by Zoe Dawson
She wanted to come clean, but she just wasn’t prepared for any of this. Dammit. She didn’t have the social skills to deal with so many people, animals…the fact that she was hopelessly in love with Wes.
She sat bolt upright. That’s nothing new, Kia.
But her inner voice mocked her. Yes, it is. You didn’t know him before which made what you felt for him infatuation and based on airy-fairy fantasy. But, now? Now you know him, a complicated, gorgeous, heroic, living, breathing man who has quite simply taken you by storm. Now you have a basis for how you really feel, have a strong foundation to build something wonderful with him. He’s been in your bed, been deep inside you and is embedded in your heart. It could all come crashing down, and that is a scary thing for you to deal with. Then it mocked her. Orphan. You know what it’s like to be utterly alone. You remember the pain of abandonment. Do you really want to go through that again?
She dropped her head into her hands. That stinking voice was right.
After a moment she opened the laptop and with her hands shaking, sick that she had to once again illegally obtain what she needed before she went insane, she worked at hacking into NCIS. They had some strong measures in place, but Kia was just that good. She’d hacked all the way into the President’s email one time just to see if she could. She sang “Hail to the Chief,” every day for a week after that. No one had a clue.
But she’d given that up. She had put illegal and dangerous stuff behind her. When she got into the database, she searched for Lambert and that led her to Bryant Anderson. When a file popped up on him, she accessed it. The Special Agent’s name was Paige Wilder.
In growing horror, she read every word, a litany bursting from her lips, her stricken eyes widening as each word burned into her brain and seared her heart. “Oh, God, oh God, oh, God…” over and over again. Then she sat back against the pillows. After a moment, she covered her mouth and ran for the bathroom and was sick. Kneeling on the tiles, the cold had seeped deep into her bones. She burst into tears, frightened, remorseful sobs that echoed in the small room. Anderson had tricked her, completely pulled the wool over her eyes. He and his accomplices had gotten her to hack the security and then stolen weapons and warheads. She could barely breathe. Then, her face crumpled again and she sobbed softly, two military policemen had been killed. Their blood was on her hands, too. She felt the enormous weight of their deaths pressing in on her, the betrayal by the people she’d worked for making it all that much worse.
She got up and rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth, tears of anger and betrayal now coursing down her cheeks.
The assassin’s cell rang, and she rushed to her bed and picked it up. The number was blocked. She pressed the accept button.
“Is it done?”
Her heart slammed into her throat at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, a voice she recognized, a voice she’d trusted.
Then like a lightning bolt out of the blue, Lambert’s face slammed into her, and she remembered where she’d seen him as clear as day. It had been the day she’d gone to the DoD. She knew who was behind this and as soon as Special Agent Paige Wilder got here and Kia answered her questions, he was going to pin everything on her, make her the fall guy. Without any evidence, she would be arrested and go to jail. What would Wes think of her, then?
“You son of a bitch!”
“Fuck. Kia! You’re a dead woman walking.” Then he disconnected the call. In shock she dropped onto the bed, a sick, horrible feeling churning inside her. She thought she was going to be sick again. She trembled all over and then, she got angry. Good and angry. They had tricked her into something so heinous and were willing to make her the fall guy. Bryant Anderson had died for his involvement. He’d been cleaning up loose ends and she was left dangling.
She went to her closet and packed a suitcase, setting it back inside and out of sight. Then she pushed her clothes aside and opened the small safe tucked away in the back and took out the documents she needed. She was done with being the hunted.
Her biggest regret was that she was going to have to leave Wes behind. She couldn’t compromise him or Tank. Not active, dedicated Navy SEALs. Not Wes.
She was on her own.
Again.
“You think she locked us out?” Tank asked.
Cowboy just looked at him and he backed up a step. “Hey, this isn’t my fault. You’re the one who’s on edge.”
He turned and sat down on the top step. The two dogs were still a little traumatized after their beat down and went and laid at their feet. Cowboy knew how they felt. Something was up with Kia. He wasn’t sure if it was the trauma, the stress or something else she wasn’t telling him.
And, he was peeved at Tank. But it didn’t have to do with thinking he was after Kia. He was tussling with his own emotions and arguing with Tank helped him to combat some of the frustration.
“I would never step into your girl, man. I swear. I think she’s great, but she’s only got eyes for you.”
“So if she didn’t just have eyes for me, that would be a game changer?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. She reminds me of my sister. You know I’d follow you into hell and that buddies don’t poach other buddies’ girls, but she’s something special. I hope you see that.”
“I’m not sure where the hell it can go,” Cowboy growled. “Here I thought I would come home, try to get the ranch. I had this stupid notion that I would quit the SEALs, get out and ranch again.”
“But?”
“I don’t want to leave the navy. That ranch doesn’t belong to me anymore. I lost it a long time ago.”
“Kia and I overheard what you said to your mom. We didn’t mean to, we were just concerned. You looked pretty spooked there.”
“Yeah, that nomination…I thought no one would ever look at my dad again without thinking about him taking the easy way out. About him being a coward.”
Tank looked off into the distance. “I’ve never had anything like that, mostly just crappy apartments and my dad bailed long before I became a man. So I’m not the one to give you great advice about the paternal stuff or lost birthrights. But I can say that you have to be honest with your family. True to form, you were brutally honest. But if you don’t get that shit off your chest, it festers.” He sat down deeming it was safe. “Did you join to prove that you weren’t, by association, a coward?”
“Maybe. All I know is I was working myself ragged, and it felt good. I let everything go except the exercise. People were worried. I could tell. I guess I needed a reason to work out to the extreme.”
Tank chuckled. “That’s basic, man. I guess you got what you bargained for.”
“And then some, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Not even her?”
That question hung in the air between them, and Cowboy came to the same blank dead end he’d been wrestling with for a while. “My gut ties up in knots, and the thinking just stops with her.”
“Maybe you should talk to her. Maybe she feels the same way.”
“She’s grounded here. She has a business, a home, horses. What can I offer her? I’m gone all the time, the distance would be too much and coming back here, even to visit my family has been tough.” He closed his eyes, fighting against what he had believed for so long, but had to remember what he’d discovered. His personal honor wasn’t tied to anyone but his own actions. The fact that he wrestled with it, that even now, he wasn’t fully convinced.
“It’s really none of my business, but I think if she means more to you than just something casual, if that mushy feeling is strong—”
“Mushy feeling? Is that the official term?”
“It is for guys like me who don’t like to talk about mushy feelings.”
“It’s strong.”
“Then you’ve got to say something. After this is over are you just expecting to walk away from here and tell her, ‘It’s been fun, babe. Catch you when I’m in town.’”
“No
. That doesn’t fit, but telling her how I feel may not solve anything.”
“Or it may solve everything.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said.
13
After composing herself, she came out of the house. Tank and Wes were playing horseshoes, with her horseshoes. She shook her head when Cowboy got a ringer and did a little two-step.
“Is there anything you can’t do,” Tank growled.
Then they saw her and both of them watched her warily. “I’m over my snit,” she said. “Wes, can you ride with me? I need some fresh air.”
“I’ll hold down the fort,” Tank said.
“Exactly.” She walked up to them and said, “Wes is right.” She patted Tank’s massive chest. “They’re all pirates.”
He chuckled. “You would take his side.”
“I’ll take any side I can get,” she said as she continued walking, throwing a sultry look over her shoulder. If she masked the turmoil inside her, maybe Wes wouldn’t notice. Tank nudged, him and Wes shoved him lightly on the shoulder.
“You coming, Cowboy?”
He hurried after her. Once inside the barn, a fragrance of horses and dried hay rose up to meet her, and Kia squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Her tack room was in the back, and with one quick glance at the large box stalls lining the structure, Kia stepped toward Saragon’s enclosure. The loud whinny from the big buckskin when Cowboy materialized made her smile. “I think you’ve made a friend. I bet he behaves for you.”
“I’ve been dying to ride him.” He nuzzled Wes’s shoulder. Quicksand had never been that affectionate with her. Looked like he’d formed a special bond with Wes. Then, who could blame him? Wes was a consummate horseman and confident working with them. That would transfer easily to Quicksand’s high-strung disposition. Her throat got tight thinking about losing all this, losing her freedom, losing Wes. She turned away as her face contorted, and she had to work to keep from sobbing.
She opened Saragon’s stall, and he immediately shifted against her as if he had sympathy for her sorrow. In the next stall over, Twilight Star nickered softly as if he, too, was picking up on her distress. “Sorry, Star baby. Not today.” Regret welled that she wouldn’t get a chance to ride him before she had to leave. She cross-tied Saragon and went to the tack room and grabbed his blanket, saddle and bridle. Wes was doing the same with Quicksand.
He looked over at her as she headed out of the room. “Had a mighty big meltdown there. Are you sure you’re all right?”
She smiled, working to keep it natural. “I am still surrounded by alpha males and plenty of testosterone.” He gave her a small half smile. “I’m fine, Wes. It’s been an exhausting and scary week.”
“You did a great job with the reunion. Everyone enjoyed it.” He followed her back out into the barn.
“Even with the excitement?” She placed the blanket and hauled the saddle onto his back. Wes made it look effortless. He did most things with very little struggle. Just the thought of doing this on her own was terrifying. She was a hacker for God’s sake and even though she knew how to throw a punch, she was far from a spec ops warrior. Something must have shown on her face.
He walked over to her. “Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you?” He reached over and handed her the bridle and Saragon took the bit like a good dragon.
“Other than why this man is trying to kill me?” He wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. “No, nothing else.” She had to keep everything to herself which was pressure enough, but she was quite aware that Wes would try to help. Aiding and abetting a fugitive was a federal offense. She’d looked it up. He could be charged with the crime if he went with her to DC, and he would insist on it the moment she told him she knew who was behind this. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. God, she wanted him to go with her so much.
She couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t be responsible for him getting a dishonorable discharge or getting court-martialed. She swallowed hard against that sick feeling, blinking back the tears. She had blood on her hands. His honor wouldn’t let him do anything else and after struggling with it so hard during the ten years after his dad’s death… No. That was enough. She’d take the decision out of his hands.
But she had enough time to spend one more afternoon and night with him. She couldn’t risk much more. She’d already booked a flight out of Corpus Christi. Once she arrived in DC she was going to be hiding and most likely on the run.
They led the horses out of the barn and mounted up. She wanted to be honest with him about something and as they trotted off past the corral into the open country, she deliberately headed in the direction of Sweetwater.
The organization and execution of the reunion thankfully behind her, she actually could have gotten back to normal if it wasn’t for this terrible situation hanging over her head. The end of the festivities also signaled Wes’s departure. She knew he wasn’t staying, and her attempt to get him to go may fall on deaf ears, but she was going to try.
She loved this part of the ranch—loved the vastness, the spectacular vistas, the untouched beauty of it. With the exception of fence lines, this area was just as it had been a hundred years before and she was always overwhelmed by it.
There was a gap along the west fence at the top of the rise, and Kia stopped, shielding her eyes as she stared out at the view. It was breathtaking, this country. The mountains, the forested eastern slope, the spiny backs of the foothills, the distinctive green of the aspens. There was no place like it in the entire world. She wondered if Wes missed it. And there was a sense of unfettered freedom here. Shifting her gaze, she followed the majestic flight of a hawk as it hunted, the wind whipping loose hair across her face. It was as if all this space allowed her to take a full breath, to expand her lungs to their total capacity, to shed all her constraints—for now.
Wes had never talked about it, at least not to her, but she understood his commitment to the legacy of Sweetwater. She understood how deep his roots went. And she wondered if getting the ranch back would make him happy or if it would always be a reminder that his dad’s blood had been spilled there.
Had she preserved his family heritage for nothing?
She looked over her shoulder. “You don’t seem rusty to me.”
“I guess it’s like riding a bicycle. It comes back as soon as you get on.”
“He’s not giving you any sass?”
“No, he’s being a fine gentleman,” Wes said, patting his neck.
“Typical.”
He chuckled. “How about we give these ponies some exercise? I’ll race you.”
Before giving him a chance to respond, she kicked Saragon and he jumped into a gallop.
“Hey!” Wes shouted, but when she looked behind the racing horse, he was gaining on her.
“Come on, my dragon,” she whispered. “I know you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink. Let’s just get him there.”
She saw the familiar outline of the ranch on the horizon, and she spurred Saragon a little faster. The appaloosa truly had the heart of a dragon, he responded with more speed. They passed through a wide belt of trees, and Sweetwater’s ranch buildings came into view. The arena was at the most eastward end of the complex, with a series of corrals between it and a huge red barn, and on a knoll to the west, the beautiful house. She’d just had it painted recently. As soon as she got to where she wanted to go, she slowed him and Wes pulled up Quicksand. “You are very fast, lady.”
Then he glanced to his right and his mouth tightened.
She stared at it. After ten years she knew every nook and cranny. She loved this place as much as he did.
“Kia…”
She dismounted and tied Saragon to a bush. “Have you even seen it since you got back?”
“No.” His jaw hardened and flexed as he threw his leg over Quicksand in a fluid move to the ground. He tipped his hat a little lower. “I stopped on the way out of town when I was here
for my cousin’s wedding.”
“Why do you want to buy it back?”
He turned to look at her, his expression closed.
“I just want a simple answer.”
She could tell by the stubborn set to his jaw and the look in his eyes that simple couldn’t ever apply to Sweetwater. With a sigh of resignation, she stuck her hands in her back pockets and looked away. He was about to brush by her when she laid her hand on his arm, and he jerked away, almost as though she’d scalded him.
It was an unexpected reaction and stung a bit.
For a long time, he simply looked at her, his eyes giving nothing away. But she sensed a deep discontentment about him, as if he were enduring some inner struggle. And she couldn’t stand that. Reaching up she touched his face, her voice breaking as she said, “Something is happening between us, and I’m getting in so far over my head, I don’t know what to do. Without even trying, you overwhelmed me, and I can’t even fight back.”
He shut his eyes in a grimace as he pulled her hand away. “Kia,” he whispered raggedly. “God, Kia…don’t.”
“Talk to me, Wes,” she pleaded. “I’m not asking for much. I just want you to talk to me.”
He opened his eyes, eyes that were dark and smoky, and as if drawn against his will, he cupped her face in his callused hands and softly stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “I was born in that house. The boots of my grandfather, great grandfather and the ones before him walked the land, tended the cattle, raised the horses and built a legacy. I was always proud to know that it would come to me, that I would get the opportunity to provide good stewardship of the land.” He tipped his head forward, the shadow of the brim obscuring his eyes. “I lost sight of home, Kia, and it almost destroyed me. In the swamps, jungles and deserts of this world, I was unhooked, unhinged, wandering with Uncle Sam’s purpose and home became the brotherhood where I belonged because we bled, sweated, and fought together. But I never forgot my roots.” His hands dropped away from her and to keep contact, she hooked her finger into one of his belt loops. “I fight for tangibles and people and for concepts that have words like patriotism, honor, justice. I fight for the American way as part of the force that keeps this country free. I thought I was ready to give that up. But I’m not. I’m not sure if getting Sweetwater back in my name is more about trying to overcome the betrayal of my dad or remembering that home has many meanings and that it can’t be separated from the heart.”
