I didn’t have a comeback because he was right – there was no winning. Someone would lose, and I couldn’t stand that it might be my fault.
Crossing my arms tightly over my chest, I pushed my voice past the knot in my throat. “Don’t you dare turn this around on me.”
He took a step closer so that he was practically hovering over me. “Why not, Emily? Because you can’t handle your share of the blame? Because, just like always, you’d rather let things happen to you instead of taking any action so that you don’t have to accept responsibility for the consequences?”
His words slaughtered me with their honesty. “That’s cruel.” My lip quivered with rage. I pointed an accusing finger in his direction. “That’s how you want me. To be submissive and obedient. Then, when I am, you use that to blame me for being passive?”
His lip curled upward. “And that’s how you want me, now, isn’t it?”
To his credit, he couldn’t hold his smile, as though he suspected he might have gone too far.
But was it really too far? Or just too accurate? It was precisely why men like Reeve were so bad for me – because I wanted them to be bad for me. And, when they were, it hurt.
Funny how then I wanted them even more.
“No,” I said, making a decision, for once, on my own. The only one I could. “I don’t want any of this. This is over.”
“This is not over,” he said, but I’d already turned away.
He might have come after me again, except, right then, Parker drove up on one of the three-wheelers, the expression on his face clearly upset.
Reeve’s eyes darted from me to his stable manager, as if trying to choose which of us to deal with. Finally, he said, “We are not done talking about this, Emily,” then turned to Parker. “What is it?”
“You’re needed back at the house.” He glanced at me and I could sense he was unsure whether he should say more in front of me.
Immediately, I feared the worst. “Is it Amber?”
Reeve arched a brow, seconding my question.
“I’m not sure. Come with me and you’ll see.”
It was vague, but the little bit he’d shared combined with his anxious demeanor was enough to send chills down my spine. It was also enough to get Reeve moving. He jogged to one of the ATVs parked at the side of the corral. I turned back to Parker to ask for a ride, but he was already driving off toward the house.
Dammit. I’d have to hike back, another fifteen-minute walk.
But then Reeve pulled up beside me. He didn’t meet my eyes. “Coming?”
I climbed on behind him, too worried about Amber to care that I’d just told him we were over. I’d meant it in the moment. But I wasn’t so sure when my arms were wrapped around him, my body pressed tight against his solid frame. Wasn’t so sure I could ever be over him.
We followed on Parker’s tail to the shed, where I assumed we were parking the ATVs. But he pulled up short instead of driving all the way in. That was when I noticed the security guard standing by the open door, looking as though there were something of interest on the other side.
I hopped off as soon as Reeve cut the engine, but I let him take the lead, following two steps behind as he circled the open door. He halted suddenly, and I had to step to his side to see around him.
Joe was there, kneeling on the ground. A second security guard was at his side, and, between them, lay Jenkins. Vomit pooled around his mouth, and his eye was lifeless and glassy like a marble, and it only took me a second to realize he was dead.
But I wasn’t a squeamish woman, and it wasn’t his limp body that made me gasp. It was the word painted on his side in large red letters: MINE.
There was something utterly menacing about the image, and not just because the dog was dead. I had a feeling the word would have had the same impact if the dog had still been alive, and I found myself wondering if Jenkins’s death was meant to be a message as well or if it was just easier to apply paint to an animal that couldn’t move.
And if death was the message…
I shivered and casually took a step closer to Reeve. Whether we were together or not, I felt safety in his presence. Ironic, considering how often he scared the hell out of me.
“Time of death had to be recent,” Joe said, delivering his report to Reeve, and, unless I was imagining things, avoiding all eye contact with me. “The body’s still warm.”
“Antifreeze?” Reeve asked.
“That usually takes a couple of days to affect the kidneys. Chloroform, maybe?”
Though he was trying to mask it, Parker seemed sullen. “He was completely fine when I fed him at dawn.”
I’d forgotten that he’d taken an interest in Jenkins. Working on a ranch, Parker was surely used to dealing with animal deaths. He must have felt particularly close to this dog to be upset.
Honestly, I felt a bit unsettled as well, especially with all the other emotions festering inside me. It had happened so fast, too. “I just saw him about ninety minutes ago.”
The second security guard, the one sitting with Joe, stood and addressed me. “Was he acting strange then? Did he seem thirsty or was he convulsing at all?”
I tried to remember if I’d seen anything unusual. “I don’t know. I was too far away, but I’m pretty sure his fur hadn’t been painted then. Amber was with him. I think she would have said something if he was acting out of the ordinary.”
“Actually,” I added, feeling oddly like I was about to get Amber in trouble, “someone else was there with her. Buddy is the only name I know. I think he’s one of the Callahan men.” There was still nothing to validate the creepy feeling Buddy gave me, but my gut sure felt like he was capable of murdering helpless animals.