Mitch’s top lip quirked. “It’s not something you generally make time for.”
“No, I have a clothing store here at the stockyards—and another at the mall. And I have my duties here as rodeo queen. I can’t let the rodeo down.”
“Knowing you, I’m certain you’ve hired a great manager for each store—someone who can handle things for a few weeks. And don’t they have runner-up rodeo queens or something?”
“A few weeks.” Her words turned into a wail. “No!”
“Okay, probably not that long.”
“My managers are great.” She stalked across the office. “But the rodeo has had huge turnover in the queen department. One of the main reasons I was hired was because I promised to be here. I haven’t been here quite two months. I can’t take off.”
“Why has there been so much turnover? Have any other queens received threats?”
“No. Nothing like that. We have to be here every Friday and Saturday night. Most single women aren’t okay with that.”
“Why?”
“Hello?” She shrugged. “Date nights.”
He grinned. “So you’ve been able to be so consistent because you don’t have anyone to keep your date nights open for?”
She blushed. “Dating is highly overrated. I can’t let Bob down.”
“I spoke with Bob earlier. He’s all for protective custody.”
“Really?” She frowned.
“Of course. He wants you safe.”
“I should have known. He’s a big teddy bear. All gruff and stern when he needs to be, but marshmallow mushy on the inside. He treats us all like his kids.”
“Does he have kids?” Mitch scribbled in his notebook.
“What did you write down?” Her chest squeezed. “Bob is not a suspect.”
“Everyone’s a suspect until we know who the perp is. What about the other staff?”
“No.” She clasped both hands over her ears. “They’re not suspects. No one I know would write kooky letters.”
“You never know.”
“Well, I do. I won’t have you digging into all my friends’ and coworkers’ backgrounds.”
“It’s my job, Caitlyn. And I’ll dig until I find our letter writer and escort him to jail myself. In the meantime, you’ll be in protective custody, whether you like it or not.”
“I have to agree to it—right?” She folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin.
* * *
Mitch had seen that look before. The sapphire sequins on her blouse flashed in the light, matching her beautiful eyes. Stubborn eyes.
He sighed. “Technically.”
“I refuse.”
“Caitlyn—”
“That’s it. I refuse.”
“All right. Then I’ll arrange to be your bodyguard.” Mitch ran his hand along the back of his neck and paced some more.
“No.”
“It’s that or protective custody. Your choice.”
“Neither.”
“Not one of the choices.”
A world-weary sigh hissed out of her. “Can you please take me to my car?”
“I’m driving you.” Mitch wagged a finger at her. “And that’s your only choice.”
“I’m not going to the station tonight. I’m tired.”
Pressure welled up in his chest. Why did she always have to fight him? He didn’t want to scare her any more than he already had. But she left him no choice.
“The station can wait until tomorrow, but I’m driving you home. Don’t argue with me, Caitlyn. This guy could be waiting at your house.”
Her bottomless eyes grew huge. She was speechless for four, five, six full seconds. The longest he’d ever known Caitlyn to stay silent.
“I’ll go to Mama and Daddy’s. It’ll freak them out if a ranger shows up.”
“I’ll let them know it’s me.”
“No. No way. Mama will torment me with questions about us.”
Us? His heart jackhammered. “Then I’ll check out your house, and your parents will never know I’m there.”
She sighed. “Oh, all right. Can I at least change into my regular clothes?”
“If you must.” He stood.
“I don’t need an escort.” She rolled her eyes. “The security guard is still here and the place is locked.”
“Just work with me here.” Mitch sat back down.
Something in her eyes softened. “I’ll be right back.”
Had she heard the desperation in his plea?
Seeing her again had stirred up every memory and feeling he thought he’d buried. He might be desperate to keep her safe, but he was just as desperate to win her love again.
* * *
Caitlyn changed out of her sequined rodeo queen outfit and into her own jeans and Western-themed T-shirt.
I need a breather. She leaned back against the wall. Deep, slow breaths. Get through the drive home, and tomorrow she’d figure out how to get rid of him. She’d even consider protective custody—as long as he wasn’t the protector.
After a couple of minutes, she calmed down and dug her lipstick from her oversize purse. No, he’d think she’d reapplied for him. She dropped the lipstick, smoothed her hair and straightened her shoulders. Ready for battle, she opened the dressing room door.
A man was leaning against the wall to her left.
She opened her mouth, but the scream died on her lips. Glen.
“Hey, it’s me.” He patted her shoulder.
“I didn’t know you were still here.”
“You didn’t really think Bob would let me leave without making sure this place was locked up, did you? Did your friend leave?”
“He’s not my friend. Just an old acquaintance.” Understatement of the year.
“Oh.” He shrugged. “Ready for me to escort you to your car?”
“Yes, please.” She smiled. Mitch problem solved.
For tonight anyway.
* * *
Mitch rolled his neck muscles from side to side and scanned the office. American flag buntings decorated each window. As star spangled as Caitlyn’s glitzy jacket and hat but without the sequins.
Stubborn woman. Hadn’t changed a bit in the past ten years.
Except she was even more beautiful.
If anything happened to her, he’d die. How could he convince her to go into protective custody?
The muscles in the back of his neck ached and he massaged them as he paced.
Her dad. Yes. He’d go see her dad first thing in the morning. And Caitlyn would be in a safe house before she could say the word no.
As long as he made it to his sister’s wedding, his family wouldn’t be too upset. And surely by then, he’d have this case closed.
Nervous energy jolted through him. Out of all the people he’d vowed to protect over the years, he’d never had to protect someone he loved. He had to keep Caitlyn safe.
And she should be back by now. Mitch stepped into the hall.
No sign of movement. His heart pounded.
“Caitlyn.” He hurried toward the dressing room.
“You’re still here?” A man’s voice behind him.
Mitch spun around.
The assistant he’d met earlier. Glen.
“Have you seen Caitlyn?”
“I escorted her to her car.”
“You what?” Mitch’s pulse went into overdrive.
“She came out of the dressing room.” Glen frowned. “I was supposed to escort her to her car after the rodeo, so I asked if she was ready.”
Something in his chest roiled. What if Glen was the stalker? What if he’d done something to Caitlyn? Mitch locked his best bad-cop glower on Glen. The man didn�
��t flinch, didn’t look away. Telling the truth.
“Did she go home?”
“I think she went to her store. Said something about needing her laptop.”
“Where is her store?”
“Across the street a ways down, next to the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame. It’s called the Sassy Cowgirl/Rowdy Cowboy.”
Mitch bolted for the door.
* * *
Thanks, Mitch. He’d successfully given Caitlyn a case of the creeps with his warnings that her stalker might be at her house. Now she was afraid to go home.
She shut and locked the office door, blocking the view from the windowed showroom. No one could peer in and see her now. A shiver skittered up her spine and she sank into the chair at her desk.
At least she’d managed a few minutes to gather herself—for her hands to stop shaking, her heart to stop rattling, her brain to numb. Caitlyn closed her laptop and stuffed it in her oversize purse, then straightened the few items on her raw pine desk.
It was only a letter. Natalie, Bob and Mitch had all overreacted. She wasn’t some whimpering ninny. She’d taken self-defense classes. If anything happened, she could handle herself.
Just settle down. Her store—her dream—always settled her nerves.
Deep breaths. In and out. She was safe. Her stalker wasn’t here. But if she didn’t get moving, Mitch would trail her here. At the moment, she really wasn’t sure which she feared more.
If she called him now, she’d end up riding with him. If she could just get brave enough to make a run for her car, then she could call and let him follow her.
She grabbed her keys, blew out a cleansing breath and pulled the back door open.
A man’s large silhouette filled the doorway. “Hello, Camille. I’ve been waiting to get you alone.”
Chapter 2
Caitlyn screamed and dropped her purse. She stumbled back into her office and grabbed for the doorknob. Her hand met air.
“I told you I’d come for you.” The man stepped inside and slammed the door behind him. Dark blond hair, gray-blue eyes, narrow face, no scars. She’d never seen him before. Lines deepened with his malevolent smile as he raised an open switchblade, stroking the edge with his thumb.
No mask. Her stomach jolted. He didn’t plan on her escaping. Or maybe even surviving.
Why, oh, why, hadn’t she let Mitch drive her home? She backed farther into the office.
The man’s hand shot out toward her.
With a quick pivot around her desk, she made it to the showroom door. Just get it open and lock him in the office. Then maybe she could make it back to the coliseum before the man could get through the side alley and around front to catch up with her.
A rough hand clamped her left wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. She yelped. His knife-wielding hand snaked over her right shoulder. The cold blade scraped her throat. Would Mitch figure out where she was and come in time to save her? But what if he had already trailed her here? What if the man had hurt Mitch? Or worse? Her insides twisted.
“You’re more of a fighter than you used to be. I like that.” His hot breath fanned her neck.
A whiff of sour alcohol turned her stomach. “I’m not Camille. My name is Caitlyn.”
“Did you really think you could change your name to Caitlyn Wentworth and I wouldn’t recognize you? I’d know my Camille anywhere.”
A shudder quaked through her. “You’re hurting me.”
The knife pressed against her neck, but he let go of her wrist. He smoothed her hair, and then wound it around his hand.
She gasped.
He wound tighter, jerking her head back.
Shock waves shot through her scalp. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“Now, let’s turn around real slow and leave out the back way. If you scream, I’ll cut any rescuer’s throat. We’re going home, Camille. You’ve played your game long enough.”
Think. Think. She obviously couldn’t convince this lunatic she wasn’t Camille. She had to get away. God, please help me. I don’t mind dying, but not like this.
The man shoved her toward the back door. With his hand still wound in her hair, she saw mostly ceiling.
“Can I get my purse?” Anything for a weapon.
“You don’t need it. Drop the keys. You’re leaving this life behind.”
“At least let me lock up. If my purse is here and the store is unlocked, police will suspect foul play.” Play his game, keep him calm.
“I knew you were ready to come home.” He pressed his lips against her ear. “All right, grab your purse and lock up.”
Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed hard. “You can put the knife away. I’ll go home with you.”
“Not until we get there. You ran off once. I won’t give you another chance.” He stopped at the back door.
She felt around, found her purse and clutched it against her. With his left hand tangled deep in her hair, his right arm over her shoulder pressing the knife against her throat and the length of him against her back, she staggered outside.
One lone light drove the darkness from the still-dim parking area behind the store. No sign of Mitch. Or anyone else.
The man turned her so she could lock the door.
“I can’t see. Can you loosen up on my hair a little?”
“You better not try nothing.” His hand unwound a tiny bit.
“I have to lean down to see the lock and I’m afraid you’ll accidentally cut me.”
His arm was still over her shoulder, the heel of his hand resting above her chest, but she couldn’t feel the cold steel on her throat any longer. The knife was still close. But it was now or never.
With all her might, she jabbed her right elbow back and met torso.
The man cursed. His grip around her neck let up. The knife sliced into her shoulder.
She spun and brought her knee up hard. With a groan, he bent double and fell between her and her car. She bolted around him.
A hand clamped around her ankle. Heat seared through her calf. Her shadow cast him in darkness. Blindly, she swung her heavy purse at him and stomped his arm with her free foot. He groaned and cursed. His hand fell away.
Caitlyn staggered for the car. Each step sent hot waves through her calf. She jerked the door open, fell inside and slammed the lock button down. She jabbed the key at the ignition but couldn’t find it. The man stood. Her key finally hit the target and she revved the engine.
He darted in front of her car.
“Oh, God, help.” She jammed her foot on the gas. The car lurched forward and the man dove out of the way.
“Thank You, Lord.” She blew out a breath.
Tires squealing, she turned up the long alley between the building that housed her store and the Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame and then onto East Exchange. With the rodeo long over, the stores, restaurants and even bars had closed, leaving the main brick-lined street of the Fort Worth Stockyards abandoned.
Except for Mitch’s SUV parked in front of her store.
As her vision tunneled, she shook her head. “Dear Lord, let him be all right. Help me.”
She stomped the brake and her tires squealed as she lurched to a stop in front of Mitch. Woozy. Vision narrowing. She shook her head again and flung the door open.
“Caitlyn?”
He’s safe. Thank You, Lord. She tried to slide out of her car. Her legs trembled.
A flashlight beam blinded her. She looked down to avoid the glare. Blood on the leg of her jeans. “I’m hurt.”
“Caitlyn? What happened?” Mitch’s panicked voice sounded a lot farther away than the glare of his light.
“We have to get out of here before he...” With her last ounce of strength she stood, but her legs didn’t hold her. Strong
arms encircled her. Arms she’d often dreamed of. Everything went black.
* * *
The antiseptic hospital smell singed Mitch’s taste buds. He traced his fingers over Caitlyn’s delicate cheekbone. Her even breath fanned his knuckles. The doctor had repaired the damage. Only sleeping now.
How long had it been since he’d thanked God for anything? But another inch and the puncture would have severed a major artery in her calf instead of only nicking it. Thank goodness she was alive and hadn’t been sexually assaulted.
All moisture evaporated from his mouth. A bitter taste rose in his throat.
Where had her attacker been hiding? He never should have let her slip away from him. What would have happened if she hadn’t escaped? What would he have done if he’d lost her? Again. Permanently this time.
All these years, as long as he’d known she was out there somewhere, he could go through the motions of life. How had he ever let her go? Her huge sapphire eyes, her curtain of dark tresses, her soft, inviting lips. Her stubbornness.
When she’d turned down his long-ago proposal, he should have slung her over his shoulder and taken her to Garland kicking and screaming.
He wouldn’t let her go again. He’d find a way to win her love all over again. To convince her he’d stay safe. Especially if he got the transfer to forensics.
“I love you, Caitlyn.” His lips grazed her soft cheek. “I always have.”
Sapphire eyes fluttered open. She squinted at him. A tremulous smile.
Had she heard him? His heart revved. Did she still feel the same way?
But her smile melted away and she frowned. “What happened?”
“You were attacked. I called Natalie. She and your folks are on their way.”
“My leg hurts.”
“I’ll call the nurse.” He pressed the call button. “What do you remember?”
“He was waiting.” She trembled. “In the alley behind my store when I left.”
“Why did you leave the coliseum?”
“I didn’t want to ride with you.” She bit her lip. “But then I was afraid to go home. I was going to call you once I got back to my car and let you follow me.”
Mitch’s heart twisted. She’d put herself in danger to avoid him. “I knew I should have stuck closer to you. Did you see him?”
Rodeo Queen Page 2
