by Ciana Stone
He pinned her with a look, and despite the penetrating power of his gaze, she met him without flinching. “One of those sources wouldn’t happen to be my daughter, would it?”
“You have two.”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I do, and no.”
“She hasn’t spoken with you about Kal? Not even when you went up to San Antonio to spend the night with her?”
Naomie wasn’t aware Russell kept tabs on where she went when she wasn’t working, and she wasn’t quite sure she liked it, but that was a battle for another day. “I didn’t say that, but whatever Cici and I talked about is between us, and if you ask me to betray her confidence you know you’ll end up disappointed.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you. But I do worry about her and this relationship with Kal.”
“Yes, I know, but my opinion hasn’t changed on that. It’s her life, Mr. Walker and her mistake to make, if it is, in fact, a mistake. Don’t try and interfere with her journey and her lessons, you’ve still got plenty of your own. With all respects, sir.”
Russell looked at her for a few seconds, then smiled. “I don’t know anyone else in the world that could get away with talking to me the way you do, Naomie.”
“That’s because I’m the only genius you know.”
He chuckled. “Wrong, Einstein.”
“Okay, but it is because I’m your best friend.”
“Who refuses to call me by my given name.”
She didn’t need to be reminded of that, nor did he need a reminder of the reason behind it. They were both all too aware of the need to keep a bit of distance in their friendship.
“Well, Russell Walker, I’m using it now and you know I’ve got your back, so trust me when I tell you that Cici will do what’s right. I don’t know if you’ve paid close enough attention, but that little spitfire would walk through hell for you.”
“Spitfire is right.”
“Don’t say it like that. You and your sons have this warped view of her.”
“Warped?”
“Yes, I hear you say it all the time. Cici’s a killer, an assassin. If you need dirty work done, call Cici. If you need someone ripped to shreds, broken, beaten–legally of course–call Cici. You’ve turned her into a caricature– a legal ninja who is unleashed to slice your opponents to bits.”
“She seems to like being referred to as a legal badass.”
“Really? Did it ever occur to you that she’s just trying to get your approval?”
He scoffed at that. “As if. Cici doesn’t need anyone’s attention or approval.”
“Wow, you’re really blind, aren’t you?”
“You want to say that again with me looking at you?”
“Absolutely. You’re blind if that’s what you see. Cici’s the baby of the family and has to compete with a bunch of big, strong men for your attention. Her brain and her knowledge of the law is all she has to compete with, and she uses all she has for your advantage. And yes, to earn your approval.
“You know I don’t lie to you and I try not to interfere in your personal business, but sir, you’re so very wrong about Cici. Your sons all love you and will fight for you, and with you, and ride into hell if you ask, but Cici will kill and die for you, so please wake up and realize that.”
“I wasn’t asking for a lecture.”
“No, I don’t imagine you were, and I’m sorry if I sounded like I was lecturing. I just sometimes think everyone forgets that Cici has feelings, too. And sir, she really does care about Kalvin Burton.”
“Even though he’s too old for her.”
“No, even though you think he’s too old for her. It’s apparently only a problem for you, but not a problem between them.”
“He’ll hurt her, Naomie.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she’ll hurt him. Or maybe they’d decide they make better friends than lovers, or maybe they’ll get married and have three kids and–”
“Whoa, don’t put the cart before the horse there, girl.”
Naomi laughed. “You know what I’m saying. There are no guarantees. You know that as well as anyone, but I can tell you one thing I agree with Cici on.”
“What?”
“That life is too damn short and too precious to waste it being scared or second-guessing yourself. If you get a chance at happiness, take it because you just might run out of chances.”
“Message, Naomie?”
“Yes. Let Cici and Kal figure out their lives, and you work on your own.”
The look he gave her told her that she’d hit a nerve, but that was okay. Being a friend sometimes meant you had to disagree. Russell might never decide he wanted anything more with her than friendship, but what she’d told Cici was true. If he didn’t, she’d regret it, she’d probably cry over it and hurt for a while, but she wouldn’t give up on finding someone she wanted to share her life, or some part of it with.
She’d just always wonder what they might have evolved into if he wasn’t so scared to let himself care.
Chapter Seventeen – April 4th, 2019
Naomie walked outside and stared up at the sky. Twilight colors lit the horizon. She was tired, angry and ready to wash the stench of the day away, metaphorically as well as literally. That thought prompted her into motion. Russell would be waiting for the results of the necropsy she’d performed on the cow, but he could wait another half hour.
She walked back to her cottage and started peeling off her clothes the moment she entered. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was naked and letting her hair down. Naomie started the water, once again, grateful for the tankless hot water heater. Ten seconds later steam billowed from the shower.
Just as she was finishing, a noise made her jump. It took a split second to realize the source. Someone was pounding on her front door. That signaled trouble. She quickly got out, wrapped a towel around herself and hurried to the door.
Russell stood on the front porch. She saw the way his eyes widened a bit and then moved quickly down her body before returning to her face. “What’s wrong?” She asked.
“Do you have the results? I thought you were coming to the main house when you finished.”
“I’ve been arm deep in cow innards for the last few hours. I needed to get clean. Do you mind if I dress before we discuss this?”
“I apologize. Of course. Just come to– “
“You can wait inside. I won’t be long.”
She turned to head back to the bathroom. With her hair still dripping wet, the floor was scattered with water, and she slipped on one of the wet patches. “Oh shit!” Her arms flew out, seeking purchase to keep from falling.
Her towel fell as she flailed about, and she fully expected to hit the floor. Then strong arms were around her, beneath her breasts, supporting her. When Russell set her down, his hands drifted down her torso gently before moving away. She turned to face him, and her naked breasts grazed his shirt, just below his chest.
Naomie tilted her head back to look up at him, and the expression on his face literally took her breath. He raised one hand to the side of her face. “God help me, Naomie. You’re killing me.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Mr. Walker.”
For a few seconds they just stood there, locked in each other’s gaze. Naomie fought to push back the longing and let her gaze fall away. “Thanks for the save. I’ll be right back.”
She turned, snatched up her towel and fled the room. Once inside her bedroom, with the door closed, she leaned back against it. There were times she almost regretted coming to Cotton Creek. If she hadn’t, she would never have met Russell Walker, and wouldn’t face the daily battle of trying to conquer the feelings she had for him.
And that, as the saying went, was crying over spilled milk. She needed to take her own damn advice and learn to be happy with what she did have with Russell and just accept this was all it would be.
She pushed away from the door, hurried to dress and then returned to the
living area where he was standing at the open door, looking out into the night. He turned toward her, and she launched into her report.
“As I suspected, somehow tomato plants are the culprit. The stomach contents show a mixture of the pasture grass, plus wheat, nightshade or tomato greens, dandelion and molasses.”
“Meaning this was deliberate.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then we need to report it.”
“I agree, but first, we need to find the source. The poisoned food had to have been brought in, and someone had to have known Heritage was using that particular section of grazing land, so it stands to reason that whoever the guilty party is, he or she has inside information on your operation.”
“In other words, we have a traitor on board.”
“Not necessarily, so don’t jump the gun. You know people like to talk, about the weather, their jobs and families and politics and so on. It could be innocent, at least on the part of whoever the employee is who let the info slip.”
“What will finding the source prove?”
“First, if we document – take photos and have workers write reports and sign them, it validates that it was deliberate. Next, if we have physical evidence, it can be forensically examined to see if we can determine where the toxins were grown. Also, you know people are rarely careful enough to not leave clues, so we follow the clues until we have a strong enough case to call law enforcement.”
“You’re right. Thank you. We’ll ride out at first light.”
“I’m going with you. I know what to look for, so I need to be there.”
“Fine. Meet me at the main house at 5:30. We’ll brief the men, and then we’ll start the search.”
“I’ll be there.”
Russell nodded, turned toward the door but paused to look back at her. “Thank you. I sometimes forget to say it, but I do appreciate all you do for us, Naomie. All you do for me.”
She tried to dismiss it with her comment. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”
“Smart ass,” he smiled. “Sleep well.”
“You too, sir.”
Russell walked out of the cottage and headed for the main house. Once out of sight from Naomie’s place, he stopped and blew out a breath. He couldn’t get the sight of her out of his mind. Her long wet hair, clinging to her back with diamond droplets of water spilling onto her firm, full ass and the expression on her face when she turned to look at him.
Hell, and damnation. That’s sometimes how he felt. As if he were damned. If he gave in to his feelings for her, he might lose himself, and he couldn’t allow himself to become vulnerable.
Like you’re not already?
Russell grunted and started walking. That damn inner voice needed to learn when to be quiet. The last thing he needed was it working against him. It took all he had not to throw caution to the wind, grab Naomie up and carry her off somewhere he could have his fill of her. That damn voice didn’t help.
Not one bit.
He forced his thoughts to their current situation, and by the time he’d completed the walk to the main house, he’d placed calls to his sons, the ranch foreman, Jordan, and given orders for every man on staff to report to the main house at 5:30. They’d take horses and ATV’s and trucks, the helicopter if necessary, but they’d find the evidence needed to lead them to whoever was trying to destroy them.
And then God help whoever that person was because if the law didn't punish them, Russell would see to it himself.
And what if it turns out to be Kal?
That thought gave him more than a momentary stab of concern. Things Naomie had said of late about Cici and the relationship he had with her, haunted him. He couldn’t remember when he and the boys had started referring to her with terms like assassin and killer, or when he started turning to her to destroy an enemy or someone who had wronged the family.
Russell walked up the steps to the front porch and over to the side, to lean on the railing and look out over the vast lawn. A sudden memory surfaced.
Cici was seventeen and had just entered her senior year of high school. She was competing in an equestrian event and before the event began, complained to her father that the horse’s behavior had changed, and it wasn’t cooperating. She was afraid it was going to cost her in the event.
She’d complained about that for a week, and Russell thought it was nothing more than her trying to find an excuse, something to blame if she didn’t bring home the blue ribbon. Cici was, if nothing, competitive and hated to lose.
Because of that, he dismissed her complaints again and urged her to just do her best and stop making excuses.
She rode well through the first two rounds, and the horse cleared all the jumps without hesitation. But in the third round, it balked and stopped. Cici tried to force the animal forward, and it went nuts.
To her credit, she hung on for a good while. Russell saw the signs a split second before it happened. That damn animal was going to go over backward. His heart nearly stopped. He vaulted the fence and ran across the arena but was too late.
Gasps and screams accompanied his race to Cici, who lay trapped beneath the horse. Her face was pale. He knelt beside her. “Just be still, baby girl. Help is on the way.”
For the next two hours, he felt he was living a nightmare. Cici was transported to the hospital. Her left leg was broken, she had three cracked ribs and a fractured left forearm. Russell was weak with relief when the doctors told him there were no spinal, head or internal injuries.
He and Cici didn’t talk about the event at all until the day he brought her home from having her cast removed. When he parked his truck, he reached into the glove compartment, pulled out his handgun and then looked at her. “Come with me.”
“Why do you have your gun?”
“Come with me, Cici.”
She didn’t argue but followed him to a paddock. Her horse, Danny, neighed when they approached. Russell stopped at the fence rail, and Danny trotted over. Russell took hold of Danny’s bridle then looked at Cici.
“Take this gun.”
“Why?”
“Take it, Cici.”
“But why, Daddy?”
“Just do as I tell you.”
Her hand trembled as she followed his orders.
“I should have listened to you when you said he was acting up,” Russell said. “I didn’t, and I apologize, but from this moment on, don’t you ever depend on someone else to solve your problems. You’re almost grown, Cici, and you have to learn to stand on your own. Fight for yourself and this family, and if something tries to hurt you, know when and how hard to hit back.
“This animal broke you. You won’t ever ride competitively again. Nor will he compete. He’s defective, and he gets mean without warning. He has to be put down, and you have to be the one to do it.”
“What do you mean?”
Russell guided her hand holding the gun into place. “One shot, right here.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can, and you will.”
“No, Daddy, I can’t. I can’t kill him.”
“He’ll be put down anyway, Cici and you have to be the one to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s the reason you’ll never compete. He took something precious from you.”
“He didn’t mean to.”
“Didn’t he? He’s bitten two hands and nearly trampled another. For whatever reason, he’s turned mean, and we can’t have that. You can’t have that.”
“But the vet can put him down.”
“No. You’ll do it. Time to toughen up, little girl. Life is hard and often unfair, and we have to be tough. Tougher than everything and everyone that comes at us. Now pull the trigger.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Pull the trigger, Cici.”
“No, Daddy, please– “
“Pull the damn trigger!”
The gunshot was deafening. The horse collapsed in front of them. Russell would not
have admitted it aloud but was grateful the bullet met its mark and provided a swift death. Cici’s mouth opened in a soundless howl, her face pale beneath the splatter of blood.
Russell released her hand, and she dropped the gun. She wiped her hand across her face, lowered it to look at the blood and then she looked up at Russell. “Okay Daddy, now I’m a killer. Are you happy?”
He wanted to gather her to him and comfort her, but he believed she needed to toughen up, so instead, he answered. “You did well, Cici. Now go get cleaned up.”
As he came back to the present, he did so with fresh insight. Naomie was right. He was responsible for turning Cici into a killer, literally and figuratively, and she’d allowed it for the purest reason of all. She loved him.
He had to find a way to make it up to her, to reverse the course he’d set her upon because way back then, he’d made a huge mistake.
Was there time to correct that, or was it way too late?
With a curse, he headed inside, wishing at that moment he was going to climb into bed, spoon up next to a warm body and feel the comfort of having someone lying there with him, letting him know that despite his mistakes, he was worthy of love.
Instead, he’d sleep alone.
Chapter Eighteen – April 4th, 2019
Mace hadn’t intended to go to her cottage. He planned on letting himself into the main house and crashing in his old bedroom. But when he pulled up in front of the house and saw it dark, he changed his mind. He wanted someone to talk to. Actually, he wanted one specific person to talk to.
So here he was, knocking on Bailey’s door at nearly eleven. She opened the door, and after one look, her hand went to her chest. “Mace? Oh my god, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No, not really. I just got here, and the main house is dark, as is Nash’s so…”
“Come in, please.”
“Thanks.” He entered, and she gestured toward the couch. “I was just about to have a cup of tea to wind down. Care to join?”
“No, but thanks. I’m not much of a tea drinker.”
“Give it a try?”
“Okay, why not?”
