Rescued by the Ranger
Page 2
A disbelieving laugh burst from her. “The police are worse than Riley here.”
With her attention solely on the young Riley, Garrett sidled up to the bar, shoved the barrel of the rifle up, and pulled it from her hands. “Trust me. He’s right about this. You don’t want to do that.”
Riley picked that moment to laugh.
“Damn it. Shut up, kid, if you know what’s good for you.” Garrett’s patience was at its breaking point.
Rachel inhaled sharply, and Garrett’s attention jerked back to her. She stared at the door.
“Drop the rifle, Mister.” The new voice was deep and raspy, and it was followed by the sound of footsteps moving closer.
Garrett slowly turned to see the two men from the old Ford pickup standing one on each side of the swinging panels. Both carried sawed-off shotguns. They reminded him of Darryl and Darryl, two no-doubt inbred brothers from an old sitcom he’d watched once. These two weren’t quite as funny, though.
Riley hooted, strode toward Garrett, and confiscated the Winchester. “What the hell are you boys doin’ back here? I told you to go pick up the supplies.”
“We saw this yahoo park and go inside. Thought there could be some trouble.” Darryl #1 smirked as though that’s what he’d been hoping for.
Riley gave him a playful shove. “Oh, and you didn’t think I could handle it by myself?”
“Naw, Riley. Just didn’t want you havin’ all the fun.”
Darryl #2 chewed on a toothpick as he studied Rachel, then swept his gaze to Garrett. “Thought we was just supposed to git the girl. What we gonna do with him now?” The older of the two jabbed his shotgun toward Garrett.
“What d’ya think?” Riley smirked.
What the hell was going on here? This wasn’t some awkward kid trying to coerce a kiss out of a reluctant girlfriend. Not even close. Both parties seemed willing to kill over whatever the stakes were in this little game, and Garrett was sadly out of the loop. He met Rachel’s gaze and cocked an eyebrow in question.
“I’d say I told you so, but the satisfaction would be short-lived. Bet you wished you’d stayed on the interstate now.” She lowered her eyelids, and it appeared she was studying something below the level of the bar, then she slowly opened them again until she was looking into his once more. There was a message in her green depths—if he could only figure out what it was.
His imagination might be working overtime, but it sure did look as though the young lady had just given him a signal. Was there something under that bar that she was hoping to get her hands on? Something that could help them out of a tight spot? If that was the case, by God, this time he’d let her use it. He wished to hell he hadn’t left his handgun in the glove box of the Jeep.
“Git him out of here. Take his rig. I’ll bring the girl, and we’ll meet up at the mine.” Riley started toward Rachel, but she stayed where she was, spouting a stream of colorful adjectives sure to piss him off even further. Damned if she wasn’t a handful once she got good and mad.
Darryl and Darryl advanced on Garrett, and he lifted his hands, palms toward them, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion behind him. “Easy, Cowboy.”
A streak of black and tan running in under the swinging doors went unnoticed until the dog charged and leaped, hurtling ninety-five pounds of muscle and fury toward Darryl #1. The man turned to face the threat at the last minute, and Cowboy hit him squarely in the chest. The back of Darryl #1’s head walloped the floor, and he didn’t get up.
Darryl #2 backed away as Cowboy stalked him with a menacing snarl, wrinkling his muzzle. Before the man could get his wits about him and think to use his shotgun for something besides a shield, Garrett stepped between them and let go with an uppercut that dropped the man in a crumpled heap. There was no movement when Garrett nudged him with the toe of his boot. Tapping his leg, he called the dog to his side. “Take no prisoners.” He spoke softly, and Cowboy dropped to his haunches and stood guard over the fallen enemy.
Garrett swung around to locate Riley, but Rachel already had that situation under control. She gripped a .38 special in her hand. “Jesus. How many more guns do you have back there?”
“I suppose you want this one, too?” She barely moved the weapon as her gaze flicked over Garrett dismissively.
“Not at all. It appears you’ve got this handled. I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve been wrong.” He waited, giving her time to think things through. After about thirty seconds of silence and nervous vibes inside the dimly lit establishment, he figured she’d had enough. “Are you going to kill him?”
“Aw, Rach. I was just havin’ some fun. I wasn’t gonna hurt ya.” Riley backed away as he whined.
“What were you going to do, you moron? Leave us at the bottom of Addison’s Mine? I wonder what your mama would think of you now.” Rachel raked one hand through her hair, brushing it back from her face. Frustration and uncertainty were clear in the deep furrow between her brows.
A twinge of protectiveness rocked Garrett when her chin trembled for the first time since he’d walked in the door. She was a fighter—no doubt about that—but something was going on here that clearly had her off balance.
“Who said anything about Addison’s? We was just out drinkin’ and havin’ a good time. Problem is you’ve always thought you was too good for me and the boys. But then I met an old friend of yours, and he told me you know how to party real good.” Riley leaned his hands on the bar and grinned lecherously.
“Who? Who’s been talking about me? Did someone put you up to coming in here today and causing trouble?” Damned if Rachel’s voice wasn’t shaking more now than when they’d had a gun on her.
Riley smirked. “If I told you, it would spoil the surprise. No can do, Rach.”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Garrett was surprised by the intensity of his anger. Seeing Rachel scared for the first time since he’d walked through the door hadn’t helped. “Either shoot him or give me the gun.” He held out his hand.
Rachel darted a glance at him, a wisp of a smile floating over her face. She apparently considered her options before placing the revolver in his outstretched hand. Humor flashed in her eyes and lifted the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. When she spoke, though, she was still nervous and edgy. “I wasn’t kidding when I said the cops are useless . . . so . . . maybe you could shoot him.”
Garrett held his breath and searched her face. She looked serious enough except for a sparkle in her eyes that disappeared a heartbeat later when she lowered her lashes. She’d proved she wouldn’t use her weapons as anything beyond a warning, so this suggestion had to be a con intended to drive her point home to the not-so-bright Riley. Obviously, she didn’t want Garrett to shoot him either, no matter what kind of vermin he was. Okay, he’d play her little game . . . to a point.
He turned until Rachel was the only one who could see his face and gave her a wink. Then he braced his arms against the log bar and dropped his head toward his chest. A heavy breath escaped. Behind him, Cowboy whined, no doubt sensing his subterfuge. Garrett flashed a hand signal for the dog to stand down so he wouldn’t interfere.
He nodded. “Okay, I can do that, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
“I think it’s the only way,” she replied.
“Now, wait just a doggone minute.” Riley sputtered and started shuffling backward. He tripped over one of his buddies and almost fell. His buddy came to, scrambled to his feet, and stumbled for the door, keeping a wary eye on Cowboy.
“If you don’t shoot him, he’ll just come back next time I’m here alone.” Rachel cast an accusing glance at Riley.
“Are you bat-shit crazy, bitch? I’m never settin’ foot in this place again.” He turned and raced for the exit, hitting the swinging doors with such force they slammed shut on him halfway through, and he had to shove them apart again. Once Riley was outside, Garrett heard the pickup roar to life and its tires squeal away from the Watering Hole before silence finally settled over the bar.
Garrett chuckled as he handed her the revolver and had to tear his gaze from her exuberant expression. “If that’s your idea of fun, I’d hate to have to entertain you for any length of time.”
She laughed easily, her delight contagious, and suddenly all Garrett could think about was finding an excuse to stay a little longer and get to know her. The women he usually met were nothing like this girl. She was all sunshine and clean mountain air, and something about her intrigued him.
Darryl #2 was still out cold when Garrett bent to check for a pulse and then hauled him over his shoulder and dumped him outside in the parking lot. The old Ford truck was nowhere to be seen. Riley and his friend hadn’t waited around for their comrade.
When he stepped back inside, Rachel was rearranging the chairs that had been disturbed by the three miscreants. Garrett watched her move gracefully around the floor—as if it wasn’t the first fight she’d ever cleaned up after. She wore a white button-up shirt made of some kind of gauzy fabric, knotted at her hips. The first three buttons were undone, revealing a lacy camisole and the fullness of her breasts. A short denim skirt hugged her hips and then flared out to midthigh—and damn fine thighs they were, too. Equally nice calves disappeared into red cowboy boots. Simmering heat began to grow in his abdomen.
Rachel finished her chore and sashayed behind the bar. “That drink is on the house if you still want it.”
He hadn’t realized earlier that a band of darker green outlined the pale of her eyes. Strikingly attractive, they pulled his gaze away from the red tresses that fell, curly and untamed, to cover her shoulders.
“Actually, I think I’ve got a ways to go yet. I was hoping for some coffee . . . and directions.”
“I’ll put on a fresh pot. Won’t take a minute. What’s your dog’s name?” She turned her back to start the coffee, giving Garrett ample opportunity to scrutinize her nicely rounded backside, and his manhood, having been on an enforced hiatus, twitched in appreciation.
“Uh . . . Cowboy.” The dog padded up alongside him and waited attentively to see why Garrett had called his name. “We served together in Iraq. When it was my turn to go home, I brought him with me. He’s got my back.”
“He’s gorgeous, and obviously devoted to you.”
“So what was that about? Riley and the other two—what did they want from you?” Garrett stared at her back until she flipped on the coffeemaker and turned to face him.
Her smile was gone. “Riley wanted me to go for a ride with him, and when I refused—well, you saw the aftermath. I don’t know what he was thinking, but from the things he said, I’m afraid it could have something to do with”—Rachel crossed her arms and averted her eyes—“you know. I’m sure I’m not the only one with skeletons in my closet.”
“You think that’s why he mentioned an old friend of yours and spoiling his surprise?”
Rachel gave a nod of her head, but didn’t look up.
“The best way to keep someone from spilling your deep, dark secrets is to be the first to share them. The worst that can happen is people finding out, right? So if you’re the one who gives it away at a time of your choosing, he, whoever he is, has nothing.” Garrett leaned in on his forearms, hoping she would look at him.
Her green eyes darted to his and she wagged her head side to side. “That’s not the worst that could happen—not by a long shot. And you’re not suggesting I confide in you, are you?”
Garrett shrugged. “No . . . but since you brought it up . . . I am a stranger. I have no preconceived ideas about you. Chances are pretty good you’ll never see me again after today. If you don’t have anyone else you can talk to, I’ll listen and maybe I can help.”
Rachel was silent long enough that Garrett thought she might actually be considering his offer, but then she laughed and waved her hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “Nice try, but I don’t think so.” Laughter eased the worry lines on her forehead and brought out her dimples. Garrett would probably have reached out and caressed her flawless cheek if she hadn’t turned her back to him.
The coffee was almost done, its aroma calling to him. Rachel pulled a foam cup from below the counter and set it next to the gurgling coffeemaker. “You said you needed directions. Where are you headed?”
“Well, I think I’m close but I’d feel better if someone besides Matilda—uh . . . that’s what I call my navigation system—if someone else confirmed that. I’m looking for the Cougar Ridge Hunting Lodge and Resort. Heard of it?”
Her back stiffened instantly, and after she poured the coffee into the cup, she slammed the glass decanter down on the burner. With shaking fingers, she fumbled with the lid until it locked in place. Then she pivoted to meet his gaze. There was no longer anything neighborly or even remotely friendly in her green eyes. Was it his destination that had triggered her response?
She pushed the coffee toward him. “I thought you looked familiar. Which one are you?” The controlled anger in her voice accused him of something, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what. A shame too, because not two minutes ago the thought had crossed his mind to ask her to dinner.
At a loss to know what he’d done and not understanding the question, he continued to study her face.
“You’re one of Amanda’s boys, aren’t you?”
At the mention of his mother, his jaw clenched, and every muscle readied in preparation to bolt. He shoved his hands in his pockets and forced himself to stand still. “Garrett Harding—at your service.” The words escaped without emotion, and Cowboy whined. Obviously, he didn’t understand the turn in the conversation either.
Garrett searched Rachel’s eyes again. They were filled with defiance and something bordering on disgust. He had no clue why she was suddenly treating him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with his mother. He could totally understand if Rachel’s ill will was directed at the woman who gave birth to him, but it was foolhardy to blame him for his mother’s actions. Rachel couldn’t know that he’d been five years old the last time he’d seen Amanda, however, and since he was only passing through, he should just let her think whatever she wanted.
“Does that mean you don’t know where the resort is?” He slid his hand around the coffee cup and turned to go.
“You’ve been on Peg’s land for the past thirty minutes. This bar is part of the resort. There’s a bed-and-breakfast and a restaurant, too. The resort is about a mile farther up the mountain.” Disdain permeated every word.
If there was one thing Garrett had learned, it was that you couldn’t change someone’s mind if they weren’t receptive. Rachel clearly wasn’t into listening, and it irked him for some reason. That and a mysterious ache in his core drew him up short, not willing to quit on the conversation just yet. There was something going on here that defied his understanding, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Rachel was in serious trouble. If she was right about the secret from her past catching up to her, then Riley was probably the least of her worries. But Riley was the trouble Garrett had seen, and there was nothing stopping him from returning to the bar once Garrett and Cowboy left. That was unacceptable.
He turned slowly. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ve got a hunch those local boys will be looking for a chance to get even. I could give you a lift somewhere, or I could stick around until the rest of the evening shift arrives. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here.”
The glare she fixed him with was flat-out hostile. She braced her arms on the bar and leaned toward him as though to impart a whispered confidence. Her lips parted in a half smile, and her voice, as sweet as honey, turned the knife in his chest. “The dog can stay . . . but no Harding will ever be welcome here.”
Chapter Two
THE INFAMOUS GAR
RETT Harding displayed a split second of surprise before he turned and stomped his big army boots to the door. One hand on the swinging panel, he stopped and stared into the parking lot, then his head dropped toward his chest, and he huffed an irritated breath. He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, and a barely audible growl carried across the room.
Rachel Maguire might have mistaken it for the dog if Garrett hadn’t whipped around, looked straight at her, and motioned for her to come and look. “They’re back.”
Every nerve in her body vibrated—and not in a good way—at being commanded by this man who’d broken Amanda’s heart. His biological mother, yet he’d ignored every one of her letters, turned his back on her, and let her die without the one thing she’d desired more than anything—to see him one more time. Lower than pond scum—that’s what he was. He’d had a multitude of chances to drop in when his mother was still alive. What was he doing here now?
Had Peg contacted him? She was ever the devoted sister . . . but this was going too far. Damn it. It was too soon. Amanda’s sudden death had hit Peg hard. It’d only been three months since she’d gotten out of the hospital, having managed to crawl back from the black hole of depression that had sought to claim her. No way would Rachel let her get to that point again.
Rachel’s chin jutted forward, and she crossed her arms. Garrett’s heated gaze was a physical force, nearly knocking her off balance. When he started back toward her, his steps determined and angry, it was only stubborn pride that kept her where she was.
Garrett halted two feet in front of her, his lips pressed into a thin line, his steel-gray eyes narrowing dangerously. Clearly he’d surpassed the limits of his patience. Perhaps, under the circumstances, she’d been a bit uncooperative. Still, if he presumed to lay a hand on her, he wouldn’t walk away without a scratch. Her life at Cougar Ridge had taught her many things, not the least of which was how to defend herself should that skill ever be required.
A few seconds into their stare-down, his gaze fell to her lips and lingered there as he rested his hands on his hips. Indecision, among other harsher emotions, registered on his face, but the angry inferno in his eyes slowly dissipated. His voice was gravelly as he started to speak, so he cleared his throat and tried again.