"Any messages for Mom or Dad?" April glared at him with the hatred of a thousand suns. He put up his hands in surrender. "It didn't have to be a kind message, but point taken."
Mathew stood, only mild discomfort radiating through his whole body. Verity helped steady him.
"We best be going," Mathew said.
April tossed a cloak each over him and Verity, and Sam gave Mathew a masculine hug, careful to not anger the wounds again. Sam kissed Verity's knuckles. "I should have yer order ready tomorrow, if you still want it."
She curtsied. "I do." Verity sent Mathew a glance and he tried not to read into that.
Just like that, Mathew was out the door, aided by Verity, and waving to his sister and brother-in-law one last time. She helped him up on Jonathan's horse and climbed up in front. He didn't have the arm strength to control the horse anyhow. Mathew itched to get out of his dress shirt and pants, take a shower, and wear some comfortable jammies in his heated mangy apartment on his dusty old couch. He shivered with the cold December air penetrating his insufficient cloak. Verity steered the horse down the road, and when they approached the entrance to Jaime Perez's estate, they became far more cautious, craning their necks around for threats. The passage was clear, and so was the bridge. Millie must've kept those men entertained.
Verity knew the way to her family's farm, and they rode as comfortably as they could in the winter. She shifted a few times as if trying to find a comfortable seating angle.
"Everything okay up there?" he whispered into her ear.
"It'll be better when we're done with horses for a while."
"Why?"
Verity used a free hand and shifted her outer dress layer up, revealing stained underskirts. Mathew's mouth gaped open. "What happened? Are you all right?"
The corner of her mouth turned up. "April stitched me up well. Still hurts though." Mathew sucked in a breath. Jaime Perez whipped her, just like he'd done to his sister, just like he'd done to Verity previously. Imagining her fear at reliving that torture made him sick, and a fiery rage pushed all his pain and discomfort away. He wanted to turn around and beat the bloody pulp out of every one of those disgusting monsters.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I wish that never happened to you." His hand reached her forearm, and she patted his hand.
The wind kicked up when they reached the open fields of hibernating husks. Mathew lifted his shoulders to cover his exposed neck. Verity steered them to the familiar farmhouse, and they dismounted at the stable around back.
Verity hugged his arm again, and he wanted to pick her up and carry her inside. She shouldn't be walking around with wounds like those. He remembered April's and the excruciating pain she endured. He pulled her to a stop. "Are you sure inside is safe?"
Her face crinkled in confusion. "Yeah, why?"
"April and Sam didn't see Jaime's men at all. Neither have we, so far. Is it safe to assume they aren't inside?"
Verity considered for a moment and then shook her head. "If they came near, we'll encounter my brothers and dead bodies."
"Sure?"
"Completely. Johnny's a ruthless, stubborn asshole who doesn't tolerate trespassers. He also hates Jaime Perez for his attempted extortion. If Jaime's men appeared, Johnny wouldn't give them another chance. The only consequence is dealing with Sheriff Clint, Jaime's ally."
Mathew glanced at the quiet unpainted farmhouse. There were no lights flickering and no sounds. "Not that I don't trust you, but how about we check through the back windows before announcing our presence, just in case?"
Verity shrugged and she helped him across the back yard to the window of the kitchen. Mathew steadied himself for what they were about to see.
***
THE PAIN IN HER derriere had subsided with the drink and magic pills followed by a long night's rest. She had awoken warm and comfortable for the first time since sleeping on Mathew's bed in the future. Verity couldn't believe their dumb luck in not being chased or followed by any of Jaime's men. She wondered what had happened to Millie. Perhaps they'd busied themselves with her punishment first. Verity shuddered at the thought.
She and Mathew trekked toward the old farmhouse. What was once a prison, had now become just her family's home. Not hers though. Perhaps she'd had enough adventure to wash away the dreary thoughts of being caged.
Before they reached the house, the crack of a shotgun echoing across the dead fields stunned her in place, shaking her to the core. She stilled to assess if it struck her, and finding no wounds, she craned her neck to Mathew. "Are you all right?"
He nodded. Quietly and cautiously they continued up the wooden steps and through the creaking screen door. Mathew held it as they passed through so it wouldn't slap behind them. Whoever had a shotgun in their hands didn't need to be startled.
The house was empty. A fire burned in the fireplace for warmth against the winter winds. Dishes dried on a rack. Verity checked the food cabinets. They were stocked. Mrs. Cottlewood must've been back to routine again. She fisted an apple and bit off a generous hunk. She tossed one to Mathew who copied her.
"Thanks."
The front door opened and slammed shut. Mathew shifted out of sight while Verity ducked behind the couch, since her secret cubbyhole was known to Jaime now. She sucked in a deep breath and peeked over the backrest. Verity smiled and stood. "Wayward deer out front?"
Jonathan's serious eyes flew to her. "Everyone all right?"
"We're fine," she said.
Mathew shifted back and waved toward the front of the house. "What was the target practice?"
Jonathan stalked over to the counter and began reloading the shotgun.
"Well?" she prompted. Always a man of few words.
"I warned them twice. I don't give third chances."
The hairs on the back of Verity's neck raised. "Who?"
"Rob Bertrand. He'd been sending me threats for months and breeched my property for the last time."
Verity's eyebrows rose. "Did he say anything?"
"Didn't get a chance to. Why?"
Verity crossed the kitchen to the front door.
"The body can stay out front for a while until we're sure no more are coming. Then it needs to go to the pigs."
"The pigs?" Mathew said, lips twisted in disgust. "You can't feed a man to the pigs. We need to report this."
Verity turned the lock on the front door and sent him a look that meant don't be ridiculous. "There's no reporting and no trustworthy sheriff. If you try to raise awareness, you'll only get yourself targeted even more than you are now."
"Jaime's men are sensitive." Jonathan finished reloading the shotgun, and he carried it to the coffee table and sank into the couch. "You snub them once and they'll kill you for it."
"Rob was likely here for us, not your extortion," Verity told her brother. "Are you sure he's dead?"
Jonathan's face darkened. "You run off to the future for a few months—not that I believe that, and the moment you're back, you bring trouble with."
Mathew stepped forward and answered before she said anything. "Jaime Perez is a sick bastard who wants unwarranted revenge for an act he caused. And since we both escaped his grasp, her not for the first time, he's now gunning for us both. So, like she said, Rob was probably here for us."