An Impostor in Town (Colorado Series) by Denise Moncrief

respond to Cory’s backhanded compliment. Wiping down a stolen vehicle was a thirteen-year-old skill she had hoped never to use again.
    Guilt nearly overcame her and she craved the warmth of a cleansing, hot shower. She rubbed the back of her hand at the thought of the cool, soothing lotion she would use to moisturize her ravaged skin. She pushed the thought of comfort away—it was like steel wool on her damaged psyche.
    She wasn’t going to cry. She refused to give Cory the satisfaction. She knew his anger, in large part, was due to her betrayal. He hated his Uncle Mason. Turning to Mason had been the ultimate infidelity. She wasn’t sure who hated her more—Cory or Mason. Both men felt she had betrayed them.
    She pulled out of the cover of woods and onto the highway.
    “Head up toward Ouray.”
    She stifled her reaction. Could he possibly know Jake was there with Johanna?
    It was a long, miserable drive into Ouray. Not one word was spoken until they passed through town into the flat valley toward Ridgway. “Now drive out to the ranch where my son lives.”
    She stared at her former lover in disbelief. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    He smacked her hard across the mouth. She touched the blood on her already swollen lip and stared at her red fingertips as if violence was a new horror for her.
    “Don’t lie to me. I know you’ve been there. Now drive.” The weapon was once again aimed at her face. She did as she was told.
    ****
    Night shrouded the landscape in slithery fingers of dark gray and black as they approached the ranch. He motioned her to drive down a gravel track that veered to the left. The bump as they crossed cattle grades jarred her already sore body. After they traveled far from the main lodge, he instructed her to pull off and park in the trees next to a fence.
    He pointed toward a building across the pasture. The bright reddish-orange of new wood glowed in the moonlight. Was this a shed or a bunkhouse? How often did Pierce come out to this pasture?
    When she hesitated, he shoved her toward the fence, causing her to falter and nearly fall. She eased between the sharp prongs of barbed wire. He nudged her through, his impatience making her stumble and rip her jeans. The sting of a fresh wound throbbed just below her knee.
    They trudged across the field to the building. He opened the door and pushed her inside. When she fell over the threshold and sprawled on the floor, he stood over her—a look of unadulterated spite glistening in his eyes. She cringed under its weight.
    “Well, here we are.” His cheerfulness seemed off-kilter and forced. “Just me and you. Just like old times.”
    “What do you want?”
    “A little sugar for old time’s sake would be nice.”
    All the fight had drained out of her, but his nasty suggestion dug up plenty of disgust. “I don’t think so.”
    He grabbed her hair, pulled her from the floor, and kissed her hard. When he finished his violence, she ran the back of her hand across her mouth and spat. He laughed and dropped her back onto the floor. “You haven’t changed a bit. You always were a wild cat!”
    “You were always a bastard.”
    “You better be nice to me. Your life is in my hands.” His declaration was ice cold. He sat on a nearby chair and assessed her with a steely, penetrating gaze as she pressed her back into the rough wood siding of the wall. “Jeff sure messed you up, didn’t he? He thought he had you under control. He doesn’t know you very well, does he?”
    “What does it matter what he thought?”
    “It doesn’t. He’s dead.” He smiled, his white teeth glistening in the dark. “Yeah, I watched you crack his head open.”
    Cory had been there? How? Jeff had pulled the car over in the middle of nowhere. A desolate place. She remained silent. Her conversation with Brian zoomed through her tired mind. Cory wanted her to believe she killed Jeff. She didn’t correct his error. The less he knew the better.
    His eyes