Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(13)

Fuck.

A knot of panic forms in my gut.

I’m afraid to look. Afraid of what I’ll see. More bruises. Cigarette burns. Scars.

I drag in a ragged breath. “What is it?” I swallow, my blood pressure spiking. Wyatt’s put a claim on it, but tonight, Koty has the edge “What?”

“I’m pregnant,” she whispers.

Her words shoot straight through my heart and leave me for dead.

The world swims.

Fucking Christ. Pregnant.

Dakota’s soft voice floats. “Davis? Are you okay?”

No. I’ll never be okay again. Never fucking ever.

I blink, managing to grit out, “Are you?”

She chuckles. And that’s when I see it. The small swell of her belly hidden beneath that bulky sweatshirt. “Not really, no.”

“His?” I rasp.

“Unfortunately.” Her voice cracks. “I’m keeping it, Davis.”

I close my eyes. “Does he know about the baby?”

Dread creeps into her expression. “No. I haven’t told anyone or seen a doctor. I didn’t want him to find out.”

I scoot closer to her. In another time, another place, my hands would be in her hair, her lips on mine. But not now.

“Look at me,” I say firmly. I place a hand on her leg, palm shaping her thigh. “He’ll never get near you or your baby. Never again.”

“You can’t promise that, Davis. If he wants to find me, he’ll find me.” Her shoulders fall. The look on her face is heartbreaking. “I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe.”

There’s no hope in her eyes right now…only helplessness. That uncontained neon buzz I know and love is barely an ember.

“I burned our bakery. I took his child.” Her lip quivers. “He won’t let me go.”

“He won’t have a choice,” I promise.

She gives me a sad smile. “Always the hotshot.”

“Get some sleep, Dakota. As soon as it gets light, we’ll head back to Resurrection.”

“And you?” she asks, fear in her eyes. “Where will you be?” Her hands move closer to mine.

“I’ll be here.” I nod at the corner of the room. “In that chair.”

“You’ll sit there. All night?”

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and kiss her forehead. “All night.”





“Here you go. Pedialyte and breakfast tacos.”

I start in surprise, tearing my gaze off the truck window’s view of bright eight a.m. sunlight. Snow drifts across the freeway. I zoned out when Davis stopped at a gas station to refuel his behemoth of a pickup truck. We left my Jeep on the side of the road. Strangely, I’m not as sentimental as I thought about leaving things behind. It must be my new MO.

“It’s no croissant, but…”

“No, it’s perfect,” I say eagerly, watching as he sets the bag of food and the drink on the console between us. I may be a food snob, but even I know gas station tacos are a win.

He pins me with a look. “You need to eat.”

I do. I’ve been ravenous since I found out I was pregnant. No morning sickness for me, just constant parasitic hunger. My mouth waters as I nestle the fragrant bundle of deliciousness on my lap. I open the silver wrapping paper and tear into a soft-shell taco. A small moan leaves my mouth.

“Better?” he asks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I barely get a grunt of acknowledgement before he’s peeling out of the gas station.

As I eat, I stare at the bear of a man squeezed into the driver’s side seat. My knight in shining armor is a six-foot-three scowling Marine. Around his neck, his dog tag glints in the sun. A match to mine. My heart launches itself into its typical somersault fashion, as it does whenever I’m around him. It’s infuriating that he’s still so damn handsome. Even more so than he was six years ago.

Davis Montgomery is as rugged as the leather jacket he wears. Sculpted muscle. Broad shoulders. Tan as buckskin. Close-cropped brown hair. The light scruff on his face frames a strong jaw. Stern brown eyes with crinkles at the corner that exude an intense, ferocious energy. And that soft, southern drawl. Whiskey, honey, and a late-night lullaby all rolled into one handsome country boy.

He doesn’t look as haunted as he did when I first met him. Still, the dark circles under his eyes tell me he’s running on adrenaline.

Sleep didn’t come easy for either of us. I tossed restlessly and woke to see Davis standing at the curtain, gun in his hands, staring into cold blue moonlight.

I remember when we shared a bed, he shared his nightmares. Tortured, tangled in the sheet beside me. I’d draw him into my arms and keep him there until morning.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

With his eyes fixed on the road, he inclines his head as if my voice is an unfamiliar sound. “I never sleep.”

I swallow the last of the taco and ball up the paper. “Do you still have the nightmares?”

A muscle works in his jaw. “They’re not so bad.”

“And yet…you don’t sleep. Why?”

“Dakota.” His voice is soft, but the way his jaw jumps has my chest tightening.