Cowboy Bodyguard

“Nothing?” She looked deep into his eyes.

He nodded. Nothing.

“Are you sure it isn’t better to give Annabell to the police, in spite of what Larraby said?”

“No, not sure, but I saw the bruises on Dina’s arms, Mama, the burns.” His fingers gripped the chair arm, fighting down the anger he felt that a man would choose to dominate a woman, physically hurt the mother of his own child. “We have to give her a chance to get free of the Tide.”

“But, Jackie.” Her voice was a soft murmur. “Shannon?”

Shannon looked over her shoulder at that moment. He glanced back, telling her silently and reminding himself. There’s nothing between us, Shannon. Don’t worry. I know that.

She turned away, wave of dark hair falling across the curve of her cheek, hiding herself from him, like she did from the rest of the world. Hurt thrummed again through his chest.

They decided it would be best to dive into the next round of explanations with Shannon’s mother the following morning, since Shannon could hardly keep her eyes open. The baby’s bassinet was next to the guest-room bed, where Shannon would sleep.

Though his body was wrung out with fatigue, he found himself still dressed, pacing his tiny room, filled with energy that no amount of reading or sit-ups could dissipate. He longed to play his guitar. Instead, he rummaged through his drawer until he found the small box that he had not been able to open since she’d returned it to him. The diamond set in the gold engagement band glimmered at him, taunting him for his stupidity. Six months of savings and weeks agonizing over the style, it had meant everything, and now it was only a dust catcher. Maybe that was what it had always been. He shoved it back in the drawer, pulled on his boots and let himself out.

The ranch at night always soothed him. There was music in the hush of the breeze stirring the grass and the springtime frog symphony echoing in the creek bed. Quiet places spoke to his soul—always had. Sunset brought the end to the clamor of horse trailers coming and going on their thousand-acre property, where they boarded and trained some sixty horses at a time. Nighttime held no clang of Ella’s hammer on the anvil as she crafted new horseshoes, no buzz of Keegan’s motorcycle along Oscar’s unused airstrip that Jack was saving every penny to buy. The only thing better than the quiet of the sleeping ranch was the divine peace he got when he flew his Cessna.

Lady, his mare, was sidled up to the split-rail fence, and Jack was surprised to see Shannon there, a blanket clutched around her, stroking Lady’s neck with tentative fingers. He cleared his throat so as not to startle her.

She jumped, shooting a guilty look at him. “The baby is sleeping.”

“They do that from time to time, I hear.”

Shannon’s long fingers made trails in Lady’s coat.

“You always wanted me to learn to ride.”

Pushed her to, as a matter of fact. Softly insistent, as was his way. The quietest bull in the china shop. “Shouldn’t have pressed.”

“Well, what self-respecting resident of Gold Bar doesn’t know how to ride a horse, right?” Her tone was bitter, brows drawn when she turned to him. “I never fit in here, no matter how much you wanted me to.”

“You could have, if you slowed down for a hot minute and gave it a chance.”

He expected anger. The tremble of her lip surprised him. “I can’t slow down, Jack. Not ever. I wish I could, but unless I’m in high gear, I feel like a failure.” She rested her forehead on the fence, and the surrender in it broke his heart.

He moved closer, reaching out toward her slender shoulders, the craving strong. Something told him his touch would not be welcome. Not anymore. He froze, and she straightened and strode back into the house, posture hunched.

Stroking Lady’s neck, he watched Shannon go, sorrow knifing him swiftly and mercilessly for all the ways they’d failed each other.

* * *

Shannon dreaded explaining the whole bizarre situation to her mother, but it had to be better than staying with the Thorns, who were polite, in spite of everything. She phoned the hospital to learn that T.J. was still in a coma. The Tide remained at his bedside, minus Cruiser, according to the night nurse. Since Evie was still laundering baby clothes, and Jack had a trailer full of newly arrived horses to unload, it was not until the afternoon that they left for the Gold Nugget Inn. By that time, Shannon was about ready to commandeer the keys and drive herself.

Her mother, Hazel, swathed in a checkered apron, met them in the lovely front parlor of the Gold Nugget Inn, which was mercifully empty of guests. She limped up on her cane, and Shannon felt a stab of guilt that she had not been able to visit more. Each visit left her riddled with guilt at leaving her mother, who’d lost her leg to diabetes. But Hazel would not tolerate the merest suggestion that Shannon should take any time off to tend to her, nor hire extra help at the Inn.

“You gotta fly, honey,” she’d said. “You were born to do it.”

Now tears coursed down Hazel’s plump cheeks, and her uncle, Oscar, kept scratching his white beard in puzzlement as the three followed Hazel and Oscar to the empty dining room and closed the glass-paned doors.

“You’re married?” Hazel wiped her eyes.

Shannon heard Jack let out a breath. “Technically, yes, but nothing has changed. We just haven’t gotten a divorce yet. We’re pretending we’re Annabell’s parents to protect Dina, until she can find her brother. Officer Larraby knows the truth, and the Thorns. We need you to keep the secret. There are very bad people looking for the baby.”

Her mother shook her head. “I always dreamed about you getting married, Shannon, but this...” She shrugged, and Shannon realized how much their hasty action, and the concealment of it, had cost their families.

I’ll get married someday, she wanted to say. When I meet the right person. But the words felt wrong in her mouth.

“We’ll do whatever you need, of course. I’m so happy to have you here.” Her eyes riveted on Annabell. “May I hold her?”

Shannon handed the infant to her mother, who wore an expression of such rapture, it made Shannon squirm.

“Is it okay if we stay here? Just for a few days?”

“Of course it is,” her mother said, eyes glued to the baby’s every movement. “We’ll put you in the Garden Room. No one is in the Night’s Stay Room, either, so you can use that if you need extra space for the baby’s things.”

Shannon had always loved the Night’s Stay Room, which adjoined the larger Garden Room. In the 1850s, customers would sometimes pay for their lodging with a pouch full of gold dust, and Hazel had discovered, in the old attic, a genuine brass scale, complete with weights. How many times had Shannon sneaked into that room when it wasn’t rented out, fascinated by the mechanism that analyzed so precisely, neatly measured value? She loved the precision of it—no ambiguity, unlike every other part of life.

Oscar fidgeted. “Sure, sure. That’ll do. Slow season before summer arrives. We got a room for you, Shannon, but, uh, well...”

Shannon frowned. “What is it, Uncle Oscar? You’ve never been any good at beating around the bush.”

“Uh, I get it that you’re trying to convince folks you’re married and raising a baby and all, but it doesn’t seem proper...”

Shannon finally got it, and a flood of heat went to her cheeks. Jack wore a pained expression.

“He can bunk with me,” Oscar said. “It’s right across from yours, on the top floor.”

“It’s not necessary...” she started, but how exactly were they supposed to carry on the happy family facade with her staying at the inn and him at the Gold Bar? She swallowed. “It’s only for a little while, until we locate Dina’s brother.”

“Sure, sure,” Oscar said.

“I’ll rock the baby for a while, shall I?” her mother said.

Just don’t get used to it, Mom, she wanted to say. I’m not back together with Jack, and there are no babies in our future. But it tugged at her heart to consider how much she’d disappointed the woman who’d been her only true champion. I’ll do better, Mom.

A frown crossed her mother’s face. “Honey, I just remembered something. I got a phone call yesterday afternoon. Someone who said they were your friend and they’d heard you were home for a visit. They wanted to chat with you.”

Her stomach dropped. “Who?”

“They didn’t give a name. Someone with a real raspy voice.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I...I told them you were coming soon. I’m sorry.” She frowned. “Was that bad?”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. Did he or she leave a number?”

“No, and the ancient rotary phone we have here doesn’t show recent callers or anything fancy like that. All I can tell you is it was a local call.”

“Local?” Jack frowned.

She nodded. “I have to press a button to accept if it’s a long-distance call. Like I said, ancient technology.”

“Mason’s still in Los Angeles,” Shannon said. “As far as I know, and it couldn’t be Cruiser.”

“Could we have a third party involved here?” Jack said.

Shannon blew out a breath. “Why not? Seems like everyone in the world is after us.”

“We’ll sort it out, Shan.”

She shouldered her bag, desperate to get upstairs and away from Jack’s quiet gaze. Turmoil bubbled in her stomach. Jack stopped her near the spiral staircase. He moved close, standing a full head taller than her, shoulders broad and strong. He was lithe as a cat in spite of his bulk, a trait she’d always admired.

“Here,” he said without preamble, holding something out to her.

The slender circle of gold fell into her palm, sending ripples of pain through every nerve as she recognized it. Her wedding ring.

“Jack, this isn’t...”

“I know what it is and isn’t,” he said sharply. “You’re playing a part, and so am I.” His eyes shone stark blue, like the interior part of the flame that burns the hottest. “Take it.”

Unable to answer, she shoved the ring on her finger, turned on her heel and marched up the steps without looking back.

* * *

Shannon jolted awake. Moonlight streamed through the crack in the curtains. The clock read 3:15 a.m. She sat up. The baby was asleep, breathing regularly in the bassinet next to her. She was swaddled in the pink pajamas Evie had found in the attic. Nothing in the room explained what had disturbed Shannon’s fitful rest.

She padded to the window and looked out over the lush hillside that bordered the main road. As she raised her hand to move the curtain farther aside, the moonlight captured the gold on her left ring finger.

You’re playing a part, and so am I. The bitterness in his voice cut deep. She pulled on a robe and tiptoed downstairs for a glass of water. Built when Gold Bar was a bustling mining town, the inn was never silent. There was a constant melody of creaking floorboards, gurgling pipes and the hooting of the screech owl that lived in the tallest pine. How different from the rush of city noise. Lost in thought, she stepped into the kitchen. As she opened the cupboard for a glass, a calloused palm wrapped around her mouth from behind, smothering her scream. Whiskers tickled her ear, sour breath hot on her cheek.

“Well, hello, Doc,” Cruiser murmured. “Enjoying your vacation?”

She gasped, and he eased his hand away a fraction. “How did you know I was here?”

“A little birdie told me. Drove right up from SoCal, soon as I knew where you were.”

A little birdie. The anonymous person who’d called the inn. Shannon wriggled and thrashed, but he held on, his arms like bands of steel. “Stay quiet,” he said. “You don’t want to wake up your mother, right? Or the baby? Heard it was a girl. Ain’t that a coincidence? Dina had herself a girl also, ’bout the same size as yours, I figure. What do you know about that?”

Slowly he turned her around, arm pressed across her windpipe, pinning her against the cupboard. Her hands clawed his forearm. His eyes narrowed. “Got a wedding ring now, too?”

“I told you,” she gasped. “The baby is mine—mine and Jack’s.”

“I think you’re lying, and there’s a penalty for lying. Want to know what it is?”

Now she was fighting for breath, and she knew she did not have long before she blacked out. If that happened, Annabell would be easy prey, and if Oscar, Hazel or Jack got in Cruiser’s way...

“I’m not lying,” she said.

He pressed harder, and her vision began to blur. “Nighty night, Doc.”

FOUR

The music floated through Jack’s earbuds, drowning out the sound of Oscar’s snores and making Jack long for his guitar. He’d often thought he should have picked up another instrument to avoid the guitar-strumming cowboy stereotype, but he’d never cared much what anyone else thought of him anyway. His fingers itched for the strings the way they had since he was four years old. Jack could never be coerced, bribed or cajoled into playing for family gatherings. Music was a private pleasure, one he’d finally shared with Shannon when they’d dated for six months, after she’d arrived the summer of his junior year of high school.

“Please, Jack. Just one song. Something that will make me cry.” She’d beg him to play for her as they sat on their favorite hilltop overlooking the valley. And he would play anything she wanted, anything that would move her and feed her soul. He’d played her favorite piece, “Mallorca,” the day her father left abruptly, the beginning and the end of everything, it seemed to Jack. She’d refused to tell him anything, and that was the day she’d started holding back, shutting down her feelings in a sealed vault he could not breach. He should have realized that something had changed in her, and so had the future they’d imagined together. The lovely piece thrummed through him now, memories of their youth entwined with the melody. He found himself playing it sometimes late at night, despising himself for his weakness.

Some tough cowboy, strumming sad songs at night and pining for lost love. Ridiculous.

Something intruded on his reverie. Still clothed in his jeans and a T-shirt, since he hadn’t packed a bag, he felt the slight vibration that made the photo above his bed rattle. Pulling out the earbuds, he sat up and listened. He heard nothing, but his gut was still tight. His twin brother, Owen, often said instinct was the quietest voice that shouted the loudest. For some reason, his instincts were hollering now.

He tiptoed out of bed and shuffled down the hallway, barefoot. All the doors were closed, and there was no sound of movement. Should he knock at Shannon’s door? Risk scaring her and waking the baby? Or should he send a text, which might startle her as badly as a knock? She was a light sleeper. She had to be a light sleeper in order to thrive in a profession where things could turn upside down in a minute.

Knuckles to the door, he hesitated. There was no light except the silver glow of the moon flowing up the stairwell. He felt again the ripples of unease, which cascaded along his spine like dissonant notes.

Downstairs.

He descended the creaking staircase, keeping to the edges, where the old wood was least likely to squeal, until he heard a thud and a gasp. After tearing down the stairs, he erupted into the kitchen. Moonlight traced the bulky form of a stocky man bending over something on the floor. Shannon! His breath caught, and he dived forward, slamming the guy against the cupboards.

The man Jack knew as Cruiser rolled quickly, his leather jacket squeaking under Jack’s fists. He grunted, wrestling Jack underneath him, until Jack forced him back and off. Cruiser was strong, but Jack was built for long, hard days working two-thousand-pound horses and managing the sprawling family acres. Cowboy tough beat biker muscle any day.

They both shot to their feet. He tried to get a sense of Shannon’s condition. She was somewhere in the shadows, but he dared not take his eyes off Cruiser.

“Shan?” he said. “Are you okay? Answer me.”

“Ain’t this cute? Hubby to the rescue,” Cruiser said, pulling a knife from his pocket. Jack knew knives, and he knew fighting, thanks to his brother Owen’s sometimes painful lessons. No matter how good your skills were, in a knife fight, you were going to get cut. Period. He pulled a chair close to him and held it up. He considered shouting an alarm, but adding Hazel and Oscar to the mix would elevate the stakes even more.

Keep the knife away from Shannon.

“Shan?” he called again. He thought he heard movement this time, but he couldn’t be sure.

Cruiser cocked his head, a grin splitting his face. “You’re some tough guy, huh, Cowboy?”

“Come at me with the knife, and you’ll find out.”

Cruiser’s brow creased in thought. “I think we’ll have to postpone this little dustup. I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I’m sure you got plenty of nosy cops in this Podunk town, and killing one will just cause a fuss. Don’t you worry, though, Cowboy. I’ll be back, and I will shred this inn and anyone in it to find the girl who busted up our boy T.J. and bring his baby home.”

“Told you before—there’s no girl, not here.”

“My informant thinks differently.”

“And who’s that?”

“None of your business.”

Now there definitely was movement at his feet. Shannon got to her knees, surging into the circle of moonlight. She had a coffee mug in her hand and threw the thing as hard as she could. Unfortunately, her aim was off. Jack shifted the chair to protect his head as the cup smashed into the legs, showering him with shards of ceramic.

Cruiser busted out in a guffaw. Jack used the moment to charge toward him, chair first, but he dodged back easily. There was a sound of pounding footsteps, and Oscar barreled into the room, a rifle in his grip.

Cruiser bolted out the door, with Jack on his heels. He would have given anything to have his rope with him to lasso the guy, but skilled as he was, that was a tall order while running barefoot over the gravel. Cruiser had his escape plan ready. A motorcycle was parked on the grass. Cruiser leaped on, kicked the engine to life and sped away.

Biting back the rage, Jack returned to the kitchen. All the lights were on now, and both Hazel and Oscar were crowded around Shannon. Her eyes were huge, the fear rapidly retreating in favor of anger. Nostrils flared, she gathered her robe around her. Anger. Good. He let out a breath.

“Who does he think he is?” she snapped.

“I called Larraby,” Oscar said to Jack. “He’s on his way.”

Shannon avoided her mother’s questions. “How’d he find us? Did the person you spoke to on the phone tell him?”

Jack realized his hands were balled into fists, so he forced them to relax. “He’s got an informant. Someone close.”

Hazel took Shannon’s arm. “Please, sit down, honey. He hurt you.”

“I’m okay, just winded.” She fingered the imprint of Cruiser’s arm on her throat.

Rage kindled in his belly, deep down, a foreign feeling. He stalked to the window, looking out on the serene pastures that surrounded the inn. Images shot through his brain, the squeak of leather, the tang of sweat, glint of a metal blade. Violence brought home to people who did not deserve it. It boiled his blood.

Cruiser thought he could roll into town and assault Shannon? Terrorize her into giving up Dina’s location or handing Annabell over?

Ain’t this cute? Hubby to the rescue.

Jack’s marriage had ended almost as soon as it began, but at that moment, in the chilly kitchen, he thought he understood what a husband must feel when his wife was under attack. It was a primal, roaring fire that threatened to explode into a conflagration. He could not explain it if someone paid him to. He breathed hard, fighting for control.

She doesn’t want to be your wife, Jack, not really. It’s just a charade.

At that moment, it did not matter. His ring was on her finger, and pretense or not, he would make his stand against Cruiser and the Tide.

* * *

Shannon’s throat pulsed with pain, but she did her best to soothe her mother and convince her uncle to put down the rifle. Oscar left to reassure the guests who had called down to the front desk to ask about the noise.

Shannon thought about Dina, who was running for her life somewhere out in the darkness, desperately hoping her brother would help her.

She closed her eyes, lost in a memory of another day when she’d lived in that very same inn at seventeen years old, waiting for the front door to open or the phone to ring. Daddy loves you, her mother said. He’ll come back.

Daddy doesn’t love anybody, she’d come to realize. He needed adoration, his wife’s, his daughter’s, his mistress’s. Their role was to be the mirror that reflected back to Hal Livingston what he wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jack touched her shoulder, and she whirled toward him.

“You scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes flicked to her neck. Her heart beat hard as he skimmed his calloused fingers along her throat. “You should get that looked at.”

She waved him off. “I’m a doctor. Don’t you think I’d know if I was seriously hurt?”

“Doctors are the worst patients, so I’ve been told.” There was no smile on his face.

“No, cowboys are.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t let you clobber me with the coffee mug.”

That deadpan delivery of his. Now she smiled, and so did he. “Throwing isn’t my thing. You know I never hung out on a sports field.”

“Except when you took your nose out of a book long enough to watch me run track.”

“I was doing my part for the home team.”

“Always had my best times when you were there.” He looked as though he wished he had not said it, his gaze dropping to his feet. Part of her wished he hadn’t, either.

He cleared his throat. “Larraby will be here soon. He’ll press for protective custody for you and the baby. He’ll be right.”

“No.”

“Dina’s not telling you the whole story about her brother.”

“I know.”

Chin cocked, he stared at her. “Why are you trying so hard for her, Shan?”

Shan. Why did her nickname sound so soft on his lips? Like they were still a couple.

“I love you, Shan, and you love me, too. Marry me.”

And she had, and her soul had found happiness for the first time in her life, until reality set in. They’d had the world at their feet, but they were different worlds. He wanted this world, small town, close family, simple life. She wanted to escape to the big city, climb the career ladder and prove to herself and everyone else that she was the best in her field. He was waiting for an answer. Why was she risking it all to help Dina? “I’m a...”

“Don’t give me the doctor-responsibility line.”

“It’s not a line,” she snapped.

He moved closer, boxing her in. “Tell me the truth. Why are you willing to risk your life for Dina Brown?”

She could not look away from the brilliant blue eyes, so insightful and filled with that easy confidence that came from having a stable family who showed you what unconditional love meant. Wrapped up safe in a small town. You made your choices, Shannon. She set her shoulders and pushed at his arm. “I’m going to take care of her, Jack, that’s all. If you’re certain I’m making a mistake, go back to the ranch. There’s no reason to continue this marriage farce, even if it amuses you to torture me.”

He took her wrist and pulled her a step closer. Her pulse thrummed in her ears. His mouth was so close to hers, and his voice hard and smooth at the same time. “None of this amuses me.”

She wanted to fire off a glib retort, something scathing, with snap. But she found she could not utter a word. He leaned in as if he would whisper in her ear, but he said nothing, and neither did she, frozen in the grip of their private thoughts.