Page 61 of River Legacy
That just made Claude more determined to do this. Maybe he’d hoped that his usual good sense would have talked him out of this plan by now. No such luck, he thought.
At the open barn door, he stopped to peer inside and let his eyes adjust to the dimness, then he slipped in. The two were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t see him as he picked up a shovel leaning against one of the stalls.
It only took a few steps to come up behind Ryder. The cowboy hadn’t heard him: he was too enamored with Victoria. Claude swung the shovel, catching him in the side of the head before either of them knew he was there. Claude thought he’d have to hit him again. Or maybe he just wanted to. But the cowboy went down like a bag of rocks and didn’t move.
By then Victoria was screaming, racing forward to fall to her knees beside the rancher. Claude grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. “Come on, princess. You and I have a flight to catch.”
She kept screaming and trying to claw and kick him. He only tightened his hold on her, half dragging her. He was bigger and stronger, and he wasn’t going to take any shit from her. As they reached his rental, he’d finally had enough of her trying to scratch out his eyes, and he backhanded her. Her head bounced off the side of the SUV, and she slumped as if he’d cut the strings on a marionette.
Scooping her up, he put her into the passenger seat and pulled out the zip ties he’d bought before he’d left Billings. Hadn’t he known it would come to this?
He glanced toward the barn, but there was no sign of Ryder. He hadn’t wanted to kill him, but at this point did it really matter? He was kidnappingthe only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in America, a man he already knew was a coldhearted bastard who would probably have him killed.
But damned if he wasn’t getting back on that private jet to Dallas today, and he was taking Victoria with him.
Bailey McKenna stared at the box of books the delivery driver was holding before she finally reached for it. When she’d gotten the advance copies to share, it still hadn’t felt real. But this made it all too real.
“Thank you,” she said and turned to take them inside to the kitchen. Setting the box down, she stared at it, almost afraid to open it to see stacks of books marking years of her work now in print.
“You should be proud of what you wrote,” her editor had assured her. “The way you wrote it, the book is fun to read. You have a tongue-in-cheek way of writing about people on the edge. It’s comedic, yet fascinating. That it’s all true makes it even more salacious.”
Bailey had insisted the names stay changed before it went to print. When she’d originally written about the people of the Powder River basin, she’d been angry and hurt and scared. That had all changed when the man after her had been caught and killed. But that was only partially why she no longer felt a need to get back at anyone.
Since writing the book, she’d fallen only more deeply in love with the man she’d eloped with lastweekend. That love had left no room for anger, hurt or fear. For the first time in her life, she believed that love was the most powerful of all emotions, able to conquer all.
With that thought, she grabbed a knife and opened the box. She felt a surge of excitement as she pulled back the cardboard flaps and saw the stacks of her first book. She caught her breath. The cover was more beautiful than the cover art that had been proposed. It was of the Powder River in all its glory and the people who meted out an existence along its shores. It, like the people, were the basis of her stories. People who often fought every day to survive there.
With awe, she picked up one of the books and ran her thumb across the raised gold letters of her name. Her dream had been to write a novel one day. She hadn’t planned this book. It had practically written itself as she investigated the families, looking for the man who’d almost killed her when she was seventeen. She hadn’t seen his face, but she’d known he still lived in the basin. She wrote down the stories she uncovered, and now here they were.
At the sound of a vehicle driving up outside, she looked to the window and saw her husband get out of his patrol SUV. She held the book to her chest, knowing it was going to cause him some pain because of the chapter on his mother. She had tried to get the chapter out of the book, but her editor had convinced her that what had made her book so powerful was that it was honest.
Stuart knew she’d written about him and his parents but not what he’d found out about his mother. He’d assured her not to worry about it, that he doubted he would read it. They both knew he would end up reading it because he’d been haunted by his memories of her for years and needed to know if they were true or not.
Bailey had known that there would be an uproar over the book once it hit the market. She’d already been threatened by one family who got wind of its publication. But now it was on sale.
She took a deep breath and let it out as the sheriff came through the door. He headed straight for her, drawing her close to kiss her.
“Bailey,” his whispered against her lips, sending shivers across her skin. As he drew back he saw the box, his eyes lighting up. “Your books?”
She could only nod, both excited and a little scared, much like when Stuart had asked her to marry him. Now his wife, she didn’t want anything to spoil their happiness.
He reached for the book she was holding and studied the cover. Like her, he ran a thumb over the raised gold letting, then looked up at her and smiled. “Congratulations, author. What would you like to do to celebrate?”
“Stay home and curl up with you.”
Stuart shook his head even as he reached for her, drawing her into his arms again. “Anything you want.” She snuggled against him, never having felt such love.
“How was your day?” she asked.
“I saw CJ Stafford and Treyton McKenna together today.”
“The black sheep of the two families are friends?”
“Friends?” He shrugged. “Business associates. I’d bet money on it. I’ve suspected they were involved in that meth lab they burned before I could raid it. Treyton now has his own place out in the badlands.” He pulled back, immediately changing topics. “I’m buying you dinner in Miles City. Then maybe a show? I want to celebrate this with you. What do you say? We can curl up when we get home.”
She studied him for a moment, seeing how much he probably needed this more than she did. She smiled and nodded.
“Good,” he said as he put down the book without opening it. “Let me change.” Later he’d pick it up again, she knew. She’d dedicated it to him, the man who’d saved her from her very own monster. The man who loved her. The man she’d married.
