by Gail Barrett
He was about to get angrier yet.
“More drinks, anyone?” Hannah asked, her white hair sticking up in clumps after the harrowing night.
Cole shook his head. “We’re fine, Hannah, thanks.” He trained his gaze on Hank. “Let’s get this started.”
Hank nodded, his stomach a jumble of nerves. He downed the last of his whiskey and set the glass aside. Clasping his hands, he glanced at the laptop Cole had propped on the coffee table so his son in California could listen in.
“I, um…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I told you that my political enemies were after me, causing these problems. But that’s…not exactly right.”
Unable to face their censure, he dropped his gaze to his hands. “A few months ago, I got an invitation to join a private society, very exclusive. Secretive, actually.” He let out a nervous hum. “The members keep a really low profile. They work behind the scenes, influencing the banks, world markets. Real movers and shakers.” The kind that never made the news. “I thought they’d advise me about investments, increase my wealth….”
In truth, he’d been inflated with self-importance, convinced he’d made it to the big leagues, that he was one of the elite.
“Does this society have a name?” Sheriff Colton asked, taking notes.
Hank pressed his slick palms to his thighs. “It’s called the Raven’s Head Society.” He flushed, realizing how ridiculous it sounded now.
But there was nothing ridiculous about their plans.
“They, um…aren’t just involved in financial matters. They get involved in politics, too.”
All eyes stayed on him. The clock on the mantel ticked. He sucked in a breath, fierce shame heating his face. He’d give anything not to have to admit this, but Rick Garrison’s death had forced his hand.
“It turns out they have a plan. I didn’t know about it or I’d never have gotten involved.”
The sheriff’s eyes sharpened. “What kind of plan?”
Hank closed his eyes. “They’re plotting to assassinate the president.”
Hannah gasped. A shocked hush fell over the group.
“President Colton?” Cole asked a moment later, his voice ringing with disbelief.
“Yes.” Hank gave the sheriff an apologetic shrug. The sheriff and the president were distant relations. And two of the sheriff’s brothers had married Donald’s daughters, linking his family to the president, too. “I swear I didn’t know. As soon as I found out their plans, I quit. Or at least I tried to.”
Hank braved a glance at his brother. Donald’s eyes reflected his disgust—which Hank knew he deserved. “I really did try to quit,” he repeated. “But I knew too much and they wouldn’t let me go.”
“I hope to hell you notified the president about this,” Cole said.
“I couldn’t. These people have too much power,” Hank said when Cole opened his mouth to argue. “You have no idea. They’ve got ties everywhere—even to the president. I couldn’t trust anyone with the truth, including the police.”
He cringed. “The society wanted me to turn myself in to them. But they’d kill me if I did. They can’t take the chance that I’ll talk. That’s why they took Lana, to force me out of hiding. So I hired that mercenary, hoping he could get her free.”
Instead, Hank had signed the death warrant of an innocent man.
For a moment no one spoke. Looking grim, the sheriff continued to jot down his notes. Hank picked up his highball glass, realized it was empty, and set it back down.
“Wait a minute,” Cole said slowly. “You said you couldn’t trust anyone, not even the police. Then who did you contact in the FBI?”
Hank swallowed hard. This was the worst part, what he hated most to admit. “I never called them.”
“What?” Cole exploded. “These murderers are holding Lana hostage and threatening to kill the president, and you didn’t tell the FBI?”
“I couldn’t. I knew they’d kill her if I did. And I thought I could handle this on my own.”
“The hell you did.” Cole’s voice trembled with outrage. “You wanted to protect yourself and your damned career.”
He was right. Hank’s shoulders sagged. “My career would have been over if word of this got out.”
Cole hissed. “You’ve been lying all this time. Lana’s life’s at stake and all you can think about is your job.”
“I never wanted her to get hurt. I didn’t know they’d go after her. And when they did… I thought Garrison would rescue her, that he would bring her home before anyone else found out. He was supposed to be the best.”
He dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew he deserved their disgust. Even he was appalled by the depths to which he’d sunk.
The sheriff put away his notepad and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m contacting the FBI. They can notify the president’s detail and anyone else who needs to know.” His voice turned hard. “They’ll need to question you. We can do it here or at the station, your choice. But from now on you’re going to cooperate fully on this.”
Hank nodded, knowing he had no choice. He couldn’t deal with this alone anymore. Rick Garrison’s murder had proven that.
“Let us know what we can do,” Cole told the sheriff, his voice gruff. “We’ve got to get Lana back.”
“That poor girl,” Bonnie Gene whispered, and her husband pulled her close.
Hank stole a glance at the group. The ranch foreman and his daughter had their heads together. Cole had walked over to comfort Hannah, who stood by the kitchen, clutching her cat in her weathered hands. Even the bodyguards had tuned him out.
He experienced a sudden pang. He was the odd man out here, the one who didn’t belong. He’d screwed up so many times that his family had rejected him. Sure, Cole had taken him in when he’d needed help—but he’d done it out of duty, not love.
A heavy feeling unfolded inside him, but he knew he only had himself to blame. He’d taken his family for granted, not realizing that love came from respect—which he had failed to earn.
“I’m going to fix this,” he said.
Cole scoffed. “Cut the bull. No one believes a damned thing you say anymore.”
“Cole,” Bonnie Gene warned, her voice sharp. “That’s no way to speak to your father.”
“No, he’s right,” Hank admitted. “I haven’t given him—any of you—a reason to believe me before.” But that was about to change. He was going to earn back their respect and trust.
But how?
He frowned, his mind running through options. He’d put Lana in jeopardy, so he had to get her out. But he needed a plan—one he carried out himself this time. That mercenary had sacrificed his life for a woman he didn’t know. How could Hank do less for his own flesh and blood?
The meeting began to break up, but he sat motionless in his seat. For once he couldn’t spin his way out of this mess, couldn’t blame it on someone else. He had to man up, take responsibility for his mistakes, and put his life on the line to save his daughter from certain death.
But did he have the nerve?
Bethany sat immobile, the enormity of the senator’s revelation robbing her of breath. A sinister society had captured Lana. They were plotting to kill the president of the United States. Now they’d murdered a man and dumped his body on Cole’s back doorstep—bringing the violence even closer to them.
She shuddered, unable to believe it. This seemed like something from a Hollywood thriller, not part of her real life.
And it was all the senator’s fault.
She shot a glance at Cole’s father, the depth of his self-absorption boggling her mind. How any man could sacrifice his family to his career… She shook her head. And maybe he hadn’t set out to endanger Lana, but his daughter had paid the price.
So had Cole.
She skipped her gaze across the great room. Cole stood near the windows talking on his cell phone, the weary slump of his shoulders tugging at her heart. She’d known Cole and his father weren’t close,
that the senator had ignored his children growing up, but she’d never realized the extent of his neglect. Proof of his calloused behavior came as a shock.
And, like it or not, it also forced her to rethink the past.
She handed her father his crutches, then rose. She didn’t want to dredge up those memories. The past was gone. There was no point dwelling on things she couldn’t change.
But her mind kept flashing back to the day she and Cole had broken up. She’d found out about her scholarship. She’d rushed to tell him the news. She’d expected him to be pleased, proud of what she’d accomplished after so many years of hard work. Instead, he’d closed down. He’d shut her out, his indifference eviscerating her heart.
But now she had to wonder… What if he hadn’t been heartless? What if he really had cared? What if he’d believed that just like his father, she’d chosen her ambitions over him?
She inhaled sharply, her world upended at the thought. She might be jumping to conclusions. He’d never asked her to turn down that scholarship. He’d never asked her to stay. For all she knew, he might have been delighted to see her go. But if her father was right, and she’d hurt Cole…
Cole pocketed his cell phone. His gaze snagged hers from across the room, and the turmoil in her belly grew. He headed toward her, and she straightened, her emotions running amok.
Cole reached her side a second later. “I’ve called a meeting of the ranch hands,” he told her father, his voice still raspy from inhaling smoke. “I told them to meet us in front of the house five minutes from now.”
Her father nodded. “I’ll wait outside.” He balanced on his crutches and limped away.
Cole hesitated. His bloodshot eyes shifted to Bethany’s, and she hugged her arms to quiet her nerves. “I need to talk to you after the meeting,” he said.
“Sure.” He turned to talk to the sheriff, and she studied his chiseled profile, wondering what he wanted to say. Still trying to corral her unruly emotions, she followed her father to the porch.
She spotted Ace curled up near the steps. The aging dog huddled against the railing, trembling from the commotion and noise. Knowing exactly how he felt, she knelt to give him a hug. She rubbed the top of his silky head, earning a grateful kiss in return, then buried her face in his fur. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “The fire’s gone now.”
And so were her illusions. Her sense of security had crumbled. Her certainty about the past had disappeared. She was even beginning to doubt her father’s honesty—the man she’d always revered.
The cold wind gusted, bringing with it the stench of burnt wood. She gave Ace a final pat and rose, utterly drained. The ambulance pulled away from the house, carrying the mercenary’s body to the county morgue—a grim reminder of the violence stalking the ranch.
Still feeling off balance, she joined her father in the yard. Several cowboys headed toward them—Earl Runningcrane, Bill, and Kenny Greene. Tony walked close behind them, and she struggled to hide her distaste.
A second later Cole tramped down the steps. He frowned as the remaining ranch hands roared past in their pickup trucks, heading toward the gate. “Where are they going?”
Earl shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “They quit. They’ve been complaining about the workload for a while now, and this murder was the final straw. They said they hadn’t signed on for this.”
Cole didn’t answer. He just tipped back his head and closed his eyes.
Bethany’s heart rolled. Of all the times to lose his men. She caught Kenny’s eye, and he winced his sympathy. At least Cole still had a few good men.
“All right,” Cole said. “I know you’re all tired, but we need to get those calves loaded up. It will probably take us a couple of days now that we don’t have as many men.
“I need to make some calls and get the insurance claims started, then I’ll be out to help.”
“What are we going to do for tack?” Tony asked.
“Good question.” He rubbed his stubble-roughened jaw, then turned his gaze to Earl. “Check the old tack shed behind the bunkhouse. There might still be some gear in there. I’ll see what I’ve got in the house. And make a list of what you’ve all lost so I can file a claim.”
He paused, his voice turning to steel. “From now on, no one goes anywhere alone. You hear me? Do everything in pairs. And carry a weapon with you at all times. I’m making arrangements with the sheriff to increase their patrols, but in the meantime, watch your backs. Any questions?”
The men shook their heads. “Then let’s get started. I’ll be out as soon as I make those calls. Tony, you’re in charge of loading the calves. Rusty, hold up a minute. I need to talk to you.”
The men headed toward the bunkhouse, Domino and Mitzy at their heels. Bethany stood beside her father, surprised when Sheriff Colton joined their small group.
Cole glanced at the retreating cowboys, then turned to face them again. “I didn’t want to say this in front of the men, but I’m beginning to think that someone on the inside could be involved in this.”
Bethany’s breath caught. She whipped her gaze to her father, but he stared back at Cole, his eyes shuttered, his craggy face like stone.
“That means we can’t take any chances,” Cole said. “At least until the sheriff has checked things out. Rusty, I want you to move into my house until you’re off those crutches. Pack up some things, and I’ll send someone over to get them.”
His gaze honed in on Bethany’s. “And I want you on the next flight back to Chicago.”
“What? I can’t leave.” Not while her father was in danger. Not while a sinister society was threatening the ranch.
Sheriff Colton cleared his throat, drawing her gaze to him. “There was a note attached to the body.”
Something in his tone evoked a shiver of dread. “What kind of note?”
He glanced at Cole, then swung his gaze back to her. “They’ve threatened to go after you next.”
Dizziness barreled through her. She wobbled on her feet, and Cole lunged toward her and grabbed her arm. “Me?” She gaped from Cole to the sheriff in disbelief. “But…that’s crazy. Why would they go after me? What do I have to do with this?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I don’t know. It might be an idle threat. But we have to assume that it’s real, given that they’ve already murdered a man.”
“But—”
“We can’t protect you here,” Cole said. “We don’t have the manpower or time. We don’t even know who we’re up against. You need to go back to Chicago where you’ll be safe.”
Suddenly chilled, she crossed her arms. She certainly didn’t want to die. And Cole had enough on his mind without worrying about protecting her.
“There’s no reason for you to risk your life,” he added. “This isn’t your fight. And Rusty will be fine in the house.”
“Cole’s right,” her father said, his voice sober. “You need to go somewhere safe.”
She struggled to absorb the revelation, to think through her burgeoning fear. They were probably right. She should go back to Chicago. Not only could she escape the danger, but she could investigate Mrs. Bolter’s death and clear her name.
But no one was chasing her off this ranch. Not with so many unanswered questions. She owed it to Cole and her father to stay.
“You don’t know that I’ll be safer there,” she argued. “A gunman can hide more easily in a crowd. At least here a stranger sticks out. And I don’t mind carrying a gun.”
“It might not be a stranger,” Cole said, sounding grim.
She winced, knowing how much that had to hurt. “Even so, there’s no guarantee Chicago will be any safer. They kidnapped Lana in Europe, right?”
Cole and the sheriff exchanged glances. Cole lowered his brows, obviously not thrilled to have her stay.
“I’ll be careful,” she added. “I won’t take any risks.”
Cole’s steely eyes met hers. “All right, but only under one condition. You and your father are b
oth moving into my house. You’re going to stay in there with my father’s bodyguards until this blows over. I mean it,” he warned. “You’re not leaving that house.”
Her heart missed a beat. Protests crowded her throat. She’d be living in Cole’s house, sharing his meals, aware of every movement he made. “But—”
“That’s the rule. You either stay in the house with the bodyguards or return to Chicago tonight.”
Their eyes held. Several tense seconds ticked past. Realizing he wouldn’t budge, she lifted her hands. “Fine.”
Cole’s mouth tightened. “I’ll tell Hannah to ready your rooms.”
He turned and climbed up the porch steps. The sheriff took his leave, then headed to his patrol car across the yard.
Bethany trailed her father toward his cabin, her thoughts in disarray, her belly a jumble of dread. She had far more to worry about than resisting her attraction to Cole. Murderers threatened her life. Someone on Cole’s ranch could be to blame.
And worse, if her father did know something about this, she couldn’t conceal it from Cole, not with their lives at risk.
But how could she turn her father in?
Caught between opposing loyalties, she skirted a pile of ashes and choked back the acrid fumes. One thing was clear. If Cole believed she’d abandoned him once, she couldn’t do it again.
No matter what the cost.
Chapter 8
Bethany gazed out the great-room window hours later, her thoughts still in turmoil, feeling as gutted as the demolished barn. Steel-bottomed clouds hung over the snow-capped mountains. A deep quiet gripped the ranch house, the methodical ticks of the clock on the fireplace mantel torturing her already pent-up nerves.
She still didn’t want to believe she’d hurt Cole. All these years she’d been the injured one, self-righteous in her indignation over his rejection of her. But her insights into his father had shattered those beliefs. And for the first time, she had to consider the possibility that she’d acted badly—that she’d been so driven, so wrapped up in her goals and ambitions that she’d wounded the man she’d loved.
