Page 23 of Ghosted Cowboy
Not falling—being thrown. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, yanking me sideways just as the rod crashed into the stage exactly where I'd been standing. The sound was deafening. The sharp end buried itself in the old wooden boards, quivering with the impact.
I hit the stage floor hard, Ransom's body covering mine, his arms cradling my head.
"Don't move." His words shook. "Just—don't move."
My pulse thundered in my ears. The theater had gone silent except for the settling creaks of the broken rig. Dust drifted down through the stage lights, creating hazy columns.
"Oh my God!" Vivian rushed over, her face sheet-white. "Rainey! Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I'm okay."
Ransom helped me sit up, his touch running over me—checking for injuries, making sure I was really whole. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping, and fury burned in his eyes.
Then the adrenaline crashed.
My hands started shaking. My legs felt like water. The full weight of what had almost happened hit me all at once—that rod could have killed me. Should have killed me. Six inches to the left and I'd be—
"Hey." Ransom pulled me against his chest, one hand cupping the back of my head. "You're okay. I've got you. You're okay."
I pressed my face into his shirt, tried to breathe through the trembling. His heart pounded under my ear, as fast as mine.
"That's it." He stood, pulling me up with him, his arm locked around my waist. "This has gone far enough."
Mason appeared from the wings, hammer still in hand, his face pale. "What happened?"
"What happened?" Ransom's voice could have cut glass. "Someone nearly killed her, that's what happened."
"It was an accident." Clay examined the broken rigging, his brow furrowed. "These old mounts, the cold weather makes metal brittle—"
Ransom shook his head, his hands fisted at his sides. "No. I don’t buy it. Not after everything that’s already happened.”
Sheriff Turley arrived within ten minutes—someone had called while I was still trying to get my legs steady. He examined the rigging, took photos, asked questions in that slow, deliberate way that made me want to scream.
His conclusion? "Could be sabotage, could be age. Hard to say for certain without the county inspector taking a look." He scratched his jaw. "Look, Miss Bell, these old theaters have accidents. And Halloween brings out pranksters. Until we have evidence of specific threats to specific individuals with clear intent to harm, there's not much I can do. I'll have someone come check the setup tomorrow, but you folks might want to postpone rehearsals until then."
"Postpone?" Vivian looked stricken. "We open in four days!"
"Better postponed than dead, ma'am," Turley said bluntly.
But Vivian was already shaking her head. "We've invested too much time, too much money. The festival depends on this production. We'll be careful, but we're not stopping."
After Turley left, Ransom pulled me aside, his hands gentle on my shoulders despite the hardness in his voice. "If the police won't take this seriously, then we do it ourselves. We find out who's doing this before someone actually gets hurt."
"Ransom—"
"No." He caught my chin, tilted my face up to his. "I almost watched you die today. By inches. Inches, Rainey. I'm not taking any more chances. We investigate. Together. Agreed?"
The fear beneath his anger—the genuine terror he was barely holding back—sent a sharp pang through my chest. "Agreed."
"Good." He kissed my forehead, lingering. "Now go home. Get changed. I'm taking you to dinner, and we're going to figure this out."
"A date?" Despite everything, I felt myself smile. "Ransom Hollis, are you asking me on a date?"
"I'm taking you to Midnight Eats to talk through what we know, but yeah." His mouth quirked. "It's also a date. I'll pick you up in an hour. Wear something pretty."
Heat flared in his eyes when I looked up at him through my lashes. "Anything else?"
"Yeah." He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Be thinking about whether you want me to stay tonight."
