She felt him shrug against her in the darkness.
“After my last tour, I felt I’d done my duty, so I became a marshal.”
What was he about to say when he paused? Jessica sensed there was more to him quitting the army than he was admitting. “You said it’s a family tradition to go into law enforcement. What about your mom and your sister?”
“My mom did a stint as a 9-1-1 operator. My sister’s the oldest of my siblings and the first one in my generation to carry on the tradition. She’s a detective, and she’d probably slug you for implying that a woman can’t succeed in law enforcement.”
“I didn’t mean to...I wasn’t trying to say, that is—”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Apology accepted.”
Jessica felt the warmth of his hand all the way to her toes. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. “If your family is busy chasing bad guys, who takes care of the ranch?”
“We all pitched in when we could, still do on occasion. But mostly, Mom handles the books and Dad hires ranch hands to take care of day-to-day operations. The ranch has been in the family a long time. It’s a well-oiled machine.”
“So, you’re a cowboy-soldier-marshal who likes John Wayne and hates city life. There are a lot of holes in that bio.”
“Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”
“Okay. What’s your middle name?”
He squeezed her hand again. “Anything but that.”
“You said you were an open book.”
“I am, except for my middle name. It’s my cross to bear. I still haven’t forgiven my mother.”
Jessica laughed. “It can’t be that bad. At least tell me what it starts with.”
“It comes after d and before f.”
“I’m guessing it’s e.”
“Smart lady.”
“Be warned. You’ve whet my curiosity and I don’t give up easily. I’m going to figure out your middle name.”
“Not a chance,” he said.
The bed of branches shifted slightly and Jessica sensed that Ryan had rolled onto his side facing her.
“Did you join the army instead of going to college?” Jessica asked.
Ryan’s warm breath puffed out in a sigh, brushing across her neck. “What makes you think I didn’t go to college? Do I sound uneducated?”
“No, of course not. I just thought, since you joined the army—”
“I happen to have an official piece of paper in a drawer somewhere saying I graduated college.”
“In a drawer somewhere?”
“You think I should have it on my ego wall?” he teased.
“Do you have an ego wall?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“What’s on it, if not your college diploma?”
He fell silent, and after a while, Jessica thought he might have fallen asleep.
“My wall has things that really matter,” he finally said, his deep voice tinged with a hint of sadness. “Pictures of men I served with in special forces. Men who died.” Another pause. “I lost four men on my last mission.”
The regret and sadness in his voice tugged at her heart. “I’m sorry about your men.”
He didn’t answer, and after waiting for several minutes, she realized he wasn’t going to. “I don’t understand,” she said. “How is a wall of pictures an ego wall?”
He sighed again, as if realizing she wasn’t going to give up. “It reminds me not to have an ego. It reminds me that no matter how experienced or how accomplished I think I am, anything can happen. There are no guarantees.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. Sorry you lost your friends.” An image of the explosion flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could block out her memories just as easily as she closed her eyes. “And I’m so sorry that I’m the reason your marshal friends died.” She rolled to her other side, facing away from him.
He wrapped her in a bear hug, shocking her as he pulled her tightly against him, spooning his body behind hers. “The explosion wasn’t your fault,” he whispered. “I never should have blamed you for that. I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m sorry, Jessica.”
He reached out until he found her hand again and he entwined his fingers with hers. He gave her a gentle squeeze and held her close. For a long moment, Jessica lay there, shocked that he’d apologized and that he continued to hold her close, offering her the comfort of his arm around her waist.
Her heart nearly broke as a wave of longing crashed over her, swamping her with emotion. Not lust this time, although her desire for him was always there, simmering beneath the surface. No, this time she longed for acceptance. She longed for Ryan to care about her, to want to protect her because he liked the person she was instead of just because it was his job. She longed for a real family, like Ryan’s—brothers and sisters, a mother and a father who would love her, and never leave her.
She longed for a way to make up for all the pain she’d caused so many people because of the choices she’d made in her life. She wanted to have value. She wanted to matter to someone.
And she wanted to hear Ryan’s laugh one more time before she went to sleep.
“I know what the e stands for,” she said, her voice hesitant. She waited for his response. One heartbeat. Two.
“What does it stand for?”
Relief swept through her. “Everett,” she teased.
“Nope.”
“Elrod?”
He chuckled. “No.”
The vise around Jessica’s heart eased at the sound of his laughter. “Ernest?”
“Not even close.”
“I’ve got it. Elbert.”
“No, my middle name is not Everett. It’s not Elrod, or Ernest, and it most certainly is not Elbert.”
She heard the smile in his voice and she smiled in return. “Good night, Ryan.”
“Jessica,” he said, his voice serious again. “I’m going to wake you at first light. I wish I could let you sleep longer, but we need to put some more distance between us and that gunman. Once we get a few more miles between us, I’ll let you have that bath I promised you. I’ll fix us a hot meal, something better than granola bars. Just hang in there a little bit longer. I’ll get you out of this. I promise.”
He squeezed her hand. Jessica squeezed his in return, but as she lay in the dark thinking about what he’d said, tension and dread coiled in her stomach. Ryan didn’t normally bother to explain his actions. The fact that he had, meant they were probably in far greater danger than she’d realized.
She prayed that Ryan hadn’t just made her another promise that he couldn’t keep.
Chapter Ten
“Who’s Miss Beth?”
Jessica jerked her head up. Ryan was sitting in the dirt a few feet away, skinning the rabbit he’d caught for breakfast, after making them hike a few more hours away from the cave where they’d slept last night. Jessica averted her gaze to keep from gagging. “Where did you hear that name?”
“You were talking in your sleep again.”
Jessica raised her brows in question.
“Don’t worry,” Ryan said. “You didn’t mention your bank account number, or your social security number, and you didn’t reveal the names of any of your old boyfriends. The only words I understood were Miss Beth.”
Jessica gave a short laugh. “You already know my bank account number, and my social security number. And that list of old boyfriends is pathetically short.”
Ryan’s face registered his surprise, reminding Jessica that he’d assumed she’d slept with DeGaullo. He probably thought she’d slept with a host of men. She pursed her lips.
Ryan set the poor, dead rabbit on a rock. Grabbing one of the small branches he’d gathered earlier, he started trimming the end into a sharp point with the smaller of the two knives he had. “So, who’s Miss Beth?” he repeated.
Jessica considered not answering, but she’d learned he wouldn’t stop pestering her until he got what he wanted.
“One of my many foster moms. One of the few who seemed to care about me.”
Ryan’s hand stilled for a moment. “Do you miss her?”
“Sometimes, maybe. She taught me how to cook.” She grinned. “Or at least, she tried.”
“I thought you cooked a great breakfast the other day.”
“Sure. You like burned food. Right.”
He grinned and held the twig up, examining the tip.
“She may have been a failure at teaching me to cook, but Miss Beth gave me my love for math. She also taught me how to drive. Although, I did tear up her clutch trying to learn to drive a stick shift.”
“Remind me never to let you drive my Jeep,” he teased. “How long were you in foster care?”
Too long. She looked out over the mountains and the endless acres of trees. She’d climbed many a tree when she was young, usually to get away from her foster-siblings and their cruel taunts. She’d never fit in, probably because she was always on edge, worried someone would find out about her parents.
Somehow, they always did.
“How long?” He repeated, studying her intently.
The man definitely didn’t know how to take a hint.
She sighed. “I think I was five, maybe six, when I went into foster care. I left on my eighteenth birthday, so...twelve or thirteen years, I guess.”
His brows rose. “You were never adopted?”
She grabbed one of the twigs and poked at the ground. “It’s pretty obvious that I came from bad stock, as one of my foster parents used to tell me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did, right?” She hated how bitter she sounded, but Ryan had struck a nerve.
How many times had she gotten her hopes up when a new family considered her for adoption, only to have them change their mind and choose someone else when they found out about her biological parents? She sniffed, determined not to give in to the unwelcome wave of self-pity that shot through her.
But then the tears started flowing down her face, and Ryan lifted her onto his lap, cradling her in the warm cocoon of his arms.
She didn’t question why he was being so nice. It felt so good to be held. It had been so long since someone had cared, or even pretended to care. She closed her eyes and clung to him, resting her cheek against his chest and taking the comfort he offered.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. When the tears dried on Jessica’s face, Ryan gave her a gentle squeeze, but he continued to hold her.
“Tell me about your biological parents,” he whispered against the top of her head.
“There’s not much to tell. My mom was a junkie. She loved crack more than she loved me. And you already know my dad abandoned me. He was arrested, then went in and out of prison after that. Last I heard he was doing hard time for murder.” She shrugged. “See, I told you I came from bad stock. People always expect the worst from me, and so far, they’ve been right.”
And one of the worst offenders, the person who thought she was almost as bad as DeGaullo, was the man holding her.
She scrambled off his lap.
Ryan frowned, obviously wondering what had happened.
Jessica’s stomach chose that moment to growl.
Loudly.
Ryan grinned. “Even if you don’t think you want some of this rabbit, your stomach obviously does.” He reached for the stick he’d sharpened, grabbed the skinned rabbit, and skewered it like a corn dog at a fair.
Jessica’s stomach heaved. She silently gave thanks that it was empty at the moment, and that she’d been born in the age of grocery stores and restaurants. She’d have never survived in pioneer days. “I’m not really all that hungry anymore,” she said, fighting nausea.
“Be brave. You’ll feel much better after a hot meal.”
“I can’t eat Thumper.”
“Would you rather eat Bambi? I can try to find a deer if you prefer venison.”
She grimaced and he grinned in response. He made a small ring of rocks next to one of the oak trees a few feet away and placed some twigs inside it. After shoving two Y-shaped sticks into the ground, he set the speared rabbit on top of them. With a quick flick of his lighter, the twigs lit and a small fire burned beneath the rabbit.
The smell of roasting meat hit Jessica, and her stomach clenched, this time with hunger instead of nausea. Her qualms about eating Thumper were rapidly disappearing. She tried to remember the last time she’d eaten a real meal, something other than a granola bar. It was probably the sandwiches she and Ryan had made for lunch while unpacking her garage a few days ago.
“Why did you build the fire under a tree?” She watched him feed small twigs to the flames, one at a time.
“Keeping the fire small, and using dry twigs, reduces the smoke. The tree leaves clean and obscure what little smoke there is.”
“Did you learn that when you were an army ranger?”
“Actually, I learned that from my dad. He made sure all of us could handle pretty much anything. He took us camping out on the ranch dozens of times, teaching us survival skills. When I became a teenager, he took me camping for the first time without the rest of my family. It was kind of a rite of passage, a family tradition. I had to hunt for our meal, clean it and cook it. Basically I had to prove I could survive on my own, all without leaving any tracks so my other brothers and my sister couldn’t find us.”
“Why did it matter if they found you?”
“It was a game, to see who was the best, and to make sure all of us could take care of ourselves no matter what happened. He made sure we were strong, independent, so we never had to rely on anyone else. The ranch is huge. A kid could get lost out there for days. Dad wanted to make sure if that happened that each of his kids could find their way back home without getting hurt.” He grinned. “He also taught us to avoid mountain lions, of course.”
She lightly punched him in the arm. “So who was the best? You?”
“Nope. My sister. She beat me at every game we ever played.”
The unguarded look of love in his eyes told Jessica that he didn’t mind at all that his sister usually won. Part of her wondered if he let her win on purpose, just to make his sister happy. He obviously cared very much about his family, especially—it seemed—his sister and his mother.
That didn’t surprise Jessica. She was beginning to realize he’d been brought up the old-fashioned way, to respect women and to be protective of them. That explained why he’d been so protective of her all along. Even though he made no secret of his disdain for her past and what she’d done, Ryan put her safety and comfort first.
Even back in the hospital, when his anger about his friends’ deaths was so fresh and new, he’d gently unwound the IV tubing that had tangled around her arm and made sure she was comfortable. His need to protect was automatic, and sometimes in direct contrast to his emotions.
The fact that he was willing to defy his boss’s orders and risk his career to keep her safe made more sense to her now. Protecting her wasn’t a choice. It was something he felt he had to do, because she was a woman, and he believed she needed him.
It certainly wasn’t because he was beginning to care about her. She sighed and drew a line in the dirt with one of the small twigs.
Ryan turned the rabbit and tested the meat with his knife.
“Would your sister eat rabbit in a situation like this?” Jessica asked.
He quirked a brow. “She would have caught, skinned and cooked the rabbit the first time I offered her a granola bar.”
Jessica laughed. “You love your family very much, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He looked surprised that she’d even said that. “They mean everything to me. Family means everything to me.” His voice sounded matter-of-fact, as if he thought everyone felt that way.
Maybe they did. Jessica had never had a family, so she didn’t know if Ryan was any different than other people in that respect. What she did know was that she envied him. She envied the love in his eyes and the pride in his voice w
hen he talked about the games he and his siblings played.
The rabbit meat turned dark and began to sizzle. Jessica’s mouth watered from the tantalizing smell.
Ryan cut off a small piece of cooked meat, and blew on it to cool it.
“Did you eat rabbits to survive when you were on your army missions?” Jessica asked.
“Not unless we ran out of rations, or we were deep in enemy territory and had no way of getting supplies through normal channels. On our last mission, we were more likely to eat lamb than rabbit.”
“Lamb? They lived wild where you were?”
His lopsided smile did something funny to her stomach.
“Not exactly. Let’s just say the world was our supermarket.”
“You stole?” She was genuinely shocked.
“We were surrounded by unfriendlies. I couldn’t exactly walk up to a farmer and offer him a couple of dollars for a lamb. We took what we needed. No one went hungry or lost their farms because of our pilfering.” He held out the piece of rabbit meat toward her. “Come on, Jessie. I know you’re hungry. Don’t let Thumper’s sacrifice be in vain.”
Her breath caught at his unexpected use of the nickname she hadn’t heard since college. Not even Natalie had called her Jessie, saying she was far too serious to be anything other than Jessica.
The last time she’d allowed herself to be Jessie, she’d been happy, naive, full of foolish hopes and dreams. Then she’d answered an ad in the paper, and her dreams became a nightmare.
“Jessica,” Ryan said, his voice quiet, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just hungry.”
She reached out to take the piece of meat on his knife, but he took the meat and leaned forward, holding it against her mouth. When she opened her mouth to protest, he slid the food between her lips, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. She shivered at the unexpected caress. Then the wild, gamey taste of the rabbit burst across her tongue and she moaned in surprised delight.
“Oh, my gosh, this is so good.”
“Better than a granola bar?” he teased. He cut another piece and blew on it.
The Marshal's Witness Page 9
