by Mari Carr
Twice, a hit man had shown up at the safe house where they were hidden, and twice, Rodney had managed to smuggle her to safety. Following the last failed attempt on her life, they’d holed up in an abandoned apartment building outside Oklahoma City for three days while trying to figure out their next move. When Bridget had shown him Lyle’s letter and laid out her reasons for wanting to break the code and find the information, Rodney agreed to help her. They’d gone rogue, unable to trust anyone in Rodney’s department.
“Rodney, the damage is done. We can’t undo the fact that we’ve cut ties from them. You knew when we took this route your job was in danger. Don’t cave now. Not when we’re so close. I guarantee if you go back to New York with the information to bring down so many criminals, there’s no way your chief will fire you. Hell, you’ll probably be hailed as a hero and given the key to the whole freaking city. They might even throw you a parade.”
Rodney chuckled. “Christ. You could talk a billionaire into giving up all his money. Never met such a persuasive woman.”
She grinned. “Not persuasive. That makes me sound like some crooked politician. I prefer the word determined. What we’re doing is right, Rodney. You know it is or you never would have gone along with this plan in the first place. It’s too late for cold feet.”
“And what happens if the hit man shows up here? This isn’t like the last two places. They were secluded with preplanned escape routes. We’re sitting ducks here. And the worst part is I can’t ensure the safety of the other guests in this bed and breakfast. The owners are nice guys. I’d hate to put them in danger.”
Rodney had a very good point. They’d come to Saratoga with no plan other than to find the flash drive. Rodney had been in a hurry to get them off the road and to find them a place to stay, so he’d opted for this secluded B&B away from the town rather than the hotel on the main thoroughfare. Even though it was peaceful and off the beaten track, they’d been on their own for too many months, and it was hard not to feel exposed in the relatively full B&B. Just their luck, they’d chosen Valentine’s weekend to go it alone. They were surrounded by lovers on romantic getaways.
“We’ll just have to be on our guard.”
Rodney raised an eyebrow. “And how will that be different from any other day these past six months?”
She laughed. “Why don’t you see if the owners will let you use their computer? Maybe you can find a secluded cabin somewhere around here that we can rent for cheap.”
“Cheap being the operative term.”
They’d cleaned out both of their bank accounts just before hopping on a bus from Oklahoma to Wyoming. Without the protection of the police department, money was going to be tight. Neither of them dared to use their credit cards.
Rodney rose. “I’d rather walk the perimeter of the property again. Try to map out some sort of plan in case the bad guys show up. Why don’t you do the cabin research?”
“You mean I can leave the room?” She’d expected Rodney to keep her under lock and key in the tiny room, and while she wouldn’t complain, she didn’t relish the boredom that would ensue.
“Well…” he hedged.
She stood quickly before he could change his mind. “This sounds like a good plan. It will be too suspicious if I stay in this room. Better if we act normal.” She gave Rodney a quick kiss on his cheek. With his short black hair and light brown skin, he was the poster child for biracial beauty. Handsome as sin with a body to die for, he was also completely, one hundred percent out of the closet.
Another loss for our side, Bridget thought when Rodney added a strong hug to her kiss. Rodney had confided one evening several months ago that his sexual preferences had come to light shortly before her unfortunate evening in the warehouse. Some of the officers in Rodney’s precinct had revealed their true colors as homophobes and roughed him up one night after his shift ended. The asshole officers had been suspended, but the chief had thought it best to put some time and distance between all parties. As a result, Rodney had been assigned “babysitting duty”, as he called it. Their first few weeks together had been strained to say the least as Rodney harbored some serious anger over the assignment and Bridget wallowed in grief and guilt over her part in Lyle’s death.
The night after the first attempt on her life, they’d started talking rather than avoiding each other. Eventually Bridget’s grief lessened and Rodney’s anger abated. Since then, there wasn’t a thought either of them had that wasn’t shared.
“Just don’t leave the house, kitten,” he cautioned.
“I won’t.”
“And try not to engage in conversation with anyone. Don’t establish eye contact or let anyone see you.”
She barely caught herself before she rolled her eyes. “That might be tough when I ask to use a computer.”
Rodney shook his head. “This is a mistake. Maybe it would be best if you didn’t leave this room.”
She grinned at his overprotective nature. “I won’t go farther than the sitting room downstairs. I’m researching cabins, remember? Finding us somewhere else to stay. I’ll be in and out so quickly no one will remember I was even there.”
He sighed. “Don’t go on any personal accounts. No checking email or IMs or—”
She held up a hand to silence him. “Preaching to the choir, Officer. Believe me, I know the drill by now.”
He reached up and ruffled her hair before turning and heading out the door. Before he crossed the threshold, he issued the same warning he’d been giving her for months. “Be careful, Bridge.”
Walking to the dresser, she straightened the hair Rodney had mussed up. Studying her reflection, she realized that, for the first time in a long time, she looked more like her true self. She wondered at the transformation.
For months following Lyle’s murder, she’d worn dark circles and a haunted expression. She’d been a stranger even to herself, jumping at every sound, trembling every time the lights went out. Her mother used to despair about her habit of rushing into danger headfirst without a care to the consequences. In the course of ten minutes, that rashness, that faux bravery had been wiped out. It had taken her a long time to get used to the new, far-too-cautious woman she’d become.
The self-assured gleam in her dark brown eyes was gone, replaced instead by wariness. That look no longer seemed strange.
This is the new normal.
Picking up a hair band, she pulled her dark blonde hair into a ponytail. It had grown quite long since she’d left New York.
“That’s what happens when you lead a life on the run. No time for the hairdresser,” she murmured. Maybe she’d look up hair salons in town while she was searching for a secluded cabin to rent.
That thought was dismissed almost immediately. Money was too tight. She and Rodney had spent nearly two hours last night trying to figure out how long they could exist on their own before they ran out of funds. There were three weeks left before the judge’s trial began. They had enough money for perhaps two, if they were thrifty.
Bridget released a long breath and dismissed that worry from her mind. She and Rodney had adopted the “one day at a time” motto the second they left Oklahoma. For today, she had a roof over her head and enough money in her pocket for food. She also felt safe for the first time in months. After the attack on their first safe house, Bridget hadn’t had a peaceful moment, constantly looking over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what was so different now, but she knew—to the depth of her soul—that she and Rodney were in a good place. No one in the world knew where they were or how to find them. It felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders for a little while. She intended to enjoy the respite.
Walking into the hallway, she locked the door to her room and descended the wide staircase. Glancing in several of the B&B’s common rooms for Todd or Steven, the hotel proprietors, Bridget took a few minutes to study the beautifully restored old home. When they’d arrived yesterday afternoon, Rodney had hustled her to their room imm
ediately, sequestering her there while he checked out the property and secured food for their dinner. It felt good to be free.
She was about to cross the foyer to check the other side of the house when the front door opened. Her new habit of hide first, ask questions later emerged and she panicked, trying to dodge back the way she’d come. In her haste to escape, her foot caught on the edge of the Oriental rug, and she took a hard tumble.
Four boot-covered feet appeared before her. She felt strong hands on either side reaching down to help her up.
“Sorry,” she said, keeping her head down. It was foolish to think anyone in this small, middle-of-nowhere town would know who she was, but Rodney had taught her well in the art of making herself as invisible as possible. She fought to suppress her trembling hands. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. God, why did she have to be frightened of her own shadow? She hated living like this, feeling this way.
“You okay, miss?”
All of Rodney’s tutoring went out the window as her nipples pebbled and a slight shiver of arousal wove its way through her body. She lifted her face to see the owner of that deep, sexy-as-hell voice. Identical faces etched with concern greeted her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Standing before her were twin Greek gods, kings of the western frontier, complete with rugged, dimpled cheeks, blue eyes that—honest to God—twinkled, and shaggy, made-for-running-her-fingers-through dark brown hair only partially concealed by cowboy hats.
If she’d lived a hundred years ago, she would have felt compelled to fucking swoon. Instead, her twenty-first-century sensibilities took over and she simply muttered, “Holy double wow.”
Both men grinned widely at her ridiculous comment. “I take it that means you’re not hurt, darlin’.”
Her pussy clenched at his term of endearment. Could there be anything hotter than a gorgeous cowboy calling her darlin’ with that slight country twang? Briefly she imagined him—hell, who was she fooling, them—whispering it to her while they lay together naked in bed.
She cleared her throat and forced herself to stop staring—and drooling—like a love-struck teenage girl. “I’m fine. Clumsy and embarrassed, but otherwise unscathed.”
The hot cowboy on her left chuckled. “Unscathed, huh? Pretty talk. Where are you from?”
“New York,” she confided before her brain engaged to scream a warning. Jesus. Rodney should have locked her in the room. She was going to blow their cover in under thirty seconds, and all because of a couple good-looking men. Stupidity due to horniness was not something her cop friend would forgive easily.
“City girl,” the other cowboy said, though his tone indicated interest more than disdain.
She nodded, determined to keep her mouth shut before any more little tidbits—like the fact she was hiding out from a corrupt judge—fell from her desperate-to-taste-the-cowboys lips.
“I take it you’re one of the guests staying here?” her hot cowboy number one asked.
She paused, decided the question was harmless and nodded once more.
“So what brings a city girl to our neck of the woods?” This question was posed by hot cowboy number two.
She and Rodney had sketched out a rough explanation for their visit with the intention of refining it this morning. Now, it appeared she would have to fly by the seat of her pants. “I’m here with my half-brother.” Shit, five words in and she was already straying from the script. She and Rodney had agreed to pose as a couple, but for some reason, she didn’t want these two men to think she was in a relationship.
That thought led to a major internal eye-roll.
Right, Bridget, like you have so much time to try to hook up with a cowboy—or two.
“Vacation or business?”
“Vacation,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to try my hand at being a cowgirl.” Where the fuck had that come from? She’d never considered such a thing in her life until laying eyes on these two Wonders of the Western World.
“Well, now. If you need some help with that, Matt and I are pretty good teachers.”
Matt. Cowboy number one had a name.
“You teach a lot of cowgirls the ropes, do you?” she asked with a lilt in her voice. Christ, could her flirting be any more obvious? Why not post a sign on her forehead that said, Hasn’t been laid in a year.
Matt’s smile grew, his dimples deepening. A girl could fall into those bottomless caverns on his chiseled face and never be found again. She could think of worse places to get lost. “My brothers and I own the ranch next door. We train horses, give riding lessons. Stuff like that. We’d be more than happy to help you give that cowgirl lifestyle a whirl if you’re interested. We’ll even supply the rope if that’s what you fancy.”
Her brain went straight to the gutter and she had trouble focusing after riding lessons.
She recalled a song she and Rodney had heard on the radio while holed up in Oklahoma. The chorus of the song told listeners to save a horse and ride a cowboy. They’d laughed their asses off as Rodney had twirled her around the small kitchen in a ridiculous city-folk attempt at Texas two-stepping.
“Hey, there you guys are.” Todd, one of the owners of the B&B, appeared from a back hallway. Bridget had only seen him briefly the night before. “I was starting to worry.”
“We got sidetracked by a pretty lady,” Matt said, winking at her.
She wasn’t sure how that simple gesture, which would have seemed somewhat creepy in the city, could be so charming here. Her core temperature rose another notch.
Todd joined their small group and held out his hand to her. “I’m afraid I didn’t get to introduce myself to you properly last night.” He turned to the cowboys to explain. “Bridget and her companion appeared in the midst of the kitchen fire.”
She hated to say how much that fire ordeal had thrilled Rodney to no end. He’d considered their less-than-noteworthy arrival the first bit of good fortune after several months of shitty luck and declared no one would even remember they were there. She was quickly destroying that luck. She was supposed to be invisible, not engaging in a conversation with three men, two of whom hadn’t taken their eyes off her since entering the house. She struggled to regret that, but it was turning her on too much. It was a bit disconcerting to discover her libido outranked her sense of self-preservation.
“Bridget Carson,” she said, quickly recalling the fake name Rodney had used last night when they checked in.
“I’m Todd Branner, Steven’s other half. He was the tall, terribly handsome fellow who checked you in last night.”
Bridget nodded, smiling at Todd’s description of his boyfriend.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you, but our ancient stove finally gave up the ghost in grand style. Nothing like going out in a blaze of glory.”
“So I heard. I’m relieved no one was hurt and there was no serious damage,” she said.
Todd shrugged. “Only damage was to my Baked Alaska, which was a crime of epic proportion. Besides, I always keep a fire extinguisher in the kitchen for Steven’s night to cook.”
“I heard that,” Steven said, rounding the corner.
“Busted,” Todd joked.
They all laughed. Bridget felt the tension that hadn’t left her body in months begin to loosen. It felt good to be back in the land of the living, among people whose biggest concerns were issues at work and burned dinners.
The front door opened and her fears reappeared in an instant. It took all the strength in her body not to move behind the two large cowboys. They could shield her from the newest arrival easily with plenty of bulky muscles to spare.
Rodney entered and took in the scene in silence. She saw surprise, annoyance and anger cross his features in the span of a single second.
“There’s my baby brother,” she said with forced cheerfulness, praying Rodney would pick up her cues and roll with them. She’d shot their cover story to hell.
“Hey, sis.” Rodney appeared lighthearted, but his
eyes were piercing hers. He wasn’t happy to find her out in the open with half the neighborhood in attendance. “I thought you had a headache.”
He was giving her a quick out. She needed it. “Just looking for some aspirin.”
“Oh,” Todd piped up. “You should have said something. Didn’t mean to keep you standing around. I have a big bottle in the kitchen. Let me go grab it.”
Matt turned to Rodney, reaching out for a handshake. “I’m Matt James and this is my brother, Mark. We live next door.”
At last, a name for cowboy number two. Matt and Mark James.
Bridget moved toward Rodney, who gave her a questioning look, uncertain what to say to these strangers. Filling in the blanks for him, she took over the introductions. “This is my half-brother, Rodney Carson. And I’m Bridget, which you already know.”
“You’re both from New York City?” Mark asked.
Rodney’s piercing gaze shot daggers in her direction, but she pointedly ignored him. “Yep. We’re both city slickers.”
Matt glanced her way once more. “If you’re serious about the cowgirl lessons, Bridget, you’re welcome to come over to the James Ranch. We’ll have you roping and riding in no time.”
She nodded noncommittally. “Thanks. That’s a nice offer.”
“Here we are.” Todd handed her two aspirin and a glass of water.
Rodney placed a firm hand on her lower back. For a minute, she expected him to pinch her in true sibling style. She could tell he was mad enough to. “I think maybe you should go back upstairs, Bridget, so you can lie down.”
“Okay.” Great, she wasn’t looking forward to the coming eruption. She’d never seen Rodney lose his temper, but she could tell he was on the verge of it at the moment.
Matt glanced at the kitchen door. “Guess we’ve put off the backbreaking reason we’re here long enough.”
“Backbreaking?” she asked.
“Matt and Mark came over to help us drag out the oven from hell. The replacement will be delivered this afternoon and I wanted a chance to clean up the mess. Little washing and touch-up painting and we should be right as rain. Dinner may be a bit late though, and I’m afraid lunch is just going to be cold-cut sandwiches.”