That’s not how I remember things. Her parents are loaded.”
“Becca and my aunt and uncle had a falling-out when she quit her job at the hospital and moved back to Wrangler’s Corner. I’m not sure they’ve spoken over the last year.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah.” Clay had sighed and raked a hand through his dark hair. “Look. Whoever’s running these drugs through my town has to be stopped. If it’s Becca, then so be it. I need you to do this because I can’t be objective.”
“And you think I can?”
“You have to.” He’d pierced him with a hard look. “High school was a long time ago. You’ve moved on. You were engaged to another woman, which means you were over Becca.”
That was true. And, had he married Sylvia, he wouldn’t have thought twice about Becca. But Sylvia’s betrayal had shifted something inside of him. Made him long for the innocence and sweetness that had encompassed his relationship with Becca. He’d liked being with her, had respected her and, yes, wanted more than friendship, but knew she hadn’t, so he’d been content just to hang out with her. Until she moved.
He realized Clay was waiting for him to respond. “Yes, I was over Becca. What I felt for her was a teenage crush. And, yes, I truly loved Sylvia.” Which was why her betrayal had nearly gutted him. “But—”
“No buts. You need to keep your feelings out of it. She’s off-limits until we know for sure she’s not involved.”
The shock of Clay’s omission about Becca’s suspected involvement had faded, leaving a simmering anger. Nathan had jabbed a finger at the man he’d always looked up to and trusted. “You said you needed my help. You said there was a drug ring operating right under your nose. And you said that Becca was hurt and I could work for her while I decided whether or not I wanted to go back with the DEA. You just said you wanted me to investigate. You didn’t say anything about going undercover or suspecting that Becca was involved in the drug running.”
“Nath—”
“You want me to lie to her and I won’t do it.” He’d ended his tirade and rubbed his left shoulder, the ache a constant reminder of why women were off-limits.
Especially Becca.
He’d once thought himself in love with her, a middle school crush that had grown as they’d moved into their teenage years. But he’d gotten over her and moved on.
Or so he’d thought.
The feelings that had raced through him once he realized the intent behind Clay’s manipulation made him understand he’d been fooling himself. And that made him mad. He had no intention of fanning an old flame, but the desire to see Becca and protect her from whatever was going on unsettled him. Sylvia had taught him that romance was a waste of time and should be avoided at all costs.
And yet...Becca would never do what Sylvia did.
Would she?
He hated the small kernel of doubt that sprouted its ugly head, but he couldn’t help it. People changed, he knew that. But was it possible for Becca to change that much?
For the most part, Nathan had physically healed from the gunshot wound to his shoulder, but emotionally healed was another story.
After he had refused to budge on his insistence that Clay was wrong and he’d have no part of the scheme, the man had finally said, “Then prove she’s innocent.”
Those four words were why he’d called her and asked to see her, and why he now found himself in Becca’s driveway, fingers still clamped around the wheel of his pickup truck.
* * *
A hand slapped over her mouth and jerked her head back. Pain assaulted her and Becca let out a squeal as the pitchfork slid from her fingers to bounce on the dirt. Jack, her golden retriever, bounded into the barn, barking and lunging at the man behind her.
“Shut up!” He danced sideways to avoid Jack’s snapping jaws, keeping Becca between him and the dog.
Becca struggled, her back screaming in protest at the rough treatment. She finally managed to jam an elbow into his torso. He gave a low grunt and his hand slipped enough for her to open her mouth and bite down.
Yelling, he shoved her away from him. Becca kept her feet beneath her and stumbled for the door while her back spasmed and her head spun. Then the pain overwhelmed her and sent her to her knees. She cried out, unable to do anything except pray her attacker was done.
“Hey! What’s going on in here?”
Jack continued his frantic barks, but she knew the voice that had come from behind her. She rolled, gasping at the arch of fire that burned up her back.
Her attacker had grabbed the pitchfork and was headed toward her friend. “Nathan, watch out!”
With the black ski mask covering his features, she had no way of knowing who he was, just that he was getting ready to stab Nathan.
Nathan waited until the man almost reached him, then spun and kicked out, giving a grunt of satisfaction when his foot connected. The pitchfork flew from the attacker’s hands.
The masked man lunged for the door. Nathan let him go and raced to Becca’s side. He dropped to his knees. “Becca, are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” she gasped. “Don’t let him get away.” Jack ran after the escaping intruder. “No! Jack, come!” The dog stopped and returned to Becca. He paced in front of her, his concerned brown eyes never leaving her face.
Nathan’s blue eyes snapped to the barn’s exit, then back to her. “I’m more concerned about getting you to a doctor, but stay put. I’m going to check on him and call 911.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, nausea sweeping over her. Residue from the pain and fear, she was sure.
“I’ll be right back, I promise. Just going to try and get him.”
Nathan raced away from her and she tried to roll to her side. The lightning flash of pain that swept through her stopped that idea. She lay still, swallowing, doing her best not to be sick. Desperation and fury washed through her. She’d reinjured her back. All the therapy and exercises and taking it easy had been undone in the blink of an eye. If she got her hands on the person responsible—
“He’s gone,” Nathan said, coming back into the barn. “He had a car stashed out of sight, backed into the woodsy part near the top of your drive. I would have chased him but didn’t want to leave you here alone and hurt.” He held out a hand. “Can I help you up or would you rather wait for the ambulance to get here?”
She stared up at him, considering her options. “I think as long as I don’t move, I might manage to keep from hurling.”
He squatted, his jeans pulling tight against the muscles in his legs. His boots had seen better days and the cowboy hat hid his eyes. She reached up and flicked it off. His blue eyes set in his permanently tanned face stared down at her. He blinked and then smiled. “You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
