McCullen's Secret Son (The Heroes Of Horseshoe Creek Book 2) Read online

  Anger at Leo mushroomed inside her.

  Leo had a temper, was manipulative and secretive and...he had gotten rough with her more than once. But the day he’d put his hand on Sam, she’d ordered him to leave and told him she wanted a divorce.

  Nobody would hurt her baby.

  Except Sam might be hurt now... All because of the man she’d exchanged vows with. She leaned over Leo and stared at him, a mother’s temper boiling over. “What did you do to get my son kidnapped?”

  Of course he didn’t answer. He simply laid there with his mouth slack and his eyes bulging. If possible, his face looked even paler beneath the kitchen lights.

  Brett appeared a second later, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. He planted his hands on his hips and looked down at Leo, then up at her.

  “Are you okay, Willow?”

  A sob caught in her throat, and she shook her head. “How can I be all right when Sam is missing? When he might be crying for me right now?”

  Silence stretched full of tension for a minute. “Then let’s get this done.”

  Brett sounded resigned, and Willow questioned again whether she should have called him. But what else could she do?

  Brett knelt and grabbed the end of the rug, and Willow decided she couldn’t allow him to do this alone. She set the garbage bag down, flipped off the garage light so they couldn’t be seen through the front window, then grabbed the opposite side of the rug and helped Brett drag Leo through the garage.

  She was heaving for breath by the time they reached the threshold of the exterior door. Leo’s body was so heavy that she didn’t know how Brett would lift him.

  The garage door was situated on the side of the house and wasn’t visible from the street, but in silent agreement they paused to check and make sure there weren’t any cars passing or anyone walking by.

  “It’s clear.” Brett stooped down, scooped Leo up—still wrapped in the rug—and threw him over his shoulder. She bit down on her lip to stifle a gasp as Leo’s arm swung over Brett’s back. The dried blood on his hand and face looked macabre in the moonlight.

  Brett struggled for a minute with the weight, then maneuvered Leo’s body into the truck bed. He climbed in and threw an old blanket over the body, and she tossed the bag of linens in the back with him.

  “I’d tell you to stay here,” Brett said, “but it’s not safe, Willow. Come with me and I’ll bring you back later.”

  The last thing Willow wanted to do tonight was bury Leo, but she had started this and she had to see it through. At least until she got Sam back.

  “Let me get my phone in case the kidnapper calls tonight.”

  * * *

  BRETT SAID A SILENT prayer that the kidnapper would call, but as Willow went to retrieve her phone and purse, he had a bad feeling. What did the kidnapper want?

  Money? Or something else?

  All questions to pursue once they got rid of Leo’s body.

  Damn, he couldn’t believe he was doing this. Actively covering up a crime. If his agent and his fans found out, his career would be over.

  Hell, if Maddox didn’t help him out when he finally explained things, his life as a free man would be over.

  But he couldn’t let Willow down.

  His phone buzzed, and he checked the caller ID. Kitty. Another pesky immature groupie.

  Dammit, he’d slept with her twice, then broken it off, but she’d become obsessed with him. He’d warned her that he’d take out a restraining order if she didn’t leave him alone.

  He’d hoped coming home for a while might give her the time and distance she needed to move on.

  Willow locked the house and closed the garage door and he let the call roll to voice mail, then covered Leo’s body in the bed of the truck. If he got stopped...no, that was not going to happen.

  He removed the latex gloves and Willow did the same. He stuffed both pairs in his pocket, then opened the passenger side for Willow, and she climbed onto the seat, her hand shaking as she gripped the seat edge. The wind kicked up, stirring leaves and rattling the windows as he hurried to the driver’s side, jumped in and started the engine.

  The moon disappeared behind storm clouds as he eased onto the street. Senses on alert, Brett searched right and left, then in the rearview mirror, looking for someone who might be watching.

  For all he knew, the killer/kidnapper might have hung around to see if Willow called the law.

  Willow leaned against the doorframe, looking lost and shaken, and so terrified that Brett’s heart broke. In spite of the fact that he was digging a hole for himself with the law and his own brother, he pulled her hand in his.

  “We’ll get Sam back, Willow. I promise.”

  “But what if—”

  “Shh.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Everything will be all right. I swear.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she broke into another sob. Brett pulled her over beside him and wrapped his arm around her as he drove. She collapsed against him, her head against his chest, her arm slipped around his waist.

  The two of them had ridden just this way in high school, hugging and kissing as they’d driven up to Make-Out Point. But tonight, they wouldn’t be making out or...making love.

  Tonight they were hiding her husband’s body, and she was almost despondent over her missing son.

  Still checking over his shoulder as he turned onto the highway, a siren wailed from the right, and he tensed. A fire engine, ambulance, police?

  Suddenly blue lights swirled against the night sky as a police car careened around the corner and flew toward them.

  Brett’s chest constricted. He was about to get caught with a dead body in his truck.

  * * *

  SAM CURLED INTO a little ball, hugged his knees to his chest and leaned against the wall. He was shaking so badly, he thought he might pee his pants. He hadn’t done that since he was two.

  Where was he? And why had that man with the bandana over his face grabbed him and thrown him in the trunk of his car?

  Sam hated that trunk. He hated the dark.

  Swiping at tears, he clutched the ratty teddy bear the man had tossed into the room with him. He didn’t want the old dusty thing. He wanted his dinosaur and his mommy and his room with all his toys.

  But he clutched the bear anyway because it made him feel like he wasn’t all alone.

  Outside the dark room, footsteps pounded and two men’s voices sounded. Loud. Mad. They were barking at each other like dogs.

  They had been mad at Daddy. Then one of them had pulled that gun and shot him.

  Sam closed his eyes, trying to forget the red blood that had flown across the bed like a paintball exploding. Except it wasn’t paint.

  He couldn’t forget it.

  Or that choked gurgling sound Daddy had made.

  He started shaking and had to hug his legs with his arms to keep his knees from knocking. He had to be quiet. Make them think he was asleep or they’d come back and get him.

  Daddy was dead.

  And if he didn’t do what they told him, he’d be dead, too.

  Chapter Five

  Willow clenched her clammy hands together as the sirens wailed closer. Dear Lord, had someone seen them leave with Leo’s body?

  Brett laid a hand over hers. “It’ll be all right.”

  But they both knew it wouldn’t be all right. They’d lose precious time explaining themselves to the police, and even then, they would go to jail and the kidnapper might hurt Sam.

  Brett slowed and pulled off the road, but they were both shocked when the police car raced on by.

  His relieved breath punctuated the air. “Whew, I thought they had us.”

  “Me, too.” She wiped at the perspiration trickling down the side of her face, but she was trembling so badly a pained sound rumbled from her throat.

  Brett pulled her to him for a moment and soothed her. “Hang in there, Willow. I’m here.”

  She nod
ded, those words giving her more comfort than he could imagine. She didn’t think she could hold it together tonight if she was alone.

  They sat there for several seconds, but finally Brett pulled away and inched back onto the road. By the time they reached the ranch, her breathing had finally steadied.

  She had always loved Horseshoe Creek, but tonight she found no peace in the barren stretch of land where Brett parked.

  Brett kept looking in the rearview mirror and across the property as if he thought they might have been followed. The land seemed eerily quiet, the wind whistling off the ridges, whipping twigs and tumbleweed across the dirt as if a windstorm was brewing.

  This rocky area was miles away from the big farmhouse where Brett had grown up, the pasture where the McCullen cattle grazed, from the stables housing their working horses and the bungalows where the ranch hands lived.

  The truck rumbled to a stop, and Brett cut the engine. He turned to her for a moment, the tension thick between them. “His body should be safe out here until we get your son back.”

  Willow bit down on her lip as the full implications of what they were doing hit her. Not only was she compromising evidence and disposing of a body, but when the truth was revealed, she would look like a bitter ex-wife—one who might have killed Leo and then called an old boyfriend to help her dispose of his body.

  She could go to jail and so could Brett.

  It would also drive a bigger wedge between him and his brother Maddox.

  But what other choice did she have?

  She touched the knot on the back of her head where the intruder had hit her, then looked down at her cell phone, willing it to ring.

  Poor little Sam must be terrified. Wondering where she was. Wanting to be home in his own bed.

  Resigned, she reached for the door handle. “Let’s get this done and pray the kidnapper calls tonight, then we can explain everything to Maddox.”

  Brett’s eyes flashed with turmoil at the mention of his brother, compounding her guilt. The men had just buried their beloved father and now she was asking this of him.

  She hated herself for that.

  But Sam’s face flashed in her mind, and she couldn’t turn back.

  * * *

  “WAIT IN THE TRUCK,” Brett told Willow.

  Brett jumped out of the pickup, walked to the truck bed and retrieved a shovel. Yanking on work gloves, he strode to a flat stretch between two boulders, a piece of land hidden from view and safe from animals scavenging for food.

  A coyote howled in the distance and more night sounds broke the quiet. His breath puffed out as he jammed the shovel in the hard dirt and began to dig. Pebbles and dry dirt crunched, and he looked up to see Willow approaching with a second shovel.

  “I told you to stay in the truck.”

  “This is my mess,” Willow said. “I...have to help.”

  Brett wanted to spare her whatever pain he could. “Let me do it for you, Willow, please.”

  Her gaze met his in the dim light of the moon, and she shook her head, then joined him and together they dug the grave.

  It took them over an hour to make a hole deep enough to cover Leo so the animals wouldn’t scavenge for him. Willow leaned back against a boulder, her breath ragged. She looked exhausted, dirty and sweaty from exertion, and shell-shocked from the events of the night.

  He returned to the truck, dragged Leo’s body inside the rug from the bed, then hauled him over his shoulder and carried him to the grave. Before he dumped him inside, he retrieved a large piece of plastic from his trunk and placed it in the hole to protect the body even more.

  Willow watched in silence as he tossed Leo into the grave, then he shoveled the loose dirt back on top of him, covering him with the mound until he was hidden from sight.

  But he had a bad feeling that even though Leo was covered, Willow would still continue seeing his face in her mind.

  He smoothed down the dirt, then stroked her arm. “It’s done. Now we wait on the ransom call.”

  She nodded, obviously too numb and wrung out to talk, and he led her back to the truck. He tossed the shovels in the truck bed, grabbed a rag and handed it to Willow to wipe her hands.

  She looked so shaken that he decided not to take her back to that house. There were a couple of small cabins on the north side of the ranch that weren’t in use because they’d reserved that quadrant to build more stables. Even though he was a bull rider, he also did trick riding, so his father had wanted Brett to handle the horse side of the business. But when Brett left town, Maddox and his father had put the idea on hold. “I’m going to take you to one of the cabins to get some rest.”

  Willow didn’t argue. Her hand trembled as she fastened her seat belt, then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. He drove across the property to the north, where he hoped to find an empty cabin.

  Five minutes later, he found the one he was looking for just a few feet from the creek. He parked and walked around to help Willow out. The door to the place was unlocked—so like the McCullens. Trustworthy to a fault.

  The electricity was on, thank goodness, and the place was furnished, although it was nothing fancy, but the den held a comfortable-looking sofa and chair and a double bed sat in the bedroom, complete with linens. He and Willow had sneaked out to this cabin years ago to make love in the afternoon.

  Her eyes flickered with recognition for a moment before despair returned.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” Willow said in a raw whisper.

  He gestured toward the bedroom. “Get some rest. I’ll hang around for a while.”

  She looked down at her hands, still muddy from the dirt and blood. “I have to wash up first.”

  He ducked into the bathroom and found towels and soap. The place was also fairly clean as if someone had used it recently. His father was always taking someone in to help them out so he wasn’t surprised.He still felt like he’d walk into the main house and find him sitting in his chair. But he was gone.

  Willow flipped on the shower, then reached for the button on her shirt to undress.

  It was too tempting to be this close to her and not touch her, so he stepped into the hall and shut the door to give her some privacy. Self-doubts over his actions tonight assailed him, and he went to his truck, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and brought it inside.

  As much as he wanted to comfort Willow and hold her tonight, he couldn’t touch her. She’d only called him to help her find her son.

  And he would do that.

  But tonight the stench of her husband’s dead body permeated his skin, and the lies he would have to tell his brother haunted him.

  * * *

  IMAGES OF DIGGING her husband’s grave tormented Willow as she showered. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn’t erase them.

  Leo was dead. Shot. Murdered.

  And Sam was missing.

  Her little boy’s face materialized, and her chest tightened. Sam liked soccer and climbing trees and chocolate chip cookies. And he had just learned to pedal on his bike with training wheels. Only Leo had run over his bike.

  Where was Sam now? Was he cold or hungry?

  She rinsed, dried off and looked at the clock. It was after four. Was Sam asleep somewhere, or was he too terrified to sleep? His favorite stuffed dinosaur was still in his room...

  She found a robe in the closet and tugged it on, then checked her phone in case she’d missed the kidnapper. But no one had called.

  Tears burned the backs of her eyelids. Why hadn’t they phoned?

  Nerves on edge, she walked into the kitchen and spotted a bottle of whiskey on the counter. Brett had always liked brown whiskey. In fact, in high school, he’d sneaked some of his father’s to this very cabin and they’d imbibed before they’d made love.

  She couldn’t allow herself to think about falling in bed with Brett again.

  This was an expensive brand of whiskey, though, much more so than the brand Joe McCullen drank. Of course, Brett had done well on the
rodeo circuit.

  Both financially and with the women.

  An empty glass sat beside the bottle, and she poured herself a finger full, then found Brett sitting in the porch swing with a tumbler of his own.

  He looked up at her when she stepped onto the porch, his handsome face strained with the night’s events.

  “I should go home,” Willow said from the doorway.

  Brett shook his head. “Not tonight. We’ll pick up some of your things tomorrow, but you aren’t staying in that house until this is over and Leo’s killer is dead or in jail.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Willow.” He sipped his whiskey. “It’s not safe. Besides, we shouldn’t disturb anything in the house, so when we do call Maddox in, he can process the place for evidence.”

  He was right. “I realize this is putting you in a difficult position with Maddox.”

  Brett shrugged. “That’s nothing new.”

  Willow sank onto the swing beside him. She’d never had siblings although she’d always wanted a sister or a brother, especially when she was growing up. Her mother had died when she was five, and she’d been left with her father who’d turned to drinking to drown his problems. That alcohol had finally killed him two weeks before she’d graduated from high school.

  Another reason she’d gravitated toward Brett and it had hurt so much when he’d left town. She had literally been alone.

  “I know you’ve had issues, Brett, but your father just died, and you and your brothers should be patching things up.” She took a swallow of her own liquor, grateful for the warmth of the alcohol as it eased her nerves. “Family means everything, Brett. When you don’t have one anymore, you realize how important it is.”

  Brett’s gaze latched with hers, but the flirtatious gleam she’d seen years ago and in the tabloids was gone. Instead, a dark intensity made his eyes look almost black.

  “I’m sorry you lost yours. I know that last year with your dad was rough.”

  It was Willow’s turn to shrug, although it was Brett leaving a second time that had sent her into Leo’s arms. Made her vulnerable to his false charm.

  “My family is Sam now. I can’t go on if something happens to him.”