The main living space was silent. I didn’t see him in the kitchen and, poking my head out, I noticed he wasn’t on the porch either. I listened harder. There were no sounds of the shower still running in the downstairs guest room. “Liam? Are you getting ready?” Nothing.
I knocked on his door. “Liam?” Still nothing. I slowly pushed open the door, not wanting to catch an eyeful. The bed was empty, filled only with rumpled sheets and scattered pillows. I peeked in the bathroom. The shower floor was wet, so he had been in there.
I made my way back towards the kitchen in search of my phone. Maybe he was more pissed than I thought and left. I had a lot to make up for. I rounded the corner, and my heart plummeted to my toes.
Lying sprawled out, face-down on the floor, was Liam. “Oh my God, Liam!” I ran to him and crouched at his side. I felt for a pulse. All the air in my lungs whooshed out of me when I felt the rhythm against my fingers. Carefully—oh so freaking carefully—I rolled Liam onto his back.
With one hand behind his head, I leaned over so that my face was right next to his mouth. I breathed another sigh of relief when his breath tickled my cheek. Not dead. His heart is beating. His lungs are inflating. He’s not dead. I leaned back and, for the first time, felt a sticky substance on my hand. I pulled it carefully from behind his head and gasped. My hand was covered in blood.
My entire body shook as I rose and reached for the landline on the wall. Red smears appeared on the nine and one. I tried to even my breathing. Everything would be okay. Help would come. What the hell had happened? My eyes searched the kitchen in front of me. Had he tripped and hit his head on the counter? How long had he been lying here?
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” was all I heard before a hand covered my mouth, and an arm encircled my waist, yanking me away from the phone. My heart raged against my ribs, beating wildly out of control. Was this what it felt like to have a heart attack?
I kicked back, trying to get at my attacker. I couldn’t get purchase. And whoever this was, wore leather gloves, so my attempts to bite the hand covering my mouth were in vain. I screamed louder against the gloved hand, hoping—praying—that the operator would hear me.
A moan sounded from the floor. Liam. Shit. Fuck. Please don’t let this asshole kill Liam.
A face pressed against mine, lips moving against the shell of my ear as I felt a prick in my side. “You should have left Sutter Lake like you said you were going to. I really didn’t want to hurt you, but now I have no choice.”
The world began to go wobbly. But the voice… The voice tickled the memories at the back of my quickly fading mind. I knew this person.
41
Walker
I opened and closed my fist, wincing each time I flexed my hand. I really hoped I hadn’t broken it. After puking my guts out on the side of the road like a total pussy, I’d found my mad. Making a quick trip home to brush my teeth before heading to the office, I’d also found the time to punch a hole in my wall. Fuck. I’d need to patch that tonight.
Opening my bottom desk drawer, I poured a couple of Tylenol into my open palm and tossed them back with stale coffee, grimacing at the lukewarm liquid. My desk phone blared to life. “Cole,” I barked. My entire office was giving me a wide berth after I had torn through here earlier, so I knew it had to be important.
“Walker, it’s Harry. We had a weird call into dispatch…” He let his voice trail off.
“Okay?” I asked, completely unsure why this warranted a call to me.
“See, no one spoke when I answered.”
“You know where the call is originating from, just send a unit out there to check it out.” Harry had been on the job for almost twenty years, he knew the protocol. What the hell was up with him?
“That’s the thing, it’s coming from the guest cabin on your family’s ranch.” The world seemed to dip into some weird slow motion at his words. The guest cabin. My ranch. Taylor. Before I could find my voice, Harry kept talking. “Now, I think I’m hearing a low moaning in the background. I sent a unit out there, but I thought you should have a heads-up.”
Of course, I should have a heads-up. Harry should have gotten to the point fucking quicker. “Thanks, let the unit know I’m on my way.”
I tore through the office, not unlike I had that morning, but this time, my panic was at an all new level. What the hell was going on? I skidded to a stop at my truck, fumbling with my keys and cursing myself as I yanked open the door. Flipping on the sirens, my tires squealed as I swung out of the parking lot.
I don’t think I’d ever made it to the ranch so quickly, even when I had gotten a call that Jensen was in labor. My mind ran through every possible scenario. Fuck, what if Liam had a temper and had hurt Taylor? He didn’t seem the type, but I didn’t really know him. I’d kill him if he touched a hair on her head.
Gravel flew as I slammed on the brakes and threw my rig into park. I ran towards the house, taking the steps two at a time, identifying myself as I entered.
“We’re in here, Walker.” I heard Kelly call from the kitchen.
I thundered down the hall, skidding to a stop at the sight in front of me. Hank was supporting Liam as the musician sat up, looking dazed as Kelly, donning gloves, pressed gauze to the back of his head. “What the hell is going on? And where is Taylor?” The small amount of patience I had been holding onto snapped, and I was losing it.
“We’re not sure,” Hank answered calmly. “Can you tell us what happened, sir?”
Liam’s eyes struggled to focus. “I-I-I’m not sure. I was walking into the kitchen to make breakfast for Taylor…” He trailed off as if trying to remember. “We had a fight. She let Walker think we slept together.” His gaze moved to me now as if he had just realized I was in the room. “I didn’t sleep with her, man. She’s like my sister. We got shitfaced, and she talked about you all night. She’s in love with you.”