by Barb Han
“Where are you headed?” He blew out a sharp breath. Those emotions had no business in this conversation. He’d call the sheriff, turn her over and get back to his day.
“I’m Madelyn Kensington, by the way,” she said, offering a handshake.
He took it, and did his level best not to notice the fact that her skin was as silky as it looked. “Hudson Dale.”
“What branch of law enforcement do you work in?” she asked, dropping her hands to her sides. He didn’t mind the move. There was no way she was carrying a weapon anywhere in those jeans.
Her question caught him off guard. “What makes you think I’m anything more than a rancher?”
She glanced at his legs. “Your posture. The way you hold that shotgun. You walk with your arms out a little, like you’re still wearing a holster, and your aim with that shotgun is pretty dead accurate.”
He put a hand up to stop her. “I’m no such thing. What kind of work do you do that makes you notice the way a man carries himself?”
“Me? I’m a reporter from Houston headed to the Butlers,” she said, and he was close enough to see her erratic heartbeat pound at the base of her neck.
The last thing Hudson needed was someone who knew how to do research nosing around in his business and especially his past. And there’d been plenty of journalists in the area following the death of Maverick Mike.
“Well, right now, Mrs. Kensington—”
“It’s Miss,” she corrected.
He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment even though an inappropriate reaction stirred in his chest.
“Is there any chance that white sedan belongs to your boyfriend?” he asked.
“I don’t have one, but I do have a persistent ex,” she admitted.
Why did relief wash over him when he heard those words? He’d noticed her ring finger a minute ago and tried not to care one way or the other when he didn’t see a gold band.
“The guy who just ran you off the road is getting away.” Hudson fished his cell out of his back pocket, keeping an eye on the reporter. “So, if you don’t mind, I need to make a call to the sheriff’s office and see if we can stop him before someone else gets hurt.”
“Yes, by all means,” she said, taking a step back and leaning a hip against the side of her trunk. She folded her arms and he noticed how the move pushed her breasts against the spring-green cotton shirt she wore. Calmer, her voice was as creamy and smooth as her skin.
Hudson forced his gaze away from the wheat-haired beauty. Getting involved with a woman like her was dangerous. Emotions had no place in an investigation. And he had no intention of repeating past mistakes.
Chapter Three
Madelyn’s pulse hammered her ribs. Hudson Dale might look like a cowboy in those low-slung jeans, dark navy T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves and white Stetson, but something—call it reporter instincts and keen observation skills—told Madelyn that he was hiding something. Would that something put her in more danger?
The man had that law-enforcement swagger when he walked but hadn’t identified himself as such. He even sounded law enforcement when he’d instructed her to get out of the car with that commanding voice of his—a voice that traveled over her with an inappropriate sensual shiver that ran down her back.
When she’d outright asked, he denied ever working the job. She’d spent enough time around cops when she worked the crime beat early on in her career to recognize the voice of authority they used when they spoke to someone. This guy looked far too young to be retired. The man couldn’t be a day older than thirty-two, which was only two years older than Madelyn.
He was either undercover, or...
He could’ve been fired. Hiding. Why else would he move to the outskirts of a small town? Then again, maybe he just wanted peace and quiet.
Madelyn tried not to let her imagination run away with her. Either way, she was grateful that he’d been there to help when she needed it. Noticing the fact that the man was gorgeous couldn’t be helped. He was standing right in front of her. They were barely five feet apart, so it was easy to take note that he had the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen highlighted by sandy-blond hair and a dimpled chin. Her nerves were heightened and that was why her body was having an out-of-place reaction. She also tried to convince herself that the only reason she considered his rippled chest and muscled arms was basic survival instinct. On a primal level she needed to know that this man was strong enough to defend her should the white sedan come back for another round. The fact that he seemed more than capable kept her nerves a couple of notches below panic.
“The sheriff is on his way and you look like you could use a cup of coffee.” Hudson motioned toward the ranch-style house. “Since I’m not sure it’s a good idea to leave you alone on my property, you’d better come inside with me.”
She nodded. The man was unnervingly cool considering he’d just had to shoot out someone’s tire to get them to leave his land.
“Your car should be fine where it is,” he said, his horse still tied up near the gate in the shade.
“Thank you.” She followed the handsome cowboy inside his house. The decor looked comfortable, simple. A couch and matching love seat surrounded a tumbled stone fireplace with a large rustic star over the mantel. There was a bronze statue of a bull rider on the sofa table and twin lamps that looked good for reading light.
The kitchen was simple—white cabinets, stainless-steel appliances and marbled granite. She leaned against the bullnose edging, trying to absorb everything that had just happened.
“Care to fill me in on what’s going on?” Hudson asked, offering her a fresh cup of coffee.
Madelyn took the mug and gripped it with both hands, noticing that she was still shaking. She chalked it up to adrenaline. Owen had nearly run her off the road recently, trying to get her attention. He’d seemed more desperate to speak to her than deadly at the time. But he drove an Escalade, not a white sedan. Of course, logic said he could’ve rented one.
“I had a bad breakup and he might be following me.” She had to consider that possibility, especially since she hadn’t gotten a good look at the driver. Of course, with Owen’s money he could’ve hired someone to scare her.
The cowboy’s jaw muscle clenched and released. He blinked the thickest lashes. “Is the law aware?”
“A judge in Houston issued a restraining order.” She reached for her necklace and found comfort in holding her mother’s dragonfly. “I couldn’t get a good enough look at the driver to know if that was him. That’s not his car.”
“Is he dumb enough to drive his own if he pulled a stunt like this?” Hudson asked.
“No.” Owen wasn’t stupid. “He has a lot of money. Enough to hire someone to be discreet.”
“Does he have a record?” Hudson’s eyebrow arched.
“Yes,” she hated to admit. She sipped the fresh coffee, welcoming the burn on her tongue. “I didn’t find out about it until it was too late. I’m sure that he was only trying to scare me before. This is something totally different. I hope it’s not him.”
The cowboy’s steady gaze seemed locked onto an idea.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, realizing that she was gripping her mug so tight that her knuckles were sheet-white.
“That it’s him and he’s escalating,” he said, shooting her a look.
“He’s a jerk, I’ll give you that, but he’s not... I mean, that guy seemed like he was trying to kill me. Owen threatened me but he was trying to intimidate me to get back together with him. I wouldn’t be able to do that dead.”
The cowboy didn’t respond and the quiet rang in her ears.
And then it dawned on her that he was probably thinking Owen had decided that if he couldn’t have her no one would.
The doorbell rang before she could rationalize that idea. The cowboy set down his mug before picking
up his shotgun. He loaded a slug in the shotgun’s chamber and readied it on his shoulder. “Whoever it is won’t get to you on my watch.”
Madelyn was momentarily too shocked to move as another shot of adrenaline coursed through her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. Could Owen hate her that much? Could he be that selfish? Yes, he’d crossed a few lines and had gotten away with it until now. But would he go so far as to want her dead? She’d covered stories that still made her shudder to think about them in the same context as her relationship with Owen.
The sheriff walked in and introduced himself as Clarence Sawmill. He was middle-aged, and his eyes had the white outline of sunglasses on otherwise tanned skin. Deep grooves in his forehead, hard brackets around his mouth and his tight grip on a coffee mug outlined the man’s stress level. He was on high alert and, from the looks of him, had been since news broke of Maverick Mike’s murder.
“Wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Sheriff Sawmill,” Madelyn conceded, taking the hand being offered in a vigorous shake.
“I’d like to hear what happened,” he said with a polite nod. The sheriff was considerably shorter than the cowboy, who had to be at least six foot three, and he wasn’t nearly as in shape. Sawmill squared his shoulders. His forehead creased with concern as Madelyn recalled the events, horrified at the thought Owen could be behind the attack. She wouldn’t deny the possibility. And she tried not to notice how intent the cowboy seemed at picking up every last detail of her statement. One look at him said he had to have been on the job. And it might not be her business but she wanted to know more about the quiet cowboy.
Sawmill listened. “Did the driver fire at you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“We’ve had a few similar incidents on the highway lately. Cases of road rage have doubled with the August sun and the town is still in a frenzy over the death of one of our residents.” Sawmill’s shoulders seemed in a permanent slump and his posture gave away his weariness. No doubt this was the first time he’d dealt with a high-profile murder on what he’d see as “his watch.” The intensity of his expression said he cared about doing a good job.
Road rage? She prayed it was that simple because the other was unthinkable.
“Is there a number where I can reach you if I have more questions?” Sawmill asked.
Madelyn relayed her cell number. “I’m staying at the Red Rope Inn for a couple of days if you need to find me.”
The sheriff nodded. “I’ll make a note on your file.”
“Thank you for your time,” Madelyn said as she followed him out the door. She scanned the horizon as a cold prickly feeling came over her, like eyes watching her. But there was no one around.
Before the sheriff disappeared she’d handed her empty mug to the cowboy. “Thanks for your help. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”
He tipped his hat but didn’t respond as he followed her onto the lawn. “Keep watch in case he returns.”
“You think he’ll come back?” Her heart drummed her rib cage.
“Probably not. He’ll have to fix his tire and regroup,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt to be extra careful.”
Madelyn thanked the cowboy again before sliding into the driver’s seat. Her palms were sweaty and her heart still galloped but she’d been threatened in her job before. It would take more than a stressful brush with road rage—if the sheriff had accurately assessed the situation—to detour her from finding out what Maverick Mike wanted with her.
Now that she’d almost made it to the ranch, her curiosity was at an all-time high. And she couldn’t think of one reason the man would summon her.
* * *
THERE HAD TO be two dozen news trucks lining the street in front of the Hereford Ranch due to Maverick Mike’s murder. Again, Madelyn questioned what she was doing here. If there was a story, wouldn’t one of these reporters have already sniffed it out?
A beefy security guy stood at the gate attached to a white log fence. He was wearing navy shorts and a matching button-down short-sleeved shirt, and had a gun strapped to his hip.
She rolled her window down and gave her name along with the name of the paper where she worked.
Beefy’s dark brow arched.
“I’m expected,” she added to clarify.
“Name again, please,” he said, checking his tablet.
“Madelyn Kensington.” She couldn’t get a good look at his eyes through his mirrored sunglasses. The guy obviously worked out but he had nothing on the cowboy from earlier.
Beefy tilted his head to the side. “Main building is straight ahead. Go on through.”
“Thank you,” she said, pulling away and kicking up a lot of dirt as she navigated into a parking spot near the main building’s entrance. She grabbed her purse and stepped out of her car, dusting off her jeans, thinking how much she loved living in the city. The ranch was beautiful, don’t get her wrong, but checking her boots for scorpions before she put them on wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.
The main building looked like an oversize log cabin. It had more of a Western high-end resort feel with rustic accents. She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and walked toward the door. Before she could reach for the knob, the door swung open. She had to put a hand up to stop it from smacking her in the face.
“My apologies,” the man wearing a taupe business suit with cowboy boots topped off by a cream-colored Stetson said with a smile of appreciation. “We spoke on the phone earlier. I’m Ed.”
Madelyn introduced herself as she took his outstretched hand. His shake was firm and quick, his expression concerned.
“Sorry I’m late. I had a difficult time getting here today,” she confided.
“Do you mind filling me in on that?” he asked with a raised brow.
“I’ve already given my report to the sheriff.” And then it dawned on her why he’d ask. Ella Butler had just survived an attempted murder. Madelyn shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Sheriff thinks it’s a case of road rage.” She didn’t want to get into the fact that it could’ve been Owen with a stranger.
“I see. You’re no doubt aware of the situation the Butler family is dealing with,” he said with a sympathetic look, and she couldn’t help but notice that he was scanning her face. But for what? He seemed to be intensely staring at the bridge of her nose and it was making her a little self-conscious. Her nose had always had a slight bump and she’d sworn that she would get a nose job someday as a teenager.
Ed nodded and his lip curled into a faint grin. He was looking at her like she was some piece of artwork to be examined, like he was searching for something.
“Yes. I’m sorry for the loss of their father and for the criminal activity surrounding it,” she said honestly. She didn’t know the family, but a quick Google search last night had revealed a snapshot of what they’d been going through. No one deserved this kind of attention. She was getting irritated at the way he was staring at her. “Forgive my confusion, but what is so urgent that you needed to see me right away?”
He seemed to catch on when she used her you’re-being-rude tone.
“I apologize for my behavior.” He shook his head and made a production of walking in the opposite direction toward an office with glass-and-wooden French doors. “I’d prefer to have this conversation in private.”
Madelyn glanced around, didn’t see another soul. The place was beautiful, though. So far she’d endured a crazy driver, a cowboy who rattled her with his calm demeanor, and now she was with a lawyer who needed to get to the point. She had no idea what was going on with people today, but she’d hit her limit and was starting to get annoyed.
She stalked behind the lawyer into the office. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the walls. She was almost distracted by the rare book collection when she decided it was more important to know the real reason she was standing in
what had to be Maverick Mike Butler’s private study. If it wasn’t for the day she’d been having, she might actually enjoy all of this. Seriously, this guy was legend and how many times in her life would she actually get to stand in the study of such a notorious, successful and eccentric man?
The problem was that her nerves were still fried from the drive over and her thoughts kept wandering to the handsome cowboy who’d literally ridden up on his horse and saved her. Call it Old West nostalgia, but he did make her pulse race just thinking about him. That was the thing about living in Texas. Anything could happen.
Ed put on glasses and took a seat in the executive chair. He motioned toward a leather club chair opposite the massive desk. She took a seat, crossed her legs and placed her folded hands in her lap, figuring this day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
He mumbled another apology before locating an envelope and making an “ah-ha” sound. He pushed black-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose.
Madelyn realized she’d lifted her hand to her mother’s necklace as she fingered the details of the dragonfly.
“Forgive me for saying, but...” He paused and then seemed to think otherwise as he stared at the envelope.
She caught his stare and a feeling rippled through her. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was but that look in his eyes sent a shiver racing down her spine, like the kind when people said a cat walked over a grave.
Ignoring the prickly-pin feeling on her arms, she half expected him to get up and walk out of the room when he tossed the envelope in her direction. Many a news lead was “handed” over in similar fashion.
Instead of excusing himself, he leaned back in his chair and continued examining her.
“What’s in that envelope is yours to keep. I’ve been instructed by the late Mr. Butler to advise you to think heavily on it before you break that seal. There’ll be no going back once you know what that envelope contains and the information will change your life forever.” She listened for something in Ed Staples’s tone to indicate that this was some kind of joke. The intensity of his stare said that it wasn’t. And now her curiosity really was hitting full peak.