Knox. He felt like home. He was the exhale, the soft place to land.
In fact, since Gerri’s words this morning, lyrics had begun to form in her head.
Something dug out of the griefs and sorrows of her heart.
She wanted to feel the love Knox offered, and if that meant digging down into the darkness…
She’d never expected the darkness to climb out and go after her.
But maybe Glo was right—they’d worked so hard for this moment. This opportunity.
She couldn’t run from her past. And maybe hiding wasn’t the right answer, either.
“Who is he?” Glo whispered, pain tremoring her voice.
“I don’t know.” Knox, please find us. But she hadn’t seen him since he’d gone into the house with the rest of his family.
His amazing, overwhelming, embracive family that she very much wanted to belong to with each passing moment.
Then they’d simply lain there, trying not to breathe. Kelsey practically willed her heartbeat to slow, to become silent.
In the distance a glow lit the sky, and she watched as it flickered against the night. The smell of smoke burned the air.
Oh God, I’m not sure what’s happening, but…
She stopped, aware of the crazy, desperate prayer.
She hadn’t actually prayed in years, although Dixie’s family were friends of Jesus. Jesus loves me! This I know, for the Bible tells me so. She’d learned the song, along with a dozen other hymns Dixie’s family members were always singing around the house.
It simply hadn’t been enough to heal the wounds inside.
Now, Sierra’s words rushed at her. He very much cares about you.
A crack against the dry grass sounded nearby, and she stayed perfectly still next to Glo.
It moved away, but she lay like the dead.
Okay. Right now, God. If You’re there, if You care, please show up.
She tried to sort out where she’d seen the man in the yard before. A deep, buried memory she couldn’t nudge forth.
But he moved away, so she finally peered up, watching the light dimming in the distance.
It looked like the bull barn on fire.
I’m sorry, Knox. Because she couldn’t get past the idea that maybe this had to do with her. That maybe Vince Russell wasn’t dead after all, or maybe he’d simply come back from the grave to haunt her. Keep her running, bleeding, pretending that she was okay.
Because if she were honest, she would always be a little broken from her past. Maybe that’s why sometimes, when she tried to take a full breath, the shards crashed against each other, like broken ribs, stirring up the ache.
Although maybe that was okay, too, because like Gerri said, if it made her more compassionate, more willing to give grace…
More steps and she ducked her head again.
Glo was shivering beneath her.
“Kelsey!”
That voice. Like a flame, burning through her, finding her bones, igniting them.
Knox!
She lifted her head just as he knelt beside her.
“Are you okay?”
His face was black, sooty from the fire, and sweaty, his eyes so full of worry it whisked the breath from her. She could only nod—
And then Knox simply lifted her up into his arms, pulling her off Glo, a strange sound in his chest. His entire body shook, and oh, he was wet, maybe from sweat, but under his cool shirt his body heat swept through her.
She hung on.
“Glo’s been shot!” Tate’s horrified voice erupted as he crouched beside Glo.
“Are you kidding me?” Knox roared. He put Kelsey down and bracketed her face with his hands, searching her body for injury. “What happened?” Sweat ran from his hair in grimy streaks. “Tell me you’re okay.”
Kelsey looked over just in time to see Tate pulling off his shirt. He wrapped it around Glo’s arm, securing it to her body. “It’s going to be okay, honey.”
Honey?
Then Tate scooped Glo up into his arms. The man looked shattered.
Oh, honey.
Kelsey turned back to Knox. “I’m okay—”
And then he kissed her. Not a tender, you’re-in-control-because-you’ve-been-damaged kiss, but a desperate, heart-outside-his-body clench that she could only surrender to, like a tsunami.
Yes, this was what it would be like with Knox. Him, showing up in full force.
Into her disasters.
His eyes were glossy when he let her go. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. We were sitting by the fire, and suddenly this man came up and just grabbed Glo. Tried to drag her away.”
Knox stared at her, clearly trying to take all this in. “A man grabbed Glo?”
“Yeah. Maybe she was the closest, I don’t know, but—I poked him.”
“You…poked him.”
“Then I hit him with a log.”
His hands cupped her face and he leaned his forehead against hers, just breathing.
“Is he still out here?” A woman’s voice, and Knox released her. She turned to Ruby Jane.
“I think so. I don’t know.”
“Let’s get in the house.” Knox took her hand and practically ran with her after Ruby Jane. Tate was long ahead.
“What did he look like?” Knox said as they followed Ruby Jane’s light across the hill.
“He had gauged ears. An eyebrow bar. Maybe a dark tattoo?”
Knox’s hand tightened in hers. “Could it have been a port-wine stain instead of a tattoo?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
Wyatt and Reuben stood by the fire. Reuben held a gun in his hand.
“Get inside, guys,” Knox said. “But yeah, keep that out, Reuben. There’s someone on our property, and he’s armed too.”
He pulled Kelsey into the back, waited for the others, then shut the door.
“Stay away from the windows,” Tate said from the kitchen. He’d set Glo on a chair and was kneeling in front of her. Kelsey went over to her. Glo looked a little light-headed.
“The bullet seems to have nicked her shoulder. I’m not sure if it’s broken or not, but she needs to get to a hospital.”
“It’s a two-hour drive to Helena,” Wyatt said.
“And a twenty-minute flight,” Gilly said. She looked at Reuben. “Let’s go.”
Gerri came over with a box of gauze bandages. “Let me tape her up. Tate will bring her down to the airstrip in a minute.”
Reuben and Gilly headed for the door.
“I’ll get our stuff,” Kelsey said and went upstairs. She didn’t even realize Knox was behind her until she entered her bedroom.
He closed the door behind her. “You’re not going with them.”
She rounded on him, and for a second, had nothing. “What—of course I am. Glo is my best friend—”
“And someone is out there, trying to hurt—maybe kill—you! You need to stay here, where I can take care of you.”
So much emotion in his eyes, and in that moment, crazily, she heard…shoot…her father.
Run, Kelsey!
The memory swept through her, buckled her knees, and she pressed her hand to her chest.
Looked up at Knox. He wore such a fierceness in his countenance, as if he’d walk through fire for her—and without a doubt, she knew he would.
But trouble, disaster and danger seemed to simply follow her, and…
It wouldn’t be long before he got hurt too. That he went down fighting.
That she lost someone else who had become her entire world.
“Knox—”
“No, Kelsey.” He stepped closer, touched her shoulders. “Please, don’t leave. We can drive to Helena, but…let me protect you.”
“You can’t, Knox. You can’t—”
“Yes I can!”
Oh, she wanted to cry with the desire to just collapse into his arms. Somehow, she shook her head.
“Listen.” He took a breath, as if schooling his
voice. “It’s what I do, Kelsey. You pegged it. I’m safe. I’m nice. I’m boring. I might even be an old soul. But that’s also what makes me the guy who shows up to do the hard stuff, the dirty work, the manual labor. I’m the guy who makes dinner for his wife and does the laundry and stays home with the kids while she hangs out with her girlfriends. I’m the guy who builds a house on the rock and doesn’t move when the storm hits. God made me to take care of you, to protect you.”
Oh, sweet Knox. Kelsey ran the palms of her hands under her eyes. “I know.”
He drew in a breath.
“I know you are,” Kelsey said again, this time quietly. “And I know you’d like to promise me that nothing will ever happen to me again, but it’s impossible. Don’t you see—crazy things happen, and…I don’t know why. Even if Russell is dead—”
“He is.”
She held up her hand. “Even if—I need to be honest.” Her eyes filled. “Meeting you, being here has been the most wonderful two weeks of my life. But clearly I’ve dragged you into something…”
He was shaking his head, something of horror on his face. “Maybe I’ve dragged you into something.”
What? And her question must have emerged through her frown.
“Come with me.” And in case she said no, he took her hand. Pulled her down the hall to his room. A cowboy’s room, simple, with a dresser, a king bed, a rocking chair, and—
“Oh my. Knox, what—?”
He’d opened the closet and stepped back.
She stared at the collage taped to the back wall. “What is this?”
“I…I think there is more to the San Antonio bombing than they’re telling us. And I’ve been doing some digging. I hired a private eye in San Antonio to track down these two guys.” He had a photograph and now showed it to her. “I got this from a camera in the arena. Paid the security there to pull it for me, but do you recognize this guy?”
He pointed to a man, tall, dark, gauged ears, a port-wine stain that crept up his neck.
“This isn’t a good view.”
“No, but…” He took the picture from her. “Could it be?”
“I don’t know—what is going on, Knox?”
“I think these guys were behind the bombing. And now one of them is here.” He shook his head, ran a hand behind his neck. “Maybe they’re after me.”
He was simply being desperate, now. She kept her voice soft, hoping not to bruise him. “I don’t know, but I have to go with Glo.”
His mouth pinched tight.
“I’m sorry, Knox. I…”
“Fine. I’m right behind you.”
“No, you’re not.” She reached up to touch his chest but made a fist and drew her hand back. “I’ve made up my mind…I’m taking the NBR-X gig, if Glo still wants it. I can’t…I can’t hide here with you. Clearly, I’m not safe anywhere. I need to keep moving. On the road, I’m in control. I know what I’m doing. Here—”
“You’ve gotten so used to living on the edge, it scares you to stop, to feel, to trust.”
She stilled, his words stinging.
No. She’d…she’d just been fooling herself. She’d never outrun Vince Russell, never outrun the random tragedies of life, and the longer she hung around Knox Marshall, the sooner he’d get hurt. Or killed.
Protecting her.
But he wouldn’t ever get that.
He stood there, his gaze fierce, shaking his head. “It’s easier to pretend, isn’t it?
“I don’t—”
“You can’t fake what we have between us, and that scares you more than whatever is out there, doesn’t it? It’s easier to be the performer onstage than the person who is scared and vulnerable and…who just wants to be loved.”
She drew in a breath, so many words—
He took a step forward. “You don’t need the bright lights and the cheering audience—”
Her voice pitched low and tight. “Are you seriously asking me to give up my career?”
That closed his mouth. Silence pulsed between them.
His voice softened. “I’m asking you to stop pretending that is enough.”
She looked away. “It’s what I’ve worked for, what I’ve always wanted.”
He touched her arm. “Please, Kelsey. Don’t let your fear keep you from us. From this.”
She stepped away, crossed her arms, steeled herself before she met his eyes. “I’m just trying to be honest, Knox. I love your ranch, your life. But…I have a different life. It can’t work. I’m sorry, I gotta go.”
He turned, his jaw hard, but didn’t follow her as she walked back to her room, collected her and Glo’s belongings into a couple donated backpacks, and headed down the stairs.
She did see him, however, standing at the balcony as she followed Tate, carrying Glo, out the door.
I’m sorry, Knox.
Glo needed to fire Tate Marshall.
Because she simply could not fall in love with her bodyguard. It was too painfully cliché, too romance-novel-ish, too pitiful.
He’d practically carried her all the way to the hospital in Helena, clutching her to his chest.
His body had started to shake when he picked her up on the mountainside. Never mind that he’d taken off his shirt to bandage her, held her to that wet, hair-roughened chest—yeah, the pain nearly went away just breathing in the smell of him—smoky, sweaty, and desperate.
Oh, she was a goner because really, he smelled like a boys’ locker room after a football game. And she would gladly bottle the smell and pay millions for it.
Her mother would be horrified.
Which was a point in his favor, actually.
When Tate had brought her into the house, she’d also gotten a good look in the light at the words of the tattoo that ran across his chest. Surrender Is Not a Ranger Word.
Huh.
His brother Wyatt had tossed him a shirt then, and her world calmed down a little. Enough that she didn’t completely swoon when he picked her up again and brought her to a truck outside. He slid with her into the back seat and held her against the bumps as they drove down to the Marshall airfield.
The plane’s seats were against the wall. He sat with her cradled on his lap, Kelsey beside her, looking stripped and heartbroken, trying to hide it behind her worry over Glo.
Really, Glo wasn’t that hurt. Or perhaps it was the adrenaline, because it didn’t feel like a gunshot wound should.
At first. The pain curdled in as they drew closer to the hospital. Reuben must have called ahead. An ambulance waited for them on the tarmac.
They had her under blessed pain killers, then in surgery, in an hour.
Which didn’t bode well for her imagination. Every time she woke up, Tate sat by her bedside, his dark brown hair rumpled and cast up as if he’d been running his hands through it. And looking at her with those blue eyes that hung on to her as she sank back into the aftereffects of general anesthesia, as if begging her not to leave.
And then she dreamed. Saw him standing in the wings, his hands folded, his biceps thick as he listened to her sing. Felt his big hands on her when they’d danced, pulling her against him, twirling her out. Smelled his cottony shirt, the cologne he’d started wearing, something woodsy and rich. Tasted his breath, inches from her own, reeling her in, those lips millimeters from hers.
It left her breathless and hoping he’d be waiting when she came to again.
And he was, every time, all the way until morning when the sun cascaded in through the large square picture window of her hospital room. Except now, his head lay on the bed, cradled in his folded arms, his eyes sweetly closed, exhaustion winning. The whiskers had returned after yesterday’s shave, a light dusting of brown.
Oh, the man was handsome. And strong. And dependable.
And her bodyguard.
Yeah, she needed to fire him, and pronto because…
Because she wanted more. Wanted to respond to that desire she saw in his eyes every time he looked at her. Wanted to fold his fi
ngers between hers, sway to the music without warning sirens screaming and worse, tabloid headlines ticking across her brain.
Oh, Glo, what have you done now? Don’t you know how this will look?
Thankfully, her mother was two thousand miles from here.
Probably Senator Reba Jackson hadn’t the wildest clue what her only daughter had experienced the last few weeks.
But Tate did.
And clearly, so did Kelsey, because she lay on the sofa under the window, curled up on her backpack, her only belongings. Glo noticed her pack on the floor.
So, they were on the move again. She’d wondered how long the fairy tale with Knox would last. Although, she’d hoped for a happy ending. She’d half expected Kelsey to tell her last night that she wanted to stay.
Glo wasn’t completely sure she’d argue.
Tate moved, and she touched her hand to his arm.
He lifted his head.
If she’d wondered at his feelings for her, they emerged right there in his eyes as he caught his breath, stared at her, his voice roughened. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “You tell me.”
He leaned up then and got her a drink of water, held the straw to her lips. “You didn’t break any bones, and they just stitched you up. You’re going to be fine.”
She took a drink, the water freeing her parched mouth to clear her throat. Her hand closed on his arm. “How are you doing?”
He swallowed then, something raw and torn in his gaze. “I’ve never been so scared in my life, Glo.”
Oh. Uh…
“And, yeah, okay, that’s saying something considering the things I’ve seen and been through. But when I saw you lying there—you had so much blood on you I wasn’t sure how badly you’d been hurt and I…” He drew in his breath, swallowed hard like he might be revisiting that moment.
His voice emerged shaky. “You were so…frail. And…” He closed his eyes, looked away as if trying to gather himself.
Oh, Tate. And with everything inside her she wanted to reach up and pull him to herself, to kiss him and tell him that the best day of her life was the day he’d invaded her life.
That she was terrified of reliving her worst fears, but maybe…maybe she could start calling him by his real name, could start letting him into her life.
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