Rescued by the Ranger (4 page)

An electrified jolt hit her as his knuckles brushed her hip. Her gaze darted to his, and the anticipation in his darkened eyes said she hadn’t just imagined it. Evading the intensity of his perusal, she eased away from his lingering touch.
So
not happening. It’d be a cold day in hell before anything heated up with the likes of him.

“Sorry,” Garrett rasped as he returned his hand to the steering wheel. “Just trying to help.”

“No problem.” Rachel forced herself to act as though his touch hadn’t reached into her bone marrow and turned her to mush. What was wrong with her? She despised Garrett Harding for callously remaining silent in spite of every letter, every invitation, every birthday card Amanda had sent him over the past twenty-some years. Rachel had been there for the last ten, and she’d seen firsthand the heartbreak he’d inflicted on his mother. The other one—Garrett’s brother Luke—had hurt his mother too, but he’d been little more than a toddler when Amanda left. He probably didn’t remember her or understand why she’d gone. But Garrett would have, and yet he’d withheld the most precious gift he could have given her—his forgiveness—and now it was too late.

Okay. She banished that spark of desire, or hormones, or whatever it was. Loathing swelled within her again for the man in the driver’s seat.

Garrett was covering ground rapidly—albeit in the wrong direction, but before she could point out that they should be traveling uphill, he slammed on the brakes and skidded around. Stomping on the gas pedal, he straightened the wheel, and now they were barreling straight toward Riley’s pickup. Rachel gasped and shrunk down in her seat.

“Chill, Cowboy.” Immediately, the dog dropped to the floor, his head lying partway between the seats. Garrett glanced at Rachel. “Get down lower.”

She freed the latch on her seat belt and slid onto the floor, squished uncomfortably between the seat and the dash. Garrett was obviously expecting Riley’s crew to have more weapons than the ones they’d left in the bar—and he was probably right.

“What about you?” She searched his face, trying to convince herself that her concern wasn’t for him, but rather for herself if anything should happen to him.

“Why,
Rach
, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared.” A thin smile mocked her.

Okay, she’d deserved that, but if he was waiting for her to apologize, he’d have a very long wait.

Irritated, she rose up until she could see out the window. The old Ford pickup was so close, her knuckles whitened on the edges of the seat in anticipation of the crumpling of steel around her as the two vehicles met. At the last minute, Riley swerved, the truck spinning 360 degrees and balancing on two wheels for a second before slamming down to all four.

The Jeep raced past them, and she heard the whirr of their starter as they tried to get the pickup going again. Garrett grabbed another gear and accelerated up the mountain road. Rachel pulled herself onto her seat again, studying him from beneath lowered lashes. So, Garrett Harding knew how to play chicken and win, and he’d never even broken a sweat. Why couldn’t she help admiring that?

Rachel glanced behind them periodically as they rolled along the narrow chip-sealed road. Garrett kept one eye on the rearview mirror too, but it was Cowboy who alerted them with a rumbling growl seconds before the old Ford rounded a corner and came into view behind them.

“They’re gaining on us.” She whipped around and stared straight ahead, then leaned forward and pointed. “Take a left up ahead where the sign is . . . and lay on the horn.”

A quizzical glance was directed her way. “The
horn
?”

“Just do it,” she snapped.

Despite his grumbling, he fishtailed onto the gravel road beside the rustic billboard with its arrow pointing toward the Cougar Ridge Hunting Lodge and Resort. Accelerating as much as the winding trail allowed, he slammed the palm of his hand on the center of the steering wheel, and the blaring bark of the horn drowned out everything else.

The Jeep slid around a corner, gravel flying in its wake, and Rachel welcomed the sight of home up ahead, surrounded by green, forested landscape. The road dipped through a meadow filled with spring wildflowers, crossed a small bridge over a narrow but deep creek, and then swung into a long cul-de-sac and parking area in front of the idyllic log buildings of the resort.

As soon as they crossed the bridge, Rachel turned to peer out the back. A smile formed when a huge, dark-haired man walked calmly to the center of the bridge and stood with arms crossed, staring at Riley, who had stopped his pickup and clambered out. Relieved, Rachel laid her hand on Garrett’s arm.

He let up on the horn as his gaze sought the rearview mirror. “What the hell . . . Who is that?” He slammed on the brakes.

Rachel would have jumped out, but he caught her arm. “Friend of yours?”

“It’s Jonathan. He works for Peg.” It was none of Garrett’s business, but Jonathan was also her best friend. It had been his idea to have a signal she could use if she was ever in trouble. With all the new people moving into the area—strange people—he hadn’t liked her going out alone or working in the bar late at night. Too damn dangerous, he’d said. Of course, Jonathan had secrets of his own and was probably more paranoid than he needed to be. Rachel had simply refused to put up with a 24/7 bodyguard, so he’d had to settle . . . right after he’d taught her basic self-defense and shooting skills.

The signal had worked exactly as planned. Jonathan had blocked the road after she’d passed and stood ready to deal with the trouble for her. No doubt he’d give her hell later for accepting a ride from Garrett Harding.

She opened the door and jumped out. Turning toward Garrett, she started to tell him to wait in the Jeep, but all she saw was his back and Cowboy’s furry rear end as they exited the other side. She scurried to the rear of the vehicle and was barely able to keep up with his huge, angry strides as he stomped toward the confrontation at the bridge.

Riley paced angrily in front of his pickup. He didn’t appear to be armed, but the two waiting in the truck probably were.

Jonathan wore his Sig openly in a shoulder holster, the weapon left over from a law enforcement career he seldom mentioned. That, coupled with a seriously dark and dangerous demeanor, pretty much guaranteed that the Rileys of the world didn’t mess with him.

“You
boys
have business here?” Jonathan stood in the middle of the bridge, his legs spread slightly and his arms folded across his impressive chest.

Riley blanched for a second, then jutted out his chin. “We was just makin’ sure Rachel got home okay. Pretty little thing like her shouldn’t be takin’ rides from no stranger.”

Rachel stepped alongside Jonathan and opened her mouth to retort.

“You’re right,” Jonathan growled, glancing sideways at her. “But, as you can see, she’s fine. Rest assured I’ll have a talk with her. Thanks for seeing her safely home, Riley, but I’ll take it from here.” Jonathan’s tone dismissed him.

“He’s a liar,” Rachel said. She stood close to Jonathan and spoke quietly while she explained what had happened, the rushing of the water below ensuring their conversation was private. “He came into the bar looking for trouble. He was trying to force me to go somewhere with him. If Garrett hadn’t walked in, there’s no telling what he might have done.” Rachel seethed at the idea of those jerks getting away with harassing her.

Jonathan didn’t say a word—just stared at Riley, a warning in his eyes that was no doubt enough to convince most men they didn’t want to argue. His silence was unnerving her.

Riley continued to huff and pace on his side of the bridge, but finally returned to the truck and crawled inside. He backed up until he found a place to turn around and threw gravel getting out of there.

Garrett stepped closer with Cowboy right beside him. “Appreciate your help. I’m Garrett Harding.” He stuck out his hand.

Jonathan eyed him speculatively. “I know who you are.” He turned away and fixed his gaze on Rachel. “You okay?” He waited only long enough for her to nod. “We’ll talk about this later.” Jonathan strode toward the house.

“
Jesus!
Is everybody around here as friendly as you two?” A dark scowl left splotches of red on Garrett’s face.

Even though Jonathan had been majorly rude, Garrett had no room to talk. “Yes, we are. Lucky for you, you’re leaving now. Thanks for the ride.” She turned her back and hurried toward the resort.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving yet.”

She swung around and stared, her heart sinking.

“I’ve driven a long way to speak with Peg, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

Her fists clenched as she retraced her steps until she stood a couple of feet from him. “That wasn’t what we agreed on.”

A scornful smile barely showed itself as he jabbed his index finger toward her. “I didn’t agree to anything except giving you a ride home . . . and I don’t take orders from pissed-off, spoiled brats. If you think I’m going to swallow your rude-ass remarks much longer without coming back with some of my own, you’ve been queen of fucking nowhere too damn long.”

“Garrett?”

Rachel gasped as she whipped around toward the voice. Peg stood at the end of the cul-de-sac with a sheaf of papers in one hand and her reading glasses in the other, staring at Garrett. Her shoulder-length silver hair shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, and her chin trembled.

“See what you’ve done?” Rachel hissed.

Garrett stepped from behind her. “Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

Rachel held her breath as Peg started forward, her gaze locked on her nephew. Tears welled in her eyes, and a wistful smile captured her lips. She didn’t stop in front of him, but kept going until her thin arms slid around him, the top of her head reaching the middle of his chest.

“I knew someday you’d come.” A tear rolled down her cheek.

It was a full five seconds before the man put his arms around her and hugged her back. When he did, he held her awkwardly, like a man holding a baby for the first time. It was just as Rachel suspected—Garrett Harding didn’t have a caring, nurturing bone in his body. He would end up hurting Peg exactly as he’d hurt Amanda. What was Peg thinking, welcoming him? Even Cowboy sat nearby, dusting the ground with his tail. Was Rachel the only one who could see that Garrett was heartless?

He cleared his throat. “I need some answers.”

Peg stepped back and wiped her tears. “Of course you do. Let’s go up to the house and we’ll talk. You can pull your Jeep in front of the garage. We’ll meet you inside.” She linked arms with Rachel and started to turn toward the resort before she paused. “If the dog is well-mannered, you can bring him in, too.”

Rachel scoffed. “Give me the
dog
any day.”

“Cowboy won’t be a problem, ma’am.” He signaled, and Cowboy followed him to the Jeep, jumping into the passenger side. Garrett shoved the door closed behind him and turned a scathing glance toward Rachel. “Would it kill you to be civil?”

“Let’s shelve the
ma’am
, if you don’t mind. You used to call me Aunt Peg, but if you’re not comfortable with that yet, you can just call me Peg.”

“Peg it is, then.” Garrett climbed behind the wheel, started the engine and drove toward the resort.

Peg seemed to ignore the slap in the face she’d just gotten, but Rachel seethed under the weight of it. “I’m sorry, Peg. I didn’t want to bring him here. We should have Jonathan send him on his way.”

An incredulous frown carved a trough between Peg’s brows. “Rachel, I’m surprised at you. Garrett is family. You know how long and hard Amanda tried to reconnect with him. Would she want us to send him away now?”

Rachel felt the heat of a flush creep into her cheeks. “No, but he didn’t get here in time to see Amanda, did he? Have you forgotten how many times we had to bring her back from the depths of despair when he ignored yet another letter?” It was true Amanda hadn’t been her blood relative. But she’d unselfishly filled the gaping hole in Rachel’s life left by a mother too busy man-hunting to care about her. Rachel couldn’t have loved Amanda any more if she’d been born into her family.

Sadness swept over Peg’s expression. “Remember, there are two sides to every story. No, I’ll never forget my sister’s heartache, but today she’d be happy. Can’t you just see that big smile on her face?” Peg drew Rachel close for a hug as fresh tears rimmed her eyes. “We’re going to treat him like Amanda’s son, whether she’s here or not. Can you do that for her, dear?”

Rachel blinked hard to keep her own tears from falling. It was so unfair that Amanda couldn’t have seen this day. Rachel
could
imagine the smile on her face and the joy in her eyes, but to forgive Garrett Harding would mean letting go of some deep-seated bitterness. It might be easier to stay away from him, and he’d probably appreciate that just as much.

The expectant look on Peg’s face said she was still waiting for an answer. Rachel forced her trembling lips to cooperate. “I’ll try, Peg. Or maybe I should go stay with Sally for a few days until he leaves.” Her friend Sally Duncan lived in Huntington, about twenty miles away. She’d been the first person Rachel met when she first moved here, and they’d become close.

“You’re old enough to make your own decisions, but I’d hate to see you run away with your bitterness intact. Stay. Face it. Do it for Amanda.” Peg ran her fingers down Rachel’s face. “She loved you so much. But she loved him, too. She’d want the two of you to be friends.”

Garrett and Cowboy were waiting outside as they approached the front door, and Rachel panicked, despising her tears and red-rimmed eyes. She’d already been reduced to needing this man’s help once today. She wasn’t about to let him see her fall apart now.

Peg must have sensed her tension. “Dory will be starting dinner. Why don’t you go help her?”

Peg’s cool hand on Rachel’s arm grounded her, and she managed to pull herself together. She pecked a kiss on Peg’s cheek, straightened her spine, and walked past Garrett without a glance. She felt his gaze on her back long after she was out of sight.

Chapter Three

T
HAT WAS ONE
fiery redhead, and damned if Garrett wouldn’t mind getting to know her better under different circumstances. Unfortunately, she was majorly pissed off, and her anger appeared to be directed solely at him. What the hell was that about? She’d given no explanation for her antagonism except for the hostility with which she’d mentioned his mother. After Peg answered his questions, he’d be out of here, and it wasn’t likely he would ever know what had her panties in a twist, but that didn’t stop him from speculating.

A smile eased his rancor as he remembered Rachel earlier in the bar. She was tougher than she looked, displaying no fear while facing Riley down. Yet she hadn’t been
all
gunpowder and bravado. Garrett had enjoyed the soft, feminine, humorous side of her, which had peeked free for a moment after they’d run the lowlifes out the door. He felt sure he could appreciate
that
side of Rachel . . . if he was ever allowed to see it again.

For all he knew, she may have handled worse situations than this, but his instinct told him she was underestimating the danger that Riley represented. Garrett’s plan had been to drop in, get his answers, and get the hell out. No reminiscing. No time spent renewing old acquaintances. He’d come to exorcise the memory of his mother—not to wallow in what might have been. Now, however, when he contemplated his eminent departure, a twinge of regret chipped away at his resolve. Someone should get to the bottom of Riley’s motives. Would it hurt to stay another day or two?

With Cowboy by his side, he followed Peg inside the lodge, traversed a large, impressively appointed lobby, passed a smoothly lacquered pine registration desk, and entered a small room that clearly contained the financial workings of the resort.

Peg’s office was small, but organized and nicely furnished. Shelves lined the wall behind her desk and were filled with journals, reservation books, and accounting ledgers in chronological order. Like the lobby, the office was rustic and comfortable.

She motioned him to a straight-backed chair facing a medium-sized white cedar desk, and Cowboy plopped down on the floor beside him. Peg sat in a brown leather office chair, took a large, flat envelope from the center drawer of her desk, and placed it in front of her. Removing her reading glasses, she smiled sadly.

“I’m
so
happy you’ve come, Garrett. We have a lot to talk about.”

Garrett frowned as resentment twisted his gut, and anger seeped into his words. “Less than you think. I’m only here to find out about Amanda Harding. I want to know what kind of mother walks out on her family. What was so much more important that she couldn’t take care of her own kids? After it was all said and done, did she find what she was looking for? Was she happy? Did she ever think about Luke and me? Tell me that, and I’ll be on my way.” He stopped, choked by the lump of sadness that had formed in his throat.

Emotions flitted across Peg’s face faster than he could recognize them. He’d expected sorrow, but the anger that burned in her eyes the longer he talked surprised him. The room grew quiet as she studied him, then rose from her chair and strode to the window, her back to him. Unmoving, she stood there in silence for so long he felt as if he was alone in the room.

Suddenly, she turned and unshed tears glistened in her eyes. “What did Senator Harding tell you?”

“This isn’t about my father.”

“It is, Garrett—more than you know.”

Garrett clamped down on the temper rising to the surface. He would answer her question, but then, by God, she would answer his. “He said she was sick—some kind of a drug addiction—and it was too dangerous for her to care for me and Luke. He wanted her to get treatment, but she wasn’t interested. She skipped out in the middle of the night, and we never saw her again.”

Peg dropped into her chair, expelling a tired breath. “Part of that is true. Amanda became addicted to pain medication after a skiing accident at Vail. There were symptoms that made it hard—yes, even dangerous—for her to take care of you and Luke. She was causing problems for your father, too. He was running for governor then—the Democratic Party’s shining hope in California.”

Garrett leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. He didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

“Douglas convinced Amanda that she had somehow put you boys in danger. She was horrified and agreed to do whatever he said as long as you’d be safe. Rather than get her help, he insisted it was too risky for her to be around the two of you. So he agreed to cover the cost of her detox and give her a small settlement if she’d quietly divorce him. The only thing she cared about was your safety.” Peg’s chair squeaked as she leaned back. “She was addicted to pain meds, and she wasn’t thinking straight. She didn’t understand that she’d be losing custody of you forever.” Peg’s gaze never left his face.

“It took her two years to shake the drugs completely. As soon as she was well, she contacted your father and asked to see you. He was governor by then, and he said no—that if she tried, he’d have her arrested.” Peg laughed scornfully. “Ever the diplomat, he agreed that she could write as long as the letters were mailed to him. He said that if you or Luke ever expressed an interest in seeing her, he’d make the arrangements. Until then, he thought it best not to disturb your lives again.”

Garrett gritted his teeth. What was she saying? That his father had known where his mother was the whole time? Hell no—that couldn’t possibly be true. His father had done the best he could. It was hard the first couple of years, but eventually, he’d remarried, and his new wife, Meredith, had fit snugly into the empty hole left by Amanda—everywhere but in Garrett’s life. He’d wanted nothing to do with her. His father, insisting Garrett give the woman a chance, had only widened the gap.

Dad had always been distant, leaving the nurturing to Meredith. Of course, for the sake of his political career, it had always been important that his family give the appearance of a storybook existence. Perhaps that was the real reason behind the senator’s dismay when Garrett, at seventeen, borrowed a police cruiser and ran for the state line with lights flashing and sirens wailing. Yeah, that had probably stolen a few years from the senator’s life. Not to mention having the potential to derail his aspirations—the ones that might eventually land him in the White House.

Garrett had been on his way to the bottom in a nonstop hurry. His teenage years saw him hanging with the wrong crowd and making poor choices. His father had been forced to watch helplessly while Garrett edged closer and closer to a rebellious blunder he couldn’t bounce back from. Ultimately, he’d gone too far and gotten in trouble with the law. His father hadn’t missed a beat calling in favors so that Garrett could become the army’s problem.

Except that had turned out to be the best thing he could have done. Rather than it being the lesser of two evils that Garrett had expected, the military had given him a place to verify his worth. Basic training had been a godsend, but when he’d completed the rigorous eight-week Ranger training and put the elite unit’s tab on his sleeve, he thought he’d finally rid himself of all the old memories . . . right up until yesterday when he’d found the letter from Peg in his father’s desk drawer.

His relationship with the senator had been strained for some time, but surely, during the darkness of Garrett’s teen years, his father would have told him if he’d known where Amanda was. Their confrontation after Garrett found the letter had ended with his father walking out. Still unanswered was the question of why he’d never mentioned the letter, dated nearly a year ago.

Garrett scrubbed a hand over his face. “Did she write?” The words came out more forcefully than he’d intended.

Peg nodded once, then looked at her hands on top of the envelope. “Once a month like clockwork. And then we’d wait . . . and check the mailbox . . . to see if, this time, you might respond. It was agonizing for her, but she insisted on sticking to the verbal agreement she’d made with Douglas. After her initial call to him, she never picked up the phone again. I tried to convince her to go to California and see you. I told her I’d go with her. But she’d have none of it—not even after you left home. Douglas wanted her to communicate through letters sent to him . . . and it would have taken an act of God to divert her from that. I suspected he was purposely keeping you and Luke from her, either by filling your heads with lies or intercepting the letters. She refused to believe any deception on his part. I think it was the guilt she carried. Whatever happened back then to make her leave was so devastating, she never got over it.”

“She didn’t tell you what happened?”

“She would never talk about it. I didn’t push, even though I could see it tearing her up inside.”

Garrett jumped up and paced across the small room, anger at his father vying for supremacy over irritation with himself. He’d had no intention of allowing Peg to make him
feel
something deep down inside. He didn’t want to suffer empathy for the woman who’d deserted him, yet it was far too easy to see his father as the villain in all of this. He’d admitted to hiding one letter. Could he have hidden hundreds?

He stopped in front of his aunt. “We never saw
one
letter.” He slammed his fist into the desk, and Peg flinched. “Are you going to sit there and tell me she wrote twelve letters a year for twenty-nine years?”

“I knew Douglas was to blame. I should have tried harder to convince Amanda. I could have gone to Sacramento myself.” Peg dissolved into tears, burying her face in her hands as quiet sobs racked her body. Her grief was a physical force, and he sensed the anguish buried deep within. Even as a child, he’d recognized the bond between his mother and this woman. What reason could she possibly have to lie to him now that Amanda was dead?

To believe her would change everything he knew. His tenuous rapport with his father and his stepmother, the love and acceptance of two half brothers and a half sister, and possibly even the bond between him and Luke. What would his brother have to say? He’d been too young to fully understand what had happened back then, but the telltale signs of a life spent overcompensating were recognizable to Garrett because he knew them so well. Would this new information destroy Luke’s ability to pretend his life was picture-perfect?

Garrett wouldn’t take a chance where his brother was concerned. The first order of business would be finding out just what role the senator had played in their mother’s disappearing act. Had his father hidden the letters—and the whereabouts of his mother—out of concern for his sons . . . or his political career? One way or another, Garrett would discover the truth.

His brain was on overload, and his gut ached with his need to exact justice somehow. But at the moment, it wasn’t
his
perceived injustices he was worried about. Nor Luke’s. Garrett would always worry about his little brother, but Luke was strong and capable, and when the time was right, he’d deal with the fallout from this revelation with his usual good humor and determination.

With a jolt, Garrett’s gaze fell on Peg. His aunt had apparently stood up for his mother when no one else would. Even now, after Amanda was gone, Peg carried the burden. If what she had told him was true, he wouldn’t rest until he found a way to make this whole damn thing right . . . for his mother and Aunt Peg.

He stepped closer and laid his hands gently on her shoulders, trying to convey with a touch what he couldn’t possibly put into words. After a moment, he returned to his chair and sat, bracing his elbows on the desk, giving her as much time as she needed. Finally she dried her eyes.

He studied her and tried one more time to detect any duplicity within her. Her eyes, though glistening with moisture, were as clear and honest as the last rays of the Idaho sunshine outside her window. He shook his head as he drummed his fingers on the desk. “You need to know that I’d have come if
one
of her letters had reached me. I don’t know what happened to them . . . but I intend to find out. If the senator is responsible, he’ll be held accountable.”

A fleeting smile told him what he already knew—it was too late to change what had happened. “But you must have received the letter telling you of Amanda’s death and the will, right?”

He laughed mockingly. “I found it accidentally in my father’s desk drawer.”

Garrett leaned back in his chair. If not for that one improbable find, it would be hard to believe his father had hidden or destroyed hundreds of notes and letters in order to perpetuate the lie about their mother. Garrett had lost respect for his father during his troubled teen years. Though they’d healed the hairline fracture in their relationship in recent years, nothing could regenerate the bond that had been destroyed. As hard as he tried, Garrett couldn’t dredge up an iota of loyalty for the man. He should be innocent until proven guilty, but deep down where the pain of his mother’s desertion throbbed to life, Garrett put the puzzle pieces together and handed down a guilty verdict.

Still, he needed to know for sure. Needed proof. Should he call his father first? Or his PI buddy who was going to love digging in the senator’s sandbox?

“There’s something else.” Peg opened the envelope and pulled out some papers. “You’ll want to read the will.”

Garrett accepted the document she handed him, though it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned the pages slowly, reading every word, digesting their meaning. When he was finished, he let it fall into his lap as he looked up and met her steady gaze.

“She left everything she owned to Luke and me.”

Peg slowly bobbed her head.

“Who else knows about this?” Was this bombshell the reason Rachel and Jonathan had been less than hospitable?

“No one but the two of us and Amanda’s attorney. That’s the way she wanted it, with her half of the resort run by me until one or both of you stepped up to claim your inheritance.”

“I’
LL HAVE TO
contact Luke, but as far as I’m concerned, this place is yours. I’m not going to take any part of it away from you.” Garrett handed her back the will. Everything was happening too fast. He needed time to think.