“We finished up the side of the house and Doc Edwards is here tagging your calves.” He went to the cabinet next to the sink and withdrew a glass.
As he filled it with water Kate tried not to notice the breadth of his tanned back and the snug fit of his jeans over his buttocks.
She stared down at the paper where she’d been listing chores that she hoped to take care of when things got back to normal, but his half-naked image was burned into her brain.
Why, with everything that was happening in her life, did her hormones choose this moment to kick into high gear? And why, oh, why, did every hint of desire she’d ever felt always center around Zack West, a man she wasn’t at all sure she even liked?
“Katie?”
The impatience in his tone made her realize he must have said something before her name. She looked up with a frown. “What?”
“I said we need to talk.” He set his glass in the sink, then sprawled into the chair across from her at the table.
“Didn’t your father and Smokey teach you any manners? It’s not proper to sit at a table without a shirt.” She couldn’t concentrate with his beautiful bare chest staring her in the face.
“Gosh, a lecture on proper from Katie Sampson, what a concept,” he said dryly, but to her relief he pulled on his shirt, covering the object of distraction.
He leaned back in the chair and studied her for a long moment. Her cheeks warmed beneath his scrutiny. “What?” she asked. Once again she felt not in control and that feeling provoked a touch of irritation inside her.
“We’ve been focused the past twenty-four hours on who might have wanted your father dead, on who he might have made angry. I think maybe it’s time we look at you and who you’ve ticked off lately.”
She sat back in her chair in surprise. “You think this is about me? That somebody killed dad because they hate me?” Her heart clenched. The thought was positively horrifying.
“I think we need to consider all possibilities,” he replied. “Doc Edwards led me to believe you might have gone a round or two with somebody at a town council meeting.”
She frowned. “The town meetings are always a touch contentious and I certainly speak my mind when it comes to issues that affect our town, but I can’t imagine that anything I’ve said to anyone there led somebody on a murderous rage.”
“Having been on the receiving end several times when you decided to speak your mind in the past, I can tell you that you might not be aware of how you affect people,” he said, one of his dark eyebrows lifting wryly.
The irritation that had flittered around inside her all morning flared stronger. His words both offended and frightened her. “Zack, I know I don’t often mince words, but I get the feeling you keep making judgments about me from my childhood, not from who I am now.”
His dark green eyes remained somber. “I don’t know who you are now,” he said with an edge to his voice.
“Then take the time to find out,” she retorted sharply. He wasn’t being fair to her and she didn’t like it.
He pulled a hand through his dark, thick hair and released a sigh. “All I know is that somebody apparently wanted your father dead and now somebody wants you dead. We need to figure out why if we’re going to figure out who.” He leaned forward. “If you pissed somebody off at a town meeting, then I need to know about it.”
She frowned thoughtfully. In the year she’d been back to the ranch she’d usually accompanied her father to the monthly town meetings. “I had words with Bill Garrett last month,” she said.
“Bill Garrett? Isn’t he the pesticide salesman?”
She nodded. “Dad and I had agreed that we no longer wanted to use his pesticide on the crops. I’d been encouraging Dad to look for alternatives to the strong chemicals that had been used for years.”
“And Garrett took offense?”
“I think he was afraid our decision would become everyone’s decision and he’d be out of a job. He got loud and belligerent with me and told my father he was a wimp for letting his silly daughter make business decisions. I told Garrett he’d been breathing his own pesticides for too many years and had obviously suffered extensive brain damage.”
One corner of Zack’s lip slid upward, then fell. “So, Garrett’s name goes on our list of potential suspects.”
“I can’t imagine Bill having anything to do with any of this. He’s a creep, but he’s a worm without backbone.”
“You never know what a person is capable of,” Zack replied. “Anyone else you’ve had words with?”
She frowned, her thoughts working through the many town meetings she’d attended. “The mayor, but everyone has words with him.”
“About what?”
“About everything.” She stood, finding Zack’s nearness disconcerting.
“Can you be a little more specific?”
She began to pace the small area in front of the table. “Mayor Sharp has delusions of grandeur for Cotter Creek. He’d like to see the town transformed into a thriving tourist trap. He’s always proposing changes that everyone votes down because we like Cotter Creek just the way it is.”
“What kind of changes?”
She shrugged. “He wanted a Cotter Creek exit off the freeway. He wants to fill the downtown area with gift shops and stage mock gunfights on the weekends. He has ridiculous ideas, but I can’t imagine him as a killer.” She threw herself back in the chair. “I can’t imagine anyone I know being a killer.”
Her heart constricted and for a moment she was suffused with a guilt, a grief almost too difficult to bear. She swallowed hard. “If we find out that something I said or did to somebody is the reason Dad was murdered, I don’t know how I’ll live with it.”
Zack’s eyes darkened as he held her gaze. “You’d be amazed with what you can learn to live with.” He shoved back from the table and stood. “So, here’s the plan. I’ll spend the day working around the house while you’re locked inside. Then tonight I’ll move my things from the bunkhouse into here.”
She looked at him in surprise and stood, as well. “You really think that’s necessary? I have Dad’s gun here. I won’t be taken by surprise again.”
“I’m not willing to gamble with your life. Last night somebody got in through one of the windows, tied a rope from your bedroom door to the bathroom door, then left the house the way they had entered and you didn’t hear a sound. You hired me on to find your father’s killer, but whether you like it or not, you no longer have an additional ranch hand, you now have yourself a personal bodyguard.”
Chapter 8
For the third time that evening Zack checked the doors and windows to make sure they were all locked up tight. He tried to ignore Katie, who sat on the sofa in the bright pink sundress that should have clashed with her red hair.
Instead the pink material made her eyes appear bluer, her skin look creamy and soft as the feminine and flowery scent of her filled every corner of the room.
He’d spent the afternoon working outside with the men, never venturing far from the house where she was locked inside. It hadn’t been until sunset that he’d retrieved his personal items from the bunkhouse and made the move. That had been two long hours ago.
“Surely nothing will happen tonight,” she said to him as he came from the bedrooms after checking the locked windows. “Whoever set the fire last night has to know we’re on to him and won’t try anything else anytime soon.”
He pulled his 9 mm from his waistband and set it on the end table, then sat in the chair opposite her and frowned thoughtfully. “The problem is we just don’t know what might happen and when.” He frowned in frustration. “I can’t get a handle on any of this. I don’t have enough information to crawl into the head of the perp.”
“Is that what you do? Crawl into the head of bad people?”
“That’s what I try to do when I’m working a job.”
Her gaze lingered on him. “I would think that’s a tough way to make a living, constantly seeing the bad
in people.”
“It was tough,” he conceded, “but the good part was, I kept a lot of nice people safe over the years. It was tough, but rewarding work.” Until the end, he thought. Until Melissa’s death.
“Then why did you quit?”
“I was ready for a change, needed a break.” He didn’t want to share with her the trauma that had led to his burnout with the family business. The depth of that pain he’d been unable to share with anyone.
“And I’ve sucked you right back in with the mess going on in my life,” she replied softly. “I’d tell you I’m sorry I got you involved in all this, but I’m not. If I hadn’t gotten you involved, I probably would have died last night in the fire.”
He frowned. “It’s interesting that so far all the incidents that have taken place have been to make everything look like an accident. Your father’s death was dismissed as an accident initially. If the stampede had been successful in killing you then everyone would have talked about it as if it were an accident. Same with the fire last night. I noticed there were several candles in your bedroom. If the fire had burned successfully, then everyone would have figured it was because you were burning candles in your room.”
“So, whoever wants me dead doesn’t want to make it look like a murder.”
“True, but somebody wants you dead, that’s for sure.” His voice was low, his tone grim. “And now all bets are off as to whether it needs to look like an accident or not.”
It was her turn to frown. “It’s a scary thing…to know that somebody wants you dead.” She curled her legs up beneath her. “Anyone ever want you dead?” She flashed him a quicksilver smile that seemed to light her from the inside out. “I mean, besides me?”
Despite the tension that had taken possession of him the moment he’d set his duffel bag inside her front door, he couldn’t help but return her smile. “You made it very clear you wanted me dead the night I carried you out of that party at the motel.”
“I was so mad when you showed up,” she replied. “I couldn’t believe it when you walked in the door.”
“You had no business being in that motel room with Jeb Walker and his friends.” Jeb Walker had been bad news in Cotter Creek. At the time Katie had gone to the party, he’d been a thirty-year-old bully who liked young girls and drugs and she’d been a vulnerable, unworldly seventeen-year-old.
“I knew that,” she replied easily. He looked at her in surprise and she continued. “I knew that bunch of people were too old for me, too wicked, and I had absolutely no business being there. But I wanted my father to come and drag me away, that’s why I made sure he knew where I was going. Instead he sent you.”
He heard the edge of an old wound not quite healed in her voice. “Katie, your father sent me after you because he thought it would be a lot less embarrassing if I showed up than if your daddy showed up to drag you back home where you belonged.”
She laughed, a dry humorless sound. “Yeah, it was definitely less embarrassing for you to burst in, throw me over your shoulder and carry me out of there.”
He grinned at her. “You survived the humiliation far better than I survived your temper fit. As I remember, besides practically clawing my face off, you also delivered a kick to my shins that I thought might leave me crippled for the rest of my life.”
The grin that had curved her lips instantly fell. “I did make that scar on your face, didn’t I?”
The regret that shone from her eyes bothered him. He didn’t want anything soft and welcoming coming from her.
He stood, the tension back, tightening muscles he didn’t know he possessed. “It was a long time ago. We were both hotheaded kids. What we need to do is focus on the here and now.” He wiped a hand down his jaw, trying to center his thoughts away from how pretty she looked and toward who might want her dead.
“Have you gone through your dad’s papers? His personal items and day planner to see if there might be a clue there?”
She uncurled her legs from beneath her, the delicate frown once again dancing in the center of her brow. “I went through the bills to see what was pending, but I haven’t gone through his files or anything like that.”
“What about his will? Were there any surprises there?”
She hesitated a moment and he thought he saw a flicker of resentment in her gaze. She looked away and shook her head. “No, there were no surprises. He left everything to me.”
“Maybe it’s time we go through Gray’s files, see if we find any surprises there.” He needed something to do, something besides sitting around and looking at her, talking to her.
He’d told her he didn’t know who she was as an adult and she’d told him to take the time to get to know her. He didn’t want to know her. He just wanted to find out who wished her harm, neutralize the threat, then return to his own cottage and his own solitary life.
“Dad’s file cabinet is in his bedroom.” She stood from the sofa and he followed her down the hallway to the master bedroom.
He knew she’d moved her things into the spare bedroom rather than into the room that had been her father’s. She’d told him he could stay in here, but he’d insisted that he intended to sleep on the sofa in the living room.
Gray’s bedroom was neat and tidy and looked as if it awaited his return. A pair of his reading glasses sat on the nightstand beside a paperback book. The closet door was open, displaying a collection of shirts and jeans hanging neatly in a row.
Katie walked over to the closet and closed the door, as if the sight of his clothes bothered her. “Earlier this morning I made a list of things that I wanted or needed to do when my life gets back to normal. Packing up Dad’s things is on my list.” She pointed to the wooden file cabinet in one corner of the room, then sat on the edge of the double-size bed.
“What else was on your list?” he asked, more to make conversation than from any burning need to know. He opened the first drawer of the file cabinet and gazed at the neatly tagged manila folders.
“Clean out the root cellar, paint the spare bedroom, weed out the flower gardens in the front yard.”
Zack pulled out two thick files as she continued to tick off a list of chores. He carried the files to the bed and sat next to her. “You want to help me go through these or would you rather I do it myself?”
Her eyes darkened as she stared at the files in his hands. “If we both do it, we’ll get through them twice as fast.” She took one of the files from him. “What are we looking for?”
“I wish I could tell you,” he said, and opened the file next to where he sat on the bed. “Often the key to a murder lies in the victim’s life. I’m hoping in these files we’ll find a reason why your Dad was murdered, but I have no idea exactly what that might be.”
“And if we can’t find anything in Dad’s life to point to the murderer, then we have to examine my life?”
“You have secrets to hide?”
Some of the tension left her features and she smiled. “You know me, Zack. I’ve never been able to hang on to a secret. Everything I do or say or think is right out there for anyone to know.”
You know me, Zack. The problem was, he didn’t know her and he had no idea what she might have done, said or thought to pique the rage of a killer.
He watched through narrowed eyes as she sprawled on her stomach on the bed, the file open in front of her. Her feet were by his side and if he looked in that direction he knew he’d get an eyeful of long, tanned leg.
His gaze slid sideways, up the tanned length of leg. No scabs on the knees, no cuts or scrapes to mar the perfection. He jerked his gaze back to the file next to him.
“Maybe we should take these into the kitchen. It would be easier to go through them at the table,” he said.
There was no way he’d be able to concentrate with her long, shapely legs inches from where he sat. There was no way he could focus with the two of them on the bed, with her scent eddying in the room.
He stood and grabbed the file he intended to look at
, grateful when she did the same. Together they went into the kitchen and sat side by side at the table.
“Why don’t I make a pot of coffee before we get started?” she offered.
“Sounds good.” He had a feeling that for the near future he’d be functioning on a combination of caffeine and adrenaline. Sleep would be light and in snatches as night was a vulnerable time and killers loved the cover of darkness.
The fragrance of the freshly brewed coffee covered the scent of her, but didn’t ease his hyperawareness of her. He told himself it was because she was in danger, that he always became acutely aware of the clients he had to protect. But he had a feeling it was something more than that.
If he went back in time to when he’d pulled her out of that motel room party, he had to admit to himself that on that night he’d felt his first stir of physical desire for her.
She’d been wearing a pink dress and as he’d thrown her over his shoulder he’d been intensely aware of slender curves and the bewitching hint of full maturity.
He now watched as she poured them each a cup of coffee. Those curves were fuller now, much more inviting than they’d been years ago.
She set a cup in front of him then returned to her seat at the table. “Thanks,” he murmured, then opened the file folder and gazed at the contents.
For the next few minutes they focused on the files in front of them. Zack’s file held financial ledgers for the ranch for the last two years and it was a relief to focus on the numbers in the ledger.
He went through them with meticulous care, seeing nothing that would cause a raised eyebrow. No strange income, no strange expenses, just the usual ranch-related financial reports.
“I’ve got nothing here.” He closed the file. “What about you?”
She shook her head, her hair gleaming in the overhead light. Years ago he’d always thought of her hair as just plain red, but there was nothing plain about the gold and copper strands.
Defending the Rancher's Daughter Page 9