He was sorry she was gone and had to keep his mind from wandering too far toward the murky thoughts of what had become of her. He, for one, had written her off as dead. Or else whoever kidnapped her wasn’t going to let her go-not after so long.

“Okay, that should do it!” Manny tested his post, and, satisfied that this section of fence would stand, gave Zach the high sign. “It’s Friday. Let’s call it a day.”

Zach checked his watch. Five-fifteen. Since he’d been at the ranch, a little over a week now, Manny hadn’t let him off work until eight at night. The routine had been the same. Dog tired, Zach had returned to the house each night, washed, eaten, and fallen asleep before nine, so that he would be ready for a new day starting at five the next morning.

He stripped off his bandanna, wiped the sweat and grime from his face, and walked to the shady banks of the creek where he’d left his horse after lunch. He could’ve ridden in the dusty cab of the truck, or even sat on the flatbed as it bounced along the rutted dirt roads of the ranch, but he preferred the horses and this one, Cyclone, was his favorite. A headstrong sorrel colt with four white stockings who was known to kick and bite, Cyclone was the fastest horse on the ranch.

“Come on, boy,” he said, hoisting the blanket and saddle onto the colt’s back. “It’s time.”

Ears back, the horse shifted and kicked but Zach was quick enough to dodge the blow and tighten the cinch. “You’re a mean son of a bitch, aren’t you?” He swung into the saddle and yanked on the reins. “Well, that’s all right by me, ’cause I am, too. Hiya!” Heels pressed into the colt’s sides, he leaned forward in the saddle and Cyclone took off. Wind streamed through Zach’s hair and brought tears to his eyes. Spindly jack pine and red-barked ponderosa pine trees flashed by in a blur and once again Zach felt wild and free-as if he could do anything he damned well pleased.

He didn’t miss his siblings. Jason would sell his soul to the devil for a small amount of cash, while Trisha was rebelling in the best way she knew how-by getting involved with Mario Polidori, son of Witt’s old nemesis, yet again. Obviously she didn’t subscribe to the “once burned, twice shy,” theory. There were whispers that she was into drugs, though Zach had seen no evidence of it. As for Nelson-the kid was a pain-plain and simple. Ever since the kidnapping, Nelson had puppy-dogged after Zach, wanting to hear over and over again about the hooker and the thugs with the knife-like Zach was some kind of war hero. It bothered Zach because Nelson was a little on the soft side, his adoration a little too intense.

But London, she was another matter. He closed his mind to all thoughts of her, preferring to be numb rather than think about the horrors his little half-sister might have endured. “Come on,” he yelled at the colt.

Zach kicked the sorrel and the horse responded without a second’s hesitation, gathering speed like a comet streaking across the sky, approaching the ravine where the creek slashed through the field. Massive muscles bunched, then lengthened, and horse and rider were soaring across the rock-strewn chasm where only a thin stream of water trickled.

The colt landed with a thud on the pebble-strewn bank and, with renewed energy upon sight of the stables, ran flat out across the yellow stubble of the pasture. Grasshoppers and pheasants, wings flapping in a frenzy, were flushed from the straw.

Zach leaned low over the sorrel’s neck and urged the horse ever faster. Cyclone took the bit between his teeth, his legs flashing over the cracked earth. Wind screamed past his ears and sweat darkened the horse’s coat. Laughing for the first time in weeks, Zach yelled, “Move, you miserable hunk of horseflesh.”

Only when they were near the paddock did Zach pull back on the reins, wrestling control from the headstrong beast. “Slow down,” he growled, standing in the stirrups. By the time they entered the paddock, the colt had switched from a gallop to a trot and finally into a reluctant walk. Cyclone tossed his head, his bridle jangling as he fought the demanding demon on his back.

“You did good,” Zach said. Cyclone was blowing hard and Zach kept him moving, walking slowly, until the colt’s breathing was normal again. “That’s better.”

Zach didn’t see Trisha watching him, didn’t notice her lurking in the shadows of the scrub pine until he’d reined up at the fence and she climbed onto the top rail. With a sinking sensation, he knew he’d have to deal with his family again and suddenly his wings seemed clipped. All the old anger and resentment welled up in him and the ranch that had moments before appeared so vast quickly became confining and small.

“This place is a prison!” Trisha said as she pushed aside a long-needled branch encroaching over the fence.

“What’re you doing here?” But he knew. They were all here. For good.

“Family vacation,” she said with more than a trace of sarcasm. Her nose wrinkled when she saw the horseflies gathering near the colt’s rump. The smells of manure mixed with urine, sweat, and dust apparently offended her. “Believe me, I tried to talk Dad out of it, but you know how he is when he makes a decision.”

“Humph.” Zach swung down from the horse’s back.

“In a way, I understand. Dad’s tired of everyone just sitting around and waiting for the phone to ring at the house in town-even the police and the feds. Doing nothing!”

Zach remembered.

“Dad said we were all getting on his nerves-now, there’s something new,” she added sarcastically.

Zach didn’t respond.

“Anyway, I think he was worried about another kidnapping.”

“No way.” Zach hauled the saddle off the horse and hung it over the top rail of the fence. “Aren’t you the one who pointed out that he wouldn’t care if one of us was abducted? Just London.”

Trisha pouted.

“You know, if I turned up missing, I think he might buy a bottle of expensive champagne and have himself a celebration.”

“He’s not that bad,” she said without much conviction, then catching Zach’s steady gaze, sighed. “Okay, so he is that bad. Anyway, it doesn’t matter why he sent us here-the fact of the matter is that we’re all stuck in this godforsaken place.”

“Is that so?”

“Including Kat.”

Zach’s stomach dropped a little, but he managed to keep his face from registering the slightest trace of emotion. “She’ll hate it here,” he said flatly.

“Already does.” Plucking a few needles from the branch near her head, she sighed and twirled the sprig between her fingers. “You should have heard their fight. It reminded me of Mom and Dad before they split up. Kat put up a battle, I’ll give her that, but despite her excruciatingly loud protests against being shipped out of Portland, she wound up here, with the rest of us, and that really pissed her off. She wanted to stay close to the investigation and I thought she might grab Dad’s.22 and put a bullet through him before she’d leave town. But, of course, Dad got his way.” Trisha’s eyes clouded and Zach knew she wasn’t thinking about Kat any longer.

“He always gets his way.”

Trisha glanced up at her brother. “I think Dad had an ulterior motive for shipping her off.”

Zach lifted a disinterested eyebrow.

“Kat’ll freak, ’cause I think the investigation’s winding down. The cops are out of leads and the FBI isn’t doing any better. All a bunch of fools with their thumbs rammed up their asses.”

“What about Phelps?”

“The private investigator? He’s a joke. Have you ever seen anyone so…ordinary in your life?” Dropping the pine needles, she dusted her hands and glared up at Zachary as if the situation were all his fault. “It’s all a front, anyway. Dad wants to believe that the Polidoris are behind the kidnapping.”

“Are they?”

“They’re not stupid, Zach. Anthony has to know that he’d be at the top of the suspect list.”

Zach wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t bother to comment. Let Trisha believe what she wanted.

“It’s all such a pain. Ever since London disappeared no one can go anywhere without some damned bodyguard prowling around behind.”

Zach tied the reins to the second rail of the fence. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to his sister’s whining. Trisha was just ticked off because she couldn’t sneak around meeting Mario Polidori. Both families disapproved of the romance between Mario and Trisha. The only subject the Polidoris and Danverses had agreed upon in the last hundred years was to forbid Mario and Trisha from seeing each other. They were adults, she’d argued, and Witt had told her that she’d better start acting like one and move out, but as far as he was concerned, while she lived under his roof, she’d abide by his rules.

Trisha had other plans. She seemed to think she was some modern-day Juliet and Mario was her Romeo. The thought made Zach sick and he spat on the dusty ground. She should have learned her lesson about Mario Polidori. With a grunt, he grabbed the saddle and slung it over his shoulder to carry it into the stable.

Following him inside, Trisha said, “I thought you and I could work a deal.”

Zach sent her a look telling her silently to get lost. He didn’t need Trisha’s kind of trouble. He had enough of his own. Though he’d gotten a slight reprieve, the old man was still making noise about boarding school and Zach was considering walking through the Danvers gates and never looking over his shoulder.

“C’mon, Zach. I need your help.”

Zach swung the saddle over a sawhorse, then dropped the blanket over the top rail of a stall. Dust and horsehair rose in a cloud that clogged the air.

Trisha coughed and Zach swallowed a smile. Served her right. She’d never shown any interest in the horses-she was only here because she wanted something. And badly.