gave her an efficient look that went with the sharp intelligence in her gaze.
“Ms. Kincade, welcome to the Smoking Barrel. I’m afraid it’s a bit early even for Rosa or Slim, but may I offer you—”
“Nothing. Thank you. I didn’t intend to drop in this way. Especially not at this hour. I’m sorry Rafe got you out of bed.”
Penny Archer raised cynically amused eyebrows in Rafe’s direction. “Yes, that isn’t his general sequence with women.”
Rafe put a hand to his chest. “Another wound to the heart.”
“It would take a cement truck,” she assured him dryly. “How can we help you, Ms. Kincade?”
“I’m afraid Rafe spooked my horse. I need a lift back to the dude ranch where I’m staying. The truth is, I was hoping to speak with Mr. Forbes later today, but I’d planned to call first and ask for an appointment.”
“Kendra knows all about our setup here at the ranch,” Rafe put in.
Penny’s expression didn’t waver. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you rest here until Mitchell wakes up? I’ll see if he can meet with you after breakfast.”
“Oh, but—”
“It’s no problem, really. We keep a spare room ready for unexpected guests. You can rest until Rosa starts breakfast. You’ll be welcome to join us then. Come with me.”
“But—”
“Cody is on his way in,” Penny informed Rafe as if everything was settled. “I believe he has something he wants you to see.”
Rafe nodded seriously, then added a teasing smile. “Ah, Penny, here I was hoping you had something to show me.”
“Dream on, Rafael,” Penny replied dryly. “See you at breakfast.”
Kendra watched the easy exchange with interest. It was strange to finally meet and observe how these people interacted. Penny was as efficient as Kendra had expected, but her deft ability to handle Rafe’s teasing was interesting and unexpected. Kendra allowed herself to be led up the large winding staircase to a bedroom at the front of the house. Sturdy oak furniture graced a room done in neutral tones of beige and green. Penny Archer indicated the adjoining bathroom and left her there to “rest.”
No key turned in the lock. That did surprise her a bit. These people weren’t fools and they had no reason to trust her. She suspected she wouldn’t get far if she stepped out into the hall. Making use of the bathroom instead, she discovered it connected to another room. A third door probably led into the hall. Judging by the few items neatly stowed in the vanity, she shared the bathroom with Penny.
Kendra returned to the guest quarters and flopped down on the queen-sized bed. She was tired, but too keyed up to sleep. While things weren’t exactly going to plan, she was here, inside the headquarters of Texas Confidential. Now she must convince them that she could be an asset to their plan. It would have been better if she had her laptop, but in the end, it wouldn’t matter. When Rafe entered Rialto’s world, she would be with him—one way or another.
Kendra smothered a yawn and closed her eyes. Maybe she could nap for a few seconds after all.
INNOCENCE SHATTERED at the first dry popping sound. She tasted the dry-edged fear that left its metallic flavor lingering in her mouth. Part of her knew it was hopeless, yet she tried to call a warning to the young girl slowly counting to twenty out of sight beyond the kitchen.
From inside the bottom of the linen closet at the top of the stairs, she had a commanding view of the steps, the main hallway, and part of the kitchen. The pretty blond woman stepped away from the stove and answered the brisk knock on the front door.
“Why, hello. We…weren’t expecting you.”
The shadow man entered, big and burly in his heavy winter coat, snowflakes melting against the dark material. There was a popping sound. The woman crumpled to the floor. At the kitchen table, her husband started rising from his seat. “What the—?” he began, only to slump back down in his chair as two more popping sounds came. His outflung hand struck a glass of cola, spilling the sticky contents across the tabletop. The liquid began to drip, drip, drip against the clean, white tile floor.
In her head, she screamed a warning to the young girl who stopped counting and suddenly entered the kitchen from the dining room, innocently unaware.
Pop. Pop.
She fell like a broken rag doll. The shadow man stepped over her body and into the dining room.
In the closet, she drew herself into a tiny tight ball and closed her eyes. She wished she dared close the closet door all the way, but the metal would make noise. He would see her if she made a single sound. Suddenly, he bounded up the stairs, pausing to check each of the three bedrooms before moving straight for her hiding place.
She held her breath in terror as the closet door groaned open all the way. He rummaged on one of the upper shelves. She opened her eyes, hardly daring to breathe. A blanket fell to the floor in front of her.
She waited in an agony of fear for him to bend and pick it up. Because then he would see her and the popping sound would come again from the strange gun with its long barrel. But he left the blanket, and a towel that landed on top of the blanket, lying there. He turned and pulled off his glove for a moment. The gun hand disappeared from her line of sight. His left hand fell to his side as he stood silently for a moment.
A pretty red stone sparkled in the heavy gold ring he wore on his left hand. She stared at that stone until he pulled his gloves back on and went downstairs again, disappearing from view.
She heard him moving noisily in the basement. He thought he was alone in the house. Silently, she uncurled her body and crept down the stairs. When she paused in the hall she jumped as the woman’s eyes fluttered open.
“Next door,” she whispered. “Get Mr. Lee. Hurry! Run!”
And she heard the shadow man start up the steps from the basement level.
She ran into the living room, ducking behind a chair so he wouldn’t see her. Fear made her chest feel all hard and tight. Her stomach hurt. She was so scared. He would shoot her if he caught her. But he never looked toward her hiding place. Instead, he gazed down on the woman and fired his gun again.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurt that horrible shadow man with every fiber of her eight-year-old body, but all she could do was huddle beside the chair, consumed with hate for the man and his shiny red ring and his long, ugly gun.
He strode into the kitchen. She pictured him checking the others. There were no more pops from his gun. Were they dead? Was she the only one left alive inside the once-cozy house?
Then he was gone, out the front door. She rose on legs that trembled violently.
A strange smell had begun filling the house.
She decided not to investigate because he could come back at any minute. She turned to the sliding glass door in the dining room and struggled with the bar lock until she got it open. The smell was stronger. It made her feel really sick. She opened the door and stepped outside, closing the door behind her in case the man came back.
It
