Tame Horses Wild Hearts

by Alison Paige

  “This is the guy.” Joe pushed harder against his sternum. “Call the cops.”

  Frank grimaced. “Hey. You can’t. I didn’t do nuthin’.”

  “You’re a stalker,” Clayton said.

  “Fuck you. Am not.”

  Joe jabbed harder. “Then why the pictures?”

  “Ouch. Knock it off. Some guy paid me. Okay?”

  Kate stepped forward. “Who would pay you to take photos of me?”

  Frank’s brown eyes swung to Kate. “Not just you, pony girl. Everything. The farm, the fire damage, everything. Said he’d pay extra for pics of you and your boyfriend. ’Cept I couldn’t tell which of these numnuts has been buryin’ his cock in ya, so I got some of both.”

  Ice tingled down her spine. Her stalker was hiring the job out to people? It was beyond bizarre.

  “Who is he?” Joe said.

  “He don’t want people to know.”

  In a blur of movement Joe shifted, pressing his forearm across Frank’s throat. “Who?”

  Frank made a choking sound, his voice going raw. “I dunno, I dunno. I got an email addy. That’s it.”

  Clayton leaned in. “He contacted you through email?”

  “Yeah.” Frank’s eyes stretched to the limit, his mouth wide, lips curled back from his teeth. “Get off. Get off, I can’t breathe.”

  “What’s the address?” Clayton said.

  Kate moved closer. “Joe, he can’t breathe.”

  Joe’s face remained an implacable mask, his eyes inhumanly cold, riveted on Frank as the man’s face reddened. Veins began to bulge.

  “Don’t know. Didn’t…didn’t memorize.” Frank choked.

  “I want the address.” Joe pressed harder.

  “I’ll get it. I’ll get it.”

  “Joe.” Kate said, but Joe showed no signs he’d heard her. “Joe, you’re choking him. He can’t breathe.”

  Clayton flicked his gaze to Kate then back to Joe as though waking from a dream. He straightened but did nothing to stop him.

  “Dammit, Joe. He told you he’d get it.” Kate squeezed Joe’s biceps. The marble tense muscle didn’t give. “Frank can’t give you the address if you suffocate him. What’s wrong with you?”

  Sanity flashed through Joe’s dark eyes. The rigid lock of his arm eased. He stepped back and Frank fell to his knees gagging and coughing.

  Joe blinked. His gaze swung to Kate, shock fading to calm indifference. He raked a hand through his hair and headed back into the stable. “He’ll live…if he gets the email address.”

  Jeezus, he could’ve killed the little jerk. If Kate hadn’t… Joe didn’t want to think about it. He was so tied up in knots he couldn’t think.

  Was Frank the stalker? Was he lying about being hired through an email? Joe didn’t know. But he should. There was a time he’d known if a guy was guilty or not just by watching his eyes, listening to him talk. Not anymore. Shit. Joe didn’t know a damn thing.

  “Hey. I want my camera back,” Frank yelled from behind him.

  “Delete the pictures,” Joe said without stopping. “Give’im the camera.”

  He’d already committed assault, no reason to add theft to the possible charges. Frank didn’t strike him as the type to go whining to the police though. And Joe’s gut told him his story made sense. At least it was provable. Couldn’t say as much for him being Kate’s stalker. Trying to press harassment charges could tip their hand to the real stalker.

  Unless Joe’s gut was as screwed up as his brain and Frank was the stalker. In which case he was letting the guy who’d nearly killed Kate get away. Who knew?

  Fuck. Kate had him twisted ass backwards. He shouldn’t have agreed to work for her after they’d already crossed the line between principal and guard. There was a difference between client and principal. He worked for the client, guarded the principal, unless the two were one and the same. Then he didn’t fuck either—ever.

  He’d never crossed the line before, never, and now he knew why. She believed their working relationship superseded their personal exchanges. Believed he’d slept with her because of the job rather than despite it. And then she’d acted on that belief. Yeah, that kind of pissed him off. Sex with him was a fuckin’ business transaction to her.

  Joe stopped short, hands propped on his hips and shook his head. What the hell was he thinking? Their working relationship should supersede their personal exchanges. And business was the only thing that should pass between them. Any other way and he risked a foggy brain, slow reactions, poor judgment and possibly Kate’s life.

  “I need a signature here.”

  Joe’s gaze shot to the office and the delivery guy standing with an outstretched clipboard. Joe closed the distance between them in three long strides, pushing past him into the office.

  “Hey. Can ya sign?” the man asked, nudging the bill of his blue company ball cap with his pen. He followed Joe into the office.

  Joe took the clipboard and motioned to the basket of rainbow carnations, balloons and long-stemmed roses in a windowed white box. “Who’re these for?”

  “Dunno. It’s on the order slip there. Mathers. Kathleen or something.”

  “Katharine,” Joe corrected, scribbling his name. He handed the clipboard over then stopped and pulled it back. “Don’t see roses on this receipt.”

  “Didn’t deliver roses.”

  “Roses?” Kate stepped through the office door.

  Joe gave the delivery guy a ten and a nod, sending him on his way. “Don’t touch.”

  Kate jerked her hands back from the box. “Why?”

  Joe didn’t answer. He rushed back out the door into the stable aisle. Someone had left the roses—gone in and set them on the desk while he was interrogating Frank.

  “What’s with you?” Clayton strolled toward him from outside. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Joe considered the beefy farm boy for a second. Could he have slipped in when Joe and Kate were busy with Frank? Joe shook the question from his head the instant it formed. Wasn’t possible. They’d caught Frank together. But someone had gotten by him.

  “Stay with Kate.” Joe jogged past him out of the stables.

  Off to the left, several yards away, Frank was standing by the open door to his pick-up talking with two male counselors. Joe’s mind shuffled possibilities. Frank was in the tack room when Kate and Clayton were in the office. He and Clayton had been lured out by the flashes from Frank’s camera and then further by his conspicuous attempted escape. He couldn’t have left the roses. Unless…

  Joe eyed the interaction between the three young men. They were friends. Made sense. Kate said all the counselors were college students and Frank used to be one of them. Stands to reason he’d still have friends on staff. Could he have convinced one of them to leave the box of roses while he drew everyone out of the office?

  He made a mental note of their faces. Joe spent most of his time with Kate. There was a lot of staff he didn’t know. The counselors talking to Frank were two of them.

  Mental picture formed, he scanned the area between the stables, the service road and the mess hall beyond. There was no one else around. He turned, jogging back down the stable aisle, throwing a glance through the office windows as he passed. Clayton was with Kate. Good.

  Clayton had a wealth of friends on the farm and a loyal staff. Would any of them hesitate to do him a favor and leave the box for him when no one was looking? Was a man like Clayton capable of the cowardly antics the stalker displayed? He certainly had long-held feelings for Kate as motivation. Joe filed the slim possibility in his mind and kept moving, kept searching for suspects.

  The group of Ginny, Ashley and two male counselors from earlier were still conversing in the center of the aisle watching the goings-on with quiet interest. They moved to the side when they saw Joe coming.

  Joe evaluated the group as he passed, noting faces, shifting facts and previous observations in his mind. Could one of the two males be Kate’s stalker? Possib
ly. But Joe’s impression told him both were far too interested in bedding Ginny or Ashley to have a secret obsession with Kate. Unless that’s what they wanted Joe to think.

  He reached the center throughway, stopped and looked in both directions. The main house was off to the left. He could see the trees by his and Kate’s cottages. The parking lot in front of the stables held a few cars but no people.

  To the right was the entrance to the indoor arena several yards out. He caught a glimpse of a horse and rider inside, working. Beside the arena he could see the cars parked in front of the bunkhouse, but again, no people. The damn place is deserted.

  Joe moved on, jogging down the aisle, looking back and forth into stalls as he passed. He reached the end of the stables where the riding rings and paddock areas were. No one.

  He spun and doubled back, this time taking the turn toward the indoor arena. The late-afternoon sun was still bright enough to cast the insides in shadow. Joe couldn’t make out details until he stepped through the wide entrance.

  Eddy. He rode a large black horse around and around at an easy lope. When they came to Joe, he pulled to a stop. “Problem?”

  “How long you been here?” Joe asked.

  Eddy shrugged. “’Bout half hour, forty-five minutes. I’m warming up Wizard for Kate.”

  “She know you’re on her horse?”

  Eddy sneered. “Yes. Of course. You think I’d ride her without Kate’s permission? I don’t take things that aren’t mine.”

  Joe’s gaze dropped to Wizard’s neck and the gleam of sweat over her furred chest and more at the edges of the saddle pad. He figured it likely took time to work up a sweat on a horse. He didn’t know much about horses. Could Eddy have left the box and still had time to give the horse such a workout? Anything was possible.

  “You mind?” Eddy swiped long bangs to the side with two bandaged fingers. “Wizard doesn’t like people standing at the edges inside the arena.”

  Joe gave a nod. “Right.”

  Everyone he suspected of being the stalker was within distance at the time the roses were left, but it wouldn’t have been easy for any of them. Joe headed back to the office and stepped through the door just as Kate read the card from the basket.

  “Happy birthday. Affectionately, your father, Edward Mathers.” Kate flicked her gaze to Joe. “What? He thought I might be confused who ‘father’ was?”

  “Think he’s just out of practice.” Joe moved up beside her and stared at the boxed flowers.

  “Maybe.” She folded the card back into the envelope. “Guess I can overlook the signature and the fact he sent them two days early, since he also sent roses. Even got the color right.”

  Joe opened the long white box. The white roses filled the container from end to end, green tissue paper wrinkled and messy underneath. He checked the ends, then carefully sorted through the bunch.

  “These aren’t from your father,” he said.

  Clayton stiffened across the desk from Joe. “They came with the other flowers and balloons.”

  Joe looked at him. “No. They didn’t. These have been cut straight at the ends. Florists cut them at an angle. The tissue paper looks used and there are only ten roses.”

  Clayton stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “You can buy roses in any number.”

  “Yeah, but if Edward was trying to win the affection of his daughter, why send only ten roses? And these aren’t long stemmed, they’re bush roses. Someone’s stripped the branches to leave one rose on each.”

  “You know a-scary-lot about roses.” Despite her tease, he could hear the uncertainty wavering in Kate’s voice.

  “Sent my share of apologies. Start to recognize quality.” They stared at each other for a moment. Was she wondering if she’d be receiving his apology bouquet soon, too? Maybe she should. He’d certainly screwed things up between them. Par for the course.

  Joe broke the connection first and looked back to the box. He dug under the tissue paper, along the sides and both ends.

  “So who sent them?” she asked.

  He pulled out the small folded paper from under the very center. “Not sent. Left, dollface.”

  He read the note then handed it to Kate.

  “To my future bride?”

  “They’re from him.”

  She swallowed hard enough he could see her throat work. “The stalker. But we were just in here. He was that close?”

  “He won’t get closer.” Joe reached for her, held her arms, caught her widening gaze. “I won’t let him.”

  “How do we stop him?”

  “You’re moving into the main house,” Joe said. “Now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You are quite the professional, Joe,” Kate said a few strides in front of him. “All that stuff about the flowers and finding the note. Now, being big enough to bow out and put the target under lock and key.”

  “Not bowing out, dollface. Hunkering in.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him, her riding boots crunching against the white gravel drive. “You seriously think I still need you five feet away inside the main house? The place is like the Louvre after dark.”

  “It’s my job.”

  Her brow creased, lips tightening to a near flat line. “Yeah. Your job.”

  “That’s right.”

  When she reached the patchy grass just beyond the gravel in front of the cottages she spun around. “You’re pretty dedicated to your job. Aren’t you, Joe?”

  Joe stopped beside her, slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Right.”

  The air was warm, the sun low on the horizon, but Kate clutched her bare arms as though she were freezing. “Always on duty, right? Ready to follow me anywhere.”

  “Where you go…”

  “Even into my bed…if the job calls for it.”

  The muscles along his shoulders tensed. “Something like that.”

  “You follow me because it’s your job. Because you’re paid.”

  “That’s how it works.”

  “And how you feel about me, how I feel about you, none of that matters.” Her voice wavered, her chin trembling for moment before she steeled her expression.

  His jaw clenched, anger flaming hot and fast through his veins. “That’s what you… You really believe that?”

  She gave a solid nod, but her hardened expression flickered.

  “Jeezus, Kate.” He wiped his palm down his face and over his chin. “Don’t you get it? It’s not my job to worry about how we feel. Feelings muck things up quick. We crossed a line we shouldn’t have. There’s no going back. It’s done. But now I have to do what I can to get my head straight. To keep it straight. To keep you alive. The rest… No. I can’t let it matter. Not now.”

  She flinched as though he’d slapped her. “I see.” She turned on her heel and continued her trek toward her cottage.

  Joe was two steps back when his gaze scanned ahead and noticed the door to Kate’s cottage was unlatched. He lunged for her before she took the first porch step.

  “Wait here,” he said in her ear. Her back to his chest, his hand tight around her upper arm, her scent surrounded him, vanilla and wildflowers. He ignored it and left her where he’d stopped her to check out the cottage.

  Joe tried hard not to make a sound on the steps. His hand itched to pull his gun from his ankle holster. He didn’t. With kids nearby he couldn’t risk making a mistake.

  He peeked around the very edge of the front window and saw the mess inside, then rolled back, body flat to the wall. He looked to the door, nudged it wider with the tips of his fingers. Listened. Nothing.

  One last motion to Kate to stay put. She nodded. Smart. Then he turned and went in low. He scanned the living room. Empty. Peeked into the bedroom. Empty. Joe crossed the distance from the front door to the hallway quick then found the wall with his back. He crouched again—bad guys hardly ever aim down—and peeked around the corner.

  The kitchen was clear. The bath
room door was open, the room empty. There was no one in the cottage—anymore. But there had been. Joe stood and took in the devastation. Someone had made like a tornado in Kate’s home. Pictures were torn off walls and shattered on the floor. Lamps and end tables were overturned. Magazines she’d had on the coffee table were shredded and thrown everywhere, and the couch and chair cushions were gutted.

  The bedroom was more of the same, mattress overturned, feather pillows decimated. Drawers were emptied and broken, clothes everywhere, some ripped beyond repair. Joe turned and walked back to the front door.

  “Kate.”

  She hurried up the steps with no more encouragement. “Oh, shit.”

  Joe watched her face pale. His chest pinched. He wanted to hold her, to gather her into his arms and shield her from the loss and fear that stretched the dark pupils of her eyes. He couldn’t. Wasn’t his job. He’d never guarded anyone he truly cared about before. He only knew how to keep the principal safe one way. No emotions and a clear head. In his mind, it was Kate’s best hope and he’d give it to her. Damn the cost.

  “Pack a bag.”

  “I don’t understand.” Kate tossed her blue Nike duffle bag on the bed in her room at the main house. “Why would he say he wants to marry me and then destroy my home?”

  “Love and madness,” Joe said. “Same thing.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t light her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  Joe set her laptop case next to the small roll-top desk in the corner then readjusted his own bag on his shoulder and switched his gun case to the other hand. He turned to see her watching him, green eyes haunted, needy.

  He hooked his thumb on the shoulder strap and sighed. “He loves you, Kate. He wants you so bad it hurts. No one wants to want like that. He starts to resent the person who’s causing it. So he lashes out. Doesn’t mean the wanting goes away, though.”

  “You make love sound horrible.”

  Joe shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “Wow. Who squashed you?”

  His gaze shot to hers. “Come again?”

  “Some girl must’ve given you a pretty good smackdown to leave a mark like that.”