NO! Carey thought. Not her!
He watched in horror as Crazy Mack dragged Amy roughly by the arm and threw her onto one of the sofas. He stood over her, blocking Carey’s view for a second. The ringing sound of a slap vibrated off the ribs surrounding Carey’s heart. That was all he needed to launch himself through the door at Mack, tackling him from the side and landing on top of him with a satisfying crunch.
Carey rained down blow after blow on Mack’s face, enjoying the beating in a way he would have never thought possible. He had never struck another human being in his life and never thought he would have needed to.
Now, it took every bit of his strength and self control not to kill him.
“Carey! Stop!” Amy said quietly, evenly, coming up to him and bringing him back to reality with the calmness of her voice. “He’s done, Carey!”
Carey stopped his fist in mid-swing, looking around as the room came back into focus. His eyes settled on Amy, and he stared into her large eyes as he worked to bring his breathing back to normal. He looked down at his hands, at the blood that peppered his knuckles, wondering for just a second how it had gotten there. His eyes traveled to where Mack lay only semi-conscious, then back to Amy, pleading with her silently to not think of him as a monster.
“What have I done?” He asked her, the question hanging in the air between them without an answer. “Are you okay?” He finally demanded. She nodded; the effects of the intrusion finally crashing over her until she sat back, trying to control the shaking that came over her violently.
Carey crossed over to her, wiping the offensive blood from his hands on his own clothes before he gathered her in his arms, holding her against him as her nerves recovered from what had happened. She leaned into him and closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and letting it soothe her.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I heard shooting earlier,” he asked, trying to look her over for any signs of damage.
“Yeah. The sheriff.”
“The sheriff shot at you?” Carey demanded, enraged all over again as he continued to look to see if she was okay.
“Well, not exactly,” she explained in an oddly detached voice. “He thought he was going to. I fired off those shots and took him down.”
“You mean you killed him? Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m really sure,” she answered quietly. “I hated to do it, but when he drew his weapon I knew he meant business. I had to dispatch him before he went looking for the others.”
“Anders!” Carey yelled, remembering the others and jumping up from the sofa, pulling Amy by the hand toward the kitchen. They broke through the swinging door into the darkened room and paused to let their eyes adjust until Carey remembered that the power had been restored before Mack and Matthews stormed the house. He flipped on the light switch by the door and froze when he saw the empty kitchen, the cots almost stripped and one or two of them over turned.
“Anders! Where are you?” Carey called out as Amy ran to the back door to see if anyone had left to the porch. A freezer door opened a crack before Anders burst through, dragging the others out of the freezer, wrapped in the thin fabric blankets. Even though the power had been out, the large walk-in freezer had retained most of its chill.
Anders grabbed Carey and hugged him, fighting back tears. “We all went in the freezer when I heard the gun shots,” the younger brother explained.
“We sure did,” Amanda spoke up, beaming at the boy. “He’s a genius. He got us all in there, and even thought to bring the blankets.”
Carey looked at Anders with an entirely new respect. This wasn’t just the sickly younger brother they’d all looked after growing up. He might not be a ranch hand or know his way around the barn, but Anders was important to the ranch in other ways, ways Carey or the others would never have been able to fill. He ruffled his brother’s hair for a second before hugging him close again.
The sound of approaching vehicles made them all freeze. Now that the sheriff was dead and Mack was practically hog-tied and unconscious, there was no way of knowing how many other people were in on his drug business. Amy drew her gun and retrieved Carey’s rifle, tossing it to him as he ushered the others back into the freezer, making sure they had their blankets again.
Carey and Amy watched out for each other’s backs as they crept toward the front door, dropping down when several pairs of headlights shown through the thinly-curtained front windows. They were at a disadvantage, staring as they were directly into the lights beaming through the remaining glass.
A knock on the door was almost a welcome relief, because Carey decided anyone bent on hurting them probably wouldn’t knock first. He approached the door with Amy beside him, her gun pointed in front of her toward the floor. “Who is it?” he called out.
“DEA, responding to a call,” the gruff voice called out. Amy shook her head no, warning Carey not to open the door.
“Why would the DEA just happen to show up here?” She whispered tensely. “Something’s not adding up.”
“That was me,” Anders called out from the kitchen door. “I called Dad and had him contact them when I heard you and Amy discussing it. It’s okay!”
Carey looked from Anders to Amy for confirmation, but Amy only shrugged before nodding in agreement. She kept her gun ready as Carey opened the door, relieved when he saw the officers and the lead agent’s outstretched identification. He showed them in, pointing to the locations of Mack and the sheriff, then ran over and grabbed his younger brother.
“You’re pretty much a genius, did you know that?” He asked, rubbing his knuckles lightly on Anders’ head. He released a very embarrassed Anders and with his other arm, he pulled Amy to his chest. He kissed the top of her head before thinking better of it and finding her mouth with his own. He left a lingering kiss there as the others politely became very occupied with righting the overturned cots and folding the discarded blankets.
“You need a vacation, Officer McDade,” Carey said, still holding her. Amy pressed against him, enjoying the security of Carey’s embrace.
“I believe I do. In fact, you practically owe me a vacation. I came out here for a good time with cowboys. And you’re the only cowboy I see, so…” She left her sentence hanging as she playfully opened the first button on his shirt, pulling back the fabric and placing her lips against a smooth, undamaged area of his skin.
“So?” Carey teased in a thick voice, trying to keep his wits about him as Amy began working free another button. “Am I hearing you right, that you still want a cowboy vacation? I’ll have to get to work on that. How about we head out first thing in the morning after everyone gets back? We can take ourselves a nice, long, real cowboy vacation?”
“With the horses? And the sleeping under the stars? And all that good stuff?” She hinted slyly, running her hands up Carey’s biceps.
“There will be sleeping at some point,” he shot back, playing along.
“I do have a couple of concerns, though,” Amy cautioned him, her brow wrinkling slightly.
“Oh, really? And what might those be, Officer?” He asked, eyeing her skeptically as he joined in on her joke.
