“Despite the popularity of the ski resort, Buck Ridge is still a small town. Someone noticed us in the parking lot and told me your name and that you had a ranch out this way. When I saw the name of the ranch from the road, I pulled in to see how you...the truck was doing.”
“Really?” She gripped the edge of the tiled island. “That’s kind of scary when you think about it.”
“That’s a small town for you. It was the same where I grew up.” He waited for the questions, but they never materialized on her lips. She didn’t want to dig too deeply into his life in case he required the same from her.
She hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “I forgot I still have groceries in the car.”
“And your headlights are still on. You don’t need a dead battery on top of everything else.” He reached around her and swept the keys to the truck from the counter and dangled them in front of her. “You turn your lights off, and I’ll get the groceries for you.”
“Deal.” She snatched the keys from his hand. “You have the advantage over me, you know.”
“Huh?” Had he blown his cover already?
“You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“J.D.” He left it at that. Two could play at that game.
He carried in all the groceries and parked on a stool while Noelle put away the items. He studied her face, tight with worry.
“Do you have any idea who could’ve broken into your place? Any local druggies? How’s the teenage population around here? Is there much of a problem with narcotics?”
She lined up some cans on a shelf in the pantry and turned them all so the labels faced outward, just like the bottles in the medicine cabinet. “I have no idea.”
He expelled a long breath, his chest and his hopes deflating. She had no intention of confiding in him. “Do you want to call the cops?”
Her blue eyes darkened as they darted around the room. “I suppose I should.”
“If these are druggies, I’m sure the local cops would want to know. Maybe they’ve hit other people. Maybe there’s a pattern and the cops already have some suspects.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No.” He tugged on his longish hair. “Do I look like a cop?”
“No, but you sound like one.”
He said with a shrug, “Just common sense.”
She called the local sheriff while J.D. checked the outside of the house with a flashlight. If Zendaris’s guys had broken in, they wouldn’t leave any evidence behind, but a thief looking for a quick fix just might. But would a junkie have left the house in such good order?
He trailed the beam from his flashlight along the window ledges and ground surrounding the house. He couldn’t see much in the dark. He’d have to look around tomorrow. He definitely planned to be here tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.
The sheriff’s squad car pulled through the broken gates of Noelle’s ranch. J.D. added those gates to his growing list of items that needed fixing.
The sheriff stepped out of his car and aimed his flashlight at J.D. “You the fellow with Noelle Dupree?”
Noelle had left the front door open and now edged onto the porch, folding her jacket around her body. “Hey, Sheriff Greavy. This is J.D. He came by just after I discovered the break-in.”
He and the sheriff shook hands, and J.D. followed him up the porch.
Sheriff Greavy stepped into the living room and tipped his cowboy hat from his head. “Did you discover anything missing besides the medication, Noelle?”
“My mom left this place pretty sparse, Sheriff. She even took the TV with her to Aunt Kathy’s”
“What about your personal belongings? Jewelry? Computer? Camera?”
“I don’t have any of that stuff here. I had my laptop with me in the truck.” She looked around the room. “And it’s still there.”
Greavy flipped open a notebook and felt in his pocket for a pen. He found one and opened it against his chin. “You told Marlene that some prescription medication was stolen, but you didn’t tell her what kind. What was it?”
Noelle knotted her hands across her waist, while a rosy flush crept into her cheeks. “It was a generic brand of Valium.”
After what she’d been through the past month, hell, the past two years, she didn’t have any reason to be embarrassed about using a tranquilizer for stress or anxiety.
The sheriff scribbled a few notes and shoved the notebook back in his pocket. “You doing okay, Noelle? We all heard about—” he shot a glance at J.D. “—your troubles.”
Sheriff Greavy didn’t have to tiptoe around him. Prospero had already done a full background on Noelle Dupree and knew all about the murder of her husband two years ago.
But Noelle didn’t know that, and, judging by the way the color in her cheeks flared up even more, she had no intention of telling him anything about her past.
“I’m fine, Sheriff.” She untangled her fingers and shoved her hands in her pockets. “I don’t even take that medication. I just have it for insurance.”
Sheriff Greavy held up his calloused hands. “No need to explain anything to me, Noelle. Hell, it’s better than hitting the bottle when times get tough.”
The sheriff asked her a few more questions, dusted the door for fingerprints and then clapped his hat back on his head. “This doesn’t surprise me a bit. We’ve had plenty of break-ins with people stealing TVs, cameras, computers and prescription meds. I don’t think it’s an organized ring, but at least your burglar was neater than most.”
“Yeah, at least he didn’t trash the place.” She bit her lip, her eyes clouding over.
Must be thinking about that other break-in.
“I have to ask you something, Noelle.” Sheriff Greavy paused at the front door, grasping the doorjamb with a gloved hand. “You heard from Teddy?”
“No.” Her face had closed up tighter than a bear trap.
“Well, I heard he’s back in town.” The sheriff jerked his chin toward the room. “You don’t think...?”
“No.”
“Just askin’. You take care and get a good, solid lock on this door.” He touched a finger to the rim of his hat. “J.D.”
Noelle didn’t have to worry about keeping her brother a secret from him either. Prospero knew all about him, too.
Noelle stood beside him on the porch, watching Sheriff Greavy pull away. Her body vibrated like a taut string that hadn’t been plucked in years. If anything, the sheriff’s visit had made her more tense.
Seemed as if nothing but land mines filled her past, one incident after another that had to be avoided at all costs.
And she was facing the biggest land mine of all and didn’t even know it.
She puffed out a breath, and it hung suspended for a moment in the cold night air. “That wasn’t much help.”
“I don’t know.” He stood sideways across the threshold and waved her into the house. As she brushed past him, her ponytail tickled his arm. “Sheriff Greavy has a record of the break-in. That’s a good thing.”
Pivoting, she faced him, crossing her arms. “Thanks for your help tonight. I mean, for the truck and sticking around after the break-in.”
“No problem. Call the garage about getting that truck fixed, and...” Was it too soon to offer his services? Her stance, back ramrod straight and arms folded, screamed get the hell out. Probably not the best time.
“And take care. Like Greavy suggested, get a dead bolt on that door.”
“Will do.”
J.D. ambled toward the door, and she uprooted herself to make sure he made it outside. They said their goodbyes, and she didn’t even wait for him to reach his truck before shutting the door.
He slid into his truck and cranked on the heater. Rubbing his hands together and blowing on them, he watched the lights go off in the house until just the yellow glow from the front windows remained.
He backed up and then swung wide to face the dilapidated gates. He pulled onto the deserted road. With his arm
draped across the backseat, he backed up until he had a clear view of the entrance to Noelle’s ranch.
If Zendaris’s men had broken into Noelle’s house with her gone, what was stopping them from breaking in with her home? When would looking through her stuff cease to satisfy them? When would they make a move on her?
J.D. slumped in his seat and tipped his hat over his eyes, eyes that saw everything.
He turned the key in the ignition and fiddled with the static radio stations until a woman’s dulcet tones flooded the truck. Ah, a radio therapist dispensing advice to the lovelorn.
Not that he needed any advice. You had to have a love life to need advice. His fiancée had left him for being too married to his job, and she must’ve been right because he barely missed her absence.
Jack Coburn had warned them that working for Prospero and having a personal life could be mutually exclusive. Although Jack had managed—he and Lola had an adopted son and Lola was expecting a daughter.
J.D.’s Prospero Team Three buddy, Cade Stark, was currently living below the radar in Europe with his wife and son after Nico Zendaris had threatened their lives.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and yawned. Nobody said this life was gonna be easy.
The side mirror glinted, and J.D. sat up to scan the road from his rearview mirror, cracking open his window. A single headlight pierced the darkness. As it drew closer, the sound of a motorcycle engine whined in the night.
He narrowed his eyes, every muscle tense. The bike slowed at the dip in the road right before the entrance to Noelle’s ranch. When he came up the rise, the rider pulled the bike to the side of the road and cut the engine.
J.D.’s pulse quickened. The motorcycle rider hadn’t noticed his truck, nestled up against the bushes across the road from the ranch. Of if he had, he didn’t give J.D. a second look.
With his helmet still on his head, the rider hopped off the bike, grabbed the handlebars and pushed the silent motorcycle through Noelle’s broken gates.
J.D. didn’t know what this guy planned to do at Noelle’s place, but his job compelled him to find out and put a stop to it.
His job and the insane attraction he felt for the attractive, reserved widow.
Chapter Four
Noelle flipped open her book at the folded-over page and curled her feet beneath her. The words blurred in front of her. She blinked a few times and then tossed the paperback on the cushion next to her.
That J.D. had impeccable timing. Impeccable muscles, too. She’d even felt them through his jacket when she’d thrown herself into his arms. After the scare of finding the disordered items in the house, those arms had been a welcome refuge.
Alex had never made her feel safe, up to and including the night he was murdered.
She bit her lip as if that could stop the traitorous thought.
Creak. Creak.
Noelle froze, her bottom lip still caught between her teeth. Her gaze darted toward the front door. Someone was on the porch.
She half rose from the couch, her hands clutching the folds of her robe. When Sheriff Greavy and then J.D. had left, she’d pulled her dad’s shotgun from the closet and loaded it. It rested against the wall by the front door.
Time to see if it still worked.
She scooted from the couch and tiptoed to the door.
A man shouted, and she grabbed the gun. A scuffling sound replaced the creaking and something or someone crashed into the front door, shaking it on its rotting hinges. More shouting. And cursing.
Another man yelled and the door reverberated with his pounding. “Noelle! Noelle! There’s a crazy dude out here.”
She hitched the shotgun under her arm and threw open the door.
Her half brother, Ted, blood spouting from his nose, stretched across the porch, his fists poised for another assault on her front door.
Beyond the crumpled mess of her brother, J.D. loomed, hands bunched and a coil to his body that looked ready to spring.
“Stop!” Noelle held up her own hands. “This is my brother, Ted.”
Her words did nothing to cut through the ferocity coming off J.D.’s tense frame in solid waves. What had happened to the easygoing cowboy?
Brushing past Ted, she stepped between the two men. “Really. This is my brother. He’s harmless—well, sort of.”
Ted gasped and gurgled behind her. “Can I get some help here? Dude broke my nose.”
J.D. flexed his fingers, and Noelle noticed a smear of blood on one knuckle.
She shuffled forward and stopped, still wary of the danger glittering in his hooded eyes—even though that danger wasn’t directed at her. “Did you hurt your hand?”
“Yeah, he hurt his hand—on my nose,” Ted wailed and stumbled into the house.
Noelle held J.D.’s gaze, feeling drawn to this man who had gone to battle for her. It had been a long time since someone had been there to protect her.
Bit by bit, J.D. came down from the ledge. He flexed his fingers again. Blinked. Rotated his shoulders. Puffed out a breath.
“It’s nothing.” He rubbed his knuckles against the thigh of his jeans and tipped his chin toward the open door. “Sorry about your brother.”
My brother.
As if coming out of a trance, she covered her mouth with her hand and spun around. “Ted!”
“About damn time.” Ted shot her an accusing glance over the hand clapped over his bleeding nose.
“I’ll get you some paper towels and ice.”
J.D. had followed her into the house and approached Ted, who held up one hand. “Stay away from me.”
“Sorry, man. I thought you were an intruder. Someone broke into your sister’s house earlier.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Noelle pulled open the freezer door and scooped some ice into a bowl. Did J.D. think it odd that her brother had to make that denial?
“Didn’t say it was. Sit.”
As Noelle carried the ice into the living room, Ted sank to the edge of the couch. She crouched beside him and handed him a wet paper towel. “Clean up the blood first, wrap this paper towel around some ice and put it on the bridge of your nose.”
Ted dragged the paper towel across his nose, keeping an eye on J.D. hovering behind her. “So what did they steal? The people who broke in, I mean?”
“Some prescription meds.”
His eyes widened. “Wasn’t me.” His gaze shifted to J.D. “I’m clean, have been for seven months.”
“Congratulations. Weird coincidence, though—someone breaks in, steals some drugs and then you show up.”
“Would I show up if I’d just stolen from you?” He tossed a bloody lump of paper towel on the coffee table.
“Pick that up.” She wrinkled her nose. “I never know what you’re up to, Ted.”
“Not stealing from my sister.”
“Not anymore?”
“Okay, okay.” He pointed past her shoulder. “Who’s this guy, anyway?”
“This is J.D....” She trailed off. Had he ever given her a last name? “J.D., this is my brother, Ted.”
J.D. shoved his hands in his pockets and eyed Ted’s bloodstained hands. “Don’t take it the wrong way that I don’t want to shake your hand.”
“Hey, what’s a handshake when you already busted my nose?”
“It’s not broken.”
Ted peeled the soggy paper towel from his face. “How do you know?”
J.D. shrugged. “I didn’t hear it crack when I punched you.”
Pinching his nose again, Ted said in a nasal voice, “Are you a friend of Noelle’s or her watchdog?”
“A little of both, I guess.” He raised one brow at Noelle, and her insides turned squishy.
“H-how’s your hand? Is it still bleeding?”
J.D. inspected his knuckles. “Never was. That was Ted’s blood.”
Ted snorted and then coughed.
“Ted, do you want some water? Something stronger?” She half turned toward the kitchen. She had t
o keep busy around J.D. or she’d end up staring into his whiskey-colored eyes and falling into a trance again.
“I told you. I’m on the wagon.”
“Booze, too?”
“If you get off one, you have to get off the other. That’s what my sponsor told me, anyway, and he has a point.”
“I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. Water, then?”
“Or a soda—anything with caffeine.” He shrugged. “I can’t give up all my vices at once.” He tapped a hard carton in his front pocket. “Back on the cigs, too.”
“Not in the house.” She crossed one index finger over the other. “I have some cola. J.D.?”
“Just some water.”
She moved toward the kitchen and then tripped on the leg of a barstool as a thought that had been niggling the edges of her mind slammed full force into her brain.
She gripped the edge of the counter and turned. “What were you doing out there, anyway, J.D.? You’d left almost a half hour before.”
He sauntered toward the kitchen and parked on the edge of a barstool. “Since I was out this way anyway, I drove up the road to have a look at a place for rent. On my way back to town, I saw your brother walking his motorcycle onto your property. After what happened earlier—” he spread his hands “—I thought I’d check it out.”
Noelle released her breath in short wisps, so J.D. wouldn’t realize she’d been holding it waiting for his answer.
Sounded plausible. Or he was a great liar.
“Checking it out is one thing. Tackling a guy and pummeling the life out of him is something else.” Ted lifted the ice from his nose to aim a scowl at J.D.
“Your actions were suspicious. Why didn’t you just walk up to the door and knock? Why were you creeping up the porch and peering through the window like some sort of Peeping Tom?”
Ted placed the ice pack back on his face and answered in a muffled voice, “Just wanted to make sure Noelle was here. I’d heard you were back in town, sis. Wanted to see if it was really you first.”
“Who else would be here?” She slid a glass of water toward J.D. and rolled her eyes. Then she clinked the can of soda on the coffee table in front of Ted.
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