Casey appeared horrified to the music coming from the radio. "Oh, come on. Not country music," she suddenly protested. "This is cruel and unusual punishment." She collapsed against the backseat and groaned with disgust.

Vaughn strummed the steering wheel in rhythm with the drumming in the song. Casey rolled her eyes. At least he wasn't singing. He then sang the refrain purposely out of tune. She cast a glare at the back of his head. For a moment, she swore he was smiling at her in the rearview mirror.

It was 11:30 P.M., and it had been half an hour since the tavern was cleared out by Darwood Falls' finest. The four Harford boys hung out in the dark woods not far from the tavern. Fred kept watch on the road barely visible through the woods while Ryan, Wayne, and Blain rubbed various body parts in response to the pain Casey had inflicted upon them. In Blain's case, it was pain Grey had inflicted.

"I'm going to kill that b.i.t.c.h," Wayne scoffed and cast his back against a nearby tree. He immediately regretted the action and rubbed his back.

Ryan gingerly rubbed his crotch several times and remained uncomfortable. "Stand in line," he groused without taking his hand from his crotch. "d.a.m.n it, I can't feel my b.a.l.l.s. That b.i.t.c.h dug her claws into them and almost ripped them off."

"I guess daddy's been teaching them a thing or two from his military days," Blain scoffed and rubbed his head. "That p.r.i.c.k, Grey, didn't hit that hard, but he knew where to hit."

"She's not getting away with it," Wayne growled and straightened with discomfort. "I'll get even with that b.i.t.c.h."

"Better make sure she doesn't see you coming," Ryan remarked and again tugged at his crotch. "Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h! I think she did rip them off!"

"I think we're clear," Fred said from his position overlooking the road. He'd somehow managed to avoid taking a beating like his brothers. He was either smarter than he looked or less aggressive than he pretended. "Sheriff Wiley just left."

"We'll wait a few more minutes then go back for the truck," Wayne muttered.

It was now close to midnight, and it had been an hour since Vaughn parked in his speed trap with Casey locked in the back of the police blazer. Casey was now slouched in the backseat while staring at the ceiling with boredom. She couldn't believe he was holding firm on his ridiculous punishment. She knew he had it out for her, but she swore he was getting some sort of perverse pleasure out of detaining her like this. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't think of anything that would help her situation--only make things worse. She had a few choice names she was just dying to call him at that moment. She bit her tongue and attempted to play it cool. She couldn't let him know he was winning. Vaughn held a crossword puzzle book in his hand and thoughtfully tapped his pen to his lips.

"What's a seven letter word for fried batter? Begins with an 'f'," Vaughn asked while deep in thought.

"f.u.c.ker--" Casey muttered.

Vaughn casually consulted his crossword puzzle with a serious look. "Hmm? No, that's six letters."

Casey screamed in her mind. She couldn't believe she actually thought he was cute when he was first hired. She sneered while staring at his profile in the front seat. He actually was cute, and it irritated her to no end. She was almost glad she hit him now. She refrained from expressing those feelings as well. In her current situation, p.i.s.sing him off could still result in him killing her, dismembering her body, and scattering body parts throughout the woods. Casey grimaced at her own morbid thoughts. She sort of doubted Deputy Holt was the serial killer type. She again glanced at his profile. Vaughn was too much of a Boy Scout for that. She was quickly running out of ways to entertain herself mentally.

The empty tavern was filled with broken bottles, overturned tables, broken chairs, and food carelessly scattered about the floor. It was just a little after midnight. Grey evaluated the scattered chairs and replaced those that weren't broken. Melanie and Jeannie cleaned up the broken gla.s.s.

"Well this sucks," Melanie scoffed.

"At least we get to go home early," Jeannie replied with little enthusiasm.

"Yeah, after doing twice the clean-up and zero tips," she huffed.

Melanie glared at Grey's back several times and sneered with disgust at their situation. Jeannie dumped gla.s.s from her dustpan into the bag near Melanie, who still glared at Grey.

"It's all his fault," Melanie snapped lowly, catching Jeannie's attention.

Jeannie uncertainly glanced at Grey, who replaced one of the tables then looked back at Melanie. "How is it his fault?" she asked. "He was just defending his sister."

Melanie rolled her eyes, groaned softly, and glared at Jeannie, who now collected unbroken bottles from the floor. "Casey obviously did something to provoke them."

Jeannie straightened and glared at Melanie, who appeared almost clueless. "Stop defending your cousins, Mel," she snapped. "Thanks to those illegitimate perverts, I have bruises on my a.s.s and my b.o.o.bs."

She gave Jeannie a quick once over and sneered in response. "With the way you dress, of course they're going to make pa.s.ses at you," Melanie remarked. "Men want to see cleavage. It gets us better tips. You have to expect some harmless flirting."

"Harmless flirting?" Jeannie nearly exploded. "Copping a feel is not harmless flirting, and this goes way beyond just copping a feel!"

"You're such a drama queen," Melanie scoffed lowly and walked away.

Jeannie stared after her with surprise.

Wayne and his brothers emerged from the woods near the tavern just moments later and crossed the parking lot. Ryan suddenly stopped and stared at the gray horse tied to the hitching post by itself. A devious grin crossed Ryan's face.

"Wayne," he called up ahead.

The three brothers turned and looked back at Ryan. He deviously indicated the tied horse. All three approached and stared at Storm, who appeared to be lazily dozing.

"That's Casey's horse, right?" Ryan announced.

Wayne suddenly grinned and slapped Ryan on the arm. He grimaced with discomfort. Obviously, that was sore as well. Blain and Fred were a little slow catching on to the conversation.

"What's the plan?" Blain asked.

"I think a bucket of anti-freeze," Wayne replied with a sinister grin.

"That'll kill the horse," Fred protested.

The three boys looked at their brother and raised their brows while grinning.

"No s.h.i.t," Ryan replied.

"That's going a little too far," Fred remarked. "We're not killing the horse."

"Yeah, and where would we get anti-freeze this time of night?" Blain replied with a defeated sigh.

"Fine," Wayne scoffed, "we won't kill the horse. We'll untie it and chase it off."

"That's better," Fred said.

Ryan approached the horse, which now woke up and watched him. He untied the reins from the hitching post and threw them over the horse's neck. Storm looked back at the wall before him and propped his back foot without a care. All four stared at the horse.

"How do we make him move?" Blain asked.

"Don't they yell 'yah' or some s.h.i.t?" Ryan asked.

"Ah, h.e.l.l," Wayne snorted. "You just hit them on the a.s.s."

Wayne smacked Storm on the rump. The horse snorted and tossed his head. His ears pinned in response.

"Well, that really worked," Ryan remarked.

"We need to hit it with something," Wayne announced then looked around.

He grabbed a thick branch and approached the horse from behind. As he raised the branch, Storm snorted and kicked Wayne in the abdomen. Wayne was thrown to the ground, clutching his abdomen, and writhing in agony.

"Stupid horse!" Ryan cried out and swung his fist for the horse's nose.

Storm's ears suddenly pinned back as he lunged for Ryan's arm. The horse bit his forearm. Ryan cried out, jumped away from the horse, and clutched his arm.

"s.h.i.t!" Ryan cried out. "The f.u.c.king horse bit me!"

Without warning, Storm lunged for the four men with his teeth bared and his hooves thrashing. As his large head swung wildly, all four boys scattered. They ran for their truck with the horse in pursuit. All four jumped inside the truck. The truck started. Storm spun around and kicked the pa.s.senger side door with his back hooves, causing a large dent. The truck burned out in reverse, turned, and sped away. Storm snorted then returned to the hitching post at a leisurely walk.

Another hour had pa.s.sed, now a little after 1:00 A.M., and it was nearly two hours Vaughn had kept Casey locked in the back of his patrol blazer. Casey sat on the backseat floor with her head against the mesh divider and her bare feet propped against the backseat. Vaughn appeared to be sleeping while slumped in his seat. From her position on the floor, she could see his profile. He was only a few inches from her where he slept. For a moment, she actually thought he looked almost innocent while asleep. She couldn't help but wonder what it was that her mother liked so much about him. Did her mother think Deputy Holt was good looking? Is that why she secretly hoped he'd become sheriff when Wiley retired? That was a creepy thought. The radio continued to play soft country music. Casey sang softly to the romantic song on the radio. Vaughn opened his eyes and listened as she sang. A tiny smile crossed his face, although she couldn't see it.

"I thought you hated country music?"

Casey suddenly silenced. "I thought you were asleep," she muttered softly. She didn't exactly hate Deputy Holt, but it seemed as if they were always at each other's throats. Casey was sure her mother couldn't be right. She had been nice to him in the past, but it didn't alter the way he treated her. Perhaps she should use her confinement to ask the question finally. "Why do you have it out for me?"

"I don't have it out for you," he announced simply. "You're a spoiled little girl who gets coddled when what she really needs is a good spanking."

His words floored her, causing her to turn slightly on her hip and stare at his profile. His face was only inches from hers through the part.i.tion. Since when was she a spoiled, little girl? Melanie was spoiled. She found his comment insulting but quickly masked her hostility.

"Huh? Okay," she remarked gently. "You wanting to spank me is a little disturbing."

Vaughn glared his disapproval at her through the part.i.tion. She stared into his eyes a moment and suddenly felt uncomfortable being that close to him. She'd never actually looked into his eyes before. She'd never seen such dark eyes. Casey looked away, moved to the seat, and faced forward. Vaughn sat up as well. She was getting tired, and playing games with Deputy Holt was unsatisfying.

"What time is it?" she asked with a weary sigh.

"Almost one."

Casey groaned softly and rolled her eyes. It was ridiculous that he had kept her there so long. There were laws against kidnapping, although she wasn't sure if they applied to Darwood Falls' finest. Deputy Holt seemed to enjoy making up his own rules. She remained uncomfortable and still felt his eyes upon her. She glanced at him. He was staring at her through the rearview mirror with those dark eyes. She felt her entire body tense and shifted with discomfort.

"Grey will be home a little after two. If he gets home and I'm not there, he's going to call Sheriff Wiley."

"I don't care what you tell Sheriff Wiley."

Casey placed her bare feet against the mesh divider, played with the grates with her toes, and frowned while staring out the side window into the darkness. Vaughn continued to study her through the mirror. She was feeling particularly self-conscious now. She wished he'd stop staring at her.

"I don't intend to tell him anything. I wouldn't want to get you fired," Casey said gently. "You're probably the only honest cop in this messed up town. I hit you, and you had every right to be mad. Sheriff Wiley shouldn't berate you for doing your job."

There was an odd silence. Vaughn straightened in his seat and started the blazer.

"I should get you home."

Casey quickly sat up with renewed enthusiasm. She was surprised by his sudden change of mind. Had he waited all that time for an apology? She had said she was sorry right after she hit him. It didn't make sense. She decided not to overthink it. It was late, and she was tired.

"Can you take me back for my horse?"

"Your brother was told to take your horse home," he informed her.

"He doesn't ride in the dark. There was that whole bat incident--"

Vaughn groaned with disgust. "Fine, but I'm driving by your place to make sure you went directly home," he remarked sternly and again looked at her through the mirror with his dark eyes.

"If I'm not there, you have my permission to spank me," she teased.

Vaughn appeared stunned while staring at her through the mirror. She caught his look and chuckled softly. She was proud of herself; she'd rendered the Boy Scout speechless.

It was almost 1:30 A.M. when Grey's car pulled up to the Remington farmhouse. He was almost an hour earlier than usual, since the barroom brawl shut them down early. There was a light on at the house and one above the barn. Grey got out of his car looking nearly exhausted and slightly battered from his impromptu bout with Blain Harford. He glanced at the barn as he headed for the house and suddenly stopped. Casey's horse wasn't in the pasture with the others. If her horse had been outside the tavern, he hadn't seen it. If he was honest with himself, he hadn't actually looked. He appeared curious as he stared then frowned and shook his head.

"You'd better believe Sheriff Wiley's going to hear about this," Grey scoffed then headed for the house.

He unlocked the door and entered with disgust. The kitchen was dimly lit by the light above the stove, which his mother usually left on for him upon returning late at night. He heard his parents' moving around in their room upstairs. It seemed odd that they would be up so late. They were used to his late hours at the tavern and never waited up anymore. Perhaps his father realized Casey never made it home. As long as his father was up, there was no reason not to share another story of corrupt law enforcement with him. His father would also cause more of a commotion with Deputy Holt not returning Casey immediately following Sheriff Wiley's orders. A thought suddenly occurred to Grey. What if Deputy Holt did something to Casey? Vaughn Holt had always been the quiet one. It was those quiet ones who often caused the most trouble. Grey was suddenly concerned for Casey. He needed to alert his father more now than ever. He needed to make sure his sister was okay. He was about to head up the back, kitchen stairs, when he heard his father coming down the living room stairs. Grey hurried across the kitchen for the living room.

Chapter Seven.

It was almost 1:45 A.M. by the time Casey rode her horse up the long, gravel driveway to the farmhouse. She had been on autopilot nearly the entire ride home. Storm knew the way to the farm. Horses could always find their way home. She dismounted near the barn, wearily unsaddled her horse, and turned him loose into the paddock. After returning her saddle to the tack room within the barn, she headed toward the house. She couldn't believe how exhausted she was from doing nothing all night. Grey's car was parked out front. She was a little surprised he was home early, but it probably had something to do with the brawl. Thankfully, Grey had left the light on for her. She didn't doubt he was sitting up waiting for her. Despite their differences, Grey could be a little protective over her. With corruption in their town, his protectiveness wasn't surprising. Casey entered the dimly lit kitchen and found it odd that there were no other lights on. Maybe Grey hadn't waited up for her after all. It actually didn't bother her; she was too tired to get into the entire Deputy Holt debate with him tonight anyway.

She had been heading for the backstairs, when she heard a faint thump from the living room. Casey paused by the kitchen steps, looked to the living room archway, and appeared bewildered. Maybe Grey had waited up for her after all. She debated just heading to bed to avoid the long debate that was sure to follow, but thought better of it. He would undoubtedly enter her room, once again without permission, and just disturb her sleep anyway. It was best just to get it out of the way now. She headed across the kitchen and entered the dimly lit living room. Casey suddenly stopped. Grey lie on the floor and was covered in blood. She gasped with horror and ran toward him. He weakly lifted his head and saw her as she approached.

"Casey," he suddenly gasped. "Run!"

Casey slid to a stop halfway to him, spun around, and came face-to-face with a masked intruder holding a large hunting knife. As the intruder raised the knife, Casey screamed and impulsively thrust her palms into his chest, shoving him away from her. The knife slashed her forearm as he stumbled backwards. Casey felt the sting but was almost unaware of her injury as she darted past him. She ran across the kitchen and up the backstairs rather than out the front door. The intruder chased after her and was only a few feet behind. She grabbed a photo from the wall, spun, and struck him with it. The gla.s.s shattered against his elbow as he shielded his head. She then planted her foot into his shoulder from her elevated position on the stairs above him, and shoved him down the stairs. He stumbled down a few steps but caught his balance. Casey continued up the stairs with a greater head start now. She bolted into the dark master bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it. She turned while out of breath toward her parents' bed.

"Dad! Someone's in the house!"

There was no response. Fear swept over her as she flipped the light switch on the wall next to the door. Her mother and father were lying partially beneath the blood-soaked covers. Her father appeared to have been stabbed in his sleep with a single stab wound to his neck. Her mother had obviously tried to defend herself, indicated by the cuts to her hands and arms, and was half off the bed. Casey stared at her butchered parents while frozen with fear. For a moment, it didn't seem real. There was a thump against the door, jolting her out of her daze. She ran toward the bed and grabbed the bedside phone near her slain father. There was no dial tone. She cried out while tossing the phone aside then hesitated only a moment before removing a key from the bedside drawer. She ran for the nearby gun cabinet. The door vibrated again. Casey fumbled with the key in trembling hands and unlocked the cabinet as the bedroom doorframe suddenly splintered. She removed a double-barrel shotgun as the door flew open, turned toward the door, and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.

The intruder saw the shotgun and dove out of the room as buckshot from both barrels exploded the door. Casey tossed the shotgun aside and grabbed the .357 Magnum revolver. Her mind had momentarily shut down and she intended to shoot the first thing that moved. When nothing moved, she uncertainly approached the shattered door and steadied the ma.s.sive gun as it trembled in her hands. There was no one there. She could barely control her heavy breathing as she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. She looked both directions while steadying the gun then hurried along the hall with her back to the wall. She only paused once before her darkened, open bedroom door to peer inside. The sheer curtains fluttered inward from a breeze blowing through the open window. Nothing else moved within the darkened room. She hurried past her bedroom and for the back, kitchen stairs while attempting to make as little sound as possible.

Casey appeared on the backstairs with the gun leveled and her back to the wall. The dimly lit kitchen was empty and nothing moved. She looked at the closed kitchen door with the fear evident on her face. She considered her options only once and darted to the cupboard beneath the sink. She removed a first aid kit and hurried for the living room. She paused within the archway to the living room, looked around for signs of the intruder, and then hurried to Grey's side. She set down the large gun and fumbled through the medical kit.

"I'm here. It's okay," she said softly to him.