Perfect Wyoming Complete Collection: Special Agent's Perfect Cover ; Rancher's Perfect Baby Rescue ; A Daughter's Perfect Secret ; Lawman's Perfect Surrender ; The Perfect Outsider ; Mercenary's Perfect Mission

by Marie Ferrarella

  “My mom’s been drinking a lot. I’m starting to get really worried about her.”

  “Is that why you’re following your dad?”

  Finally. He’d gotten her to talk. “Yeah. She needs someone to watch over her. My dad’s not going to. He’s going to drag her into a garbage can.”

  “That’s really sweet. That you’re watching over her.”

  Sweet? He’d kick his dad’s behind if he ever hurt his mom again. “I saw a tattoo of D on his hip.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know if my mom has one, but I bet she does. He probably forced her to do it with him.” That made him so mad.

  “Even if she didn’t want to?”

  “She drinks way too much. It’s like she tries to blot out the fact that he’s turning into a whack job and taking her with him. Compliments of Grayson.” He didn’t even try to hide his disgust. He used to be close to his dad. Now his dad barely noticed when he came and went.

  “What are you going to do?” Hallie asked.

  Without even telling him, she’d revealed their common interest. They both despised Samuel Grayson.

  “Keep following my dad. Maybe I’ll catch him or Grayson doing something wrong.”

  “Are you blind? Bo Fargo was there.” Her emotion gave away the reason she’d gone to the inn. Bo Fargo.

  He didn’t ask her why. She probably wouldn’t tell him anyway. “He’s one man in a whole police department.”

  “The Chief of Police.”

  “Not everyone supports Samuel Grayson.”

  “Yeah, but who would that be?”

  “Ford McCall wasn’t at the inn tonight. He doesn’t meet Grayson anywhere.”

  After a moment, she asked, “You think he isn’t one of them?”

  “He never goes to any of those seminars, and I never see him anywhere Grayson is unless the whole town is there.”

  They reached the street where she lived. As he drove around the corner, flashing lights elicited a startled gasp from Hallie.

  “My grandmother!”

  * * *

  After frantically running to every window and door to make sure they were all locked, Gemma didn’t think she’d ever been happier to see firemen and police officers. The five minutes it had taken for them to get here seemed like hours, each second spent frightened out of her mind that Jed would find a way inside Martha’s house. The firemen had already checked her out and the police had arrived to ask questions. She and Martha had just finished answering them. Gemma looked for Ford again—she’d done that several times. Where was he?

  Gemma joined Martha on the sofa. The woman’s gravity-ravaged face and stunning light blue eyes were drawn with strain. She’d given the poor old woman quite a scare.

  “I think you saved my life tonight, Martha.”

  Martha’s smile eased the lines of tension. “I haven’t had this much excitement since my son went missing. My old ticker can’t take much more of that.” She patted her chest above her large and sagging breasts.

  What she’d said about her son caught Gemma’s attention in a hurry. “Your son is missing?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Since a few months ago.”

  “Do you know what happened to him?”

  With that, the old woman grew uncertain. “The police say they’re looking for him.”

  It didn’t sound as though she believed that.

  “They think he left of his own free will,” she added.

  “But you don’t think so?”

  What Gemma had thought was uncertainty became something else entirely. Distrust. Martha eyed Gemma with anxious hesitation.

  Her discussion with Ford gave her a moment of uncertainty herself. Was there something going on in this town? Something that made Martha suspicious of her neighbors?

  Someone burst through the door. Gemma looked up, expecting Ford. When she saw Martha’s granddaughter charging into the room, followed by a slightly older boy, she restrained her disappointment. There were plenty of policemen here. She didn’t need Ford.

  “Grandma!” the girl yelled.

  The boy entered the house and stopped just inside.

  Using the armrest for support, Martha stood up from the sofa and the girl threw herself against her for a hug. “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

  “Great goats, Hallie, I’m fine. It was our neighbor who needed help.” She leaned back. “Gemma was attacked by her ex-husband again.”

  The girl glanced down at Gemma and then began touching her grandmother all over as though having to feel for herself that she was all right. It was so moving. Gemma had never had anything like that growing up. She’d never felt that close to her mother.

  “We drove up and there were all those lights.” Hallie’s eyes misted. “I was so scared.”

  Martha gave her granddaughter a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, now, you see everything is all right.”

  “I didn’t know, with all the trouble we’ve been—” She shot a look at Gemma. “I just didn’t know.”

  What had the girl stopped herself from saying? Trouble with what? Martha’s son? Hallie had to be his daughter.

  “Gemma!”

  At the sound of the rich, deep voice so full of concern, Gemma looked up to see Ford striding toward her, maneuvering through firemen and police officers to reach her. The sight of him sent sparks of gladness chasing through her. She couldn’t explain why. Why was he different than the other officers? She didn’t care.

  She stood as he neared.

  Instead of taking her into his arms as she half-expected, he took her hands and surveyed her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  He surveyed her all over again. “Are you sure?”

  “I got away before he hurt me.” Again.

  “Or killed you,” he shocked her by saying, reminding her that Jed had promised to take her home…or kill her if she refused. She shuddered.

  Ford rubbed her arms. “I should have been there.”

  He was concerned. Really concerned. More than a police officer should be. Absurdly, this was exactly what she craved. For him to be here, making her feel safe…and more.

  Seeming aware of the intimacy at the same moment, he regained his composure. “What happened?”

  She reiterated what she’d already told the other officers. “He got away.” And that was what bothered her most. When she’d been racing from window to window inside Martha’s house, the night had cloaked him. Where was he? When would he show up next? Where would she be? Was he waiting outside? She’d have to watch over her shoulder constantly. And locking her house wouldn’t be enough. What was she going to do?

  She looked through the darkened window. In daytime she could see her house from here. Now she only saw her porch light. She didn’t want to go home. What if he was out there now? Watching the police. Waiting…

  “Don’t worry, Gemma,” Ford said, bringing her gaze up to his gorgeous blue eyes. “I’ll find him.”

  Movement at the front door made her turn with Ford. Bo Fargo entered. Big and tall, walking with an air of steamrolling intensity. He was older, in his fifties, with thinning brown hair. As he drew nearer, his bleary blue eyes drilled her with what she suspected was annoyance and forced concern.

  “I heard what happened.” He came to a stop next to Ford and asked Gemma, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She was getting tired of being asked. “Fine.”

  “You were lucky to get away from him.” No mincing of words there. He definitely was a man who demanded respect. But there was something darker there, too.

  Averting her gaze, she spotted Hallie handing her grandmother a cup of hot tea. Then she noticed the firemen had gone, and the other office
rs were beginning to do the same. It left her empty and full of dread. Soon she’d have to face her house alone. The glass in her back door was broken.

  “You can stay here for the night.”

  Gemma turned to see Hallie.

  “Right, Grandma?” Hallie asked Martha.

  “Of course, dear.” Martha looked at Gemma. “We have plenty of room.”

  “Thank you.” The two had no idea what that meant to her. Or maybe they did. But then the way Hallie watched Bo caught her suspicion. She all but glared at the man. The boy she’d entered the house with moved to her side, watching along with her. What was that all about?

  “This is the second time Jed Johnson has gotten away, Ford,” Bo said. “I thought you were going to assign a patrol to Gemma’s house.”

  Ford’s reaction was full of resentment. “I did.”

  There hadn’t been enough time.

  “Well, apparently it isn’t enough.”

  “According to whom?”

  Gemma did a double take at Ford’s retort. Clearly he wasn’t afraid of his boss.

  The Chief of Police didn’t appear offended; challenged, maybe, but not offended or angry. He knew he was in charge. Or thought he was. “We can’t have this kind of crime happening here in Cold Plains. It ruins our stellar reputation. Our peace-loving culture. Something like this threatens the morale.” He turned to Gemma. “Isn’t that right?”

  He was asking her? “W-well…I suppose so.” She didn’t like feeling afraid to go home. Her house was her sanctuary. Was her sanctuary. That had been stolen from her. By that worthless wife-beater of an ex-husband she so stupidly married in the first place!

  Ooh…she was going to find something really frivolous to blow a sizable chunk of his money on.

  Noticing Ford’s brooding presence, she wondered what made him dislike Bo.

  “A patrol obviously isn’t enough,” Bo reiterated. “Samuel suggested that it might be a good idea if you stayed with Ms. Johnson until our perpetrator is captured. I happen to agree.”

  Gemma covered her surprise and saw Ford doing the same.

  “Samuel wants Ford to stay with me?” To protect her?

  Bo smiled, cunning and sureness abounding. Indomitable cunning. “Yes, he does, Ms. Johnson. He was not at all happy to hear that you were attacked again. He cares a great deal about your well-being. He cares even more about the well-being of this town. He would care about any woman who’s been brutalized. He wants you to feel safe, and I intend to make sure that you do.”

  While that sentiment eased a lot of her anxiety in a giant rush, she also hesitated. Samuel seemed to be going overboard for her. Or was Bo accurate when he said he cared about any woman who’d been brutalized? Yes. Samuel was out for the good of the town as a whole.

  “Of course, it’s ultimately up to you, but I do agree with Samuel that it’s in your best interest to have an officer at your house when you’re there. You shouldn’t be alone until we capture Jed.”

  “I…” She looked at Ford, whose hard eyes met hers.

  “If not Ford, then someone else,” Bo looked at Ford expectantly.

  “I’ll do it,” Ford snapped, and then softly to her, “But only if you agree.”

  Torn, Gemma looked from Ford to Bo and then through the front window. Though her house was still well-lit, it may as well be in Amityville.

  Slowly, she met Ford’s eyes again. “I would hate to impose on your time…”

  “It would be no trouble.” Ford’s voice was calm and every bit as sure as Bo had been. “I’d rather not risk another attack, either.”

  She smiled up at him and he looked at her mouth.

  “Then it’s settled,” Bo interrupted. “You’ll stay with Gemma until Jed is caught.”

  “Only if you’re sure,” Ford said, never moving his gaze from her.

  “I have a guest room on the first level. You’ll be very comfortable.”

  “Don’t worry about accommodating me, Ms. Johnson. I’ll just be doing my job.”

  Protecting her. Making her feel safe. “Gemma.”

  “Gemma,” he said in his deep voice.

  A flutter of excitement warned her to be careful. So did the softening of his blue eyes. The blink that followed cleared it too soon and she felt him withdraw into the role of protector.

  “You’ll be a lot more comfortable at Gemma’s house than that apartment you rent,” Bo said. “She’s fixed it up into a model of what we like to see here in town.”

  “It did need a little work when I moved here.”

  “It’s a beautiful place. Cold Plains wouldn’t be what it is without good people like you. Rest assured, we’ll keep Jed away from you from here on out.”

  A surge of warm gratitude filled her even while she wondered why he and Samuel were being so kind to her. What was it about this town? Everyone seemed that way. It was almost too good to be true. But too good to be true was her medicine right now.

  “I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she said. “I’m so happy to have found a place to live like this. It’s…it’s just…what home should be.”

  Beside her, Ford eyed her askance and then turned his silent watchfulness back to Bo. The negative undercurrents couldn’t be missed, leaving Gemma wondering where they came from.

  * * *

  Late afternoon the next day, Gemma watched Ford close the front door after the handyman had finished replacing the window in her back patio door. Before she’d even thought to fix the window, Ford had arranged everything. Now he turned and looked at her. She’d been watching him all day, and he’d caught her many of those times. Starting with breakfast, through his many patrols of her house and yard. All afternoon while he oversaw the handyman and took calls for work. She’d tried to occupy herself with chores. Laundry. The kitchen. Reading. Always he was near, and she was drawn to him.

  Staring at him from across the living room grew awkward. She turned away and headed for her back patio, loving her new window and the way it erased Jed’s presence. Outside, birds chirped and the sun lit up a clear blue sky. No wind rustled the leaves of her plum tree. Bees visited her wildflower garden. She moved over to the new fountain she’d purchased after the handyman left. It was big, elaborate and expensive, and water trickled over three tiers of beautifully carved stone. She could almost enjoy the pleasure of a simple, warm summer day.

  She sat down on her one-of-a-kind, intricately and colorfully tiled patio table and put her feet up on the adjacent chair. Toying with the bracelet on her wrist, she looked down at the dangling sapphires and diamonds. Jed had bought the expensive piece for her. He’d even engraved her name in it. With love. She didn’t wear it because of that. She wore it for the constant reminder of what marrying a monster had done to her, a reminder of a mistake never to make again. She hadn’t kept anything else he’d given her, not that there was much. Falling for Ford as fast as she was couldn’t be a step in the right direction. She had to be careful. Take her time. Be decisive. Ford might seem like a good and honest man, a cop, but she needed time to heal from being with someone totally opposite. She couldn’t afford to be impulsive with men anymore.

  A sound made her look over her shoulder toward the door.

  Ford leaned against the doorjamb, eyes partially squinted against the sun in a western sky. He had his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans and his ankles were crossed. The soft denim fitted him well, resting comfortably at his waist just beneath a flat stomach. And had any man looked sexier in an impeccably pressed, white long-sleeved shirt? The badge clipped over the left side of his muscular chest had to help with that.

  Realizing she was really checking him out, she was about to turn away when she noticed him doing the same with her. Their eyes met. She averted hers first, too in danger of
giving in to impulse.

  “Fountain looks good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Punishing your ex?”

  She smiled, hearing his affectionate tone. “Yes.”

  He chuckled. “Fourth of July is the day after tomorrow.”

  Was all this small talk masking their brewing attraction? “Yeah. Town’s got a big celebration planned.” Elaborate. The streets would be lined with flowers and vendors selling food and souvenirs. A band was hired and a huge fireworks display would go off over the park. She’d heard about it all week. It would be the grandest fireworks display in the entire state of Wyoming.

  Standing, she moved to the edge of the patio.

  “I need you to stay close to me.”

  She faced him, taking another sneak peek at him in those jeans. “Okay.” She’d have done that anyway.

  Catching his gaze moving from her chest to her face, she felt as though the fireworks were starting early right here on her back patio. She checked for a wedding ring and didn’t see one. Why would a man who looked as good as him not be taken by now? Surely he had to at least have a girlfriend.

  “How old are you?” she asked. He didn’t look much older than her.

  A slight smile toyed with his mouth and then vanished as though he’d curtailed the enjoyment of her question and the possibility that she was interested in more than his protection. “Twenty-eight.”

  Only three years older than her.

  “Your girlfriend must not like you having to stay here,” she said, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, a roundabout way of finding out if he was single. And why was she doing that anyway?

  He pushed off the door frame and stepped onto the patio, walking in that macho way of his to the edge of the artfully placed stone. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Does your family live here?”

  “I don’t have a family.”

  The flat sound of his tone alerted her curiosity. “None?” Surely he had some kind of family.

  He was standing so close to her she could smell his cologne. Nice. Subtle. Deep and just enough spice. But his short answers had her wondering. “What about your parents?”