Falcon's Run

by Aimée Thurlo

  Now, working side by side with Preston, Abby was in a far better mood. They’d finished refilling the horses’ water troughs and were walking back to the main house, her home, as darkness finally descended over the ranch.

  “You look tired,” he said.

  “I am, but physical work helps me unwind. When I’m tired I also tend not to worry so much. I’m a great one for waking up at three in the morning and stewing over a million what-ifs.”

  “Trying to head off problems is a good strategy, but endless worrying is not.”

  “I know, but sometimes I just can’t help it.”

  It was honest and to the point, like she was. “Do you ever regret dedicating so much of your life to this place?”

  She took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I’d made more traditional choices. As it is, I rarely date, and my private life is practically nonexistent, but the ranch does give me something in return. I have a very special family here. The children’s faces change often, but what we share at the ranch connects us forever.”

  “Dedication—to anything—always carries a price,” he said. “A lot of women have come and gone in my life, but the truth is, I’m married to police work.”

  She smiled. The similarities between them only heightened her attraction to him. It was all very unsettling—but undeniably exciting. “Doing what we’re meant to do is satisfying, but it can also be lonely at times.”

  “Maybe so, but I’ve got family nearby. Most of my brothers live in this area. What about your family?”

  “After my sister passed away, Mom and Dad were heartbroken. They both died within a year, one right after the other,” she said. After a long pause, she continued. “Watching someone you love die a little each day breaks your heart in a way that never quite heals. Sandy was my fraternal twin and a part of us was connected. For a long time after her death, I was lost. Nothing made sense to me. If everything could be taken from you at any given moment, why bother doing anything at all? I’m not sure if there is a hell, but that’s as close to it as I’ve ever found.”

  “So how did this ranch come about?”

  “When Sandy started going downhill, the thing she wanted to do most of all was go horseback riding. She loved horses, but we didn’t own any. I tried finding someone who’d let her ride, but people were worried about liability if something went wrong. I finally got a local rancher to agree and the difference that outing made in Sandy was amazing. For a few hours she got to do something she wanted. She died in peace a few weeks after that.” She swallowed hard. “Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s on a horse,” she added with a sad smile.

  Her sorrow stabbed through him. He remembered what it was like when he’d found himself alone so many years back. Goodbye could be the cruelest words of all time, especially coming from the most important person in your life.

  Although he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, she moved back and shook her head.

  “I’m fine. Memories can hurt, but we go on,” she said in a slightly steadier tone. “I’ll always miss her, but it’s thanks to her that this ranch was founded. Her spirit lives on here.”

  He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Did the idea for the ranch come to you right away?”

  “Not immediately, no, but as time wore on, I saw that a ranch like this one would be the perfect way to honor her life. We may not be able to change our final destination, but we can make the most out of the time we’ve got,” she said, stopping to give the horses a few carrots. “My dream was to create an extraordinary ranch for kids facing major challenges.” She looked at him and smiled sheepishly. “The problem was that I was nineteen at the time and had no money.”

  “So you got donations and sold your idea to a bank?”

  “Eventually, yes, but first I needed capital of my own,” she said. “I opened up an employment agency that provided skilled workers for small or large construction projects anywhere in the state. My business grew quickly, and three years later I sold it. I made enough of a profit to buy this ranch, but I still needed investors who could share my vision. Helping Sitting Tall Ranch become what it is today took time and a lot of effort.” She looked around her and smiled. “Mostly, it was about never taking no for an answer.”

  As she moved away from the horse pen, a camel roared, spooking the horses.

  “That’s Hank. Something or someone he doesn’t know or like is moving around over by his enclosure.”

  He started to reach for his gun, but she shook her head. “It might just be a stray dog. Hank’s more vocal and territorial than your typical camel. He lets everyone know if he sees something that’s out of place or different somehow.”

  “That’s a really loud call. Did he do that the night Carl died?” Preston asked.

  She blinked. “He might have, but although we didn’t get any rain, we had some pretty loud thunder that night.”

  “I’m going to check it out.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  “Stay behind me then,” he said, heading back to the camel pen.

  Both camels were at the far end of their welded pipe enclosure, less than fifty feet from the bunkhouse.

  Abby nudged Preston and gestured to a small beam of light just outside the rear of the bunkhouse.

  “I’ll handle it,” he whispered, reaching for his gun. “Stay back.”

  As he crept forward, Abby caught a glimpse of the intruder’s face. “Wait, Preston. That’s one of the high school kids who volunteers here.”

  Abby immediately strode toward the teen, who was standing in the open and illuminated by the full moon overhead. “Norman, what on earth are you doing here skulking around like this? And who’s that with you?” she added, seeing a shadow a few feet away.

  “It’s me, Abby. Don’t be angry,” another familiar voice said.

  “Meet Norman and Jenny Rager,” she told Preston, then focused back on the pair. “Tell me what you’re doing here?”

  “It was so much money! And we would have split it with you,” Norman said. “Honest!”

  “You’ve lost me,” Abby said.

  “The Inquisitor, the statewide tabloid, is offering two hundred bucks for a photo of the bunkhouse and the stall where the body was found.”

  “It wasn’t just for the money, Abby,” Jenny said. “People are saying that Carl was just another crook with a good line and you fell for his story. We figured that if everyone could see where he lived, how simple his life was, they’d realize Carl was just a regular hardworking guy.”

  “And we didn’t break in,” Norman added quickly. “The gate was open and we parked in the parking area. You weren’t around, so we came back here.”

  “You’re still trespassing,” Preston said sharply.

  “I’m going to let this go,” Abby said with a sigh. “But if either of you pull something like this again, I’ll press charges. Clear?”

  “Clear!” Norman said, then hurried back with his sister Jenny toward the parking lot.

  “If that ’bloid is offering money for photos, this could get ugly,” Preston said.

  “I’ll make some calls tomorrow morning and see if I can get them to stop. I know some people.”

  By the time the kids had left and they were back at the ranch house, Abby was exhausted. “Come in. I promised you dinner, and by now you’re probably starving.”

  “Yeah, but you’re beat. I can see it on your face. Let me take a rain check.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I can head back to the station and check out a few things.”

  “Like the tabloid photo offer?”

  He nodded. “But I think that’s just routine for the tabloid. Anytime there’s a local story like this they like to sensationalize it. That’s h
ow they sell papers,” he said. “One more thing before I leave, Abby. Consider installing security cameras.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said slowly. “If I do, it might worry people even more. I’d be publicly acknowledging that I believe the ranch is no longer safe. Keep in mind that my battle will be fought—and won or lost—in the court of public opinion. A move like that could work against me.”

  He nodded slowly. “There’s one thing you need to consider—the fact that you never heard Hank roar the night Carl was killed could mean it was an inside job.”

  “No. I know my people. No one who works for me could have done something like that. It’s more likely that the killer came in from a different direction and avoided Hank’s enclosure altogether.”

  Preston held her gaze. “I know you want to believe that, but you have to stay open to the possibility. Until we know for sure, stay alert and don’t lower your guard,” he said. “Will you be hiring someone to take Carl’s place?”

  “Not right away,” she said. “It takes forever to find someone who’s willing to work very long hours for a flat rate in exchange for living quarters.”

  “I’ll help you spread the word. Maybe someone at the station will have a retired relative or know of someone who’s good with animals, like an old cowboy.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Before she could say anything more, they heard Hank’s ponderous groan. “Again?”

  “Maybe someone besides Norman and Jenny got the same idea. Wait here,” Preston said, holding up his hand.

  As he ran off, she remained behind for a moment, then changed her mind. Though Preston was a well-trained police officer, everyone could use a hand now and then. Years of moving eighty-pound hay bales had given her incredible strength to put into a right hook. Or she could give an attacker a boot kick in the shins, if it came to that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Preston saw a shadowy figure creeping around the barn. All the animals seemed agitated. Judging from the shape and the way the suspect moved, the person was male and was wearing a dark-colored hoodie. In the bright moonlight he could see that the tall, broad-shouldered man was spray painting graffiti on the side of the barn.

  “Police! Don’t move!” Preston called out.

  The man took off instantly, running at full speed. Preston was fast, but by the time he reached the road, the man was racing away on a motorcycle. He was too far away for Preston to get a plate ID or even the make of the machine.

  Preston called it in. “I won’t catch him now,” he said as Abby caught up to him. “I should have waited until I got closer before I said anything. He’s heading back to the highway, so tracking him now is not a possibility.”

  She shone her flashlight on the side of the barn. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The drawing depicted a stick figure inside a circle with a diagonal line across it. “I don’t understand. What’s he saying? No stick figures? No art? Wait—no people, no kids?”

  “Probably,” Preston said and took photos of it with his cell phone. “Unless you have some paint solvent, you should cover this over before anyone arrives tomorrow morning. Don’t give the tagger the satisfaction of having others see his work.”

  “I have a gallon of barn-red paint left over for touch-ups. It’ll cover in one coat and won’t take long.”

  By the time she came back out with paint, tools and a battery-powered lantern, Preston had taken off his jacket and bolo tie and placed them over the top rail of the fence.

  She smiled, set down the paint can and a cardboard box, then turned on the lantern. “You’re not dressed for this. I’ll take care of it. Once I get the paint all stirred and in the tray, I’ll just need a few minutes. I’ve got a big roller and years of experience painting exterior walls.”

  “So do I, so count me in. You get the paint mixed while I take off my shirt.” He saw her stealing quick glances as he hung his shirt next to his jacket. The first time it was curiosity. After that, it was because she liked what she saw. Biting back a smile, he got to work.

  * * *

  THOUGH SHE TRIED not to get caught looking at him, she couldn’t help sneaking a few glances at Preston. His strong shoulders and bronzed arms rippled with muscles as he moved the roller in diagonal and vertical strokes, applying the paint.

  As he bent down to replenish the roller, she checked out his lower half and had to bite back a sigh. He was a living, breathing temptation.

  “Like what you see?” he asked without even looking back.

  “How did you know—” She pressed her lips together and glanced away. “Wow. Walked right into that, didn’t I?”

  He laughed, then turned around to face her. “No harm in looking,” he said, then allowed his gaze to take her in from top to bottom slowly.

  Heat, the kind that teased and tantalized, spread all through her, but she managed to hold back a shiver of pleasure. He’d seen way too much already in her expression.

  They finished painting quickly, then washed the tray and roller in a big utility sink inside the barn.

  “Okay, we’re done here. Let’s head back to the house. The least I can do to say thank-you is microwave us a frozen pizza.”

  He removed the latex gloves she’d provided, then before reaching for his shirt, noticed a paint smudge on his chest and tried to rub it off with his hand.

  “Let me get that,” Abby said, moistening a hand towel with water.

  She came up to him. “Hold still for a sec. The paint’s water-based, but now’s the time to wipe it off.”

  As she stood close, she became aware of everything about him. The heat from his body enveloped her, sparking her senses. Her hand began to tremble as she wiped the paint away.

  “No need to be nervous,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him.

  As she looked up into his eyes, she saw the fire there and her breath caught in her throat. She should have stepped away, but everything feminine in her demanded she stay. Abby wrapped her arms around him and shivered as he nuzzled her neck, leaving a trail of moist kisses there.

  She pressed herself against him, wanting more, and as she drew in a breath, his mouth closed over hers. The kiss was slow and deep, then grew more demanding with each passing second.

  He drew back, taking a breath, but she brought his lips back to hers, unwilling to have it end so soon.

  He lowered his hand to her bottom and pressed her against him, letting her feel his hardness.

  Knowing she was desired heightened her pleasure but soon it became too hot. Fighting herself, she took an unsteady step back.

  He released his hold on her but stood his ground, his chest heaving, his eyes still gleaming with a dark fire. “Sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. It was...wonderful. But we had to stop.”

  One-night stands, however tempting, weren’t for her. After the passion cooled, they only made her feel emotionally drained and more alone than ever.

  “Come on,” she said, picking up her flashlight, which had been resting on the fence post. “With everything’s that happened, we’re too wired to rest. Let’s have dinner.”

  “I was hoping for dessert first,” he said with a crooked grin.

  She laughed. “Will you settle for three-cheese pizza and some beer?”

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t strike me as the kind who’d have beer in the fridge.”

  “Busted,” she said, chuckling. “I’ve had the same six-pack in there since our staff’s last monthly get-together. It’s one Saturday a month
and very informal. Basically, we grill hamburgers and everyone brings something—potluck style.”

  Once they’d reached the main house she led him into the living room. The old ranch house was decorated southwestern style with a leather couch, two chairs and a wool area rug over brick flooring. The walls held various “before and after” shots of the ranch.

  He accepted the cold beer she handed him—a local brew.

  Abby took a box of pizza out of the freezer and placed the contents onto the bottom of the box atop the silver heating surface. “I can add some green chile to it so it’s a New Mexican pizza. You game?”

  “Always,” he said.

  As their eyes met, she felt a prickle of excitement. Preston was all about self-control and restraint, a police officer through and through, but when he’d held her, she’d caught a glimpse of the rough, powerful man he kept tightly leashed.

  She bit back a sigh and looked away. She had to get her thoughts back onto safer channels. Why was she making such a fuss over a kiss or two? This just wasn’t like her.

  “The living room’s nice, but it doesn’t say much about you or your style. Is that intentional?”

  She started the microwave, then glanced back at him. “You’re right and, yes, it’s intentional.”

  He waited and didn’t interrupt the silence.

  “To build a dream, you have to be able to weather a lot of disappointments. That requires some separation between the dream and the dreamer.” The microwave dinged and she pulled out the pizza. “I sometimes bring donors into my living room and entertain there. The rest of the house is just for me—a place where I can retreat from the worries of every day. My favorite room is one I converted into a small library. It’s filled with romance and fantasy novels.”

  “I would have said those two are the same,” he answered with a grin as they ate. “Isn’t fantasizing part of romance?”

  She laughed. “You tell me,” she said, meeting his gaze and holding it.