by Alice Sharpe
What had Echo said? Something about how if she was the looter, she’d come back tonight.
What did she know?
He heard a far-off motor, thought he saw indistinct shapes moving through the trees; it even looked like a horse was down there on the far side of the lake.
He rubbed his eyes and shook his head and everything disappeared except the feeling that he shouldn’t be locked inside this house, he should be at that cave. If Echo was right, he’d never forgive himself…?.
Or her, for that matter.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed and armed with his trusty hunting rifle, he rode out of his barn.
Chapter Four
He skirted the calm lake, traveling the moonlight-dappled trail at a steady gait. Now that he’d made the decision to go, he cursed the hours he’d wasted after their late supper.
Echo hadn’t shared the male-only meal. Pauline explained she and Echo had eaten hours earlier and Echo had begged off visiting that night in favor of nursing her wounds. He would have liked to see her—since the moment he’d left her side, she’d been ever present in his mind. He found her combination of audacity and humor both annoying and interesting. The Westin household could at times be pretty darn somber.
There’d been a couple of years when things had been different at the Open Sky. Right after Cody married Cassie and brought her home, every corner of the big place had suddenly filled with light. Cassie was a beauty with tumbling fair hair and angelic blue eyes, and the way she and Cody had looked at one another had made Adam curious about the kind of love that blossomed into a lifetime promise. He’d enjoyed their interactions, he’d been amused by his father’s more frequent smiles. Cassie even managed to win over Pauline who was pretty damn territorial when it came to her kitchen and household. But Cassie was like that. Easy to like, full of kindness.
At least at first. And then she’d grown increasingly quiet and concurrently, Cody had retreated inside himself. It was obvious their marriage was in trouble.
It culminated at last in a macabre reenactment of the past. Cassie left the ranch just as Adam’s mother had done decades before her. At first it had seemed she’d just be gone a few days, but time had passed and she’d just not come back.
Afterward? After Cassie left? It was obvious to Adam that Cody was determined to find her. Maybe it was because their father hadn’t tried to find their mother that he became obsessed with it. He’d hired a detective he thought no one knew about, and Adam was pretty sure it was a call from that detective that had made Cody call Pierce home months before.
Love hadn’t been kind to the Westin men, although Pierce swore his own tragedies that had included a ruined marriage had lifted the moment he met Princess Analise Emille. Adam hoped the passion he saw between them would burn forever; it worried him that his brother had chosen to share a ranching life with a woman raised in a castle of all places…?.
And yet she seemed tough under all that refined glamour, and very sure of what and who she was. What more could anyone give than the truth of their essence?
Careful, he warned himself. You don’t want to become one of those damn cowboy poets.
He urged the horse onward. Solar Flare knew the trails as well as he did—both of them could travel in near dark. Without Echo and Bagels to create a diversion, the route they traveled was a lot faster. Within an hour he was close enough to the cave to slow down lest thundering hoofbeats alert someone—if anyone was out here to alert.
Solar Flare appeared to understand the concept of tiptoeing or so it seemed to Adam as he led him along the path. The valley where a long-extinct Native American tribe had presumably summered hundreds of years before was full of shadows; the cave mouth was a short climb up the mountain face and, as luck would have it, located on the side of the mountain illuminated by the moon.
Still, unfortunately, it was impossible to tell if the covering door to the cave stood ajar. Too many shadows. He’d have to go up there and look.
He tied Solar Flare to a tree before proceeding down the hillside toward the valley. His plan was to skirt the flat areas and climb the mountain hugging the shadows. This time he’d have his rifle ready.
If the lily-livered thief was currently inside the cave busily looting his greedy little heart out, maybe there was a better way of catching him, one that wouldn’t result in more gunfire. How about guarding the cave entrance, calling Cody on his cell to get together a few guys and come on out here? Call the sheriff, too. Hell, the more the merrier.
On the other hand, the very act of disturbing the artifacts was a sacrilege and if left to do as he pleased, the thief would undoubtedly strip the burial cave clean before daybreak. He might not get out if Adam guarded the door, but the damage would be done.
A movement in the bushes ahead settled matters. The thief apparently hadn’t made it to the cave yet. If Adam could get the drop on him, he could launch a surprise attack and bundle the culprit off Open Sky. By dawn he’d be back to work and this would be over with.
All these thoughts raced through Adam’s mind as he crept down the dark side of the hill, glad the moonlight wasn’t directly overhead to give away his position. Every few seconds he stopped to listen, alarmed when he no longer heard movement. Had the thief detected Adam’s approach?
The question was answered an instant later when Adam felt the barrel of a gun jab into the middle of his back. Damn, he’d been made.
“Drop the rifle.”
The voice was muffled. Adam flashed on the bandana the thief wore over the lower part of his face; that explained the voice…?.
“I said drop it.”
Adam slowly lowered the rifle to the ground at his side. When the thief unexpectedly leaned over to pick it up, Adam seized the moment. Turning on the balls of his feet, he tackled the man.
Clutched together, they tumbled down the sloping land, Adam’s rifle abandoned behind. The guy wasn’t very big or strong though he threw some decent punches and with both hands, which meant he must have lost his weapon, too. After a few moments of wrestling and grunting, Adam pinned the guy to the ground and sat on him, keeping a forearm across his throat. They were both breathing heavy.
Gradually, it occurred to Adam that something was wrong.
He tried to blink into focus the pale oval face beneath his but the light was miserable. He felt for the bandana but it must have come off in the struggle and his fingers grazed slick lips. The click of teeth warned he’d come close to getting bitten. He loosened his stranglehold. “Who the hell—”
“Are you trying to kill me?” his victim demanded.
“Not yet. Not until I find out who you are.”
There was a long pause followed by a whispered, “Adam? Is that you?”
A waft of some kind of fruity scent hit his nose at the same time he realized the slippery substance he’d felt on his fingertips was lipstick. Echo!
How could he have not known he was sitting on a woman? Now that he did, everything about her was obvious, from her breasts pressed between his knees to the softness of her throat under his fingers…
He drew both hands back. “Are you okay?”
“Please stop asking me that.”
“Maybe if you could go more than a couple hours without throwing yourself under a bus, I would.”
“Move. You’re heavy.”
“I don’t know if I should. You’re a walking, talking menace.” He said this as he moved off her. On his knees by her side, he offered a hand, which she must have seen as she took it. They sat face-to-face in the dark.
He took a deep breath. “What are you doing out here?”
“The same thing you’re obviously doing.”
“But you were injured.”
“Pauline is a whiz with bandages and antiseptic.”
He shifted his weight off a sore leg. “Why in the world did you think it was a good idea to jab a gun against my spine?”
“I thought you were the bad guy. You were making a lot of noise—”
/>
“I was not.”
“Oh, please. How do you think a greenhorn like me managed to get the drop on you?”
“Judging from everything I’ve seen since you got here, I’d say dumb, blind luck.”
“You wish.”
“Where did you get a gun, anyway?”
She was quiet for a second. “Well, it wasn’t really a gun.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“It was a stick.”
“You stuck a stick in an armed man’s back?”
“More like a branch. I thought you were his partner…”
Adam’s heart skipped a beat. “His partner? Whose partner? You mean you saw someone else out here?”
“Yes. I think—”
Her voice broke off as he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. “Where?” he insisted. “When?”
“On the mountain, right before I heard you coming.”
“At the cave?”
“He was climbing…?.”
He dropped her arm. “And then you and I made a huge ruckus fighting our way down the slope. He couldn’t have missed hearing that.”
“I suppose—”
“Which means he’ll come investigate.”
The flare of her sudden anxiety charged the still air between them like a downed electrical wire. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe he’ll just leave.”
“Maybe not.”
“Let’s go find your rifle.”
“My idea exactly.” When their hands brushed, he grabbed her fingers. Best to keep her close so she didn’t go off on a tangent and get them both killed.
They climbed the slope as quietly as they could, stopping every few feet to feel for signs of broken bushes to confirm they were going the right direction. The light was slightly brighter headed uphill; a flashlight would have helped a lot but no way was Adam going to risk that.
“I need both hands,” she whispered, and broke away. After a few seconds during which he came across his jackknife which must have tumbled out his pocket unnoticed, she added, “I found the branch I used. Your rifle has to be somewhere nearby.”
The words had no sooner passed her lips when gunfire sounded from the valley and a piece of the bark—on a tree less than five feet away from Adam’s head—flew off and hit him on the cheek. The gunman had found them in the shifting moonlight. Even Adam could see Echo down on all fours patting the ground. Just as she found his rifle, another shot sounded.
“Stay down,” he hollered right before the impact of a bullet spun him to the ground. He grabbed his left shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. “Echo! Where are you? Find cover!”
He lay still, hoping she hadn’t been hit, as well. She’d been up the slope, behind him, but he couldn’t locate her exact whereabouts now without sitting up and he wasn’t going to do that.
And then he heard noise. Steps, breaking plants, broken twigs… Someone was coming up the hill toward them.
“Stop right there!” Echo hollered, her voice closer than Adam had figured. “Stop or I’ll shoot.” Without waiting, she let loose with the weapon.
The noise was deafening. Adam squeezed himself into the ground, willing himself to shrink and praying Echo kept the gun barrel high enough to miss him. He could imagine how terrified she was—damn, he was just as terrified but mostly of her…?.
He closed his eyes. If the unknown gunman kept advancing while being on the receiving end of Echo’s volley, he couldn’t be too big a chicken.
It seemed to go on and on in a distant fading way. Adam felt himself drifting. He was glad for the warm earth beneath him as hell raged overhead.
Chapter Five
She moved her hands over his prone body and felt blood and torn clothes.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she leaned over him and whispered his name, feeling his throat, searching for a pulse, cursing herself for becoming a television producer when she could have done something useful with her life like going to medical school. She felt no reassuring pulse, just the shaking of her own hands.
The moon bathed his face in silver light, glancing off the planes of his cheeks, stressing his bone structure. His hat was long gone and his hair now brushed his forehead above his eyebrows. He looked young and vulnerable, more like the child she’d known a lifetime before, the one she’d worked hard to impress or infuriate, anything but be ignored…?.
Smoothing a few dark locks away and leaning down, she carefully kissed his lips. “I’m so sorry—”
A hand clutched her wrist and she gasped.
“What are you sorry about now?” Adam mumbled.
She threw herself down on him, tasting the salt from her own tears as she kissed his face a half dozen times.
“Easy, easy,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m fine. Just a little bullet hole. Where’s the gunman?”
She sat back up, wiping tears away from her cheeks, gathering her aplomb. “I heard an engine start,” she said at last.
“And you’re not hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. Just scared. I thought you were dead and I thought it was my fault, that my bullets had hit you. Damn it, Adam, I thought I killed you!”
“I’m sure you tried your best,” he said, releasing his hold on one of her hands. “The other guy just got me first. Help me sit.”
She smiled at his snarky remark, feeling better at once. The world was whole again. “Do you think sitting is a good idea?”
“Yeah. Come on, help me.”
She gave him a hand to steady himself as he slowly sat up. She’d brought along a flashlight and she used it now to study his wound, poking with her finger a little. He shrank away from her.
“You’re kind of delicate for a cowboy, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Watch it!”
“I don’t think the bullet is still in there. I think it went right on through.”
“This is your expert opinion?”
“Yes. I gave my cat a distemper shot once. I know all about this stuff. I’ll stop the bleeding and you’ll feel better.”
Within a few minutes, she’d stripped off her jacket. She was about to tell him to close his eyes but that was silly. Without a flashlight pointing at an object—in this case her—it was darn near invisible. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, then put the jacket back on over her bra.
The sweatshirt got cut into a dozen strips and patches with his pocketknife. “It’s not bleeding too much anymore,” she finally said as she tied the last soft strip of cotton around his shoulder. “Did you ride your horse?”
“Yeah. How about you?”
“I brought Bagels.”
“After what you went through today, you saddled Bagels and rode him all the way out here?”
“Yes. All by myself.” She didn’t mention getting lost once or twice. No need for details.
“I doubt he’s still around.”
“I don’t know. I tied him up pretty good.”
“Judging from the way he reacted to your tension earlier today, the gunfire must have terrified him. Don’t worry, he’ll find his way home, but it means you’re stuck here with me because I’m not leaving this cave. Will you dig my phone out of my left pocket?”
“You can’t stay here!”
“I’m not leaving.”
“I’ll stay, you go home.”
He laughed—oblivious in the dark of her narrowing eyes—but his voice, when he spoke, was soft. “Please, Echo, just help me get the phone.”
She did as he asked, squeezing her hand into his front left pocket. It was a tight fit and she could tell her hand fishing around down there had a predictable effect on his libido, which was pretty amazing given his current condition. She tried to make the search as impersonal as possible. Still, his arousal intrigued her—perhaps he wasn’t indifferent to her, after all. Hooking his phone, she dragged it out of his pocket and handed it to him. “Who are you calling?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Cody. He can come help us so we can go bac
k to the ranch. I need to make arrangements to have this site protected.”
“But your father—”
“To hell with my father. You could have been killed tonight.”
She diplomatically chose not to point out that she wasn’t the one with a bullet in the shoulder. Instead, she cleaned up the makeshift medical supplies while Adam called his brother. As he talked, she went downhill in search of Bagels and found he’d bolted just as Adam had predicted, all but breaking off the limb to which he’d been secured. Then she marched uphill and found Adam’s horse quietly munching weeds and staring into the dark as though this was just a night like any other.
But it wasn’t.
She leaned her forehead against the big horse and wrapped an arm around his neck. He produced a soft sigh and nuzzled her hair.
Eventually she wandered back to Adam’s side and found he’d scooted up sideways to lean against a tree. A quick once-over with the flashlight revealed he was ashen beneath his tan and his teeth were clenched.
“Cody is on his way,” he said.
She sat down beside him. “How are you doing?”
“Peachy.”
“How are you really doing?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Are you cold?”
“A little. You?”
“Yes,” she said although she wasn’t. All that running up and down the hill had warmed her up, but he looked like he could use a little TLC. She moved closer, snuggling against his right side and doing her best to remember she was there for warmth and comfort and nothing else.
“I have to hand it to you,” she said.
He’d sunk down a little. “Why?”
“Well, I thought life on a ranch would be kind of, I don’t know, predictable.”
“It is,” he murmured.
She didn’t respond. Nothing she’d experienced since getting here had seemed even remotely predictable.
In a halting voice, he added, “Normally it’s all about the ranch. The cows. The animals. Things happen in a pattern, seasons bring different challenges. Pulling calves—”
“What’s that mean?”
