Page 45 of The Fence Between Us

“Assault, for starters! Look at them, standing over my wife and Dylan like no good thugs. I’m sure we can come up with a few more charges that would stick too.” With a self-confident smirk, Max turned back to the sheriff and dipped his voice, ensuring only the sheriff could hear his next words.

“No!” The scream that tore from Skye’s throat scratched and scraped the entire way.

Rabble moved even closer to her, pushing her gently behind his back with a reassuring hand.

“Skye Wellington? That you girl?” Sheriff Armanan asked, tipping his hat back as he squinted into the darkness.

“Sheriff, may I speak with you?” Rabble asked, his voice steady despite the simmering violence that ran just beneath the surface.

Skye didn’t know if everyone else could hear the threat or if she just knew Rabble that well.

When Sheriff Armanan motioned Rabble and Skye join him at the rear of the cruiser, Rabble stayed protectively between her and Max as they approached, lending her the warmth she lacked so thoroughly.

“Sir, my name is Matthew Raden,” Rabble said. “I’m a private investigative security officer with Rabble & Bros. Security, and those two men are my partners, Declan and Dash MacAlister. Dylan Santoro removed Miss Wellington from her home under duress, and he and Gayle Wellington have been holding her here without consent.”

“Miss Wellington, you got anything to add to that?” Sheriff Armanan’s voice held a note of skepticism, though only a note.

Does he also know the type of secrets my parents and Dylan have?

“Everything he said is true.” Skye’s voice shook, and she cleared her throat to no avail. “I, I—Dylan drugged me. He said—” A sob escaped and she tried to hold it in with the rest of the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overcome her. But when Rabble’s fingers found hers, she squeezed his large hand with all the strength she could muster. “He said if I didn’t marry him, he’d kill Rabble. And…” She couldn’t look at Gayle, her betrayal adding another layer of agony to her already bruised and battered heart. “And Gayle made me—”

“That’s not true!” Gayle snarled from behind them, making Skye flinch involuntarily. “That ungrateful bitch—”

“Shut your mouth, Gayle!” Dylan and Max shouted at the same time with varying amounts of panic coloring their voices.

Sheriff Armanan sighed heavily and waved toward Declan and Dash still holding their positions, the older man’s eyes taking in everything from the nervous twitching of the officiant avoiding eye contact from the stairs to Dylan squirming uncomfortably on the ground. “You boys interested in being deputies for a night?”

“You can’t do that!” Max barked.

The sheriff seemed to grow in height and size right before Skye’s eyes. “I can deputize whomever the hell I want,Mayor.”

Declan let out a whoop. “It’s a dream come true!”

Dash held back a bit as he firmly told the sheriff, “Yes, sir.”

As one unit, the twins hauled up the officiant and Gayle, pushing them toward the Sheriff’s police cruiser.

“Mayor, it seems I don’t have enough seats in the cruiser for the shit show you’ve managed to create. Shame, if I had another officer that sure would be a help. Now, will you drive yourself to the station for questioning, or do I need to hog-tie you to theroof?” Sheriff Armanan grinned; his gaze positively feral as he enjoyed every minute of this.

“Got a runner!” Declan hollered as he stuffed Gayle into the backseat of the cruiser.

“Shit!” Dash sprinted after Dylan, who had disappeared noisily into the brush.

Skye leaned against the trunk of the cruiser, her legs going wobbly and threatening to drop her on her ass. The rest of her body seemed to follow suit, the strength draining from her limbs like the tide ebbing from the shore, she slowly worked her way to the ground and sat against the car’s rear bumper.

“Skye,” Rabble crouched in front of her, his brows furrowing as she squinted, trying to pull him into focus. “Hell,” he said sounding suddenly far away. “Sheriff, I’m assume we’re done here?”

The Sheriff must have agreed because the next thing Skye knew, Rabble tentatively took her in his arms, his touch and eyes asking for her permission, and she melted into him, her muscles languid and limp. He helped her into the front seat of his truck, pushing aside his vest and buckling her up before going around to the other side. He hurried to the driver’s seat, and she grabbed the heather-gray vest, draping it over her lap, her fingers brushing the soft material. She absently noted how much she’d undervalued Rabble’s get-shit-done attitude as he threw the truck in drive, worked his way quickly around the circular drive, and back up the gravel road to the two-lane blacktop. They passed through Shiloh Hills, taking the only road south toward Grand Rock, the largest city nearby with a decent medical clinic.

He didn’t falter in his determination to get her medical attention as quickly as possible. She didn’t care. As long as Rabble held onto her, she could let her mind wander into a quiet space where no thoughts formed. Arm around her shoulders, Rabble guided her through the clinic’s front doors and held herhand the entire time they spoke with the receptionist. Vague awareness touched at the edges of Skye’s consciousness, and she had to force herself to focus and respond to questions directed at her.

The nurse led them into a triage room that smelled like antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. Skye stared distractedly at a ridiculous poster of a male and female body beside each other, both relieved of their skin and muscles while they smiled placidly. She felt ill just looking at it.

As nurses and a female doctor volleyed questions at her, Skye was grateful beyond measure that she could answer no to almost every appalling thing they asked. That she had spoken up to keep Rabble by her side for the entire ordeal gave her another measure of peace. The nurse on staff gave her a reassuring smile and offered a set of sea-foam-colored scrubs to replace Rabble’s T-shirt, which, while serviceable, left her legs exposed to the cold hospital air. She hesitated to return Rabble’s soft cotton T-shirt though, clinging to it like a safety blanket.

Sensing her discomfort and indecision, Rabble took the scrub shirt for himself, looking to her for a nod of approval. Skye sighed as she hugged Rabble’s shirt tightly against her, the smell and feel of its cotton comfort.

“If you’d like to step out, sir,” the nurse said, scowling at Rabble.

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