Hiding Out At The Circle C

by Jill Shalvis

  So why, after running the mop over the tile, didn't it look clean, much less shiny? Frustrated, Haley read the directions again. Then she started over.

  No luck. Still no shine. With a sigh, she tossed the container over her shoulder and got down on her hands and knees to scrub harder, convinced she was seriously lacking if she couldn't handle even this basic chore. Finally, an hour and many sore muscles later, she could see a slight improvement. The directions had conveniently neglected to mention the elbow grease required.

  Pausing to stretch her already aching back, Haley had to laugh at herself. While the physical exertion helped ease her mind, she would never have pictured herself performing such a mundane chore as mopping.

  Blowing her hair from her face, she scrubbed more, spending long moments with her mind blessedly free. Free of the haunting memories she knew she'd carry with her forever.

  Bam, bam, bam.

  Haley jerked upright at the exploding sound. Gunshots. Oh, God! She leaped to her feet and ran to the window, but she could see nothing.

  Cursing her stupidity and her lax attitude, she sprinted to the living room, tripping over Max who'd fallen asleep in the entrance. This was it, they'd found her. Whoever had destroyed her team, her work, had found her.

  Heart slamming against her ribs, she scooped up the confused pup and ran to the big window at the front of the house, peeking out the long, flowing, tieback curtains.

  Still, nothing.

  She held her breath, wondering what to do. The blood roared in her ears so loudly she could hardly think, but she had to. If they'd found her, she had to figure out a way to keep everyone else safe. Thank God Nellie wasn't home, but where were the men?

  Max yawned and stared at her, completely unconcerned. If there was someone out there, the puppy could care less. "Some watchdog," she hissed furiously at him. He just nuzzled her hand.

  How could she have done this? How could she have put more innocent people in danger?

  Off to the right of the main house she could see two large barns. Her heart nearly stopped when Cam stepped out of one, scooped something up and headed back inside.

  She had to warn him.

  Watching carefully, she slipped out the front door and dashed across to the barn, knowing that she could be shot down any second.

  It didn't matter. She had to make sure no one else got hurt. That no one else would die because of her.

  Cam looked up, the surprise evident on his face when she tore into the barn. Ignoring him, she whirled and shoved first one door closed, then the other—not an easy feat since the doors were twice her height and heavy.

  "What—"

  "Shh!" she demanded over her shoulder, struggling with the large bolt. "Do you have a gun?"

  "A what?"

  "A gun!" she fairly screamed, slamming the lock home.

  "God, no." He shuddered with distaste. "Haley, what are you doing?"

  She turned back to him, panting and leaning against the closed doors. Without sunlight streaming through, the barn seemed dim … and huge. "Is there a back door?"

  "Yeah." He cocked a hip against a long worktable and looked at her, amused. "Should I go lock it?"

  "Yes! And hurry." Breathless, she moved toward him, scanning the walls for windows. She knew the bolt on the door wouldn't hold and with some crazy notion of pushing one of his benches in front of the doors, she started clearing one of them off, shoving some things to the floor. "Where're Zach and Jason?"

  Cam raised those golden eyebrows of his until they disappeared into the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. "Riding. They'll be gone awhile yet if there's any justice."

  "Good," Haley said in relief, struggling with a rage and a grief so great she could hardly contain it. She would not be the cause of any more deaths. Especially not these people, the first to care about her in too long to remember. Moving closer, she hoped Cam knew how to shoot, since she had no idea how herself. But he was a cowboy, and all cowboys knew how to shoot—didn't they?

  "We have to hurry," she told him, surprised when he laughed and didn't move.

  "Darlin', I never hurry. But I suppose, you being a lady and all, I could try to oblige you."

  The sensual, husky laziness his voice had taken on would have warned a more sophisticated, experienced woman, but not Haley. "Okay, good," she said quickly. "I have something to tell you, Cameron. This isn't going to be easy."

  "Well, I have to admit, it's been a while since I— Since my barn days," he finished tactfully, his meaning completely escaping her. He glanced at the bench she'd just cleared. "Uh, it's pretty dirty in here, Haley."

  She narrowed her eyes and, for the first time, really looked at him. In his gaze, which had landed unerringly on her, was a mixture of hopeful speculation and amused disbelief. And yes, the heavy-lidded look of arousal. She realized with horror that they were absolutely not talking about the same thing.

  But then something else—something even worse—occurred to her. "What is that?" she demanded, pointing at the thing in his hand.

  He held up the tool. It looked suspiciously like a … gun. Oh, no.

  "It's my nail gun," he said. He bent over his table to a long piece of smooth wood and pulled the trigger.

  Bam, bam, bam.

  The ache in her stomach escalated into a dull pain.

  "See?" He lifted his head and smiled. "I'm making shelves."

  "I see," she managed to say, weakly. She leaned on the bench she'd just cleared. "I've … gotta go now." She turned back toward the barn doors. There was no gunman, no one after her. And she'd just made an ass of herself in front of the one man who could alter her pulse.

  "Haley?"

  She didn't, or rather, couldn't, answer. She heard him drop his tool belt and head for her, so she sped up. But he still stopped her before she could open the bolt. She refused to look at him until he gently turned her to him and lifted her chin.

  His gaze searched her face. "Obviously you weren't just seducing me in my barn."

  She shook her head, and now her heart raced again, but for a different reason entirely. "No."

  His smile was wry and self-deprecating. "I have to say, it was the most appealing almost-offer I've ever had. I'll never look at that table in quite the same way again."

  She tried to step back and encountered the barn door. She didn't know much about these things, but his disappointment was palpable. Wasn't there a rule against turning a man on and then trying to withdraw?

  He moved back, his smile still easy and charming, and Haley breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn't push.

  "So what did you barrel in here about, if it wasn't to toss me down on my workbench and have your merry way with me?"

  He was teasing her—she could tell by his sparkling dark eyes—and she didn't know how to handle that. "I—" It seemed so stupid now. I thought someone was trying to kill you. "Nothing."

  His gaze shuttered, cooled so fast it startled her. He didn't believe her, that was clear. She didn't blame him for finally showing suspicion. But that he'd waited until she'd obviously lied disturbed her. He'd been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt—that is, until she'd proved she wasn't worthy of it.

  She forced a smile. "I just wondered what you do out here."

  "I make furniture."

  She glanced around, realizing that while they stood inside what was once a barn, it had been converted into a studio of sorts. Long workbenches ran the length of the place, each scattered with tools, wood and partially put-together projects, including the shelving unit he'd been working on when she'd burst in.

  "I thought you were a rancher."

  "My brothers are." His voice, so warm and friendly only a minute before, seemed brusque now. He shifted away and moved back to his bench, running a loving hand along the wood that even her untrained eye could see was beautiful, bare oak. He gave the wood a gentle pat that conveyed his feelings better than words ever could. "Ranching seems like too much work for me."

 
"Too much work?"

  He shrugged. "I'd rather do this. It's … easier. More fun."

  This was something Haley couldn't understand. She'd been bred to work, and had loved it with a passion she could hardly explain—especially to a man such as this. But she'd never thought of anything she'd done as remotely "fun." "So you let your brothers work the ranch?"

  If he sensed her disapproval, he didn't show it. Or no longer cared. "They love it."

  She asked him the question that had flitted about in her mind since she'd arrived. "You all live together. Why?"

  "We're family," he said simply. Though he remained alert, he again relaxed. "The house and the land are mine legally, but that doesn't mean anything. We work it together."

  "You mean, they work it. You—" She gestured around her. "You do what's easier."

  Still smiling, he leaned against the nearest bench, crossing his booted feet. "Whatever," he drawled.

  That cavalier attitude annoyed her, especially since she had a feeling he was putting it on for her benefit. Had her lie annoyed him or the interruption of his work? She had a feeling it was the former. "Do you do that on purpose?"

  "Do what?"

  "Put on that good-old-boy act."

  "How do you know it's an act?"

  Oh, yeah. She'd annoyed him. He was watching her intently now. She frowned and dropped her gaze from his. There was only one problem with that. Her eyes then settled on other parts of him; like those strong, broad shoulders stretching his flannel shirt in interesting ways across his chest, or those snug, faded jeans that fit his long, lean legs so nicely. Her frown deepened when she raised her gaze back to his and realized she'd been blatantly staring, and that he was fully enjoying the fact.

  Which didn't explain the funny way her breath had caught in her throat. She couldn't be… No. There was absolutely no way that she was experiencing lust.

  At the thought, a pain erupted in her belly so fast and so sharp, she couldn't contain her small gasp. Cam straightened immediately and was by her side before she could blink.

  "What is it?"

  Just as quickly, the pain passed. She wouldn't have felt it at all, except that she hadn't taken her pills last night or this morning. "Nothing." She pulled her shoulders back and yanked on the door. "Just nothing."

  He reached around her to help. "It's something," he insisted.

  "I'm fine, just fine. Really. And I've got work." She walked out into the bright, crisp October day. The blue, open Colorado sky loomed overhead, blending into a picture-perfect hilly landscape. In the distance, Aspen trees tossed in the wind, their round, flat leaves creating a unique rustling sound.

  He waited until she'd gotten a few steps away. "Don't work too hard."

  She stopped and turned. "That's an unusual thing for an employer to say to an employee."

  "Things are different here than wherever you came from."

  "That's the truth." How surprised he'd be to know she'd headed a team of five of the world's most brilliant geologists, some twice her age, leading them to the exciting discovery of a system of volcano-and-earthquake prediction and prevention. How shocked he'd be to know that at least two of them were dead because of that discovery. Not to mention the thousands who had been killed in the earthquake that had been purposely created as a test.

  "Maybe someday you'll tell me about it," he said seriously.

  Haley thought about how good it would feel to tell someone about the horror her life had become. But trust didn't come easily for her in the best of times, and certainly not now.

  "Haley?" He took one step toward her. "I'm a good listener."

  She shook her head and found herself, for the second time that day, inexplicably close to tears. Far too close, she realized, as her next breath shuddered through her. "I've got work" was all she could manage as she turned and ran the entire way to the big house.

  Cam watched her go, standing there for a long moment before turning back to the barn. That had been the strangest interaction he'd ever had. She'd slammed into his studio, and, for a moment, he couldn't believe his luck. It had been so long since he'd let a woman get to him, it had taken him a minute or two to see the terror in her eyes.

  And when he had, it had stirred something deep within. Standing there now, with the light wind sliding over him, he had to admit that those feelings had been fiercely protective. Yes, he always felt that way about anyone or anything in pain or in need, but this had been different.

  Then she'd lied and everything inside him had gone cold. He knew nothing about Haley, and he'd do well to remember that. All he felt for her was empathy. No different from when he'd given that old cowboy, Joe, a job for the winter because he had nowhere else to go. No different from when he'd taken Max in. No different at all.

  He smirked. Right.

  "Whatcha staring at?"

  Cam let the unaccustomed tension drain out of him and faced his oldest brother. "Our new housekeeper."

  "Oh, yeah?" Zach turned, watched as Haley ran the rest of the way into the house. "She's nice," he said cautiously. "And she can cook breakfast."

  "But?" Cam asked, looking at him. "There's always a but when you talk in that attorney voice."

  "You like her."

  At Zach's flat statement, Cam sighed, never having gotten used to his brother's unerring ability to sense things others couldn't. "I like a lot of people."

  "She's different," he countered.

  "No," Cam denied, but caught his brother's long, solemn look and relented. "I've only known her for a day, Zach."

  "Yeah, but you've got that look in your eye. That 'protect the victim' look with a whole helluva lot of lust added in."

  "Don't you have to go feed your cattle or something?" So he was a sucker for a victim, he couldn't help it. Having Zach point it out only annoyed him.

  "I don't want to see you hurt."

  Cam wanted, quite badly, to laugh his brother off, but he couldn't quite manage it. "I'm a big boy now, you know."

  "It's been a long time since Lorraine died."

  Cam let the air whoosh out of him as his good humor completely faded, to be replaced by that sense of … unbalance that had plagued him for what seemed like years now. "And you think I'm looking for another wife?"

  "No, of course not."

  "Haley Williams is our housekeeper, and that's it," Cam said firmly. "Stop worrying. You sound like Mom used to."

  "Do I?" Zach asked evenly, pulling off his hat and swiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Lorraine was bad for you."

  "She's dead, Zach."

  "She lied to you, hurt you."

  Unreasonable temper surged. "Back off."

  "There was no Haley Williams on board Nellie's plane yesterday."

  Tension seized him instantly. "What do you mean?"

  "I checked."

  "Why?"

  They stared at each other for a long moment before Zach relented.

  "I'm an ex-cop," Zach said with an apologetic shrug. "Bad habit."

  At the clear concern in Zach's gaze, Cam closed his eyes. But all he saw was the image of Haley in the barn, clearly terrified, also clearly willing to lie to cover that fact. Not again. Please, God, not another liar. "What did you find out?"

  Slowly, Zach put his hat back on, slid his thumbs into his back pockets and studied the sky. "She did come from South America. But no Haley from Los Angeles to here. She must have paid cash and used a different name."

  "You haven't even passed the bar, and already you're acting like a lawyer." Cam sighed. Dammit. "Okay, you're not going to let it alone, so let's hear it."

  "Either she wanted someone to think she stayed in L.A., or she's not who she says." Zach looked at him. "I could have dug further, but it didn't feel right. Do you want me to?"

  "No." That wasn't what he wanted. What he did want no longer surprised him. He wanted Haley to tell him the truth herself, wanted her to take away this terrible wariness and suspicion. He'd been down this road before and couldn't face it again.


  "What do you suppose is going on?"

  "I don't know." Cam rubbed his chest, not understanding the ache that had settled there. Why did he care?

  "You've been there, done that," Zach warned. "Another woman who can't be honest."

  "Which is your kind way of saying she's a liar."

  Zach raised a brow. "Are we talking about Haley or Lorraine?"

  "I'm not in the mood for this, Zach."

  Zach lifted his bands in a gesture of surrender.

  "I can't explain it, but she's all right," Cam insisted. "I just know." He hoped.

  "Which leaves only one thing."

  They looked at each other.

  "She's running," Zach said.

  "Yeah." But from what?

  * * *

  Haley ran directly into Cam's den, closed and locked the door and lifted her shirt. There against her hip, attached to her jeans, was the pager, vibrating with a chilly evilness.

  With shaking hands, she lifted it, pressed the button to get her message. Again from an unknown number in South America. Fear sucked the oxygen right out of her lungs at the printed words.

  "Haley, I'll find you."

  Suddenly the pager went off yet again, this time from Alda.

  "Haley, where are you? Who's done this to us?" The typed words continued across the screen. "Lloyd's dead. He died in the explosion. That's what the police said, and now they're looking for you. Bob's missing. Haley, where are you?"

  Haley stared at the pager as a possible betrayal whipped the heels of her fear. Everyone gone or missing except Alda. Was it possible? It had been Alda who insisted that the team and EVS not go public with their discovery. Haley had always believed Lloyd and EVS would sell it to the U.S. government so that the USGS could continue the study. But Lloyd had agreed with Alda to wait, to keep the public ignorant, until after the final test. Those tests had never taken place.

  And now they were looking for her. Haley could only hope they wouldn't find her—at least not until the real killer made a mistake and showed himself.