Bridal Falls Ranch Ransom (11 page)

The explosion of glass close by grabbed his attention, but it was the sound of Eve’s instantaneous shriek that brought him back to his current problem.

J.P. bailed out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist. His heart hammered in his chest as he beat a wet trail to her door, turned the knob and burst in.

Eve stood near her design table with her hand covering her mouth.

“What happened?” He studied her as he stepped closer, seeing the fist-size hole in the plate-glass window and the shards spread in a fan pattern on the floor. Realization shot through him as he assessed the scene.

“Someone just threw this through the window.”

Caution worked through his body. “Watch the glass.”

She nodded and stepped back. “I tried to see who did it, but it’s too dark outside. No porch light on this end of the lodge.”

“It’s a rock.” He studied the fist-size object and the brown paper bag wrapped around it and secured with a thick rubber band. He had to give the pitcher credit; a stone was the best way to get a message to Eve.

“Crude, but effective.” Careful to avoid the chunks of glass, he stepped closer, bent down and picked up the rock with his free hand. With the other one, he held the towel securely at his waist.

“It weighs a couple of pounds.”

“A caveman’s .308?” she said, glancing up at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He wanted to chuckle at her amusing reference, but he fought the urge with a straight face. This lob over the castle wall had come with a message attached. One he doubted either one of them was going to find funny.

“Open it,” she urged, eyeing him where he stood.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see a degree of heat darken her blue-eyed gaze as it flicked across his lack of clothing and the towel around his waist.

“I’ll do it.” Eve reached out and plucked the rock from J.P.’s open palm, welcoming the distraction from his broad shoulders, six-pack abs and narrow hips.

Unwinding the rubber band, she pulled it off and peeled the thick brown paper from around the hefty stone. “I’m destroying evidence, aren’t I?”

“Possible fingerprints, maybe some epithelial cells, but my guess is he wore gloves, and a badger-hair loincloth when he handled it.”

“And I thought I was a smart aleck.”

His sexy lips pulled up in a grin. Her knees went to jelly as she mentally melted into the floor. She sobered and opened the note.

“It’s a ransom demand. It says, ‘Have the half a million in unmarked bills. Put it in a stainless steel briefcase. Not a duffel bag. Wait for my instructions, or you die.’” She rebelled against the fear clamping down on her nerve endings.

Taking a step back, she found the back edge of the sofa with her rear and leaned against it to keep from swaying on her feet.

“It’s him. It’s the same man who took Thomas.”

Caution burned through J.P.’s blood. He knotted the towel at his waist, reached out and slipped the note from her fingers.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. The phrasing is the same. His verbal instructions to me the first time he called were for me to have the half a million in unmarked bills, and to put it in a stainless steel briefcase. Not a duffel bag. He made the same demand the first time he contacted me in L.A.”

“The briefcase request is unique, coupled with the duffel bag reference, but it’s not uncommon for a kidnapper to ask for unmarked or untraceable bills.”

“He used the same last line, too. Wait for my instructions, or he dies.”

J.P. studied the nondescript note cobbled together from random sources. Virtually untraceable, but he’d tell Sheriff Adams about it anyway along with the bullet-riddled truck in the garage.

This kidnapper was a hell of a long way from Los Angeles. Surely a stranger in these parts would have drawn someone’s attention by now. So what were the odds the kidnapper was right here?

Judging by the events of the past two weeks and the ransom note in his hand, he had to believe the odds were better than good. But it was going to take a clever offensive strategy to draw the kidnapper out into the open.

“Sheriff Adams won’t agree to handle this ransom demand. He’s going to insist we contact the feds.”

“No! Not the FBI.”

“Relax, Eve, I’ve got no intention of bringing them into this. I’ll send it out to the lab for analysis. Maybe they can find something.”

She nodded, her fearful gaze locked with his.

“You’re planning to participate in branding tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Fear flashed in her blue eyes for an instant as he watched her battle back the debilitating emotion. “I’ve been riding herd in it since I was a teenager.”

“Do you think you’d be willing to address the crew tomorrow morning?”

Pushing off the sofa back, she turned away from him.

Concern put him in motion. He set the ransom note down and reached out, pressing his hand against her back.

“I know it won’t be easy,” he said, feeling her tremble. “But we might be able to use it to draw the kidnapper out.”

She turned around slowly, and he let his hand fall away.

“An explanation is long overdue. I’m pretty certain they all know I sneak around the ranch in the cover of darkness, but they’re all too respectful to question it.”

Tears flooded her eyes, but they stopped short of spilling over when she blinked them away.

His heart twisted in his chest. Every nerve ending in his body tuned in on the fear he knew coursed in her bloodstream.

“I can do it if—”

“No. It’s my responsibility. The crew deserves to know what’s going on and why Devon is lying in the hospital right now. It has to come from me.”

Reaching out, he pulled her into his arms. She came willingly and pressed her cheek against his bare chest as he circled her in his arms. Desire burned through his body in red-hot swells.

“I’ll be right there with you, Eve.”

“I know you will.” She pushed back and stared up into his face. “Help me get the words right, so we can nail this bastard.”

Chapter Eleven

J.P. tightened the cinch and looked up to where Eve worked to saddle her mare.

“Whoa,” she coaxed.

The horse tossed her head for a third time and pawed the floor of the barn with her hoof in a show of agitation. The gentle talk seemed to be having no effect.

“What’s gotten into you, Ginger?” Reaching out, she stroked the mare’s neck. “You’re already working yourself into a lather. Better save it for the catch pen.”

“Does she usually act up?” he asked, coming around his horse to see if he could help.

“Never. She’s just excited with everything going on this morning.”

“Easy, girl.” J.P. reached out and put his hand on the mare’s neck, feeling the slick of sweat on her coat. “Maybe she’s picking up on your nervous vibe and working toward a tizzy. Maybe you should saddle another horse.”

“Once I get her out in the pasture, she’ll calm down. I’ll lope her in a circle for a while after I speak with the crew.”

“Okay.” He stared at her across the saddle seat as she worked the cinch, noting the flesh-tone pressure dressings she’d applied over her scars. “You look good this morning. I’m proud of you.”

Her gaze flicked up to meet his, an exaggerated swallow moving the cords in her delicate neck. “I may as well dive in. First day of the rest of my life and all that. We’ll see how it goes.”

“You shouldn’t discount courage, Eve. It took guts to come out here without your veil, and more to inform them about what happened to you.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Kemosabe, but it’s nothing that heroic. I’ve come to the realization that the Thomas Averys of this world can kiss my patootie. I’ve got to learn to face down people’s stares and answer their questions without malice. They’re just curious.”

“That’s what I love about you, Tonto. You’re not afraid to speak your mind.” He grinned at her, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming arrows of attraction darting between them in a volley he’d already lost.

She lifted the stirrup off the saddle horn and lowered it against the horse’s side.

“Have you had your mare long?”

“About five years. My dad purchased her for me when he bought part of the Clayton Ranch. Roger Grimes sold off some of his horses along with his livestock. She was a champion reining horse in her day.” Reaching out, she patted the mare’s neck. “Competed nationally. You’ll get to see her work the herd today. It’s amazing to watch.”

He couldn’t agree more, but his focus was on Eve. Her genesis had begun, and it was incredible. No veil to hide her face, and a cowboy hat shoved low on her forehead. Eve Brooks was a fighter, a champion in his book.

“I finished my background check on the Bridal Falls temp cowboys this morning.”

“Find anything?”

“Everyone came back clean, with the exception of one. Ted Allen. He has an outstanding warrant in Montana for failure to appear stemming from a barroom brawl he was involved in.”

“We’ll keep him out of the bar.” She raised an eyebrow and pulled her horse’s reins free from the hitching post. “He’ll be gone in a week. I’ll give him his paycheck and release him from the crew as soon as the first half of the calves are ear tagged and branded.”

“Fair enough.” J.P. untied his horse, turned him around and climbed into the saddle. “Still, I’d like to keep an eye on him.” The memory of the way Ted Allen had given everything in the barn a once-over bothered him. The man had also been the one who put his and Eve’s horses away the night the knife and sketch pad went missing out of the saddlebag. He’d shake his uneasiness once the cowpoke rode off into the sunset.

“That’s why I’m glad you’re here.” Eve shot him a quick glance, liking the way he carried himself on horseback. Tall, but relaxed, muscled thighs pressed against the sides of the saddle, knees slightly bent, boots hooked in the stirrups, as if maybe he’d been born there. “I know I can count on you to keep me safe, no matter what.”

Fighting a wave of heat as intense as a blowtorch, she shoved the toe of her boot into the stirrup, reached for the saddle horn, pulled herself up and swung her right leg over.

“Where’d you learn to ride?”

“I was raised in a small town in Northern California called Tehama. Do you know it?”

“No.” Grasping the reins, she steered Ginger for the wide exit out the front of the barn. “What’s it near?”

“Chico.”

“I know where that is. The Sacramento Valley. Farm and ranch country.”

“Most fertile soil on earth.”

Together they trotted out into the morning sun and reined the horses due south toward the catch pen where the ranch crew was beginning to gather.

“So how’d you get to Los Angeles from there?”

“I drove.”

“Cute, Ryker,” she scolded, enjoying their easy rapport and his spontaneous sense of humor. “My friend Tina Davis who recommended you said you used to work for the FBI.”

“Yeah. Before I started my security company.” J.P. sucked a hard breath into his lungs. He didn’t want to go down this path. There was risk involved if she innocently stumbled into his admission like a pedestrian into oncoming traffic. They’d both get wrecked.

“What department were you in?”

“I worked a tactical unit.”

“Ah, a strategist. That’s why you’re so good at what you do now.”

Relief pumped through his veins. “Let’s just say, Uncle Sam’s training dollars served their purpose.” His nerves went slack, but tension remained locked inside his muscles, refusing to relent, reminding him the day would come when he would have to tell Eve the truth about Shelly’s death.

Eve maneuvered Ginger through the main gate Tyler Spangler held open and reined in her horse on the other side to wait for J.P. Her nerves were frayed, but a beat of confidence pulsed in her veins.

“Thanks, Tyler.” She nodded to him. “If you don’t mind, I’d like you to gather the crew for me before they ride out.”

“Sure, Miss Brooks.” He secured the gate, climbed aboard his horse and trotted off in the direction of the catch pens.

“You’ve got this, Eve.”

Settling her focus on J.P., she gained a measure of calm from his surety. He’d be right there with her, but hanging on the outside of the group. Watching for the slightest tell amongst the crew. Any sign that could lead them to the one responsible.

“You’re right.” She flashed him a grin and reined her horse for the gathering of cowpokes a hundred feet away.

J.P. nosed his horse in behind hers and pulled the big gelding up short a couple of lengths and slightly to the right of where she stopped Ginger in front of the gathering of cowboys.

From his vantage point, he could easily see each man’s expression as they shoved their hats back to look at Eve.

“I know there’s plenty of work to do this morning, so I won’t keep you long.”

He sized up each man’s level of comfort, assessing the way some of the crew relaxed into their saddles. Some crossed their wrists atop their saddle horns and leaned forward, expressing interest in what she had to say, while others simply stared at her, transfixed, a measure of awe on their faces.

“I’ve officially put Tyler Spangler in charge until Devon returns. You’ll be taking your orders from him today.”

Tyler tipped his hat in her direction. “Thank you, Miss Brooks.”

She nodded in his direction. “As you all know, I’ve been back at the Bridal Falls for the last six months, and as you probably know, you haven’t seen hide or hair of me, in the daylight anyway.”

A ripple of no answers rose from the cowboys.

“That’s because I was involved in a accident eight months ago that burned and scarred my face.”

One by one J.P. eliminated each man based on the look of surprise in his expression.

“As you can see, I survived, but not without needing skin grafts.” She turned the left side of her face toward the group. “You don’t see me out much in sunlight because it can upset the healing process of the grafts.”

He watched her swallow hard and pull in a quick breath. The worst of it was over for her.

“Now to a more pressing matter, the assault on Devon Hall. Tyler can tell you he’s doing fine and will be coming home tomorrow.”

“Godspeed,” Buck Walters said, nodding as the other members of the permanent crew chimed in with their own good wishes for the Bridal Falls foreman’s return.

“Sheriff Adams is investigating the crime and has taken statements, but what you don’t know is someone took potshots at J.P. Ryker and myself the same day while we were at Bridal Falls.”

“You think it was the same nut job who clocked Devon?” Ruckus Bartlett asked as he pulled his cowboy hat off and rubbed his sleeve across his forehead before slapping it back on.

“Yes, and last night someone fired on the ranch truck Tyler was driving back from town. It’s riddled with bullet holes.”

“Damn,” Buck said under his breath. “Why in the Sam Hill would someone want to hurt any of you?”

A blade of concern jittered across her nerves and knotted in her stomach. She’d managed to stir up more questions than answers. Now it was time to turn it over to J.P. before any information leaked out about the kidnapper’s threats against her.

“That was precisely my question. And that’s why I’ve hired J.P. to look after me.”

On cue, he nudged his horse forward up next to hers. One by one her rigid muscles went slack.

“I was able to find a .308 shell casing in the woods above the falls. It’s been turned over to Sheriff Adams for his investigation. He’s doing everything he can to find out who pulled the trigger, but it’d be helpful to Miss Brooks if you all kept an eye out for anything suspicious.”

“You bet we will,” Ruckus said, his sun-baked face lined and dead serious. “We can’t have anyone shooting up the place.”

The other cowpokes agreed.

“Then stay alert, stay safe and let’s brand some cattle.”

In a swirl of dust the crew disbanded, some toward the catch pens, others for the gate leading into the lower pasture next to the creek where a hundred head grazed.

“Thanks,” she whispered in J.P.’s direction. “I almost took that revelation off into the weeds.”

“You did a good job. If the guy responsible was listening, he’s got to be concerned. I’d expect him to make a move soon.”

A chill teased over her skin. “I’m going to shake out my horse.”

“I’ll get my assignment from Tyler.”

Eve headed out into the field enjoying the feel of the sun on her shoulders. The sensation brought tears to her eyes. Free. She was finally free again. Her fear of seeing repugnance in the eyes of the crew had never materialized. A thrill zipped across her nerves and settled in her heart. She nudged Ginger with her heels.

The mare responded and lunged forward.

Caught off guard, she barely had time to lock her fingers around the saddle horn to keep her seat.

Pulling back on the reins with her right hand, she attempted to bring the horse under control.

Ginger bolted, shaking her head back and forth as she picked up speed.

“Whoa!” she hollered, attempting to get the animal’s attention, but it was too late. The agitated mare took the bit and dropped her head below her withers.

The reins jerked out of Eve’s hand, and like a lasso, they snapped up and looped over the mare’s head.

Fear cut a deep path through her insides as everything went to heck in a hurry.

The reins tangled with Ginger’s ears. She spooked and took off across the field at a full gallop.

A scream ripped from Eve’s throat as the berserk horse blasted past the holding pens and turned for the open field.

Grabbing on to the saddle horn with both hands, she squeezed so tight her fingers stung. Eve dropped forward, taking a low profile atop the out-of-control animal. If she could capture one of the reins, maybe she could stop the horse or gradually pull the mare into a circle.

Sliding her hand along Ginger’s neck, she bent as far forward as she could and tried to grab hold of the rein on the left side, but she couldn’t reach it.

Two seconds later, Ginger stepped on it, nearly sending the speeding horse to her knees before the leather snapped.

Terror pinned Eve to the saddle. She stared at the ground bucking and diving below her.

Could she bail off at this clip?

If she did, she risked breaking her neck.

The sound of thundering hoofbeats pounding the ground behind her brought her head around. She stared over her right shoulder for an instant, spotting J.P. three lengths behind her.

A cry rumbled in her throat, dislodged and died in the wind.

Glancing forward again, horror worked through her body and held the oxygen in her lungs. A hundred yards ahead was a rail fence, and beyond that, a dense stand of trees so thick she could barely see into them. Sudden death if she didn’t get off this horse.

Now.

Spurring the big gelding, J.P. maneuvered to the left side of Eve’s horse, watching their approach to the fence in slow motion.

Neck and neck, he pulled slightly ahead, reached out and grabbed hold of the broken rein slapping in the wind.

Guiding the gelding with a firm hand, he began a sweeping turn to the right, using the horse’s body to block and steer Eve’s mare away from the fence. Together they reached the top of the turn less than ten feet from the rails.

J.P. pulled hard on the single strap of leather, his only connection to the crazed mare and the woman on her back, but the horse refused to cooperate. With a toss of her head, she tried to jerk the rein from his hand.

Tightening his grip on the leather, he spurred the gelding slightly ahead.

What the hell was going on?

His suspicions were growing by the second. Only a drug could send a normally sound animal on a rampage like this. He had to get Eve off the horse, or risk having her mixed up in a final crash he knew was coming.

“Eve!”

She raised her head to stare at him from under the brim of her hat.

“Kick your feet out of the stirrups!”

Her eyes went large and round, her features dissolving into a mask of terror.

“I’m going to pull you off! Don’t fight me!”

Her head bobbed in agreement, but the fear in her eyes remained as she slipped her booted feet out of the stirrups.