Camouflage Cowboy

by Jan Hambright

  “I’m calling it an afternoon,” Amelia said as she flicked off the lamp on her desk.

  “I won’t be in the office tomorrow. I’m working on assignment.” Nick turned in his desk chair. “I need the gray Tahoe from the company garage in exchange for my pickup. It’s a little hot right now.”

  Amelia chuckled. “I’m not even going to ask, Cava naugh. The key ring is hanging on the board in the supply room, and don’t forget Nolan’s roundtable on Friday at 0800. You missed my memo this morning.”

  “I’m all over it.” Nick stood up, pushed his chair in and picked up the file, suddenly anxious to get home.

  Chapter Seven

  “Go and wash your hands,” Grace said to Caleb, watching him drag his feet as he begrudgingly headed down the hallway to the powder room to scrub off a busy day of petting horses, playing with toy cars and getting settled in.

  She positioned the silverware on the dining-room table, wondering if she’d overstepped her bounds. This was Nick Cavanaugh’s home, they were guests, albeit forced guests, but they all had to eat, and she loved to cook.

  The flash of car lights bounced off the closed drapes of the dining-room window for an instant. Grace’s heart did a somersault. For some odd reason she felt like a three-year-old on Christmas morning, giddy with anticipation.

  She shrugged it off and headed for the front door, anxious to test her skills at disarming the security system. She hadn’t ventured outside today, much to Caleb’s displeasure, but it wasn’t safe until Rodney gave up, or left town, neither of which she was convinced he’d do.

  An ounce of caution worked through her as she raised her finger to punch in the code Nick had given her. She hesitated, rocked up onto her tiptoes, put her eye to the peephole and stared out at an unfamiliar vehicle as it rolled to a stop in the circle driveway.

  It wasn’t Nick’s white truck.

  “Mommy, I’m clean.”

  Panic aced out caution in her bloodstream as she turned to look at Caleb. Hide, they needed to hide, until the possible threat passed.

  “Come on, honey. Momma needs to wash up, too, then we’ll have supper.” She scooped Caleb up in her arms and headed for the bedroom, her heart hammering against her rib cage.

  She ducked inside the room, closed the door and turned the lock. Heading straight for the attached bathroom, she stepped inside, locked the door and turned off the light. The sensor night-light plugged into the socket next to the sink automatically came on.

  “Cool,” Caleb said, fidgeting to be put down.

  “I’ll let you go, Caleb, but you have to promise to play the quiet game with Mommy.”

  He nodded and grinned, thrilled with the idea of a competition.

  “Good boy. No talking for ten minutes,” Grace whispered as she let him down, took his tiny hand and led him over to the tub.

  The moment she released him, he slapped both hands over his mouth and stared up at her, his big blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Caleb was grinning underneath his palms.

  Taken by his innocent gesture, she sat down on the edge of the bathtub, pulled him into her arms and rocked him as she listened to the unfamiliar sounds of the house. If the alarm was triggered, the local police would respond within minutes. According to Nick, it was wired into the station downtown.

  Still, she scanned the bathroom for anything she could use as a weapon, finally settling on the heavy metal towel stand sitting on the vanity.

  The first shrill whoop of the alarm sent a shiver through her that rippled to her toes.

  Caleb’s hands went from covering his mouth to covering his ears. Tears welled in his eyes, as his amusement with their game turned to terror at the scary sound.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” she soothed, the seconds ticking by as she made a decision.

  “Mommy’s going to make it stop.” Grace stood up, turned and sat Caleb in the bathtub. She yanked an oversize towel off the towel bar and cocooned him in it until the only thing showing was his face.

  “We’re still playing the game. Stay here until I come back for you.”

  She brushed her hand across the top of his terry-cloth-covered head, straightened and pulled the shower curtain shut.

  Tension burned through every nerve ending in her body. Reaching out, she locked her hand around the heavy towel stand on the vanity and picked it up.

  Fingers trembling, she settled them on the bathroom-door lock, but memories from her past cut a path of hesitation through her resolve. Gritting her teeth, she fought against the need to hide and opened the bathroom door, determined she’d never live in the hell of abuse again. Not from her dead husband. Not from his crazy brother, Rod, or anyone else for that matter.

  She sucked in a shaky breath and stepped through the doorway. The bedroom was empty.

  Reaching around the edge of the door, she flipped the lock and pulled it closed behind her, hearing it latch with Caleb safely inside.

  If Rodney Marshall had finally come to physically exact vengeance on her, then she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She’d bash his head in the first chance she got, or die trying.

  THE FRONT-ENTRY DOOR gaped open, Nick’s keys still swinging in the keyhole and the file folder on the floor at his feet as he tried to silence the annoying shrill of the security alarm he’d just triggered.

  If he hadn’t been so focused on seeing Grace and Caleb the moment he got home he would have remembered the confounded thing he’d set this morning.

  1-9-3-5 Disarm. He hit Disarm a second time just for good measure. Still the noise echoed throughout the house, setting his nerves on edge. 1-9-3-5 Disarm. Frustration made his fingers clumsy on the small keypad. He pressed in the code again.

  Where was Grace? He smelled the scent of supper in the air. She’d been in the kitchen recently.

  A hint of worry shot through him as he abandoned the damn alarm and hurried through the foyer. He took a right and glanced around the empty kitchen and dining room, his stare raking the table, neatly set for three.

  “Grace! Caleb!”

  His heart rate kicked up.

  Pivoting, he rushed to her bedroom door, where he tried the knob.

  Locked.

  “Grace!” he yelled over the deafening noise. No answer.

  Nick raised his booted foot and jammed it into the door.

  Wood splintered, the latch let go and the door swung open.

  He heard Grace scream, felt the crack of something hard against the back of his skull, then a burst of light and pain.

  “Grace.” He stumbled forward, catching himself before he hit the floor.

  The lights in the room flicked on and he turned slowly to stare at her where she stood to the left of the entrance holding a towel stand.

  She dropped it as if it were scalding. It hit the carpet, its thud lost in the blaring sound of the alarm.

  Recognition widened her eyes before her features dissolved into horror for the mistake she’d just made.

  “Grace.” He reached out to her, but rather than step into his arms, she shook her head, took his hand and pulled him out of the room, down the hallway into the foyer where the entry door still stood wide-open.

  Reaching down, she pulled his house key out of the keyhole.

  The alarm stopped and she pushed the door closed.

  In three steps and silence, she was in his arms. “I’m sorry for hitting you,” she said as he held her, “but I thought he’d broken in to…”

  He felt her tremble. Unnerved by the distress he’d just caused her because he hadn’t taken the time to master the logic of the damn security alarm he hardly ever used.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered against her hair, pulling in the sweet smell of her, enjoying the feel of her body next to his.

  “Better, now that you’re here.”

  “And Caleb?”

  “Safe in the bathroom.”

  “I’m sorry, Grace. I should have called to let you know I’d be driving a different rig tonight.”
<
br />   She leaned back and stared up at him, a serious glint in her incredible blue eyes. “If I’d gotten a look at you coming up the walk before I panicked—”

  “No. That’s where you’re wrong. You responded correctly, took cover and—” he raised his hand to the goose egg swelling on the back of his head “—armed yourself.”

  “Mommy!”

  He released her and they hurried back into the bedroom to get Caleb.

  The bathroom knob rattled.

  “Caleb? Can you unlock it?” Nick asked, concerned and curious how he’d come through the scare.

  The little tiger pulled open the door and rushed out of the bathroom wearing a towel over his head and wrapped around his shoulders. “Mister Nick, you’re home!”

  Nick scooped him up. “You better believe it.” He turned toward Grace, struck by the sweet smile on her lips, lips he wanted to kiss right now. He hustled the wayward thought out of his mind and put Caleb down.

  “It smells like your mamma made supper.”

  “Yeah, cluck-cluck I think. I wanted macaronis.”

  “Chicken?” He glanced over at Grace, who confirmed her son’s word choice.

  “Curry Chicken,” she said.

  “You two head for the table. I’ll see if I can get Sheriff Hale turned around before he rolls a patrol unit on the alarm call.”

  Nick pulled his cell phone off his belt and dialed 9-1-1. As it rang, he followed Grace and Caleb out of the bedroom, stopping in the hallway to give dispatch the information.

  Closing his phone, he stood staring after them for a moment. Mother and child. Hand in hand. He was struck by the myriad of emotions that took hold inside of him.

  He was driven to protect them. He would always protect them. With his life if necessary.

  “THAT WAS SOME KIND OF MAGIC you performed on that freezer-burned cluck-cluck.” Nick chuckled as he put the last of the dishes into the sink where Grace was rinsing them off.

  “We should probably get to the grocery store,” she said, casting him a sideways glance. “Take some of the bachelor out of your pad.”

  He snorted. “I know I had some other stuff in there. You didn’t find any other meat?”

  “No. Just a package of chicken breasts and a bag of peas.”

  Nick opened the dishwasher, feeling at odds with the information. Granted, he ate out at Talk of the Town most nights, then came home to crash, but he remembered loading up at the grocery store just over two weeks ago.

  “Don’t worry about it, Nick. I’ll go shopping after work tomorrow and pick up some things Caleb and I like. Do you have any food aversions?”

  “Brussels sprouts.” He grinned, glancing out the kitchen window into the darkness for a second.

  “Hey, do you see that?” He redrew his focus on a tiny light, barely visible, a pinprick in the blackness of a moonless night.

  Grace squinted. “Yeah. A flashlight maybe. Seems too far away though for us to see if it’s a flashlight. Could be a lantern.”

  Caution glided over him. He stared at the light, trying to isolate its location. “It’s down near the abandoned hay barn on the lower twenty acres I don’t lease from my boss. There’s nothin’ down there but rattlers and rabbits.”

  Grace shuddered. “I hate snakes.”

  “Relax, they’re holed up underground in this cool weather.”

  “So you lease this ranch?”

  “Yeah. It belongs to Bart Bellows, CSaI founder. He built it for his son six years ago, but he was killed in a bombing in Iraq. It’s been sitting empty ever since. Bart gave me the option of taking it or an apartment in town. I jumped at the opportunity, took the ranch and drove my horses down from my family’s spread in Idaho.”

  “Under your military camouflage, you’re a cowboy.” Grace smiled.

  “Born and bred.” He watched the pinprick of illumination flicker, then dim and go out, leaving only darkness to stare into. “You could be right, Grace. That looked like a lantern being extinguished.” He was curious, but not overly concerned with the prospect of having someone trespass on the lower twenty.

  He helped Grace finish the dishes and dried his hands on a towel. He’d ride Jericho down there sometime soon to have a look around. One of the neighboring ranchers had probably been in search of a stray cow, or a missing dog.

  The patter of Caleb’s bare feet in the hallway and out into the kitchen brought Nick around. He leaned against the counter next to Grace, as they both looked down at Caleb dressed in his pajamas.

  “Tooth inspection,” Grace said.

  Caleb opened his mouth wide, then promptly clamped his baby teeth together to show his mother he’d done a good job of brushing.

  “Very nice. Now off to bed. You’ve got preschool in the morning and lots to tell Zachary-G about the horse you sat on today.” She reached down and took his hand. “I’ll tuck you in.”

  “I want Mister Nick to tuck me in.”

  “I’m flattered, buddy, but it’s your mamma’s call.” Nick stared over at Grace, not wanting to tread too deeply into her territory. She was extremely protective of Caleb, and rightly so.

  “Do you mind?” she asked, studying him intently. “I need to wipe down the table and counters.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, a bit too vigorously, let go of Caleb’s hand and turned back to the sink, where she picked up the dishcloth and headed for the dining-room table.

  “Come on, kiddo.” He scooped Caleb up in his arms and headed for the bedroom, concerned about Grace. “We’re going to saddle the horses on Saturday and go for a real ride. Next week you’ll have a story to tell Zachary-G.”

  “Okay.” Caleb settled against him and laid his head on Nick’s shoulder.

  In silence, he stepped into the bedroom, went to the bed, pulled back the comforter, lowered the little tiger onto the bed and then tucked him in. “Good night, buddy,” he said, reaching out to smooth Caleb’s hair with his hand. “I’m glad you’re safe here at the ranch. Get some sleep.”

  Caleb closed his eyes and Nick headed for the door, realizing he could already see the child’s energy level dropping.

  “Mister Nick,” Caleb whispered.

  He stopped next to the jamb and turned. “Yeah.”

  “I like your ranch. Can we go fast on your horse?”

  “As fast as you want.” He flipped off the light switch next to the door, stepped out into the hallway and gently pulled the door shut, leaving a small opening.

  He’d get the damaged latch fixed tomorrow; too bad Caleb’s fix wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Guilt coated his insides as he walked down the hallway and paused in the foyer to stare at the abandoned file folder lying right where he’d dropped it during his attempt to silence the screaming alarm.

  The paperwork inside wasn’t going to help Caleb. It wasn’t going to assure that he survived. Nick raked his hand over his head, walked over and picked it up. Frustrated with the internal battle raging inside of him. Honor. Duty. Duty. Honor.

  This assignment was suffocating him in an ever-tightening noose. He had to break free soon, or he’d asphyxiate on his own indecision.

  “Nick?” The sound of Grace’s voice sucked him back from his thoughts. He glanced up to where she stood at the entrance into the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

  He tapped the file folder against his palm. “Yeah.”

  Moving toward her, he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes. Concerned, he brushed his hand against her upper arm.

  “I’m sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t have taken your nighttime ritual. I know how precious he is to you.”

  “It’s not that. I’m grateful you took the time to tuck him in. He needs a strong male role model in his life, Nick. You’re all he talked about today, and I’m thrilled. I want Caleb to know there are other men in the world besides the ones he sees at the hospital in white coats who carry needles, give transfusions and inflict pa—” Her voice broke.

  Nick’s heart jolted in his c
hest. He pulled her to him, searing them together as she laced her arms around his neck. If there was a heaven on earth, he’d just found it. If there was a hell on earth, he’d just found that, too. But desire anchored him, sucking him down into the torrent of conflicting emotions raging inside of him.

  She trusted him to find her a truth he couldn’t possibly give her. He was duty bound by his promise to Governor Lockhart not to. But it was a truth his honor dictated he had to expose in order to save Caleb’s life.

  NEED ARCED THROUGH Grace’s body like lightning, awakening every cell inside of her. It had been so long since she’d been held, too long since she’d been touched.

  Leaning back, she gazed up at Nick, at the hot-blue spark of desire in his eyes. There was danger here. She knew it. But there was something else. Something she was more than anxious to explore; it didn’t matter that she could get burned.

  Pushing up onto her tiptoes she brushed her lips against his. She heard the file he had in his hand hit the floor behind her. He deepened the kiss, smoothing possessive hands across her back, pulling her harder against the broad expanse of his chest.

  Grace moaned deep in her throat, and gave herself over to the rush, tasting him, feeling him, wanting him. Enjoying the tingle of pleasure rushing through her body like a tidal wave. She rode the crest until she felt the swell begin to dissipate.

  Rocking back down onto her heels, she broke the impromptu lip-lock and sucked in a labored breath as she watched his eyelids slowly open.

  What she’d just done was reckless. Out of the norm for her. Embarrassment flamed on her cheeks in hot little pools. “I— I’m—”

  “Sorry,” he finished for her. “Don’t be. I’m not.” He stepped around her, scooped up the dropped file off the floor and carried it to the bar. “I’ve got some paperwork for you to sign that might help us locate your birth mother.”

  Grace followed him over, still feeling the effects of desire in her body. Had he felt it, too? Her question was answered when he gave her a quick heated glance, before he opened the file and took out the papers.