The Crown Ranch 3: Missing Evidence

Skeeter

Skeeter stomped her way to the edge of the pasture bordering the woods, covering forty acres before she knew it. She stared at the trailhead on which she’d ridden Sassy Girl plenty of times. How could Coach and Storm let her believe she’d mastered riding a horse? They hadn’t told her Sassy Girl was a training horse, so to speak. They’d led her to think she’d accomplished something she hadn’t. Men. Jerks. If they weren’t trying to get in your pants or bullying you into submissiveness, they were hovering over you like a controlling parent thinking the child could do nothing on their own.

Her overprotective parents and their meddling were why she was here under the watchful eyes of Coach and Storm. Agreeing to come to the Crown Ranch had been the only way to get her mom to stop worrying and crying.

For Chrissake, she was thirty-four years old, and everyone still told her what she could and couldn’t do. Not to mention she’d served in the Army for twelve years, in which she’d endured two overseas tours. How in the hell had her life turned to shit so quickly in six months? She’d just been promoted to major, and the next thing she’d known, she was out. It had been her plan to retire from the Army someday, but that hadn’t come to fruition. After what had happened to her, she no longer wished to be reminded of her time spent in the service. But looking at Coach and Storm reminded her every time. The men had served with her brother, Brogan aka Pitbull. It was because the three men had been such loyal comrades that her parents had called Coach and asked him for his help. He’d agreed, and now here she stood on a horse ranch with near strangers, under their protection.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes at the thought of Brogan. She’d cried too many times to count and decided it was time to stop crying because that wouldn’t bring him back. But to die the way he did practically ripped her heart out and had about killed their elderly parents, so she supposed she somewhat understood why they’d felt desperate enough to place the call to Coach aka Jeremiah Crown.

If her brother were still alive, he’d surely set out to avenge the men responsible for… She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to think about that now, yet day in and day out, all she thought about was the horrible experience that had led her back to civilian life and caused her to hide out at the Crown Ranch.

A quiver raked through her body, and her skin crawled where she had touched Garrett when he’d grabbed hold of her when she’d been thrown off Pegasus.

She held her shaky hands in front of her eyes. Other than hugging her father, she hadn’t touched another man—well, since all that bullshit happened.

Dammit. She hated feeling so trapped, used, vulnerable. At one point in her life, she’d felt strong and unstoppable. Now she couldn’t seem to pull it together, even if her life depended on it.

She swiped a rogue tear from her flaming cheek, then kicked at the hollowed-out stump in front of her. When it crumbled down, she felt good—satisfied. If only she had done that to her assailants. What she wouldn’t give for another kick at them, but the lack of concrete evidence had set the assholes free.

The sound of hooves snapped her out of her horrible reverie. With reluctance, she turned her head to find Storm seated on Patriot, who was a towering horse compared to the one who followed behind. Good ol’ Sassy Girl.

“Let’s take a ride,” he said as he bounced his dark gaze between her and Sassy.

Of course he’d bring the tiny old nag for her. Evidently, that’s the only horse in the barn she could handle.

Knowing arguing with Storm would be of no use, she hopped up on Sassy and followed him. Truth be told, Sassy followed Patriot, and Skeeter hadn’t had to do a thing to make that happen. What in the hell had she been thinking to attempt to ride a large, magnificent horse like Pegasus?

Looking up, she caught the concerned gaze Storm tossed over his shoulder. After a couple of seconds, and without a word, he faced forward, and they continued on the trail.

When she’d first heard the horse approach, she’d expected to see Coach, not Storm. Coach was always the one in the forefront and did the talking. Talk, talk, talk. He was always trying to fix things, trying to lead wayward souls to a resolution. She guessed that’s how he’d gotten his nickname. It did suit him.

Storm was the quiet one. He could usually relay a thousand words with just a look or an action. Her brother had warned her that Storm was not one to be reckoned with. That’s how he’d gotten his nickname.

In any case, she was happy it was Storm on watch today, because she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. She supposed Storm had drawn the short straw on this one, because he and Coach were both smart enough to know that a Crown male was not what she needed right now after her confrontation with Garrett.

It didn’t help that the brothers resembled each other, though Coach was broader through the shoulders and more clean-cut than Garrett. Garrett’s shaggy hair and five-o’clock shadow would never fly on Coach. Though there was something about that stubble on Garrett’s chiseled face that had caused her fingertips to itch to touch it.

When she wasn’t pissed at the men, like she was now, she understood why her late brother had liked the big, brawny former military machines. They were three peas in a pod. She swallowed hard—except the three were now two.

Refocusing on the trail, she knew exactly where Storm was going. The creek with a small waterfall had become one of her favorite places on the ranch. The serene ambience was always a welcome sight and feel.

The refreshing spring air washed across her flaming cheeks, gradually cooling them down. The lush vegetation was full-on budding, and the earthy aroma reminded her it had rained the day before.

Effortlessly, the horses climbed the moist trail up the hill. They crossed over the narrow wooden bridge located high above the slim river that wound its way through the property.

The terrain dipped down and then rose as they crossed into the hardwoods with rocky formations. Within minutes, they were at the creek. As she’d assumed, Storm dismounted and led his horse to the water’s edge for a drink. She did the same with Sassy Girl. The horses slurped.

Storm’s dark gaze zoned in on her. “You okay?”

No, she wasn’t, and she actually held little hope she ever would be again. But in this moment, she was safe.

“Yeah.”

Sassy’s head snapped up from the creek, and that big brown gaze of hers narrowed on her and screamed, Liar, calling her out. Even the freaking horse knew she was a hot mess.

“Sassy,” Storm said with a hint of a somewhat suppressed chuckle in his tone.

The horse shifted her gaze to the brawny man, offered a neigh, and then resumed slurping water.

“So, what happened out there with Garrett?”

Skeeter avoided Storm’s gaze and planted it on the small waterfall that lay twenty feet up the creek. Water cascaded down the rocky steps. The drop wasn’t much more than Storm’s height, but it was still a breathtaking, mesmerizing waterfall.

“Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but know I’m here to listen. And you don’t need to worry about Garrett. He’s a good person.”

Peyton Crown sure got herself a good one here. In Skeeter’s experience, there weren’t many good men on the face of the earth. To date, she’d met four—her father, brother, Storm, and Coach. Well, maybe five. Coach’s dad, Robert, seemed pretty nice and dependable as well. Every other man she’d met had been nothing but a disappointment.

She returned her gaze to the kind man standing next to her. “Garrett didn’t do anything. It was all me. But I am a little pissed that you and Coach led me to believe I’d become a better rider than I am.”

He looked at the ground. “If it helps any, they did the same to me.”

“What?”

He met her gaze. “They put me on Sassy Girl when I got here.” He shrugged. “She’s the best.” Storm patted Patriot’s back. “But now I have this guy, and Sassy’s back in rotation.”

What in the hell was this guy talking about? When he got here? Unlike her, he had his shit together. During her past several months here, she’d never given a thought to how he and Peyton had met or how and when he’d come to live at the Crown Ranch.

Storm’s already massive chest inflated more with the long breath he drew in, and it shrank when he let the air out. His gaze intensified. “I didn’t have an easy time acclimating to civilian life. I don’t know if I ever would have without this place, without coming here. I know you’re not happy here, but I hope you can give it a little longer. This place and this family seem to work wonders.”

For the guy who hardly ever spoke, he’d sure said a lot just now. It was no wonder why her brother had liked him and Coach so much.

Storm tugged at Patriot’s reins, took a few steps away from the creek, and mounted the horse.

She did the same with Sassy Girl, who was anything but sassy.

Curiosity had her wanting to know Storm’s story. Surely, from his comments, there was one. Why had he come to the ranch? Had something horrible happened to him? On the outside, he looked great, and he carried himself with assurance. Had he shared just a small part of his life with her to give her hope that she could pull herself together as he had?

From her seated position in the saddle, she leaned forward and hugged the docile horse’s neck. Sassy offered a soft, comforting neigh.

Tears slipped from Skeeter’s eyes. Maybe there was hope.