by Mary Winter
A light shone on the screen. Bull glanced at it. Just a flash, but it’d been there and it moved as if it were handheld. He frowned. He’d have to go on foot or horseback; the utility vehicle’s engine would alert whoever might be down there.
Pulling on a black t-shirt, he slid his feet into boots, grabbed a go bag with extra ammo, zip ties, and anything else he thought he might need in the field, hooked his holster into his belt, and hurried soundlessly out the door. He glanced at the barn. No, it’d take too much time to saddle Leroy, and who knew if the horse would behave in the middle of the night? He ran toward the alley, slowing only when he approached the field and saw the light up ahead—definitely a flashlight and at that height, possibly held by someone who wasn’t full grown.
He grabbed his night vision binoculars and saw a young, gangly teen scanning the area with a flashlight. Crap, he hadn’t expected to deal with a kid. A prankster? But why cut the fence here? He frowned and moved forward, waiting until the boy came close to his location. He darted out, grabbed the kid’s hand and pulled it behind his back.
“Ow! Hey!” The young man said, his voice just starting to drop. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Bull clamped a hand over the kid’s mouth, distaste and the memory of a young Iraqi freedom fighter filling him. He breathed deeply. The scent of cow dung in the air brought him back to Montana and the teen he held. “What are you doing here?”
“My…” The kid’s words were muffled, and Bull released his hand. “Looking for my brother’s pocket knife.” The boy shook, trembling like a sapling in a violent windstorm. He’d scared the kid.
“Your brother?” Bull relaxed his hold. “I’m not going to hurt you, but have you or your brother been cutting the fence?”
“I don’t know.” Tears choked the kid’s voice. “He told me to find his knife or he’d beat me. I—” The kid yanked, harder than Bull expected, and started to pull free.
“What’s your name? I won’t hurt you or turn you in.”
“Ka—” He clamped his mouth shut, realizing his instinct to obey adults was going to get him in trouble. “Let me go, mister. If I don’t come back soon…”
The flashlight the boy still held cast enough of a glow that he recognized the shaggy dark hair, the gaunt cheekbones of someone either going through a growth spurt or hungry. A teenage boy; he was probably hungry all the time. His jeans were too short, his boots worn and the shirt had holes in it. Certainly this wasn’t a hardened criminal. “Why don’t you come with me? I can get you a meal.”
The boy paused. “I have to go.” He shook again, and this time Bull didn’t think he was the cause. “Please.”
Maybe it was the pleading in his voice, or the memory of that young freedom fighter who’d opened his coat and tried to blow them to hell. He let go, taking note of the direction the boy ran. Bull checked the fences—intact—and went back to the house. His phone said it’d be a few hours before dawn, and maybe he could get some sleep. Then he’d figure out who the boy was and why he was in Shelby’s pasture.
Chapter 4
Shelby sat in her office, the door closed and a towel along the bottom to block out the ambient light from her computer screen. She’d waited until she’d heard Bull leave, presumably to check things about because he certainly would have told her if something were happening in her pasture. Or at least she hoped that would be the case. Then she’d powered up her computer. Her work was important, vital and life-saving to the women she connected with online. She typed a message back to the woman, telling her whom she could contact to get out of the situation and avoid ICE.
The front door closed. Her heart raced and she stilled, thinking even the sound of her typing might alert him to her location. She waited, hearing him cross the living room and stride down the hall. Not to his bedroom, but past it…to hers? A moment later a soft knock sounded. “Shelby?”
She held her breath.
Her computer dinged as the young woman replied to the message.
Bull turned, stopped by her office door and knocked. “Shelby? Are you awake?”
Busted. She typed a quick message, providing reassurance to the young woman. “Just finishing up. I’ll be out in a minute.” She logged out of the private VPN session, then closed her browser window and went to the door. “Everything okay?” she asked as she opened it.
“There was a kid on your property.”
Shelby frowned. “A kid?” She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, hoping he hadn’t been able to see past her. Not that anything would have given her away, but she’d left her secure token on the desk as she usually did, which now that she thought about it probably wasn’t a good idea; it had some files sitting out. Damn, she should have cleaned up first, except she wasn’t used to having others in the house with her. “How old?”
“A teenager. Maybe early teens. Let me grab my tablet and I’ll show you a still photograph.”
When he ducked into his room, she went to the couch and sat down, her mind on what was lying out in her office. If he found out, she didn’t think it’d be the end of the world. If he worked for the Brotherhood Protectors, then surely she’d be cut slack for freelancing for the DHS. No, it was rather the confidentiality of the women she helped that worried her.
He returned with his tablet and brought up a picture. The night vision wasn’t the best, but she made out a gangly kid—teen—in a baseball cap, who looked like his clothes were new maybe two brothers ago. He looked familiar, though she couldn’t place him. “I don’t recognize him. Maybe check with some people down the highway? Not my immediate neighbors. They’re an older couple. I think a family may have moved in on the other side of them, though. It’s not on my way to town so I don’t go that way very often.”
“Thanks. I’m going to run this past the authorities as well as our systems, and see if he’s in any database.”
“Aren’t juvenile records usually sealed?” Crap, she’d just given away that she knew more than your average waitress. “Or do you have super secret systems?” she added quickly, hoping it softened her question.
Bull gave her an odd look.
“Hey, I watch Law & Order.” Actually she’d lived in it for a while, and sadly the detectives had lacked the compassion of the television ones, though she’d not mention that unless she had to. Not to someone who would only be here long enough to catch the thieves.
He nodded as if to say the conversation wasn’t done yet. “Something like that,” he replied. “Okay, well, I’m going to get a few hours of sleep. You staying up?”
She should. Except being awake and doing work meant she’d be in her office with the chance that Bull could come in at any time. He said he was going to sleep. What if he didn’t? “I think I’ll go to bed, too,” she replied at last. “My shift starts in a couple of hours.” She stood and headed toward her bedroom.
“Sleep well,” Bull said, his voice rumbling across her skin like a caress. His words made her think of him saying that just as they fell asleep, tangled together.
“You too.” She opened her bedroom door and closed it behind her. She really needed to find a lock for her office.
With Shelby at the cafe, Bull munched on some bacon and eggs he’d fried, and watched as his laptop ran the image he’d gotten last night through databases. On a whim, he’d also included Shelby’s name and information. A hit appeared on his screen. Shelby Salwell, Department of Homeland Security. The information showed she’d worked in the department’s human trafficking division, mostly involved in helping victims transition into their new lives. Her status was inactive with the government, but listed as an active contractor. Was that what she was doing in the other room, the one she called her office?
If so, he appreciated the work she did. He’d run into a few UN and other organizations’ workers when he’d jumped into conflict areas to rescue soldiers. Too many innocents got caught in the middle, and in a world like the one in which they lived, those people needed
all the help he got. He did a bit more digging, and came up with some newspaper articles out of Miami that gave vague hints about an agent shot in the line of duty trying to bust a large human trafficking ring. The name of the agent: Shelby.
Bull released a breath and leaned back in his chair. Damn. He thought he was carrying some war wounds, and yeah, a puckered scar on his shoulder provided a reminder of where he’d been grazed by a bullet. Most of his scars were surgical after they’d put him back together before his discharge, and if the nightmares were any indication, there were mental scars as well. But if she were the agent involved in this…he read further, noting the fact that the agent had been stalked and had received commendation for her work in bringing down this trafficker. His Shay was way more than she let on and that made her sexy as hell to him.
The boy hadn’t tripped anything in the system or any databases, and he researched her neighbors. A farm on the other side of her northwestern neighbors had some young kids and appeared to be a rental, judging by Google Earth photos showing run-down children’s toys in the front yard, and property records.
The door opened and Shay walked in.
Sweat plastered tendrils of red hair to her temples, her cheeks flushed with heat from working in the kitchen. Her café t-shirt clung to her curves, and her boots and skinny jeans made her legs appear to be longer than forever. His groin tightened.
He pushed the surge of lust aside. “Hey, good timing. Get cleaned up and then let’s talk. I have a few questions for you about some things I found.”
She visibly stiffened. Wariness filled her eyes, and damn it, he recognized the look of a woman who’d been hunted.
“About your neighbors. I’ve been seeing if I can get a lead on the kid I saw in your pasture.”
She relaxed, and he knew as tough as the conversation might be, they’d have to talk about her secrets, too. “Sure.” She dropped her purse on an end table, her truck keys in a tray by the door. “Let me get a shower and cleaned up if you don’t mind. It was a busy morning at the café.”
“Of course. Take your time.” All the longer for me to fantasize about your naked body beneath the shower spray. He sent an email off to Hank’s office to see if they could provide more information about the renters. The fear in the kid’s eyes made him not want to bring the authorities in on this with a charge of trespassing, and Shelby would have to be the one to bring such a charge anyway. By the time he did that and reviewed the list of questions he’d scribbled on a notepad, Shelby emerged from the shower, her hair washed and pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a short pair of cutoffs and a t-shirt from a local event. She poured herself a glass of water, refilled his, then sat down. Stick to the list, Bull reminded himself. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he needed answers.
He wants to ask about my neighbors. Shelby had reminded herself of that throughout one of the quickest showers she’d ever taken, as she fastened her bra she put on because he was there, and as she grabbed the closest pair of shorts at hand and hoped he didn’t notice their length, or lack thereof. Taking a deep breath, she had stepped into the kitchen as if she didn’t have any care in the world, while her heart hammered at least a hundred beats a minute. She poured herself a glass of water, took a long drink, then sat down.
“I can tell you what I know about my neighbors. The Gundersons live to the northwest, and have my entire life. I think they bought their property before my parents bought this one. The land southeast of me is leased by a rancher who lives on the other side of Eagle Rock, and it wraps around the back of this property. I have highway frontage. I’m pretty sure the rancher doesn’t have kids, and the Gundersons have to be nearing seventy. No trouble from any of them.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Five years. I came back when my parents died and I needed to take over the farm. But really, other than the Gundersons coming up to me at the funeral and letting me know how sorry they were, and some childhood memories of them, I don’t interact with my neighbors much. I stay to myself, working with my cattle and at the café.” And with my freelance work. “Do you really think it’s one of my neighbors?”
“You live far enough out that if it were someone’s kid trying to play a prank, I’d think that would be very unlikely. No, with the bike and the ATV tracks, I’m betting it’s someone close. Would you be willing to press trespassing charges against the kid?”
She sucked in a breath. An image of another child, pleading at her with wide eyes from a slightly open closet, filled her mind. “I…” Her voice wavered. Shit. “That seems harsh,” she answered quickly.
“I know.” Bull’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “But it may be the only way to get the local authorities involved. There’s something else I want to ask you about.”
She nodded, already knowing the words that might come out of his mouth. “My work,” she said.
“Yeah. Do you still do any work for DHS? Because it could be someone…I hate even suggesting it because I’m sure you dealt with a lot and some cut fence and stolen steers aren’t exactly intimidation tactics, but do you think this is someone from your past?”
She shook her head. “The only person who could hurt me is dead,” she said, hearing her voice go flat with disassociation. She ought to know. She put three 9mm bullets into his chest as he was trying to rape her. The room spun and she drew in several deep breaths, until she registered that Bull had gotten up to kneel beside her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her knee.
He muttered a curse. “The story in the paper. That was you?”
She nodded. “I went undercover. My cover was blown through no fault of my own. The perp is dead. Most of his crew are dead. The rest are so far behind bars, they won’t get out in this lifetime or the next.” She breathed, reminding herself to inhale and exhale. “I don’t believe there is anyone from that old life that could trace me here. Not that I’ve gone into witness protection, but most of the work I do now is designed to protect my anonymity. In fact, most of the women I help don’t even know I am freelancing for the government.”
“Your work?”
“I’m part cyber-trafficking agent, part non-profit volunteer. I’m freelance for the government, with a cover working for a major nonprofit who helps victims of human trafficking. I answer bulletin board messages. Emails. Mostly try to get the girls and women out of harm’s way and keep them out of ICE’s custody. Too often ICE will pick someone up and they’ll end right back into the system. It’s part time and the system is wholly encrypted so they can’t trace me back to this location.”
Bull nodded. “Doesn’t sound like it would be related to your cattle.”
She shook her head, thankful he didn’t ask any more questions. She’d revealed more than she wanted to. “You understand you’re not to say anything to anyone. Not Jenny. Not Logan. Not Caid. No one. I’m listed as a freelancer. I have to be for some security clearances. But officially I don’t do anything but shuffle paperwork.” She smiled. “And I don’t shuffle paperwork well.”
He chuckled. “I bet you don’t. Your secret is safe with me.” He leaned forward and kissed her, a light brush of lips that suddenly had her body wanting more. Cupping the back of his head, she then drew him to her; her mouth moved over his. A groan rumbled from his broad chest, and her nipples peaked behind the two layers of fabric covering them. When his tongue slid along her lower lip, she opened to him, suddenly needing the realness of this man, her body hot and slick for him.
“Shay,” he whispered her name, a ragged breath of need and want wrapped up in a bow around the hard ridge of his cock jutting against her leg.
“Yes,” she answered, because she needed his touch, needed to feel alive, needed something to push the dark memories away that were bubbling up from inside her. “Fuck me, Bull.”
Chapter 5
Her words were like the adrenaline rush of a good jump from a plane, the kind where he landed safely, saved the soldiers, and got out of there without getting his ass bl
own off, driving his libido into overdrive. With a moan, he stood, then wrapped his arms around her and lifted her as if she were little more than a bale of hay. Her “oomph” of surprise echoed in his ears as he strode across the open living area and to the door that led to her bedroom. From what he’d seen, her bed was bigger and they were going to need every inch.
He laid her down on the bed, then sat down and removed his boots before stretching out beside her. She rolled toward him, cupping her face with a tenderness that squeezed his heart, and lowered her lips to his. If he’d expected slow, he was wrong, because she ground her lips against his and threw one of her shapely legs over his hips, drawing him close with her heels against his rear.
Her shove on his shoulder sent him sprawling onto his back, and she shimmied on top of him until she nestled against his erection. He groaned. Cupping her ass, he palmed the tight globes. The way they filled his hands, her soft whimpers when he squeezed them, all of it only served to heighten his desire. He tugged at her shirt, and when she lifted her arms, he tossed it over her head. Her bra may have been built for support and comfort rather than seduction, but seeing the mounds of her breasts, the outline of her nipples against the fabric, took his breath away.
He lifted his hands enough to reach the fastening, unhooked it, then slowly drew the straps down her arms. The fact she hadn’t dressed for seduction, that having a man in her house hadn’t turned her into a nymph bent on only one thing, made him admire her even more. Whatever she gave, it’d be real. Authentic. And solely for their own mutual pleasure.
She took her bra from his fingers and dropped it to the floor, then cupped her breasts like an offering to him. “You like these? Want to taste them?”