Rescued by the Ranger

by Dixie Lee Brown

Upon reaching the second-floor landing, she jerked her hand from his grasp, and the fire that flashed in her eyes clearly said he’d pissed her off again. “Oh, I’ve got ideas all right, but you’ve somehow brainwashed Jonathan, and I’m afraid he wouldn’t help me hide the body.”

  Garrett threw his head back and laughed as Rachel stomped down the hallway to the right, pushed the door to her room open, and motioned hurriedly for him to get inside. She closed the door softly behind Cowboy.

  Garrett was still trying to hide his smile when she tossed some clothes from an armchair near the bed and told him to sit, then disappeared beyond the open door of the bathroom. Garrett stepped toward the chair, taking note of the unmade bed, her nightclothes strewn across the sheets. At least three pairs of shoes and a pair of boots littered the space. Ms. Maguire apparently wasn’t Susie homemaker.

  He slouched in the chair, shoving his legs out in front and crossing them at the ankles, just as Rachel reappeared with the first aid kit and a wash towel. She’d pulled her red hair into a ponytail, and a worried frown drew her brows together. Instinctively, he knew her concern was for something other than any ideas he might come up with. She was clearly worrying about Peg—something she seemed to do frequently.

  “Am I missing something, Rachel? Aunt Peg seems like a strong woman. Why are you so worried about telling her?”

  Garrett watched Rachel as she set the first aid kit on the edge of the bed and moved to stand beside the chair. The wash towel in her hand was warm, and she was surprisingly gentle as she cleaned the wound. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her so close. It was a few seconds before he realized her hands were shaking, and some deep need to connect with her had him reaching to pin her wrists before she could move away. He raised an eyebrow as he gazed into eyes filled with sadness.

  Rachel stared back, turning sideways to sit one hip on the arm of his chair. Her lips parted and she bit her bottom lip, then sighed, a breath Garrett felt all the way to his groin. Her eyes misted over as she tore her gaze from his.

  “Peg is strong, and I’m going to make sure nothing changes that. Amanda’s death was so sudden. Understandably, Peg took it hard. No one realized how hard. About a month after the funeral, she just gave up. She closed everyone out, stopped getting dressed in the morning, wasn’t interested in the lodge. Eventually, she wouldn’t come out of her room. Jonathan and I had to get her help at a . . . hospital. I hated seeing her in that place, but she had to get better.” Rachel’s gaze seemed to beg him to understand.

  “You did what you had to do, Rachel. Thank God you and Jonathan were here.” Guilt slammed into Garrett as the realization followed that he should have been there. Not knowing didn’t seem an adequate excuse at the moment.

  Her lips trembled, making her smile appear weak, but it was a smile nonetheless. “She’s only been back three months. I’m scared to death she’ll relapse. That’s why I didn’t want you here reminding her of Amanda. And why I didn’t want her to find out about Riley. Telling her about someone sneaking around outside the lodge can’t be a good idea, either.” Rachel’s eyes took on the shine of impending tears as she pulled her wrists free and stepped to the bedside to rifle through the first aid kit.

  Garrett studied her with a new respect. Apparently Rachel took her responsibilities here at the lodge seriously—and then some. “Thank you for telling me. I still believe she’s stronger than you think, but I’ll do my best to not upset her. We’ll alert Jonathan about the intruder, along with any other employees on staff. My brother Luke is arriving tomorrow. He’ll be able to stick around for a few days . . . you know . . . in case I have to leave Tuesday morning.”

  As she turned toward him with a Band-Aid and some hydrogen peroxide, Garrett winked at her, intent on putting that smile back on her face.

  The corners of her mouth barely lifted. “What makes you think it’ll be any easier having Luke here than you?”

  “Luke’s a lot better-looking.” That earned him more of a smile.

  “I doubt that.” Rachel, apparently realizing what she’d admitted, blushed an attractive crimson color and wouldn’t meet his gaze as she perched on the arm of the chair, preparing to swab his scratch with peroxide.

  “Ms. Maguire, are you flirting with me?” Garrett chuckled as she tried to hide a sheepish grin.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even like you.” She set the bottle of peroxide on the floor and concentrated on ripping open the Band-Aid’s wrapper. With one smooth swipe she pressed the bandage in place on his forehead. “You’re right. It was just a scratch.” Rachel laughed and slid off the arm of the chair, moved to the bed, and began to close up the first aid kit.

  Encouraged by the way she’d shared her concerns with him and her warm smile that didn’t seem to hold any of the reservations he’d seen there before, he leaned back, unwilling for their brief interlude to end. “And yet you took far longer than sixty seconds to patch me up. I think you’re starting to appreciate my charm.” He gave her a wink when she glanced over her shoulder, a disbelieving smirk pulling at her lips.

  Rachel turned slowly, regarding him thoughtfully as though she had a weighty decision to make. The green in her eyes captured him, and his gaze traveled slowly to her slightly parted lips and lingered there while he entertained the prospect of kissing her. Foolhardy at best. It was way too soon. She’d only just reached a point where she could look at him without contempt flooding her expression. One wrong move on his part would send them back to the starting line. Kissing her thoroughly was definitely something he intended to do . . . but timing was everything. He cleared his throat and forced his attention from her lips.

  A rosy pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m not saying I like you or anything, but . . . I wonder if we should postpone our deal until we figure out what’s going on. For Peg’s sake, of course. Would you be willing to stay a while longer?”

  Relief flooded Garrett. He’d been trying to figure out how to broach that very subject. But his gut told him it wasn’t Peg who was in danger. He’d wager it was the sexy spitfire standing next to his chair, that she knew it, and was withholding information. Whatever demons chased her, they must be formidable to convince Rachel to let him stay in exchange for his help.

  He could live with that. Additional time was what he needed to get to know his aunt all over again, and to break through Rachel’s barriers. He would never tell her, of course, but he hadn’t planned on leaving with a gunman running around the mountain anyway.

  Still, if yesterday and today were any indication, he was sure to have a problem keeping his libido in line. If he stayed, he already knew he would want to talk with her, and touch her, and protect her, and . . . Shit yeah . . . that could definitely be a problem.

  “You got it. I’ll stay as long as you need me.” He might be sorry, but he’d take his chances.

  Chapter Six

  RACHEL WATCHED THE green vegetation blur past Garrett’s Jeep. The mountain that had been her home for ten years seemed foreign and merciless today. As though sensing her preoccupation, Garrett’s dog pushed between the seats and pressed against her thigh. The small offering made her smile, and she looped her arm over Cowboy’s back, burying her face in his fur long enough to take what comfort he volunteered.

  She hadn’t felt sorry for herself in over a decade. There was no sense starting now.

  Texas had been a lifetime ago. She’d left it all behind her, including the drawl. Still, she’d lived in fear that, eventually, a man intent on finishing what he’d started would succeed in tracking her down. And now she was afraid he had. As if the threatening calls that had become routine weren’t enough . . . now he shows up on her doorstep? Was it Jeremy? She didn’t want to believe it, but who else could it be? By not informing Garrett, Peg, and Jonathan of the possibility, was she endangering them all?

  “Hey. Are you all right?” Garrett laid his hand on her arm.

  Rachel raised her head and looked over Cowboy’s back. “Fine. Just . . . overwhelm
ed I think.”

  Why did he have to look so good in his snug-fitting jeans and light blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up and three buttons left undone, showing a smattering of curly chest hair? Kindness and understanding shone in the warmth of his eyes. Damn it! Why couldn’t he have been selfish and hateful, the way she’d pictured him? Why did he have to be dark, handsome, and built like a friggin’ tank? How was she supposed to despise him if he wasn’t . . . despicable?

  He stroked her arm once, then placed his hand back on the steering wheel. “I’m still not convinced we shouldn’t have warned the guests about our uninvited visitor, but I think Aunt Peg handled the news okay, don’t you?”

  “Jonathan will keep an eye out for trouble. Peg didn’t want to frighten the Taylors needlessly. But then . . . I didn’t notice you telling her that the intruder was armed . . . or that he threatened to shoot your dog. So considering she didn’t have all the information, Peg handled it amazingly well. I just wish she hadn’t insisted we go to town and inform the sheriff.”

  “It can’t hurt. What do you have against the man, anyway?” His tone wasn’t disbelieving, only curious. Figures he’d ignore her dig about withholding the juicy bits from Peg, though.

  “He uses his office to bully and steal . . . and hurt good people. He’s the biggest crook in Grizzly Gulch.” That was the reason she would never consider confiding the secrets of her past to Sheriff Connors. She didn’t trust him.

  A heated scowl darkened Garrett’s steel gray eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, knowing she’d answered too quickly. She had to give him something to wipe that I’ll-kill-him grimace off his face. “A friend of mine. She lives in Huntington now, with her eight-year-old daughter.”

  Garrett’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. “Why don’t you wait in the Jeep with Cowboy while I talk to him?”

  “I don’t back down, Garrett. Especially not from scum like that.” She smiled faintly and faced the passenger-side window again. It felt nice to have someone offer to stand up for her. She could get used to that if she let herself.

  The cab of the Jeep was quiet for a couple of minutes before Garrett squirmed in his seat and stretched his left leg out as far as he could. One hand massaged his upper thigh.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Naw. Not anymore. Just cramps up on me now and then. A good massage usually takes care of it, but I skipped my P/T appointment today.”

  Rachel frowned, wishing there was something she could do to help, all the while kicking herself for caring. “Were you shot?” The words seemed to come of their own accord.

  He searched her face. “You sure you want to hear this?”

  She lowered her lashes in case he might recognize the uncertainty in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  He turned his attention to the side mirror, then faced the front. A muscle on the rim of his jaw flexed with tension, and his expression hardened. “My unit was twelve strong, thirteen counting Cowboy. Rangers all of us, the best soldiers I ever served with.” Rachel could hear the emotion in his voice, and he stopped to clear his throat. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again. “The colonel sent us into Fallujah at nightfall to bring out an American doctor that a particularly nasty militant group was holding for ransom. Fallujah was a hot spot. All kinds of shit going down there.”

  Rachel’s stomach tightened with dread. Maybe she didn’t want to hear this.

  “When we reached the compound where they were holding the hostage, we split up. Six stayed outside to guard the exits. Six of us and Cowboy went inside the bunker. Our information was good. We knew where they were keeping the doc. We took out four enemy targets along the way, and then everything went to shit.

  “They’d left the fucking door to the man’s cell unlocked. Hell, we knew he was dead before we even saw his mutilated body. They let us get that far because they had no intention of letting us get out. The insurgents opened fire . . . and ten good men died that night. Sergeant Cole was wounded bad and unconscious. I was hit once in the back and once in the upper thigh. Cowboy got it in the shoulder. We’d have never made it out of there if it hadn’t been for him. I carried Sarge, and Cowboy did what he was trained to do—tracked the enemy, luring them out into the open where I could get a shot.

  “When we got out and I saw we were the only ones left, we dragged ourselves into an alley and waited for help to arrive.” Garrett hit the steering wheel, anger twisting his face into a mask. “I should have known it was an ambush. It was just too fucking easy.”

  Rachel reached out to comfort him, her hand resting on the hard muscles of his arm as they lay tense beneath his shirt. “You couldn’t have known it was a trap.”

  A tortured smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I was commanding officer. It was my job to know.” His voice was hoarse, and it was obvious how close he was to losing it, but he quickly pressed his lips together and looked away.

  Tears tingled along the backs of her eyelids, and Rachel fisted her hand, jabbing her fingernails ruthlessly into her palm in an effort to distract herself. What happened to him should never happen to anyone. But it did—and her soul ached for him in spite of the fact she should be glad he’d suffered. Not even she was that callous. But sympathy wasn’t what he needed, and he wouldn’t expect it from her.

  “Did the sergeant survive?”

  It was a few seconds before he replied. “Cole lost his left leg, but his wife met him on the tarmac at Fort Benning, Georgia, and, last I heard, she still hadn’t left his side.”

  “You sound surprised. Is it hard for you to believe that kind of devotion exists?”

  A myriad of emotions tumbled across his face. Finally, he turned an obviously forced smile on her. “Not at all. Not anymore. I only mentioned it because it was the one good thing to come out of that night.”

  “What about you . . . and Cowboy? You both survived. You even seem fairly well adjusted.” Rachel tried hard to stay detached, but damn—apparently she was a sucker for hot military men who were willing to give everything if called upon to do so.

  “Sure. Cowboy was a hero. He deserved the ceremony, the medal, every honor he received. But he’d have been just as lost as Sergeant Cole out there in civilian-land by himself.” Garrett’s grin flickered mischievously. “Instead of an attentive female to keep him company, all he got was me.”

  Rachel choked back a laugh as she scratched Cowboy’s muzzle. “He’s not feeling sorry for himself.”

  Garrett gave a short laugh. “Ouch! Meaning, of course, that I am?”

  “Well, Cinderella . . . if the shoe fits.” She released the words and then waited, ready to deal with whatever his reaction would be.

  A kaleidoscope of emotions tumbled across a face too surprised to mask any of them. Anger changed abruptly to guilt, then annoyance, then a spark of amusement appeared. And Garrett started to laugh, a low chuckle at first, building gradually into a full belly laugh that caused his eyes to sparkle with warmth.

  His laugh was contagious, and Rachel couldn’t help smiling.

  When he’d regained control, he pinned her with a glare. “You think you’re a real hard-ass, don’t you?”

  The smile slipped from her face as she averted her eyes. She’d come a long, long way from the sweet, naïve eighteen-year-old she’d been. She’d never thought of herself as a hard-ass, but if she was, it was because Jeremy had been such a good teacher.

  With little notice, they rounded a curve and entered the tiny town of Grizzly Gulch. Garrett let off the gas and slowed down.

  “The sheriff’s office is the brick building in the middle of the next block.” Did Garrett see the same thing she’d seen ten years ago when she came to town? Grizzly Gulch hadn’t changed all that much. It still had rowdy-looking bars on almost every block, a one-pump service station, a feed store that shared a building with the grocery, a K–eight elementary school, and a dilapidated old
church that saw more town meetings than worship services. Even the population sign at the edge of town still touted 137 residents.

  Basically, it was a small town where strangers stood out like a fully clothed person on a nude beach . . . and where no one would ever think to look for her.

  Garrett pulled to the curb across from the sheriff’s office. The brick building also housed the mayor’s workplace, the tiny post office, and City Hall. Members of the community were out in force today, so there’d be no shortage of gawkers to wonder who Garrett was and plenty of gossipers to overhear their report of an intruder and transfer the buzz to the well-oiled grapevine. The certainty that she was making a fool’s mistake lay heavily on her chest. What if the stranger outside the lodge wasn’t Jeremy . . . and what if reporting the incident led to her picture in the local newspaper—which was then picked up by the AP because of the beautiful scenery or a general lack of interesting news anywhere? It wasn’t likely, but she’d heard of catastrophic events set in motion by less . . . a mistake . . . a quirk of fate. However improbable, the result she feared was Jeremy spotting her picture and knowing where to find her. Ten years ago, someone had died because she’d refused to believe evil like that would ever touch her life. She’d been wrong, and now she had a whole new circle of friends to protect. She loved them, and she didn’t want to leave, but to keep them safe, she’d do anything.

  “Are you all right?” Garrett’s hand covered hers where she still hugged the dog.

  “I’m good.” She plastered on a smile.

  “Ready?”

  She was so not ready, but she opened her door anyway.

  “Chill, Cowboy.” Garrett stepped out on the other side.

  Rachel drew a deep breath as they crossed the street together. Somewhat emboldened by Garrett’s substantial size beside her, walking so close his arm brushed hers every few steps, she almost worked up the courage for what they were about to do.

  That lasted until Riley and his two grinning buffoons filed out the door she and Garrett were headed for. A groan escaped her, and Garrett stepped closer, his hand going to the small of her back, encouraging her to keep moving.