restless mind.
Becca shivered and pulled the blanket she’d snagged from the den tighter around her shoulders.
Was he out there? She sipped the tea and took comfort in the fact that her Winchester .45 leaned against the wall nearby.
She still had a hard time processing that she’d been attacked. On her property, in her barn.
Anger mingled with remembered fear. She’d never felt afraid in her home before and now she jumped at every familiar noise.
The moment she’d heard the Updikes were selling the property, she’d known what she’d wanted to do. Her parents had balked. She’d been an equestrian champion as a teen, then graduated at the top of her class from medical school.
On the fast track to following in her father’s impressive footsteps, she was supposed to become a surgeon just like him and continue making them proud while giving them bragging rights at all of their snobby social functions. Well, her father anyway. Her mother hadn’t been quite as vocal—and wasn’t nearly as snobby.
And while Becca loved medicine and the thrill of helping someone heal, she’d also had other dreams.
Like a stable of her own. Riding lessons and trail rides. The squeal of children’s laughter. When she’d finally had the guts—and the means thanks to her grandmother—to chase those dreams, she’d done it. And since her father had paid all of her medical school bills, she’d had no debt to tie her down initially. She’d set up a stable, took advantage of the fact that she knew everyone in the equestrian business and built her clientele so fast it made her head spin.
However, she had to admit, her favorite part was her special needs riders. No amount of money, no ribbon or trophy gave her the satisfaction like seeing a child’s eyes light up while on the back of a horse.
Her eyes grew heavy and she drained the last of the tea from her cup. As she rose to carry it to the sink, a flash of light caught her attention. It came from the bunkhouse. Probably Nathan being as antsy as she. But she couldn’t help the sliver of uneasiness that inched its way up her spine.
Jack lifted his head, his ears perking, his attention on the door.
What if her attacker had come back? What if he decided to incapacitate Nathan while he slept and then came to find her? She tightened her jaw and went to slip her feet into the boots she’d left by the back door, being careful not to jar her back. “Come on, Jack, let’s see what’s going on.” Grabbing the rifle, she slipped out into the chill of the night with the dog at her heels.
* * *
Nathan had lost track of how long he’d stayed quiet, his fingers curled around the grip of his weapon. He kept his back to the wall, eyes on the door in front of him. The floor had creaked a couple more times, then silence. In spite of his pulse pounding and his adrenaline rushing, his senses were sharp, focused.
If Becca’s attacker had returned, Nathan was determined to make sure he didn’t get another chance at her. Although why would he come into the bunkhouse if he was after Becca?
Nathan moved to the door, his socked feet silent on the hardwood. He had a momentary memory blip of the crack house he’d helped bust two months ago and his breath caught. It had been a setup. They’d known he and his team were coming thanks to Sylvia’s betrayal. The only reason Sylvia and the others had been there was because the team had moved their timetable up three hours.
But the drug dealer had been prepared with a full arsenal of weapons and people to use them.
The bullet had come out of nowhere, catching him in the shoulder. He’d gone down in a blinding flash of pain and awareness that if he didn’t do something, he was dead.
Nathan swallowed against the memories. His blood roared in his ears as he planted his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He ordered his heart to slow while he focused on the present. Right now, he needed to figure out who was making the floors creak. The Glock felt comfortable in his grip.
A grunt and a sigh reached his ears. Nathan frowned. Not the noises of someone trying to be quiet. He stepped into the short hallway, grateful for the dim glow from the night light plugged into the outlet. He tried to stay in the shadows but knew if someone looked down the hall, at the very least, they’d see his profile.
The bunkhouse was fairly large, probably about a thousand square feet total. Three small bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and living area. He’d chosen the bedroom nearest the front door. The noises had come from the bedroom to his left. Nathan slipped down the hall, alert for any movement. A flashlight beam bounced off the wall to his right. It came from the bedroom where he’d heard the noises.
“Who’s there?” he called out, then moved into the bathroom located in between the bedrooms in case someone decided to shoot for his answer. Everything stilled. “Answer me.”
Light footsteps from inside the bedroom reached his ears. He hefted the weapon and aimed it at the door.
Which someone pushed closed. Nathan stared.
At the other end of the bunkhouse, the front door shut with a quiet snick. So quiet he almost wondered if he’d heard it. But knew he had.
He spun to face this next threat, his gaze bouncing between the entrance to the hall and the bedroom with the closed door. Light footsteps fell softly on the hardwood. He moved from the safety of the bathroom and into the hall that led to the large living area and the front door. He peered around the edge and saw a dark shadow moving across the floor toward him. He swung his weapon up. “Freeze.”
* * *
Becca froze. “Nathan?”
“Becca?” His arm lowered the weapon away from her. His shoulders relaxed a fraction in the dim light.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. Jack bounded up beside her and she placed a hand on his head. “Jack, shh!” He settled at her side.
“Someone’s in the room at the end of the hall,” Nathan said.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I was getting ready to find out when I heard you sneak in. Why didn’t you knock?”
“I saw lights flickering and thought I saw someone sneaking around the bunkhouse. I wanted to make sure you were all right without letting whoever was here know that I saw him.”
They kept their voices low as they moved toward the hallway that would take them to the back bedroom. Nathan stopped. “Stay here,” he whispered.
“No way.”
“If someone starts shooting, I don’t want you in the way.”
She hefted the rifle in her right hand. “Thanks, but I know how to take care of myself. Let’s figure this out together.”
She thought she heard, “Stubborn woman,” before he moved to the door and stood to the side. He lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles on the wood. “Open up and come out! Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Silence.
Becca frowned. Who could be in there? Why would her attacker go in the bedroom and
