Guarded by the Cowboy (WEST Protection Book 2)

by Em Petrova

  He followed the older man, contemplating the spite in the ranch hand’s voice. It wasn’t very different from the tone in which those men at the oil conference had spoken to Black.

  Once outdoors, Flaherty took a pinch of snuff from a pouch and stuffed it into his bottom lip. He offered it to Boone, but he refused.

  “You don’t use tobacco? Or just not on the job?”

  Boone threw him a grin. “I tried it once, after I saw my cousin use it. I puked and never tried it again.” He always wondered what his cousin had been thinking to risk something like that, knowing if caught that his strict parents would thrash him good.

  Flaherty laughed and tucked the pouch in his pocket. They gazed out over the glory of the ranch. Flat-bottomed clouds floated across their view. The field rolled into the distance, to be met by mountain range far enough away that it appeared light blue.

  “Don’t mind what the kid said in there,” Flaherty said.

  Boone cocked a brow in question.

  “The ranch hand. He’s twenty. You don’t know jack when you’re that age.”

  “That’s true.”

  “He thinks just because you got money to throw around that you should. But Black’s not that way.”

  Boone eyed him. He’d liked Flaherty immediately, and felt a kinship toward the man born of hard work and similar paths in life. This was exactly what he’d hoped for—the foreman to open up and talk about their mutual boss.

  “Smart men don’t waste money,” Boone said to prompt him into expounding on the topic.

  “Exactly right. Try tellin’ that to a kid who thinks he’s worth more than he’s paid.”

  “It’s easy to knock your boss if you don’t know much about the world yet.” Boone hooked his thumb in the front of his jeans, but found he was wearing the black suit pants of his guard uniform. Though it didn’t feel the same, he slipped his hand into one pocket.

  “Lots o’ guys like to knock the boss, and I always caution them that Black can get a dozen more just like them to fill their position.”

  “So a lot of people want to work here?”

  Flaherty spit on the ground and continued to shoot the breeze with just the sort of information Boone had been waiting to hear. “They think they do. Until they get through the gates and learn what it’s like here.”

  He tossed Boone a look as if gauging his reaction to him crossing a line.

  Boone gave a nod as if he knew exactly what he meant.

  Seeing he was on board with this conversation and not likely to run his gums to the boss, Flaherty continued, “Morale’s been up and down in this place over the years. I’ve seen a lot of men come and go, especially in the past few years.”

  “Why do you think that’s the case?” Boone acted nonchalant, gazing at the landscape so he opened up more.

  “Reckon it happened after a band of men got it into their heads to attack Mr. Black.”

  Boone did look at him then. “Common thieves?”

  “Or enemies.”

  As Boone had thought—Peter Black had enemies.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Flaherty tucked his jutting lower lip inward, protecting the chewing tobacco from falling out as he spoke. “Men got past the gates and invaded the house. A group split off from them and rode off with some thoroughbred horses. We didn’t know that out near the road, some were loading up Black’s cattle to steal them.”

  “Damn. What did they take in the house?”

  “Not much, from what I hear, because security hopped to it and put a stop to the robbery.”

  “How did they get past security in the first place? I thought Black always keeps a lot of guards.”

  “The head guy”—he settled his stare on Boone, who held the position currently—“was lyin’ down on the job.”

  The foreman wouldn’t have selected that wording if he wasn’t trying to get another point across to Boone.

  He nodded in understanding that the former head of security had been in bed with Black’s then-wife at the time of the invasion. Coincidence? Could be—but it also seemed entirely possible that the invasion had been orchestrated to happen when the man had his head turned.

  Damn, he had a lot to think on now. Such as whether Black’s ex-wife had been in on the plan too.

  On the flip side, Black had plenty of people who wanted to see him go down. Maybe he’d slighted them in the past, or they simply hated the man for rolling in dough. That led him to think of Isadora. Was he guarding her from more than running off with the hired muscle?

  Was it possible she wasn’t a captive in his mind, but that he believed he protected her for her own good?

  This shift in mindset had Boone pondering a lot more about his role here too. Clearly the woman needed to escape. But what if Black truly did love her and was doing what his twisted mind believed to be the right thing in keeping her safe?

  If it were Boone, he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect his woman.

  Lauralee’s face floated into his mind’s eye, as she’d looked when she first popped open that ring case and set eyes on the diamonds. Again, when she quietly spoke the wedding vows. And when she was coming apart for him the first time, her cheeks pink as her orgasm tore through her.

  His insides flamed, and he turned to Flaherty. “I’d best get to my duty of checking the boundary, and let you get back to work too.”

  Flaherty shot a stream of tobacco juice into the dirt at their feet. “See ya around, Marks.”

  He gave the man a nod of farewell and cut a path across the yard to reach the security truck. One thing Boone didn’t mind about his job on the ranch was doing his twice-daily perimeter check. He rode alone and that afforded him an opportunity to call Ross and give him the 4-1-1 on everything.

  Today, that happened to be what the foreman just told him.

  As usual, before climbing behind the wheel he scoured the vehicle for listening devices. The last thing he needed was to blow his cover in the event Black bugged the truck.

  He checked every corner, even beneath the floor rugs, and finding nothing, he started the engine.

  Was he paranoid? When it came to Black, he didn’t trust the guy. Men like him waited for someone to slip up so they could catch them.

  Boone wouldn’t be tricked. Besides, he had more than himself to worry about.

  Black’s wife.

  And Lauralee.

  After zipping Lauralee’s dress this morning, he’d gripped her waist and whispered in her ear, “No risks.”

  She’d only nodded. Hell if he trusted her to listen to him. If it were anyone else on the WEST Protection team, he’d have no problem leaving them to their own devices. But she wasn’t trained to do undercover work, and he held his breath waiting for her to slip up.

  So far, she was surprising him. But why should he be surprised? He’d always known she was determined and thorough when it came to her job.

  Maybe he was seeing other sides of her, depths he hadn’t guessed at. He knew the nerdy girl staring at the screen every time he walked into the office, and she didn’t seem to have much of a social life. But he’d been wrong to think she couldn’t handle much more than she was hired to do.

  Nobody could hold it against him that he’d jumped to conclusions about Lauralee’s personality—they’d known each other a month. She’d probably assessed him and come up with some wrong ideas too.

  The looks she’d given him plenty of during their first exchanges told him she thought him annoying and maybe under the delusion he ran the show. He may know how to get under her skin, but he always kept in mind they were part of a team, and the wheels didn’t turn without the entirety of the parts being in tip-top shape.

  His mind was overly full, and he wished he could dump some of it off to examine from a different perspective. Not only concerning Lauralee but Black and what the foreman told him.

  The ride with Lauralee the previous evening hadn’t provided that much-needed peace to let his mind conjure a soluti
on to their problem. Instead, it slammed him with more issues.

  Such as how to walk away from her after this was over.

  Guiding the truck to the road leading around the east field, he settled his gaze on the cattle for a moment before shifting his attention to the border.

  No breaches, as far as he could see. The fence was intact. At one gate, he got out of the truck and walked around, searching for horse or ATV tracks before continuing on his drive.

  His mind drifted to Lauralee once more. The beautiful woman had edged into his mind, like a song that kept getting stuck on repeat. What did it mean when a man couldn’t stop thinking about a woman, he couldn’t keep his hands—or lips—off her, and the thought of going back to being just coworkers after this gig was up, had his veins icing over with dread?

  No matter how much he wanted to stay in the moment and explore what was happening between them, the hard truth was that they were here for Isadora Black. From the expression of horror on Lauralee’s face when she conveyed what she saw, the woman was in dire need of rescue.

  That led to other logistic concerns. Such as when to make their move. And how much force it would take to free her.

  Ideally, getting Black off the property would be best. But that meant Boone would go with him as his bodyguard.

  He reached the corner of the property where some trees provided good cover for him to make a call to the WEST Protection office.

  He threw the truck in park and pressed dial on the phone, waiting to hear Ross’s voice. Instead, his cousin Mathias picked up. Funny, since he’d been talking about him minutes earlier with the foreman.

  Mathias and Landon Trace were the T in WEST Protection. While the company had been masterminded by Ross, their family and friends jumped in with start-up capital to purchase equipment and pay for the best training.

  Typically, Mathias wasn’t sitting in the office answering phones, though.

  “Didn’t know you like playing secretary, cuz. Don’t tell me you’re wearing high heels too,” Boone drawled.

  “Ha-ha,” came Mathias’s bored, dry reply. “Don’t let your sister hear you say that. You know how she hates any stereotyping.”

  “Corrine gets twisted up about dumb jokes. What’s the story over there? Why are you answering the phone?” Boone pictured his older cousin sitting at a desk, something he’d never seen in person before. Growing up, Mathias was the oldest of his cousins on his mother’s side. He was able to have freedoms long before Boone and his brothers did. Boone always looked up to him, and as a kid, tried to mimic Mathias’s personality, from the way he walked and talked to how he’d seen him spit out that chewing tobacco.

  Before the puking episode, his momma caught him, grilled him about where he’d seen someone chewing, and at the age of seven, he’d crumpled beneath his mother’s iron gaze and fessed up that Mathias chewed tobacco.

  He never did hear if Mathias caught hell for that or not. Of course, he’d been far too nervous at the time to bring up the topic to his cousin, but he took note that Mathias stopped chewing.

  “They all got called out suddenly.”

  Boone’s spine prickled. “On the same job?”

  “No, spread out. They hauled me in from training horses to answer the phone. Ross told me you’d be in touch, and someone needed to be here to offer you guidance, little cuz.”

  Boone pictured his cousin and chuckled. “Pretty sure I know more than you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He heard a thud on the other end of the line and pictured Mathias swinging his legs off the desk and planting his boots on the floor.

  “I did all the training, same as you.”

  “I only mean that I’m in the field more often. You prefer the horses.”

  “From the things you guys tell me, I’m damn glad to be working with animals and sit back and watch my share of the stocks triple, rather than dealing with the crap you’re neck-deep in. Which brings me to the question of what you’re calling about, Boone.”

  With little time to sit here unnoticed, he quickly relayed everything Lauralee had seen and told him. “We need Silas on this. He has to help Lauralee hack the system and cut the live feed and put it on a loop so it looks like Black’s wife hasn’t moved, so we can get inside.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Silas is out for the day at a doctor’s appointment.”

  Boone’s brows pinched. “Everything all right?”

  “Probably just a physical or somethin’,” Mathias drawled.

  “Most likely. Anyhow, pass on the message for me when he gets in. And polish up your poker chips, because game’s on as soon as I get back in town.” A healthy dose of competition between their families always boosted morale and gave them all a chance to unwind.

  “You sat out the last two games, cuz.”

  Mathias’s comment made Boone think about how much time he spent away from his family in this line of work. But he didn’t regret the things he did in the name of protecting a human being.

  “That’s about to change, cuz. Next time, I’ll be there no matter what,” Boone told him.

  “You buy the beer. And none of that rot-gut. Don’t be cheap.”

  He grinned at his cousin’s words. “Aww, did wittle Mathias get a hangover last time?”

  “Shut up. I mighta.”

  Boone cracked up laughing, and Mathias joined in. “Fine, I’ll buy the good stuff. Pass on my message to Silas.”

  “Will do. Stay safe, cuz.” Mathias ended the call, and Boone reset his phone, erasing all traces of the call he’d just made before he put the truck in gear and continued on his round.

  He didn’t roll half a mile down the road before another call came in. Thinking it Silas, he brought the phone up, but Lauralee’s high voice projected into his ear before he even got out a greeting.

  “The cook asked me to take the tray. I thought you should know I’m doing it.”

  He braked and slowly closed his eyes, mind whirring with all the things that could go wrong and happen to her.

  “Br-rodie?” she whispered.

  His chest tightened. “Someone’s around you.”

  “Someone just stepped into the other room,” she whispered.

  “Okay, I have a call in to Silas. He’s going to hook you up with what we discussed. In the meantime…” He stopped—was he really going to ask her to do this? Did he have a choice? She was their only in.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  Too late to go back now.

  “I want you to write a note on a tiny bit of paper, as tiny as you can make it. Slip it in with the tray and tell her to swallow it when she’s finished reading it.”

  A stuttering breath sounded from Lauralee, which had him questioning whether or not he should have asked. He’d commanded her not to take risks, and slipping a note onto a tray for the captive was the definition of risk. If she were caught…

  He saw little choice. Lauralee had access, and they needed to alert Isadora that at a moment’s notice, they might come for her. As soon as Boone saw an opening, he wouldn’t stand around scratching his balls—he’d take it.

  “Tell her to be ready. There won’t be time to warn her.”

  “I will.”

  “Make sure she swallows the paper. There can’t be evidence left behind.”

  “Of course.”

  “Honey, this is big. Are you sure you want to do it? There’s time to back out.”

  “I can do it. What surprises me is you going along with—” she cut off.

  His heart turned over and took off in an awkward, painful gallop. Had she been made? Holding this conversation while staff—and maybe Black himself—milled around the ranch was a huge risk.

  “Lauralee?” His voice was the gravel his heart was skidding on.

  “Yes, Brodie. I’d love to take a ride after I’m finished. I’ll see about making us a picnic.”

  So somebody was nearby.

  “See you after our shifts.”

  “Be careful,
Lauralee.” He closed his eyes, picturing terrible tragedies befalling her.

  It would rip him to pieces.

  “Oh, you’re so sweet, Brodie. Always complimenting me. I love you. Bye!”

  He froze as her declaration of love slammed him in the stomach like a fist. It took all his air and shattered his mind. His heart that had been skidding on gravel came to a dead halt.

  He realized it wasn’t blistered with road rash either—it was pattering fast and humming at the sound of those three little breathless words.

  She didn’t mean them. She’s play-acting.

  He stared at the phone, wanting to call her back just to hear her voice again.

  Crap, what had he done? The thought of her delivering a tray was bad enough, but why had he instructed her to leave Black’s wife a damn note?

  Hell.

  Whipping the truck around, he blew up a cloud of dust getting to the ranch, ignoring that he didn’t check the entire perimeter this time around.

  Nothing mattered as much as reaching Lauralee.

  * * * * *

  Lauralee’s mouth felt as if she’d eaten half the Sahara Desert. Her stomach was nothing but a twist of raw nerves.

  She couldn’t believe that Boone tasked her with slipping a note to Isadora. Or that she planned to do it.

  The key fumbled in her sweaty fingers, and she nearly dropped both it and the tray bearing food she knew the woman wouldn’t eat. She’d torn off a scrap of a delivery invoice sitting on top of a box of produce and hastily written in microscopic letters what Boone told her to write.

  Then she tucked it beneath the carafe of coffee, hoping she didn’t slosh the liquid and smear the ink. Wouldn’t that be just her luck?

  Focusing on balancing the tray in one hand, she cursed herself for not taking any waitress jobs in her life. So many had a talent for making this job look easy when it wasn’t.

  The key snicked in the lock, and she managed to swing the door open without dumping the contents of the tray and losing the note.

  Any relief surging into her veins faded the minute Isadora’s wild stare met hers.

  Gulping down her mingled fury and fear, she bustled to set the tray on the table. With her back to the camera on the bookshelf, she fussed over making the tray look pretty. She whispered, “There’s a note under the coffee. After you read it, make sure to swallow it.”