Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL

by Bonnie Vanak

  Chapter 20

  Calm. Focus. Don’t fall apart, even if everything inside you feels like it’s collapsing.

  Meg pulled on every single ounce of poise grilled into her from the time she was old enough to hold a teacup. Never let them see your emotions, Gran warned time and again. Crying is for weak people. Calm and control.

  “You’re his mistress. I did recognize that dimple on your left cheek.” Meg spoke in the same haughty voice she used to dismiss her ex-husband when he threatened her. “Very clever disguise.

  Had to distract her long enough to dodge the gun and get the hell out of there. Sweat dampened her palms, but she didn’t dare reach for the blade. Not yet.

  “You’re a fool, Margaret.” Claire waved the gleaming gun back and forth, her eyes wild, her grip on the pistol tight.

  Meg blinked, trying to regain a cool grip on an unraveling composure. All this time, Prescott’s mistress had been a guest at the inn, watching her. “You’re the one who tore up my sweater and left that card.”

  And then anger flared as she realized the greater crime. “You put peanut oil in the batter so Aimee would have an allergy attack!”

  “It was simple. All I had to do was ask my father’s associates, Cathy and Joe Murphy, to spy on you for a week and promise them enough money to make it worth their while. We tracked your every move. Between the Murphys and Richard Kimball, I thought you would finally lead us to the microchip. But you wouldn’t leave the farm. You fool! I would have let you live if I’d found it. We had to find a way to get Johnson away from you, kick you out of his home.”

  Meg felt dizzy with shock. She struggled to keep her balance, focused on the wicked gleam of the gun Prescott’s mistress held. A revolver. Six shots. Cooper had taught her that much.

  “I don’t know where the microchip is!”

  “Yes, you do!” Claire screamed. “Randall confessed he left it with you. He told Richard where the hard copies of the memos were, but not the chip!”

  Try to buy time. Throw her off guard. “You’re lying, just as you set up Randall with evidence he killed my grandmother. They were good friends.”

  “Friends?” The woman laughed. “Randall agreed to poison Letticia in exchange for cash. We needed her to resign from the board of directors because of sickness so she’d stop this insane idea of taking the company public. But she still held on, stupid bitch. And then Randall got scared he’d be blamed for the old lady’s death and changed his mind. He had to go.”

  Claire held up the gun and said, “Bang!”

  A tremor seized her palm. Meg forced herself to remain calm. Had to keep Claire distracted and talking.

  “You’re very smart, Claire. Was it your idea to do all those things to me?”

  In the distance, she heard a truck rumble down the dirt road. Meg prayed the truck would turn into the farmhouse driveway. But the sound cut off as if the truck stopped.

  The woman laughed. “It was my idea to play the merry widow and do all those things to keep you unbalanced, so you’d leave and lead us to the microchip with the memos. Prescott thought it would be great fun to unnerve you that day when you went riding. All he had to do was get the kayak to the right location in the river because everyone knew you went riding at the same time each day. I texted the hired hand to create a distraction. Prescott figured if you saw him, you’d bolt.”

  Claire’s expression turned furious. “We couldn’t get that damn bodyguard of yours away from you. He was always nearby. But we knew where you were at all times.”

  Almost there. Meg resisted touching the knife in her back pocket. “How did you know?”

  “Prescott placed a tracking device on all your fancy designer shoes. And then you ended up at that farm, he worried you’d give us the slip. So that pudgy pipsqueak of a clerk was more than happy to bug your new shoes after Prescott gave him $5,000 and told him he was a PI tracking down an unfaithful wife.”

  The gun wobbled slightly in her hands. “It was easy enough for Richard to plant bugs throughout the inn. He wanted to do that to the cottage the night he arrived, but that bastard Cooper is too sharp.”

  Meg glanced down at her feet in dumbstruck numbness. The shoes. All this time she’d thought she’d been safe from Prescott.

  With every step she took, her ex knew where she headed.

  And the steps she needed to take now were out the door, but how could she outrun a bullet? Her only chance was to hurt Claire and grab the gun. Everyone had a weakness, and Prescott’s mistress was no exception.

  She likes to brag. Keep her talking. Meg inched along the wall, toward the doorway.

  “What was Randall’s involvement? He was a family friend.”

  “He got scared, gave the money back to Prescott and said he had given you all the information you needed to have Prescott arrested. The stupid old fool. After Prescott threatened him, Jacobs confessed everything and said you had the microchip. Damn you, where is it? I need it!”

  “More than you need my husband?”

  Claire gave her a quick, startled look.

  “I saw the upstairs closet.” Meg dragged in a deep breath. “Why did you kill him? If you loved him, why did you kill him?”

  “He lied to me!” Wildness flashed in Claire’s cold dark eyes. “He swore we’d always be together. He said he was going to leave you and marry me. I’d have everything. Position, power, respectability! But he lied. After I got the missing memos from the security camera, Prescott destroyed them and told me he would never let you go. You were his wife and he’d never divorce you. So he had to die.

  “This is all your fault. Prescott loved me, not you! And now you’re going to pay for making him stay with you.”

  The shrill note of the woman’s voice rose to hysteria. Claire was unhinged. She had killed the man she loved because he couldn’t be faithful...not to his wife or his mistress.

  Steely, cold determination shone in the woman’s face. Prescott’s mistress was crazy. Meg knew Claire would never let her leave alive.

  But she knew everything about this house, including the secret passage—leading to an underground tunnel to the barn—in the smallest bedroom upstairs. As a child, Meg had raced through the tunnel with her brother to the barn, until her grandparents closed it off.

  They didn’t close off the portion leading to the root cellar, however. This would give her a chance.

  Her only chance.

  Suddenly Claire pivoted her head, still training the gun on Meg. “Outside. Now.”

  She jabbed the gun in Meg’s face, prodding her into the living room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow slip among the bushes. And then a glimpse of a dear, familiar face.

  Cooper! She had to warn him. Claire gestured with the gun. Meg fumbled with the doorknob, pretending it was stuck. “I can’t open it.”

  With a snort of impatience, still training the gun on Meg, Claire sidestepped and reached for the doorknob.

  Meg drew out the knife and stabbed Claire, but the woman turned as the knife was raised. The blade sank into her side, not her stomach. A piercing scream tore from her throat, but she didn’t drop the gun.

  “Cooper, watch out, she has a gun!” she screamed.

  Turning, Meg fled up the stairs, zigging and zagging. She heard the gun fire, felt the kiss of the bullet against her cheek. Claire fired again, and the bullet pierced her skin. Stinging pain sliced her side. Fighting shock and the urge to collapse, Meg pushed on.

  She had no idea if Cooper was armed or if he heard her. I’m not going to die here. Not going to let this bitch kill me.

  Meg raced for the last bedroom on the right. Her breath coming in stabbing gasps of pain, she flung open the closet door and fumbled for the hidden access panel in the back. Her shaking fingers found the tiny knob. She pressed against it and the panel p
opped open.

  Instead of a yawning maw of stairs leading into darkness, she was met with a brick wall.

  Blocked. No tunnel access. Nearly sobbing with frustration, Meg whipped her gaze around.

  She ran into the bathroom and locked the door, hearing Claire’s maniacal laugh close behind. She flung open the cabinet door and pawed through the contents. Gran’s hairspray.

  Uncapping it, she held it out, her finger on the nozzle. Tested it.

  Thank God Gran liked aerosol spray cans. If it had been Meg’s hair spray, she’d be doomed, because Meg never bought them due to the fact that they ruined the environment. But in this case, what proved devastating to the planet might just save her life.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs, along with a rough, eerie laugh. “You think your puny knife can hurt me? Come out, come out. Or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your door in!”

  The woman was stark-raving insane. Meg prayed this would work in her favor. Prescott’s mistress was beyond reason. In her warped perspective, Claire thought killing Meg was justification for all she’d lost.

  Even though she, not Meg, had killed Prescott.

  Sounds at the doorknob, Claire fumbling with the lock. By the door, Meg squeezed herself into the alcove holding musty towels and bath soap. Waited.

  “Ready or not, here I come,” Claire sang out.

  The door banged open as the woman kicked it. It hit against the cubbyhole where Meg hid. Through the crack in the door, she saw Claire hold out the gun. Saw her turn toward the old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub with the shower curtain. Claire reached for the curtain’s edge.

  Now!

  Meg stepped out and, as Claire turned, sprayed her face. The woman screamed and dropped the gun as she clawed at her burning eyes. Heart pounding, Meg reached down and grabbed the gun, racing out of the bathroom.

  She heard Claire behind her and whirled, holding out the pistol. Tears streamed down the other woman’s cheeks as she wiped at her face with a towel.

  And then Claire threw down the towel and held out the knife Meg used to stab her with. A stray beam of sunlight drifting into the bedroom glinted off the bloodied steel.

  “What a useless waste you are, Margaret. Pathetic, sniveling waste. You don’t even have the guts to use that on me. You can’t shoot me! Prescott told me you’re terrified of guns!” Claire laughed and stumbled forward.

  Meg’s hand shook wildly. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t fire a gun. And then a deep male voice, a voice she loved, came from the bedroom doorway.

  “She can’t. But I can.”

  Cooper! Meg turned, sidestepped, dropped and rolled as Claire rushed at her, screaming. Cooper fired twice.

  Screaming, Claire fell onto the floor, blood pouring from the wounds in her shoulder and hip. She struggled to rise and collapsed.

  Smoke poured from the muzzle of the pistol he held. Meg hugged herself, the burning pain from her wound making it difficult to breathe.

  “So, how was the ride to Boston?” she gasped. “Cut your trip short?’

  After checking Claire’s pulse, Cooper went over to Meg, still holding his pistol. He gently checked her wound, a deep vee forming between his thick brows.

  “Is she...s-still alive?”

  He gave a wry smile. “Unfortunately, yes. I didn’t kill her since I’m certain the Feds will want to talk with her about what her father has been doing.”

  More footsteps sounded on the stairs. Cooper tensed and swung around, then relaxed as Nick, pistol drawn, showed in the doorway. Cooper holstered his gun and tore off his shirt, pressing it against her wound.

  “What—” she struggled to catch her breath “—are you doing here?”

  “Easy, Princess,” Cooper soothed. “You’re losing blood. Conserve your strength.”

  “I told you, Meg. Coop told me to protect his family,” Nick said grimly.

  “But I’m not family.”

  Cooper brushed his knuckles against her jawline. “Yes, you are. I called the cops and the paramedics. It’s a long distance from town, but they should be here soon.”

  “How did you know I was in trouble?” she asked.

  “Bert Baxter is dead. Whoever you were meeting set you up for a trap,” Cooper said.

  The scents of clean man, spicy aftershave surrounded her. She focused on Cooper, shutting out the smells of blood and death.

  “My husband is dead. My ex.” A sob rose in her throat. “I never wanted him dead. All I wanted was to be free to live my life and to get justice, make amends for what my company did. Who will believe me?”

  Warm lips brushed against her forehead. “I will. And so will my family, Meg. And the lawyer I hired to defend you.”

  Her trembling hand reached up to touch his cheek. “You hired a lawyer to protect yourself. I overheard you talking with your brother in the kitchen.”

  “I hired a lawyer to protect you, Meg. My dime, my lawyer.” He brushed another kiss against her chilled skin. “To protect you, my woman. I told you you’d be safe with me, Princess.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance. It proved too much effort to keep her eyes open, so Meg closed them. So she wasn’t certain if it was her imagination that heard him say softly, “Safe with me, always, and forever.”

  Chapter 21

  The bullets hadn’t struck any of Meg’s internal organs. Cooper counted his blessings that she was going to be okay. Today she was leaving the hospital. Everything was ready for her return. Except one small thing he knew he must complete.

  Cooper went into Brie’s bedroom upstairs at the cottage. He placed the little angel pin into the top drawer. She’d kept all her treasures there, the seashell found on a sandy beach in Maine, a plastic ring given to her by the first boy she’d ever loved and the wooden horse Cooper had carved for her before enlisting.

  Cooper stared at the photo on the dresser.

  “Stay beside me, Brie, and always be with me. You’re free now. You always were.”

  He closed the drawer, and this time, did not fight the tears brimming in his eyes.

  Instead, he hung his head and sobbed for all he had lost.

  When he finally finished, he dried his eyes and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  He loved his sister, would always love her, but at last Cooper felt a sense of peace instead of the terrible emptiness clawing at his chest.

  She had died doing what she loved, what fed her purpose. Meg was right. Brie would always walk beside him, in his heart. He didn’t need an angel pin to remind him of her love.

  It would burn brightly, always inside him.

  * * *

  Meg wasn’t looking forward to leaving the hospital, especially with federal authorities waiting in the wings. By now she knew that the police surely must have informed them about her role in all this, especially after Cooper told her about the subpoenaed files from Bert’s office. And about Bert, and how he’d been found in Boston Harbor.

  Cooper spent many hours with her, brought her flowers, drinks, chocolate and even a video Aimee made of Sophie and Adela.

  Jenny came to visit as well.

  “I never did anything mean to you, or wanted to hurt you. I only wanted to talk with you,” the woman said shyly. “I saw you around the farm, and I saw your bruises. I figured you had been through it, too. And if you could survive and start over, so could I.”

  Meg studied the woman, understanding at last her timid nature and the fear in her eyes. She touched her hand. “Yes, you can.”

  And then it was time to leave. Cooper wheeled her outside the hospital and helped her into Fiona’s sedan.

  When he pulled into the inn’s driveway, Meg’s jaw dropped.

  Everyone stood outside, with balloons and big signs saying Welcome Home. Aim
ee, Fiona, Nick, Hank, Jenny, Roger and Dan—the two hired hands who worked with the horses—and five people she didn’t recognize. Even Derek, Cooper’s sullen brother was there, a smile on his face. And Sophie, barking and wagging her tail.

  After Cooper helped her out of the car, they all rushed over. There was a flurry of hellos and an enthusiastic hug from Aimee that made her wince, and a gentler one from Fiona.

  Cooper introduced the newcomers as his aunt and uncle and their three children. Amid the cacophony, he swung her into his arms and carried her into the inn.

  “I can walk,” she protested.

  “Yeah, but it’s more fun like this,” he said, winking.

  He set her down on the living room sofa. After much talk and greetings, the rest of the family left her alone. Aimee set Sophie down on the sofa beside her.

  “She missed you,” the girl said, smiling. “She likes sleeping in my bed, but she kept looking for you.”

  Good smells drifted out, roasted pork and apple pie. The inn smelled like home.

  She felt comfortable here, more so than she had in the oceanfront mansion with its horde of servants and gourmet chef. Cooper sat beside her as Derek pulled up a chair, turned it around and straddled it.

  Meg stroked Sophie’s head, needing to center herself. She had the bad feeling the police detective was going to tell her exactly what was in store for her. And then the authorities would come to question, and probably arrest, her in connection with the scandal rocking through Cooper’s small town.

  He had harbored not just a battered wife, but a woman whose husband had been murdered by his mistress, and whose lawyer was involved in money laundering and tax fraud for a well-known mobster.

  And yet through it all, he’d stuck by her side. Even when his own brother advised him to let her go.

  Meg marveled at this as Derek apologized, his dark eyes solemn.

  “I’ve been wrong about you, Meg. I thought you weren’t innocent, but now I see you were a victim as much as your grandmother was,” Derek told her.

  She squeezed Cooper’s hand. “Thank you. Did you find out what happened to my grandmother?”