Special Ops Bodyguard

by Beth Cornelison

  “Is your mom still alive?” he asked quietly.

  Kate shook her head. “She died about five years ago. It took the cigarettes a little longer to catch up with her.” Her brow knitted in a deep frown, and she glanced toward the kitchen where Janet had disappeared earlier. “Janet smokes sometimes. Not a lot but…it drives me crazy. I can’t stand the thought of losing any more family because of smoking.”

  The temptation to tell her Janet was in much greater peril living with an abusive husband sat on the tip of his tongue, but he bit the urge back. That kind of gloomy reminder was not what he wanted for Kate tonight.

  “You’ve told her how you feel?” he asked instead.

  She shrugged. “Sure. But she swears she doesn’t smoke that much. She could quit any time. She just smokes to relieve stress. Yada yada…” She waved a hand. “I try to pick my battles with her. I really start sounding like a nag when I complain about her bad habits, her husband, her driving.”

  “Her driving?”

  Kate pulled a face and rolled her eyes. “The worst! She follows too close, never uses her turn signal, cuts people off…well, don’t get me started!” She gave a short dismissive chuckle and put a smile back on her face. “Enough about me! What’s your family like?”

  Gage grunted and took a large bite of cake to stall. He didn’t want to talk about himself, but since he’d grilled her about her life, he figured he owed her the basics. “Boring, average American family. Dad is an accountant, Mom’s a substitute teacher now that the kids are grown and gone. My sister is a married stay-at-home mom. They’re all still in Texas. No story there.”

  He stabbed another bite of cake and let the sweetness melt against his tongue. Pure indulgence. Kate really was an extraordinary cook.

  “So you learned to bake from your Amish neighbor?” he asked, hoping to get her off the subject of his life.

  “Mm-hmm. Emma’s mother. They were my surrogate family, since my own home life was…well, nonexistent. They taught me a lot. Not just cooking.”

  He listened as she talked about the Zook family, how she’d helped them with the farm chores, attended church with them, shared meals with them, even wore a kapp and a simple dress and apron when she worshiped with them.

  The more Gage listened to her expound on her close ties to the family, whose pacifist religion eschewed modern conveniences and adhered to a strict moral lifestyle, the more uncomfortable he grew. His training was in war—death and destruction. If he dared to explore a relationship with Kate, he’d surely destroy the very innocence and gentle sweetness that drew him to her.

  “Sounds like you wanted to become Amish, join their clan.”

  She chuckled, and the light in her eyes danced merrily. “At times, yes. I love the simplicity of their lifestyle, but… I’m spoiled. I could never give up my cell phone, television, cars, microwaves…heck, all electricity!” Her smile dimmed. “I think I disappointed them in that way.”

  A sadness filled her voice that plucked at his heart. Quickly he shoved the tender emotion down. Empathy blinded a soldier to his duty.

  Stay on target. Stay on task. No distractions…

  Yet he heard himself say, “You miss the Zooks, don’t you?”

  She glanced up, startled, her lips parting. “Every day. But…” She sighed. “…my life is here now. My family is here.”

  Gage cast a side glance to the tables where Janet wiped chairs and sent her sister scowling glances. “And family is important to you.”

  She nodded. “It’s the most important thing. Next to God. The Zooks taught me that.”

  He wanted to tell her that sometimes family was a detriment. Sometimes family would drag you down, hold you back, ruin your chances for happiness if you let them. He thought about the crappy way Hank Kelley had treated his family for years. Ignoring them, cheating on them, taking them for granted.

  Not to mention the way Janet disregarded her sister’s sacrifices.

  But when he saw the conviction that filled Kate’s face, thought of the loving family that had given her this mantra, how could he argue the point?

  His cell phone vibrated at his hip, and he pulled it out to check the caller I.D. Bart.

  That didn’t bode well.

  “Sorry,” he told Kate, “I need to take this.”

  She nodded agreeably, and he raised the phone to his ear. “Prescott.”

  “It’s Bart. You’d better get back to the ranch.”

  The other bodyguard sounded out of breath, and Gage’s senses went on full alert. In the background, Gage could hear the screech of alarms. He fished a couple of bills out of his pocket and slid them across the counter to Kate, mouthing, “Thanks. Gotta go.”

  “I’m taking Kelley down to wine cellar as we speak,” Bart said. “There’s been another security breach.”

  “What do we know?” Gage asked Bart, who met him at the top of the stairs to the panic room/wine cellar.

  “Not much yet. I’ve talked to Cole. He’s thinking he needs to come back to the ranch early in light of these two incidents. I assured him his father was safe, and we were assisting the sheriff in investigating the breaches. But he said there was a crew headed back in the morning with the first part of the herd, and he’s coming with them.”

  Gage rubbed his chin. “All right. I saw the sheriff’s truck outside. He’s searching the grounds, I guess?”

  “Yeah. One of the hands, Ben something, thinks he saw someone on an ATV down in a lower pasture. Sheriff Colton’s gone out there with Ben to have a look. He asked you to make sure the buildings were secure. I have—”

  “Damn it, woman! I told you not to call me anymore!” Hank’s raised voice drifted up from the cellar.

  Bart and Gage exchanged frowning looks and headed down the stairs together to check on the senator.

  Off to one side, Hannah sat on a folding chair with her orange cat on her lap and a disgruntled frown on her face. She said nothing to the men as they came down the steps but tapped her foot impatiently.

  Hank was red-faced and visibly tense as he paced the small aisle of the wine cellar, his cell phone at his ear. “No! Not a chance. I told you that last time you called.” He glanced up as his bodyguards reached the bottom step, then turned his back and stalked away. “The heat is on me from the press, thanks to you and the others, and there’s no way I can—” The senator stopped abruptly, and his back stiffened. “Is that a threat? Because I will not— Gloria? Gloria!”

  With a growl, Hank snapped his phone closed and jammed it in his pocket. “Stupid bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Sir?” Bart stepped toward the senator. “Was that Gloria Cosgrove again?”

  Hank jerked a nod.

  Gage fingered the keys in his pocket. “What sort of threat did she make?”

  The senator didn’t answer at first. He prowled the cellar restlessly like a caged tiger. “Nothing specific. She wants back in my life, and when I refused to meet with her, she swore she could make my life miserable.” Hank shook his head and rolled his shoulders wearily. “As if it weren’t already.”

  From the far side of the room, Hannah gave a sniff of disdain.

  Gage refused to feel sorry for the man. He’d had the world at his feet. Wealth, family, power, prestige…and he’d squandered it all with selfish choices and greed. To Hank Kelley, the glass was always half-empty.

  Kate Rogers, by contrast, had little family, a minimum-wage job, and limited real-world experience. Yet she remained cheerful and optimistic, making the most of her small-town life and offering her customers happiness with her smiles, her baking, her sunny disposition.

  Admiration lashed his heart in a rapid-fire beat he couldn’t dodge. Every day, his respect for Kate grew. Like a splinter under his skin, a painful question prodded him: Could he learn to be happy with the simple pleasures in life the way Kate did? Could he ever shed the sackcloth and tragedy of his life and find fulfillment in small joys such as fresh baked bread and the friendly greeting of
a neighbor?

  The walkie-talkie in Bart’s hand crackled to life, cutting into Gage’s thoughts. “Sheriff Colton to Bart Holden, over.”

  “Holden here. Go ahead.”

  “We’ve found the ATV tracks and the spot where they cut the fence. Ben Radley is making the repair to the fence, and I’m heading back up to the house, while my men make a mold of the track. Is Prescott back yet? I want to be sure the buildings are secure before I head back to Honey Creek.”

  “He’s right here,” Bart said.

  “Good. Tell him I’ll meet him in front of the stable in five.”

  Gage nodded to Bart and was headed up the stairs when a thought occurred to him. He faced Bart and hitched his head, silently asking the other bodyguard to follow him back up to the main level.

  “Yeah?” Bart asked as Gage closed the door to the stairs for privacy.

  “The timing of Gloria Cosgrove’s calls to the senator seems a little more than coincidental to me,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Last time she called to harangue him was Monday night when the alarm was triggered by the vandalism at the bunkhouse. So while we’re busy chasing down the source of this security breach, she calls begging for a meeting with the senator? It smells foul to me.”

  Bart lifted his chin and grunted. “Good point. Warrants watching.”

  “Ask the senator if Ms. Cosgrove said where she wanted to meet him. It’d be nice to know where she is, or where she thinks he is.”

  “Got it.” Bart tapped his forehead with two fingers as he headed back downstairs.

  Gage met Wes Colton at the stable, and they began a systematic check of the outbuildings and main house, the sheriff leading the search. The stables were quiet but for the soft nickering of the animals housed there. As they passed through the wide center aisle of the stalls, the black barn cat shot out from an empty stall and raced into the night. Though he’d been trained not to let such surprises rattle his composure while in the heat of battle, the sudden movement still sent a quick jolt of adrenaline pumping through Gage’s veins.

  “Critter’s a little jumpy thanks to the racket from the alarm,” Colton said, pausing to stare out into the inky blackness of the night where the cat had disappeared.

  Gage sent the sheriff a scoffing laugh of agreement. “Apparently. I hope you’re not superstitious. Black cat crossing our path and all…”

  Sheriff Colton adjusted his hat and continued to the back entrance of the stable headed towards the barn. “Let’s hope a cat is the worst thing that crosses our path.”

  Flashlights on, Gage and the sheriff crossed the ranch yard to the large barn where, according to the brief tour Gage had been given earlier in the week, calves were birthed in the winter and horse feed was stored year-round. As they approached, Gage heard a rustle off to the right and caught Colton’s arm. He aimed his light toward the side of the building. “Over here,” he whispered.

  Silently they crept toward the corner of the barn, and Wes peered around the corner. Gage drew his gun. Waited.

  Wes tensed. Dropped to a knee. Reached for his service revolver. “Sheriff’s department! Get on the ground!”

  Immediately Gage positioned himself above the sheriff. He leaned around the corner just far enough to see the dark figure lurking in the shadows and aimed his flashlight and his weapon on the target. The figure reached for a shotgun.

  “Drop your weapon!” Gage barked. “Hands in the air!”

  When the suspect hesitated, Wes added, “Do it now! Hands out, get on the ground!”

  Finally the slim figure raised his hands and flattened himself in the dirt. “Don’t shoot! I—I work here.”

  Wes jerked his head, signaling Gage to move in and subdue the man while he kept his revolver trained on the suspect. Moving swiftly, Gage pinned the man on the ground with a knee between the suspect’s shoulders.

  “Who are you? What were you doing back here?” Wes asked as he approached, whipping out his handcuffs.

  “M-my name’s Kenny. Kenny Greene. I work for Cole.”

  “You’re a ranch hand?” Gage asked.

  Kenny nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

  Wes shone the flashlight at Kenny’s face, swept the beam down the length of his body. “Why aren’t you with the rest of the crew on roundup?”

  “I was, but… I came back tonight. I, uh…had a migraine, and… I’d left my medicine here.”

  The sheriff motioned for Gage to trade places with him and, once switched, he gave the young ranch hand a quick frisk.

  “So why are you out here behind the barn?” the sheriff asked. “And why did you reach for your shotgun?”

  “I—I was startled. I heard the alarm and came out to search the grounds.”

  The guy was clearly nervous, and now that they were closer, Gage could see that he was barely more than a kid. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-two. Wes finished patting him down, then turned the young ranch hand over to Gage again. “I’m just gonna verify your story with Cole. Sit tight.”

  Gage kept his hand between Kenny’s shoulder blades, his fingers twisted in the guy’s shirt, while the sheriff talked to Cole. Only when Wes gave him a nod did he release the young ranch hand.

  Over the next half hour, Gage and Wes finished searching the buildings but found nothing suspicious beyond the ATV sighting and the cut fence Ben had reported.

  “Could just be kids, troublemakers who know the hands are away on roundup, but…” Wes sighed. “Considering the senator is here and this is the second callout this week, I’m not yet ready to write this off as simple juvenile mischief.” He promised to be in touch with Cole for a thorough briefing when the rancher got back in town.

  Gage considered filling the sheriff in on his theories regarding Gloria Cosgrove, but he decided he needed to do some more of his own research on the woman before he sounded that alarm. Stretching his tired muscles, Gage trudged back into the main house, said good-night to Hannah and Pumpkin, and headed down the long hall to his guest room. Before he went to bed, he wanted to see what the internet had to share about the mysterious and cloying Gloria Cosgrove.

  Chapter 6

  Friday morning Hank donned a pair of jeans and a casual shirt and announced he was going horseback riding. Which meant Gage was going horseback riding.

  Though Gage had ridden a horse a couple of times in the past, low-key trail rides through national parks with his family while growing up hardly felt like proper preparation for riding out into the rugged Montana foothills with the senator.

  “I thought all of the able-bodied horses were out with Cole on roundup,” Gage said as he shadowed Hank’s steps toward the stable.

  “I board my stallion here year-round with specific instructions he’s not to be used for ranching chores. He’s a thorough-bred. Champion stock. Cost me a fortune, but I’d hoped to get stud fees for him.”

  “I take it that hasn’t panned out?”

  Hank grunted. “Not the way I’d hoped.”

  “Why not sell the horse then?”

  “Because he’s a magnificent animal. Wait until you see him.” Hank led the way into the stable where they found Ben Radley saddling up the horse he’d been working with on Monday night.

  “Morning, gentlemen,” Ben said, tightening a stirrup. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like Sultan and another horse saddled up. Gage and I are going for a ride.”

  Gage gritted his teeth at the highhanded manner in which Hank issued his order. Ben was not one of the senator’s lackeys and had no responsibility to jump when Hank ordered.

  “If it’s not an inconvenience,” Gage added, giving Ben an apologetic look.

  “Well, I can get Sultan ready for the senator, but I don’t have any other horses for Mr. Prescott. The ones that were left here during roundup were left because they can’t be ridden for one reason or another.”

  “What about this one?” Hank pointed to the brown horse with the white nose that Ben had been saddling.

  Ben s
hook his head. “Blaze is my horse, and I was just about to ride the fence and look for any other places where the vandals last night might have cut the wire.”

  “Can’t that wait?” Hank asked, and Gage read the irritation on Ben’s face.

  “Not really. Cole’s bringing four hundred head of the herd back today, and he needs a secure pasture to put them in.”

  The senator visibly bristled, clearly not used to being told no. Hiking up his chin, he peered down his nose at the ranch hand. “Then I’ll ride the fence. That way Gage can ride your horse. Surely you have something else that needs to be done before Cole gets back?”

  “Senator Kelley,” Gage said quietly, “Perhaps another time would be—”

  “What do you know about riding or repairing fence?” Ben cut in.

  Hank chuckled. “Young man, I grew up on this ranch. My father taught me how to ride and rope and fix fences before I started school.”

  Gage regarded the senator with a lift of his brow. He’d forgotten that this ranch belonged to Cole’s grandparents, meaning Hank had been raised here. Somehow the arrogant, self-centered senator didn’t mesh in Gage’s mind with the laid-back, rugged sort of man who worked a ranch. What had happened to change the senator? Did Hank ever miss the ranching life?

  As it had last night, the comparison between Hank’s high-maintenance, unhappy life and Kate Rogers’s uncomplicated existence struck a nerve in Gage. Now that he was back in the States, starting a new life for himself, how did he avoid making the mistakes Hank had made that had led him down the path to such recklessness and dissatisfaction? Could Kate teach him a thing or two about finding purpose and contentment in a simplified world?

  “All right. You’ve got a deal.”

  Ben’s voice tugged Gage back to the conversation in the stable. He blinked and divided a look between the senator and the ranch hand.

  Ben handed him Blaze’s reins. “I took him out last night for a while. He seems to be well past his colic. But if he acts overly tired, bring him back in. Got it?”

  How was he supposed to tell if the horse was “overly tired?”