Page 42 of Christmas Ransom

“No regrets?” he whispered, and she felt him turn to look at her.

She met his eyes. “None.” She leaned up to kiss him on the lips. “None,” she repeated. He smiled then and pulled her closer.

Carla could hear the unspoken questions between them as the pickup chilled and Davy started the engine again and they began to dress. Had it been a mistake? How could they not do this again and again until he left? But would they regret it, if not today, then tomorrow or the days ahead?

“I suppose we better get going,” Davy said as he climbed out to retrieve the sled. They were going to James and Lori’s new house on what was known as the Colt Ranch. The original homestead cabin was gone and so was the double-wide trailer the boys had used when they were home. But the land was still there, with plenty of room for each of the brothers to build their own lives on.

Years ago, Carla remembered Davy talking about someday building a house for them on the ranch. His great-grandfather had run a few cattle on the land at one time. His grandfather had kept stock in the corrals.

Davy had always said he would come back to the ranch when he quit the rodeo. He’d talked about making it a working ranch again, either raising cattle or horses. Like rodeo, the place was part of the Colt brothers’ legacy. At one time the ranch had been part of her dream as well, the blueprint she’d had for her perfect life. But Davy hadn’t fit into her perfect plan so neither had Colt Ranch. Still, like Davy, it had a place in her heart.

Carla thought about that as they drove back toward Lonesome.

CARLAHADGROWNquiet on the drive out of the mountains. Davy worried that instead of bringing them closer, their earlier lovemaking would drive them even further apart. That was the last thing he wanted.

He was still blown away by Carla’s tattoo of his family brand. The chemistry between them had been undeniable. He still wanted her and knew that he would the rest of his days.

But he wasn’t fool enough to think it was enough, he told himself as he turned onto a narrow county road that cut through the snow-filled pines. His pickup’s headlights punched a hole in the growing darkness, but only yards up the road. This time of the year it got dark by five o’clock. With the weatherman calling for more snow, the night was pitch-black.

“Are you okay?” Davy asked, glancing over at her. He saw her nod. “I’m still planning to come back, you know. I always thought... I hoped...” Their gazes met and he saw that she knew what he’d hoped because she had the same hope.

“Davy.”

He heard her unbuckle her seat belt and start to slide across the bench seat toward him. His foot went to the brake.

The cab of the pickup exploded, filling the air with tiny cubes of glass and the shriek of twisted metal. The impact from the right side of the pickup shoved the vehicle into the pines next to the road. He heard wood splintering. A limb struck the windshield, shattering it, as the pickup came to an abrupt stop.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Carla!” Davy cried as his brain fought to understand what had happened. They’d been hit. The passenger-side door was caved in, and Carla lay in his lap. If he’d been going any faster... “Carla!”

She sat up, blinking at him in confusion. He could see her in the light from the dash. “Are you hurt?” With relief he saw her shake her head.

“I don’t think so. What happened?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He glanced back and saw what had hit them. A huge truck sat halfway in the old logging road, the headlights shining out at odd angles. He thought he could hear the engine still running.

With a shock, Davy saw that the passenger-side door of the truck hung open.

“I...I think I’m all right,” Carla said, then winced. “But I think I might have—”

He didn’t hear the rest of her words as he caught movement beyond what was left of her side window. A man dressed in dark clothes, hood up, was looking at them as if to see if they were...hurt? Still alive? Then suddenly, the man turned and ran down the road behind them.

Before that instant, Davy had assumed the crash had been an accident. Like the other night, this hadn’t been an accident.

He swore, then grabbed his door handle and shoved his shoulder against it. But the door, wedged tight against the pine trees, didn’t budge. He realized that he wasn’t getting out that way and quickly smashed the rest of the windshield and climbed out over the hood. “Stay here,” he said back at Carla. Once his boots hit the ground, he took off running after the man.

It had begun to snow, visibility dropping quickly. Not that it would have made a difference. He hadn’t gone far when he realized that he’d lost him. The figure had cut off into the pines. Davy could see the man’s footprints in the snow, but only in the ambient light of the large rig’s headlights. Once he stepped into the dark pines, he couldn’t see anything.

He turned back, heart pounding. If only he’d thought to grab his flashlight. And his gun from under the seat. He hadn’t been prepared. He told himself he would be next time, because just as he’d feared, this wasn’t over.

By the time he reached the pickup, he could hear the sound of sirens. Carla must have made the call. Fortunately, they weren’t far from town—just like the last crash. He looked into the pickup and saw her cradling her right ankle. “I think it’s broken,” she said, pain in her voice. He could tell that she was trying hard not to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said and reached through her side window for her hand and squeezed it as she met his gaze.

“I was so afraid that you would go after him into the woods. It was him, wasn’t it?”

“I think so,” he said, hating how close they’d come to the killer—how close they’d come to almost catching him. The sound of sirens grew louder. Flashing lights came about the bend in the road. “It’s going to be all right,” he said to Carla, but neither of them believed that.

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