Caught Up in a Cowboy, page 25
That she could do. She might not have made it to college, but she could outsmart this idiot.
She opened her palm and let the candle fall to the floor. It hit the carpet with a thud, but didn’t break.
He let go of her shirt, releasing the pressure against her throat, and she sucked in a deep breath.
His other hand still held her arm in a death grip, but he pulled back a few inches. Just enough for her shirt to fall back and for her to realize that the ripped fabric left her bare and exposed.
He realized it too. His gaze fell to her chest, to her lace bra now visible beneath the torn shirt, and the dark look in his eyes changed from anger to a greedy lust. “We are all alone out here. We shouldn’t be fighting, Quinn. Not when we could be using this time for better things. Like making us another Maxie.”
The tone in his voice was lecherous and threatening, and her anger slipped away, replaced by cold, stark fear.
Sweat broke out on her back, and she struggled to stay calm. To think.
He dipped his other hand, sliding it down her neck, then cupping her breast and holding it firmly in his grasp as he bent his head closer to her ear. “Remember the night we made Max? You were so easy that night, so desperate to get back at your stupid boyfriend, you practically begged me for it.” He tightened his grip, squeezed her breast painfully. “Well, I’m here now. And I won’t even make you beg. Not much anyway.”
He offered her a vulgar chuckle—a laugh mixed with crudeness and threat.
Bile rose in her throat. “Get your filthy hands off me.” She tried to raise her leg to knee him in the groin, but he blocked her with his thigh.
He still had her pressed against the wall, and his body was strong, his grip on both her arm and her breast tightening further. “Oh, she’s getting tough. That’s good. I like a fighter.” He twisted her around and threw her down on Max’s bed.
She scrambled backward through the array of coins and bills that lay scattered across the bed. Grabbing the plastic bank, she threw it as hard as she could at Monty’s face.
He howled when the bank hit him in the cheek before it fell to the floor.
A red mark flamed on his cheek, and he pressed his fingers against the spot. His anger intensified, his eyes narrowing into tight slits as he reached for her legs. “You’re gonna pay for that, bitch.”
She kicked out, trying to use the strength in her legs, trying to connect her feet to anything that would cause him pain and keep him away from her. Trying to think of anything to say that would stop him. “Don’t do this. My dad’s going to be back any minute now. And you know if he catches you here like this, he’ll kill you.”
He paused, for just a second, as if digesting her words.
“And my brother is supposed to be home anytime now too.” She grabbed the loose bills left on the bed and tossed them toward him. “Just take the money. That’s what you came here for. Just take the cash and get out.”
He stood glaring at her, his arms held out at his sides, his chest heaving.
She held her breath, desperately praying he would either take the money and leave or that her dad or brother would arrive home any second.
Either the lure of the money or the threat of Ham and Logan must have tipped the scales, because he scooped up the money and shoved it into his pockets.
He pointed a finger at her, and she stared at it, noticing the thin line of grease still under his nail and that the cuticle was torn and bleeding. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I tried it the easy way. Now you’re gonna pay.”
Backing out of the room, he left her with one more threat. “And so is Max.”
She heard his footsteps moving quickly down the hall, and she scrambled from the bed, slamming the door shut and leaning her back against it.
Her heart racing, she held her breath, listening as the front door slammed, followed by the sounds of a car door and an engine starting. She heard the gravel as his wheels spun and he tore out of the driveway.
Letting out her breath, she sank to the floor, her back still against the door.
Spying her broken necklace on the carpet, she crawled toward it. Clutching the chain, the key, and the heart pendant in her fist, she curled in a ball and let loose a sob.
She gave herself a few minutes, a few minutes to let the terror and the anger of the situation out in her tears, then she pulled herself together and stood shakily to her feet. She didn’t want Max or her dad to see her like this. Logan wasn’t really supposed to be home until tomorrow. That one had been an empty threat. But her dad really could drive up at any minute.
She pulled the bedroom door open and walked down the hall, hoping Monty hadn’t done any other damage on his way out of the house.
Her mouth felt full of cotton, her throat parched and dry. She needed a drink of water and to wash her face.
Still clutching the necklace in her hand, she headed toward the kitchen.
Her heart froze as she saw the makeshift gate had been thrown apart, the blankets and chairs tossed to the side.
Oh no. Oh, please no.
Running toward the mess, she wildly searched the floor for the puppy. She knew before she saw the empty kitchen, knew Monty had carried out his threat of hurting Max.
The puppy was gone.
Chapter 22
She couldn’t believe it.
Couldn’t believe someone would do something so cruel.
Why would Monty take the dog?
Quinn’s heart ached as she stared at the empty kitchen floor.
What the hell was she supposed to do?
Her purse lay on the kitchen counter, her phone next to it. Without thinking, she picked it up and tapped the screen, calling the first person, the only person, who came to mind.
The one she’d always needed.
He hadn’t always been there for her in the past, but she sent up a silent prayer that he would be there now.
“Hello.”
He was there.
The sound of his voice caused her shoulders to slump forward, and she leaned against the side of the counter for support. “Rock.” She breathed out his name, a whisper that was a cross between a cry and a weep.
“Quinn. What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m here. I’m home. But he’s gone. He took him.”
“Took who? Quinn, take a breath and talk to me.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “The puppy. Max’s puppy. He took him.”
“Who did?”
“Monty. He was angry. He took the puppy to hurt me. To get back at me.”
“Stay there. I’m already in my truck. I’ll be there in two minutes.”
The phone went dead.
She tried to catch her breath, to think. But all she could focus on was the bone-deep ache in her heart. This would kill Max. And it would be her fault.
This was all her fault for letting that man back into their lives.
The sound of a truck engine broke through her thoughts. She ran out onto the porch to see Rock’s pickup tearing down the driveway.
He pulled to a stop in front of her, gravel flying as his tires skidded across the dirt. Opening the door, he growled, “Get in.”
She flew off the porch and scrambled into the truck, pulling the door shut behind her.
Rock’s face was a mask of stone, his mouth set, his brows drawn tightly together. But his eyes widened as he turned his head to look at her. “What the hell happened to you?” His lips formed a tight line, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Did that fucker hurt you?”
She looked down at her torn shirt, at the bruises forming on her arm, at the broken necklace still clutched in her hand. Opening her fist, she held it out to him, her voice faltering as she whispered, “He broke my necklace.”
He spoke his next words slowly, enunciating every syllable. “I’m going to break his fucking neck.”
After such vehemence in his words, she was surprised when he reached out and tenderly touched the red marks on her arm. And even more surprised at the tears that welled in his eyes.
He drew his arm back, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing the back of his hand across his cheek. “Put on your seat belt,” he ordered, then put the truck in gear and sped out of the driveway.
He didn’t speak as they drove toward Monty’s brother’s house, and she didn’t push him. The muscles corded in his forearms, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. His eyes stayed focused on the road, his jaw set, his teeth clenched together, fury radiating off him so strongly she could almost feel it, as if it filled the cab of the truck, pushing her back against the seat.
The distance between the two towns was close to twelve miles, but Rock tore up the highway, pushing the truck, and she was afraid to look at how fast they were going.
“They still in that shitty dump just east of town?” he finally asked, still not taking his eyes off the road.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He spotted the broken-down farmhouse and slowed the truck as he turned into the drive. Monty’s car was parked next to the house.
He hit the brakes, and dust and gravel went flying. “Stay in the truck,” he ordered as he slammed the door and strode toward the house.
“The hell I will.” She clambered out after him, suddenly terrified that Rock really was going to kill Monty.
He raised his fist and pounded on the front door. “Open up, Hill. I know you’re in there.” They waited a few seconds, then he turned the knob and pushed the door open, barging through the front door of the house.
Monty stood next to the sofa, his cell phone gripped in his hand. “You can’t come in here. That’s trespassing.”
“Not if we’re invited,” Rock said. “And I swear I heard you say ‘Come on in.’ Didn’t you hear him say that, Quinn?”
“Yep. Sure did. Clear as day.” Her bravery had returned as she stood next to Rock.
A whimper sounded, and her gaze shot to the corner of the room where Truman’s furry brown head poked over the corner of a liquor store box.
Monty took a step toward the puppy, but Rock moved faster, holding out his arm and fixing the other man with a steely stare.
He picked up the box and handed it to Quinn. “Take the dog out to the truck. Wait for me there.”
She took the box and backed toward the door, the puppy crying and climbing up the sides, its nails scratching the cardboard as it tried to lick her face.
“You can’t take that dog. That’s stealing.” Monty held up his phone. “And I already called my brother. He’s a cop, you know. He’s on his way.”
“Good. We can show him the bruises you put on Quinn’s arms and neck.”
Monty’s face paled, then returned to his scornful sneer. “I didn’t touch her. And she’s lying if she says I did. If she’s got bruises, they’re probably from you. I know you’ve got a real bad temper. I’ve seen you on TV, always getting into fights.”
I thought he said he didn’t know who Rock was. The thought flitted through her mind, then disappeared as Rock turned to her, his features hard and angry. “Take the dog out to the truck. I need to have a word with Hill. Now, Quinn.”
She stood frozen, indecision holding her in place. She didn’t want to leave Rock alone with Monty, but she also wanted to make sure they had possession of the dog by the time his brother showed up. If he really did show up.
“Okay.” She backed through the door and onto the porch, clutching the box to her chest.
Panic filled her as she saw Rock slam the door behind her and heard the dead bolt slide into the lock.
* * *
Rock turned from the door to face Hill, his fists already clenching at his sides, aching to drive them into Monty’s stupid face.
Hill held up his hands as Rock walked slowly forward. “You can’t touch me. My brother’s a cop.”
“I don’t give a shit who your brother is. You don’t ever lay a hand on Quinn again. In fact, I don’t want you to even look at her. Her or Max. You had your chance. And you blew it. Now you’re going to leave.”
“Oh yeah? Are you going to make me?” He acted tough but scooted behind the table as Rock advanced toward him.
“Oh please, just give me one reason. I’m already planning to punch you in the throat for laying your hands on Quinn. All I need is for you to say one more thing—give me one more reason to smash my fist into your disgusting face.”
Monty held up his hands. “Hold on. Nobody needs to punch anybody.”
Rock laughed. He wasn’t going to let Hill get in a single punch.
“You want me to leave?” Monty stammered. “Fine, I’ll leave. You just gotta make it worth my while.”
“Worth your while? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You got plenty of money, Mr. Big Shot Hockey Player. You have what it takes to get me out of Quinn’s and Max’s lives. What do you think I came back here for? I know that guys with cash will pay to keep me out of the lives of the women they love. But I won’t go for so cheap this time. Ham’s measly ten thousand bucks didn’t last very long. So if you want me gone, it’s gonna cost you fifty.”
Ham’s measly ten thousand bucks? Hamilton had paid this guy off to leave Quinn and Max alone? No wonder he was so pissed at having him back. Ham could barely see straight when Monty was around. Hell, he’d probably been waiting to get him alone so he could punch him in the face too. Just wait until he saw the bruises Hill had put on his daughter.
Rock could probably leave now without laying a hand on him and it wouldn’t matter. Ham would track him down and kill him later.
But then he’d miss out on the satisfaction of feeling his flesh collapse under his fist. And of spilling the man’s blood who had dared to harm Quinn and was now demanding a payoff to disappear again.
“Fifty thousand dollars?” Rock asked, regarding the man with scorn. “That’s what your child is worth to you?”
Max and Quinn were priceless to him.
The very idea that someone could put a price tag on their son’s head was repulsive.
It wouldn’t matter if someone offered him fifty thousand or fifty million. He would never consider giving away his family for money.
“You better take me up on it quick, before I change my offer and make it sixty,” Monty threatened.
Rock shook his head, both at the absurdity of the fact that this guy was bartering his family away and that he had considered for a moment paying him the money just to make him disappear. “You know what you’re going to get from me, Hill? Fifty thousand fuck yous.”
A sarcastic sneer played across Monty’s lips. “Are you sure about that? Sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
“The only thing I’m changing my mind about is the fact that I had decided earlier that I’d let you keep your teeth.”
Hill’s face paled, but he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t shut up. “You can threaten me all you want, but I hold all the cards, James. Because Max is my son, and I’ve only gotten started with him. You don’t want to pay now, but I guarantee you’re going to wish you would have.”
That was all it took, the final straw to tip him over the edge. Fury boiled in his blood at the threat to Max, and Rock couldn’t hold back.
He took two giant strides and kicked the chair out from in front of him before swinging his fist into Monty’s face.
The feel of Monty’s bone cracking under his knuckles did little to appease his anger. Neither did the anguished cry or the blood that spurted from his broken nose.
Rock wanted to hurt him, wanted to cause him pain. Pain that would last a long time—that would remind him with every throb of agony that he shouldn’t have touched Quinn, shouldn’t have threatened Max, shouldn’t have messed with Rockford James, or his family.
His fist swung in a wide arc, and he landed another punch into the side of Monty’s cheek, splitting the skin under his eye.
“Rock, stop it!” Quinn screamed, running toward him from the kitchen.
He heard Quinn’s voice, but it sounded far away, barely discernible over the rush in his ears. She must have gone around and come in the back door of the house.
She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back from Monty, who now lay crumpled in a ball on the floor, his hands covering his head in defense. “You have to stop. We need to go. I heard the sirens. Monty’s brother is on his way. We have to get out of here.”
Taking another step back, he shook his head to clear it as he tried to focus on her distressed face. “No. He hurt you, and I can’t let that stand. I don’t care if his brother shows up. He deserves this.”
Quinn glanced down at Monty, and her lips pulled back in a sneer. “He deserves a lot worse than this, but not from you. Not right now. Please, Rock. Think of your career. Think about Max. He’s still his dad.”
That comment stopped him in his tracks, and he let his fists fall to his sides. This asshole had just offered to give up that privilege for fifty thousand dollars, so he wasn’t stopping for Monty’s sake, but for Max’s. For the little kid who wouldn’t understand why he’d punched his dad in the face.
“Please,” Quinn begged. “We have to leave.”
She grabbed his hand, and he let her lead him out the front door and toward the truck. The wail of sirens filled the air, the sound finally getting through to Rock, and they raced to get in the vehicle and get out of there.
Quinn had put the box on the floor of the cab, and she scooped up the puppy and held him to her as he sped down the highway and away from the direction of the sirens.
Rock held out his arm, and she scooted across the seat and pressed against him as he curled his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head on his chest and slid her arm around his stomach, holding onto him and cuddling the puppy between them.
