THE RENEGADE RANCHER (3 page)

“I can tell when a car swerves directly toward me.” She sat straight with confidence. “How did you get that cut on your forehead?”

Leave. Forget Miss Blue Eyes and your curiosity. You can’t do anything to help.

“I fell.” His hand was still on the door handle. “Why?”

“Any witnesses?” She rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sure the police will believe you. It shouldn’t be a problem, but you could have been in a fight. Or drunk. Lord knows you smell like you bathed in alcohol.”

“Got me. You didn’t mention to the cop at the scene about your family history? Or that I think the family accidents might actually be murders?”

She pressed her lips together, shook her head and nervously raised a finger to twist her hair. “I sort of told them, but they wouldn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know who you were.”

“You had my number and I could have confirmed your details. Why wouldn’t you? Oh, I get it. You think if you tell the cops that I’ll be in trouble?”

“Hey,” she said, standing and putting a hand on a hip. “I don’t know what to believe. Right now, I’m exhausted but there’s no way I can go home alone. No, no, no, you get that look out of your eyes, mister. I’m not asking you to come home with me. Shoot. I sort of thought you might have been the guy who hit me. I don’t think you are, since the other firemen confirmed your shift began at seven. But honestly, I don’t know you.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“No. At least, I don’t think I did. The air bag scraped me.”

He watched the realization of his words wash over her in an embarrassing shade of pink.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. When I get nervous, I tend to babble. I think you misunderstood what I meant earlier.”

“What part? When you asked for help? Or when you thought I might have tried to murder you?”

“All I want is a cup of coffee and some pancakes.” She cradled her arm closer to her side.

Pancakes?
He could go for some pancakes. “Cafeteria’s closed. Will Pan-Hop do?” Maybe she could fill in some blanks in his research?

She nodded. “Great. I love their double-stack special. What about him?”

“I almost forgot about Drunk Driver Doe.” He pressed the nurse call button. “Meeks. I’ve gotta leave.”

“I’ll be right there, Sloane.”

“For the record,” Lindsey said with the confidence he’d seen when they’d first met, “I don’t know why I started looking for you, but this seemed like my only option. I don’t intend to have any more
accidents.
”

“The folder’s in my truck back at the lot. My captain’s already told me to head home.” He pointed to his bandage. “Get me pancakes and I’ll tell you everything.”

“My moment of feeling sorry for myself is over. I want all the details. Everything you’ve learned about my family.”

He could pass along what he’d discovered. Maybe not everything. He couldn’t admit that he’d been admiring her gorgeous body since seeing her picture on her website four months ago. Probably better to keep that information to himself. At least for a while.

And why today? If this guy waits years, planning his murders to disguise them as accidents, then why attempt a hit and run? Had he brought Lindsey to the murderer’s attention? Or worse, sped up his timetable?

How could he walk away if he was responsible?

Chapter Four

Lindsey restrained herself through the short drive, asking only how Brian had received the cut. He’d laughed as he’d said to avoid an inexperienced intern with overeager fingers, he’d stitched it himself. But the story had left her queasy after dropping him off at the ambulance company’s home base. The Pan-Hop was right around the corner.

While she waited, the memory of the car lights blinded her again. The awful thought that her life had been about to end replayed over and over. Because of Brian’s visit earlier that day, she was still alive. She’d only been alone waiting for him to arrive about five minutes before a tap on the window made her jump out of her skin.

“You ready to go inside?” Brian asked.

She grabbed her purse and locked the car. He’d changed into the street clothes he’d worn when they’d met that afternoon. A lifetime ago. She hadn’t noticed his scuffed boots until he’d held the door and she’d looked to the ground. The only boots she’d noticed before were on men shopping for a new phone. She hadn’t been in Texas too long and hadn’t made an effort to get to know anyone or discover any real cowboys.

Now one had found her.

He waited, holding the restaurant door open while she looked past him through the windows. Any of those people could have been driving the car that rammed her off the road. It could be anyone...anywhere.

A creepy feeling crawled up her spine. He was out there. She could feel him staring from his hiding place. Pure panic drove her. She spun and searched the dark.

“We going to eat?”

“I can’t.” Darting under his arm, she began clicking the rental’s key, trying to unlock the door. The car alarm set the horn blaring and she looked closer to see which button was which, but her eyes were full of embarrassing tears.

Tears? Now?
She’d remained calm throughout the accident and police. But couldn’t handle pancakes in a public place.

Brian clasped his hands over hers, tilted her chin toward him and took the keys. The alarm stopped, then she heard the horn beep that it was reset. He hadn’t looked away. His dark eyes reassured something deep inside. More than basic attraction, sort of as though he shared part of her no one else could—or would—ever understand.

Even with his eyes comforting her, the panic bubbled. She looked into the dark corners of the building, right at the edge of the light. He was there, watching.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go in there, it’s...it’s too crowded.” Her mind acknowledged that the restaurant was more than half-empty, but it just didn’t matter. She couldn’t force her feet to move through the entrance.

Brian seemed to understand. He led her by the elbow to his truck, opened the door and removed a bag from the floor. “Want me to help you inside?”

It was an older model and it took a little doing one-handed, but she managed to climb in on her own.

“Mind if I hook you up? This thing can be sort of stubborn.” He pulled and held the seat belt forward.

She nodded and he leaned across the seat. She would never have been able to lift her arm to lock herself in and he’d helped without her asking. He smelled of a mixture of hay and man. Attractive. Musky. Like a guy who did honest work or who’d driven with the top down on a bright sunny day.

His hair was short, but didn’t look like his normal style since he kept tossing his head as though there were longer locks there. She recognized that toss of his head and the nervous running of his fingers across his scalp. She did it herself to get short wisps away from her face. It looked as if it was growing out from a military cut close to his head, curling at the base of his neck.

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said the seat belt was stubborn. It wasn’t just a play to get closer. His hands touched her hip more than once and as hard as he tried not to, his arm grazed her stomach and thigh.

The urge to twist those curls around her finger was a little heady. She’d acted on impulse before. It would be so easy to reach out and use her nail to trace the lean tendon leading down to his shoulder.

She watched her hand sort of float down, getting closer to that musky skin.

“There.” He stood straight, brushing her hand to the side with his shoulder, smiling from ear to ear as though he’d accomplished something much harder than snapping a seat belt. “Dang thing had an animal cracker stuck in it.”

“Great.” She didn’t feel great. Maybe she had hit her head because she was definitely a little dizzy. He seemed perfectly fine and totally unaffected by all the touching.

“Your shoulder okay?” he asked, adjusting the strap to make it a little looser while holding an animal cracker tight in his palm. He was thinking of his niece, not her. He just wanted her to be safe while in his truck.

Shoot, he was a paramedic. He probably got hit on all the time. Girls probably fell at his feet. Well, that was the old Lindsey. The new Lindsey didn’t fall at anyone’s feet. She used her own. The tenseness she felt had nothing to do with the physical and everything to do with the potential threat on her life.

Anyone would feel like this.

“Great, thanks. Your mother must be very proud of raising such a gentleman.”

The smile faded from his eyes and his lips twisted tightly into a thin line. He quickly shut the door. “Mom died of cancer a long time ago,” he said softly through the open window.

He walked around the back of the truck, pausing to drop the bag in the back and again at the door. His face was out of sight, but she heard the deep inhale and slow release.

Trying to pay him a compliment, she’d brought up a terrible pain. She knew all about the death of a parent and felt two inches tall for the remark she’d made about him still having his father when they’d first met.

He got in and pulled from the parking lot. “Don’t feel bad, Lindsey. You didn’t know.”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“And that’s how I took it. She’s been gone a long time.”

“My parents’ accident was six years ago. When I remember that day...all the horrible feelings make me hurt all over. I can’t imagine it ever gets easier.”

“It does and it doesn’t. Hang on to the good stuff.” He shifted gears and stopped at a red light.

The streets were practically empty. She looked around for a black car, trying not to but paranoid. Each time they stopped, she searched.

“I doubt he’s going to do anything when you’re with me. This guy makes it look like an accident. That’s why no one’s caught on. So where do you live?”

“You must already know, since you’re headed there. It’s really okay. I looked up a couple of things about you, too. The fire did more than kill my cousin. It destroyed all your plans and your family’s. I think it’s cool that you’re an identical twin. You might have told me what happened this summer. Your story made the news. And your poor little niece.”

“You didn’t seem too receptive to more talking this afternoon. Were the articles and pictures helpful?”

“Yes. You can’t blame me for checking out your story. You could have been driving the car that ran me off the road for all I knew.”

“And yet, you didn’t tell the cops my name.”

“How did you know?”

“I don’t seem to be in police custody on suspicion of murder.”

“Right. The police already thought I was drunk or high or just crazy. Then there was the mess when they thought I’d stolen Jeremy’s car.
That
took forever to clear up. So I let them take me home and used the internet.”

“Wait, go back. They thought you stole a car?”

“That’s beside the point, but if you must know, Jeremy left me his car. I’ve been making the payments. The bank wouldn’t put it in my name. When I told the cop at the accident that the owner was dead...” She rubbed the scratches she’d gotten from the handcuffs they used while escorting her to the police station to sort things out. “Part of the reason it was so late when I found you was that it took a long time to find Jeremy’s lawyer and verify everything.”

“Is this your place?”

“Jeremy’s, really.”

“If it’s got a lock on the door, you’ll be fine. Want me to walk you to the door?”

“Yes. I mean, aren’t we going to talk? You can tell me what your plans are. How do you plan to catch this guy? Oh, wait, we should talk inside. But what if it’s bugged or something?”

“Lindsey.” He lifted a hand as a universal stop sign. “Lindsey, slow down. I’m not that guy.”

He reached forward and gently popped her seat belt loose. At some point he’d already undone his and twisted on the old vinyl. Draping his arm over the back of the seat, he rested his head in his hand.

He arched his brows, waiting, but she didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t completely understand the question, so what did he want?

“Look, kid—”

“Stop right there. I’m not a kid. You can’t be more than three or four years older than me. Remember, I did research on you, too. So I’m not your kid, sweetheart, baby, doll or whatever nickname you can create. My name’s Lindsey.”

“Yes ma’am. Like I was saying, I’m not the guy you want defending you. I have no resources, no knowledge, no experience or desire to protect you. You need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“But who else is going to believe me, Brian?”

“You’ve got me there. I had a helluva time just getting myself to believe me. Then Mabel did some research and all those accidents didn’t seem so accidental.”

“You’ll help?” She focused on his eyes, the slight tilt of his mouth that was much more comforting than those tight, strained lips.

“I don’t know what I can do,
Lindsey,
but I’ll tell you what I know. Stay there and I’ll help you out before you hurt that shoulder again. The muscles are probably stiffening up about now.”

He scooped the folder from the seat and she waited while he walked around the truck. If he wanted to be gallant, she’d let him. Allowing him to open the door for her wasn’t being a pushover—especially if he wasn’t doing any pushing.

She creaked to the edge and stepped down. Brian was right. She ached all over.

“Aw, I told you.”

The wince had probably given her away. She would have stumbled to the ground if he hadn’t been there helping. “I can’t believe how sore I am all of a sudden.”

“The adrenaline’s wearing off and I bet you’ll be out as soon as your head hits the pillow.”

“No way. We have things to discuss. I want to know everything you know.”

“And I’ll be here in the morning. Does that perplexed look indicate you don’t know if it’s a good idea or not?”

“I just... I mean, just because I tracked you down doesn’t mean I invited you to spend the night.”
Remember, someone’s trying to kill you.
A little voice in her head, sounding so much like Jeremy, kept reminding her to look around. The paranoia had her doubting Brian’s motives.

“I thought we were past all that. I didn’t try to kill you. You can trust me.”

Fear made her anxious. She could feel it trying to take over again. Then Jeremy’s voice prodded her,
You
need his help. What about your mother and father’s accident? You may have been murdered. You need to find the truth and this guy’s already found a great deal. Don’t stop until you get the psycho who’s been destroying our family.

She scraped her scalp with the metal key ring still in her palm as she shoved her hand through her hair. She’d been doing so well on her own. She shook her head, wanting the answer to be different than what was obvious. She couldn’t do this on her own. Good or bad, she needed him.

“I’m sorry. This situation is just a little overwhelming.” She stretched her neck back to get a look at the most comforting eyes she’d ever fallen into. They made her next words much easier to say, “Would you mind staying awhile? I’d feel safer.”

He held out his hand for her keys. She’d promised herself never to ask for help again. Did this count?

* * *

T
HE
KEYS
DROPPED
into Brian’s palm and they moved inside with no more debate. Lindsey was obviously on her last ounce of energy, stumbling out of her shoes and falling onto the leather couch.

“Why don’t you head to bed?” He flipped on lights, set the file on the coffee table and wanted to remove his boots. If he could just close his eyes for a few... The exhaustion from his shift was intensifying the pounding behind his eyes from the slight concussion.

“I’m so wound up, I really don’t think I can go to sle...” She stopped, staring at the goldfish tank on the corner of the desk.

“What’s the matter?”

She moved next to him, no longer wilting. “Someone’s been here,” she whispered. “Could they still be in the house?”

“How can you tell?” He pulled her close under his arm, as if that would actually protect her if someone attacked.

“The fish-food container was on top of Jeremy’s papers. Not next to the bowl. Feeding them was one of the last things I did before I left this morning.” Her whispering voice shook with fright as much as her body shook under his hand.

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“Now, Lindsey. Out.”

She turned and ran. He didn’t linger. He wanted to check things out. Might have if he’d been alone. But he wasn’t. For whatever it was worth, Lindsey had chosen him as her protector and he’d do his best. That did not include a fool idea that he should seek out trouble.

Trouble had a way of finding him all on its own.

When he pulled away from her home, Lindsey explored her purse until she removed her cell. “Shoot, my battery’s nearly dead. Can I use your phone?”

“I don’t think calling anyone is a good idea. Let’s talk first and come up with a game plan. Sound good?”

“But what about prints or stuff like that?”

“I don’t think this guy left any sign he’s been in your house. He’s been pretty darn good about covering his tracks.”

“Okay, we’ll play it your way right now. Just know that this is my life and if
I
decide to make a call, I will.” She hugged her sore shoulder close to her chest.

“Absolutely.” He pulled to a stop and snapped her belt. “It’s over an hour to my place. You can use my jacket for a pillow. One of us should get some sleep.”