by Debra Webb
Wow, that really was sweet. “Nice of you to care, but honestly, you being out here now is kind of strange unless there’s a hidden agenda. I don’t know very many men—actually I don’t know any—who would go so far out of their way just to be nice. So, what’s the hitch?” Her cynicism was showing. That was never attractive.
He took a couple of steps toward her.
Her pulse reacted, but not in fear. She was attracted to this guy and that was dangerous.
You don’t know him, Laney!
“I like you.” He didn’t stop until he was standing right in front of her in the grass that marked her property from the gravel road the state owned. “I don’t have anything else to do and this felt like the right thing.”
Before she could respond with something intelligent, he added, “I can leave if that’s what you want.”
“That’d probably be best.”
She gave him her back and marched toward the house. In those few minutes in the moonlight she understood one very important thing about Hayden. He was trouble.
“Are you certain he won’t come back?”
She hesitated. She shouldn’t have. But he had a legitimate question.
Laney turned to face him. “He might but I doubt it.”
He’d been damned drunk. Terry was probably sleeping it off at some dive motel with a honky-tonk honey who didn’t have any better sense.
“Are you prepared to use that weapon if he does?”
That was none of his business. “If I have to.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
No. “Of course. Why would I carry a weapon I can’t use?”
“Because it makes you feel safe even when you have no idea how to use it.”
Heat scorched her cheeks. “I said I know how to use it.”
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Laney. I’m only here to help. No hidden agenda.”
Okay, so maybe the guy was bored. As much as she felt sure providing him with entertainment would be equally entertaining to her as well, that wasn’t happening.
The last time she’d been in bed with a man was three years ago when she’d been stupid enough to believe more of Terry’s lies. As much as she recognized her own needs—needs that she had ignored for far too long—she had a son to protect.
“Good night, Hayden.”
“I’ll be out of your way at sunup.”
“Suit yourself.”
To her amazement, she made it all the way to the house without looking back. A repeat of her nightly rounds in the house proved the doors and window were secure.
In her room, curtains and shades drawn, door closed, she stripped off her clothes. A shower would just have to wait until morning. She was way too tired. Besides, the washing machine was still running and that meant the water pressure in the shower would suck.
No, thanks.
She dragged on her favorite T-shirt, the one with that silly sponge character her son loved. Tucking her .32 on the shelf above her bed—way out of Buddy’s reach even if he climbed up on the iron headboard—she realized she was sore from unloading that supply truck this afternoon.
She crawled into bed and her whole body sighed.
Her bed was the most awesome piece of furniture she owned besides the lumpy sofa.
Lying on her back, she stared at the slow turn of the ceiling fan blades in hopes that sleep would come quickly.
Didn’t happen.
How could she hope to sleep with him out there watching?
Instead, her brain started throwing out scenarios that had nothing to do with a good working relationship with the cowboy.
Not smart, Laney.
The folks who liked her called her hardworking, nice, friendly…but not a one had ever accused her of being savvy when it came to spotting the devil behind a nice smile and good manners.
She had a feeling it was going to take her savviest maneuvers to head off this collision course.
Joel Hayden was going to be way, way more than she could handle.
Chapter Three
6:30 a.m.
The sun was up and the promise of an early summer scorcher was in the air.
Joel walked back toward his Jeep. The need to stretch his legs had awoken him before sunup. All remained quiet. The last of the lights had gone out in Laney’s house around two. He doubted she and the boy would be up any time soon.
The past five nights had been spent like last night, only without Laney’s knowledge. Parked out of her line of sight, Joel had slept in his Jeep—what sleep he’d gotten—in order to keep watch on her.
It wasn’t the most comfortable assignment he’d had as far as getting any shut-eye but there was no way around it. For now, he couldn’t ensure her safety via any other means.
Clare Barker was still unaccounted for. Her whereabouts unknown since her great escape from the apartment in Copperas Cove. Rafe, her husband, remained on death row. His execution was barely more than three weeks away.
He’d been the one to contact the Colby Agency yet he’d shut down completely since learning of Clare’s disappearance. In part, possibly, because he had learned the one person he had trusted and communicated with in recent years had double-crossed him by helping Clare elude the agency’s surveillance.
Not a whole lot about this case made sense.
The necessity to keep the principals in the dark was primarily to ensure their safety. Until the Colby Agency discovered what Clare Barker was up to, these women’s safety had to be top priority. If word got out, the media circus would hinder the agency’s investigation. Disrupting the lives of the three women who had been confirmed as the long-missing Barker daughters was going to be problematic enough, mostly for them. Sadie Gilmore, the youngest, had accepted this new reality well enough, but there was no way to guess the reaction from the remaining two women. For now, keeping the investigation quiet and finding the truth as quickly as possible was essential.
Bottom line, it didn’t have to make sense to Joel or anyone else. His single mission was to protect Laney and her son.
He settled his Stetson in place and leaned against the front fender. A few more minutes and he would relocate to ensure Laney didn’t grow any more suspicious than she already was.
Laney Seagers had no idea that she had been born Lisa Barker, middle daughter of Clare and Rafe Barker. Prints from her one arrest for assaulting the same jerk who was giving her a hard time at present had confirmed her identity. She had no idea and Joel wasn’t looking forward to sharing that information. And he wouldn’t until one of two things happened—the danger had passed or he was forced to do so in order to keep watch.
The lady seemed reasonably happy considering the less-than-kind hand fate had dealt her. Like most these days it was a rough go on the financial front, but she was managing or she had been until her banker decided to turn testy. To Laney, getting that loan taken care of was her biggest worry at the moment. She had no idea that far larger problems were brewing like dark clouds over her head.
Rafe and Clare Barker were two of Texas’s most heinous criminals, the Princess Killers. The two had allegedly kidnapped and murdered more than a dozen young girls. That number didn’t include their own daughters, who had disappeared under suspicious circumstances the morning of their arrests. The Barkers were sentenced to death. Though Clare’s conviction had recently been overturned, according to her husband she was the one who had actually committed those gruesome murders more than twenty years ago.
Both had been arrested and charged, after so many young girls had gone missing in and around the community of Granger. Several bodies had been recovered from the Barker property. But the bodies of some of the missing as well as those of their three little daughters had not been found.
Now Joel and the other folks at the Colby Agency knew the reason why. Rafe Barker claimed he had turned the girls over to a trusted friend to ensure their safety from their crazy mother. To that end, he’d staged the family car and their room to make it look as
if he’d killed them. But now that Clare’s conviction had been overturned, he feared for their lives.
The Colby Agency had no idea as of yet if there was any validity to Rafe’s claim of innocence, but he had been right about his daughters. The woman, Janet Tolliver, he had alleged was his accomplice in that eleventh-hour move to protect his girls had, in fact, arranged for their private, off-the-record adoptions.
Regrettably, she had been murdered within twenty-four hours of Clare’s release. So far there was no proof Clare had anything to do with the murder, but they now knew that Clare had an accomplice. A one-armed man by the name of Tony Weeden.
As an infirmary nurse, Weeden had befriended Rafe Barker. Weeden was the one person to whom Rafe had told his story—until Rafe contacted the Colby Agency. His letter to Victoria Colby-Camp had been smuggled from Polunsky Prison by Weeden.
Whatever scheme was in motion and whoever was telling the truth, there was damned good reason to believe the Barker girls were in danger. The only question was from whom.
Sadie Gilmore, born Sarah Barker and the youngest of the three, was already in the capable hands of Colby investigator Lyle McCaleb.
Russ St. James had his eye on the unpredictable Olivia Westfield, born Olivia Barker, the oldest of the three. When reviewing the background files on the Barker girls, Joel had expected that his assignment would prove the most troublesome. Laney Seagers had a record of violence, though not exactly a rap sheet as long as her arm. She’d been in and out of one kind of trouble or another during her teenage years. She was also the only one of the three sisters with a kid in tow.
So far the biggest issue was with her ex-boyfriend and the father of her child. Still, Joel hadn’t attempted to move in close to his mark until last night. He supposed the next couple of days would reveal a clearer picture of what lay ahead as far as his ability to gain her trust.
As if his thoughts had summoned her, Laney stepped out onto her front porch, settled her attention directly on him and headed his way.
He’d promised to be gone by sunup. Maybe he’d lingered too long. Laney seemed to appreciate his charm to a point, but she was far too wise of the ways of men to be fooled for long. She had no intention of falling into a trap of any sort. The lady was definitely jaded when it came to all things male. But she was attracted to him.
Jeans skintight, T-shirt just as formfitting, she strode purposefully toward him. Her hair bounced around her shoulders, the gold catching the early morning sun and shining like silk.
Now that would be a hell of a vision to wake up to every morning for the rest of a guy’s life. Even a hardcore bachelor like him could appreciate that prospect.
“You’re up early.” He smiled, gave her a nod.
“Saw you walking around out here at the crack of dawn yourself.” She set her hands on her hips and looked him up and down. “I imagine you could use a cup of coffee before you go back to town.” She shrugged. “It’s the least I can do after you stood guard all night.”
He cast a speculative glance at the waist of her jeans. “Decided you didn’t need your weapon this morning?”
She smiled. Not one of those full-blown make-his-heart-thump kind but sexy as hell nonetheless. “I’m a little paranoid at night. Afraid of the dark as a kid. You know how it goes. Some of us just don’t grow out of it.”
“Never had any trouble in the dark.” He matched her smile. “But I have my moments with paranoia.”
“So, you interested in coffee? I grind the beans every morning.”
“Hard to refuse an offer like that.”
“Is that a yes, Mr. Hayden?”
“Hop in.” He grinned. “Considering the miles you walk most nights from one end of that bar to the other, taking a load off won’t hurt.” Not that he minded watching her walk.
“That’s a nice Jeep.” She climbed into the passenger seat. “Looks new.”
“It’s a couple years old.” He cranked the engine. “Bought it for my thirty-second birthday. I guess it’s my midlife-crisis car.”
“At least you didn’t get a massive truck.” She shook her head as he rolled along her dirt driveway. “Some guys think they either have to buy the biggest truck or the fastest car. For some crazy reason they think it’s a chick magnet.”
He glanced at her as he parked in front of her house. “You mean it’s not?”
“Definitely not.” She admired the interior of his Jeep. “A vehicle should suit the man and his purpose in life.”
“Never really thought about it that way.”
Her gaze settled on his. “What’s your purpose, Hayden? You got a house? A wife? Kids?”
He laughed. “No. No. And, no. Did I pass the test?”
She swung her legs to her right and hopped to the ground. “I haven’t decided yet.”
He wondered what her old beat-up Chevy said about her purpose. Just getting by? Or laid-back and happy to go with the flow?
“I know what you’re thinking.” She strode up onto the porch.
If she was a mind reader they were in serious trouble. “Is that right?”
She nodded. “You’re wondering why I drive that old truck.”
He pushed up his hat and studied her a moment. “The thought has crossed my mind.” He wouldn’t mention how recently.
“It was my father’s.” She turned toward the old blue vehicle. “It was the only thing left after the fire. A buddy of my dad’s saved it for me. Took him a while to find me with the bouncing around from one foster home to the other. It’s a damn good vehicle. Since I was sixteen it’s been the one reliable thing in my life. Got me where I needed to go. Even served as a home sometimes.”
“That beats the hell out of a high-tech sound system and power windows any day of the week.”
“Damn straight.”
The screen door whined as she swung it open. The old house had a comfortable feel about it. Swing on the front porch. Pot of colorful flowers near the door. Old-fashioned screen door fronting an even older slab door with glass so old it had that wavy look. Inside, the place was well-kept and smelled of fresh-brewed coffee.
Likely every part of the decorating and furnishings were secondhand but she’d done a nice job making the place feel like a home for her and the boy.
“Buddy still asleep?” Joel didn’t have a doubt that if the kid was conscious he would be either following his mom around or designing the next rocket for space exploration. As smart as he was, he didn’t appear to have any playmates his age. The kid didn’t seem to mind.
“He’ll be up soon and then he won’t slow down until he crashes for the night.”
Joel laughed. “Kids that age never slow down unless they’re sick.”
“Thought you didn’t have any kids.”
The remark was tossed offhandedly enough but Joel suspected it was one of those self-protective measures. “Lots of nieces and nephews.”
In the kitchen, there was more of Laney’s eclectic decorating. Again, lots of repurposed items. He was impressed with her ingenuity. A lot of things about the lady impressed him. She grabbed a mug from the rack and poured the coffee.
“Smells good.” He accepted the cup and savored a long swallow. “Hmm. You have a special blend?”
She patted a glass container. “I mix a few different beans to get the perfect combination of light and dark, French and Colombian. It’s the best mix I’ve come up with so far.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds kind of tragic but it’s a hobby of mine.”
Judging by the large pot rack hanging over her island and the broad selection of cooking implements, the lady liked to cook. “Did you do the decorating yourself?”
She cradled a mug of her special brew in both hands. “I did. The remodeling and the decorating. I spent a lot of time in salvage stores and hustling to remodeling sales. It got to be a kind of competition with myself to see how much money I could save.”
“Looks like you have a knack.”
“That’s what my grandmother said.” She
smiled, remembering. “I was just a kid when I helped her remodel her old farmhouse. She was all by herself and my parents were on the road with business all the time. One day we just tore into the place and started fixing things up. It was a learning experience, let me tell you.”
“Your folks live around here?”
She shook her head. “They’re all long gone. Died when I was a kid. Had foster parents through my crazy teenage years and, believe it or not, I just got a little crazier after that. I didn’t get my act together until I had Buddy.”
He knew her history but asking the logical questions was necessary for his cover. “Well, you turned out pretty damned good, Ms. Seagers.”
Those brown eyes searched his. “What’s a guy like you doing hanging around the High Noon and tossing out compliments to lonely women?” She heaved one shoulder then let it fall. “Or here, for that matter? You’re clearly educated, polished. Not the usual cowboy who hangs out in saloons.”
“The company I worked for went south. I have some savings. I decided taking a little time off to just chill would be a good thing.”
“You seem a little young to retire.”
He laughed. “True. But there’s a high burnout rate in security services. A lot of pressure and a lot of long days and even longer weeks.”
“You’re on break,” she suggested, her expression a bit wary and openly disappointed.
He nodded. “I guess I am.”
“Why bother with working for me? I mean, it’s still security work. Last night can’t be your idea of chilling.”
“Definitely not the same.” He finished off his coffee. “Most of my work involved high-risk principals. Politicians, celebrities. Lot of pressure. Last night was a cakewalk.”
She poured him another cup. “You meet anybody really famous?”
“You mean like a rock star or movie star?” he teased.
She scooted up onto the counter. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”