Читать книгу Bulletproof Christmas - Barb Han - Страница 9

Chapter One

Patience. Silence. Purpose. The mantra had kept Rory Scott alive while tracking some of the most ruthless poachers in the country. Belly crawling toward a makeshift campsite on the Hereford Ranch in Cattle Barge, Texas, he adjusted his night-vision goggles to gain a better view and evaluate the situation.

A two-person tent was set up twenty-five feet ahead and slightly to his left. It looked expensive, like it was from one of those stores in the city that overcharged for basic camping supplies, promising to guard people from the elements or turn desk jockeys into outdoorsmen with the right backpack.

A campfire was spitting blue-and-yellow embers into the frigid night air not ten feet away from a brown-and-beige pop-up tent. The light coming from the blaze would be a beacon to anyone who might be traveling in the area. Of course, this was private property so there shouldn’t have been anyone around. The Hereford Ranch was one of the rare few in Texas that was successful enough selling cattle that the owners weren’t forced to lease parts of the land for hunting. The land and mineral rights were owned by one of the wealthiest families in the state, the Butlers. Rory had personal knowledge that no one had been given permission to be there. This campsite was a trespassing violation at the very least, possibly more.

A law meant to crack down on illegal hunting made it a felony offense to poach on someone’s land. And that sifted out the less-experienced thrill-seekers. The pros upped the ante, which also made them more dangerous than ever. Rory didn’t mind putting his life on the line for a good cause since he didn’t doubt his skills and could net a bigger paycheck because of the increased risk. Besides, he had no one at home waiting for him to return and that was the way he liked living life.

This campsite looked set up for a romantic rendezvous but Rory had too much experience to take anything at face value. He wouldn’t put anything past a skilled poacher. This whole scenario could be cover for a scout, someone who fed information to poachers.

Surveying the perimeter, Rory located a small bag of trash tied to a tree roughly ten yards away from the campsite. Every experienced outdoorsman knew to hang his trash far away from his campsite or risk attracting dangerous wildlife searching for an easy meal. By contrast, most didn’t shop at those overpriced stores.

Rory took a breath of fresh Texas air in his lungs. He’d been working on a ranch in Wyoming for the past five months while trying to keep his thoughts away from the woman he’d walked away from. Time was supposed to give perspective. He sighed sharply. Clearly, it would take more than five months to rid his mind of Cadence Butler.

When her brother Dade had called to say he needed the best tracker, Rory wasted no time getting on the road.

Of course, the Butlers didn’t know he was coming. He’d refused the job with his friends because it was best that no one—and that included the Butler family—knew he’d be on-site. Not just because of his past relationship with Cadence. Relationship? That was probably a strong word. More like history. It was their history that had caused him to momentarily lose his grip on reality by spending one too many nights with the off-limits heiress. Keeping the family, and everyone else, in the dark would give him the element of surprise. If one of the Butlers knew he was coming, word could get out.

Dade wouldn’t have called if he’d known about the fling. Rory and Cadence had kept their relationship on the quiet side, or so he had thought until her father confronted him. The charismatic Maverick Mike Butler had been right about one thing: Rory had no business seeing the man’s daughter. She was out of his league and Cadence would never survive his lifestyle of living on the range, being constantly on the go.

The thought of settling into one spot made Rory’s collar shrink. He had a cabin built for one in Texas near Cattle Barge that he called home. One was his lucky number.

No matter what else, it was best that the Butlers had no idea he’d be around. One slip would cause word to get out, since a small family-oriented place like Cattle Barge wasn’t known for being able to keep a secret. Hell, the town’s business had been plastered across every newspaper for months ever since Maverick Mike Butler’s murder last summer, which Rory was truly sorry for when he’d found out about it. Mr. Butler had given Rory a job when he was lost and alone at fifteen years old. Rory had kept his life on the straight and narrow because of the opportunity he’d been given and he would go to his own grave grateful for the hand up when he’d been down on his luck and searching for a steady place to land. Rory had never minded hard work, and Mr. Butler’s only caveat for keeping his job had been that Rory finish high school.

He had, and his boss had attended his graduation. He’d patted Rory on the back and told him he was proud of him.

Granted, the man didn’t like Rory having anything to do with Cadence. But Rory couldn’t blame a father for wanting to protect his daughter. Maverick Mike seemed to know on instinct the same fact Rory had surmised early on—that he’d only cause Cadence heartache.

Even though her father had had harsh words for him, Rory respected the man who’d grown up a sharecropper’s son but made good on his life.

His heart went out to the family for their loss and his thoughts often wound to Cadence in the months since, wondering how she was handling the news.

Being in Cattle Barge and thinking about the past caused memories of his parents’ volatile marriage to resurface. Heavy weights bore down on his shoulders and it was doing nothing to improve his sour mood.

To make matters worse, Christmas was around the corner. He’d lost touch with his sister, Renee, who was the only other sane person in the family. She’d split at seventeen years old, and then he took off shortly after. The holidays made him think about her, wonder where she was now and if she was happy.

Rory shook off the emotions wrapping a heavy blanket around him. No good ever came of thinking about his family or the empty holiday he faced being alone. He reminded himself that it was his choice to be by himself. He had no use for distractions.

He performed a mental headshake in hopes of clearing his mind. Surveying the campsite again, he skimmed the area for signs of people. It was cold tonight and he doubted the warmth from the fire would be enough. A piece of material meant to secure the tent flapped with the wind. Inside, it was empty.

Rory rolled a few times on the cold earth. His movement stealth-like and with purpose. This vantage point allowed him a better view inside the small tent. There were two sleeping bags that had been placed next to each other inside.

Being back on Butler land made him think about the time he and Cadence had stayed up all night talking in her father’s barn. It was the first time he realized his feelings were careening out of control. Because staying up all night with a woman to talk had never held a lot of appeal before her. Cadence was the perfect mix of intelligence, sass and sense of humor. She was always on the go and sometimes acted before she thought something through, but her heart was always in the right place. His chest clutched while he thought about her. He needed to stop himself right there. That was the past. She was the past. The best way to end up thrown from his horse was to keep looking backward.

Besides, nothing could be changed and he’d only end up with a crick in his neck.

A log crackled, sending another round of burning embers into the air. Rory hoped like hell the couple who’d lit it didn’t have plans to go to sleep with the blaze still going, if there was a couple. There was no accounting for lack of skill and knowledge. If this was a situation with inexperienced campers they might not even realize they’d set up on private property. A place as massive as Hereford was impossible to cordon off completely from the outside world, even though security would be tighter following Mr. Butler’s murder.

Rory changed position again, moving stealthily along the tree line near the lake. He crouched behind the trunk of a mesquite tree, watching, waiting. A blast of frigid air penetrated straight through his winter jacket. It was twelve in the morning, which could be considered early or late, depending on point of view. Tomorrow was supposed to be even colder. The mornings were already crisp and the forecast said a cold front was moving in for Christmas Eve in five days.

He shouldn’t complain. This was nothing compared to December weather in Wyoming. Forty degrees was practically a heat wave.

The twenty-hours-straight drive had tied Rory’s muscles into knots. They were screaming to be stretched. Exhaustion and cold slowed his reflexes. He’d have to take that into account if he confronted the campers.

Protecting the Butler property took top priority for reasons he didn’t want to examine. He’d known the family since he was a kid. His father had worked in the barn for part of Rory’s childhood before blowing up at his boss and getting fired. Rory had plenty of fond memories of spending time with the twins, Dalton and Dade. The Butler boys had treated him like one of them from the very beginning. That was most likely the reason he felt compelled to take this job and why he felt so damn guilty for having the fling with Cadence.

Rory could rest later when he turned over the bad guys and collected his paycheck.

At this time of night, the campers should have been in their tent. The wind had picked up and Rory was certain the temperature had dropped ten degrees in the last hour.

Moving silently along the perimeter of their camp, he repositioned away from the water, noting that this location was a little too close to the Butler home for comfort.

A noise on the opposite side, the place where he’d first set up, caught his attention. Rory flattened his body against the cold hard earth. Wind whipped the fire around as he flexed and released his fingers to keep blood flowing.

A man came into view of the firelight. He had to be roughly five feet ten inches, if Rory had to guess, a good four inches shorter than him. The guy had on jogging pants, tennis shoes and a dark hoodie. A smallish dog—on closer inspection, it looked like a beagle mix—trotted behind City Guy’s heels. That was bad news for Rory because the dog would pick up his scent and give away his location. Even with the fierce winds, it was only a matter of time before the beagle found him.

To avoid that fiasco, he would make himself known. He hopped to his feet and moved about fifteen feet closer before making a loud grunting noise to call attention to his presence. He needed a good reason to be out there alone this time of night...

“Dammit,” he said loudly as he stalked out of the shadows, making as much noise as one man could without a herd of elephants behind him. “I seem to have lost my hunting knife. It was a present from my girlfriend and things haven’t been so great between us lately. I really don’t want to have to go home and explain that. There’s no chance you’ve seen it, is there?”

From this distance, Rory could see the man’s face had a day’s worth of stubble and he was wearing one of those expensive compass watches. No way was this an outdoorsman.

City Guy seemed thrown by Rory’s presence, making him believe the man was either up to no good or scared out of his wits. Poachers were generally harder to detect and it usually took days, sometimes weeks, to track them. They rarely ever set up camp unless they were armed to the nines or stupid, and the latter were easily caught.

The man quickly recovered a casual disposition, bending down to grab his dog by the collar. He took a knee next to the beagle. “Sorry, what did you say you’re looking for?”

“A knife about so-big.” Rory made a show of holding his hands out, palms facing each other, to indicate a roughly nine-inch blade and subtly lead the man to believe that he wasn’t carrying another weapon. In this position, it would take Rory approximately three seconds to drop, roll and come up with the handgun in his ankle holster. Everyone in this part of Texas carried for protection against wild animals, so he assumed City Guy was armed, too.

“What makes you think it’s around here?” City Guy said, keeping a cautious-looking eye on Rory while covering most of his face with the brim of his ball cap.

“According to my GPS, I was somewhere around this area hunting this morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Technically, yesterday morning. Guess it was pretty early, around daybreak.” Rory was fishing to see when the guy set up camp.

“We didn’t get here until noon. I checked the area as I set up and didn’t see anything.” The guy shrugged.

“I’m Rory, by the way.”

“My name is—” there was a hesitation so brief that Rory almost wrote it off as his imagination but then City Guy finished “—Dexter but everyone calls me Dex. And this is Boots.”

He made a show of scratching the dog behind his ears.

Even though Dex was considerably smaller than Rory, it was obvious the guy hit the gym. And Rory would put his life savings on the fact that the guy’s name wasn’t Dexter.

“Nice to meet you both.” Rory picked up his earlier ruse by pretending to search the ground using his phone’s flashlight app. Maybe he could needle the guy for a little information or see if he could get him talking and trip him up. “I’m such an idiot. How does someone lose a nine-inch knife?” He shook his head and threw his hands in the air.

“It most likely slipped out of your pack,” Dex said. “Could happen to anyone.”

“You’re probably right.” Rory scanned the ground. “And I’m starting to think I was crazy to think I could find anything in the dark.”

“Your flashlight might catch the metal,” Dex said, keeping one eye on Rory.

“That was my thought, too.” If he could get the guy to think he was an amateur, he might be able to lower his defenses even more. In this case, it was hard to know who was playing whom. “You come out here a lot with Boots?”

“No. My girlfriend, Lainey, is here. We’re doing a romantic thing for the night. I thought it would be a good idea. You know, the whole under-the-stars thing, but I’m not so sure she agrees. She might’ve ditched me and headed to a roadside motel.” He laughed and it sounded a little too forced. “You didn’t bump into her, did you? She’d die of embarrassment because she asked for privacy to take care of business. She’s a redhead and she’s wearing a white down coat, full length, with snow boots.”

Dex was giving too many details as he described her. Was he nervous? Lying? There was no reason to describe his girlfriend out here. If Rory saw a woman at this hour, it would have to be her.

“Maybe I’ll stick around until she gets back so I don’t catch her off guard,” Rory said, pretending to keep busy while waiting for a reaction.

Dex wore a red ball cap and kept his face angled toward the dog, making it difficult to make out his features, even though he was near the fire. “As long as you return the way you came, there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good point.” Rory figured the more Dex believed he agreed the better. “How long are you two planning to stick around?”

Again, he listened for a slipup.

“Just the night,” Dex said.

“Ah, here it is,” Rory bent down and picked up something from the ground. He bit out a curse. “Never mind. It’s a flattened soda can.”

“Bad luck,” Dex said.

“Always,” Rory quipped, trying to make the guy think he was being buddy-buddy. Comradery could go a long way toward lowering Dex’s defenses and getting to the truth. Why was he camping on Butler land? Rory didn’t believe for one second that it was for love. This guy was here for a reason... But what?

“I better head out before your girlfriend gets back. Wouldn’t want to ruin the mood.” Although, if she was really on a bathroom break, Rory couldn’t imagine that was possible. But stick around much longer and Dex would become suspicious. As it was, the guy was being cautious. The campsite. The nonexistent girlfriend. The innocent camper act.

Everything was off about this situation.

“Catch you around.” Rory turned and caught sight of the glint of metal in Dex’s hand against the glow of the fire.

A weapon?

He decided to stick around another minute.

* * *

CADENCE BUTLER CLOSED the door to her bedroom. She was home, only it didn’t feel like it since her father’s murder. The place would never be the same without him. She put a hand on her growing belly as a wave of sadness crashed down around her, threatening to chew her up, toss her around and then spit her out into the surf.

Other than one quick stop over the summer, which netted an unfortunate incident with the law, she hadn’t been home for good reason. Trying to scare her half sister, Madelyn, out of town had been a childish lapse in judgment. Those were racking up.

How she’d concealed her pregnancy for so long was a mystery. At six months pregnant, she was surprisingly big. Or at least she’d thought so. Her doctor had reassured her that it was perfectly normal for a woman carrying twins to show as early as she had.

Another wave of melancholy hit as she thought about the babies who would never get the chance to know their grandfather.

“I can’t wait to see you running around on this land someday. Just like I used to when I was a little girl,” she whispered, resting her hand on her growing baby bump.

It was late and she was grateful to have slipped inside the house without seeing anyone, without any drama. Come morning, there’d be a million questions and she still didn’t know what to say about the pregnancy. Her fling with Rory had been kept secret. He’d wanted to tell her brothers but she’d convinced him not to say anything.

There was a practical reason for her coming home that didn’t include the big reveal of a pregnancy with twins. She thought about the poachers encroaching on the land, taking advantage of the distractions following her father’s murder. Her blood heated thinking about the kind of person who would try to capitalize on a tragedy.

Running Hereford Ranch had its challenges. Ones her father had made look so easy. But then people had known better than to mess with the ranch while her father was alive. Poachers must see the new regime, including her, as weak or they wouldn’t be encroaching. They were about to be taught a valuable lesson, she thought. Her thoughts shifted to the best tracker in the country, Rory Scott. Rory was in Wyoming tracking other poachers. He’d broken her heart when he ended their fling and walked out five months ago. Thinking about it, about him, stressed her out.

A warm bath would do wonders toward relaxing her tension knots. Strain wasn’t good for the babies. Neither was sadness and that was part of the reason she’d stayed away from the ranch. Being here without her father...

Cadence couldn’t go there.

She slipped inside her room, grateful there hadn’t been a big deal made over her return. No one would bother her until morning and that would give her time to think up an excuse as to why she was coming home six-months pregnant with Rory Scott’s twins.

Thankfully, her bathroom was adjacent to her room. Access was restricted. She didn’t want to deal with her brothers and sister tonight. She wanted to get her bearings first. Being home, facing the ranch, brought back so many memories. Good memories that made her wish she’d had more time with her father. She gulped for air.

The father she rarely understood but always loved was never coming back.

Her heart clutched. Moving past her window, a chill raced up her spine and she got a creepy feeling. It was most likely her imagination. Or...

Was someone out there watching?