A Weaver Wedding. Allison Leigh
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a rattle of keys, opened the door.
“You could have at least parked in the alley behind the building,” she muttered, as she shut and locked the door again once he stepped inside. “Everyone in town can recognize your truck.”
Warmth engulfed him. “So?”
“So, I don’t want people wondering why you’re hanging around me.”
On that score, she was going to be sadly disappointed.
“Don’t bother taking that off,” she warned when he unzipped his jacket. “You won’t be staying long.”
He slid out of the jacket anyway and dropped it on the Ushaped mahogany bar that served as a counter in the center of the store. “There’s been a hit issued against your brother,” he said bluntly.
For a long moment, her wide eyes just stared at him. Then she slowly blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. There’s a price on Sloan’s head.”
The lovely throat that he knew tasted as sweet as cream worked in a hard swallow. She abruptly sat down on a weathered-looking leather couch whose massive lines made her look even more defenseless. “H-how would you know that?”
“Because I work for the same agency that placed you in Weaver when your brother went undercover with the ATF.”
Her face blanched and he quickly moved to her, placing his hand against her back. “Put your head down.”
But she pushed him away. “You know Sloan? Is—” she swallowed visibly “—is he all right? He’s still under protection somewhere in Chicago, right?”
Truthfully, Axel wasn’t entirely certain where Sloan was. The man had shunned the normal protocols and who could blame him? “He’s keeping contact,” he said instead, truthfully enough, though Tristan was the only one with whom McCray was maintaining the briefest of communications.
He eyed Tara’s fearful expression and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her again.
There had already been too much touching between them. He was still losing sleep from the burning memory of those white-hot hours they’d shared. “How much do you know about the case he’s been working on?”
She swiped a strand of hair from her cheek. “Only that when he infiltrated the Deuce’s Cross, he wanted me far away from Chicago just in case the gang suspected he wasn’t the ex-con he was pretending to be.” Her hands fell back to her lap. “He was exaggerating the situation. Nothing’s ever happened to me. Not during the years he rode with them, and certainly not in the time it’s taken to get the case to trial.” She looked around the shop, avoiding eye contact. “I gave up the only home I’ve ever known to come here. It’s temporary. Just until all that’s over.”
Five years didn’t seem all that temporary to Axel, but he kept the thought to himself. “A few years before Sloan was finally accepted into the gang, another federal agent had gotten in. But his cover was blown. They killed his family before they executed him.” There was nothing he could do to soften the facts. They were what they were.
And they were only part of the reason behind Sloan’s rightful concern, now.
But Axel still felt like a bastard when her face paled all over again. His hands fisted in his pockets. It was either that, or reach for her, and he was pretty certain she’d push him away. Again.
“The Feds couldn’t make a murder case stick at that point,” he continued quietly. “Your brother was the one who finally came up with the glue.” About murder and a host of other felonies. “Now that the trial is finally going forward, it’s likely they want payback more than ever.”
“But Sloan’s identity was supposed to be protected.”
“There’s no guarantee about that,” he said carefully. “Information has a way of getting out. Your brother’s not taking any chances that it might lead to you.”
“I don’t even use my maiden name. I’ve spoken with Sloan once in the past five years! I don’t have a phone number for him or even an address. All I can do is sit around on my thumbs waiting for him to contact me.” She grimaced. “And to blow me off again even after he has. Why…why would anything about my brother lead to me?”
“You’re not some far-flung relation of his. You’re his twin sister.” Sloan’s only living family.
Her lips compressed. “So what am I supposed to do? Give up everything again and go start somewhere new?”
He frowned at the assessment. “Right now, Weaver is still the best place for you.”
“And how long have you known about all of this?”
“You mean about the order on Sloan, or the reason you moved to Weaver?”
She looked ill. “Both.”
He finally pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Since this morning, and since you came to town five years ago.”
“Great.” Her expression grew even more pinched. “So all that talk in Braden about your horse-breeding business was just a story. A line. You’re with the ATF, too.”
They hadn’t just talked about his business. They’d talked about hers. About movies and books and politics and religion. And they’d made love. Again. And again.
“I didn’t lie to you. I am a horse breeder.”
“But that’s not all you are,” she said her voice flat. “Right?”
“No,” he allowed. “But I’m not with the ATF.”
“But you said you were with the agency—”
“The ATF didn’t move you here to Wyoming. An agency called Hollins-Winword did that.”
Her lips parted. “But Sloan told me—”
He lifted his hand. “It doesn’t matter.” In a perfect world, the ATF would have been able to see to the full protection of its own agents. But he’d learned long ago that the world wasn’t perfect. McCray had done what Axel would have done in the same situation. He’d found someone to take care of what his own agency wouldn’t. “Sloan trusted Hollins-Winword to keep you safe before, and Hollins-Winword is going to keep you safe now.”
She closed her eyes for a moment as if she were searching for strength. He started to reach for her no matter the chances of rejection but she planted her slender palms on her knees and pushed abruptly to her feet.
Her brown eyes looked like bruises against her pale face. “Fine. You’ve told me. Now will you go?” She started toward the door. “Your five minutes are long gone.”
He closed his hand around her arm and absorbed the frisson that raced through him at the contact. “It’s more than a matter of just keeping you updated on the situation.”
She’d gone still the moment he touched her. Her gaze seemed focused on his hand on her arm. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning, I’m your new bodyguard.”
Chapter Three
Tara wasn’t certain she’d heard right. “Bodyguard.”
But Axel didn’t correct her. He just stood there, watching her with that steady, golden-brown gaze that she couldn’t get out of her mind, while his hand seemed to burn like some branding iron through her long sleeve.
She shook off the ridiculous notion. She wasn’t branded by this man any more than she was going to put up with this bodyguard nonsense.
“No.” Her voice was flat and she headed straight for the door. “No. No. And no.”
“It isn’t