Читать книгу Shielded By The Cowboy Seal - Bonnie Vanak - Страница 13

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Chapter 4

It didn’t matter if Cooper Johnson had a room filled with weapons. She wasn’t safe here. Prescott had murdered Randall. She knew it.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Meg paced the living room, thinking hard.

She went into the kitchen and unplugged her cell phone from the charger.

The light blinked, indicating a voice mail. She dialed it and listened, her blood turning to ice.

Randall.

“Meg, they’re after me.” A small, gruff laugh, filled with terror. “Should never have stayed in this game, but I got greedy. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry for what I did.”

Sounds of a train going by in the background. Randall’s voice became more frantic and he spoke in a rush.

“Meg, I don’t have much time and I can’t be certain this phone isn’t bugged. Prescott’s in deeper than I thought. It’s not him you have to worry about...it’s his new friends with deep pockets, and they’re planning something big. Be careful. The documents and cash for you to live on are hidden. Remember 43.961281 and -71.058542. There’s also a backup microchip close to your heart. Watch yourself, Meggie.”

Hands trembling, she shut off the phone. Meg jotted the numbers down on a nearby pad. Then she looked at the cell phone. Police were investigating and would trace the phone number back to her.

Pulling open drawers, she pawed through their contents until she found an old-fashioned meat tenderizer. Perfect. Meg removed the battery from the cell phone and then set the phone on the floor and smashed it. Then she took the shards and placed them in a plastic bag to dispose of later.

It was a prepaid cell phone with a new SIM card that she’d paid for in cash. The police could call the number and use the phone to track her down. Randall’s call came three hours ago. Enough time for them to start checking out his phone calls.

The numbers played over in her head: 43.961281 and -71.058542. Tears burned her throat. Randall had lived a lavish lifestyle, jet-setting and spending money extravagantly, but he was a good man at heart, wanting to do the right thing.

And now he was dead because of it.

She went to the fireplace and warmed her ice-cold hands. All she had as clues were the numbers and a vague message about her heart.

What did those numbers mean?

A loud crash sounded outside, making her jump. Sophie barked and scrambled to her feet. Meg’s blood turned to ice. Immobilized with fear, she stared in the direction of the kitchen.

Right outside the sunporch.

Turning off all the lights, wishing she could bank the fire as well to plunge the room into total darkness, Meg took a deep breath. Gathering all her courage, she peered out the living room window that paralleled the sunporch. Fat snowflakes swirled in the storm, making it difficult to see, despite the dim glow of the porch light. Tree branches scraped against the side of the house like nails against a chalkboard.

The crash was probably the wind knocking over one of the clay planters on the steps. It made no sense that Prescott had found her, unless he’d traced her to Jarrett and Lacey...

Meg ran to the fireplace and seized the poker, carrying it like a weapon. She found the coat Cooper had left for her, hanging on a peg in the sunroom. Sophie trotted behind her, but she motioned for the dog to stay quiet.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. If something was lurking outside, she wasn’t going to hide in here, cowering in fear.

She was so tired of being afraid all the time.

Snow pelted her face, danced around in the air as she stepped onto the landing. The tiny light outside did little to illuminate the gloom. Wind whipped at her hair, sending tiny stinging needles into her skin.

Meg held up the fireplace poker, ready to swing at an unknown assailant. But no one was outside. The clay pot, containing only dirt, had been knocked over and lay in shards on the snowy ground. Nothing. Just the pot, knocked over by the wind. Still she stood there for a minute, listening to the wind howl and the trees moan under the storm, cold snaking down her spine.

A deeper cold she knew would never leave, not until she’d freed herself permanently from Prescott’s clutches.

Finally, the cold became too much to bear and she returned inside.

Meg set down the poker on the kitchen table. Using the kitchen phone, she dialed the toll-free number Lacey had given her.

Her former sorority sister answered on the first ring. “SOS.”

“Lacey, it’s Meg. I made it here, but I’m not staying.” She spoke in a rush, worried the connection would get cut off.

“Meg! We were worried about you.” Her friend’s relief was obvious. “Stay there with Cooper. You’re in a safe house now. We need you to stay put until we can find another place to move you.”

Move me. Like I’m furniture, only the moving meant putting more people at risk. Her throat tightened. She’d already played havoc with too many lives and endangered good people. It had to end now.

Fingering the diamond around her neck, she thought of the cash it would bring if she pawned it. Enough to find another place to run and hide, until she could figure out the numbers Randall had left her.

She hated pawning her grandmother’s jewel, but Gran would understand. Meg’s hand trembled as she gripped the phone. “No. I have a little money. I’ll find a place on my own. Thank you, but I can’t risk it.”

“Meg, please, I know you’re scared, but Cooper is the best...”

“You don’t know my ex. He’s ruthless and has enough money to make anyone vanish. You both aren’t safe. If he finds out you helped me... I can’t risk your lives, Lacey.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us, Meg,” Lacey told her. “Jarrett takes every precaution when it comes to our underground railroad of aiding women in distress. Coop’s going to give you a new ID, new passport, driver’s license...but it will take a little time.”

“I don’t have time. It won’t matter.” She gripped the phone and thought of Randall, and his cheerful, round face, now frozen in death. “Cooper Johnson can’t help me. He has his hands full here.”

“Cooper is a professional soldier and he’ll make sure you’re safe. He’s okay, Meg. Trust him,” Lacey told her.

“I can’t stay here. And you and Jarrett and Fleur are in danger, because if Prescott finds you...”

A crackling over the phone and mumbling in the background.

“He’s not going to touch Lace, or Fleur, and if he gets within one hundred miles of our house, I’ll be on him, Meg. Stay with Coop.” The deep, rumbling tones of former Navy SEAL Lt. Jarrett Adler sounded confident and assured.

But she could not take chances.

“Watch yourselves.” Meg hung up the phone, then she went to the window, worried about the storm. No time to go out in this mess. She had no car, and for now, she was stuck.

Stuck in a cottage with someone outside. She lifted the checked curtain at the kitchen window and peered out into the darkness again.

Was someone out there now, watching her every move?

Fear soured in her stomach. The barn couldn’t be far. She suddenly couldn’t stand to be alone anymore. She found Sophie’s leash and hooked her up and took the key to the front door off the peg in the kitchen.

“Come on, Sophie. We’re going to find Cooper.”

* * *

“Easy, girl.”

Coop finished walking Betsy around the barn, cursing the storm that kept the mare inside. Then he rubbed down Betsy once more for the night. He lifted the latch on the stall door and locked it behind him. In the stall next to Betsy’s, Adela poked her head out and looked at him suspiciously.

“Hey, Adela,” he murmured. He went to the minifridge where he kept carrots and apples and medication for the animals, and fished out a red apple. Coop unlatched her stall door and stepped inside.

But Adela backed away, laying her ears back.

Still wouldn’t take food from his hand. He needed to work with her more, needed time to work with her.

“It’s okay, girl. When you’re ready.” Backing out of the stall, he fumbled with the finicky catch and let himself out. Coop set the apple down on a bench to try later.

In the aisle, he sat on the chest containing cleaning equipment and pulled out his cell phone. After scrolling through messages, laughing at a stupid joke one of his teammates sent, he clicked onto a news station from Palm Beach County.

Needed to see what else he could find out about Meg.

And then he saw a headline screaming in bold type: Palm Beach Millionaire Found Shot to Death.

Coop’s heart raced. He read through the article, and then set his phone down, burying his face in his hands.

Damn it. There went his hope of getting to Jacobs and finding out how to track down M. E. Franklin, owner of Combat Gear Inc. Digging into this company was like a game of Chutes and Ladders he’d played as a child, and he’d just slid down a very long chute.

He dug into his pocket and withdrew a jeweled figure no bigger than his thumbnail.

It had a gold halo, a white crystal for a head and body, and two blue crystals for wings. His guardian angel.

“I’m sorry, Brie. I let you down again,” he whispered. “God, I wish you were here. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to keep you safe.”

Brie had bought it for him the day he enlisted. She’d pressed it into his palm as he slung his duffel over one shoulder. “To protect you, Super Cooper. No being the hero, okay? You come home to us,” she’d told him, and then hugged him tight.

He treasured it as much as he did his Budweiser SEAL pin. He’d tucked that angel into his uniform pocket and it had traveled with him ever since. The little angel had seen him through BUD/S, the Basic Underwater Demolition/SEALS training all SEALS endured, and was in his uniform when he’d taken a bullet in Ramadi that should have killed him. Jarrett had teased him about it at first, but later, his LT started thinking maybe that angel pin pulled Coop out of a bad scrape or two dozen.

He’d been banged up bad, came through it intact. But no angel pin could keep Brie safe. Only a damn vest that should have never been sold.

Coop ran a hand through his hair, his guts churning. He looked at the little guardian angel charm and felt his throat close up.

A noise at the barn door jerked him out of his ruminations. Coop pocketed the angel and stood, muscles tensing, his hands itching for a weapon as the barn door opened.

Wind blew the snow inside as Meg and her dog ran into the barn. Meg struggled to close the doors.

He stood, alarm pelting him. “What’s wrong?”

Had to be a hell of a reason to bring her out of the nice, warm cottage in this mess. Scanning her body, he felt relieved to see no obvious injuries, nothing but a hint of distress in her green eyes. At her side, the dog wagged her tail and then shook, spraying melting snow everywhere.

“I need to talk to you.”

She braved this snowstorm for a chat? Exasperated, he shook his head. “I told you, I’d be by the cottage later.”

“I know.” She came forward, snowflakes dusting her soft brown hair. “I also wanted to see how Betsy is doing.”

Nice of her to check, but he resented Meg’s intruding on his personal space, his retreat away from the world. “She’s good.”

Cooper splayed his legs and tensed. “Go back to bed and stay warm. You’ve just been through one bout with exposure. Unless you want me warming you all over again.”

Not a bad idea, his body cheerfully agreed. Amid the earthy scent of horses and hay, he caught a tendril of her fragrance, all floral and feminine. Yet another reminder it had been a long time since he’d had a woman warm his bed. Or warm anything of his.

Meg flushed a little and she bit her lip. He caught sight of her pulse pounding at her temple, as if she thought it was a great idea as well.

Right. Put that thought out of your gray matter, chum, ’cause it ain’t happening in this lifetime.

He heard a whuffing sound and hooves clicking against the cold cement floor, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Adela had nosed her way out of the stall and now stood in the aisle, right in front of Meg and her furball.

Son of a...should have fixed that damn latch. But it had been yet another thing on his long to-do list.

“Stay where you are and don’t move toward her,” he warned in a low voice, not wishing to alarm Adela.

Wariness faded from Meg’s expression. Instead, she pulled off one glove and started toward the horse. Terrific. Now I have to save you a second time tonight?

He murmured to the horse, hugging the left side stalls, not wishing to get kicked by Adela’s hind hooves.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” Meg crooned. She picked up the abandoned apple.

“Careful. Back off, now,” he warned. “She’s a rescue and had a tough time of it.”

“A rescue horse?” Her face lit up and she smiled with such warmth, it nearly took his breath away.

What would it be like to be greeted with a sweet, sunny smile like that every day? Marriage, family, a wife who would stick by his side, someone he could talk with, encourage her hopes and dreams like she did to him. Not the women he’d taken to bed and watched walk away, women who simply wanted sex because he was a Navy SEAL.

Shaking free of the thought, Cooper watched Meg with wariness. Adela had been a rescue from a group out West. Her owner failed to care for her, leaving her alone in a pasture without enough water or feed. Ribs stuck through her skin, and Adela had huge trust issues.

One didn’t simply walk up to a horse, let alone an abused one, and start chatting. But Meg walked toward her, nice and easy, approaching from the side, talking slow and soothing.

Adela trembled at Meg’s approach, her ears pinned back. Meg stopped and stepped to the side, her gaze averted.

“I know, pretty one. Someone was mean and hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. I just want to offer a little treat. A nice, fresh apple.”

Meg took the fruit and held it out. “I’m going to stay right here and let you see me, see I’m not going to do anything until you give the okay.”

She kept talking in low, soothing tones to the horse. Finally the mare’s ears returned to the side and she lowered her head.

Meg kept palming the apple. “I’ve got a good friend who really likes horses, just like Cooper here does. She’s small, so you have to be real careful around her. Sophie, go say hello to Adela, nice and slow, like I taught you.”

The mare didn’t retreat, and her muscles didn’t tense.

Tail wagging, Sophie went to Adela, approaching very slowly from the side to avoid the horse’s blind spot just as Meg had. The dog stopped about thirty feet away, watching the horse, as if gauging her reaction.

Ready to spring into action—it wouldn’t be good if the horse trampled the princess’s furball—Coop tensed.

When Adela relaxed, Sophie loped over to the horse. For a moment, the pair sniffed at each other. Jaw dropping, he watched as Sophie nuzzled the horse’s neck and Adela responded by playfully butting the dog.

Well, look at that. The dog and the horse. Remembering what Meg had said about Sophie being abused, Coop shook his head. Animals never ceased to amaze him. All the times he’d worked with Max, the Belgian Malinois who had been an integral part of the teams, he’d learned a lot.

But he’d never seen anything like this. Instant friendship. His gaze whipped over to Meg, whose attention remained riveted to the dog and the horse.

Meg made a hand gesture to Sophie, who moved away from the horse. Then Meg continued sidling up to Adela, holding out the apple. Adela plucked it with her big white teeth and munched. Meg stroked her neck, continuing to murmur soothing words.

With a reassuring pat to Adela, Meg left, Sophie trotting on her heels.

He must look like a fool, standing there with his mouth open. Coop approached Adela after she finished her treat and led her back to the stall. She went docilely, and he made certain to latch the gate firmly.

Then he turned to Meg, who was crouching down and petting Sophie. “Where did you learn that trick?”

She stood up. “I work with a local animal rescue group in Florida for abused horses, everything from feeding them to caring for their needs. Sophie has been a natural at getting the horses to calm down. I spent a lot of time at the stables training her to get horses to trust again.”

“You don’t look like the type to muck out a stable. Weren’t you worried about chipping a nail?” His gaze shot up and down the length of her body, from those well-manicured hands to her dainty feet.

Meg’s pouty mouth flattened. “My grandparents owned a farm up north and I grew up there. I know just as much about shoveling manure as I do about hosting a charity benefit, Mr. Johnson.”

Coop leaned against a bale of hay, slightly ashamed of jumping all over her. Maybe because he was attracted to her, too attracted, and felt a natural need to put distance between them.

Like between now and next week would be good.

“Adela’s had it rough. Thanks for that.” From beneath the brim of his Stetson, he gave her a meaningful look. “But next time, do as I say. I don’t care if you rescued all the wild mustangs in the West and tamed them, you don’t go walking into a man’s barn and approach any of the horses until you know their background. Deal?”

He removed his right hand from his pocket and shoved it out at her.

But she did not take his hand. Rather, the princess looked at his palm the way Adela had regarded the apple earlier.

Fine. He was here to keep her safe until the next step of her journey. Nothing more.

Meg went to a bale of hay and sat, Sophie at her side. She scratched the dog’s head. “What happened to her?”

He glanced at Adela. “I bought her from a kill pen last month. She was scheduled to be shipped to Canada to a slaughterhouse.”

Yeah, kinda harsh. He winced as her mouth trembled and she blinked rapidly. “I hate kill pens. I’ve bought a few horses from a kill buyer and managed to save them. But it’s never enough.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised. “You know about the business?”

“The foundation I helped was very involved in rescuing abused and abandoned horses, and horses sold by their owners for the slaughterhouse. Mainly older horses who had outlived their use, as seen by their owners. I’ve rescued a few. Once, I actually staged a protest outside the polo grounds to raise awareness.” Meg gave a rueful smile. “It didn’t win me many friends with the polo set, and I was banned for a month.”

His respect for her grew and he felt a little ashamed for judging her so quickly. “Good for you.”

Her expression fell. “When my husband found out, he was infuriated, because he had business dealings with executives who played polo. He said I did it deliberately to mock him.” Meg looked down, rubbing her hands against the jeans he’d lent her. “He wasn’t one for saving any stray animals. With him it was all business and all money, all the time.”

Cooper leaned against Betsy’s stall door. “That guy sounds like a total loser. Then why did you marry him?”

Meg bit her lush lower lip, and the little movement fired his blood. “When I first met him, he was urbane, charming and caring. He swept me off my feet. He was the first person to really listen when I talked to him about my plans and my dreams. He put my needs first, or so I thought.”

A faint flush tinted her cheeks. “He even fooled my grandmother, who approved of the marriage. She had hired him to take over the reins of the family business, and he saved our company when we were headed into the red. But a year after we married, my husband showed his true colors. And yet I stuck it out for two more years.” Her voice lowered, as if she were ashamed to say the words. “I thought I loved him. I was a fool for not leaving him sooner.”

Anger raced through him. Some men weren’t fit to have a relationship, no matter what their background. “It takes a lot of courage to leave. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

She looked him in the eye and said clearly, “I kept hoping he would change. He used to promise never to do it again.”

He’d heard that story before, and it rankled him that this pretty, seemingly frail woman had endured such abuse. Coop had been raised to respect women, and never hurt them, no matter what. The hardest thing for him to do as a SEAL was turn off that ingrained belief, and do his job in enemy territory when facing a woman holding a grenade...

He gentled his voice. “Someone like your louse of an ex will never change. The behavior is too ingrained in them. Like drug addicts, they find it hard to kick the habit.”

“You seem to know a lot about abuse.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Adela. “I have more than a nodding acquaintance with it. My sister was with a guy who used his fists when he got drunk.”

Meg’s eyes went round. “And how did she end the relationship?”

“She didn’t. I did, by showing the guy the business end of my nine-millimeter.” Cooper offered a grim smile. “Brie wasn’t happy I muscled into her life, but later, she thanked me.”

“You were being a concerned brother,” she said gently.

His smile dropped. Yeah, but he’d failed Brie in the one area he’d felt confident of protecting her. That little reminder truly rankled him. “Why are you here? You said you needed to tell me something. So talk.”

Inwardly he winced at his curt tone. The softness fled from Meg’s heart-shaped face and she looked wary. Even the dog growled at him.

“I came to tell you I’m only spending the night and leaving in the morning as soon as my car is fixed. That’s all.”

She turned on her heel, and the dog followed. Coop rubbed the nape of his neck.

Ah, damn. He was supposed to protect a woman for Project SOS and offer her safe refuge from an abusive spouse.

And she was going to bolt.

Cooper ran after her, blocked her from exiting the barn. He held out his hands, kept his body relaxed and loose.

“Don’t go because I’m an ass. Stay. You came here to find a safe place and I promise, you will be safe here.”

She watched him with narrowed eyes, and he could read the doubt in her expression.

Spreading out his hands, he wriggled his fingers. “Look at me. I’m not armed, and I will listen to you. If I say something stupid again, you can go ahead and do what my mom always does when I’m being dumb.”

Meg’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “And what’s that? Send you to bed without supper? Is that what I should do?”

Sending me to bed with you would be a most pleasant punishment. Desire surged through him, and his grin tightened as he struggled to maintain a grip on his emotions. There was something about this woman that scrambled his senses and made all his tightly held control go southward.

Straight to his groin, in fact.

He wasn’t the charming type like his teammate Stephen, or a ladies’ magnet like LT before LT had married Lacey. He’d always been quieter, more drawn to animals than people, and relationships were brief because of his time downrange with the teams. When he did have leave, it was always spent with family, not partying and impressing women.

But something about Meg drew him like a lodestone. Oh yeah, she was a beauty, but it was more than that. He’d had his share of beautiful women, some of whom were vapid as an air bag. Maybe it was the wounded look in her eyes he wanted to erase, or her sheer pluck, or the fact that she refused to cower.

That “no retreat” attitude he both admired and recognized.

But she’d fled a bad marriage and a man who treated her like a punching bag. Last thing Meg needed was unwanted male attention. Coop cocked his head.

“What you should do with me is tell me what drove you in here, in this storm, ’cause you had something you wanted to tell me before I went all ape on you. What happened?”

Her gaze darted away, a sure sign she was nervous. “It was nothing.”

Suspecting he wouldn’t get much more out of her, Coop opted for a different approach. He crouched down to Sophie and spoke in a low, soothing voice, the kind that coaxed women into his bed and animals to his hand. “C’mon, pretty girl. Did something scare you? Because if it did, I need to know so I can make it right. I want you to feel comfortable here in my home, and I sure do want you to stick around because my mom makes the best breakfast this side of the Mississippi. You can’t run off before you taste her cranberry-orange-nut muffins with honey butter.”

Sophie’s tail waved ever so slightly. She bent her head and sniffed in his direction. Then she cautiously approached him and smelled the hand he held out.

Meg watched as her man-hating dog licked Cooper’s hand. He glanced at her and winked. “She wants me to tell you. See?”

“I don’t understand. Sophie doesn’t like men.”

Scratching behind Sophie’s ears, he nodded. “She’s been burned, but animals are smart. They know which people will hurt them and which ones to trust.”

At his meaningful look, Meg sighed. “You’re not going to let this go.”

“Nope. I can be real stubborn that way.”

“There was a crash outside. I think it was the wind.” She looked away. “Or not. I had this feeling of being watched.”

Immediately he assessed the situation. She’d been alone in a strange place, all sorts of noises outside in the storm where anything could sound like a threat. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. I’ll come back with you now.”

“What about Betsy?”

Much as he wanted to remain in the barn, he couldn’t leave Meg alone. The horse seemed to be over the worst of the colic. “She’ll do fine. Come on.”

“It was nothing,” Meg repeated. “Just the wind knocking something over.”

Straightening, he turned toward the door. “Show me.”

The wind had died down, and the clouds had scudded across the night sky, showing a pale full moon as they made their way back to the cottage. The path was only a few hundred feet away, but he thought of Meg making her way to the barn in the dark with only a thin pencil beam from the flashlight to illuminate the way, and his guts churned.

He should never have left her alone.

At the porch steps, she gestured to the broken clay pot. Brie had planted marigolds in the three pots on the steps, and when they’d died, he simply hadn’t had the heart to do anything with them. Same reason he hadn’t cleaned out Brie’s closet or, against his mother’s wishes, gone through any of her personal things.

Cooper saw Meg’s trim boot prints in the newly fallen snow, and a set of paw prints leading from the front steps.

Nothing obvious. But he’d check the entire cottage to make sure.

“Go inside, get warm. I’ll be in shortly.”

His no-nonsense tone indicated business. Meg bit her lower lip again and then held out the flashlight. He shook his head. “Don’t need it.”

“It’s dark out here.”

“Yeah, and it’s how I roll. Go inside. Lock the door behind you.”

He was relieved to see her unlock the door and head into the cottage, the dog on her heels. Soon as he heard the lock click, he began a perimeter check. The new snow made it easy to spot any disturbances. And using a flashlight would be like a neon sign if there was anyone, or anything, lurking outside.

Cooper made his way around the cottage, using the light of the moon as illumination. Nothing. Maybe it was the wind. But he didn’t like it. Took a mighty strong wind to knock over a pot that heavy.

As he walked to the east, hooked around the house and examined the grounds, he got a prickly feeling on the back of his neck. Gut instinct saved his butt more than once in the field, so he paid attention to the night sounds, the quietness, the smells...

He inched toward the living room window that was parallel to the sunporch. And then his blood ran cold.

Another set of prints in the snow, these much larger.

As if a man had been standing outside the window, trying to peer past the curtains at Meg...

Using the spare key, Cooper let himself into the house. Meg sat at the kitchen table. “Did you find anything?”

“Maybe.” Coop headed to the closet and opened the gun safe where he’d stashed Brie’s .38 special. After loading it, he returned to the kitchen and showed her the gun. “Ever use one of these?”

Meg’s eyes widened to dinner plates. “No. Is it necessary?”

“Not as long as I’m around. It’s for when I can’t be at your side.” He showed her the safety. “Click this off and point and shoot, but only if you’re certain your target intends harm.”

She looked at the gun as if it were a cockroach. “I can’t use this.”

Coop considered. “Fine. Need you to do something. Ever make plaster of paris?”

At her head shake, he told her where to find the flour and bowls, and to warm the water. Taking the flashlight, Coop next returned outside.

After making another thorough perimeter check, he fetched the bowl of plaster. Coop poured the liquid into the footprints to let it set. Then he returned inside, locking the door. Pulling out a chair, he joined Meg at the table.

“You asked if I found something. I found a set of man’s footprints, size 14, in the snow. I wear size 11, and no one I know, even the hired help, wears shoes that big.”

Blood drained from Meg’s face. She hugged herself. “Prescott wears that size shoe. He’s found me. Oh God, I knew I never should have come here. He killed Randall and I’m next.”

Coop’s suspicions flared. He knew that name, all too well... “Randall?”

Meg’s gaze darted away. Bingo. Cooper leaned forward, all business now. She knew something and he was going to find out what.

“I think it’s time you started leveling with me about your ex. I need to know exactly why you ran away from him, who he is and what his business is. Starting now.”

Shielded By The Cowboy Seal

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