Gabe glanced over his shoulder as he scratched the blood bay gelding’s poll. “This is Mack.”
Nickering, the horse had trotted over to the paddock fence the minute he saw people approaching. Gabe was hit by a pang of guilt at the thought that the gelding was lonely. Of course he was; horses are herd animals. “Not long until you’re back with your buddies,” he murmured in one flickering ear.
Carrying Chloe, Trina joined him at the fence. “As in Mack truck?”
He smiled a little. “Yeah. For a quarter horse, he’s a giant.”
Her sidelong, appraising glance was enough to stir his body in ways that could be embarrassing.
“Kind of fits you,” she murmured.
He pulled a cube of sugar from his pocket and held it out. Mack inhaled it, his soft lips barely brushing Gabe’s hand. “Put me up on some of the horses here on the ranch, my boots would be dragging on the ground.”
Trina’s laugh lit her face. Held on her hip, the kid jumped when Mack whiffled.
“Would you like to pet him?” Gabe asked. “Mack likes everyone.”
He wasn’t sure the horse had ever met a child, but he trusted the good-natured animal not to bite.
The little girl looked doubtful but finally, tentatively, held out a tiny hand. Mack blew on it, making her giggle, then bobbed his head.
Gabe showed her how to offer a sugar cube, wrapping her hand in his so she wasn’t in any danger of having a finger mistaken for a treat to be demolished by big yellow teeth. Another giggle, this one delighted, caused a strange sensation somewhere under his breastbone. It wasn’t only Trina who awakened unfamiliar feelings. He excused himself on the grounds that he was a natural protector. The little girl’s obvious vulnerability—and her surprising strength—spoke to him.
Bad enough letting the kid get to him. Gabe tried not to look at Trina, too sexy even in a pair of jeans from her friend’s daughter that she was still wearing instead of the slimmer-fitting ones he’d bought her. Given her burns, the loose fit was more comfortable, she’d admitted.
He hadn’t liked leaving the two of them alone yesterday, but he was confident enough that no one could find them to set out on his errands without having alerted Boyd. She’d promised to stay in the cabin and not answer the door while he was gone. Far as he could tell, she’d obeyed. He hadn’t had to worry about Chloe; she stuck close to Trina.
Didn’t mean Chloe wasn’t getting whiny by the time he returned. Three short, animated videos only had so much entertainment value. The toys and games he’d bought had filled the evening, but he’d suggested the walk this morning to head off either Trina or Chloe growing restless.
Gabe’s top priority yesterday had been to call Detective Risvold using a cheap phone he charged in his truck.
“Where the hell are they?” the detective had demanded. “Dr. Marr knows better than to disappear with the girl.”
Gabe said only, “Safe. Trina asked me to let you know.”
“That’s unacceptable!” His fury seemed over the top. “This child is a witness to a multiple homicide. Now that she’s talking, we need to have access to her. If I have to ask for a subpoena—”
“Do that,” Gabe said icily, “and this is the last time I give you an update. And just how do you intend to serve your subpoena, even assuming you can find a judge who thinks it’s fine to bully a three-year-old?”
After a significant pause, Risvold snapped, “I haven’t heard any update.”
“I’m tasked with telling you that Michael Keif was supposed to be alone that morning. The boy had a swim lesson. You can check, but chances were he’d had lessons the previous few Saturdays. That day, the mother intended to take him and Chloe. Brian got sick—puked, according to Chloe, so they made a last-minute decision not to go.”
This silence lasted longer and was, Gabe hoped, more thoughtful.
“The killer was surprised by the wife.”
“He didn’t intend to kill them,” Gabe agreed, “may actively not have wanted to, but if the husband was already down when he realized they weren’t alone in the house...”
Sounding churlish, the detective grumbled, “If she can tell us that much, she can tell us what she saw.”
“No. She broke down after telling Trina that much.”
“I have a message for Dr. Marr,” Risvold said in a hard voice. “I expect to hear from her daily. If she doesn’t show up to work Monday, I’ll have to assume she’s kidnapped the girl and may even have crossed state lines.”
The jackass was trying to intimidate the wrong man. The wrong woman, too, but Trina wasn’t here. “You might recall she has legal custody,” Gabe said curtly. “Which gives her the right and obligation to keep her foster daughter safe.”
“Every day,” the detective repeated. “I expect to see her in person, or hear her voice on the phone.”
Shaking his head, Gabe cut off the connection. Scanning his surroundings in the vast Walmart parking lot, he saw nothing of concern except a marked Bend PD car slowly moving two aisles away from his truck. Probably coincidental, but why take a chance?
He’d backed out, rolled down his window when he saw a trash can, dropped the phone in and peeled off the leather work glove he’d worn to handle it. Still watchful but relaxed, he had continued with his errands, the most painful of which had been choosing toys. New experience, he’d told himself. It didn’t take experience to steer him away from anything battery-operated that made noises.
Gabe had been both relieved and damn glad to walk in his door at the ranch, especially since woman and girl both pounced on him with open pleasure. Hair conditioner! Lip gloss! Picture books! He’d felt kinda like Santa Claus.
Now he found a smile for Chloe. “Would you like to ride Mack?”
Her eyes widened. “Me?”
“If Trina says it’s okay.” He shifted his gaze to her fine-boned face and big green-gold eyes.
She bit her lip. “Are you sure...?”
“Mack is gentle as a lamb.” He didn’t remind her how a well-trained cutting horse could move—sliding stops that would send unprepared riders sailing over his head, turns faster than seemed possible for such a big animal and blazing speed for the short distances needed to run down a breakaway steer. “I’ll put her up in front of me.”
Amusement in her eyes, she pouted. “You didn’t offer me a ride.”
The words were no sooner out than fiery color rose in her cheeks. He swallowed and tried not to think about how much he wanted to take her for a ride—preferably in his big bed upstairs. Even so, Gabe had no doubt she saw the glint in his eyes, because she turned her flaming face away to kiss the top of Chloe’s head.
“I was being considerate,” he said. Hearing the grit in his voice, he cleared his throat. “Don’t think you’re ready to be up on a horse when he breaks into a trot.”
Trina winced. “You’re right. I’m definitely not.”
Curious, he asked, “Do you know how to ride?”
“Oh, sure.” Her cheeks were still pink, but she was regaining her aplomb. “Nothing fancy, just trail riding. I have a friend whose husband has a small ranch south of town. I ride with her regularly.”
Good, he thought; in a pinch, he could throw her and Chloe up on Mack and send them cross-country while he held off any threat.
He put a bridle on the gelding to reassure Trina, even though it wasn’t necessary. Gabe could control Mack with his legs and subtle shifts of weight. Then he used the fence to mount bareback, and held out his arm. “Ready, little one?”
Chloe was clearly torn between terror and temptation. When Trina lifted her high enough for Gabe to close his hands around her waist, she froze.
“No?” he said.
Mack had been standing as still as a statue, but now he turned his head to look inquiringly. When he blew air out through his lips, Chloe gulped and said a brave, “Yes.”
The minute he settled her in front of him, she clutched fistfuls of wiry black mane. She was ridiculously tiny atop the powerfully built horse. Gabe smiled, wrapped his right arm around her and signaled Mack to walk. They circled the paddock a couple of times before he bent toward her ear. “Lope? It’s lots faster,” he warned.
“Uh-huh!”
Mack responded to Gabe’s tightened legs; after one bumpy stride the horse reached a canter, the gait slow and easy, his head low. He could have been circling a show ring.
Chloe squeaked and stiffened but quickly relaxed. By the time he slowed Mack to a walk and then to a stop at the fence right beside Trina, the little girl’s body was moving with the horse like a pro. She was a natural.
She beamed at Trina. “I like fast.”
Gabe laughed, drawing a startled look from Trina. Almost...fascinated.
He was working at locking himself down when he heard a sound that instantly sobered him. The steady beat of hooves. Even Trina swung around. If he hadn’t suspected who was coming, he’d have reached for the handgun tucked in his waistband at the small of his back, hidden by his denim overshirt.
He recognized the horse before the man. Gabe let go of his battle-readiness. His friend and partner rode toward them on a dappled gray. Gabe preferred quarter horses, but Boyd liked Arabs and Arab–quarter horse crosses. This one had to be a cross, tall and muscled enough to carry a big man, but still possessing the delicate ears and dished face that characterized Arabians.
Boyd’s eyebrows rose at the sight of Gabe on horseback holding a little girl in front of him. A girl, he realized uncomfortably, who was wearing pink overalls and a white T-shirt that had a glittery unicorn on the front. He’d bought the damn outfit himself yesterday. Not something he’d admit to Boyd.
His friend reined his horse in and openly studied the threesome before smiling. “Gabe.” He nodded. Looked at the girl. “Hi, Chloe. I’m Boyd. A friend of Gabe’s.” Then he let his smile deepen for Trina. He had a way with women. “And you have to be Joseph’s sister.”
She smiled back. “I might take insult if you tell me I look like Joseph.”
Boyd grinned. “I’d take insult if you told me I look like Joseph.” Then he considered her, feature by feature, and admitted, “There’s something. Your eyes. Hair color. Otherwise...nope.”
“You should have told me you were coming,” Gabe interjected. He never liked surprises, and especially in the middle of a mission. Which this was, if an off-the-books one.
Boyd shrugged. “Impulse. Thought I should meet your guests.”
“We were about to have lunch,” Trina said. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”
The other man did have the grace to glance at Gabe, whose instinct was to keep even his best friend far away from Trina, but had to dip his head. They were friends, he reminded himself. There was no reason to feel territorial.
Boyd grinned, seeing right through him, and said, “Sounds good.”
While Boyd dismounted and unsaddled his horse, Gabe handed Chloe off to Trina and slid off Mack. By the time he had removed the bridle, Boyd had heaved his saddle from the horse’s back to the top rail of the fence and was leading the dappled gray through the gate. After taking off the bridle, too, he whacked his gelding on the butt, sending him into the paddock to join Mack.
The two touched noses, snorted and wandered companionably away to find a fringe of grass they could tear at.
Trina set Chloe down and said, “Lunchtime, sweetie.”
“Can I have a cookie?”
“After lunch,” Trina agreed, laughing when the kid raced toward the house.
Chloe wasn’t the only one who’d been thrilled when Trina started baking last night. Chocolate chip cookies first, followed by cinnamon rolls. Two hefty cinnamon rolls had made a great breakfast this morning. Trina, who had split one with the little girl and still not finished it, had watched him eat in astonishment.
“So, Gabe tells me your brother thinks I’ve gone soft,” Boyd remarked.
She tipped her head to assess a man who was as tall as Gabe, but leaner. “Maybe I should send him a picture so he can see that you don’t have a beer belly yet.”
He laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Why didn’t he ever tell me his sister was right here in Sadler?”
“Maybe because he didn’t want you anywhere near her,” Gabe suggested.
Boyd thought that was funny, too, possibly because he’d heard the edge in Gabe’s voice.
“I’ll have to call to give him a hard time,” Boyd continued.
“He’s away,” she said softly. “That’s why he asked Gabe to help.”
“Yeah, so I hear.” He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Joseph can take care of himself, you know.”
Her smile was obviously forced. “I do know.”
Gabe didn’t like seeing the shadow darkening her eyes. Yeah, being the one left behind would be a bitch. He should consider himself one of the lucky ones, knowing he wasn’t hurting people who loved him, leaving them scared out of their skulls every time he went wheels up. And it would be even tougher for a lover—a wife—than it was for parents or siblings.
He had a feeling Boyd was thinking the same when he changed the subject. “Cute kid.”
“Yes.” Trina’s gaze followed his to the front porch, where Chloe jumped from the top step to the ground, then climbed up and did it again. “She’s doing amazingly, considering. Um, Gabe did tell you?”
“Yeah.” Boyd’s tone was grim. “No place is completely safe, but...damn.”
Inside, Gabe heated the soup while Trina put together sandwiches. Two days, and they’d already begun to work around each other in the kitchen as if they’d been doing it for years, he thought, watching as she spun past him to get plates and bowls down from the cupboard. He nodded thanks and caught Boyd’s interested gaze. Like that, is it?
No. Yes. Even if the conversation had been aloud, he wouldn’t have known how to answer. He’d like to get this woman into bed—but he also knew she threatened him on a bone-deep level where he didn’t want to go. If he were smart, he’d keep his zipper up and his hands to himself...except he’d be putting those hands all over her long, slim torso and the sweet curve of her ass again this evening. Even purple-and-black bruises, red skin and blisters had failed to shut down his libido.
It was like forcing an alcoholic to guzzle a shot glass full of whiskey twice daily.
During lunch, Gabe discovered something about himself, though. He didn’t like the charming smiles Boyd directed at Trina, or their witty byplay. His only salvation was the slightly shy way she kept an eye on him, Gabe. It reminded him of the way Chloe watched her. Trina was the kid’s anchor, and he was apparently Trina’s. Then there was the fact that she never blushed for Boyd. She was being friendly, no more...which made Gabe realize that he and she never had a conversation that wasn’t more.
Whatever this was sizzling between them, it was definitely mutual. The understanding was worrisome, even as it allowed him to relax and enjoy seeing Boyd’s astonishment because a beautiful woman didn’t flirt with him.
* * *
“YOUR FRIEND’S NICE,” Trina observed, as she and Gabe stood on the front porch watching Boyd raise a hand at them and kick his horse into a canter.
“Nice, huh?” An expression that looked a lot like a smirk crossed his face, although he erased it before she could be sure.
She narrowed her eyes. “Is there something wrong with ‘nice’?”
“He wouldn’t be flattered. Boyd is no more ‘nice’ than I am.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Men like us...we’ve seen too much. Done too much.”
“You’re including Joseph,” she said slowly.
He didn’t say anything.
“So when you took Chloe for a ride, that was...?”
“Practicality. She can’t tell us the scary stuff until she’s happy enough to feel safe. Besides, she’ll be a pain in the butt if she gets bored.”
He was that cold-blooded? Trina’s first reaction was shock. But despite his current hard stare, she didn’t believe he lacked any softness. He didn’t give himself away often, but she’d seen fleeting expressions, the crinkle of skin beside his eyes even when he didn’t allow himself a smile, a gentleness in the deep voice.
She snorted, much as horses did. “Don’t buy it.”
His dark eyebrows climbed. “Why not?”
“First, because I know Joseph. He...talks to me. Being a warrior and nice aren’t mutually exclusive.” She ignored Gabe’s visible disbelief. “And I read people for a living. You know what I do.”
What she’d thought was a hard stare became adamantine. Either he didn’t like the possibility that she could read him—or he detested her profession. Needing to get it out in the open, she said, “You don’t like therapists.”
“You’re right.” He leaned toward her, letting her see something close to rage. “We’re fine as long as you don’t try that shit on me. You got that?”
Shaken, Trina tried to figure out why this had blown up so fast. What was he hiding?
Unwilling to back down, she nonetheless agreed. “I got it.”
“Don’t forget.” Without so much as looking at her again, he walked down the steps and around a corner of the cabin, out of sight.
Mad more than anything, she stomped inside. Chloe sat on the sofa in the living room, clutching her plush purple My Little Pony—a gift from the jerk.
“Can I ride again?”
“Probably. Some other day.” Trina found a smile. “Right now it’s nap time.”
“I don’t wanna. I’m not sleepy.”
Trina held out her hand and waited.
Chloe let out a giant sigh, slid off the sofa and took Trina’s hand. “How come I hafta?”
They had this discussion daily, and Trina produced her rote answers, which Chloe countered. But Trina didn’t even make it through one of the books Gabe had bought before the little girl sagged into sleep. Trina kissed her on the cheek, drew the covers up and slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar. There she hesitated, grumpy enough she’d have joined Chloe for the nap if she’d really thought she could sleep.
Finally, she went downstairs, hoping Gabe hadn’t returned. The house was quiet, so she made herself a cup of tea and curled up at one end of the sofa with it and the book she’d picked out yesterday morning.
He eventually did come in the front door, glance at her and nod brusquely, and go to the kitchen. That was the last she saw of him until long after Chloe woke, bumped down the staircase on her bottom and wanted to play a game. Trina gave serious thought to letting him deal with dinner, but she hadn’t heard any sounds to suggest he was cooking and she was hungry, so she left Chloe watching a new video and went to the kitchen.
Gabe sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him. Even though she’d swear she hadn’t made a sound, his head lifted and those sharp blue eyes focused on her.
“I’m going to start dinner,” she said.
“You don’t have to. I can—”
“It’s fine.” If she sounded short, so what? And she wasn’t totally playing the martyr—she’d fully planned to make spaghetti this evening. She shouldn’t have sulked at all; she and Gabe didn’t have to be best friends, or even like each other. He was doing a favor for Joseph, and she had no doubt he was up to keeping her and Chloe safe. Full stop.
After turning on the burner, she dumped the hamburger into the pan and got out a cutting board, knife and onion. “Do you know what happened to the garlic?”
“First shelf, cupboard to your left.”
Trina found it, and began chopping. “Joseph said you were still rehabilitating from an injury. I hope having us here hasn’t kept you from working out.”
“No, I have a gym set up in an outbuilding. That’s where I was.” After a brief pause, “There’s a shower out there, too.”
“Oh.” Her eyes began watering from the onion, which she hastily scraped into the pan with the hamburger. “You’re not limping or anything.”
“There’s still some discomfort.”
And wow, did that sound like a grudging admission telling anyone he had a weakness—having a weakness—probably went against his nature. Plus, she felt sure he used the word discomfort for what anyone else would call pain—or even agony.
Having dealt with the garlic, she stirred the browning hamburger and then turned to face him for the first time in the conversation. “Joseph said you’d been hit with an IED.”
His mouth tightened, and for a moment she thought he didn’t intend to respond. “Yes.”
“On a trail?”
“Road. Supposedly already cleared. I was in a jeep.” It was as if he was trying to reduce any drama by keeping his voice completely flat.
The effect was to distance him from her. She wondered how much of a habit that was. Whether he was truly warm and open with anyone.
“By yourself?” The minute she asked, she knew she shouldn’t have. She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just being nosy. I’m not trying to get in your head or anything like that.” When she let herself look at him again, she saw his spare nod.
“Your walk is looser today.” His tone was cool, verging on disinterest. “Is your back feeling better?”
She moved her shoulders experimentally and, surprised, said, “It does. Maybe we can quit with the ointment. I mean, this wasn’t much worse than a bad sunburn.”
“I’ll take a look tonight.”
Deciding she’d been as friendly as she dared, Trina stirred again and then opened cans of tomatoes and tomato sauce before starting to dice a bell pepper.
Behind her, he said, “I didn’t offer any way for Risvold to get in touch with you. I wonder if we should set up a conduit. Maybe one of your partners.”
She shook her head. “I can call when I’m at the office.”
“And just when do you plan to be in the office?” The question was lethally soft.
Trina bit her lip and turned slowly. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this.”
He rose to his feet. To remind her he was bigger? Or because tension translated into action for him? “You don’t want to stay in hiding?”
“No, it’s not that.” It was hard to argue with someone who appeared so unreceptive. But ultimately, the decisions were hers. He was a bodyguard, not the boss. “I work with traumatized children. Ones who’ve withdrawn like Chloe did, or are acting out in disturbing ways. These are children who have seen something horrible, or been abandoned over and over. I knew you wouldn’t like it, but I can’t do the same to them.”
He only stared with those vividly blue eyes. “I cannot believe you’re even thinking about going to work.”
Trina bristled. “Thinking? I am going to work Monday morning.”
“And if I refuse to take you?” With crossed arms, that big solid body and an implacable expression, he was letting her know the decision wasn’t hers. “How do you plan to get there?”