off, riding fast and furious across the pasture, his heart had leaped into his throat as a sense of dreadful déjà vu shot panic through him.
He loosened Molly from the lasso and removed the towel from over her eyes. Instantly she danced away from him, wariness once again in her gaze, in her very stance.
He left the corral and his thoughts once again went back to that moment when Caitlin had dashed across the pasture. For a moment he’d been flung back in time, back to when he’d raced across a pasture with another woman, a woman who had tragically died in his arms.
That had been eight long years ago, when he’d been twenty-seven. At that time all he’d wanted in life was to work his ranch, love his wife, Rebecca, and have a couple of kids to add to his joy.
A wild ride across a pasture had destroyed it all, had nearly destroyed him. He glanced at the house and thought again of Caitlin. She intrigued him, and he definitely felt a kick of desire each time he saw her, but all he wanted here was to do his job, to get her father into custody.
The man had to show up sometime or at least let his daughter know where he was holed up. Rhett intended to get close enough to Caitlin to learn any information she might get about Mickey’s whereabouts.
Rhett would do whatever it took to achieve his goal. He wasn’t a happy, laid-back cowboy anymore. He’d spent years as a Detroit cop before being recruited by the FBI. As a federal agent he was doing his best to protect the President of the United States and he wasn’t about to forget it.
The day passed quickly with chores that had to be done in order to maintain his undercover position as foreman of the ranch.
There were four other ranch hands and Rhett found them pleasant and competent men. They went about their business with little prodding from him and none of them seemed inclined to idle chitchat.
At noon the men all disappeared for lunch and Rhett headed for his cabin, where a microwavable pizza awaited him.
He’d just pulled it out of the refrigerator’s tiny freezer when a knock fell on the door. He opened the door and looked at Caitlin in surprise. She appeared uncomfortable and held a covered plate in her hands. “Esmeralda made some extra fried chicken for lunch and thought you might like some. I figured I’d bring it out here and pick up that résumé you promised me.”
Once again he noticed that she smelled of clean, minty soap and some sort of exotic flowers, and the scent fired a tiny flame in the pit of his stomach. Her glorious hair was confined sedately at the nape of her neck instead of flowing free as it had done when she’d ridden Buttercup.
“I was just about to zap a pizza for lunch,” he said as he took the plate from her. “I imagine Esmeralda’s chicken is a much tastier choice.”
He set the dish on the small table and noticed that she didn’t cross the threshold into the room and that the gun she’d brought on the ride that morning was still stuck in her waistband. Interesting, he thought, that she felt she needed the weapon with her when delivering chicken to his doorstep.
“You want to join me?” he asked. “It looks like Esmeralda sent enough for five people.”
“No, thanks, but if you could just get me your résumé I would appreciate it.” She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously ill at ease.
“No problem.” He went to the duffel bag on the floor and set it on the twin bed. “You make the business decisions around the ranch?” he asked as he rummaged in the bag.
“For now. At least until my father gets home.”
“I would have thought he’d want to be here to welcome you back home. How long were you gone?” He pulled out one of the copies of the résumé that had been specifically prepared for him when he’d been assigned this job.
“A couple of months, but he didn’t know I was coming home.” Tension was evident in her voice. She glanced back toward the house, as if wishing she were back inside and not on his little doorstep.
“Can’t you call him on his cell phone or something?” Rhett handed her the résumé and then offered a charming smile. “I mean, I hate to get all settled in here and then find myself fired the minute your father comes home.”
“Unfortunately he’s not answering his cell phone and, in any case, if you do your job well then you don’t have to worry about getting fired,” she replied and took a step back from the door. “Thanks for this,” she said as she held up the résumé. “If I have any questions about it I’ll let you know.”
Once again he found himself watching her as she walked away from him. She had a sensual sway to her hips that would naturally draw a man’s eyes, but he still sensed a certain darkness in her … and a toughness. She definitely didn’t seem to go all soft and gooey beneath the charm of his smile and dimples.
She probably had a boyfriend. He couldn’t imagine a woman like her being alone, without any love interest in her life. A woman like her surely didn’t want for male company.
Was she aware of what her father had gotten himself involved in? How much, if anything, did she knew about the secret society? She’d been out of the country for months. It was possible she knew nothing about anything that had come to light recently. It was also possible she knew and that was the stress he sensed in her.
Rhett was accustomed to women wanting to get close to him, finding him attractive, but Caitlin seemed to be the exception to the rule. She appeared as skittish and wary as Molly, but he was determined to get beneath her defenses.
She intrigued him, and she definitely kicked up a surprising dose of lust inside him, but that wouldn’t stop him from manipulating her unmercifully to achieve his goals.
Micky O’Donahue stood at the window of the small motel room, watching as twilight began to fall. With the violet shadows of night beginning to edge in, a tense pressure built painfully inside his chest.
It was the same with the approach of each night since he’d left his ranch to go into hiding—the darkness brought with it a fear he’d never known before.
The darkness could hold danger and he’d never see it coming. Somebody could crash through the door, take him out with a single bullet to the heart.
He’d gotten in over his head, thrown his money and influence behind the wrong people, and now he didn’t know what to do to get himself out of the mess, was afraid that he’d pay for his mistakes either with his life or with a life behind bars.
Hell, who was he kidding? Even if he wound up behind bars somebody from the society would find a way to get to him. He wouldn’t last a week before somebody shanked him in the back or beat him to death.
He allowed the thick curtain to fall back across the window and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Even if he wasn’t scared senseless he’d find his surroundings horrifying.
The nightstand was scarred with cigarette burns and drink rings. The gold shag carpeting was certainly the original. The lumpy bed held no appeal and the water pressure in the bathroom was nearly nonexistent.
Mickey was accustomed to the best of everything and this seedy motel two hundred miles from his ranch was definitely depressing, but he also hoped it was the very last place on earth anyone would look for him.
He
