Little Red's Riding (Seven Ways to Sin 4)

I whispered in Storm’s ear. “Storm, I have to go inside. Stay here, please. I’ll be right back.”

Storm turned and watched me enter the house. I looked back at him apologetically. “I’ll only be a minute.”

As soon as I entered the kitchen, I heard Gran open the front door.

“Where is she!?”

I hurried through the living room into the entryway. Wolf had barged in, and he was not alone. Two men I didn’t recognize were with him. They both wore the same joyless expressions on their faces. And they each held a coil of rope in their hands.

“I’m right here,” I said and stepped through the threshold so they could see me.

“You!” Wolf pointed an accusatory finger at me. “It was you I saw riding away, wasn’t it?”

He stepped toward me. Gran tried to get in his way, but he pushed her back. She smacked against the wall and crumpled to the floor.

“Gran!” I rushed over to her.

I reached out, was about to help her to her feet, when one of Wolf’s goons grabbed me.

“Hey!” I kicked him in the knee. And no sooner had I fought myself free from his hold than the second goon was upon me. He grabbed my arms, pinned them behind me, and threw me against the wall.

“You think you can just shut down my rodeo,” said Wolf, “and take my ranch and I’m going to sit back and do nothing about it?”

The goon tied my hands together. The rope dug into my wrists, shooting a jolt of pain through me.

“You let her go!” Gran shouted.

I couldn’t turn my head to see what happened, but I heard a smack followed by a thud and saw Gran crumple to the floor again beside me.

“Don’t you touch her!” I yelled.

Wolf grabbed me by the hair. He yanked, pulling my head back, leaned in, and with his mouth inches from my ear, said, “Or else?”

The goons laughed.

“Gran, are you okay?”

Before she could answer, one of the goons yanked on the rope around my wrists. I fell to the floor and was dragged into the living room.

“Gran!”

I tried to get to my feet, but I was being dragged across the carpet, and someone—either the other goon or Wolf, I couldn’t tell—kicked me in the ribs.

“Ruby!” Gran called back.

The goon dragged me into the kitchen. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled me up.

I tried to knee him in the groin, but he blocked me with his leg.

“We got ourselves a feisty one,” he said jovially.

Wolf appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Lock her in there.” He pointed to the pantry.

“Ah,” said the goon, “how ‘bout we have a little fun first?”

“We’re not here to have fun!” Wolf shouted.

“Okay, boss.” He opened the pantry door and threw me in.

“Gran!”

“Don’t you worry your sweet head about Gran,” said Wolf. “You’ll be together soon enough.”

The goon slammed the door shut on me. I kicked at it, but it didn’t give.

I turned, put my back to the door, and tried to feel for the handle. Just as I found it, the door opened. I nearly fell out but was knocked back to the floor. I thought the goon had pushed me, but as I turned my head, I saw that Gran, hands tied behind her back like me, had landed on top of me.

The pantry door slammed shut again.

“Gran, are you okay?”

She didn’t need to answer. I could see that she wasn’t. She murmured something unintelligible then laid her head on my shoulder while outside the pantry I heard the men drag something across the kitchen floor and prop it against the pantry door. Probably the kitchen table, I thought.

“You want to take my ranch,” Wolf shouted. “Well, I’ll take your house and every damn thing in it.”

“Gran,” I whispered. “I need to get up.” She rolled off of me with a groan.

Those bastards! I’m going to make them pay.

I managed to pull myself up. I perused the shelves and saw the jars of pickled beets I’d brought Gran a few weeks ago. I nudged the jar with my nose and eventually had it topple off the shelf to crash to the floor. To my surprise, the jar didn’t break as I’d hoped.

“Gran, turn your head.”

She complied, and I kicked the jar against the wall. This time, the jar exploded spraying Gran and me with red beet juice. But more importantly, it left large shards of glass on the floor.

“Don’t move, Gran.” I got on my haunches and blindly groped the floor for a shard.

I thought I’d be able to use the shard to cut myself free, but the rope was tied too tight and too far from my fingers for that to work. “Gran, I’m going to cut you free. Can you sit up for me?”

We sat back-to-back, and I held the shard to her binds. “Just rock back and forth for me, Gran. We’ll be out of here in no time.”