The Cowboy Target

by Terri Reed

  He crossed to the closet, opened the door and, with his booted foot, kicked aside the toys. He set Gabby on the floor.

  “Daddy?” she whispered, clinging to her stuffed rabbit.

  He needed to make sure she remained safe. The closet was the only choice he had for a hiding place. Hating that he was scaring her, he said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He couldn’t leave her in the dark, so he yanked on the chain for the overhead light. The closet filled with a soft glow. He closed the door.

  He stilled, listening.

  Where was the person? He imagined a man dressed in white from head to toe creeping up the stairs, along the carpeted hall toward the room. He could envision the lethal weapon in his hands.

  No doubt it would have a silencer—or suppressor, as Jackie called it. Whatever. No one would hear the shots. He and Gabby would be dead, the killer long gone before anyone realized something was wrong.

  Wyatt couldn’t let that happen.

  He searched the room for a weapon he could use. Nothing but stuffed animals, dolls, books and puzzles. A tea set. What he wouldn’t give for the bat that was in the downstairs hall closet.

  His gaze landed on the beautiful porcelain unicorn sitting in a place of honor on top of Gabby’s dresser. The figurine had been a gift from George. Wyatt had put it up high because he’d been afraid Gabby would hurt herself on the pointy gold tip of the unicorn’s horn.

  For a fleeting moment he contemplated using the knickknack. He could smash it against the person’s head when he entered.

  But that would require crossing the room in front of the door, and his instincts told him he didn’t have time. The slight creak of the floorboards in front of the door confirmed his thought.

  His best bet was to tackle the intruder and hope he could gain control of the gun.

  NINE

  Wyatt positioned himself near the hinges of Gabby’s bedroom door seconds before it slowly swung open.

  Muscles tense, breath turning shallow, he readied himself, preparing to launch an assault on the invading enemy the moment he appeared in his line of sight.

  “Wyatt?”

  Jackie’s voice jolted through him like the electric shock he’d had as a kid when he’d stuck a fork in a socket just to see if the warning of danger his mother had given was real.

  He gripped the edge of the door and pulled it wide, needing to prove to himself Jackie was truly here and not some figment of his imagination.

  She started, stepping back into a fighting stance, her right arm coming up as if to ward off an attack. At her feet stood her dog, Spencer. The English bulldog panted as if the exertion from climbing the stairs had taken its toll.

  Relief and anger and then more relief flooded Wyatt until he thought he’d drown with the choking sensation squeezing his lungs. “What are you doing? You scared me spitless,” he managed to get out past the constriction in his throat.

  “Sorry. I came over to check on you,” she said, relaxing her stance. “You shouldn’t leave the front door unlocked.”

  The chastisement hit him in the solar plexus. He’d been careless, in too much of a hurry to get Gabby upstairs, and hadn’t taken the necessary safeguards.

  He’d never had to worry about locking the doors. The ranch was so far from town, so private; he’d always felt safe, protected.

  But that illusion was shattered now. Should have crumbled the moment he found George’s dead body on his porch. Even then, he hadn’t let the full implications of the murder sink in. Now he realized how vulnerable they were out here so far away from town.

  Hadn’t he just asked God to show him how to keep Gabby safe?

  Jackie coming inside his house uninvited and undetected was an effective way of slamming home the need for caution. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

  He turned and retrieved Gabby from the closet. Tears streaked down her face as she clung to his neck. He soothed her with soft words and tender strokes down her back. Her body trembled in his arms.

  He sat on the bed with her in his lap. He wasn’t sure his legs could hold them up anymore. He was emotionally spent.

  “Hey, sweetie,” Jackie said, crouching beside them and brushing back a damp curl from Gabby’s face. “I didn’t mean to scare you and your daddy.”

  “Someone burned the feed shed,” Gabby said, her voice tiny.

  Jackie’s lips twisted. “Yes, they did.”

  “A bad man,” Gabby said.

  Surprise jarred Wyatt. “Did you see the man?”

  Gabby nodded. “From the window.”

  Wyatt met Jackie’s gaze. Fury darkened her blue eyes.

  “Can you tell us what he looked like?” Jackie asked, her voice gentle.

  “Did you recognize the man?” Wyatt asked.

  Gabby’s gaze bounced between them. “I thought it was Daddy at first. But Daddy wouldn’t burn down the shed.”

  That rocked Wyatt back on his heels. The same man who’d led George to his death?

  Jackie touched Gabby’s knee. “You’re right, it wasn’t your daddy. But you don’t have to worry. Your daddy and I won’t let the bad man come near you.”

  Gabby tightened her hold on him. His heart squeezed all on its own.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” Jackie said. “How about Spencer sleeps in your room tonight? He’s a good watchdog.”

  Wyatt’s gaze slid to the dog lying in the middle of the room with his paws beneath his chin, his pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Yeah, Wyatt could picture the dog taking someone down. Not.

  “Really?” Gabby said. “Can he, Daddy? Can he sleep with me?”

  Unable to deny her anything at the moment, he said, “He can stay in the room, but he’s not to come on the bed.”

  “Awww, Daddy,” Gabby complained.

  “Your Daddy’s right. Spencer stays on the floor but he’ll sleep right by the bed.”

  Gabby scrambled off his lap and dived under the covers. Pulling the comforter to her chin, she said, “You can go now, Daddy. Spencer and I will be okay.”

  Shaking his head, Wyatt leaned over and placed a kiss on Gabby’s forehead. “Okay, sweetie. Good night.”

  “Night, Daddy,” she said. “Night, Jackie.”

  Jackie smiled softly. “Good night, little princess.”

  Wyatt’s heart squeezed tight at the affection in Jackie’s eyes. The tender expression on her pretty face made her even more appealing. What would it be like to have her look at him with such tenderness?

  Attraction slammed into him with the force of a physical blow. She’d changed her clothes. She now wore soft-looking sweatpants in bright purple and a matching zip-up jacket. The white square on her forehead and the sling holding her left arm against her body were stark reminders of the trauma they’d suffered. Her blond curls were damp and clipped up. She smelled fresh, like springtime.

  Tempering his reaction, he slipped from the bed and crossed to the door.

  He couldn’t forget that someone had come onto his land and started a fire. Someone resembling him. Just like the person who led George away from the saloon. His fingers curled into tight fists.

  With a few spoken commands from Jackie, Spencer got up and moved to the side of the bed. He plopped down with a soft oaf.

  Gabby hung over the side of the bed to pet him.

  Jackie joined Wyatt at the door, her soft blue gaze going to Gabby. “She’s so sweet.”

  “Yes.” Though his gaze stayed on the woman in front of him. She was sweet, too. Sweet and kind. Brave and capable.

  She drew him into the hall. He closed Gabby’s door behind him.

  “I’m going to stay here tonight,” Jackie said, her tone firm. “To make sure nothing happens to you two.”

 
He blinked. His mouth went dry. “Here?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I’ll stand guard downstairs.”

  His mind grappled with her words. She was going to stay in his house, downstairs, standing guard while...what? She expected him to sleep? Not when there was someone out there threatening both his life and his daughter’s.

  “I appreciate your willingness to stay, but I can protect Gabby.”

  “It’s what I do.”

  “You’re injured,” he pointed out. “I won’t let you put yourself in any more danger or risk being hurt again.”

  “You needn’t worry about me. It’s you who’s in danger,” she countered. “I don’t need my left hand to shoot.”

  He hoped she wouldn’t have to shoot at all. The very thought of it filled him with dread.

  “Besides,” she continued, “my shoulder’s not that bad. I’ve had cracked ribs that have hurt worse.”

  He hated to think how or why she’d had her ribs cracked. “You need to rest.”

  “So do you.”

  Frustration gripped him. “You don’t need to stay here. I’m sure your aunt and uncle want you at their house.”

  “I’ve already talked to them. They agree that the best place for me tonight is here. That’s why they called me in the first place. To protect you. You and Gabby.”

  His heart hammered against his bruised ribs. “I’m not comfortable with you here.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

  Short of admitting he was attracted to her and that having her close at hand wouldn’t bring him any sort of peace, he wasn’t sure what to say. There was no reason not to accept her offer of protection tonight.

  His ego wanted to refuse, to say he didn’t need her. He wanted to be the one she turned to for protection, not the other way around.

  But then again, his daughter’s safety was at stake.

  If it were only him, he would send Jackie on her way before he gave in to the temptation to pull her close and kiss her.

  For Gabby, he’d control his emotions and be grateful for the extra security. “Fine. You can stay tonight. But I’ll stand guard with you.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Of course you will.”

  Confused by that remark, he asked, “What does that mean?”

  She laid her hand on his chest, her palm creating a warm spot over his heart. “It means you’re a good father and a smart man.”

  Capturing her hand, he couldn’t resist lifting her knuckles to his lips. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes widened and darkened with what he was sure was yearning. Her lips parted. A silent invitation?

  His resolve to control the attraction arcing between them teetered. Before he could totally lose it, she slipped her hand from his and stepped back.

  “I call it like I see it, cowboy.”

  With that she walked away and disappeared down the stairs, leaving him to wonder just what she saw in him. Did he measure up, or was he found wanting?

  Who was he kidding? Of course he’d been found wanting. Hadn’t he learned his lesson with Dina? He wasn’t husband material. Best to remember that before he lost his head—and his heart—to the pretty bodyguard.

  * * *

  Jackie settled on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands and faced a big-screen television positioned above a gas fireplace. Beside her on the leather cushion sat her weapon, a SIG Sauer at the ready. She’d already done a perimeter sweep, assuring herself that the house was locked up tight.

  She’d also set several alerts, including smashing three lightbulbs and sprinkling the fine fragments on the porch near each door and beneath the windows. If anyone came close to the house, she’d hear them crunching on the glass. Even with the precaution, she still couldn’t relax, despite the warmth and coziness of the living room.

  Only the table lamp lent the space any light, the soft luminosity pooling in a circle that chased the shadows into the corners. Bookshelves lined the walls. A recliner sat off to the side of the couch. A coffee table cluttered with coloring books and crayons sat between the couch and the TV. Pictures of Gabby as a baby and toddler graced the walls.

  Overhead, the pipes groaned as the shower turned on.

  Wyatt.

  Staring into her mug of chocolate, she concentrated on the little marshmallows melting into pools of white to keep her mind off him. She was glad he felt safe enough to get cleaned up. She half expected him to forgo the shower and change of clothes in order to keep watch over his daughter. He probably would have if Jackie hadn’t shown up. She was going to have to talk to him about installing a security system. And getting a dog. A big one with a big bark.

  She’d been able to enter the house unimpeded. Wyatt was probably used to the privacy and security of being so far from civilization. But that serene illusion had been burned to ash tonight, just like the shed.

  The destruction seemed pointless. Sure, Wyatt lost money on the feed and would have to rebuild the shed. But that couldn’t be the only purpose behind the fire.

  The attack on the road had been quite pointed.

  The two events contrasted drastically, though.

  The sniper had to have been a professional, a hired gun using a weapon no ordinary criminal would be able to obtain without a fat bankroll, whereas the fire in the shed was almost amateurish. Weird.

  If someone had wanted to hurt Wyatt and cause real damage, why not burn down the barn housing his prized stallion—or the house? A warning, perhaps?

  She sighed and set the mug on the coffee table. Too many unknowns, and the questions were driving her to distraction. Needing some action, some task to perform to keep her hands and mind centered on the danger at hand, she got up and double-checked all the windows and doors on the main floor.

  She gazed out the side window at her aunt and uncle’s house. The porch light glowed brightly, as did the living room lights. She doubted they’d get any sleep tonight, either. After she’d told them about the sniper taking out the truck and the man on the snowmobile, they’d been understandably upset. She’d promised them she’d be careful.

  She’d also called Trent Associates. Her boss was concerned and offered to send help. But because this wasn’t a paid assignment, she could hardly accept. She’d have to rely on the sheriff and his men for backup. But it was nice to know James Trent had her back if needed.

  Besides, she could just imagine how Wyatt would react if a team of bodyguards descended on the ranch. She’d been hard-pressed to get him to agree to let her stay.

  The creak of a floorboard near the stairs sent alarm spiraling down her spine. She pivoted, bringing her weapon up as she faced the threat.

  “Whoa, it’s only me.” Wyatt stepped out of the shadows, his hands held up. The pale light from the moon shining through the window deepened the shadows on his face. He’d changed into soft-looking chinos and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. His hair was damp and pushed back from his face.

  Lowering her gun, she let out the breath trapped in her lungs. “You move quietly for a big man.”

  One side of his mouth tipped up. “I can start stomping if it would make you feel better.”

  Tucking her weapon into the pocket of her jacket, she shook her head. “You don’t need to change on my account.”

  He cocked his head and held her gaze. “That’s good to know.”

  Enthralled by the intensity flaring in his dark eyes, her nerve endings tingled. Something indefinable passed between them, as if her acceptance of him touched a painful place deep inside him. An answering ache throbbed in her bones.

  Needing to retreat from the force of his concentration, she sought ought a neutral topic. “I made hot chocolate. Would you care for some?”

  His left eyebrow arched. “Playing hostess, are we?”

  Heat cre
pt into her cheeks. Maybe she’d overstepped, but she hadn’t thought he’d mind if she took the liberty of preparing beverages. “I’m sorry.”

  He chuckled. “No need to be sorry. I’ll pass on the chocolate. I’m glad you feel at home here.”

  And she did feel at home. More so than her own apartment. There was something inexplicable about the way being in Wyatt’s home wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She wasn’t sure if it was the homeyness, or the fact that there was so much love between him and Gabby that it made the dwelling more than just walls and furniture. Contentment filled her. A sense of belonging tugged at her heart. She found herself relaxing in a way she never had with anyone else.

  Relaxed, but not complacent.

  She couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Danger lurked somewhere outside the walls of the house, and she didn’t know why or who or where the threat was coming from. But the threat had access to sniper rifles and scopes and enough know-how to demand serious attention.

  Keeping Wyatt and his daughter safe had to take precedence over anything else.

  Even her emotions.

  That meant she had to stay alert and in tune to the world around her. And to do that, she needed some distance from the all-too-appealing cowboy.

  Unfortunately, physical distance wasn’t going to be possible. Especially when everything about him sent her senses reeling and made her feel more at home than ever.

  Regaining her equilibrium, she slipped past Wyatt and moved into the living room, where she retook her seat on the couch. Sinking into the soft leather, she grounded herself in the moment.

  She stuffed a throw pillow beneath her injured elbow for support. The mild pain medication she’d taken earlier had dulled the throbbing to an annoying level but one she could handle. She set her weapon on the cushion next to her with her uninjured hand.

  Wyatt followed her, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. His long, lean legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze went to the gun lying on the couch and then flicked away. The distance between them seemed to widen.

  She sighed, wishing things could be different—their lives were different, but they weren’t. His was a life dedicated to his daughter, to the land. Hers was dedicated to protecting people. Her life was always on the move. Each assignment took her somewhere new. The landscape always changing. Protectees spinning through her life like a revolving door.