“You are some kind of woman.” Admiration laced his voice. “You survived the jungle, Caitlin. I can’t pretend to know how horrible it was for you, and when I think about it I want to smash Mark, whoever the hell he is, in the face so many times he needs a feeding tube to eat and a breathing tube to live.”
Her smile fell and she leaned forward once again. “I think he meant to have me killed.”
“Why do you say that?” It was Rhett’s experience that most rapists weren’t murderers. They were usually two different kinds of animals altogether.
Her eyes darkened once again. “When he finished, he gestured to one of the other men and made a throat-slashing gesture, but before the man could do anything one of the doctors and several guards came running and my attackers ran away.”
Rhett hadn’t touched her since she’d started her story, but he needed to now. He reached across the table and touched the back of her cold hand. She turned her hand over to accept his and squeezed tightly, as if he were a lifeline for her.
“I’m sorry, Caitlin,” he said fervently and squeezed her hand. “I’m so damned sorry. I wish I could go back in time and make things right. I wish I could go back in time and save you before anything bad could happen to you.”
Once again a smile curved her lips and the darkness in her eyes lightened. “I think you have saved me, Randall. A week ago I wasn’t sure I would ever trust a man again and yet I trust you. Two hours ago I didn’t think I would ever make love again, but now I know I’m capable of that, as well.”
Every word she said only made him feel worse. They were like daggers in his heart. Duty battled with emotion. What he wanted was to hear his real name fall from her lips if they made love again. He wanted to warn her not to get emotionally entangled with him because as soon as her father showed up, Rhett was going to arrest him and take him away.
But he couldn’t think about all that right now. At this moment she needed nothing but support from him. “Your strength amazes me, Caitlin. No matter how things eventually play out between us I want you to know that I think you’re not only beautiful, but strong and courageous, as well.”
She released her hold on his hand and once again sat back in her chair, her forehead furrowed with a frown. “I’m not. I’m not courageous and strong at all. My time in the jungle has left me with nightmares and panic attacks. I could live with those, but now I’m afraid that my father might be dead.”
Rhett straightened in his chair. “Why on earth would you think that?”
She got up from the table and carried her coffee cup to the sink and then turned back to face him. “I can’t think of any other thing that would keep him from calling here. I think Esme has the same fear.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s dead,” Rhett protested. “You said he doesn’t have any enemies and you haven’t mentioned that he’s sick or anything like that.”
She shook her head. “No, he isn’t sick.” Her gaze slid from his and stared at a point just over his head. “As far as him having enemies, a daughter doesn’t always know everything about her father.”
There was something in her tone of voice that made Rhett wonder if she was telling the truth about her father’s enemies, but he knew now wasn’t time to confront her. Still, he had a feeling she knew more than she was saying.
His stomach twisted as he once again thought of her in the jungle, fearing for her life as she was raped by a man Rhett would like to hunt down and kill.
“I think I’m ready to go back to sleep,” she said and released a weary sigh.
He realized the effort it had cost her to tell him what had happened to her, to go back to that place and time and relive the horror. Both physically and emotionally she had to be spent.
He got up from the table and carried his cup to the sink and then pulled her into his arms. She came willingly and laid her head against his chest.
Smelling the clean, fresh scent of her hair, a surge of protectiveness rose inside him. He never wanted her hurt again. She’d suffered so much already and it broke his heart that he knew the suffering wasn’t done yet, that more damage would be done. Not by a stranger in a jungle but by him.
“Things will look better tomorrow,” he said although he knew they were nothing but empty words.
He couldn’t go back and fix what had happened to her, but he damned sure would do whatever it took to keep her safe from whoever had tried to kill her. He’d keep her safe and care for her until the moment he had to destroy her.
Chapter 9
Hank Kelley had hoped that things would look better with the dawn of a new day, but he was already having a bad day and it was only a little past nine in the morning.
He hadn’t heard from Lana’s kidnappers since he’d demanded proof of life from them, and the silence was positively terrifying.
They had initially sent him a videotape that had shown Lana alive, then there had been an interrupted phone call, but he’d seen nothing from them since he’d demanded new proof of life.
He had no idea where his wife was, and he wished he could talk to her. Sarah had gone into hiding when the mistresses had started coming forward. Hank supposed what they said was true, you didn’t know what you had until it was gone.
Sarah had been the perfect political wife, supportive and beautiful. She’d ridden the campaign trail with him whenever possible, but once he’d been voted in as senator she had chosen to spend most of her time staying at home and being a good mother to their growing brood of children. He had thrown it all away with mistresses who, at the end of the day, had meant nothing to him. He’d been a stupid fool.
He entertained some crazy hope that if he made it out of this alive, if Lana came home safe and sound, somehow he’d be able to save the marriage he’d thrown away. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was nothing more than a foolish man’s regret. He doubted that he’d ever have his family back again.
During his time in self-imposed isolation here at the ranch he’d had a lot of time to think about his life and the direction it had gone. He’d never doubted that he was destined for greatness, and certainly, marrying Sarah had helped.
Sarah Mistler had been the wealthiest heiress in the United States when Hank had married her. He’d loved her, but there was no question he’d also known that she could help him achieve his goals. God, he wished she were here now. Sarah was smart and savvy and she’d help him figure out what to do.
At least one good thing had come out of this entire debacle. Hank and his half brother, Donald, had managed to reconnect. He and Donald had gone their separate ways years ago, torn apart by sibling rivalry and Hank’s ambition.
Hank had been shocked when Donald had reached out to him and come to the ranch for a reunion. Donald’s support after all these years had humbled him.
“Dad?” Cole appeared on the threshold of the guest room. “President Colton is here to see you.” Cole’s voice held surprise and also a touch of awe.
“Here? Now?” Hank stared at his son. He’d placed a call to Joe the day before, wanting to explain his position, needing the president to know that he, Hank, would never be part of a conspiracy to hurt him. Unfortunately, his conversation with the president had been brief.
“He’s waiting for you,” Cole said, breaking the inertia that had momentarily gripped Hank.
Hank followed his son down the hallway toward the great room, his heart pounding a million beats a minute. Maybe he was here to see Hank arrested, to throw him into a federal prison where the powerful members of the Raven’s Head Society would see that he died.
Joe Colton had always been a man Hank admired. A family man with strong values and intelligence, Joe had united the country, except for a small group of men who wanted him dead.
God, what a tangled web Hank found himself in, and it seemed the more he struggled, the tighter the web squeezed around him. His mouth dried as he entered the great room where President Joe Colton awaited him.
Despite the fact that President C
olton was in his early seventies, physically he was still an impressive man. Tall and fit, he was handsome, with bright blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair that only added to his distinguished appearance. There was an aura of quiet power about him, a power that Hank had once envied.
“Hank,” Joe said. As he held out a hand to greet Hank, Hank was embarrassed to feel the sting of unexpected tears in his eyes.
Hank gripped the president’s hand tightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked when the handshake ended.
“My wife and I are in the area for several days. I managed to sneak away from official duties for a couple of hours and thought it would be good if we could talk…alone.” Joe’s eyes were kind as he gazed at Hank.
“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Cole said. A moment later the two men were seated on the sofa, Hank on one end and the president on the other.
“Would you like something to drink?” Hank asked.
“No, thanks, I’m fine. I’ve heard about your daughter’s plight and I just wanted to offer you my full support,” Joe said.
Once again Hank felt the press of tears as he thought about his daughter. “I’ve asked the kidnappers for proof of life, but so far I haven’t heard back from them. I had no idea what I was getting involved in and now I don’t know what to do,” Hank confessed. “I don’t know how to fix this. The last thing I wanted was for my daughter to be in danger, for you to be in any danger.”
“I’ve never doubted your loyalty to me,” Joe replied smoothly. “One of the reasons I wanted to speak with you was to assure you that I’m safe. My security people are taking this threat very seriously and we’re being careful. You should be focusing all your energy on getting your daughter back.”
“When I met with the men in the Raven’s Head Society, I had no idea what their true goals were, what they intended to do,” Hank continued. “I just thought they were concerned businessmen wanting to help better the country.”
Joe held up a hand. “I won’t ask you for any information that might put your daughter’s life at risk.”
It was this quality that made Joe Colton one of the most popular, most beloved presidents in the history of the United States. He understood the meaning of family and core values, of goodness and fairness. It was also these qualities that had made him a target of the powerful and wealthy businessmen who comprised the Raven’s Head Society.
For the next few minutes the two men talked about family, about love and about the mess Hank found himself in. Hank found solace in Joe’s quiet, calm support. Ultimately, however, when the president left, flanked by Secret Servicemen, Hank was no closer to figuring out what he was going to do. Only one thing was certain. The longer the kidnappers were silent, the more he feared for his daughter’s life.
Caitlin paced the length of the living room, feeling as if she was going to jump out of her skin. She’d awakened that morning with a dreadful worry heavy inside her chest. She was afraid that whoever was after her would eventually succeed. She was worried about her father and why they hadn’t heard from him.
Two days had passed since she’d confessed to Randall the events in the jungle, two days that she’d been cooped up inside the house like a prisoner.
Randall was in the kitchen chatting to Esme as the older woman made lunch, and it worried Caitlin just a little bit that the sound of his low, deep voice not only comforted her but also filled her with a longing for more. Not just more sex from him, but more of him in every aspect.
And she knew that down that path was heartache. He’d made it clear to her that he’d had his shot at love and happiness and had no desire to go there again. He traveled light and alone through life and she’d be a fool not to remember that.
One of these days the wind would blow a certain direction and he’d be gone. She figured there were only two things keeping him here now. The first was desire and the second was that somebody was trying to kill her.
There was no question that his desire for her hadn’t waned with their lovemaking. They had made love again the night before. He’d been tender and had once again had allowed her to take the lead. She’d felt a healing inside her, a sense of taking herself back.
She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she was over the trauma of the rape. She knew that would take time and perhaps eventually some therapy to work through. But for now she had other things on her mind, such as her father’s absence and Randall’s very real, very intimate presence.
She’d spent part of the morning trying to analyze her feelings for Randall. If she weren’t in fear for her life, if he hadn’t stepped up as a bodyguard and been so understanding about her physical aversions, would she still feel so close to him?
No matter how she twisted things around in her head, the answer came back yes. With each minute she spent in his company she found more and more things about him that she liked, things about him that she admired.
Despite his rough-and-tumble exterior, in spite of the fact that she suspected he could have more than a little bit of a temper when faced with injustice, he also had a streak of tenderness that knew no bounds.
Caitlin wasn’t sure if she knew what real romantic love felt like. Even though she was thirty-four, she was certain she’d never known that kind of love before.
All the men she had dated had been pleasant diversions, but she’d never felt that her heart had been invested in those men.
Randall gave her crazy butterflies in the pit of her stomach, he could weaken her knees with a single heated gaze, but that could be nothing more than lust.
He made her laugh and that was almost as sexy as the glint in his green eyes. He possessed a kindness that spoke of a good and true heart. Even if things weren’t so complicated in her life at the moment she had a feeling she’d find Randall Kane more than desirable on every level. She’d definitely never felt like this about any man.
At that moment he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where she was tearing up the floor with her pacing back and forth.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You’ve been tense and on edge since you got up this morning.”
She flung herself into a nearby chair and stared up at him. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, with his hair unusually tousled and a five-o’clock shadow dusting his jaw, the man made the word hot seem ineffectual.
“I’m going stir-crazy,” she said. “I feel like a prisoner who doesn’t get any yard time.”
He smiled sympathetically. “Most prisoners don’t want yard time if they know it could be dangerous.”
“I know.” She sighed in frustration. “I know I shouldn’t go out, but I’m going more than a little bit insane.”
“Maybe after lunch we could do something that will take your mind off things.” His eyes glittered in that way that made her know he was going to say something outrageous. “A couple of hands of strip poker might be entertaining.”
She laughed. “Esme would have a heart attack if we did that at her kitchen table.”
“Then we’ll invite her to play, too,” he replied easily, making her laugh again. “And we could always play in the dining room instead of in the kitchen if you have a problem with the setting.”
The bad mood that had tried to take hold of her disappeared. “Maybe we’ll play a few hands at the kitchen table but we’ll keep our clothes on and I’ll take you for your pocket change instead.”
He pretended a scowl that did nothing to detract from his bad-boy handsomeness. “You women always want to ruin a man’s attempt to have fun.”
At that moment Esme called them into the kitchen for lunch. The meal passed with mundane conversation—the streak of good weather they were having, the Thanksgiving holiday approaching at the end of the month and the repairs that he had noticed needed to be done to the fence in one of the pastures.
After lunch Caitlin and Randall played poker while Esme decided to drive into town for some necessary groceries. Randall insisted she take Clint with her, not
wanting Esmeralda to be out on her own.
Caitlin had a feeling Randall was keeping her busy with both the ordinary conversation over lunch and the card games so she wouldn’t have a chance to think about what had happened…what could still happen.
Randall was an expert at bluffing and won every hand he and Caitlin played. And he was a horrible winner—bragging, with his dimples dancing and his eyes sparkling.
After the seventh game Caitlin threw her cards on the table in frustration. “Okay, I give up. I hate to admit it, but you’re too good.”
He grinned and began to gather up the cards. “If we’d been playing strip poker I would have had you naked by now.”
“Not necessarily. I would have played harder, smarter with those kinds of stakes,” she replied easily.
At the moment, with him smiling at her from across the table, with the laughter they had shared as they’d played cards, she felt so close to him it scared her more than just a little bit.
“Tell me about your wife,” she said and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that the subject would create a distance between them, a distance she desperately needed at the moment.
“What do you want to know about her?” His voice remained steady although his eyes darkened slightly in hue.
“What kind of woman was she? What did she like to do?” She wanted to know what kind of woman had captured his heart so completely that he would never want another woman in his life again.
He straightened the cards and then set the deck on the table and leaned back in his chair. “Her family moved to my hometown when we were both sophomores in high school. The minute I saw her I knew she was going to be mine. She was cute and blonde and had soulful brown eyes. She was bright and funny and to my complete surprise was as crazy about me as I was about her.”
There was a softness to his features as he spoke, a softness that shot a wistfulness through Caitlin. No man had ever felt that way about her and she wanted that. She wanted a man’s eyes to light with love for her, a man’s voice to speak her very name with love.
Rancher Under Cover Page 12