Life as he knew it had become a never-ending nightmare. He’d had it all—a beautiful wife, attractive and successful children, and the kind of power, wealth and influence most men only dreamed of possessing.
It had all began to unravel when his mistresses started going public. Even then he hadn’t been able to foresee the dangerous mess that would eventually become his life.
The women had meant nothing to him. He’d been a politician away from home for long periods of time. He’d done nothing that others hadn’t done before him, wouldn’t do long after he was gone—indulged in a few extramarital affairs while away from his family.
But at the moment it wasn’t those women who were on his mind, it was his daughter, Lana, and the Raven’s Head Society members who held her captive.
If there was one thing he held dear it was Lana, the one child who had stuck by him even when the scandals had begun to unfold. She’d been a source of love, of comfort for her father, and now she was in danger.
Hank wasn’t a particularly emotional man, but as he thought of his beautiful, loving daughter in the hands of her kidnappers, tears blurred his vision.
He knew what the kidnappers wanted. They wanted him dead. They wanted him to take the responsibility for the plot to kill President Joe Colton and then kill himself, leaving them free to continue their evil.
For the thousandth time since arriving here, he tried to think rationally. If he came forward and told the authorities what he knew, then there was no question in his mind that Lana would die. Even if he did as the kidnappers asked and killed himself, there was no guarantee that they would release his daughter.
He was caught in a quagmire, unable to make a move, afraid to make a decision for fear it might be the wrong one.
He didn’t even know for sure at this point whether Lana was still alive, and the agony of not knowing was horrific. He’d requested new proof of life but so far had heard nothing from the people who held her captive.
His sons didn’t respect him, his daughter might be dead. Maybe the best choice would be for him to commit suicide. Even as he thought it, a touch of self-preservation and rebellion rose up inside him.
He was an important man. He could still do great things for the country, and he was smart. Somehow, someway, he had to figure a way out of this, a way that kept Lana safe and him still alive.
Chapter 6
Somebody had hurt her.
The words reverberated around in Rhett’s head the next morning as he went about the daily chores. He didn’t know who might be responsible and he didn’t know when it might have happened, but there was no question in his mind that somebody had hurt Caitlin badly.
He’d wanted to push her hard last night, had planned a full-on seductive assault, but he’d tasted the panic that sprang to her lips when he’d raised his arms to embrace her. It had been fear that had momentarily darkened her eyes as she’d stumbled back from him.
Somebody had hurt her and it shouldn’t affect him, but it did. He shouldn’t care, but he did, and that fact bothered him more than a little bit.
He wasn’t here to get enmeshed in her emotional life. He wasn’t here to care about whether somebody had hurt her. He’d always found it so easy to keep his emotions out of his job. He’d always been able to maintain a healthy emotional distance, but it was definitely proving challenging with Caitlin.
He kept an eye on the house throughout the morning, hoping that she would come out, that he could glean more information on exactly what had happened to her.
Contrary to her denial, had she fallen in love with one of the doctors she’d worked with? Was it a broken heart that had brought her home, that made her not like to be touched? Or was it something darker?
And he was no closer to finding out the whereabouts of Mickey than he’d been when he’d arrived here four days ago. Tomorrow was Saturday. Hopefully Mickey would come home and Rhett could get him under arrest and leave before he got too much more emotionally involved with the man’s daughter. And he was getting emotionally invested in Caitlin, something he definitely hadn’t planned. Maybe it was a signal that he had truly put Rebecca’s death behind him.
Despite everything that was on his mind, he found himself relaxing as he went about the chores. He’d always loved ranch life and working with animals. Even the most mundane task felt peaceful and right and reminded him of everything he’d given up when Rebecca had died.
By the time lunchtime came Caitlin still hadn’t made an appearance, and as he went into his cabin to eat something he wondered if maybe he’d pushed too hard, come on too strong the night before and ruined any chance he might have had to get close to her.
He ate quickly, eager to get back outside in case Caitlin decided to venture out. He told himself his desire to see her, to spend time with her was nothing more than his need to do his job. He didn’t have to sleep with her to get close to her, he reasoned.
He didn’t have to touch her, although he had to admit his fingers itched with the need to stroke the smoothness of her fair skin and to feel the silky softness of her hair. She was becoming a burn in his stomach that wouldn’t go away, an itch that needed to be scratched by her alone.
He finished eating and went back outside to see fellow ranch hand Clint Gregory leading a saddled Buttercup out of the stables.
“What’s up?” he asked Clint.
“The boss lady called me on my cell phone and told me to saddle up Buttercup for her.” He tied the horse on a nearby fence post and then leaned against the railing and gave Rhett a friendly smile. “I noticed the oat hay out in the pasture. I told Garrett a million times that the horses were getting too thin but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“From what I’ve heard, Simms didn’t do much of anything around here except get his nose in the sauce.”
“You got that right,” Clint agreed. “Half the time he was on the property he was drunk as a skunk. Mickey tried to fire him half a dozen times but Garrett would always cry like a little girl and say he didn’t have any place else to go. Thank God you’re here and Garrett isn’t coming back. It was past time for a change.”
“What’s Mickey O’Donahue like?” Rhett asked, figuring the more information he had about the man the better.
“A good boss. Fair and decent. He can ride a horse better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Got a bit of a temper on him, but usually when he blows it’s because he has good cause.” Clint’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve noticed you and Caitlin hanging around with each other a lot. A friendly word of warning, Mickey adores his daughter, and if you trifle with her, he’ll have your head on a stick and you won’t be able to find work anywhere in the state of California.”
“Point taken,” Rhett replied. Of course, there was no way he could not “trifle” with Caitlin. Ultimately he knew the consequences of his relationship with Caitlin had disaster written all over them, but he couldn’t think about that now. Besides, it would be difficult for Mickey to “blow” too bad in handcuffs.
Both men turned at the sound of the front door opening. Caitlin stepped out onto the porch and Rhett instantly felt a coil of heat unfurl in his stomach.
As usual she was dressed in a pair of tight jeans and the bright yellow T-shirt was a perfect foil to the flaming color of her hair. As she stepped off the porch and approached them, Rhett thought of that moment the night before when his mouth had touched hers.
Her lips had been hot and sweet, as if they’d retained some of the honey she’d eaten on the sopaipillas. For just a brief instant he’d felt her respond to him, her lips yielding beneath his in acquiescence. If she hadn’t stopped him when she had, there was no doubt he would have swept her up in his arms, carried her up to her bedroom and made love to her.
“Good morning, Clint…Randall,” she said as she reached them. Her gaze didn’t quite meet Rhett’s and he wondered if she, too, was remembering the brief kiss they’d shared the night before.
Both Rhett and Clint greeted her. “Heading out for
a ride?” Rhett asked, stating the obvious. She nodded, still not looking at him. “Need some company?” he asked.
“Not this time.” Her gaze finally connected with his. “I’m looking forward to a solitary ride.”
Rhett thought he’d taken two steps forward with her the night before, but he now suspected it had put him two steps back. There was a distance in her eyes, a rigid tension in her body as she mounted Buttercup.
“Have a good ride,” Clint said and then with a wave of his hand he ambled back toward the stables.
“I enjoyed last night,” Rhett said to her, an attempt to break through the distance he felt between them.
Her features softened slightly. “I enjoyed it, too.” She said the words as if she were confessing to something heinous.
“Did you sleep well?” He knew she was eager to take off, but he wanted somehow to break through the distance he sensed coming from her.
“I slept fine. I’ll be back later.” With a cluck of her tongue she urged Buttercup forward.
Rhett watched her head toward the pasture, the sun sparking on her hair and her shoulders rigidly set once again.
She was definitely a mystery he wanted to solve. It was tragic that a woman who looked like her didn’t want to be touched. And yet he could have sworn that more than once he’d felt a yearning emanating from her—the desire to be held by him.
Talk about mixed signals. With a frustrated sigh he turned away and walked toward the small corral. If he couldn’t use this time to gentle Caitlin, then he’d work on Molly.
The explosion of two gunshots, one right after the other, whirled Rhett around in his tracks. As Clint came running out of the stable, Rhett looked out in the distance and saw Buttercup running wildly across the pasture and a splash of yellow on the ground, lying motionless.
Horror gripped Rhett by the throat as he was instantly cast back to another place, another time. The horse running wild…the broken, unmoving woman on the ground… Visions from the past ripped through him as he took off running, all rational thought gone from his head.
As he raced across the pasture, he was vaguely aware of Clint’s voice shouting behind him, but Rhett’s only thoughts were for the woman lying so motionless on the ground.
His heart crashed inside him as he raced ahead. If he could just get to her in time he could make everything okay. If help came quickly enough she could live and their lives would go on as they had been. Hurry, hurry!
In his mind it wasn’t an autumn day but rather a brisk spring morning in Wyoming. He and Rebecca had enjoyed an early breakfast and then had decided on a ride. They’d saddled up and as they took off he’d challenged her to a race, as they’d done so many mornings in their past.
“Rebecca.” Her name left his lips on a cry of agony and it was only when he saw Caitlin’s red hair that the present slammed back in and rational thought returned.
Gunshots. He’d definitely heard gunshots.
He fell to the ground and grabbed his gun, his heart pounding a million beats a minute as reality set in.
Somebody had shot at her. Somebody had shot at Caitlin. Was she hit?
Was she dead?
She lay on her side facing away from him about twenty feet in front of him. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. He surveyed the vicinity, assuming that the shooter had been hiding in the stand of trees off to the left of the pasture. Was he still there? Waiting to see if he’d killed her? Waiting to try again?
He became aware of Clint crawling up to his side, the man also holding a revolver in his hand. “What the hell is going on?” he said.
“I don’t know, but she may be badly hurt. I need to get to her,” Rhett said, his focus on the fallen Caitlin. “But I think the shooter is someplace in those trees.”
“I’ll head that way, you get to her,” Clint replied tersely. Staying low to the ground, he headed for the trees while Rhett moved forward and prayed that Caitlin wasn’t hurt too badly.
“Caitlin,” he said softly as he approached her. “Caitlin, can you hear me?” Please, let her be alive. Let her at least be conscious, he thought.
She rolled over on her back as he reached her. He nearly sobbed in relief as he saw that there was no blood staining her shirt, no visible signs of injury. Her eyes were wide and filled with unadulterated fear.
“I’m okay,” she finally gasped. “He missed me but I knew I was a sitting duck on Buttercup’s back so I jumped off and hit the ground.”
“Smart woman,” Rhett muttered. He didn’t even want to think what might have happened if she hadn’t bailed off her horse.
By that time two of the other ranch hands came riding out on horseback, both of them armed with shotguns and obviously ready to help. As Jimmy Mathis headed toward the trees, Larry Tredwell reined up beside Rhett and Caitlin.
Larry was a big, burly man with arms the size of tree trunks. “Let’s get her up in front of you on the horse so you can get her back to the house,” Rhett said. He figured if Caitlin was seated in front of Larry, then Larry’s big body would provide as much safety as possible.
It took only a minute for Caitlin to get on the horse and for Larry to gallop off toward the house. Only then did Rhett release a sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived as his brain worked to process what had just happened.
He’d thought the bullets that had whacked into the front door the other night had been intended for Mickey, that the shooting had been a case of mistaken identity.
There was no way this had been the same kind of deal. The shooter couldn’t have mistaken Caitlin, with her female physique and that brilliant hair, for anyone other than who she was—so the question was, why was somebody trying to kill Caitlin?
As he headed toward the trees he realized this changed everything. If what he suspected was true, then there had been not one, but two attempts on Caitlin’s life. Third time is a charm, he thought grimly. He had to make sure there was no third time.
Minutes later Jimmy Mathis rode out of the trees, followed by Clint on foot. “We found a place where the shooter might have been standing, but whoever it was is gone now,” Jimmy said as he reined up next to Rhett.
“What the hell is going on around here?” Clint asked as he joined them. “Who would want to hurt Caitlin?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to do my damnedest to figure it out,” Rhett replied. “In the meantime I want you all to keep your eyes open for anyone on the property who doesn’t belong.”
“Shoot first and ask questions later, that’s what I say,” Jimmy said, his brown eyes glittering darkly as he shifted his weight in his saddle.
“Just make sure the person stays in good enough condition to answer some questions later,” Rhett replied. “I’m heading to the house to check on Caitlin. I’d like you all to do a sweep of the area, and if you find anyone, bring them to me at the house.”
As the men took off, Rhett headed toward the house, the beat of his heart finally slowing to a more normal pace, but he knew that if he focused on that moment of Caitlin lying so still on the ground, his heart would ramp up to warp speed again.
The game had just changed and the stakes were higher than ever before.
Two failed attempts on Caitlin’s life led him to believe there would be another attempt. He had to make sure that one was equally unsuccessful. His mind whirled with each step he took as he tried to figure out the best way to proceed from here.
His ultimate goal was still to find Mickey, but his immediate goal was to make sure that Caitlin stayed safe. And there was only one way he knew to do that…whether she liked it or not, Caitlin was about to get a roommate.
Caitlin sat on the sofa, Esme buzzing around her like a bothersome fly. “Are you cold? I could get you a blanket,” Esme said as she stood inches from Caitlin and wrung her hands together. “Do you need something to eat? Or tea…maybe you need a nice hot cup of tea?”
“Yes, tea,” Caitlin replied quickly, just wanting to give Esme something to do
that would allow Caitlin time to breathe, a minute to think.
“I’ll be right back,” Esme said and hurried into the kitchen.
Caitlin leaned back in the leather sofa and fought against a shiver that threatened to waltz up her back as she thought of how close death had come.
She’d felt the whiz of the bullets as they’d shot past her head. For an instant she hadn’t known what they were, but when the realization struck her, she’d bailed off Buttercup and hugged the ground, hoping she would be a more difficult target that way.
God, she’d been so afraid, was still so afraid. Somebody had tried to kill her. Although the words whirled around and around in her brain, she couldn’t quite make sense of them.
Her knee ached from where she’d hit the ground, but that pain was minor compared to the fear that now gripped her heart. If she hadn’t jumped off Buttercup when she did there was no question in her mind that a third bullet would have slammed into her. She would have been killed.
What was happening around here? Did this have something to do with her father? Had the evil from the jungle somehow followed her home?
The shiver she’d worked so hard to suppress shuddered through her with icy fingers just as Rhett walked into the living room. His lips were compressed in a grim line that merely served to remind her how close she’d been to death.
“You okay?” he asked.
She started to assure him that she was fine, but before the reassuring words could leave her lips an unexpected sob escaped instead. In three long strides he was in front of her.
Before she could protest he had her up off the sofa and in a tight embrace that nearly stole her breath away. Instinctively she felt the need to struggle at his closeness, but as her tears came faster the instinct faded away and instead she leaned weakly against him, welcoming the strong arms that held her tight.
She was vaguely surprised that she didn’t feel trapped, but rather safe with her body so close to his. She needed to be held as the shuddering fear washed through her.
Rancher Under Cover Page 8