"Then I guess Libby didn't use the boxed kind. Spencer never made mac and cheese, and G.o.d knows I never tried. Buy it or don't, but let's get moving." Impatience was beginning to put an edge into his tone. Figuring she could at least give it a shot, Carling grabbed the family-sized box and tossed into her cart.

"Just one?" he asked. "If you're going on a mac and cheese binge, you'd better stock up, because it's too far to drive to town to pick up one or two items."

"I've never made mac and cheese before," she replied, a little humiliated by the admission. What kind of cook did that make her, other than an inadequate one? "If it turns out okay, I'll get some more next time."

"I guess we're all in for an adventure, then," he muttered.

Thank G.o.d for ungrateful, unsympathetic employers, because annoyance promptly rescued her from humiliation. Humiliation was embarra.s.sing; she could work with annoyance. She curled a lip at him. "You remember the 'be quiet' part of the rules? Embrace it."

"I'm just a little curious: did you ever have any kind of professional training? Were you absent the day they went over the part about not being a smart-a.s.s to the boss?"

"I'll have you know I'm an exemplary employee. This situation is a little different."

"Yeah? How?"

"We both know it's temporary. Therefore I'm under no constraints to kiss your b.u.t.t-metaphorically speaking, of course. It may be more temporary for me than it is for you, so I'm in the driver's seat. In fact, given your housekeeping skills and how the house looked the first time I saw it, you should probably be the one watching your mouth, because you don't want to p.i.s.s me off. I might leave. And come spring, they'd find your body buried in that house under a pile of your own stinking laundry."

They'd been walking along as they shot words at each other; she consulted her list as they walked, and she'd pointed at a couple of items for him to put in his cart-multiples, of course. In his household, there was no such thing as buying one one can of diced tomatoes; she needed can of diced tomatoes; she needed ten ten, and she hoped that would be enough to get her through at least a week.

She turned her cart and headed up the baking aisle, where all good things resided-well, except for the other good things, like ice cream and candy and cookies. She could already spot several rows of cake mixes, which only reminded her of her ignominious failure. There wasn't a thing wrong with cake mixes; if they were good enough for Betty and Duncan, they were good enough for her- enough for Betty and Duncan, they were good enough for her- A dark-haired man walked across the front of the aisle, his face turned away from her.

Brad. She was swamped by terror so sharp and overwhelming that the brightly lit store went black for a moment, and the floor seemed to fall away from her. Carlin felt her heartbeat literally stutter, and she stopped so abruptly she might as well have slammed into an invisible wall. Zeke, following behind, had to swing his cart hard to the left to keep from running into her.

"d.a.m.n it, watch what-" he began, but Carlin whirled, her face paper white, operating on sheer instinct as she abandoned her cart in the middle of the aisle and darted past him, heading for the back of the store where there was always a delivery dock and therefore an escape.

But quick as she was, Zeke was faster. His long arm snagged the back of her shirt, hauling her to a standstill. She struck at him, rattler-quick, using her fist like a hammer on his forearm to stun the muscle and loosen his grip. "s.h.i.t!" he said between clenched teeth, because she'd hit hard and right on target, but before she could tear herself free he grabbed her arm with his other hand. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing?"

Chapter Twelve

"LET ME GO!" Carlin's eyes were wild with fear, but she fought him with a fierce determination that made him feel as if he were trying to hold a ninja worm, attacking and wiggling all at the same time.

G.o.d almighty, what kind of attention were they attracting? People would think he was attacking his housekeeper right there in the middle of the grocery store. But by some quirk of luck at the moment they were the only ones in this particular aisle, and no one had pa.s.sed by since she'd freaked out.

"He's here here!" she hissed, lashing out with her foot and catching him on the shin.

"Ow! s.h.i.t! d.a.m.n it, stop fighting!" Catching her from behind, he wrapped both arms around her and lifted her off her feet, because that was the simplest way to control her. But as he spoke his head was swiveling as he looked for the man who had thrown her into a panic, his expression settling into a hard, grim look that some people had had the misfortune to see before, right before he took care of business. A few times that business had left the other person bleeding, and this might be one of those times. s.h.i.t! d.a.m.n it, stop fighting!" Catching her from behind, he wrapped both arms around her and lifted her off her feet, because that was the simplest way to control her. But as he spoke his head was swiveling as he looked for the man who had thrown her into a panic, his expression settling into a hard, grim look that some people had had the misfortune to see before, right before he took care of business. A few times that business had left the other person bleeding, and this might be one of those times.

Her heels hammered against his shins; d.a.m.n it, he'd have bruises for the next month, because she kicked like a small mule. "Stop it," he commanded in a low, hard voice. "Where is he? Point him out to me." have bruises for the next month, because she kicked like a small mule. "Stop it," he commanded in a low, hard voice. "Where is he? Point him out to me."

Wildly she shook her head. "He'll kill kill-you, me, anyone!"

"No, he won't. I guarantee you half the people in this place are armed." He put his mouth close to her ear, so he wouldn't have to use a normal voice. Part of him registered the smell of her skin, the silkiness of her blond hair, but the rest of him was focused on handling the situation, and number one was getting her calm enough that she could point out the stalker-though that might be as simple as locating the only stranger in the store. "I know for a fact the store manager is. We'll protect you, and we'll protect ourselves. That's a promise. Just calm down. I won't let anything happen to you. Where did you see him? Can you point him out?"

"He-walked by-end of aisle." She was panting so hard she could barely talk, and her delicate features were so white he was surprised she was still conscious. She sucked in air, held it for a moment as she fought for control. "Dark hair. Green shirt."

"Good enough." He plunked her down, spun her around so she was facing him. "Stay here. Do not not run. Do you understand me? I need to know where you are." He grasped her shoulders, gave her a little shake as his sharp green gaze bored into her. "Promise." run. Do you understand me? I need to know where you are." He grasped her shoulders, gave her a little shake as his sharp green gaze bored into her. "Promise."

She was trembling from head to foot. He could feel tension running through every fiber of her body, like electricity through a fine wire. The blue of her eyes were the only color in her face; even her lips were white. No one could fake this kind of physical response, and any doubt he'd had about the truth of her stalker tale vanished as if it had never been. Some son of a b.i.t.c.h was terrorizing her, and if he got his hands on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d- "Promise," he said again. he said again.

Her eyes walled around as if looking for some escape, the way all captured or frightened animals did, infuriating him even more that she'd been reduced to this.

Promising was beyond her. She stared up at him and Zeke had to choose between maybe letting the b.a.s.t.a.r.d get away, or continuing to hold Carlin so she didn't bolt.

Well, if she bolted, it would be on foot, because he had the truck keys in his pocket.

"Stay," he said in harsh command, then released her and moved swiftly toward the front of the aisle, rounded it, looking for his target- -who was astonishingly easy to find, standing just two aisles down, looking over a selection of snacks. Zeke was already gathering himself for a bone-crushing tackle when what he was seeing clicked with his brain and he skidded to a halt.

He backed up a couple of steps, so he could look down the aisle where he'd left Carlin. He more than halfway expected the aisle to be empty except for two abandoned carts, but she still stood there, frozen and white, her wide gaze locked on the front of the aisle for all the world as if she expected a monster to appear there.

Zeke lifted his hand and beckoned her forward.

Violently she shook her head.

He gestured more emphatically. "It's okay," he said. "Come on."

Gingerly she eased forward. When she was within touching distance, he put his hand on her arm and pulled her closer, so she could see around the edge. "Is that him?" he asked, pointing toward the man in the green shirt.

She was terrified, but she had grit, and she looked. He felt the jerk in her body as she instinctively recoiled, then she stopped, looked again.

"That's him," she said in a thready tone. "But it isn't him him."

"No. It's okay. That's Carson Lyons. He owns a little ranch just south of here, works it with his wife and two kids."

She sucked in air, then doubled over and braced her hands on her knees. "Oh my G.o.d. I didn't see his face, just...his hair, the shape of his head. I-I couldn't think. I panicked. I'm so sorry, I made a complete fool of myself-"

"Easy." Using his body, Zeke herded her backward into the narrow confines of the aisle. "You didn't make a fool of yourself. You perceived danger, and you reacted. It's okay. That's what you should should do. But if there's a next time, just point him out to me, and I'll take care of the problem. Now let's get the rest of the groceries rounded up so we can get out of here. I've got a lot to do today, and we're wasting time." do. But if there's a next time, just point him out to me, and I'll take care of the problem. Now let's get the rest of the groceries rounded up so we can get out of here. I've got a lot to do today, and we're wasting time."

The ruthlessly logical approach was just what she needed. He pretended to ignore her as he shoved the cart down the aisle, but instead he surrept.i.tiously watched as she gathered herself, focused, forced herself to the task at hand. She was still trembling, but she didn't let herself falter.

He felt a mixture of admiration and a grim sense of protectiveness. She was dealing with something that was evidently a lot more serious than he'd thought, and she was hanging in there. Yeah, grit was a good word for her.

She was under his protection now, and he'd be d.a.m.ned if he let anything happen to her.

BRAD H HENDERSON STARED at the computer screen, his full attention on the information before him. More accurately, the at the computer screen, his full attention on the information before him. More accurately, the lack lack of information before him. of information before him.

Carlin had dropped off the map this time, d.a.m.n her. If she was working, then she wasn't using her social security number. She hadn't gotten a speeding ticket, hadn't partic.i.p.ated in any social media, hadn't opened a bank account. He'd hacked into her sister's Facebook account, but that had been a waste of time. He knew Carlin wasn't all that close to her brother and sister, but you'd think they were keeping in touch number. She hadn't gotten a speeding ticket, hadn't partic.i.p.ated in any social media, hadn't opened a bank account. He'd hacked into her sister's Facebook account, but that had been a waste of time. He knew Carlin wasn't all that close to her brother and sister, but you'd think they were keeping in touch somehow somehow. He just hadn't figured out how, yet.

His eyes narrowed as he glared at the screen. Maybe she wasn't all that tight with her siblings, but if he cut their throats she'd care. If he killed every member of her family and made sure they knew it was Carlin's fault before they died, then she'd be sorry she'd run from him.

Brad took a deep breath. Murdering the family would only satisfy him if Carlin was there to watch. It would be a waste of time, and a danger to his own safety and freedom, to do the deed otherwise.

In the comfort of his own house, in the home office he'd set up for himself, Brad searched and cursed and imagined what he'd do to Carlin when he finally found her. It would be risky to use one of the computers at the station, using police resources to get information he couldn't find on his own, but if he didn't have better luck soon he might have no choice but to take that risk.

Stupid b.i.t.c.h, what did she think she'd accomplish by running? Sooner or later, she'd make a mistake; all the idiots who tried to run from the law did. She should have listened to him; he'd tried so hard to explain it to her. Didn't she know that she was his? She belonged to him, and had since the moment he'd first seen her. She'd smiled at him, and he'd known in that instant.

She was his his. When he'd thought he was taking her life, he'd felt no remorse; because she was his, he could dispose of her however he wanted, like any other piece of trash. When he'd found out he'd killed the wrong woman-that d.a.m.n red raincoat had fooled him-he'd suffered a few moments of guilt, but the feeling had pa.s.sed. If the woman hadn't interfered, she'd be alive today. Not his fault. moments of guilt, but the feeling had pa.s.sed. If the woman hadn't interfered, she'd be alive today. Not his fault.

His search at an end, for now, Brad opened up another file. Pictures of Carlin filled the screen, one and then another popping up. In one of the photos she smiled. In the others, she hadn't even known her picture was being taken. He reached out, placed the tip of his finger against her cheek in one particularly s.e.xy photo.

He whispered, "Mine."

CARLIN WAS STILL shaking a little as she put away the groceries. The ranch hands had made a mess in the kitchen, putting together their sandwiches, opening bags of chips, drinking tea and soda and milk and leaving gla.s.ses and plates everywhere. Compared to what she'd found here when she'd arrived, the job ahead of her was certainly manageable. She was even glad to have something extra to do, to keep herself occupied. She tried to concentrate on the mess, to plan the cleanup that would follow the task of putting away the groceries. shaking a little as she put away the groceries. The ranch hands had made a mess in the kitchen, putting together their sandwiches, opening bags of chips, drinking tea and soda and milk and leaving gla.s.ses and plates everywhere. Compared to what she'd found here when she'd arrived, the job ahead of her was certainly manageable. She was even glad to have something extra to do, to keep herself occupied. She tried to concentrate on the mess, to plan the cleanup that would follow the task of putting away the groceries.

Then there was tonight's dinner to cook: spaghetti with meat sauce and garlic bread, and dessert would be the pies she'd picked up from Kat's place. She'd purposely chosen something that wasn't time-consuming or complicated, given that she hadn't been certain what time she and Zeke would get home.

She tried to think of mundane things, but she still shook. Her own reaction p.i.s.sed her off, and that didn't help matters at all.

She'd let herself relax, had let her guard down, and that had been a mistake. Seeing the man she'd thought was Brad, however briefly, had come as a shock because she hadn't been prepared. She'd let herself feel safe, become content in Battle Ridge, and she'd been thinking of other things: meal planning and recipes and that d.a.m.n misbehaving white cake, and Zeke Decker. She couldn't forget him, because he was her biggest distraction and the biggest danger to her safety, at the moment. She'd kept her distance, she had no illusions about her place here, but d.a.m.n, she liked him. He was s.e.xy and aggravating and all-man and unbearably distracting. things: meal planning and recipes and that d.a.m.n misbehaving white cake, and Zeke Decker. She couldn't forget him, because he was her biggest distraction and the biggest danger to her safety, at the moment. She'd kept her distance, she had no illusions about her place here, but d.a.m.n, she liked him. He was s.e.xy and aggravating and all-man and unbearably distracting.

She'd have to be Superwoman to be immune to him, and "super" didn't in any way figure into her reaction to him. The "woman" part...now, that was different. d.a.m.n, again.

She was so distracted, she didn't hear him come up behind her. When he reached a hand around and laid it over hers-she still held a can of peas in that hand, and it was halfway in and halfway out of the pantry-she froze. Zeke didn't touch her. He never never touched her. Oh, d.a.m.n. He was touched her. Oh, d.a.m.n. He was touching touching her. Come to think of it, he'd touched her a lot today, but a bear hug from behind to keep her from running in the grocery store didn't count...much. her. Come to think of it, he'd touched her a lot today, but a bear hug from behind to keep her from running in the grocery store didn't count...much.

His hand was hot and hard and big. His body, so close to hers, put out heat like a wood-burning stove. She hadn't given a lot of thought to how much bigger he was than her, but standing so close how could she not be reminded?

"You're safe here, you know," he said in a low voice, his tone calm and definitely softer than usual.

Carlin shook her head, willing herself not to look at him. "I'm not safe anywhere, not really."

He didn't move, didn't drop his hand. "You can't let a man, any man, do this to you."

She reached into the pantry and put the peas on a shelf. That broke the contact, but Zeke was still close, too close. She dipped down and skirted around him, a kind of evasive do-si-do.

Not that he would just let the subject drop.

"Let me help you."

She tried to laugh at that, but the sound was short and choked. She didn't want to put Zeke or any of the others in Brad's path. "What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice sharp. "Hunt him down and kill him for me?"

"I was thinking maybe I could have him arrested," Zeke said wryly. "It's true that I have a horse and some guns here, but I'm a rancher, not a gunslinger."

Despite herself her lips curved in a small smile at his sally, but then the smile twisted. "I've tried having him arrested. It didn't work."

She didn't want to talk about Brad, didn't want to relive the nightmare she'd managed to put out of her mind for a while. Was she careless, or was that a survival mechanism to look forward instead of staying mired in the awful circ.u.mstances of Jina's murder?

"Are you going to run forever?"

"That's a million-dollar question." It was one she'd asked herself many times, every day, and the answer was always no. But what could she do? She couldn't think of any way to end the nightmare. So for Zeke, she was honest. "I don't know."

"Give me his name and I'll..."

"No!" she snapped, whirling on him. Her heart had jumped into her throat at just the idea of him doing something that might bring Brad here. She poked him in the chest with a finger. "The son of a b.i.t.c.h is a computer hacker. A friend died in my place, because he thought she was me, do you understand? Do you f.u.c.king understand? Do you f.u.c.king understand?" She didn't often swear like that, but when it came to Brad there were no words bad enough.

For a long moment, Zeke stared at her, his eyebrows raised slightly. What, did he think she was a sweet young thing who didn't know how to curse when it was appropriate? Right now was appropriate. She stared back, not giving an inch.

"Fine," he said, his voice tight but calm. "We'll do this your way. Promise me one thing, though."

She started to tell him she owed him nothing, least of all a promise, but he seemed to be trying so she decided to play along, for now. "Maybe. What kind of promise?"

"When you decide it's time to leave, talk to me first."

"Why should I?" And how the h.e.l.l had he looked at her and known she was thinking about running? Oh, right-it might have been the way she panicked in the grocery store and was going to bail out through the unloading dock in back.

"So I can help you. When you do move on, as I'm sure you will, you need to have a plan. A plan plan, Carlin, something besides getting on the road and stopping when you run out of gas." He sounded a little angry, now. "Don't let one a.s.shole ruin your life. You're as safe here as you'd be anywhere else-safer than most places, because of where we are, and because you're surrounded by people with guns who'll fight for you."

Before she could respond, he headed for the back door. "I'll lock the door behind me," he called without looking back. "Don't worry. I have my key."

ZEKE COVERTLY WATCHED Carlin as she served dinner. She'd recovered enough by the time dinner was served that no one else would ever guess that she'd had such a scare at the grocery store. She even smiled and joked with the men as she got everyone settled in, made sure they had what they needed. And again, she ate alone in the kitchen. Carlin as she served dinner. She'd recovered enough by the time dinner was served that no one else would ever guess that she'd had such a scare at the grocery store. She even smiled and joked with the men as she got everyone settled in, made sure they had what they needed. And again, she ate alone in the kitchen.

The spaghetti was good and filling, the garlic bread crisp and tasty. The men ate like they were starved, and after a long day's work, maybe they were. Spencer had a tough time eating one handed, but he managed well enough. They were all enjoying the recent upgrade in the cooking at the Rocking D. They'd be sorry when Carlin left.

And d.a.m.n it, she would would leave, eventually. He'd hired her wanting her to leave as soon as Spencer was able to resume his duties in the kitchen. At least that had been the plan when he'd grudgingly hired her, and just as grudgingly agreed to keep her on until spring. But in just a couple of days she'd made her mark here, and he'd found he didn't like the idea of her not being here. It was nice to come home to a decent hot meal and clean clothes, even if those a.s.sets did come with a sharp tongue and a nice a.s.s that drove him to distraction. leave, eventually. He'd hired her wanting her to leave as soon as Spencer was able to resume his duties in the kitchen. At least that had been the plan when he'd grudgingly hired her, and just as grudgingly agreed to keep her on until spring. But in just a couple of days she'd made her mark here, and he'd found he didn't like the idea of her not being here. It was nice to come home to a decent hot meal and clean clothes, even if those a.s.sets did come with a sharp tongue and a nice a.s.s that drove him to distraction.

She'd even washed the sheets on his bed and neatly made it up, the first time his bed had been completely made since Libby had left. Carlin was a more than competent housekeeper and cook. That was the only reason he'd interfered that afternoon when she'd looked like she was on the verge of bolting.

Yeah, right.

It was probably a good thing he'd be so busy for the next couple of weeks, moving the cattle from free range into the pastures near the house, getting ready for the October market. Carlin would have the house to herself all day, and the next time she went to town Spencer could ride along to navigate-and to keep an eye on her, too. She didn't want anyone else knowing about her stalker, but he could tell Spencer to make sure no one ha.s.sled her. He wouldn't deny to himself that her safety was a big consideration.

Spencer wasn't going to like missing the cattle drive; it was one of his favorite times of the year. It was hard work, that was true, but it was also cla.s.sic cowboy work. Some of the ranches used four-wheelers-and even helicopters, he'd heard-during roundup, but at the Rocking D they did things the old-fashioned way, on horseback.

If all Spencer had was a simple broken arm, they might find a way to make it work. But the shoulder needed to be good and healed before he sat a saddle again. Not that the kid had ever fallen or been bucked, but there was a first time for everything, as the incident with Santos had proved. A torn rotator cuff was nothing to f.u.c.k around with. be good and healed before he sat a saddle again. Not that the kid had ever fallen or been bucked, but there was a first time for everything, as the incident with Santos had proved. A torn rotator cuff was nothing to f.u.c.k around with.

So Spencer would stay with Carlin, and Zeke wouldn't feel anxious about leaving her out here on her own so much. He couldn't remember ever feeling anxious about Libby being on her own, but then he'd never been so sharply aware of Libby's presence, either. He loved her like a mother, but she'd been part and parcel of his everyday experience, simply there there.

It was different with Carlin. Having her in the house, cooking and cleaning and doing some some of the things a man might expect from a wife, was a constant tickle on his subconscious. If she took a shower, he imagined her naked. When she was in bed, he imagined her naked and in bed with him. When she was bent over unloading the dishwasher, he imagined her doing it naked. He'd never once thought of Libby naked-G.o.d forbid! He shuddered at the idea. of the things a man might expect from a wife, was a constant tickle on his subconscious. If she took a shower, he imagined her naked. When she was in bed, he imagined her naked and in bed with him. When she was bent over unloading the dishwasher, he imagined her doing it naked. He'd never once thought of Libby naked-G.o.d forbid! He shuddered at the idea.

But Carlin...yeah. Naked. All she had to do was breathe and he thought about her being naked and breathing.

With a start, he realized he'd been sitting at the table, not eating, fantasizing about Carlin being naked, while the food steadily disappeared from the bowls and he was about to lose out. He grabbed the last piece of garlic bread before anyone else could get it, and set about filling his stomach.

Their appet.i.tes satisfied, the men settled back to talk of the upcoming cattle drive. Spencer looked sulky because he was going to miss all the fun, but his expression soon cleared; he wasn't the type to stay unhappy for long. Zeke concentrated on the subject, because a lot of his yearly income depended on it, going over what they'd do even though all of them had done October market before. He thought he was doing a good job of keeping his mind on work until Carlin brought two pies into the dining room, one apple and one key lime. He looked at her, he saw the pies, and he thought about her bringing them in naked, except of course he'd be the only one here to appreciate the sight. yearly income depended on it, going over what they'd do even though all of them had done October market before. He thought he was doing a good job of keeping his mind on work until Carlin brought two pies into the dining room, one apple and one key lime. He looked at her, he saw the pies, and he thought about her bringing them in naked, except of course he'd be the only one here to appreciate the sight.

He was so f.u.c.king h.o.r.n.y he thought he'd probably come if a fly landed on him.

"All right right!" Spencer said, grinning. A couple of the hands actually clapped, and Eli whooped. Zeke and Walt both stood to take the pies and put them on the table for her.

Looking at her, he thought, you'd never guess how terrifled she'd been just a few hours ago. She was smiling at them, joking. "One day I'll bring a pie into the dining room and y'all will say, Oh, Carly, I'm so disappointed. I really wanted Never Fail White Cake for dessert Oh, Carly, I'm so disappointed. I really wanted Never Fail White Cake for dessert." She said the last in a falsetto, making fun of herself.

"Yeah, that'll that'll happen," Darby said sourly as he reached for the pie server. Carlin had left a stack of dessert plates and forks on the table when she'd set it for dinner. "Hey! There's a piece of apple pie missing." happen," Darby said sourly as he reached for the pie server. Carlin had left a stack of dessert plates and forks on the table when she'd set it for dinner. "Hey! There's a piece of apple pie missing."