by Bonnie Vanak
She was in deep and couldn’t trust Cooper. Not until she could gather the proof to put her ex in jail.
Giving him the cold look she did to flattering social climbers at parties, Meg lifted her chin. “Is this how you question the enemy, Mr. Johnson?”
A grim smile touched his mouth. “Oh, Princess, my methods of interrogation are much, much worse,” he said softly.
Meg backed away at the intent look. She blinked hard. “It’s late and I’m really tired.”
Cooper rubbed a hand over the slight bristles on his taut jaw. “Okay. You need shut-eye. I’ll bunk down here with you in one of the other bedrooms and we’ll talk more in the morning.”
He didn’t seem the type to give up, but the reprieve made her grateful. “Thank you.” She lifted Sophie into her arms and the dog wriggled in protest. “Thank you for everything. In the morning when your tow truck driver delivers my car, I’ll be gone.”
When she was inside the guest bedroom, Meg closed the door and set Sophie down. Tired as she was, she dug her laptop out. Randall’s death changed everything. Until she got the car back, she had to get an idea of what those mysterious numbers he’d given her were.
She clicked on the Wi-Fi and began surfing the internet news sites to discover what Cooper knew. A small article caught her eye. The FBI had opened an investigation into Combat Gear Inc., and the federal government had issued a massive recall of body armor manufactured by the company, for some of the vests were purported to be faulty.
A law enforcement officer had been killed in the line of duty while wearing the vest when responding to a domestic disturbance call. The dead officer was a woman named Sabrina Fletcher.
Sorrow mixed with relief, relief because no one else would put their lives at risk with the vests, and sorrow for the fallen officer. She looked at the photo of Sabrina Fletcher, her pretty, wide face and laughing blue eyes. So young. Only twenty-six.
She was my age. Her life was beginning, and now it’s cut short.
Her family refused to talk with the media and had sent a lawyer to give a statement.
Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, she powered off the Mac and set it atop the antique dresser. But long after she had climbed into bed, Sophie at her side, Meg lay awake staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, as soon as her car was fixed, she’d leave. But where could she go, when it seemed no one was safe from her ex?
* * *
Waiting until Meg’s light had gone out, Cooper sat in the kitchen trying to control his raging emotions. Knowing the abuse she’d suffered, he didn’t want to show the fury he felt inside.
So he waited in the kitchen, trying to calm down, though everything inside him churned like a volcano about to explode. He was a SEAL, and he knew emotions were bad on the job.
When he finally calmed down enough, Coop called his former boss. The plaster of paris cast was safely inside, showing a detailed footprint of a flat-soled shoe.
When Jarrett had asked him to shelter Meg for a few days, he immediately said yes because it was Jarrett. He’d have walked to hell and shot Lucifer himself for LT.
But Cooper didn’t realize what kind of assignment he’d taken on. Jarrett said Meg was a frightened woman. Meg didn’t act like any frightened woman he’d ever known, and her personality, her kind heart for animals and her body kicked him behind the knees. Those curves, that mass of soft ash-brown hair he imagined spread out on his pillow and those sleepy green eyes dazed with passion after they’d made love...
Do not go there.
The woman was terrified, that was obvious. But he also sensed she hid something pretty damn big.
Jarrett answered on the first ring. “Coop. How’s Meg doing? She seemed scared when she called Lace earlier.”
“She’s safe in my sister’s cottage. I’m keeping a close eye on her.”
“Don’t let her out of your sight. She will run, and she needs someone to watch over her.”
“You told me she was shy and timid,” Coop accused his former boss. “She’s as timid as a machine gun.”
He could almost see Jarrett’s eye roll over the phone. “I said Lacey told me she used to be shy in college. Not anymore. Dude, don’t you listen? Where the hell is your head at? You’ve been spending way too much time communing with the animals.”
“I like animals. They’re less trouble than women.”
Jarrett sighed. “Whatever you do, do not let Meg off your farm. I don’t know exactly what she’s tangling with, but her husband is powerful and loaded with money.”
He thought of Prescott August and his immense wealth. CEO of one of the country’s largest sporting goods suppliers. The man might have a tennis racket, but he had a nine-millimeter. “And I’m locked and loaded.”
He could protect her from threats, but the greatest threat could be himself, because Meg had started to worm her way past his guard. Her obvious love for animals made him see her in a new light.
Focus on the job, he reminded himself. Keep her safe, hidden, and then she moves on.
“Keep it that way, Coop. I don’t know what threats she faces, but I suspect they are big ones. She needs protection.”
“Damnit, then tell me what you know! I’m working in the dark without anything to go on. Give me intel, LT. She said she was supposed to meet up with Randall Jacobs to get information.” Coop paused, struggling with his temper. “I didn’t know Prescott was her ex. He employed Jacobs as a research engineer, and Jacobs was VP for the same company that made the vest that killed my baby sis. I know there’s a link. I just need to find that M. E. Franklin.”
Silence on the other end, as if Jarrett assessed what he’d told him. Then his former lieutenant spoke in a slow, clear voice. “What did you find out so far?”
“Jacobs made a mistake on the initial patent application. He used the mailing address for Taylor Sporting Goods, but the company name was Combat Gear Inc. Might have been done on purpose.”
Silence on the other end of the phone. Finally Jarrett spoke in a low voice. “I did a little checking about Meg’s ex. There are rumors he likes to snort away his income and got tangled with some pretty bad elements. The kind of guys you don’t mess with because they have tentacles everywhere. That’s why you need to keep your sidearm loaded at all times, Coop.”
“Drug-related?”
“They’re tangled up with heroin, money laundering and loan-sharking. They keep their noses clean, and law enforcement has a hard time pinning anything on them.”
This news startled him. “Which family?”
“Miles O’Neary. Head of a smaller but very dangerous Irish Mafia family. They have a house in Palm Beach they use in the winter, but their main base is Boston.”
It made sense now. If Prescott was in bed with organized crime and worried his research engineer could turn him over to the Feds, Randall Jacobs was a dead man from the moment he signed the patent application.
If I didn’t get to him first, he thought grimly.
“Any idea what Randall had on Prescott August? Meg refused to say.”
“No. It had to be big. Work on her tomorrow, Coop. Be subtle.”
“I’m the master of subtle,” he said drily, which earned a big laugh from his former lieutenant.
“If you sense she’s getting upset at your questions, back off. It’s more important you keep her from bolting. If she leaves your farm, she’s got a bull’s-eye on her back.”
Deeply troubled, his anger slowly abating, he thumbed off his cell. This was no longer a simple case of protecting a woman running away from an abusive husband who needed a new life.
Meg August was linked to a man connected to the Irish mob, and a dead man who filed a patent for the same vest that killed Brie. A vest produced by Combat Gear Inc.
A ghost company no one seemed to be abl
e to trace, without any executive staff, but for Randall Jacobs.
Somehow he suspected Meg’s ex, Prescott, was involved in all this. How, he couldn’t tell.
But soon, he would find out.
* * *
Sunlight dappled the oak floorboards of the room when Meg awoke the next morning to a dog licking her face.
Laughing, she flung back the covers. “Okay, girl, I know, you have to go outside.”
Sophie barked and jumped down from the bed.
She tiptoed into the hallway, not wishing to awaken Cooper upstairs, and was startled to see him sprawled on the plaid sofa. Meg’s breath hitched. He was a very nice sight in the morning. Long lashes against his cheeks, those angular cheeks, his mouth relaxed in sleep, his big body clad in gray sweats and a baseball T-shirt.
He opened one startling blue eye. “Morning.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Cooper sat up, rubbed a hand over his tousled hair. “Got enough sleep already. I never need more than five hours. You okay?”
“Just letting Sophie outside.” Meg couldn’t help gazing at him. So handsome, the dark stubble covering his lean cheeks and firm chin.
“Why are you on the couch instead of bed?”
He gave her a steady look. “I slept out here to keep watch after what happened last night.”
Her heart gave a happy little jump. Cooper looked solid and strong, and the idea that he was on guard, protecting her against a possible threat, eased her fears a little. Nothing would get past this man.
Not even you. If he keeps questioning you, you have to give evasive answers. Don’t trust him. Plausible deniability until you find the evidence.
Trust only yourself.
“I’ll come with you.” He reached beneath one of the plaid pillows and withdrew a gleaming metal gun. The sight of it made her stomach churn.
She hated guns.
“Do you think someone was spying on me?”
Cooper shook his head. “I followed the footsteps to the inn. It was probably a late-night guest who got lost on the way to the main inn. It can happen, if they come in the back road leading to the barn. Gate’s always closed, but never locked.”
Meg pointed at the weapon as he tucked it into his waistband. “Then is that necessary?”
“With me, it is.” He stuffed his feet into his boots and stood, yawning.
When they were outside, she looked at the indentation in the snow near the living room window where he had poured a plaster cast. Cooper watched her with a guarded look. He was a tall man, and she barely came to his chin.
Meg didn’t like big men, because they reminded her too much of Prescott. But Cooper Johnson had shown her only respect. With his tall, leanly muscled body, he reminded her of a long-distance athlete. Her gaze flickered down to those lean fingers and the wicked scar on the back of his right hand.
Except long-distance athletes didn’t carry guns. Cooper showed a casual confidence in handling the weapon. He was a US Navy SEAL and knew how to inflict violence. From what Lacey had said about the SEALs, they were a deadly force, and part of their strength came from a determination to never give up.
“I have a question,” she told him. “Do you mind answering?”
“Shoot.”
Very bad metaphor. “Have you ever killed anyone?” she blurted out.
Cooper blinked rapidly. “Whoa. That’s an eye-opening question. I thought something along the lines of ‘What’s for breakfast?’”
Heat crawled up her neck. “I was thinking about the gun.”
Those blue eyes were steady as he gazed at her. “I’m a Navy SEAL, Meg. I have engaged the enemy and did what I had to do to keep my country and my teammates safe.”
“Of course, you are a professional soldier. I would expect you to carry a gun and do your job. And I didn’t mean to open my mouth and insert my foot, especially this early in the morning before my brain cells actually awoke.” She spoke in a rush, embarrassed at her gaffe. “And I’m a professional idiot for asking something so personal before you’ve even had your first cup of coffee. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Cooper rubbed his neck and looked amused. “No offense. You’re not a professional idiot, Meg. I’ve been asked much worse by a pretty woman when I first got out of bed.”
Curiosity chased away her humiliation. “Like what?”
He considered. “What was your name again?”
At her stare, he laughed and winked. “Let’s grab showers and we’ll move your gear up to the inn after breakfast. I have a feeling your car won’t be ready until tomorrow. Mikey’s good, but always backed up.”
“Okay. Now I’ll ask what’s for breakfast.”
He gave her a sheepish look. “If you stay here, lumpy oatmeal. I’m not a good cook. But my mom is terrific in the kitchen.”
Meg smiled. She was beginning to warm up to this man, who had a quirky sense of humor she enjoyed.
Her smile dropped as she thought of staying in the inn by herself, surrounded by strangers. Cooper had a protective air that made her feel safe. “And where are you sleeping?”
Cooper jerked a thumb toward the inn.
“Do I have to move to the inn? I’d rather stay here. I’m not sure if I’m ready to be around so many...people.”
He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “You can stay where you’re more comfortable, but that means I have to stay here as well.”
“Is that a problem?”
A subtle ripple of tension went through him. “Not really.”
Clearly remaining here in the cottage disturbed him.
“Inn’s quiet now, but we have three guests arriving later. And tomorrow, there’s Aimee. Once she sees you, she’ll never leave you alone because of that.”
He pointed to Sophie, who barked.
“Aimee?”
“My kid sister. She adores dogs. She’s been away for a couple of days on a class field trip to Boston, but they’re coming home tomorrow.”
The sound of snow crunching beneath footsteps made her tense. Cooper, too, until he saw who approached. Then he grinned. “Hey, Mom. What are you doing up this early?”
The petite woman in a navy jacket had black hair liberally streaked with gray, and warm brown eyes. She held out a basket covered with a checked cloth. Delicious smells wafted from the basket. Sophie sat down and looked at the woman, her little nose twitching.
Cooper took the basket and lifted the cloth. “Oh wow, cranberry orange! Thanks, Mom!”
“I figured you and your guest would enjoy fresh muffins straight from the oven.” She smiled at Meg. “That way you wouldn’t have to walk all the way in the cold without something warm inside you. Make sure he doesn’t devour all of them before you even get a bite.”
Cooper drew her forward with his left hand. “Mom, this is Meg. Meg, this is my mother, the owner of Sunnyside Farm, Fiona Johnson.”
“Hello,” Meg said, liking the woman’s friendly face and the warmth radiating from her brown eyes. “Thank you for the treats.”
His mother glanced down at Sophie. “Hello there. What a cutie you are.”
Sophie wagged her tail. “This is my dog, Sophie,” Meg told her.
“You don’t look vicious.” Fiona patted her head.
“She bit me last night.” Cooper made a mock scowl.
“You’re lucky she only bit your finger. Normally Sophie prefers to snack on other body parts,” Meg jested.
As Cooper grinned at her, Fiona gave Meg a long, thoughtful look. “If you’re still hungry after the muffins, come over to the inn. We had a new guest show up late last night, a nature photographer. I’m making a big breakfast. Scrambled eggs with hard cheddar, fried potatoes with peppers and onions, and biscuits.”
New gues
t? Maybe he was the one who was outside the cottage last night. Cooper must have thought the same, for he asked his mother if the man had trouble finding the inn.
“He did mention it was difficult,” Fiona said.
Well, that was it. Simply a case of a lost guest. Meg breathed a sigh of relief. “Your breakfast sounds delicious.”
Cooper grinned. “See what I have to contend with? All this home cooking, it’s a marvel I don’t gain fifty pounds.”
Fiona’s smile grew troubled. “Hard for you to do with all the work you take on, Cooper. I wish you’d let me hire someone else to help around the farm so you can relax and enjoy your vacation.”
“It’s not a vacation. It’s leave, Mom, and I told you, I’m here to help. First we need to hire more help for you.” He dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I’ve got things handled. You’re the one who needs the rest. You work too hard.”
Rolling her eyes, his mother smiled. “I’m not ready for a nursing home yet, Cooper. Hard work is good for the soul. Stop trying to make me feel ancient.”
Seeing the respect and affection mother and son shared reminded Meg of her childhood, before family relationships were torn asunder and she was left as a little girl no one paid much attention to. She missed this so much that it sent a fresh wave of grief coursing through her.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality, but I’m not a big breakfast eater. And I’ll be leaving as soon as my car arrives from the tow shop. If I’m lucky, maybe this afternoon,” Meg told Fiona.
Mother and son exchanged glances. “It may not be that early,” Cooper said. “Meantime, I thought I’d give Meg a tour of the farm. Maybe even go riding later. She’s worked with horses before.”
Fiona gave Meg another long look. “You’re more than welcome to stay, and some of our mares need exercising, so you’d be doing us a favor. Cooper told me you need a safe haven from your husband.”
“Soon to be ex,” Meg said, her gaze darting away.
“Hopefully sooner than later. Do yourself a favor, my dear. Don’t judge all men by one bad apple.” She looked at her son. “There are good men in this world, like my Cooper. Of course I’m biased, but he’s a great catch.”