“Thanks for dropping by this morning,” the man said as Sam stepped out of the car.
She shook his hand and fell into step beside him. “No problem. I appreciate you including me in this process, Mr. Anderson.”
“Well, you are the one who instigated the whole situation,” he said with a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Might as well watch the testing so you can be sure there’s no funny business going on.”
Privately, she’d wondered about the possibility, but thought it would be rude to agree with him, so she kept her mouth shut as they walked through the gate.
“Who’s doing the testing?” She picked her way across the rutted lane, wondering how long it would take to get where they were going. Cody would probably be awake by now.
“Dr. Zetty.” He shaded his eyes from the morning sun, looking across the field. Then he pointed. “The Devil Inside is down in that barn next to the oak tree.”
“That far?” She squinted. “Why are you doing the testing so far out?”
He shrugged and set off down the sloping hill to the dilapidated barn. “Don’t want to disturb the other bulls. It’s a delicate process.”
“Is Dr. Zetty down there already?”
But he was several paces ahead of her and didn’t hear. She hurried to catch up.
“How about your father?”
“Hmm?” He barely glanced at her as he hurried down the hill, arms swinging, his head swiveling from side to side as he looked around. “Oh, no. Dad’s pretty much retired now. He’s turned everything over to me.”
Everything but the decision to test the bull.
As if he’d read her mind, he added, “You know I was against the testing from the start.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, wondering why a working ranch was so quiet at this hour of the morning. Unsettled, she looked over her shoulder at the ranch behind them.
Back where she’d parked her car, the barns and outbuildings looked solid and well-kept. By comparison, the barn they had just reached was all but falling down.
“Well, here we are,” Brett said, tugging the door open and gesturing for her to step inside.
She hesitated. “Maybe we should wait for the others to arrive.”
“I don’t think so.” His eyes narrowed, he took her by the arm and steered her through the doorway.
Her first reaction was to sneeze. Dust wafted through the old wooden structure, testament to how long it had been since anyone had used it for anything but storage.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” she said, eyes darting from side to side.
“And you made it.” The dark-haired man kept his grip on her elbow, his face inches from hers. “Now you’re going to make things right.”
She swallowed. “What are you talking about?”
“I knew you were trouble as soon as I saw you talking to Mr. DeLong outside the hospitality tent.”
Belatedly, Sam realized that was where she’d seen Brett Anderson before—at the rodeo, going in and out of the tent while she and Mr. DeLong had talked. He must have been eavesdropping on the two of them.
“I’ve got a statement here that says you no longer want The Devil Inside tested for steroids. You’re going to sign it, and we’re going to cancel the whole thing. And if anyone asks you, this was all your idea.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “Even if I do sign it, your dad is the one who insisted on the testing. They’re not going to cancel just on my say-so.”
“Oh yes, they will.” He snorted. “My father thinks he runs this place, but he’s nothing but a figurehead. With this statement, and my support, Dr. Zetty will go home and leave us alone. So sign the damn thing.” He thrust a pen at her with his free hand, gesturing with his head at the sheet of paper on the rough workbench just inside the door.
“No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I won’t.”
“Stupid bitch.” He thrust her away from him, glaring at her as she fell to the grimy floor at the far end of the barn. “Fine. I’ll go stop the testing myself.”
“You can’t.”
“Not if you’re around to interfere,” he agreed. “So I’m afraid you’ll be spending a little more time here. At least until I get this problem worked out.”
He stalked back to the entrance of the barn, lifting the crossbar up on the closest stall.
Sam stared in horror as the stall door swung open and the wide head and wicked horns of a full grown bull rounded the corner.
“Enjoy the company,” he taunted as he slipped through the partly open doorway.
She struggled to her feet, backing slowly away from the bull at the other side of the barn. Behind the bull, Brett Anderson shoved the door closed, the scrape of rusted metal echoing through the barn.
Sam looked behind her. As she expected, there was no exit door.
She was trapped in the barn, with fifteen hundred pounds of angry bull standing between her and the only way out.
She thought about yelling for help, but knew it was a lost cause. The barn was so far away from the center of activity on the ranch, no one would be able to hear her.
Except the bull, who might not appreciate the noise.
Sam looked at the bull again. It was now half in, half out of the stall, snorting and blowing as it pawed the floor. Shaking, Sam started to back away.
In response, the bull took a step forward. Then another.
Sam looked around, her eyes barely adjusted to the dim light. To the left was the workbench, bare of anything that could be used as a weapon. To the right, another stall.
Sidling toward it, she tested the gate. It swung open a little, thank God.
Moving slowly, maintaining eye contact with the bull, she tugged the gate open a bit wider and slipped inside.
Then she slammed it shut and scrambled to the far corner.
The sound of hooves on concrete made her bite back a shriek of fear. Moments later, the gate shuddered under the impact as the bull crashed into it.
Scrabbling in her pocket, she finally unearthed her cell phone and, with shaking fingers, started to dial.
Cody’s mom looked up as his dad brought in the last of the grocery bags. “Thanks,” she said with a smile.
“You don’t have to do this,” Cody told her for the thousandth time.
“Nonsense.” She pulled out a loaf of bread and set it aside. “It’s lunchtime. The least I can do is feed you.”
Cody glanced at the clock on the microwave. He was starting to worry about Sam. She should have been home ages ago.
“Now where’s the—oh, there it is,” his mom muttered, pulling a knife out of the silverware drawer.
“Really. When Sam gets home we can order in a pizza or something.” He ruthlessly shoved away the memory of the last pizza he and Sam had shared, and the night that had followed. “Or Chinese food.”
“Is that Chinese restaurant we used to like still around?” His dad sat down on the couch. “That’d be good.”
“Come on, Mom. You’re a guest. Put the condiments down and I’ll call the restaurant.” He pulled the phone book out and picked up the phone, ready to dial.
It rang in his hand, startling all of them.
He clicked it on. “Hello?”
He could feel the blood drain from his face.
“Cody?” His mom put her hand on his arm as he set the phone down on the table. “What’s wrong?”
“We have to get to the hospital.” He limped toward the door as quickly as his injured body would take him. “Sam’s been hurt.”
“This is completely unnecessary.”
Dr. Miller ignored her, of course. “Blood pressure?”
The nurse on duty reported the numbers, then put the cuff away and took out a thermometer.
“I’ll be fine,” Sam mumbled around the instrument in her mouth. “Just let me go home.”
“Not until we’ve determined there are no internal injuries.” Dr. Miller shone a tiny flashlight in her eyes. “Mild concussion, I think, but nothing too worrisome.”
The door to her hopefully temporary hospital room crashed open, Cody leaning against the doorjamb.
Despite the best efforts of the nurse, Sam struggled to a sitting position and pulled the thermometer out of her mouth. “Cody! What are you doing here?”
“Good question,” Dr. Miller said dryly. “Since this area of the hospital is restricted.”
Cody ignored him. “Are you okay? I got here as fast as I could.”
“I’m fine.”
“As fine as she could be after a run-in with a bull.”
Cody pushed away from the doorjamb, standing ramrod-straight. “What?”
Sam closed her eyes. “Thanks a lot, Dr. Miller.”
“It’s the truth.”
Sam turned toward Cody, who looked about ready to rip the room apart if he didn’t get answers soon. “The bull didn’t touch me.”
“Not for lack of trying.”
They all turned to look at the uniformed officer who had just arrived at the doorway to the room. Cody stepped aside to let him in, though he still looked ready to spit nails.
“I’ll be fine,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth, but again, no one wanted to listen to her.
“Maybe you could tell me what’s going on,” Cody said to the officer, his arms crossed over his chest.
The officer who’d found her at the ranch nodded in Sam’s direction. “Miss Quincannon here was out at the Anderson ranch this morning. She was trapped in an abandoned barn with one of their bulls.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
Sam looked over at Cody. “Brett locked me in after I refused to ask for the steroid testing to be cancelled.”
“He what?”
She shrugged, regretting the gesture as soon as her injured shoulder sent waves of pain radiating down her arm. “I hid in one of the stalls. I was calling the police when the bull knocked down the stall door. The door fell on me, which hurt like hell, but it protected me from the bull. So, here I am.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cody slammed his fist into his palm. “I’ll ki—”
“Cody!” Sam gestured at the police officer. “Watch it.”
He turned and stalked over to the window, gripping the sill so hard she was afraid it was going to come off in his hands. “Is he in custody?”
“Yes, sir,” the officer responded.
“Why did he do it?”
“Apparently, he was worried about the results of the test.”
“But his father said they didn’t use steroids. He seemed very credible.”
The police officer nodded. “The father is a straight shooter. As far as we can tell, he had no idea that his son had started using steroids on the bulls in an effort to boost their performance.”
“So he was going behind his dad’s back,” Sam mused. “I wondered why they had such different reactions to the testing idea.”
“Brett Anderson is pretty deeply in debt. We think he saw this as a quick way to earn some extra money.”
“And in the meantime, he attacks Sam and nearly gets her killed.” Cody’s expression was so fierce, even Sam was almost taken aback.
The officer stepped closer to the bed. “I just have a few questions for Miss Quincannon, and then I can let you talk in private.”
Dr. Miller closed his chart with a snap. “Why don’t we wander on down to the waiting room, Cody, and I’ll see if I can get you official permission to visit Sam a little later?”
Cody gave a sharp nod and followed him out of the room, his gaze burning into Sam until he disappeared from sight.
His parents were waiting anxiously in the nondescript lobby when he and Dr. Miller walked in.
Sam’s mother was also there, sitting as far away from his parents as possible without being in another room.
She shot to her feet and rushed over to Dr. Miller, completely ignoring Cody. “Is she okay? What’s going on?”
“Sam has a mild concussion, a bruised shoulder, and quite a few bumps and bruises. All in all, though, she’s a very lucky girl.”
“Lucky!” Sam’s mom gave a humorless laugh. “She could have been killed.”
“But she wasn’t,” Dr. Miller said. “We can be thankful for that.”
“How long before she can go home?”
Dr. Miller looked up at Cody. “As soon as I get the test results, provided they’re negative, of course.”
Cody glanced over at his parents. “Do you mind waiting?”
“Not at all.”
“There’s no need.”
Cody’s mom looked across the room. “Of course we’re not leaving, Leanne. You shouldn’t be alone right now, and neither should Sam.”
“We’ll be fine,” Sam’s mom said through clenched teeth. “We certainly don’t need any rodeo people around.”
Cody took a couple deep breaths before replying. She was Sam’s mother, after all. “I’ll take care of her, Mrs. Alderson. It seems only right for me to return the favor.”
“You?” Her lip curled. “What in the world makes you think I would let you anywhere near my daughter now? This is all your fault.”
“Excuse me?”
“You and the whole damned rodeo! If it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have gone anywhere near that ranch. Isn’t it enough that the rodeo killed my husband? I will not allow it to take my daughter away, too.”
“Please, Leanne, don’t do this.” Cody’s mom stepped forward and put a hand on her arm. “Please don’t push us away again.”
“Again?”
They all turned toward the entryway. Sam sat there in her hospital-required wheelchair. “What do you mean, again?”
Her mother ignored her question, rushing over and checking her injuries. “Oh, sweetheart, how are you? I was worried sick!”
“What did you mean, again?” Sam repeated patiently.
Her mom waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, it’s nothing. Come on, let’s get you home. I’ll have Fred make up the guest room bed.”
“No offense, Mom, but I’d rather go to my apartment.” She rubbed her temple. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired and sore.”
“Don’t be silly. Who would take care of you there?”
Sam didn’t say anything. But her gaze flickered to Cody and back again.
Her mother pinched her lips together and turned away.
“Here are your discharge papers,” Dr. Miller said, walking into the room. He looked around. “And try to keep the stress to a minimum. Your blood pressure is counting on it.” With a frown at the other people in the waiting area, he patted Sam on the shoulder and headed down the hall.
“So what’s it going to be, Sam?” Cody stepped back. “I’d be happy to take care of you, if you’d like.”
She turned a pained look on her mother, then back to Cody. “I’d like,” she said softly.