Just a Cowboy

by Rachel Lee

  Thoughts of chloroform filled her mind. He could knock her out and then suffocate her. But no, if he wanted this to look as if it had just been a simple break-in gone awry, it would be better if he hit her with something. Beat her to death.

  She gripped the hammer more tightly and felt for the beeper.

  The faintest of crackles, right outside her door. Then it began to swing inward. She pressed the beeper button.

  Hank felt the beeper go off in his pocket. He was three houses down now, although at that moment it looked like he was miles away. And somehow in his gut he knew Kelly had waited until the last minute.

  He took off with a speed he’d almost forgotten he had, giving no thought to the uneven ground and the chance of getting hurt. He had to reach Kelly. And considering that the cops had loosened their cordon, he had to get there fast.

  It was hard to wait, but Kelly didn’t want to move before the guy had come fully into the room. His gaze would be focused on the bed, where she’d stuffed pillows under the covers. He wouldn’t be expecting her to be hiding behind the door.

  But he was so quiet she had to hold her breath for fear that he might hear her. Only the rustling of the trees outside, the occasional scrape of a limb across the roof, could possibly mask any sound she made, and she couldn’t count on it, not when it was intermittent.

  The door opened very slowly. More caution. It seemed to inch its way, as if he were prepared to stop moving if it made the least creak.

  Holding the hammer high, she waited, schooling herself to a patience she had never thought she had, even as the rack of tension wound her nerves tighter and tighter until action seemed the only escape available.

  As soon as he was inside. Wait. Just as soon as he was fully inside the room.

  One step and she’d be able to swing. Just one step would bring her to him. The room was so dark she couldn’t tell if he held any kind of a weapon. She squinted, trying to see his hands, unable to make out anything.

  He finally crept past the partly open door. One more step, she told herself. Just one. The smell of his cologne reached her and she nearly gagged.

  He hesitated and she held her breath, willing even her racing heart to settle down. It seemed so loud in her own ears now, she was sure he would hear it.

  But he didn’t turn her way. He just waited. Seconds stretched to a minute. Then, finally, another step into the room.

  She took her step, hammer high.

  Then, to her shock, she swung quickly and he spun, grabbing her arm in a viselike grip.

  Hank was sure he could have made better time in a three-legged race. The sensation did not amuse him, even though he knew it was born of his desperation to get to Kelly.

  Her plan had worked. By returning to her home, she had convinced the guy that everyone thought it was just a break-in, so he was willing to try again tonight. And Hank wasn’t the least bit happy about it.

  Every damaged muscle, bone and tendon in his body shrieked with agony, but he ignored the pain, focused on one goal only. He had to get to Kelly before that guy hurt her.

  He’d have walked naked into the middle of a raging forest fire at that moment, just to get to Kelly. The protests of his body were paltry by comparison.

  One house. Two houses. One more to go. God, he hoped she hadn’t locked the doors.

  His hip tried to collapse. Somehow, through sheer force of will, he overrode the weakness. Where the hell were the cops? They’d arrived faster last night.

  Just a few more steps to her porch. Just a few more…

  With her arm caught, the hammer was useless. Almost before she could try to fight loose, a fist punched her in the stomach. She lost her breath as pain blossomed, and she felt her knees giving way.

  No! No! Fighting back pain, trying desperately to catch her breath, the world spinning, she felt another blow, a chop to the shoulder of the arm that held the hammer.

  Her nerves went instantly numb. With something close to desperation and despair, she heard the hammer fall to the floor with a thud.

  A moment later, he had spun her around, locking his arm around her neck, tightening it until it hurt.

  At last she sucked in a breath of air, a painful breath. Adrenaline kicked even higher, forcing the cobwebs of shock and despair from her brain.

  A cold thought snaked into her head. No matter what the outcome, she wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

  Some remembered words from her self-defense class surfaced. She staggered a little, as if she were completely unsteady, trying to find out where his feet were.

  Much to her relief, even though he tightened his arm around her throat, she felt one of his feet.

  Then he punched her in the side of the head. For an instant the world flashed bright, and her ears started ringing. Everything seemed to go off-kilter.

  Foot. Remember the foot.

  Gathering everything she had left, she picked up her leg and brought her heel down on the top of his foot. Then, just a moment later, she collapsed, hanging her whole weight from his arm.

  The combination was too much for him. He released her with a sharp groan, and she tumbled to the floor.

  Dizzy, with an unending bell seeming to clang in her head, she rolled and felt for the damn hammer. She had to find it. Had to.

  Except her fingers found nothing except a wooden floor.

  And now her attacker was angry. Without warning, he kicked her. Maybe he missed his mark because a little higher and he would have done a lot of damage. Instead, he caught her right in the hip.

  Pain shot through her like a fountain of fire, but she ignored it other than crying out. If he kicked her head next…

  The thought added to her desperation. She crab-crawled away from his feet, arms out, seeking that hammer.

  A foot landed on one of her hands, and she couldn’t smother a scream as bones ground together.

  Anger rose to join the fury of fear and she managed to roll, just a bit, just enough. She could see his shadow, and the instant she could, she pinwheeled her hips, took aim and kicked with all her remaining might at his knee.

  He staggered, a shocked cry of pain escaping him. The pressure on her hand vanished.

  She didn’t even try to figure out if she could still move her fingers. She still had another hand, and dammit there was a hammer nearby. And while he tried to steady himself, she crawled as best she could, feeling for it.

  For the first time in her life, she was absolutely certain that she was about to commit murder.

  Hank heard the thuds, heard the cries as he barreled through the back door. Where the hell were the cops? Not caring if he was seen, considering what it sounded like was happening, he flicked on lights as he went, grabbed a two-by-four about two feet long from the living room floor as he passed through, and headed to Kelly’s bedroom.

  The door was open and he could see Kelly on the floor, her assailant towering over her. Running as fast as he could with that damn limp, he picked up speed somehow when he saw the guy was about to kick her.

  He burst into the room, causing a moment of distraction. The assailant looked at him, an expression of shock on his face.

  And Kelly, far from being down and out, took that moment to swing the hammer at the guy’s leg.

  And then, reprising the night before, but in much better form, Hank tackled him.

  They hit the floor together, Hank’s arms around his knees. He hung on tight, not wanting to give the guy a chance to get up.

  “Run, Kelly. Get out of here.”

  But she apparently had other ideas.

  Hank watched with horror the way she staggered as she reached her feet, the way she shook her head as if confused while he hung on to the wildly struggling assailant. But there was one thing she wasn’t at all confused about.

  She took a couple of unsteady steps, then seemed to gather strength. And the next thing Hank knew, she was sitting on the guy’s back and pummeling him with all her strength, as if she wouldn’t be happy until he look
ed like pudding.

  And finally, finally, a familiar voice called, “Sheriff! Drop your weapons!”

  Thank God, Hank thought. Thank God.

  Chapter 13

  Three patients, one of whom was cuffed to a bed, hardly seemed like enough to make even Community Hospital’s relatively small emergency room seem busy, so maybe it was all the deputies hovering around.

  One side of Kelly’s face was severely swollen from where she’d been kicked, and a black eye started to appear. Her hand was x-rayed with a portable unit, but nothing was broken. It was, however, rapidly approaching the size of a grapefruit. Her hip, too, was bruised, but otherwise fine.

  She waited for the skull x-rays that had been ordered, but she was getting impatient to know if the sheriff had learned anything from the guy who attacked her.

  And Hank was just plain impatient. He kept saying that he was fine, that all he’d done was tackle the guy, but they insisted on checking him out anyway. Finally, he managed to get them to open the curtain between his and Kelly’s cubicles so he could lean over, look at her and say, “How are you doing, darlin’?”

  She thrilled to the endearment, but was quite certain it had been tossed off casually. “I think I know how a prize-fighter feels after a few rounds in the ring, but I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. I’m not even dizzy anymore.”

  “I swear, there were ten minutes there that felt like ten years.”

  “It was only five,” she assured him, smiling with the uninjured side of her face. “Only five. But it did seem like ten.”

  “How do you know it was only five?”

  “From the time I hit my beeper until Gage arrived, five minutes. They told me.”

  “Too damn long,” he muttered grumpily.

  “I heard that,” Gage said, rounding the corner. “Sorry, still can’t teleport, although I’ve been working on it. Things like roads and trees must be observed. And the foot patrols I had circling got there about the same time.”

  “You got there in plenty of time,” Kelly assured him. “I didn’t hit the beeper until he was in the bedroom.”

  The two men stared at her aghast.

  Finally, Hank asked, “Why in the hell not?”

  “Because I didn’t want him to get away again.”

  Hank used a few choice cusswords that caused a nurse outside to call, “Not fit for a lady’s ears, Hank Jackson. Cut it out.”

  Kelly had more important concerns. She looked at Gage. “Did he say my husband hired him?”

  “Ask him yourself.” With that Gage pushed back the curtain. Her attacker lay cuffed to the bed, his leg in a brace. When the curtain opened, so did his eyes, and he saw her. Surprise filled his face.

  “So,” she said, “did my husband hire you to kill me?”

  “Lady, I ain’t ever…”

  “Shut up,” she said calmly. “I’d recognize you anywhere. You attacked me in my parking garage and tried to drown me in a canal back home. Now you attacked me again.”

  “Two counts,” Gage intoned. “Attempted murder. That’s a long sentence.”

  But Kelly had seen the change in the man’s face when he realized she could identify him as her attacker from Miami. He no longer looked quite so stony-faced. And the stoniness lessened with Gage’s pronouncement.

  “Yeah,” the guy said finally. “Your husband hired me.”

  It was all she needed to hear. Exactly what she needed the cops to hear. Now, at last, it was over.

  Not only was her stalker in custody, but very soon Dean would be as well.

  As the final fear lifted from her shoulders, she felt as if she could float.

  “You know what this looks like?” Hank asked as he helped Kelly up the steps to his house hours later. “What?”

  “The halt leading the lame, or something. Both of us can barely walk right now.”

  “You must be sore.”

  “Darlin’, I couldn’t possibly be any sorer than you.”

  There was that word again. Despite every mental warning to herself that it was just casual, it warmed her anyway. It felt like a hug, and tickled her deep inside.

  Hank led her to the living room sofa and dug out one of the ice packs the hospital had given them. He crunched it to activate it, then gently pressed it to her swollen face.

  “Every time I look at you,” he said, “I want to smash that guy’s face in. And I’m not inclined to violence by nature.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, daring to reach out and take his free hand. “For a minute there I wanted to kill him, too. But I’m glad I didn’t because now we’ll get Dean.”

  “I agree.” He gave her a crooked smile. “That makes me feel somewhat better.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s too bad you’re so banged up.”

  “Yeah, but it’ll pass. I’m still alive.”

  “Thank God for that. But no, I’m being very selfish.”

  “Selfish how?”

  His smile grew even more crooked. “I just want to take you to bed and make love to you until we’re so exhausted we can’t move. But right now…” He shook his head.

  She caught her breath and turned toward him, nudging the ice pack aside. “I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

  “But not yet,” he said firmly. “Cripes, it’d be a circus between the two of us. You have a huge bruise on your hip, your neck is sore, your head’s a mess… Nope.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. “You’re right. I hate it that you’re right.”

  “Me, too, darlin’.”

  Her eyes popped open. Well, one of them did. The other managed to become a slit through which she could barely see.

  “Don’t call me that,” she said. It hurt too much, knowing he couldn’t possibly mean it. “Don’t call me that unless you mean it.” Then she closed her eyes again, amazed that she’d been bold enough to say that. Well, having nearly died—again—seemed to have made certain niceties a waste of time. But her heart stuttered as she waited to hear…nothing. He would say nothing because he was too nice to admit that he didn’t mean it, and he couldn’t possibly mean it.

  The silence seemed endless. Her heart ached with loss. How could she have been such a fool to fall in love again. And after only a handful of days?

  Finally, unable to stand the tension and silence, she opened her eyes again and looked at him.

  He stared at her, looking as if his heart, his soul, felt suspended by a thread. Well, that settled it, she thought. If her simple words could strike terror in him he wanted little to do with her. Maybe she should start packing right now.

  But then his husky voice froze her in place.

  “I mean it,” he said finally. “I’ve never called anyone that before. But…you don’t want me to mean it.”

  Her heart stopped. Her breathing nearly stopped. She sounded like a frog when she finally forced words out. “I don’t? Why the heck not?”

  To her amazement, he was the one who seemed to hold his breath now. Then, “But…you’re going back to Miami, right? Now that the guy is caught?”

  “I’m going back to Miami for a court date and maybe later to testify at a trial. Whether I stay there…well, that’s not my decision alone.”

  “Are you thinking about coming back here?”

  She just looked at him.

  Finally, she saw frustration stamp his face. Her heart dared to lift a tiny bit. “Kelly, I’m just a cowboy. I don’t know how to play games. If there’s something you need me to say, tell me what the hell it is. Please.”

  She felt a twinge. He thought she was trying to play games? Maybe she was. Maybe it was just time to settle this. She had almost died again last night. How could she possibly be afraid of being the first one to step off this ledge? Whether or not she took the first step, it was going to hurt like hell if he didn’t want her. It wasn’t as if she could avoid the pain by not speaking. “I want to know if you want me to stay here. I want to know if I might have a home here.”

  He said nothing for s
o long that her heart quivered and her stomach began to drop. This was it. He was seeking a kind way to tell her to forget it.

  But when he started to speak at last, it took a second for his words to penetrate the growing fog of her despair. “I want you to stay. I need you to stay. I realize that we don’t really know each other yet, but…well…I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you.”

  A joyous shock rolled through her, leaving her almost light-headed, banishing her aches and pains, and she smiled—amazing considering how swollen half of her face was. “Really?”

  “Really.” And once again he was holding his breath, apparently as much on tenterhooks as she had just been.

  “I love you, too,” she said finally, leaning painfully toward him to brush just the lightest of kisses against his lips. “I’m sure of it. I love you. And I want to stay with you.”

  “In this one-horse town?”

  “The one-horse town is beautiful with you in it.”

  He studied her face, seeking the truth in it, and finally he threw back his head and let out a loud, “Yeehaw!”

  Well, he was a cowboy after all, and his lady had just filled his heart with joy. And then she giggled and squeezed his hand.

  “I love you,” he said again, gingerly wrapping his arm around her. “I love you. Now hurry up and get well so I can show you how much.”

  She snuggled into his arms, as if she had been made just for him. Because suddenly and with certainty, she was sure of it. The joy was almost more than she could bear. “Count on it, cowboy. Count on it.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0825-4

  JUST A COWBOY

  Copyright © 2011 by Susan Civil Brown

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.