“Massey, the quarterback?”
“Yes.” She nodded, and then grabbed Becket’s hands. “Please, you can’t let anyone know I’m here. Dillon will make them think I’m crazy, and that I need him to look out for me.” Kinsey pulled herself up straight. “I’m not. I’ve never been more lucid in my life. I had to get away.”
Becket frowned. “Why?”
She raised her blouse, exposing the bruises on her ribs. “And there are more. Everywhere most people won’t see.”
His brows dipping lower, Becket’s nostrils flared. “Bastard.”
“You have no idea.” Kinsey glanced toward the sound of the sirens. “Please. Let me hide. I can’t face anyone.”
“Who does the car belong to?”
Her jaw tightened. “Me. I’m surprised it got me this far. The thing has barely been driven in over a year.”
“Why not?”
“He parked it in his shed and hid the keys. I found them early this morning, while he was passed out drunk.”
“When they conduct the investigation, they’ll trace the license plates.”
She tilted her chin. “I removed them.”
“Did you leave a purse with your identification inside the vehicle?”
“No. I didn’t bring anything. I knew I’d have to start over with a new name.”
“If there’s anything left of the Vehicle Identification Number, they can track it through the system.”
Glancing at the empty road, the sirens sounding closer, Kinsey touched Becket’s arm. “It will take time for them to find the details. By then, I could be halfway across the country. But right now, I can’t talk to the sheriff or the firemen. If anyone knows I’m here, that knowledge could find its way into some police database and will allow Dillon to locate me. He has connections with the state police, the district courts, and who knows what other organizations.” She shook her head. “I won’t go back to him.”
“Okay, okay.” Becket rounded to the passenger side and opened the door. “Get in.”
She scrambled in, hands shaking, her heart beating so fast she was sure it would explode like the car. Kinsey glanced out the back window of the truck. The road was still clear. A curve hid them from view for a little longer. “Hurry.”
“On it.” Dillon fired up the engine and pulled onto the blacktop, flooring the accelerator. They reached the next curve before the rescue vehicles appeared.
Kinsey collapsed against the seat back, her nerves shot and her stomach roiling. “That was close.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t know just how close. If emergency vehicles hadn’t been coming, I would not have left. As dry as it’s been, a fire like that could spread too easily, consuming thousands of acres if left unchecked.”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you to leave the scene, but I know Dillon. The last time I tried to leave, I was caught because he called the state police and had me hauled home.”
“Couldn’t you have gone to a hospital and asked for a social worker to verify your injuries?” Becket glanced her way, his brows furrowed in a deep V. “Women’s shelters are located all over Dallas.”
“I tried.” She turned toward the window, her heart hurting, reliving the pain of the beating he’d given her when he’d brought her home. He’d convinced the hospital she’d fallen down the stairs. No one wanted to believe the quarterback of an NFL team would terrorize his girlfriend into submission, beating her whenever he felt like it. “Look, you don’t need to be involved in this. If you could take me to the nearest truck stop, I’ll hitch a ride.”
“Where would you go?”
“Wherever the trucker is going.”
He shook his head. “Hitchhiking is dangerous.”
Kinsey snorted. “It’d be a cakewalk compared to what I’ve been through.”
Becket sat silent, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Nash is part of the sheriff’s department in Hellfire now. Let me call him.”
“No!” She shook her head, violently. “You can’t report me to the sheriff’s department. I told you. Dillon has friends everywhere, even in the state police and Texas Rangers. He’d have them looking for me. If a report popped up anywhere in the state, they’d notify him immediately.”
“When was the last time he saw you?”
“Last night. After he downed a fifth of whiskey, Dillon gave me the bruises you saw. I’m sure he slept it off by eight this morning. He’ll be looking for me. By now, he’s got the state police on the lookout for my car. He probably reported it as stolen. I wouldn’t be surprised if he puts out a missing person report, claiming I’ve been kidnapped.” Kinsey sighed. “Take me to the truck stop. I won’t have you arrested for helping me.”
“I’m not taking you to the truck stop.”
Kinsey slid the window down a crack and listened. She couldn’t hear the sirens anymore. Her pulse slowed and she allowed herself to relax against the back of the seat.
Becket slowed and turned at the gate to the Coyote Creek Ranch.
The entrance was just as she remembered. Rock columns supported the huge arched sign with the name of the ranch burned into the wood. She’d grown up on the much-smaller ranch next door. The only child of older parents, she’d ride her horse to visit the Graysons. She loved Nash and Rider like the brothers she'd never had. Chance had been a wild card, away more than he was there, and Becket…
As a young teen, Kinsey had the biggest crush on Becket, the oldest of the Graysons. She’d loved his longish blond hair and those startling blue eyes. Even now, covered in soot, his eyes were a bright spot of color on an otherwise-blackened face.
“I can’t stay here,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Your wife and children don’t need me dragging them through whatever Dillon has in store for me. I guarantee, repercussions will be bad.”
“Don’t worry about the Graysons. Mom and Dad are in Hawaii, celebrating their 40th anniversary. None of us brothers are married, and Lily’s too stubborn to find a man to put up with her.”
“What?” Kinsey
