Page 25 of Bleeding Blackheart

Then she touched her. She went to Violet’s stall again, and I couldn’t take it. All I could think about was Margaretand how I’ll never see her again. Then I thought about how angry she’d be at me if she saw how I was treating her horse, and I started to feel sick.

I’m embarrassed to say it, but in the past twelve hours, Montana’s given that horse more love than I have since I got her. And the way that horse responds to her, it’s just like how she was with Margaret. Dallas tries to spend time with Violet, but she won’t entertain him. And seeing Violet’s eyes light up when Montana’s in front of her makes me want to throw myself in front of a train. After all these years, I still hate that damn animal. I still want to get rid of her. I still want her to die.

I hear Dallas’ footsteps pick up behind me, and I head into the house, trying to calm down before he gets in here. He knows I have a temper, but I hate losing it in front of him. He’s so controlled and relaxed. I’ve never seen him out of control.

When I step into the kitchen, Montana looks over her shoulder at me and scowls. “Your breakfast is almost done, sergeant. What should I do for you after? Lick your boots?”

I lean back in my chair and watch her prepare our meals. “You could. Or I could shove a bar of soap in your goddamn mouth for all the filth that comes out of it.”

She keeps her back to me while she fixes three plates with fried eggs, toast, and bacon. One plate with extra crispy bacon. Dallas comes in the door as soon as she puts everything down on the table, and he grabs his plate from her with a smile on his face while he takes a seat. “This looks delicious. Thank you, Montana.”

Her eyes widen, and she gives him a small nod before grabbing the back of her chair.

I pull it back in with my boot. “Get me another cup of coffee.”

Her soft little eyebrows draw together and she shakes her head at me before going up to the pot and grabbing a mug.

Dallas’ jaw drops, and he takes a bite of his bacon. “When did you get so mean?”

Montana gets herself a water from the fridge and nearly dumps my coffee all over me when she sets it on the table. “He’s been this mean since I met him.”

Dallas laughs and scarfs down his food. “You never were good at making friends. I couldn’t believe it when Margaret asked me for your number.”

Montana looks between him and me, and I sip my coffee slowly. “Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either. Too bad she’s dead.”

Dallas’ smile drops and he looks between me and Montana. “I’m sorry.”

I ignore him, and we all eat in a painfully awkward silence.

Once our plates are empty, I stand up and clear them like I always do while Dallas tries to get to know the woman at my table.

“Why did your father hire someone to kill you?” Unlike me, Dallas is interested in hearing about people’s lives and how they ended up in the situations they’re in.

She opens her mouth like she might answer him, but when I look at her, she closes her mouth and then looks past us both. “My father doesn’t need a reason to do anything. He does whatever he wants whenever he wants. No one gets in his way.”

Dallas gives me a look like he wants to warn me, but instead, I leave him at the table while I head for the stairs. “Don’t let her move. If she does, shoot her. I’ll be right back.”

His obnoxious laughter fills my ears while I go up to get our things for our trip.

When I get back downstairs, he’s hovering over Montana with his hands cupping her face.

“Mind telling me what the fuck you two are doing?”

He steps away from her with a wadded up white cloth in his hand. “I was just removing her bandage. I took a peek, and I think it doesn’t need to be covered anymore and might heal a little faster without it.”

Like me, Dallas is good at helping wounded creatures. You have to be, living in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like we have a pet hospital down the road.

I look at Montana, realizing this is the first time I’m seeing her fresh-faced without mud in her hair. Her wound from yesterday is now a small scar, and her loose dark brown waves that are just a few shades darker than her skin fall over it, framing her angelic face.

Slinging my gun over my shoulder, I pick up my bags and call out to her. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

She stands up and smiles at Dallas before joining me. I don’t tell him how long we’ll be gone, and I know he doesn’t care. If he needs me, he’ll call.

Montana holds up her dress while we walk across the yard to my truck. It’s light pink with white daisies and has cap sleeves like her dress from yesterday. Yesterday feels like it was weeks ago. It’s crazy thinking that I found her butt naked in a stream and now we’re going on a road trip together.

I toss our bags in the back, and when I get seated in the vehicle, Montana puts her hands on her hips and yells atme through the passenger window. “You’re the rudest man I’ve ever met.”

I start the car, confused at what she means when she yanks open her door and shuts it aggressively.

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