Shielded by the Cowboy SEAL

by Bonnie Vanak

  His thrusts became more urgent, harder. Meg’s legs lifted as her hips pummeled upward in need. Close, so close...she writhed and reached for it, the tension growing until she felt ready to explode.

  Screaming his name, she climaxed, her sheath squeezing him as she shattered, her back arching. He growled in satisfaction, gave one last thrust and threw his head back with a hoarse shout. Cooper collapsed atop her, his face pillowed beside her, his breathing ragged. She bore his weight, welcoming it, but then he eased out of her and rolled over, pulling her into his arms.

  She nuzzled her cheek against his sweat-slicked shoulder. He stroked her hair in a tender caress.

  Such strong shoulders, bearing much weight. No complaints, nothing but quiet and staunch resolution to bear the burden.

  “I told you before I didn’t need anything. Or anyone.” Meg let all her feelings flow like water. “It’s been a lonely walk for me for years since Caldwell died in combat. My parents ignored me, living only for wealth and pleasure. My grandparents loved me, but loved the business more. And Prescott, he used me to get a solid claim on the company. You were the first man to ever ask what I wanted, what my needs were.”

  Raising her head, she studied his solemn expression. Meg traced a line along his firm jaw and the slight stubble bearding it.

  Cooper’s heavy-lidded gaze swept along the curve of her cheek to her mouth, swollen from his passionate kisses. “You’re stronger than you think, Princess. You’re one of the toughest and sweetest women I’ve ever known.”

  Meg made small circles on his chest, tunneling through the curly dark hairs with her fingers. “I feel as if I were fractured, and I’m beginning to heal. This can’t last. I won’t stay.”

  “Don’t run away, Meg. Whatever problems you face, you can work them out.”

  Meg listened to his heart thud as she rested her cheek on his muscular chest. A huge step, making that kind of promise. It meant tying herself to him, strengthening the bond already forged in the flesh and...

  Her heart. She stirred, troubled by the idea, testing it in her mind. He was so good to her, so gentle and tender. What woman wouldn’t want this?

  She wanted it, badly.

  But it was not meant for her to stay.

  Chapter 15

  “How much do you trust the attorney who handled your grandmother’s estate?”

  The question, asked over breakfast in the dining room the next morning, didn’t surprise her. Not after what they had found last night in Randall’s house.

  Meg paused in sprinkling brown sugar over her oatmeal. Now that she knew her grandmother had been murdered, the circumstances of her will became even more suspicious.

  “Baxter and Baxter have represented our family for years. Gran and Pops trusted Bert Sr. implicitly. He was executor of my grandfather’s will, but not my grandmother’s. But he did prepare both her will and her trust. His son, Bert Jr., updated the will and trust last year.”

  “We need to talk with Junior,” Cooper muttered.

  “The firm is in Boston. I could call him...”

  “Boston isn’t a long drive. Let’s pay him a visit. Sometimes it’s best to catch people off guard.” Coop leaned back, hooking his thumbs through the loops of his jeans.

  Good point. “There’s something else. After Bert Jr. updated the trust, I couldn’t find the copies of my grandmother’s original will. Anywhere. Prescott may have hidden them or destroyed them.”

  Cooper slid his palm over hers, his grip comforting. “I doubt she wanted to leave everything to Prescott. From what you told me, that doesn’t sound like her. She wanted to retain control of the company until the very end, and someone like that doesn’t simply sign everything over to a son-in-law, carte blanche.”

  “Should we call the Palm Beach police and tell them what we found about Randall?”

  “Not yet. I’m not convinced that evidence wasn’t put there to frame Jacobs. Your ex could have found the documents and destroyed them, and put the money and newspaper article there to place the blame for your grandmother’s death on Jacobs. That’s why we need to go to Boston and talk to Bert Jr.”

  A road trip to Boston suited her jangled nerves. But there was still the matter of the missing nature photographer.

  “What about Kimball?”

  Richard Kimball had not returned. Or at least his rental car hadn’t. Fiona told them he hadn’t called, either. The photographer was due to check out today.

  If the photographer was working with Prescott, then Meg knew her ex was close. She was certain she’d seen Prescott that day in the woods. Knowing Kimball had tampered with the security cameras at Randall’s home solidified her suspicions that the photographer was aligned with her ex.

  “Nick will be here soon. And my brother. Both of them will stay with my mom and Aimee, keep an eye on things. I already called the listing agent and asked her to check over the house. Told her I lost my wallet and I was backtracking all my visits. If something is off with those security cameras, she’ll find out.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Cooper immediately quieted and began to eat.

  Meg smiled at the newcomer. Paula, the gray-haired Georgia widow, took a seat by the window at the large dining table. She greeted them with a warm smile, her left cheek dimpling, her blue eyes bright behind wire-rimmed glasses.

  Fiona served the guest a stack of pancakes and brought more fresh coffee.

  “Such a pleasure to see young people. I don’t have much chance to socialize outside my age group.” Paula reached for the syrup and poured it over her pancakes. “Are you two guests or do you live here?”

  “I live here,” Cooper said. “Megan’s visiting. She’s with me. Megan, if you’re finished, help me clear the table.”

  Meg felt reluctant to leave. Politeness to elderly people had been grilled into her since childhood. “You go on, please. I’ll stay here and chat a while with Paula.”

  The woman beamed as Cooper shot Meg a warning look. “Thank you, my dear. It’s been so lonely since my Wallace died last year. I stay busy with my grandchildren, but sometimes I feel as if I’m in the way. Do you have children, dear?”

  “No. I’m not married.”

  “A pretty young lady like you?”

  “I was married. I’m in the process of a divorce.”

  The woman’s gaze sharpened behind those round spectacles. “Oh my. What if you change your mind?”

  Meg sipped more coffee. “I won’t.”

  “A person can always change her mind, my dear. ’Til death do you part, is what my Wallace always said, God rest him.”

  Death was too good for Prescott. Meg changed the subject and asked Paula about her visit. The widow chattered about going to see Mount Washington for the first time.

  Excusing herself, Meg left, taking her dishes into the kitchen. She and Cooper worked to stack the dishwasher. When she returned to the dining room to see if Paula needed anything else, the widow was gone.

  Through the window, she noticed a sleek red Jeep Wrangler pulling into the inn’s parking lot. A tall man with dark blond hair got out. Straight-shouldered and stiff, he had the bearing of military. Another man, this one shorter and brown-haired, climbed out of the passenger side.

  They came into the inn and Cooper greeted them in the hallway. “Nomad! Derek.”

  “Thought we’d shock you by arriving together. Had to cut through the city on my way up, so I figured Derek would like to catch a ride,” the blond man said.

  Aimee and Fiona joined them, exclaiming over the new arrivals. There was much back-slapping and many hugs, and Aimee was especially thrilled to see her older brother. Even Sophie, who’d accompanied Aimee down the stairs, barked in excitement and circled the group.

  Family time. Uncomfortable with being the outsider, Meg stepped back
into the dining room. What would it feel like to have family to lean on, to be there for you when you needed them? Familiar loneliness arrowed through her. Maybe she was better off alone. But no, Cooper had been there for her. He wouldn’t let her down.

  The group entered the dining room. Meg turned from the fireplace as Cooper drew the two strangers forward.

  “Meg, this is Nick Anderson, my swim team buddy from BUD/S.”

  Unsmiling, Nick nodded at her. She became aware of the sharp scrutiny from those dark brown eyes. Her gaze flickered to the large black gun holstered at his hip, and the equally wicked dagger strapped to one muscular thigh. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, and his entire body shimmered with quiet menace. A cold shiver stroked down her spine. She was glad Nick was Cooper’s friend, because she didn’t want to be on this man’s bad side.

  “And my brother, Derek.”

  “Lieutenant Derek to you, little brother,” drawled the good-looking black-haired man who bore a strong resemblance to Fiona. Derek shook her hand.

  “You got promoted,” Fiona exclaimed. “Honey, you didn’t tell us.”

  “Thought I’d save the news for dinner. You are making your famous pot roast, right, Mom?”

  Aimee’s arms wrapped around his waist, Sophie trotting by her side, Derek escorted his mother into the kitchen as Cooper and Nick quietly talked.

  Meg left the inn, aware he probably wanted to catch up with his friend. Barely had her feet touched the steps when a hand caught her elbow.

  “Where do you think you’re headed?”

  She glanced at the frowning Cooper. “Giving you private time for your friend and your brother.”

  Cooper sighed. “Meg, the reason my friend and brother are here is to help you. Nick’s one of the toughest SEALs I know. And Derek is a top-notch detective. His lab can analyze the handwriting on those newspaper clippings to see if it was Randall Jacobs’s writing.”

  He drew her forward, kissed her forehead. “Where you go, I go. I’m serious, Meg. Either someone is trying to scare you into leaving here and smoke you out with all these strange incidents, or your bastard ex has somehow gained access to my farm and intends to catch you alone. That’s not happening on my watch.”

  Warmth filled her. Cooper sounded so determined and assured. She wasn’t alone in this after all. Reinforcements had arrived.

  He kissed her again, this time a deep kiss. The front door slammed and she heard a heavy tread on the porch steps.

  Reluctantly, Cooper drew back and turned. “Nomad, what’s up?”

  “Wanted to know where to stash my gear.” The ex-SEAL shot her a curious look.

  “Upstairs, in the family wing. There’s a spare room there. Derek can show you. I need you near Mom and Aimee, keep an eye on them.”

  The man nodded. “I’ll take care of things at home, Coop.”

  Her gaze dropped to the gleaming pistol holstered on his hip. Once she hated guns. Now she was grateful his friend was armed, and there was another person watching over Cooper’s family.

  Cooper didn’t release her, nor did he seem flustered that his friend caught them embracing. He acted as if all this was normal.

  As if they had a relationship. They were lovers, but could she expect more? Did she want more?

  Yes, a tiny voice inside her cried out. You deserve this.

  “Another thing, Nomad. Need you to hack into the Taylor corporation database and get me anything on Combat Gear Inc.”

  His voice never faltered, but Meg stiffened in his arms. “There’s no need for that. I can give you the password.”

  “Which has changed by now,” Cooper pointed out.

  Nick’s gaze centered on him. “And what exactly am I looking for?”

  Releasing her, Cooper took her hand. “Documents that prove Taylor Sporting Goods is connected to Combat Gear Inc. Any emails connecting Meg’s ex-husband Prescott August to Miles O’Neary. O’Neary is the Irish mobster who has a hold on Boston’s waterfront.”

  Meg tugged her hand free. “Cooper, why are you telling him all this?”

  His steady blue gaze regarded her. “Princess, I trust Nick with my life. I told him everything about you and the vests. If there are documents linking your ex to the defective vests, Nick will find them. He’s the best damn hacker on the East Coast.”

  “And West Coast,” Nick added, but his expression remained guarded.

  The man might trust Cooper, and vice versa, but she remained an unknown factor. That much was clear. Nick was an important part of Cooper’s life, just as his family was. But trusting him was another matter. And if the worst happened, and her heart got crushed again?

  You’ll survive.

  She had hopes and dreams. Aspirations of doing something good with her life, something meaningful to help others. Those dreams had been smashed beneath the heel of Preston’s cruelty, but he hadn’t crushed her spirit.

  She would go on. New dreams, for dreams were countless as the stars. Life wasn’t an absolute. It was wonderfully gray and purple and blue and pink and all the colors in between.

  Cooper had showered her with love last night, leaving her deliciously sore in all the right places. He’d promised to protect her and keep her safe, and her feelings for him had blossomed over the past few days.

  Still, she wasn’t family and she was the one responsible for his sister’s death.

  She only hoped Cooper would stand with her when the authorities learned the truth.

  * * *

  The drive to Boston was lovely, with rolling hillsides and pretty farms set among the thick trees. As they headed east on 113, memories filled her.

  Meg pointed to a stretch of rolling farmland. “My grandparents’ summer house is south of here. It’s a lovely farm, but neglected.”

  “Is that where you learned to ride?”

  “Yes. I had my pony when I was younger, and then when I grew older I competed in equestrian events.”

  She shot him a shy glance. “Like you, I thrived on the competition. It was good for me.”

  “So you like cowboys, huh?” He winked.

  “Oh yeah. I like cowboys. Even ones who abandoned the Patriots for the Dallas Cowboys for a full football season,” she teased.

  “Hey, I stayed loyal. Just because I lived in Texas didn’t mean I changed my colors.”

  Meg stared at the rolling countryside, lost in thought about those childhood days at the farm. Innocent times, when she had her grandparents’ undivided attention, and they showered her and Caldwell with love and devotion to make up for their parents’ divorcing. Not like later when they were too worried about the business.

  “Did she leave the farm to Prescott?”

  Her fond memories turned sour. “That was the one thing that didn’t pass to my ex. Gran deeded it to me as a gift when I graduated from college. Prescott wanted me to sell it. I refused. I’d rather let it rot than sell it because he wanted me to.”

  Cooper glanced at her. “You stuck to your guns. Good for you.”

  It hadn’t been too terrible, because Prescott had been preoccupied with business. “The last time I was there was more than a year ago. Gran and I went there to pack the antique quilts that had been in her family for generations. The furniture still sits there, all covered. The farmhouse has no running water or electricity now. I hired a guy to mow the fields every three months, but other than that, it’s a sad little abandoned place.”

  His mouth flattened. “If there is a hidden will, I bet she left it in the house.”

  Meg had considered it. “Maybe. I packed the key when I left Palm Beach, but it’s back at the cottage.”

  “Let’s see what this lawyer of your grandmother’s has to say.”

  But when they entered the stately, carpeted offices of Baxter and Baxter, the young receptionist sn
apped her gum and told them in a cold tone that Mr. Baxter was on extended leave. Meg glanced around the empty waiting area. It was a small firm, but the office had a deserted air to it.

  She had been here a few times, and the receptionist always kept a dish filled with butterscotch on the desk and there were stacks of files near the computer. The candy dish was gone now, along with any files. Even the computer had been shut off.

  It almost seemed as if the office were empty, and the receptionist was trying to conceal the fact.

  “His assistant is taking appointments. She’s busy right now. If you call later...”

  Meg narrowed her eyes. “We are here now. I need to speak with Mrs. Sandors, Bert’s assistant.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

  “Then I want to get a copy of my grandmother’s original last will and testament. And a copy of her original trust.”

  The receptionist stood, went to a file cabinet and pulled out a form, handing it to Meg. “Fill this out and leave it and we will mail it. You will receive a copy in about five to six weeks.”

  “I need it now,” Meg insisted.

  The woman did not budge. It was clear things had changed from the time Meg had last been here.

  Cooper folded his arms. “We aren’t leaving until we speak to someone in charge.”

  A minute later, a beefy security guard arrived and ushered them out of the law office.

  In the truck, Cooper drove, his jaw tight.

  As he navigated through the busy city traffic, she tried to quell the nervous tension in her stomach.

  “I don’t know why she was so uncooperative with us. My grandmother was a valued client,” she told Cooper.

  He stopped at a red light and glanced at her. “They had other problems. Since when does a law firm hire a receptionist who chews gum and wears jeans?”

  Meg startled. “I thought she seemed new... She must be a temp.”

  A temp given orders to keep clients away and give them evasive answers and forms.

  No copies of the trust. No copies of her grandmother’s original will. And an attorney who was absent and a dragon of a receptionist clearly guarding the front gate.