Page 22 of The Bull Rider & the Wedding Planner

“You too.” Cassie squeezed her hand and then released it. “Don’t move an inch.”

“Iwon’t.”

They both laughed. Oh, how Cassie loved her girl. She made everything better. They didn’t need Easton. They had each other.

Straightening her back, she held onto her nose and walked quickly toward her mother’s bedroom. She swung the door open and glanced around. She could see her mother’s slight frame in the bed, underneath the covers.

Her steps slowed as she approached the bed, anxious to awaken her grumpy mother and longing to be out of here. Her mom made no movement or sound. Was she sick? What if she was … No. She couldn’t be dead. But that would explain the awful scent.

Oh, no. Her pulse spiked and chills pricked at her neck.

“You okay, love?” she called to Presley.

“Not movin’ one inch, Mama,” Presley hollered back.

“That’s my girl.”

She could imagine Easton saying those words to her and she longed for him.

Cassie edged closer. She could see her mother’s face clearly now. Her skin was gray, her eyes closed. She really might be …

Cassie peered closer and could see dark, dried … was that blood staining the blanket covering her mom’s chest? Her heart started racing out of control. Darkness clawed at her mind, and she swayed on her feet.

No! She could not lose it. Not now. Presley needed her in this house of horror more than ever. Still, Cassie had to know. Was it really blood? Could her mom truly be gone?

With her nose pinched even tighter, she edged just a bit closer, praying for strength to not pass out, to get through this. For Presley. She noticed a note pinned to the blankets.

I’m coming for you next, Cassie.

Baxter!

Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Her blood turned to ice. A scream ripped from her throat.

Turning, she raced back out of the bedroom, her eyes searching but not seeing him. Was he hidden in one of the other bedrooms? The bathroom? Horror choked her, and she had to release her nose to catch a breath of the foul air.

“Mama?” Presley stared at her in confusion.

Cassie grabbed her girl, lifted her into her arms, and yanked the front door open. She raced across the porch, stumbling on a broken board and crying out in horror as they pitched forward.

She and Presley tumbled down the steps, her daughter howling in pain. No, no, no. She couldn’t hurt her girl, and she couldn’t slow down. He was here. He would rip Presley from her arms and kill Cassie like he’d killed her mother.

Scrambling back to her feet, one knee aching, she cradled Presley close and sprinted for the car. Reaching the vehicle, she flung the driver’s door open, slid in, and slammed it shut.

“Mama!” Presley cried, tears racing down her smooth cheeks.

“Sorry, love, sorry.” She hit the lock button and looked frantically back at the house. No movement from inside. Was he outside somewhere? Watching, waiting, laughing at how terrified she was? Her eyes darted around the snow-covered yardand the neighboring properties. Nothing. He’d follow them, let her horror mount, strike when she was least expecting it.

“Honey, please climb back into your car seat,” she begged her daughter. The horror had cleared her head but made her entire body ache with fear.

“Mama?” Presley’s teal-blue eyes were full of confusion.

“Are you all right, baby?” She could have hurt Presley in their tumble down the steps.

“So-so.” Presley lifted a trembling hand.

“Oh, love.” She didn’t dare stay here. Hugging Presley one more time, she lifted her toward the back seat. “Get in your car seat, love.”

Presley thankfully obeyed. Cassie started the car and pressed the button on the steering wheel. “Call 911,” she commanded.

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