Chasing the Wild (Crimson Ridge, #1)

by Elliott Rose

“You’ve been a client of ours since May last year.” I quickly do the math. That was about a month before Kayce and I officially ended things. He’d been sponging off me, staying in my apartment for almost six weeks by that point, if I remember rightly. What a piece of shit. “And how long do I have to make the full payment?” I think I’ve gone numb. At this point, I’m just going through the motions. “Because you are already three weeks behind in your repayments, you have passed our leniency period when we might consider extensions or requests for other alternative payment structures.” She drones into the speaker. “We tried to contact you at your primary listed number multiple times, Miss Birch, but you have been unresponsive.” Hot tears prick the back of my throat. “Fine. Just tell me the due date, please.”

None of this is my fault, nor should this loan even have been allowed to be registered in my name. What would something like this do for my future? I’m twenty-five and work every goddamn hour of my life just to make ends meet, for fuck’s sake. I don’t have a life, I don’t go out, and this is the shit that gets tossed my way? Bitterness starts to churn somewhere deep in my gut. “You must repay the amount in full by January tenth at the latest. We accept bank transfers and deposits, no credit.”

My fingers wrap around the steering wheel like a vise as I imagine it being Kayce’s pretty boy neck. “I want to punch him in his smug fucking face and knee him in the balls. Actually, scratch that, I want to string him up by his balls and castrate him like a bull.” I yell into the unhinged voicemail I’m leaving my best friend, Sage. Letting her know where I’m going, so at least one person in this world knows where to look for me. “That douchebag took out a loan in my name without asking, and then forgot to meet his payments. And, fucking typical, his number is going straight to nowhere. He is the worst. THE WORST.”

“So in case you have to look for my body, instead of being on my way to my new job, I gotta detour back to Crimson Ridge … it’s a fucking tiny place, in the depths of goddamn winter, because hell will freeze over before I let him get away with this shit. You will be pleased to know I’m channeling my inner Sage Maloney and will absolutely claw his eyes out of his motherfucking skull.”

My phone has the address pulled up on screen, but I remember the drive towards Devil’s Peak like it was yesterday. I also remember the last time I was here as if it were yesterday, too. Colton Wilder. Over the course of the past five months, I’ve replayed our conversation at the gas station a hundred times. In quiet moments, especially while lying in bed, always oh-so-fucking-alone, my mind can’t help but keep returning to that day and raking over every detail with a fine-tooth comb. Did I completely misread his signals? Maybe. Possibly. Ugh.

Most of the trees up this high are covered in a sugary dusting of snow, but the house and yard are clear. For now, at least. Judging by the clouds, it looks like there’s more snow heading this way. Hurling myself out of the vehicle, I slam the door, feeling fired up and ready to serve both barrels to my asshole ex. Those last few miles were filled with giving myself a pep talk about all the creative techniques I intend on using while skinning Kayce alive. Only, I’m crossing the yard, and it feels a lot emptier than before. Last time I was here, there were a couple of vehicles, and now there is only the sight of the big stallion of a truck that presumably belongs to Colton Wilder.

“You lost or something?” A gruff voice shouts from over by the entrance to the barn, and I’m halfway toward the steps leading up to the front door when a familiar figure strides in my direction. My ex-boyfriend’s father is kitted out in a rugged weatherproof jacket, with a faded ball cap on backward. His hands and side of his face are smeared in blood, and those hazel eyes of his are burning. But that’s not what makes my heart stop in my throat. It’s the sight of the bloodied carcass slung across his shoulders.

His sharp gaze flicks between me and my shitty little car, and recognition colors his features. “Is Kayce here?” My stomach churns. “Thought you two were broken up.” He tosses a giant knife down beside the gutted animal. The blade glistens, slick with red as it clatters against the metal. I find myself unable to look away from the slaughtered beast laid out right before me. “We are.” I can’t get into this with him right now. My skin feels prickly as all hell. I just need this money disaster sorted and can’t wait to get out of here before that ominous-looking weather rolls in. You don’t need to live on a mountain to know things are always more extreme, more likely to flip on a dime, at altitude. “I just … I need to talk to him is all.” “He knock you up?” Jesus. What the fuck? Speechless doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now. Who the hell does this asshole think he is?

“Kayce isn’t here. Try one of the bars in town.” With that, he stomps past me up the steps and kicks off his boots at the door. Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. A snowflake lands on the back of my hand, and that cold kiss against my skin seems to galvanize me into action. “Whatever,” I mutter and turn back for my car. My teeth are gritted so tight there’s every chance I’m going to crack a molar, and I yank the door open with far more force than necessary. The giant dickhead watches me from just outside his front door, as if he’s standing guard to make sure I leave his property. Gladly. Asshole.

Blinding rage sweeps right down the back of my neck beneath my sweater. Rounding the first bend, I see the clumps of snow start to drift faster and harder in my rearview mirror as the ominous outline of Devil’s Peak disappears behind a cluster of pine trees. Good fucking riddance. Now, I’ve just got to get back into town and ransack every inch of Crimson Ridge until I chase down my good-for-nothing ex. I’m still smarting from the way that man just spoke to me. The scathing tone of his voice and immediate assumption about my circumstances has my hands shaking.

Except, when I continue following the path back down the mountain the car starts to shudder beneath me. My heart is in my throat as it fishtails a little and I’m suddenly seeing just how steep the drop off on the side of the road is, plummeting into the darkness of the ravine below. The jolting gets worse, and my car gives a groan as I apply the brake and pull over to the side. With an awful demonic sound, it lurches to a halt with a relentless knocking. Steam proceeds to billow from under the hood. There’s a grinding of metal against metal and a heavy clank that absolutely doesn’t sound good, before everything dies.

“No. No. No. Come on, come onnnn.”

All the while, thick clumps of snow settle on my windshield so fast, that within seconds I can’t see the hood of my car any longer. I’m so fucked.

Colt

There’s a girl nearly half my age standing in my kitchen with puffy red eyes. It looks like she’s either going to try and swing at me, or crumple like a tissue. “I just need to arrange a tow truck. Please.” She won’t fucking sit down, even though I’ve offered her a stool at the kitchen island several times. Letting out a heavy sigh, I rest both hands on the countertop. Trying to keep my eyes on her face. Trying not to think about the fact the girl from the gas station is here. She’s here and standing in my kitchen.

Of course, her piece of shit car broke down. I’m not at all surprised, more amazed it actually made it up here in the first place. I’d barely had a chance to hang the deer, shower off the blood, and get dressed when she reappeared. Banging on the front door, frozen to the bone from having to walk from wherever she abandoned her car in the snow.

She’s got a look in her eyes like the horses do when something has spooked them. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s running from something. But none of this shit is my problem. Kayce has fucked up again? Big surprise. That kid never knows when to quit, or how to keep his dick in his pants. If he isn’t too drunk for either of those things, of course. The way this girl has shown up twice in the space of several months has my teeth on edge.

“If you could just tow me yourself—” “Sorry. Even if I could get your vehicle down to the shop, the snow would be settled by then. Can’t risk getting stuck in town.” “But … it wouldn’t take long …” She’s looking at me with those fucking mossy green, pleading eyes, and bitterness lines my throat. This isn’t my problem. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t know what shit you’ve got yourself into with my son, but I’ve got a business up here and livestock to take care of. If I take you down the mountain, I won’t be getting back myself until the roads get cleared, and that could take weeks.”

The next moment, she’s headed off toward the front door. I’m not exactly sure what the fuck this girl intends on doing, but it’s turned into a blizzard already out there in the time it took her to walk back up to the house. “Hey,” I call after her. She’s either not listening, or is ignoring me. Pinching my brow, I hesitate in the kitchen rather than follow after a girl I don’t even know. My son’s fuck buddy? Girlfriend? Jesus Christ. She could be a buckle bunny from his time on the rodeo circuit, for all I know.

The thought quickly tightens my chest. That girl has haunted me since the day outside the gas station over summer. Turns out she’s Kayce’s woman. I’d shoved aside everything about our interaction months ago, but seeing her again, unexpectedly, has brought all sorts of memories flooding back. The kind that need to stay buried the fuck away.

see the outline of her shoulders disappearing down the steps into the thick flurries of white whipping around the yard. She’s barely got more than a thin sweater and jeans on. Christ, does she have a death wish or something? Of course, Kayce would go for the crazy ones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yell into the wind as I shrug into my coat and boots. But she keeps heading down the steps like she’s got somewhere to be, and I have to lengthen my stride to grab her before she does something fucking stupid. Catching up to her in the yard, my fingers wrap around her arm, but when I yank the girl around to look at me, the stricken expression contorting her features is instantly recognizable. There’s a mask frozen on her face I know all too well. Shit. Hands clamped into fists. Mouth hanging open like she can’t taste oxygen. There’s a glazed look to her green eyes and even though I’m standing right here in front of her, she’s not seeing me right now. That much I know from personal experience. “Come here,” I mutter and bundle the coat around her shoulders, but she’s as rigid as a plank, and it’s not due to the cold. Panic attacks aren’t pretty at the best of times, but in the middle of a below-freezing snowstorm, having her locked up like this could be deadly. I’m cursing my son with every unholy thought I can muster as we get safely back inside, setting her down on the armchair closest to the fire. Gently pushing her head to drop between her knees, I leave the room for a moment, going to rifle through the pantry and cupboards.

I do my best to soothe her, encouraging her to sit up now and pressing the paper bag I’ve just grabbed from the kitchen over her nose and mouth and slowly rub circles on her back. It’s not a perfect solution by any means, but right now, it’s the best I can do to triage a crappy situation. “You gotta breathe nice and slow for me. You’re ok.” I see the bag inflate just a fraction, then hollow out. “Slow. Deep breath. Again.” We sit like that for a long moment. Me talking this stranger through a panic attack while planning multiple ways to murder my own son.

That’s enough for me to toss the bag aside and with my free hand, I take one of hers and then the other. Massaging the tense muscles, I help her fingers to straighten out. As I do so, I feel her stiff frame ease slightly beneath my palm. Guiding her by the shoulder, I press a little, encouraging her to shift her body more upright. “Count to four while you breathe in.” Her eyes won’t meet mine, and I’m not surprised. It was the same for me. Afterward was always somehow worse. Confident that she’s somewhat out the other side of it, I get up and head over to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. While there, I swipe a bag of gummy worms from the back of the pantry. Returning to the lounge, I crouch down on my haunches, holding out the water. “Can you take a sip of that for me?” Nodding, she clutches it in two hands, bringing it to her mouth, grip more than a little unsteady. “Good. Now eat these …” Removing the water, I offer an exchange and hand over two worms, setting the glass down on the coffee table beside her. “And don’t think about moving.”

Whatever is going on with this girl, it’s bad enough to send her spiraling into a panic attack, and I’ve got a really bad fucking feeling about the trouble she’s got herself into. There are too many old, familiar sensations buzzing through my veins right now. Memories of fluorescent lighting and the smell of disinfectant. Shoes squeaking along hospital corridors and the beep of machinery at all hours of day and night. Wanting to crawl out of my own skin all because of a stupid fucking mistake I’d made at seventeen years old when I thought nothing could ever touch me. How wrong I was nine months later when the consequences of one foolish decision arrived.

“All good up there, old man?” “Stôrmand,” I grunt in reply. “Piss off with that Stôrmand bullshit, Wilder.”

“Mountain roads are closed. Spoke with Hayes a couple of minutes ago.” Storm continues on. Sheriff Cameron Hayes is a good bastard. Another man I’d consider a friend and someone who I will happily grab a drink with and give the time of day to. Man works his ass off over winter to make sure the mountain is cleared as fast as possible, on top of everything required of him on the Hayes family ranch, and I can always rely on him to keep in touch to let me know how conditions are looking out there. Especially when we become cut off from the rest of the world here on Devil’s Peak.

“Weather should fuck off quick enough, it’s only likely to keep snowing until tomorrow.” “You’re all good for supplies over there?” I mean, the man might have spent a career hanging onto the back of a bull like a goddamn lunatic, but he’s particularly shit at taking care of himself. Storm lives hard and fast, and more than once, I’ve wondered if he gives a damn about anything other than horses and finding his next one-night stand. “Aw. Offering to saddle up, ride over here and tuck me in are you, sunshine?” “Fuck you very much.” He chuckles. “Still need a hand with the next cattle round-up?” “Assuming you can get your ugly ass up here by then … you know I won’t say no.”

“You ok?” I grab a couple more logs from the stack against the wall and start loading up the fire. “Maybe. I don’t know.” A bit of a raspy edge colors her voice, sounding sexy as fuck, and the very, very wrong response my body has is to feel a rush of blood heading to my dick. This girl is pale and shaky and has hardly pulled herself together, and I’m thinking about what that voice would sound like gasping my name in the dark? Of course, that’s where my mind goes. Of course it does. Because I’ve thought about her way too many times over the past few months, and now I’m having all my fucked up daydreams, unexpected desires I’ve never felt compelled by before now, thrown back in my face.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” My voice is hard. But then, I don’t know any other way to be, especially not with someone soft and pretty and so fucking young. She’s got to be close in age to Kayce, and that puts her in her mid-twenties at the most. That puts her firmly in the too-young category. Inwardly, I cringe. What the hell was I thinking that first day I saw her at the gas station? She seemed so much older and easy to talk to, and I must have had fucking heat stroke or something for even considering asking this girl out.

“It’s nothing. Just my whole life exploding in front of my eyes.” The fire cracks and pops to fill the silence. “Why the rush to get out of town?” I’m still not entirely convinced it hasn’t got anything to do with the fact she’s dating, or has dated, my son. “My new job starts tomorrow.” She takes another small sip of water. “I’ve got bills and things owing, and without sounding like the useless idiot you probably think I am … I promise I work really hard. Just seem to have shitty luck.” “Like when your card declines at a gas station.” My eyes sweep over her and she’s got her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. It’s a quick look. One I allow myself under the guise of checking that she’s ok. Nothing more.

“Exactly like that.” “Still doesn’t explain why you’re out here hunting for Kayce.” I can’t help but glance at her stomach again. She doesn’t look pregnant, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck … “He and I—” The girl stumbles over her words before trying again. “We had a joint account, and I needed to withdraw my savings to cover some unexpected bills, until my next paycheck. But if he’s not here and I can’t get hold of him, I don’t know what to do.”

There’s no telling what shit Kayce has got himself into, but I’m certainly not letting him screw this girl out of her hard-earned money. At least she’s got a job and a plan for her future, which is more than I can say for my own kid. “How much do you need?” Those green eyes of hers glimmer with tears. Fuck. It’s that bad. “You don’t have to fix this for him.” “Let me handle Kayce, and I’ll front you the amount until he’s able to get his ass back up here and make this right.” “It’s over two thousand dollars.” She blurts out. “Will a bank transfer do?” “You can’t be serious?” This girl is looking at me like I’m a lion, and she’s just been asked to stick her hand inside my cage. “Deadly serious. Consider it done, and if you want some free advice, don’t open a joint account with a useless prick like my son.”

“What do you do for work?” What I’m expecting her to say is: admin, or office shit, or marketing, or something that townie girls like her seem to do. But her answer surprises me a little. “I’m a vet. But I’m only in training.” The second part is tacked on hastily. Like she’s quick to point out a perceived flaw. A vet student on her work placements. While hearing that puts some parts of this story into context, it still doesn’t explain the panic attack. From what I understand, their apprenticeship programs can span a few years of part-time work, nothing to warrant a dive off the deep end about. “It’s Layla, isn’t it?” She nods. “Help me out here, Layla. You gotta give me more than that. From where I’m sitting, there seems to be a lot of rushing and stress for something that shouldn’t be as serious as all that.”

“I need to graduate in August, so in order to do that I gotta complete my apprenticeship hours as fast as possible. If I don’t get to my new job with Shipton Stables by tomorrow, they’ll give my position away, which means not only kissing goodbye to the hours I need to complete, but a paycheck I can’t afford to miss.”

This job is clearly important to her. Or maybe the money is important, who knows, but I can’t deal with her losing her shit again tonight. Fuck. My mouth is moving before I can stop myself. “What do you need to satisfy the requirements of your apprenticeship?” I scrub a hand over my jaw. Her big green eyes, brimming with a sheen of tears, bounce up to meet mine. “Um, I need a placement where my hours are logged professionally. Working with a registered business for a minimum of eight weeks. I’ve already done all my bookwork by distance learning, so it’s anything that involves hands-on experience with stock, horses, farm animals …” Eight weeks.

I’m trying to make amends with my shit-head of a son, and make up for the years when I should have been there for him, but couldn’t be, thanks to my own crap and his idiot of a mother. But if I can’t make any headway with him, the least I can do is try to help his maybe girlfriend out. So, I do the worst thing imaginable, considering the way my cock is more than interested in the young woman sitting across from me. I offer her a job.

Layla

It’s pitch black outside and deathly quiet. The house feels like it resents my presence just as much as its owner does. Somehow, I fell into a fitful sleep last night surrounded by eerie howls of wind and floorboards creaking like the hull of a ship. Eventually waking up to nothing but silence and my phone screen proclaiming the time. Four thirty a.m.

Right now, I’m waiting in the dark for coffee to brew after trying to rummage around a stranger’s kitchen in order to find things without making a peep. I’ve found a spot to stand in where the Wi-Fi seems to be strongest, sending Sage a quick explanation of the chaos my life has become over the course of the past twenty-four hours. Bless her heart because she had replied to my voicemail last night, letting me know that she was going to see Aunt Evie today to check on her for me. She’s also insisting on sending me every cowboy-related meme she can find.

For about the fiftieth time, I reopen my banking app and see that the money Kayce’s father transferred last night has successfully been paid to the finance company. Holy fucking shit. I honestly still can’t believe how he just took care of it, without question. Even if it does leave me squirming a little that I didn’t exactly tell him the truth, but then again, I don’t need him fighting my battles with Kayce.

It’s only a few minutes before I hear heavy footfall approaching and the overhead lights above the kitchen island flick on. The next moment, Colton Wilder wanders in, with messy hair and eyes still fogged by sleep. Only, he doesn’t have a shirt on, and all I see is a broad chest and his jeans with belt undone at the buckle. “Shit. Sorry.” He takes me in, looking a little stunned to see anyone standing in his kitchen, and ducks into the laundry area just off the hallway. As he re-emerges, he’s busy buttoning a flannel shirt, before rolling the cuffs to hit midway up his forearms. “I wasn’t expecting—” He stops abruptly and shakes his head.

For some reason, that sight is winding a curl of heat low in my belly that has absolutely no right to be there. This is my ex’s dad I’m staring at, as if I’ve never seen a man before. It’s not even five in the morning. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Christ, if he’s Kayce’s dad, then that means he’s old enough to be my father. Although, this cowboy looks far younger than his years. No. Nope. Stop it right now.

“You didn’t spit in this or something, did you? That’s the kind of thing Kayce would do when he’s had enough of my shit.” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, shaking my head as I turn and reach up on tiptoes to grab another mug. Putting all my focus into pouring my own. “No. Just coffee … I don’t really know how else to say thank you for everything yesterday, Mr. Wilder.” Considering I have no money, a busted car, and no way of getting out of here—oh, and add that to the fact he somehow got me through hyperventilating and feeling like I was on the cliff’s edge of losing my mind.

“Christ, call me Colt … none of that Mr. Wilder shit. And don’t mention it.” Sipping his coffee, a long silence hangs in the kitchen while I secretly squirrel away the preening feeling that comes with being asked to call him Colt. Not Colton. Not Mr. Wilder. Just, Colt.

“If I was a bit rude …” He juts his chin in the direction of my belly, and my already warm cheeks start to flame. One hand reaches for the hem of my sweater on reflex, tugging it down to make sure it covers my high-waisted jeans. Ok, at least he realizes he was an asshole about it, even if his apology skills could use some serious work. As we stand across the large wooden island from each other, I feel the words bubbling up. Whether I stay here or not is still to be determined, but I can’t have him thinking things about me that aren’t even remotely true.

“Can I be very clear about something? I’m not pregnant and Kayce and I have been over for—well, it was never anything serious.” I set my mug down on the counter and twist my hands in front of me. I hate confrontation and this feels like I’m being the worst kind of imposition. “Look, I understand completely if you’ve changed your mind—” “You said you are a worker, didn’t you?” He cuts me off and gives me a hard stare. Challenging me in the gray light of this kitchen that now feels about ten times smaller than it did a minute ago. “Well, yes.” “As of right now, that’s what I need. A worker. My son isn’t exactly reliable around the place—but I suspect you’ve seen enough of that yourself to know what I mean—and I won’t be able to get in any new help on short notice between the road shutting again and being this close to the start of the year.”

“But, I couldn’t take your money and also take up space in your home.” It’s too much. What he’s suggesting seems like way more of an imposition on him. “You said eight weeks, didn’t you?” I nod. “That’s the minimum time for a placement to count, in order for my supervisor to sign me off.” “In my book, that’s nothing. I’ve had a busted nose that lasted longer.” “Just—” God, I don’t know how to explain this to him. I desperately need money, and I need to get certified, but I also usually work extra bar shifts to pay for Evaline’s care. “Spit it out.” He’s got that impatience flaring again. I suspect this man doesn’t have a very long fuse, and for a moment, the girl from the cafe’s warning comes back to my mind. You’re a bit young for him, ain’t you? I hastily swallow a big gulp of coffee. If the beasts up there don’t eat you, the wildlife might.

What if this guy is a sadist or likes to prey on women who wander up this mountain all alone? I already know he can gut a deer and carry a carcass across his shoulders like it weighs nothing. There are a million places to bury a body up here. Maybe I’ve made a horrible decision and should take him up on the offer of riding one of the horses down to Crimson Ridge instead.