Wyoming Cowboy Ranger

by Nicole Helm

  Then he walked up the lane, and to the gleaming-new-looking cabin in a little cove of rock and trees. She was pulling things out of the trunk of her police car.

  He could do it. Hurt her. Kill her. Spill blood. Right here, right now. She wore a gun, but what were the chances she’d have the reflexes to hurt him first?

  Keep your focus. Keep your focus.

  Dr. Michaels told him he did better with a goal. And his goal was causing as much emotional and then physical harm to Ty Carson as possible. The cop would be a distraction.

  But he ached with the need to kill, and Jen’s sister was ripe for the killing.

  A loud engine sound cut through the quiet, and the cop shouldered her bag and shaded her eyes against the setting sun. A man roared up on a motorcycle. Not Ty as he’d hoped, but the other one. Not the brother, but a cousin, maybe.

  People who mattered to Ty. It would be Ty’s fault if they were harmed or killed. Ty would have all that guilt, and his would be gone.

  He could pick them off in quick succession—bam, bam—and they’d fall to the ground. He wanted it. Needed it. His hand even reached for his side, but he remembered when he came up with nothing that he’d purposefully left his pistol in his car.

  “Ty’s the target,” he whispered, reminding himself this was premature. Have a goal, Dr. Michaels had always told him. He ignored the tears of rage and disappointment streaming down his cheeks.

  The goal was Ty, not these people. Jen was the best target. A decision he hadn’t made lightly.

  He’d do everything he wanted to do to Jen and more, maybe in front of Ty himself. Yes, Ty had secreted her away, but he’d find them.

  He’d find them and they would know true pain, and Ty would know true guilt.

  And him? He’d finally be at peace.

  Chapter Nine

  The world was black and she couldn’t breathe. Jen tried to thrash, but her body wouldn’t move. She saw blood, smelled it even. But it wasn’t her blood. It bathed the floor around her, but she wasn’t hurt. So who was?

  She sat bolt upright, eyes flying wide, her sister’s name on her lips.

  But Laurel wasn’t in this unfamiliar room with her. There was no blood. Only slabs of wood, bathed gold in the faint light of a lamp on the bedside table.

  Jen wasn’t alone, though. No Laurel, no blood. She was in a comfortable bed, heart beating so loud she couldn’t hear the horrible sound of her ragged breathing. “Ty?”

  Still not fully awake, she reached for him, found his hand warm and strong. Something inside her eased, the sharp claws of panic slowly receding with the contact. Ty was holding her hand and she was safe.

  “You were dreaming.” His voice was flat, but he was there. When they’d decided to call it a night, he’d gone into one bedroom and she’d gone into another. But just now she’d been in the middle of a horrible nightmare she couldn’t seem to fully shake, and he was here in this room with her.

  Holding her hand.

  “Breathe,” he ordered, but there was no snap to his tone. A tinge of desperation, but nothing harsh.

  So, she sucked in a breath and let it out. She squeezed his hand because it was her anchor. “It was Laurel. She was hurt.”

  “Laurel is fine.”

  “I know. It was just a dream.” She fisted her free hand to her heart. “It just felt real. So horribly real. I could smell it.”

  “Just keep breathing.”

  So she did. She looked around the room, trying to orient herself. The Carson cabin. It looked so different from when they’d been in high school and snuck up here to...

  Well, it wouldn’t do to think of that, or how good it would feel to curl up into Ty’s strong, comforting body and—

  Yeah, no. She focused on the room. It was different from how it had been. New furniture, new curtains. Definitely new linens on the bed, and a pretty area rug that softened the harsh wood walls that had stood for over a century.

  It smelled the same, though. The slight must of old not-often-used house and laundry detergent. She blinked owlishly at the lamplight, then at Ty.

  He was rumpled, and still. So very still, perched on the edge of that bed like she might bite. But his hand held hers.

  It would have amused her, if it didn’t make her unbearably sad.

  “Good?” he asked abruptly.

  She nodded and he withdrew his hand and got to his feet. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and refused to meet her gaze. “Need anything?”

  She did, but she didn’t know what exactly. Surely not whatever he was offering, or rather, hoping she wouldn’t take him up on.

  She rubbed her hand over her chest. She’d calmed her breathing and her mind, but she felt clammy and shaken. There’d been so much blood, and it had been real enough to smell it, to feel it.

  It was worse, worrying for someone you loved. So much worse than being concerned over your own safety. But it had been only a dream. Laurel was safe and sound at home, with Grady. Jen hadn’t had any silly danger dreams last year when Laurel had been facing down real danger, so it was foolish to believe her dreams were suddenly premonitions.

  “Jen. Do you need anything?”

  She shook her head, trying to focus. “No. No, I’m all right.” Which wasn’t true. At all.

  Ty moved swiftly for the door, and that made all the ways she wasn’t all right twine together into panic.

  “No, that’s a lie. I’m not all right. I’m afraid.”

  He paused at the door. He didn’t turn, but he stopped. “Fear’s natural,” he said quietly, surprising her.

  She rarely told anyone in her family when she was afraid. She’d learned at a young age Delaneys weren’t supposed to be afraid. They were supposed to endure. And if not, she was the weak one to be protected.

  Hadn’t that been the appeal of Ty Carson? He hadn’t treated her like a fragile little girl, or like she was a little beneath him. He’d been curt with her, rough at times, and she’d known, deep down, he’d thought she was a little better than him.

  It wasn’t true, but she’d known he’d felt that way, and part of her had relished that. A painful thing to realize, to admit to herself. But she’d been a teenager. Didn’t she get to cut herself some slack?

  Shouldn’t she cut him some? “You’re not going to tell me not to worry about it, that you’ll handle it and I’m just fine?”

  “No.”

  She picked at the coverlet over her legs. She knew he didn’t want to have this conversation, to listen to her insecurities, but she also knew he would. And she’d feel better for it. “Everyone else does.”

  “Everyone else... Listen...” He turned to face her, hands still shoved deep in his pockets and a scowl on his face. He looked like he was preparing for a brawl, but she knew that was always how he looked when faced with a conversation he felt like he needed to have even though he didn’t want to. “I’ve been in a lot of real dangerous situations, and a lot that only felt dangerous. Nothing I did could erase the fear whether the danger was real or perceived. You learn to hone it. You should be afraid. What’s going on is scary.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold those words to her heart. “As pep talks go, that was surprisingly effective.”

  “It isn’t always the fear that gets us, it’s the idea we can’t or shouldn’t be afraid. Fear is natural. To fear is to be human.”

  Human. Such a complex idea she never really considered. In her memories of Ty he was either that perfect paragon of nostalgic first love, or he was the symbol of the way he’d left her. The way she’d thought about him since he’d been back had been one-dimensional. It had been about her feelings, and nothing to do with him as a human being.

  It wasn’t wrong, exactly. It was just more complicated than that. He was human. She was human. Fears, confusions, mistakes.

&nb
sp; Whoever was trying to hurt them was human, too, underneath whatever warped thing made a person want to hurt someone. Human and hurting and doing terrible things to alleviate the hurt.

  She didn’t want that to be her. She’d done no terrible things, but she’d shoved herself farther and farther into a box without ever dealing with the here and now. The feelings that hurt and diminished all that she was.

  It was time to stop. “I don’t really want to be alone.” She didn’t admit things like that. She’d never had to. She’d never had to ask for what she wanted or needed—she either got it easily or she kept that want locked away until she forgot about it or learned to live without it.

  She’d thought that was being adaptable, learning to live without what life refused to give her. But sitting here in this bed that wasn’t hers, a man who wasn’t hers lurking by the door, fear and confusion and hurt lying heavy on her heart, she had to wonder.

  Was never asking for the things she wanted holding her back? Is that what had kept her comparing every man she’d ever dated with the man of her high school dreams? A fear of asking for more—for what she wanted—for anything.

  “Could you stay?” They might have been the scariest words she’d ever voiced. They opened up every fear of rejection she’d ever harbored without fully realizing it.

  But if she could live without the thing when she didn’t ask, why not be able to live with it when she did? It was the same. Living without was all the same. If she asked, though, she might get something.

  Ty eased himself onto the corner of the bed, still keeping a large distance between them. Because he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to stay with her, but she’d asked.

  She’d asked, and he stayed.

  * * *

  WHEN TY WOKE up to the ringing of his phone, he was stiff and disoriented. A mix of familiar and unfamiliar assaulting his senses. The smell of the cabin, mixed with something fruity. The familiar warmth of the sunlight on his face that always snuck through the crack in the curtains, the unfamiliar warmth of a body next to him.

  The phone stopped, and groggily he tried to figure out why he should care. Jen shifted next to him, and when he looked down on her—a completely ill-advised move—her eyes blinked open.

  A deep brown with flecks of green that reminded him of the woods they used to sneak off into. That reminded him of the plans he’d let die because he’d been young and stupid. Because for all his ego and bluster, he’d believed, deep down, he wasn’t fit to touch her.

  As she held his gaze, sleepy but probing, he wasn’t sure if he still believed that. Fear was human, he’d said last night. And people were human. No better or worse for their name or their mistakes. Just...human.

  Maybe there was something here to...

  “Thank you.”

  Thank God for those two words. It broke the spell. Thank you disgusted him enough to swing off the bed. “For what?” he grumbled, already heading for the door. He wanted her gratitude as much as he wanted another hole in the head.

  “For staying,” she replied simply.

  His eyes were on the door, on exit and escape, but the vision of that dark forest that had been theirs haunted him, that little seed of a thought that things could be different now. As adults. “You were scared, and it was my fault,” he said disgustedly.

  “Yes. Of course. It could have only been done out of guilt.”

  Surprised, he turned on her. “What other reason would I have?”

  She held his gaze, but then shook her head and yawned. She slid out of bed, shuffling toward the door. “I need coffee for this.”

  Remembering how annoyingly chipper she got after her first cup in her, he lied. “We never have any coffee at the cabin.”

  She whirled on him so fast, so violently, he actually moved back a step, afraid she was going to punch him.

  He held up his hands in surrender, amused in spite of himself. “That was a joke, darling.”

  Her eyes narrowed, those dainty fingers curling into fists. “Not. Funny.” Then she whirled back around and sailed out of the room.

  “It was a little funny,” he murmured to himself. He made a move to follow her, since he could use a jolt of caffeine himself. Before he managed to move, his phone rang again.

  Frowning, he crossed the room and grabbed it off the nightstand. He didn’t recognize the number, so he answered it cautiously.

  “Yeah?”

  “Would it kill you to answer your phone on the first call?” He recognized Laurel’s irritated voice immediately. She must have been calling from the police station.

  He sneered a little at that. “What do you want, Deputy?”

  “I want to talk to my sister, but first I need to talk to both of you. Speaker on.”

  Ty strolled into the living room. “I ain’t one of your deputies you get to boss around, Laurel.”

  “No, but I am your cousin-in-law, the detective in charge of this investigation and the woman who could charge you with kidnapping if you don’t do what I say.”

  “I—”

  “But beyond all that, Carson. I’ve got a name for your guy. So, why don’t you cooperate so we can actually talk this out.”

  He wanted to find a comeback for that. A way to defend that kidnapping charge and pretend the rest didn’t matter. But a name mattered. “Fine,” he ground out, hitting Speaker on his phone and slapping it against the kitchen table.

  “Jen? You’re all right?”

  “Yes,” Jen replied, leaning closer to the phone. “I didn’t realize Ty was talking to you, but I suppose I should have with all the bickering. How on earth do you and Grady get along?” Jen wondered, looking longingly at the slow-dripping coffee machine. “Your natural bossiness and his natural Carson-ness.”

  “Somehow it works,” Laurel replied. She was in all-cop mode right now—even over the phone—and didn’t rise to Jen’s sisterly teasing bait. “I’ve got a missing person who matches the description of the man that was in Rightful Claim and what we could see of the customer who fainted on Jen’s store tape.”

  “The blood?” Ty demanded.

  “Still waiting on the results, but we have a name to confirm against, so that’s a step. The next step—”

  “What’s the name?”

  “The next step will be—”

  “I want his name.”

  Jen placed her hand on his forearm, and it was only then he realized his entire body had hardened, and that he was all but ready to punch a phone. Worse, that her simple touch did ease some of the tension inside him.

  “Laurel. Ty just wants to know if he recognizes the name. Let’s start with that, then go through all the steps.”

  “His name is Braxton Lynn. It’s not a perfect match since we don’t have a clear picture of him, but it’s close enough to wonder.”

  All the tenseness inside Ty leaked out fully, and futility swept in heavily and depressingly in its wake. “I don’t know that name.” A dead end. No matter how he went through his memory, the name Braxton or Lynn didn’t ring any bells whatsoever. Someone was after him, ready to hurt the people he...cared for, and he didn’t know the face or the name.

  “Apparently he’s from Phoenix, Arizona,” Laurel continued. “I’ve got some calls in with a couple PDs in the area to get more information on him, maybe get a more positive ID. Criminal record on the Braxton name appears clear from what I’ve been able to search, but he’s been missing for three months. Adult, twenty-six, no family looking for him. A foster sister reported the missing person, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s too eager or worried to find him.”

  “I don’t know that name,” Ty repeated irritably.

  “But we discussed something last night that I think is pertinent,” Jen interrupted, sounding so equitable he wanted to growl. “Whoever is here might be threatening Ty or me because of a perceived hurt
on a loved one. This Braxton might have a family member or friend who does have a connection to Ty.”

  “It’s a solid theory,” Laurel said, considering it. But then she barreled on, pure cop. “Like I said, I’ve got calls in trying to get some more background. Since this is all desk work, I’ll handle trying to track down more of a profile and I’ll keep you both updated. What about Phoenix?”

  “What about it?” Ty retorted, repeating the name in his head like an incantation. Braxton Lynn. Braxton Lynn. Why didn’t he know that name?

  “You don’t know the name,” Laurel said as if it wasn’t a failure on his part. “But what about anyone from the area? If it’s a connection we’re looking for, maybe it’s Phoenix.”

  Ty stomped away from the phone on the table and paced, raking his hands through his hair. Phoenix? Not that he could think of, but Arizona...maybe. Maybe?

  He moved back to the table, leaned close enough to talk into the speaker. “I had a buddy back in the army, before I became a ranger.” One who’d had reason to hate him, but how could a kid from Phoenix be connected to a soldier from a small town? “Oscar Villanueva. I can’t see as how there’d be any connection, but he was from Arizona. Not Phoenix, though. Some place I’d never heard of and can’t remember now.”

  “Okay. You got any contact information for Oscar?”

  Just another failure. “No,” Ty managed to say, still sounding pissed instead of broken. “No. We lost touch when I got into the rangers.” He didn’t mention why Oscar might hate him. It wasn’t pertinent until they found a connection.

  “Okay. I’ll dig into that angle. If you think of the name of the town, you let me know. I find any more connections or the blood results come in, I’ll give you a call.”

  “Yeah,” Ty returned, gut churning with emotions that would get in the way of clearheaded thinking. He needed all this...stuff inside him out of the way. He needed to compartmentalize like he had back in the army.