orange tabby cat that wasn’t a fan of children. There’d been a year of mutual hatred between her and a yappy little Chihuahua at another stop on her route through the foster-care system.
He lifted a finger off the steering wheel and aimed it toward a point in the distance she couldn’t see. “We’ll head down Main Street, give you a feel for the town.”
Did that mean he’d allow her out of his sight long enough to come back into town? Was this a test? She understood she’d been threatened online and in real life. Understood no one wanted her help, which could only mean the FBI believed she might have assisted the Cohort’s hack of her company’s defenses. Things had spun so quickly out of her control today and she didn’t grasp the new rules of the situation.
She wanted to ask him to be clear about his expectations for her, of her. Why couldn’t she get the words out? Simple questions, really. What are my chores? Where is my room? Is there a lights-out rule? Am I under house arrest? Questions she’d learned to ask upon her arrival at a new foster home. Well, except for that last one.
They passed a beautiful white church spearing up from the landscape, backed by a lovely cemetery. She imagined the weddings, baptisms, funerals and weekly gatherings of families into a larger community that created generations of history. Her nose stung with tears she’d learned long ago to suppress. Tears were rather useless against loneliness.
As if inspired by that first church, Shadow Creek stretched out before them, buildings and businesses, and neighborhoods holding the vast Hill Country at bay. Bigger than she’d expected, it was merely a speck in comparison to Dallas or Austin. Still, something inside her relaxed as they passed bed-and-breakfasts and a sign for a farm called Hill Country. That sounded like a friendly place.
With the tidy buildings and well-maintained facades exuding charm, Shadow Creek might as easily have been found in Hollywood serving as a backdrop for a Western movie. A movie set at Christmastime, she amended. Evergreen garlands climbed lampposts and draped over railings. It seemed every business had a different festive wreath at the door. She assumed tiny white lights sparkled delicately through it all at night.
Christmas. In her head she always emphasized the word with the same dismay Indiana Jones used when he said the word snakes.
She tried to give her spirits a boost as they passed businesses like the Shadow Creek Mercantile, the Cozy Diner and the Secret Garden floral shop near a thoroughly modern bank, a salon-spa and a printing shop. A lovely spot for a weekend getaway, she thought. Too bad she didn’t bother with those.
Catching a glimpse of the tall, modern hospital was a harsh reminder of the Livia Colton announcement and the serious nature of Marie’s trouble.
“Claudia Colton owns a shop you might like down here on Main Street.” Agent Ortega pointed. “Honeysuckle Road. From the way the women around here talk, they love that she brought some New York City style to Shadow Creek.”
“You’re saying I’m free to walk around and go shopping here like a normal tourist?”
“You’re not under house arrest, Miss Meyers.” He glanced at her feet. “Although you won’t want to walk from the ranch back into town in those heels.”
“Call me Marie.”
“Marie it is,” he said, giving her another of those long looks while they were stopped at a traffic light. “And Emiliano is fine.”
She tested his name silently in her mind and decided the sensual cadence fit the sexy man perfectly.
“The FBI is simply trying to keep you safe,” he continued. “We can do that more easily out here.”
“Where strangers stand out?” She should be used to the feeling. There were so few times in her life when she hadn’t been one of the new faces on the fringes, looking at groups with established routines and hierarchy, waiting for her to prove if she could fit in.
“Where neighbors aren’t afraid to take a stand,” he corrected. “It’s a good-sized town, and the community isn’t crammed up together like Dallas. Look around.”
She had been. The businesses on Main Street sparkled as if the sun itself was happier shining here, reluctant to say farewell for the day. Sidewalks were clean and wide, and it seemed as if everyone smiled, a few people waving as Agent Ortega—Emiliano—drove by.
“Plus, with no ties to the area, no one will think to look for you here.”
No ties anywhere, she thought, craving the safe anonymity of the city. Surely one of the gazillion hotels in Dallas would have been sufficient to wait out the hacktivists. Here, she suspected people knew where everyone else came from and would never forget about a foster kid’s science project that caused a kitchen fire. Seeing a sign for another bed-and-breakfast, she felt her stomach twist. Although she’d learned long ago to deflect questions about her personal history, she’d rather not put that to a small-town hospitality test.
Dusk was falling, the sky growing heavy and deep, and as she’d suspected, those holiday greens started to sparkle. She was discomfited by the joyful, carefree vibe in town, and the space and distance of the ranch suddenly held far more appeal. “Tell me more about the ranch.”
“It’s quiet, not as big as some other ranches in the area.” He stopped for another traffic light and pointed to Big Jim’s Burger Shop. “Best burgers in town, in my opinion.” He hitched his thumb back the way they’d come. “Aldo’s vies for the same honor. We’ll try both and you can weigh in.”
Dinners, plural, with Emiliano? “Is the plan to show me around Shadow Creek?” Maybe he wanted to use her as bait to lure the hacktivists. It wasn’t a pleasant idea, though she kept saying she wanted to help.
“Plan?” His straight eyebrows snapped together. “Just an option,” he said, not looking at her. “The ranch is self-sufficient.”
Contrite that he misunderstood her real concern, she tried to apologize. “Shadow Creek is lovely. I just wondered...” As his scowl deepened, she fell silent.
“You’re wondering if I’ll hang you out like a worm on a fish hook,” he finished for her, a muscle in his square jaw twitching.
She wasn’t quite as eager to cooperate when he said it like that. “It’s a valid option.”
“It’s reckless,” he countered, turning off Main Street. Within minutes the evening sparkle of Shadow Creek was a dwindling image behind them as he gained speed on a two-lane blacktop road.
Twilight crept across the landscape, the last rays of the setting sun painting the western horizon with bold streaks of fiery oranges and muted indigo. She felt small and alone in the world without the buffer of Shadow Creek between her and all that wide-open space.
He slowed to take a turn off the paved road onto a gravel driveway. They passed under an archway that declared their arrival at Ortega Ranch with a sign for veterinary services, as well.
She couldn’t see much beyond the road in the fading light, just the rails of a fence and the shape of several buildings as he named them. “The drive splits here and circles around to the veterinary offices,” he said.
She’d take his word, searching for anything familiar and latching on to the one-story stone house with a big chimney at one end caught in his headlights. A faint light glowed from a window deep inside the house.
