safety. If I could just reach my cell phone, I knew Logan would save me.
“Fucking cunt,” the man roared as I inched closer to my desk on shaking hands. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’ll never fucking forget,” he threatened, then brought the bat down on my hand.
The searing pain, as multiple bones shattered, closed off my vocal cords and I rolled to my back, clutching my shattered hand. Sweat clung to my body, dripped from my forehead as I tried to pull enough air into my lungs to scream. But the moment I opened my mouth to let loose a call for help, the man straddled me and covered my mouth. Then he leaned in close to my ear, his rank breath suffocating me. He was intoxicated, just as I suspected.
“We’re gonna play first, then you’re gonna round up all the money you got in the place to pay me back for my losses. If you keep your mouth shut while I fuck you, I might let you live.”
Bile rose in my throat. He was going to kill me anyway. I knew that as well as I knew my name. I didn’t want my last moments in this life to be degrading and perverted. No man had ever touched me but Logan, and I would rather die fighting than change that. I wouldn’t allow him to sully the most beautiful thing I’ve experienced in my short life. I wouldn’t allow him to touch what only belonged to Logan.
My good hand shot between us when he rose and ripped the front of my shirt open. I raked my nails across his face, jamming my thumb into his eye socket with such force I heard a popping sound. When he howled in pain, clutching his eye, I tried to roll from beneath him. He was too heavy though, so I bucked and shouted as loud as I could before he brought both his hands to my throat and began to squeeze. I clawed at his hands, beat at his face, but nothing worked. Soon, dark patches began to invade my eyesight and I could feel myself slipping away. I focused on my brothers then, on Logan, and tried one last time to buck the man off. But he was just too strong. Too determined. As tears rolled from my eyes, a small smile pulled across my mouth as I stared up at my attacker. I’d dislocated his eye from its socket and blood was leaking down his face. At least Logan would have the evidence he needed to catch this killer.
As darkness began to pull me under, I whispered, “I’m sorry,” to the men in my life who would grieve me. At least I could leave this world knowing Logan would watch out for my brothers. They’d be fine eventually. All three of them. It broke my heart thinking about what they would have to endure, but at least they could lay me to rest with the knowledge that I’d fought to stay with them.
A light began to shine in the distance, and I turned my eyes toward it. It was peaceful and warm. And there was so much love pouring from it that I wanted to run toward it. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared, and I drifted into nothingness to the sounds of vicious growls and cries of pain. Max The Wonder Dog had arrived.
Twenty-Three
Dickweed
LOGAN LOOKED OVER the coroner’s report for Butch Johnson. He had a blood alcohol level of point zero eight, so he’d had more than a few drinks. Add the livestock sedative, ketamine, to the mix and it’s no wonder the man walked off the ridge. He and Ty had spent close to an hour picking the coroner’s brain about Butch Johnson and Rip Jackson. He couldn’t prove either died suspiciously, so the cause of death would be listed as accidents. More dead ends.
“The coroner said ketamine is widely used on ranches. Do you have a lot of ranch hands who use it recreationally?”
“I’ve heard of a few overdoses,” Ty returned, leaning against Logan’s truck.
Frustration churned in his gut. If Butch Johnson’s death was indeed an accident, then why was Logan attacked when he tried to give notification? The puzzle pieces all pointed to Chance, no other explanation fit, yet he couldn’t prove a fucking thing.
Ty pointed to a log-framed building on the same lot as the coroner. “Sheriff’s department. You wanna ask about this so-called woman Bear sees?”
They were off