Lone Rider by B.J. Daniels Page A

me. If you took my horse—”
    He jerked her arm, dragging her over to a tree where he had hidden an oily green pack. She watched him lay down the knife and lean over to reach into the pack with his free hand. Her whole body was trembling with fear, but she had to at least try to get away.
    She spun to the side, his fingers losing their grip on her arm as she flung herself in the direction of her horse. She took a step, then another, longer one, trying to run on her quaking legs. If she could just reach her horse—
    The blow to her back flung her to the ground. She sprawled in the dirt, the fall knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping like a trout tossed up on the bank, she struggled for breath as she tried to get to her feet.
    His knee landed in her back, the weight of him crushing her to the ground again. She let out a scream of pain. He wound his hand into the hair of her ponytail and jerked her head back.
    â€œMaybe I weren’t clear. Yer with
me
now. Anybody comes lookin’ for ya? I’ll kill ’em. Ya want me to hurt ya bad? I will and I’ll have fun doin’ it. Try to get away agin? And ya will wish ya was never born.”
    He rose and she was able to take a breath, then another. Her back ached. So did her arm and the roots of her hair as he dragged her to her feet by her ponytail.
    â€œMe and Bo-Peep. Ain’t we a handsome couple?”
    Bo felt sick to her stomach as he pulled her back over to his pack. He dug out a roll of duct tape, ripped a piece off with his teeth and, still holding on to her hair, one-handedly bound her wrists. She had the horrifying feeling that this wasn’t the first time he’d bound a woman with duct tape.

CHAPTER SIX
    T HE SENATOR GLANCED at the clock on the wall and swore. It had been hours, and no sign of his daughter or the cowboy who’d gone after her.
    â€œMaybe I should call the sheriff,” he said more to himself than to his wife.
    â€œI thought you promised to wait twenty-four hours before you did anything,” Angelina reminded him.
    â€œBo didn’t take the money,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than her. “It’s just...
missing
.” He realized it must have been missing for some time. He recalled his daughter Olivia’s engagement party. Bo had been throwing down the champagne. He’d been concerned then. Why hadn’t he talked to her about it?
    â€œEven if she didn’t take the money, Bo’s responsible for it,” Angelina said.
    Bo would know that, as the president of the foundation it was her job to make sure nothing was amiss. If word got out... He realized he was starting to sound like Angelina. She constantly worried about even the breath of scandal hurting his chances of being elected president.
    Angelina lived in fear of what his daughters might do to embarrass them all. Now that he had thrown his hat into the presidential ring, he felt as if he was on a runaway train. He needed all his attention on the race. But there had been one problem after another on the home front.
    Problem? Hell, a tornado had torn through their lives. He found himself second-guessing the decisions he’d made from the age of twenty-five when he’d met and married Sarah, not to mention what he’d done after her presumed death.
    Friends kept saying the worst was behind him and Angelina. Really? So why did he feel as if he was merely waiting for the other shoe to drop?
    â€œStop pacing! You’re driving me crazy.” Angelina moved past him to pour herself a drink.
    Buckmaster watched his wife in surprise. Angelina had never been a drinker other than an occasional glass to be social. “Pour me one, too.”
    She turned to look at him but said nothing before turning back to make them both a drink. “I’ve been thinking about our future.”
    Their
future? “If this discussion is going to be about Sarah