Renegade: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Novel (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 5)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “It’s about time,” he said after the second ring. “Why don’t you answer your cell?”

  “Ever heard of a work ethic?”

  He laughed. “Understood. Well, listen, I’ve got good news and bad. Which do you want?”

  “Jesse . . .” She closed her eyes and sighed, kneading her forehead. “I’ve had just about all the bad a body can handle.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. Let me rephrase. My news is all-around great. Me or my brothers won’t be taking your case, but we found someone who will. He’s good. In fact, if he ever parts ways with his current firm, I’ll hire him on for Knight’s.”

  “Jesse, no. This is a nightmare we’re facing. We need you. I can’t—”

  A knock sounded on her door. She liked Jersey, but sometimes he could be annoying.

  “Just a minute,” she said to Jesse.

  “Wait. I wanted to give you a heads-up so you’re not blindsided. The bodyguard who’ll be—”

  Delilah opened the door, took one look at the man facing her, then dropped the phone.

  “Del? Is everything all right?” Jesse’s voice sounded tinny from the floor.

  “Long time no see . . .” Sawyer said.

  Delilah reminded herself to breathe.

  He filled the door opening and then some, making the already tight space that much smaller. It had been ten years since she’d last seen him. He’d grown taller. More solid. His chest and shoulders and dear, dear face . . . All at once there was too much to see. She couldn’t take him all in.

  “Sorry to crash your party, but I did try calling.” He knelt for her phone, then said into it, “Jesse, this is Sawyer. I’m on site and assuming responsibility for the client.”

  “Excellent,” Jesse said. “Call with any developments.”

  “Will do.” Sawyer ended the call. Handed over her phone.

  For an incalculable eternity they stood toe-to-toe, face-to-face, drinking each other in.

  Delilah’s fingertips tingled. She fought an irrational craving to dance them along his strong forehead, nose and jaw. He wore his velvet-black hair in a military cut. Did that mean he still hadn’t embraced the culture from which he’d once run? Her heart galloped, only to slow upon realizing he wasn’t here to rewrite history or claim her, but to catch a possible serial killer. She had to pull herself together.

  “I, ah,” after licking her lips, she found the wherewithal to continue, “I didn’t realize you and Jesse share the same occupation. He mentioned once having met you, but I didn’t think you kept in touch.”

  “We don’t. This was different. He cares about you, and since he wasn’t able to help, he figured I’d be the next best thing.”

  Does any part of you still care about me? Who was that whiny eighteen-year-old in her twenty-eight-year-old head?

  “Sounds like you’ve got a big mess. I probably can’t do much to clean it up, but while authorities work the facts, I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe.”

  You think about me while you’re sleeping? She gulped. Her cheeks superheated at the memory of the hot times they’d shared. And then she sobered when she recalled his reaction to her pregnancy scare. She’d secretly prayed she would carry his baby, wanting nothing more than to be together for the rest of their lives, but that was never meant to be.

  “Say something, Dee.” He was the only one who’d ever called her that. Everyone else shortened her name to Del.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about you being here.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Behind Sawyer, Jersey cleared his throat. “Is there a problem? Should I not have let this guy in?”

  “I’m fine,” Delilah grabbed Sawyer’s forearm, dragging him into her room, wishing the mere act of touching him hadn’t trampled what little remained of her sanity. “Thanks for checking.” After shutting the door, she said to Sawyer, “I know you mean well, and it was kind of you to volunteer for—”

  “Don’t get it twisted. This is a paid gig. My personal protective services don’t come cheap, and it’s no secret you need me.”

  She raised her chin. “I don’t need anyone.”

  He laughed. “Except for Daddy. How could I forget?”

  “Don’t bring my father into this. He had nothing to do with our mutual decision to cut our losses before either of us made a lifelong mistake.”

  “Right.” He turned his back on her, paced, then whipped back around, frightening her with his intensity. “Let’s address that elephant in the room. By lifelong mistake, I’m assuming you’re talking about the abortion?”

  “What?” His absurd accusation caught Delilah so off guard that she actually doubled over, clenching her stomach while stumbling backwards into her chair.

  “Don’t play dumb. It’s insulting.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. His breathing grew erratic. Had he harbored this insane idea for all these years? Was that why when she’d come to beg him for a second chance his mother had told Delilah he was already gone? Because he’d believed she hadn’t wanted their baby?

  He sat on the foot of the bed. Hands clasped tight, expression hard, he looked on the verge of exploding.

  “After you’d supposedly lost our unborn child,” he said in a carefully clipped tone, “your dad told me what really happened. How you’d had an abortion rather than be knocked up by an . . .” His voice cracked with what she assumed was barely contained rage.

  Covering her face with her hands, Delilah was unprepared for the sudden onslaught of emotions, pushing her into a time machine created by this shocking revelation. After a series of slow, deep breaths and inhalations, she said, “I swear to you on my life—my horse’s life—that I would never have even considered aborting our child. I wanted to marry you, Sawyer. I wanted to live on the reservation with you and your family, fighting to make things better. Losing the baby was just one of those things. My doctor told me it’s common. I went to your mom’s trailer to find you, but she told me you were gone. Never in a million years did I think you weren’t coming back—not even for her funeral.”

  “Don’t.” He held up both hands. “I’ll regret not being there till the day I die. She was a saint.”

  “Agreed.” Delilah arched her neck, staring up at the custom black ceiling imbedded with tiny lights to resemble stars. Her father loved reminding her that she was his lucky star. His pampered filly. At the moment, she felt more like a paper star that had been shredded. “I’m sorry.”

  He emitted a low groan of pure anguish. “You’re telling me everything your old man said was a lie?”

  “Yes. You were my world. I loved you in a way I never believed it was possible to love. But then you ran off to the Navy and with every year you were gone, I got better at living without you.” She raised her chin. “Having perfected the art, I’m happy—or, at least I was before . . .” The murders. She didn’t want to say the word out loud.

  “Good. We’re on the same page.”

  Were they? From where she stood, he owed her an apology. Sure, they’d been young, but old enough to create a child together. Old enough to talk out their grief as a couple as opposed to his running the first time they’d hit a bump in their road. Her once dewy love for him had turned ugly. And now she wanted nothing more than for him to return to the place where he belonged—firmly in her past.

  He was the first to break the awkward silence. “Have you thought about going home till this blows over?”

  “Women have died. That kind of thing doesn’t vanish like a bad smell.”

  “You know what I mean. Tell me about the first two deaths. Jesse said they could have been accidental?”

  “Yes.” In a perverted way, Delilah was glad to have the topic off of what they’d once shared.

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Didn’t Jesse?”

  “Sure, but I want to hear it in your words. Do you think they were accidents?”

  “Maybe? I did at the time. Donna Landry was electrocuted in her motel room tub.
I guess she dropped her hairdryer in the water. But in hindsight, she was too smart for that. She was a barrel racer. Had such a pretty smile. Everyone loved her.”

  “Not everyone.” Sawyer rubbed his forehead. “Did she have a hotheaded boyfriend? Rivals?”

  “No boyfriend. As for rivals?” She shrugged. “We all have them to a certain degree. Rodeo is competitive. There’s no getting around that. But we basically get along.”

  He nodded. “Can you think of anything linking her to Lola? Friends in common? Guys they both dated?”

  “No. But Callie Nelson—the second woman on our circuit to die—was also a barrel racer, so she, Donna and Lola had that in common. But Callie died in the arena. Everyone saw.” She shivered at the memory.

  “I know it’s hard, but what happened?”

  Bile rose in the back of her throat. “I-it was awful.” Eyes closed, she heard the shrill scream of little kids in the crowd. Smelled the normalcy of fresh popcorn and cotton candy. It struck her as unfathomable—how life and death had simultaneously played out. “One minute she was leaning into a turn and then she seemed to twist off her horse. She hit her head on the side of a barrel. Broke her neck. It was all so fast, but when my mind replays it, I watch in slow motion. Her dad said her saddle was sabotaged, but no one could prove it.”

  “This happened a month ago?”

  Nodding, Delilah wiped her clammy palms across her thighs. Thirty days and three talented, smart, beautiful souls had died. Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t want to show weakness in front of Sawyer. She didn’t know him like that. Not anymore.

  4

  SAWYER STOOD, PACING the small but luxurious space. “How do you want to play this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m here to protect you, so that’s what I intend to do. Given the violence the killer has shown, regardless of whether he or she committed the other two—”

  “Wait—you think a woman could have done that?”

  “At this stage, we can’t rule anything out. But like Jesse said, my primary job is protecting you. The police are already all over this, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be vigilant on all fronts.”

  “Sure, but I’m safe in here. I lock up at night.”

  “Lola probably locked her door, too. Yet, look what happened.”

  Delilah hugged herself. Her green eyes were bloodshot, as if she’d been crying. Not sleeping. He should have felt pity for her, yet the only identifiable emotion he carried was raw rage. Harding would have his ass in a sling for not handling this in a more professional manner. What was wrong with him? Why was there a part of him that didn’t believe her when she’d said she hadn’t aborted their baby?

  “So . . .” Sawyer cleared his throat. He had to snap out of this funk. He was a grown man, yet acting like this woman was still his mortal enemy for having wronged him. In reality, if what she’d said was true, they’d both been robbed. “You take the bed, and I’ll bunk on the floor.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” She held up her hands. “This is all moving too fast. It’s been a decade since I last saw you. We might as well be strangers.”

  “But we’re not.” His gaze locked with hers. For an untenable few seconds, the years between them were gone. He was a lovesick kid and she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Looking away, he released a long, slow exhale. “Funny, I owe you for the man I am today.”

  “You’re welcome.” Arms crossed, her stare held the warmth of a frozen pork chop.

  “I hated you.”

  “Ditto.”

  “But to now learn the reason behind that hate was all in my head?” He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. “It’s a lot to take in. I feel duped—like I should have known the whole situation was one of your father’s manipulative stunts.”

  “He’s not a bad man.”

  “Don’t.” His tone was harsh enough for her to flinch. He instantly regretted his hot temper almost as much as the way she’d hunched over, tucking within herself. “I’m sorry.” He crossed to her, dropped to his knees, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. “God, Dee, I’m so sorry—about everything.”

  He raised his arms, planning to cup her cheeks the way he used to but she pushed him away.

  “I need space.” She raised her feet onto the chair, hugging her knees.

  “Of course.” He backed away.

  “This is all too weird. The murders. After all this time, you show up out of the blue. It’s a lot to take in. I’m not sure I even want to hire you.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Of course, I do.” Arms dropped, she straightened her shoulders. He was glad to see her old fighting spirit. She’d need it to ride out what could be an ugly storm.

  “Think this through. At the moment, you might not like me, but you know me. You know I have your best interests at heart.”

  “Of course,” she said with a throaty laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Which is why when I’d just lost our baby and never needed you more, you were nowhere to be found. Sure, Sawyer. You’re my absolute top pick for a man to trust when the going gets rough.”

  “Look . . .” Her words stung. “I screwed up. I apologized. But what went down between us is in the past. Who’s to say whether or not the rodeo killings are linked? Even if they aren’t, this last one was a doozy. There’s a sick prick on the loose and I’ll be damned if I let your apparent need to punish me lead to you being his or her next victim.”

  “There you go again,” she bristled, “telling me what to do.”

  “Be logical. I’m—”

  His words were cut off by the room shaking as if they’d had an earthquake. From outside came the faint sound of raised voices.

  “What the?” Instantly on his feet, he surged to the door. Before opening it, he said to Delilah. “Lock up behind me.”

  “What do you think that was?”

  “I’m about to find out.” Hand on the doorknob, he said, “Promise you won’t open this door for anyone but me.”

  Wide-eyed, she swallowed hard, but then nodded.

  Sawyer felt for the reassuring bulge of the Glock 19 tucked into the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t anticipate using it, but better safe than shot. After a lingering glance at Delilah, he left the room. When he didn’t hear a lock click, he said through the door, “Forgetting something?”

  A deadbolt turned. Good girl.

  The RV’s central corridor was clear. All bunks were unoccupied with privacy curtains open. Outside, the argument grew more heated, but he still couldn’t make out the words. There was another odd thump. Maybe from a wheel well?

  Sawyer proceeded with caution into the also empty central room.

  A glance out the window showed three men all talking at once. The tough guy he’d first encountered. How had he introduced himself? Jersey. Then there was Zeb, who used to be one of Delilah’s father’s ranch hands. And a man who looked to be in his forties. He stood with his hands braced on his hips, legs open wide, neatly trimmed blond hair matching a blond goatee. He took a folded paper from the chest pocket of his denim shirt, unfolded it, then passed it around for all to see.

  Jersey and Zeb conferred.

  Sawyer exited the rolling mansion. From this new vantage, he found two men knelt before the rear tire. Another guy backed a massive flatbed towing rig up to the RV’s front. What the hell?

  “I’m in charge of this ride,” Zeb said, “and until I hear from my boss that you all are legit, you’ll have to tow my dead body out with you.”

  The stranger offered his cell. “Call him. Feel free to use my phone.”

  Jersey balled his fists. “You need to check yourself.”

  “What’s going on?” Sawyer asked, hoping to mediate a truce before rising tempers got someone hurt.

  “This Bozo says he’s here to repossess Miss Delilah’s home.” Zeb scratched his beard. “I’ve heard a lot of crazy things in my day, but for him to suggest Mr. Bowing doesn’t pay
his bills?” He huffed before using a handkerchief to wipe sweat from his brow. The afternoon had grown uncomfortably warm.

  “Give him a call,” Sawyer said to Zeb. To the repo man, he said. “I’m sure there’s been a miscommunication.” He held out his hand, introducing himself. “I’m a longtime family friend. Trust me, Mr. Bowing is richer than Croesus. He’ll sort this out.”

  “Randy Blevins,” the man said with a firm shake. “I’ve been doing this a while, and have yet to encounter a single mistake.”

  “Fair enough,” Sawyer said. “Zeb’s talking to the boss now.” It sickened Sawyer to refer to Walter Bowing as his employer, but he wanted to see how this played out with the least amount of friction. To assure he never technically worked for the bastard, Sawyer decided on the fly to use vacation time to protect Delilah for free.

  “Everything okay?” So much for Delilah following directions. She marched down the RV’s steps.

  “No.” Jersey pressed his hand to the small of Delilah’s back, whispering something into her ear.

  Sawyer fought back a possessive growl, reminding himself she was no longer his girl.

  Yet another man sauntered up. This one was a sharp-dressed city slicker type wearing creased jeans, shiny white ostrich boots and a matching white straw hat. His smile was pleasant enough—until he aimed it on Delilah. “Girl, you are a bona fide trouble magnet. What’s the problem now?”

  She used the backs of her hands to swipe tears from her eyes. “You’re not going to believe this—I’m having a hard time believing it. But the RV is being repossessed. I mean, I knew the rodeo was struggling to stay afloat, but I had no idea things were this bad.”

  “Honey,” he put his arm around her shoulders, speaking in a genteel country drawl. “Last time I saw Walter, he relayed to me in confidence that he’d had a business deal go south. I hope this isn’t a precursor to more bad news to come.”