Christmas Ranch Rescue. Lynette Eason
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and she walked toward them, keeping her pace even, careful with each step. She recognized Trent Haywood and Parker Little. A third car pulled in behind them. Clay.
Clay stepped out of the third car and Becca kept her gaze on the man. Hurt comes in many different forms. Well, that was true enough.
Sheriff Clay Starke was her cousin. The one she’d chased around his parents’ ranch when they were kids, and the one who’d beat up the bully for her when she was in second grade. He was also the one who’d questioned her about a man who’d died of an overdose with her number in his cell phone and who’d gotten a warrant to search her place. Thankfully, as she’d expected, he’d come up empty-handed.
But still.
The anger and hurt were fresh and she didn’t know when she’d get over it. She glanced back at Nathan. “You’re hired.”
He blinked. “That was easy.”
“I need help and you want to work. I know you and I trust you. I was going to have to put an ad in the paper and start interviewing.” She grimaced. “I want to do that about as much as I want another fall. I’d be a fool to turn you down.”
* * *
I know you and I trust you.
Nathan stared at the bottom of the bunk above him, his mind spinning, guilt eating at him. Becca thought she knew him. She thought she could trust him. Little did she know she’d just let a spy into her midst. She knew he worked for the DEA and yet hadn’t thought twice about letting him onto her property or hiring him. That spoke volumes to him.
He grunted and rolled to his side, winced at the pressure on his shoulder and decided he was most comfortable on his back. God, I think I’ve managed to get myself into a mess. Please don’t let me do anything that’s going to hurt Becca. I wouldn’t hurt her for the world, but Clay’s asked me to do this. And while I don’t think Becca’s guilty, if Clay says the drugs are coming from this area, then I need to find out. And find out if Becca’s gotten mixed up in the middle and doesn’t know it. He sighed. “Although, I’m guessing she might know it after today,” he muttered aloud. It had been a bold move for the masked man to attack her in the barn in the middle of the day. That very fact scared him. For her.
Which made him wonder if the failure to get what he wanted would result in the attacker’s return.
Nathan slapped the pillow in frustration. Sleep wasn’t going to happen. His nerves still jumped from his showdown with the man in the barn, his worry over Becca, and his desire to tell her exactly what he was doing sleeping in her bunkhouse and working at her barn.
He swung his feet to the floor and grabbed his jeans from the foot of the bed. So he’d tell her. Right now. Nathan glanced at the clock and winced. It was shortly before midnight. He’d have to wait until morning. She’d had a long day and needed her sleep. “And so do you, Williams,” he muttered. “Lights out.”
Nathan wasn’t sure how long he laid there, thinking, running different versions of a confession to Becca about his presence through his mind, but when the floorboard creaked, his eyes popped open. He lay still, barely breathing, not moving.
Another soft creak, the thud of a footfall. Someone was in the bunkhouse. But who? And why? It wouldn’t be Becca, she would have texted or called to let him know she was coming down.
Had her attacker returned after all?
Nathan sat up and reached for his gun.
Becca checked the clock once more and sighed. Midnight. She couldn’t get her nerves to calm down long enough to let sleep take over, which was why she now sat in the dark kitchen sipping hot decaf tea and looking out over her property. Jack lay on the floor at her feet, his presence a comfort.
The half-moon cast a faint glow and shadows danced in the distance. But at least the pain in her back had eased and she was able to move without the constant ache. Apparently, her attacker hadn’t done as much damage as she’d feared and she’d bounced back quickly. She just wished her brain could do the same. Unfortunately, the attack kept playing over and over in her restless mind.
Becca shivered and pulled the blanket she’d snagged from the den tighter around her shoulders.
Was he out there? She sipped the tea and took comfort in the fact that her Winchester .45 leaned against the wall nearby.
She still had a hard time processing that she’d been attacked. On her property, in her barn.
Anger mingled with remembered fear. She’d never felt afraid in her home before and now she jumped at every familiar noise.
The moment she’d heard the Updikes were selling the property, she’d known what she’d wanted to do. Her parents had balked. She’d been an equestrian champion as a teen, then graduated at the top of her class from medical school.
On the fast track to following in her father’s impressive footsteps, she was supposed to become a surgeon just like him and continue making them proud while giving them bragging rights at all of their snobby social functions. Well, her father anyway. Her mother hadn’t been quite as vocal—and wasn’t nearly as snobby.
And while Becca loved medicine and the thrill of helping someone heal, she’d also had other dreams.
Like a stable of her own. Riding lessons and trail rides. The squeal of children’s laughter. When she’d finally had the guts—and the means thanks to her grandmother—to chase those dreams, she’d done it. And since her father had paid all of her medical school bills, she’d had no debt to tie her down initially. She’d set up a stable, took advantage of the fact that she knew everyone in the equestrian business and built her clientele so fast it made her head spin.
However, she had to admit, her favorite part was her special needs riders. No amount of money, no ribbon or trophy gave her the satisfaction like seeing a child’s eyes light up while on the back of a horse.
Her eyes grew heavy and she drained the last of the tea from her cup. As she rose to carry it to the sink, a flash of light caught her attention. It came from the bunkhouse. Probably Nathan being as antsy as she. But she couldn’t help the sliver of uneasiness that inched its way up her spine.
Jack lifted his head, his ears perking, his attention on the door.
What if her attacker had come back? What if he decided to incapacitate Nathan while he slept and then came to find her? She tightened her jaw and went to slip her feet into the boots she’d left by the back door, being careful not to jar her back. “Come on, Jack, let’s see what’s going on.” Grabbing the rifle, she slipped out into the chill of the night with the dog at her heels.
* * *
Nathan had lost track of how long he’d stayed quiet, his fingers curled around the grip of his weapon. He kept his back to the wall, eyes on the door in front of him. The floor had creaked a couple more times, then silence. In spite of his pulse pounding and his adrenaline rushing, his senses were sharp, focused.
If Becca’s attacker had returned, Nathan was determined to make sure he didn’t get another chance at her. Although why would he come into the bunkhouse if he was after Becca?
Nathan moved to the door, his socked feet silent on the hardwood. He had a momentary memory blip of the crack house he’d helped bust two months ago and his breath caught. It had been a setup. They’d known he and his team were coming thanks to Sylvia’s betrayal. The only reason Sylvia and the others had been there was because the team had moved their timetable up three hours.
But the drug dealer had been prepared with a full arsenal of weapons and people to use them.
The bullet had come out of nowhere, catching him in the shoulder. He’d gone down in a blinding flash of pain and awareness that if he didn’t do something, he was dead.
Nathan