The Cowboy Target

by Terri Reed

  Only with Wyatt, she wanted the cycle to stop. She wanted to hear his opinions, learn about his dreams.

  Things she shouldn’t need to know in order to provide protection. Most protectees liked to keep their bodyguards at a distance.

  “Seen but not intrusive” was the catchphrase.

  Jackie sometimes had a hard time abiding by that rule. She liked to dive in and see what made people tick. Maybe it was her years in law enforcement that made her want to know the motivations, the psychology behind behaviors.

  But on this assignment—and yes, she had to think of Wyatt and Gabby as an assignment if she hoped to maintain any sense of professionalism—digging into the psyche of her protectee could prove to be her undoing if she weren’t careful.

  Forming an attachment to the handsome cowboy and his adorable daughter would make leaving Wyoming difficult.

  His close proximity created agitated flutters in her tummy. He took up so much space, yet he was agile and economical in his movements, whether sipping tea with his daughter or hefting hay bales or slipping out of the shadows.

  She tried not to wonder what it would feel like to be held against his strong chest, enclosed in his warm embrace. Disconcerted by the train of her thoughts, she picked up the mug of cocoa, but the liquid inside had gone cold. She set the cup back down.

  “What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here?” Wyatt asked.

  Jackie played the question over in her mind. What would she be doing? “It would depend on whether I was on an assignment or not. If not, I’d be home with Spencer. Most likely training or catching up on my DVR shows.”

  “On a Friday night?”

  Her gaze shot to his. “Friday’s no different than any other day of the week. Well, except Sunday. I’d attend church Sunday morning.”

  “No special someone to take you out and treat you like a queen?”

  “Is this small talk or are you flirting with me?”

  Was he fishing to see if she was available? A delighted thrill raced through her. Why would he care? Her pulse sped up. And if he were flirting with her, what then?

  TEN

  Surprise flickered across his face. “Both, I guess.”

  A warm flush infused her cheeks. He was attracted to her, too. A heady sense of empowerment rushed through her. She fought to temper her responses. She was acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Crushing on Wyatt wasn’t a good idea; doing so would only lead to emotional heartache.

  “There’s no one special in my life right now,” she answered honestly. And she had no intention of changing that. Unless, someday...

  “But there was?”

  She’d let that slip, hadn’t she? “Once. But it was a mistake.” She made a face. “I fell for a coworker, a fellow deputy back when I was with the Atkins sheriff’s department.”

  His expression softened. “Didn’t work out, I take it.”

  “No, it didn’t.” She let out a scornful scoff. “He dumped me to marry the mayor’s daughter. Apparently they’d been carrying on for a while behind my back.” She hated that traces of bitterness still infused her tone. “Made working at the sheriff’s department difficult. The department wasn’t exactly crazy about the idea of a female deputy to begin with, so eventually I walked away.”

  His gaze assessed her. “But you didn’t want to.”

  She sighed. “No, it wasn’t what I wanted at the time.” Then she smiled. “But it all worked out for the best, you know. God had a plan for me. There are so many scriptures I cling to whenever life seems chaotic and random. And each one tells me God’s plan is better than any I could ever come up with.”

  He nodded. She wasn’t sure if he was agreeing that God’s plan was better or that her life worked out for the best.

  “I landed at Trent Associates a few months later, and life’s been great. I love what I do. And I’m good at my job.” She met his dark-eyed gaze. “I’m just really careful not to get involved romantically with the people I work with. Or the people I protect.”

  Something flickered across his face. His lips twisted in a rueful way that she found curious. “A wise decision.”

  More like self-preservation. Time to refocus this conversation. “Tell me about Dina.”

  His head snapped to the side as if she’d struck him. “There’s not much to tell.”

  Not about to let him wiggle out of telling his tale, she went for the heart of the matter. “Did you kill your wife?”

  * * *

  Wyatt didn’t deserve the tenderness echoing in her tone as she prodded him to tell her what had happened. “I didn’t murder my wife.” Guilt sliced through him, making him add, “But I am responsible for her death.”

  “What happened?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering.

  “She fell down the stairs and hit her head. The blow was fatal.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded robotic, monotone. But he couldn’t allow himself to let any inflection, any emotion betray the torment of that day because if he cracked, he didn’t know if he’d be able to put himself back together. And he needed to, for Gabby.

  “Did you push her?”

  He sucked in a sharp breath and felt the pain of her words stab him just as deeply as when his own mother had asked the same question. “No.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  Startled by her decisive tone, he stared. “You believe me?”

  She regarded him steadily. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

  He worked his mouth—he didn’t know how to answer that. Finally he said, “My own mother doesn’t believe me.”

  “She doesn’t believe you killed George.”

  Surprise rocketed through him. He’d assumed she would, because she had before.

  Jackie’s blue eyes darkened with compassion. “Why wouldn’t she believe you about your wife?”

  He wanted to bolt, to get away from her searching questions. Regret anchored him to the seat. “My marriage wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was pretty rocky.”

  He didn’t know why he was telling her this, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth from moving, the words from slipping out. “Dina and I met in college. She was from Seattle. We both came from broken homes. We got married the day after we graduated, and I brought her home to the ranch.”

  Jackie frowned slightly with a puzzled look. “That man at the library, the one named Boyd—is he related to her?”

  Surprised by the change in subject, he shook his head. “No. Boyd’s local like me.”

  “Neighbors?”

  “Yes, the Dunns’ property touches the back acres of the Monroe ranch. Why?”

  “Just curious.” She smoothed a hand over the leather armrest next to her. “Moving to the ranch must have been a big adjustment for a city girl.”

  He drew in a breath and let it out. “It was. Being married was an adjustment for both of us. At first it was fun, new, different. But as time went on, she started to resent the isolation of the ranch and my dedication to it. We’d fight. Horrible fights, lots of yelling and slamming doors. She’d leave and go to my mother’s. Of course, Mom knew me. She knew I had a temper.”

  “I can imagine you had some anger issues growing up,” she commented. “With your dad’s drinking and all.”

  He searched her face, looking for some sign of judgment, but her expression remained neutral as if they were discussing the weather rather than the intricacies of his personal life. A sense of relief crept in, but he couldn’t trust the feeling. She’d been trained as a police officer. Part of the training had to include not allowing visible reactions. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense to me that your mother would think you would harm Dina.” Jackie’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Unless...”

  “I never raised a hand t
o her,” he said flatly. “Ever.”

  “But you were a hothead, and they worried you would lose control.”

  She’d nailed it. She seemed to read him so easily. He’d better remember to keep his guard up around her. “And when she died, they all assumed...”

  “That you were at fault.” She finished his thought. “That you’d finally snapped.”

  “Yes.” He gave a dry laugh. “I’m sure Landers was itching to put me behind bars.”

  “If Sheriff Landers had been able to prove you were guilty of a crime, you’d be in jail and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Regardless of his feelings for you, the sheriff would do his job.”

  Wyatt snorted. “If he had his way, he’d lock me up now so fast it would make your head spin.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You really believe that?”

  “We don’t exactly get along.”

  “Because you’re too stubborn to see the truth,” she remarked drily.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The sheriff cares about you.”

  He scoffed. “How could you even know that?”

  “I’ve watched the way he has tried to protect you while still maintaining his professionalism. I’m sure he was the same then as now.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Landers had ridden him hard as a kid and teen, always on his case about his behavior, his attitude. The man had never once shown Wyatt affection or approval. Still didn’t. Not that Wyatt gave the man the opportunity now. He’d spoken to Landers more in the past few days than he had in the past few years.

  Every Sunday his mother and Landers took Gabby for the afternoon. Wyatt never joined them, despite the fact that they invited him for dinner every time.

  She lifted a slim shoulder. “I know what I see. And obviously there wasn’t evidence of guilt. So how did she fall?”

  “She tripped over one of Gabby’s toys.”

  He could see Jackie’s mind working as she held his gaze. Sitting so close, the specks of gold in her blue eyes were more visible. So pretty. His gaze caressed her face, touching on the defined cheekbones, the slight upward tilt to her slim nose and finally resting on her lush mouth.

  Awareness shimmered down his spine and his blood stirred, pushing back all thought except for the woman seated next to him. The sharp longing to pull her close caught him off guard. His fingers curled around the edges of a throw pillow.

  “There’s more, though, isn’t there?” she finally asked, forcing his gaze back to her eyes. “Something you’re holding back.”

  His mouth turned to cotton. His heart hammered in his chest. How did she do that? Work her way under his carefully guarded walls?

  The need to tell his story, to relate the events of that night, built in his midsection like the pressure inside a soda can threatening to explode from the tightly concealed container deep in his psyche where he’d stuffed all his memories, his guilt, his hurt. He didn’t want to open up. He didn’t deserve to be relieved of his burden of guilt.

  She laid her hand over his. Her palm was soft but strong as she used gentle pressure to pry his hand away from the pillow. She held on to it, offering comfort he didn’t deserve, couldn’t accept. Yet he was powerless to pull away. Instead he clung to her like a lifeline in a storm-swept sea.

  Words choked him, pushing past his resistance and forcing their way out. “We were arguing again,” he confessed for the first time. “She was unhappy. Accusing me of not loving her enough.”

  Self-reproach twisted beneath his ribs. He’d loved Dina with as much of his heart as he could. But it hadn’t been enough. Not for her. “She was so out of control. I kept telling her to be quiet. I was afraid Gabby would wake up and be scared. But Dina wouldn’t stop yelling. Saying horrible things. Hurtful things.”

  The words rang in his mind now as clearly as that night. He forced those hateful words back into the cage deep inside. Not even for Jackie would he repeat Dina’s words, no matter how good it felt to finally tell someone about that night.

  “I knew I had to get out of there or I would lose it.” He took a shuddering breath as the memories assaulted him. “I stormed out of our bedroom and down the stairs. She ran after me but tripped at the top of the stairs on Gabby’s wooden train.”

  He closed his eyes, reliving that moment. “I heard her scream. Saw her tumble down the stairs.”

  He opened his eyes as he met Jackie’s gaze. “She landed with a sickening thud on the hardwood floor. The force of the fall split her scalp. There was so much blood.” The image of the dark stain pooling beneath her head was imprinted on his brain.

  Jackie’s gaze was on the staircase, as if she could see the images in his mind. “And because you were arguing, everyone came to the conclusion that you were responsible for her death.”

  He grimaced. “Not exactly. I never told anyone we were fighting that night.”

  Her gaze whipped to meet his. “Why not?”

  “Because of exactly what you just said. If I’d told anyone we were in the middle of a quarrel when she fell, people would automatically assume I’d pushed her.”

  “But they came to that conclusion anyway.”

  The irony was not lost on him. “Yes, they did. I tried to revive her. And in the process, I contaminated the scene and transferred her blood to my clothes.”

  “As anyone would have. But it was an accident, so why do you blame yourself?”

  “If we hadn’t been arguing, if I’d kicked that train aside instead of stepping over it, if I’d been a better husband—loved her enough—she wouldn’t have died. Gabby wouldn’t be growing up without a mother.”

  “It takes two to argue. And two to make a marriage work.”

  Wise words. “In theory.”

  “In truth,” she said, her voice adamant. “My parents have been married for nearly forty years. They would be the first to say it’s hard work keeping a marriage going, but it’s worth it.”

  There was a note of yearning underlying her words. Despite her ex-fiancé’s betrayal, it was obvious she still longed for hearth and home with a husband who could love her fully.

  He withdrew his hand from hers. He had no business accepting her comfort when he had nothing to offer her in return. “Not all of us had such good role models.”

  Compassion lit her eyes. “I know. That makes it tougher—but not impossible. God gives us free will. We can choose to follow what was modeled for us, or we can choose a different path. It all comes down to choices.”

  “Yeah, but we also have to live with the consequences of someone else’s choice.” He and his dad had to suffer the results of his mother’s desertion.

  “True. And there are no guarantees in life.”

  “Right.” He knew that too well. “If Dina hadn’t died that night, she’d have left me anyway.” As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back.

  “Is that what you were arguing about? Had she threatened to leave you?”

  Feeling sick to his soul, he nodded. “She wanted to go back to Seattle. She wanted to take Gabby. She said—” He clamped his jaw shut, trapping the words on his tongue as a bone-deep anguish threatened to split him in half.

  “She said what?” Jackie prompted, her voice soft, caring.

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t say it. Couldn’t. Because if he repeated the words Dina had flung at him, then he’d have to deal with them. And he didn’t think he ever could.

  Jackie touched his arm. Her small, strong and capable hand was firm and warm on his biceps. “Wyatt, whatever she said is eating away at you. The only way you’ll ever heal is if you face it.”

  He swallowed hard. The need to tell Jackie became a physical ache, making his eyes burn and his chest tighten. “She said she didn’t know if Gabby was my child.”
/>   Jackie let out a small gasp. “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  Emotion tightened a noose around his throat. “I love my little girl so much.”

  “I know you do.” There was a tender note in her voice. “Have you confirmed it?”

  Confusion fogged his brain. “Confirmed what?”

  “Whether Gabby is yours or not?”

  Reality sharpened as her words slapped him upside the head. “It doesn’t matter whose blood flows in her veins. She’s my child.”

  “But knowing for sure would give you peace of mind.”

  “I’m not going to risk it. I’d rather live not knowing than face the possibility that it’s true, that she’s not my biological child.”

  “And in the meantime you’ll just let it eat away at you.”

  His penance for not being the husband he should have been. He let his silence be his answer.

  “You must have loved Dina to have married her.”

  He nodded slowly. “I did. She was everything I wasn’t. Gregarious, creative, fun. I should have known better than to bring her here. This place stifled her. Brought out the worst in her. The worst in me.”

  “Not the worst. You raised Gabby together. She’s a blessing from God.”

  His fingers flexed. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, she is.”

  “You’d do anything for her.”

  “I would.”

  “Even if it was painful?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Yes,” he said warily.

  “Then find out if she’s your biological child.”

  His jaw clenched. “I told you that is not going to happen. Gabby’s paternity doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does.” She reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched, but she didn’t relent. “Knowing the truth is the only way you’ll have inner peace. Knowing the truth may someday save her life.”