by Rita Herron
Margaret tightened her jaw, and Taylor gripped her hand. “I told you she wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I had dinner with Taylor, then met my fiancé, Devon Goldenrod, at his house,” Margaret said. “You can ask him.”
Hayes arched a brow. “Right, the golden boy who’s vying for votes in the next City Board election.”
Taylor grimaced at the disdain in Hayes’s voice. She’d heard he’d had a rough life but he didn’t have to take his attitude out on her and Margaret.
Then again, for a moment, pain had flashed in his eyes when he’d seen Margaret hug her. Kimberly had mentioned that he’d been adopted, that there were some things he refused to talk about.
Margaret folded her arms. “Sergeant, what are you doing to find the person who attacked Taylor?”
His lips thinned into a deeper frown. “I’ve processed the crime scene and will be investigating everyone in Miss Landis’s life for motive.”
“What about keeping her safe?” Margaret asked.
An evil grin slid across the ranger’s face. “Well, ma’am,” he drawled mockingly, “I’ve got that covered.”
“How?” Margaret asked.
“I’ve been assigned as her bodyguard day and night.”
Taylor’s stomach sizzled with nerves yet she pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering how gentle he’d been when he resuscitated her. How in the world was she going to endure being near this man when he obviously hated everything about her?
HAYES BALLED HIS HANDS into fists to control his temper. Dammit, Taylor Landis looked all soft and needy. And she’d touched those luscious lips and looked up at him as if she was remembering his mouth on hers when he’d brought her back to life.
Hell. He couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t touch her mouth or any other part of her body again.
So he lashed out at her by taking perverse joy in taunting her rich friend. Maybe it was payback for all the taunting he’d received as a kid.
Margaret narrowed her eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel any better, Sergeant.”
He threw his head back and chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ms. Hathaway, I won’t let anything bad happen to the little princess.”
“You’d better not.” Margaret’s eyes flashed with emotions that Hayes refused to allow to get to him. “Because she’s going to be my maid of honor at my wedding, and I don’t want her showing up in a cast or on crutches.”
Or not showing up because she was dead, Hayes thought, although he refrained from comment. “In light of the fact that someone tried to kill you tonight, Taylor, you shouldn’t put yourself in the limelight right now.”
Margaret’s face blanched with fear, and Hayes’s gut tightened.
“He’s right,” Margaret said. “I’ll postpone everything until after the police find out who did this to you, Tay.”
“No, you won’t,” Taylor said, shooting Hayes a harsh look.
“But I don’t want to take a chance on you being hurt,” Margaret argued.
“She’s right, Taylor,” Hayes said. “You need to go into hiding until we find the man who attacked you.”
Anger sizzled in Taylor’s sky-blue eyes. “I refuse to run and hide. I’m not going to let some creep scare me from living my life.”
Hayes glared at her. “Then you’re a fool and asking for trouble.”
She turned a saccharine sweet smile on Hayes that was so fake it fueled his temper. “But, Sergeant, you’ll be with me day and night to protect me.”
He met her gaze with a sinister stare, but she smiled again, and focused on Margaret as if he was her minion.
Rage ripped through him. That was how she saw him, and he couldn’t forget it.
AS SOON AS MARGARET LEFT, Taylor fell into an exhausted sleep. Fitful images of the attack drove her awake several times, but when she opened her eyes, she saw Hayes Keller sitting in the chair in the corner watching her. She shouldn’t have found comfort in having him close by, but his big masculine presence soothed her nerves, and she rolled to her side and drifted back to sleep.
The last time she woke, sunlight streamed through the hospital window, and she checked the chair. He was slightly slumped, his head having fallen sideways in sleep, and his massive chest moved up and down with his breath. Catching him off guard in sleep seemed somehow intimate.
She noticed the fine dark stubble along his rugged jaw, the way his thick lips formed a constant scowl, the little curl in his dark hair that made her want to run her hands through it. His jaw was broad, his nose blunt and slightly crooked as if it had been broken and his eyebrows were full and thick, arched to frame his eyes in a way that added to his intensity.
The sound of his breathing floated toward her, a coarse whisper just as masculine as his face and body.
Somehow in that moment, he looked almost…human. And approachable.
He suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers, and a tingling started low and deep in her belly. Lord, he was potently sexy. Like a cowboy hero in a Western.
No, no, no. She couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about him.
His eyebrows lifted slightly, and a heartbeat of silence stretched between them, fraught with tension.
She must be insane because at that moment she wanted him.
Then the door swung open and the doctor walked in. “Good morning, Miss Landis. Let’s see if it’s time to dismiss you.”
Hayes pushed to his feet, his boots pounding as he walked to the door. “I’ll be outside. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”
She nodded, although her throat was too thick to speak. She could count on her hand the number of men she’d actually been this attracted to over the years.
Why did Hayes Keller have to be one of them?
HAYES PACED OUTSIDE TAYLOR’S hospital room. What in the hell had just happened?
After endless hours of being tortured by watching Taylor toss and turn, of wanting to crawl in bed and comfort her when she’d cried out in terror from her nightmares, he’d finally dozed off, only to have his own demons haunt him.
He had been five years old, locked in that damn closet where his adopted parents stuffed him anytime they needed to go out. Or when they just needed some peace and quiet.
Or when they wanted to punish him for being bad. And according to them, he was bad all the time so he’d spent half his young life in that tiny dark closet.
He still had claustrophobia. Hated dark closets, basements and crawl spaces.
Hell, he was a grown man now. Had his own life. A nice little cabin he’d built himself on a small ranch with tons of light where no one could bother him, where he’d never be stuck in that dark place again.
And he wouldn’t…not even in his mind.
He had escaped and had a job to do, and he’d damn well do it without allowing Taylor to get under his skin like she had earlier.
He’d survived that hellhole of a family. He could survive being assigned as her bodyguard.
All the more reason to find her attacker quickly, though, so he could leave Cantara Hills.
The door opened and the doctor appeared, Taylor’s chart in hand. “She’s dressing, then she can go home.”
He nodded. Margaret had brought Taylor an overnight bag. A nurse appeared with a wheelchair, and he went and retrieved his SUV from the parking garage, then pulled up in front of the hospital. Taylor climbed in and fastened her seat belt, and he maneuvered into the early morning traffic and drove to Cantara Hills.
“If we’re forced to spend time together, we should get to know each other,” Taylor said, filling the awkward silence.
He glared at her. “I intend to learn everything about you.”
Her blond brows rose, eyes sparkling. “Really?”
He pressed his mouth into a frown. “Yes, and all your friends.”
The light left her eyes. “Then tell me about yourself. About your family.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’m here to do a job, Taylor. My personal li
fe is off-limits.”
For a brief second, hurt tugged at her expression.
He turned away from her, refused to feel guilty. “I need to go by my room at the country club and pick up my duffel bag.”
“Excuse me?” she said quietly.
“I told you I’m your bodyguard. That means I’m moving in.”
She shivered and hugged her arms around her waist. “I certainly hope you find whoever did this quickly.”
He chuckled. She obviously didn’t want him around any more than he wanted to be with her. “That’s the plan. In fact, I’d like to clean up and then I want to talk to your brother and Kenneth Sutton.”
She stared out the window, her expression pained. “I just can’t believe one of them would try to kill me.”
He clamped his mouth shut. She was too damn innocent. Just because these people were related to her or acted as if they were her friends, didn’t mean they didn’t have secrets or a motive for murder.
Chapter Five
Taylor grimaced at the way Hayes had cut her off when she’d inquired about his family. She felt for him, but she couldn’t continue offering friendship if he was going to be so rude.
Besides, as soon as he found out who’d tried to kill her, he’d ride out of Cantara Hills and never look back.
She’d had it with men either using her or disappearing when they’d finished their agenda.
He parked in the circular drive, and she jumped out, not bothering to wait for him to open the door for her. The inside of the car had been too crowded, too hot, too filled with his male scent.
So why did his eyes haunt her?
Frustration mingled with fear as she unlocked the door. But Hayes pushed her aside and ordered her to wait while he checked the house. She paced nervously. She’d always felt safe here, but after the night before, would she ever feel safe again?
At least her estate was large so she and Hayes wouldn’t be trapped in close quarters together. She noticed her office door ajar and veered inside to see if anything was missing. Thankfully, she kept her important papers, stocks and bonds, in a safe, and she examined it first, then breathed a sigh of relief. Next she searched the desk files, but didn’t notice anything missing. Even the file she’d been reviewing regarding the discrepancy with the city council bids seemed intact.
What had the intruder been looking for? What had been important enough for him to have killed her to get it?
HAYES NOTICED THE STRICKEN look on Taylor’s face. The reality of her home invasion had finally hit her. But he steeled himself against sympathy. “Did you notice anything missing?”
She shook her head, then tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind one ear. “The safe hasn’t been open, and all my files are intact.”
So what had the killer been looking for?
“Inventory your jewelry.”
She nodded and he followed her to her suite. She looked wary as she entered her bedroom, and he remained at the threshold, shifting to lean against the frame while she sorted through her jewelry. The sight of diamonds and the glittering emeralds and sapphires served as a reminder of the yawning distance between them.
“Is everything there?”
She bit down on her bottom lip. “Yes…wait. Let me look at my other jewelry box.”
She had two?
He tugged at his Stetson as she opened her closet and retrieved a smaller box from the top shelf. The box was intricately carved, black lacquered, an Asian design although small, almost as if it had belonged to a child. She traced a finger over it lovingly and he wondered if it held special meaning for her. Maybe a gift from Daddy or a former lover?
The thought sent a small pang of jealousy streaking through him, but he brushed it off. What did he care if she had a dozen lovers? He would never be one of them.
“Taylor?”
She inhaled sharply, then lifted the lid, and her chin quivered. “It’s gone.”
“What?”
“My charm bracelet,” she said softly.
“What was it worth?”
She lifted her head, and emotions splintered her eyes. “Not much, but it was priceless to me. My mother gave it to me.” Her voice broke. “She used to add a charm every year at Christmas.”
And her mother had died when she was eight.
“Why would someone take that piece instead of all those jewels in your other chest?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, although the odd catch in her voice told him she was lying. “It’s not valuable, not monetarily, I mean. But it was special to me.”
He cleared his throat. “It had to be someone who knew where you kept it.” Meaning the thief had meant to hurt her because he knew she valued the piece. “You think your brother stole it?”
She hesitated so long he had his answer. “Let me clean up and I’ll pay Miles a visit,” she said.
“I’m going with you, but I’d like to shower first.”
He wanted to question Miles without her, yet he couldn’t leave her alone, not knowing she was in danger, so he agreed, then headed downstairs to the guest suite.
But as he stripped and climbed in beneath the warm water, he imagined her upstairs doing the same. They could have conserved water if they’d showered together.
A bitter laugh lodged in his throat. Hell, he had to be honest, at least to himself. He didn’t care about conserving water.
He was a hot-blooded man. He just wanted to see the damn woman naked.
TAYLOR STEWED OVER the bracelet while she showered. She didn’t want to believe her brother would take the charm bracelet, because he understood its significance to her.
Yet he had been furious with her the last time they’d run in to each other.
She dressed in a pair of her favorite jeans and a sleeveless silk tank and hurried down the stairs. Hayes stood in the foyer in a crisp white shirt and jeans, his Stetson shadowing his face.
“Do you know where to find Miles?”
She glanced at the grandfather clock. “At this time of the morning, he’ll still be sleeping off last night’s party.”
“Then let’s go wake him up,” Hayes said.
Her stomach quivered as they walked to his SUV, and she studied the landscape architecture of the community as he drove to Miles’s house, an English Tudor her father had bought for him for his twenty-first birthday. Of course, Miles had pouted that it wasn’t as large as the estate where Taylor lived, which had only increased the tension between the two of them.
But she actually earned a salary, and kept the mansion to host various charity functions for the foundation. She took pride in using her salary for her own personal causes—she and Margaret funded a special program for needy children and Margaret spearheaded one for pregnant teens.
“This is it?” Hayes asked as he parked in front of the Tudor.
“Yes.”
“He lives alone?”
“Most of the time, but he entertains a lot. Mostly women.”
“Your brother is the party guy, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.” To the detriment of himself and anyone who cared about him.
They climbed out, and she led the way to her brother’s front door. Hayes punched the doorbell, tapping his boot on the brick stoop as they waited. Impatience made Taylor stab the button again.
No answer, so she retrieved her keys from her purse and unlocked the door. “He has to be here. It’s too early for him to be out for the day.”
“Maybe he spent the night with his latest hook-up.”
“That’s possible,” Taylor said as she pushed her way inside.
“Does Miles have a key to your house?” Hayes asked.
Her gaze swung to his, and she released a sigh. “Yes.”
He shook his head in disgust, and she bolted up the stairs toward his room. “Miles, it’s me, Taylor. Are you up there?”
No answer.
“Miles, I hope you’re decent, because I’m coming in.”
She pounded o
n his door, and Hayes stood behind her, his presence oddly comforting as she opened it. “Miles?”
A low growl erupted, and she spotted him in bed, the covers half over him, a bottle of Scotch on the nightstand.
She stormed through the room, grabbed the slacks he’d tossed on the floor and threw them at him. “Get dressed. We have to talk.”
“What in the hell are you doing here?” He scrubbed a hand through his scraggly hair and glanced at the clock. “Good God, Taylor. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning.”
“At ten o’clock, most people have already been at work for two hours,” she snapped.
“Get out of here!” he shouted, then rolled over and pulled the comforter over his head.
Hayes jerked the covers from his face. “Either dress and join us downstairs or I’ll drag you there myself.”
Taylor smiled. If anyone could coerce the truth from her brother, it would be Hayes Keller.
HAYES IGNORED MILES’S LITANY of profanities as he stepped outside the man’s room. He, Egan and Brody had already speculated about Miles’s motive. The twenty-four-year-old could have taken advantage of Kimberly’s death to kill Taylor by pretending to be a vigilante killer, murdering suspects and witnesses involved in Kimberly’s death to cover up his real target—his sister. All so he could gain access to Taylor’s inheritance.
Taylor walked ahead down the staircase, her irritation with her brother evident by the strain on her face.
He followed her to the kitchen where she brewed coffee. By the time Miles stumbled into the room, she’d poured both herself and Hayes a cup, then handed a third mug to her brother. He reeked of booze and cigarettes and a sour attitude.
“All right, Taylor. What is such a big freaking deal you came over here? And why is this ranger with you? You shacking up with him or something?”
Hayes knotted his hands, barely resisting the urge to ram his fist in the idiot’s mouth. He’d put up with spoiled rich kids like him all his life, treating him like a third-class citizen.
Taylor’s blue eyes glimmered with emotions. “Did you take the charm bracelet Mother gave me?”