Page 33 of Running to the Cowboy

That’s an understatement. It’s everything I can do to keep Ramsay from throwing me.

“We got nothing to talk about. Just give me back what’s rightly mine.”

“She’s not property.”

What’s the point of playing dumb? He won’t get to her unless he goes through me, Jake, and Ennis.

I have to speak my peace, even if Ramsay is being a pain in the ass with his rearing back and snorting. “It’s not right. That girl doesn’t want to get married. You need to respect that.”

I’m aware that I’m using logic, as if logic applies to the Celestial Kindred of Whatever the Fuck.

But a part of me just needs to help him see sense. He needs to see the absolute vile criminality of what he’s doing.

“I don’t think you understand what we’re capable of, son. I’m not here to negotiate.”

I hear the click of the safety on his sidearm, a stupid little 9 mm handgun. The problem is, he’s got it in his hand, and my rifle’s still on my saddle.

The crack of the shot spooks the horse. Ramsay jerks and spins away.

I’m not hit by the bullet, but I’m no longer in control of my horse.

I hit the mud, flat on my back, stunned.

I wait for the old man to jab me with his foot, to make sure I’m dead. Or walk over and put two bullets in me to finish the job.

I wait, damn sure I’m about to meet my maker.

But that meeting never comes.

When my lungs are at full capacity again, I sit up.

Ramsay is long gone, having bolted for the stable, most likely. Orlyn Moffat has disappeared like smoke.

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia

“You’re not about to shoot me, Nevyn. You know you don’t want to bring me back dead.”

My hands are in the air, and I’m face to face with the would-be groom I ran from only days ago.

He laughs, his pale eyes smiling psychotically. “I don’t want to bring you back at all, little girl.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because there’s too much at stake. You know that. You know too much. I can’t have you running around the countryside telling everybody your little lies, now, can I?”

“I don’t tell lies, Nevyn. You’re the liar.”

I have to keep him talking, just a little longer. I move slowly, backing away, and pivoting, inch by inch. I just need the right angle to make this work. It’s a terrible plan, but I’ve definitely acted on worse plans than this.

“If you come with me now, and recant your story to whoever you told, your sisters will be safe.”

I refuse to let him see the horror that I feel. This is what they do. They use siblings and little ones as bargaining chips.

“Which ones?” I ask. Back away, and pivot. Back away, and pivot.

It’s working. Nevyn is so focused on keeping the shotgun trained on me that he’s not paying attention to his movements, which are taking him in a complete circle.

---