My blood chilled at the venom in the man’s voice, it was evil and desperate—a very nasty combination, especially when he had a gun.
Where was Hendrixx? No way they stole him from the stables, not with the state of the art security the guys had installed all over the property. Hendrixx must have ridden him out here to find me, it was the only explanation.
Guilt flooded me once again, as it always did when I went off half-cocked on my own. Hendrixx followed me, of course he did, how did I think otherwise.
“No one will buy him around here, everyone knows Lancelot is owned by Hendrixx, and everyone knows he would never sell him because of Blake.”
Dusty? That was Dustyn Cartledge, his parents owned a smaller outfit on the other side of Cattle Ridge. What was he doing here?
It didn’t matter; my mind was racing with thoughts of Drixx and who the fucking arsehole was who wanted to sell Lancelot.
Pulling my Browning T-Bolt rifle from the leather scarab, I quickly and quietly dismounted. I stood there silently and waited for Lancelot to make another noise so I could mask the sound of the bolt action. Lancelot didn’t disappoint me, and while I hated that our beloved stallion was being frightened, I needed to have the upper hand if I was going to come out of this unscathed.
With the gun ready to shoot, I snuck forward in the cloak of darkness, leaving Hercules behind sure he wouldn’t go anywhere unless commanded, the voices were so close I could smell the stench of dirty clothes and body odour.
“And what are we going to do with Hendrixx? We can’t leave him here; you shot him and he needs medical attention,” Dustyn’s shout made me stumble. Hendrixx shot? They shot him? Was he still alive? Oh my god, no!
Fear, bone-chilling fear gripped me by the throat strangling me.
Not my beautiful Hendrixx.
No, no, I refused to see him any other way but alive. I clung to what Dusty said, that Hendrixx needed medical help; it was the only way I could allow myself to keep going and not succumb to my weakening knees.
Taking a deep breath, then another, holding the Browning up and prepared to use it, I stepped out of the shadows and faced the unknown.
“Leave the horse alone,” I yelled, making my presence well and truly known, both men jumped when they saw the weapon in my hands, pointing right at them.
“Blake!” Dusty proclaimed. I thought I heard a sense of relief coming from him.
“Dusty, I don’t understand what you are doing here, but you better tell me where Hendrixx is,” I demanded, pointing the gun at the stranger while speaking to the person I had regularly seen around the Triple H when I was a kid.
“Well, this is the Blake everyone is so fond of, hey,” the stranger drawled, forgetting about Lancelot he staggered angrily towards me, his shoulder and arm hung lower on one side, and was limping.
“Roberts wasn’t wrong, you are a sexy, little bitch, aren’t you? No wonder your boyfriend was so riled up when I mentioned fucking you in the arse, right before I shot him,” he jeered, his mouth twisting in a nasty smile.
“Where is he?” I demanded, and this time my voice didn’t shake, didn’t waver to my fear. Now, I was angry and pissed off.
“Oh darlin’, he is right behind you, alive … just.”
Every cell in my body wanted to turn to look, see for myself, but taking my eyes and my gun off the stranger would only have me joining Hendrixx. A glint of metal lodged in the front of the man’s pants caught my attention. The Ruger I recognised as one much the same from my Dad’s own collection. If pulled, he would most definitely kill me at this short range.
Putting my finger firmer on the trigger, I aimed the gun at the man’s crotch.
“The only person who will be shafted in the arse will be you when you become a prison bitch.”
Then I squeezed the trigger, at the last second I dropped the barrel at his knee, aiming the bullet through the flesh and bone.
Tossing the gun to the ground, I ignored his outraged screams and looked frantically behind me for Drixx, finding him slumped against the very tree I hid behind when I first came up.
“Baby, oh god.” Racing to him, I dropped down to my knees, the ground cold and dewy. The first thing I saw was the stain of fresh blood at the side of his ribs, and the second was his laboured breathing through chattering teeth.
“Dusty, go get me the saddle blanket from your horse, now!” As I barked out the order, I hastily ripped off my shirt, not worrying about the buttons. Pressing it to the wound with firm pressure, I ran my other hand lovingly over his ashen face, my fingers going to his throat to feel his pulse. Even though in my mind, I knew he was breathing, feeling the beat of his blood in his veins reassured me.
“Who is the reckless one now, Cowboy?” I sobbed through my tears. He was bleeding, his breathing shallow, but I couldn’t bring myself to take my fingers off his pulse, just couldn’t.
“Here, Blake.” Dustyn came back with a thick, red blanket covered in horsehair. Worried that it might contaminate the wound, I asked Dustyn for his jacket.
Laying it over where the bullet had hit him, I placed the horse blanket down on top.
“There you go, honey, I need to warm you up. Dusty call the farm, get Fen—”
“I tried before when Hendrixx knocked Gus off his horse, no reception.”
“Shit on a stick!” Why me?
Thinking that moving Hendrixx in this condition would be foolish, but knowing he needed a hospital as soon as possible,
