Cowboy Protector

by Patricia Rosemoor

“Where?”

  “On the midway. I was gonna talk to him, but he was having a heated discussion with some guy.”

  “Discussion or argument?”

  Wainwright shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Neil dropped it.

  “What’s on your mind, Farrell?” the stock contractor asked.

  “I have a warning.”

  “Warning?” Telek echoed, suddenly sounding intense.

  “About the thieves. They’re after Annabeth.” Neil hastily added, “She’s all right at the moment, but she was assaulted last night.”

  “I got the message about Annabeth’s wallet,” Wainwright said. “Damn shame. That little lady’s luck is plain rotten. I should find her and tell her that I’ll cut another check for her in the next day or two. Maybe that’ll cheer her up.” Then he frowned. “You said the thieves are after her, though. I don’t get the connection.”

  “There were two attacks,” Neil explained. “Stealing her wallet got them her address. One of them was waiting for her when she got home last night.”

  “She’s all right?”

  “Annabeth is just fine. Mad as a hornet, though, and itching to round up the guys herself. We had some luck in that direction and found where at least one of the thieves has been holed up.”

  “How?” Telek asked, his dark eyes narrowing.

  Neil wasn’t about to repeat his confession about his precognitive gift. He’d gotten enough flack from Wexler and Smith to teach him a lesson.

  “Let’s call it luck and leave it at that. Anyhow, we’ve positively linked the attacks back to the thieves. This morning, we brought Detectives Wexler and Smith up to speed on the situation.”

  Wainwright muttered something under his breath. But when Neil gave him a curious look, the stock contractor said, “Poor Annabeth. A damn scary situation for a woman, her being alone and all.”

  “Not anymore,” Neil assured him. “She’s got me now to help her fight her battles.” Words that would make Annabeth fighting mad, he was certain, but they’d come out of his mouth before he could think. “I moved in with her to make sure she has someone watching her back.”

  “So the authorities are on the lookout for the thieves now, huh?” Telek mused. He shook his head. “Not that they—or you—can keep her safe if a man is desperate enough to make sure he gets away with a crime.”

  Neil had no argument there. That was his chief worry—that he would be standing right next to Annabeth when one of the villains made his attempt to shut her up permanently.

  And that he would be powerless to stop it.

  The reason he’d decided to put everyone at alert was that he didn’t trust that the police would be enough. But hopefully these men had formed a bond with her from the dangerous hostage situation they had experienced. With multiple pairs of eyes watching for Nickels and Skull, surely Annabeth would be safe.

  At least he prayed she would be.

  He pulled a couple of folded sheets of paper from where he’d tucked them behind his belt and handed two to each man. He’d made copies of both police sketches.

  Wainwright opened them one-handed. “These are likenesses of the two villains?”

  “Right. The head honcho in the hostage situation is called Nickels,” Neil said. “We don’t have a clue as to the Hispanic’s name, but he has a really distinctive feature—a tattoo on his forearm, a skull with a rose in its teeth.”

  “That’s him!” Wainwright said, waving the flyer at Neil.

  “Who?”

  “The guy Lujan was powwowing with earlier.”

  “You’re positive that you saw one of the thieves here, on the festival grounds?” Telek asked.

  “I may wear glasses, but these old eyes are still reliable.”

  “Returning back to the scene of the crime…again,” Telek muttered. “Nothing between those ears but a lot of balls, that’s for sure.”

  “And what the hell was Alderman Salvatore Lujan doing with one of our thieves?” Neil mused.

  “Maybe Lujan recognized the guy,” Telek said. “They took him hostage for a while, remember.”

  “Maybe Lujan got a better look than he told everyone,” Neil agreed.

  Or maybe…

  “I’ll be keeping an eye out for these two,” Telek muttered.

  “Me, as well,” Wainwright said.

  The assurances made Neil feel a little more at ease. The more sets of eyes looking for the villains, the safer the woman he was learning to care for would be.

  Setting off to find a telephone, Neil dug for Wexler’s pager number. If Lujan had reported a run-in with one of the thieves, the detective would know about it.

  And if he hadn’t…

  That gave them all something more to think about, Neil decided.

  ANNABETH HAD HELPED Jake get the calves down the chutes and into the waiting pen at the back of the arena when Neil caught up to her.

  “I have news. Earlier this afternoon, Lloyd Wainwright saw Alderman Lujan arguing with Skull.”

  “What?”

  “He didn’t know who the guy was until I showed him the computer images.”

  “Lord, that means he’s here on the grounds,” Annabeth said, suddenly feeling shaky inside. She’d intended to set herself up as bait, but the reality of it was that she wasn’t as stoic about the possibility as she’d let on. “Maybe Nickels is here, too. If they are—”

  “If they are,” he interrupted, “we’re covered. I left a message on Wexler’s pager and asked him to send extra men to keep an eye out.”

  “That might cost the city money,” she said dryly.

  “I also suggested that if nothing were done, I might get my cousin Skelly McKenna to talk to some of his media friends about the situation.” Neil grinned. “Skelly used to be a big shot in media circles. He had a television newsmagazine show of his own.”

  “I hope it works.”

  Neil sobered and asked, “How are you doing? Really.”

  “A few butterflies,” she admitted, scanning the area with a suspicious glare. But no one was paying her any attention. The few men present tended to their own business as they worked around the area. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Just remember, you’re not alone. But don’t let your guard down, not even for a minute.”

  “Are you always so bossy?”

  One eyebrow arched right up, practically disappearing under the brim of his Stetson. “I do give orders to my ranch hands on a regular basis.”

  Realizing he was trying to lighten the mood, she came back with, “Hmm. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “As well you should,” he said with a slow smile that made her toes curl.

  Even so, Annabeth sobered. “Neil, we’re going to get through this okay, right? I’m not being stupid just by being here?”

  “I think you’re very brave.”

  His way of soothing things between them, she guessed. He wasn’t really saying what he thought.

  “Yeah, right,” she muttered, taking a distinct interest in the tips of her boots.

  She knew Neil would prefer she took Wexler’s advice. Out of sight, out of mind just didn’t do it for her.

  Neil touched her face as if to reassure her. As he tilted her chin so that she met his gaze—his eyes darkening with something unspoken—his work-roughened fingertips sent a shiver straight through Annabeth.

  “Are you ready to ride, cowboy?” she asked, her voice suddenly rough.

  “Always.”

  The way he was looking at her made her think he wasn’t talking about his horse. A flush spread from her neck all the way to her sweet spots.

  If only they were alone…

  “Well, break a leg,” she murmured, the showbiz good-luck wish sounding strange on her lips.

  “I’d rather have a kiss for luck.”

  “Have one, then,” she said, going up on her toes to brush one against his cheek.

  Neil was too quick for her. He flashed his arms around her waist and pulled her clo
se. She couldn’t have dodged his mouth if she had wanted to. But, truth was, she didn’t want to. She opened to him gladly, greedily accepted him sliding inside and exploring her.

  His holding her like this and kissing her banished for a moment the terror that her life could become. In his arms, she felt safe. Protected. Cherished.

  Too bad he didn’t know exactly how he made her feel inside.

  Too bad a part of her longed for more. A deeper, more intimate exploration. A real connection. The kind of connection a man and woman discovered together when they made love.

  But what if she did make love with him? What then?

  Neil had said he cared about her. Was that enough?

  She wanted a man who not only cared about her but cared for her. Loved her. A man who would never leave her.

  But in a few days Neil Farrell would be returning to South Dakota.

  And she reminded him of his sister.

  That sour thought was enough to bring Annabeth to her senses. Murmuring his name, she pulled away only to see his hungry expression.

  “P-people are staring,” she said, taking a step back.

  “Who?”

  “Well, they could be.”

  As a matter of fact, she almost felt as if someone was staring at her now. A shiver threading through her despite the late-afternoon heat, Annabeth looked around, but all she saw were workers minding their own business.

  “What is it?”

  “My imagination playing tricks on me. I hope.”

  “I hope so, too,” Neil murmured.

  But she noticed he, too, took a long look around before they slipped inside the arena.

  HE WATCHED ANNABETH Caldwell take her place, ready to run the calves through the chute. Right at this very moment, she was gazing around the arena, casting her baby blues over the audience.

  Looking for him.

  “You won’t find me there,” he murmured.

  She was searching in the wrong direction. And The Lone Ranger, her ardent suitor, was too busy watching over her to see past his own nose.

  And by the time they figured things out, it would be too late.

  Now they both knew too much.

  So now they both had to die.

  Chapter Twelve

  She had that feeling again. That spine-tingling, gut-wrenching feeling that told her she was being watched.

  Gasping, Annabeth stopped what she was doing, and leaving a calf at the start of a chute, whipped around to scan the nearby stands.

  But her foe was like the air. Invisible. As were the uniformed police she had expected to see.

  “The next contestant is Bob Ray Kaiser from Cotesfield, Nebraska.”

  The announcer’s voice jogged her back to the chute. She looked beyond it, to where Neil kept watch, his amber wolf’s eyes continually scanning the crowd but always coming back to rest on her.

  Always back to her…

  Nodding at him, she got down to business.

  Annabeth urged the calf forward and waited for the signal. Kaiser nodded to her and she released it. The calf broke from the chute, and the determined cowboy, chomping down on his pigging string, hightailed it after the critter.

  She watched as through a fog, and when the announcer claimed Kaiser’s time to be a respectable eight seconds flat, she put her hands together for the man and automatically cheered him on.

  But her heart wasn’t in it.

  Annabeth worked by rote, sneaking looks out into the audience whenever she had the chance. Though the menace to her hung heavy, at times threatening to smother her, she never saw the reality of the threat.

  No Nickels.

  No Skull.

  Just the certainty that one of them was out there. Watching. Waiting for his chance at her.

  “…Neil Farrell!”

  The announcement jogged her to attention. Neil was up, already backing his horse into the roper’s box.

  Pulse quickening, Annabeth sensed Neil’s intensity and wished for him a big, big win. He’d come in second on his first run and had won the competition the night before, though they hadn’t known that for sure until they’d arrived on the festival grounds earlier.

  Neil Farrell was already a hero in her mind and heart. She just wanted everyone else to recognize the man as such. She wanted the announcer to call out his name with the lowest time, wanted the audience to make the bleachers shake with their clapping and stomping.

  Near breathless with wanting, Annabeth moved the calf into position.

  Neil shoved the pigging string between his teeth, then leaned forward over his mount, one hand tightly clutching the looped rope.

  That’s when Annabeth felt it again—the sizzle along the back of her neck that told her she was being watched. Before she could check to see what was what, Neil gave her the nod that he was ready to go.

  But even as she started to release the gate, Annabeth glanced back, her sharp gaze cutting straight into one set of cold gray eyes not more than a dozen yards away.

  Nickels was standing in front of the remaining ropers and their mounts.

  He flicked a thumb against the tip of a nasty-looking knife, then nodded sideways toward Neil. His mouth grimaced into an imitation of a smile.

  He was taunting her…

  Then Nickels turned his gaze from her and centered it on Neil’s saddle.

  The calf shot out of the box.

  And she just knew…

  “Neil!” she screamed, competing with the rising arena noise. “Don’t go!”

  But it was too late. The calf had hit its mark and the tie released. And Neil’s horse was already plunging at breakneck speed out of the roper’s box.

  “Neil!” she screamed again, her chest tightening in fear for him.

  He sent that loop sailing smoothly over the calf’s neck and tied down the other end to his saddle horn. Before his horse could brake, the calf’s frantic rush pulled the rope taut.

  And then all Annabeth could do was watch in horror as the saddle slipped sideways and separated from the horse. And the man she cared for more than anything in the world flew to the ground, shoulder and headfirst.

  “Neil!” she screamed again as she rushed forward along with the clowns and a couple of mounted cowboys.

  For a moment he was lost to sight.

  She whipped around, danced backward, looking for Nickels.

  Who had, of course, disappeared.

  She plunged into the melee, pushing men bigger than she aside in her frantic attempt to get to Neil, who lay still, his eyes closed.

  “Neil! Oh my God!”

  Sobbing, she flew to her knees and thought she heard a groan beneath the roar of the anxious crowd. And then his lashes flicked and his eyes opened, his immediate wince telling her that he was in pain.

  “Neil, don’t move,” she pleaded, “not until the paramedics check you.”

  His forehead pulling into a frown, he muttered, “Damn, my headache’s gonna have a headache.”

  He might be hurting, but he was alive and for the moment, that’s all she cared about.

  NEIL SHOOK OUT two packets of over-the-counter painkillers—double the suggested amount—and downed the pills with a cup of water. He was a lucky, lucky man. Nothing broken. No concussion.

  Just a tree-felling headache, a sprained shoulder that had already been iced and a body that would be as stiff as a telephone pole in the morning.

  Something more to which he could look forward, he thought grimly.

  Through his examination, Annabeth had sat in one corner of the trailer, appearing pale and scared until he had been pronounced bruised but not broken. She still looked as messed up as he was feeling.

  Her gaze met his. Her eyes were rounded and suspiciously moist. Her hands were clenched together as if she was trying to get a grip. Literally.

  “Next?” he asked her.

  “What?” she whispered, her voice hollow as though she was in shock.

  Which she probably was, he guessed. One more incident se
emed to be one too many for her.

  “Maybe our friendly paramedic here should look you over before we leave.”

  The paramedic—a young, rumpled-looking man named Craig—gave him a surprised expression but didn’t say anything, just continued cleaning up the area.

  Annabeth said, “I’m not the one who got hurt.”

  “Couldn’t prove it by me,” Neil said.

  “This is no time for levity, Neil,” she said, her voice thick with distress. Frowning, she added, “You’re hurt and it’s my—”

  Neil cut her off. “The best medicine in the world for me would be one of your smiles.”

  This was not Annabeth’s fault. Not her bad karma. And he wouldn’t let her blame herself as she usually did when things went wrong.

  She frowned harder and seemed as if she were trying to keep herself from crying again.

  “Oh, yeah,” he muttered. “That’ll do it for me.”

  Wincing, Neil slid off the examination table and tried to appear natural. But his shoulder—and his head—weren’t cooperating.

  “Thanks for the assist,” he told Craig.

  “That’s my job,” the paramedic said. “Take care of that shoulder, and if it doesn’t feel better in a few days see a doctor, would you?”

  “You have my word on it.” Neil turned to Annabeth. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I want to check on Cisco and see what happened to my saddle.”

  “I can tell you.” Annabeth popped out of the chair and was at his side in seconds. “Nickels happened. I saw him when I released the calf.” She waited until they’d actually left the first-aid trailer to add, “Nickels had that knife you saw in your vision, but he made it clear that he was after you rather than me. I tried to warn you but it was too late. I wasn’t his target this time—you were.”

  Neil nodded and cut across the back lot toward the barn where his horse was stabled. “The moment Cisco tore out of the roping box, I knew something wasn’t right. The saddle slid around a bit. I just thought I hadn’t tightened the cinch enough.”

  “Nickels was taunting me, Neil. He wanted me to know what he’d done to you.”

  “Sick bastard!” Neil cursed under his breath and sped up, anxious to make certain that Cisco was un-injured. Annabeth had assured him someone was taking care of his horse, but he wanted to see that all was well for himself.