Familiar Showdown

by Caroline Burnes

  He prepared to feed the stock their evening meal and bided his time.

  He couldn’t leave Stephanie, no matter how mad it made her. Maybe she was right. Maybe the trouble had followed him there. That thought was disconcerting, to say the least.

  But, ultimately, Carlos Diego would have found Stephanie. Diego would leave no stone unturned in his efforts to track down the information that had gone missing at the same time Rory’s plane supposedly crashed.

  That Rory had somehow hidden a disk or coded document here at the ranch was a pretty logical assumption. It was exactly the same conclusion that Johnny had come to, which was why he, too, was here at Running Horse Ranch.

  The problem was that his primary concern was no longer recovering the information. He’d come to care about Stephanie and her work. Protecting her had superseded retrieving the government secrets—at least in his mind. And that was a dangerous place for an undercover agent to find himself.

  The one rule he’d never broken in his career as an intelligence agent was to keep himself from getting personally involved in any case. Once the emotions engaged, the brain slowed.

  Yet he couldn’t help himself. In a very short time, Stephanie had penetrated his emotional defenses. She’d won him over with her simple caring for the creatures around her, with her passion for her work and her desire to make things better.

  He wasn’t about to leave her alone to face Carlos Diego and Plenty.

  STEPHANIE POURED A SHOT of bourbon over ice and took a sip. She wasn’t a big drinker, but the bomb Johnny had dropped on her required some fortification. Bourbon was the best remedy in the house to stop her shaking knees.

  She took another sip, concentrating on the burn of the liquor as it hit her gut. Too much on an empty stomach and she’d be dog sick on top of everything else.

  She went to the sink where the fish she’d put out for supper had thawed. Her first temptation was to throw it in the trash. Where had her mind been, planning out menus for Johnny Kreel?

  A federal agent! For an organization so secretive it didn’t have a name. Right. What kind of fool did Johnny take her for? If Johnny was even his name.

  She slammed the fish into a pan and stirred up a marinade. At least she and Familiar would enjoy the salmon. Johnny could eat buffalo chips for all she cared.

  Glancing out the window, she saw him hauling feed to the horses, as if nothing had happened. Well, he was an idiot if he thought he was staying at her place another night. He could feed the horses and mend fences until the cows came home, but he was leaving.

  She thought about Tex. The gelding’s leg was finally getting better. Hauling him off in a horse trailer now would undo all the good that had been done by cold water hosing and anti-inflammatory medicine.

  It wasn’t Tex’s fault that he belonged to a bad man—a liar, a cheat and a betrayer.

  She put the rice on to cook and walked out the back to start the grill. Johnny wouldn’t change her plans or her routine. Once he was gone, the steady rhythm of her life would pick up again.

  Off in the distance, she heard the howl of a wolf. The wild creatures came close at night, but in the past they hadn’t bothered her or the horses. Until the barn had burned, she’d had protection and shelter for all the livestock. Now many of them were out in paddocks. It made her nervous, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  Tomorrow, she’d find a contractor and start the rebuilding process—and hope the insurance company paid up to cover the cost of a new barn. Her credit was good. She’d tackle the problem that way.

  Her thoughts were on her dismal financial situation when she saw the twin beams of a car’s headlights in the blue dusk. Someone was out by the western boundary of her property, watching. And that someone wanted her to know he was watching.

  Goosebumps danced along her skin. These men were brazen. They’d been close enough to slip into the house and hurt her, yet they’d chosen to burn a barn. A warning? A threat? Most likely both.

  What had Rory taken that was worth so much? Rory had always had abundant cash. She’d never thought to question his affluence. He was a pilot. Flyboys made good money. That had been her assumption.

  Wrong. So wrong. But if Rory had stashed this valuable information at Running Horse Ranch, where might it be?

  Once that question popped into her head, she couldn’t let it go. She set the charcoal ablaze and retreated into the house. With Familiar at her heels, she went to the bedroom and retrieved the ornate wooden box where she’d kept each of Rory’s letters.

  She’d met him while on a visit to the Alabama beaches at Gulf Shores. After five years working at an advertising agency in New Orleans, she’d been toying with the idea of going to law school and working to protect animals’ rights. She’d met a member of the Animal Legal Defense Fund, a group of attorneys, animal lovers and environmentalists dedicated to helping write better anticruelty laws and assisting local law enforcement agencies in all fifty states to prosecute animal abuse cases. At that point, she’d been considering a change of career.

  So many places used animals for entertainment or pleasure—without ever considering the needs of the living creatures involved.

  Working with a group like ALDF seemed like a job made in heaven. But once she met Rory, he’d resurrected her dream of helping horses using her grandfather’s kind and gentle techniques.

  Rory had had the money to buy the land in South Dakota. He’d paid to build the barns and restore the old cabin, giving it modern plumbing, wiring and conveniences.

  Never in a million years would she ever have suspected that Rory wasn’t the gung-ho, animal-loving pilot he made himself out to be. He’d had his own small fleet of planes—she’d seen them. And she’d seen his work-order sheets, ferrying humans and freight from his base in New Orleans to points in Central and South America and up the Eastern Seaboard. He’d made money—a staggering amount, at least to her.

  And none of it was real.

  She put the box of letters beside the bed. She would read through each one, see if she could find a hint or clue as to what Rory had been up to. He’d only been to Running Horse Ranch a dozen times in the months before he disappeared, making quick trips between his business obligations. Most of the details of setting up the ranch he’d left to her. Looking back, it seemed strange to her that he’d been at the ranch just two days before the plane crash.

  The day he died, he’d supposedly been wrapping up loose ends in his transport business in preparation for the move to South Dakota. He’d claimed it was his last week of work.

  Had he left something on the ranch premises during his last trip?

  She returned to the kitchen. As she prepared the fish for the grill, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Rory on the beach, his Hawaiian shirt open to reveal his muscled chest, his blue eyes crinkled in laughter and his white teeth flashing. He’d been like a movie star dropped down into her path.

  And he’d shared her dream. He’d touched the most secretive part of her spirit and made her believe that he knew it and understood.

  All of it had been a lie.

  She found her fingers gripping the pan of fish tightly, and it took all of her effort not to fling it against a wall.

  The black cat brushed against her ankles, and she finally won the battle of self-control. Rory Sussex and his lies had hurt her, but he would not win.

  She bent to stoke the cat, pulling Familiar into her arms. He licked her chin and head-butted her, letting her know he shared her grief.

  “Rory didn’t just die,” she whispered to the cat. “He killed a dream with his lies.” For the first time, she seriously doubted that she could make a go of Running Horse Ranch. “Maybe I should sell out.”

  Familiar put a black paw on her lips, as if telling her not to speak. He shook his head slowly.

  “I don’t believe you.” She kissed the top of his head. “You do understand. Far more than any human does.” She put him down and picked up the fish.
“Let’s get this cooked and get back in the house.”

  Night had fallen, and the lights of the vehicle she’d seen earlier were gone. Or at least they’d been turned off. As the fish grilled, she looked out at her spread. The windows in the bunkhouse shone brightly in the black night. Johnny hadn’t left. Obviously, he had no intention of leaving.

  In the morning, she’d put him on the road. That would give Tex another night to heal. Besides, driving the winding, uneven roads at night was an unnecessary danger, even for a liar.

  Using tongs, she picked up the salmon and went back inside. The rice had cooked, and she’d prepared an asparagus salad. She made a plate for Familiar and one for herself.

  “This isn’t so bad,” she said to the cat. “We’re a team now, Familiar. Just the two of us.”

  As she was lifting a forkful of the succulent fish to her mouth, a knock sounded at the door. Sighing, she lowered her fork and went to answer it. Familiar, she noticed, wasn’t going to be dislodged from his plate. He’d consumed half his salmon and was working diligently on the other half.

  Johnny stood in the doorway, filling the frame with his broad shoulders and lean body. “Someone’s riding the perimeter of the property,” he said. “I’m going to check it out.”

  Stephanie hesitated. “Don’t.”

  He arched an eyebrow, waiting.

  “If they draw you out there, they’ll come in here and burn something else.” It was hard to admit, but the fact that Johnny was on the premises felt like a safeguard.

  “You think my staying here will deter them? If they want to burn, they’ll come whether I’m here or not.” Frustration was clear in his voice. “I’ve tried to call for backup, but I can’t raise my superior. There’s no reception at all.”

  “Lovely. Maybe if the agency had a name, you might have a superior who answered the phone.”

  He grasped her shoulders firmly. “I don’t blame you for being angry. I don’t blame you for hating me. But don’t for one second think this is a situation that you can gloss over with sarcasm. Those men will hurt you. They will torture you if they think you can tell them where Rory hid the—”

  “The what?”

  “I don’t know what he had.”

  “You don’t know?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her tone. It was preposterous that Johnny didn’t know what he was looking for.

  “We didn’t know Rory had turned. Not for sure.” He averted his eyes. “I suspected, but I didn’t believe it. Once we couldn’t find a trace of his plane…I had to acknowledge my suspicions.”

  “Suspicions of Rory or suspicions that he didn’t crash?” Stephanie could barely speak. The full breadth of Rory’s lies came sharply into focus. She saw it on Johnny’s face, though he recovered quickly.

  “Rory isn’t dead, is he?” she pressed.

  Johnny started to turn from her but she grabbed his shirt and spun him back to face her. “Tell me the truth, you coward. Rory is alive, isn’t he?”

  “We don’t know.” Johnny held her gaze.

  Her heart squeezed painfully. Of all the betrayals, lying about being dead had to be the worst. She could accept that Rory was a scoundrel, but not that kind of liar. Not to her. All he had to do was tell her he was moving on. She’d never have pursued the issue, never have known about his secret life or web of lies. And he knew that.

  She read the pity on Johnny’s face, and it was more of an answer than anything he could have said out loud. “You think Rory is behind the barn fire, don’t you?”

  Johnny took a deep breath.

  “Answer me.” She’d never felt such fury. She could feel her body trembling.

  “I don’t know.”

  She drew back and slapped Johnny with all her strength. She hadn’t expected to strike out, but the idea that Johnny had come to the ranch, lying through his teeth, pretending to be some cowboy with an injured horse so he could sneak around and spy on her, was more than she could take.

  In truth, she wanted to hit Rory, to land a blow so powerful that he would drop at her feet. Rory wasn’t there, but Johnny was. And he would do just fine as the target of her hurt and wrath.

  She drew back to slap him again, but Johnny caught her arm. In one swift movement, he spun her around and brought her against his chest, his arms wrapping around her, holding her tight as she struggled.

  Fury made tears come to her eyes. She tried to bite and claw, to kick and savage him in any way she could, but Johnny held her tightly. He made no effort to calm her, but he held on until the full tide of her anger had washed away, leaving her depleted and embarrassed.

  He gently let her go. When he no longer held her, she sank to the arm of the nearby sofa. “I hate you both,” she said.

  “I don’t blame you. You didn’t deserve this.”

  She turned away, noting that Familiar was standing in the doorway, watching to be sure she wasn’t hurt. She came to a decision.

  “Tomorrow, I’m going to pack up the horses and leave here. I’ll move them down to a friend’s place in Oklahoma. If there’s anything hidden here at Running Horse Ranch, you can have it, or they can have it. Or if Rory is still alive and he wants it, then he can come and get it. I never want to hear his name again.”

  “It’s not going to be that simple,” Johnny said softly. “Carlos Diego will never believe that you don’t know something.”

  The full impact of the web she’d become caught in dawned on Stephanie. “You’re saying I can’t get out of this.”

  Johnny nodded. “Not now. Not until we either find Rory or find what he took from Diego.”

  “Ask Diego,” Stephanie said.

  “If it were that simple, it would have been done already. We’re going to have to find it, if it’s here.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  He pointed to the cat. “The three of us. And we need toget busy now.”

  Chapter Nine

  Stephanie walked into the kitchen. She needed a moment to pull herself together. The food was still on the table, but she’d lost her appetite. Her stomach was knotted, and fear constricted her throat. The people watching her meant business. They had no qualms about killing.

  “Do you have any weapons?” Johnny asked.

  She nodded. “Rory kept some rifles in the linen closet.” She retrieved the two big rifles, noting that Johnny handled them with expertise. No big surprise there, as she’d come to discover. The gentle horse trainer had a very dark side.

  “These are good,” he said, as he made sure the weapons were ready for use. “This one has a nightscope.” He arranged them for easy access, putting the ammunition she brought out near at hand.

  It was odd that she’d never noticed or even thought about the implications of such weapons in the house. Rory had simply put the guns in the closet without comment. She’d never cared for firearms, but she hadn’t questioned him about the stash of weapons. Rory wasn’t a hunter, had never shown the least interest in killing animals for sport. That would have been a deal breaker for her. It had never crossed her mind that the weapons he kept were used to hunt humans.

  There were many questions she’d failed to put on the table, but what normal person would think to ask, “Hey, do you happen to have a double identity?”

  She pushed her despair aside and focused on the immediate problem. “Do you think they’ll attack tonight?” she asked. She tried to keep her voice steady.

  “It’s hard to tell,” he said. “A lot depends on what Diego thinks is here.”

  “Stop this hedging! Johnny, tell me the truth.” Stephanie was sick of the lies and half-truths.

  “I can’t.”

  “What if something happens to you? What if they hurt you and I’m left here alone? I deserve a chance to defend myself, but I can’t if I don’t know what this is about.”

  “If you knew the full story, you could be in even greater danger.” Johnny went to all the windows, drawing the curtains together.

  She wanted to shake the facts o
ut of him. “Did Rory betray his country?”

  Johnny stopped. “I don’t know, Stephanie.”

  “Don’t know or won’t tell?”

  “I’ll tell you everything I can.”

  “Which amounts to nothing.” She turned away in disgust. How in the world had she become embroiled in such a mess? Her only crime had been to fall in love with a man who pretended to be a charming flyboy, a man who enjoyed the idea of a simple life working with horses. She’d never wanted riches or wealth; none of that meant anything to her. She didn’t know what the men lurking outside the ranch wanted—why they were willing to kill her.

  “I’m doing what I think is best to protect you,” Johnny said.

  “Call for help. Surely you have some fallback way of communicating with your people.”

  His shoulders sagged for a split second. “I tried,” he said. “I have an emergency radio, but the signal is being blocked.”

  She knew what that meant. She and Johnny were on their own. If the men outside used the cover of darkness to attack, she and Johnny and Familiar would have to defend themselves as best they could. It was going to be a very long night.

  “Since you’re here, you might as well eat,” she said at last. She hadn’t given up on finding the truth, but a head-to-head with Johnny was only going to result in headaches for both of them. She pointed to a seat at the table and set a place for him.

  Johnny ate with gratitude and intensity. She toyed with the food on her plate, watching Familiar groom himself in contentment. The cat’s appetite hadn’t been thrown off at all by the recent events. He’d devoured at least eight ounces of salmon and now looked ready for a nap.

  Johnny cleared his throat. “Was there any place on the ranch Rory showed a preference for?”

  At his question, she was flooded with memories. Rory had spent time in the bunkhouse, one of the original buildings on the premises he’d worked to modernize. He’d been so proud of his ability to wire the place, bringing in electric heaters to supplement the fireplace, preparing for the day when they’d be able to afford to hire a couple of hands to help with the work.