He took a step toward her.

Stop it before it starts. But, her feet refused to obey her mind and then his lips were on hers in a hot feather-soft kiss that strangely enough didn’t threaten.

It was only when his arms raised to embrace her that she felt threatened. She pushed against his chest.

“Nothing is going to happen here with me.”

“And why is that?” All trace of that simmering hunger in his eyes was gone, replaced by a still intensity.

She folded her arms in front of her chest and refused to look at him. “Because I don’t like to be touched.”

“Caitlin, look at me.” There was a quiet command in his voice and she found herself obeying, once again gazing at him. “If you don’t like to be touched, then it’s because somebody hasn’t been touching you right.”

Dear Reader,

I was so excited to get to have the opportunity to work on this series with so many other wonderful authors. I was especially excited to have a hero who was an FBI agent masquerading as a cowboy. What better combination could there be in a hero?

I just returned from a writer’s retreat, where I enjoyed spending time with other writers and talking about ideas for new books. It was definitely two days of too much fun, lots of laughter and plenty of creativity flowing.

The weekend left me excited about new heroes and heroines and story ideas to hopefully keep you both on the edge of your seat and with a final sigh of happiness.

Hopefully in Rancher Under Cover you’ll enjoy my red-haired heroine, Caitlin O’Donahue, who has a traumatic secret, and my hero, Rhett Kane, FBI agent working undercover as Randall Kane, a cowboy whose sole objective is to arrest Caitlin’s father, an act he knows will destroy her. When their worlds collide, there will be danger, betrayal and secrets released that will forever change their lives.

Keep reading!

Carla Cassidy

About the Author

CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written over eighty books for Mills & Boon. She won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Rancher Under
Cover
Carla Cassidy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Karen King,

who has taught me that friends can have philosophical

differences, intense debates on writing styles, and still

find joy and comfort in each other. Thanks for being a

good friend and seeing my flaws and liking me anyway!

Chapter 1

Caitlin O’Donahue nearly wept in relief as the O’Donahue ranch house came into view. The past two weeks of her life had been the worst kind of nightmare, and all that had kept her going, all that had kept her sane, were thoughts of home.

The large two-story ranch house with its wraparound porch and cheerful white trim instantly filled her with a sense of safety, of security that had been absent from her life over the course of the past couple of weeks.

Coarse male laughter. Big rough hands holding her wrists … her ankles. And pain. The kind of pain and fear no woman should ever have to endure.

She shook her head to banish the terrible memories. She was safe now. She was home and the last thing she wanted to do was dwell on the nightmare she’d so recently escaped.

She parked the car and got out, then walked to the trunk and pulled out her suitcase. Setting the case on the ground, she paused a moment to draw in a deep breath of the sweet California air and allowed her gaze to sweep over the pastures and rolling hills.

It was a beautiful November evening. Horses dotted a distant pasture, grazing peacefully and presenting a pastoral scene. There was a faint breeze and the sinking sun was coloring the western horizon. Caitlin drew in another breath as she continued to peruse the area.

That’s when she saw him, a tall man standing just outside the barn door. Despite the distance she could tell his shoulders were broad beneath the white T-shirt, and his slim hips were encased in worn, tight jeans. His long, shaggy blond hair sparked in the fading autumn sunlight and she knew she’d never seen him before. If she had, she was sure she would have remembered.

It wasn’t unusual for her not to know all the ranch hands that worked on the place. The turnover was huge and they came and went with a regularity she knew her father found frustrating.

Still, she could feel his piercing gaze on her as she carried her suitcase up the stairs to the front door. Of course, Caitlin was fairly accustomed to garnering male stares. You couldn’t have her fiery red hair and an hourglass shape and not have men stare at you. It had never bothered her before, but now she found the male attention a bit upsetting.

She relaxed as she opened the door and stepped into the foyer. “Dad?” she yelled.

Esmeralda, the housekeeper, appeared and with a shriek of happiness hurried toward Caitlin and embraced her in a warm, tight hug.

Caitlin closed her eyes and relaxed even more as the scent of yeast and lavender surrounded her. It was the familiar scent of love. Caitlin’s mother had died when she was three, and Esmeralda had been the mother figure in Caitlin’s life.

She was finally released and Esmeralda stepped back, her black eyes filled with both love and concern. “I’m happy to see you but why are you home now? I thought you’d planned to be with the Doctors Without Borders program much longer.”

“I got homesick.” The lie fell smoothly off her lips. “Where’s Dad?” As much as she adored Esmeralda, she was eager to see her father.

“Gone on business.” Esmeralda linked arms with her. “What a pleasant surprise you are. I’m so happy to see you. The house has been far too quiet since your father left. Come into the kitchen where we can catch up.”

They walked through the great room with its oversize leather couch and love seat, a stone fireplace that was rarely used and a wall full of electronic wonders that her father loved. The room smelled of the cigars he refused to give up and a slight lingering scent of his woodsy cologne.

She was bitterly disappointed that her father wasn’t home. She needed him not just for emotional support, but she also had some hard questions to ask him.

“Where did Dad go on business?” she asked when they’d reached the kitchen. She sat in a chair at the round oak table as Esmeralda went to the cabinet and took down two cups for tea.

“He didn’t say.” Esmeralda’s plump features fell into a frown. “He left over a week ago and said he’d be in touch, but I haven’t heard from him since then.”

Tell your father his old friends say hello.

The words thundered in Caitlin’s head, part of the memories she didn’t want to revisit but that refused to leave her alone. What did it all mean? What had her father gotten himself involved in while she’d been out of the country?

Esmeralda put the teakettle on the stove burner and then carried the cups with tea bags to the table and sat across from Caitlin. “Poco uno, tell me what’s happened. I see dark, unhappy shadows in your eyes.”

Caitlin forced a laugh. “At thirty-four years old I’m not exactly a little one anymore, Esme.”

“You will always be my poco uno,” Esmeralda replied firmly. “And I know my girl and something has happened to you. Talk to me, Caitlin.”

A sudden thick emotion surged up inside Caitlin, but she shoved it away. She wasn’t ready to talk of the horrors that had brought her home. It was all too fresh, too raw. “I’m just worried about Lana,” she finally replied. “Has there been any word?”

Lana Kelley, Senator Hank Kelley’s daughter, a close friend of Caitlin’s, had been kidnapped two months before. Caitlin had grown up with all the Kelley kids. She’d had a crush on the twins, Dylan and Cole, had treated the youngest boy, Jim, like a baby brother and had enjoyed Chase’s company. She’d adored Jake before he’d left for a life in New York and had babysat for Lana. The babysitting had cemented a friendship between the two, a big sister/little sister relationship that Caitlin cherished.

The Kelleys had lived in California on a spread near the O’Donahue place for years, but as the years had gone by the children had grown up and sought their destinies away from the California mansion where their parents, Hank and Sarah, lived. While Hank split his time between Washington, D.C., and here. Lana had been the only one who had stayed at home.

Two weeks ago, in a brief phone call, Caitlin’s father, Mickey, told Caitlin that Lana had been kidnapped while studying in Europe. He’d explained to her that the Kelleys weren’t going to the authorities, but were negotiating with the kidnappers on their own.

“No news on Lana,” Esme said, pulling Caitlin from her thoughts. “But there have now been six women who have come forward claiming to have been Hank’s mistress.”

“Six!” Caitlin shook her head, although she really wasn’t surprised that the handsome senator had succumbed to what could only be considered a character flaw. There had certainly been plenty of politicians before him who had fallen to the same kind of demons. Still, what a mess it had become for the entire Kelley family.

But she didn’t care what consequences Hank faced for his infidelity. She was certain the handsome, powerful Senator would somehow survive his personal drama. What worried her was Lana.

The minute Caitlin had heard about Lana’s kidnapping she’d contacted Cole Kelley to find out what was going on. What she’d learned had horrified her. According to him, Lana had been taken and nobody seemed to know what the kidnappers wanted or even if she was still alive.

“And according to the reports, one of those mistresses is pregnant and Hank has now disappeared from the public eye altogether. I don’t know where he has gone,” Esme said. “I quit paying attention to all the nonsense. But I think I heard he was at Cole’s ranch in Montana.”

“He’s probably hiding out from his wife,” Caitlin said drily. “She’s got to be devastated by all this.” Caitlin couldn’t imagine that kind of betrayal by a man who was her husband.

“Caitlin, there is nothing that can be done about Hank and his problems, and we will pray for Lana’s safe return.” Esme jumped up as the teakettle began to whistle.

“You’re right,” Caitlin replied as Esme filled their cups with the hot water. “So, tell me what’s happening around here.” Caitlin definitely didn’t want to think about Lana or Hank Kelley or anything but normal ranch gossip at the moment.

“That no-account Garrett Simms disappeared last week. Just didn’t show up for work. He was nothing but a drunk anyway, but that left nobody in charge of the ranch, so I hired a new man.” Esme looked sheepish. “I know it’s really not my place, but your daddy was gone and this man showed up yesterday looking for work. He had good recommendations, so I told him we’d try him out.”

“Is he tall with shaggy blond hair?” Caitlin thought of the man she’d seen when she’d first arrived.

“Blond and dimpled and absolutely divine,” Esme said with an uncharacteristic girlish giggle.

“I hope he’s as good with the livestock as he is at turning you into a giggling fool,” Caitlin said drily.

“I think he’s probably man enough to handle both jobs,” Esme replied with a grin.

The very last thing Caitlin wanted to think about was any man. As she finished her tea and listened to Esme chatter about local gossip, she was struck by a weary exhaustion. She’d been traveling the better part of two days to get home and now all she wanted was the comfort of her room and a night of dreamless sleep.

“Do you want something to eat?” Esme asked as she carried their cups to the sink.

“No, I think I’ll go upstairs, get unpacked and call it a night.” Caitlin got up from the table and tried not to notice the ache of bruises that protested. Eventually they would heal, but she feared the scars inside her soul would be with her forever.

Minutes later she was inside her second-story bedroom. She should have moved out of her father’s home long ago, but it had never really been an issue. Since her twenty-first birthday her father had always given her the freedom to come and go as she pleased.

She’d always enjoyed her father’s company and knew he’d be lonely when she eventually decided to move. She’d respected him, a respect that had been recently shaken.

Tell your father his old friends say hello.

What had her father gotten himself mixed up in? And where was he now? She needed answers, but more than anything she’d needed his big strong arms around her, telling her she was going to be just fine.

It took her only minutes to unpack her suitcase and then she went into the adjoining bathroom and undressed for a quick shower.

Her father had raised her like a princess. She’d had the best that money could buy, the nicest clothing, the latest electronic toys, but she’d never cared about any of it. The best gift her father had given her was helping her fund the education that had led to her becoming a plastic surgeon.

Instead of opening her own practice she had opted to spend some time doing humanitarian work with the Doctors Without Borders organization.

She had loved the work, which had taken her to different places around the world. She’d felt as if she was making a real difference in the lives of the people she touched.

She had loved it until two weeks ago when she’d believed she was going to die in the jungles of El Salvador.

There was no question in her mind that she would have died if another doctor and several armed guards hadn’t come looking for her. It was only as the band of men had been running away that the head honcho had said the words about her father. Tell your father his old friends say hello.

The hot water found each and every sore muscle she possessed. As she soaped her body she noticed the faint bruises that darkened her ribs. Thankfully they had almost disappeared, but the reason for them being there simmered inside her just beneath the surface, an agony she kept shoving away because she didn’t want to deal with it.

Stepping out of the warm spray of water, she dried off and then pulled on a royal-blue silk nightgown. Outside the bedroom windows night had fallen. She moved to the window and stared out unseeing, her mind racing.

Where was Lana tonight? Lana, with her honey-blond hair and bright blue eyes. Was she even still alive? Caitlin didn’t understand why the Kelleys hadn’t gone to the authorities the minute Lana had been taken, but Mickey had told her that Hank was dealing with the situation in the best way to keep his beloved daughter alive. Caitlin made a note to herself to check in with Lana’s brother Dylan the next day to find out the latest news.

She leaned her head against the cool glass of the window and released a sigh. Her best friend had been kidnapped and her friends the Kelleys were in trouble. Her own father was missing and she had no idea what his connection was to the men who had attacked her.

With a sense of foreboding, she turned away from the window. Suddenly, being home felt no safer than the jungles of El Salvador.

Rhett Kane watched the woman in the window, unable to help but notice how the dark-colored nightgown clung to her lush curves. The photos he’d seen of her hadn’t done her justice.

That flaming-red long hair of hers would entice a man to tangle his fingers in it, to pull her head back to steal a kiss from her full lips. She had the body of a pinup—full breasts and hips and a tiny waist.

From the photos he’d seen of her he knew her face had beautiful, delicate features, that her eyes were gray and her lips plump without looking fake.

At least the intel he’d received that she was coming home from her work in Central America had been true. As her bedroom light went out he walked the short distance to the small corral near his foreman’s cabin; a single horse stood in the center.

By the brilliant light of the full moon overhead he could see the emaciated condition of the young mare and the festering wounds on her flank that had been made by the rusty old barbed wire she’d tangled with at some point in time.

“Hey, girl,” he said softly. The horse’s ears flared back as she sidestepped, the whites of her eyes gleaming wildly in the moonlight that spilled down.

“You and I are going to become friends,” he said. The horse backed up as if to protest his words.

Rhett remained at the corral for a few more minutes, sweet-talking the horse, who obviously wanted nothing to do with him. He finally left the corral and headed for his room in the nearby building. The horse needed wound care, but she was so stressed he worried she’d either kill herself or kill him if he tried to tend to her.

He was hoping to gentle her, to get her to trust him enough to allow him to take care of her, but that took time and he wasn’t sure she—or he—had that kind of time.

All the other ranch hands lived off-site, which was fine with Rhett. He wasn’t here for any male bonding. The last thing he needed was to make friends. His thoughts returned to the woman in the window.

Surely her presence here would work to his advantage. Mickey O’Donahue would get in touch with the daughter he loved, and if Rhett got close enough to Caitlin O’Donahue then he would be able to find out where the elder O’Donahue was hiding.

And he needed to find Mickey O’Donahue. Mickey had vital information that affected national security. It was crucial that he find him before other people did, people who wanted Mickey dead.

The cabin for the ranch foreman was located beside the stables and was small and furnished sparsely, holding a single bed and a chest of drawers. On top of the dresser was a microwave, and a mini refrigerator stood in one corner. The adjoining bathroom held a stool, a sink and a shower. Certainly not the lap of luxury, but it contained everything he needed, and besides, Rhett had been in much worse surroundings.

It took him only minutes to prepare for bed. He got comfortable, pulled up the sheet and fell asleep thinking about how best to use Caitlin O’Donahue to achieve his ultimate goal.

It was nine the next morning when he walked to the big house and knocked on the back door, eager to meet Caitlin in person. Esmeralda greeted him with a wide smile as she gestured him into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Kane,” she said.

“Randall, I told you to call me Randall,” he replied with a chiding grin.

Randall Kane existed for the sole purpose of finding the whereabouts of Mickey. The identity included a résumé of ranch work that would make him a desirable employee, a résumé that was surprisingly close to the life Rhett had led before tragedy had struck. Rhett knew the false identity and the résumé would stand up under normal scrutiny, and he was expecting nothing more than that in this case.

“Then it’s Randall,” Esmeralda agreed. She nodded and reached a hand up as if to check the tidiness of the dark, plump bun at the nape of her neck as her cheeks pinkened in pleasure. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Randall? I just pulled homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven. Perhaps you’d like one of them?”

“They smell wonderful, but actually I was just wondering if you’d heard from the boss. I have something to discuss with him.”

Her smile instantly fell and she shook her head. “No word from the boss, but his daughter, Caitlin, arrived last night. She should be down any minute and you can discuss whatever is necessary with her.” She motioned him to the table. “Sit, and while you wait for her to come down you can have one of my rolls and a cup of fresh coffee.”

Rhett slid into a chair at the table and watched as Esmeralda poured his coffee and then carried the cup and a saucer with a fat, iced cinnamon roll to him.

“I hope you slept well, Mr … Randall,” she said as she sat in the chair opposite him.

He gave her a lazy wink. “When you work hard and live right you sleep like a baby every night.”

She laughed, as if pleased by his words. He’d worked hard since arriving here to charm the older Hispanic woman, knowing that if for any reason Caitlin didn’t show up at the ranch, the housekeeper might be his only path to finding Mickey O’Donahue’s whereabouts.

He took a big bite of the cinnamon bun and rolled his eyes heavenward in pleasure. “Esmeralda, these are fit for the gods.”

The plump housekeeper giggled and preened like a woman half her age. He finished the roll in two more bites.

“Good morning.”

Esmeralda jumped out of her chair and Rhett turned to see Caitlin standing in the doorway. She was clad in a pair of tight jeans and a navy T-shirt that clung to her full breasts and emphasized her tiny waist, and her beauty momentarily stole his breath away.

Her glorious hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, fully exposing the delicate bone structure of her face and emphasizing her gray eyes. He got up from his chair as she entered the kitchen.

“Caitlin, this is the man I told you about, the one I hired to take over for Garrett as foreman,” Esmeralda said. “He’s here to discuss some things with you.”

“Randall Kane.” He walked toward her and held out his hand with a smile.

She hesitated a beat and then gave his hand a quick, perfunctory shake. “Please, sit.”

She smelled of something clean and lightly floral, a scent that instantly went to his head and kicked off a slight spark of warmth in the pit of his stomach. He returned to his chair and she slid into the one across from him that Esmeralda had vacated.

“I knew you’d be down as soon as you smelled these rolls,” Esmeralda exclaimed as she poured Caitlin a cup of coffee and served her one of the hot treats. “My girl loves my cinnamon rolls.”

Up close Rhett noticed that Caitlin’s eyes weren’t just an ordinary gray, but had indigo rings around the gray. They were beautiful eyes, but at the moment they gazed at him warily. “Where are you from, Mr. Kane?”

“I grew up in Wyoming,” he replied. “And please, make it Randall. In recent years I’m from no place in particular. I go wherever I can find ranching work.” He consciously willed away thoughts of the woman who had once been his home. The last thing he needed at the moment was to think about the wife he’d lost.

“Esme mentioned that you have references?”

He nodded. “I’ve got a résumé in my room. I’ll bring it to you when I get a chance.” He leaned forward and gave her his best charming grin, the one that he knew made the dimples dance in his whiskered cheeks. “Used to be all you needed to do for a ranching job was show up sober two days in a row. Nowadays everyone wants an official computer résumé.”

“As far as I’m concerned computers are the devil’s work,” Esmeralda exclaimed. “And it’s the same with cell phones and all the other electronic geegaws that suck the brains out of our youth.”

Rhett laughed and then looked at Caitlin, surprised to see that she had paled to the point that the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose appeared darker than they had moments before. “Are you okay?” he asked curiously.

“I’m fine.” She wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug, as if seeking the warmth. “You needed to discuss something specifically with me?”

It was obvious she wanted him to state his business and then get out of her kitchen. “I don’t know what your previous foreman did with his time, but it’s obvious he wasn’t paying attention to the health and welfare of your horses.”

Her lovely eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“The horses are too lean, and yesterday afternoon I found one down in a bramble patch on the west side of the property. I don’t know how long she’d been there, but she’d gotten tangled up in some old rusty barbed wire and she has a couple of festering wounds.”

Caitlin’s cheeks flared with color. “That good-for-nothing Garrett. I knew Dad should have fired him a long time ago. Where’s the mare now?”

“I managed to get her up and into the small corral, but I haven’t been able to tend to her wounds. She’s scared and so thin I’m afraid the stress might kill her.” A touch of anger lit up inside Rhett. Garrett Simms had obviously been a piss-poor foreman who hadn’t regularly checked on the welfare of the livestock.

“Why don’t I meet you at the stables in fifteen minutes,” Caitlin said. “We’ll ride the pasture and then I want to see that mare.” She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, her gaze going to the nearby window.

Rhett knew it was a dismissal and he got out of his chair and headed for the back door. “I’ll see you out there,” he said and then left the house.

As he walked back toward the small corral his thoughts raced with his impressions of Caitlin. Beautiful and sexy, there was no question about that, but she wasn’t some bubble-headed woman riding on her outer appearance. There had been a keen intelligence shining from her amazing eyes.

What had shocked him more than anything was the swift kick of lust that had momentarily flared inside him when he’d been near her.

She’d certainly seemed unaffected by his attempt to charm her with his smile. In fact, she’d appeared reluctant even to touch his hand for a quick shake.

Her presence here could either be a gift from fate or a complication. He’d been intent on charming Esmeralda to get the information he needed in case Caitlin didn’t show, but he knew the best way to find out about Mickey O’Donahue’s whereabouts was through his daughter.

He’d use whatever means necessary to achieve his goal. He could be an accomplished liar and a pleasing lover if his role called for it.

Despite the fact that he’d felt a kick of desire for her, he didn’t worry about getting his heart involved. He didn’t have a heart to worry about. It had been trampled years ago and had never recovered from the wounds.

As far as he was concerned this was just another job and Caitlin was simply a hot, sexy mark to be used to get what he needed.

Chapter 2

Caitlin wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to meet Randall outside. Although she was worried about the horses, the tall man with the shaggy blond hair and the five-o’clock shadow that darkened his firm jaw was too sexy, far too male for her comfort.

His brief laughter moments before had sounded nothing like the laughter of the men in the jungle, but for a moment sick memories had slammed into her and she’d felt an internal tremble.

She lingered over her coffee as Esme left the kitchen to attend to some household chores in another room. Caitlin felt fragile and weariness weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Terrible nightmares had plagued what little sleep she’d gotten and she’d awakened feeling no more rested than she’d felt before going to bed the night before.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, she reluctantly got to her feet and carried her cup to the dishwasher. There was a part of her that didn’t want to do anything but go back upstairs to her room and hide. Anxiety simmered inside her, threatening to explode into a full-blown panic attack.

She’d had enough psychology classes to recognize that what she was experiencing was normal for a woman who had been through what she’d endured. She suffered from more than a little bit of post-traumatic stress disorder. She understood the symptoms, but didn’t feel as if she were in control of any of them.

She’d also learned in the past two weeks that the easiest way to cope with the emotions that churned just beneath the surface was to completely ignore them. She’d rather be numb than feel anything because she was terrified of what she might feel if she allowed herself.

With another glance at the clock she drew in a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She walked into the living room and to the ornate desk in the corner where a fat ceramic leprechaun smiled from his perch on the top. His stomach was hollow and stored paper clips, thumb tacks and the key to the gun cabinet.

She plucked out the key and moved to the large glass-enclosed cabinet and withdrew a revolver. After checking that it was loaded and the safety was on she tucked it into her jeans waistband and then returned the key to the leprechaun.

She knew how to handle a gun, was a good shot. Although her father often encouraged her to carry a gun when she was out riding the range because of wild critters like mountain lions and coyotes, Caitlin rarely did. She’d always figured any animals she might encounter would be more afraid of her than she was of them.

Today she wanted the weapon with her. She didn’t know what kind of critter Randall Kane might be and she was determined never to be vulnerable again.

She stepped out the back door and into the warm November sunshine. The air smelled of earth and grass and horse, a familiar scent that momentarily filled her with a sense of home, of safety. However, the sense of safety vanished as she saw Randall Kane near the stables with two saddled horses.

You can do this, a little voice whispered inside her head. A ride around the pasture to check out the livestock didn’t sound threatening in any way. Still, it would be the first time she’d been all alone with any man since the horrible event in the jungle.

As she approached him a lazy smile curved his lips and his hot, slightly scruffy handsomeness slammed into her chest with a force that surprised her.

She ignored the tightness in her chest and instead focused on the fact that one of the horses he’d saddled up was her favorite, Buttercup.

The horse greeted her with a soft whinny. “Hey, girl,” she said as she stepped closer and rubbed Buttercup’s nose.

“She looks happy to see you,” Randall said. “One of the other hands told me she’s the one you usually ride.”

“She’s definitely one of my favorites.” She mounted the horse in a fluid motion that came from years of practice and then looked at Randall expectantly. “Let’s ride.”

He mounted his horse, Samson, with equal ease. “Are you expecting trouble?” Those gorgeous green eyes of his gazed pointedly at the gun she’d shoved in her waistband.

“No, just prepared for it if it comes,” she replied and then with a flick of her reins headed toward the distant pastures.

He rode like a cowboy intimately familiar with the saddle, and she found herself wondering how he’d shown up at the O’Donahue ranch at such an opportune time.

Caitlin knew her father had been dissatisfied with the former foreman, Garrett Simms, for a long time, but had felt sorry for the alcoholic who played the victim card each time Mickey had tried to fire him.

But even Mickey wouldn’t be able to overlook the abuse or neglect of any of his beloved horses, and there was no way Simms would be welcomed back this time. If nothing else she’d make sure of that.

She glanced at the man next to her and told herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Who knew why his timing was so perfect? The fact of the matter was, he was here and he seemed competent, and that would do until her father got home.

All thoughts of the man fled from her mind as the herd of horses came into view. Mickey O’Donahue had never wanted to raise champion race horses; rather he’d made part of his massive fortune raising good-natured saddle stock that was sold to individuals and various stables around the country.

The herd consisted of Tennessee walkers, mustangs and American quarter horses in a variety of colors and sizes. Caitlin pulled the reins to bring Buttercup to a halt and Randall reined in next to her.

“The pasture is a bit thin from lack of rain,” he said. “What I’d like to do is add some oat hay into their diets until spring.”

The horses did look lean … a little too lean. “Sounds reasonable,” she agreed. “We work with Wilson’s Feed Store. I’ll call them when we get back to the house and place an order. They should be able to deliver it first thing in the morning.”

He nodded and then pointed into the distance. “Over there by the fence is where I found the mare tangled up in the barbed wire.”

She headed for the area with Randall close behind. Once again they came to a halt and she looked around with a frown. “I can’t imagine how any barbed wire got here. Dad has never used it anywhere on the property.” Despite the higher cost, solid wooden fences surrounded the pastures on the O’Donahue ranch. Mickey had never considered the cheaper alternative of barbed-wire fencing.

“It looked as if somebody had just driven by and tossed it out of a truck or something,” he replied. “After I got the horse loose I pulled it all out and took it to the dump.”

She slid another glance his way, once again wondering where he’d come from and how he’d wound up here. “I’d like you to bring me that résumé we discussed earlier sometime this afternoon,” she said.

“Not a problem,” he replied agreeably. He shifted his weight in the saddle. “I understand you’ve been out of the country for a while.”

“For a couple of months. I’m a plastic surgeon and was working in South America with Doctors Without Borders.”

“Wow, must have been an amazing experience.”

A sudden surge of emotion rose up in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard against it. Amazing wasn’t exactly the adjective she’d use to describe her experience.

“I’m ready to see that mare now.” She turned Buttercup around and as she headed back to the house she allowed the horse full rein. Buttercup responded by breaking into a run.

Caitlin hunkered low, the breeze in her face, the power of the animal beneath her easing some of the tension that had coiled tight inside her in the time since the attack.

She was vaguely conscious of her hair coming loose, flying wildly around her head as Buttercup raced like the wind. A sweet exhilaration filled her.

She’d needed this … the wild abandon that coursed through her as she became one with the powerful horse. She gave herself to the moment, giving up any effort of control as she raced across the pasture.

All too quickly the small corral near the house came into view and she pulled on the reins to slow her gait, the moments of thoughtless pleasure now gone.

She pulled Buttercup to a halt and dismounted as Randall caught up with her. “That kind of riding is what I call chasing out the demons,” he said as he dismounted, as well. His gaze slid the length of her, a lazy perusal that instantly jacked the tension back inside her. “So, Caitlin O’Donahue, exactly what demons were you exorcizing?”

There was a gleam of intelligence in his vivid green eyes and for some reason she felt as if he was attempting to peer into her soul.

It was a soul so shattered, so damaged that she wasn’t sure she would ever let anyone in, especially not some hot cowboy she didn’t know.

“No demons here,” she replied as she broke eye contact with him. “I just enjoy the wind in my face.” She tied up Buttercup and then looked at the mare in the corral.

The horse had run to the far corner of the enclosure when they’d shown up. Painfully thin, it was obvious she was both undernourished and frightened.

“Garrett Simms should be shot,” she exclaimed, not hiding her disgust.

“My sentiments exactly. I have no idea how long she was trapped in the wire, but from the look of her it was quite a while.”

“Part of his job was riding the pasture to check on the health and well-being of the horses and it’s obvious he wasn’t doing his job. Good riddance is all I can say.” She opened the gate and stepped into the corral with Randall following her.

The horse, a young mare she recognized, pawed the ground nervously as her ears went back flat. “Her name is Molly,” Caitlin said. “Is she eating okay?”

“She’s eating fine,” he replied.

“You said she has some wounds on her?”

“On her backside,” he replied. “I’d like to wash them out with some saline water and maybe get some antibiotic cream on them. I was hoping she’d calm down, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen and she really needs to be tended to. I can probably lasso her and maybe you could hold her head while I work on the wounds.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Caitlin agreed.

“I’ll be right back.”

Caitlin watched as Randall left the corral and headed for the nearby barn. He walked with a loose-hipped gait that screamed of sex appeal, and it surprised her that in her present state of mind she found him more than a little bit attractive.

She didn’t want to go there, not with him, not with any man, not for a very long time. The very thought of a man touching her in any way filled her with a sickening revulsion and made her realize just how wounded she’d been left.

It didn’t take long for him to return with a length of rope, the saline solution and antibiotic cream, and a lightweight navy towel. He placed everything on the top of a fence post except the rope, which he gathered in his hands as he reentered the corral.

“This might take a few minutes,” he said. “She’s really frightened.”

It was obvious Molly was scared to death. Her ears were pinned back and her tail was tucked between her legs as she backed away from Randall.

“Hey, baby girl,” Randall said, his deep voice smooth and low. “Hey, Molly girl.” He handled the rope as well as he’d ridden in the saddle.

As Molly sidestepped nervously and rolled her eyes, the terror the mare was obviously feeling resonated deep inside Caitlin.

Trapped.

The mare felt trapped, and Caitlin knew exactly how that felt. Caitlin’s heart began to thunder with frantic beats as a shaking began deep inside her. Her throat narrowed, making her feel as if she were choking. Her chest ached as she tried to keep breathing.

Hands holding her down, men jeering and laughing at her terror. No way to fight back. No way to free herself from the danger.

She watched, frozen, as Randall cornered Molly against the back rails of the corral and tried to lasso her once … twice, both times without success.

Trapped.

The memories exploded again and again in her head, hands holding her arms, her legs, making it impossible for her to move, to fight. Help me, a little voice cried in her head.

Leave her alone, she wanted to scream at Randall. Can’t you see she’s terrified? Don’t hurt her, just get away from her and let her go.

“It’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be just fine.” Randall’s soft voice broke through the memories that threatened to consume her.

Just breathe, she told herself, hoping to ward off the panic attack that was poised to spring. Thankfully, at that moment, Randall managed to lasso Molly around her neck.

“Grab that towel and the rest of the stuff,” he shouted to her as he kept Molly’s head tight against his chest.

Grateful for something to do, Caitlin quickly grabbed the items and hurried toward him. “Cover her eyes,” he instructed and then began sweet-talking the horse once again.

The blindfold of the towel appeared to calm Molly somewhat. Although her body remained tensed, she didn’t try to fight against him.

“Now, if you can hold her head, I’ll take care of those wounds,” he said.

Caitlin nodded and grabbed the rope from him. She held Molly’s head close to her chest as Randall grabbed the saline and antibiotic cream and moved to the back of the horse.

“It’s okay, girl. I know you’re frightened, but the worst is over now,” Randall crooned to the horse. “You got through the scary part and now it’s time to heal.”

His words, coupled with the gentleness of his tone, seemed to reach inside Caitlin and drag a gentle finger over the ragged pain that knotted inside her.

A haunting vulnerability swept over her, as unwelcome as the agony that had been her companion over the past two weeks. She could listen to him forever, and the fact that his soft, soothing voice got to her also scared her.

He worked quickly and efficiently, Caitlin noted with relief, because she felt her composure slipping and needed to escape from Molly and, more importantly, from his soft, soothing voice that touched her, that somehow made her want to listen to him forever.

“That should do it,” he said as he stepped away from the horse.

She let go of the rope, the need to escape from him overwhelming. “I have to get back to the house.” She didn’t wait for his response but ran out of the corral, determined not to break down where the hot, handsome cowboy might see her.

Rhett watched her go with narrowed eyes. There was something bubbling just beneath the surface of Caitlin O’Donahue. He’d seen it first when she’d taken off hellbent for leather across the pasture.

Chasing out the demons. Although she’d said she just liked the wind in her face, he was sure that’s what she’d been doing. And it begged the question, what kind of demons could possibly be lurking inside the lovely Caitlin?

He’d sensed a seethe of emotion coming from her again as she’d held Molly’s rope. Tension had rolled off her in waves, a tension that was out of place with what was going on in the corral.

He was definitely intrigued, and it had been a long time since any woman had intrigued him. Of course it didn’t hurt that the woman gave new meaning to the word sexy.

Still, when she’d taken off, riding fast and furious across the pasture, his heart had leaped into his throat as a sense of dreadful déjà vu shot panic through him.

He loosened Molly from the lasso and removed the towel from over her eyes. Instantly she danced away from him, wariness once again in her gaze, in her very stance.

He left the corral and his thoughts once again went back to that moment when Caitlin had dashed across the pasture. For a moment he’d been flung back in time, back to when he’d raced across a pasture with another woman, a woman who had tragically died in his arms.

That had been eight long years ago, when he’d been twenty-seven. At that time all he’d wanted in life was to work his ranch, love his wife, Rebecca, and have a couple of kids to add to his joy.

A wild ride across a pasture had destroyed it all, had nearly destroyed him. He glanced at the house and thought again of Caitlin. She intrigued him, and he definitely felt a kick of desire each time he saw her, but all he wanted here was to do his job, to get her father into custody.

The man had to show up sometime or at least let his daughter know where he was holed up. Rhett intended to get close enough to Caitlin to learn any information she might get about Mickey’s whereabouts.

Rhett would do whatever it took to achieve his goal. He wasn’t a happy, laid-back cowboy anymore. He’d spent years as a Detroit cop before being recruited by the FBI. As a federal agent he was doing his best to protect the President of the United States and he wasn’t about to forget it.

The day passed quickly with chores that had to be done in order to maintain his undercover position as foreman of the ranch.

There were four other ranch hands and Rhett found them pleasant and competent men. They went about their business with little prodding from him and none of them seemed inclined to idle chitchat.

At noon the men all disappeared for lunch and Rhett headed for his cabin, where a microwavable pizza awaited him.

He’d just pulled it out of the refrigerator’s tiny freezer when a knock fell on the door. He opened the door and looked at Caitlin in surprise. She appeared uncomfortable and held a covered plate in her hands. “Esmeralda made some extra fried chicken for lunch and thought you might like some. I figured I’d bring it out here and pick up that résumé you promised me.”

Once again he noticed that she smelled of clean, minty soap and some sort of exotic flowers, and the scent fired a tiny flame in the pit of his stomach. Her glorious hair was confined sedately at the nape of her neck instead of flowing free as it had done when she’d ridden Buttercup.

“I was just about to zap a pizza for lunch,” he said as he took the plate from her. “I imagine Esmeralda’s chicken is a much tastier choice.”

He set the dish on the small table and noticed that she didn’t cross the threshold into the room and that the gun she’d brought on the ride that morning was still stuck in her waistband. Interesting, he thought, that she felt she needed the weapon with her when delivering chicken to his doorstep.

“You want to join me?” he asked. “It looks like Esmeralda sent enough for five people.”

“No, thanks, but if you could just get me your résumé I would appreciate it.” She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously ill at ease.

“No problem.” He went to the duffel bag on the floor and set it on the twin bed. “You make the business decisions around the ranch?” he asked as he rummaged in the bag.

“For now. At least until my father gets home.”

“I would have thought he’d want to be here to welcome you back home. How long were you gone?” He pulled out one of the copies of the résumé that had been specifically prepared for him when he’d been assigned this job.

“A couple of months, but he didn’t know I was coming home.” Tension was evident in her voice. She glanced back toward the house, as if wishing she were back inside and not on his little doorstep.

“Can’t you call him on his cell phone or something?” Rhett handed her the résumé and then offered a charming smile. “I mean, I hate to get all settled in here and then find myself fired the minute your father comes home.”

“Unfortunately he’s not answering his cell phone and, in any case, if you do your job well then you don’t have to worry about getting fired,” she replied and took a step back from the door. “Thanks for this,” she said as she held up the résumé. “If I have any questions about it I’ll let you know.”

Once again he found himself watching her as she walked away from him. She had a sensual sway to her hips that would naturally draw a man’s eyes, but he still sensed a certain darkness in her … and a toughness. She definitely didn’t seem to go all soft and gooey beneath the charm of his smile and dimples.

She probably had a boyfriend. He couldn’t imagine a woman like her being alone, without any love interest in her life. A woman like her surely didn’t want for male company.

Was she aware of what her father had gotten himself involved in? How much, if anything, did she knew about the secret society? She’d been out of the country for months. It was possible she knew nothing about anything that had come to light recently. It was also possible she knew and that was the stress he sensed in her.

Rhett was accustomed to women wanting to get close to him, finding him attractive, but Caitlin seemed to be the exception to the rule. She appeared as skittish and wary as Molly, but he was determined to get beneath her defenses.

She intrigued him, and she definitely kicked up a surprising dose of lust inside him, but that wouldn’t stop him from manipulating her unmercifully to achieve his goals.

Micky O’Donahue stood at the window of the small motel room, watching as twilight began to fall. With the violet shadows of night beginning to edge in, a tense pressure built painfully inside his chest.

It was the same with the approach of each night since he’d left his ranch to go into hiding—the darkness brought with it a fear he’d never known before.

The darkness could hold danger and he’d never see it coming. Somebody could crash through the door, take him out with a single bullet to the heart.

He’d gotten in over his head, thrown his money and influence behind the wrong people, and now he didn’t know what to do to get himself out of the mess, was afraid that he’d pay for his mistakes either with his life or with a life behind bars.

Hell, who was he kidding? Even if he wound up behind bars somebody from the society would find a way to get to him. He wouldn’t last a week before somebody shanked him in the back or beat him to death.

He allowed the thick curtain to fall back across the window and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Even if he wasn’t scared senseless he’d find his surroundings horrifying.

The nightstand was scarred with cigarette burns and drink rings. The gold shag carpeting was certainly the original. The lumpy bed held no appeal and the water pressure in the bathroom was nearly nonexistent.

Mickey was accustomed to the best of everything and this seedy motel two hundred miles from his ranch was definitely depressing, but he also hoped it was the very last place on earth anyone would look for him.

He glanced at his cell phone on the nightstand and mentally cursed the fact that when he’d decided to take off and leave home he’d forgotten to pack the charger. The phone was dead. But maybe that was a good thing. He knew that with today’s technology a cell phone registered in his name could lead searchers to him. Even if he had the charger he’d be afraid to use the phone.

Although he’d like to check in with Esmeralda, he was also afraid to call the landline at the ranch. It was probably bugged and there was no way he could chance somebody tracing the call and finding out that he was here. He needed to go out to get a disposable cell, but so far he’d been afraid to venture outside the room for anything.

Fear was a new emotion for Mickey. Sure, he’d been afraid when his wife had died and left him with a three-year-old to raise. He’d been scared then that he wouldn’t measure up, wouldn’t be the kind of father he wanted to be to his darling daughter.

But this kind of fear was something different, something completely new. It seeped into his bones with a sickening cold, tightened his gut until he thought he couldn’t breathe.

He knew he couldn’t stay here forever, that sooner or later he’d need to decide his next move. But the problem was, he didn’t know who to trust. Mickey had always been a survivor. His craftiness and sense of self-preservation were what had made him successful in the political arena.

He’d been savvy, always with an eye to his own enrichment of power when it came to picking politicians to back. He’d only made one mistake—trusting Hank Kelley.

His stomach churned as he thought of the senator who had fallen from grace. Hank had been a good friend and a powerful ally over the years, but now he found himself embroiled in the same mess as Mickey. Even worse, Hank’s daughter had been kidnapped by the very men Mickey feared were after him and now Hank was hiding out at his sons’ ranch in Montana.

As Mickey thought of his own daughter his heart swelled with a combination of fierce love and pride. Caitlin was not only beautiful, she was smart. She’d breezed through medical school to become a plastic surgeon and he’d been proud of her decision to work with Doctors Without Borders before eventually opening her own practice.

There was only one thing Mickey loved more than power or money and that was his daughter. He hoped she would never know what her father had gotten involved in.

Once again he moved to the window to peer outside, the fear a rising lump in the back of his throat, a twisting coil in the pit of his stomach. The only thing that gave him any peace at all was the knowledge that Caitlin was safe and far away from all this, in South America doing charitable work.

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