by Regan Black
Rico had stepped in, made sure she had the care she deserved and needed, and had offered her the use of his cabin several times so that the woman, who’d never had a real vacation in her entire life, could simply enjoy Colorado.
He picked up the tote and carried it up the stairs. Then he went back down to shut off the light and lock the door. Then it was back inside the cabin. He set the tote down in front of the fireplace.
“You’re all snowy,” Hannah said.
“Just for you, little one. Nothing else could have gotten me outside tonight. Have at ’em.”
The child looked at Laura. “Can I?”
She smiled. “Thank you for asking. And yes, go for it.”
Rico took off his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. He watched as every single thing came out. Hannah studied it all, before finally picking two books and pointing at the art easel. “Can you set that up?”
“Of course,” he said. It was easy to do and he fed the continuous roll of paper through the slot at the top and tacked it down at the bottom. Hannah appeared delighted, hurrying to get the box of colored markers open.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Laura muttered, smiling. “There probably couldn’t have been anything better in the box.”
“Happy to oblige,” he said. And like a fool, tried to think of something else that would make her happy. When Laura smiled, her whole face lit up. “Now do you want that glass of wine?” he asked. She’d passed at dinner.
She looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected them to socialize. “I guess,” she said. “That would be nice,” she added, her tone softer.
He opened the bottle of pinot gris and poured her a glass. She took a sip and sighed. “That’s good,” she said. “Thank you.” Then she sank down onto the couch to watch Hannah play. He got the feeling that she’d been strung pretty tight for a while. He wanted to push, to figure out what had put Laura and Hannah on the run, but he knew now wasn’t the time. Instead, he sipped his wine, watched Hannah draw, listened to the child’s unsolicited-but-quite-detailed explanation of each picture and thought about how different the visit to the cabin was turning out to be.
Serendipity. A chance encounter.
But his whole life he’d believed that he met people for a reason—that there was a grander plan at play. He bought into the concept that if you caught a stranger’s eye across the room, there was a reason. And he’d find a way to talk to that person.
He supposed that was one of the reasons that his interactions with Mora Rambeilla still rankled him. He really did believe that there was a reason that he’d been available when she’d walked through the doors of Wingman Security’s offices. But then the assignment had ended so abruptly that it was definitely unfinished business. He hated that.
Laura let Hannah draw for an hour before telling the child that it was bath time. Then it was into the lion pajamas. Hannah picked two books out of the pile that had come out of the tote.
“Rico read,” she said.
Laura shook her head. “No, sweetie. I’ll read.”
“Rico.” Hannah stamped her foot.
It was pretty funny, he thought, but he knew better than to crack a smile. “I’d be happy to,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
He nodded and Hannah didn’t wait for an invitation. The child jumped onto the couch and snuggled in next to him. Lucky, who was on his other side, stretched his neck to look around Rico and give her a look.
Hannah waved at the dog. “Lucky wants a story, too.”
What Lucky wanted was for the child to remember that he’d been there first. Rico winked at Hannah. “He gets a story every night.”
“I usually get a movie.”
He looked at Laura. Her face revealed nothing. He focused his attention back on Hannah. She smelled like soap and toothpaste. Nice.
“That one first,” Hannah said.
It was about a princess who had a magic amulet. The second book was one he recognized.
“We had a dog,” Hannah said, pointing at the cover.
“A big red dog?” he asked. “Named Clifford?”
Hannah shook his head. “No, silly. A brown one. His name was Appleton.”
“Appleton,” he repeated.
Hannah nodded. “Like the street we lived on.”
“Let’s finish up,” Laura said.
Rico glanced at her. She was chewing the corner of her lip. He suspected that had little to do with his reading but more with Hannah’s willingness to hand over personal information.
He read the book and by the time he finished, the child’s eyes were heavy.
“Bedtime,” Laura said.
“Carry me,” Hannah said.
Laura got up, walked over to his couch, leaned over to pick up Hannah and gave him a really excellent look down her blouse.
She didn’t seem to notice as she carried the sleepy child back to the smaller bedroom. But it was just about all Rico could think about.
Her bra was pale yellow with lots of lace.
Lovely.
By the time she was back, he’d had time to travel down the road of what ifs. What if he gave into the temptation and asked her to sleep in his bed? What if she said yes—how awkward would that make the morning? What if she said no and was so offended that she yanked Hannah out of bed and into the storm?
Risk around every corner.
He got up and made sure the doors were locked. “I think I’ll follow Hannah’s example and hit the sack. It’s been a big day.”
She stared at him. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much for offering us a place to stay, a place out of the storm.”
“I’m happy to do it. There are good people, Laura. People who will help.”
She blinked. Fast. As if chasing tears away. “Right. It was good to be reminded of that,” she said. Then she quickly turned and walked toward her bedroom. She stopped halfway.
Pivoted.
Walked back to the front closet. Opened the door. Reached for the top shelf and pulled down the rifle that he’d seen her stow there earlier, when she’d emptied out her car.
Without a word, she carried it past him.
The message could not have been clearer. She might appreciate his help but she was still willing to shoot first and ask questions later.
CHAPTER 7
Laura lay in bed, listening to the deep breaths of the child next to her, and tried to relax. She should be able to. Because as she also listened to the wind howl, she knew she was lucky. Luckier than Lucky. Rico had taken the dog in and saved his life. No doubt he’d likely saved hers and Hannah’s, too, by offering refuge from the storm.
He’d been super nice. Everything from fixing dinner to finding toys to reading bedtime stories. Yet she sensed a change in him when she’d taken Hannah to bed. Earlier, he seemed relaxed, sitting casually on the couch, drinking his wine, laughing at the cute things Hannah said. But when she’d come back into the room after tucking a very sleepy Hannah into bed, he’d seemed edgier. His motions to check the doors had been sharp and fast. And after she’d thanked him, his response that people were willing to help had seemed to have a shade of belligerence in it. If not that, then maybe frustration.
Hard to know. And she’d likely not endeared herself to him further when she’d gotten her gun from the closet.
But his edginess triggered her own misgivings. Had she misjudged him and now she was going to be stranded with some crazy person?
She didn’t think so. Had been confident enough that she’d crawled into bed tonight, versus sleeping on the bedroom floor, in front of the door, like she had the night before. The question of what to do with the rifle had stumped her. She wanted it close but she couldn’t very well take it to bed with her. Nor could she prop it in the corner of the room. Would not run the risk that Hannah wou
ld wake up, decide to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and stumble over the gun.
She was fairly confident the little girl wouldn’t be able to manage to shoot it but even so, the thought was so terrifying that she’d taken the gun and pushed it far under the bed, where Hannah would not find it. In the morning, she’d figure out a more permanent solution.
She heard the other bedroom door close. Thought about Rico undressing. Thought of what that tight muscular body might look like naked. Even with his ankle injury, he moved with a fluid grace that most men never achieved. And his shoulders were so broad, his hips so lean.
Even his forearms were sexy—he’d rolled up his sleeves when he was cooking and she’d barely been able to control herself. She’d wanted to touch him.
She threw back her covers. Damn, she was warm.
Glanced at the child next to her and knew that if she wasn’t there, she’d probably have taken matters into her own hands and found a way to release the tension that was coiled deep in her belly.
Instead, she took deep breaths, the way she taught her patients to do when they were struggling through physical therapy. In through the nose, count to five, hold for one, then release through the mouth. Even. Steady.
She closed her eyes.
And didn’t wake up until the dog started barking.
* * *
Rico had left Lucky on the couch, in his usual place. When the dog started barking, he woke up instantly. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him it was just after three. Too damn early for a bathroom break, and the bark wasn’t even close to the whine that signaled that kind of need.
He reached for the gun under his pillow and silently slipped out of bed. He hadn’t slept in his clothes again but, rather, a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants. When he opened the door, he almost ran smack-dab into Laura and her rifle. A small eek escaped her mouth. He put his finger up to her lip. “Shush,” he said gently.
The only light in the cabin came from the small night-light that was plugged into an outlet in the kitchen. It was enough to see Lucky standing at the door, fur on end, teeth bared. When the dog saw them, he let out a rapid succession of barks. Then ran to the back door.
That was odd. “I’m up,” he said to the dog, who almost seemed to nod, as if to say Good, I’ve done my job.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He wasn’t sure. Animal, maybe. Bears were often seen in this area of Colorado. Intruder? Possibly, but it was a crazy night for that kind of thing. He was confident that the plows hadn’t yet gone out, at least not beyond the main roads. Almost impossible to walk for any distance through this deep of snow, and he hadn’t heard the rumble of a snowmobile. He supposed someone lost or stranded could have managed to stumble to the cabin, but that was unlikely.
“Not sure,” he admitted.
“I guess it’s too much to hope that Lucky does this every time he wants out.”
“Too much,” he agreed. “I’m going to take a look.” He opened the closet door and reached for the big flashlight that he kept on the shelf.
“I’ll do it,” she said.
Like hell.
“You shouldn’t be walking,” she added.
“I’ll be okay,” he said. There was no way to take crutches out into this snow and his ankle was feeling pretty good. “Go back to your bedroom. Keep your gun with you. I’m just going to take a quick look.”
She said nothing. Then, she puffed out a breath. “Just be careful, okay?”
He smiled. “I’m always careful.” And before he could think too much about it, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Her skin was soft and warm and she smelled like his sheets.
It was an innocent gesture but the first time that he’d touched her.
And in the dark cabin, it seemed almost intimate.
And he was pretty sure she felt it, too, when she brought the palm of her hand up to softly stroke his face. “Don’t be a hero,” she said.
He reached up, put his hand over hers. His throat suddenly felt a little tight. If he was right about Laura, she might need a hero. But first, he was going to make sure they were safe tonight. “Lucky will protect me,” he said easily.
He placed his gun on the table while he quickly put on his coat.
“You’ve had that gun the whole time,” she said.
It wasn’t a question but he answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“Did you have it on you last night, when I stopped you at the door?”
He wasn’t going to lie. “Yes.”
She let out a loud sigh. “Thanks for letting me think I had the upper hand. I guess,” she added.
She’d had the upper hand ever since he’d heard her voice and taken one look. The little girl in the other room had simply sealed the deal. He picked up his gun. “Go back to the bedroom,” he said softly.
He waited until she was behind the closed door before he opened the front door. Lucky tried to shoot past him into the snowy night. “Stay with me,” he said sharply.
The dog stopped. Didn’t crowd his legs but didn’t get ahead of him, either.
There was snow almost up to his door. The steps to the front porch were completely covered and, more important, not disturbed. There were no telltale footprints, human or animal.
But something had spooked Lucky. And his racing between the front and back door was very unusual, as if he was having trouble isolating the threat.
Rico stood and listened. The snow had stopped—likely one of those intervals that they’d predicted. The wind was calmer, too.
As he steadied his flashlight on the surrounding woods, he couldn’t help but think that it was pretty spectacular. The big pines were heavy with snow, and it looked like something from a photograph. Visit Colorado. He could almost see the tagline.
But stay the hell out of my space, he added. He stepped into the snow. Lucky came with. It was slow going because at times, it was as deep as his thighs, and Lucky was sinking in to his belly. But he and Lucky picked their way around the perimeter of the cabin, forging a path about ten feet beyond the structure.
Nothing to look at there. He glanced at his dog, to see if he seemed calmer. And was surprised to see Lucky looking up. He did the same. And couldn’t see anything that made him suspicious.
But because he’d worked for years in security, he was well aware of the use of drone technology to do surveillance on a person or property. And it might not be anything he could hear or see, but dogs were more sensitive to sounds. Ask anybody who’d ever been in a hot-air balloon. Humans were oblivious when the balloon was going over but dogs went crazy.
He finished his walk around the cabin, now not expecting to see anything. He shone his light toward his garage and to the shed where he kept his tractor. There were no tracks in the snow to either building. Plus, both were always sturdily locked. There was no need to look inside. He leaned down to pet Lucky. “Good boy. Now go do your thing.”
Lucky shot off into the dark and came back a couple minutes later. Rico opened the door and they both went inside. “Let me get those paws,” he said, motioning for Lucky to stay by the door. He grabbed a stack of old towels from under the sink, left there for just this kind of thing, and wiped down his dog.
By the time he was finished, he realized that Laura had opened her door and was standing there. She held her rifle.
He smiled at her. “You were supposed to stay behind a closed door,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, ignoring his remark.
“I’m not sure. There’s no sign of any tracks, human or animal.”
“But there was something,” she said.
“Lucky doesn’t generally get spooked for no reason. It’s possible,” he said, deciding to tell her everything, “that it might have been a drone. Everybody and their brother seems to have one these days. Lots of aerial
photography getting done that way.”
“Night photography?”
“Could be,” he said. “Especially after a big snow. The mountains take on a whole new look.”
She nodded.
And he was fairly confident that she wasn’t concerned about any amateur photographer. But the look in her pretty eyes told him that she had other reasons to be concerned that a drone had been flying overhead.
He wanted to ask, maybe even demand, but something told him that would be a mistake. “Good packing snow,” he said conversationally. “The temp is hovering around twenty-nine or thirty, and that’s making for nice moist snow.”
“I can almost see the snow family now,” she said.
“I’m not making the cat,” he said.
She smiled. “She’s got a good imagination, doesn’t she?”
“She does.” He paused. It felt odd yet familiar to be in this room, talking to her about a child sleeping in the other room. Had he imagined such conversations? Hoped for them? “You should go back to bed,” he said gently.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” she confessed. “And I don’t want to disturb Hannah, who has managed to stay asleep through all this. I’ll just sit out here for a while.”
“I’ll stir up the fire for you,” he said. He added some logs and some kindling and threw a match on it.
By the time it was burning nicely, Laura was on the couch, with a blanket pulled over her. Lucky had jumped up next to her, lying on the edge of the blanket by her feet. “Thank you,” she said.
He should go to bed. That would be the smart thing. But he was jealous of his dog.
He walked across the room, into the kitchen, and turned on the teakettle. Made both of them a cup of herbal tea. Carried it back to her and took a spot on the other couch.
And sat down to watch the fire.
After a few minutes, Laura turned to him. “There’s something magic about fire, isn’t there? When you watch it, it crowds out everything else in your head.”
