Camouflage Cowboy

by Jan Hambright

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, man.” Nick pushed away from the door and followed Matteo out of the control room. “I owe you one.”

  “Just bring Faith’s glass back…clean.”

  They parted company in the gallery and Nick slipped out the front door of Governor Lockhart’s mansion.

  At least two positive things had come out of the past hour; he was still grappling with the negatives. But number one, he was duty-bound to protect Grace and Caleb Marshall while he made sure Grace never learned she was the illegitimate daughter of Governor Lila Lockhart. Number two, he planned to parlay the governor’s promise of a donor drive by becoming the first to be tested. It should cost her a cool million, or two, and work to soothe his bruised sense of honor, but could it save Caleb’s life?

  Nick climbed into his pickup, fired the engine and rolled out of the drive, headed for Holy Cross Hospital.

  SORE BUT SATISFIED, Nick stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor of Holy Cross Hospital and headed for the exit, thinking about Caleb Marshall. The doctors had taken a sample of his bone marrow and would test to see if he was a match for Grace’s son. The little guy had no doubt endured the painful procedure he’d just experienced, dozens of times.

  Respect and admiration bubbled up inside of him. Caleb Marshall was a fighter.

  His cell phone vibrated in his shirt pocket.

  Nick fingered it open and stared at the number on the screen. Anticipation glided over his nerves.

  “Grace?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, Nick, but there’s been some trouble at my condo and I’m afraid to go inside alone. Caleb and I are still in the car. Can you come?”

  “I’ll be right there. Where do you live?” His worry level notched up as he hurried to his pickup.

  He already knew her address, but he couldn’t risk exposure by showing up without having the information come from her first. She rattled off the location, her voice hedged with fear that came out in her wavering pitch.

  “That’s five minutes from my location. Hang on.” He closed his phone, jumped in his truck and took off.

  Chapter Five

  Grace stared at the closed garage door from across the street as another chill assaulted her body. This was the point where she threw whatever she could carry into a suitcase and skipped town.

  He’d found her again.

  Adjusting her rearview mirror, she looked at Caleb where he sat strapped in his car seat sound asleep.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she studied her tiny son. He was extremely pale today. Not even his normally rosy-hued, chubby cheeks showed signs of color.

  She couldn’t run. Not this time, not when she was so close to the woman who could save his life. She may never get another chance to get it right. She wiped her eyes and thought about Nick Cavanaugh. There had never been someone she could turn to before him. She’d been on her own since she’d decided to disappear.

  Reaching up, she eased the mirror back into place, and jumped. The grill of a pickup filled the rearview. In a panic she hit the auto-locks again just to be certain, but relaxed when movement in her peripheral vision materialized in the form of Nick Cavanaugh standing next to her car.

  Grace turned the key and rolled down the driver-side window. “Thank God you’re here.”

  He squatted down on the curb next to her car, reached inside the open window and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you and Caleb all right?”

  Heat scorched her skin under his touch. She leaned into it for an instant before he withdrew his hand. “We’re fine, but when I opened the garage to pull in…I knew he’d been here. He could still be inside. I didn’t feel safe taking Caleb in without knowing for certain, so I closed the overhead door and parked over here to wait.” Tension vibrated across her nerves. She knew what his next question would be even before he asked it.

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No. I called you.” She stared at him, trying to gauge his response to the tiny amount of information she’d given him. She knew he would require more. So much more. Maybe more than she could give.

  “I know that’s lame, but I’ll tell you everything another time. Suffice to say, I’ve got a stalker.”

  Awareness wove a path through him as he contemplated her situation. A stalker would explain the man in the black sedan, but not why she hadn’t called the police.

  He glanced at Caleb asleep in the backseat and his insides went to mush. “Do you lock the entry door from the garage into the house?”

  “Always.” She pulled her keys out of the ignition, spun the key off the metal ring and handed it to him.

  Nick took it and shoved it into his shirt pocket. “Sit tight, lock your doors. I’ll check it out. Wait for my all clear.” He reached back with his right hand and adjusted the weapons holster he’d clipped onto his belt before he got out of his pickup.

  “Open the garage.” He stood up, listening to the grind of the overhead door as it responded to the remote opener she’d activated from inside of her car. “Close it the second I’m inside. Do you understand?” He didn’t wait for a response to the request. Most people wanted all escape routes left open for them; he wanted the opposite, to trap the intruder inside if he could.

  He took off across the street, focused on the condo, locked in stealth mode, but he wasn’t prepared for what he saw as he slipped inside the garage and pulled his 9 mm.

  Spray painted the entire length of the back wall in running bloodred letters was the word MURDERER.

  Nick blended into the corner next to the entrance and raised his weapon as the garage-door opener came to life and the door began its slow descent.

  A security light came on, soaking the interior in low light.

  Whoever Grace’s stalker was, he’d made damn sure those letters were the first thing she saw. His effort smacked of some sick psychological need to mentally harass her. Nick’s caution level elevated.

  The door touched down on the concrete floor. The mechanical hum of the opener ceased.

  Nick listened for sounds of movement inside the condo. Nothing. Was he gone? Or hiding inside, waiting to strike?

  There was only one way to find out.

  He pushed away from the wall and moved to the door leading into the house without making a sound. If the thug was still here, he knew the opener had been triggered.

  Pausing next to the threshold, he glanced at the knob. He wasn’t going to need a key to get in, and neither was Grace. The thing had been pried open between the kick-plate and the jamb, judging by the fresh tool marks gouged into the wooden casing.

  Pistol aimed, Nick pushed the door open using the edge of the jamb for cover. Utility room. Clear.

  Stepping inside, he scanned the small cubicle for hiding places, then turned his focus on the kitchen dead ahead. Inching out into the room, he prepared to take out the intruder.

  Nothing. Only the sound of his heart thundering inside of his chest.

  To the left was a living room, sparsely furnished. Devoid of pictures or personality. Clear.

  Opposite the kitchen was a hallway.

  Nick attached himself to the wall and shot a glance down the narrow corridor. Clear.

  Three entrances, probably two bedrooms and a bath.

  He cleared the bathroom, jerked open the shower curtain, then moved down the hall, where he came to Caleb’s room first. He cleared it, noting the neatly made bed and the stack of books on the nightstand.

  On the opposite side of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar. It had to be Grace’s bedroom.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

  Stepping across the hall, he took up a tactical position next to the entrance and pushed the door open.

  The smell in the air hit him first: acrid and laced with a tinge of sulfur.

  Gun raised, he cleared the bedroom, then stepped inside for a closer look.

  He knew the scent, knew its source. Battery acid. Grace’s bedroom was
drenched in it, from across her neatly made bed, to the dresser in the corner. The chemical had already stopped eating away at everything it had touched and had turned to flaky white powder.

  He pulled in a breath and holstered his weapon, aware that nothing personal was in plain sight—no pictures, no mementos, nothing. Her bedroom could be at the local motel and have more personality than this room had. Curious, he stepped to the closet and slid it open, ready to take on anything that popped out, but he found himself staring at a large suitcase and four or five outfits hanging on the bar inside.

  Three pairs of shoes were neatly placed on the floor. The upper shelf was bare.

  Stepping back, he took one last look, his gaze lingering on her bed for longer than felt comfortable. He was duty-bound to keep her safe.

  Nick left the room, closing the door behind him. He headed for the front entry to give Grace the all-clear sign. He hadn’t surprised an intruder, but he had discovered a few things about Grace Marshall. She was living lean. He’d seen the tactic in Iraq on his recon missions. The enemy always traveled light. They could clear out in a matter of minutes and fade into the twilight to fight another day. But he didn’t plan on letting that happen, not this time.

  His stomach fisted as he unlocked the front door, stepped outside and waved to Grace, who started her car and pulled into the driveway in front of the garage door.

  Nick hurried down the sidewalk to meet her, glad she hadn’t pulled inside. Caleb didn’t need to see the ugliness scrawled on the wall, and he hoped for his sake that the little guy had been asleep when they first got home.

  “Let me take him,” Nick offered as she gently got Caleb out of his car seat and pulled him into her arms.

  “Thank you.” She handed him off and closed the car door.

  “Treatment day?” he asked as he turned and aimed for the front door with Grace next to him. Caleb felt so fragile in his arms, small and vulnerable. A surge of protectiveness flooded his veins and didn’t relent.

  “Yes. This morning, but he’s been like this for the entire afternoon.”

  Worry washed over Nick’s emotions as Grace opened the front door for him and they went inside. “I’ll put him in his bed.”

  She nodded. “I’ll change my clothes and make us some coffee.”

  Nick stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “You don’t want to go into your bedroom right now.”

  Her eyes widened for an instant. “He was in my bedroom?”

  “Yeah. Make that coffee. We need to talk.” He walked down the hallway and into Caleb’s room, where he gently pulled back the covers and put him down on his bed. He tucked them up around the little boy and stepped back, his heart in a knot he’d never untangle.

  Caleb Marshall was dying.

  Reality slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer. In that instant he realized he’d be willing to give up everything he had to ensure Caleb survived.

  “Do you have children, Nick?”

  Caught off guard, he tensed at the sound of Grace’s voice behind him. He pulled himself together, straightened and turned to stare at her. She was leaning against the doorjamb, watching him with those gorgeous shade-of-heaven eyes, slowly taking him prisoner with every glance.

  “No,” he said, just above a whisper, willing the emotion from his voice. “But I’d like to.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes tearing at the edges before she turned away. “Coffee’s ready.”

  “Grace?” He pulled the door to Caleb’s room closed and trailed her out into the hallway then into the kitchen where she abruptly stopped with her back to him. From the slight up and down movement of her shoulders, he could tell she was crying.

  “Grace.” Stepping up next to her, he pressed his hand against her back. He knew she was in emotional pain, knew the raging tangle of emotions assaulting her were winning the battle at the moment.

  Without coaxing, she turned into him.

  He held her close, feeling an explosion of attraction as he wrapped his arms around her slender shoulders and cupped her head with his hand.

  Time stood still. He closed his eyes, feeling the sensation of her against his chest. Hot streaks of desire skittered over his nerve endings. Grace needed to commiserate, not be seduced.

  Nick gritted his teeth against the onslaught, and with every measure of restraint he could muster, he released her. “He’s going to make it, Grace. He’s going to get a transplant.” Reaching out he brushed a wayward tear off her cheek with his fingers.

  She stared up at him. “You don’t understand. I can’t stay in Freedom now that he knows where I live. And I can’t leave, or I risk Caleb’s only chance for survival.”

  He grasped her upper arms, desperate to discourage her from running like he was certain she’d done before.

  “You don’t have to leave Freedom, but you can’t stay here. This guy is a nut job. He doused your bedroom with battery acid. Rage like that could escalate into violence, and he’ll be back, but I won’t let him hurt you or Caleb. We’ll contact Sheriff Hale.”

  She sucked in a quick breath, her eyes filling with tears again as she glanced away. He felt her body tense under his palms.

  “No. No cops.”

  “I want to help you, but you have to tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  Grace’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Nick Cavanaugh was an honorable man, she knew it, felt it, and the truth could drive him away just when she needed him the most.

  “My stalker is a cop with a thick blue line around him.” His features softened and she felt the tension in his hold relax as he pulled her to him. She went willingly, turned her head and settled her ear against his chest, listening to the reassuring thud of his heart under her ear. She closed her eyes, trying to remember the last time she’d felt this safe this close to a man, but the past four years of her life were a blur.

  “Grace, listen to me.”

  Pushing back, she looked up at him, concerned by the worry in his voice.

  “I want you to pack your things and pull your car into the garage.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I’m getting you both out of here,” he whispered. “We’re a go at dark.”

  NICK GLANCED IN THE REARVIEW mirror at the headlights several car-lengths back. They’d picked up the tail just after they’d pulled onto the main highway from Grace’s condo, even though she’d managed to slip down as low in the seat as she could.

  Caleb’s car seat was strapped in between them, but he could barely see over the dash. If it was Grace’s stalker, he had to have X-ray vision, because Nick had used every diversionary tactic available to make sure they weren’t followed. He’d even insisted on pulling into the garage to load up their belongings away from spying eyes. Still, he’d probably been made the moment he answered Grace’s call and came roaring down the street like a bat out of Sunday school.

  “We’ve got company.”

  “He’s behind us? Already?” Grace turned and glanced out the rear window for an instant.

  “Could be. The vehicle eased in behind us shortly after we left your condo.”

  “Mister Nick. Where are we going?”

  “To my place, buddy.”

  “Is that where the bays are?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. I’ll show them to you in the morning when it’s light outside.”

  “Okay.” Caleb bounced his feet back and forth on the edge of the seat and tried to see over the dash of the pickup, but he wasn’t tall enough. “I’m high up in the air.”

  Looking sideways he saw Grace smile in the illumination coming from his dash lights. Life’s small talk was pretty simple for a four-year-old, at least for most of them, and their mommas, too. But not for Grace, not right now.

  Nick sobered and checked his mirror again. “I need to lose this guy. I don’t want to lead him to the ranch.”

  “Ranch, ranch, ranch, ranch, ranc
h.” Caleb repeated the word, keeping time to the beat with his feet bouncing against the edge of the seat.

  “Hey, buddy. I think your transfusion is kickin’ in.”

  “You have no idea,” Grace said before she busted out laughing.

  It sounded good in his ears. He hoped he would hear it more often once they were safe.

  Nick stepped on the gas and watched the speedometer needle climb.

  The car tailing them sped up, gaining a car length.

  “There’s no doubt. He’s following us.” Nick glanced at Grace for an instant.

  “You can’t let him catch us.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know where Sheriff Hale likes to set his speed traps.”

  Her eyes went wide, and he guessed that she was considering her aversion to anything that involved the police, including a speeding ticket. “Relax, Grace. They’re not all bad.”

  Nick let off the gas pedal slightly, just enough to reel in the driver behind him. At Freedom’s truck route bypass, he took the sweeping turn that would shoot them out onto the highway on the west side of town.

  “Faster…faster…faster,” Caleb said in an excited voice. “Step on it, Mister Nick!”

  Grinning in the dark, Nick pushed the accelerator to the floor as they merged onto the empty highway with the thug on their tail. “How’s that, buddy?”

  “Faster.”

  “Caleb,” Grace scolded, before she shushed him.

  The road dipped in elevation, then hit a rise, dipped again and crested, blasting them right past a police car parked in an unmarked turnout.

  Three seconds later the thug behind them passed the patrol car. Two seconds later the lights and siren came on and the officer tore out of his parking spot onto the highway.

  “Got you, you bast—” Nick clamped his mouth shut, aware of the tiny pair of ears right next to him.

  “Grace, back me up. Get the make on his car when he breezes past. A plate number, too, if you can.”

  “Okay.”

  Up ahead he spotted a pull-off and flipped on his right-hand-turn signal, then applied the brakes, bringing the pickup’s speed down before he angled in off of the road and watched the thug blow past without touching his brakes.