Lone Rider (4 page)

“My brother.”

He looked pleased to hear that. Had he thought Jace was her husband? “So...” His gaze went to her ring finger as if he was double-checking to make sure there wasn't a wedding ring.

“I'm not married,” she said, even more amused.

He raised his gaze, his grin broadening into an embarrassed smile. “But you do have a boyfriend.”

“Nope.” She joked that she couldn't have a boyfriend until she could keep a houseplant alive. In truth, her priority was her daughter and had been for the past four years.

“Really? No boyfriend, huh?” One eyebrow shot up. “I thought... Never mind.”

“I have a three-year-old daughter,” she blurted out. If he was thinking of asking her out, which he probably wasn't, she wanted him to know up front. So many men weren't interested in a woman with someone else's kid.

“I've seen you with her. She's adorable.”

“Thanks.” She took a sip of the coffee, surprised how nervous she was. Alex was so not like the men she'd known. He had a job! True, it apparently was only part-time, but still...

She debated telling him she'd done jail time, but she reminded herself he hadn't asked for her life history. Or for a date. And yet, if her daughter hadn't scared him off...

“Would you like to go to a movie this weekend?”

“Really?”
She hadn't meant to sound so shocked. The word had just slipped out. But she couldn't believe he was actually asking her out.

“You do go to movies, don't you?”

She laughed nervously. “Sure. I mean, yeah, I'd like to.”

“Great. We can go to Bozeman and see one that's rated for kids if you don't want to get a sitter.”

Who was this man?
“You'd be all right with Jodie coming along?”

“Sure. Or we can see something else if you'd rather. I'm new at this, but I'd be happy to pay for the sitter.” He sounded as nervous as she felt.

She laughed, and he seemed to relax. When he smiled, his brown eyes shone. “Maybe it should be you and me the first time.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she'd said. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. “I mean—”

“Then it's a date.” He smiled broadly and asked for her number. She watched him type it into his phone. A moment later she heard her phone ping, alerting her to a text. “I just sent you my phone number. Text me with what night would work best for you, and we'll come up with a time. Might as well have dinner before the show. Do you like Italian, Asian, Mexican or all-American?”

“All of the above,” she said. Then, looking at her phone, she realized what time it was and shot to her feet. “I need to get back to work.” Even with Bo gone and things in a panic at the office, she didn't like taking more time than she should have for her coffee break.

“Talk to you soon,” he said as she rushed out the door, smiling to herself.

* * *

R
AYMOND
J
AY
S
PENCER
J
R
.
couldn't take his eyes off the woman for more reasons than one. He hadn't believed it when he'd first seen her. It was as if his prayers had been answered—if he'd prayed. Praying had gotten him nothing as a kid when his old man was beating the crap out of him. He'd known then that there was no God. No teacher or neighbor or anyone had saved him from his father. He'd come to realize that all he had was the old man. Maybe he really did deserve what he got, like his father kept telling him.

“Bo-Peep,” he said, trying the name and tuning out her pleas and reasons she needed to get back to town. The first time he'd crossed her tracks, he'd stared at the fresh horseshoe prints in the trail for a long moment. He'd spent the past three weeks making sure his path hadn't crossed another soul's.

This morning, though, his feet hurting, hungry and ill-tempered after all this time hiding out in the mountains, he couldn't help himself. Mostly he was sick of walking after he'd lost the horse he'd stolen. The damned animal had gotten spooked by a grizzly, thrown him and taken off, never to be seen again. The fall could have killed him, so he'd promised himself that if he ever did see that nag again, he would shoot the horse on sight.

He'd been on foot ever since. If his old man wasn't going to be bringing him supplies and horses soon, he would have headed off these mountains in a heartbeat. But he'd learned the hard way over the years not to cross his father, Raymond Jay Spencer Sr., or RayJay, as he was known.

The prints in the dirt had looked like one horse, one rider. Damned tired of walking, he'd told himself maybe he would get lucky and could steal the horse without killing the rider. Or maybe not. He'd been in one of his moods, aching to hurt something or someone. So when he'd seen the horseshoe tracks, he'd looked at his worn-thin boots and told himself he would be riding soon.

But what was he going to do with the woman? He had some ideas. He gripped her soft flesh and let his imagination run wild as she went on again about how he really needed to let her go.

He didn't give a rat's ass about what she was saying. The problem was that his daddy wasn't going to like this.

Then again, maybe by the time the old man arrived, there wouldn't be any trace of little Bo-Peep.

* * *

T
HE
SUN
MADE
its slow arc over the top of the pines, sinking behind the peaks as Jace rode into the mountains. As he felt the day waning, he grew more anxious. He'd thought he would meet her on the trail. The fact that he hadn't made him even more convinced that Bo was on the run.

A magpie landed in a pine limb high over his head in a flurry of black-and-white wings. It called down to him, breaking the silence of the forest. He stopped to rub the back of his neck, his hair damp against his skin. Ahead he could see a band of rocks that formed a steep cliff.

Where are you, Bo Hamilton? Are you watching me right now? Do you have the crosshairs of a rifle trained on my heart at this very moment?

He spurred his horse, worried that just might be the case. If she was on the run with the money and she had a male accomplice, anything was possible. He'd picked up only one recent horse trail, but that didn't mean she hadn't been planning to meet someone here, someone who'd been waiting for her. It was the reason he'd brought his rifle as well as a pistol, a knife and a length of rope.

Bo was going back with him even if he had to tie her to her horse. But what would he do if she wasn't alone?

Jace told himself he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now his thoughts were with his kid sister. He worried about Emily all the time as it was and had for years. She'd been a rebellious little thing after their parents were killed. He'd been eighteen and didn't know squat about raising a kid, so he probably hadn't made things easier for Em.

When she'd gotten older, he'd hoped for a long time that she might meet some nice man. But most nice men were put off by a woman who looked and dressed the way Em did. She didn't seem to realize the image she projected.

“Sorry, but this is me,” she'd said defensively when he'd broached the subject. “If a man can't see beyond the tattoos and the piercings, he isn't the man for me.”

But her looks had also made it hard for her to get a job. He'd been surprised that Bo had seen beyond the image and hired her. Emily was smart and talented and a good mom. He'd seen the change in her since she'd come back here. She appeared tired of being that defiant, angry, wild girl she'd been. He saw that the job was responsible for the change in his sister. She loved her job and Bo. She looked up to Bo, wanted to be more like her.

The only shadow on the horizon was her criminal ex-boyfriend, Harrison Ames. Fortunately he was still locked up in prison. Jace dreaded the day the man got out. Ideally Em would have her life together and wouldn't even be tempted to get involved with the man again. Jace had never understood the attraction to begin with. Some women thought they didn't deserve any better. But his baby sister sure as hell did.

That was why he couldn't allow Bo to let Emily down any more than she already had.

* * *

A
LEX
WATCHED
E
MILY
hurry across the street, smiling to himself. He'd wanted to ask her out for weeks but hadn't gotten up the nerve.

His cousin Jeff, who worked for him, had tried to talk him out of it.

“You're not her type,” Jeff had said.

“What do you think her type is?” Alex had wanted to know.

“Someone cool like a musician, an artist, a gang member—maybe a known criminal.”

“Very funny. You're judging her by her looks.”

His cousin had stopped working to stare at him. “Not just that. I heard she's done time.”

“So she's turning her life around.”

Jeff had shaken his head. “Also, she has a kid.”

“I know. I've seen her with Jodie.”

“
Jodie?
You know the kid's name?”

“I happened to hear her call her daughter by name. You're making too much out of this.”

“Am I? I know you, remember? When was the last time you went out on a date?” Jeff had lifted a brow. “Exactly. You haven't dated since Carmen.”

“Cathy. You know her name was Cathy.”

Jeff had laughed. “How could I forget? All I heard for months was Cathy this, Cathy that. The woman broke your heart—just as I predicted. Didn't I try to warn you about her?”

“Yes.”

“Did you listen? No.”

“This woman is different.”

“Boy howdy!” His cousin had laughed. Then, sobering, he'd shaken his head. “If you want to take a ride on the wild side, go ahead. But don't be surprised if this girl isn't interested.”

“Why wouldn't she be interested?”

His cousin had laughed again. “Seriously? Because you're so boringly...normal. You're a computer geek who owns coffee shops and wears khakis and button-down shirts with loafers.”

“You're that convinced that she'll turn me down if I ask her out?”

“Aren't you? Isn't that why you haven't asked her?”

He
had
been afraid she'd turn him down. But he hadn't let that stop him today, had he?

“So you finally did it,” his cousin said now as Alex joined him behind the counter. Business had slowed enough that they could talk. “Did she let you down easy?”

“We're going to a movie this weekend.”

His cousin raised an eyebrow. “Good luck.”

“I like her.”

“It worked for Beauty and the Beast. I suppose it could work for Goth girl and the geek. Maybe they'll make a movie.”

Jeff was a cowboy, born and raised on the ranch. He liked women who wore Wrangler jeans and rode bareback.

While Alex had grown up with his share of girls like that, he found himself more intrigued by Emily Calder. She'd been raised here on a ranch just as he had. But she hadn't become a cowgirl or a cowboy's wife. Like him, she'd escaped to experience life beyond the state of Montana. But also like him, she'd come home.

She'd made her share of mistakes, from what Alex had heard. Now she was trying to do better for her daughter. He admired that about her. He found her interesting, and he was looking forward to getting to know her better.

If
he could get past the first date, he thought as he watched her disappear into the Sarah Hamilton Foundation office across the street.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw the now familiar car that was parked down the block. The car was a beater, and the man behind the wheel didn't look much better than the car.

Alex had gotten only glimpses of him. Long, dark hair, tattoos on his neck and arms, a battered black cowboy hat.

The man waited until Emily left the coffee shop and returned to the foundation office before he drove off—just as he had done the other day when Alex had noticed him.

As he watched the man now, he was left with no doubt about the man's interest in Emily Calder.

CHAPTER FIVE

A
S
THE
DAY
slipped away, all Buckmaster could think about was that Bo should have been back by now. He looked toward the mountains, imagining her riding out of the pines, back straight and head high, just as he'd taught her to ride. She would come back to face whatever problem she had at the foundation. She wouldn't run.

Misappropriation of funds...
Those were the words that kept circling in his brain, thanks to his lawyer.

As he entered the living room, he saw the television was on one of the news stations. Angelina had taken to watching the news nonstop from the time she awoke to when she finally went to bed.

“He looks like a hardened criminal, doesn't he?” she asked, her gaze on the television screen.

He glanced at the mug shot of the man on the screen. Raymond Spencer looked still wet behind the ears. He had freckles, for hell's sake, and baby blue eyes. He also looked as though he wanted to cry.

Another mug shot flashed on the screen. In this one, he looked older and doped up. He'd shaved off all of his blond hair. Something in his eyes had changed, as well.

“Turn that off,” Buckmaster snapped as the anchor said the man's escape was blamed on a communication gap between Livingston, Montana, law officers.

“The manhunt continues for Spencer, who is wanted in the armed robbery and death of a convenience store attendant. Spencer escaped three weeks ago after—” The television screen went black as Buckmaster turned it off with the remote.

Angelina stared at the blank screen. “He escaped in handcuffs. He would have to go somewhere to get those off, right?”

What was this obsession she had with crime? The moment Buckmaster thought it, he knew this was her reaction to what her brother had done.

“Do you think you could kill someone?” she asked, turning to look at him for the first time since he'd entered the room.

He sighed. “If I had to.” He didn't have to ask her the same question. He knew. When her blackmailer had been murdered, her brother had been arrested. But Buckmaster had suspected Angelina had given him the gun.

She'd denied it. But he'd come to know his wife. Angelina could be merciless. Understanding that had changed the way he looked at her, which in turn made him feel guilty. He loved this woman as much as he was capable of loving her, since Sarah had always been his true love.

But with Angelina came a debt. He owed her. He knew he wouldn't have achieved his political standing without her. Also, he knew he should be glad that she was sticking with him, given what they'd been through lately. Better to have her on his side. She would make one brutal enemy.

“We should make sure the doors are locked,” she said, getting to her feet. “Livingston isn't that far away. Who knows where that escaped killer is?”

“I'm sure they will catch him,” Buckmaster said. “I thought I read in the paper this morning that they had tracked him through a bus ticket.”

“To Reno, Nevada,” she said. “They think he bought a car down there and might have returned to Montana. There is concern he's still in the area since he was raised on the other side of the Crazies in Wilsall. They're calling him a violent criminal.”

“Angelina—”

“I just don't understand what makes someone do something like that,” she said as if she hadn't heard him speak.

That was the problem. He suspected she did know what made a person do horrible things. He stepped to her and took her in his arms. Her back was ramrod straight, her body stiff and unresponsive. They hadn't made love in months. Not since Sarah had returned.

After a moment, she stepped from his arms, and he let her go.

* * *

A
FTER
S
ARAH
'
S
APPOINTMENT
with the doctor, Russell brought her back to the cabin. He'd questioned her on the way home about what the doctor had said, but she'd been evasive.

“The tests were inconclusive. He just doesn't know.”

Now Sarah picked up one of the strawberries Russell had brought her earlier and took a bite. She closed her eyes as her teeth sank into it, a smile coming to her lips as she savored the fresh berry. Russell watched her, entranced. Since the moment she'd stumbled out of the woods in front of his pickup, she'd captivated him.

At first he'd thought she was an apparition, because he'd attended her funeral twenty-two years ago. This Sarah seemed so utterly vulnerable, lost and helpless. Since the day he'd found her, though, he'd glimpsed a strength and determination in her that astounded him. This woman was someone to be reckoned with.

As he watched her relish the strawberry and sigh with contentment, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from the world outside this cabin. But she wasn't his. Fate might have brought them together and made him feel responsible, but ultimately, the woman was still in love with Buckmaster Hamilton. Because of that, Russell wasn't sure where he fit into her life—if at all.

She'd made a point of not asking about Buckmaster. Did she think mentioning the man would upset Russell? Admittedly, it did. He knew what she was waiting to hear. “Buckmaster has been calling.”

Sarah looked up, her contented expression disappearing at just the mention of her ex-husband's—scratch that—husband's name. Buckmaster might have had Sarah declared dead after her body wasn't recovered from the icy Yellowstone River, then remarried seven years later, but in Sarah's mind and heart, Buckmaster was still her husband. Russell knew Buckmaster still thought of Sarah as his wife, as well.

“What does he want?” she asked as she pushed the small empty basket of strawberries aside.

He wants you
, Russell thought. The senator, now with one too many wives, couldn't stand that this was one part of his life he couldn't control. At least in Russell's humble opinion.

“He says he's worried about you. He likes knowing where you are and if you're all right.”

She smiled at that. “What did you tell him?”

“That you were safe and that he should worry more about his current wife.”

For the first time since he'd stumbled across this woman he'd thought dead for the past twenty-two years, she laughed a real laugh. It was rich, musical and delightful. He wanted to make her laugh for the rest of her life.

Quickly he quelled that thought, chalking it up to mere loneliness. His wife of more than forty years had died recently, leaving a hole that nothing had filled—until Sarah.

“None of this is Buck's fault.”

Russell raised a brow. They'd had this discussion before. He thought
all
of this was Buckmaster's fault and had said as much. “You tried to commit suicide twenty-two years ago,” he'd argued. “What happily married woman with six beautiful daughters, the twins only months old, drives her car into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter in an attempt to kill herself?”

“Maybe one with postpartum depression or a houseful of young children and a husband who...”

“Who was distracted with his political career?” Russell suggested.

She shook her head. “He was involved only in local politics back then, and ranching.”

“Something was wrong, and even if he didn't drive you into that river, he wasn't around enough to notice that you needed help.”

Sarah sighed. “Unfortunately, I can't remember, so I have no idea why I would do such a thing.”

Russell suspected something had happened to trigger her suicide attempt other than postpartum depression. He was betting Senator Buckmaster Hamilton was behind it. But Sarah didn't believe it. Or didn't want to believe it.

Russell didn't want to fight with her, though, so he said, “He wants you to come stay on the ranch. He suggested I bring you late at night to avoid the press.”

“He can't be serious,” she said, meeting his gaze.

Russell had said the same thing to the senator. “Apparently he is very serious. But you wouldn't be staying in the big house with his other wife. You'd be living in the bunkhouse complex he built for the girls. He said it's like a condo, and you would be comfortable and safe there.”

“
Safe?
Does he know the woman he's married to at all?” She shook her head, looking miserable. “That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Moving onto the ranch with him married to another woman? Can you imagine what the press would make of it?”

Russell couldn't help his relief. “Are you going to tell Buckmaster about your visit to the neurologist?”

“What would be the point? Buck wants answers. The doctor didn't give me any.” She let out a small, bitter laugh. “Buck won't accept that I might never recall the past twenty-two years. That those years might be gone forever.”

Russell wondered if Buck might surprise her and be just as glad she couldn't remember. He could see that a part of her
hoped
she wouldn't remember the past. But he knew those years weren't entirely gone. He'd seen her look startled on occasion, her eyes growing dark and cloudy, her hands balling into fists. But it was her expression that told him she
was
remembering. Wherever she'd been,
whatever
she'd been, the memories terrified her. Who she might have been terrified her.

“For Buck's sake, I need to disappear again so I'm not such an issue with him running for president. But I want to have a relationship with my children. They already expect me to desert them again. The media has already made me out to be some flighty airhead who abandoned her husband and children, returning only because of my husband's political success.”

“You could remarry,” Russell said and then bit down hard on his tongue.

* * *

H
ER
HEART
THUDDING
against her ribs, Bo looked at the knife in the man's right hand. Her arm ached from the grip of his fingers digging into her skin. She could feel his dirty fingernails biting into her flesh. Her attempts to talk him into letting her go had fallen on deaf ears.

Now his gaze followed hers to the knife and back to her face. “That's right, sweetheart. Unless ya want this blade plunged into yer belly, ya do what I say.”

His words sent terror shooting through her. She fought to breathe as she met his eyes. Instantly she recoiled at the cold hatred she saw there. She didn't need a reminder of who this man was and what he was capable of. A man who'd already killed once. A violent criminal.

“We're goin' to walk down to my camp,” he said and tugged on her arm.

All her instincts told her she had to think of a way to get away from this man. But he was big, a good six foot four or more, and solid as a new barn. Even if she could break free and avoid the knife, she doubted she could outrun him.

Looking around, she saw that her horse had stayed where the man had dragged her from it. If she could reach her horse—

“Ain't going to happen, so ya might as well put it out of yer pretty little head. You ain't goin' nowhere. Yer mine now.”

She swallowed, terrified at the thought. “They'll be looking for me. You would have a better chance without me. If you took my horse—”

He jerked her arm, dragging her over to a tree where he had hidden an oily green pack. She watched him lay down the knife and lean over to reach into the pack with his free hand. Her whole body was trembling with fear, but she had to at least try to get away.

She spun to the side, his fingers losing their grip on her arm as she flung herself in the direction of her horse. She took a step, then another, longer one, trying to run on her quaking legs. If she could just reach her horse—

The blow to her back flung her to the ground. She sprawled in the dirt, the fall knocking the air from her lungs. Gasping like a trout tossed up on the bank, she struggled for breath as she tried to get to her feet.

His knee landed in her back, the weight of him crushing her to the ground again. She let out a scream of pain. He wound his hand into the hair of her ponytail and jerked her head back.

“Maybe I weren't clear. Yer with
me
now. Anybody comes lookin' for ya? I'll kill 'em. Ya want me to hurt ya bad? I will and I'll have fun doin' it. Try to get away agin? And ya will wish ya was never born.”

He rose and she was able to take a breath, then another. Her back ached. So did her arm and the roots of her hair as he dragged her to her feet by her ponytail.

“Me and Bo-Peep. Ain't we a handsome couple?”

Bo felt sick to her stomach as he pulled her back over to his pack. He dug out a roll of duct tape, ripped a piece off with his teeth and, still holding on to her hair, one-handedly bound her wrists. She had the horrifying feeling that this wasn't the first time he'd bound a woman with duct tape.