Читать книгу Bulletproof Christmas - Barb Han - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“I’ll be on my way before your lady friend returns. Wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.” Rory could see the tension building in Dex—or whatever his name was—and it was time to make his exit before this situation escalated. The glint he’d seen was most definitely from a weapon and that shot all kinds of warning flares.

Watching the campsite would be tricky with the beagle, but Rory figured he could put enough distance between them to keep off the dog’s radar.

When Rory really thought about it, using a dog was smart. Dex’s cover was perfect. Not many people would notice the subtle things, like the fact that the guy might be playing dumb when it came to nature, but he seemed to know enough to tie up his trash away from the site. Or that after spending a good fifteen minutes snooping around, the guy’s so-called girlfriend hadn’t returned. There was no alcohol on the site, either. Wouldn’t that be part of a romantic camping trip for two people of drinking age? There didn’t look to be any food supplies, either, which struck him as odd for someone planning to spend the night.

Was he a poacher?

Rory didn’t see any of the usual supplies, consisting of water and weapons. This guy could be a scout, sending information back. This campsite was close enough to the Butler ranch that Dex might be there to watch out for ranch hands.

“Much appreciated. Camille is already skittish out here,” Dex said with a wink, seemingly unaware of his mistake. Rory immediately noticed the name change. He’d called his girlfriend Lainey five minutes ago. Suddenly, her name was Camille.

Rory concealed the fact that he was scrutinizing Dex’s features. The man would be fantastic at poker. For the most part, Dex kept his cards close to his chest.

“Thanks for letting me take a look around your camp.” Rory offered a handshake, needing to wrap this up. He’d seen enough to know that Dex required watching. He was involved in something illegal, but there was nothing to go on besides trespassing at present. Keeping an eye on the man might lead Rory to the real source, which could be poachers. Another thought struck and that was Dex could be a reporter. Although the headlines involving the Butlers had died down a bit recently, with the will reading coming up, there’d been renewed interest in everything Butler.

“No problem.” Dex stood and took the offering. The minute their palms grazed, Rory realized how nervous the guy had been. His hand had just enough moisture to reveal his emotions. Rory had to hand it to Dex, he came off as cool as a cucumber and that fact sent a few more warning flares up.

Rory walked away, careful to make sure he disappeared in the same direction he’d arrived. He could almost feel the set of eyes on his back as he walked farther from the campsite and listened carefully for any sounds that Dex might be following. He’d probably stuck around a little too long. The handshake could have been overkill. Damn.

His mistakes could lead to suspicion.

Forty-five minutes had passed since Rory recovered his previous spot, watching the campsite from afar. There’d been no movement. No Lainey, or Camille...or whatever her name was.

Rory had known that for the lie it was.

Dex tied Boots to a tree trunk. With the fire still blazing, he grabbed a walking-type stick and headed north, the opposite direction of the Butler estate.

What was he up to now?

Rory watched intently, using his night-vision goggles. He checked the time. Where did Dex think he was going at this hour?

The only evidence Rory had against the man so far was trespassing. Not exactly a strong case to entice the sheriff’s office to send a deputy out immediately. The office would most likely take the complaint and promise to investigate. Sheriff Sawmill and his deputies were still too overrun to follow up on every lead unless Rory could present compelling evidence that this was more. It was hard to believe the sheriff still hadn’t arrested Maverick Mike Butler’s murderer.

A pang of guilt hit him like stray voltage. He’d wanted to stick around after learning that Mr. Butler had been murdered. He could only imagine the devastation the family felt and especially Cadence.

There were a few too many times in the past five months that he’d wanted to return and be her comfort. The news coverage on Cattle Barge had almost been 24/7. He’d seen the story of her arrest and then release after she tried to run off someone claiming to be her half sister. He could only imagine what Cadence had been going through to cause a lapse in judgment like that.

Walking out five months ago had been his attempt to protect her. A relationship with Rory was the worst of bad ideas. He needed to be outside somewhere. Anywhere. And she needed a comfortable bed with soft sheets. Soft like her skin had been when he grazed his finger along the inside of her thigh.

Damn.

Thinking about Cadence brought on a surge of hormones and a wave of inappropriate desire. Hell, at least he wasn’t dead. Since walking away from her, not many women could stack up to the memory of her silky skin and sweet laugh. She was beautiful and sexy, but that wasn’t the best part. She was smart, and funny, and outgoing, and...

His heart clutched, squeezing a little harder this time, reminding him what a bad idea it was to think about Cadence Butler.

Being on her family’s land would bring back a certain amount of memories, he reasoned, but the onslaught of reasons why he missed her caught him off guard.

Chalk it up to weakness. Being with her had made him weak and almost forget about their differences—differences that would drive them to squabble and make each other miserable given enough time. He thought about his parents’ marriage and how toxic their love had been.

Rory checked his watch again. Twenty minutes had passed while he’d been distracted by his reverie. He couldn’t let that happen again.

Besides, there was no sign of Dex. He waited another full thirty minutes before making a decision on his next move. It was still too early to call the sheriff.

Patience won battles.

So, he’d hold off.

Rory waited a full hour before deciding to move closer. The dog was still secured. None of the obvious supplies had been taken. The guy’s expensive-looking backpack was still leaning against his compact fold-out chair. Every sign pointed to Dex coming back.

Was he out scouting so he could relay information to his boss?

Or had he abandoned the site?

Another ten minutes wired Rory’s nervous system for the unexpected. An adrenaline spike got his pulse racing and blood speeding through his veins. All his internal systems spiked to critical mass. And, like always in these situations, he felt his senses alighting, awakening. He felt alive.

He listened for any sounds that Dex was circling him, coming up from behind for a sneak attack or studying him in order to make a move. It was possible. Hell, anything was possible out here. But Dex wouldn’t get the best of Rory. Rory was damn good at his job, considered the best tracker in the country.

If Dex tried to pull something, Rory would be ready and waiting.

Reaching down to his ankle holster, he pulled his Walther 9 mm and palmed it. He rested his thumb on the safety mechanism, just in case he needed to fire.

Normally, all this action and adrenaline would have boosted his mood, made him happy. Instead, a sense of dread overwhelmed him along with the energy burst. What was that all about, Scott?

Cadence, an irritating little voice said. Being here on her father’s land. It would belong to her and her siblings now. Plus, the two surprise family members who’d shown up after Maverick Mike’s death. Rory wasn’t sure how either of them played into the equation but all looked to have been smoothed out based on media reports.

It’s none of your business, that same little voice reminded, even though a little piece of his heart protested that everything about Cadence was.

Again, it proved nothing more than the fact that he was alive. And it was good to know that he still had a beating heart in his chest. He knew because it fisted every time he thought about her. Having a working heart might come in handy someday, he mused.

Although, all it had done so far was make him feel weak and angry. He thought about his family and about leaving them to run away from home at fifteen years old because he couldn’t watch his parents participate in their mutual misery anymore. He’d begged his mother to leave the abuse behind, to go with him, and still couldn’t understand why she’d told him to mind his own business before willingly staying with his father. The man’s bouts of jealousy and anger became almost daily shows by Rory’s teenage years. She’d scream and cry in the moment, threaten to leave him. Everything always escalated from there.

By the next day, always, she’d defend the man, saying that he got angry because he loved her.

A sudden burst of cold air brought his focus back to the camp twenty-five yards in front of him.

There were other possibilities for why Dex was in this part of the county, possibilities that heeded consideration. Thinking of his parents always reminded him of domestic violence. Dex could be a hothead or a common criminal in the wrong spot at the wrong time. He might’ve brought a girlfriend here, killed her and dug her grave. She might’ve already been dead and he dragged her limp body into a shallow grave.

Icy tendrils wrapped around Rory’s spine at the same time that anger spiked through him.

Facing the unexpected usually kept him on his toes, reminded him he was alive. This time was surprisingly different. It lacked the excitement that normally accompanied an adrenaline rush of this scale.

Since there hadn’t been activity at Dex’s camp, Rory decided to go in and see if he could gather more intel. Boots was asleep and there was a chance he wouldn’t bark since he’d already met Rory. The winds had picked up and the howling would mask any noise the little dog made.

What else could he use to distract the dog? Considering he didn’t own a pet, nor had he ever, he didn’t exactly carry around dog biscuits. Rory would have to have been willing to commit to one spot for a while in order to have his own dog. But he did have something. He could break off a small piece of a peanut-butter power bar and give it to Boots.

Dex not returning was starting to weigh on Rory. Why would the man leave the camp without taking his backpack and his pet?

Investigating could be tricky and could compromise Rory’s position. What if Dex returned? What if the animal barked? Rory could be caught or shot.

Did he have another cover story? There was no good sell for being out there alone and checking out the campsite for the second time.

What if the dog didn’t bark? Could Rory slip in and out without leaving a trace while Boots slept? All he’d need would be a few minutes and he was confident he could get answers.

He had to consider all possibilities.

Rory crouched low and eased across ten yards of terrain without making a sound. The howling wind played to his benefit because he could come in at an angle so the dog wouldn’t easily pick up his scent. Of course, the wind chill was cutting right through his hunting jacket, which he wore in order to give off the impression he was passing through on a hunting trip. It was prime deer hunting season and that would play to his advantage. Of course, most recreational deer hunters were already locked down in a bunk on their deer lease.

Stealthily, he moved along the perimeter of the campsite.

This time, he looked for any signs that a heavy object, such as a body, had been dragged out. But then, if Dex was a murderer—and that was a big if—he might’ve already done away with the remains. The campsite could be part of his cover—girlfriend stormed off just before midnight after an intense fight. She doesn’t return. Body is never found. With all the animals out searching for a meal, her remains could be scattered across the land.

It wouldn’t be the first time such a tragedy had occurred. Rory had come up against similar situations and worse in his ten years as a tracker. And even though his work brought him face-to-face with everything from hardened criminals looking to hide—and willing to kill whomever stood in the way of freedom—to profiteers seeking to make a quick buck on the black market, a trade that was unfortunately thriving, to traffickers—human and animal—he’d always brought them to justice.

In his life, no two days were the same and the variety kept his blood pumping. Most of his meals were cooked and eaten out in the open. There was something about food heated over an open fire that made it taste so much better than anything he’d ever tasted from an oven.

He could admit that life on the fringe had lost some of its appeal recently and that probably had to do with the beating heart in his chest, making him think about things he knew better than to want or expect, like a real home.

This life was uncomplicated. He didn’t spend his time glued to an electronic device like people in town. He didn’t answer to anyone or have to spend time with anyone he didn’t want to see, which also sounded lonely when he put it like that.

Taking in a slow breath, he inched forward.

Out on the range, a person’s mind could wander into dangerous territory if he wasn’t careful. Being alone with his thoughts for long periods used to clear his mind but not lately.

Inevitably, his thoughts would wander to Cadence. Conversations with her had always been enjoyable and especially with her spunk. Her smile was quick and genuine.

His heart acknowledged that she was dangerous and he knew deep down she could do a whole lot better in life than be dragged down by the likes of a man like him. He might’ve walked away first but she would’ve eventually. She would’ve figured out they were no good for each other. And his heart might not have recovered. For the hundredth time in the past five months, he reminded himself this was the only choice and that he’d done her a favor.

He’d catch the poacher who was running the show—if that man wasn’t Dex—which would shut down the heart of the operation. And then get back to Wyoming, where he’d taken personal leave. He was needed on the SJ Ranch as soon as he tied up this loose end. If he was going to show his hand, he’d admit that the possibility of seeing Cadence again caused all kinds of uncomfortable feelings to surface.

For now, he’d deal with what was right in front of him, the camp. He’d managed to inch close enough to see that there was no cooler. Was Dex gone?

Rory palmed the makeshift dog treat. Improvising was the name of the game out in the wild, where he’d learned to make do with what was on hand.

Boots opened his eyes and lifted his head as Rory dropped down next to him. Rory was no dog whisperer but he knew his way around animals. Another survival tactic. One he enjoyed.

“Shhhh, it’s okay, Boots.” He held out the broken pieces of power bar on his flat palm as he surveyed the area. Dex could show up any minute.

And then his gaze landed on the object that Dex had been hiding...a rifle with a scope pointing south, the direction of the Butler home.

Hold on. From this vantage point on the land, could he see as far as the estate? It would depend on the power of the scope.

Rory emptied his hand of the treats, dropping them next to the dog’s mouth. Boots wagged his tail as he happily went to town on the bits.

Rory pulled his night goggles down from his forehead and secured them over his eyes. Another quick scan of the area and everything looked copacetic. Of course, the goggles only allowed him to see fifteen feet around. Pitch-blackness circled the camp like a heavy fog.

He gave another pass to the area in order to make sure he and Boots were alone.

Dropping down to check the angle of the scope, he removed his goggles.

A curse rolled up and out.

Dex had a perfect angle.

The rifle was aimed at the Butler estate all right.

Rory would recognize that bedroom window anywhere.

It belonged to Cadence Butler.