Under Threat

by B. J Daniels

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. This was ridiculous. He was fine. There was only so much the human body could handle and still be expected to concentrate on complex facts. Complex facts that had been hard enough to work out when he was well rested and well fed.

  At the thought of food, his stomach grumbled. If he couldn’t sleep, then he could at least eat. If he made something, then Natalie could eat when she woke up.

  There wouldn’t be anything fresh in the pantry, but they always kept a few extras on hand just in case. The nearest store was over an hour away, and while that was pretty damn inconvenient a lot of the time, between Vaughn’s desire for complete off-the-grid privacy when he wasn’t working and his sister’s need for a secret spot, it worked.

  He and Lucy had handled their father’s fame in completely opposite ways. Lucy had embraced it. She’d followed it, becoming almost as famous a country singer as their father had been. She used the cabin only when she needed a quick, quiet, away-from-publicity break, which was rare.

  Vaughn had hated the spotlight. Always. Like his mother, he hadn’t been able to stand the fishbowl existence.

  So he’d found a way to have almost no recognition whatsoever. He’d gotten a strange enjoyment out of going undercover back in the day, knowing no one knew who he was related to.

  “You are one screwy piece of work, Cooper,” he muttered, grabbing two cans of soup out of the pantry and digging up the can opener.

  “Do you always talk to yourself?”

  His hand flew to the butt of his weapon before he even thought about it. Before he recognized the voice, before he had a chance to smooth out the movement so Natalie wouldn’t know what he had meant to do.

  Quickly he put his hands back to work opening the soup, and he purposefully didn’t look at her because he didn’t want to see that familiar look on her face. Jenny would cry for days after he had moments like that one, wondering why he couldn’t ever shut it off, that natural reaction.

  Why the hell couldn’t he keep his mind off his past? Dad, Jenny. Why was it in his head, mucking things up when he had to be completely clearheaded and one hundred percent in the game right now?

  “I’m heating some soup if you’d like some,” he offered, ignoring her previous question.

  “Have you been awake this whole time?”

  “Someone needs to remain vigilant.”

  “You can’t stay awake forever.”

  “No, I can’t. Which means at some point, I’ll have to trust you enough to take over the lookout position.”

  He finally happened to glance at her, and she had her lips pressed together in a disapproving line. As though she was surprised to hear that he didn’t trust her. He’d been nothing but clear on that front. She shouldn’t be surprised.

  “The only option for beverage is water, and you’re going to have to learn to live on the nonperishable staples in the pantry. I don’t think it’s safe to go to town, and certainly not worth it unless we absolutely have to.”

  She finally walked from the little opening of the hallway toward the table that acted as the eating area.

  She had visible bags under her dark eyes, and her hair was a tangled, curly mass. The smell of smoke drifted toward him even when they were yards apart.

  “The soup will keep if you want to take a shower.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a washer and dryer around here, is there?”

  “Actually, there is in the hall closet. As isolated as this cabin is, my sister isn’t one to do without the modern conveniences of life. We’ve got a good generator and plenty of appliances.”

  She glanced at him then, some unreadable expression on her face. She scratched a fingernail across the corner of the old wooden table that had belonged to his grandparents decades ago. Lucy might be all up in the modern conveniences, but she had a sentimental streak that ran much deeper than his.

  “Are you close with your sister?”

  There was something in the way that she asked the question... Something that gave him the feeling he got when things on a case weren’t fitting together the way he thought they should.

  There was something this woman was hiding. Even if she had nothing to do with The Stallion or Herman, there was something going on here. He needed to figure it out.

  “Well, our careers make it pretty hard for us to spend time together, but we like each other well enough. Do you have a sister?”

  Her downturned gaze flicked to his and then quickly back to the table again. There was something there. Definitely.

  “We were very close growing up. But...”

  “But what?”

  “She’s...” Natalie swallowed. “Gone.”

  And he was an ass. Her sister had died, and he was suspicious of this woman, who probably still had painful feelings over it. “I’m sorry,” he offered, surprised at how genuine it sounded coming out of him.

  She glanced at him again, this time those dark eyes stayed on his a little longer. That full mouth nearly curved. “Thank you,” she said. “You know, not many people just say I’m sorry. They always have to add on and make it worse.”

  “It may shock you to know that I’m not much of a ‘add more to it’ kinda guy.”

  This time, she didn’t just smile, she laughed. The smile did something to her face, seemed to lighten that heavy sadness that had waved off her. She was pretty; it couldn’t be ignored.

  She’s more than pretty.

  But that would have to be ignored. He had no business thinking of her as anything other than a civilian under his protection. He shouldn’t notice that she was pretty, or the curve of her hips, or the way her smile changed the light in her eyes. He shouldn’t and couldn’t notice these things. Not and do what he needed to do.

  “So, Ranger Cooper, tell me about your cooking skills,” she said, moving toward the kitchen.

  “Well, first let’s not set any expectations here. I have reheating skills, and that’s about it. Lucky for you, there is no chance of doing anything other than reheating for the next couple days.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it smells delicious. I’m starving. But I do want to take a shower.”

  “Everything should be in the bathroom. If you don’t find it in the shower, there should be a container under the sink with things like soap. As for towels, I packed a few. I’ll grab you one from my bag.”

  She nodded without a word, and he left the soup on low heat so he could fetch her towel.

  It was strange to have another presence in the cabin with him. He only ever came here alone, unless it was Christmas, and then sometimes he and Lucy would come up here with Mom.

  He’d always felt like there was plenty of room when they were here. It was a small place, but Lucy had her room and he had his. If Mom came, he never minded sleeping on the couch.

  Ms. Torres seemed to take up a lot of space.

  Something about the way she moved, the way she smelled underneath that smoke. There was... Something there. He couldn’t put a finger on it.

  Perhaps that was the thing that made her feel like such a larger presence. Because he couldn’t get a handle on her, he couldn’t figure out what made her tick.

  But he would.

  He strode into his room and grabbed the duffel bag he had packed in haste. He jerked the zipper and then stopped as she stepped into the room with him.

  He had meant for her to wait in the living room, or at least out in the hall, but here she was—in his space. There was something about it that set him on edge. There was something about her that set him on edge.

  “How come the only color is in your sister’s room?”

  “I don’t know,” he returned with a grunt.

  “You seem like the kind of guy who knows everything.”

  “I know important things. However, I don’t give a damn about interior design.”r />
  She leaned against the door frame. “Well, it’s a lovely place.”

  “It’s something.”

  “Do you ever get lonely out here?”

  The last thing he needed to think about right now was how lonely he was and for how long. He jerked the first towel his hand touched out of the bag and tossed it at her. She caught it, albeit clumsily.

  She cocked her head at him. She seemed to be forever doing that, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of hypnotist trick. Cock her head, look as though she knew exactly what was going on in his mind even though there was no way that she possibly could.

  “Thanks. I’ll go take a shower, and then you can get some sleep. That is, if you trust me enough?”

  She said it sarcastically, because she probably knew he didn’t have a choice. At this point, if he didn’t purposefully and decisively take a nap, he was going to keel over and fall asleep against his will. “Trust is a two-way street, Ms. Torres.”

  “Natalie. Please call me Natalie. I am so tired of hearing you drawl Ms. in that condescending Texas Ranger tone.”

  “Fine. Natalie.” Something about saying her full name aloud with her big dark eyes on him shimmered through him. He was tired of this weird feeling. Tired of not knowing what it was that she did to him. There was some gut itch there, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. And that, on top of all the other things he didn’t know right now, was just about enough to make him snap.

  A weaker man would. But he was not a weaker man.

  “I’ll trust you when I absolutely have to.”

  “So, not at all.”

  “Trust is a commodity not easily imparted. If you’re looking for a friend to build trust with, you shouldn’t have gotten messed up in the Unsolved Crimes Investigation Unit.”

  “Ah, you’re back to your charming self. I’ll take that as my cue to go.”

  “Don’t use all of the hot water,” he called after her, not sure why he let her get to him. She was goading him. He knew she was, and yet he couldn’t seem to let it go.

  * * *

  Natalie stood in the warm pulse of the shower that was shockingly luxurious. This cabin got stranger and stranger. Parts of it were stunning in their understated elegance. This, what appeared to be, all glass and marble shower, the fancy pristinely white sink and floor. It was gorgeous.

  But then other parts of the home were rough-hewn and distressed. She kind of liked that, actually. It was the strangest thing. It appealed to her, those disparate parts.

  But it hardly mattered if the decor interested her. All that really mattered was that she stop sniping at Ranger Cooper and start getting to the bottom of this mystery.

  He just made it so easy to snipe.

  She turned off the water and toweled herself dry. She had picked out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from the closet in “her” room. It felt so completely wrong to wear someone else’s clothes, somehow especially since they were his sister’s clothes, when all of this...hiding out was due to her sister. The sister Ranger Cooper didn’t know might be connected to this case. She didn’t think.

  Maybe he’d figured it out and was pretending like he hadn’t, and she was an idiot for thinking otherwise. Or maybe the “girls” Herman said The Stallion kept didn’t have anything to do with her sister.

  She let out a gusty sigh. Right now she was too hungry to think about anything other than the fragrant soup that had been warming on the stove when she’d left the kitchen. It wasn’t gourmet or anything, but she hadn’t eaten since... She actually wasn’t sure when she’d last eaten. Between the fire and the paperwork and the nervousness and fear during the drive, she probably hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of food.

  She hurriedly got dressed and pulled her hair back with a band she’d found in a little plastic bin under the sink. It would be a curly mess later, but she was sure this was the place where what little vanity she had left had come to die.

  She had none of her normal hair products. No makeup. None of the clothes that fit her properly. While she had lost her job as a hypnotist with the Texas Rangers, thank you Ranger Jerk, it still felt like Cooper was more of a colleague than anything else. She wanted to dress professionally and be taken seriously and...

  And she had to put her hair back into a crazy ponytail, and wear someone else’s very nearly gaudy and way-too-tight sweats.

  “Just what you should be concerned about, Natalie, how you look,” she muttered to herself. She was hopeless. That was all there was to it.

  She stepped out into the hall, her feet propelling her forward only because she could smell that soup in the distance.

  Ranger Cooper was sitting at the table, spooning soup into his mouth as he stared moodily at a laptop screen.

  He flicked a glance at her and then pointed toward the stove. “Help yourself.” She gave him a little nod, and then did just that. He’d set out a bowl for her, and she ladled soup into it.

  She heard a choking sound and looked back to find him nearly red and coughing.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he said, his voice nothing more than a scrape.

  He wasn’t the type of man to errantly choke on his soup. “What happened? Did you find something?” He had been staring at the laptop screen, but then there were windows in the kitchen too. “Did you see someone out a window?” She whipped her head around, looking for some clue as to what he’d choked over.

  “No. No, none of that.”

  “Then what?”

  “It was nothing,” he replied, his voice returning to normal, his attention returning to his computer.

  “Ranger Cooper, honestly, don’t be—”

  “It’s the back of your...pants,” he ground out.

  “Well, they’re not my pants,” she muttered in return. She tried to look over her shoulder, searching for what he saw, but she didn’t see anything except pink on the backs of her legs.

  “It, uh, says something.”

  “It says what?” she demanded, flinging her arms in the air. “Do you have to be so infuriatingly vague?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “Ranger Cooper, I swear to all that is—”

  “It says Ride...” He cleared his throat. “Ride Me, Cowboy.”

  She blinked at him. “Ride...” She blinked again, a hot flush infusing her face. “I... I’m going to go change.” She hurried out of the room and inspected every piece of clothing in the closet before choosing plain green sweatpants. She didn’t quite love the too-tight fit, but that was far less...embarrassing than Ride Me, Cowboy being printed on any part of her clothing. Most especially her butt.

  Wait. Why had Ranger Cooper been looking at her butt? He was probably just inspecting her for signs of weapons or something. There was no way that man checked out anyone in the course of his oh-so-important duty.

  Only the desperate hunger situation coaxed her to return to the kitchen, otherwise she might have happily holed up in the strange little color burst of a room and never forced herself to have to look Ranger Cooper in the eye again.

  Ride Me, Cowboy.

  She shuddered, then took a deep breath before she stepped foot into the hallway again. She was just going to have to accept that her face was probably going to be beet red for the next...eight million hours.

  There are more important things to think about than a little silly embarrassment over pants that aren’t even yours.

  Which was a very sensible thought all in all, but it changed absolutely nothing. She was embarrassed. She was... Well, trying very, very hard not to think about riding of any kind.

  She placed her palm to her burning cheek and inwardly scolded herself as she haltingly forced herself back to the kitchen.

  Ranger Cooper’s gaze remained steady on the laptop, but unlike the first time she’d stepped
into the open front area, he was aware she was there. He didn’t move, he didn’t look at her, but she knew he was aware of her. So much different than that moment she’d caught him lost in his thoughts.

  And wondered a little too hard what those thoughts might be.

  “What do you know about The Stallion?” Ranger Cooper asked in that maddeningly professional tone. As if nothing had happened a short while ago, as if this was some sort of interrogation, not him protecting her. Or whatever it was he was really up to.

  “I don’t know what that is. A person?” Based on what Herman said, she assumed it was, but she really didn’t know. It was imperative Ranger Cooper give her a hint, but she had to play that carefully. No jumping into an interrogation mode of her own.

  “Yes, a person.”

  She finished ladling her soup and grabbed the spoon that Cooper had left out for her. She could stand here and eat it over the kitchen counter, and she’d probably be more comfortable doing that, but she didn’t want to give him that kind of power over her. She wouldn’t stand to eat just because she didn’t want to face him.

  She walked over to the table, set down her food and then slid into the seat directly across from him. His eyes remained on the laptop.

  She didn’t say anything because that was the technique he always used. Give her absolutely no information, even when she asked a direct question. Say only what he wanted to, and when.

  So, she ate, saying nothing else, and it about killed her. She hated the silence that settled over them like an oppressive weight. She hated not peppering him with constant questions, she hated not being able to just dive in and figure out what the heck was going on.

  But she didn’t trust herself not to reach across the table and pummel him if he gave her another nonanswer.

  “Why did you question Herman?” Ranger Cooper said at last. “According to Captain Dean you always follow the rules. Never once stepped out of line. What was going on in the interrogation room that caused you to ask questions?”

  Natalie didn’t tense. She’d spent enough time around cops to know how to keep herself immobile and unreadable. She kept her gaze level, and when his gray-blue eyes met hers, she tried not to shudder. She tried not to feel the guilt that was washing through her. She tried to ignore all of the emotions threatening to take over, and most of all, she tried to lie.