"Hey Aaron."

"Jamie, I can't find Tracey." His brother sounded frazzled and edgy. "Did you hear from her?"

"No, but I can't see why she'd call me right now." Jamie scratched his head and sighed. "Did you check out Cherryville?"

"Yeah," Aaron responded dourly, "and she was there a at Cherryville. For a bit. Only a couple of drinks, the bartender said. But apparently, she got picked up."

"By who?" Jamie hoped it wasn't her drunken father.

"The bartender didn't actually know. But she said it was a black BMW."

Jamie felt a stir of deepening unease in his gut. "There's only one guy I know in this area whose been driving a Beamer around. Michael Dalton, one of Alex's yuppie clients."

Aaron ground his teeth through the phone. "Of course, Alex would be involved in this."

"No, Aaron, she wouldn't be. She dropped this client a week ago. He was getting pushy... he was a real city kind of dick. Big money, all ego. Not the type to go after Tracey at all, either, so I don't get why-"

Aaron burst over him impatiently. "Because Tracey was furious at you for screwing Alex and this guy was available. Just don't get how he found her."

Jamie checked his impatience at the barbed comment, and thought a moment. "Doubt it was chance," he ventured, voicing his increasing concern. "Michael Dalton was exactly the kind to hold a grudge against Alex's dismissal... but I don't get how it would involve Tracey."

"Well, we certainly need to find out. I can tell you where Tracey's at, at least mentally. And it's no place good," Aaron groaned.

Jamie closed his eyes briefly over the pain and uncertainty in his younger brother's voice. He'd been there many times before, too. Eventually, though, your heart just hardened.

"I'll call Alex, she should be getting home soon," he offered. I will get this Dalton's cell number from her and we'll give him a friendly little ring."

"Okay, bro," said Aaron. "I hope he answers, and he tells us something truthful. It's all we have, so far."

The bedroom was dark and full of menacing shadows. Mouse had never even drawn open his curtains from the morning, in order to keep the cooler air inside during the heat of the day. He was lying in the center of his bed, his large body causing the mattress to depress and his lower back to ache. He didn't want to move, though. He wanted to cover himself and stay in the dark, quiet room for the whole evening long.

The shadows continued to climb the walls in a jerky dancing manner, and made him think about spiders creepy crawling. And dead, black roses too. He just couldn't seem to stop thinking about it.

Mouse was ashamed for running away from Alex's like a baby. He was a big, grown man, and pretty strong too, just like Jamie said he was. So why was he so scared?

His thoughts kept returning to the lady's face. Sad and frightened. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, she was the nice lady. She was hurt, too, for it was her wrist that was bleeding after all, not Mouse's. And he had torn off like a banshee wailing down the road, until his toes turned all had red and painful blisters sprouted in the swollen wake.

What if the lady wanted to actually talk to him? What if she needed help?

Mouse sat up and inched himself over to the side of the bed until his bare feet touched the floorboards. His toes ached with the ugly pulsing blisters. The big one that had formed on his right heel throbbed too. There was no way he could run all the way back. He could call Jamie, but he would really sound dumb and silly. How would he explain himself with the right words, ones that actually made sense?

Mouse knew that he needed to go back alone and see if the lady would talk to him. He should help her, for she had always been good to him whenever he missed his Mum. And no one else would understand that.

He pushed himself off the bed, already missing the cozy warmth of his safe spot. He stepped quietly through the hallway and peeped into the living room. It was their day off from the North Fork, so his Dad was home. But he was passed out on the couch, with the TV blaring like usual, and six empty cans of Schlitz on the coffee table beside him. That was actually good news.

Moving with purpose now, Mouse headed out the back door and toward the equipment shed. His Dad would probably not wake up for a long while, and would never even notice or hear that Mouse had borrowed the dirt-bike for a bit. And even if he did find out, Mouse realized that he didn't care too much after all. He was needed.

When Alexandra trotted a slightly winded Bold Venture up her long lane, the stallion still managed to lift his tail like a flag in the breeze, and arch his powerful neck for his mares, who regarded him with doe eyes as they grazed daintily in the lush, green pastures.

"You tool," she scolded him laughingly, "they are not even in heat. You've got them all bred up, big boy. Don't waste your T." She allowed her hand to drift over the gorgeously muscled neck a a stallion's characteristically thick crest that only equine testosterone created. It was both smooth and sweaty.

Alex then eyed her sleek mares appreciatively, anticipated the following summer. Fuzzy, shiny, cavorting babies would abound. Equines had an eleven month gestation period, so it was a long wait after the breeding period, but oh so worth it. All was good in the world.

Then she noticed a familiar silver Lexus in the driveway, and her pleasant mood fizzled away abruptly. Brian Ridgeway was back, yet again. With a wry look at the sky, she duly noted how they had swiftly darkened and grayed over with the approach of a miserable evening. Even the air had grown thick and dank with cloying humidity and the promise of wicked storms.

When she reached the barn, Alex slid out of the saddle and led the stallion inside. Bold was still slightly warm and couldn't be put in his stall, just yet. If he drank water while still this temperature, it could be dangerous. Horses were very susceptible to colic when overheated, and this particular early summer eve was overly muggy.

A frown marred her face, pulling on the corners of her mouth so that her lips tilted sourly downward. She wanted to walk her animal a bit, and baby him with a bath and a grooming, but now she had an annoying visitor to get rid of first. Ridgeway was not someone she wanted to deal with today of all days, and she was going to let him know it, too. Shit.

She haltered Bold quickly and placed him in the barn aisle cross-ties to wait for her return. A corner fan worked with a smooth hum, sending cooling air through the barn and over the stallion's coat. She determined that he would be fine, resting quietly for a few minutes until she returned.

Ridgeway was not on her back porch chair, and she felt her hackles rise as she thrust open the kitchen door and stepped inside, her growing anger bolstering her along. Her breathing elevated even further when she found him sitting, demurely with long legs crossed, on her couch.

"How the hell did you get in here, Brian?" she growled at his nonchalance, planting her feet and putting her hands on her hips.

He smiled blandly at her. "It was unlocked, and really hot outside," he returned. "I was sure you wouldn't mind me waiting in here. Country hospitality and all."

"I was certain that door was locked," she ground out. "And I sure as hell do mind." In that moment, she wished that she was armed. She had nothing, just five-foot-five feet of her angry, female body.

Ridgeway didn't appear to be very aggressive, though. He was completely relaxed, still lounging against her pillows with that stilted, fake smile in place. Dressed in a formal suit with his briefcase next to him, it made an odd picture. He had a glass of ice water in his hand. Her glass, her ice, her water. The cubes tinkled together. She ground her teeth.

"Can we get this bit of business... concluded?" she asked, her voice dripping with pointed sarcasm. "I have things to finish today, and I didn't schedule time for unexpected visitors."

"Of course. I don't anticipate it will take long," he returned smoothly, brushing aside her obvious anger. Ridgeway sat forward and snapped open the briefcase he had sitting at his feet. "I have the paperwork already to go today."

"Paperwork," she echoed, her eyes widening in astonishment at his nerve. "Brian, I have NOT agreed to sell you anything. Nor will I. I've decided, and it's final."

"You will sell," he smiled up at her. "You will find plenty of amazing things to do with your payout. Alexandra, you need to realize that I am really being sooo generous here..." He scratched his head as if puzzled at her resistance.

"I need this land," he continued. "This is a profitable agreement for you a honestly it's one hell of a flip for a young woman going into business. There are plenty of properties around here to house your animals. It's a win-win. It's quite simple... you WILL sign, Alexandra. Today."

She scoffed. "I hardly think so."

"I have several good reasons why you will."

"Really?"

From his briefcase he slid several glossy photographs and spread them across the coffee table. Alex felt her stomach do a cartwheel before skidding into a pool of nausea. This couldn't be happening.

The photographs included her mother getting into a car after shopping, Diana sweeping her back porch, completely unaware that she was being stalked from somewhere on her private property, Jamie swinging hay bales down from a wagon, Mouse gazing out over the back deck of the Northern Restaurant, his heavy brow beaded with sweat and a slight air of innocent confusion.

Ridgeway looked almost apologetic at her aghast expression. "I truly hated to do this, Alexandra," he began almost hesitantly, "but you see, I cannot take no for an answer anymore. Time has run out. For me, and for you as well."

"Are you actually threatening these people? My people?" she asked incredulously, still not quite understanding what it was that he was implying. But she thought she knew now. This wasn't a game anymore.

"Of course I am not threatening, Alexandra. I am simply providing you with several very, good reasons why you will take my offer today. These are people I happen to know you have come to love or care for. It is in their best interests for you to take this deal."

Alex wet her lips, not knowing what to say. Her heart thrummed at a higher pitch in her chest now, and her mind scrambled over what to do. Where was her cell phone? Where was a weapon? What were her choices?

Ridgeway read the indecision on her face quite well, and actually had the balls to smile. "No, you don't really have a choice, Alexandra."

In a split second, she made her decision. She wheeled, bolting for the backdoor. And ran smack dab into the granite of Michael Dalton's chest.

Waiting for Eden ~*~*~*~*~*~.

Chapter 22.

Jamie depressed the accelerator a little further and watched the needle bump up to 70 MPH. Too fast for a back road, but essential now. His little brother was wigging out, and he wasn't far behind on that frightening path himself, either. He clenched his jaw and focused harder on keeping his driving skills tight.

The news had come in over his mother's police scanner like some bad backwoods dream. Two female bodies had been discovered along Route 44, in a ditch. They would never have been noticed at all, had there not been ripe raspberries next to the road. An avid jelly-maker had innocently pulled over at that spot for the day's picking.

The location was not too very far from Cherryville, in fact. Both bodies were young, blonde, and female. It was enough coincidence to make him sick inside with worry, though he tried to keep Aaron from seeing it. And, he tried to keep from panicking even more about Alexandra's own whereabouts.

Three times he'd tried to call her, and she hadn't picked up. Of course, if she was out in the barn bathing or grooming the horses, she would have set her phone down for sure. It wasn't highly unusual... just unusual.

They'd been texting with the frequency of love-struck teenagers before the incident with Tracey. Then nothing. But now they'd made up, made love, and smoothed out all of the ruffled feathers into bliss again... so why would she not check her phone at all?

Jamie saw flashing lights up ahead and slowed his vehicle as his heart-rate accelerated conversely. He took a quick peek at his brother's ashen face.

"Hey, why don't I check this out alone, Aaron," he suggested, pulling the truck off of the side of the road behind the pileup assortment of rescue vehicles, police, news trucks, and other gloom-and-doom seekers.

"No way," Aaron shook his head resolutely.

They approached the scene and were stopped fairly quickly by law enforcement.

"Have you identified the girls?" Jamie asked.

"Not yet." The officer who regarded them sternly looked a mere teenager, with freckles and a pimple on his chin.

Jamie released his breath with a frustrated whoosh. "We are missing a family member," he replied. "We need to know if it's her."

"Come with me," the officer inclined his head. "We could use some local help with this one. Nothing makes sense."

The brothers followed grimly. When the sheets were finally pulled back, all Jamie could feel was the hot sting of tears on his cheeks and the weight of his little brother sagging in his grip.

They looked like golden, sleeping angels.

When Alexandra tilted back her head back to meet Michael's eyes, the darkly menacing look he gave her numbed her completely to her toes. His eerie smile and the promising gleam of his white teeth completed the picture of evil. Her knees gave out and she sagged against him, her utter fear making her appear to be swooning in relief. She heard Ridgeway chuckle behind her.

"Oh, he's not going to save you," Brian laughed.

She felt Michael's grip tighten even further as he pulled her roughly against the length of his body. Each finger felt like a red hot poker burning and grinding into the flesh of her bare arms. Each finger would surely leave a bright purple bruise behind. Her breath continued to stutter around in her chest. She had never felt so small and weak.

As if she were an infant, Michael turned her around in his grip, bringing her back in contact with his chest. The top of her head met his chin, and she felt his lips graze her hair. She stared fearfully now at Brian Ridgeway's wry grin. His eyes were hard and focused, but not on her.

"I fired you, Marcus." It was a firm statement, and no longer friendly. "You failed your one mission, remember?"

Marcus? Alex wondered. Michael's name was Marcus - and he knew Brian Ridgeway. Worked for him, in fact. The foreboding words of Ezra came flooding back into her head at once. This was all related. And it wasn't good news for her welfare.

"Why, I haven't failed at a thing, Brian," Marcus returned arrogantly. "My timeframe was merely a bit different from yours."

"I hired you to do a job. You didn't do it. And now I am going to finish it up for you." Alex saw the flash of irritation in Brian's face, alpha male to alpha male. "You can go back to the city, Marcus. I really don't think you are cut out for the country."

"Oh, it's rather grown on me, to be truthful, Brian," Marcus drawled smugly. "In fact, she's grown on me." He moved his hips slightly against her backside, rubbing left to right, and Alex felt his maleness there. There was no doubt as to his intentions. She swallowed reflexively. Her fear was only mounting now, with jerking leaps and bounds.

Her cell phone was in the barn, lying on a bale in the aisle, next to where Bold waited in the cross-ties. The image of it flashed through her head, as well as the sudden and desperate wish for Jamie's presence. How would he ever know she was in such danger?

Brian stood abruptly, and his previously nonchalant face was now a thundercloud of suppressed anger. "I need her to sign these documents. Now, Marcus. And then you and I are going to have a little talk, man-to-man," he spoke forcefully, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument.

"Hmmm." Marcus squeezed her in his bear hug of an embrace and rubbed his chin against her scalp with the kind of familiarity that a lover would. It made her tremble like the leaves and boughs that waved wildly now outside the living room window.

A pre-dusk gloom had fallen, made deeper by the heavy clouds that had rolled in over the little farmstead. The air outside was lifting from gusts pushed along by the edge of an approaching storm front, jostling limbs and rustling leaves with relentless fervor.

"I don't think my little Alex wants to sign your papers," he murmured against her ear. "Do you little Alex?" He nibbled on a lobe, and the warm wetness of his tongue on the exposed and sensitive flesh made her shiver in turn.

"No," she managed to breathe out loud, wandering what sort of game was being played, or through what rabbit hole she had just crawled. It made no sense.

Brian's face was purple. His right hand drifted toward his briefcase. Alex had a mere moment to draw a breath in sharply at the implication, before being shoved in the back with stunning force. The room blurred and she tripped, going down hard on her knees and rapping her forehead against the coffee table. She saw stars momentarily, before her vision cleared.

She lifted her head. Brian Ridgeway was sitting on the couch, looking slightly confused. A crimson blossom of blood began to spread across the center of his beige dress shirt, from the middle of which the black hilt of a hunting knife protruded.

She watched, gasping and panting in long pulls of breath from her position on her hands and knees as the man's eyes glossed over and he slid backwards on the couch, slowly falling to one side and coming to rest on her cushions. The stain spread wider, deeper, redder, and flowed out onto the fabric.

"Bet you never knew I was that good with a knife, did you Alexandra?" Marcus drawled. "Being a city guy, and all."

Alex swung her gaze to him. He was still standing in the same place, leaning casually against the doorjamb, eying her almost proudly. And wickedly. "Why?" she whispered.

"Why not?" he returned. "So, are you ready to play with me now, Ms. Winters? Like a big girl?"

Still trembling, she wrenched herself to her feet. She felt like a new colt on gangly legs that couldn't yet be controlled. Another knife had appeared in his hands. One from her kitchen.

"Some parts of the game might hurt. But my cock inside you is going to feel good."

A branch banged loudly against the window as the wind picked up with a low and drawn out howl. The room grew perceptibly darker, the air thicker and cloying. A thunderstorm surely approached, and a sudden metallic taste had entered her mouth.

Alexandra trembled violently. Was she dreaming? A wheelchair sat in the middle of the room. Between her and Marcus. Through what seemed like a shimmering mist, Marta was suddenly there.