 
Addicted to You – Book 1

Rescue Me
Chapter One

"Let me know as soon as you get him on the line. Thank you, Claire." Ross Victor replaced the receiver and resumed his pacing around the immaculate office. He wasn't used to inaction. Being one of the most powerful movers and shakers in the business world, having thousands of employees at his beck and call working at subsidiaries spread all across the planet, he was used to results. And quick. When he spoke, people listened and people moved. He absently drummed his fingers on the thick window sill as he looked unseeingly from his high perch above the vast expanse of city. Any other day he would have soaked up the mesmerizing view that spread out before him in every direction. No matter how many times he looked, the beauty of it always affected him. But not today.

He lowered his gaze, deep in thought and almost unconsciously scanned the many pictures balanced on the ledge. Pictures of his wife and daughter throughout different stages of their lives. His wife Sophia, young, vivacious and beautiful, with an infectious laugh that could lighten up a room, building sandcastles on the beach with three-year-old Vanessa, who thankfully had inherited both her mother's looks and personality. The two of them smiling happily, their heads close together, the viewer unable to discern where the waves of one's long dark hair stopped and the other's began. Their olive skin, dusted with sand and droplets of water, glistened like diamonds in the bright California sun.

Another of a six-year-old Vanessa, pony tail nearly on top of her head, her chubby cheeks pink and splotchy, crying loudly and pushing away as she is held by a sheepish looking Santa Claus.

An older picture of Vanessa, perhaps twelve now, innocently unaffected by her gapped tooth smile, dressed in equestrian attire, smiling broadly and holding a large blue ribbon as she proudly sat astride her favorite jumper pony.

Another photo, Vanessa at sixteen, dressed in a glittering sequined outfit and sandwiched between both her loving parents, smiling broadly and holding a large bouquet of flowers. It was after one of her many dance recitals, he remembered. Her body was just beginning to embark on the subtle changes of womanhood, giving one a first inkling of the dazzling beauty she was soon to become. Her teeth were now perfectly aligned and pearly white. Her figure had thinned, and her arms and legs had lengthened, becoming graceful and elegant. She stood between them, her doe-brown eyes sparkled and her smile devilish as if she were up to some sort of mischief, as actually she was, he remembered. In the picture, he could still see her arm positioned behind him as the three huddled close for the photographer. And he could make out the startled expression of his face just as the camera had flashed and she had simultaneously pinched him viciously on the backside.

He nearly laughed out loud remembering. Here he was, Ross Victor, one of the most powerful men on the planet, a look from him could set grown men quaking in their shoes, and this little she-devil monster was pinching the fire out of his backside.

She was loved. Too much!

He crossed back to his desk, sitting in the deep leather chair behind it. He centered the phone before him, waiting, his fingers towered together before him. His thoughts were in utter turmoil at the decision that lay ahead.

Occasionally he heard a sniffle coming from the direction of the sofa and he glanced over to where his wife was huddled deep in the plush cushions, her legs curled up beneath her. A box of tissues was balanced on the armrest and used tissues were accumulating in an ever growing pile at her side. The T.V. buzzed in front of her, the volume nearly mute as she listlessly watched the program with her red-rimmed eyes.

It was one of the many entertainment news shows that were on these days, Popular Now or Star Weekly. Who knows. They all made their money from reporting on the lives of the stars. They were like leeches, feeding off the famous and infamous, sucking every last bit of life out of them and then when no benefit was left to be received, they were on to the next poor victim. They loved to build them up, relishing in their glory and newfound fame. Loved to expound on their high salaries, their lavish lifestyles, their many loves. And then, they seemed to get as much pleasure in tearing them down, in reporting their self-destructive behavior, their downward spirals to broken and shattered lives, bankruptcy, arrests, drug and alcohol abuse, and even in some cases, death. Sometimes it seemed as if they were on a death watch, voyeurs, almost anxiously awaiting the next accident, drug overdose, suicide. It would provide a few days of entertainment for the masses, upping their ratings by reporting, analyzing, and second guessing. They would offer countless therapist's opinions, interview friends divulging past secrets, regurgitate the numerous warning signs that were missed. And then when they tired of recycling that, they would be on to the next greatest thing, the next precarious victim waiting in the wings for tragedy. The vicious cycle continuing.

He looked at the T.V. and the many pictures flashing by of the star to whom today's show was pretty much devoted. They called her Vanity.

She was beautiful, he'd give her that. Long blond hair, long legs, voluptuous. As for talent, who knew? Anymore, anyways. She'd had successful careers in both singing and acting, although all her latest songs had her voice enhanced so much by the computer that it was hardly recognizable. She hadn't acted in anything since last year's blockbuster either. 'Taking a break,' she'd called it. Perhaps a break from working, but definitely not from her bad behavior. Presently, she was more notorious for what she was doing off the screen rather than on. She stayed pretty much drugged up or boozed into oblivion. They were showing mug shots from her latest drunk driving arrests, her eyes glazed, shadowed and hollow. Next were pictures of past boyfriends, many of them actors or rock stars, all more in love with themselves than they had ever been with her. She seemed to change her love interests almost as much as she changed clothes, and her body weight varied drastically with the amount of drugs she happened to be taking at the moment.

They expounded on her work history, the movies she'd made, the A-list actors she'd starred with, each movie higher-grossing than the next. And most recently, the at-work antics. Showing up late to the studios, or showing up drunk, or not showing up at all. No matter to the studios. As long as the insurance companies would keep insuring her, they'd keep gambling on her. She was the 'It' Girl. The world loved her. Having her name listed on the marquee was pay-dirt for them. They wouldn't care if she showed up unconscious, as long as a staffer could hold her still for the shot and it photographed well, everyone was happy. Her movies sold and the big wigs made their money. So the pampering and placating continued, to her detriment.

Ironically, if she did what everyone thought inevitable anyway, just died from an overdose, she'd most likely be catapulted to legendary status and be worth more dead than alive. The movies that would be made of her life and it's tragic ending, the memorabilia, on and on and on. She'd be on a level with Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Elvis.

Everyone would be tearful, despondent, retelling their stories of her, their memories, their little piece of her that they'd kept for themselves. But none of them would have known her. No, not known her at all. For what she presented to the world was an illusion. It was what she wanted them to see, what she thought they wanted her to be. No, they didn't know her. The only ones that truly did were his wife Sophia and himself.

As he watched the TV, he felt a bit surreal. That person, she was a stranger to him. She was like an ugly distorted reflection of the real image.

The phone rang and he answered it immediately, his wife simultaneously rose from the couch and moved quickly to his side.

"Yes? Thanks Claire. Put him through."

His wife grasped his arm and implored him with tear-filled eyes.

"Ross," she begged, "don't do this. Please..."

He looked at her desperate gaze and almost weakened under its entreaty. But then he saw the signs of strain and worry, the dark shadows under her eyes, the lost weight, and his heart hardened. He turned away from her, his decision made, and spoke with deadly intent into the phone.

"Cade... It's time."
Chapter Two

Flashes lit up the darkened sky as the cameras clicked incessantly, zooming in, capturing their intended target's every move. In a way, they probably enabled her to see, since she was wearing sunglasses in the dead of night.

She strolled indifferently behind them, moving along as if it were a natural occurrence for one to be walking along the streets at 2 o'clock in the morning with tens of cameramen running backwards before her, recording her every move. She laughed obnoxiously with one of her entourage as one of the many paparazzi running before her stumbled and fell.

She was drunk.

She was most definitely high. On what? Now there was a question. Someone had given her something and she had taken it, eagerly.

At the parties that people of her status frequented, pills were passed around like peanuts. She'd been in a bit of a daze since the day before, club-hopping with her friends. There'd been so many different people, faces, places, things had become a blur; what she'd done, who'd she done them with, where she camped out in between. But no worries, she laughed ironically to herself, she was sure that all had been recorded by these vile little trolls before her and she'd be reading about it sooner rather than later.

She was dressed in a silk black sleeveless top that cascaded out to her waist. The revealing neckline glittered with both rhinestones and black jewels that sparkled and winked with the flashes of light, competing for admiration with the braless figure that quivered beneath. Her thick golden hair was pulled back into a loose pony tail, cascading to mid-back, with tendrils escaping the clasps and floating about her perfect face. Her faded blue-jean shorts lived up to their name, barely covering her butt-cheeks, allowing one a tantalizing glimpse with every stride of her long tan legs. They were bare, of course, all the way down to her silver platform heels, within which she balanced precariously as she finally made her way home.

Everything seemed to be spinning. She grasped the steady arm of her best friend Jasmine and used her for support as she regained her equilibrium.

"Vanity! Vanity!" The paparazzi yelled, competing for her attention and direct gaze. For one good picture of her and sold to the right outlet would feed them for months.

"Do you think Jack Slone will mind that you're out on the town without him?" one questioned.

"Don't answer them Van," Jasmine sneered. "You'll just provide more fodder for the fools.

"Jack Slone?" she laughed, ignoring Jasmine and once again allowing herself to become both fool and fodder. "Whoooo's he?" she slurred dramatically. "Is that some-un I sh-know?"

She stumbled, but was steadied as Jasmine held her more firmly about the waist, then nodded to one of Vanity's large security detail for assistance. A brawny giant of a man rushed forward and steadied her from the other side, as together, they urged her along.

The paparazzi laughed and Vanity continued.

"Oh... I think I remember... Didn't he used ta host a game show?"

"Maybe Mystery Date," one of them joked, and they all laughed boisterously, thrilled that they had snagged this A-list actress and for a breadth of make-believe could imagine that they were actually having a heartfelt conversation.

"Mystery Date - HA! That's a good one," she squealed, wide-eyed, talking like a very intelligent five-year-old. "Did ya hear that Jazz? He said Mystery Date."

Jasmine nodded, frustrated, and edged her towards the edge of the sidewalk where Vanity's assistant was urgently attempting to hail a cab for a hurried escape. Their limo was nowhere to be seen.

Slapping dully at the arms that held her, then sliding their hands away like she was taking off a clinging shirt, Vanessa again attempted to walk on her own.

"M-y-s-t-e-r-y D-a-t-e," she mouthed slowly, letting it roll off her thick tongue. "I like that wooord. Miiistery. It makes my mouth feel like it's having one HECK of a kiss. Miiiissssterrry. YUM!" she squealed. "Ya know," she offered, precariously standing on her toes as she searched the gathered crowd for the voice that provided such a quip, her head weaving slightly. "YOU shhhould be a writer," she told no one in particular. "You could make lots of money writing. Lots and lots and lots and lots. Boo-koos!!!!" She spun around in a shaky off-balanced circle and her ankle buckled beneath her due to her ridiculously high heels. She would have fallen face first but was saved by her human crutches. She waved them away again, her arms sweeping like a fledgling, a baby bird trying to take flight. She stubbornly stopped where she was and bent down to remove the offending shoe.

"It's brokun," she explained. Holding it up, she emphasized each dreadful word with a shake of the shoe, "Doesn't know how to walk." She then continued on her way, hobbling up and down as she did so, apparently unfazed by the 6-inch difference between one foot and the other. The paparazzi unmercifully tagged along, their camera's whirling with the multitude of pictures they were taking as they shouted question after question she was obviously unable to answer.

"Come on, guys. That's enough." Jasmine, her hand up, commanded softly but firmly. "You know how she is when she drinks."

"Augh, Jasmine. We're just doing our job. Everyone loves a good story..." one smiled sheepishly, knowing they were party to leading a lamb to slaughter.

"Oh, I 'LOVE' a good story!" Vanity shrieked, clapping her hands together like a child. And then she started singing her off-key rendition of the Brady Bunch song.

"Here's the story, of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls"

Thankfully, at that moment rescue was within reach. Their MIA limo swerved to the curb. Breathing an audible sigh of relief, Jasmine attempted to herd Vanity in that direction.

"Party's over guys. Go pick on someone your own size, if your camera's can zoom in that small."

"Come on, Jasmine. At least let us ask you some questions..." The paparazzi were seasoned enough to know when the gig was up and steered their scrutiny towards her. "Everyone's heard your series may not be renewed for another season. There are rumors that there's been some in-fighting with the cast. All not going well with 'Silver Moon?'"

"All of them had hair of gold, like their mother, the youngest one in curls. In cuuuurrrrlllllss"

"Some other time, guys."

The security detail was attempting to hold the paparazzi at bay, but Jasmine motioned with a subtle nod for them to retrieve Vanity, who was now ambling around the front of the limo and hobbling out into the busy street.

A giant of a man in a tight black t-shirt was immediately to her side, picking her up like a bag of potatoes and unceremoniously slinging her over his shoulder. Unperturbed, Vanity continued with her off-key rendition as she was toted to the vehicle and hastily placed in the back seat, oblivious to the world around her and to the fact that tomorrows entertainment headline would have a picture of her backside spread across its front page.

"The Brady Bunch, da da-da da. The Brady Bunch, da da-da da. That's the way, we all became The Brady Bunch. The-Braaady-Buuuunnnnch!!!"

The last of the high-pitched song was muffled as Jasmine quickly slid in beside her and slammed the door. Vanity's assistant took the front and one of her security detail scrambled to the other side just as the car zoomed away into the night.

Vanity, warmed by the close confines of the others, snuggled up to Jasmine, lay her head against her shoulder and quickly drifted off to sleep. Jasmine, treasuring the blissful quiet, looked distantly out the window, her face strained. The two other passengers smartly kept their thoughts to themselves.

The car cruised speedily down the streets of Bel Air. The lights flashed by in a blur as Jasmine unconsciously counted the passing palm trees by tapping her finger on the sill. It felt good to be still. And to decompress.

She had been partying with Vanity since last evening. It had started with about five of their closest friends, all meeting to go out for dinner. Following that, someone suggested a club. And then after that, another, then another. With each different place came different faces, ever revolving as some hooked up with others, peeling off to go their own way as new ones joined in. But always, she had remained by Van's side. She had learned to do that long ago.

Vanity thrived on the nightlife, on being the life of the party, on being seen. One could suppose it was part of her job. To stay relevant. In fact, with the status that she maintained, clubs would pay her six figures just to put in an appearance. Her presence alone could guarantee a budding start-up of becoming the newest 'hot spot' in town. Who knew why, it just was.

Top designers had her body measurements down to the millimeter. One of the luxuries of being rich and famous, ironically, was that you never had to fork out the dough for your clothes. They were mailed directly to her doorstep, free of charge. If she was seen wearing a certain designer's label in the tabloids, good behavior or not, in less than 24 hours that outfit would be sold out.

Jasmine was used to the fast-paced life of celebrities. Her parents were soap-opera stars and she herself had begun making appearances on the show as an infant. She literally grew up on screen before America's TV viewers. She was used to all the fame and publicity that that entailed.

Vanity repositioned and snuggled her head into the warmth of Jasmine's neck, causing her hair to tickle her friend's nose. With well-manicured fingers, Jasmine drew the hair away and tucked it softly behind Van's ear, then stroked Vanessa's head like a loving mother might her newborn baby.

They had known one another for years. They had met in a dance class when both were in their teens. Vanessa's parents were very well-to-do. Her father was a well-known businessman who had decided to relocate his family and business headquarters to the west coast. They resided in Los Angeles where her mother ran a boutique that was more hobby than business and catered to the independently wealthy. The girls were immediately drawn to one another. They were the same age, had similar affluent upbringings and many of the same interests. They spent as much time together as possible, attending parties, taking trips with each other's families, and shopping, shopping, shopping. Both girls were inexcusably spoiled and it became a joke between the sets of parents to refer to the girls as the 'terrible two.'

And it was at one of their dance recitals that Vanity got her big break. The audience had been full, mostly with close friends and acquaintances of Jasmines. Working on a soap opera almost every day of one's life created special bonds between the cast and crew which sometimes were even stronger than family. They had shared many of her life's milestones, her first words, first steps, first teeth. So of course they wouldn't have missed her recital for all the world. One of those in attendance was the show's producer, Frank Abrams, who on his first glimpse of Vanity instantly recognized her magnetic star power.

As fate would have it, he was in the process of selecting the cast for an upcoming movie. They were having trouble finding a teenage girl to play a younger version of the star. One look at Vanity and he knew, she was the one. It took him many long hours of persuading her parents of that fact, but they finally relented and allowed her to do a screen test for the role. The camera loved her. Vanity got the part.

Upon the opening of the movie, Vanity was instantaneously catapulted to stardom. She was quickly cast in several more movies and proved to be an amazingly good actress. Critics lauded her performances and claimed her talent and beauty were comparable to the likes of Angelina Jolie and Charlize Theron. The camera loved her. The public loved her. Then after just a few years, as if being one of the planets most sought after movie stars wasn't enough for her, she tried her hand at singing and was astoundingly, just as talented at that. She achieved numerous Billboards Top Ten hits and garnered multiple awards and accolades, including several Grammy Awards and five MTV Video Music Awards. Now in her early twenties, with her proven success in acting, singing and dancing, insiders declared her a Powerhouse Trifecta, a force to be reckoned with. One of the most powerful players in the entertainment industry.

But interspersed within all her success was the drinking, drugs and outlandish behavior. It all started with the drinking, Jasmine well-remembered. The girl definitely couldn't hold her liquor. Once she'd had more than two drinks she was a lost cause. There was no going back. After that, she'd take anything and everything people placed before her. Vanity knew that her behavior was destructive and tried do better, but by that time, it was too late. She was an addict. And she had too many enablers. Her parents attempted to help her, personally taking her to multiple drug rehabilitation facilities, but she always left without completing the required length of stay. The last, she actually left after being there less than a day. This was a major source of conflict between Vanity and her parents, and their relationship was more than a little strained.

And it was putting a strain on Jasmine. She was totally sick of it! It was time for things to change, and she was the one to do it.

The limousine pulled up to the lushly landscaped compound, slowing before the aged copper gates that guarded the entrance to Vanity's home. Jasmine pressed the call button.

"It's Jasmine," she told the guards. "Just bringing her home."

The gates effortlessly swung open, allowing the vehicle to proceed down the winding drive.

Jasmine gave her friend a severe shake to attempt and arouse her, but it was hopeless. She didn't budge. "Well, obviously I can't carry her in. She's out cold," she said to no one in particular. Exasperated, Jasmine instructed the burly security guard to take her up to her bedroom.

"Claudia..." Jasmine began.

"No, I'm Reagan," the girl corrected. "Vanity fired Claudia last week. I'm her new assistant."

Jasmine rolled her eyes in frustration.

"Well Reagan, you're going to have to tuck in our little darling here. I was going to have a heart to heart with her but obviously that's not going to happen any time soon. I'll come back by to see her in the morning. I've had about all I can handle for one night. If you need anything...well...never mind. I'll just be back in the morning."

With one last glance at the peculiar tableau of the security employee cradling Vanity in his arms, the flustered assistant hovering alongside, the group looked for all the world as bereft as if they were three little rag-tag siblings being abandoned by their mother. Jasmine shut the door of the limo and directed the driver back to the city.

Tomorrow was a new day, and the beginning of a new life.
Chapter Three

"Shut! Up!" Vanity ground out in a harsh whisper. Her mouth clenched as she cradled her throbbing head with each shrill ring of the phone, then desperately pulled the covers over herself to further block out the piercing noise. The telephone's incessant ringing continued for a minute or two before finally ceasing, leaving behind an eerie stillness to hover about the room.

After a few moments, Vanity slowly rolled over, grabbed her small alarm clock off the bedside table and groaned despairingly before tossing it to the far side of the bed.

"Five-freakin-forty-five in the morning! Calling me at five-freakin-forty-five in the morning!"

She moaned, then painfully and slowly pushed herself to a sitting position, her hair a tangled mess. After a few still moments to gain her equilibrium, she grabbed a hair clip and twisted her long hair up and out of the way. Slipping on her house shoes, she tentatively made her way from the sprawling master bedroom out to the kitchenette. She was just in the process of washing down two ibuprofens with orange juice when the phone starting its ringing all over again.

She held her pounding head as she glanced at the caller I.D., took a deep cleansing breath, and answered it.

"Hello Jack," she sighed resignedly.

"BABY!!!!" he roared boisterously through the phone. "Do you miss me?' His voice echoed and sounded as if he was talking through a long tunnel, miles away. He was, literally, half-way around the world.

She protectively pulled the phone from her ear and leaned her forehead against the wall in pain.

"Baby? Can you hear me?"

Hear him? Was he insane? His voice was still ricocheting about the insides of her brain.

"I think we've got a bad connection? Van? Hello?" His voice was getting louder. "Are you there? Hello? Hello?"

After a brief hesitation, Vanity brought the receiver within hearing distance, holding the earpiece inches away from her still ringing auditory canal.

"I hear you darling. I'm just in a bit of a daze. You woke me up."

"What? Oh...yeah. Time difference," he suddenly realized. "Sorry babe. Just getting my make-up sprayed on for the evening shoot. Got an hour to hold still, so what better way to spend the time than to talk to you?"

Vanity settled down into a long leather sofa, getting comfortable for what looked to be a long chat.

Across the ocean, in a hot humid jungle in the midst of Viet Nam, Jack Slone stood in the middle of a large room. Several bright lights were directed towards him as he stood shirtless, in army fatigues and black boots. He held out his arms and spread his legs as a slew of make-up artists surrounded him and busily brushed shadows and bruises on different parts of his face and body. One of the poor underlings was designated the lowly job of holding the phone to his ear and was thrilled to do it. He surveyed himself in the mirror, extremely satisfied with what was reflected there and continued to speak manically with Van, expounding on the latest scenes they were shooting, the special effects, the pyrotechnics.

A woman gently positioned his head as she put a last hair extension in place and then immediately began to tousle and rumple it before spraying a light mist to give him the appearance of sweat.

Elsewhere, only a few miles from Vanity's house...

The stranger leaned over the sink and splashed cool water onto his face. He rubbed a towel over his dark scruffy beard and then pulled his shoulder length hair back into a pony tail. It would be hard for a possible witness to later give an accurate description of the man, he acknowledged, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

A green and pink-haired woman artistically sprayed a six pack on Jack's abdomen, while another focused on further emphasizing the muscles on his arms. A third worked on her masterpiece of a viscous scar irregularly serrated across his back.

"Babe, if you could see me now... I am so HOT!!!" he laughed arrogantly. "I'm so sexy, I want to do me. I'm sexy and I know it," he sang in a low deep voice, bobbing his eyebrows flirtatiously to the gathered crew. There was a host of giggles and laughter in the background. Vanity answered by repositioning herself with a delicate grunt.

The stranger pulled a simple black t-shirt over his head, his well-defined arm and stomach muscles bulged and flexed with the effortless movements. The shirt was a snug fit and quickly covered several scars dotted across his back, shoulders, and chest; injuries received during warfare.

The make-up artists work was complete. A bandana was tied around Jack's forehead; an enormous bowie knife was attached to his waist. He held an oversized machine gun in his hands with several feet of bullet clips crisscrossed over his shoulders.

The man was closer now, outside, walking stealthily through the darkness to a set spot where he retrieved his bow, nylon rope and harness. He secured a large knife to his belt, then pulled a black ski-mask down over his head.

"Well, gotta go, babe. They're ready for the shot. Can't wait for you to see me," Jack laughed sarcastically. "See you."

"See you," Vanity responded in the middle of a delicate yawn as she tiredly padded back toward the kitchen.

The stranger in black was now hidden in the foliage, looking steadily through his binoculars. He watched from a distance as Vanity returned within his view. He smiled shrewdly when he saw her.

"See you."
Chapter Four

He watched her.

She seemed a bit unsteady as she walked past the curtainless windows, moving from room to room, not in the least concerned that she might be seen. Or watched. It was remarkable how easily one could see into a barely-lit room in the dead of night, and how effortlessly one could be concealed mere feet away.

Why would she need curtains? Her house was surrounded by acres of foliage and then a large wall. She had security patrolling the perimeter, keeping an ever watchful eye out for her safety. But they were on the outside of that wall and now, he was within.

He looked about, swiftly ascertaining where the security cameras were located.

Piece of cake.

He darted quickly through the trees, creeping in the shadows, moving stealthily from tree to tree. The house was massive and at the prices land was going for in California these days, this property was worth a mint. It was three-stories high, modern in design, and had numerous balconies jutting out at different angles. He'd already studied the lay-out. He knew the first story contained the main areas; the commercial grade kitchen, dining room, formal and informal living rooms, game room, theatre room, and multiple outdoor spaces by the pool for entertaining. More living areas, along with several bedrooms and the library were located on the second floor. The third level was solely for the master suite, which included her bedroom, bathroom, study, small kitchenette and workout area.

A blue glow filled the front room on that level. The TV had been turned on. He slowed his progress and stepped back into the fading shadows of the trees. The stillness of dawn was approaching. He didn't have much time. He should have expected her not to keep the same hours as the normal person.

She was walking about her bedroom, laying out clothes and toiletries. He checked his watch with indecision. It had to be today. Everything was set.

His face hardened and the muscles in his chiseled jaw tensed in readiness. With eyes of cold steel, he scanned the outer facade of the sprawling mansion, reviewing his plan of attack before turning back to her bedroom.

She was standing before the mirror. She removed the clasp from the back of her head causing her hair to cascade about her shoulders and waist. She ruffled it free of tangles. With a sudden intake of breath, his body tensed as she dropped her robe and for a moment surveyed herself, naked, before the looking glass.

She looked like a Greek Goddess, her tan lean body, perfection. She was illuminated in the cerulean glow of the room, seeming like an ethereal ghost from a time long past. Her expression was almost sad, questioning, as she considered the woman staring back at her, as if the woman was a stranger to her as well.

His gaze lingered over her body, spellbound, unable to look away. Her skin was flawless perfection, looking as soft as silk, asking to be touched. Her shoulders were drawn back, her carriage proud even now, in the weary early hours of the morning. Her breasts were full, not overly large but in perfect proportion to her body. Her waist narrowed, tight and flat, before widening to her hips and buttocks. And then her legs, her unforgettable legs. They were so very long. Statuesque. Magnificent.

She reached out, touched her mirrored image, finger to finger, hand to hand, connected. Her despondent gaze drifted over her reflection, measuring, displeased. Her poignant discontentment was palpable and drifted out into the night, encompassing him. He almost felt sorry for her, for what he was going to do to her. Almost.

It was only after she turned, heading into the bathroom, that the spell was broken, that he realized he'd been holding his breath.

Her disappearance set him into motion.

Waiting until the slow turn of the two nearest camera's made their rotation, then following the first and preceding the second, he furtively crept to the side of the house. Flattening his back against the rough rock, he slid against the facade until he reached his desired location. Laying down his bow, he removed a length of nylon rope from his back-pack and deftly secured it to a metal claw. He swung the claw before him in a brisk tight circle, faster, harder. The swooshing circle ever widening until he flung it with all his might into the darkness. The metal clanged, skidded and caught as it connected and held high up above him on his intended target, the third floor balcony. He pulled on the rope, testing its safety, then grabbed his bow and supplies before hand over hand, he pulled himself up.

In seconds, he'd reached the top and slipped over the ledge. He drew up the rope and neatly packed it away. Crouching low, he crept toward the French doors. Peering in, he could see the bathroom door was open, the light cascading out into the room. Vanity was nowhere to be seen.

He grasped the door handle, jiggled it, smiled wryly when it effortlessly opened and he slid inside.
Chapter Five

Draped in one towel, hair wrapped in another, Vanity took a long lazy drag from her cigarette as she returned to the bedroom. Standing before the floor-length mirror towel-drying her hair, she was somewhat at a loss as to what she was going to do. She was too awake now to go back to bed, but it was really too early to do anything else.

Perhaps she'd just watch T.V. or maybe look over some of the scripts her agent had recently sent over for her review. She'd refused the last barrage of movie offers, telling her agent she'd just wanted to rest and relax. These past few years she'd felt as if she'd been in a wild vortex, being spun, pushed and pulled in every direction. Everyone sucking the life out of her, all taking a piece and wanting more. She wanted a break. She needed a break.

She took another long drag and slowly exhaled the smoke as feelings of peacefulness and tranquility enveloped her.

But then she heard it.

A noise, short but muffled. It was just a faint brush against something, but it signified movement, movement in the room, with her. Her body tensed as her senses heightened to fight or flight, the cigarette drooped precariously from her lips. And then there was a crash, near the bathroom, and she jumped, turning in that direction, starting to scream. Instantaneously she was grabbed from behind, strong arms encircled her, trapping her arms to her side before roughly slamming her back against a hard massive body.

Terrified, she looked to the mirror and was horrified at what she saw.

She was imprisoned within the hulking arms of an intruder, a man dressed all in black. He wore a ski mask over his head. The vice-like grip of his strong muscular arms gave no room for movement as he pressed her against the length of his rock hard body. He held her so tightly that she could feel his heart beating against her back; strong, slow, steady. Nowhere near the erratic pace of her own. He was tall, almost a foot taller than her 5'6," towering over her like a giant. His eyes were bright, fierce, as they stared daggers into her own.

She was on the verge of hysteria. Her body trembled uncontrollably, her eyes wide as saucers. Thoughts raced through her mind in a flash. She'd been receiving letters. Threatening letters. Her agent knew of them. Jasmine was aware. They hadn't taken them seriously, just some deranged fan... But she'd heightened security. They were patrolling the grounds now... Would they hear her scream? Could they make it in time?

"Don't move," he growled, his lips close to her ear, his warm breath searing her neck. "And don't scream!"

Her breathing came in gasps, the cigarette still dangled absurdly from her mouth, sending out plumes of smoke like a dragon. He clasped both her wrists behind her with one hand while with the other he snatched the burning cinder from her mouth. He lifted it to his nose and smelled it with a knowing leer.

"For medicinal purposes?" he asked sarcastically, before stubbing it out in the ashtray.

"Please," she begged, "Please don't hurt me."

He looked at her reflection, looked at her squarely and seemed to study her a moment before he reached to his back pocket and pulled out some plastic bands. When he forced her arms together in front of her, she realized with horror, that he was going to secure her wrists. If her wrists were bound she would be helpless, at his mercy. She didn't want to be at any intruder's mercy. And if he was the slime who'd been sending her the harassing letters, that's the last thing she wanted to be. They had been downright sadistic.

Instantly going into fight mode, she elbowed him with all her power, square in the gut and attempted to heel him in the groin. The first didn't even seem to faze him, and he blocked the latter easily before picking her up high in the air and literally squeezing the breath out of her. Her arms and legs flailed and thrashed.

"None of that, you little minx. Believe me, this would be so much easier if I just wanted to kill you." With that, he slammed her back to the floor and none to gently brought her wrists together, behind her now, and quickly secured them in place. The tight plastic bands dug painfully into her skin. With a slight shove, she fell unceremoniously into a chair and before she had realized it, he'd secured her ankles as well.

Towering over her, he looked for all the world unsure, in that now that he had her bound, what was he going to do with her?

"I know you're thinking of screaming, but I wouldn't. You're smart enough to realize that I can silence you long before any help arrives. Now you can do this the easy way or the hard way, but I suggest that for once in your life you just keep your mouth shut. Either way, I'm getting what I came for."

She shivered with the certainty of his declaration, wondering what awaited her next. But then he backed away and headed straight for her dresser. What was he doing? Was he just a common thief? Did he break in thinking she was out partying and got unexpectedly surprised? A faint hope stirred within her. A robbery she could handle. Surely if he was going to hurt or rape her, he would have gone with that first.

But he ignored the jewelry, credit cards, cash and drugs that littered the top of the dresser and instead opened her dresser drawers and rummaged around. He was ruffling through her underwear drawer, sneering at all her skimpy panties and bras. What was with this guy? Did he have some strange kind of fetish?

"Don't you have anything sensible at all?" he snarled before he just started randomly stuffing items into his backpack. From there, he moved quickly to her armoire and pulled out shirts, shorts and jeans. He disappeared a moment into her closet before coming out holding the ugliest pair of white sneakers she'd ever seen. They were so old she didn't even remember where or when she'd gotten them.

"Look," she said, her voice shaking, "if it's clothes you want, I've got tons of them. Take whatever you want. Take them if that's what does it for you. But just go."

Exasperated, he looked at her and shook his head distastefully, hefting up his now heavy backpack. Then, as if he really noticed her, he sighed and dropped it with a 'thud' before once again returning to the armoire. He grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, before out of nowhere, he brought forth a dangerous looking serrated knife. He held it with deadly intent as he walked surreptitiously back to her.

Her eyes widened with fright, her breath came in shallow pants. She wanted to scream but she couldn't force her body to make a sound. And what good would it do? Helplessly, she watched as he knelt leisurely down in front of her, his eyes inches from her own and he seemed as if he was enjoying every last second of her terror.

This was it. This was the moment she had feared would come. If she survived, and that was a big if, she would be tortured with nightmares of this moment for the rest of her life.

His gaze slid slowly along the length of her, thoroughly assessing, appraising, from the tips of her well-manicured toes up to the top of her still damp hair. He looked directly into her eyes, challenging, and she raised her chin in defiance.

"What are you waiting for, you bastard?"

He took a long deep breath then let it out slowly, his warm breath caressing her skin and face.

"I honestly have no earthly idea." Their gazes locked for but a few seconds, but it seemed an eternity while they each studied the other, trying to discern the thoughts that whirled within.

He raised the knife between them and she flinched away, but he only tapped the flat side of it against her pert little nose. "You and I, my sweet little vixen, are going to get to know each other very well."

He drew the knife slowly past her cheek, down the side of her neck, passed her shoulders, the towel she still wore, and traveled down the bend of her legs. She didn't move. He could rape her. He could kill her. But she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy.

He grasped her ankles within his large strong hands and he looked intently into her eyes and warned, "I'm going to cut the bands on your ankles now. Don't try anything. If you do, you'll get hurt. I don't want to have to hurt you. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Let the creep believe whatever he wanted.

He slid the knife between her ankles, carefully cutting away the bands, her legs instantly relaxed of their own volition. He grasped her knees, holding them firmly, preventing her from breaking away or kicking.

Meanwhile her brain was spinning. If she got lucky, she thought, she might be able to attempt a well-placed kick, but her hands were still bound, and he still held the knife. But then he surprised her.

He picked up the sweat pants and positioned them at her feet.

"Stand up! Put your feet in," he ordered. "You're getting dressed."

"I don't understand," she stammered, puzzled. "What do you want? Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer, only waited expectantly.

Numb with disbelief but immensely relieved, she did as she was told. She stood and raised each foot in turn as he pulled the sweatpants on. He slowly raised them up, the touch of his warm hands burning the length of her. From her ankles to her calves, along her thighs, then higher, under the towel, on up and over her bare bottom. His touch was unnerving. Many a man had attempted to touch her intimately throughout her short lifetime but never had she experienced the intensity that she felt with a touch from this man. Maybe it was because he was a stranger. A masked one at that, and that danger coiled within every fiber of his being.

She lowered her eyes, deceitful in her submission, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

He took the shirt and slowly brought it over her head, his roughened hands reaching through and pulling her long hair through the opening. They stood face to face, his hands still on her shoulders, looking into each other's eyes, considering. It would have been deeply intimate, to be dressed by a man, if he didn't utterly terrify you and perhaps want to torture or kill you. It was almost as intimate as being undressed by one.

As if he could read her thoughts he quipped, "I'm sure this is a change for you..."

"I'm sure it's not for you," she replied angrily. "I'm sure you always have to tie up the women you want to touch."

He ignored her outburst and continued his directives. "I'm going to remove the bands on your wrists so you can put on your shirt. I have to say, you're doing great so far." He came up close against her and as he leaned around and placed the knife at her wrist, he noticed her long fingernails and warned sharply, close to her ear. "Remember this... scratches are quickly healed, but other things, not so much..."

With a snip, the band was cut and she hurriedly slid her arms through the shirt, pulling it down and over her body before removing the towel that was still wrapped around her and tossing it on the bed.

She was now fully dressed, standing warily before him and rubbing her tender wrists with her hands. Dressed and on equal standing, except for the minor detail of the knife. And the massive size of the one holding it.

"Quite an improvement on how you usually look," he stated, surveying her as he gathered her wrists tightly within his hands. "Nice and modest now, don't you think?"

"Don't I think?" she hissed, desperation making her brave. "I'll tell you what I think. I think you're some sick pervert who gets his jollies by terrorizing women half your size. I think that you must be so insanely repulsive that you have to hide behind a mask so you don't disgust yourself when you look in the mirror. I think you enjoy preying on weak, frightened women who cower at the site of the big scary man with the big scary knife. But if you think I'm one of those women then you've got another think coming." She slammed her shoulder into his chest, definitely surprising him, pushing him slightly off balance. She leaned down, bit his arm, hard, and twisted her wrists free at the same time. Miraculously she was released, and she took the opening to slide low around him before tearing full speed to the door. She heard him coming after her and steeled herself for the slash of the knife in her back. But instead, her body was slammed with a brain-jeering force when he tackled her, twisting mid-air so he didn't land on top of her. They hit hard on the floor, twisted and rolled. They ended with him over her, body to body, face to face, his eyes dark, livid, promising reprisal. The weight of him nearly suffocated her. She couldn't stand his closeness, his overpowering strength, the fear of the unknown. She screamed.

His mouth came down hard on hers, dominating, muffling her cry. He forced in his tongue, sparring with her own. She attempted to bite him but he retreated and kissed her harder, painfully. She bucked beneath him but his weight and size were too much for her.

With one hand, he gripped her wrists, with the other, he moved to grab something at his side. She thought he was reaching for the knife and her body tensed tightly, awaiting the painful impact. But instead, he pulled back his head, and when she went to scream again he stuffed in a large wad of material.

He'd gagged her! Enraged, she violently shook her head and glared daggers at him. If she could have spit in his face she would have.

Uhc-oo!" she shrieked around the imposing gag.

"You need to watch your language!" he growled, quickly binding her wrists together in front of her again before pulling her up to stand before him. He held her tightly as he grabbed the duffle bag and stuffed her shoes inside before dragging her outside to the balcony. Was he going to throw her over?

He pulled her further out, following along the outer wall where her only means of escape was through him or over the three-story balcony. For one hysterical second she thought jumping might not be such a bad idea.

He retrieved the bow he'd left before, tied a nylon rope to a long straight arrow and with a swift proficient stretch of the weapon, sent the arrow hurling down through the night sky. She watched in bewilderment as the light nylon rope trailed behind like the arc of a rainbow. With a thud, the arrow sank deep into a thick tree limb, some ten feet above the ground on the other side of her security wall.

He pulled forcefully on the rope and it didn't budge. After securing his end to a top post of the balcony, he added a rolling metal clamp and then turned for her, his face set, determined. She edged back, her knees nearly buckling as understanding washed over her. He was taking her. With him. He was taking her with him over the freaking wall.

He reached for her and she jerked away. Undeterred, he easily lifted her and carried her to the balconies edge.

"We're going over that wall," he pointed far below them. "I can either fling you over my shoulder, which could be quite dangerous for you, or you can wrap your arms around my neck, hang on, and enjoy the ride. Which is it? One way or another, we're going over that wall."

She glared at him, wishing for all the world that she could talk. She was choosing neither, none of the above. I'll take option C, she thought. The one where I kick you over and you fall on your head.

Taking her lack of fight for assent, he lifted her still bound hands up and over his head. Holding the clamp with one hand, he pulled her close and cradled her against him as he stepped one leg over the balcony rail.

Faces only inches apart, he looked deep into her eyes. "I've heard you were one to try anything."

"Uhc-oo!" she swore for the second time that night.

"You know, you really are quite fluent with those one-syllable words. Extraordinary."

She was on the verge of making some more vulgar retorts that he wouldn't be able to understand but her stomach dropped to her feet when he jumped from the balcony's edge. He held them both, suspended stories in the air, as they skimmed silently down the length of the rope. She clung desperately to him, her weight dragging her down, but he held her securely as they flew silently through the night sky. She watched in horror as they neared the wall. They were going to hit it. "Lift your legs," he ordered. And when she couldn't lift them high enough, he used his own to raise hers. They buzzed over the top of the wall, missing it by mere inches. They were speeding towards the trunk of a large tree and she closed her eyes and tensed her body, waiting for the impact. Suddenly he squeezed the clamp, slowing their descent, before letting go and dropping them both to the ground.

He landed solidly with a jarring thud and held her safe and secure in his arms, as wild-eyed and breathing rapidly, she looked around trying to regain her bearings. When he was certain of her safety, he relaxed his grip and she slid against him down to the ground. Her bound arms were still around his neck, and due to their close proximity, she was aware of his rock hard body every slow inch of the way. Solid. Muscular. Dangerous.

"This way," he ordered, as he roughly disentangled her and began pulling her across the road behind him. She had to run to keep up, for she knew if she fell, she'd probably have been dragged. There was nothing on that side of the road except thousands and thousands of acres of federally protected land.

She tripped and stumbled on the uneven ground as they made their way across to the other side. After going about thirty feet back into the woods they came upon a small clearing where a large black truck with tinted windows was parked, ready and waiting. It had easily been hidden within the unkempt land. No one ever ventured this way. He opened the door and quickly lifted her inside before binding her feet again with one of his many plastic bands. How many of those things did he have anyways, she thought angrily. She was never going to recycle again.

When he clicked her seatbelt, she nearly laughed out loud at the irony of it. After all, they wouldn't want her to get hurt.

In seconds, he was in the driver's seat, revving the engine before driving slowly from the woods and out onto the road. He turned left, drove along the side of her security wall, passed the guard sitting oblivious in his car and headed down the winding hill. Dawn was approaching. It was the beginning of a new day.

Would she live to see another?
Chapter Six

As soon as they exited to the highway, her captor seemed to visibly relax. He maintained his set speed, readjusted the air so a few vents faced her way then reached back and pulled the tie from his hair before tugging off the offending ski mask.

Her jaw dropped, if that were possible, being that it was already spread wide from the gag. He looked dangerous with the mask on but now that it was off, she was really freaked out. She was used to California boys, with their long hair, their wild looks, all trying to be different but in that way, all looking the same. He, on the other hand, just looked wild. Dangerous. Feral. He had long black shoulder length hair and most of his face was covered in a scraggly beard. The only facial features she could discern were his straight nose and his eyes. Those eyes. His presence in the cab of the truck was overwhelming. He seemed immoveable, as if made up of rock, iron and hair

He glared at her from across the seat, his clear jade green orbs burned hers with their intensity. He didn't like her, that was plain to see.

"Don't even think about jumping out," he warned her brusquely. "As you can see, the handle's been removed. It's not possible to open the door from your side."

Her jaw lifted angrily. He'd definitely receive high marks for preparation.

She leaned her head back and watched him as he drove, committing to memory every detail and direction so she could recall them once she made her escape. And she would escape. Even though her wrists and legs were still bound, she'd find a way to cut them, and he'd have to stop eventually. Although glancing at the full tank of gas, she realized it probably wouldn't be any time soon.

Where was he taking her? And why? For ransom? Hopefully. That could be easily taken care of. He hadn't hurt her so far, though he'd had plenty of chances. He hadn't made any sexual advances either and he'd certainly seen her naked. When he looked or spoke to her, he acted like he found her distasteful. So why was he doing this? Was he some kind of psychopath, taking her to his dungeon out in the middle of nowhere so he could torture her for hours?

That thought did nothing to encourage her. Her entire body ached. She was exhausted. She had been tackled, bound, carried and thrown. It seemed days ago that she had been partying into the early hours of the morning with Jasmine, awakened only hours later by Jack's maniacal phone call. And now this. How quickly one's life could change in mere moments. Here she was, a famous celebrity with world-wide face and name recognition, her every want and desire quickly attended to; now bound and gagged. A prisoner, heading who knew where, who knew with.

She turned away from her captor and looked out the window. She had to stay calm. She needed to conserve her energy so when she really needed her strength, she would have it. She watched the passing scenery, deep in her thoughts. Thankfully he left her alone.

Time passed in silence. They seemed to drive for hours. She wasn't certain how long. Three hours? Four? The sun was rising quickly in the east. She looked longingly at the cars they passed, wishing that the drivers could see her as well as she could see them. But with the trucks tinted windows, that was hardly possible.

Her wrists burned from the tightness of the bands. She rubbed them each in turn and then lifted them to push her hair out of her face. In dawning apprehension and then sudden realization, she reached up and removed the gag from her mouth.

He watched her bemusedly as she worked the pain out of her stiff jaw, rubbing her cheeks and chin.

"I wondered how long that'd take," he remarked dryly. "I'd say we had a peaceful few hours anyway."

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice hoarse, her throat dry. "Where are you taking me?"

For a moment he considered not answering. Maybe if he just ignored her, she'd get the hint and stay quiet. But then he sighed, and answered truthfully.

"Names Cade. Cade Montgomery." And then with a sarcastic tint added, "You and I, Vanessa dear, are going to come to know each other quite well."

The use of her real name set her aback, but then he could have easily found that out with a simple Google search. Surely someone who went to such lengths to kidnap and imprison a person would thoroughly research their victim.

"Listen you a--" she began before he quickly interrupted her.

"Nah-ah-ah," he said, placing his rough hand across her mouth. "You know, you've got quite the gutter-mouth," he informed her. "It's really not very appealing...Can we just stick to the PG version here?"

Her body literally shook with rage. Her hands clinched shut. Oh, how she wished her hands were free so she could have the pleasure of slowly scratching his eyes out. She would have bitten him but he'd already removed his hand.

They were traveling at a pretty high rate of speed. They were leaving the city and houses were becoming further and further apart. She was getting further away from her family, her friends. The sun was rising higher still, it's rays spreading warm light across the shadowed land.

"I want to know where you're taking me," she demanded haughtily. "If its money, a ransom you're after, I can get that for you. Immediately. There's no need for any of this."

"Oh really," he replied fascinated, his tone easy-going, as if he had this conversation every day. "How much do you think? How much do you think you're worth?"

She turned away from him, staring out the window again. How did one bargain for one's self, one's own worth, she wondered. As with any bargaining, of course you'd start low.

"I could have fifty thousand in your hands in a matter of seconds," she announced. "Just drive me to any bank."

He laughed at that. "Fifty thousand. Bah! I'd pay that myself to be rid of you. Fifty thousand my foot," he hooted. "You sell yourself short. I heard you made more than 15 million on your last movie alone. Not bad for a mere two months' work. But then that was what, over a year ago? I guess you've had to learn to budget like the rest of us until you can get another gig, huh?"

She shot him a look that held no need for words. He laughed, amused at the expression on her face.

"A million," she declared with venom. "I can get you a million dollars with one phone call. My bank will wire it anywhere. You can keep me at your side until you have it in your hands."

"I can, can I? Thanks so much."

He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head as he continued to drive down the winding road.

"Two million," she upped.

He ignored her now, uninterested. His attention was diverted as he intently scanned the passing road signs.

"Three million," she said, starting to panic as he slowed and turned down an old dirt road that was surrounded on each side by dark overgrown woods. As they drove down the bumpy road she could see glimpses of green pastures beyond the thick border of large trees. The fields were speckled with lazily grazing cattle. After about a mile he turned down another dirt road, or maybe it was a driveway, less of a road than the last and it was filled with holes and rocks jutting in all directions. Judging by the condition, not too many people seemed to have ventured this way. That didn't encourage her.

She saw a large gray barn in the distance, and he was heading straight towards it.

"Ten million," she cried, frantic now, grabbing his shoulder with her bound hands. She wanted away from him, away from here. She would pay any price for her freedom. She didn't want to be held prisoner, alone, with this monster of a man out in the middle of nowhere. "I can get you ten million dollars. I promise," her voice rose nearing hysteria as she viciously shook his shirt. "Just name your price. I can get it!"

He pulled the truck up near the entrance of the barn, stopped and shut off the engine. He turned and surveyed her, his arm resting on the back of the seat as he looked at her with something akin to pity. He leaned his head back as if he were very tired.

"You can't, Vanessa," he told her. "You can't."

She held fast to his shirt, glued to his eyes and wondered at his words. Seeming to make a decision, he took out his phone. "Your bank, which is it?"

"What?" she questioned, bewildered.

"I don't mind being the one to inform you, but you're worth Jack Crap right now." She looked at him like he was crazy. He sighed again. He really had about reached his limit with her. And what, he'd only been around her a few hours?

"Your bank, who do you bank with?" he ordered.

She told him. What good would that information do him? And if he wanted to withdrawal a large amount of money, they'd be alerted instantly. In a matter of seconds, he found and called the number. He put it on speaker when the pre-programmed recording came on. He gave her the phone and let her punch in her account number, then her pin. He pushed '2' for the available balance in her account and laughed to himself, astonished at the astronomical sum given. "Don't you know you shouldn't have all your money in one bank?"

"But I don't," she replied automatically, bewildered.

He pushed the prompt to hear the available amount for withdrawal.

"Zero dollars available for withdrawal," came the automated response.

Puzzled, she looked to him, questioning.

"If you have more than one bank, then it's the same with the others as well. All your funds have been frozen. Your bank accounts, credit cards, all of them. You've lost access to everything."

"I don't understand. What's happened? Is this some kind of identity theft? Some computer scam?

He looked at her intently, measuring if she was lucid, capable of understanding, and he must have decided she was because he let her have it full force. He spoke with authority, sounding like a cop or a lawyer reading a criminal their rights.

"Vanessa Victor, you are no longer in charge of yourself, your own person. You have lost all say on any and all matters concerning your life. Any financial, professional, personal decisions you want to make, such as where you want to go, who you want to go with and what you do, will all be made by someone other than yourself. Someone who has been appointed and entrusted to care for your well-being. All choices of any kind will be made for you until you have proven yourself capable of making your own decisions and this supervision is no longer deemed necessary by the court."

Vanessa paled, his words registering but she still wasn't fully comprehending them.

"How can this be?" she stammered. "You're lying," she accused. "This can't be happening."

"It has happened. And after much warning, I was told. The ones you love have watched you spiraling out of control for years. They've tried everything within their power to help you, to rehabilitate you, to save you. Mostly they found themselves fighting against you. It has come to the point that with every passing day, they've feared they'd awaken to reading in the paper or hearing on the news that you'd died of an overdose. A story that wouldn't surprise anyone. Your leaving the latest rehabilitation clinic after just one day was the final straw. They've taken the choice out of your hands."

"Taken it out of my hands. What are you talking about? I'm twenty-three years old. I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions."

He looked at her, the beautiful young starlet. She was spoiled, pampered, in the prime of her life. Everything was always handed to her on a silver platter, doing whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. If it looked good, she'd buy it. If it felt good, she'd do it. The complete opposite of him. And he almost hated her.

"Not anymore." he responded briskly. "The courts have deemed you incompetent, and you've been placed under a conservatorship." He snarled saying the distasteful words. "From now on, all things pertaining to you will be decided by two people."

He got out of the truck, grabbed her bag from the back and slung it over his shoulder before stalking off towards the barn.

She stayed where she was, flabbergasted. Is this what had happened to Britany Spears? She was still in shock by his proclamation but hearing that the authority was given to two people gave her some hope. Her parents. It had to be her parents. Her father would be unmovable. He was a businessman, used to making big decisions void of emotion. With this decision concerning her, she was sure he had removed his personal feelings from the equation and looked at what he thought were the basic facts. He was doing what he thought necessary to help her. To save her.

But she didn't need any help. Her life was fine. She was on top of the world, for heaven's sake. Sure, her parents had been angry after she had left the last rehab facility, but the place was a joke. She had only gone in the first place to sooth them and because her agent said some of the big wigs were getting antsy.

She'd talk with her mother. She could always get her to do what she wanted. And her mother would persuade her father. She'd help her.

She tried to extricate herself from the bands binding her wrists but she was unable to budge them. It was useless anyways because in a mere moment he was back, gathering more bags.

"The two people," she asked breathlessly, a catch in her voice. "My parents?"

"Your father is one," he replied.

"And the other?"

He stopped, looked at her squarely. "Me."
Chapter Seven

He slammed the door on his side of the truck and strode towards the barn again. She watched after him, dumbfounded, her jaw dropped. Him? Who was he? He said his name was Cade Montgomery. 'Cade Montgomery, Cade Montgomery,' she repeated in her head. She had never seen the man or heard his name mentioned before in her life. Why would her parents put him in charge of her, in charge of every single facet of her life? In the area of her finances alone, it was inconceivable. Even more, her personal life. All her decisions made by a stranger?

He unlocked the barn's huge twenty-foot metal door, slowly sliding it aside and revealing a small airplane housed within. It was bright yellow in color with a black lightening stripe along its side. It looked very small, not more than a two-seater and to her inexperienced eyes, very flimsy. Grabbing it near the wing, he slowly began pushing it out into the open.

She was crestfallen, realizing they had not yet reached their final destination. Apparently they were traveling on, and in that.

He pushed the airplane about 30 feet into the clearing, then returned to shut and relock the barn. With that done, he came to her side of the truck and pulled open her door. After grabbing one last army colored duffle bag from the back, he reached for her, easily lifting her out. "Sorry about the bindings, but I really don't want you doing anything stupid while we're in the air. It's not that I don't trust you, but," he smiled lazily, "I don't trust you."

Her mind raced as he carried her. She had never felt so helpless in her life. As her cheek bounced up and down against his hard solid chest, she realized that she had gone from feelings of terror, that this stranger who had abducted her was taking her somewhere to torture and kill her, to feelings of utter betrayal. Her own parents had been a part of this, a large part, from its planning to its implementation.

"Please, let me call my parents," she begged. "This is crazy. So I like to party. Who doesn't? They're overreacting. Just let me talk to them."

"Nope."

"I'll pay you anything. For one phone call, please? Whatever they're paying you, I'll pay you more."

He shook his head in disgust.

When they reached the airplane, she realized her guess had been right. There were only two seats in the plane, one in front of the other with a large metal stick coming up from the floor in front of each. Is that what was used to fly this thing? Just a freakin' metal stick?

Plopping her down none to gently on the small seat in front, he quickly reached around her and secured the seat belt in place. Her body stiffened from his touch, her chin lifted defiantly. She had hated this man on first sight, and her heated emotions had only intensified. A person could take only so much. She had been abused both emotionally and physically, and she was ready to explode. And when he tightened her seatbelt with one last tug, she did explode. She swore, enraged, yelling at him to get his hands off her, demanding to call her parents. He had no right! They had no right! She shook and kicked out and screamed in frustration, the bands around her extremities cutting her raw.

"Stop it," he hissed, shaking her harshly by the shoulders, the violent movement jarring her brain. "Just stop it!" His face was in hers, his chest leaning heavily on top of her, his strong arms holding and blocking her legs. His closeness in the small quarters forced her to stop her emotional tantrum.

"Be still!" he scolded, his angry breaths brushing her neck. "I know you don't want this. But the consequence of acting like a child is to be treated like one. Screaming, crying, begging and throwing a fit isn't going to get you anything. Especially from me."

Just as he scolded her for acting like a child, a tear slid down her cheek. Embarrassed and still angry, she jerked her head away from him, raised her bound hands and quickly wiped it away.

"The decision's been made. You don't have a choice," he continued, his voice laced with frustration. "Do you understand? This is going to happen. Believe me, as much as you hate this, I hate it ten times more." He was angry himself now, and harshly pulled her seat belt again, jerking her body back in the process. Quickly determining she was settled and secure, he grabbed her chin and firmly turned her face so she looked directly at him, her face now inches from his own. "I'm going out to turn the propeller. Don't move! Don't touch anything!" he commanded. "You could get us both killed. Do you understand?"

More tears slid uncontrolled down her face as she shook her head.

Mumbling something about babysitting spoiled brats, he trudged to the front of the plane, grabbed the propeller with both hands and spun it with all his might. The metal object spun forcefully in a vicious circle, spinning, sputtering and then clacking slowly to a stop. Stepping forward, he grabbed it again, reared back and forcefully gave it another whirl. The propeller gyrated quickly, twisting and buzzing and then increased in speed as it came to life, spinning so fast it became invisible.

The roar was deafening, and it blew her hair in a tangled mess about her head. He ran around and climbed into the back before reaching and pulling up a side door that only came to about halfway up her body. Where was the rest of it? Some headphones appeared up and over her head as he settled them over her ears. The noise was immediately subdued and for that at least, she was grateful. A microphone was attached to her headset and she assumed he wore one as well so that communication would be possible if either chose. She didn't.

The metal stick before her legs started moving back and forth and she noticed pedals in the floor in front of her were raising up and down. Large flaps on the backs of the wings started raising and lowering as well. The noise increased and the plane lifted a few inches before it turned and started moving.

They were in the middle of long field, what was obviously a grass landing strip. There was an orange nylon wind sock on top of the barn that she supposed was used to show the direction of the wind. It resembled her at the moment, sad and limp.

Vanessa clenched her hands together, wishing they weren't bound so that she could hold on to something. Hold on for dear life. She had flown before, numerous times, but never in such a flimsy aircraft as this, one that held only two people.

He taxied the plane out to the middle of the grassy area and headed in the opposite direction, away from the barn. The engine roared louder and louder. Her whole body vibrated and shook with the jarring noise. The grass rippled out and away from them in dizzying waves. The propeller seemed to spin even more rapidly and then the plane started forward.

They moved faster and faster, picking up speed, bumping and bouncing along the cleared pasture, the trees that lined the sides flying by. They were bearing down towards the end of the field. The boundaries were clearly marked with a white wooden fence and for some reason, someone had planted large trees on the adjoining property. Closer and closer they came, bearing down the runway. She tensed, fearing the inevitable, but then the metal stick in front of her slowly moved back. Instantaneously the nose of the plane lifted. They were cruising on, balancing only on the one small back wheel. And then, they were floating. The wings seemed a bit wobbly at first, waving back and forth, then steadied as they flew higher and higher, easily passing over the trees and up into the clear blue sky.

They were flying.

Even though she had flown before, she had never really flown before. This was flying. Her stomach still remained on the floor, and the plane's bouncing as they hit air pockets seemed destined to keep it there, but gradually she was adjusting and gaining faith that this flimsy aircraft would actually hold together.

She felt like a bird. When she flew commercially, she was tens of thousands of feet in the air, up and over the clouds and could rarely ever see the ground. This was altogether different. She was perhaps only a few thousand feet in the air, in some instances only a few hundred feet over the tops of the trees. It was an experience like none other.

The fields looked like a patchwork quilt from above. The fences marked the squares. The colors varied due to the different crops planted by the farmers, yellow, light green, dark green, brown. Different designs were made by the widths and directions of the planted rows. It was beautiful. The cars traveling the country roads looked like children's toys, but she could actually see the people inside. And they could see her. Some of them even waved as they flew overhead. Cade saw them as well, and he would bob the plane's wings in return. She could see the children in the back seat bouncing and pointing in excitement.

They went higher, flying just below the clouds that dotted the sky. They looked just the same close up as they did from a distance, like huge tuffs of cotton.

The plane took her farther and farther away from the city, from her home, from her life. Her hair flew about her in wild abandon, as if to display on the outside what her emotions felt like within. Frenzied. Racing in every direction. It whipped out menacingly and stung her cheeks and face. Cade must have noticed as well, for she jumped suddenly as she felt his large hands on each side of her head, tightly drawing her hair into a large mass before binding it together with what else, but another zip-tie.

"Okay up there? Need anything?"

In answer, she grabbed the headphones and tossed them out of the plane. The plane wobbled and she saw them fall far below to the ground.

"Hey! You little..." And then he roared, "That's coming out of your money!"

She felt a small victory in making him feel a tiny fraction of the anger that she was experiencing. Neither spoke or tried to communicate after that.

They flew for hours, heading north if she guessed correctly by the location of the sun. They passed flatlands, lakes, rivers and mountains.

It was early evening when she finally felt the plane start to descend. It felt like an elevator as it dropped slowly from floor to floor. They'd fall a few feet, bounce softly in the air, then fall a few more. It was nauseating. As they continued their descent, she noticed once again they were flying between a range of mountains. They were beautiful, the setting sun turning them a light shade of blue. Far ahead, in a valley of rolling hills, she could see a cluster of buildings. Soon she could make out a small cabin with a large front porch surrounded by several outhouses and barns. The property was neatly outlined with fences and the rolling hills behind it were dotted with large herds of cattle and horses. Numerous ponds and lakes glittered the landscape and in the distance behind, she could see the smoky haze of more mountains. She quickly surveyed her surroundings. Now that she had this bird's eye view and knew where he was most likely taking her, she would use it to look for neighbors or nearby towns. To her chagrin, there was nothing. Nothing within the rolling hills that she could see.

They made their descent, gliding quietly through the evening sky, the setting sun highlighting a kaleidoscope of colors interwoven across the vast horizon. The plane was getting lower, lower, the ground quickly coming up to meet them. It was a grassy field, just like the other. Neatly mowed and cleared of rocks and trees. She braced herself. Suddenly they hit the ground, her teeth grinding upon the jarring impact. They bounced and flew high into the air and then slammed down again, hard, before bouncing once more. She heard Cade's low laugh before at last, the plane stayed on the ground, slowing its speed as they traveled steadily down the field.

He turned the aircraft and brought it to a sluggish stop next to a big red barn, one of the buildings which had looked fairly small from the air but in reality was quite massive. He turned off the engine and the propeller quickly sputtered to a stop.

Before she had time to undo her seatbelt, he was out of the plane, leaning across her and cutting away the bands on her wrists and ankles. Their removal brought instant relief. He reached for her seatbelt but she angrily slapped his hands away.

"Don't touch me," she ground out between clinched teeth, and then hastily unclasped herself. She rose and jumped from the plane, but didn't quite clear the side. She would have fallen to the ground had he not instantly grabbed her under the arms, holding her erect. He smirked as he looked down at her, the irony not lost on either of them that if he'd obeyed her command to not touch her, she'd literally have fallen flat on her face.

"Who would've ever thought? The one and only Vanity... falling at my feet."

She tensed, took a long deep breath and then glared up into his eyes.

"I said, don't touch me!" Pushing harshly passed his shoulder, she marched across the yard, up the porch steps and right through the front door, slamming it hard behind her. All before Cade even had a chance to retrieve her backpack.

Cade slung the bags up and over his shoulder and stared in the direction of his cabin, bemused.

"That girl's trouble. One hot mess of trouble."
Chapter Eight

Upon entering the cabin and seeing the main room was empty he headed straight for the one and only bedroom. There he found her, curled up like a cat in his large leather chair, already seeming as if she owned the place.

"Make yourself at home," he ground sarcastically as he slung his belongings on the bed.

A loud 'harrumph,' was her only reply.

"Since it looks like you're gonna be here for an extended stay, I guess I can do the hospitable thing and give you the grand tour."

Instead of looking at him, she slanted her body further away diverting her attention out the open window.

"This here, is the master bedroom of course, which houses the one and only bedroom, the bathroom and also myself, 'the master.'" He smiled to himself at his joke. "And out there," he pointed to the only other room in the cabin, "is the living room, kitchen combo." His smile was devilish. "And you're welcome to spend as much time in that kitchen as your little heart desires. That couch there," he pointed to the large leather couch in the living room before chunking the back-pack with her belongings on it. "That's what I like to call the guest bedroom. It's got a very nice pull-out bed that I think you'll find very comfortable."

She sighed.

Fed up with her sour attitude, he disappeared into the closet where he set to trading his shoes for work boots. "Well, I guess if sitting several hours in a truck and even more in a plane isn't enough for you, then have at it. I haven't been here in a while so I've got plenty of things to check on. The linens for the couch are in the closet. If you think of something you need, look around. If you can't find it, then I haven't got it." He left her then, and headed back outside, glad to be done with her.

She watched him from the window as he trudged across the property, his straight back impassive as he headed to the plane. Sliding back the door of a large brown shed, he slowly began pushing the aircraft inside. His t-shirt wasn't tight but even so, she could see his chest and arm muscles bulging with every movement. His strong jaw was rigid and his face intent. Well good, she thought. He didn't look too happy either.

As soon as he vanished within the darkness of the shed, she was out the door to the porch. She glanced in every direction, hurriedly taking in her surroundings. They were out in the middle of nowhere. There was a large pond with an old wooden dock located about fifty feet in front of the cabin. An old dirt road led out to the right, disappearing around a corner of large trees, leading to more hills beyond. A huge red barn, along with a few other smaller buildings, was situated behind the cabin. Next to those, to her side, was the shed where Cade had gone to secure the plane. Rolling green hills surrounded the property and there were hundreds, if not thousands, of lazily grazing cattle scattered about as far as the eye could see. Breaking up the green countryside were miles of white wooden fences that fenced and cross-fenced the acres and acres of land. And beyond all that, off in the distance, as if the scenery wasn't already breath-taking enough, she could see huge snow-capped mountains.

Any other time she would have thought this was a very beautiful place. Any other time she would have enjoyed the isolation, the quiet peacefulness. This was not that time.

She took off at a full sprint down the dirt road. She was used to exercise, keeping her body in shape, and she'd be able to run several miles if she slowed her pace. But right now, she just wanted to escape Cade Montgomery.

A moment later, on a niggling suspicion, Cade leaned from the shed and shot a quick glance towards the cabin. It was too quiet. The little hellion should be screaming, cursing, or destroying something. He walked over, checked through the bedroom window and scowled. She wasn't there. Hurrying to the front for a quick look inside confirmed she was gone. Brow furrowed, mouth tight, he scanned the distance and just caught sight of her running at a full sprint before she disappeared behind a line of trees.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he directed a fierce whistle to the hills then headed to the barn. Gathering a saddle and reins from the rack, he went out, leaned back against the fence and waited.

A horse's neigh echoed throughout the rolling hills, followed by the sound of thunderous hooves before he saw the animal barreling over the hillside. He watched in admiration as the powerful black beast kicked up dirt and dust behind it, bearing down upon him before coming to a sliding stop at the fence, its nostrils flaring, it's head bobbing. In no time, he had it saddled and ready to go, mounted and nudged it down the dirt road after her, cursing himself for ever getting roped into this in the first place.

She had already rounded the corner and was out of his line of vision, so he set the horse at a gallop to catch up with her. He didn't want her running into the woods, she'd most likely sprain her ankle. And then she'd expect to be waited on hand and foot. He wasn't worried about losing her, he could track anything... just didn't want to put forth the effort.

When he rounded the bend he saw her, probably a mile ahead through the copse of trees. She was still running at a full sprint. Pretty impressive, he thought. The girl could run.

Luce whinnied and she must have heard it because she turned around and saw him watching her. She stumbled, none too gracefully and fell to the ground, got herself up, then took off even faster.

And that... was almost a sprain. Growling, he kicked the horse to a full run to close in. She was getting frantic as she looked back and cried. When he was just about to overtake her, she darted off the path and headed up into the tall grass of the field. He veered around and pushed the horse in after her, coming up alongside her. Bending low, he reached down and wrapped his arm around her, scooping her up and lifting her high in the air. She screamed and clawed and tried to hit him away. She was twisting, turning and kicking, and he held on tightly because if he dropped her, he feared she could be trampled by the horse. He brought her body in close, and she pushed, turned, and fought to free herself. When he nearly dropped her, he'd had enough, so he slammed her down in front of him. Hard.

She was safe on the horse with him now, but the only problem was, with all her twisting and turning, instead of facing the correct direction she was positioned facing him. Face to face they sat, her chest pressed against his, her legs entwined over his. The horse had slowed to a lazy walk which caused their two bodies to push together over and over and over. Suddenly she became aware of him as a man rather than just an adversary.

Her face reddened in anger, more so when she saw the glint of humor on his own. She pushed back hard on his chest. "You did this on purpose!" she screamed, her contorted face a hairsbreadth from his.

He laughed outright, his hands up in defense. "Just for the record... this was all you. I'm not complaining... but this..." he motioned between them, "was all you!"

"Stop this horse! Let me down, you hairy freak. Or so help me..."

He reached around her to still the horse, chuckling at her huff of irritation when he brushed against her. Immediately she began trying to untangle her legs, trying to move one or the other up, over, and around him. But she wasn't making any progress other than rubbing herself further against him or bopping her cheek against his own. Finally, he reached around to her underarm and just yanked her off with a solid pull, literally holding her dangling body in the air before lowering her down to the ground. Fists clenched, she flayed him with her eyes before storming off in the same direction she'd been running.

He nudged the horse to lazily tag along beside her.

Head back, chin up, she stormed ahead, trying her best to ignore him.

Finally, he leaned down and inquired, "Where is it that you're headed?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shouldn't it be obvious even to you, Captain Caveman? I'm going home."

"Hmm." He thought on that as they walked some ways more, the lazy clip-clopping of the horse's hooves the only sound between them. "You just plan on walking?"

She bristled. "I'm walking to get away from here. From you." She increased her angry pace. "And when I find someone, anyone other than you, I will call my friends, my agent, or my family and they will send someone to get me."

He seemed to consider that a bit before he spoke. "I don't know if you were paying attention or not when we flew in this evening, so you might not have seen it. But it's back some ways, and you might not can see it through the trees, but...there was this huge mountain that we flew around..."

She slowed a bit at his words, as she suddenly did remember.

"Really hate to be the one to tell you," he scratched his head, a humorous frown appearing upon his face, "but you're headed right for it. Nothing else that way. Nothing at all."

"Augh!!!" She screamed, stopping in place and literally stomping her feet on the ground. "This is kidnapping. Do you realize that? This is illegal," she screamed up at him. "I demand you get me to a phone or so help me, I'll sue that smile right off your face..."

He laughed a loud throaty laugh. "Sue me!" he dared, egging her on. "I can afford it. It seems I've come into a great deal of money recently. An unfathomable amount of money."

If looks could kill, she'd have had him sliced, diced and put in a shredder.

Infuriated, she turned and headed back in the direction of the cabin, her long blond ponytail swishing angrily behind her. He let her get a bit ahead, as long as she was going in the right direction, he was satisfied. And the view wasn't that bad from here either.

***

Vanessa had never been angrier. The day was nearly done and she was still here, stuck out in the middle of nowhere, with him. He hadn't bothered her after she made it back to the cabin. She'd stormed straight inside and he'd taken the horse to the barn. She was at her wits end but saw no help for it today. He wasn't budging and she wasn't giving up. But for now, she was exhausted. She'd hardly slept in days. So she'd rest up, and tomorrow after all, was another day. With an irritated snort she retrieved the back pack and started digging through her belongings, taking a quick mental inventory of what had been crammed inside. A bunch of nothing. While ruffling through the tightly stuffed items she came upon a sheer spaghetti-strapped night gown, found her toothbrush, and stomped off to the bathroom.

It was over two hours later, after throwing small piles of hay in the last of the stalls, that Cade leaned the pitchfork back against the wall. The large palomino mare in the furthest stall back stuck its head over the railing and nuzzled his arm for attention. "Did ya miss me, Jezebel?" he asked, gently stroking the horses soft head as he spoke. "I sure did miss you, girl. It's good to be home." He stroked her a long moment, enjoying the peacefulness of the barn, the sounds of the horses, the smell of aged wood, horses and oats. "Now get to eatin'. Those stallions out there like a girl with fat on her bones." He gently pushed her away and off she went, vigorously digging into her night-time snack.

Cade's ranch consisted of several thousand acres of sprawling land, lakes, hills and even a mountain. He employed a large crew of men that seamlessly maintained most of the cattle operations, and had hired two Mexican workers to mainly help out around here during the day. The night time chores were left up to him and Juan. At the moment, Juan was nowhere to be found, so he still must be out somewhere on the range. He never could keep track of his comings and goings.

Things seemed to be in good order, other than a few pieces of equipment that had been set aside for repairs, so he dug in to those. It was close to ten-thirty when he finally made his way back to the cabin, hot, grimy and exhausted. He'd shower, head to bed, and think more about the mess he'd gotten himself into in the morning.

He silently moved up the steps and cautiously opened the screen door, trying his best to prevent it from squeaking. If the brat happened to already be asleep, he certainly didn't want to wake her. His first day with the woman-child had been enough to last him a lifetime. She was in a habit of staying up all night though. He'd read the reports.

The room was dark. He gingerly moved a few steps inside, unsure what might be awaiting him. The darkness was lightened somewhat by the moonlight spilling thru the large front windows, the shadows swaying upon the rocks of the massive fireplace. His eyes quickly adjusted and he glanced expectantly over to the couch. It was empty. And still a couch. The linens along with a pillow were piled neatly on a cushion, her intent coming across loud and clear. The door to his room was closed. Obviously she'd taken his bed.

Exasperated, he closed his eyes, clenched his fists and took a deep cleansing breath. He would not yell. He would not lose it. He'd fought many an enemy in many a country and always had the mental toughness required to keep his control. He would not lose his temper in dealing with this mere slip of a woman.

Purposefully he walked to the bedroom door, sharply raised his fist then held it suspended mid-air. Closing his eyes and bringing his clenched fist to his forehead, he resignedly backed away.

It was late. He was exhausted. She was exhausted. He didn't feel like a shouting match. This could wait for another day.

With a sigh and an irritated shake of his head, he backed away, swiftly removed his shirt and chunked it angrily to the floor. Grabbing a towel from the cupboard and slinging it over his shoulder, he headed back out into the night, in the direction of the pond. He was hot and he stunk. It was time for a bath.
Chapter Nine

The curtains drifted in luminous waves, swaying back and forth in the early morning breeze, at times reaching out and tickling the toes of his foot as he slept uncomfortably on the cheap pull-out couch. The hovering night moon cast slanted shadows across the room upon his sleeping figure. Cade's large six-four frame was sprawled face down on the six-foot mattress, arms and legs dangling over the edges. He shook his foot, thinking the light touch of the curtain was an intruder of the eight-legged variety. After one last flick, face drawn, he slowly rolled over, groaning every inch of the way as the bars of the squeaking bed frame pressed harder into his aching body.

Lazily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he glanced at his watch. Only four-fifteen. There was sudden movement from the bedroom and then the door burst open, blinding him with a painful jolt of bright light. Reacting instantly, he grabbed the sheet and covered his bare right leg. It wasn't wise to let your enemy see your weakness.

"It's not anything I haven't seen before gorilla boy," she shot caustically, breezing past him without another glimpse his way. "And believe me, I have no desire to see yours."

She stomped straight to the kitchen, opening and slamming cabinets until she found a cup and filled it with water. She wore a sheer nightgown of the thinnest material, the light behind enhancing his view of her back and lacy panties. The extraordinary irony of 'Vanity' stomping through his cabin in the middle of the night was not lost on him. Whatever happened to this last peaceful solace, he wondered, rubbing his temples. For the hundredth time in twenty-four hours he wondered how he'd ever allowed himself to get stuck in this situation with a spoiled self-centered witch like her? He enjoyed the view anyways, as nose in the air she passed him by before his brain shook jarringly from the sharp slam of the bedroom door. For the next hour, he tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, trying to go back to sleep. It was hopeless.

Sluggishly sitting on the edge of the bed, he grabbed the jeans he'd worn yesterday and slipped them back on. Grabbing his work boots, working with his eyes half-closed and from sheer habit, he arranged them in place as well. Retrieving his wadded t-shirt, he smelled it, grimaced, then tossed it back to the floor. He considered the closed door beside him with a frustrated shake of his head. At least he could start the day in clean clothes. Was that too much to ask?

He curtly tapped the door.

"Vanessa, open up. I need to grab some clothes."

Silence.

"Vanessa!" he ground louder.

Nothing.

Disgusted, he rattled the door. It was locked. Why in the world he'd ever put a lock on the door of a one room cabin, he'd never know. This was just his starter cabin anyways. Just a cheap quickly built place to live while he built the home of his dreams.

Pounding the door one last time for good measure, he pulled on the dirty t-shirt, grabbed an old biscuit for a quick breakfast, and headed outside. Let her play her games, he had more important things to do.

He raised his arm in greeting to two of the men from his crew, Matthias and Ferdinand, who were already mounted on their horses and heading out across the fields to check the different herds. A faint succession of barks echoed through the misty morning air and his eyes squinted as he scanned across the ever-appearing horizon. A smile transformed his hardened face seeing the large German Shepherd bounding through the dissipating fog, running towards him at full speed. Duke was back. The dog was to him in an instant, hurling through the air and landing on top of him, knocking him back a few feet as the animal thoroughly licked his face. "Hey boy, you're home. You knew I'd come back, didn't you? Didn't you?" He hugged the dog, struggling to maintain his balance against the strength and weight of the excited animal. Together again. They were home. Like the old friends they were, intuitively knowing the drill. The dog's tail wagged happily as side by side they made their way along the path to the old toolshed. Inside, he pulled the cord for the light and went to the corroded metal sink in the corner. Tossing his shirt, he retrieved his supplies from the wooden cabinet beneath and set about doing what had become tradition. Grabbing the clippers, he expertly began buzzing off his long overgrown hair, letting it fall in floating sheaf's around him. Duke lay on the floor beside him, head resting contentedly on his paws. His large gold eyes watched his master's every movement, enraptured. Every once in a while the dog would let out a long sigh, and the hair that had fallen around him would scatter in all directions.

When only about a half inch remained, Cade turned his attention to the beard. Using scissors, he quickly trimmed away most of the scraggly facial hair. Lathering the remainder with an ample amount of shaving cream, he took the shiny straight-edged razor and set about shaving his face.

This had become his way of doing things. All the years he'd spent in the service, he'd had to abide by their stringent dress codes. He looked every bit a man but inside, he'd come to realize, he was an animal. A cold-blooded killer without a conscience. He was part of an elite special force team, sent on mission after mission, doing the jobs that no one else could do. When he was injured, and honorably discharged, he kept up the appearance of the clean-shaven civilized man. Mainly to remind himself of that very fact, that he was a man, and living within society he had to play by societal rules. But still today, he'd occasionally be approached for special assignments. Assignments that even those in the highest echelons of government were left unaware to give them the cover of plausible deniability. But now that he was playing by his own rules, when he chose to do those missions, he would let his appearance go and become that which he truly was. The unkempt, hard-hearted, cold-blooded killer.

Splashing the last traces of shaving cream away, he studied the transformation in the mirror. In one man, out another.

He found Juan in the barn. He was only eleven and mostly spent his days tending the horses or shadowing him. The boy was like a son to him really. He'd been at the ranch since he was eight, since he'd crossed the border into Texas with his family. They had only talked of it once and Juan had given few details. The gist of it was, that his parents had hired a Coyote, a man who illegally aids people across the border for high sums of money. Close to seventy-five people were packed into the back of a semi-truck that day, but less than half made it out alive. His parents weren't among them.

That was how he came to be with Mathias and Ferdinand. The kind men refused to leave the boy behind. They pulled, dragged, and forced him along. He walked until he couldn't walk anymore and then Matthias, the bigger of the two, had carried him. First they made it to a creek, thirstily guzzling down the lifesaving water. Then they made it to a highway. Hiding behind brush along the roadside, trying to dodge patrol vehicles, searching for help. Finally, an old beat-up truck came along, sputtering and hissing as it came. Desperate, they staggered out and flagged it down, hoping and praying that this would be their salvation.

Ironically, the truck belonged to an elderly catholic priest. He spoke fluent Spanish and directed them to jump in the back, taking them to his home where they rested for days, recuperating. Once they regained their strength, they stayed on, helping the man with repairs and whatever else he needed. It was through a friend of his that they finally made it north. The friend happened to be a trucker, and once again they made a life-changing trek in a Semi. This time they got to ride in the front.

The trio had been with Cade ever since, hired as help for the ranch. He still remembered Juan, such a little guy. The only of the three that could speak English, interpreting for the other two, asking for jobs, food, and shelter. He didn't need any positions filled but seeing their fraught faces, he'd had pity on them. Cade didn't care one iota that they were all illegal. He knew from personal experience how fluid the southern border was and how many characters of other than Mexican descent stole through. Those borders could easily be secured but for some reason or another, never were. Law after law had been passed to build a security fence of one caliber or another, politicians promising the moon and playing on the fears of their constituents. But even though a law would get passed and the money set aside, a secure fence was never completed. Violence raged on the Mexican side and many times, battles of the drug cartels would spill into the U.S. But still the country was not secured. Cade figured if the border wasn't a priority for Washington, it wouldn't be for him.

Matthias and Ferdinand lived in one of the many cabins to be found upon his property, about a mile away. Juan lived wherever he wanted.

Cade had taken a special liking to the boy, and even invited him to come live with him, in the cabin. He'd stay there sometimes; he didn't even mind the couch, but he had the nomadic yearnings of an Indian, never wanting to be cooped up in one place for long. Sometimes he'd stay with Cade, sometimes with Matthias and Ferdinand, sometimes in the loft of the barn. But most times he spent his nights camped out on the open fields, sleeping under the stars.

Cade knew that the two older men's stay here was most likely temporary. They'd been here three years and Cade paid them well, but they sent most every bit they earned back to their families. Eventually they'd return for them, to bring them over to the states. Hopefully the legal way.

But he wanted Juan to stay. When the time came, he hoped Juan would want to as well.

The men didn't speak a lick of English, and Cade downright refused to speak a foreign language in his own country. If someone wanted to live here, he felt it was their duty to assimilate and learn the language. Juan's English was perfect. It was always easier for a young child to pick up a foreign language than it was for an adult. But even though he was proficient, when strangers were around he'd often revert to speaking Spanish and pretend he couldn't understand a word. Cade figured it was some kind of protective mechanism and didn't feel it was important enough to rock the boat. Besides, it might prove useful someday.

He found him in the loft of the barn, asleep on his assorted collection of blankets. He must have returned some time during the night.

"Mornin' kiddo," he said, ruffling the child's shoulder length hair. "It seems I went and left a boy, and returned to find a little girl... Someone needs a haircut."

The child stretched, opened tired eyes and smiled a welcome to his friend. Duke barked sharply from below before foraging throughout the barn to sniff out any and all new smells.

"You were only gone three weeks, Mr. Cade. Just because you prefer it, we don't all have to look like a porcupine."

Cade laughed as he jumped from the ladder. He hoisted a saddle off the rail and lumbered over to ready Luce for the new day. "Porcupine? That's the best you can do? Porcupine?" He tightened the saddled on the big black and buckled it down. "Well, until you develop a little muscle or a shadow of a mustache, you might consider looking like a porcupine yourself. Or else instead of Juan, you might be referred to as Juanita."

Juan laughed outright at that, sitting now at the edge of the loft, his ever-growing legs dangling over. "Ouch! You're a cold-blooded man, Mr. Cade. But not all the women prefer the bulging muscles. I happen to know that some prefer intelligence."

"Intelligence? Seriously?" Cade grinned, considering the boy. "I'm thinking you've got someone specific in mind."

Juan smirked and bobbed his eyebrows, leaning forward on his elbow as if to share a secret. "I've been practicing my big words..."

"Lou?" Cade guffawed. "You've gone and gotten sweet on my little Lexi-Lou?"

Juan came down the ladder to threaten his friend. "If you tell her, so help me, I'll put manure under your bed for a month. Try and catch me, too."

Cade playfully tousled the boy's hair again before taking Luce by the reins and leading him out of the barn. "I won't tell her. She's dangerous enough without that added knowledge."

Juan walked out with him, climbing up on the fence to see him off.

Cade mounted his horse then hesitated, becoming serious. "Speaking of dangerous women, kiddo, I need to let you know there happens to be one staying here, in the cabin." Cade frowned as he glanced that way. "I want you to stay near today, keep an eye out for her."

"A woman? In the cabin? Staying with you?" The boys voice rose an octave with each question asked.

"Whoa now. It's not what you're thinkin'." Cade stammered a bit, searching for the right words. Wondering sheepishly how he was going to explain this. "It's kind of a... sort of a... mission...thing..."

Juan's eyes widened and he nearly exploded with excitement. "A mission? Here on the ranch? You never bring anyone connected with that back to the ranch."

Cade could almost see the boy's thoughts spinning.

"Is she injured? No, you wouldn't leave her alone then," he answered that himself. "Is she a prisoner?"

Before Cade could get a word in edgewise, Juan burst out again. "She's a spy! She's a spy, isn't she? You're hiding her here, out in the middle of nowhere. You're going to interrogate her, aren't you? Can I help? I know some good techniques, Mr. Cade..."

Incredulous, he looked at the young boy he'd had a hand in raising, the last few years anyways.

"No, she's not a spy, you crazy loon. She's not any of those things. She's just going to be here a while. And not anyone can know, okay?"

Juan nodded excitedly as Cade continued awkwardly. "And she doesn't really want to stay here but, she has to...anyways."

"She is a prisoner, isn't she, Mr. Cade? A real live prisoner." Juan flew off the fence, throwing his hat in the air and whooping for joy. "I'll help you. I'll watch out for her. And if she tries to escape, I'll bash her on the head."

"Whoa now, hang on, boy. She's not a prisoner. Well, that kind of prisoner. And you're not going to go around bashing anybody, for Pete's sake." He steadied the horse that had grown antsy from the boys yelling, arm flailing and hat throwing. Duke bounced around the two in brisk short hops, getting caught up in all the excitement as well. Cade leaned to explain. "She's the daughter of a friend, and I'm doing this as a favor. She's a bit messed up. Spoiled rotten. If she tries to leave, come find me. Stay out of her way, but keep an eye out, okay? But stay out of her way!" he warned again, then frowned in the direction of the darkened cabin. "Just don't let her burn the place down. She's a wild one, that one. Don't trust her a bit. Understand?"

Juan nodded excitedly. "Yes sir. I'll watch her like a hawk. She won't see me but I'll see her. Yes, sir!" Juan emphasized his proclamation by pointing two fingers from his eyes to the cabin.

Cade laughed and saluted goodbye before nudging Luce into a gallop. It was good to be home, to see Juan, Duke, and the ranch. Life was good...all but for the minor detail of having a complete stranger living in his house. He didn't feel the least bit apprehensive about leaving her alone. There was nowhere she could go, no one around for miles. Especially since she didn't know where to look. And he had all the faith in the world that Juan would keep an eye on her. He just hoped the boy wouldn't bash her.
Chapter Ten

Vanessa's eyes fluttered open. She had slept, finally. She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning as the hours sluggishly dragged by. She'd lain awake replaying the events of the last twenty-four hours, trying to digest all that had happened and to formulate a plan of escape. There had to be some way for her to get this mess straightened out. If she could only talk to her mother. She knew she could count on her to help.

She rubbed her eyes, clearing her vision and gradually becoming aware of her surroundings. The room was brightly lit with the early afternoon sun. A ceiling fan spun lazily above her, click-clicking away and swaying dangerously with each turn. The faint tick-tock of the clock hanging upon the wall informed her it was already eleven-thirty. The two young girls with their heads resting in their hands, looking down at her from the windowsill... She gasped in surprise, clutching the covers close.

The girls hardly reacted, just continued to stare as if sitting in a window watching a stranger sleeping was an everyday occurrence.

"See, I told you she wasn't dead," said the older of the two. She looked to be about nine.

"I'm glad," said the younger, her eyes widening in disgust. "Cause if she were dead, she'd pwobably start to stink. Then what'd Unc Cade do with her?"

"He'd bury her, silly. That's what you do when people die."

"Well I'm not dead, and I'm not deaf," Vanessa responded angrily. "Stop staring at me as if I were a bug. Who in the world are you two and why are you sitting in the window?"

"Momma was wight," said the younger, "she's purty on the outside by not so much on the in."

"Why you little..."

"I'm Lou," said the older, interrupting Vanessa. "And this is my sister Emma."

The younger girl smiled angelically, revealing a mouth missing several front teeth. "Her weal name's Alexandra, but Unc Cade started callin' her Lexi-Lou, and now she's just Lou for short. My weal names Emma, but Unc Cade calls me Enema for short. But I don't weally think it's much shorter. Anyhow, momma doesn't allow him to awound her. I don't know why. But I like both, so you can call me either."

Vanessa smiled and moved closer to sit on the edge of the bed, hoping to win their confidence with kindness. At this point, any and all information that could be obtained was appreciated. "I'll call you Emma. It's a very pretty name for a very pretty girl. You said your mother said that I was pretty? How did..."

"On the outside," Emma corrected. "But not in hewe," the child tapped her chest.

"Emma, quiet!" protested Lou, embarrassed.

"Yes, I understand what she's saying," Vanessa continued, unfazed. "But how did your mother come to talk about me? Did she know I was going to be here today?"

"She and daddy were talking about you late the other night after talking to Uncle Cade on the phone." Lou explained. "We weren't supposed to be listening, but we accidentally overheard their conversation."

"We had to go to the bathwoom," Emma explained. "And decided to use the downstairs bathwoom instead...because we heard them whisperin'."

"We weren't eavesdropping," Lou hastened to defend their actions. "It was just serendipitous."

"Serendipitous?" Vanessa repeated. "That's an awfully big word for such a little girl. What are you, nine?"

"I'm ten," Lou smiled proudly. "I'm home-schooled," she answered as if that explained everything sufficiently.

Vanessa smiled in return. "I guess I could say that you girls showing up here was serendipitous for me. What else did your parents have to say about me?" she prodded.

"Just that Uncle Cade was doing this as a favor for a man that once did a favor for him. My mom tried to talk him out of it, but my dad said by his honor, he didn't have a choice. He had to do it."

"And then momma said she hoped you didn't get your fangs into Unc Cade. Do you have fangs?" Emma asked. "I didn't see none when you were asleep with your mouth open." And then she made a funny face with her mouth open and her eyes half-closed before giggling.

"You didn't see any," Lou corrected.

"That's what I said, aint it? I didn't see none."

Vanessa patiently attempted to steer the conversation back to her desired direction. "How did you two know to come today? Did your uncle call and tell your parents that I had arrived?"

"No, he doesn't have a phone here," Lou answered to Vanessa's dismay. "We knew because Duke left first thing this morning. That's Uncle Cade's dog. Uncle Cade always has us watch him when he leaves, and Duke somehow always knows when he returns."

Vanessa's mind was racing. Cade didn't have a phone, a home phone anyways. She knew he had a cell phone. He had one before they got in the plane. Did he have it on him? Was it even possible to get cell service out here? Well, if he had one, he had it on him or he'd hidden it. There was no hope of her making a call. Did he have a computer? She'd have to look for one as soon as possible. She had to get out of here! Suddenly, it dawned on her that she didn't even know where 'here' was. Turning to Lou she asked, "Lou, do you live near here?"

"We live near town. My dad's a builder and my mom owns an antique shop."

"In town? How far away is that?"

"It's only five miles. We rode over this morning as soon as we noticed that Duke was gone. We wanted to see what you looked..." Lou stopped speaking mid-sentence, her lips tightening, embarrassed.

"Five miles?" Vanity gasped. "Your parents let two little girls travel five miles all by themselves?"

"We wode Charlie. He's verwy fast." Emma explained.

"Our parents always let us," Lou added. "Although, we didn't actually tell them where we were going this morning." Lou's eyes dropped. Her shamed face the epitome of guilt because they hadn't told their parents on purpose, knowing they probably wouldn't have been allowed to come on this day for sure.

"And we bwought a knife in case we met up with an old wild dog." Emma proudly held up a large Bowie knife, snapped in its thick leather casing.

"Two small girls and one large Bowie knife," Vanessa muttered to herself. "I'm in a real-life twilight zone. What kind of place is this?"

"It's Paradise." Lou answered primly. "Paradise Valley, Montana."
Chapter Eleven

Both girls turned at the lazy tread of horse's hooves to see Juan astride a large spotted stallion slowly riding by. Emma beamed as she waved excitedly and hollered a hello, while Lou, the more reserved, exposed the barest glimmer of a grin.

Juan nodded and smirked in return but then upon spying Vanessa behind, his expression hardened and his eyes narrowed keenly.

Vanessa bristled with frustration and resignedly got up from the bed. "What is it with this place?" she asked herself. "It's like a sick Snow White remake. Instead of being saved by the hunter, I'm kidnapped by him, and then imprisoned by a bunch of dwarfs. Heaven help me!" She grabbed the dreaded backpack and rummaged through it, searching for something to wear.

"Well, we'd better go," Lou announced, repositioning herself on the sill. "It was nice meeting you, Ms..." she hesitated.

"Vanessa," she supplied, as she turned and smiled down at the child. "You can call me Vanessa. And it was nice to meet the both of you as well. Lou, Emma," she said, coming forward and primly shaking each of their hands in turn.

Emma gawked up to her, unable to disguise her obvious admiration. "You're so beautiful," she whispered. "Even if it is only on the outside. Maybe, you can come over to our house one day," she suggested shyly.

"Yes, maybe," she replied, her lovely brown eyes twinkling. "That sounds very nice."

Both girls smiled hopefully before Lou turned and whistled shrilly behind her. A fat white pony grazing several yards away raised its head, ears perked, and then trudged over and stood obediently beneath the window. Vanessa watched as Lou stood on its back before carefully lifting her chubby little sister off the ledge and to a sitting position behind her. They waved a final goodbye as Lou nudged the horse's flanks and they trotted off back towards the big red barn in the opposite direction she'd taken last evening. Vanessa chuckled as Emma attempted one last wave with one hand while still holding the Bowie knife with the other, her body bouncing precariously.

She stood at the window for several minutes as she watched the girls' departure, their bouncing figures getting smaller and smaller in a dwindling cloud of dust. Suddenly, she felt so very alone.

Those little girls, so innocent, honest, and naïve had done something that she, a worldly-wised multi-millionaire couldn't do. Leave.

****

Grabbing a mismatched outfit of shirt and shorts, she stormed to the bathroom to change. Finding the pair of horrid white tennis shoes, she slipped them on as well. Not seeing a hair band, she made-do by tying her long hair in a knot behind her. She was dressed and ready. Ready for war! Straightening her shoulders, she strode to the door, grasped the handle, and jerked it open.

The room was empty. She looked out the front screen door only to find the yard deserted as well. What did she expect? Of course he'd be gone. He probably woke up first thing this morning to head out and chop off a bunch of chicken heads. After that, he'd probably decided to top off the afternoon by branding happy faces into cows' rumps. Irritated, angry and a little let-down that the scream fest she longed for wasn't to be, she tramped to the refrigerator looking for anything available to eat. Typical of most bachelor pads of heterosexual males, there wasn't much of anything inside. Its slim pickings consisted of scattered bottles of condiments, a half-gallon of out-of-date milk, two sticks of butter, a plate of dried biscuits, eggs and a moldy stick of cheese. She found a clean pan, grabbed the eggs and butter, and scrambled up a quick breakfast.

Feeling fortified, she started in on the one thing that came second nature to most women, snooping. If there was a phone or computer to be found, she was going to find it.

The cabin was small, basically one room; therefore, the whole process shouldn't be too time consuming. Starting in, she rummaged through the cabinets closest to her, quickly moving from one to the next, scanning their contents and poking around. There were pictures, letters, maps, books on ranching, fliers advertising cattle sales, papers, receipts; a little bit of everything. Everything but a phone or computer. She moved to the couch. It was still pulled out from when he'd slept on it the night before. She crouched down and looked underneath. It would have made a good hiding place, but absolutely nothing was there. She felt up under the mattress. If she were to hide a phone, this is where it'd be. Nothing again.

She turned to the desk. The only items on the desktop were pens, pencils, books, papers and a note pad. At first glance, she thought there was just mundane writing on the notepad but looking closer, she realized that it pertained to her. It was written in a sharp script, and was a list of supplies that he needed, including ropes, zip-ties, binoculars. There was a capital V written and circled several times, and then a dash and her address written beside it. So this was where he sat when he calculated his devious plan to kidnap her. Angry, she tore off the paper, wadded it up and threw it across the room.

"You evil, evil man!" she fumed. And then in one quick motion, she swung her arms across the desk sweeping everything upon it crashing to the floor. The explosive outburst of temper had a liberating affect. She let out a long cleansing breath, clinched her fists, then intently scanned the room.

"Okay, Mr. Evil Man, you have to have a computer, phone, something; some way of communicating. And I'm going to find it!" There wasn't a phone clearly visible and the girls had told her he didn't have one, but surely they were mistaken. Who would live out in the middle of nowhere without some form of communication? Determined, she crossed the room to a large armoire and opened its doors revealing several neatly packed drawers. Emboldened, she pulled and dumped out each and every one, uncaringly spilling their contents to the ground about her. Papers, files, small boxes sailed through the air, falling haphazardly to the floor. Nothing. She searched across the top of the fire-place mantel, in the fire place. No secret hiding places. Nothing.

She briefly searched the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out drawers, only to find standard cooking supplies and utensils.

Exasperated, she headed to the bedroom. Why didn't she search this room last night? She'd only spent the whole night in here. But she'd been so angry and exhausted then, she hadn't been able to even think straight. She'd spent most of the night replaying the past 24 hours over and over in her mind, disheartened at her parents' betrayal.

Using all her strength, she hefted the mattress in the air and pushed it aside. Once again, nothing there. She pulled out the drawers of his dresser and dumped his clothes in messy heaps about the floor. Moving quickly, she searched his closet. Clothes were neatly hung on their hangers, shoes organized. She threaded through them quickly, checking pockets, checking shoes, making a mess of them all. Using a step-stool to reach the top shelf lining the walls, she made a quick job of pulling everything down from there. More papers, pictures and receipts littered the floor, but no phone or computer was found.

She moved the stool and swept her hands across the opposite shelf. Papers floated down around her and coins jingled as they joined the ever-growing pile at her feet. As she got down from the stool, her foot brushed a coin and it scratched across the floor. It sounded heavy. Bending down and examining it more closely, she realized the numerous pieces weren't coins, but medals. She looked through the scattered awards, all different shapes and sizes, unable to decipher what each represented. They each bore a different engraving or picture. Perhaps they were his fathers or some distant family members. Obviously they didn't hold much importance to him because they'd just been tossed up to the back shelf of his closet. Holding up another, she realized it was a purple heart medal. The person upon whom this had been bestowed must have been injured in the line of duty, perhaps his father or grandfather. Whosever it was, Mr. Evil Man had it now. At least her captor had a heart, she thought sarcastically, even if it was only a metal one.

Rising, she looked despondently about the room. Her last hope was the bathroom. A quick but thorough search there brought the same frustrating results. Nothing. She eyed her reflection in the mirror. Her face was smeared with dust, and her hair was a tangled mess with wisps of it falling in disarray about her shoulders. The eyes that stared back at her were shadowed and frantic. Feeling like a trapped animal, becoming desperate for escape, she hurried from the room and stormed outside.

The ranch was located in a green oasis surrounded in the distance by bluish-gray mountains. Cows and horses dotted the never ending countryside with its white crisscrossed fences that seemed to go on forever. Soft puffy clouds floated in the distance, some of them covering the tops of the mountains. If it had been any other day and she had been in any other mood, she might have appreciated the beautiful scenery and its peaceful tranquility. But today, her one and only goal was to get as far away from here as quickly as possible.

Quickly scanning the multiple sheds and barns that were scattered about the property, she decided to start with the one that was closest to her. Pulling back the large metal door, she realized with a quick glance that it was a tool shed. Nothing here that would help send out an SOS. However, as she stroked a large heavy hammer she realized that she might be able to use one of these more dangerous looking tools to do some damage to her captor. She filed that away to the back of her mind.

Next, she came to the massive red barn. There were ten stalls in all, five on each side, and all but two were found to be empty. In one, she found a mare with her new-born foal which skittishly skirted behind its mother for protection from this unknown intruder. The other stall housed a chubby old Palomino horse with a fluffy blonde mane and tail, munching contently at a pail filled with oats. The animal didn't seem bothered by her in the least and seemed more concerned with the oats than whatever noise she was making. She noticed what she presumed to be each of their bridles hanging on a hook at the front of their stalls. She didn't notice however, the small head that watched her every movement from the loft above.

If she had one iota of horse knowledge she would have saddled one of the beasts, then and there. The two young girls, Lou and Emma, seemed to handle a horse easy enough. Surely it was something she could manage, if it came down to it. But there had to be a quicker, better way.

If there wasn't a phone or computer around, there had to be something else. A car. He had to have a car.

She headed to the next large brown shed, peered through the opening only to find the small plane that had carried her here in the first place. If only... She was looking wistfully at the plane when a noise caught her attention. Turning quickly, she was just in time to catch a glimpse of the same Mexican boy she'd seen earlier. He hung then dropped down from the loft before slipping away through an opening at the side of the same barn she'd just left.

Yelling, she ran after him. "Wait!" she called, desperately rushing back to the barn and hurrying around behind it. "I want to talk to you!" She chased after him, going around the far side and just caught a glimpse of a door shutting on a long narrow shed. Running to catch up, she followed through just in time to see another door closing at the far end of the dark structure. She hurried forward not wanting to lose him. "Wait, I need to talk to you. I need..." She stopped mid-sentence when she came from the back of the building and nearly slammed head first into the side of a large rusty old farm truck. Breathless and almost in shock, she tried the door. It was unlocked. Forgetting the boy, she jumped in the outdated vehicle and checked the ignition. No keys. She rummaged through the glove compartment, ran her hands along the cracked leather seat and searched under the raggedy floor rugs. Nothing.

She tapped her fingers on the wheel, thinking quickly. What to do, what to do? Out of the corner of her eye she saw the boy again. Leaping out of the truck, she ran to follow him. Maybe he knew where the keys were kept. He was heading back to the cabin and had stopped mid-stride at the front door, staring in shock and disbelief at the mess she'd left behind. She spotted a shovel leaning against the shed and grabbed it up as she snuck stealthily across the yard.

"Don't move," she spat breathlessly, holding the shovel like a baseball bat and standing directly behind him.

Juan turned slowly, his palms out, hands rising high. His eyes widened at the site of the shovel in her hands, held ready for attack.

"I need the keys, kid. Where're the keys to the truck?"

Juan shook his head in confusion. "Lo siento," he told her loudly, frightened. "No habla ingles."

"The keys," she yelled vehemently, desperate. "Where are the keys? Now!"

"Lo sienta, senorita," Juan repeated again, his voice rising. "No habla ingles."

"You'd better show me where he keeps those keys kid, or I'm gonna..." She reared back the shovel and made as if she was going to swing right at his head before large arms came up and around her, picking her up and squeezing her so tightly it took her breath away.
Chapter Twelve

She didn't even have to look. She knew who it was. She'd felt that chest and those muscles before.

"What in the heck's goin' on here?" Cade bellowed, more to the boy than her. She fought with all her might, trying to free her arms and kicking viciously with her legs. One of her kicks made contact with his right shin and it felt as if she'd struck iron. She groaned in pain as the mountain of a man chuckled uncaringly behind her.

"She's crazy!" Juan screamed hoarsely, pointing at her accusingly. "She's been yelling her head off and chasing me all around. I mean look at her. She's trying to kill me."

Vanessa glared at the boy. "Don't speak English, huh?"

"And look what she did to your house." Juan proclaimed, as he stepped back and motioned through the doorway. "She's totally destroyed it. She's an evil one, Mr. Cade. You need to take her back!"

Cade carried her with him, shovel and all, through the front door and she could feel his stunned intake of breath at the sight of the overturned furniture, all his belongings, papers and clothes that littered the floor.

He remained still and silent for a long tense moment as he surveyed the destroyed room, his chest not even moving to breathe.

"What did you do?" he asked quietly, dangerously. "Why did you do this?"

Breaking free of his hold, she turned to look at him and for the first time noticed his long hair and beard were gone. She was momentarily at a loss. Her pupils dilated. "Who...?" She swallowed hard.

Then her chin lifted defiantly, blonde wisps of hair spiraled around her. She tightly grasped the shovel like a scepter, proudly taking ownership of the mess before her and proclaimed, "I guess I'm like ET. I wanted to phone home."

His face was incredulous, unable to fathom that she could tear his house apart and not show one iota of remorse. No longer able to contain himself he grabbed her harshly by the shoulders, giving her body a shake. "Phone home? You destroyed my house because you wanted to phone home?" He clenched his teeth, tightly closed his eyes as he seemed to affirm what his first impression of her had been. "You're nothing but a shallow, selfish, little self-serving brat!"

"Brat? Oh, that's rich," she hissed heatedly, standing on her tip-toes coming nose to nose with him. "You stalk me. Kidnap me. Fly me across the country and hold me prisoner who knows where. And you, the giant oaf of a man who's probably dumber than dirt, just 'following orders,' has the most intelligent vernacular to call me a 'brat?'" She glared directly in his eyes and spat, "Screw you!"

Juan's eyes widened. His mouth gaped open as he watched the standoff between the two, knowing his good friend was nearing his breaking point.

"That's it," Cade declared as he grabbed her harshly by the waist, hefted her up and carried her back out the door. Her head fell to inches from the porch and bobbed behind him as her feet kicked wildly in the air by his face. He headed down the steps and with grim determination towards the pond.

"Let me go, you big creep. Let go of me!" she demanded as she twisted and kicked, then attempted to stop their progress by dragging the shovel she still held in the dirt behind her, a crooked groove forming in the ground as they made their way along.

"Juan, grab the soap!" Cade barked behind him as he trudged along undeterred.

Juan shouted with glee and leapt into action, returning to the kitchen to grab the bar of soap. "Oh yeah, this is gonna be good," the boy giggled gutturally as he bounced along and skipped jubilantly back after them.

Cade headed to the pond, completely ignoring her cursing tirade. When almost there, realizing she was using the shovel to impede their progress, he snatched it from her and with a quick flick of his wrist, chunked it across the yard. Dropping her on the ground in front of him, she protectively scooted back and away as he loomed angrily over her.

"You've messed with the wrong man this time, Ms. Hollywood," he sneered, eyes blazing. "Nothing but a shallow snit surrounding yourself with yes people to fawn all over you. You're so beautiful, Vanity. You're so talented,' he mocked. "Well in my line of work, I've met some of the crudest, low-life scum in the world. But the sewer and stench that spews from your mouth... nonstop...a lady," he growled incredulously, "rates you one of the most disgusting and unappealing excuses for a woman I've ever seen."

Vanity glared up at him, her teeth clenched.

"This is your last chance, Hollywood. You're gonna apologize," he informed her. "And then you're gonna go back in there and clean up every last bit of that mess."

Her sweaty t-shirt clung to her body as her chest rose and fell in heated exhaustion. Dirt stuck to her legs and knees as she knelt where he'd dropped her. She was a far cry from the person who roamed the Hollywood hills of California, but bit by bit she straightened and stood up boldly before him, using the one weapon that she still had in her arsenal. Sex appeal. Shoulders back, chest out, she strode purposefully close to him, using every bit of her curvaceous figure as she attempted to be as sexy as possible, trying to gain the advantage, to not be intimidated by this powerful giant looming over her. Juan's eyes widened. She knew she had presence, and she knew whether he admitted it or not, she was beautiful. She had made millions off that fact. Standing so she could look squarely up into his eyes, her long blond ponytail dangling to her waist, her skin glistening with sweat, she stood on her tiptoes so that her sultry eyes were now only inches from his own. And slowly, as if she relished every small syllable, spat her seemingly two favorite words.

His laugh was harsh. He shook his head at her headstrong insolence, his eyes like two steel bullets. Then he let out a low chuckle. Before she had even realized what had happened, he'd grabbed her by the waist, flipped her over his knee and spanked her bottom. Hard! She bellowed loudly, screaming at the top of her lungs as she kicked, clawed and tried to bite him, while over and over, he fiercely spanked her rounded back-side. Again and again and again.

She screamed like the girl she was. "Stop, you animal! Get your hands off me!"

"Believe me when I say this," he shouted over her screams, "this is gonna hurt you way more than it is me." When he'd given her her due, she continued spewing the tirade of curse words and insults, foolishly still bent over his knee.

He shook his head incredulously.

"Juan, soap!" he ordered. Juan grinned widely, more than happy to comply and immediately slung him the bar.

Tossing her under his arm as if she were weightless, he carried her a couple of feet down the dock before dropping her unceremoniously into the shallow water. She landed with a muddy splash, blustering and bristling at the shock of cold water, attempting to rise but he wouldn't allow it.

"Where I come from," he growled gruffly, grasping her head by the hair and firmly forcing her body down, "this is how young ladies who have potty mouths are forced to clean 'em up. It's apparent, that yours hasn't had a good cleaning in a long time." With that, and to her utter shock and amazement, he knelt down, crammed her head briefly under the water before raising it, cradling it in the bend of his massive arm and shoving the bar of soap inside her mouth. She gagged and spit at the distasteful intrusion, screaming in rage as she tried to scratch and bite him.

"I hate you! I hate you!" she sputtered, soapy bubbles blowing from her mouth and nose. Once satisfied that her mouth was thoroughly coated, he grabbed her by the back of the shorts, callously pulled her soaked and dripping body out of the water, and carried her down the length of the dock. Her arms and legs flailed as she kicked and grasped at the air, but he continued undeterred, talking calmly the whole way.

"And now we're gonna have our first little therapy session," he stated calmly. "Vanessa, since your new to the group, this one's for you. Repeat along with me, now. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..."

She kicked and swore as he quoted the serenity prayer, struggling uselessly to free herself from his grasp.

"...Courage to change the things I can;"

"Let me go!" she demanded. "I hate you!"

"...and wisdom to know the difference." After one last flash of vitriolic verbiage exploding from her mouth, he swirled her around before chunking her lithe body several feet across the pond. She spun several times, arms and legs spread eagle, before landing with a large splash and disappearing beneath the water. Soapy bubbles rippled around the area for several seconds as Juan and Cade watched and waited in blessed silence. Abruptly, she surfaced, kicking, waving her arms, and let out a high-pitched scream of pure venom.

"Dang it," he declared to Juan, watching her. "She can swim."

Done with her, Cade stomped off the dock and back up towards the cabin without a backwards glance. Juan skipped along in his wake.

She glared after them, her eyes blazing daggers as she quickly waded back to the shore. Spying the discarded shovel lying a short distance away, she ran, grabbed it up, and was upon the pair full swing.

"You bastard!" she screamed, swinging it straight for them.

Cade turned, shoving Juan out of the way just as the full force of the shovel contacted with his lower right leg in a wicked blow. To her shock and utter astonishment his lower leg, boot and all, went flying through the air landing several feet away. The force of the blow, his unpreparedness for it and now the loss of his right lower leg caused him to topple to the ground, landing flat on his back.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her face instantly whitening as she shakily dropped the shovel, staring at him in pure horror, sprawled on the ground minus his lower limb.

Her body shook convulsively as she fell weakly to the ground beside him, almost retching with the shock.

"What did I do? What did I do?" she cried in disbelief, nearing hysteria. "I didn't mean it, Cade. I didn't mean it." Tears were making paths down her dirt-stained cheeks as she grabbed his arms and tried to gather him to her, to help him, comfort him. She tried to pull his body up. She had to get him inside. Her arms were around him, her face pressed against his chest as she attempted to pull his massive body up with her. His chest shook violently and she cried in horror at what she'd done.

"Oh Cade, I'm so sorry," she cried. "I never meant to..." As she looked up into his eyes, she realized with dawning realization that he wasn't shaking violently in pain, he was shaking in laughter. Laughing, at her. She stilled, bewildered.

"Huh? What...?" she whispered, still rattled. She looked to Juan, whose face was about to explode in laughter as well. She looked down the length of Cade's leg, it was still definitely missing... But there wasn't any blood. Her shaky fingers trailed down his leg, over his knee, down to his lower calf. She slowly pulled his jeans up, ever so carefully, until she revealed...a stump. He had a very healthy, very healed, amputated leg.

She growled and shoved him in the chest.

"You!" she hissed. "How could you?"

She angrily disentangled herself, shoving his body away before stomping furiously back to the cabin. "You can go get your own dumb leg," she screamed, before the screen door slammed with a bang.

With a lop-sided grin, Cade leaned back on his elbows. Juan crawled over to him, white teeth showing through his cheesy smile as he raised his hand for a quick fist bump before laying back beside his giant friend. Together they lay, side by side on the warm ground as they looked up in solidarity into the clear blue Montana sky, and laughed.
Chapter Thirteen

Two days had passed. By unspoken consent, the two stayed away from each other. Cade rode out in the early mornings, returning after dark. Vanessa stayed locked in the bedroom. He assumed she came out to eat while he was gone because the supplies Ferdinand had brought from town were slowly dwindling. Juan had had glimpses of her through the windows, angrily stomping about, occasionally throwing things. He'd reported that she seemed to be getting desperate, pacing the small room, seeming almost frantic.

Women. Who needed them. He'd much rather have had a terrorist or drug lord locked away in his cabin awaiting a court date or interrogation. He knew how to handle them. But this? A spoiled, pampered woman? He was clueless. He couldn't rightly tie her down and water board her, but oh, how he wanted to.

It was the afternoon of the third day, as he slowly herded the cattle to a new grazing location, that he noticed the rising dust cloud in the distance. He squinted his eyes, intently scanning the plain, from sheer habit his hand drifted to his rifle. It was Juan. He was saddled on the speckled roan and racing towards him at a high rate of speed. Cade kicked the black stallion into action, rushing to meet the boy. The two horses skidded to a stop almost atop each other, high stepping and prancing within the spiraling cascade of dust.

The young boy was visibly upset. His lips trembled and his brown eyes were large as saucers.

"She's gone, Mr. Cade. She's gone!"

Cade clutched the boy's horse to still it.

"Where? When?" he demanded.

"I don't know," he was nearly in tears now. "I tried to keep an eye on her, I promise I did. I saw her this morning, through the living room window as I was doing my chores. She looked crazy as ever, kicking things, talking to herself. I got busy cleaning out the tool shed when I realized some time had gone by and I hadn't checked on her. I went around towards the cabin, and, I don't know, it was quiet. Too quiet. So I went up on the porch to look in and I didn't see her. I went inside, checked the bedroom... and she was gone!"

Cade gripped his arm tightly. "How, Juan? Where?"

"I don't know where. If I did, I'd have gotten her. I swear. I ran to the barn and Jezebels gone. She must have taken her. I didn't think she knew how to saddle her."

Cade looked off in the distance, mentally trying to visualize her location. From his peripheral vision he noted Juan's slumped posture.

"It's not your fault, kid. It's impossible to keep a wild cat corralled. I expected as much."

Silently, he skimmed the vast skyline. "A storms comin' in. She's out there somewhere, without a clue where's she going. She couldn't find the town if she had a map," he scowled, heavy with the burden that had befallen him. "Ignorant snit," he sneered with an angry shake of his head. "Lord knows I wish I didn't, but man, I gotta get her back."

Abruptly he turned his horse and with a swift hit to the beast's rump, he set it at a full run back to the ranch.

*******

Duke's tail wagged excitedly as he eagerly moved his twitching wet nose over the blouse Cade held down to him.

"You smell that? Go get her, boy! Go get her!"

The dog trounced forward, sniffing around on the ground, ran back and forth a bit and then circled back as he sniffed about some more. Suddenly his tail stilled, ears perked, eyes set, before he scuttled off behind the barn.

"Figures," Cade muttered. "She went the opposite direction from town." He turned, and with a last wave to a droopy shouldered Juan, he set off on horseback to follow the dog.

Cade rode for hours, the late afternoon turning into evening. The sun gradually descended from the big open sky before disappearing behind a mountain, transforming the Montana countryside from a warm oasis to a frigid wilderness. The evening sky quickly faded from a pale blue, to pink, to violet, to black. The night sky lit up with a brilliant show of lightning, and thunder cracked with an ominous echoing roar through the surrounding hills. Cade watched unmoving as in the distance a veil of rain shimmered along the countryside towards him. It swept across the jutted landscape of mountains, combed smoothly down the valley and then was upon him. The pelting rain stung his face but he kept his head raised and his hat back, uncaring and unfeeling as he searched the distance. Determined, he nudged the horse on. The terrain was more rugged here than near the ranch, and even though he didn't hold any warm feelings for Vanessa, he worried for her safety. If she had traveled down into one of the valleys, with the onslaught of this storm, there would no doubt be flooding. He could hear the rhythmic rumble of the river's rising waters from here. Even a person greatly familiar with the area would hesitate to venture out, would do so only in a case of life and death. Such as now.

Duke was a way ahead, soaked to the bone, diligently searching her out, scampering about to explore each crook and crevice. Cade urged his horse forward, scanning the area for any sign of her, his hopes dissipating with the deluge of rain, realizing that any scent of her would be washed away by the storm.

More hours passed. The rain had subsided and the clouds vanished, leaving in their place a bone-chilling wind whistling through the night, taunting him in his dampened clothes. Numerous stars appeared, illuminating the never-ending sky. By the height of the moon he figured it was near midnight. Luce, his faithful black horse trudged along through the mud, the ground splashing and sucking at its hooves, its head held low.

Cade squinted as he tirelessly scanned back and forth before him, looking for the minutest clue; a scrap of material, a caught strand of hair, a broken branch. He wouldn't give up. He never did.

Up ahead, Duke let out a short gruff bark and then darted through some tangled trees. Cade nudged his horse to follow along. They were off the beaten path now and were trudging through the woods, the dog jumping excitedly over fallen logs and rugged undergrowth, wet leaves and branches hitting them both in the face. They rounded a corner, Duke's barking became more continuous, incessant. They broke through to a clearing, startling both themselves and Jezebel, who whinnied in consternation. The old horse's saddle was hanging nearly upside down and its reins were tangled in a fallen branch. The mare was a mess. She had scraped knees, bloodied scratches along her flank and stared back at them with crazed eyes, squealing in panic as her hoofs slipped in the mud while she attempted to extricate herself from the twisted branches. A feeling of dread came to the pit of Cade's stomach. He leapt from his horse rushing over to her, soothing the animal as he untangled her and simultaneously looked about for Vanessa.

Duke ran around beneath them, sniffing wildly and then veered away from them, running further along. Cade followed after the dog, repeatedly calling out for Vanessa. The dog stilled at the top of a high ledge, pranced excitedly in place and barked wildly at something unseen, far down below. Cade peered down into the darkness, calling frantically, as loud as his voice would carry.

"Vanessa! Vanessa!"

The only answer was the ghostly echoes of his voice against the fissures of the cliffs.

Then he saw it. There was a slight movement, probably twenty feet below. Vanessa! She was so filthy with mud and leaves, camouflaged into the surroundings, that he wouldn't have even seen her if not for his training in the service.

He scrambled to retrieve his horse, quickly took a rope and tied it to the saddle horn and then to himself before carefully beginning the slippery descent down the muddy drop-off. He slipped and cut himself on the jagged rocks along the way, but eventually, he reached her. Wearing only a thin t-shirt and shorts, her body was caked in mud, her hair ratted and strewn with twigs and leaves. One of her feet was bare. Her body was shaking and shivering from the freezing cold as she lay on her side, rolled into a fetal position. Her eyes were glassy as she looked straight ahead, mouthing words, only a few barely audible, nothing coherent. He picked out, "cold," and "can't," from the many mutterings.

"Vanessa?" he murmured hoarsely, slipping his strong arm beneath her slender shoulders as he crouched down beside her, trying to make her not only look at him, but see him. But he failed to penetrate her confusion. She was in shock. His hands swept along the length of her arms and legs. They were scraped, cut and bruised, but nothing seemed broken. Slowly, gently, he pried her fingers loose from the tight grasp she held to the rooted ground.

Suddenly, something changed. Her eyes registered the presence of another, and then recognition, and she nearly tackled him as she leapt into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck, crying, and shaking.

"It's okay," he soothed, firmly holding her, rocking her as he would a child. "It's okay. I've got you."

He wrapped his large coat about her and pulled her snuggly against the warmth of his body. She held on with all her might, almost climbing him as she attempted to steal his warmth. Her body trembled incessantly. He lifted her and stood, her arms holding his neck in a vice-like grip, and he pulled firmly on the rope. With the muddy slope and his leg, it would be impossible for him to climb out of here.

"Duke," he commanded. "Back!"

From up above, the German shepherd barked in answer and then obediently grasped the hanging reins with his mouth, and gradually, with growls of command, began to pull the horse back. The rope tightened and slowly, inch by torturous inch, the couple rose through the air. He shifted his body so his back was to the cliff, with her laying on top of his chest so he could protect her from the sharp rocks and sticks that jutted out.

Finally, they cleared the ledge and he lay still a moment on the flattened ground to catch his breath, their bodies tangled together. Vanessa whimpered, her head on his chest. He stroked her hair, tenderly caressed her cheek.

"Come on," he whispered gently, "let's get you home."
Chapter Fourteen

Juan heard the tired hoof beats of the horses long before he saw the weary pair come into the light of the homestead. Vanessa lay limply within the shelter of Cade's arms as he held her atop the horse, his long warm coat tucked snuggly about them. The boy jumped down from the loft, running out to meet them, one arm loaded with blankets and the other carrying a lantern.

"Mr. Cade. Mr. Cade." The boy shouted breathlessly as their shadowy figures entered into the sphere of the wavering light. The two exhausted riders were slumped together atop Luce, Jezebel tethered behind.

"You had me worried, it took so long. I was afraid you wouldn't find her in the storm."

The boy took Jezebel's reins from Cade and quickly secured the old mare to a post, then held Cade's horse in place as he wearily dismounted, still carrying Vanessa's cold lifeless body in his arms. Juan's eyes widened at the sight of the her. Her body was filthy with the drying mud and leaves, and her hair was so full of dirt and grime that the color looked more black than blonde. Juan helped wrap her in the dry blanket before Cade carried her in the direction of the cabin.

"Thanks kiddo. Thanks for waiting up."

Juan stayed behind and began rubbing an appreciative Duke dry.

"Tend to the horses and Duke, then come on up to the house and I'll fix us something to eat," Cade told him as he made his way up the steps and inside.

Heading straight to the bathroom, he started the warm water in the tub and immediately set to stripping off Vanessa's ice-cold clothing. Holding her steady in his arms, he leaned her shivering body back against his own as he attempted to remove the filthy rags. Due to her inability to help, the task was proving to be difficult. Frustrated with her feeble attempts at modesty and her weakly trying to prevent him from undressing her, he just grabbed the material and roughly ripped it from her body. Whimpering, she tried to cover herself as he gently gathered her up and set her in the warm water. The heat shocked her at first and she bristled and moaned at the unexpectedness of it, but then she quickly succumbed to its warmth.

"Lie back, Vanessa." he urged, but she wouldn't release her hold around his neck so he gently but firmly, finger by finger, began to pry her away so that he would be able to cleanse her more thoroughly. With one arm still wrapped around to support her, he used his other to soap up a large washcloth and began scrubbing her body free of the filthy mud, twigs and leaves. She was still whispering incoherently as she moved her shaking hands, roaming about searching for something to grasp, to hold onto for safety. Tenderly taking both her hands in one of his own, he rubbed them, soothing her. Gently, he tipped her head back, shushing her like he had many a wounded animal, attempting to ease her fear as he began carefully washing her hair. The tender touch seemed to be her undoing and she began to cry, softly, helpless on her own, and giving in to his ministrations.

He eyed her warily, more than a little worried at her utter defenselessness. Her vulnerability touched him in a way that nothing ever had. He had hated her. And he wanted to hate her still, but for the first time he began to empathize with how these last few days must have been for her. How she'd been literally attacked, kidnapped, taken from her home, her comfortable life and her friends. How utterly afraid and alone she must have felt. How abandoned and betrayed she must have been by the decision of her parents. At the moment, this star, who'd had the world at her fingertips, was so weak and vulnerable, he pitied her. And he hated himself for his part in her undoing.

"Where's my feisty little spitfire?" he asked, his breath close and warm against her face as he knelt on the floor beside her and let out the muddy water before refilling the tub. "Where's the she-devil that sent my leg soaring through the air and knocked me flat on my back?"

She only whimpered in return, her eyes remaining closed.

"You darn sure surprised me," he laughed quietly, remembering. "Surprised Juan too. I've fought in many a battle, and never... never has a grown man one-upped me like you..."

When she was finally clean and rinsed, he lifted her out, wrapped her snugly in a towel before positioning her on his lap again. Slowly, and ever so tenderly, he towel-dried her hair and then set about the task of brushing it. Throughout the process he talked gently, explained every movement to her, every reason why it was necessary.

When that was completed, he carried her to the bed, dressed her in one of his own large army green t-shirts, before tucking her beneath the covers. As he tried to raise away, she held unflinchingly to his neck, refusing to let him go.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'll stay," he assured her, as with resignation he pulled off his own wet shirt, jeans and then took off his prosthetic leg. He grabbed one of the discarded towels he'd dropped and tried to clean himself as thoroughly as he could before he lifted the covers and snuggled in beside her. She immediately burrowed deep against him, her arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, her body still shaking with tremors. He continued to shush and sooth her, his warm hands rubbing repeatedly up her back and neck, slow and methodical, back and forth, up and down. Then down her long lean legs. He massaged her neck, shoulders, legs and feet. Back and forth. She lay her head on his chest and curled his chest hairs through her delicate fingers. The warmth of his body seemed to spread to her, her shivering lessened as little by little, the tension slowly left her body. After a while, her breathing became slow and rhythmic, and soon, she fell asleep. Cade did not.

Chapter Fifteen

Cade's eyes flickered open, blinking, his vision slowly came into focus. It was a moment before he realized where he was. He was in bed. His own bed. Surprised that he had slept at all, he rolled over, groggily rubbed his eyes then checked his watch. It was already early afternoon. He hadn't slept that well in years. He yawned and stretched his long lean body, his large biceps bulging over his head. With a deep sigh of contentment, he rolled in Vanessa's direction, only then realizing she was gone. In a flash, he was to the edge of the bed, had his prosthetic strapped in place and was up and through the door, only to come upon her curled upon the couch. She was burrowed under a thick blanket.

He released the breath he'd been holding and his tense body relaxed, as dressed only in his low-hanging boxers, he leaned back, relieved, against the door frame.

"If I'd known all it took was getting into bed with you to get you out of my room, I'd have tried it days ago."

There was not the usual biting reply. Studying her more intently he realized she was quivering under the covers. Going forward, he sat down beside her small curled up figure and pulled back the blanket. Her teeth were chattering continuously and her eyes were squeezed shut. Her long lashes fluttered convulsively.

"Vanessa," he asked softly, his hand gently grazing her body. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?" He let his fingers lightly trace the contours of her body again, just as he had done last night. He hadn't found any broken bones before, but he could have missed something. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Again, besides the multiple scrapes and bruises, he didn't detect any obvious injuries. Her body was overcome with tremors, but her skin was cool to the touch. She wasn't running a fever. He gently lifted her up and placed her in his lap, and like a little child, she clung to him, her long silky hair blanketing the both of them.

She mumbled something and he leaned closer to hear her better.

"I can't understand you," he spoke softly, close. "What'd you say?"

"I... I d-d-don't know what's wr-wr-ong with m-me," she stammered weakly. "I c-can't stop shaking. I feel s-s-ick... so, unsettled..." "I n-need... I need..." she let out a frustrated breath. "I d-don't know what I need."

His fingers went to her shaking wrist to check her pulse. It was a little elevated but not dangerously so. She might not realize what was wrong with her but he certainly did. He stood up and with her still cradled in his arms, he carried her out the front screen door.

"Juan!" he yelled. "Juan!"

The boy wasn't in sight, however Duke quickly came over to him, his tail wagging excitedly.

"Down boy, down!" he commanded as the dog playfully jumped against the duo. "Get Juan, Duke. Go! Get Juan!"

The dog barked a sharp retort and then leapt off the porch and headed back behind the cabin. Cade could hear his barking getting fainter and fainter as the dog disappeared into the tall grass of the field. He carried Vanessa back into the house and sat with her on the couch, to wait. The shaking continued as her whole body succumbed to the involuntary movements. Her eyes were closed, and she didn't speak but he sensed her anxiety. He smoothed the hair out of her face and tenderly caressed her cheek with his work-roughened hand.

"You're gonna be alright, Hollywood. Don't worry. I got you," he soothed in his deep, calm voice.

He heard the galloping of the horse as it closed in on them and in seconds Juan was sliding through the doorway. He stopped in his tracks as he spotted them, his hair tossed wildly about his shoulders, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Duke followed close behind and was immediately to his owner's side, sniffing the two upon the couch, sensing something was wrong.

"What's wrong with her, Mr. Cade? What is it?" Juan asked, anxious energy bursting out of him.

"I need my kit bag, Juan. It's under the back seat of the plane. Get it for me, quick!"

The boy disappeared in a flash, his footsteps hallow echoes on the wooden boards of the porch.

In mere moments he was back, black leather bag in hand, handing it over to Cade who quickly rummaged through it. He had been forewarned and had prepared for this. He found the pill container he was looking for, opened it and quickly shook one out. He sat Vanessa up straight in his arms and placed the pill in her shaking palm.

"Here, put it under your tongue," he ordered.

She weakly raised her head and glanced down at the small pill within her hand, she looked a bit crestfallen when she realized what it was. She sought his eyes, her own, questioning pools of sadness, and his answered back with steel intent.

"Take it, Vanessa," he encouraged softly.

Her hand trembled, but there was a firm resolve about her that Cade couldn't help but admire.

Silently she obeyed, and then defeated, she lay her head back upon his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Chapter Sixteen

Hours passed.

Vanessa slowly opened one eye, and then the other. She had fallen asleep. Again. The withdrawal medication had done its job. The shaking had subsided and for the moment, she felt better. She was curled up at Cade's side, her legs draped over his lap. She felt so safe. His head was leaned back in the cushion and he was sound asleep as well. She smiled. His body slumped low in the couch with one arm resting along the length of it, the other still draped lightly around her, his long legs extended. He looked content, so she stayed where she was so she wouldn't wake him.

She studied the man before her...intrigued. It was the first time she could look at him unobserved and secretly, she relished this moment. It was funny how time changed things. Time and knowledge. The first time she saw Cade Montgomery's face was only a few short days ago, in his truck in the dawn of day, when he had pulled off that horrifying mask. And what was underneath, had to her, been even more frightening. All that hair and scraggly beard. It made him look like a psychotic step-brother escaped from the Duck Dynasty clan. And then later, when he had restrained her from behind after she'd torn apart the cabin. She'd turned to yell at him and had been shocked speechless by the transformation. With his hair cut and beard gone, he was an unbelievably attractive man. Drop-dead gorgeous. And she had seen quite a number of handsome men in her line of work.

But still, she had thought him so hard, callous. She had hated him. Viscerally. All she had wanted was to escape, to get as far away from him and here as she possibly could. But when she had run away and was lost in the woods during that horrific storm, she had never been more afraid in her life. She was so cold, so scared. And then she had fallen down the cliff. But she knew, she knew he'd come for her, find her. Even if he hated her, she knew he would do what was right. And he did. He must have brought her home, cleaned her up. She remembered being so wet, so filthy and cold. But somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered strong capable hands holding her, helping her, cleaning and brushing her hair. So comforting. So soothing. She was beginning to realize that there was more to Cade Montgomery than the heartless, unyielding man she'd first thought him.

Propping her chin against her hands on his shoulder, her eyes rested on his face. She sighed. He had the perfect nose, long and straight. Those cheekbones and that strong well-defined jaw, which now had a few days' growth of stubble on it, if possible making the man even more sexy, she admitted. She knew many a male co-star who'd forked out thousands for that very jaw. And his lips, she wet her own as her breath hitched, she'd best not dwell on the lips. Her eyes roamed downward, enjoying the chiseled lines of that muscled chest. Muscles and tan not gained from hours spent in the gym or spa, but hours spent outside, working. She wanted to touch the soft downy hair that scattered across it, trailing down before disappearing into his boxers.

Scattered across his chest were several scars. Some just the size of a stitch or two. They could be bullet wounds, she suddenly realized. A few others were longer and jagged. She longed to know the story of each and every one. She wanted to touch them, trace them with her fingers, but she didn't dare.

Cade Montgomery was definitely all man, not your average metrosexual city boy.

Her gaze wandered further, down his nicely formed legs that were lightly dusted with soft black hair. His legs, long and well-defined. And then she came to about the middle of his calf on his right leg, where the prosthetic was fastened in place. For an instant, her stomach dropped and sickened, as she thought about when and how it might have happened, how painful it must have been, physically and mentally. She couldn't for the life of her imagine him weakened and hurt. He was too strong, viable.

Slowly her gaze traveled back up his body, retracing the length of him, lingering in her favorite places and enjoying every single inch until she reached his face and met intense green orbs staring back at her. Her stomach fluttered, her skin flushed and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed.

Reaching out, he lifted her chin so she'd look back to him and for a brief moment, she felt he glimpsed into her very soul. His thumb softly stroked her cheek and for a second, as her face was encased in his hand, she thought he might kiss her.

He grinned lazily, his even white teeth accentuating the deep bronze of his skin and the vividness of his clear green eyes.

"You'll never believe," he spoke softly, tiredly, "but I had this crazy dream. I was here in my cabin, in Paradise Valley, Montana," he said the name with a lazy drawl. "On this very couch, in my boxers no less," he chuckled. "And in my dream, when I fell asleep...and you're really not going to believe this part, but..." he sighed, grinning. "I had none other than 'Vanity' in my arms."

Her dazzling movie-star smile showed perfectly even white teeth. "It never happened," she told him as she playfully squeezed his arm.

"It didn't?"

"No. I can assure you. She doesn't exist. She's a fabrication."

"Never happened, huh?

"Nope." She scrunched her nose.

"Then shut-up, would you? I'm going back to my dream."

She laughed, a light melodic laugh.

He untangled his arms from around her, leaned forward and rested them upon his knees. He looked back at her, brows raised.

"You okay?"

She nodded that she was.

"Do you understand now why you're here, Vanessa? Why you need to stay?" he asked her softly.

She became serious, pursed her lips sideways and took a slow deep breath. "Yes," she answered truthfully.

"Do you want to do this?" he asked after a while.

She was quiet a moment but then looked directly at him. "Yes, Cade. I do."

He tapped his fingers together, considering, as he looked out the screen door across the stilled pond, and then the never-ending countryside.

"I can see why my dad trusted you," she admitted, as she sat forward beside him, her long feminine leg pressed against his own much stronger one. Although where her leg ended in a dainty foot, his disappeared within a prosthetic. "You're a good man."

His jaw clenched as if what she said pained him, but then he looked over to her.

"Thirty days," he said after a moment. "I want thirty days from you. Can you be gone from your life for thirty days? Can I count on you to stop fighting to run away, to stay and to try?"

He would help her. He was telling her that. But he was unable to help her if she didn't want to help herself. It was the first time in a long time that someone wanted something from her not for their benefit, but her own. The question hung in the air between them. The answer would determine her future, perhaps even her very life.

Their eyes caught and held.

"Thirty days," she agreed.

Thank you for reading Rescue Me (Addicted to You, Book 1)

If you liked this story, please read Thirty Days (Addicted to You, Book 2)

Available now.

Sample Chapter....

He woke up. The room was dark, quiet. The breeze whispered through the windows, the crickets echoed in the distance. The still of the night surrounded him.

But he had heard movement. His senses zeroed in with a laser-light focus. And now, a furtive scrape from within the bedroom. An ever-so-slight creek of a door. He soundlessly moved to the edge of the pull-out couch, pulled on his jeans and attached the prosthetic in place. Her bedroom door was ajar but the only light came from the moonlight that filtered through the curtains at the window. He leaned his head into the room. The bed looked like it did after Emma and Lou had been over enjoying a day of jumping. The covers were on the ground and the sheets were helter-skelter. It was empty. He walked around to the bathroom. The door was closed but a trace of light shone through a scant crack. Slowly, he pushed open the door and looked in.

"What're you doing?" he demanded.

She jumped slightly, startled by the sound of his voice and turned slowly to face him, taking in his imposing figure as he leaned against the door frame. Her chin rose defiantly, as one hand slid a little behind her back. Standing shirtless in jeans, he stared her down as she backed against the bathroom sink.

It was two o'clock in the morning. She must have awakened him, she realized.

"Nothing," she said. "I was hot. I was just washing off my face to cool off."

Once again, she was wearing the sheer sexy nightgown that barely passed her hips. It clung sensually to her breast, her long blonde hair hung loose about her shoulders, rippling in waves down to her tiny waist. How many times would he curse himself for choosing that particular gown? Thirty times, he reckoned. It was torture.

He sighed, frustrated in more ways than one as he surveyed her. His eyes narrowed, one brow raised. "You know... I can see your hand in the mirror."

She colored and released the breath she'd been holding. Guiltily, she brought the pill bottle in front of her, fingering it nervously.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with doleful eyes. "I couldn't sleep. My minds going ninety to nothing," she explained. "And you were so sound asleep. I took the bottle from your pocket..." she looked at him with remorse. "And I thought --- if I could just have one pill, maybe a half of one, it would help me relax..."

"That's not how it works, Vanessa," he admonished brusquely, his clear green eyes boring into hers. "You know this. It's not time."

"I do know Cade, but, I'm miserable," she admitted, frustrated. "I feel so... unsettled." For a brief moment tears shimmered in her eyes before she blinked them back, determined. "Just one pill," she pled imploringly.

He came forward, reached out and gently pried the plastic bottle from her hands.

"You can do this, Vanessa" he spoke softly as he intently looked into her eyes. "You have so much strength within yourself. So much vitality. Deep down, you don't want this. You don't need this."

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and she quickly wiped it away, embarrassed. He noticed the tremor to her hand.

"You're right," she admitted with a defeated whisper, gazing solemnly into his deep green eyes. The faith she saw reflected within their depths made her quickly look away, ashamed. If only she had one little bit of what he exuded out of every pore of his body; strength.

If she could just infuse some of that strength... She sighed, stepped near and reached up to place both her delicate hands upon that strong chest. He was so warm. Her hands roamed the breadth him, slowly drifting over the soft hair upon his large muscled torso. His body was strong, solid. He felt... safe. His skin was as soft as velvet but stretched taut over the iron-hard muscles beneath. He felt so good.

"Of course you're right... but, honestly," she reconciled, her voice slow and silky, "if a person can't sleep... they can't function." Moving closer, she rubbed her cheek against his chest and then turned and kissed it lightly, suggestively. Her lips roamed about him as she began placing feather light kisses upon his body, his skin immediately heated to her provocative touch. She blew her warm breath lightly across his nipple, tantalizing and instantly hardening it.

He stood immobile, a tower of strength. His hands clenched tightly at his sides as she lightly pressed and rubbed her body against his own, her sweet scent invading him. The muscles in his cheek tensed as he saw their reflection in the mirror. She was an incredibly beautiful woman, the long blond hair, the lean tan legs. He should have known this was the path that she would take, that she would try all the weapons to her disposal. He closed his eyes, pained.

She kissed a trail up his chest, to his neck, her hands roaming his back, his neck, then entwining her fingers through his short thick hair.

"Please, "she whispered huskily, as on tiptoe she brushed soft kisses in the crevice by his ear, then caressed his cheek with her own. "You've been so nice to me. I promise... I'll give one-hundred and ten percent tomorrow, but I need... I have to have at least one decent night's sleep."

She softly pressed a kiss against his neck, nibbled his ear, her warm breath teasing him, tickling and tormenting him with an unspoken promise. Taking his face within her hands, she was consumed with her sudden desire for him. He had her enraptured. Spellbound. She gently drew him down to her, to draw him in for a kiss. She needed that kiss. She wanted it suddenly as much as she wanted that pill.
