by Bonnie Vanak
Then he turned to Meg, who was crouching down and petting Sophie. “Where did you learn that trick?”
She stood up. “I work with a local animal rescue group in Florida for abused horses, everything from feeding them to caring for their needs. Sophie has been a natural at getting the horses to calm down. I spent a lot of time at the stables training her to get horses to trust again.”
“You don’t look like the type to muck out a stable. Weren’t you worried about chipping a nail?” His gaze shot up and down the length of her body, from those well-manicured hands to her dainty feet.
Meg’s pouty mouth flattened. “My grandparents owned a farm up north and I grew up there. I know just as much about shoveling manure as I do about hosting a charity benefit, Mr. Johnson.”
Coop leaned against a bale of hay, slightly ashamed of jumping all over her. Maybe because he was attracted to her, too attracted, and felt a natural need to put distance between them.
Like between now and next week would be good.
“Adela’s had it rough. Thanks for that.” From beneath the brim of his Stetson, he gave her a meaningful look. “But next time, do as I say. I don’t care if you rescued all the wild mustangs in the West and tamed them, you don’t go walking into a man’s barn and approach any of the horses until you know their background. Deal?”
He removed his right hand from his pocket and shoved it out at her.
But she did not take his hand. Rather, the princess looked at his palm the way Adela had regarded the apple earlier.
Fine. He was here to keep her safe until the next step of her journey. Nothing more.
Meg went to a bale of hay and sat, Sophie at her side. She scratched the dog’s head. “What happened to her?”
He glanced at Adela. “I bought her from a kill pen last month. She was scheduled to be shipped to Canada to a slaughterhouse.”
Yeah, kinda harsh. He winced as her mouth trembled and she blinked rapidly. “I hate kill pens. I’ve bought a few horses from a kill buyer and managed to save them. But it’s never enough.”
Now it was his turn to be surprised. “You know about the business?”
“The foundation I helped was very involved in rescuing abused and abandoned horses, and horses sold by their owners for the slaughterhouse. Mainly older horses who had outlived their use, as seen by their owners. I’ve rescued a few. Once, I actually staged a protest outside the polo grounds to raise awareness.” Meg gave a rueful smile. “It didn’t win me many friends with the polo set, and I was banned for a month.”
His respect for her grew and he felt a little ashamed for judging her so quickly. “Good for you.”
Her expression fell. “When my husband found out, he was infuriated, because he had business dealings with executives who played polo. He said I did it deliberately to mock him.” Meg looked down, rubbing her hands against the jeans he’d lent her. “He wasn’t one for saving any stray animals. With him it was all business and all money, all the time.”
Cooper leaned against Betsy’s stall door. “That guy sounds like a total loser. Then why did you marry him?”
Meg bit her lush lower lip, and the little movement fired his blood. “When I first met him, he was urbane, charming and caring. He swept me off my feet. He was the first person to really listen when I talked to him about my plans and my dreams. He put my needs first, or so I thought.”
A faint flush tinted her cheeks. “He even fooled my grandmother, who approved of the marriage. She had hired him to take over the reins of the family business, and he saved our company when we were headed into the red. But a year after we married, my husband showed his true colors. And yet I stuck it out for two more years.” Her voice lowered, as if she were ashamed to say the words. “I thought I loved him. I was a fool for not leaving him sooner.”
Anger raced through him. Some men weren’t fit to have a relationship, no matter what their background. “It takes a lot of courage to leave. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
She looked him in the eye and said clearly, “I kept hoping he would change. He used to promise never to do it again.”
He’d heard that story before, and it rankled him that this pretty, seemingly frail woman had endured such abuse. Coop had been raised to respect women, and never hurt them, no matter what. The hardest thing for him to do as a SEAL was turn off that ingrained belief, and do his job in enemy territory when facing a woman holding a grenade...
He gentled his voice. “Someone like your louse of an ex will never change. The behavior is too ingrained in them. Like drug addicts, they find it hard to kick the habit.”
“You seem to know a lot about abuse.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Adela. “I have more than a nodding acquaintance with it. My sister was with a guy who used his fists when he got drunk.”
Meg’s eyes went round. “And how did she end the relationship?”
“She didn’t. I did, by showing the guy the business end of my nine-millimeter.” Cooper offered a grim smile. “Brie wasn’t happy I muscled into her life, but later, she thanked me.”
“You were being a concerned brother,” she said gently.
His smile dropped. Yeah, but he’d failed Brie in the one area he’d felt confident of protecting her. That little reminder truly rankled him. “Why are you here? You said you needed to tell me something. So talk.”
Inwardly he winced at his curt tone. The softness fled from Meg’s heart-shaped face and she looked wary. Even the dog growled at him.
“I came to tell you I’m only spending the night and leaving in the morning as soon as my car is fixed. That’s all.”
She turned on her heel, and the dog followed. Coop rubbed the nape of his neck.
Ah, damn. He was supposed to protect a woman for Project SOS and offer her safe refuge from an abusive spouse.
And she was going to bolt.
Cooper ran after her, blocked her from exiting the barn. He held out his hands, kept his body relaxed and loose.
“Don’t go because I’m an ass. Stay. You came here to find a safe place and I promise, you will be safe here.”
She watched him with narrowed eyes, and he could read the doubt in her expression.
Spreading out his hands, he wriggled his fingers. “Look at me. I’m not armed, and I will listen to you. If I say something stupid again, you can go ahead and do what my mom always does when I’m being dumb.”
Meg’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “And what’s that? Send you to bed without supper? Is that what I should do?”
Sending me to bed with you would be a most pleasant punishment. Desire surged through him, and his grin tightened as he struggled to maintain a grip on his emotions. There was something about this woman that scrambled his senses and made all his tightly held control go southward.
Straight to his groin, in fact.
He wasn’t the charming type like his teammate Stephen, or a ladies’ magnet like LT before LT had married Lacey. He’d always been quieter, more drawn to animals than people, and relationships were brief because of his time downrange with the teams. When he did have leave, it was always spent with family, not partying and impressing women.
But something about Meg drew him like a lodestone. Oh yeah, she was a beauty, but it was more than that. He’d had his share of beautiful women, some of whom were vapid as an air bag. Maybe it was the wounded look in her eyes he wanted to erase, or her sheer pluck, or the fact that she refused to cower.
That “no retreat” attitude he both admired and recognized.
But she’d fled a bad marriage and a man who treated her like a punching bag. Last thing Meg needed was unwanted male attention. Coop cocked his head.
“What you should do with me is tell me what drove you in here, in this storm, ’cause you had something you wanted to tell me befo
re I went all ape on you. What happened?”
Her gaze darted away, a sure sign she was nervous. “It was nothing.”
Suspecting he wouldn’t get much more out of her, Coop opted for a different approach. He crouched down to Sophie and spoke in a low, soothing voice, the kind that coaxed women into his bed and animals to his hand. “C’mon, pretty girl. Did something scare you? Because if it did, I need to know so I can make it right. I want you to feel comfortable here in my home, and I sure do want you to stick around because my mom makes the best breakfast this side of the Mississippi. You can’t run off before you taste her cranberry-orange-nut muffins with honey butter.”
Sophie’s tail waved ever so slightly. She bent her head and sniffed in his direction. Then she cautiously approached him and smelled the hand he held out.
Meg watched as her man-hating dog licked Cooper’s hand. He glanced at her and winked. “She wants me to tell you. See?”
“I don’t understand. Sophie doesn’t like men.”
Scratching behind Sophie’s ears, he nodded. “She’s been burned, but animals are smart. They know which people will hurt them and which ones to trust.”
At his meaningful look, Meg sighed. “You’re not going to let this go.”
“Nope. I can be real stubborn that way.”
“There was a crash outside. I think it was the wind.” She looked away. “Or not. I had this feeling of being watched.”
Immediately he assessed the situation. She’d been alone in a strange place, all sorts of noises outside in the storm where anything could sound like a threat. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. I’ll come back with you now.”
“What about Betsy?”
Much as he wanted to remain in the barn, he couldn’t leave Meg alone. The horse seemed to be over the worst of the colic. “She’ll do fine. Come on.”
“It was nothing,” Meg repeated. “Just the wind knocking something over.”
Straightening, he turned toward the door. “Show me.”
The wind had died down, and the clouds had scudded across the night sky, showing a pale full moon as they made their way back to the cottage. The path was only a few hundred feet away, but he thought of Meg making her way to the barn in the dark with only a thin pencil beam from the flashlight to illuminate the way, and his guts churned.
He should never have left her alone.
At the porch steps, she gestured to the broken clay pot. Brie had planted marigolds in the three pots on the steps, and when they’d died, he simply hadn’t had the heart to do anything with them. Same reason he hadn’t cleaned out Brie’s closet or, against his mother’s wishes, gone through any of her personal things.
Cooper saw Meg’s trim boot prints in the newly fallen snow, and a set of paw prints leading from the front steps.
Nothing obvious. But he’d check the entire cottage to make sure.
“Go inside, get warm. I’ll be in shortly.”
His no-nonsense tone indicated business. Meg bit her lower lip again and then held out the flashlight. He shook his head. “Don’t need it.”
“It’s dark out here.”
“Yeah, and it’s how I roll. Go inside. Lock the door behind you.”
He was relieved to see her unlock the door and head into the cottage, the dog on her heels. Soon as he heard the lock click, he began a perimeter check. The new snow made it easy to spot any disturbances. And using a flashlight would be like a neon sign if there was anyone, or anything, lurking outside.
Cooper made his way around the cottage, using the light of the moon as illumination. Nothing. Maybe it was the wind. But he didn’t like it. Took a mighty strong wind to knock over a pot that heavy.
As he walked to the east, hooked around the house and examined the grounds, he got a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. Gut instinct saved his butt more than once in the field, so he paid attention to the night sounds, the quietness, the smells...
He inched toward the living room window that was parallel to the sunporch. And then his blood ran cold.
Another set of prints in the snow, these much larger.
As if a man had been standing outside the window, trying to peer past the curtains at Meg...
Using the spare key, Cooper let himself into the house. Meg sat at the kitchen table. “Did you find anything?”
“Maybe.” Coop headed to the closet and opened the gun safe where he’d stashed Brie’s .38 special. After loading it, he returned to the kitchen and showed her the gun. “Ever use one of these?”
Meg’s eyes widened to dinner plates. “No. Is it necessary?”
“Not as long as I’m around. It’s for when I can’t be at your side.” He showed her the safety. “Click this off and point and shoot, but only if you’re certain your target intends harm.”
She looked at the gun as if it were a cockroach. “I can’t use this.”
Coop considered. “Fine. Need you to do something. Ever make plaster of paris?”
At her head shake, he told her where to find the flour and bowls, and to warm the water. Taking the flashlight, Coop next returned outside.
After making another thorough perimeter check, he fetched the bowl of plaster. Coop poured the liquid into the footprints to let it set. Then he returned inside, locking the door. Pulling out a chair, he joined Meg at the table.
“You asked if I found something. I found a set of man’s footprints, size 14, in the snow. I wear size 11, and no one I know, even the hired help, wears shoes that big.”
Blood drained from Meg’s face. She hugged herself. “Prescott wears that size shoe. He’s found me. Oh God, I knew I never should have come here. He killed Randall and I’m next.”
Coop’s suspicions flared. He knew that name, all too well... “Randall?”
Meg’s gaze darted away. Bingo. Cooper leaned forward, all business now. She knew something and he was going to find out what.
“I think it’s time you started leveling with me about your ex. I need to know exactly why you ran away from him, who he is and what his business is. Starting now.”
Chapter 5
The little cottage was warm, but Meg felt only a deep chill at the intense look in Cooper Johnson’s blue eyes. His body was tense as he leaned toward her, and she suspected he would not let this go until she told him the truth.
At least a portion of it, what she could tell him.
“Who is Randall and why did your ex kill him?”
Meg said nothing.
“Who is your ex-husband?” That blue gaze pinned her like a laser. “Jarrett didn’t tell me anything other than to send me a photo of you and that you were in trouble and needed a new ID. I know your last name isn’t Caldwell.”
Meg battled with her need for secrecy and the need to warn this man and his family what they were up against. She decided he needed to know, because by coming here, she had put him in grave danger.
“No. It’s Meg August, or was Meg August. My ex is Prescott August.” She licked her lips. “The CEO of Taylor Sporting Goods. And Randall is Randall Jacobs.”
Cooper sat back, looking stunned and then his mouth flattened in apparent anger. It was like someone had flipped a switch. Meg shuddered.
“You’re Prescott August’s wife? The Prescott August?”
The look of dismay on his face indicated his low opinion of Prescott. “Soon to be ex. Obviously Jarrett didn’t tell you.”
“Jarrett was tight-lipped when he asked me to take you in. He said he leaves it up to the women he helps to give out information on an as-needed basis. It’s safer that way.” Cooper’s expression remained guarded. “And you think he killed Randall Jacobs? Why?”
Her trembling hand reached down to stroke Sophie, who whined beneath her touch. Sophie had always
sensed her moods, knew when Meg was distressed.
“Randall had very important information that would put Prescott behind bars.” And me, but you don’t need to know that.
“What kind of information?”
She shook her head. “That’s all I can tell you for now. I don’t want to involve you.”
Cooper drummed his fingers against the scarred wood tabletop. “Meg, I’m already involved. Those footprints out there tell me someone was here tonight, watching you. It could have been someone lost on the way to the inn, or someone who was checking up on you.”
Asking her to trust him was too risky. “The information is very sensitive.”
“Randall worked with Taylor Sporting Goods. Did he know your husband well?”
Goodness, the man was as tenacious as Sophie with a bone. “Randall was a very wealthy man who did contract work for several companies.” True enough.
“But he invented the fiber that your grandmother’s company used for sports equipment.” Cooper’s gaze narrowed. “Randall Jacobs was in business with them. And he was vice president for Combat Gear Inc., the company that manufactured the faulty bulletproof vests that were just recalled by the government.”
Her stomach began to pitch and roil. She didn’t expect the government to act this quickly. “How do you know this?”
“I heard about the recall on the news. As for Jacobs, he applied for a government patent for the fibers. He listed his title as vice president.” Cooper leaned forward, his posture tense.
Meg tried to calm her galloping pulse. “I didn’t know that.”
A grim smile touched his mouth. “I have a vested interest in that company, pardon the pun. I’ve done some thorough research.”
Wide-eyed, she stared at him, wondering what his interest was. What would Cooper do if he knew she was the one responsible for creating the company? She was the only one on the corporate documents, even though the name was false.
Would he call the authorities? Have her arrested? And then Prescott would remain free and would find a way to continue his dirty dealings. Prescott had made sure no one else would be linked to the company. But Randall had obviously changed that and provided a clue.
