by Robin Perini
“I don’t like threats. You’re worse than your old man, King. And he was an SOB.”
“You took advantage of him and nearly cost Dad our land,” Jared said, with a bite. “But I’m not the pushover my father was. The Army taught me how to fight.”
Ned’s face paled, but like most cowards, he didn’t face a battle, he ran.
“This isn’t over.” He turned to his son. “Start the truck.”
Chuck ran over to the brand-new F-350 and jumped in. Ned followed and heaved himself into the front seat. “I’m keeping the dam.”
Chuck gunned the accelerator, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.
Jared rubbed his brow where the headache had erupted just beneath the surface. Ned had to know he was on thin ice diverting a waterway that flowed across more than his own property. Problem was, bureaucracy could take months to deal with it and the spring livestock needed that water.
“I say we send some equipment in and bust a hole in the dam.” Jared’s foreman sidled up to him. “The Criswells won’t give in,” Roscoe Hines said under his breath. “They’re getting desperate.” He glanced at their newest hand. “Tim, try to distract Angel Maker.”
Jared kneaded the base of his neck in exasperation. “Ned was a bully when he screwed my dad. He hasn’t changed. He won’t back off even if it’s in his own best interest. Using water as a leverage to change our deal is a mistake. He’s doing a lot of damage and he won’t win. Our contract is ironclad.”
The clatter of wooden planks and the banging of metal clamored from Angel Maker’s pen.
“Speaking of bad blood...” Roscoe raced to the bull’s pen. “Get out of there, Tim.”
The eighteen-year-old hand jumped over the fence and out of the pen. Angel Maker rammed the wood, and it creaked under the two-and-a-half-ton bull’s weight.
Tim’s freckled-face had gone red with exertion. He bent over and sucked wind, but his eyes gleamed with challenge.
Roscoe shook his head in incredulity and sauntered back over to Jared. “That kid’s either going to be a hell of a good hand, or he’s going to wind up dead.”
“I’m betting the former,” Jared said. “Reminds me of Derek the first time you guys drove up to the ranch after Dad hired you.”
“That son of mine was some daredevil, that’s for sure.” Roscoe smiled, that proud grin only a father could have for his son. “He said he’d come visit soon, but every time he makes plans, work interferes.”
“We need to get him out here, see if he’s forgotten how to ride.”
Man, they’d had fun together as kids on a ranch with no fences, no boundaries. The moment Derek had arrived on the ranch he and Jared had been inseparable. There’d been hard work and a lot of chores; they’d gotten into their share of trouble, but Jared hadn’t minded. They’d faced the discipline together. From junior high rodeo through high school football, up through and including enlisting at the Army recruitment office. Strange how life had taken them in different directions. Their paths had diverged so much, he hadn’t seen Derek in a couple of years.
“He likes his new job?”
“He seems to. Makes more money than I ever dreamed.” Roscoe shook his head in befuddlement. “Not sure how exactly. Something to do with computers.”
“He was always book smart,” Jared said. He’d have to give his old friend a call. Roscoe had been looking a little under the weather lately. Jared couldn’t convince his foreman to see the doc. Maybe Derek could.
The roar of an engine broke into his thoughts just as a baby blue Mustang drove up to the main house about fifty or so feet away.
“You expecting someone?” Roscoe asked, eyeing the vehicle.
“Not that I know of.” Who’d drive a dang fool car like that onto his ranch?
“Maybe someone else on the hunt for all those greenbacks you got stashed in the bank.”
Jared scowled at his foreman. A few five-times-removed relatives had come out of the woodwork once word of the oil went public. Jared had tried to help until they’d made it clear they hadn’t wanted a leg up, but a perpetual handout. Once he’d cut off the money, they’d disappeared once again.
The car stopped and the engine went quiet. It sat there for several moments until one long, shapely leg, then another, stepped out.
The woman ran her fingers through her hair. The sun gleamed off the blonde locks. Roscoe let out a long, slow whistle.
Jared couldn’t move. He blinked once. Then again.
It couldn’t be. Not her.
She stood still, in her four-inch heels and tailored dress, looking like a city girl who had been dropped into a foreign land. She tucked her short hair behind one ear and hesitated, turning in a circle, taking in the lay of his ranch.
He fought the urge to wash the dirt away and waited, his breath quickening as the lines of her back then the curves of her front came into view. It was her, all right. He didn’t know her name, but what he did know made his libido perk up and his heart thud to attention for the first time in the eighteen months since he’d held her in his arms.
Unable to stop himself, Jared crossed the yard. The closer he got, the more he noticed the fidgety movement of her hands.
At least she couldn’t hide her nerves. Made him feel a bit better, because his damn hands were shaking too.
About ten feet away from her, he paused.
She faced him and lifted her gaze to his.
His breath caught. It was her. She was here. On his land. Exactly like he’d dreamed more times than he could count.
Her cobalt blue eyes widened as if she couldn’t believe it was him.
Well, ditto.
The rumblings of a tractor, the whinny of the horses, the snort of Angel Maker faded into the background. The world melted away; his heartbeat whooshed inside his head.
She blinked and glanced over her shoulder into the vehicle.
Her movement shocked him back to reality. He strode toward her, forcing himself not to hurry too fast.
“I’m surprised,” he said, determined to keep his tone nonchalant.
“As am I,” she said.
Her voice was a bit huskier than he remembered. He studied her face and detected tension around her mouth, redness staining her eyes.
They stared at each other, the awkward silence continuing far too long. What was he supposed to say? I came back to the hotel room but you were gone? Or maybe the more appropriate, So, we slept together a year and a half ago and the earth moved. What’s your name?
At that moment, Velma marched down the steps of the main house, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Not much gave away her age, except her silvered-auburn hair and her devil-may-care curiosity. She wasn’t shy about inserting herself into almost any conversation either.
She shot him a piercing stare and tilted her head. He could see her interest building. A small curse escaped under his breath. His housekeeper was more like his grandmother than anything. She’d worked for the King family as long as Jared could remember. She knew him too well, and unfortunately, she’d developed a sixth sense whenever Jared found himself in a situation that could turn awkward at any moment.
Her gaze alternated between him and their visitor. “Quite a set of wheels, boyo. You must be drooling.”
She sent him that knowing gaze she’d used when she knew he wanted something in the worst way. She had no idea. Unfortunately, Jared could feel the heat flooding his cheeks.
“And who might your friend be?” Velma asked with a satisfied grin, walking boldly over and sticking out a hand to introduce herself.
“I’m Courtney Jamison,” the woman responded. A nervous smile tilted their visitor’s lips.
Courtney Jamison. He let her name settle across his mind. It suited her. It screamed New York and the Waldorf Astoria where they’d met. It definitely didn’t suit the Last Chance Ranch.
Not by half.
A cry sounded from the car.
“You have a little one?” Velma asked, her smile lighting as bright as the West Texas sun on a clear day.
“His name is Dylan.” Courtney reached into the backseat, fiddled with something in the car and pulled a baby from the vehicle.
“Almost a year?” Velma asked.
“Nine months,” Courtney said softly, looking straight at Jared.
“A big boy then.”
Nine months. That meant she got pregnant about eighteen months ago. New York.
It couldn’t be. It was just one night. One...
As if in a trance, he closed the distance between him and Courtney. He stared into the little boy’s eyes. One brown. One green. The baby had heterochromia. Just like him.
Jared held out his hand. It shook. Dylan leaned against his mother’s chest and dipped his face into her neck.
“Dylan,” Courtney whispered. “This is your daddy.”
The words struck Jared harder than Angel Maker’s most vicious charge. His mind whirled in denial even as the truth peeked at him from beneath long, baby-fine lashes. He couldn’t deny that he stood face-to-face with the one thing he’d never believed he’d have.
Dylan tilted his head and a smile lit his face. He leaned forward with outstretched hands. Jared bent closer. The baby grabbed his hat and threw it to the ground, chuckling.
“Takes after you, boyo,” Velma said. “That’s plain to see.”
A strange white noise buzzed in Jared’s ears. He shook the static away. “How did you find me?” he asked, barely able to croak out the words.
He didn’t want to say more. Velma and Roscoe both had big ears, and they were obviously curious. He’d be fielding a whole lot of questions before sunset hit anyway.
Jared picked up his hat and held it toward Dylan. He couldn’t take his eyes off the baby. The little guy grabbed the brim and tugged.
Strong grip, his son had.
His son.
What was he supposed to do about that?
“I saw a news story about the bull you saved. That’s how I found you.” Courtney nodded toward Angel Maker, who appeared to be eyeing Tim for a second soul-fearing battle. “That’s him?”
“In the flesh.”
He wouldn’t be diverted by that animal. He had a million questions, but he’d start with one. “Why are you here, Courtney?”
Her name caressed his tongue, and he lingered on the taste for a moment.
She glanced away, not meeting his gaze. Something didn’t feel right. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened to attention. She chewed on her lip and seemed to be searching for the words.
“You could’ve called,” he said. “Or had a lawyer contact me. Instead, you traveled halfway across the country with our son with no way of predicting my reaction. Why?”
She straightened her back and lifted her chin. At this angle, he could take in every detail of her reddened eyes and tightly drawn lips. Something was definitely wrong.
“I came for your help. Someone has threatened to kill our son.”
* * *
COURTNEY HAD NEVER seen anyone react so fast. The words had barely left her lips when Jared’s gaze scanned the perimeter. The muscle in his jawline pulsed, and a flat, dangerous stillness settled through his body.
“Come with me,” he said, gripping her arm with a firm hand.
He didn’t take a second look at Dylan, didn’t hesitate. He pulled her toward the sprawling ranch style house and glanced over his shoulder. “Roscoe, check in with the hands. I want to know if anyone’s seen anything...off.”
“But we’ve already doubled security because of—”
“Triple-check everything,” Jared snapped.
The grizzled cowboy didn’t hesitate. He gave a curt nod and hurried into a huge barn past the pen holding the angry-looking bull.
Courtney had never experienced a more surreal moment. Jared didn’t question her; he didn’t look at her like she was crazy. He simply acted.
He shuffled her up the steps and across the wide wooden porch. He opened the screen door and held it while she disappeared inside. She couldn’t quite accept the foreign place where she found herself. On an actual Texas ranch in the middle of nowhere after a too long drive from an airport that had taken all of ten minutes to walk from one end to the other.
Not to mention she currently stood only a short city block away from a vicious-looking bull, several stereotypical cowboys, a bevy of horses and a large barn. If it hadn’t been for the beat-up pickup truck she’d parked besides, she’d have wondered what century she’d landed in.
“Velma, lock the front door, shut the curtains and stay inside,” Jared ordered the woman hurrying behind them. “I don’t want either of you out in the open until I know exactly what’s going on.”
The housekeeper didn’t pause or argue, but moved in a whirlwind to follow his instructions. Jared tugged on Courtney’s arm. Normally she would have resisted the manhandling, but he’d stunned her. She hadn’t even showed him the note yet.
“My luggage—”
“I’ll bring it in later.”
The curt words brooked no argument. At Jared’s tone Dylan squirmed in her arms, whimpering a bit. She bounced him, holding him closer. “It’s okay, Jelly Bean. We’re going to be fine.”
She could only pray she wasn’t lying.
Courtney kissed his forehead and breathed in his baby powder scent. She touched her cheek to Dylan’s soft hair and closed her eyes. The blackmailer had forced her to keep his cell phone. She wasn’t stupid. He had to be tracking her. He had to know she’d flown to Texas. She’d believed him when he’d promised she couldn’t hide.
She’d needed help and law enforcement was off the table. She’d risked everything coming here. The blackmailer had been perfectly clear. He wanted money. Since she didn’t have any and neither did her father, she had no choice. Jared was her only option to protect her son.
After a glance through the shutters in the front window, he faced his housekeeper. “Velma, show Courtney into my study. I’ll check the back door.”
Brow furrowed, Velma crossed the stone foyer to a set of large mahogany double doors. “Come along, dearie.”
Courtney followed, trying to keep her increasingly unhappy son calm. She rubbed his back in slow, circular motions. Velma snapped closed the curtains on three large windows before flipping on a series of track lights to brighten the wood paneled room.
Dylan clutched at the neck of Courtney’s Louis Vuitton dress, his mouth drooling, his face reddening.
“I know what you want,” she whispered, gently pushing his light brown hair off his forehead. She settled into a large leather sofa and zipped open the diaper bag, pulling out a teething biscuit.
Dylan grabbed the treat in both hands and stuffed it into his mouth, gnawing with gusto. He sagged against her, content for the moment.
“You know your boy well,” Velma remarked with approval.
“He’s my son.”
“And mine.” Jared stood, outlined by the dark wood door frame, a rifle crooked over his bent arm. “The house is secure. I’ve instructed four hands to keep watch. Velma, I could use some of that coffee cake you made yesterday.”
“Go easy, boyo,” she cautioned with a small pat on his arm.
Courtney shivered at the warning. Jared didn’t respond, but firmly closed the doors behind Velma’s retreating figure. The catch clicked into place.
Slowly he faced her, his tall figure and broad shoulders shrinking the large room. Most New York apartments would fit comfortably into a tiny corner of his home.
She squirmed in her seat, feeling at a distinct disadvantage. If Dylan hadn’t been so comfortably settled on her lap, she would have faced Jared standing instead of him looming above her. The weapon didn’t h
elp.
As if reading her mind, he propped the gun in the corner, squatted down in front of her and stared unblinkingly at Dylan. The baby gazed back, still working on his biscuit. Jared thrust a hand through his short dark hair. It shook slightly and a flash of insight struck Courtney. He may have gone all alpha on her, but their son had Jared King spooked.
Cautiously, gently he touched Dylan’s leg, then clasped his tiny hand. The little boy grabbed his finger and squeezed. A small smiled tilted Jared’s lips. A sad sigh escaped him and reluctantly he pulled away.
“Who wants to hurt our son?” he asked with a frown, his focus still glued to Dylan.
Despite some misgivings, Courtney had no choice but to trust Jared. That’s why she’d come. She tugged a sheet of paper from the zippered pocket of the diaper bag and handed it over. “I found this pinned to one of Dylan’s stuffed animals yesterday. Someone was in my apartment. They k-killed...”
Her voice broke as she relayed what little she knew.
He read the note and with each word of her explanation Jared’s eyes grew icier. His jaw muscle pulsed. “Did you call the police?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk their involvement with that note. I had to protect Dylan.”
“I see.” Jared stared at the floor, his gaze thoughtful. “Leaving was your only option.”
His words were a statement of fact, not a question and the vice around her heart eased a bit. Maybe she’d done the right thing after all.
Who else could she trust after everything that had happened? Her entire body shook as her mind rewound yesterday’s horror.
“I left Marilyn. On the floor. Alone. Her family lives in Maine. They don’t even know what happened.”
Courtney pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes to keep back the tears. The guilt tore through her. “I was so afraid they might come back, I went to my father’s house. I thought I’d be safe there, but whoever did this knew I’d hire a car. The note warned me, and I believe them.”
She’d never felt so alone.
On the drive from the airport, each time she’d passed a police car, she’d considered flagging him down, and every time she’d let the vehicle pass her by. “I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder the entire trip here. I kept imagining every person I encountered was following me.”
