Unless... He felt his pulse bump up with a jolt. Unless he was headed for the McKenna Ranch. Did Darius not know that Holden wasn’t there? That the rancher was still in the hospital?

  He told himself he could be wrong. But what if this ransom drop had been a ruse, as he was beginning to suspect? Then Darius was making a run for it, trying to get as far away from the Powder River Basin as possible. He already had a million dollars. Why take a chance of getting caught?

  Or maybe Darius wasn’t finished with Holden. Because it had never been about the money?

  He felt his heart spasm at the thought. She’d been alive—at least earlier, when Darius had called. She’d sounded terrified. Stuart had been so sure he was going to get her back, he’d quickly agreed to the trade, even though it meant a long drive out here to this desolate spot.

  He’d never completely trusted his instincts and feared doing so now. It was a good twenty-minute drive back to town and another fifteen to the McKenna Ranch. Did he dare act on a hunch? Did he dare not?

  * * *

  THE STRONG SMELL of gas made Holly Jo’s eyes burn as the man who called himself Darius Reed half dragged her inside the house. Earlier he’d awakened as it was getting dark. “It’s time,” he’d said and had started the pickup.

  He’d had a gun lying within his reach in case they came across anyone as he drove into the ranch. But no one seemed to be around. She’d seen at once that Elaine’s SUV was gone. HH’s was in the drive, though, and she knew there had to be some ranch hands way down at the bunkhouse.

  She looked for the ranch manager to come up from the stables, but no one appeared as her kidnapper parked. They’d sat in the pickup cab, waiting for a few minutes. Nothing moved. No one came outside from the house. No one walked up from the stables or the bunkhouse. Everyone was gone or hadn’t heard them. How was this possible?

  “Guess they’re all at the hospital, waiting to see if Holden pulls through,” Darius said and laughed. “Won’t they be surprised when they come back to find everything burned to the ground. Come on.” He’d untied her from the grab handle above the passenger-side door, but left her hands bound as he’d gotten out and pulled her after him.

  Once inside the house, he’d taken her into the dining room and tied her in a chair, attaching the chair to one of the large legs of the massive table. “So you can watch,” he said before going back outside and returning with one of the large gas cans.

  He’d wandered around through the empty house with the gas can. She could hear him muttering to himself as she heard the splashing sound. The gas fumes grew stronger. “Must be nice living in a place like this,” he said as he passed through on the way to another part of the house. “My sister could have lived here. Terrible shame to burn it down. Ashes to ashes, you know, and karma is a bitch, isn’t it, Holden McKenna.”

  She could hear him getting angrier before he threw down the empty gas can and went out to get another. Her eyes burned from the gas, from fresh tears. She wanted desperately to believe he would untie her. He wouldn’t leave her here to burn alive.

  But when she saw his expression as he returned with the second gas can, she knew that was exactly what he planned to do. He disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen wing of the house. She heard him banging around over the sound of a vehicle. She felt her breath catch, her heart pounding with hope. Someone was coming.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “WHAT WOULD YOUR father have done if mine had tried to blackmail him that night at the McKenna Ranch?” Birdie asked as she turned off the county road and drove toward the house.

  Brand knew that she didn’t expect him to come up with the answer. Not that she gave him a chance to even speculate.

  Earlier, she’d gotten out of bed, put her clothes on and told him the plan. He would have been happy to spend the rest of the day in bed with her, but apparently that wasn’t what she had in mind. “If he didn’t want the truth about his affair and your parentage to come out, he would have killed him.”

  “That’s one thought,” he’d said, climbing out of the bed to get dressed. “Seems a stretch to me, but from what I’ve heard about Holden, I doubt he’d appreciate being blackmailed, especially by his ex-lover’s new husband.”

  “My father was desperate for money so he could come get me,” she’d said defensively.

  He’d turned to look at her. “I don’t think Holden McKenna killed him. According to my mother, Holden didn’t know about me. If he wanted to kill anyone, I think it would have been my mother.”

  “Still, I think my father ran into someone over there, and that’s how he ended up in a well. I’m just wondering what they did with his pickup.”

  Brand had wondered about that, too. “I doubt it’s still on the McKenna Ranch, if that really is where he was killed.”

  “I have to find out if that’s where he died and who’s responsible.” She’d started toward the open window. “Also, there might be an older ranch manager or hand who was around back then who remembers something from that night—especially if things got as violent as I believe they did.”

  “Hold on. Where are you going?”

  “Weren’t you listening? To the McKenna Ranch. I’m betting that most everyone has gone to Billings to see your father in the hospital. I called, and no one answered at the house. This is a good time to search the place.”

  “How about using my front door instead of the window?”

  She’d grinned at him. “You are so thoughtful.” She’d moved swiftly to him, kissing him passionately but slipping away before he could put his arms around her and take the kiss to the next level. “Are you coming?”

  Brand had groaned and reached for his hat. “I know I’m going to regret this,” he’d said under his breath as he followed her to her SUV parked down the road.

  He wasn’t about to go to the McKenna house in a Stafford Ranch pickup with the logo on the side. Even some of the ranch hands at both the McKenna and the Stafford ranches were at war—because of the feud between his mother and biological father.

  Birdie had no idea what she might be instigating. But he also knew that she would go alone if he didn’t go with her. “I can’t imagine what you’re hoping to find,” he said now. “A smoking gun?”

  She shook her head. “As far as I can tell, the last time anyone saw my father was when he turned in to the McKenna Ranch. With Holden in the hospital and everyone away from the house, it’s like they are inviting us to see what we can find over there.”

  “I am fascinated by the way your mind works.” He’d never been in the McKenna Ranch house. He’d never stepped on the property. It had always been off-limits. Now he could admit that he was curious about the place—about his father. He told himself he was only going with Birdie to save her from herself, but he knew that wasn’t all there was to it.

  Under other circumstances, he might have been raised on the McKenna-Stafford Ranch with two loving parents and no range war between them. He thought about CJ, behind bars awaiting trial for what would probably be a life sentence. Would his life have turned out different if Holden and Charlotte hadn’t been at each other’s throats all these years? One thing was definite. Brand wouldn’t have been a bastard, unsure of where he belonged in all this.

  Brand pushed away the what-ifs as he got his first glimpse of the house. It wasn’t until they drove closer that he saw the smoke. It billowed up from the far end of the sprawling ranch house.

  * * *

  LIGHTS AND SIREN ON, Stuart swept through Powder Crossing and onto the county road. As he did, he saw the smoke. It rose into the sky, ebony against the pale gray twilight. He couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from—just in the general direction of the McKenna Ranch. At first there didn’t seem to be that much smoke rising from behind the stand of cottonwoods.

  He told himself it would be a bush fire, but as the plume of smoke widened and grew, he alerted the fire department, afraid he knew exactly where it was coming from. No simple brush fire, he told himself as he raced toward the McKenna Ranch—and the flames were now rising above the tops of the cottonwoods along the river. If he was right, it was coming from the main house.

  His mind spun. Holden was still in the hospital in Billings. As far as he knew, Elaine was there as well. Cooper and Tilly had moved into their new house some miles from the main ranch house. Treyton had moved out. Oakley and Pickett weren’t back from their extended honeymoon. Given all that, who was left at the house? The ranch hands could all be at the bar in town. Wasn’t this poker party night?

  He didn’t have to guess who might have started the fire if his instincts were right. But where was Holly Jo?

  * * *

  AS THE MCKENNA RANCH house came into view, Birdie slowed and let out a gasp. “That’s his pickup.” She looked over at him. “That’s the kidnapper’s pickup parked out front.”

  “He’s set the house on fire,” he said, pointing to the far wing. “If Holly Jo is in there...” Brand was already throwing open his door and getting out even before she brought her SUV to a stop. “Call the sheriff!” he yelled and ran toward the house.

  Of course, Birdie was right behind him, calling 911 as she ran. She reached him as he scaled the front steps and stopped. He grabbed her, drawing her aside. “Do you smell gasoline?”

  She nodded and pointed to the splattered wet spot on the weathered wood of the porch. “The sheriff is on his way.” They exchanged a look that said they both feared he wouldn’t get here in time.

  Brand tried the front door. It was locked. A locked door in rural Montana? He really doubted any of the McKennas had locked the door when they left. Just as he didn’t believe they had doused the place with gasoline.

  There was only one reason for the kidnapper to lock the front door. He’d left something in there he didn’t want anyone to get to.

  Holly Jo.

  “You don’t happen to have a weapon in your rig, do you?” he asked.

  “I’m the only weapon I’ve needed so far.”

  “Right,” he said. “Please stay here and wait for the sheriff.”

  She gave him her you really don’t expect me to do that, do you? look.

  “I’m going around back. We have to find out if Holly Jo is in there.”

  “It’s a big house. We need to split up,” she said.

  “Bad idea. We don’t know where the kidnapper is.”

  If Birdie heard him, she didn’t answer as she moved to a window and tried it. This was rural Montana. No one locked their windows either. She shoved it open—just as she had his bedroom window earlier—and before he could argue, she swung a leg up and over to drop into the room and disappear from view.

  Brand swore and ran for the back of the house. On the way, he looked for something he could use as a weapon. He found a fallen limb from one of the cottonwood trees. It was a good three inches around and about two feet long. He hefted it as he kept racing toward the back door.

  The moment he went around the corner of the house, he saw more smoke curling out of a broken window in the far wing. The smell of smoke and gasoline was stronger back here. Brand felt the clock ticking. He had to find Holly Jo. If the kidnapper had brought her here, then she was somewhere in the house. He had no idea where the kidnapper was but knew that the man might ignite the entire house at any moment.

  At the back door, he felt the doorknob. Not hot yet. He opened the door and saw that it led into the dining room. Beyond it was the living room. And there was Holly Jo. She was tied to a chair, gagged and frantically trying to free herself.

  When she saw him, her eyes widened first in alarm, then in hope. Both were heartbreaking to see in the girl as Brand rushed to her, the smell of gasoline filling his nostrils as if the kidnapper had drenched the entire house in it.

  “I’m Brand Stafford. It’s going to be all right,” he promised her even as she shook her head as if no longer believing that. He set down the limb he’d picked up and removed her gag before hurriedly trying to untie her. She’d been bound to the large chair and tied to a metal ornament on a log coffee table.

  “He’s going to come back!” she cried. “He’ll catch you and kill you. He has a gun!”

  “It’s okay,” he said, realizing that there wasn’t time to untie her. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  She began to cry, shaking her head, then staring behind him as if she expected the kidnapper to appear at any moment. He felt the prickle on the back of his neck, worried that she was right. Her kidnapper had wound yards of rope around her, tying intricate knots as if determined that she wasn’t going to be set free in time.

  Brand pulled out his pocketknife, but he wasn’t even sure he could free her by cutting some of the rope away. He began sawing at the thick rope binding her not just to the chair, but to the huge coffee table next to her.

  As he tried to reassure Holly Jo, he worried that Birdie might have already crossed paths with the gun-toting kidnapper. He hadn’t heard a gunshot, but would he have, given how noisy the fire was? Smoke rolled up the hallway and began filling the living room. He figured the flames wouldn’t be far behind. If he could have freed the chair from the heavy coffee table, he would have carried it out of the house. No doubt the kidnapper had thought of that, expecting someone to try to stop him and save Holly Jo.

  He’d cut through a half dozen of the ropes around her and was trying to pull one free when he saw Holly Jo’s eyes go wide. She opened her mouth and screamed, “No!”

  Brand still had the pocketknife in his hand as he swung around. He only caught a glimpse of the man before the butt end of a gun slapped into the side of his head. The blow stunned him. He fumbled with his free hand for the tree branch he’d dropped by Holly Jo’s feet while he struck out with the knife.

  At the kidnapper’s cry of pain, he drove the blade deeper into the man’s thigh and tried to avoid another blow. He’d knocked the man a little off balance, and yet the next blow dropped Brand to his knees.

  As his vision began to darken, he spotted Birdie. He opened his mouth to warn her. Behind him he heard Holly screaming right before everything went black.

  * * *

  BIRDIE HAD WORKED her way through the house looking for Holly Jo. There had been so many doors to open, so many rooms to do a quick search in. She’d heard the roar of the fire growing louder, her heart pounding as time raced by. If you don’t find her soon... The words were like a mantra keeping time with her running footfalls.

  She’d searched the entire wing before coming out in the living room to a scene that threatened to stop her heart. Holly Jo tied to a chair. Brand knocked to the floor, unmoving. All she could think was that she had to get to him. Get to him and the girl.

  Holly Jo screamed as she saw Birdie, her eyes wide with alarm and fear—and warning.

  Birdie’s first impulse was to attack. The kidnapper’s back was turned. He seemed to be holding his thigh as if in pain. She lunged forward, already moving toward the man, when she saw what the kidnapper had in his hand. A gun.

  She slid to a stop on the wet floor, her gaze going to Holly Jo, who seemed to be motioning with her head for Birdie to hide.

  * * *

  HOLLY JO FELT her throat close, the last of a scream dying on her lips as she looked from Brand Stafford lying face down on the floor to Darius standing over him. She told herself not to look in the woman’s direction for fear Darius would see her. Someone had said her name was Birdie Malone. She liked the name Birdie, so she’d remembered it.

  She wanted to scream again, afraid he was going to kill the man who’d come to save her. Darius stared down at Brand Stafford for a moment, then pocketed the gun. She’d seen Brand around too, though she hadn’t known his name, only that he was from the Stafford Ranch and that no one over there liked the McKennas.

  Her kidnapper was bleeding and whimpering as he pressed a hand over his thigh and blood rushed over his fingers. He swore and picked up the gas can he’d been carrying when he’d hit Brand with his gun.

  At a sound deep in the house, he frowned. “Stay here,” he said to her. As if she was going anywhere. He turned and started up the stairs, sloshing gas over the steps as he went.

  Holly Jo waited until Darius disappeared upstairs before she looked in the direction where she’d last seen Birdie. She wasn’t there. What if she didn’t come back? The smoke from the burning wing was growing thicker. It hurt to breathe. She looked down at Brand. Was he dead? She didn’t think so. She thought he was still breathing. She strained against the ropes binding her. He’d managed to cut some of them away, but not enough. She tried to nudge him with her foot. She touched his leg, but he didn’t move.

  Then she spotted the pocketknife. If she could reach it, drag it to her...

  As she pulled harder, one of the loops of rope gave from where he’d cut it. She realized she might be able to get free. Darius had gone out of his way to tie her securely, no doubt determined that this time she wasn’t getting away.

  She pulled harder and was able to wiggle one hand free, then the other. She began to work frantically at getting her ankles free. Any moment Darius could come back down those stairs. Brand had cut enough of the rope that she was able to unwind most of it, but there was one piece tied to the coffee table that would not give. She was fighting it when Birdie came out of the smoke like an apparition from the hallway to the kitchen. She had what appeared to be a wet towel wrapped around her face, two more in one hand and a large butcher knife in the other. Holly Jo wasn’t even sure she was real until she fell to her knees and said, “Wrap this towel around your mouth and nose to keep out the smoke.”