Rescued by the Ranger (3 page)

“Well, I think I’m close but I’d feel better if someone besides Matilda—uh . . . that’s what I call my navigation system—if someone else confirmed that. I’m looking for the Cougar Ridge Hunting Lodge and Resort. Heard of it?”

Her back stiffened instantly, and after she poured the coffee into the cup, she slammed the glass decanter down on the burner. With shaking fingers, she fumbled with the lid until it locked in place. Then she pivoted to meet his gaze. There was no longer anything neighborly or even remotely friendly in her green eyes. Was it his destination that had triggered her response?

She pushed the coffee toward him. “I thought you looked familiar. Which one are you?” The controlled anger in her voice accused him of something, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what. A shame too, because not two minutes ago the thought had crossed his mind to ask her to dinner.

At a loss to know what he’d done and not understanding the question, he continued to study her face.

“You’re one of Amanda’s boys, aren’t you?”

At the mention of his mother, his jaw clenched, and every muscle readied in preparation to bolt. He shoved his hands in his pockets and forced himself to stand still. “Garrett Harding—at your service.” The words escaped without emotion, and Cowboy whined. Obviously, he didn’t understand the turn in the conversation either.

Garrett searched Rachel’s eyes again. They were filled with defiance and something bordering on disgust. He had no clue why she was suddenly treating him like something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with his mother. He could totally understand if Rachel’s ill will was directed at the woman who gave birth to him, but it was foolhardy to blame him for his mother’s actions. Rachel couldn’t know that he’d been five years old the last time he’d seen Amanda, however, and since he was only passing through, he should just let her think whatever she wanted.

“Does that mean you don’t know where the resort is?” He slid his hand around the coffee cup and turned to go.

“You’ve been on Peg’s land for the past thirty minutes. This bar is part of the resort. There’s a bed-and-breakfast and a restaurant, too. The resort is about a mile farther up the mountain.” Disdain permeated every word.

If there was one thing Garrett had learned, it was that you couldn’t change someone’s mind if they weren’t receptive. Rachel clearly wasn’t into listening, and it irked him for some reason. That and a mysterious ache in his core drew him up short, not willing to quit on the conversation just yet. There was something going on here that defied his understanding, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Rachel was in serious trouble. If she was right about the secret from her past catching up to her, then Riley was probably the least of her worries. But Riley was the trouble Garrett had seen, and there was nothing stopping him from returning to the bar once Garrett and Cowboy left. That was unacceptable.

He turned slowly. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ve got a hunch those local boys will be looking for a chance to get even. I could give you a lift somewhere, or I could stick around until the rest of the evening shift arrives. I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here.”

The glare she fixed him with was flat-out hostile. She braced her arms on the bar and leaned toward him as though to impart a whispered confidence. Her lips parted in a half smile, and her voice, as sweet as honey, turned the knife in his chest. “The dog can stay . . . but no Harding will ever be welcome here.”

Chapter Two

T
HE INFAMOUS
G
ARRETT
Harding displayed a split second of surprise before he turned and stomped his big army boots to the door. One hand on the swinging panel, he stopped and stared into the parking lot, then his head dropped toward his chest, and he huffed an irritated breath. He scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, and a barely audible growl carried across the room.

Rachel Maguire might have mistaken it for the dog if Garrett hadn’t whipped around, looked straight at her, and motioned for her to come and look. “They’re back.”

Every nerve in her body vibrated—and not in a good way—at being commanded by this man who’d broken Amanda’s heart. His biological mother, yet he’d ignored every one of her letters, turned his back on her, and let her die without the one thing she’d desired more than anything—to see him one more time. Lower than pond scum—that’s what he was. He’d had a multitude of chances to drop in when his mother was still alive. What was he doing here now?

Had Peg contacted him? She was ever the devoted sister . . . but this was going too far. Damn it. It was too soon. Amanda’s sudden death had hit Peg hard. It’d only been three months since she’d gotten out of the hospital, having managed to crawl back from the black hole of depression that had sought to claim her. No way would Rachel let her get to that point again.

Rachel’s chin jutted forward, and she crossed her arms. Garrett’s heated gaze was a physical force, nearly knocking her off balance. When he started back toward her, his steps determined and angry, it was only stubborn pride that kept her where she was.

Garrett halted two feet in front of her, his lips pressed into a thin line, his steel-gray eyes narrowing dangerously. Clearly he’d surpassed the limits of his patience. Perhaps, under the circumstances, she’d been a bit uncooperative. Still, if he presumed to lay a hand on her, he wouldn’t walk away without a scratch. Her life at Cougar Ridge had taught her many things, not the least of which was how to defend herself should that skill ever be required.

A few seconds into their stare-down, his gaze fell to her lips and lingered there as he rested his hands on his hips. Indecision, among other harsher emotions, registered on his face, but the angry inferno in his eyes slowly dissipated. His voice was gravelly as he started to speak, so he cleared his throat and tried again.

“Riley and the other two clowns are parked across the lot. I’m going to discourage them from hanging around. I want you to wait inside.” He started to swing around.

Rachel caught his elbow. “Discourage them how? I was only joking when I talked about shooting them. I thought you knew that. They’re just kids—barely twenty. You can’t hurt them, Garrett.”

He scowled. “Yeah, well, they’re old enough to be packing weapons and issuing threats. I don’t plan on hurting them . . . unless there’s no other way.”

“There has to be. Let me handle this. I’ve known Riley Metcalf and his brothers, Arnold and Matt, for half their lives. I was there when their mother passed away. Those young men are my neighbors. They’re not going to hurt me. ”

Riley’s mother had died when the boys were still in high school. Rachel, Amanda, and Peg had brought meals to the family and helped wherever they could while Mrs. Metcalf was sick. Amanda had tried to keep the boys in school, too, but Arnold dropped out and the other two soon followed. After that they’d gone wild and seemed to always be in trouble. Still, they’d treated Rachel with respect . . . until now. She’d assured Garrett they meant her no harm, but truthfully, there’d been a glaring difference in Riley’s visit today.

Garrett snorted his disbelief, and his hands found rest on his hips again as he glanced toward the door. Finally, he swept his gaze slowly back to hers. “What in the hell do you think they had in mind earlier? From where I was standing, it looked pretty damn serious. I’m not leaving you. Believe me, I’d like to, but I can’t. So, you’ve got two choices. Call someone—boyfriend, brother, friend—someone who can stay with you and then see you safely home. I’ll hang around until they get here. Or you can lock the place up right now. I didn’t see any other vehicles out there so I’m assuming someone dropped you off. Call ’em. If they can come right away . . . fine. If not, let me give you a ride home. Please.”

Rachel stifled a giggle. He’d almost choked on that
please
. Apparently the big man wasn’t well versed in the niceties of society. Still, he seemed genuinely concerned with her safety. She hadn’t expected kindness or concern from Garrett Harding, but why else would he be putting himself in harm’s way to protect her?

He’d encroached on her space, and his size alone was intimidating. It wasn’t that he was so tall, although he was at least six feet—maybe a little more—but his shoulders, arms, and thighs were thick with muscle. Every ridge and plane of his chest and abs was outlined on the black T-shirt he wore tucked into snug-fitting blue jeans. A set of dog tags hung to midchest and called attention to his well-formed pecs.

His dark brown hair was cut short, and the cowlick in back suggested he may have slept on it recently. It was obvious he hadn’t shaved in a day or so. She hated to admit it, but the overall package was off-the-charts hot.

Nothing wrong with enjoying the view, but no way would she let her guard down simply because he looked damn good in a T-shirt—not
this
man. It didn’t matter that Garrett Harding was strong, muscled, and wore dog tags. It made no difference that he’d served his country, returning with a slight limp that he tried hard to hide, or that he was a sucker for dogs. He’d helped her, a complete stranger, out of a jam, and now he refused to leave her with the threat of danger. None of that was important. She wouldn’t allow herself to be taken in by him—not by Amanda’s heartless and unforgiving son.

Skirting around him, she hurried to the door, peering over the top of one of the panels. That stupid rusted-out pickup sat at the edge of the lot right where he’d said it was, and that probably wasn’t good. What did Riley want with her? At first, she’d thought he’d just meant to scare her, but when he’d grabbed her and made it clear she was leaving with him whether she wanted to or not, she’d immediately recognized that this was something outside of Riley’s expertise. He was obviously taking orders from someone. But who?

Was it possible that Jeremy had found her after all this time? She’d become complacent. She was supposed to be hiding from her stalker here in the backwoods of Idaho, but she’d gotten comfortable in her new life. Living out in the open, where anyone might see her—recognize her. She hadn’t taken Jeremy seriously ten years ago either, and the consequences had been disastrous.

Rachel bit her lip as a tremor started between her shoulder blades and radiated outward. Jeremy’s phone calls had started again about five years ago. When he called, often she wouldn’t hear anything on the other end—other times just heavy breathing. If he spoke, his voice was always muffled, and he’d ask about whom her friends were and if she was dating. Her answer was always the same—she had a couple of girlfriends and no, she never dated. Forcing herself to talk to her stalker, trying not to anger him, would cause her to break out in cold sweat and usually always culminated in her heaving the contents of her stomach. When each call was over, she’d throw her old phone away and buy another, yet somehow he’d always get her new number and call again. Maybe she was being naive, but in a way, his calls had made her feel safer. Common sense said if he could find her phone number, discovering her address couldn’t be that much harder. But as long as he wasn’t leaving her notes or flowers in the privacy of her dwelling, or calling and complimenting her on how she looked today, she clung fast to the belief that, for now at least, he didn’t know where she was. Fully aware that circumstances could change in a heartbeat, she’d remained ready to leave on a moment’s notice.

The
click, click
of the dog’s toenails drew her attention as he sidled up beside her and leaned his head against her thigh. His eyes were big and curious, and Rachel couldn’t help smiling as she reached to scratch under his collar. He was a big dog, and with him close by, she felt protected. Her sense of security had absolutely nothing to do with the testosterone-laden hulk whose gaze she could feel boring into her back even now.

Making up her mind, she swung around and started toward the bar. “There
is
no boyfriend or brother. I was only here to pick up something for Peg. It’s too early in the season—the bar isn’t even open yet. I walked down from the resort. That’s where I live.” She stopped in front of him. “If the offer is still good, you can give me a lift home . . . but then you have to go. I won’t have you upsetting Peg.”

“Peg is
my
aunt. I’m not here to upset her. I just want answers.” For a heartbeat, anger simmered just below his dark look, and she was sure he would open up and let her have it, but his facial features slowly relaxed until he almost smiled. “What else do you have to do? Can I help with anything?”

“I need to grab some papers from behind the bar, pour out the coffee, grab my purse, and lock up on the way out.” Rachel performed the first three chores as she spoke.

Garrett tapped his hand against his leg and the dog loped toward the door ahead of him. A quiet command brought him to a halt just inside the bar, swinging his head around to see what the holdup was. Garrett ran his fingers through Cowboy’s fur as they both waited at the door. Rachel stood still and watched them, feeling guilty for the warm glow that started in her stomach at the obvious affection the two shared. Was it possible for a bad man to care about an animal the way Garrett clearly cared for Cowboy? Rachel didn’t believe so, but he was putting on a pretty good act.

Just as Garrett glanced back for her, she busied herself searching through her purse. Then, with keys in one hand, she slid the strap of her purse over her head and hurried toward the waiting pair.

“Are they still there?”

“Evidently, they’ve got all the time in the world.” When Garrett glanced down at her, she suddenly realized how close they were.

He took a step toward the door, laying one hand on top of the swinging panels. “Any idea how far these fools will go to get what they want? It’s none of my business, but it might give us some insight as to how they’ll react once they see us leaving.”

“If there’s trouble anywhere around, Riley’s usually right in the middle of it.” She peered over the doors beside him. “Matt would follow him off a cliff, but Arnold usually has a mind of his own, though apparently not today. No, I don’t know how far they’re willing to go. This is the first time anything like this has happened.”

“If that’s true, why are you so well armed behind the counter?”

“Everyone around here carries. Some hunt, some come here running from something and wouldn’t be caught dead without a weapon, and some are involved in bootlegging or white supremacy. They’re all my neighbors, and sooner or later they all end up in my bar. I’d be crazy not to be well armed—crazier still not to be able to handle myself if the situation were to arise.”

He searched her eyes for a little too long before he finally faced the door again. “Cowboy and I will get the Jeep. If your friends think I’m leaving, they might wait, hoping they’ll catch you alone again. As soon as I’m outside, you lock up just like you always do. By then I’ll have the Jeep running and your door open. My ride’s not that fast, but I think we can outrun that rusted piece of shit they’re driving.” Warmth stole into his voice as he ended on a chuckle.

Rachel forgot herself for a moment, returning his grin as merriment bubbled over her defensive shields. As soon as she remembered whom it was standing beside her, her good humor vanished, leaving her cold and bitter. “Let’s not prolong this. I’m sure you have someplace you’re supposed to be.”

She glanced away, but not before one of his brows shot up toward his hairline and an irritated scowl blackened his features. He mumbled something as he shoved the wooden door back on its hinges, but she couldn’t tell if he was commanding Cowboy or grumbling at her. She almost hoped it was the latter because annoyed and angry was a lot easier to deal with than kind and protective.

As soon as Garrett and Cowboy stepped off the porch, she followed them, pulling the secondary doors into position and locking them. She turned to find the Jeep purring softly directly in front of her, the passenger door open about two steps from the porch. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t keep herself from glancing across the parking lot. The instant she did, the engine of Riley’s truck rumbled to life.

Rachel jogged down the steps and scrambled into the Jeep. Calm and unhurried, Garrett ignored her as he checked the rearview mirrors, but Cowboy barked impatiently, wagging his tail from side to side.

“Hand me my gun from the glove box and buckle up. Here they come.” Garrett peeled out before she got her door completely closed.

A quick glimpse over her shoulder confirmed his announcement. The pickup was closing the distance between them. She faced the front and gripped the edge of the seat while her world spun dangerously for a few seconds. The young men in the truck behind them were her neighbors—members of the community where she’d lived for most of her adult life. If she handed Garrett his gun, what would he do? Did she care? Lord only knew what they’d have done to her if she hadn’t gotten free—if Garrett hadn’t stopped by. Funny how the suspicion that Riley and his brothers might be working for Jeremy changed the direction of her moral compass.

She jerked the glove compartment open and felt around the dark interior until her fingers bumped hard steel. A Colt .45 semiautomatic. Garrett apparently had excellent taste in weaponry. She smoothed her hand along the gun barrel until she saw him watching her curiously, then shoved the weapon toward him. His big hand wrapped around it, and he slid it between his thigh and the seat.

Another quick glance from the rear window told her Garrett was beginning to leave the old Ford pickup behind. Fumbling with the seat belt, she became more self-conscious with each unsuccessful attempt to close the buckle. After a few mumbled expletives on her part, he reached over and easily seated the metal latch inside the clasp.