Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(5)

I unbuckle my seatbelt, grab my cell phone, and hurry out of the car.

Gritting my teeth, I heft my duffel bag over my shoulder. All my meager belongings, my entire savings that I packed in a frantic haste to get away from Aiden.

I gasp as icy sheets of rain hit me, a chill so fierce I’m shivering even in my thick winter jacket.

Over the deafening sound of my heart, I run up the shoulder of the road. The neon sign of the LIGHTS OUT MOTEL is my beautiful beacon.

I cross the gravel parking lot and stop under the motel eave.

My body goes limp with relief when I see I have cell service.

Then I tense.

I have one missed call from Aiden.

“Fuck,” I whisper, wrapping my numb fingers around the dog tag.

I stare at it for one heartbeat. Then two. Then I swipe the notification away and dial a number I’ve known my entire life.

“Dakota?”

The minute I hear my father’s whiskey-weathered voice, relief floods my entire body. I choke on a sob, feeling a little less alone, wondering why I didn’t ask for help two years ago.

“Daddy,” I choke out.

“Wasn’t expecting to hear from you today, daydreamer.”

I hate the surprise that stains his voice. I shake off the sting. I can’t blame him. I’m well aware I’ve barely called him over the last year.

“Daddy,” I say again. My voice sounds so small, so frightened, that I wince. “Something bad happened.”

Instantly, he’s on alert. That roughrider who rode bulls and busted broncs and would always do anything to help me. “You need help, Koty?”

“Yes,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve died and gone to hell. I fight down the sob that tries to escape. “I’m in trouble. My car broke down. I’m—I’m—” I search the road for a sign. “I’m in Sioux Falls.”

“You hurt, baby girl?”

I look down at my arm, knowing nothing can prepare my father for this. “I am.”

“You tell me where you are and I’ll make it right.”

My father sounds out of breath, huffing. I can hear the frantic jingle of keys, and I flash back to my senior year and the kegger thrown at Lionel Wolfington’s house. I called him to come get me because my entire class was drunk off their asses and I wanted to go home.

My father erupts in a series of hacking coughs that have me wincing.

Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong at home.

“I’m at the Lights Out Motel. I need to come home.” I jump clear out of my skin when a stranger sweeps past me. I flinch, hating the way I’m as skittish as a whipped horse. “Fast, Daddy.”

“I’m sending Davis.”

“No,” I blurt. Even though the minute my father says Davis, my mind automatically says safe.

“Dakota—”

“Please.” I move closer to the bright light of the soda machine. “I don’t want Davis.”

The worst lie I’ve ever told.

“I can’t make the drive, baby girl. For a lot of reasons. I reckon you’ll soon know.”

Tears spring to my eyes. Panic, sharp and searing snakes in my belly. There’s no way I can go back to Resurrection like I planned—calm and collected, pretending I have my life together.

Because Davis Montgomery has always seen right through me.

He’ll see all the lies. All my little secrets. All the bravado, all the bullshit. That I’m not strong. Maybe I never was.

Still, hope sings out in my soul.

Desperate, aching, desolate hope.

Nothing can erase the memory of those deep brown eyes and rugged grin. The broad-shouldered Marine I keep telling myself I’ve forgotten even if all I’ve done for the last six years is think of him.

Gripping the dog tag around my neck, I exhale. Aiden will come after me. I know it in my bones. He will never let me go.

I need Davis. In the worst possible way.

That man, that unforgettable man who still haunts my dreams.

“Okay,” I say with a shudder, feeling like I’m staring down the barrel of a crossroads. “Send Davis.”

Because I need a do-over.

Glancing down, I cup the small bud of my belly.

A really, really big fucking do-over.





“What’s the kid’s name again? Callie?”

“Cassie,” I snap back at Deputy Sheriff Buzz Topper.

Maybe it’s the thirty minutes of sleep I got last night, thanks to a god-awful nightmare that woke me up. Or maybe it’s the perpetual nasally drone of Topper’s voice. Either way, I was wide awake when Sheriff Richter called in MONSAR—the Montana Search and Rescue Team—to search for a little girl who went missing on top of Meadow Mountain.

Of course, it has to be a fucking kid.

I glare at Buzz, clench my fists and take a step toward him. “A little girl is missing. At least get her goddamn name right.”

Buzz, his chipmunk cheeks pink, stutters an apology and trips over his own two feet to get away from my wrath.

On an exhale, I glance down. The photo in my hand shows a blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl in pigtails. Cassie Karr. Two years old.

“What’s up your ass?” Richter booms, appearing beside me. Despite the steady calm in his voice, his black eyes flash. Raised in Detroit, Sheriff Calvin Richter’s brought his own form of law to Resurrection. He could have his choice of any big city, but he’s here making the town his own.