by Dana Mentink
The muscles in his shoulders began to blare a steady warning. Though she was petite, barely tall enough to climb up in his truck all the months they were dating, her body was deadweight and he could not maintain his hold for much longer. He shifted.
“Tam, I know I’m not the guy you wanted to run into just now, but at the moment I’m the only one around. We didn’t make it as a couple, but you could always trust me. Isn’t that right?”
She stopped struggling and he felt her start to lose her grip.
“Trust me now, Tam. Come on. On three, you’re gonna let go. One...”
Her eyes rounded in fear, molten and terrified in the moonlight.
“Two...”
Again the softest whimper, fear again, but edged with resolve this time. She went dead still.
“Three.”
She let go. The downward pull strained every muscle in his body, required every iota of strength he possessed not to drop her. Groaning with the effort, he began to command his body backward, pulling one excruciating inch at a time, the platform creaking in protest. Their combined weight added to the ledge already weakened by time and the salt air. How much longer would it hold? Sweat blinded him and he thought his shoulders would dislocate when at last he pulled back just far enough that her torso cleared the busted railing.
She crawled up next to him and collapsed. He rolled onto his back, sweat mingling with the cold winter air, sucking in painful gusts as he recovered. She breathed hard next to him, one shuddering gasp at a time.
Finally she managed to sit up.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Anytime,” he groaned, unable yet to attain a sitting position.
Several more minutes passed before he rustled up the strength to roll over and get painfully to his feet while she did the same.
He let the silence linger for a few more minutes while she stayed there, staring out at the ocean without seeing it, the beacon painting them in odd yellow light.
“Tam, why is that guy trying to kill you?” he said finally.
She jerked when he said her name. “I don’t know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I think you probably have a general idea.”
“No.”
He rolled a tentative shoulder to make sure it was still in the socket. “All right. Well, let’s take a ride over to Danny Patron at the Driftwood Police Department, and you can tell him all the things you don’t know.”
“I have to go.”
He blinked. “When someone tries to run you down and knock you off a lighthouse, the correct countermeasure is to solicit the help of law enforcement personnel. They live for this kind of stuff.”
“Thank you. For what you did, I mean. I—I mean... I would have...”
“Fallen to your death were it not for the heroic actions of your ex-boyfriend,” he finished.
She startled then and a tiny smile shone on her face. Odd, it struck him. Tammy was a blurt-it-out, take-no-prisoners, impulsive woman. But maybe the trauma had subdued her mouth for the moment. “Thank you, Liam.”
“You’re welcome, now—”
She left him there, mouth open wide like a dummy’s, talking to no one as she jogged down the staircase.
“Hey,” he said, hurrying after her as best he could considering he’d probably pulled every muscle in his upper body. “You can’t just run off into the night.”
Apparently she had not pulled quite as many muscles as he had, since she made it out the front door by the time he caught up.
To his utter lack of surprise, Jingles was waiting. He barked once at Tammy and leaped for Liam, tail wagging.
“All right, all right,” he said. “Stand down, would ya?”
She’d used his distraction to make it nearly to the cliff trail before he caught up and stopped her with a hand on her wrist. She jerked around. He heard rather than saw her sharp intake of breath and regretted scaring her. Tammy had never been afraid of anything, to his knowledge, and he hated seeing it in her now. Her wrist was smaller than he remembered, more delicate. He let her go. “Sorry,” he said. “Let me take you to the police station. Please.”
She stopped at the word please. Aunt Ginny would be proud of him for remembering his manners, especially when dealing with a woman who was acting in a completely irrational manner.
She checked her phone, frowning at what she did or did not see there, and turned away, folding her arms around herself, taking in the long, lonely cliff trail, perhaps.
“Can you...would you give me a ride?” she said softly.
He leaned closer. “How’s that?”
“A ride,” she said louder.
“Sure, the police—”
“To my trailer?”
“Your trailer? I thought you moved away permanently.”
“Kept up the rental.”
He wanted to ask if she was planning to stay. He didn’t know exactly how he would feel about running into Tammy Lofton again in the small town of Driftwood, but he didn’t think the feelings would be good.
“The police—”
“My trailer,” she said, more firmly this time. “Can you take me? Otherwise, I’ll walk back to the Corvette and change the tire and drive myself.”
“Since when would you voluntarily get dirty, Tam?” And when had she learned to change a tire, for that matter?
She waited him out and he detested the fact that he already knew he was going to cave. Not like he would leave a woman, any woman, even the last woman on earth he wanted to see, alone in the dark, fixing her own tire, no less.
“Well, all right,” he said, “but I’m on record as saying this makes about as much sense as puttin’...”
“A screen door on a submarine?” she finished.
He goggled. “Was gonna say putting socks on a rooster, but same principle. Since when do you spool out the country witticisms? Thought that drove you crazy.”
She shrugged. “Never mind. I just want a ride, that’s all.”
“Fine,” he snapped, turning away and whistling for Streak. “But just so you know, you’re gonna be riding behind me, followed by a lunatic dog who doesn’t know a horse from a hula hoop.”
He thought he caught another smile as he climbed painfully into the saddle and lowered an arm down to help her up behind him. When he eased Streak into a trot, she circled her arms around his waist. Gently, he noticed with some appreciation. She seemed comfortable in the saddle. Puzzling, since Tammy stayed as far away from the ranch and horses as she possibly could.
He wanted to fire a couple of questions over his shoulder, but his sides were aching and he figured she was just as uncomfortable. He’d give her a ride to her trailer, but it wasn’t going to be the end of things. Not until he had all his questions answered, like who was trying to kill his ex-girlfriend and why?
* * *
Maggie clung to Liam’s narrow waist as best she could through the pain that pulsed through her ribs. He smelled of leather and hay, a heady combination. She didn’t even want to think about how much discomfort he was in after he’d put his own life in danger to save hers. The rocking motion of the horse aggravated her pain and she rested her head against his wide shoulders, trying to control her stampeding thoughts.
She’d almost been killed.
What’s more, the stranger—who had to be Virgil—had apparently been responsible for her sister’s accident, and now Tammy was on the run. Where? At least the why part was becoming clearer. Tammy had taken jewelry and he was bent on retrieving it. Maggie had no idea why Tammy would have done such a thing, but there had to be a good reason. There had been no messages from her sister when she’d checked. She desperately wanted to look again but she couldn’t do that without risking dropping her cell as the horse traveled along.
What exactly was she going to do next? Liam was right that she should
talk to the police, but her sister had specifically asked her not to.
I don’t want to kill you...but I will if I have to.
Maggie had heard only a little about Tammy’s new job. Guilt licked at her insides. She’d been so busy working insane hours subbing for a cook at a steak house in Arizona, banking every last, sweat-covered dime, that she hadn’t really taken the time to reach out to Tammy as often as she should have. Maybe if she had, her impulsive sister would not have detonated her life again.
Next steps, next steps, she chanted to herself as they trotted in view of her sister’s trailer parked at the end of the row. Tammy had kept up the rent until she decided to put down more permanent roots; her job as caregiver for Bill Salvador came with a room.
Streak slowed to a walk. A scant few moments remained until she would have to dismount and face a very determined cowboy who she’d gleaned from Tammy was highly intelligent.
What choice did she have but to stall until she knew where her sister was?
Liam reined in the horse and eased off him, not quite disguising the groan as his boots hit the ground. He offered her a calloused palm that all but dwarfed her hand in its strong grasp. She slid out of the saddle, patted the prancing dog and headed up the porch steps. The tiny single-bulb lamp was on, moths circling around.
“Thank you very much,” she said as she passed him. “I don’t know how else to repay you. Ride safe home.”
He’d moved faster than she thought, edging in front of her and leaning a shoulder against the door. “Seems like you haven’t answered the pertinent questions.”
She stopped. He curved a finger through the belt loop of his jeans and crossed his booted ankles.
“There’s nothing else.”
He craned forward a bit. “What’s that?”
She remembered Tammy had told her something about Liam having hearing loss. “I’ve told you all I can,” she said, louder.
He smiled and thumbed his hat back, the light accentuating his strong jaw. “Aw, now, I don’t think that’s the full honest truth. We’re not exactly strangers. You should talk to me.”
The urge rippled through her to tell him, to trust him. But how could she when Tammy had not? When she had no idea whom to trust or where to turn?
She straightened, tipping her chin up to look him in the face since he was a good six inches taller. “I’m not going to tell you anything further.”
He blew out a breath. “So you’re just gonna stay out here in this trailer, all by your lonesome, when you’ve almost been hit by a train and dropped off a lighthouse?”
“I’m safe. There are neighbors. I have an alarm.” At least, her sister used to have an alarm on her trailer. “I have a cell phone.”
“To call the police, whom you don’t wanna talk to?”
She waved him off. “I’m tired and I need a shower. I’ll be fine.”
“All right, then I’m gonna stay here and keep watch. I’ll go home and get my truck. Me and Jingles here will bunk in the back seat.”
She gritted her teeth. “Not necessary. You’re going to leave.”
His lips curled in a sassy, slow smile that flicked her pulse higher. “How’re you fixing to move two-hundred-plus pounds of good ol’ cowboy off your property, Tam?”
She took a step closer. “I’m going to ask you politely, Liam, and you’re going to respect my wishes and leave.” Silence lengthened between them. Was he that kind of man? The next few seconds would tell.
He huffed out a frustrated breath and she knew she’d won the battle. “All right, then. You read that right. I’d never disrespect a woman, not in this lifetime. I got a lot of sins under my belt, but not that one.”
With a sigh, she reached for the door but froze when he put one finger gently on her forearm. The connection held her in place. “You know,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, “there’s something different about you, Tam.”
She didn’t answer. He let his finger remain there for a moment, a spot of warmth in the icy December night. Then he withdrew and walked back to his horse.
The relieved exhale hadn’t quite left her lungs when he threw a remark over his shoulder.
“Something’s not right here, and I’m gonna worry this bone till I figure it out.” He put a finger to his hat in perfect cowboy form and smiled. “Sleep well.”
She watched him go with a sinking feeling that Liam Pike would match her determination stride for stride. She may have won the battle but the war was far from over.
Saddle up, Maggie. Rough trail ahead.
FOUR
Liam’s almost brother, retired US marshal Mitch Whitehorse, was not prone to smiling. Liam guessed he wouldn’t be, either, with a serial killer for a sibling. But since Mitch had put Wade back in prison almost a year prior, married Jane and adopted her son Charlie, his demeanor was downright sanguine. He was loping through the living room of the Roughwater Ranch main house with Charlie on his shoulders, the day after the incident with Tammy, doing loop de loops around the giant Christmas tree.
“Playing horsie?” Liam teased. He gave Charlie a high five, reveling in the joy shining in the little boy’s face. He could barely remember life at the ranch before Charlie had arrived, and he didn’t much want to.
Mitch cocked his head, the scar on his cheek catching the winter sunlight streaming through the window. “Nah, I’m a train, of course. Anyone can see that. Charlie’s excited about riding the Train of Lights next Wednesday.”
“Choo choo, Uncle Liam,” crooned the three-year-old. The name came out sounding like “Weeum,” which made Liam grin every single time.
“Ah. Train. How could I have missed that?”
“You missed a cow, too,” Mitch added. “Got her from the lower pasture and returned her to the herd.”
Liam jerked. He wanted to blame it on his disastrous new excuse for a herd dog, but it was purely his own preoccupation. He’d spent the early morning, after the feeding duties were done, searching for Tammy Lofton and going so far as to ride to her trailer to check on her. But there’d been no sign of the woman.
“Something you want to get off your chest?”
Liam realized Mitch was watching him closely. It would be the smartest thing to do to unburden himself to Mitch, get his take on the whole situation with Tammy and the guy chasing her. But she’d asked him not to and he’d respect that—for now. “Nah. I was just being careless. Won’t happen again.”
“Careless is one thing you aren’t, brother.”
No, he wasn’t. It was why he’d earned the nickname Hound Dog from his fellow Green Berets. When he got the whiff of a mission that interested or perplexed him, he’d go after it with methodical zeal and relentless drive.
Aunt Ginny joined them and Mitch hunched down for her to plant a kiss on Charlie’s cheek. She did so and handed him a gingerbread cookie. “Your mama called and said you need your bath.”
When Charlie frowned, Liam gently poked his arm. “Hey, little cowboy. Christmas parade’s tomorrow. Gotta look your best.”
The child brightened and Mitch nodded. “Orders from the conductor. Let’s chug out of here.”
“Choo choo,” Charlie said gleefully, clutching his cookie as they galloped to the door, heading for the small house on the ranch hilltop that Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus had gifted Jane and Mitch for a wedding present.
Ginny had a file of papers tucked under one arm and a laptop under the other. As accountant and joint owner of Roughwater Ranch, she was never far from her paperwork.
“No cookie for me?” Liam said, pulling a mournful pout.
She laughed. “There’s a dozen in the kitchen for you. I didn’t even bother to wrap them up.”
“Too busy?”
“Insanely. Driftwood is swimming in holiday visitors and they all seem to want to stay at the Lodge and tour the ranch while they’re h
ere.”
“Who wouldn’t? Good for business.”
Ginny blew out a breath. “Yes. Thank goodness your sister is a brilliant lodge manager.”
“That she is. Seen her lately? She didn’t return my call this morning.”
“Just busy, I’m sure. Speaking of which, Nan called about her saddle. I told her you’d drop it off at the Chuckwagon today.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that now.”
“And would you take your nutty dog along? He’s been staring through the back door whining because he can’t find you.”
Liam gaped. “I fenced him behind the workshop. How does he keep getting out?”
She heaved a dramatic sigh. “The power of unrequited love.”
“Aw, man,” he mumbled, striding through the cozy ranch kitchen.
“Help yourself to...” The rest of her phrase died away. He could hear the merriment in her voice. He edged past yet another Christmas tree nestled near the bank of windows that framed the view of the sprawling property and the ocean beyond. The tree lights were twinkling, regardless of the daytime hour. Aunt Ginny insisted they be lit 24/7. She was as eager for Christmas as Charlie was, and Liam loved that about her.
He’d come to the ranch almost three years prior, at Helen’s suggestion, after his discharge from the Berets. He’d applied for a position as a ranch hand and Aunt Ginny and Gus had given him the job and folded him immediately into the family, as they’d done for his sister. They’d been more his parents than anyone else and he still pinched himself that God had blessed him so richly.
Grabbing two cookies from the tray, he flung the door open to see Jingles overcome with joy, dancing on his hind legs. “Down, you mutt,” Liam thundered. The dog sat, but all of his parts seemed to vibrate with contained ecstasy. Liam sighed and flung him a gingerbread arm, which Jingles intercepted midair and swallowed, swiping a floppy tongue across his mouth.
“At least you have good taste in cooking.” Liam retrieved the repaired saddle from the workshop and loaded it in the back of the truck. When he opened the driver’s door, Jingles leaped in and scooted to the passenger seat.
