6. Blackheart

6

Blackheart

A s soon as Montana starts to fade, I rush out of the house, heading to the stables.

I can’t be around her right now. She smells too good, she’s too pretty, and she can’t fight me off. I need to stay away until she wakes back up. A few hours should be enough.

The last thing I need is for her to be in my bed tonight, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting her out of my sight so she can try to stab me to death and run off on one of my horses. No. She’ll sleep handcuffed next to me where there isn’t the slightest possibility of her getting away. And I’ll take care of myself before we lay down so I don’t do anything crazy.

The first stall I go up to belongs to Willow. She’s my newest baby, and I got her about a year ago. A beautiful black Morgan with a feisty personality. She’s a fast learner and eats anything I feed her .

I got Willow from a horse show in Cheyenne. Her owner was getting ready to put her down after she placed last in the competition, and when her brown eyes met mine, I knew I had to have her, and she wanted me too.

I offered to pay anything for her, and her owner gave her to me for free. Said she wasn’t worth a penny. And she isn’t. My five-year-old girl is priceless.

I enter her space and pick the hay out of her hair and grab her brush to go through her thick black mane. “Easy, girl.” She always gets riled up when I get her brush and prefers me to detangle her hair with my fingers, but the brush is faster.

The last thing I want to do is leave my girls to go to Arizona. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been away from them. But I need the money. Well, I don’t necessarily need it, but it would help out a lot. I just hate that I don’t know how long I’m gonna be gone. Something tells me that my journey with Montana will take more than a few days.

Thank God for Dallas. We’ve been friends since high school, and I can always count on him to have my back. And he and his wife Cali are seconds away from killing each other these days that I know he’d love to get away and stay at the house for as long as possible .

I could spend the entire afternoon with Willow, but it’s not fair to my other girls. I get her some hay and oats to eat, and then I move over to my fire starter, Cassidy.

Cassidy is my fifteen-year-old, gray Arabian, and she’s nothing but trouble. I love her still, but I don’t love getting bit or kicked. I show her nothing but love, and she just gives me a hard time to rile me up. She gets the same grooming as Willow, but she doesn’t get a hug or a kiss because I’m not in the mood to get head butted.

Next up are Loretta, Waverly, and Faye, my beautiful Appaloosas. It doesn’t take me long to get them squared away. Loretta is about the same age as Willow, and she’s a lot like her too. Waverly is good but shy. She’s eight, but it feels like I’ve known her my whole life. And Faye is my fourteen-year-old girl who I got the day I moved into this house. My very first baby, and the one I’m most scared to say goodbye to someday. She’s been through it all with me.

Then there’s Oakley. I don’t know what the hell she is, but she’s a good one. Light gray and white with a long mane and a thin tail. She’s a picky eater though. Don’t love that.

Another trio I have is my American Quarter Horses. They’re really Dallas’, but they live here with me. Peyton, Fara, and Clementine .

And last but not least in stall number ten is the hardest girl for me to see. My Tennessee Walking Horse, Violet. Margaret’s horse, Violet.

Violet was at Margaret’s house the day I found her dead. I scooped up what I could of her shoes, her most prized possessions, and was getting ready to say goodbye to that chapter of my life forever.

Then I saw Violet.

I wanted to leave her there. I knew my father would be back, and I wanted him to slay that damn horse like he did my woman. I couldn’t bear to look at her. I hated her for surviving when Margaret didn’t. I hated her for not finding a way out of her stall to barge in the house and attack my father to death. I hated her for everything she couldn’t control.

But when I looked into her eyes, I saw Margaret. I saw all the times she told me about this damn horse and images of her training her and riding her flashed in my mind. I knew I couldn’t leave her behind. If I couldn’t protect the most important person in the world to me, the least I could do is look after her best friend.

So Violet moved in with me. The same day I got Faye. But she didn’t get the same love I give to Faye. And I’m not sure she ever will.

After hours of cleaning horse shit, shearing sheep, and feeding yaks, I’m filthy, exhausted, and starved. I rinse off my hands outside and leave my boots by the door.

It’s when I walk into my home and lock up behind me that I remember I’m not alone. I get a whiff of my lavender soap along with Montana’s natural scent, and my body aches to see her.

Looking at the clock in my kitchen, it’s a little after six. She should be getting up soon, and then we need to get ready for tomorrow.

I grab a bottle of water and sit at my kitchen table. After a few swigs, I pull my phone out of my pocket to get my arrangements in place.

“Hey, man. What’s going on?” My old friend sounds tired but happy nonetheless.

“Hey, Dallas. I need a favor.”

He moves through his house while a woman yells in the background. Probably Cali. “Anything.”

I take a breath and catch him up on what went down with Montana. Like me, he’s a contract killer too. He’s also a professor.

He pauses. “Barnes? As in Mason Barnes? ”

“Yes. He gave me the job.” I reveal how I can get more money with his daughter alive, and he groans over the line.

“You’re going to end up dead. That man will kill you dead.”

My frustration builds, hating that I have two people thinking I’m an idiot when it comes to Mr. Barnes. “Don’t worry about what the fuck I’m doing. I just need you to stay at the ranch until I get back. Take care of the girls, keep business running.” He has time off from his day job for at least another month, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

A long pause goes by, and then he comes back on the line. “Alright.”

I end the call, and once I’ve finished hydrating, I grab a few bottles for my hostage and head upstairs.

I enter the door slowly, and when I walk in the room, I remove the peas from her body and toss them in the trash.

She stirs slightly, but she’s still asleep.

I like watching her sleep.

Her bandage will need changed soon, but I’ll do that after her bath. I should try and wake her, but I want some more quiet time with her before she starts bitchin’ and moaning again.

The blue dress she wears looks like it was made for her. It’s pretty, feminine, and modest, but I still want to hike it up .

Her brown skin glistens with sweat, probably from her body trying to heal itself.

She looks like a babydoll. Shiny, healthy hair, glossy skin, high cheekbones, and pretty, pouty, dark pink lips. But she’s trouble. I can feel it in my bones. And if I’m not careful, I’ll fall right into her trap.

She rustles in her sleep, and her chest rises and falls rapidly. I wonder if she has any children. Those things look like they were made for nursing.

I approach the bed slowly and sit at the edge of it, playing with the hem of her pretty dress. It’s so soft. Softer than anything I own. She starts to shake, and I stand up, feeling panicked. I hope to God I didn’t give her too much morphine.

I go up to remove her IV, and when I grab her arm, she screams at the top of her lungs with her eyes closed. I’ve caused the girl to have a goddamn nightmare.

I remove the needle quickly, and once I’ve got her arm bandaged up, I shake her by it aggressively, trying to snap her out of whatever the fuck she’s in. “Montana!”

She screams louder and starts to cry, and my pulse elevates against my will.

I unchain both of her arms but she doesn’t stop screaming and wailing. That’s when I realize I have to take things to the extreme .

Rearing my hand back, I slap her across the face, solely to knock her back to reality. Her eyes spring open, and when they meet mine, she sobs uncontrollably.

I don’t know if she knows I slapped her, but I sure as hell am not gonna tell her. She sits up carefully and draws her legs to her chest. She looks like she needs a hug desperately. I stand by, waiting for her to get her shit together, and when she quits wailing, I get her attention.

“Take your clothes off and get ready for your bath. We’ll have dinner afterward.”

Still dazed from her terror, she stands up slowly and starts to slide out of her dress. I turn away from her knowing she’s not in a position to attack and give her a slight second of privacy to get a bubble bath going for her.

Standing in just her panties, she comes into the bathroom, and I help her remove her bandages slowly. The skin is starting to heal rapidly with the ointment I put on it, and her skin should be able to tolerate soap a little better this time.

She looks zoned out while she slips down her underwear in front of me, revealing her bloody pad.

It’s more blood than I expected and less at the same time. Margaret was on the pill when we were together and always skipped her period. I’ve never seen anything like this .

Montana stands by the tub with her underwear at her ankles in shock, still not fully herself after waking up.

“Get in.” I nudge her gently to the tub, and I grab her underwear, chucking the soiled pad and putting the lace fabric in my wash basket to deal with some other time.

I keep an eye on her for a second to make sure she doesn’t drown. After a minute, she looks up at me with her arms wrapped around her legs. “Thank you.”

I don’t know what I’m getting thanked for. It could be the bath or for changing her diaper, but I don’t care what it’s for. Tired and irritable, I slip off my shirt and start to take off my jeans.

Her big doe eyes turn into marbles. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m about to take a shower in my fucking bathroom.”

Ignoring her death stare, I slide my pants down my legs and slip off my drawers. Once I’m butt naked, I give her my back, get my own water going, and step behind the glass.