sheriff’s office answered as the man passed the shop’s front window. She waited a few moments, then went to the front door to peer out. From down the block, he looked back once, but kept going.
She watched until he reached the feed store at the end of the street, went inside and came right back out to climb into a large truck with the words Trails West Ranch printed on the side.
It wasn’t until she saw him drive by and disappear around the corner that she said, “You can come out now.”
Chapter Two
The blonde rose slowly from behind the stack of boxes where she had been crouched. There was high color in her cheeks and her light eyes shone with an unnatural brightness.
“Is he gone?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.
Georgia nodded. “I saw him drive away.”
The woman tentatively stepped out from behind the boxes. She was stunning, the kind of female who made men’s heads turn and women catty with jealousy. She wore strappy sandals with tangerine-orange capri pants and a matching short-sleeved jacket over a crisp white blouse.
Her skin was deeply tanned. Around her neck hung a silver necklace with a tiny sailboat on it and on her slim wrist, three slim silver bracelets that jingled softly.
Everything about the woman seemed exotic.
Georgia stared at her, thinking she should know her because surely the woman was a model or an actress. She definitely wasn’t from Whitehorse, which was small enough that if Georgia didn’t know everyone by name, she knew them by sight.
“I can’t thank you enough,” the woman said. “You saved my life.”
Was she serious? Georgia thought of the cowboy who’d just left. He must work for the Corbetts out on the Trails West Ranch. He’d definitely been upset, but murderous? She wondered what possible connection this obviously sophisticated woman and that rough-edged cowboy might have.
The blonde glanced around the shop before settling her gaze on Georgia. She had the most luminous green eyes that Georgia had ever seen. “I didn’t mean to involve you in my troubles. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course,” Georgia said quickly, trying to place the accent. European? “I’m glad I could help.”
She stepped to Georgia, laid one cool hand on her arm and smiled brightly. “Thank you again. Would you mind if I went out the back way?”
“Of course not. But do you have a place to stay? I saw you looking at the Apartment for Rent sign.”
“I was interested in the apartment.” She bit down on her lower lip, those green eyes filling with tears. “I do need a place to stay and a motel is out of the question since that would be the first place he’d look for me.”
Georgia could only assume she meant the cowboy. “I doubt he would look for you here again.”
“I suppose not.”
“It’s none of my business but—”
“No, you have a right to know why that man was after me. Especially if I rent the apartment.”
“Would you like to see it?” Georgia asked, changing the subject temporarily.
She brightened. “Oh yes, please.”
NICCI WAS ALIVE! Dalton pulled the truck over at the edge of town, got out and threw up his breakfast in the weeds. He was shaking, his mind refusing to admit what his senses knew as truth. Nicci had somehow survived. Not just survived but was now in Whitehorse. And he knew what that meant.
If she was here after nine years of letting him believe she was dead, then he was in serious trouble. As if just crossing paths with Nicci wasn’t trouble enough. His heart hammered at the thought. Knowing Nicci the way he did, he could only assume she’d come to finish what she’d started.
But why, if she’d been alive this whole time, had she waited nine years to come after him?
Shaking his head, he tried to make sense of this and couldn’t. He knew he’d acted like a crazy man back there at the yarn shop. He’d scared that poor young woman so badly she’d been ready to call the sheriff on him—might even have called after he left.
He cursed under his breath. He’d done insane things from the first moment he’d met Nicci nine years ago and it had only gotten worse. Why did he think now would be any different?
He had to get control of himself. But how could he?
Nicci was alive and in Whitehorse and playing some game he knew would only get deadly given their history.
Lightning splintered the sky in an explosion of light that made him jump. The clap of thunder immediately following it reverberated through him, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He glanced at the greenish blackness of the clouds moving across the prairie toward him. Hail.
Quickly, he put the truck in gear and looked for the largest tree he could find. The feed was covered with tarps in the back, but the truck itself…Slushy raindrops sounding as hard as hail pelted the hood and roof, drowning out all other sound.
Dalton pulled the truck under a large overhanging limb and cut the engine just as pebble-sized hail began to bounce off the pavement next to him. The hail tore through the thick green leaves of the tree he’d parked under, pinging off the truck and covering the ground in icy white.
He turned his thoughts from Nicci, to the apparent owner of the yarn shop. The young woman was the classic girl next door with her short curly chestnut brown hair, big brown eyes and glowing skin. The kind of woman who would protect another.
He recalled the determination he’d seen in her gaze and cringed remembering how he’d called her a liar. But she had helped the blonde disappear. He wasn’t sure how, just that she had. Understanding why didn’t help given who they were dealing with.
Tomorrow he’d go back to the shop and apologize. Maybe he’d take her some flowers. Anything to get her to tell him where Nicci had gone.
With a start, Dalton came out of his thoughts to silence. As quickly as the hailstorm had begun, it was over, having moved on. He sat for a moment, listening to water drip from what was left of the tree’s leaves onto the truck roof before he pulled out and headed for the ranch, knowing what he had to do. It was something he’d put off far too long.
Dalton hated asking. Grayson Corbett had raised five overly independent sons. All of them would rather chew nails than admit they needed help.
As hard as it was going to be, he dialed his brother’s cell phone number and said without preamble when Lantry answered, “I need a lawyer. I’m in trouble. Serious trouble and I need your help.”
AGNES PALMER hurried home after her knitting class, praying she could beat the storm. The weather service had updated the forecast and was now calling for hail.
Agnes’s pride and joy was her tomato garden. She was known all around the county for growing the biggest,
