Page 5 of The Cowboy's Redemption
An arm hooked her waist, bringing her circling to an abrupt halt. “Hey, beautiful,” a man said, his voice cheerful. Friendly. His face close to hers. “You look lost. Need some help?”
“I…”
I don’t know you, her brain finished for her, since her tongue wouldn’t form that many words. Her legs weren’t much help to her either, because they allowed him to turn her so that she matched his steps as if glued to his side, which she was. She blinked, and in an instant, the crowd and the lights had disappeared behind a brick wall, which also blunted the beat of the music.
And then Levi was there, blocking her path. She was so glad to see him that she had no words. The hot rush of relief, though…
She’d remember that later.
*
Levi
Levi cut themoff behind the community co-op, on the footpath to the parking lot.
He’d seen Dana arrive at the dance, then lost track of her while he’d talked to a stock contractor intent on doing business with the Endeavour. Therefore, he couldn’t say for certain what was going on here.
Whatever it was, he didn’t like how it looked.
Because it looked as if Dana had gone from enjoying the music to being too drunk to stand in the span of less than a half hour, which wasn’t like her. She’d been a party girl, yes. But one with common sense. Not only could she hold her liquor, she knew when to stop.
He didn’t like the look of the guy who had his arm around her, holding her up, either. He didn’t have his full attention on her—rather, he kept a watchful eye on the people around them, as if expecting opposition. Or, just maybe, as if he were guarding his prey. He gave off that sort of vibe. Levi had never seen him before, which didn’t mean much, except he was good with faces and that lack of recognition was another red flag. If he was part of the rodeo, Levi would know.
The lot where the campers were set up was in the opposite direction of the parking lot and Bremner didn’t have a whole lot of motels. Levi was willing to bet that the one where he was staying was just about it. So—if reading the situation correctly, and he thought he did—this guy was likely a local. And likely not a Good Samaritan.
“Excuse us,” the man said, and tried to steer Dana around him.
“Not so fast.” Levi again stepped into his path. “The lady looks like she’s had enough dancing and should turn in for the night.”
“She’s with me. I’ll take good care of her.”
Sure. He believed that. “And who might you be?”
“None of your business. That’s who.”
“Dana,” Levi said, speaking directly to her. “Do you know this guy?”
She lifted her head. A swath of dark curls slid away from her cheek. The warm glow of a streetlight caught the baffled confusion in her eyes. The inability to focus.
“No.” Her voice sounded strong and decisive, even though her body sagged as if she were boneless.
Levi had some hard decisions to make. She wasn’t leaving with this man. That one was a no-brainer, since signs indicated she’d been drugged. But Dana didn’t like public attention, not outside of the arena, and while not busy, the parking lot wasn’t empty. No one had taken too much notice of them yet, but they were starting to look. He didn’t see how this could end without there being a scene. Pent-up rage rattled his ribs like the bars of a cage.
“This can go one of two ways,” he said, keeping his tone pleasant and his voice down on the off chance he might pull this off without violence. “You can leave her with me, and I’ll see she gets home, no questions asked. Or I can punch you in the face, the police will be called in, and you can explain this situation to them. To the event organizers too, because they know her pretty well. They’re going to have questions. They’ll likely call for a drug test. Either way, you leave empty-handed.”
“Go fuck yourself,” the guy said, but he released Dana, who would have slumped to the ground if Levi hadn’t caught her. Then, he walked off as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Levi let him go, even though he would have preferred the face-punching option, but getting Dana out of here as quickly and quietly as possible was his more immediate mission.
The rage in his chest sat back on its heels. He considered a detour to the rodeo’s pop-up clinic—that would be the smartest move on his part, if only to confirm his suspicions—then decided against it. If she’d been slipped Rohypnol, or a similar drug, it would disappear from her system before she was alert enough to agree to a blood test, and she’d have to agree to one, because there were no obvious signs of assault.Thank you, Jesus, for that.
He could take her to her camper, but he didn’t know which one was hers, and he wasn’t about to ask for directions. He’d then have to stay with her, or find someone who could, in case the drug—if she’d been drugged—made her sick. The amount of alcohol required to put her in this condition sure as hell would. And him being seen creeping out of her camper before daylight wasn’t going to make her happy, either. The rodeo crowd talked.
They’d talked about her enough over the past couple of years.
She’d gone limp against him, but her breathing was steady, and he felt no tight muscles or other physical signs of distress. He sighed, made an executive decision, and stooped to slide one arm behind her knees while his shoulder supported her head. A waterfall of soft, sweet-smelling hair cascaded over his sleeve. Although she was slender, she was mostly muscle, and muscle was heavy. So was deadweight.
His truck was three rows away. He’d take her to his motel, monitor her condition overnight, and hopefully, return her in the morning before it was time for her to pack up her camper and horses and check out.
