Her Cowboy Avenger (10 page)

The engine started with a roar. Seemingly a split second later, the truck began to back up, quickly turning and shooting out onto the road.

She stood there, her throat frozen in shock.

He’ll come back. He’ll come back. He has to.

She watched as the truck peeled away in the night, growing smaller, the taillights fading, until the tears finally blurred her sight and she could see nothing at all, the thought still echoing in her mind.

He’ll come back.

He has to.

He’ll come back...

* * *

E
LENA BOLTED UPRIGHT IN BED,
her heart pounding, her lungs squeezing so painfully she couldn’t breathe. She leaned forward, desperately trying to pull in air. It felt as if she was being suffocated, as though she were dying.

Until she realized she
was
breathing, her chest falling up and down, the breath flowing into and out of her lungs. But it didn’t ease the agony she felt in her chest, the sense that she was dying. And she realized it had nothing to do with not being able to breathe.

No, she remembered the feeling well, even without having dreamed it again. It was the feeling of having her heart broken, the worst experience of her life, the most painful thing she’d ever been through.

She sat there, trying to shake the awful feeling that continued to grip her. She began to push her hair back, only to realize the wetness she felt on her cheeks wasn’t the remembered sensation of the dream. She brushed her fingers across her face to find it damp with tears. Damn. She hadn’t had the dream in years, but it was as real to her as ever.

Those words continued to echo in her ears as loudly as though they’d actually been spoken an instant before.

He’ll come back.

Except he hadn’t. As long as she’d waited that warm summer night and the days and months that followed, Matt never had come back.

No, she realized with a start. It was different this time. Because after all these years, the dream had a different ending in reality.

He
had
come back.

And then her heart was beating faster again. It was eight years later, so much had happened—
was
happening—and it was nothing like she’d once imagined, but he was here.

He’d come back.

She sat there, trying to adjust to that basic fact that changed so much. It had been years since she’d had the dream, and it had returned only when the reality had changed.

He was here, in the bunkhouse just a short distance from where she lay.

Then she heard it.

A sound. A thump. Coming from somewhere outside.

Somewhere downstairs.

And for the first time it struck her that she hadn’t simply woken from the dream.

No, something had woken her.

She quickly jumped from the bed, reaching for the gun she’d placed on the bedside table for safety’s sake. From the moment she’d found Bobby dead downstairs, she hadn’t felt completely safe in this house. The gun didn’t do a lot to reassure her, but at least it was something. At the moment, she couldn’t have been happier to have it there.

Matt was nearby, in the bunkhouse. He might as well have been a million miles away for all the good he could do her there. If there was trouble, it was here.

Or did he already know? He’d said he would try to keep an eye out overnight. At the time she’d appreciated the gesture, but thought he was being overly cautious. True, she was uneasy in the house, but deep down she didn’t believe the killer was coming back. And while people in town were giving her a cold shoulder, she didn’t see them coming after her out here. Of course, no one had slashed her tires before, either. She probably shouldn’t count anything out at this point.

Moving to the window, she peered out.

She didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean nothing was there.

A shadow suddenly shifted at the edge of the yard. Her heart jumping, she whipped her head toward it.

Just in time to see Matt step into the light.

Relief shuddered from her lungs and she relaxed slightly. Then she noticed he was armed, too, a gun lowered but held in his right hand. He stepped forward gradually, cautiously, slowly looking from side to side as he moved toward the house.

Elena automatically shoved away from the window and headed for the door.

She raced downstairs. Seconds later, she was at the front door. Quickly checking outside before opening it, she spotted Matt just reaching the front steps. He was frowning. He still didn’t have his gun raised and didn’t seem particularly concerned. No, he seemed angry.

Something had definitely happened.

Figuring it was safe enough and needing to know what it was, she pulled the door open and stepped out on the porch.

He drew to a halt at the sight of her, surprise flashing across his face.

“What is it?” she asked. “What happened?”

Matt stood there, staring at her with a distinct sense of unease, his mouth slightly open.

“What?” she demanded, unable to take the suspense.

“Elena—” Shoving his gun into the back of his waistband, he stepped onto the porch, then stopped again and swallowed, his eyes flicking over her shoulder for an instant. Just a tiny gesture, little more than a reflex.

And a telling one. It was enough. Curious, she turned around.

Then she finally saw them, the letters spray painted in bright red on the front of the house to the left of the door.

She stepped back, partly from surprise, partly from revulsion, unable to escape the word the huge letters spelled out on the wall in such a garish tone.

MURDERER.

She flinched, the ugliness of it striking her like a punch to the face. It was all so ugly. There was no other word for it. The word itself. The garish red paint. The sentiment behind it. The fact that someone had come here, to her home, the one place in this world she should be safe, in the middle of the night and defaced it out of their hatred for her.

She dropped her head, unable to stand looking at it anymore, but unable to force her body into motion to turn away.

She sensed him come up behind her, approaching slowly, coming close enough that she could feel him there behind her.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” she responded automatically, hating the quiver she heard in her own voice.

“Yes,” he said firmly, his voice pulsing with anger. “They’re not going to get away with this. I’m not going to let them.”

Every word rang with certainty and determination, leaving her no doubt he fully intended to do what he promised. She just wasn’t sure if even he was capable of it.

Them
. It didn’t matter if it was only one person who had done this. Because it wasn’t just one person against her. It was the whole town.

This damn town.
She should have gotten out when she’d had the chance, should have left it behind her and never looked back.

Should have left with
him
...

Matt gently turned her around to face him, his hands laying lightly on her upper arms. “Hey,” he said again. “Don’t let them do this to you. You’re going to make it through this.”

It was the tenderness in his voice more than the words alone that called to her, making her raise her head to meet his eyes.

The kindness she saw there, the concern, nearly broke her. She couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that, when anyone had so simply and genuinely cared about her feelings. To have it come from this man, a man she’d once believed she loved, a man she hadn’t thought she’d ever see again just twenty-four hours ago, was almost more than she could bear.

She stared up into his eyes, this man who’d been out of her life for eight long years, who’d reappeared in her life so suddenly for reasons she still wasn’t sure she understood, or maybe wasn’t sure she believed. Once again she found herself studying him, trying to understand what he was thinking, what he was doing here. At least at first. Because, as it always had before, the longer she looked the more it struck her how beautiful he was. His face was more mature, even more masculine than before, and somehow even more beautiful.

Then she saw that look in his eyes change, becoming more heated, more intense, stroking over her face.

And out of nowhere, she felt her body respond. The emotions that had been churning within her ebbed away, replaced by an incredible sense of warmth that built from her core, pooling in her belly and flowing outward to fill every part of her.

She’d tried to tell herself that what she was feeling was the residual emotions from her memories. She wasn’t really this attracted to him now.

But this wasn’t nostalgia. This wasn’t a remembered emotion. It was real, and it was more powerful than anything she remembered.

It was also madness. He’d been back in her life less than a day.

It didn’t matter that her marriage had died long before her husband did. Bobby had been dead for less than two weeks. To feel something for someone else so soon, especially
this
someone else...

Would be a mistake, she reminded herself firmly. And she’d already made far too many of those in her life.

She deliberately took a step back, breaking the eye contact to glance down the empty driveway. “Did you see them?” she made herself ask. “Did you see who did this?”

“No,” he said, turning to follow her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. They must have come on foot. If they’d driven up we would have heard them.” She frowned. “Though I did think I heard something...”

“An engine?”

“No, some kind of noise. That’s why I got up. I thought I heard something outside the house.”

Their eyes met, and she saw him coming to the same conclusion she was. If the noise had been made by the vandal responsible for this, then that person had been around not too long ago.

Could still be somewhere nearby now.

“Stay here,” he ordered. Without waiting for a response, he bounded back down the stairs, grabbing his gun from the back of his waistband. Checking in both directions, he tore off around the back of the house to the left.

Suddenly realizing she still had her own weapon in hand, Elena raised it and held it poised in front of her. She scanned the yard and driveway for any signs of anyone. Logic said whoever had done this had probably taken off as soon as they’d completed what they’d come here for, not wanting to get caught. But part of her wondered if they might not have lingered, wanting to see her reaction, the result of their handiwork.

And she’d given them exactly what they most likely wanted, she realized, remembering her reaction, the way her first glimpse of the vandalism had hit her. She was instantly angry, as much with herself as with the person who’d defaced her home. She could just imagine that person standing out there in the dark, waiting to see how she reacted, relishing in having been able to torment her.

No more.

She didn’t know if they were still out there—she doubted it—but she still straightened her spine and stared out into the darkness. She hoped they were watching.

Because she’d had enough. She wasn’t going to put up with any more, and she’d be damned if she let anyone in this town see a hint of weakness from her again.

Chapter Eight

It was almost noon when Matt got up the next day. As soon as he saw the time, he felt guilty for having slept in, rising to his feet with a muffled curse. He’d intended to get up early and check on the horses and maybe the cattle, familiarize himself with the way things were around here. Elena had shown him around a bit last night after dinner, but he wanted to get a feel for the place on his own. If the two of them were going to keep this place running by themselves, they were going to have to figure out how to make it work.

Then again, there were more important things to focus on, and it wasn’t like he’d gotten much sleep last night. He’d run around in the dark for what seemed like hours. There’d been no trace of the scumbag who’d vandalized Elena’s house. As far as Matt could tell, the guy had most likely parked on the main road and walked up, approaching from the side. It wasn’t that long of a walk, there weren’t any lights along that way to reveal an intruder, and someone could likely get in and out pretty easily.

The guy might not know it, but he should really consider himself lucky for having gotten away. He probably wouldn’t have liked what would have happened if Matt had gotten his hands on him, not after he’d seen the look the bastard’s actions had put in Elena’s eyes.

He still might not, Matt amended. Somebody who’d pulled something like that once might be willing to try it again, and Matt had no intention of letting him get away twice.

In the meantime, there was ranch business to be taken care of, not to mention a murder investigation to deal with. Far too much for him to spend any more time in bed.

He showered and dressed quickly, intending to check on Elena first thing. She’d looked calmer, stronger,
angrier
when they’d met back up after his unsuccessful search for the intruder. He’d been glad to see her resilience in action, but he still remembered how shattered she’d looked when he’d been unable to keep her from seeing what the intruder had painted on the house, how lost.

And how beautiful, staring up at him in the moonlight.

Yes, he remembered that, too. It was just something else he didn’t have time to deal with right now.

He was pulling his boots on when his cell phone rang.

Recognizing the number, he quickly answered. “This is Matt.”

“It’s Pam,” she said shortly.

“Glad to hear from you,” he said, meaning it. They really could use any help she had to give. “What do you have for me?”

“Not much on the town. It seems like a pretty typical small town without much to distinguish it. A fairly insular, static community. Not many people move there or leave. It generally hasn’t made the news, barely makes the map.”

Yeah, sounded like Western Bluff all right. “What about Elena and her husband?”