Special Ops Bodyguard

Home > Romance > Special Ops Bodyguard > Page 12
Special Ops Bodyguard Page 12

by Beth Cornelison


  Hannah had spread a feast of ham, eggs, fried potatoes, biscuits with jelly, stewed cinnamon apples and orange juice on the table. Gage’s stomach growled, despite having eaten the muffins Kate sent home with him.

  “This looks terrific. Thank you,” Gage told Hannah as he took a seat.

  She gave Hank a surly glance before answering Gage. “Cole needed a big breakfast before he set to work. He might not get a break for lunch, and he’s got a full day of hard labor ahead of him. He’s the one that asked me to include the ranch guests when I cooked.”

  Hank’s cell phone rang, and he took the call as he settled at the table. Hannah sniffed and rolled her eyes. Her disdain for Cole’s father was almost humorous—except any animosity toward the senator couldn’t be ignored. Gage sized up the short, heavyset woman. Could she be working with the senator’s enemies from the inside? He couldn’t ignore the idea that someone at the ranch, someone Cole trusted, could be helping the people trying to get to Hank. Just how much did Hannah dislike Hank?

  Gage tucked into his breakfast while Hank talked to his assistant.

  “And how are you feeling, Cindy? Everything all right with the baby?” Hank asked.

  Gage glanced up from his eggs, startled by Hank’s uncharacteristic concern for someone besides himself. He’d met Cindy Jensen briefly when Dylan Kelley had hired him to guard his father, and the attractive aide who worked for Hank had only barely been showing a baby bump.

  “Well, take care of yourself,” Hank said. “I need you on the job now more than ever. I hate being stuck up here when there’s so much work to be done.”

  Ah. Gage frowned and dug into his food again. So Hank’s concern was merely in how Cindy’s health affected her ability to run his office in his absence. Maybe the senator’s selfish reputation was deserved after all.

  They ate in silence for several minutes before Hank said, “You look tired.”

  Gage shrugged. “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Bart tells me you went out. Is bar-hopping really a good idea for a bodyguard, even in his off hours?”

  Gage set his fork down, his free hand fisting on his lap. “I wasn’t at a bar.”

  “Oh? Where’d you go then?”

  He didn’t really think he owed the senator any explanation of how he spent his free time, but he heard himself say, “Kate Rogers called the ranch looking for me. She asked me to come over when she thought she might have a problem with—” He stopped just short of saying her brother-in-law. Kate’s personal business was private. “Someone who’d harassed her in the past.”

  “Stayed all night, did you? No sleep?” Hank gave him a lecherous grin.

  Gage gritted his teeth and the biscuit in his hand crumbled under his grip. “Watch it, old man. Kate’s not that kind of woman.”

  Hank chuckled and hummed a glib, “Mm-hm.”

  Gage started to defend his actions and Kate’s reputation with further explanations, but a memory of the soul-branding kiss he’d shared with Kate before leaving her house taunted him. If Kate wasn’t that kind of woman, why had he put the moves on her the way he had? Sure, he’d felt a spark of attraction from her, but knowing she shared a physical interest in him didn’t mean he had to act on it. He didn’t want Kate to think he didn’t respect what he assumed were her views on premarital sex.

  And a sexual fling was just the kind of distraction that he didn’t need while he protected a U.S. Senator.

  A sexual fling…

  Kate naked, wrapped around him, kissing him with the sweet honesty and pure emotion she’d had this morning…her petite body tucked beneath his…her sky-blue eyes shining at him with a fiery passion….

  His mouth suddenly going dry, Gage reached for his orange juice with a shaky hand. He drank deeply, emptying the glass, but still felt parched. Guilt shimmied through him. In light of Kate’s deeply held beliefs, even imagining her in the throes of hot sex felt wrong. He could not, would not ask Kate to compromise her convictions, no matter how badly he wanted her. He respected her too much to put her in that position.

  “…head outside to watch the sorting.”

  Gage snapped his attention to Hank, realizing he’d missed most of what the senator had said. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “You know I’m bored out of my gourd if sorting cows passes for a morning’s entertainment, but I don’t relish sitting around inside all day either.” Hank pushed his plate away and dropped his napkin on the table.

  “Can’t you watch from the window?” Gage wiped his mouth and pushed his chair back. “You’re safer inside.”

  Hank blew him off with a buzz of his lips and a waved hand. “I’ll be fine. Who’s going to get me with you and all those ranch hands around?”

  And what if one of the ranch hands is working with Hank’s enemies?

  “You’d still be vulnerable. If you keep ignoring my advice and Bart’s, we can’t guarantee your saf—”

  “Then you’re fired. I didn’t ask for a bodyguard. Hiring you was Dylan’s idea.” Hank polished off his second glass of Maker’s Mark and scooted back from the table.

  “Exactly. He hired me, and only he can fire me. So you’re stuck with me, for better or worse.” Gage followed Hank to the front door where the senator took his coat from the rack and shoved his arms in the sleeves. “Senator, you need to stay—”

  “Can it, Prescott. I’m old enough to be your father, and I won’t have you telling me what I can and can’t do. Just do your job, and I’ll be fine. But I’m going outside.”

  Even if that meant putting Gage, Cole and the other ranch hands at greater risk with his presence. Gage sighed heavily and grabbed his coat as he followed the hardheaded and selfish senator into the cool October morning.

  Hank sauntered across the dry ranch yard toward the holding pen where a handful of cowboys worked with Cole getting the calves sorted from the adults and herded onto a contained platform where they could be weighed.

  “Morning, gentlemen,” the senator greeted cheerfully in his best politician’s voice.

  Cole glanced toward his father but said nothing.

  Gage stepped up to the fence beside Hank and rested his arms on the top bar, watching the cowboys in action. In the pen, he recognized the ranch manager, Rusty Moore, at the chute, Ben from the stable atop Blaze, and Kenny Greene—the younger hand that he and the sheriff had caught behind the barn on the night trespassers had cut the fence in the lower pasture. The young hand noticed Gage and hesitated in his work, staring back at Gage with a startled expression.

  When Kenny got a face full of dirt as a large bull near him bucked, Cole shouted, “Hey, cowboy, pay attention! You start daydreaming in there with those cattle, and you could be killed.”

  “Sorry, boss.” Kenny got back to work, waving a tool that looked like a giant fly-swatter at a cow to steer it away from the chute.

  Cole rode up to the fence where Gage and Hank stood observing. Reining in his horse, he knocked his hat back to wipe grime and sweat from his brow. “Senator,” he said formally, “there something I can do for you?”

  The stiff form of address Cole used for his father resounded in Gage’s head, and he heard Kate saying, I don’t think the senator was a very good father.

  Hank flashed his son a nervous-looking smile. “Just watching. Brings back a lot of memories.”

  Cole gave his father a skeptical frown. “You hated ranching. Uncle Donald said you couldn’t leave Montana fast enough.”

  “True enough. I didn’t want to make a career of ranching, but that doesn’t mean all my memories of the family business are bad.”

  Cole made no reply.

  Gage shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable being in the vicinity of the family tension. He thought of Janet’s snarky comments to Kate that morning and wondered how the bonds of family could be so strong for some people when the relationships were strained and acrimonious. He knew, in Kate’s case, her optimism, forgiving nature and experience with the
Zooks gave her hope that her relationship with Janet could be close and loving.

  Gage ground his back teeth together in frustration. From what he’d seen, Janet used Kate’s optimism as a weapon, exploiting her sister’s good nature and taking advantage of her forgiveness. He tried to tell himself the sisters’ relationship was none of his business, but he’d grown to care deeply for Kate and hated seeing her mistreated.

  “So how is your Uncle Donald?” Hank asked after an awkward moment of silence passed.

  Gage searched his memory of the file he’d read on the Kelley family before taking the assignment to protect Hank. Donald Kelley, the senator’s half-brother, lived in another small town near Maple Cove, and ran a successful chain of barbecue restaurants. Donald had helped raise Cole when he’d left California as a teenager.

  “Why don’t you call him yourself and ask?” Cole returned, his attention focused on the activity in the pen.

  The muscles in Hank’s jaw tightened, and he sent his son a glower of exasperation. “Maybe I will,” he shot back tightly.

  Then, taking a deep breath, Hank scratched his chin and said more calmly, “I…could help with the sorting if you wanted. I still know how to rope.”

  Gage jerked his gaze toward Hank. “What?”

  This was the first he’d heard of the senator’s intentions. Was this a play to get back in his son’s good graces? Gage shifted his attention to the thousand-pound animals thundering through the corral, bumping and jostling each other in the tight confines, then he glanced at Cole. How was he supposed to protect the senator from a mishap in that chaos?

  Cole stared at his father suspiciously, and Gage had opened his mouth to object when Cole said, “When’s the last time you had a drink?”

  Hank stepped back from the fence and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I…well, what difference does that make?”

  “I won’t have anyone in here working that isn’t fully cognizant and in control.” Cole shoved his hat back in place. “I know how you love your Maker’s Mark, so I have to be sure.”

  “I’m fine,” Hank said.

  Gage grunted and kicked the dirt. “Sir, you had two drinks with your breakfast.”

  The senator shot him a dirty look. “Yes, with food! I’m fine.” He held his hand out to Cole. “Steady as a rock.”

  Cole shook his head. “Not this time.” He hesitated, then said, “But skip the booze tomorrow, and we’ll talk.” He turned as if to ride away and get back to work but paused, shifting his attention to Gage. “Say, Prescott, where were you coming in from this morning at the crack of dawn when I was heading out to start work?”

  Standing straighter, Gage prepared to tell the rancher to mind his own business, when he saw the glint of mischief and tug of a grin on Cole’s face. Gage arched one eyebrow. “Christmas shopping.”

  Hank scoffed. “Christmas shopping, my eye,” he grumbled, then louder to Cole, “He was at his girlfriend’s house.”

  “Girlfriend?” Cole repeated, clearly surprised.

  Gage shot Hank a quelling look which went ignored.

  “Yeah, he was hitting on that pretty waitress at the diner in town last week.”

  “I wasn’t hitting on her,” Gage said, realizing too late that his objection was as good as admitting guilt.

  “At the diner? You mean Kate Rogers?” Cole asked, his expression surprised.

  Hank gave Gage a smug look. Payback. “I think that’s her name. Pretty little blonde. She made a box of pastries especially for him.”

  They had Ben’s attention now, and the ranch hand gaped at Gage. “You’re dating Kate Rogers? You asked her out, and she actually said yes?”

  Gage raised a hand and shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that is where you said you were all night last night. At her house? Am I right?” Hank prodded.

  Gage clenched his teeth. If he hadn’t sworn to protect the senator’s life, Gage would have killed Hank himself.

  “I’ll be danged.” Ben snorted and sauntered away, shaking his head.

  Cole chuckled. “You dog. Do you have any idea how many cowboys have asked her out and been turned down? And you come in here and have her making you pastries inside of a week.” He doffed his hat and nodded to Gage. “My hat’s off to you, friend.”

  “It’s not like that,” Gage started, uncomfortable both with the attention and the direction of the conversation, but he caught himself.

  Who was he kidding? He had kissed her last night. He wanted to see her again. In fact, he wanted much more from her than just a casual friendship or a meaningless fling. So why hadn’t he asked her out?

  Cole’s expression grew more serious, and he narrowed a sharp gaze on Gage. “Just you be sure you don’t hurt her, you hear? Kate’s a sweetheart, and she deserves better than a broken heart from some womanizer who’s just passing through town.” With that, he rode back into the fray of ranch hands, cows and flying dirt.

  The rancher’s warning wasn’t anything he hadn’t told himself. The last thing he wanted was to lead Kate on, give her false hope.

  Sure, he wanted to explore a relationship with her. She was beautiful and kind, warm and funny. But she didn’t need him and his black guilt and nightmares of war to drag her down. She’d be better off with someone settled and reliable, like Cole.

  Gage imagined Kate with the handsome rancher and jealousy kicked him hard in the gut.

  Do you have any idea how many cowboys have asked her out and been turned down? Yet she’d asked him to come to her house last night, had been kissing him this morning. So maybe exploring the chemistry he felt with Kate wasn’t so preposterous. If nothing else, he wanted an opportunity to talk to Kate about Janet. Gage kicked the dry dirt at his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. One dinner out with Kate couldn’t hurt, but that was where he had to draw the line. Beyond a meal out on the town, he had nothing to offer a woman like Kate, and he couldn’t live with himself if he did anything to hurt her.

  Chapter 9

  After watching Cole sort and weigh the cows for about an hour, Hank grew restless and went back inside to channel surf and gauge how much of the brouhaha over his numerous mistresses had died down. Having had little sleep last night, Gage found his eyes drifting closed from time to time, especially when Hank settled on the Weather Channel as he took another call from Cindy Jensen.

  “Have I had any calls from Rick Garrison?” Hank asked his assistant, and the name pulled Gage out of the sleepy fog he’d drifted into. Garrison…the mercenary Hank had sent after his daughter.

  “I haven’t heard anything, and I’m getting…well, worried.” Hank prowled the living room like a caged tiger. Not that Gage could blame him. The tedium of this assignment was making him claustrophobic, too. “Give him this number if he calls. Yes.”

  Gage heard the kitchen door open, heard Cole speak warmly to the old dog, Ace, then heard footsteps as the rancher entered the living room.

  Hannah appeared from the back of the house, folding a towel, and gave her boss a frown of concern. “Is something wrong, Cole?”

  “Nah. Just getting something from my room.” Cole glanced at the television, which still had the Weather Channel playing softly, and paused.

  “Can I get you something to eat while you’re in?” Hannah asked, setting the towel aside.

  Cole frowned at the TV then glanced at the housekeeper. “Huh? Oh, no. I don’t have time. But thanks.”

  Hank’s conversation with his assistant continued to drone from the far side of the large room, and Gage wondered if Cole might be waiting to speak to his father.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong, honey? You look upset.” Hannah stepped closer to Cole and placed a weathered hand on his arm.

  Honey? The housekeeper’s warmth and motherly concern for Cole was sure a departure from the gruff manner she used toward Hank and his bodyguards. Gage suppressed a grin of amusement. Guess he knew where the older woman’s loyalties lay.

  “Noth
ing you need to worry about,” Cole told Hannah, then pointed toward the TV where the ten-day forecast for the area around Maple Cove glowed on the screen. “Unless you can do something to stop this front that’s moving in. That’s gonna screw things up for me. Big time.”

  “How so?” Gage asked.

  “Well, I just got word that part of the herd, the part I was expecting to be brought in today, has about a hundred head missing. They’re lost somewhere up in the mountains apparently, and we’re gonna need extra time and manpower to find ’em and bring ’em in.”

  “And this front will prevent that from happening somehow?” Gage asked.

  Cole sighed, then explained patiently, “I’ve had trucks—eighteen-wheelers—scheduled for months to take my herd to market tomorrow. But with more than half of the cows still out and one hundred head missing until God knows when, I’m gonna have to cancel the trucks and reschedule. There’s no telling when I can get the trucks in here now. Other ranchers will have dibs on the rigs for the next week or so, I’m sure, and now there’s this front coming,” he waved a hand toward the TV and furrowed his brow, “that could dump snow on the road and bury the fields.”

  “Don’t they plow the roads around here?” Gage asked.

  “The main roads, but not some of the smaller roads to get up here. Thing is, if the field’s under snow, the cows can’t get to the hay stubble I’d need them to eat to keep their weight while we wait on the trucks.” Cole rubbed the back of his neck and blew out another frustrated sigh.

  Gage couldn’t imagine the stress these complications put on Cole. The outcome of the whole ranching season boiled down to just a few days, and Cole’s profit or loss for the year was at the mercy of factors out of his hands.

  “Can I do anything?” Hannah asked.

  Cole squeezed the housekeeper’s shoulder as he headed out of the room. “Pray.”

  Hannah smiled at the young rancher. “I already do. For you. Every day.”

  Across the room, Hank snapped his cell phone closed and grumbled, “My life has turned to crap.”

 

‹ Prev