by Unknown
“I don’t think there’s been anything to laugh about so far. You’re not like your brother.”
She laughed. “I hope not! At least not as you knew him. Boone was wild. Erin has tamed him some.”
“I wouldn’t know about that.”
They turned onto the county road and soon headlights shone on an ancient concrete bridge with a metal sign that proclaimed Badger Fork Creek. They sped across and he glanced over his shoulder, relieved to see the road behind them was empty.
In a small office in a busy city, a man carefully cleaned the barrel of the pistol. In minutes he placed the weapon on a scratched oak desk. The office was high enough above the city that traffic noise from the busy street was muted. Sunlight splashed through the double windows. With patience, the man put the weapon together and replaced it in a holster, carrying it across the room to slip it into a file drawer. Closing the drawer, he turned the lock and pocketed the key.
Walking to the window, the man gazed out over the city. Colin Garrick had to die and the sooner the better. No botched attempt on Garrick’s life this time. He should have been killed years ago by that bomb, but he had survived. He had overcome prison, poor hospitals, that attempt on the beltway last year.
With mounting anger the man turned to a desk calendar, thumbing through it and gazing intently at the page with the coming year. Only two more years and he would retire a multimillionaire. For an instant he had a flicker of regret for what he had done, but then he thought about his Swiss bank account and the home he had in the south of France, the home in Colorado that was in another name. Swelling satisfaction replaced his regret.
Everyone was scrambling to earn money to be set for life. He didn’t want to risk his life and give hour upon hour for a little-more-than-adequate pension at the end of some twenty years.
With the money he was amassing, when he retired from his present job, he would be able to live abroad however he pleased.
He thought about Colin Garrick and frowned. Two years until retirement—The man clenched his fist. With only two years to go, he didn’t want to have any mishaps. Colin Garrick was the wild card and he must die. Where was he?
Gone to ground here in the beltway? Had he fled to Texas to see those friends of his and hide with them? Or perhaps he had left the country? The last thought sent a chill down the man’s spine.
If Colin Garrick was out of the country, he would be damned difficult to find. Unless he surfaced in some of his old haunts in Europe. Garrick was too smart for that. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to put out feelers.
“Take care,” the man said out loud to himself, knowing if he started asking questions, he would put himself at risk. Where the hell is Garrick? It is time for him to die.
The man shook his head. He had come too far and was in too deep to lose everything now. If those Texans were in the way, they would have to go. At this point in his life, he knew he had nothing to lose by one more killing or even two or three more. And he had everything to gain.
First, find Colin Garrick and eliminate him.
Colin glimpsed houses and buildings in the distance, but they rounded a curve and the view was swallowed up in darkness until almost a mile later they topped a rise and he looked at Boone’s mansion, the guest house, the homes of employees who lived on the ranch, the stables and outbuildings and bunkhouse.
“This is a regular city! That’s Boone’s home?”
“Yes. Rather impressive, isn’t it?” Isabella asked, circling a sprawling ranch house built of weathered timbers. The guest house had a sloping roof, a wraparound porch, black-iron furniture on the porch and a tree-shaded yard fenced with white pickets.
The moment Colin and Isabella stepped out of the car and entered the backyard, five dogs of various sizes and breeds came bounding up. Isabella leaned over to scratch the ears of two of them. “Get down!” she said to the dogs. “These are my dogs. Tiger,” she said, pointing to one that resembled a Doberman. “Buttermilk.” She touched a dog that probably had golden retriever blood. Then she knelt and petted a bit of fluff as she said, “This is Sweetie. Here’s Topper and Snarlie,” she finished about two spotted hounds. “Wait a minute while I feed and water them.”
“Not exactly watchdogs, are they?” Colin said, helping her when she turned on the hose to refill one of the buckets with fresh water.
“Two of these buckets refill automatically,” she explained. “And they may not be watch dogs, but they’d bark if someone came into the yard.”
“They didn’t bark at me.”
“You’re with me. They know you’re one of the good guys,” she said lightly, but Colin didn’t smile.
“So you like dogs,” he said, trying to disentangle himself from them as she poured water into their buckets.
“Actually, they’re all strays that didn’t have a home,” she said. Colin took the hose from her while she disappeared then came back with a bag of dog food to pour into empty bowls.
“So you’ve taken all these mutts in since you’ve been here?”
“People drop animals out in the country. They needed a home and someone to care for them.”
She returned the dog food to a shed and joined him again. They crossed the yard, leaving the dogs behind. Reaching the back door, she unlocked it and led Colin inside.
He set his backpack inside the kitchen door of Isabella’s temporary home. Cherrywood cabinets with yellow tile in the countertops and along the wall added a cheerful enough warmth to the room, but he was barely aware of his surroundings. He looked at the alarm box. “What’s the combination?”
He stood close while she explained and told him the combination and the code.
“This has to go because it’s antiquated—even more than Mike’s. There’s probably never been any need for security here before.” Colin crossed the room to the windows where he closed the plantation-style shutters.
“We’re far from the highway and far into the ranch. Boone’s house is only a stone’s throw away. I never worry about the shutters in here.”
“Start worrying, Isabella,” Colin ordered. “When you brought me home with you, you placed yourself in danger. I can feel it to my toes. I think the others do, too. If you want to back out, I can go to any of their houses. They’ll understand.”
“No. I’m not backing out,” she said.
“We won’t argue about it. Just be careful.”
“I’ll show you around and to a room you may have,” she said, placing her purse in a chair at an oval table where a green-and-gold damask runner was centered with a vase of bright yellow daffodils. “We can adjust our schedules.”
“There’s no adjusting, Isabella. I’ll stay out of your way. Just show me my room and I’ll find my way around the house.”
She shrugged as she led him out of the kitchen into a dining room that adjoined a large family room. In the dining room was an oval fruitwood table that would seat twelve. Along one wall stood a credenza that held a silver tea service, silver candelabra and glistening crystal vases. Above it hung a beveled mirror in an ornate gilt frame. In the mirror he could see the reflection of an adjoining room, a living area that held armchairs, a sofa and bookshelves.
“This is an elegant guest house.”
“It’s very comfortable. My furniture is in storage. This was furnished so it’s been easy for me to move in here,” she said, walking down a wide hallway. They passed a family room, a smaller dining room and a bedroom before she motioned toward an open door.
“There are three bedrooms, but only two have adjoining baths, so you’ll probably want this room,” she said, stepping inside a sunny bedroom aware he had withdrawn into himself and put an invisible wall between them.
“Fine,” he said without looking around. He crossed the room to the window, closing the shutters. “Just go on with your life. I’ll take care of myself.”
In consternation she stared at his back. She hurt for him, hating to see him shut himself off from others. Yet she knew, this was best for both
of them, because she didn’t want the attraction to escalate and she knew he didn’t, either.
“I’ll get fresh towels for you and the bed has clean linens.”
Going to a large bathroom down the hall, she gathered towels from a cabinet to take them back to him. Finding his door closed, she knocked lightly.
When he swung open the door, she sucked in a deep breath. He had shed his shirt and was wearing only jeans. He was lean, solid muscles and she couldn’t keep her gaze from roaming over his chest. She thrust out the towels.
“Here are your clean towels. Anything else you need?”
“I want to check the place for security,” he said as he took the towels from her, his fingers brushing hers. “Mind if I see your bedroom?”
“Of course not,” she replied. “It’s this way,” she said, thinking he might as well have let her show him around the house as she’d offered in the first place.
“This is my room,” she said, entering a bedroom that was next to his and ran along the south of the house. He crossed the room to close the shutters, checking windows and looking at the locks. “This house is about as secure as a tent.”
As he passed her, she saw that he had a pistol tucked into the waist of his jeans at the small of his back and she wondered if she had entered into his world of espionage and threats.
She watched him move around her room. Muscles rippled in his back as he closed shutters. His jeans rode low on his narrow hips. His scars could not detract from his sexy appeal.
“I may sleep outside tonight,” he said, turning to look at her and her pulse jumped. He was acting cold and aloof, but desire burned in the depths of his eyes.
“There’s a dog run at the back of the yard if you want me to pen them up.”
“Nope. They’ll be all right.”
“You weren’t this concerned last night.”
“Yes, I was. That’s why I slept on the sofa downstairs. Mike’s house is more protected than this one—I know it’s because this is on the ranch that should be more secure than living in town. I think each day that passes, the likelihood of the killer finding me increases. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that I’d come to Texas where my friends are.
“Sleep with a cell phone by your bed tonight,” he added. “Do you have any flashlights?”
“Yes,” she said, turning to go to the hall closet to get a flashlight for him.
“Do you have another one?” he said as she turned. He was standing right behind her and again their fingers brushed as she handed him the flashlight. She felt a tingle from the slight contact.
“I have one in my room. I keep one by my bed in case of the power going off during a storm.”
“Good. I want all the shutters closed. Anybody with high-powered binoculars can see a lot from a long distance and there’s no need making things easy for the enemy.”
“I’ll close the shutters, but I’m not the target here,” she pointed out.
“Not yet. I don’t want you in danger.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said and left him to close shutters all over the house.
She didn’t know when he’d gone outside, but she did see the door to his room standing open.
She went to the back door and slipped outside, closing the door behind her.
“Are you all right?” she called softly, wanting to avoid saying his name.
“I’m fine,” he said only feet from her, startling her. She turned and saw him in the dark shadows of the porch. The dogs had come the minute she’d opened the door and they milled around her now, wanting attention.
“Sure the dogs won’t bother you?” she asked.
“I’m sure. Go inside. It’s safer than having you stand out here.”
She slipped back into the house and closed the door, wondering how much he would sleep. He couldn’t have gotten a lot of sleep the night before. Stop worrying about him, she told herself, going to her room and closing the door.
They might be in danger, but she didn’t feel any alarm or sense of threat. Colin was standing guard. Her brother was not far away and the ranch was full of men who would help if needed. She had a pistol, but she felt no need for it. Not here on the ranch.
The threat she needed to worry about, the one that was real and intense, was her attraction to Colin. In spite of Colin’s surly manner and coldness, she could still feel the sparks fly between them and there was no way to forget his kiss.
From the desire she had seen in his gray eyes tonight, he hadn’t forgotten their kiss, either. She changed into a nightgown, switched off the lights and climbed into bed, wondering how Colin was faring outside. Were they really in danger this soon? She had no doubt if he stayed danger would come, but had the killer already arrived in Texas? Was he watching Colin now?
Chapter 5
C olin stayed in the shadows. There were yard lights, but not enough. One more thing that needed to be changed, but he was certain Boone hadn’t had a moment’s reason to worry about security here at the ranch. Under normal circumstances, why would he?
Colin’s gaze searched the grounds for anything amiss. He was uneasy, unhappy with the decision that he should stay in Texas. In a way, he would be glad for a showdown, but he wished it could come a million miles from his friends and their families. He didn’t want to put anyone in danger and he was certain he had just brought trouble to Isabella.
His gaze dropped to the dogs surrounding him. He idly scratched the tallest one’s head as the black dog sat leaning against him. He shook his head. All of them strays she had taken in. That meant she had a heart as soft as pudding. A bunch of friendly mutts that he suspected wouldn’t even bark at a stranger. Since Isabella was a softie for strays, he shouldn’t be staying with her. Yet she had said she had gone with guys who had wanted to get serious and she had broken it off, so maybe her softness was only skin deep.
He groaned, thinking about her softness—too clearly he could remember holding her in his arms as they had struggled and then later, holding her close as they had kissed. A kiss that had brought him slamming back to life with an incredible jolt. She was soft, warm, luscious curves—He inhaled deeply again and tried to shift his thoughts elsewhere.
In another half hour he moved to the porch hammock and stretched out. Instantly all the dogs tried to jump up and settle with him. The two smallest made it, but the big dogs set the hammock swinging, dumping Colin onto the floor. He swore softly and rolled to his feet, glaring at them.
“Get out of here, you mutts!” he whispered, but they merely looked at him and wagged their tails.
He sat on the hammock. “Down!” he ordered. Carefully, he eased himself back into the hammock. In minutes a small dog jumped up and curled into a ball at his feet. A few more minutes and another small dog jumped on him and curled up beside him.
“Oh, hell,” Colin swore. He stood and went inside, locking the back door and moving through the darkened kitchen to the family room where he stretched on the sofa and placed his pistol beneath the pillow.
“Colin?”
He sat up, instantly alert, but also recognizing Isabella’s voice. “Yes.”
When she stepped into the doorway, he could see her dimly in the darkness. She wore a short nightgown and her hair spilled over her shoulders. His mouth went dry, his temperature soared and his imagination ran rampant.
“I heard someone in the house and figured it was you, but I also knew you intended to sleep outside. You’re staying in here instead?”
“Yes, thanks to your dogs,” he answered gruffly.
He thought he heard a laugh as she turned away. “Good night, Colin.” Then she was gone, leaving him in more torment than the dogs had inflicted.
He slept lightly, stirring at the slightest sound, growing accustomed to the noises of her house—the ticking of the tall clock in the hallway, the chime of the clock on the hour. Twice during the night, he awoke and took his pistol in hand to patrol outside around the house, each time sending the dogs into a flu
rry of wagging tails. It seemed he had only dozed off when he came instantly awake.
He sat up and saw Isabella move past the doorway. A dim light showed around the edges of the shutters.
Yanking on his T-shirt and still wearing his jeans, he hurried after her and caught up with her as she switched on a small light over the stove in the kitchen.
“Aren’t you up early?”
“Good morning to you, too,” she said cheerfully, turning to face him. She wore blue denim shorts and blouse that hugged her curves. She looked fresh, alert and full of energy. She flashed him a smile that made his pulse jump.
“Do you always get up this early?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Nearly every morning during the week, I jog four miles.”
“You can’t do that now. It won’t be safe.”
“Oh, yes, it will. There’s an indoor track, too. I’ll use it.”
“Wait a minute or two and I’ll go with you,” he said, heading toward his bedroom to change.
He wanted to gnash his teeth. He needed to jog, too, to keep in shape, but he didn’t want to do it with her. He needed to keep distance between them and it was absolutely impossible when they were under the same roof. He felt a need to keep her in sight. He knew she didn’t want a bodyguard, but he thought she needed one now. At the same time, he knew he was the one causing her to require protection.
He changed to cutoffs and pulled on a clean T-shirt from the laundry he had done yesterday. He tucked his pistol into his cutoffs in the small of his back and went to join her.
She was singing softly, dancing around the kitchen, her hair caught up in a clip on her head, tendrils hanging loose and swinging as she danced. He clamped his jaw tightly closed and clenched his fists as his insides did their own clenching and tightening. His gaze skimmed down her shapely bare legs and his imagination ran wild. He wanted to cross the room, to take her into his arms and kiss her.
Instead he stayed where he was. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Great!” She bestowed another brilliant smile on him and waltzed out of the kitchen ahead of him, pausing only a second to reset the alarm.
