Well, that’d explain Tempest’s situation.Porter, paused, low and silent, having crept along the far side, listening to every word.
‘You’ve got it back now?’Finn was cool as hell, no doubt from his experience as an undercover cop.
Sawyer nodded eagerly.‘Yeah-yeah.I’m just waiting on the pick-up.It should settle the score, right?’He was sweating now.‘You tell Rickson that.I’ll have a chunk of change for him as soon as the Stock Agent brings in the truck.And that horse, it’s a pretty one too…’ Sawyer exhaled heavily, full of nerves as he wiped off his sweaty brow.
‘Sounds like you want to keep it.’
‘Nah.Not when them idiots had him down as Lot 728 in the livestock auction.’Sawyer let out a dry, bitter laugh.‘Should’ve known to steer clear of that flamin’ number.It’s like fate kicking me in the guts all over again.’
‘Why?’Finn asked, taking that step closer.
Sawyer shifted, as if suddenly uncomfortable now.‘728—seventy-two thousand, eight hundred.That’s what I owed Rickson after he doubled the interest on me for being late on that payment.’
But Sawyer then paused.
So too did Porter, as the air seemed to hold still like a hellish oven kicking into high range.
‘Wait…’ Sawyer’s eyes narrowed at Finn.‘You’re askingwhy?’
Finn lifted one brow, slow and deliberate.
Sawyer stepped back instinctively, dragging his shovel with him.‘You don’t work for Rickson, do you?’
Finn didn’t answer.He didn’t need to.
Sawyer’s eyes darted to the caravan, the tarp, troopy, and the ridge.Then he ran.
Porter exploded from cover.Dust flew as he launched forward, boots hammering the dirt.
‘Move in!’Finn barked into his radio.‘Suspect is fleeing.I repeat, Move in!’
Sawyer had barely cleared five metres before Porter tackled him from behind, bringing him down hard into the dirt with a bone-jarring thud.
They rolled across the rubble with limbs tangling and boots kicking—until Porter reared back and drove a fist into Sawyer’s gut.
‘That’s for hitting me over the head with a shovel,’ he growled, slamming another punch into Sawyer’s ribs.‘That’s for scaring the hell out of Amara, burying her car, and stealing her horse.’
He hit him again—straight in the jaw.‘No one upsets that woman on my watch.’
‘Porter!’ Finn’s voice cut through the moment like a blade.‘That’s enough.He’s down.’
Porter’s chest heaved, fighting for control against that primal instinct to punish the man who’d dared hurt Amara on so many levels.
But he was a lawman, too.He believed the law would bring them the right kind of justice.
Wiping his bloody knuckles across Sawyer’s heaving chest, Porter grabbed him by the shirt to drag the cretin upright.‘You’re under arrest, arsehole, for attempted murder, assaulting police and a shovel-load of other charges.’
And then both officers realised at the same time—
‘No cuffs.’
Finn swore under his breath.‘The constable always keeps hers on her vest and usually hands them to me.You’ve got yours?’
Porter shook his head.‘Mine are back at the station, with the rest of my uniform.’
‘We’ll make do.Find something to tie his damn hands until backup gets here.’Finn scanned the camp and spotted a stash of feed bags and blue hay bale twine.‘There.That’ll do.’
Porter grabbed a coil, yanked it free, and looped it tight around Sawyer’s wrists.‘Don’t move.’He gave the knot an extra pull, not caring if he cut off Sawyer’s circulation.‘I don’t trust this twine.’
