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“I . . . it’s . . . strange,” she confessed, her voice barely audible over the sound of Ginny’s rhythmic steps. “The last time I was on a trail ride, I . . . you know.”
Her words hung in the air, a reminder of the trauma she had experienced. I knew what she had been through, yet hearing it acknowledged aloud was a punch to the gut.
“Understandable,” I replied gruffly, my grip tightening on the reins. I could only imagine the fear and unease she must be grappling with, the daunting memories hovering over her like a storm cloud.
“Take it one step at a time, Clover,” I continued. “We’re here to make things right, remember?” Even as I said the words, I could feel a knot of anxiety in my own stomach. But I had to remain strong for her, for us. “You’re safe, I promise.”
The morning light was just beginning to seep through the branches of the trees around us, casting a warm golden hue onto the worn dirt trail. The wind played with Clover’s hair as we rode, stirring strands into a beautiful chaos. Tension tangled up my insides as I took in her poised profile. The three-inch brand on her shoulder stood out raw and vivid against her skin. It was a symbol of ownership that incited a thrill deep in me, but it was also a reminder of the path we were treading.
“My dad taught me how to ride.” Clover’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. The timber of her voice was soft, wistful, yet there was an undercurrent of tension there that wasn’t lost on me. She traced the reins in her hands, lost in a past I could only imagine.
“He found peace in the chaos of bull riding. For me, it was the quiet trail rides with our horses . . . it was almost spiritual. That peace was shattered when . . . when . . .” She didn’t complete her sentence, but the pain in her voice filled in the gaps.
I waited, allowing the silence to fill the space between us, only the sound of hooves crunching on the dirt track giving rhythm to our journey.
“He rode for the Nightfall Rodeo for a little while, too. Can’t help but feel like we’ve come full circle. Hank was so mad when he left and got sponsors. Said he’d make us pay all those years ago. Seems he finally got what he wanted,” she revealed suddenly, her voice firm.
“That’s why you were worried about Avery riding for the Devils, isn’t it?”
There was a pause. I felt Clover’s back stiffen against me. “Yeah. My father was different when he rode for the Devils. It was very quick, maybe a few months before he was recruited. I was young, but I didn’t understand just how risky it was. Looking back, I feel like those years changed him. I’m glad he got sponsored and got out.”
I felt Clover tense up as we reached the bend in the trail, her hand gripping the reins tighter. I reached out, placing my hand over hers to offer some semblance of reassurance.
“This is the spot,” I said, my voice steady, although I could feel my heart pounding against my rib cage. I pointed out to the bend in the trail. “He won’t see it coming.”
Her breath hitched at my words, and she looked over at me. “How . . . how are you going to do it, Declan?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I took a deep breath before pulling the horse to a stop and dismounting. She reluctantly got off with me and with a deep breath, I answered, knowing I needed her to be fully aware of the grim reality. “I’ll be hidden in those trees,” I motioned to a dense patch nearby. “I’ll be armed with a .45 Colt. It’s a heavy firearm, reliable. It’s done its job for me before.”
The mention of the gun had her flinching slightly, and I gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’ll aim for a clean shot, right in the head. It will be quick, he won’t feel a thing. Then I’ll shoot his wife.”
I could see the fear in her eyes, but she nodded for me to continue. “The gunshot will likely spook his horse. It will bolt, which might buy us some extra time.”
“And after . . . after that?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“After that, we will deal with Hank,” I replied grimly. “I’ll hide you. Tell him the job is done and the bodies are hidden. I’ll get our answers from him. Once that’s done, we’ll take care of him. We’ll be free.”
The words hung in the air between us. She leaned closer, and I could feel her breath against my neck, quick and shallow. The realization of what we were about to do was sinking in, and the weight of it felt like a storm about to break.
“And then what?” Clover asked again, her voice trembling, her eyes searching mine. “We just . . . move on? We pretend everything is okay?”
“We don’t have to pretend, Clover,” I said, my voice earnest.
“But how?” she asked, the single word holding a world of uncertainty. “After everything . . . You’ve pushed me past my limits. You’re about to kill a man . . . and you branded me.”
The accusations hung heavy in the air between us, the bitter truths hard to swallow. I couldn’t deny any of it. I had done those things. I had hurt her in ways I never intended, pushed her into a world she never asked for.
“It’s not that simple, Declan,” she continued, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’m . . . I’m scared. And yet . . . I . . .”
“Clover,” I started, my heart aching at her words. But she held up a hand, silencing me.
“No, let me finish,” she said. “You’ve put me in danger. You’re . . . you’re a killer. And I don’t . . . I don’t know if I can live with that. I don’t know if I can live with the blood on your hands. But at the same time . . .”
I tried to pull her against me, but she resisted. Her voice trailed off again, and she took a deep, shaky breath, lifting her eyes to meet mine.
“At the same time,” she whispered, “I crave you. I want you, despite everything.”
My heart pounded in my chest at her admission. I knew she was torn, just as I was. I knew the path I’d chosen was one that might lead us both to ruin. But hearing her admit her fear, her desire . . . it made the stakes feel all the more real.
