Camouflage Cowboy

by Jan Hambright

  “Passenger-side rear door.”

  Grace pulled it open and slipped into the seat.

  Nick eased Caleb onto his mother’s lap. “I’ll get my weapon out of the glove box. Use the fob on the key ring to lock the doors from the inside. If anyone comes close, press the panic button, and I’ll come running.”

  “Okay.” Grace nodded, brushing her hand across Caleb’s head as she stared down at him.

  “Grace.” Nick reached out and touched her face, then eased her chin up with his fingertips so he could look into her eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

  A trail of tears on her cheeks glistened in the overhead light.

  “I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you, or to Caleb. No one’s going to hurt you again.” Nick released her, stepped back and shut the door.

  Moving quickly, he opened the passenger-side front door, then the glove box, and took out his holstered weapon. He clipped it on his belt, stepped back and closed the door, hearing the auto-locks clamp down.

  Safe.

  Turning, he slipped into the growing darkness and approached the front door with his senses on full alert. Maybe they’d been too confident that Marshall had skipped town. So why hadn’t Sheriff Hale’s APB produced his white Chevy? Unless he’d already changed vehicles.

  Nick took the steps, paused on the landing next to the front door and unholstered his weapon. Reaching out, he turned the knob and eased the front door open just enough to slip inside.

  Light spilled out of the hallway into the foyer, giving him ample visibility. He closed the door without a sound and pressed the security code into the alarm pad. If Rodney Marshall was still inside the house, he wasn’t getting out in silence. He planned to nail him to the wall until Sheriff Hale took him away in a pair of handcuffs. Marshall would never threaten Grace or Caleb again as long as he was sucking air.

  Nick turned to his right and cleared the kitchen and dining room, noting the range-hood light was on over the stove. He didn’t recall leaving it on this morning when he’d made Grace and Caleb a pancake.

  The hair on the back of his neck bristled as he turned around and headed along the hallway.

  Sucking up next to the wall, he leaned out and cleared the living room over his pistol sights, moved past and headed for the bedroom section of the sprawling ranch-style house, most of which he rarely ever ventured into. One by one he flipped on the light switches and cleared each bedroom, including the one he used as an office. Grace and Caleb’s room hadn’t been disturbed. If Marshall had broken into the house, their room should have been the one he homed in on.

  Hesitating outside the closed door to the fifth bed room, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d even opened the door on it, but maybe Rodney Marshall had.

  Nick turned the knob, pushed the door open, stepped inside and flicked on the light, scanning the large bedroom over his pistol sight.

  A wave of apprehension glanced over him as he pulled in a long breath to dissect the lingering smells in the room.

  Fresh air tinged with Texas sage.

  Musky deodorant. Shampoo.

  In five strides he reached the window and jerked the cord on the blinds.

  The bottom of the window pane was open several inches, allowing a rush of air to come in. A window that was wired into the security system and should have set off the alarm. The sensor wire had no doubt been cut. He pushed up on the window and spotted the tiny alligator clip someone had used to bypass the alarm.

  Nick turned for the adjacent bathroom, switched on the light and stared at the interior. A blade of realization carved through his body.

  Beads of water clung to the shower walls and a band of steam on the bottom of the vanity mirror hadn’t evaporated yet.

  “What the hell?” He moved inside and felt the towel hanging on the towel bar.

  It was still damp.

  They’d just missed stepping on whoever had been inside his house by less than fifteen minutes.

  The man in camouflage he’d seen along the driveway into the ranch?

  Backtracking, Nick closed and latched the window, then killed the lights and left the room, anxious to get Grace and Caleb safely inside, in spite of his unwelcome houseguest’s lingering presence. He’d put a wedge in the window so the intruder couldn’t use it for access if they came back. Setting the alarm from now on would be standard operating procedure, and he’d let Sheriff Hale know an odd intruder had broken into his house to take a shower. But in spite of the creepiness factor associated with it, he couldn’t dispel the worry knotting in his gut.

  This had nothing to do with Grace or Caleb Marshall, and everything to do with his position at Corps Security and Investigations. Whoever had sudsed up in one of his showers half an hour ago knew his daily routine.

  GRACE HELD CALEB a little tighter and stared into the night, waiting for any sign of Nick emerging from the house. Relaxing was out of the question; in fact, she’d been figuratively holding her breath from the moment he’d exited the vehicle, and she’d possibly destroyed the key fob in her hand with perspiration and pressure.

  Twin globe-encased lights on either side of the front door came on, flooding the steps and walkway with illumination.

  Her heartbeat slowed as she watched him step outside into the light and walk toward the Tahoe in even strides. He was a good man. An honorable man. A man she wanted in her and Caleb’s lives.

  Hand trembling, she fingered the alarm button and disengaged the door locks for him.

  He lifted the handle and pulled open the Tahoe’s door. “All clear. Let’s get inside. I’ll take Caleb.” Nick gently lifted him from her arms and stepped back so she could climb out and shut the door.

  “Do you think Rodney found our location?”

  “No.” His answer was straightforward, but she wasn’t sure how he could be so decisive.

  Taking the lead with the fob in one hand and Nick’s mail in her other, she headed for the house, anxious to get inside.

  They stepped into the foyer and she closed the door behind them.

  “Do you remember how to set the alarm?” he asked, turning toward her. “Yes.”

  “Set it now, and every time you’re here.”

  A measure of concern filled up her insides as she looked up at him. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Someone has been in the house. They gained access through a window in the last bedroom on the right. I don’t want to take any chances if they come back and try to get in at another point of entry. The alarm will set off a warning and get Sheriff Hale out here.”

  “What makes you think it isn’t Rodney again?”

  “Your room is intact.” He turned and headed down the hallway, leaving her to set the security alarm. A moment later he returned.

  She handed him the mail and his key ring. Their fingers brushed in the exchange and before she could move, he pulled her against his chest.

  Grace closed her eyes, letting the pleasurable sensation of touching him smooth the fear from her nerves. He had a risky job. There were times when he was in physical danger. Times when his life could be threat ened. Unnerved, she pushed back, anxious to secure details about his job at CSaI, but before she could get a single question out, his lips were on hers.

  Nick tasted good…and hungry, just like she was. Arching against him, she set off a moan deep in the back of his throat.

  He parted her lips with his tongue and explored her mouth in desire-provoking sweeps, until she thought she’d come apart in his arms.

  Grace breathed him in, clinging to every sensation he aroused in her willing body. She’d been alone too long. She’d suffered the betrayal of abuse by her dead husband. She’d traveled too many miles without someone in her life, and in that instant of reflection, she mentally crossed the line. It was time to trust again. To trust Nick Cavanaugh with her safety, and her body.

  Nick felt it. Felt the moment she surrendered herself to him. Dazed, he ended the kiss to gaze down into her
face. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation.

  “You’re beautiful, Grace,” he whispered, watching a seductive smile bow her sexy, swollen lips reddened from contact with his. He wanted more.

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Nick Cavanaugh,” she whispered back. “I’m going to put Caleb in his pajamas and tuck him in.” She turned and left him standing in the foyer.

  He watched her until she slipped into the bedroom, then turned and headed for the kitchen, where he tossed the mail on the bar and looked around before heading to the cupboard for a glass. He pulled one out, turned to the sink and raised the faucet handle. Water streamed into a container he knew he hadn’t emptied. The one he’d put Grace’s leftover curry chicken into the night before.

  Not only had the intruder used the shower, he’d been stealing food. What else had he done here?

  Agitated, Nick filled his glass to the brim and guzzled the water. He planned to keep his weapon an arm’s length away, until he figured out who’d invaded his home.

  Finished, he set the glass in the sink next to the container and walked to the bar where he picked up the envelope on top, glanced at the Holy Cross Hospital return address and tore it open.

  Dear Mr. Cavanaugh,

  We regret to inform you that you are not a bone-marrow match for Caleb Marshall. Thank you for submitting yourself to the testing procedure.

  Sincerely,

  Melissa Johnson

  Donor Registry Coordinator

  “He’s out like a light,” Grace announced from behind him.

  Nick turned at the sound of her voice and casually slid the letter onto the counter behind him. He’d known at the time he took the test that his blood type was standard fare, but it still gave him a pang of regret deep in his chest knowing he couldn’t help Caleb himself.

  “I’m planning to take you both riding on Saturday. Do you think he can hold out until then?”

  She moved in close to him. “Yes, if we take it easy.”

  He reached for her and pulled her into his arms, where he breathed in the light, honey-sweet smell of her hair; he was just about to kiss her when she pulled back and snagged the letter off of the bar.

  “Oh, Nick. I had no idea you’d done this.” She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Unfortunately, I’m not a match.”

  “Not many people are.”

  He reached for her again, but she took his hand instead and tugged him along with her into the hallway. At his bedroom door, she paused to gaze up at him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, Nick.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She turned the knob, pushed the door open and pulled him inside.

  Hungry to touch her, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, where he put her down on the comforter. Then he stripped off his shirt.

  Mesmerized, he watched her work the buttons on her blouse, pull it off, reach down and unhook the front closure on her bra. His mouth went dry as she peeled back the shimmery fabric to expose her perfectly rounded breasts, peaked with taut nipples he wanted to taste.

  Heat set fire to his body as he shed his jeans, then slowly lay down with her. He stroked his fingertips along her arm and devoured her mouth hungrily.

  Deep sighs rose in her throat as she brushed her hands across his back and arched beneath him.

  He pulled back for an instant of sanity. “You’re sure this is what you want, Grace?”

  She turned sleepy eyes on him and smiled. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, and you don’t, either. Let’s enjoy each other. Please.”

  Reaching down, he undid the buttons and slid the zipper on her jeans, then, slipping his hand inside, he pushed them down over her bottom.

  “You’re so incredible,” he whispered, visually con suming every luscious curve of her body before he rolled her underneath him.

  He suddenly didn’t care if morning never came.

  Chapter Ten

  Nick settled himself at the table and took a swig of coffee from his travel mug. Coffee Grace had made for them this morning after their night of whispers and pleasure in the dark.

  Desire invaded his thoughts as he mentally recalled every detail of her silky body.

  He reached down and flipped open the file in front of him, anxious for a distraction. He’d be no good this morning if he didn’t find a way to put the memory to rest for the time being.

  Looking up, he watched each CSaI team member file into the conference room and take their seats around the table for Nolan’s discovery briefing.

  Nolan was the last one in, closing the door behind him. He looked exhausted. His skin was tinged a shade of gray that Nick hadn’t seen before. Odd, he thought, considering that D.C. was Nolan’s hometown. He should have been energized by the visit.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you’ve each collected the intel we need to keep Governor Lockhart safe.”

  The members each flipped through their file folders.

  “Wade, what do we have on Wes Bradley?” Nolan asked as he pulled out his chair and sat down.

  “Wesley James Bradley entered the U.S. Marine Corps in December 2006. He was reported killed in an IED attack six months ago in Iraq,” Wade said, staring at the paperwork in front of him before looking up.

  Nolan leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Did you get anything on the cell-tower records from Sheriff Hale?”

  “Yes. The tower transmissions put Wes Bradley in Freedom the day of the shooting, but the cell phone he used was a throwaway. It was turned off the next day. I also found out that Lewis and Bradley were in Iraq at the same time.” Wade rocked back in his chair. “They might have known each other, and if they did, Lewis would have known that Bradley was dead.”

  “Which would make Wes Bradley a perfect alias for whoever took those shots at Governor Lockhart,” Nick said, ready to jump into the session with both feet now that he’d contained his thoughts in regards to Grace.

  Matteo rapped his knuckles on the table a couple of times. “Trevor Lewis was a member of the group that bombed the governor’s announcement of her presidential run. Do you suppose whoever is using Wes Bradley’s name as an alias is also a member?”

  “Could be. But they’re an underground organization. Pretty tough to nail down any kind of membership roster, much less know how many cells there could be out there,” Nick surmised.

  “Let’s pull a list of all the men in Bradley’s unit. Do a soft track on where they are now. Maybe we’ll get lucky and be able to find one individual they all have in common,” Nolan said. “And, Wade, get in touch with the Marine Corps department for death notification. I want to know how Wes Bradley’s remains were handled. There’s a chance he could still be alive.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Parker, anything more on the shooter at Twin Harts Ranch?” Nolan asked.

  “We’re pretty sure we caught a frame of him on surveillance working the perimeter outside the house. Nick and Matteo confirmed that his build matches that of the man they saw at Holy Cross the day Lewis died.”

  “Is that so?” Nolan asked, his brows pulling together as he contemplated the implications. “Did he leave any evidence behind?”

  “A boot print,” Matteo said. “We made a casting of it. Standard-issue Marine Corps.”

  Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “We could be dealing with one of our own.”

  “Looks that way.” Matt sat back in his chair as a hush settled over the room.

  Nick cursed under his breath. No one wanted to believe a brother in arms had turned, but it was starting to seem as though that could be the case.

  “Good work, everybody, on the Bradley angle.” Nolan pulled a stack of paper from his file, took the top one and passed the rest to his right. “But we’ve got another assignment. Governor Lockhart has decided to hold a press conference a week before Thanksgiving to announce a new early-childhood reading program, centered on community involvement. The location she has
chosen gives me heartburn, but she insists it’s the best place. The announcement goes out in tomorrow’s papers.”

  Nick took his copy and read the brief paragraph of information, feeling a knot take up space in his gut. “Cradles to Crayons?”

  “Yes. I tried to convince her to announce it in Freedom’s town square, but she didn’t like the logistical look. She believes a preschool classroom is the ideal setting. It’s scheduled for Thursday at two in the afternoon. She’ll take the front of the class, give a brief speech on the dynamics of the program, then open it up for questions from the press. Seating will be limited to fifty people inside, and a hundred and fifty outside in the parking lot. Classes and day care will dismiss early, with only one class of four-year-olds and their teacher in attendance at the actual speech. I want each and every one of you there with your eyes open and your game on. I don’t anticipate trouble, but we need to be prepared for anything.”

  Nick relaxed slightly. With Grace taking a leave of absence from the preschool, she wouldn’t be required to be there, and if she stayed home, Caleb would, too.

  “The entire team will do a sweep two hours before the event. Sheriff Hale and his deputies will monitor the entrance and exit into the parking lot, as well as directing traffic.”

  “My twins attend. Maybe I’ll ask Lindsay to keep them home,” Wade said.

  “Let’s just make sure we conduct a thorough threat assessment.” Nolan shuffled his paperwork together and closed the file. “Any questions?”

  “How was D.C.?” Nick glanced at his friend, waiting to see if Nolan’s true feelings about the trip would show on his face. They came out when his eyes narrowed in contemplation and his mouth drooped.

  “It’s cold this time of year. Other than that, it’s business as usual. Politicians spending our money like it belongs to them.”

  Nick nodded in agreement. “Glad to have you home, sir.”