or worry that Ronan would blame her for the mess they’d just been dumped into. Or anything.

  Maybe with her glass of water, she’d have some vodka— no, she couldn’t wake up when Sonny was breaking in. She couldn’t hear anything because she was wasted. She couldn’t react the way she wanted to, the way she should have. The way she knew she should. She wasn’t the type of girl to sit there and take an ass-whooping. She’d fought against Sonny too much, and it had cost her. When Devlyn had been with them at their house, he’d helped keep her in line with his own fists. And two Caracus brothers beating on her were worse than hell.

  But she couldn’t protect herself at Ronan’s because of the damn mind-numbing and dampened reflexes from that damn drink. And the worst part was Ronan had asked her to stop. She hadn’t because… why? What was her real reason?

  Could it be that maybe she didn’t want to face her true emotions for the man who’d swooped in and saved her from the reservation and the rut she couldn’t escape? Her love for him that she’d never recovered from? She needed to think, but damn if her stomach wasn’t a flutter and her lips tingly just from remembering his recent kiss.

  Robbie suddenly appeared at her side, like he’d shadowed her quietly and waited for her to tip and sway. He grabbed her arm. “You okay? Can I do anything?”

  Startled, she gritted her teeth and gave a slight nod. She’d have to speak past the tightness of her throat which felt like Sonny’s hands still clamped around the base. “Yes. Please. Alcohol. Bottles.” She swallowed, reaching up with her hand to cradle her neck. “Garbage.”

  He peered closely at her. “You want me to find your alcohol bottles and throw them away?”

  She sighed in relief. “All. In. House.” He understood.

  The effort to speak hurt like a damn bitch. She’d probably just need some honey and lemon in water, a common sore throat cure her mother had always made her when she’d lived there, both younger and a little
older.

  Robbie left her in the kitchen to do what she’d asked.

  She scratched her arms, digging harder and harder as she realized that she was giving up the one thing that had kept her dull. Protected, if nothing else, her emotions.

  Wanting to call out to stop Robbie but unable to, Kelsey closed her eyes and panted to a one-two-three beat. She could do it. She could do it. Do something. Get the lemon drink ready.

  Searching the cupboards revealed a gallon container of honey. She heated water up in the microwave and added a double squirt of lemon juice from the bottle in the fridge, pouring a generous helping of honey to sink into the cup. Swirling the sweet drink, Kelsey closed her eyes and pictured her mom handing her the honey water, saying, “Tip it back, Kelsey-dear. There’s magic in the bees’ gold.”

  Sipping it, she feared she wouldn’t be able to swallow, but the first few drinks helped more than she’d hoped.

  If she could just get her voice back enough, she would call her parents and warn them. She owed them that much. Loved them too much to even hold a grudge against them for their choice. Hell, honestly? She probably would’ve done the same.

  What was taking Slate and Ronan so long? They’d been gone over an hour. Maybe more.

  With half the drink gone and starting to feel like a normal human being again, Kelsey reached for the wall phone. She took a deep breath then dialed her Dad’s cellphone number. Nerves danced in her stomach, just under her bruised diaphragm and tender organs.

  Only a day and a half or so had passed, but it seemed like a lifetime since she’d talked to her father. Her mother. Oh, man, she missed her family.

  The phone rang. She’d be surprised if he answered, usually they were in the garden in the early hours of the morning before the heat struck them and Dad went in to work.

  “Hello?” Her dad’s deep voice seemed disinterested, as if they never received calls at six in the morning – which they didn’t. But the screen on his cell phone would’ve shown the caller ID flashing her name.