“Hey, sweet girl,” he crooned in that sexy deep voice that stirred Caitlin on a level that both made her uncomfortable and yet pulled out a crazy yearning inside her. “Hi, Molly.”
Molly backed up, ears back and nostrils flared as Randall approached. Once again Caitlin felt the mare’s fear resonating through her. But Randall’s soft, soothing voice calmed the rising panic inside her.
He stopped when he was about four feet from the horse and held out the piece of apple. Molly pawed the ground and backed up until she could go no farther, obviously wanting nothing to do with him or the fruity treat he offered.
“I don’t know what you’ve suffered, but it’s okay now.” He continued to sweet-talk the horse and, just like the day before, Caitlin found his deep voice, the words he used, a strange balm to her own broken spirit.
Still, it was obvious Molly wasn’t going to let go of her fear, and he finally threw the apple slice on the ground near her and then backed away. Molly watched him until he’d exited the corral again and closed the gate, and only then did she lower her head to the apple.
“It’s going to take some time,” he said as he returned to Caitlin’s side, standing far too close to her for her comfort. “She wants to trust, but she’s still too afraid.”
Caitlin moved a couple of inches from him and released a sigh. “She’s a sweet horse. I hate to see her in this sad state of mind.” Would she ever learn to trust again? Caitlin wondered if she’d ever trust as she had before El Salvador.
He turned to look at her. “Speaking of state of mind, how are you doing this morning? Have you figured out what that was all about last night?”
Yes, my father has gotten involved with a secret society that wants to assassinate the President of the United States, and I think it was members of that society that shot at you last night because they thought you were my father and they want to permanently silence him.
“No, I don’t have a clue,” she replied. How could she tell this virtual stranger what was going on? There was nothing he could do about it, and it was private family business. God, she so needed to speak to her father, to have him explain.
“The oat hay was delivered this morning. I put a couple of bales out in the pasture for the herd and the rest is stored in the barn.”
“Good,” Caitlin replied. “I hope that will make a difference.”
For a long moment neither of them spoke. Caitlin focused on Molly, but was aware of Randall’s gaze lingering on her. “Why plastic surgery?” he asked. “I’m assuming it wasn’t just to keep you looking as beautiful over time as you look right now.”
Once again she felt as if he’d somehow stepped over the boundaries of employer/employee, but when she shot her gaze to his it was impossible to be offended.
His incredible green eyes held nothing but open curiosity and she reminded herself that he couldn’t know that being told she was beautiful was something she didn’t want right now.
“Actually, I knew I wanted to be a plastic surgeon when I was nine years old and met Annie Fortner.”
“And who was Annie Fortner?”
“She was a very bright fourth-grader who came to my private school on an academic scholarship.” Caitlin began to relax as she remembered the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl who had been in her class. “She was painfully shy and withdrawn because she had been born with a cleft palate.”
“That’s tough,” Randall said.
She nodded. “Some of the kids made fun of her and one day she told me that her parents were saving up the money to take her to a plastic surgeon to have it fixed. Apparently they hadn’t been able to afford it. But the next year she came back to school and during the summer the plastic surgeon had worked wonders. Annie was like a different girl, filled with happiness and a real chatterbox. I knew then that when I grew up I wanted to be a plastic surgeon and make a difference for people like Annie.”
“Nice,” he said simply but there was a light of respect in his eyes. “It would have been easy for you to head to Beverly Hills and set up a practice injecting bored, wealthy housewives with pig fat or goat belly or whatever it is they use to plump their cheeks and lips.”
She laughed, the expression of amusement not only shocking her but warming her, as well. “I do intend to eventually open up my own practice, but there will be no pig fat or goat belly in any of my work,” she exclaimed.
“Well, that’s good to know.” He grinned at her and for a moment she felt a crazy connection to him. It’s nothing more than the connection of shared laughter, she told herself. Laughter that had momentarily made her forget everything that had her worried.
In any case it could be nothing more than that. He might think she was beautiful. He might want to kiss her and even take it further, but she was unavailable, both emotionally and physically.
It had nothing to do with the fact that he was a transient ranch hand and probably wouldn’t stick around for long. Nor was it because she had no idea what kind of trouble her father was in.
Rather it had to do with the knowledge that the jungle had forever changed her. She’d once dreamed of a special man, of passionate love and perhaps a couple of children, but those dreams had been ripped away from her.
Even though she found herself experiencing a strange draw to Randall, nothing would ever come from it.
The jungle had destroyed her. Randall Kane might not know it but no matter how his much his deep, sexy voice called to her, no matter how much heat his gaze held when he looked at her, she was a dead woman walking, and to pretend otherwise would be a mistake.
Marc Jiminez sat on the sofa in his jungle compound and muttered a curse beneath his breath as he waited for the news he hoped to hear. His cell phone sat next to him and he willed it to ring with Juan Gonzales telling him that he’d accomplished what he’d been sent to the United States to do.
Marc had no toleration for failure. If Juan couldn’t do what needed to be done, then Marc would send somebody else to take care of the problem and dispose of Juan at the same time.
No loose ends. That’s what had kept Marc safe and successful for so long. Never give a witness a chance to talk. It was a creed that had served him well over the years.
Now it was time for Marc to make the biggest move of his life and there was only one thing holding him back from success—Caitlin O’Donahue.
He’d been following instructions from his contact in the Raven’s Head Society when he and his men had dragged her off from her encampment and into the jungle for the sole purpose of warning her father that he and his loved ones weren’t out of their reach. It was to serve as a warning that if Mickey decided to go to the authorities with what he knew about the organiza tion, then neither he nor his daughter would survive the wrath of the society.
He’d been told only to scare her. The rape had been his idea. When he’d seen her struggling against the men who held her, her powerlessness, the terror in her huge eyes had sparked a darkness in him that he hadn’t known he possessed, and he’d been unable to resist.
The minute he was finished he knew he’d have to kill her, but unfortunately before that could happen one of the other doctors from her camp, along with several armed guards, had approached and Marc and his men had disappeared back into the jungle.
Now she was a liability to his plans for taking his place in the United States, for being a respectable businessman with the power and influence of the Raven’s Head Society behind him.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, imagining taking the position he’d been born to take back in the States. He’d been born in Washington, D.C., but then his missionary parents had moved to Central America to do their charitable work.
By the time he was twenty-two his parents were dead and he’d become one of the youngest and most powerful drug lords in the country. He’d quickly gained a reputation for being utterly ruthless. He’d clawed and killed his way to the top, always with the knowledge that one day he would return to his own country and leave this
jungle behind.
Now he was ready to leave and begin a new life in the States. Here, he was surrounded by armed guards whose job it was to keep him alive. Here, men looked at him in fear but without any real respect.
Things would be different when he left this world behind. He would be a business man and men would look at him with respect. They would want him in their social circles and he would know the taste of real power.
The sky was the limit for him when he began his new life, but first he had to make sure that the woman who could identify him as a drug lord, the woman who could testify against him in a rape trial and ruin everything was dead.
Anticipation sang through him as his phone rang. “Is it done?” he asked.
There was a long hesitation. “Not yet,” Juan replied. “I need a little more time. She only just arrived at her family’s ranch.”
Irritation swept through Marc. “How much more time?”
“I don’t know.” There was a hint of a whine in Juan’s voice. “I need to wait until she ventures out of the house alone. She hasn’t really left the place since she arrived and she’d been with one of the ranch hands when she’s been outside.”
“You have a week,” Marc replied. “Find a way to get it done, Juan, or I’ll find somebody who can take care of all my loose ends.”
“It will be done,” Juan replied.
Marc hung up and couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips. All the work he’d accomplished through his life, his connections with the Raven’s Head Society and now the death of Caitlin O’Donahue would assure a successful transition from the jungle into high society in the States.
Chapter 5
For the tenth time in the past hour Rhett’s gaze shot to the house in hopes of seeing Caitlin walking out the door. He’d finished up the morning chores long ago, including checking out the area around the stables for any sign of the shooter. He’d found nothing, but then, he hadn’t really expected to.
Whoever had fired those shots had been careful not to be seen, had used a silencer. Certainly that meant the shooter had been professional enough not to make a silly mistake and leave some sort of evidence behind that could be used to identify him.
Rhett now leaned on the top rail of the small corral that enclosed Molly. It was lunchtime, but before going in he’d wanted to check on the mare.
As much as he’d like to spend all his spare time trying to gentle Molly, he knew part of his reason for lingering here was in hopes that Caitlin would join him.
He’d enjoyed their brief conversation here the day before. He liked what he saw when he looked at Caitlin O’Donahue, but more importantly he liked who she was—a beautiful, sexy woman who was both smart and compassionate.
She fascinated him in that he sensed a bit of darkness inside her and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the mess her father had gotten himself in or something else altogether.
But he was intrigued enough to want to find out. It was his job to find out, to get close enough for her to confide in him, he reminded himself for the hundredth time.
Of course, he was well aware of the fact that no matter how close he got to her, no matter how much he gained her trust now, she’d hate him when this was all over.
There was no question that she was tight with her father, that Mickey O’Donahue was something of a hero in his daughter’s eyes. He’d raised her single-handedly, a fact that had certainly deepened the father/daughter bond.
The minute Rhett identified himself as an FBI agent and placed Mickey under arrest, he knew Caitlin would be devastated. She’d feel betrayed on the deepest level. She would be considered collateral damage that couldn’t be helped, and he was surprised to realize he felt bad about it.
But this case was too big, the stakes far too high to worry about a daughter’s emotional state. Still, before he could break her trust he had to gain it, and he wasn’t there yet, not by a long shot.
There was a wariness that darkened her eyes if he stepped too close to her, a flash of wild panic when he touched her in the most simple way. Rhett wasn’t used to women reacting to him that way. He knew he’d been blessed with good looks. He wasn’t necessarily conceited about it, but was aware that his physical attractiveness drew women easily. Usually women seemed to enjoy his touch rather than avoid it.
In the best of worlds, he’d have time to woo her gently, to slowly build a relationship that would inspire her to trust and confide in him. But he didn’t have time to move slowly. With the life of the president hanging in the balance, time was of the essence.
Checking his watch, he decided to head in for lunch. He zapped a Salisbury-steak TV dinner, and as he ate, his thoughts continued to be consumed by Caitlin.
In checking out Mickey, the information they’d gathered was that his daughter would be out of the country for a year, but then she’d suddenly decided to return home. Definitely a bonus for him, but what had brought her home earlier than expected? Had it been the knowledge that her father was in trouble or something else?
He finished eating, washed up the silverware in the sink and headed back outside. He opened the door and nearly walked into Caitlin.
“Whoa,” he exclaimed as his hands grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “I didn’t mean to practically run you over.”
“It’s all right.” She quickly backed away from him.
His arms reluctantly dropped to his sides. She looked stunning with her hair sparkling in the sunshine, clad in a pair of tight jeans and a royal-blue T-shirt that made the indigo ring around her eyes more prominent. At least he didn’t see the gun shoved in her waistband, definitely a step in the right direction.
“What’s up?” he asked as he tried to ignore the sizzle in the pit of his stomach at the very sight of her.
“Esme is making her famous tacos for dinner tonight and she wondered if you’d want to join us for the meal. She knows the cooking is limited out here.”
“That’s very nice of her,” he replied. “And what does Caitlin want? Would she like me to join her for the evening meal?”
A tight smile whispered across her features and then quickly disappeared. “I’d enjoy a little company.”
“Then I’d love to come to dinner. What time should I be there?”
“Around six?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I’ll see you then,” he replied, unsurprised when she quickly nodded and then turned and left. What did surprise him was the invitation, definitely a pleasant surprise, and the opportunity to dig a little deeper to find out what information she might have concerning her father and his whereabouts.
Although she professed not to know where he was, Rhett wasn’t sure he believed her. There was no question in his mind that she was a woman with secrets—and he was determined to learn all of them.
He didn’t see her again for the rest of the afternoon and at five he finally knocked off working to head back in and shower. As he stood beneath the warm spray of water he wasn’t sure whether the anticipation he felt flooding through him was due more to the possibility of getting answers or because something about Caitlin excited him as a man.
It had been eight years since he’d lost Rebecca and in those years there had been a few other women, but they’d been nothing but fleeting, temporary relationships with his heart not involved. None of those women had touched him on an emotional level the way Caitlin threatened to do.
Maybe it was because she reminded him of the woman he’d loved with all his heart and soul, the woman who had been stolen away from him by a cruel fate.
Certainly Caitlin didn’t look like Rebecca, who had been a cool blonde with chocolate-colored eyes, but there were definitely similarities between the two.
Rebecca had been a charitable woman, always involved in giving back to the community where they’d lived and going to school to be a social worker. It was obvious from the choices Caitlin had made that there was charity in her heart, as well. Plastic surgeons had the potential of making tons of
money, especially this close to Beverly Hills, but instead she’d opted to work with Doctors Without Borders.
He stepped out of the shower, vaguely surprised to discover that thoughts of Rebecca no longer held the power to bring him to his knees. The deep grief of loss had tempered to a simple sadness that at some point had become manageable.
He let go of thoughts of his dead wife and instead focused on the living, breathing Caitlin. He dressed to impress in a pair of black dress slacks and a white shirt with black and green pinstripes.
He was just about to walk out the door when his cell phone rang. He grabbed it from the bed where he’d laid it before his shower. “Agent Kane,” the familiar deep voice boomed across the line.
“Sir?” Rhett instantly recognized the voice as belonging to his immediate supervisor, Kent Crawford.
“Anything to report?”
Rhett winced. “Nothing yet,” he admitted.
“Does she know where her father is?”
Rhett hesitated. “I’m not sure. I’m having dinner with her tonight and hope to learn more from her. Has something happened?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Crawford replied.
From the beginning of this assignment Rhett had been on a need-to-know basis only. All he’d been told was that Mickey O’Donahue had to be found and taken into custody because he was tied to a secret society with a plot to kill the president.
Rhett didn’t know what other agents were doing in an effort to find the members of the society, he didn’t know who might be involved or what their involvement might be. He’d simply been assigned to come to the ranch to get whatever information he could from Mickey’s daughter and get Mickey O’Donahue in custody.
“I don’t have to remind you that Mickey is an integral piece of the puzzle we’re trying to put together and we’re depending on you to get the man into custody.”
“I know, I’m working on it as fast as I can,” Rhett replied.
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