Page 22 of Captured by the Billionaire Cowboy (The Secret Billionaires #7)

Ciara struggled forward, yet as the adrenaline lessened, the pain in her ankle soared, like a vise gripping her between jagged metal teeth. A large blue mark was rapidly forming on the swelling joint, mottled with purple and gray. She gasped as she tried to walk.

She blew out an even stream of air, ordered herself to remain calm.

After falling off a horse more than once as a child, she’d suffered multiple sprains and a couple of fractures.

Fortunately, this more resembled the sprains than the fractures.

There had been no popping or breaking when she fell, and the ankle did not appear crooked or have any numbness.

Although it hurt, she could put minimal weight on it.

Of course, it would still slow her down.

A couple of miles would be a swift gallop for Snowflake, yet it would take her long minutes to hobble the same distance, especially in the raging thunderstorm.

Still, she didn’t have a choice. Pulling her jacket tightly around her, she started the perilous trek back to the ranch.

“What do you mean she hasn’t returned?” Rowan growled, his voice emerging far harsher than he intended. He checked his watch, rumbled in a lower voice, “She left hours ago.”

“I know.” Normally Spencer would have given a smart retort about Rowan’s curt tone, now he simply echoed it. “We’ve been so busy no one realized until Davey asked where she was.”

Thunder roared outside the wide picture windows, rattling the floorboards and shaking the dishes.

Rowan stood in the kitchen with his brothers and Frank, their mutual concern, worry and determination as heavy as the gray clouds looming outside.

Rain pounded the roof, its furious tattoo like a thousand racing horses.

“She would never keep Snowflake out in this weather. Did you try her cell?”

“Right away,” Frank confirmed. “It went straight to voicemail.”

Rowan removed his own cell phone and swiftly dialed the number he knew by heart. It rang, but no one answered.

“Do you hear something?” Davey asked.

Rowan narrowed his eyes. There was another noise beyond the storm, some sort of melody.

He stepped into the hallway, and then over to the mahogany table by the front door.

The space where Ciara often tossed her belongings was abuzz, vibrating and singing with the Bad Boys theme song.

Her cell phone buzzed into sight, lit with the incoming call he’d made.

The concern crushing his chest obliterated any semblance of amusement. “She forgot her phone.”

Frank cursed lightly. “She was just going for a ride. I told her to check the weather.”

“It shouldn’t have mattered.” Quinn gestured to the plains outside the window, now hidden behind gray, cottony swirls. “The rain was visible for miles. She should’ve had time to return.”

“Unless she couldn’t,” Rowan voiced what they all suspected. What they feared . “Unless something stopped her.”

“Do you think she’s hurt?” Concern deepened the grooves in Frank’s features, aging the normally stoic man. “She’s an adept rider, but this weather is dangerous for anyone.”

Another brilliant flash of light illuminated the world, followed by deafening booms. As the lights flickered, unease turned to pure fear.

Ciara was out there somewhere, possibly injured, probably trapped, undoubtedly exposed to the dangerous storm.

He could wait no longer. “I’m going to look for her. ”

“So am I,” said Quinn.

“And me,” added Spencer.

“Me, too,” declared Frank.

“Count me in,” exclaimed Davey.

Taut muscles loosened ever-so-slightly. Even in the most difficult times, his brothers supported him. But he couldn’t put them in danger. “It’s a nightmare out there. You can’t access the path by car, and I won’t expose another horse to the elements. The only way to travel is by foot.”

“I’m not staying behind while Ciara is in danger.” Quinn’s tone was pure determination, as the others gave similar sentiments. Rowan rubbed the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t let them all go. “Frank, why don’t you stay here with Davey in case Ciara returns?”

Frank grimaced, hesitated, but then nodded roughly. They couldn’t let Davey go out in this weather, and they needed to make sure he didn’t venture out on his own. Plus, if – when – Ciara returned, someone should be here.

“We won’t let you down,” Davey said.

“I know you won’t, buddy.”

Suddenly, a commotion sounded by the front door.

Rowan and the others ran to the parlor, which was filled with workers waiting for the weather to clear.

Only the room was inexplicably emptying as the men poured outside, venturing into the raging storm.

Rowen followed them, barely noticing the pelting rain that soaked him right away, the wind that slapped him like a master pugilist. A horse raced by, frantically circling the yard.

It was Snowflake.

Without Ciara.

His heart thundered in his chest, as raw fear seized him. Ciara would never abandon her horse, not if she had a choice. She was out there somewhere, alone in the ferocious storm. With the horse’s solitary return, the chances she was injured skyrocketed.

He edged toward the horse, his hands held out, his gait steady.

The mare heaved shuddering breaths, but her movements calmed as he delved closer, as he finally clutched the reins.

With a snort, she allowed him to lead her to the stables, where several workers waited.

She relaxed when she entered the dry, warm space, no doubt relieved to be out of the rain.

Rowan quickly looked over the horse, but her coat was unmarred, with no visible injuries to suggest anything more sinister.

Still, he would have the vet check her as soon as the weather cleared.

He handed the reins to a trainer, instructing for her to be warmed, watered and fed.

He would care for her himself, but right now he had to focus on her rider. He had to find Ciara.

He ran to the stable office as swiftly as he could, stripped out of his wet shirt and replaced it with a white tee he kept as a spare.

He donned his thick coat and raced out, reaching the covered walkway just as Spencer and Quinn exited the house, wearing heavy rain jackets.

Rowan didn’t waste time on a greeting. “Snowflake made it back.”

Their expressions darkened. “And Ciara?” Spencer asked.

Rowan just shook his head. His brothers stiffened – they all knew what it meant. The situation had just gone from worrisome to dire.

“We need to find her now.” Rowan strode to the path that led away from the ranch, the certain starting point to Ciara’s ride. He stopped just before the covered walkway ended. “Ciara doesn’t always use the same route.” He had to shout over the deafening rain. “She could be anywhere.”

Grayness obscured the normally never-ending field.

The rain poured down like a solid sheet, saturating the ground and creating miniature lakes in every dip.

There was little visibility beyond a few feet, and no indication of the path his quarry travelled.

“The rain would’ve washed away any tracks, even from Snowflake’s return. Are you sure you want to go?”

His brothers nodded instantaneously. “We’re not staying back while you play hero.” Spencer gave a ghost of a grin. “You already get more than your share of attention.”

Warmth and gratitude softened the edge of his apprehension. His brothers didn’t care about recognition; they just wanted to help. Their efforts drastically increased the chances of finding Ciara.

“Should we call the police?” Spencer asked.

Rowan hesitated, but shook his head. “She’s only been gone for a few hours, and she might be taking shelter somewhere safe. I’d hate to bring others into these conditions for a false alarm. If we don’t find her soon, we’ll contact the authorities.”

With rapid urgency, they outlined the general path each would take, covering as much ground as possible. As concern tightened his lungs, Rowan’s instincts insisted something was very wrong. But they would find her.

He would not consider otherwise.

Ciara’s teeth chattered, amidst endless shivers, a haunting melody to the icy cold covering her like a blanket of snow.

Along the shadowy path, the rain poured down in jagged waves, the frigid water permeating every inch of her skin, while the wind whipped everything in its way, turning the world as frigid as the arctic desert.

She gasped as something tiny hit her. Another sting and then another, from frozen rapid-fire missiles. Hail. Another flash, another boom, and fear energized her. In a field largely devoid of trees, she was the tallest thing around. And she was doing everything you weren’t supposed to do in a storm.

But Snowflake was out there somewhere. Maybe back at the ranch, maybe lost, alone, wandering, hurt . She couldn’t just abandon her. Ciara’s progress had been slow but steady as she limped across the flooded plains. The ranch was getting nearer, yet still endlessly far.

The ground beneath her changed suddenly, and pain shot through her ankle as it twisted.

The soft grass had given way to the dirt and rocks of a small brook.

It had been calm and placid earlier, but now the water sped by, forging a slippery obstacle course for her injured foot.

She treaded slowly on the uneven ground.

Electricity sizzled through the air, and she jumped.

What if lightning hit the water? The thought propelled her to move faster, even as her injured ankle throbbed in protest.

It was a mistake.

The rock gave way under her, loosening her footing and stealing her stability. Her weakened ankle gave. She screamed and flailed her arms, reflexively bracing herself for another fall.

It never came.