Ken tried to get up. Uncle Lumpy grabbed him by the collar and dragged him ten feet away, then tossed him back to the ground. Ken tried to get up again, and Uncle Lumpy slammed his biker-booted foot into Ken’s chest and held him down.
“Don’t move, fucker, or I’ll make sure you never move again.”
A couple of the other men rode in from the ranch. Blake left them to help Uncle Lumpy get Ken back to the ranch. He touched his fingers to Gillian’s too-pale face, and the rage slid away. His focus shifted from killing Ken to taking care of the woman he loved. He gently picked her up. So cold, her eyelids and lips were purplish blue. She looked like a ghost.
Three guys from the ranch waited beside his horse.
“Jeff, can you help me up.” Jeff and two other guys supported Blake’s back. He put his foot in the stirrup, and they helped him into the saddle without him having to let go of Gillian.
“You guys bring Ken back to the ranch. I’ll have Bud call the sheriff to arrest his ass for assaulting Gillian.”
Jeff’s gaze went to Blake’s bloody knuckles. “You okay, man?”
“Fine. Gillian needs the help.”
“We’ll see you back at the ranch,” Jeff said.
Marty and Tim dragged Ken toward the waiting horses. Blood ran from Ken’s nose, mouth, and the cut on his cheek where Gillian nailed him.
Blake didn’t give a shit if the guy’s face rotted off in prison.
He settled Gillian in his lap, then pressed his lips softly to her forehead. “I love you, Gillian. I’m so sorry.” He held her limp body close. “I’m taking you home now. You’re safe. I’ll take care of you.”
When she didn’t respond or even blink, he kicked his horse and sent the animal flying over the field. He held onto Gillian and went as fast as his horse could safely carry them. Gillian had been in her cold, wet clothes for far too long. Shock had set in. She wasn’t shaking or trembling anymore. A very bad sign.
He held her tighter and rode hard to the house, praying she’d wake up and be okay.
Chapter 30
Bud and Dee met Blake on the porch when he got to the house. Blake swung his leg over the horse’s neck, slid off the saddle, and landed hard on his feet with Gillian’s lifeless body in his arms.
“Bud, call the sheriff. Ken attacked Gillian.” That’s all he could say. If he said anymore, he’d get angrier and do something stupid. Gillian was all that was important right now. Bud would take care of Ken.
Bud beat him to the door and opened it for him. He took Gillian inside. Bud went to the gun cabinet, unlocked it, and pulled out a rifle and bullets. “He’s not leaving this ranch until the sheriff arrives. If he tries, he won’t leave here alive.”
Bud grabbed the phone, and Blake took the stairs up two at a time.
Dee kept at his heels. “I made a warm bath for her.”
“How’s Justin?” he asked over his shoulder and took Gillian into the bathroom.
He laid her out on the floor and cupped her face in his trembling hands. She was everything to him. He couldn’t stand thinking about what she’d been through over the last half hour. She deserved so much better. She looked out for everyone else and always put herself last. She’d made him leave her behind for Justin’s sake, but it didn’t soothe his conscience.
“He’s better. He soaked in the tub for about ten minutes. I got some hot broth into him, and we tucked him into bed. He was too tired to keep his eyes open once I got the liquids into him. I’ll check on him again in a minute.”
“That’s good. He’ll get a good night’s sleep, and he should be fine.”
Unconcerned with Gillian’s modesty, especially with her shirt open and her bra-covered breasts showing, he stripped off all her clothes. She’d hit her shoulder hard. A large bruise darkened under her milky white skin. The bruise on her forehead looked worse. The lump had swollen to the size of a golf ball. He hoped she didn’t have a concussion. He went back and forth asking himself if he should take her to the hospital. At the moment, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight or his reach. Touching her and seeing her was the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. And it was a tenuous hold at best. Especially when her hair slipped to the floor, revealing the bite mark on her neck.
Set on his task to get her warm, he undid her jeans and pulled them down her legs. She tried to curl into a ball to stop him. He put his hands on her thighs and held her legs down.
“No more. Stop,” she begged.
“Gillian, sweetheart, it’s me.” He leaned over and pressed his forehead to her cheek, then whispered in her ear, “It’s me. Blake. You’re okay. You’re home. I’m going to get you into a warm bath.”