Free Secrets and Lace (Lonely Lace #2) by Bonnie R. Paulson Page A

around.” Ronan tucked his chin, focusing his gaze squarely on Robbie’s face. “Like gambling, debt, and murder .”
    Accepting the challenge, Robbie jerked his jaw upward with a short nod. “What’s that have to do with you? Or Amelia?” He moved to kneel beside Slate. He lowered his voice. “Slate, how you doin’? Are you okay? Hey, wake up.” Unconscious, Slate was dead weight and would be difficult to get into town to get checked out, especially with Robbie’s injured arm.
    Ronan slid off his horse. “It has everything to do with me when they kidnap my sister, you asshole. Where were you? Why would you lead them here? You put everyone in danger because of your addictions. Hell, Robbie, now they know where you live.”
    “Shut up, Ronan. It’s none of your business.” But Robbie didn’t believe that. When a neighbor had problems, it didn’t matter what was between them, the community pulled together to help out. With thousands of acres between them, the James and MacAllisters had no other immediate neighbors until Colby’s city limits.
    “They took Amelia?” Robbie studied Slate. His pain hadn’t transferred to Robbie, or maybe it had but Robbie hadn’t been able to register more than a little because of his older injuries. He couldn’t process that the Caracus gang had taken Amelia. Who else could it have been? They’d been hounding him all across the state for weeks. What would they do to her? The gang was known for all kinds of acts, most members had warrants out for their arrest. One of the assholes, Jack, was wanted in three states for rape and attempted murder.
    But how did the police find a group of lawless men with no permanent stomping ground? They rode horses and lived off the land and made their own rules as they went. Loaning money and gambling was just one of their many branches into capitalism.
    Robbie just happened to be an overdrawn customer and they’d gone after his family for collateral.
    Maybe Slate wasn’t feeling any pain. Robbie shoved two fingers against Slate’s carotid. A strong pulse thumped beneath his brother’s skin. “Hold on, Slate. We’ll deal with this.” He reached down and squeezed Slate’s hand reassuringly. He didn’t know if he was lying or not, but regardless, he had to hope things were just moments away from turning around. 
    Waving his hands over his head, Ronan yelled. “They took her! Just ran off with her.” He stomped to Slate and dropped beside him. “Let me look.” He carefully lifted one eyelid first and then another as Slate remained unresponsive. “He might have a concussion. We need to get him to the clinic.” Ronan pushed himself up and motioned to a few of his men. “I’d take him to Lacey Caverns but Tim isn’t in town right now. Doctor O’Donald is our only option at the moment.”
    Two men grabbed Slate’s feet and another picked him up by the shoulders of his jacket.
    “Use the pickup.” Ronan turned to Robbie, his face tight. “I don’t care what you have planned, I want this resolved.”
    One of Slate’s hands dripped blood onto the blacktop. Robbie yanked off his bandana and wrapped it tightly over the deep gash on Slate’s palm. A rivulet of red liquid trickled from his nose and a gash on his forehead spread back into his hairline, suggesting a headache in Slate’s immediate future.
    “Yeah, let’s get Slate to the clinic. Would you guys be willing to help out with a search?” An invisible vise seemed to seize his chest and restrict his airflow.
    The men transferred Slate to the bed of his truck.
    Robbie didn’t want to drive Slate’s vehicle. He hadn’t driven in four years, refused to drive them on the job. In fact, Revenge was his only mode of transportation and that’s how he preferred it.
    Ronan scoffed, shaking his head. “I can’t trust you MacAllisters to get anything done right. I’ll lead the search. What should we do with Mac?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
    Mac. How could he