THE RENEGADE RANCHER

by Angi Morgan

  “I was hoping to avoid this for a while when I mustered out,” John said, pushing the gun in the waistband of his jeans. “But someone insisted on sticking their nose into places—”

  “Give it a rest, bro.”

  “See anything?” It wasn’t the time for a sibling squabble. She didn’t have a brother or sister, but she recognized the signs of an I told you so starting a fight. She’d had them often enough with Jeremy.

  Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could see the tension in John’s face and body movements. He was worried. His wife and daughter, along with his and Brian’s father, were inside the house. All at risk because of her.

  “I didn’t mean to put your family in danger.” She hoped she spoke softly enough that Brian couldn’t hear her from the rafters.

  John had been watching his brother but looked at her, quirking that identical brow in the same way that she adored on her cowboy knight. It didn’t work. No magic tingling shot up her spine.

  “But Brian did put them in danger, whether he meant to or not,” he answered in a strong voice. Brian apparently overheard and responded with another hmph.

  “Was that the reason you were upset this morning? I get it. Brian went against you guys and you think he chose me over his family.”

  “Are you through summarizing things you know nothing about?” He shook his head and looked away like she was entirely off base. Gone was the feeling of playfulness she’d had with Brian. With John, his intimidating looks made her feel inferior.

  “Sorry.”

  For all the ways these two men were exactly the same on the outside, they couldn’t be more different at their cores. Where John came across as commanding, Brian seemed helpful. Navy versus paramedic? Had their careers changed their basic personalities so much?

  “You’re part right, part wrong. It’s more complicated than a two-minute conversation.” John clapped a strong hand on her shoulder. “I’d feel better if you were in the tack room.”

  He’d pointed to the tiny closet with the snake. “There? No way.”

  He mumbled real curse words and stomped to the bottom of the ladder. “Got anything?”

  “Plate’s blocked. One guy. Camera. Don’t see a gun.” Brian stuck his head over the edge. “Lindsey confused me with a reporter yesterday. Any chance this could be one?”

  “Give me your shirt and hat. Then you can find out.” John loaded his handgun while Brian practically jumped from the loft.

  Both men tugged their T-shirts over their heads. John’s sunglasses slipped to the ground, Brian picked them up. Identical muscles rippled as they pulled the borrowed shirt over their heads, changing identities. Brian tucked his in like John had looked before undressing. His brother left his out, hiding the weapon at his waist.

  An untrained man shouldn’t confront a potential killer. “You can’t send him out there. Aren’t you the Navy SEAL?”

  “Was. Now I’m a rancher, just like him.” He jerked his thumb toward Brian.

  “I can handle myself.”

  “You keep saying you’re just a paramedic,” she argued. Brian handed his brother his hat and she saw the teasing smile. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. I’m just glad you finally believe me. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t believe you’re doing this. Why not call the police?” Lindsey wanted to kick off her shoes in spite of the creepy crawlies and run with him.

  “John.” Brian ripped the white bandage off his forehead and stuck out his hand. “Keys?”

  The twin now dressed like Brian dangled his car keys above his brother’s palm. “Don’t do anything stupid like follow him and wreck my car.”

  “Alicia’s car.”

  “Community property state.” John flipped the handgun, handle to Brian. “Be careful.”

  Brian checked the weapon, nodded and stuck it in his waistband.

  “Will someone tell me why we don’t call the police and report a trespasser?” If something happened to Brian, it would be her fault for convincing him to help her. “I get the feeling this is more complicated than Lauren’s adoption.”

  “That’s a long story, Lindsey. John can explain while I’m gone. Don’t forget...he may look like me, but John’s a married man.” He kissed her lips in a brief flyby and headed out the door.

  She stared after him in a stupor, not really knowing how to feel. She’d been so confident she was breaking through that tough exterior just a few moments ago. And their kiss—whew. The heat of it still had her insides all gooey.

  Chapter Eight

  “Come on, Lindsey.” John spoke in a calm voice, but those tense lines were still straining his good looks. “Let’s take a look out in the paddock and give our paparazzi a show. Remember to stay between me and the house. If he does have a gun, he’ll never get a clean shot.”

  “What? Do you think he’s going to shoot at us?”

  “I don’t think that’s his M.O. From what I’ve seen, he seems like a guy who likes to plan things with a little more control of the outcome.”

  The roar of a muscle car coming to life and driving too fast up the gravel made John cringe and shake his head. He seemed so much older than his brother. Older and more experienced.

  The duplicate of the hand she loved curved around her waist, touched her back and guided her around the metal fence. John was just as handsome as his brother but strangely, she felt nothing. No pings or tingles of excitement. Only frightened worry about Brian.

  The Sloane house was far enough off the road, you could barely hear a car drive by. Even a muscle car with a muffler as load as Manhattan.

  Screeching tires. Then a shove to her knees kept her from turning to see the cars on the road.

  “Damn it, Brian. I told you not to go after him,” John shouted, slapping his thigh as he stood straight.

  “I take it he didn’t listen to you?”

  “Never does.” He stepped a little farther away from her now that he wasn’t playing Brian for the man in the van. “Let’s head inside.”

  “Aren’t you going after him?”

  “In what? Brian’s truck? That thing belonged to our granddad. There’s no way I’d ever catch them.”

  “Then you should call the police.”

  “Yeah, about that. The police won’t be stopping Brian Slone, they’ll be stopping John Sloane, who will probably say I’m running off more reporters.”

  “You’ll explain that in a slightly less cryptic way once we’re inside?” She was totally lost. They had a problem with reporters, too? The questions about why the police wouldn’t help spun her around harder than a wipeout in Malibu.

  “Sure.”

  They sat at the table again and Alicia joined them. The plastic wrap was removed from Lindsey’s pancakes and they were popped in the old microwave, which took up a third of the kitchen counter.

  “Mrs. Cook was the coolest teacher in school,” John began. “She let our class hang out on her property. We had plenty of fires there in a pit her husband had used at one time. Nothing ever happened until the night she died.”

  Alicia laced her fingers through her husband’s. “My guy here,” she patted his hand, “was about to leave for the Navy and we were arguing about what would happen. He was upset, fought with Brian and they both stormed off. They didn’t speak for twelve years.”

  “Back then we shared the truck and always left the keys in it. I needed some time so I spent the night alone. Brian came back to the Cooks’ place in the morning. But witnesses saw our truck leaving the actual fire.”

  “It wasn’t stolen?” she asked. “And neither of you left in it?”

  “That’s right. For twelve years I thought Brian drove it home and he thought it was me. You see, it was our responsibility to put the fire out that night. It spr
ead to the barn where they found Mrs. Cook—”

  “My second cousin.”

  “Everyone thought she tried to put the fire out and the barn collapsed on her. She had massive head injuries.” Alicia continued the story. “Brian took the blame for the accident. He didn’t want anything to stop John from getting into the Navy.”

  “He said he did it, even though he thought you were responsible for it spreading?” This morning, the brothers had moved together as though they’d never been apart. What must it have been like back then when they hadn’t been separated for twelve years? “Wait, that still doesn’t explain why the police won’t help him.”

  “This town blamed Brian for Mrs. Cook’s death and treated him like a convicted felon even though it was ruled an accident,” Alicia explained, while John’s knuckles turned white in a death grip. “He lost a full scholarship to college and each time something goes wrong in town, the cops blame him.”

  “Like for Lauren’s kidnapping? I did some research of my own.”

  “They arrested him, then tried to beat a confession out of him before he made it to the jail.” John’s look turned to steel. He might say he was a rancher, but the man in that chair was every inch a Navy SEAL. “He still hasn’t told me how many times it happened over the years.”

  “Too many,” Alicia whispered.

  “But he’s a paramedic, he helps save lives.”

  “No one knew that except Alicia and Dad. Everyone else thought he was a drug dealer.”

  “You aren’t serious?” She couldn’t believe it. That shy cowboy/paramedic? “How could anyone get that impression from that teasing smile of his? I’ve known one or two— Sorry, but he’s definitely not into drugs.”

  “We know that, but he never cared what the town thought and wouldn’t let us set them straight,” Alicia said.

  “Why does he want to find the murderer so badly?” A shiver shot up her spine. “It’s still hard for me to believe someone really wants me to die.”

  “He’s been obsessed with clearing our name since we cleared the air.”

  Alicia jabbed his shoulder. “Since I threatened you both if you didn’t speak to each other.”

  “I was wondering why he’d go to all the trouble to help me, especially after the police didn’t give his theory any merit.” She toed off her shoes, dreading having to walk on gravel in them again. “So what now? Will he come back soon?”

  “Those shoes are a disaster waiting to happen,” Brian said behind her, then pulled the door open. “I go chasing bad guys and you can’t keep a sharp eye on things? I’ve been standing out there for five minutes. Some Navy SEAL.”

  “Give me some credit. I heard the car pull in. Maybe you needed to hear how ridiculous it is for you to continue this investigation.”

  “I caught up with the photographer in the van. He said he got a tip there might be a story. He snapped a few pictures.” He looked at his brother. “You know what that means.”

  “What does it mean?” Lindsey asked, looking around the room.

  “We should go.” Brian latched on to her upper arm.

  “Don’t be silly,” Alicia said. “The way the sheriff watches the ranch, this is probably the safest place for you both.”

  “Yeah, it’s better if you take off before more show up. Or someone we don’t spot gets too close.” John was really talking about the murderer.

  “I can’t believe you’re agreeing with him, John.” Alicia was clearly upset.

  “It’s okay, everybody. I need to head to work at three.” She gently removed her arm from Brian’s grip.

  “You aren’t going to work. Too much exposure. My family’s at risk now and I’m sticking to you until we figure this thing out.”

  “But I—”

  It was useless to defend her point of view. He’d made up his mind, and left the room.

  “John, you can’t let him just take off,” Alicia pleaded with her husband.

  Lindsey could see that they needed privacy. There wasn’t much space to give them in the tiny house, but she went into the living room.

  An older man raised a finger to his lips. Lauren was asleep on his lap.

  “I’m JW and you must be Lindsey. You’ll be safe with him,” he said in a low voice. “He’s got reason to be broody, but don’t let him be. I think you’ll be good for him.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He grinned. It was a window to the future on how his two sons would look at his age. Still handsome and charming. “I’m the one who sent Lauren out earlier.”

  The heat of embarrassment spread up the back of her neck. First, Brian’s father had seen that hot kiss, and second, he already had them as a couple. “It was just the intensity of the moment.”

  “You might call me a dirty old man for spying on you. But I’m not and wasn’t. I just happened to look. And you two were kissing where anyone could see. Including the man in the van.” He lifted his chin toward the hall bedrooms. “He knows that. The man who’s after you. He’ll assume you’re with Brian now.”

  “So I really have put everyone in danger. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault, Lindsey. That madman started the feud with my family twelve years ago. I just wish I was strong enough to come with you.”

  Brian filled one doorway with a bag over his shoulder. John filled the other with Alicia ducking under his arm and snuggling against his side.

  “We’ll keep looking into the records, trying to make sense of the deaths,” JW said.

  “Ready?” Brian asked.

  “You should get a cheap phone. Same as during the kidnapping, we talk through Mabel. Don’t underestimate this guy. He’s got a lot of practice and he’s patient.”

  JW moved Lauren to the couch and stood. The little girl was in a deep sleep. Brian hugged his dad with one arm, very manly, then bent to kiss his niece, very sweetly. Alicia hugged him and opened her arms, hugging Lindsey before she could react. John just tapped her shoulder, pressed his lips into a straight line and nodded.

  “Got plenty of ammo? Any idea where you’re headed?” John asked. “Never mind, we don’t need to know.”

  “You take care of each other. And don’t forget to eat. I think we forgot to eat for three days. Hiding out isn’t easy, but sometimes it’s necessary.” Alicia looked up at her husband, who winked.

  “You’d better take the car,” John mumbled, but his reluctance was evident.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a story behind that car. She envied the family dynamic between these people. Their courage through Lauren’s kidnapping was unmistakable. There might be strain between the brothers, but they were trying to make it work.

  “It’ll be at the airport when we pick up a rental,” Brian said, making an executive decision.

  “I should call Beth and let her know I won’t be at work.” Alicia handed her a cell and she dialed.

  “Keep your head down, boy-o.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice, sir.”

  Brian gathered a few things while she lied and left Beth a message that she wasn’t feeling well.

  No one followed them out. She slipped her feet into the heels, following Brian to the trunk of the cherry-red Camaro. He threw his bag inside along with the rifle she’d seen him with earlier. She watched him retrieve her purse from his truck. He gallantly opened the muscle car door to let her in.

  “You okay?” he asked, tossing his hat in the back.

  She wasn’t sure she could answer him clearly.

  “Are you certain about leaving with me? I’m far from certain you’re doing the right thing. In fact, I’m not sure I understand what it is we’re actually doing.”

  He kissed her over the window. Crisp, clean, on the lips as if he’d been doing it for years. And she kissed him back the sam
e way. Wanting more, knowing there would be more.

  “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

  “We’re going to catch this son of a bitch.”

  Chapter Nine

  Entering his office, he turned on the recorder before he talked himself out of documenting his mistake the night before with the car and again when Lindsey had run to Brian for help. He’d already gone through the pros and cons of admitting he’d underestimated his opponent. And now he had a new one—Brian. It seemed the twin cowboys were slightly more complex than he’d given them credit for.

  “What made you expose yourself to— Strike that. Expose is the wrong word. I became too inquisitive and forgot the key to my success—patience. The real question is how Brian Sloane could make me forget my protocol.”

  That answer needed pondering. The leather of the couch creaked under him as he stretched out.

  “Side note. Brian Sloane is certainly good-looking. Many would say he’s handsome, especially in his work jeans and T-shirt, but he would never succumb to my...indulgences. He’d never beg for his life. Perhaps that’s why he’s higher on my radar than Lindsey.”

  He sat straight, realizing he’d recorded the wild, uncontrolled side of his personality. The half he rewarded, not the disciplined planner he wanted the world to have firsthand knowledge about. He could rerecord that particular segment—just run it backward and tape over it again. It was almost cheating.

  “And I hate cheaters.”

  The selected words he left here were for history. He didn’t need to cheat by deleting the tape. Just clarify.

  “That’s what’s so frustratingly brilliant about the Sloane brothers. Facing two of them is almost like they’re cheating. I watched Brian while he was with my next victim. He’s very attached to her. Even through the camera I could see his attachment growing.”

  He smiled at his play on words. Then eyed his decanter, longing for the sharp sting of the liquor washing down his throat.