Stone Cold Cowboy(20)

“Sadie. We meet again.”

“No offense, but I’m tired of seeing you.”

“None taken. How about this time you give me some straight answers without trying in vain to make me believe your brother didn’t mean for this to happen and isn’t responsible for stealing nearly a hundred head of cattle.”

Sadie stared up at the ceiling wishing she was anywhere else but here. How the hell could she protect her brother when everything led straight to him? Did he really think he’d get away with this, or that she could get him out of it? Why did she even bother to try anymore?

Because she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t.

“So, what’s it going to be? Straight up, or the merry-go-round ride we’ve been on these last ten years.”

“You’re the longest relationship I’ve ever had. I hate to end it now.”

“Since I never get to see you naked, and I don’t want to see you behind bars, let’s play this straight. This is serious, Sadie. Your brother is going down for this. Nothing you say or do will get him out of it, but what you say may land you in a cell, so tell the truth for once, so I don’t have to read you your rights and arrest you.”

Everything he said was true, but she didn’t want to face it. She didn’t want to believe it had come to this.

Needing a minute to collect herself, she moved her hand. “Can you take these off so I can at least pee before we do this?”

Mark unhooked her and stepped back. Sadie sat up, pressing her hand to her side when the stitches pulled. Rory kept a close eye on her. She owed him an explanation and a huge sum of money for those damn cows. The thought of how she’d repay that debt weighed heavy in her heart.

She threw the covers off her legs and stared down at the bruises and cuts, the bandage wrapped around her thigh and ankles. The image of the devil dude wrapping the wire around her as tight as possible came back and stopped her breath. She couldn’t take her eyes from the gruesome injuries marring both her legs.

The fear washed through her again. “He said, ‘I like it when you bleed. It gets me off.’”

Rory swore beside her.

“Who, Sadie?” Mark asked, leaning forward, anxious to know who needed to be locked up.

“The devil.” She finally broke from staring at her injuries and looked up at Rory. “I swore to him he’d be sorry. You’d find him and make him pay.” She swung her sore legs out of bed, grabbed hold of the IV pole, used it to support herself on her aching feet, and hobbled the short distance to the restroom. She turned back to Rory. “For the cows,” she clarified.

His intense gaze met hers. “For you, the devil will get his due.”

Rory waited for her to close the bathroom door. He hated seeing the pain etched in her face and filling her eyes with each step she took. He breathed a sigh of relief that she really didn’t think him the devil. He hated to think he’d been the torment of her nightmares all last night.

“Do you know who this fucking devil is?” Rory asked Mark, the deputy Sadie obviously knew well. First Dane, now this guy.

“Sounds like her brother’s stepped up from small time to big time. If she’s talking about Derek Pete, he’s a known drug trafficker. Runs things out of Smithy’s Bar. He’s been busted for any number of things. Served time for assault a couple of times. Likes to use a knife and has a very distinct devil tattoo on his neck.”

Rory nodded, finally understanding her reference and the fear in her voice last night when she mumbled about him.

Sadie stepped out of the bathroom. “You two compare notes and condemn me?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Sticking up for your brother is admirable, but useless at this point.” Rory shook his head when she stared at him, shock and fear in her eyes. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with stealing the cattle. I tracked your brother and his three buddies from my place to where you showed up on a fifth horse.”

“You could tell all that by the tracks.”

“And where the fight broke out and Derek decked you.” He cocked his head, indicating the bruise on her jaw.

Sadie placed her hand over her swollen face. “It hurts like hell.”

“I bet.”

“Derek?” she asked, confused by his earlier statement.

“Derek Pete. Devil tattoo on his neck. Long, shaggy brown hair. Mean dude with a wicked sharp knife,” Mark filled her in.

“I guess that’s him. I didn’t get his name.” Sadie lowered herself into the bed like an eighty-year-old woman with arthritis. Every bit of pain that showed on her face tightened Rory’s gut. He helped her with the covers and IV line.