Page 24 of Murder at Rescue Ridge

When Nikki could speak again, she asked, “What happened back there?”

“Someone was waiting for me in the barn,” he said. “They must have guessed I’d return.”

“Couldn’t be any of your brothers or your sister,” she said.

“No,” he agreed. “They wouldn’t shoot. And neither would any of the ranch hands or our foreman.”

“Then, who?”

“You tell us, and we’ll both know,” he said with a sharp sigh. “All I know is showing my face could get us both killed.”

“My stepfather wanted me back alive,” she pointed out. “Doesn’t seem like this person cared as long as he brought back a body.”

Out of nowhere, an imposing figure jumped out from behind a tree. Before Nikki could react, an arm wrapped around her neck, and hard metal pressed against her temple.

“Anyone moves, and I’ll shoot the bitch,” the attacker ground out. She didn’t recognize the voice. This couldn’t be someone trying to cash out on a reward to bring her back safely. They wouldn’t put a gun to her head, a gun that could accidentally go off and blow her brains out.

Her gaze flew to Conrad. For a split second, she thought he might react. Instead, he stood there with the most helpless look on his face. He wouldn’t risk making a move while the barrel of a gun pressed against her skin.

“I got him,” the unfamiliar male voice called out. “Over here.” He stomped his feet a couple of times. Branches crunched, signaling their location.

“Let her go,” Conrad said. “I’m the one you want. She means nothing to you.”

“Like hell,” the male said. “She’s worth a fortune.”

“We both know you don’t collect a reward if she’s injured,” Conrad continued. “And then, I’ll hunt you down myself. You don’t want to know how easy it will be for me to tear you apart, limb by limb.”

“You’ll rot in jail.”

Two men came running toward them, the spotlight back on and currently blinding her.

“Are you a big guy now?” the stranger asked in a mocking tone. “Now that you’re outnumbered?”

“I meant what I said. You harm a hair on her head, and I’ll come for you. And here’s the thing, I won’t stop. Period. I’ll keep coming until there’s nothing left of you.”

Conrad was going to jail.There wasn’t squat he could do about it now. There was no way he would risk Nikki’s safety by making a move, even though the shooter wouldn’t risk his reward by hurting her. Accidents with firearms killed far too many people. If the safety was off, a twitchy finger could end Nikki’s life.

As one of the men came up behind Conrad, he resisted the instinct to fight back. A few seconds later, he was face down in the scrub brush. Drawing on all his reserves, he summoned enough patience to submit to the assholes.

“Don’t hurt him,” Nikki demanded. “I know who you’re working for, and my stepfather will have your heads on a stick once he hears how you’re treating me and my friend.”

“Nice threats coming from somebody who ran off with a criminal,” Gunman said.

“What do you think you’re going to do with us out here?” Nikki spat out.

“You’re going home, little miss,” Gunman said with a sneer. “And we’re dropping this murderous scumbag off at the sheriff’s office on the way.”

Conrad wanted to reassure Nikki that he’d be fine. He wanted those words to be true. But he was staring down a murder charge along with another count of fleeing arrest.

At least she would be safe.

The thought of being separated from her, even for a few hours or days, sat hard in his gut. Right now, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“Conrad Sturgess, you have a visitor.”The jailer motioned for Conrad to step forward as he unlocked the holding cell. Hours had passed while he’d been locked inside this cell with half a dozen others. Two of his cell companions were sleeping off a drunk from the night before. One was still drunk and very much awake. He’d mistaken the corner for a urinal and had the added bonus of forgetting to unzip his pants. The others just sat, looking like they’d been here multiple times before. Conrad stood, walked to the door, and then held out his hands so his wrists could be handcuffed. Once he was secured, the jailer looked up at the camera and nodded. The door opened. Conrad stepped into the hallway. The door closed.

The jailer, who was short and wiry with dirty blond hair, led Conrad to a small room that had two doors, a metal table, and a pair of stackable chairs on opposite sides of said table. Conrad took the chair closest to him. The jailer handcuffed Conrad to the table before exiting the room.

Being processed had taken a couple of hours. He’d been allowed to make a call early on in the process, thanks to his last name. Being a Sturgess did carry some clout. There was a flip side, too. The jailer had made a point of dotting every “I” and crossing every “T” in the arrest paperwork and processing. “Can’t have you getting out on a technicality,” he’d said with a sarcastic look. The look said it was about time a Sturgess got caught and would pay for their crimes. It was Beaumont, not Conrad or any of the others, that should have to pay the piper. The rest of them were law-abiding citizens with a bad reputation. Wasn’t there a saying about the sins of the father being visited upon children?

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