Stalked in the Night

by Carla Cassidy

  Can a man from her past

  help her confront a new threat?

  The target of a brutal criminal, Eva Martin is determined to defend her son and her ranch. Jake Albright is a complication she doesn’t need—especially since he doesn’t know about their child. Even though he’s been gone for ten years, Jake realizes the moment he sees Eva that he never stopped wanting her. As danger escalates and a shared desire grows, can Eva hold on to the family she’s just regained?

  “I’m worried about you, and I intend to be here for you until I know there’s no more danger to you.”

  Jake took another step closer, now invading her personal space and bringing with him his familiar scent. “It’s just been notes left in the mailbox and nothing more dangerous than that,” Eva replied.

  “But we can’t know what might happen next and that’s what has me worried for you.” His gaze bore into hers and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “Right now it’s just notes.”

  He looked at her now the same way he had then...when she’d been sixteen years old and they had been madly in love. His dark, sinful eyes beckoned her forward, to take the last small step between them and fall into his arms.

  For just a brief moment she wanted to fall. She wanted to be in his strong arms and feel his lips on hers. She remembered the magic, the all-consuming passion they had once shared, and there was a part of her that wanted to feel that again.

  Stalked in the Night

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Carla Cassidy

  Carla Cassidy is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written over 150 novels for Harlequin. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.

  Books by Carla Cassidy

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Desperate Strangers

  Desperate Intentions

  Desperate Measures

  Stalked in the Night

  Scene of the Crime

  Scene of the Crime: Bridgewater, Texas

  Scene of the Crime: Bachelor Moon

  Scene of the Crime: Widow Creek

  Scene of the Crime: Mystic Lake

  Scene of the Crime: Black Creek

  Scene of the Crime: Deadman’s Bluff

  Scene of the Crime: Return to Bachelor Moon

  Scene of the Crime: Return to Mystic Lake

  Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge

  Scene of the Crime: Killer Cove

  Scene of the Crime: Who Killed Shelly Sinclair?

  Scene of the Crime: Means and Motive

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Eva Martin—Single mother who lives on her ranch. Recently she’s received death threats, and when those threats take a turn for the worse, she’s terrified and has no idea who wants her dead.

  Jake Albright—He has returned to his hometown of Dusty Gulch for two reasons: to bury his father and to see Eva Martin, the woman who broke his heart ten years ago.

  Jimmy Miller—Eva’s ranch hand. Does he want more from Eva than she’s willing to give?

  Griff Ainsley—Is the teenager looking for revenge on Eva because she stopped him and his friends from partying in her barn?

  Robert Stephenson—Has he tired of Eva’s rejections of him and now has a burning hatred for the beautiful woman?

  Ben Wilkins—Eva fired the man as a ranch hand. Is he now making her pay?

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Suspicious Circumstances by Rita Herron

  Chapter One

  Eva Martin used the tip of a shovel to poke at the mutilated dead cow on the ground before her, and then she turned and stared up at the tall, uniformed man standing next to her.

  Sheriff Wayne Black took off his hat and wiped his sweating face and head with a handkerchief. The month of August in Dusty Gulch, Kansas, could be sweltering, and even though it was only midmorning, the temperature had already reached into the nineties.

  Eva had a burn in her chest that had nothing to do with the heat of the day. It was the slow burn of anger, coupled with more than a whisper of fear.

  “Wayne, this is the third mutilated cow I’ve had in as many weeks, and I’m sure if I check my mailbox right now, there’ll be another threatening note for me inside.”

  Wayne swiped the sides of his face once again and then plopped his hat back on his head and gazed out into the distance. “Well, then I guess we’d better check out your mailbox.”

  As he got back into his patrol car, Eva placed the shovel on the ground next to the dead cow and then mounted her horse, Thunder, and galloped ahead toward the mailbox at the end of the lane to her house.

  Her heart beat in her ears almost as loudly as Thunder’s hooves against the hard ground. Somebody was targeting her, and she had no idea who it might be. And what frustrated her as much as anything was that she didn’t believe the sheriff was taking any of this seriously enough.

  In a town practically owned by the powerful Albright family, she knew Wayne saw her as nothing more than a pesky gnat to be swatted away. Wayne Black was Justin Albright’s man, and she was definitely not a fan of the Albrights. She’d never pretended to be.

  She got to the mailbox first and then waited for Wayne to pull up and get out of his patrol car. She opened the mailbox, and just as she’d suspected, there was a plain white envelope addressed to her in bold black block lettering.

  Even though she had received two notes before, her heartbeat accelerated and her chest tightened as she grabbed the envelope from the mailbox. She opened it and fought off a small shiver as she read, “Whore—get out of town.”

  “That’s pretty much like the last two,” Wayne said. She held the note out to him, but he didn’t take it from her. “I don’t need it. I’ve got the other ones to work with.”

  “So, what are you doing about this?” Eva asked. “Wayne, you should know I can’t afford to lose a cow a week, and these notes definitely seem like a threat to me.”

  “I know, and I’m investigating it. I promise I’ll call you once I have any information to give you.”

  To her dismay, but not her surprise, he immediately got back into his patrol car and waved to her as he drove away. “He’ll call me—yeah, right,” she said to her horse.

  It had been two weeks since she’d found her first dead cow in her pasture. The cow’s throat had been slashed and the heart had been cut out. That day she had also received the first note.

  Wayne had come out both previous times and had promised both an investigation and a phone call to tell her what the investigation had found. So far there had been no follow-up phone calls, and she had a sneaking suspicion there had not been much of an investigation.

  If she was part of the Albright family or was one of the people in town who kissed Justin Albright’s ring, she was certain Wayne would be turning himself inside out to s
olve these crimes.

  She remounted Thunder and headed toward the barn in the distance. She hated to call Harley, one of her ranch hands, and tell him he had to dispose of yet another dead animal.

  Still, despite the discovery of another dead cow, as she rode back she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of pride. Although a bit skittish, the rest of the herd was all healthy, and when the time came, the sale of them should refill her bank account—which was running dangerously low.

  The large garden by the house was still yielding plenty of fresh vegetables, and her chickens were laying enough eggs that she was selling them to the locals.

  Her father would have been proud of her and all her hard work to stay on the land he had loved, the land he had worked on all his life. Eva’s mother had died when she was eight years old. It had just been her and her father after that. They had been both partners and best friends.

  It was difficult for her to believe that he’d been gone for almost ten years. He’d died of a heart attack out in the pasture while he and Eva had been putting out hay for the cattle.

  And then there had been Andrew. Her heart squeezed tight as memories of her husband flashed through her head. Andrew had been one of the kindest, most gentle men she’d ever known, and not a day went by that she didn’t think of him and miss him.

  Once she got back to the house, she made the call to Harley and then headed for a quick shower. Even though it was only midmorning, she felt grimy and like the odor of the cow’s death clung to her.

  She finished showering and pulled on a summer shift in shades of blue and violet and then went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee.

  She sank down at the kitchen table and drew in a deep breath. Aside from being ticked off by a sheriff she didn’t believe was taking the dead cattle and the notes all that seriously, for the first time since her father had died, she was truly afraid.

  Who was behind the mutilated cattle and the threatening notes? The whole thing was so sick. Why the taking of the cows’ hearts? Was it part of some sort of ritual practiced by some group of nuts in this area? Was it the work of a single person? Why was she the target of such madness?

  Her gaze landed on a picture hanging on the far wall. The young boy in the photo was so handsome, with his mop of dark hair and a bright smile that warmed everyone around him.

  Her heart squeezed even tighter. She had to stay strong for nine-year-old Andy. Her son was what kept her going, the boy who filled her life with such sunshine and love.

  The last thing she wanted was for him to see her fear. She didn’t want him to know about the notes or the dead cows. Andy was an innocent child, and she didn’t want him to have to deal with any adult issues. He’d already had to deal with far too many.

  Three short knocks on her back door announced Harley’s arrival. “Come in,” she yelled.

  Harley Graham had worked as a ranch hand for her for the past seven years. He was older and seasoned and had become both a good friend and mentor. He stepped into the kitchen, and she motioned him toward the coffee maker.

  Neither of them spoke until he’d poured his coffee and then joined her at the table. He swept his brown cowboy hat off his head, exposing shaggy gray hair, and set it down in the empty chair next to him.

  He gazed at her for a long moment and then shook his head ruefully as deep frown lines cut across his weathered forehead. “Bad business going on here,” he said. “Was it the same as last time?”

  She nodded. “The heart was cut out.”

  “And did you get another one of those notes?”

  She motioned to the piece of paper folded up next to her on the table. “Same kind of thing...leave town...blah, blah.”

  Harley’s frown deepened. “You called the sheriff?”

  She nodded. “He came out.”

  “And what did he have to say?” Harley took a drink of his coffee.

  “The same thing he said the last two times...he’s investigating and he’ll be in touch.”

  Harley snorted. “That man isn’t capable of investigating his way out of a paper bag. The only reason he’s sheriff out here is because he’s Albright’s yes-man. And speaking of the Albrights, did you hear the latest news?”

  “What news?” she asked curiously.

  “Rumor is old man Albright died sometime early yesterday evening.”

  Eva stared at him in stunned surprise. Justin Albright was gone? The powerful monster who had forever changed the course of her life had died?

  She didn’t even know how to feel about it. A curious numbness overtook her. She’d never prayed for the old man’s death, but if she was honest with herself, she certainly felt no grief at his passing.

  “I wonder how much will change around here with him gone,” she finally managed to say.

  “I’ve heard his son David is a fairly decent man. Don’t know much about the older son, since the whole time I’ve been here in Dusty Gulch he’s apparently been off someplace in Europe.”

  “Italy. He’s been in Italy running the family’s wine business,” she replied. Despite the heat of the day, she wrapped her fingers around her cup, seeking warmth for her fingers that had suddenly turned cold.

  “What’s his name... Jack?”

  “Jake,” she replied. Even saying his name aloud twisted a ribbon of apprehension and a million other emotions in the pit of her stomach.

  “I suppose he’ll be flying in for a funeral. Wonder if, as the eldest son, he’ll decide to stay on here in town.” Harley took another big drink of his coffee and then stood. “Oh well, Albright business is none of my business. I’ll just head out of here and take care of that dead cow.” He placed his cup in the sink.

  “Thanks, Harley. I really appreciate it.”

  “I’ll check in with you later.” With a slam of the back door, he was gone.

  Eva took a drink of her cooling coffee and tried to keep her thoughts away from Jake Albright. However, it was impossible. Memories of him now blew through her brain like a hot wind that whispered of a wild desire and a certain kind of madness.

  It had been the madness of youth and first love, and a depth of passion and desire she’d thought she couldn’t live without...until it had all been stolen away.

  Over the years she had occasionally seen pictures of him in the society pages of their weekly newspaper. Jake Albright, wine mogul, shares his birthday or whatever with an Italian model or popular actress or heir to a fortune. The women had all looked beautiful and polished in a way only money could buy.

  She finished her coffee and jerked herself out of the chair and to the sink. She refused to waste another minute of thought on Jake. Just as she was certain he’d never wasted more than a minute of thought about her when he’d left her and Dusty Gulch far behind.

  Besides, she was perfectly satisfied alone on her ranch with her son. Andy was all that was important to her, and she didn’t need or want any part of Jake or any other man in her life. Hopefully he would fly in for his father’s funeral and then be on the next plane back to Italy and she’d never have to see or speak to him again.

  * * *

  JAKE WALKED THROUGH the front door of the mansion where he’d been born, although he certainly felt no sense of homecoming. This big house had never held the warmth of a real home. He’d been raised by a parade of nannies and an autocratic and cold father, and now that man was gone forever.

  Justin Albright had been a stern, distant father, but Jake had loved his father deeply and mourned his passing. Now there was no more time for him to get closer with his father, who had died of a sudden, massive heart attack.

  He set his suitcase down just inside the front door and went in search of his brother. He found David with his wife, Stephanie, and their five-year-old son, Richard, eating lunch at the table in the elegant dining room.

  “Hey, man!” David exclaimed a
t the sight of Jake, and both he and Stephanie rose from the table. David pulled him into a quick hug and then released him. “Why didn’t you call us to let us know when you were getting in? We could have picked you up from the airport.”

  The Dusty Gulch airport was little more than a single runway used mostly by crop dusters and small planes. There was no outbuilding except a huge shed where some of the locals kept their planes.

  “I caught a ride with Lionel,” Jake replied. Lionel Watkins was the pilot of the private jet the Albright family used. “Sit down and finish your meal.”

  “Have you eaten?” Stephanie asked. “I can get Cookie to bring in another plate.”

  “Thanks. That would be great.” Jake sat next to his nephew as Stephanie disappeared into the kitchen. “How are you doing, big guy?” he said to Richard. The dark-haired boy smiled and ducked his head shyly.

  Stephanie came back to the table, and a moment later Cookie came into the room with a plate and silverware for Jake. She laid it down before him and then he rose and gathered the chubby woman into his arms for a loving hug.

  Carol Simon, aka Cookie, had not only been the Albright cook for thirty years, she had also been a surrogate mother to Jake since his mother had died when he’d been six.

  During his childhood there had been many mornings when he’d sneaked into the kitchen and sat at the counter to eat a piece of cinnamon toast while Cookie prepared breakfast for the family. They would talk about anything and everything, and she’d been a warm and loving presence in his life.

  “I’ve missed you, Cookie,” he said as he released her.

  “Ah, go on with yourself.” Her smile moved her plump cheeks upward into a warm smile. “Now, sit and eat. You look like you need some fattening up with some of my good food—stick-to-your-ribs cooking instead of all that foreign junk you’ve been living on.”

  Jake laughed and resumed his seat at the table. Despite the levity of the moment, the conversation quickly turned more somber as they discussed the plans for their father’s funeral in three days.