Page 36 of Wild and Unruly (Three Rivers Trevors Ranch #3)

stetson

Forks scrape across the glass dishes as the family continues their dinner, conversing over whatever bullshit was happening with the ranch this weekend.

I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Several times over the last week, I’ve called Bonnie only to receive her voicemail.

I don’t know if she blocked me or what happened, but I knew that getting in touch with her was damn near impossible.

I don’t know where she lives. I don’t know where her family lives.

I know she has social media, but when I broke down and checked, she hadn’t been on in a few weeks.

The last thing she posted was of Freckles outside the barn.

Shit. She doesn’t even know the horse is hers. I never got a chance to tell her.

My heart is fucking broken, and I know everyone at this table knows it.

The news breaking out over Tommy Smith was a huge deal and had a major impact.

Some clients of his had shown up at Three Rivers to inquire about training, and CT’s business was now booming again because of it.

One teen girl and her mother showed up, asking if there were internships available, and the girl mentioned that Bonnie was the reason she was there.

Fucking hell, it had hurt to hear that and know my girl was out there thinking I was still pissed at her.

Tommy was still facing charges, but nothing was sticking—yet.

I was hoping that my beautiful girlfriend didn’t do all of that for nothing.

“Did you hear about Felicity?” My eyes bounce from my cousin’s comment to my brother Jax, who’s frozen in his seat.

He looks to Dani and says, “No. What?”

Dani shrugs, and half the table is listening to what she’s saying now. “I heard she was home again.”

Jax looks like he’s not breathing, and I briefly wonder what’s going through his mind, hearing that his high school sweetheart was once again in his vicinity.

But then my thoughts return to Bonnie, as they normally do, and depression sets in again. I sent flowers to her at work and then was told they had to be left on her desk. I realized belatedly that she was probably somewhere in Kentucky working and wouldn’t even see the flowers.

It crushed a part of me.

I can’t do this anymore.

I drop my fork, moving to stand as something Cal Trevors says stops me. “Did you hear about Eugene Waters? It’s tragic.” This comment was directed at my mom who has a hand over her mouth, shaking her head sadly.

“Terrible, and the timing…” Mom looks to me, and I frown at her, wondering what the hell they were talking about .

Cal must notice my look because he says, “Eugene Waters killed himself.” He keeps his voice down, mindful that his grandkids were at the other end of the table.

“Eugene Waters…how do I know that name?” I ask, racking my brain for the information I knew was in there.

“He was the assistant to Richard Smith for years before his son took over, then he worked for Tommy.”

My heart pounds painfully in my chest, and I look frantically from my mom to Cal. “When?”

“Just this morning, we found out,” Cal says, shaking his head. “It’s tragic, and the thing with him just being outed as a resource for that article?—”

“Wait, he was in Bonnie’s article.” It’s more of a statement than a question but my gaze moves around the table. I’m barely able to hear my brothers call my name. A whooshing sound is clogging my ears.

“I have to go.” I push away from the table, knocking my chair over and heading toward the front door.

I had to find her; I had to get to her. If Tommy was behind this Eugene guy, then…

“Stetson.” I hear a firm voice from behind me and turn, seeing my brothers and CT standing there, Graham behind them all. “Let us help you.”

I shake my head, digging through my pocket to grasp my phone. “I have to go. I haven’t heard from her, I—” Shit. Fuck. What if?—

My stomach rolls.

“I’m coming with you,” Mitch announces, heading for my truck before I’m able to say anything.

I nod, and we head for the truck. “I don’t know where she lives. ”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find her.” The determined and confident set of my brother’s jaw has me nodding and heading toward my truck.

Logan mentions staying behind and getting Dani to call her, and I nod at him before climbing behind the wheel.

Mitch reaches into his little beat-to-shit Honda and produces a laptop case.

Throwing it over his shoulder and heading to my passenger side, he climbs in.

“I’m just going to start driving to Denver,” I tell him, my mind frantic with concern and worry over the woman I love.

Mitch nods and opens his computer, working between that and his phone. I don’t know what my brother is doing, I have no idea what kind of knowledge he has when it comes to finding and tracking people down, but I was putting my trust in him.

Who else was I going to trust?

I think about Bonnie, about her being alone in her apartment and not knowing what was happening. Who else was named in that article, and should they be concerned?

My hand curls tightly on the steering wheel as I think of all the possible worst-case scenarios.

“Yup,” Mitch answers his phone when I’m not paying attention as I pull onto one of the major interstates. “Okay, Bonnie Helix, Denver. Can you find?—”

I glance at him, furrowing my brow. Who the hell was he talking to?

He waits a few minutes, and then he hangs up the phone. After a moment, he gets a message, and I wait with anxiety pulsating through my chest. “Who was that?”

“My contacts,” he answers vaguely, keeping to himself. “They sent the address. Keep going on here.”

“They sent the address. Already? ”

“Yup.” He tucks his laptop away and looks over at me. “We have three hours, baby brother. Time to learn how to breathe.”

Ignoring how aloof he is, I focus on what is important, which is getting to Bonnie quickly and making sure she isn’t next on Tommy’s list.

Denver was dark when we arrived. After ten at night, the night crawlers came out in droves, littering downtown with what felt like hundreds of people.

“Fuck, I hate people,” Mitch grumbles, looking out the window at the crowd that is crowing at our truck. Probably mad it is a diesel.

“No shit,” I say, thinking about how isolated we are up on that mountain and how much I hate that the thought of moving here was feeling less and less appealing.

But…Bonnie.

I would do it for Bonnie in a heartbeat if that’s what she wanted, what she needed.

I pull into an underground parking garage as the GPS announces our arrival at her apartment complex. I make Mitch come along, just in case there’s something amiss when we get there, and I need his assistance.

Fuck. I felt like my stomach was in my throat, threatening to come out as vomit.

I called her seven times on the way down and broke way too many speed limits, which got us here in half the normal time, and that entire time, Mitch never said a word, obviously picking up on the fact that I was overcome with emotion and needed the time to chill the fuck out.

We reach the elevator, which has a sign on it that reads “No Service,” and I shake my head, heading for the staircase and stomping up the stairs.

“Third floor,” Mitch reminds me as if I haven’t already memorized her address. Never again would I allow her to live somewhere that I didn’t know how to get to. I don’t care if that made me sound like a possessive asshole.

I was one, and I have no qualms over it.

We reach the door and see newspapers scattered over the floor, looking like they were stomped on.

I see Mitch reach under his jacket and produce a gun. I give him a look, and he nods toward the door.

I swallow my nerves, unsure what the hell I was going to do when I saw her.

Please let her be alive , I pray silently, my heart hammering in my chest.

Reaching the door, I lift my fist and knock loudly, hoping beyond everything that she is home and safe and that she is just fucking pissed off at me, and that’s why she wasn’t answering.

I can live with her being pissed. I can’t live if she’s not alive.

The lock clicks almost immediately, and I let out a breath when her gorgeous face comes into view.

That relief is quickly replaced with an instant anger that I’ve never felt before. I push into the apartment, my hands going to her, touching gently all over her body to make sure she was at least in one piece, and I gently cup her jaw. “Who?”

She doesn’t need me to finish my sentence, but I don’t really need her to confirm it either.

Tommy Smith just signed his motherfucking death warrant.

“Stets…” Her voice cracks and is hoarse and rough. I have to push aside my anger because when I pull her to me, her entire body racks with horrible sobs that break my heart .

He fucking touched her, hurt her, and when I find him, it is going to be the end of him.

Mitch comes into the room, and I realize he left to check out the apartment. “It’s clear.”

I nod at him and lead Bonnie to the couch, sitting her down gently and settling myself on the coffee table in front of her. “Bonnie, honey, tell me what happened.”

“I’m so sorry,” she cries out, and as I look her over, there is dried blood on her forehead and a swelling bruise around her left eye. That red tint of anger grows and grows until there’s a beast lurking just underneath the surface. “I shouldn’t have done it. I fucked everything up.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” I assure her, unable to tell her that this opened a can of worms, not when she was suffering.

“I did,” she says, noting Mitch coming to sit in the armchair. She doesn’t say anything about my brother’s presence and looks at me. “I shouldn’t have investigated him. I had no idea of what he was really capable of.”

“Was he here?”

She nods, and that’s when I see something that makes my blood pressure spike. Lifting her chin gently, I note fingerprints—actual fingerprints—left around the column of her throat. “Bonnie, did he choke you?”

My words unleash another wave of fresh tears, making it impossible for her to breathe or explain anything. I feel like I’m going to murder this motherfucker right now and look to my brother. “We have to go to the hospital.”

He gives me a raised brow. “You wanna do this legit?”

His question isn’t condescending, and I know without asking what he means. Did I want the police involved? Frankly, no. I want to find Tommy, look him dead in the eyes, and let him know that he’ll never touch another living being ever again.

But…Bonnie needs medical attention.

I clear my throat. “For now.”

Bonnie doesn’t say another word as I lift her into my arms, carry her to my truck, and settle her beside me.

Not when we enter the ER, and she’s admitted overnight, she keeps quiet.

I watch over her, wishing for the days when she was all sunshine and happiness, where she was never able to keep her thoughts to herself.

I will get us back to that if it’s the last thing I do.