Secluded With the Cowboy
Cassie Miles

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Copyright

About the Author

Though born in Chicago and raised in L.A., CASSIE MILES has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post. After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Ceviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. A lot of wine. When she’s not plotting Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

Many, many thanks to Matt Hunsinger-McConnell for all his editing help.

Chapter One

The small, filthy window beside the locked door allowed a glimpse of fading sunlight. It was the seventh day of her captivity. Nicole Carlisle lay curled up on a bare mattress in the root cellar, staring at the shred of light and shivering in the cold winter air that seeped through the concrete walls. Soon it would snow. They’d have a white Christmas at the ranch.

A sob wrenched through her. The holidays were supposed to be about hope and love. All she had was despair.

Her wrists were fastened in front of her with padded handcuffs that weren’t supposed to leave marks. But she’d struggled against the restraints until her forearms were black and blue. That pain blended with many others. Her head throbbed. Her joints were stiff.

Though her legs were unfettered, a length of steel chain fastened with a lock around her waist kept her tethered to an open beam in the ceiling. She could move from the stained, disgusting mattress to the plastic bucket she used as a toilet to the gallon jug of water her kidnapper had so thoughtfully left behind so she wouldn’t die from dehydration. Death would have been too easy. The chain leash wasn’t long enough for her to reach the rough wooden shelves at the back of the root cellar where Mason jars of preserved peaches, pears, relishes and salsa were stored.

She’d tried to reach those shelves, stretched her legs as far as she could, tried to maneuver the mattress. No luck.

Feeding times were sporadic and unpredictable. Sometimes, he came twice a day with sandwiches and fruit. Today he had appeared once to check on her but hadn’t brought food.

Her stomach groaned. I won’t beg for food.

She’d given up on talking to him. He was deaf to reason. And her threats rang hollow. Nobody was looking for her. Not anymore. Not since she’d been forced to tell her husband that she was safe, that he should call off the search. She’d told him that she was never coming home.

She remembered the pain in Dylan’s eyes. They were going through a rough patch in their marriage, and he had believed her when she said she wanted a divorce. Dammit, he should have known better. He should have known that she was being coerced.

Three days ago she’d been escorted to her meeting with Dylan by two armed men on horseback. They flanked her as they rode to the creek on Carlisle property. After being held captive, the fresh air and moonlight had been intoxicating. The mountain breeze caressed her cheeks, and she almost began to hope that her ordeal was over. When Dylan rode toward her, looking every inch the cowboy, her heart nearly exploded with longing. It had taken every ounce of self-control to keep herself from leaping into his arms.

But she knew that two rifles were cocked and aimed at her and Dylan. A tiny microphone in her collar broadcast her words to the kidnappers. If she’d deviated from the script, they would both have been killed. She had no other choice but to tell him that their five-year marriage was over.

He’d turned his back. Accepted her at her word.

And she’d been dragged away, transferred from one miserable dungeon to another. This root cellar was the worst. The dank cold permeated her bones. At night the darkness blinded her. Rows of shelves packed with food mocked her hunger.

Overhead, she heard someone walking across the floor. Pipes rattled as the toilet flushed. She’d give a year of her life for the chance to use a bathroom. To take a shower and wash the grit from her blond hair would be pure heaven.

During the first three days after her kidnapping, she’d been allowed to wash up in a basin, to brush her teeth and comb her hair. He’d given her clean clothing so she’d look okay in videos he shot to prove she was still alive. Now that no one was searching, the kidnapper didn’t bother to provide her with creature comforts.

Not that Nicole had ever been interested in makeup, powder and perfume. She was a rancher’s wife, a veterinarian who didn’t require pampering. But she’d always kept herself clean. The stink of her own body humiliated her.

The footsteps crossed the house above her. Though she didn’t know the upstairs floorplan, she could tell when he reached the kitchen, which was directly overhead.

Was he bringing her food? Anticipation raced through her, and she hated herself for being excited. She should be stronger. A day without food wasn’t so long. Logically, she ought to be more concerned about her dwindling water supply. She’d die of dehydration before she starved.

No! I don’t want to die.

A cry climbed her throat, but there was no point. He’d made sure that no one would hear her. Yesterday…Or was it two days ago? He had prepared her for guests.

He’d said, “We’re going to have company, Nicole. I need you to be very quiet. Can you do that?”

“Quiet as a mouse.” She’d learned that defiance was futile. Her only chance for survival was to keep him happy.

“If you cooperate, I might let you go.”

“Whatever you say.” You bastard. I hate you. Despise you. “You can trust me.”

“And you’ll never tell anyone who I am.”

He always wore a black ski mask when he came to her, but she knew him. Nate Miller. If she told him that she was aware of his identity, he’d kill her for sure. So she lied, “I don’t even know who you are.”

As he came closer, her fingers drew into fists. She’d tried to fight him before. He wasn’t a big man. Maybe she could knock him down. She could…

“Hold out your hands.” From his fingertips, he dangled a keychain—keys to the handcuffs and to the lock that held the chain around her waist. Was he going to take the cuffs off? Instead of fighting him, she did as he said.

He looped another chain around the cuffs and shoved her down on the mattress. Then he threw the chain over the ceiling beam and yanked her arms up over her head.

She lashed out with her legs, and he pulled her higher. Her feet no longer touched the ground. Her shoulders throbbed. Her bruised wrists burned with fresh pain.

“I don’t trust you,” he muttered. “You’re still one of them. You have to pay for all the wrongs the Carlisle family has done to me. It’s only fair.”

When her arms were secured above her head, he pulled out a roll of duct tape and tore off a piece.

He’d gagged her before. It was terrible. Her throat clogged and she felt as if she couldn’t get enough air. She turned her head away, but he was persistent. He slapped the tape over her mouth and left.

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she’d heard people moving in the house—Nate’s guests. She’d struggled to cry out, to make some kind of noise. But they’d left, never knowing she was there.

Nate had waited a long time before he came back to the root cellar. Her suspended body had moved beyond pain into numbness. When he released the chain, she’d been too weak to do anything but collapse onto the mattress.

Today—even without food—was a hundred times better.

Overhead, she heard movement again. Someone running.

Something was happening.

She braced herself. Stared at the tiny window beside the rough, heavy door. Time ticked by slowly, and she counted every second. Please, someone. Please, help me.

She heard other footsteps in the house. Heavy boots. Several people.

“Help.” She screamed with all her might. “I’m down here. Help me.”

The force of her cries hammered inside her head, but she kept yelling. Someone had to hear her. Someone had to find her. “Dylan, help me.”

PACING ACROSS the kitchen floor, Dylan Carlisle sensed that he was near Nicole. He felt her presence. He imagined that he heard her calling his name, calling from the other side of the hell that had started when she was kidnapped.

The rest of the search party had scattered when they got to the Circle M. Some went to the bunkhouse. Others to the horse barn. They were on the wrong track. She’s here. Close.

Instinct led him through the back door, down the stairs to the yard. He stood very still, not even breathing, and listened. “Where are you?”

He was answered by a muffled voice. Her voice, calling for help.

A tall, thick spruce stood beside the house. Behind that tree he saw concrete steps leading down to a root cellar. He went to the door. Someone was inside, sobbing. “Nicole?”

“Dylan.” Her voice was ragged, but it was her. His wife. “Dylan, get me out of here.”

He twisted the door handle. Locked, dammit. He couldn’t kick the door open; it opened outward instead of pushing in. He unholstered his handgun and aimed at the lock.

“Stand back, Nicole,” he said. “I’m going to shoot the lock.” Aware that he was probably destroying evidence, he fired into the old door. The wood splintered. He fired again, for good measure, then tore it open on the rusty hinges.

She stood beside a worn-out mattress. Her arms reached toward him. Her face was streaked with grime and tears. She was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

As soon as his arms closed around her, she collapsed. Gently he sank onto the mattress, holding his wife against his chest. He kissed her forehead. “You’re going to be all right. I’ve got you now.”

Through parched lips she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t. Not ever.” He snuggled her more tightly against him, belatedly protecting her from the horrors she’d endured. He’d failed her. As a husband and as a man. He could only hope that she’d give him the chance to make things right, to lift her out of this nightmare.

For seven long days he’d feared the worst. He’d gone through every shade of dread and panic.

Finally it was over. He hoped their life would slip back into a regular routine. That was all he’d ever wanted: a simple life on the ranch with Nicole by his side.

His sister, Carolyn, and other members from the search team responded to his gunshots. They poured into the root cellar, and Dylan held Nicole protectively as they brought bottled water for her to drink. The FBI agent who’d stayed behind to help with the search squatted down beside him and expertly picked the locks that fastened the chains and handcuffs.

All the while, Dylan held her. Even with the door wide-open, there wasn’t much light in this root cellar. Only one tiny window. At night it must have been total darkness. She’d been trapped, cold and alone. What kind of bastard could do this to another human being?

Carolyn tapped his shoulder. “Let’s get Nicole out of here.”

As he lifted her, she stirred. Her eyes opened. “I want to go home.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” he assured her. Back to normal. “Back to the ranch.”

“Actually,” Carolyn said, “we should go to the hospital first. To get you checked out.”

Weakly Nicole shook her head. “I want to take a bath first.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said.

A sigh pushed through her chapped lips. Her eyelids drooped shut.

He carried her up the concrete steps into the lateafternoon sunlight. The stairs leading down to the root cellar were well hidden behind the spruce tree. If she hadn’t been yelling, they wouldn’t have found her so quickly.

The ranch house on the Circle M property wasn’t where she’d been kept in the early days of her kidnapping. During their investigation they’d uncovered another hide-out—one that was more pleasant than this filthy dungeon. Apparently Nicole had been shuttled from place to place, always one step ahead of their suspicions.

In the backseat of the SUV, Dylan wrapped her in a wool blanket and arranged her so she was sitting on his lap. She’d lost weight. Her bones felt as fragile as a baby bird’s. He whispered, “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

She turned her head to look up at him. Her cheeks were sunken. Smears of grit stood out against her pale skin, and dark circles ringed her eyes. “Do you mean that, Dylan? Everything?”

Before she was abducted, they’d argued. He never wanted to fight with her again. “It’s going to be exactly the way you want it.”

Carolyn started the engine and pulled up the long drive that led to the main road. “She needs medical attention, Dylan. Does Nicole have a regular doctor I can call?”

Only the specialists at the fertility clinic, and he wasn’t about to call those jerks. “I don’t know her doctor’s name.”

“I’ll contact Doc Maud.”

“Great idea,” he muttered. “Except for one thing. Maud is a veterinarian.”

“She’ll know other doctors. People doctors.”

Any old doctor wasn’t good enough. He wanted his wife to have the best of care. For too long he’d taken her for granted, hadn’t appreciated her.

“I’ll make the call,” Carolyn said, waving her cell phone.

“Back off. I’ll do it.” His sister’s take-charge attitude irritated him. Though she was only two years older than he was, Carolyn insisted on being the boss, especially after their dad had passed away five years ago. Dylan would be glad when she went back to running the Denver offices of Carlisle Certified Organic Beef. Carolyn belonged in the city.

And he belonged at the ranch where he managed two thousand head of grass-fed, antibiotic-free Black Angus. Before the kidnapping they’d had a pretty good life. A couple of bumps in the road but nothing serious. He and Nicole could be happy again. Maybe even better than before.

Through the window he watched the golden sunset spread above distant snow-capped peaks. Nicole loved these Colorado skies. When they got married, they promised to share every sunset. They’d even engraved that vow on their wedding bands with the words, “My horizon.” She was his promise, his hope, his final destination.

He looked down into her eyes. Her lips were unsmiling. “Those things I said, about wanting a divorce…”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to explain.”

“If I hadn’t said that, we both would have been shot.” She swallowed hard. “There were two of them with rifles aimed at both of us. And that wasn’t all. If I had escaped, Nate said he’d go on a rampage. Kill my horses. The barn cats. Every person connected to Carlisle Ranch would suffer.”

In retrospect, Dylan realized that he should have guessed that she’d been forced to say what she did. But Nicole had been damn convincing. Looked him straight in the eye and told him that their marriage was over.

For the past several weeks they’d been arguing. She’d accused him of not listening to her, and that he paid too much attention to running the ranch and not enough to their relationship. She’d been angry at him. That was for damn sure.

But she’d never once said she didn’t love him or that she wanted a divorce. Those were Nate Miller’s words. And when Nicole spoke them, they were bullets to Dylan’s heart.

In that moment he’d wanted to die. Losing her to a kidnapper was hell. Losing her because she didn’t want to be with him was even worse.

Determinedly, he said, “We’re going to be okay.”

“Know what I’ve been dreaming about? What I really want?”

“Tell me.”

“An energy bar with peanuts and raisins.”

Dylan stroked dank strands of hair off her forehead. “You always liked those granola bars.”

Her predictability pleased him. Back to normal. Everything is going to be all right.

Chapter Two

When her husband escorted her across the threshold of their upstairs bedroom at the ranch house, a strong sense of familiarity overwhelmed Nicole. Surrounded by memories, she truly felt that she was home. And safe.

Every detail—from the green-sprigged wallpaper to the sandy wall-to-wall carpet—matched her personal taste. She’d selected the dark oak furniture. The creamcolored duvet and the pillows plumped up against the headboard promised a comfortable sleep.

Her gaze caught on the framed family photos displayed above the dresser, and she reached toward their wedding picture. In his tuxedo with his black hair combed, Dylan was tall, dashing and gallant. Standing beside him, she looked tiny in her lacy white gown. Though she’d been wearing three-inch heels to enhance her five-foot-two inch height, the top of her head still didn’t reach higher than his chin. “Our wedding. I was so happy.”

Dylan smiled. “Best day of my life.”

Her hand touching the photo was filthy. So much had changed. The bumps and bruises she’d been trying to ignore ached. Her whole body felt sore.

She staggered into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the faucet in the sink. The grime and stench of captivity disgusted her. She needed to be clean again.

After she’d washed her hands and face, she confronted her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She leaned close. “I look awful.”

“Not to me.” Dylan handed her a towel and gently rested his hand on her shoulder. “It’s like I always said. No matter where you are, no matter what you do, you’re always the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“I’m the only woman in this bathroom,” she pointed out.

“So I’m not lying.”

It was good to see him smile. He had obviously suffered in her absence. The strain showed in the deepening of the lines at the corners of his pale green eyes. His usually ruddy complexion had paled. “This was hard on you.”

“I kept thinking I’d never see you again, never hear your voice, never…” He choked off his words before getting emotional. Dylan wasn’t the sort of man who put his feelings on display. “I’ll be glad when things get back to normal.”

There was a knock at their bedroom door, and he went to answer. She heard Carolyn’s voice and Dylan’s response as he said they wanted to be alone.

Nicole appreciated his concern for her privacy. Though she didn’t feel completely wiped out, she needed some time to pull herself together and to heal. She heard Carolyn mention Dylan’s mother, Andrea. Was she here? Had Andrea come to the ranch? If so, Nicole would be surprised. Dylan and his mother had been estranged for years.

He closed the bedroom door and carried a tray laden with three energy bars, a ham-and-cheese sandwich and a mug of milk. To her eye, the simple repast looked like a feast. As soon as he set the tray down on the table by the window, she pounced on an energy bar, tore off the wrapper and took a bite. Never had anything tasted so fabulous. She chased the granola with a sip of milk. “Omigod. Omigod.”

Dylan laughed. “Hungry?”

“I guess so.” She lowered herself into the padded rocking chair beside the table, glad that the cushion was forest-green and wouldn’t show the dirt from her jeans. “My bath is going to wait until I have some food.”

Another bite of granola. Another swig of milk. She picked up the sandwich. The homemade bread felt heavy and healthy. The ham, the yellow American cheese and the crisp lettuce had her taste buds exploding in ecstasy. Though she fully intended to devour the whole thing, she was full after only three or four bites.

Leaning back in the rocking chair, she sipped the milk. “Did Carolyn say something about your mom?”

“Andrea’s here,” he said coldly. His mother had divorced Dylan’s father and moved to Manhattan when Dylan was only five years old. “I didn’t invite her.”

No surprise. He’d never forgiven his mother for leaving, despite the obvious fact that Andrea was a city woman. And she was happy in New York. Years ago she’d remarried and had another child—a half sister that Dylan had never met. “Why is she here?”

“Carolyn called and told her you’d been kidnapped. Andrea took it upon herself to come out here. A waste of time.”

“Don’t be hard on her. She wanted to offer support.”

“Too late for that.”

Nicole recognized certain unfortunate parallels between Dylan’s mother and herself. They both had married strong-willed ranchers. Dylan’s father, Sterling Carlisle, had a reputation for being tough, demanding and ambitious. In the late 1980s he’d changed his ranching methods to organic before that became the thing to do. Sterling had established a family empire that had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. But there had been a personal cost. He’d made a lot of enemies. And his intense focus on the ranch might have left Andrea feeling isolated and abandoned. Nicole knew how it felt to be ignored while Dylan tended to business.

“I’m glad your mother is here,” she said. “The only other time I’ve seen her was at our wedding, but I’ve kept in touch. You know, with Christmas cards and e-mails. Family is important, Dylan.”

“I know.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she guessed that he was holding back a hostile comment about his mother.

“I still miss my parents.” She’d been an only child, adopted by parents who were older, both in their late forties when she was an infant. Both had passed away before her twenty-first birthday. “I never had any other relatives.”

“You’ve got me.” He stood by the rocking chair and took her hand. “You’re everything to me. My family. My partner. My friend. My lover.”

In spite of her aches and pains, she wanted to be in his arms, to replace her memories of captivity with sweet intimacy. She wanted his kisses, wanted to feel…wanted. Yet, when he leaned closer, she pushed him away. “Not yet. I’m too gross. I need to take my bath.”

“I can wait.”

She rose from the rocking chair, grabbed another energy bar and moved toward the bathroom. “This might take a long time.”

“Need any help?”

His offer was tempting, but she refused. Her plan was to shower first and wash her hair, four or five times. Then she’d soak until every pore of her body was clean.

He stood in the bathroom doorway. “I’ll be waiting out here until you’re done.”

She started the shower. After she stripped off the clothes she’d worn for so many days, she opened the door and tossed them out. “I never want to see these again.”

“They’re gone,” Dylan said.

She closed the door again, grateful to be home and in control of her life. Naked, she stepped into the shower. The hot water sluiced down her body, washing away the top layer of grime. With a washcloth she scrubbed hard, hoping to erase the horror and humiliation. Will I ever be clean again?

Nate had forced her to do things she never wanted to do—to look at her husband in the eye and tell him she wanted a divorce. She’d had no choice. If she’d disobeyed, they would both be dead.

Dylan understood. He didn’t blame her for what she’d done. Her tears mingled with the pelting water of the shower. She needed more time to forgive herself.

A FEW HOURS LATER, Dylan woke from the best sleep he’d had in seven days with Nicole snuggled up beside him on the bed. After her soak in the tub, her skin smelled like spring flowers. Her blond hair was still damp. When he nestled her small body against him, his heart swelled. She’d come back to him, back to where she belonged.

He hadn’t planned to fall asleep on their bed while she was in the bathroom, but once he’d stretched out on top of the covers, he faded fast. During the whole time she’d been kidnapped, he hadn’t once slept in their bed. He couldn’t. Not until she was beside him.

“Nicole,” he whispered. “Darlin’, are you awake?”

Her breathing was slow and steady, indicating the kind of deep sleep that came from sheer exhaustion.

He noticed that she’d left the bedside lamp burning, which was odd. Usually she blocked out every glimmer of light before going to bed. Being held in that dank root cellar must have made her think differently about the darkness.

Her fingers curled loosely below her chin. He noticed the bruises at her wrists where the handcuffs had been. Seeing those marks infuriated him. He eased the sleeve of her nightgown higher up her arm, revealing more black and blue skin. Damn Nate Miller. The son of a bitch had escaped.

Dylan glanced at the bedside clock. It was only a few minutes past eleven o’clock. While Nicole was sleeping, he could slip downstairs and find out what was happening with the ongoing investigation into Nate’s whereabouts.

Leaving the bed, he tucked the covers up to her chin. She didn’t stir. Not a bit. Not even when he kissed the tip of her nose. His wife was an angel from heaven. And Nate deserved the tortures of hell for what he’d done to her.

Downstairs, he found his sister and FBI agent J. D. Burke sitting side by side at the dining-room table, staring at a computer screen. Burke had been the first federal agent on the scene when Carolyn called in the FBI to investigate the kidnapping. The rest of the FBI team had left after the ransom was paid, but he’d stayed—mostly because of his unexpected relationship with Carolyn. Burke wanted to marry her, God help him.

Carolyn stood. “How’s Nicole?”

“Sleeping. She doesn’t seem to be in bad shape, but it’s hard to tell.” He thought of the bruises and winced. “She’s never been a whiner.”

“I’m telling you,” Carolyn said. “She needs to be checked out by a doctor.”

“And if that’s what Nicole wants, I’ll drive her to the hospital.” He looked toward Burke. “What happened with Nate?”

“He’s gone.” Burke stood and stretched. He was a big man—a bit taller than Dylan and a lot heavier, all of it solid muscle. “When I’m done with this case, I will never again undertake another investigation in the mountains. People disappear around here like thistles on the wind.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Carolyn said. “People can hide in the city, too.”

“But cities have surveillance cameras. And other people who can give information.” He glowered. “The only eyewitnesses around here are the nighthawks and the cattle.”

“I want him found,” Dylan said. “I won’t rest easy until Nate Miller is either dead or behind bars.”

Burke turned the computer toward him. On the screen was a map of the area. “We’ve been trying to figure out where to look. Sheriff Trainer and his men are keeping an eye on Nate’s little house in Riverton. And a couple of other deputies are posted at the Circle M in case he returns there.”

“We should get the FBI back here,” Dylan said. “With surveillance choppers and sniffer dogs.”

“We tried that when we were first looking for Nicole,” Burke pointed out. “Not a real successful tactic.”

Though Dylan had grown up at the ranch and was familiar with this land, they were dealing with thousands of acres—much of it heavily forested. “Seems like the only person who’s had any luck with tracking is Jesse Longbridge.”

“Luck is what we need,” Carolyn said. “The forecast for tomorrow is snow.”

Snowfall and freezing temperatures would drive Nate out of hiding. “Do you think he’ll stay in this area?”

“It’s not logical for him to stick around,” Burke said. “Jesse and Fiona recovered most of the million-dollar ransom when they finally tracked down Pete Richter at Nate’s house, but there’s still over a hundred thousand missing. That’s enough money for Nate to start a new life somewhere else.”

But he had strong ties to this area. He’d lived here all his life, and his four-year-old son was here. Surely he’d never see the boy again. Nate’s ex-wife wouldn’t allow him to be get within a hundred yards of their child.

“If he goes somewhere else,” Dylan said, “how will we find him?”

“Nate’s in the law enforcement system now. There’s a warrant out for his arrest. And an APB. Any cop who sees him will pick him up.”

“And if he isn’t picked up?”

Burke lifted his coffee mug to his mouth and took a sip. “A lot of lawbreakers are never apprehended.”

Too easily, Dylan imagined Nate changing his name and hiring on as a handyman or cowboy at a ranch somewhere far away. Most ranchers weren’t particular about job history when they hired a new hand, and Nate had skills. In addition to ranching, he’d been working as a handyman for years. “He might get away with this.”

“It’s too bad Nicole’s asleep,” Carolyn said. “If Nate’s around here, she might have some idea where he’s hiding.”

“Nobody is going to question her.” Dylan was firm on this point. “She’s suffered enough. It’s best for her to just forget about what happened.”

“If she can forget,” Burke said. “That’s a big if.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a profiler, but I know a thing or two about victims of violent crimes. It’s important for people who’ve gone through trauma to tell their stories.”

“I agree,” his sister said.

“Of course you do,” Dylan muttered.

Carolyn always complained about how cowboys kept their feelings bottled up. She’d rather have them sit around the campfire and have group therapy. “Nicole needs to talk about what happened.”

She reached up and tightened her ponytail. Her coloring, with black hair and green eyes, was the same as his. She was tall and lean, like him. The two of them looked like the male and female version of the same DNA pattern. They were both stubborn and competitive, constantly butting heads.

“I don’t want you interrogating her,” Dylan said. “Either of you.”

“Even if it’s for the best?” Carolyn asked.

“I’ll decide what’s best for my wife.”

He heard a soft footstep behind him and turned. Nicole, wearing a navy blue velour robe, stood behind him. “Actually,” she said, “I’ll make that decision.”

He wrapped an arm around her and escorted her to a chair. “I don’t want you to be pressured. Your only job is to get well.”

When she looked up at him, her gaze was sharp and determined. “Here’s what I want,” she said. “Nate Miller in jail.”

“We’re on the same page,” he said.

“If there’s any way I can help put him there, I’m ready.” She looked at Burke. “Ask your questions.”

Chapter Three

Moments ago Nicole had wakened from a nightmare, sitting up on her bed. Her neck arched. Her mouth stretched open, wide-open, as if to scream in terror. Only a tiny moan escaped.

No one can hear me.

She knew that wasn’t true. She was free. And yet her eyes darted wildly. The room was hazy. The wallpaper faded into concrete walls. She looked down at her hands. Though she wasn’t bound, she couldn’t pull her wrists apart. Invisible handcuffs held her.

“No,” she whispered. She was at home in her own soft, comfortable bed. She was warm, clean and safe. Alone.

No one can see me.

Concentrating, she struggled to control the rapid beating of her heart. She forced her wrists to separate. With one arm on each side of her body, she lay back on the pillows. Her body went stiff. Frozen, she waited for the panic to subside.

Her stomach churned. She bolted from the bed, raced to the bathroom and vomited. Her eyes avoided the mirror as she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Coward! She didn’t want to see the self-doubt in her eyes, didn’t want to confront the fear that caused her heart to throb inside her rib cage.

She could pretend that she was all right, but it was a lie. Until Nate was caught, she was shackled inside her own terror.

Looking back at the bed, she knew going back to sleep was out of the question. Though Dylan had promised to stay with her, she was kind of glad that he hadn’t. She didn’t want him to see her fall apart.

Pulling on her robe and slippers, she went downstairs where she heard Dylan talking to Carolyn and that big, tall FBI agent with the dark, piercing eyes. They were making plans to catch Nate, and she could help.

Dylan sat beside her at the dining-room table. “You don’t have to do this, Nicole.”

“I can handle it.” If she ever wanted to rest easy, she needed to know that Nate was behind bars. She looked toward the FBI agent. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Carolyn rested her hand on the man’s broad shoulder. “This is Agent J. D. Burke. Otherwise known as my fiancé.”

That was a shocker. Carolyn hadn’t been serious about anyone in years. “Congratulations.”

“They’re a good match,” Dylan said with a wry smile. “Burke’s the only man I’ve ever met who just might be tough enough to handle my sister.”

Ignoring her brother, Carolyn turned to Nicole. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Coffee?”

“Herbal tea,” she said. Something to soothe her stomach. “Chamomile with honey. The teabags are on the second shelf—”

“I know where to find the tea.”

Never before had Nicole seen her sister-in-law prepare any sort of food or drink. “Don’t tell me you’re learning how to cook.”

“I can zap water in the microwave.” She glared at Burke, who was doing his best not to smirk. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not about to turn domesticated.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.” Burke watched as she stalked toward the kitchen, then he took a seat at the head of the table, directly to Nicole’s right. In a calm but authoritative voice he said, “I’m not going to pressure you. My questions will help figure out Nate’s behavior patterns so we can predict what he’ll do next.”

“FBI profiling,” she said.

“How do you know about—”

“I watch TV.”

“Then you know what I want,” Burke said with a grin. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? Tell us about the day you were kidnapped.”

Nicole exhaled a long sigh, remembering that day. They’d been having trouble at the ranch—incidents of sabotage in the south field had culminated in a fire that burned down the old stable. Dylan had hired Longbridge Security to keep an eye on things, but tensions were still high.

“Jesse Longbridge warned me not to go off by myself. If I wanted to take a ride, I was supposed to let him or one of the other bodyguards know.”

But she’d been angry. Dylan had been trying to weasel out of an appointment at the fertility clinic the following day because he claimed that he needed to be at the ranch until all this sabotage was straightened out. For eight months they’d been trying to get pregnant, and the timing of this appointment was crucial. How could he refuse? It seemed as if he just didn’t care about having a baby.

“I broke Jesse’s rule,” she said. “I needed some time alone. So I went to the barn, saddled up and rode. I headed toward the creek near the south pasture.”

She’d dismounted and gone to the water’s edge. Her teeming emotions had blinded her to the approaching danger. She hadn’t seen the two men lurking in the trees. “The man who grabbed me was Sam Logan—the leader of the Sons of Freedom. They’re that cult that rented the Circle M from Nate to set up their compound.”

“We know,” Burke said.

“I didn’t recognize the other guy, but I later learned that his name was Pete Richter. I struggled. One of them hit me. Everything went black.”

“Do you remember gunshots?” Burke asked.

“Was someone hurt?”

Dylan cleared his throat and took her hand. The grave expression in his eyes told her that bad news was coming. “Jesse went after you. He was shot, and was in a coma for a couple of days. But he’s better now.”

“A coma…” His injury was her fault. If she hadn’t gone running off by herself, none of this would have happened.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Carolyn said as she returned to the dining room with Nicole’s herbal tea. “Nobody blames you.”

“But I—”

“Jesse’s a professional bodyguard. When he got shot, he was doing his job,” Carolyn said. “Besides, he’s definitely recovered. He’s better than ever.”

“What do you mean?”

Carolyn placed the steaming mug on the table in front of her. “There might be wedding bells in the future for Jesse and our neighbor, Fiona Grant.”

Nicole’s burden of guilt lifted. She wasn’t surprised that Fiona, a young widow, had found love with the handsome bodyguard. “First you and Burke. Then Jesse and Fiona.”

Carolyn chuckled as she plopped into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “That’s right.”

“Jeez.” Nicole shook her head. “I get myself kidnapped for a week and come back to find everybody coupled up. Are you going to have a double wedding?”

“Not a chance,” Dylan said. “Carolyn’s not about to share that spotlight.”

Burke drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Let’s get back to your story, Nicole. What’s the next thing you remember?”

She sipped her chamomile tea. She would have preferred gossiping about these newly formed couples, but she knew it was important to talk about what happened. “Maybe I should just skip ahead to when Nate showed up.”

“Let’s keep going in order,” Burke said. “You were with Logan and Richter.”

“They took me to the Circle M. I was only stunned for a couple of minutes.” She remembered checking herself for injuries. Her father had been a doctor, and she knew that head injuries could be dangerous. If she’d had a concussion, it was minor. “We left the Circle M almost immediately. My hands were tied in front of me. I was blindfolded and gagged.”

“How were you transported?” Burke asked.

“On horseback. There were two guys. Richter and Thurgood. Much as I hate to give those kidnappers credit for anything, Butch Thurgood was a good horseman. He held me in front of him on the saddle.”

“He was a former rodeo star,” Carolyn informed her.

“Well, he did a good job of controlling me and his horse at the same time. We headed up the Indian trail that starts near the south pasture and leads to the pass.”

“And they took you to a cave,” Carolyn prompted.

“That’s right.”

“Carolyn,” Dylan said in a warning tone. “This is Nicole’s story. Let her talk.”

Nicole continued, “We stopped at a high cave overlooking the trail. I was hoping and praying that nobody would come after us. Butch and Richter had the perfect vantage point. I could tell they’d been there before when they set up camp. I figured it was something to do with the Sons of Freedom.”

She paused, realizing that she’d missed a lot while she’d been held captive. “What happened to the SOF, anyway? When Nate took me to the Circle M, we were alone.”

Burke explained, “The SOF was part of a network of survivalist groups that was smuggling guns and drugs. We mounted a major FBI operation to take them out. All the women and children were rescued. The men are in custody, including Sam Logan.”

“What about their horses?” she asked. “They had eight or ten at the Circle M. And two Arabians.”

“We’ll make sure they’re taken care of,” Dylan said. “I’ll send a couple of hands over in the morning.”

Her kidnapping had set off a wide-ranging course of events. A major FBI operation? Women and children rescued? “When did all this happen?”

Dylan leaned toward her. “Everything happened at the same time. Nate must have planned it that way for maximum confusion.”

“How did he know the timing?” she asked.

“He had an informant. Someone who betrayed us,” Dylan said darkly. “So while the FBI closed in on the SOF, Carolyn and I had our instructions. She went to deliver the ransom, and I rode to meet you at the creek.”

She glanced toward him, half expecting to see reproach. Instead, his gaze was steady and calm. For once in his life, Dylan seemed completely nonjudgmental. He wouldn’t growl and tell her that she’d made a mess of things.

He was her anchor. Lacing her fingers through his, she clung to him.

“I’m confused,” Carolyn said. “You were abducted by the guys from the SOF. How did you end up with Nate Miller?”

“At the cave.” She continued to gaze into Dylan’s cool green eyes. “They fell asleep, and I tried to escape. My hands were still tied, but I managed to get the ropes off my ankles. I climbed down the side of the cliff. And I ran right into the waiting arms of Nate Miller.”

“Ouch,” Carolyn said. “Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”

“I thought he’d help me. He was wearing a black ski mask, which I thought was a little strange, but the night was chilly.”

“How did you know it was Nate?” Burke asked.

“I know how,” Dylan said. “She recognized his horse.”

She nodded. “I’m a vet. I know livestock better than people. I’ve never treated Nate’s horse, but I’ve seen him plenty of times in that little corral in Riverton. I worried that the animal wasn’t getting enough exercise.”

“You went quietly with Nate,” Burke said.

“That’s right. I climbed up on the saddle and rode with him. I didn’t bother with untying my hands because I wanted to put distance between us and the kidnappers.”

“And you rode to Fiona Grant’s property,” Burke said.

“Nate told me we were supposed to wait inside the barn. That’s when he took out his gun.”

And she’d realized how foolish she’d been to trust him. “He ordered me to climb down into a little room hidden under the floor. He left my hands tied and used a shackle on my ankle to tether me to the bed frame. Then he left. I was alone.”

No one could help me. That little cell under the barn floor wasn’t badly furnished. The single bed was fairly comfortable. There was light from a lamp beside the bed. The walls and ceiling were insulated, so it was fairly warm. “That’s when it hit me. I might not get out of this mess alive. I had time to think. And I was scared.”

Dylan reached toward her, but she pulled away. Part of her wanted to curl up in his arms and sob. She wanted the warm reassurance of his love. But not right now. “I need to keep going, Dylan. I might remember something useful, something that will help catch Nate.”

“Did he talk to you?” Burke asked.

She nodded. “He used a whispery voice. As if I didn’t already know who he was. I played along. It seemed prudent to pretend I didn’t know his identity.”

“Smart move,” Burke said. “It might have saved your life. Did he mention any specifics?”

She concentrated, trying to recall through the miasma of fear and frustration that colored her time in captivity. “Mostly he talked about how much he hated the Carlisles. He blames us for every bad thing that’s happened to him. Losing his herd. The failure of his marriage.”

“Sounds like he’s obsessed,” Burke said.

“Exactly.” She nodded. “If he catches the sniffles, he’s pretty sure that the Carlisles infected him.”

“What else do you remember?”

“Threats. He told me that if I didn’t cooperate, he’d destroy everything I cared about. He’d wreak havoc. Kill the people and the animals I love. Burn down the buildings.” An involuntary shudder rippled through her. “And he sounded like he’d relish every minute.”

“His hatred gives him a reason to stay in this area,” Burke said. “The rational course of action would be to run.”

“He’s not rational.” But he was exceedingly clever. Though he hadn’t planned the kidnapping, he’d taken advantage of the situation. He must have followed Butch and Richter when they took her to the cave. As soon as their backs were turned, he’d grabbed her.

“Tell us about when he made those proof-of-life videotapes.”

She turned to Dylan. “I tried to signal you with a clue to his identity. I kept making the sign of the Circle M—Nate’s ranch.”

“We noticed,” Carolyn said. “But we misinterpreted the meaning. We thought your clues about Circle M referred to the SOF. They were the ones living at the ranch.”

She groaned. “That makes perfect sense.”

“Did you have any further contact with Butch and Richter?” Burke asked.

“They were the ones holding me when I met with Dylan by the creek. Both of them had rifles in their hands and were ready to shoot.”

“They partnered up with Nate,” Carolyn said. “Why would they do that after he double-crossed them? He snatched you away from them at the caves.”

“He must have promised them a share in the ransom,” Burke said.

Nicole shuddered. Nate had a way of getting people to do what he wanted. “Butch didn’t seem like such a bad guy. If it had only been him, I might have tried to escape. But Richter was mean.”

“You have no idea,” Carolyn said. “He was stalking Fiona, trying to get his hands on that damned ransom.”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s in custody,” Burke said.

“And Butch?”

“He was murdered by Richter.”

Butch was dead. Jesse had been seriously injured. The violence depressed her. And she knew it wasn’t over. As long as Nate was at large, there would be more carnage.

Burke asked, “What happened after you talked to Dylan?”

“Everything got confused. They locked me in the trunk of a car. I tried to pay attention and figure out where we were going.”

“What did you notice?” Burke asked.

“The smell. I think we stopped at the gas station in Riverton. Silas O’Toole’s place.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Not until Nate came. He drove the car to his little house in Riverton and marched me inside. I was locked up in his closet. Gagged the whole time.”

The only positive thing about being stuck in a closet was that he let her come out and use the bathroom while he stood guard, gun in hand.

“After a day and a half, he took me back to the Circle M’s root cellar.”

“When you were at his house,” Burke said, “did you hear anything through the door?”

“I heard him on the phone.” She remembered his plain, ugly house. “He had toys for his son. A shiny red tricycle in the middle of the living room. And a new cowboy hat. Maybe they were supposed to be Christmas presents.”

“Did he mention his son?”

“He never spoke the child’s name, but he did talk about how sons need their fathers.” She remembered the whispery voice, eerie and creepy. “‘A boy needs someone to show him how to be a man.’ He said that more than once.”

Carolyn shuddered. “Is someone keeping an eye on Nate’s ex-wife and son?”

“Don’t worry. The sheriff is making sure that Belinda Miller is well protected.” Burke leaned forward. “Maintaining contact with his son gives Nate another reason to stay in this area.”

“I think we’ve got our answer about what Nate’s going to do next,” Dylan said. “He’s got a vendetta against us. He won’t quit until he gets even.”

“What do we do?”

“We wait,” Burke said. “It won’t be long. He’s got to be enraged about Nicole’s rescue. He’ll want to take action.”

Nicole didn’t want to think about Nate creeping around their property, hiding in the forests, biding his time. He was desperate for revenge. Somebody was going to get hurt.

Chapter Four

As soon as she and Dylan returned to the bedroom, Nicole’s self-control began to crumble. She’d managed to tell the story of her kidnapping in broad strokes, leaving out the humiliating details. How could she ever speak of those things? The filth. Her screams into empty darkness. Her gnawing hunger.

It was better to bury those horrors under layers of silence, not telling even Dylan. Especially not Dylan. When he looked at her, she didn’t want him to see a victim—a helpless, terrified creature.

She sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, hating the unassuaged fear that roiled inside her. Desperately she longed to forget the kidnapping, to erase every scrap of it from her memory.

Dylan sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her, cradling her with unusual tenderness, as if afraid that she’d shatter if he held her too tightly. Leaning her cheek against his chest, she whispered, “I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Nightmares?”

“If I let my defenses down, I remember too much.” Her breath shuddered. “I might lose control.”

“You’re safe now, darlin’.” He stroked her hair. “You know I’ll take care of you. It’s going to be all right.”

Much as she wanted to believe him, her fears would not be so easily cured. Her nostrils flared as she remembered the stink of the dank, dark places where she’d been held captive.

In the creaking of the old ranch house, she heard echoes of mocking laughter. “Why does Nate hate us so much?”

Dylan tightened his embrace. His muscles tensed. “When I think of what that bastard did to you…” He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. “I won’t let him hurt you. Not ever again.”

Downstairs, the front door slammed hard enough that they could hear it all the way up here in their bedroom. It sounded as if a herd of buffalo had charged inside. Someone called out Dylan’s name.

“I’d better see what they need,” Dylan said.

She understood that he was the boss, and the Carlisle Ranch was his responsibility. But she wanted his full attention tonight. When he stood, she rose to her feet beside him. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can rest.”

“Didn’t I just tell you that I don’t want to sleep? You never listen to me.” The familiar complaint sparked her anger. “Have you heard one word I’ve said?”

“I get it.” He glanced toward the door. “If you want me to stay here with you, that’s what I’ll do.”

She didn’t want to argue. “Go. But I’m coming with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Together they went down the hallway and stood side by side on the staircase, looking down at two ranch hands in gloves, cowboy hats and heavy jackets. Both wore guns on their hips. Both were out of breath.

“What’s up?” Dylan asked.

“Somebody cut the barbed wire on the south pasture. We got cattle running loose.”

Dylan’s tone was clipped. “Rouse anybody who’s sleeping in the bunkhouse and get on it.”

“What about the men who are standing guard?”

“They stay put,” he said. “The house needs to be secure.”

“Okay, boss.”

“You boys get started. I’ll be with you in a minute.” As the ranch hands went out the door, Dylan turned to her. “I need to see to this problem.”

“No,” she said.

He took her hand. “I’ll get Carolyn to stay with you. This shouldn’t be a big deal, and I—”

“You can’t go,” she said. “Cut wires on the south pasture? That’s deliberate sabotage. Remember what Burke said about Nate staying in this area until he takes his revenge? He cut that fence.”

“I reckon you’re right. But there’s close to three hundred cattle in the south field. I need to help.”

“Nate’s baiting you, trying to draw you outside.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “Please, stay here with me.”

“I’m not hiding from Nate Miller.”

His green eyes darkened. She’d always loved the clarity she saw in his gaze. Though Dylan was good at disguising the way he felt, his eyes were truly windows to his soul. She saw his determination, fire and strength. She knew that he was ready to go into battle. My God, he was handsome. Her husband stood ready to protect her, to fight for her.

But right now she didn’t need a hero. “Listen to me. Please listen. If anything happens to you—”

“I can take care of myself.” His smile was fierce. “I’d welcome a showdown with that sorry son of a bitch.”

He made it sound as if this would be a fair fight, like a duel, with the two of them facing off. “Nate could be hiding in the forest with a rifle. He could pick you off before you know what’s happening. You could be dead before you have a chance to draw your gun.”

He leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

As he descended the staircase, she watched. She was proud of his courage. But furious at the same time. Even now, after everything she’d been through, he brushed her warning aside. “Stubborn,” she muttered under her breath.

After blowing her a kiss, he strode out the door, plunging headlong into danger. She sank down on the staircase and slumped forward, exhausted. But she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Not while Dylan was in jeopardy.

From behind her, a gentle voice offered, “Shall I make tea?”

She turned her head and looked up at Andrea, Dylan’s mother—a woman she barely knew. Nicole stood on the stair and adjusted her robe. Politely, she said, “It’s nice to see you.”

In a mauve kimono-style robe with a striped pattern at the sleeves and hem, Andrea looked big-city sophisticated, even without makeup. She pulled Nicole into a hug. “Thank God you’re all right. I was so worried.”

“Thanks, Andrea.”

“I should be thanking you.” She linked arms with Nicole and descended the staircase. “Until you came along, I’d pretty much lost contact with my son. You have no idea how much I appreciate the Christmas cards and birthday greetings that you send.”

Nicole hadn’t made a special effort. Keeping in touch with Andrea simply seemed like the right thing to do. “We’re family. Staying in touch is important.”

“I especially like the photos. My daughter in New York would love to come out here for a visit.”

“She’s welcome anytime.”

They entered the kitchen just as Carolyn and Burke stumbled out from the pantry. From the disheveled state of their clothing and their sheepish expressions, it was pretty obvious why they hadn’t run to answer the front door.

“What’s going on?” Carolyn demanded.

Her mother answered, “Some fencing was cut on the south pasture. Sabotage.”

“It’s got to be Nate Miller,” Burke said.

“Dylan has already gone running out there to help round up the cattle.” Andrea’s tone was authoritative. “I would appreciate it, Burke, if you went along to keep an eye on him. Carolyn, you stay here.”

“Why?” Carolyn was never one to accept orders without question.

Nicole said, “Because Nate wants revenge against the Carlisles. The whole family. You’d be a target.”

“She’s right,” Burke said, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll take care of this. Maybe I can get your brother to put on a Kevlar vest.”

“Please do,” Nicole said. “A suit of body armor would be great.”

If anything happened to Dylan, she didn’t think she could stand it. He was stubborn, inattentive and arrogant. But he was still her husband.

DYLAN RODE with Burke across the field behind the horse barn toward the south pasture—a fenced area that had been the site of prior sabotage before Nicole was kidnapped. His schedule of rotating the two thousand head of Carlisle cattle on land they owned and land they leased had gotten out of whack. Now that Nicole was home, he could get back to the serious business of ranching. It wasn’t going to be easy. His foreman, Lucas Mann, had been killed when the ransom was delivered.

Thinking of that death, he cringed inside, still unable to believe that Lucas—a trusted employee of many years—had betrayed the family by helping the Sons of Freedom. Nicole would be heartbroken when he told her. She’d probably insist on handling the funeral in spite of Lucas’s treachery.

Dylan scanned the familiar terrain. The night had gotten cold. A brisk wind chased clouds across the moon in a portent of the snowfall that was predicted for tomorrow. He slowed his horse to a walk. From here, they could cut through the forest where—as Nicole had suggested—Nate Miller could be hiding with his rifle. That was the route Dylan wanted to take; he wanted a confrontation.

“This way,” he said to Burke.

“We should stick to the road.”

“I like the trees.” He tugged at the uncomfortable bulletproof vest Burke insisted he wear.

“You like the idea of finding Nate and getting into a shoot-out,” Burke said. “Can’t say that I blame you. But if you get yourself shot, Carolyn will kick my butt. That’s why we need to take the safer route.”

After a longing glance toward the dark forest, Dylan conceded and turned toward the road. “Let’s suppose that Nate cut the fence to draw me out here, and he’s planning an ambush.”

“Damn likely scenario,” Burke muttered.

“What’s the best way to handle it?”

“Do the opposite of what seems natural.”

“The opposite?” If Dylan hadn’t respected Burke’s talent for strategy, he would have laughed out loud. “You’re going to have to explain.”

“An ambush is a lure,” Burke said. “You’re Nate’s target. He wants to make you come to him.”

“So if I see the flash of gunfire or hear a shot, I shouldn’t respond by riding toward it.”

“Right,” Burke said. “Because that’s what he expects you to do.”

“I should back down.” He hated the idea, but it made sense. “Our advantage is in numbers. There are a lot of us and only one of him. We should go after him carefully. Make sure we cut off his escape.”

“You got it,” Burke said.

They approached the far edge of the field, close to Fiona Grant’s property. Not only had the barbed wire been cut, but the fencing was peeled back between two posts, allowing the cattle an easy exit.

Tomorrow morning, a portion of this herd was destined to be removed to the slaughterhouse in Delta, and these Black Angus cattle seemed to anticipate their fate. There was a lot of bawling, as if the animals were encouraging each other to make a break. More than fifty had already ambled through the gap in the fence and were moving down the road.

Dylan was surprised to see Jesse Longbridge helping his cowboys round up the cattle. Jesse was staying at Fiona’s house to protect her and her five-year-old daughter. He rode toward them and reined his horse. “What the hell are you doing out here, Dylan?”

“Ranching. This is my business.”

“My business is keeping you safe,” he said. “Don’t make my job harder. I’ll escort you back to the house.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Never in his life had Dylan run from a fight. “Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on Fiona and her little girl?”

“One of my men is at her house, making sure that Nate doesn’t get close.”

Nate Miller had good reason to hate Jesse. It had been his skill at tracking and his insight that had led them to find Nicole and recover most of the ransom money.

“I’m not going home,” Dylan said.

“Fine.” Jesse exchanged a glance with Burke, then maneuvered his horse around.

Dylan was flanked by a federal agent on one side and a professional bodyguard on the other. Plus, he was wearing a bulletproof vest. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he said.

“This is how it’s going to be until we get you to safety.” Jesse drew his rifle and held it at the ready.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Are you any good with that?”

“I’m a former marine, a sharpshooter. Is that good enough for you?”

One of the escaped steers plodded toward them. A big, broad Angus—fifteen hundred pounds of premium, grass-fed beef on the hoof—stood in the middle of the road and glared at the men on horseback. He lifted his head and mooed.

“I think he wants us to move,” Burke said. “Moo-oooove.”

“You’ve been hanging around my sister too much,” Dylan said. “Cattle don’t talk.”

In the distance, he saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle. Whoever it was would have to be patient or take a different route.

When a second steer joined the first, Dylan’s horse, Orbison, shifted his weight. In his younger days, Orbison had competed in rodeos as a cutting horse. When he saw cattle running free, the horse’s instinct was to get them organized.

But there wasn’t much herding Dylan could do with these two men protecting him as though he was made of glass. And, to tell the truth, the other four ranch hands seemed to be doing a good job of moving the herd back into the field. “Might as well head back,” he grumbled.

As he wheeled around on Orbison, he heard the sharp crack of a rifle.

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