Rogue Rider

Thirty-six

Morning came way too early for Jillian. She hated mornings now that Reseph was gone. She hated waking up alone. Hated feeling the cold side of the mattress. Hated not having anyone to cook breakfast for.

Peeling open her puffy eyes, she crawled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. The mirror was not her friend today. She looked like hell.

Had she done the right thing by sending him away? Doubt made her nauseous. Logically, she knew she’d done what she needed to do for her self-esteem, but emotionally, she felt wretched. Was it better to be mostly happy in a relationship filled with uncertainty or filled with self-righteousness but miserable and alone?

Alone had never bothered her. She’d never been miserable.

Until now.

She did her best to not think about Reseph as she dressed and headed out to the barn. The animals were happy to see her, as always. She scooped a bucketful of cracked corn for the chickens, and just as she got to the coop, the rumble of unfamiliar trucks coming up the driveway stopped her in her tracks.

Two military-style rigs with tented boxy sections in the rear topped the rise, and alarm spiked. There was no good reason for vehicles like that to be at her house, and her first instinct was to dart back inside the barn and grab the shotgun.

When the vehicles ground to a halt and Lance and Juan climbed out of one of the cabs, she wished she’d acted on that instinct.

Lance approached while Juan tromped through deep snow to the rear of one of the trucks.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Cardiff.”

She smiled, but no doubt it looked as fake as it was. “I wish I could say the same. Am I going to have to get a restraining order? You can’t seem to leave me alone.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “After today you won’t be seeing us again. We just need you to contact Pestilence.” Behind Lance, dozens of men in arctic fatigues filed out of the backs of the trucks, all armed to the teeth.

“Well, that’ll be a little difficult, since I’ve never met Pestilence.”

Lance’s smile was painfully tolerant. “You know what I mean.”

“Then say it.” She dropped the bucket, and corn spilled all over the snow. “I won’t play your games.”

All trace of civility left Lance’s expression. “Good. We can get down to business then. Contact Reseph.”

“Why?”

His hand lowered to a sheath at his hip, where he caressed the thick handle of some sort of dagger. “Because we need to talk to him.”

“If you want to talk business, then I suggest you be straight with me.” She kept her tone businesslike, forceful, and prayed her nervousness didn’t show. “You don’t want to talk to him, or you wouldn’t have brought a truck and fifty men dressed like they’re prepared to do battle with Godzilla.”

A dozen of the men surrounded her, and her pulse kicked into high gear. “You want it straight, we’ll give it to you straight. The Horseman is dangerous. They all are. We have the means to capture and hold them, and we need your help to do it.”

“Why would you want to hold them?”

“Pestilence nearly brought about the end of days. Do you want that to happen again?”

What a stupid question. As if she’d jump up and down and shout, “Yes, I love apocalypses!” What a moron.

“They said it won’t. Their Seals can’t be broken until the biblical prophecy.”

Lance leveled a cold look at her, made much more chilling by the fact that he was smiling. “Some of us don’t believe they’ll fight on the side of good. And even if they do fight on our team, it could be centuries before it happens. In the meantime, these guys are loose, wreaking havoc.”

She shrugged. “I haven’t seen any havoc.”

“You have no idea what they’ve done.” Lance unsnapped the strap holding the dagger in place, but Jillian refused to acknowledge his menacing actions. “The Horsemen are responsible for the Black Death, the Antonine Plague, the Hundred Years’ War—”

“Wow. Busy people.” Jillian crossed her arms over her chest. “Were they responsible for the fall of Rome and World War Two? Maybe the eruption of Mount Vesuvius? Hurricane Katrina?”

Lance’s hand snapped out to grab her biceps. “Listen to me, you Horseman groupie. I know your kind. You’re like one of those pathetic women who defends her abusive husband because deep down he’s really a nice guy.” He jerked her close, baring his teeth. “You’re going to help us. Because your boyfriend really isn’t a nice guy.”

She spit in his face. “Go fuck yourself.”

Cursing, Lance shoved her away and gestured to Juan. “Go through her shit. Cell phone, notes, everything. There’s got to be a way to contact the Horsemen.”

Juan snagged her by the arm before she could even think about fleeing. “And if we don’t find anything?”

Lance’s voice was pure evil. “Then we torture her until one shows up.”