by Dana Marton
In combat, he was a well-trained fighting machine and pretty damned effective. With women, he was a bumbling idiot through and through. But she was in distress, and he hated the thought of that, wanted to say something to make it better if he could. He went with the stark truth, something he rarely, if ever, shared.
He stretched his legs out in front of him. “When I was born, my parents put me into a gym bag and dropped me into the Mississippi River from a bridge.”
Her head snapped up. She stared at him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. A Good Samaritan saw and fished me out. I went to foster care. Eventually ended up with the best family anyone could have wished for. Marine sergeant father, four older brothers, a mom who was kind and loving. They made me what I am today.”
She sat silently for a long time. “What happened to your birth parents? It’s just... It’s unimaginable.”
“It’s unimaginable to you because you’re a good mother. They were never identified.”
“Are you still close to your foster family?”
“My mother and my father are gone. I keep in touch with my brothers.” He didn’t like the pity that sat on her face. “You might know one of them, actually. He’s Calvin in ‘Calvin Cat Counting.’”
“What?” Her eyes went wide. “Logan plays that game. Your brother is Calvin Mann? The guy who built an empire in educational software?”
“It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a company.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God. You’re Mo.”
He grinned. “I hope so. Otherwise, I’ll have to have all new business cards printed.”
“I mean, you’re Mo the teddy bear, Calvin’s best friend in the game.”
He shook his head. “He did that without consulting me.”
“Wait till Logan finds out.” She laughed.
He couldn’t help staring. She was pretty even under the worst circumstances, but when she laughed, she was dazzling. She should always be like that, happy and carefree.
But even as he thought that, she grew serious again. “Your name, Moses. Is it because...”
“Because I was pulled from water. The social worker who named me was a churchgoing woman.” He finished his drink.
Molly watched him quietly, folding her hands together on the table in front of her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Then she finally said, “I want to tell you something, but I don’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”
His instincts prickled. She had his full attention. “Okay.”
“Dylan took out a mortgage on the ranch,” she said after a long minute. Then quickly added, “It doesn’t mean he’s a criminal. He could have needed the money for one of his businesses.”
He chewed on the new piece of information for a few seconds. “Were you aware that he was having financial difficulties?”
She shook her head. “Maybe he wanted to expand the dealership.”
“But he didn’t say anything to you about it?”
“He had so many things going on. He was always running around. Sometimes he didn’t even have time to stop in for dinner.” She watched him. “Is there anything I could say to convince you that he was a good man?”
Moonlight glinted off her soft hair, for once loose and not up in a ponytail, the silky strands spilling over her shoulders. The silver light accentuated the wistful expression on her face. Every cell in his body responded to her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but as far as her brother went...
“I believe he was good to you and Logan.” He wanted to go around the table and pull her into his arms, offer her comfort he had no right offering. He pushed to his feet. “You get some sleep. I’m going back outside to check around again, walk in a wider circle.”
She stiffened as she glanced to the window. “You think that man is still here?”
“It never hurts to be cautious. When the sun comes up, I’ll find his tracks and take some tire molds. Maybe we can identify his vehicle.”
She walked him to the door.
He stepped outside into the night. “Lock it behind me.”
She looked worried. The urge to touch her, to smooth the furrows from her forehead, came on pretty strong. He wished he were more comfortable with women, more of a charmer, someone who could make a woman like her look differently at him.
But he wasn’t. And she was dating the Pebble Creek sheriff.
So he walked away.
* * *
AFTER MOLLY PUT LOGAN on the school bus Monday morning, she paid her bills online, then looked Moses Mann up on Google while she had her second cup of coffee. Max and Cocoa were somewhere outside. Only Skipper lazed around in the kitchen, lying on the doormat by the back door. The old gal probably tuckered herself out running around outside half the night.
Molly scrolled down the list of hits, a very short list. The few things she found, articles in various newspapers, were mostly about Mo’s brother Calvin Mann. Mo only got a sentence or two, about his role in his brother’s business. He was a silent partner, according to one report.
Apparently, he’d been on active duty with the military when Calvin had started the software company in the family basement. Mo had fronted the money for the entire operation from his combat pay.
The “Calvin Cat Counting” game was a huge hit among elementary-school-age children, one of the top-rated educational games in the country. And they followed up with dozens of others from K–12 education to SAT-and college-prep software. Which meant both Mo and his brother had to be multimillionaires.
So why wasn’t he sitting on some tropical island, sipping margaritas?
Even as the question popped into her head, it made her smile. She couldn’t really imagine Mo as a surfer dude. Granted, he could be laid-back, but...there was also an intensity inside him, a drive. For a moment she couldn’t pin it down, and then she did: he had a soldier’s heart.
He would spend all day in over hundred-degree heat patrolling the border. He would rush to her house in the middle of the night when she was in trouble.
He would make a fierce enemy—she wasn’t going to forget that interrogation anytime soon. But she had a feeling he also made the most loyal friend.
What kind of lover would he make?
She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t believe she’d just thought that.
To distract herself, she went back to her computer search. He had no Twitter or Facebook accounts, no social-media presence of any kind.
Maybe because he worked for the government. He was a consultant on border protection. Did that require some kind of security clearance and secrecy? She had no idea about these things.
Skipper gave a pitiful moan.
“Tired?” She offered some sympathy as she shut down the laptop. “Me, too. Maybe we’ll get a little more sleep tonight. Want to go for a walk? I need to check on the garden.”
As she walked to the door, Skipper struggled to her feet, and once she stood, she swayed.
“What is it, girl? Is your back hurting again?”
The dog gave another pitiful whine and threw up all over the doormat.
She rushed to her, grabbing a roll of paper towels in the process. “What did you eat out there last night?”
Skipper was notorious for eating anything she came across. She’d once eaten half of a two-by-four in the garage before Molly had noticed. And a cell phone. Several shoes. A dead mouse from the mousetrap in the barn. With the trap. Food that was left out... Forget it. Although she did do her level best to keep anything remotely tempting out of the dog’s way.
She cleaned up, gave the poor dog some cold water. “You’ll feel better now that it’s out. What do I always tell you about eating only what I put in your dish?” She ran her fingers through the dog’s fur and scratched
behind her ear.
She didn’t like how Skipper’s brown eyes were glazed over. Or the way her muscles suddenly began to shake.
“All right. We’re going to the doc.” She grabbed her purse and walked out, really worried now. “Come on.”
Skipper staggered after her. She didn’t make it to the pickup. For the last couple of yards, Molly had to carry her.
She called the other dogs and they came running. They seemed fine, no signs of any sickness. Didn’t look as if they’d eaten whatever Skipper had.
“When you recover from this, you’re going on a diet.” She struggled to get the dog onto the passenger seat.
All Skipper did was give her a pitiful look and an even more pitiful whimper.
“You’ll be fine, okay? Just relax. We’ll fix this,” she said once she was in the driver’s seat. But her heart was racing.
Nothing could happen to Skipper. She’d been a graduation present from Dylan. She’d been with Molly most of her adult life. She was Logan’s favorite, the most faithful dog in the universe.
She called the vet from the road, got the receptionist. “I’m bringing Skipper in.”
“We have a substitute today. Won’t be in until this afternoon. Dr. Miller is off.”
“It’s an emergency. Can I go out to his place?” She’d done that before. Dr. Miller didn’t keep strict hours.
“He’s at a conference in San Antonio. The sub will be in by noon.”
Skipper couldn’t wait a couple of hours. And Molly did know another vet, someone who had just recently passed her last exam and got her license.
Grace Cordero, her once best friend.
“I’ll figure something out,” she told the receptionist and hung up, then took the turn that would lead her to the Cordero ranch.
Whatever their differences were these days, she was willing to set them aside when Skipper’s life hung in the balance.
But would Grace? For some reason Grace thought Dylan had tried to hurt her. Cold panic tingled down Molly’s spine. If Grace didn’t help...
They hadn’t talked since the night Dylan died. When Grace had finally spread her own brother’s ashes a few days later, Molly hadn’t gone to the funeral. And Grace hadn’t come to Dylan’s. Nobody had.
Molly hadn’t put an obituary in the paper. People were calling him a criminal, for heaven’s sake. She had kept the funeral private. All she wanted in the paper was an official apology from the sheriff’s department.
The drive to the Cordero ranch didn’t take long. By the time she pulled up the driveway, Skipper’s shaking had quieted. Grace’s car was there. A good sign. Molly beeped the horn.
Grace opened the front door, took one look at her face through the windshield and came running. “What is it? Is it Logan?”
“Skipper,” Molly said as she opened the door and jumped from the car, relieved to see only concern on Grace’s face instead of any kind of resentment.
She was right there helping. A good thing, since it took the two of them to carry the listless dog into the house.
Grace lay Skipper right on the living-room floor and ran her hands all over the dog. “Muscle spasms. What happened? Snake bite?”
“I think she ate something again.”
“Vomited?”
“Yes.”
Grace probed the dog’s belly with her fingers. Skipper squirmed and gave a humanlike moan.
“Did she have any shakes worse than this?”
“Yes.” And just as she said that, the dog started shaking harder again.
Grace looked into her mouth, at her tongue, then ran to the laundry room and came back with her medical bag, measured out some medicine and dribbled the liquid into Skipper’s mouth little by little. She kept examining the dog while Molly shifted on her feet.
“So how are you doing?” Grace asked without turning around, probably to distract her from the panic that was filling her chest.
What was a safe topic? “I think I kind of went on a date.”
That earned a look and a tentative smile. “Mo?”
“Kenny,” she said quickly.
“Oh. Ryder said Mo was kind of keeping an eye on your place. I thought...” Grace hesitated, as if wanting to say something about him, but then seemed to change her mind and only said, “I’m glad you’re getting out. It’s about time you stopped punishing yourself for the past.”
Her defenses, barely lowered, went right back up. “I wasn’t punishing myself for anything.”
“You deserve love. How many guys have you turned down over the years?”
She shrugged. “I was busy with Logan and the ranch.” But part of her, deep down, thought she didn’t deserve some fairy-tale happily ever after.
She’d messed up when she’d been young. And worse than that, she was responsible for her family’s falling apart, for her father’s death. Just because nobody knew her darkest secrets, it didn’t mean she didn’t carry that guilt.
Grace was running her probing fingers over Skipper’s abdomen again. “You keep any heavy-duty pesticides lying around?”
“No.” She wouldn’t dare have poison with Skipper getting into everything. And her gardening was strictly organic, her biggest selling point.
Grace gave her a quiet look. “Have any enemies?”
A chill ran through her. “You think she was poisoned?”
“I’m pretty sure. I’d like to keep her for a few days.”
Dismay and anger filled her chest. “Why would somebody hurt her?”
“Maybe Dylan—” Grace started to say, then stopped.
No way could they discuss her brother.
Molly stood. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
And then they had nothing to say. The night of Dylan’s death stood like an unbreachable stone wall between them once again.
She thanked Grace for the help and drove home, worrying about Skipper, trying to figure out what this all meant. So people believed the lies and thought Dylan had turned bad. But why take it out on her? And even if someone was doing just that, what had Skipper ever done to anyone? She was the best dog in the universe.
She was still worrying about the dog when she reached home and spotted a pickup and trailer in her driveway. Looked as if Kenny had brought his horse. He was coming from the stable, talking on his phone.
Bum date or not, she was happy to see him. The two-hundred-dollar boarding fee was a welcome addition to the ranch’s budget. Knowing she had that little extra money would make her sleep easier.
He ended the call and put the phone away when she pulled up. “I put Charlie in the stall you made ready for him. Much obliged. Missed your call last night. By the time I saw it, I didn’t want to call you back. I figured you’d be asleep.”
“I had someone sniffing around.” She told him about the man in her backyard, about the possibility that Skipper might have been poisoned. “At least you believe that Dylan was innocent. I really appreciate that.”
“Whatever you need from me. I want to be there for you.” He stepped closer. “I mean it.”
“Thanks. And I’ll take good care of Charlie. I promise. I’ll have him out in the back corral. I’m going to keep him separated from the others for a couple of days, until they all get used to each other.” They should be fine. She didn’t have another stallion, just a gelding and a couple of mares, and her mares weren’t in heat.
“I’ll be stopping in to check on him. Want to make sure I ride him. He needs the exercise.”
“Come and go as you please. If I’m not here and you want to ride, just go straight back. I’ll probably be putting padlocks on the outbuildings, but I’ll give you a key.”
He shook his head with an apologetic smile. “I was supposed to bring those locks,
wasn’t I? Don’t know where my mind is these days. Next time I come out, I’ll have them. I promise.”
“Thanks, Kenny.”
“You need to be safe.”
“I need to find a way to prove that Dylan was framed and had nothing to do with smuggling. Whoever is coming around probably believes Dylan was guilty, and the idiot is trying to mete out some vigilante justice. Or they figure there may be some drugs or whatever other contraband hidden on the property, left over from the smuggling—easy pickings.”
Once Dylan was exonerated, people would no longer have a reason to bother her. So that was what she had to achieve and in a hurry.
Kenny reached out to take her hand, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Listen—”
Her stomach sank. She pulled her hands away. “Don’t tell me they talked you into this idiocy. Dylan was framed.”
“Of course he was. But I was thinking, too, and...he might have had some link to something. Maybe he didn’t even know it was bad. Somebody asking him for a favor. You know how he was.”
“He would help anyone if they asked him.”
“The wrong kind of people could take advantage of someone with a big heart like he had.”
“Exactly.”
“If someone asked him to store something for them for a while...”
She stilled. “Like drugs?”
“That man here last night.” Kenny patted her hand again. “Sure sounds like he was looking for something. And...” He looked uncomfortable again.
“What?”
“I don’t want you to be offended. I’m not accusing Dylan of anything.”
“What is it?”
“I heard something through the grapevine this morning. An old informant called in.”
Cold spread through her chest. “About Dylan?”
“No. But this guy says the local drug runners are looking for a missing shipment.”
“My brother was no drug runner.”
“Of course not. I’m just saying someone could have asked him to store something and he might not even have known what it was.”
“But there’s nothing like that here. I would know.”
He tilted his head. “Would you?”
