Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

B RAND S TA FFORD STEPPED out of the shower and reached for a towel. His head swam, making him regret last night. How much had he drunk? He couldn't remember. Judging by how hungover and sick to his stomach he was, way too much.

What had possessed him? Oh, that's right , he thought, giving himself a mental forehead slap. I found out that my whole life has been a lie.

Not that he hadn't suspected as much. Little had he realized, though, that knowing the truth was so much worse than speculating. His own fault, he thought with a curse. If he'd never sent his DNA to be tested... It had been impulsive, something so not like him. He was the rational, calm, sensible, unemotional Stafford among a houseful of the opposite, he told himself.

Then, like kicking off an avalanche, he'd initiated something that he couldn't stop. Once he'd seen the results, he'd been determined to find out if his suspicions were true. The moment he did that, he opened a Pandora's box of secrets that could destroy his life and ruin others as well.

He swore as he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped deeper into his bedroom suite. Like a lot of ranch homes, this house had been added on to as the family had grown. He had his own wing in the back of the house with a view of the mountains in the distance. Not that he noticed the view today. He was too busy mentally kicking himself for what he'd done.

For way too long, he'd pretended that he didn't want to know why he was so different from his siblings. Not only did he not want to buy into his suspicions, he definitely did not want to prove them. Then his sister Oakley, the rebel of the family, had gotten her DNA tested through one of the online labs. She'd gone on about how easy it was. "Just mail in a sample and the results are emailed to you."

When Oakley had mentioned what she'd done to their mother, Charlotte Stafford had thrown a fit. "Why would you do such a thing?" she'd demanded.

"I wanted to know who I am," Oakley had said, brushing it off as nothing. "DNA's amazing. Like if CJ, Brand, Ryder and Tilly all had theirs tested, even though we're siblings, the results would be different because we only share fifty percent of the same genes. Only identical twins share a hundred percent. Don't you find that interesting?"

Brand had. And he'd found their mother's overreaction even more curious. She'd been furious—and something even more telling. She'd been terrified. He'd seen it in her emerald green eyes and the way she wouldn't meet his blue-eyed gaze—the only blue eyes in the family.

He'd known right then that he had to have his DNA tested. He couldn't keep pretending. He had to know the truth. He'd sent for the kit, followed the instructions and mailed it in. Unlike Oakley, he'd had no intention of telling their mother. Even then, he was still hoping he was wrong.

But when it came back, he had proof that he wasn't Rake Stafford's son, because his results were nothing like the ones Oakley had left lying around in her room.

For years he'd heard the rumors about his mother and their ranch neighbor, Holden McKenna. His sister Tilly had married Cooper McKenna, so he figured he should be able to get a hair sample from Cooper's comb. It would be nice to cross off at least one suspect from his list—his main suspect.

With the DNA obtained from Cooper McKenna, he'd had another test done to compare with his own. That was when he'd confirmed it. He was the son of Charlotte Stafford and Holden McKenna—and he had a DNA report to prove it.

His mother and Holden—both married to others at the time—had gotten together and he was the result. He had the goods on both of them, which raised the question: Now what? He had proof, but what was he going to do with it? Confront his mother? Confront Holden? Did he want his father to admit it? His mother? Or should he bury what he'd learned and live with it just as he had for all these years?

Yesterday, after getting the results, he'd done what any red-blooded American cowboy would do—he'd gone drinking with friends in town. Something else he seldom did. He hadn't told anyone why he was drinking so much. But he'd consumed enough alcohol that one friend had insisted on driving him home while another friend followed in his pickup.

While he had a copy of the results in his jacket pocket, he hadn't even told his best friends.

They were worried about him before he'd done something even more out of character. On impulse, he'd had his friend stop at Holden McKenna's mailbox out on the county road. He'd scribbled Holden's name on the outside of the sheet of paper and dropped off the copy of the DNA report he'd been carrying around all night.

When he'd awakened just before noon today, he'd realized with a sickening roll of his stomach that there was no way to retrieve the report from the mailbox. By now, the mail would have been delivered, and someone from the McKenna Ranch would have taken it up to the house.

The thought of what he'd done made him more physically ill than the hangover. His timing couldn't have been worse. His mother's second husband's remains had recently been found in a well not that far from the ranch. It was no secret in the county that she was the number one suspect—if not the only one—because of her tumultuous relationship with her second husband, Dixon Malone, who had mysteriously disappeared years ago.

On top of that, his older brother CJ—and their mother's once favorite—was in jail awaiting trial on numerous felonies, including attempted murder and second-degree manslaughter. Their mother had already alienated both of his sisters, Tilly and Oakley, leaving only himself and his younger brother, Ryder, still at home on the ranch.

This was definitely not the time to drop his bombshell on her and the man she'd openly despised for years. Brand, clearly the product of a secret affair, didn't want this getting out. His family was the talk of the county enough as it was, one reason he and Ryder had always kept a low profile. They'd worked the ranch, avoiding the drama that was often going on up at the house—or in town.

As he started toward his bedroom closet, he caught a glimpse of movement outside. He stepped to his window in time to see a figure creeping along the side of the house, headed for the stables. Her back was to him, but as hungover as he was, he could still tell it was a young, shapely woman. Her head of long black hair fell almost to her shapely behind, a behind tucked nicely into a pair of jeans.

Clearly, she was sneaking around looking for something. He frowned, not sure he was up to dealing with a thief, given his hangover. But he realized he was probably the only one not off working somewhere on the ranch or in town today—other than this trespasser.

Given little choice, he pulled on jeans over his naked, still-damp lower body, going commando, and rushed barefoot to the door before she could get away. Time to find out what she was doing sneaking around the Stafford Ranch.

H OLDEN ' S FIRST INSTINCT after reading the strange note was to call the sheriff. But he couldn't shake off the feeling that this was some kind of prank. A sick joke. He had to make sure that Holly Jo was missing. He tried Elaine's number. By now she would have reached the school.

His call went directly to voicemail. He left a message for her to call right away. He knew she wouldn't have turned off her phone, which meant she had to be on it. He tried not to panic as he chastised himself for not letting the girl get her own cell phone. He'd said she didn't need one, but right now he wished more than ever that he could call her. He just needed to hear her voice.

Holly Jo would think he was silly or senile when she heard his relief. He could just hear her. "Really, HH?" she would say. After she'd recently found out his middle name was Hank, she'd taken to calling him HH rather than Holden. "I'm fine. What did you think had happened to me?" she'd ask, laughing.

Just as he started to try Elaine again, his phone rang. With a flood of relief, he saw that she was calling him back.

"Tell me you have Holly Jo," he said before she could speak.

Those next few seconds waiting for her reply were interminable.

"She's not here, Holden. I can't find anyone who's even seen her. Her regular teacher was out sick and the substitute teacher didn't report it because of the short day at school." His heart dropped like an anvil from a plane. "The bus driver said she wasn't waiting at the end of the ranch road. I've been trying to call a classmate of hers who also wasn't in school today. Why would she skip school on a day when she knew I was picking her up early to go shopping in Billings? She's been looking forward to this for weeks, and now..."

"Elaine." She must have heard the anguish and fear in his voice, because she stopped talking abruptly. "I need to get off the phone to call the sheriff. I'm afraid Holly Jo's been kidnapped. I got a note. Please come home. We have to find her and get her back."

"No," Elaine said, her voice cracking. "Oh no."

He disconnected and made the call, silently praying to a God he'd abandoned years ago after his mother had died. "Stu," he said the moment the sheriff answered. Sheriff Stuart Layton and Holden's son Cooper had been friends since they were kids, spending endless hours on the ranch together. "Holly Jo's been taken."

"Holden? What do you mean taken ?"

" Kidnapped. I got a note. Elaine went to pick her up at school, but she never arrived. She wasn't at the bus stop when the driver came by. No one has seen her."

"Sit tight. Don't touch the note again. I'm on my way."

As he disconnected, he saw his son Duffy standing in the doorway of his office.

"What's this about Holly Jo?" Duffy asked, looking worried.

He pointed to the note lying on his desk, and his son stepped into the room to read it. "Stu said not to touch it. He should be here soon." As Duffy scanned the oddly shaped words from a safe distance, Holden could see that, like he himself had originally, his son wanted to believe it was a sick joke.

"You're sure she's missing?"

"Elaine went to pick her up. She never made it to school." He saw his son's expression. "What?"

"There's this boy at school," Duffy said. "He's been giving her a hard time. Gus Gardner, Joe Gardner's kid from the Montgomery Ranch."

"Why is this the first time I've been hearing about this?" Holden demanded.

"I handled it. I talked to the boy."

"And?" he demanded.

"And nothing. Holly Jo got mad and took the bus home instead of riding with me. She said I embarrassed her. She also said that I didn't know anything. But it was clear to me that something was going on between them."

At the sound of a vehicle, Holden got up from his desk and rushed to the door. He kept telling himself that this wasn't happening. Holly Jo would turn up. But what Duffy had told him made him even more worried. So much went on in a child's life that the parents never knew about. He hated to think of things he'd done that could have gotten him killed growing up that he'd never told his father about.

He'd made so many mistakes with his own children who were now adults. He had hoped that he could do better with Holly Jo. But he feared he might have already done something that was now jeopardizing her life.

"Duffy," he said as his son stormed toward the door. His youngest son didn't bother to look back as he rushed out, headed for his pickup. "Don't go off half-cocked and do something we'll all regret," he called after him. But if Duffy heard, he didn't respond as he roared off, no doubt headed for the Montgomery Ranch and Gus Gardner.

Holden swore as he watched Duffy swerve to miss the sheriff's patrol SUV now speeding toward the house.

A S B RAND SNEAKED around the side of the house, he saw the woman head for the stable. He frowned. What was she looking for? All of the hands must be out somewhere on the ranch, he thought as he ran barefoot to the back of the stable and carefully opened the door. Stepping into the cool semidarkness, he spotted her silhouetted in the open doorway at the other end of the structure. He couldn't wait to see the look on the young woman's face when he caught her.

He just wished he wasn't so hungover. His head ached, and he feared he might not be thinking clearly. He listened but could hear little over the sound of birds in the stand of dense cottonwoods that lined this side of the river. A cloudless deep blue sky hung over the mountains and river that formed the Powder River Basin. He breathed in the summer day, even though it was chilly here in the stable wearing only a pair of jeans and nothing else. He wished he had at least pulled on his boots.

She stood as if also listening. She didn't look as if she was here to rob them, especially all by herself.

On his way to the stable, he'd noted that his pickup was parked where his friend had left it last night. He couldn't see any other vehicles—let alone another person other than her on the premises. His head and stomach churned at the memory of all he'd had to drink last night—and what he'd done. He realized that from the moment he'd opened his eyes this morning, he'd been waiting for something bad to happen.

Given how he felt, maybe accosting a trespasser wasn't his best idea. The thought made him grin. Even hungover, he told himself he could handle this slightly built woman as she started to move away from the open stable doorway. He spotted a coiled lariat hanging on the wall, scooping it up as he moved soundlessly after her.

She must have sensed him, though, because as he cleared the doorway, she turned. He already had the loop in the lariat ready as she started to run. He'd spent a lifetime lassoing cattle and horses and fence posts. Throwing a loop over a slim young woman was child's play.

The moment the rope dropped over her, he pulled hard, bringing her to an abrupt stop. By then, he was stalking toward her, coiling the rope as he moved, ready to demand answers. He couldn't imagine what she was doing here, let alone what she might be looking for. But in a few moments, he would find out.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected when they finally came face-to-face with each other. If not fear, at least concern at being caught. Her wolf-gray eyes did widen a little. But the corner of her mouth turned up slightly as she cocked her head at him as if in amusement. It gave him a moment of pause, but not enough to make him stop closing the distance between them. Nor did he allow any slack in the rope. He had her. She wasn't getting away.

Yet the whole time, he was thinking that he was taken aback by how sweet and innocent she looked. Not beautiful by classical standards. Instead, cute from the button nose to the bow-shaped mouth. And those eyes, they seemed bottomless as fog, and yet there was a glint in them that made him wonder what he'd roped.

She hadn't struggled. Hadn't even tried to release herself from the rope now cinched around her slim waist. Nor had she tried to run or make any attempt to get away from him. Instead, she moved toward him.

Brand suddenly realized that he just might have roped in more than he could handle. But by then it was too late.

A S S HERIFF S TUART L AYTON pulled into the McKenna Ranch, he caught only a glimpse of the driver racing past toward the county road in one of the ranch trucks. Duffy? He'd been afraid it might be Holden taking matters into his own hands. He hated to think where the young McKenna might be headed or why. At least Holden hadn't left. With relief, he spotted the rancher waiting for him, standing on the front porch.

Patriarch Holden McKenna was a distinguished, large, physically fit man in his midfifties with salt-and-pepper hair and intense blue eyes. But as Stuart parked, he could see the weight of this scare already taking a toll on the bigger-than-life man.

Stuart had no idea what he was about to face. On the way to the ranch, he'd wondered if this wouldn't turn out to be something the girl had cooked up. He'd known that Holly Jo had tried to run away when she'd first been brought to the McKenna Ranch. His best friend, Cooper McKenna, had told him that the girl was smart as a whip and headstrong. He'd thought, though, that lately she'd been happier with the McKennas. Maybe he'd been wrong.

Kidnappings often ended up being family abductions where a member of the family took the child. But as far as the sheriff knew, Holly Jo didn't have any other family. That was why she'd come to live at the McKenna Ranch.

Her addition to the family hadn't gone over well with several members of the family, according to Cooper. That their father had brought the girl home without even an explanation hadn't helped. Had one of them taken her?

If a true kidnapping, the sheriff knew it could be a nonfamily abduction where an unknown person had seen an opportunity and run with it.

Until he knew what he was up against, Stuart tried not to speculate. It was just hard to believe that Holly Jo had been kidnapped. In all the years he'd lived in Powder Crossing, all the way back to when his father was sheriff, he'd never heard of a local kidnapping.

Crime in the Powder River Basin had been on the rise, though, he reminded himself as he parked in front of the McKenna Ranch house and the man waiting there. Seeing the place still made him feel a little guilty. Growing up, he'd wanted his best friend Cooper's life. He'd imagined what it must be like to live in this house and be the son of the owner of this huge ranch. He'd always thought of it as being worry-free. As an adult, he knew better.

But he was still a little jealous. Stuart still lived in the same small house in town he'd grown up in. He'd always felt that he'd been dealt the wrong hand and had no choice but to play it out, fair or not. He was the son of the former sheriff and had followed in his footsteps. It seemed too late to change horses in the middle of the stream, as his father would have said. He didn't know anything else. Nor had he dreamed of being anything else—except being the son of Holden McKenna.

As he climbed out of his patrol SUV, he hoped to hell Holden was wrong about Holly Jo having been kidnapped. He was just a small-town sheriff who often questioned if he was up to the job—but never more than at this moment.

Even under all this stress, Holden still looked like the powerful man he was. Stuart couldn't believe that anyone in his right mind would mess with the ward of Holden McKenna. Not if they knew the family—let alone the patriarch. Holden was the kind of man who would track down the kidnapper himself and kill him without a second thought, Stuart realized.

As he walked toward the rancher, he reminded himself that maybe the kidnapper did know the family, did know Holden. Maybe this was personal. Stuart preferred that over the other, that someone outside the community had taken Holly Jo Robinson, a pretty young teen, to ransom her for money or worse.

There was another possibility, he reminded himself. With social media, Holly Jo wouldn't be the first young girl to get roped in by an online predator without realizing the danger she'd put herself in.

"I'm glad you're here," Holden said, motioning him inside. "We have to find her."

Stuart could only nod. There was no question that the girl had to be found as quickly as possible. The clock had been running since the moment she was last seen early this morning. He was familiar with the rancher's steel-hard determination. It was the fear he also recognized in the big man's face that worried him. He'd never seen Holden McKenna running scared before. He had a bad feeling it would make him all the more dangerous.

Stuart opened his mouth, started to reassure Holden, telling him that everything was going to be all right. They would find Holly Jo. She would be fine. She would be safe.

But he knew better than to lie to this man, so he only said, "Let me see the note," and let Holden lead him into his office.