“Brooks, open your eyes, you damn fool. Right now!” Another bolt of lightning hits the fence a few hundred feet away, and in the glow, I see his lids flutter. “That’s it. Come back to me.”
“Rae…” I don’t hear his voice so much as see his lips move. The clap of thunder makes my ears ring. His eyes open, bloodshot, unfocused, and his breath stutters in his chest. “Love…you…”
“Shut up! You ain’t dyin’ on me. Stay awake.” I slap his cheeks, then slant my lips over his. For a second, he returns the kiss, and I know everything’s going to be okay. Until his mouth goes slack.
“No, baby. Fight!” I check his pulse again. I can’t find it. Pulling off my other glove, I start CPR. The Bee Gees’ “Stayin’ Alive” runs through my head—the song happens to be the perfect speed to time compressions—but by the time I finish the first verse, I want to damn every member of the band straight to hell. It’s not working.
My cell phone is back at the house, and even if it weren’t, there’s no reception out here. My husband hasn’t stirred, and after the refrain, I check for a pulse one last time before I let loose with a string of curses that would make even the most seasoned pirate blush.
“Baby,” I say quietly, pulling him into my lap and cradling him close. “You’re my everythin’. I’ve loved you since we were seventeen. Don’t leave me alone. Not like this.”
But he’s already gone. Brooks would never stop kissing me. Not unless he had no choice.
By the time I drag his body into the house, I have no more tears left to cry. I never should have left him. The herd was safe. He didn’t need to fix the fence in the middle of the storm.
“It’s not that bad out, darlin’. I’ll be done in an hour.” He cups the back of my neck and pulls me in for a swift, hard kiss. “If I wait ’til tomorrow, the field’ll be flooded so bad, it’ll take me all day. Plus, I can’t leave my tools down there.”
“I don’t like the look of those clouds, baby.” All day, I’ve been nervous for no reason, and I wish we hadn’t put off hiring a couple of additional ranch hands.
Another kiss, and he slaps my ass just hard enough to sting. “Get the rest of the herd penned in, and I’ll be done in two shakes. Then we’ll hunker down in front of the fire with that bottle of bourbon I picked up last week.”
“Just…hurry.” I slap his ass back, earning me a wicked grin as he mounts his horse.
“Love you, Rae. I won’t be long.”
I should have said the words back to him. But he took off so fast, I didn’t get a chance. Now, I never will.
Laying his body in front of the wood stove, I brush his damp blond curls away from his face. “Stay here, baby. As soon as I call the sheriff, I’m gettin’ that bottle of bourbon.”
I hold Brooks close for as long as I can, until the sheriff walks in and I have to face the fact that my husband is truly gone, and I wasn’t there to save him.
Chapter One
Raelynn
“Catch up, probie!”
I glare at Hidden Agenda’s tactical genius, retired SEAL West Sampson. He stands at the edge of the indoor track, holding a stopwatch. Graham, Tank, Inara, and I run two laps around the warehouse—after slogging through a sadistic obstacle course and a stint on the climbing wall.
West’s drills are only getting harder now that the leader of the Kidnap & Ransom firm, Ryker McCabe, is about to be a father.
“I ain’t your damn probie,” I pant, pushing myself even harder.
“Until Wyatt starts joining us for workouts, the honor’s still yours.” West calls out Graham’s time—eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds—then Inara’s, then Tank’s. I’m almost a lap behind them.
Ryker—who, despite his size, beat everyone else by a full minute—cracks the seal on a bottle of water and stares me down. It’s meant to be intimidating, but he can’t get inside my head. No one can. Not anymore.
I plaster on a sweet smile as I skid to a stop in front of West and brace my hands on my thighs.
“Damn, probie.” He whistles, and if looks could kill, I’d have just murdered him.
“Don’t you give me any shit, y’hear? I made it through the climbin’ wall without usin’ my right arm. As instructed. And Inara still only beat me by two minutes.”
“I was about to say, ‘I’m impressed.’”
“Oh.” Snagging my towel from the bench, I mop my forehead. “I’m fixin’ to knock on Wyatt’s door and drag his sorry ass here for the next workout so y’all have someone else to gang up on.”
Ryker snorts. “I’d like to see you try.”
