No One Needs to Know

by Debbi Rawlins

  Tucker put down his fork. “What did he say?”

  She sighed. “No.”

  He wasn’t surprised. “He’s got a life in New York. Friends.”

  “But we’re family.” Irene’s voice had gone rough, which wasn’t unusual however much he wished she could accept the situation.

  “Christian needs time, Mom. It hasn’t been long since he found out his father refused to let you see him. Most of his life he thought you didn’t want him.”

  “You stopped being angry ages ago, and Rory Andrews stayed away from you out of spite.”

  “I had Dad. And you. I was lucky. Christian only had Rory and whatever stories he made up.” Funny how Tucker never thought of Rory as being related, much less his biological father. His hazy memory of the man didn’t even seem real, more like a fictional character in a story Tucker had read as a kid.

  “You know I wanted to keep both of you.” She took another drink, and this time it wasn’t a mere sip. Soon she’d ask him for a refill, and he’d give her one. The drinking wasn’t a problem, though it could head that way if she wasn’t careful.

  But how could he blame her? Tucker’s own guilt weighed on him, and he’d been a child during the divorce. Was that the reason his desire to find Leanna Warner had become a borderline obsession? Why he’d been tempted to go early, to hell with his commitments?

  No, he had to play it smart. He’d already baited the hook by suggesting the possibility of a large donation to Safe Haven. He’d put time between the email he sent and the day he was to arrive. She wouldn’t be suspicious because no one looking for her would give her that much time to run. She’d accept that he was exactly who he claimed to be—a rep for a benevolent foundation.

  All he had to do was be patient, observant and ready to take her down.

  * * *

  WELL PAST MIDNIGHT, TUCKER stretched his neck before he looked again at the papers he’d spread over the desk in his bedroom. Every one of them related to Leanna Warner, and every one of them intrigued him in a way that was keeping him awake despite his exhaustion.

  She didn’t quite add up. Her parents had been and continued to be social climbers. Joseph Warner was an attorney who’d worked for one of the most prestigious firms in New York, but he’d never made partner. His wife was an assistant manager at a design firm, again, second tier, but living among the elite.

  According to Christian, Leanna had fit in so well with the wealthy young Manhattan scions and entrepreneurs that he’d been shocked to find out that she was a fundraiser. When he’d looked closer, though, he’d seen that her “designer” clothes and accessories were clever knockoffs. It was her personality and flair that let her get past all the normal barriers.

  Christian would know about that kind of thing because he was in the same boat. His finance degree had gotten him only so far in a city that thrived on connections, but his audacity had helped make him a hell of an investment manager. No wonder the two of them had decided to team up. They each wanted a lifestyle that was just out of reach.

  Reading the background material was helpful, but he had to check his bias at the door. If he let his emotions take the reins there was a risk he’d miss something important, or jump to conclusions. But there was no denying that Leanna was extremely clever.

  On paper, she seemed the least likely person in the world to have stolen money. But if she’d had nothing to do with the fraud, why disappear? The logical conclusion was that she’d wanted to let Christian take the fall—except she hadn’t tied him to any real evidence. One transaction record, even an email referring to an offshore bank account, could have put Christian squarely in the bull’s-eye. Instead, Leanna had been forced into a life of hiding and his brother had just enough of a stain on his reputation to cripple his future.

  Though she’d made off with over $500,000, she’d left each charity’s seed money in the account, which, he suspected, was a clever way to avoid notice. At least until the whistle was blown, and then things had happened quickly. She probably hadn’t had time to clean out the rest of the funds. But who could be sure of her reasoning?

  So many discrepancies and oddities made it difficult to figure out her end game. Good thing Tucker was a patient man. He wouldn’t make the mistake of acting rashly. If she had something that would nail her, he’d find it. Then turn her over to the D.A. gift-wrapped all nice and pretty.

  He turned off the computer and gathered his materials. Most of what he had were printouts, but there were also several articles from New York newspapers, two yearbooks, four different brochures that Leanna had created and a short stack of photographs. The alarm was going to ring in under six hours, and his agenda was full all the way through Sunday. He wished he wasn’t committed to the Rangers game, but it was more business than pleasure, so no choice there. It had been a long time since he’d been to a game for the fun of it.

  He stripped down to his boxers and climbed between the sheets. As tired as he was, he should have been out like a light, but images of Leanna...Annie...kept spinning on a loop that wouldn’t quit.

  3

  ANNIE LOVED THIS TIME OF YEAR. She breathed in the cool spring air and squinted at the Rockies still wearing their lacy snowcaps. Safe Haven didn’t have many cows or calves to monitor. Even if they had she wouldn’t have minded the job of running stock. Working out here in the big north field under the open sky seemed more like therapy than a chore.

  She heard the pounding of hooves and forced herself to calmly turn in her saddle. Of course it was Will Woodruff riding out to take her place and not guys wearing suits and badges coming to slap handcuffs on her. Twenty-four hours had passed since Shea had deleted the photo, long enough to assume that if the wrong person had seen it, Annie would’ve been picked up by now. But not long enough to stop her from jumping at every shadow.

  That didn’t mean she’d let down her guard, but...she had to stop dwelling on it. The odds were in her favor and she’d decided to take the risk. In the meantime, she had a hell of a lot of animals and people counting on her.

  “Afternoon, Annie. Anything I should know?” Will, who’d been a wild man in his heyday, a cowboy renowned for breaking the meanest horses and taming beautiful women, was in his sixties now and a valuable volunteer.

  “Everything’s fine. Anything exciting back at the ranch?” she couldn’t help asking.

  He looked at her as if she were nuts. “Not a thing.”

  They chatted for a minute, then she took off for home base, ready for some lunch before she moved on to chores in the barn.

  Her first task after washing up and getting coffee was checking her email. A message from the Rocking B ranch made her pause. After reading the long email three times, she still pinched herself, just to make sure she was conscious. Then she went to the Texas ranch’s website.

  Looking at the list of grants and gifts the philanthropic arm of the Rocking B had shelled out through the years made her break into goose bumps. Those people didn’t mess around. When they gave a worthy nonprofit funding, they gave enough to matter.

  With shaking fingers, Annie bookmarked everything, then got out her cell phone. Good thing Shea picked up or Annie surely would’ve burst.

  * * *

  TUCKER LOVED TO FLY, AND EVERY time he went up in the Cessna, he thought about his father. It had been Michael Brennan’s idea to send Tucker to flight school. The old man had been progressive in his thinking, and the ranch showed it.

  The CJ2+ had earned its keep, despite the hefty price tag. It seemed as if Tucker’s attention was always needed yesterday and flying gave him the freedom to respond immediately. It would be good to have the plane nearby when he met Annie Sheridan. There was always a chance that she’d want to give herself up. He wasn’t counting on it.

  The email exchange hadn’t been as illuminating as he’d hoped. Although he found it interesting that Shea Monroe was so invested in the workings of Safe Haven that she’d authored most of the correspondence.

  A quick search
of Monroe’s name had prompted Tucker to send a link to George. He confirmed that she had high security clearance and was connected to some government programs that could be worth a fortune if sold to the right party. Tucker found it hard to believe that Leanna Warner would go to a backwater town like Blackfoot Falls without a good reason.

  He shook his head, knowing he’d passed the point of no return given all he’d invested in that one vague online photo. Although the fact that the picture had disappeared without a trace, even in the computer’s cache, was suspicious in itself. Fortunately, he’d saved it to his hard drive.

  Annie’s emails had focused on logistics, informing him of the airfield in Kalispell, the nearest moderately sized town that had accommodations and car rentals. He’d booked a room at the Hilton Garden Inn, reserved an SUV.

  The closer he got to Montana, the more he thought about meeting the woman who had taken over a large portion of his brain. She confused him. Intrigued him. While he’d done his fair share of tricky negotiations with savvy competitors, he had the feeling his skills would be tested to the limit.

  He’d have to be on his toes. Remember what lurked behind the beautiful face. And not for a second forget what she’d done to Christian.

  * * *

  ANNIE LOOKED UP FROM THE TABLE where she’d stacked copies of the Safe Haven board meeting agenda. Time had decided to slow down to a snail’s pace, giving her a wonderful opportunity to let worry overshadow every bit of potential good that might come from Tucker Brennan’s visit.

  Safe Haven was too small. There were only a handful of permanent part-time volunteers. Because of their remote location, even if she could attract more help, they had to be local, and she’d already dried that well.

  No, the problem was, most every animal sanctuary she’d researched had a visitor’s program and a welcoming atmosphere for potential adopters. She couldn’t even try to have guests because there wasn’t a hotel in Blackfoot Falls.

  She’d hated telling Brennan he’d have to fly all the way from Dallas, then drive to Safe Haven. And she sure hoped he’d like the food at Marge’s, because that was his only choice. She just wished he would get here already.

  No; in fact, what she really wished was that he would stop by, hand her a huge check, then go. Although she’d researched his credentials down to his alma mater, strangers made her nervous. Brennan lived miles away from her old stomping grounds in Manhattan, but there was always a chance that he knew someone who knew someone....

  God, she had to stop thinking like that. Instead, she collated, stapled, put paper into file folders. In the end, it ate up ten minutes. Ten. And Brennan wasn’t due for another hour or so. She’d never survive.

  She could change, but no, she’d wait. The clothes she had on—work jeans, old tee, boots—were perfectly fine for day-to-day. It didn’t matter that she smelled like a barn. But she would prefer to spiff up a little for the big shot with a checkbook. Nothing too fancy, just better jeans and a clean shirt.

  Talk about a different life. In the beginning, she’d missed shopping like crazy, but she’d adapted. Learned to cook a little. She’d have killed for a pricy latte...okay, still would. But there were advantages to living on this very thin wire. She’d also learned to sew, and was grateful for the training because she’d had to patch up more than a few animals. Safe Haven survived due to the kindness of a few key players, like the vet, Dr. Yardley, who donated what time he could. Mr. Jorgensen from the feed and hardware floated loans for grain and other supplies. In fact, the whole sanctuary was built out of goodwill and patience, but Mr. Brennan could change all that.

  Thanks to Shea, Annie had seen the difference an infusion of cash could bring to a two-bit operation like Safe Haven. But she remained cautious. Hope was only a friend in small measure. She didn’t dare put herself in a position where she might fall into another pit of despair. It had taken her almost a year to climb out of the last one.

  A quick knock at the door was followed instantly by one of the school kids ducking his head in. “Pinocchio’s gotten stuck in the fence by the water pump.”

  All thoughts of Tucker Brennan vanished as Annie grabbed her gloves, followed the boy out of the cabin and ran as fast as she could.

  * * *

  THE DRIVE WAS PLEASANT, considering the circumstances. Tucker had only been to Montana for business, and never this far north. Looking out at the Rockies and the acres of lush land brought back memories of his early days when he’d still been learning about ranching from the ground up.

  His father had made sure he’d done every job the Rocking B had for a cowboy. It had been hard work, but worth as much as his college years. His apprenticeship had given him more than just hands-on experience; it had given him perspective.

  He barely noticed the town of Blackfoot Falls from the highway. It was like a thousand others across the country with a local diner that served great home-cooked meals, a bar that offered cheap beer, pool tables and country music. All he cared about was that it was thirty miles from the Safe Haven turnoff.

  Finally, he saw the big wooden sign that marked the entrance to the sanctuary. He was early, hoping the surprise would give him a slight edge. He liked to take stock of people when they were flustered. They revealed more than they knew.

  So he slowed the rented SUV to keep the dust down as he headed for the main buildings. He passed one pasture with a half dozen horses, none of whom were particularly bothered by his vehicle. They looked pretty decent for rescue animals.

  The fencing was sturdy, if old-school, about what he’d expected. According to the info he’d gathered on Safe Haven, there had been a few corrals, a barn, two stables and a cabin standing when Annie took over. Clearly, she’d made improvements.

  His pulse revved as he neared the buildings. In one glance, he’d know the truth. But the truth alone wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to use every moment he could to catch her vulnerable and get the evidence he needed. Even if it took a couple of days.

  He pulled into a small parking area. There were several trucks lined up, mostly pickups, a tractor that had seen better days and a short yellow school bus.

  Behind it was the cabin that had to be Annie’s living quarters. She hadn’t been kidding when she said it was small. But the working buildings gave a good first impression. Well spaced, old, but taken care of. In back of the barn he saw a small crowd of folks standing in a semicircle, as if they were watching a fight. Something pretty fierce, if the dust coming from the center was any indication.

  He jumped out of the SUV, his inner alarm bells ringing. As he approached the crowd, he saw that the onlookers were kids—high school age—and two adults, a middle-aged woman pressing a hand to her throat and a petite twenty-something holding the arm of one of the teenagers, preventing the boy from moving forward. They all looked worried.

  And then he heard it. The cry of a panicked, bleating goat.

  He jogged the last few feet until he could muscle past the outer ring of spectators. It was a pygmy goat whose horns were tangled up in some high-tensile wire. Despite the name, pygmies weren’t that much smaller than other breeds of goats, and the situation was dangerous. The woman trying to free him was taking a hell of a risk. Goats were notorious for their fear response. They kicked and struggled so fiercely they sometimes died from their hearts giving out.

  Tucker knew the best thing to do was let the goat be and hope he tired himself out in time for intervention. Because a person trying to save one could well end up needing a doctor.

  The woman making that mistake was Annie Sheridan. He had to admit she made quick work of cutting free the wire, but he could see she’d been battered and bruised. Her blond hair was damp with sweat, her face smeared with mud and blood.

  The kid next to Tucker was a big beefy guy whipping the side of his leg with a pair of thick gloves.

  He nudged the boy, who did a double take. “Lend me your gloves.”

  “Annie told us not to step in,” he said. “It could be dang
erous.”

  “I understand.”

  The boy looked him up and down, then handed him the pair. Tucker slid them on as he shouldered his way closer to Annie and the struggling goat.

  She had just managed to cut the second to last wire curled around the goat’s right horn when the back-leg kicking started again. Tucker ducked what could have been a very unfortunately placed hoof, then lunged forward, one hand on the back of the animal, the other grabbing on to his horn.

  “What the... Get out of here, you idiot!”

  “Cut the damn wire.” Tucker was holding the goat’s head back, just enough to unbalance him so he couldn’t lean on his front legs. “Now.”

  Annie, grunting as the goat’s body slammed her in the side, got the final wire cut.

  Tucker had to use both hands to steady the terrified creature, while Annie quickly and efficiently cleared away the loosened wire fragments from his other horn.

  The goat was free now, but he didn’t know it, and Tucker didn’t want to release him until Annie was out of the way. But she was too busy shouting at him to move to see that his position was stronger.

  It was someone from the crowd that finally got her attention. An older man ran up, yelling, “Annie, get the hell out of there.”

  She did. Quick on her feet even with that prodigious frown on her face.

  Tucker stopped looking at her and focused on making his own exit. It took a highly uncoordinated jump straight back, after which he nearly fell on his ass, but the goat did the right thing and ran toward the barn.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  For the first time, he got a good, clear look at the woman who’d just yelled at him, her fury uncompromised by her dirty face or her breathless exhaustion.

  He didn’t answer. He was too busy accepting the fact that he had found Leanna Warner.

  4

  “WELL, THIS IS PERFECT,” Annie said, shaking her head. “Of course you’re Tucker Brennan.”