Cowboy's Texas Rescue Page 7

  “No, but...” A selfish sense of comfort tripped through her. As terrible as it was to admit, she was glad Jake was with her. Besides the fact that he’d rescued her from the locked trunk, she couldn’t imagine going through this terrifying scenario alone. She thought about what he’d said for a moment, then tipped her head in query. “You flew in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “From where?”

  He shot her an odd look. “I...can’t tell you.”

  “You can’t? Why?”

  “Because I can’t. It’s the nature of the job I do. I can’t disclose my location, even to my family.”

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. “Are you, like...a spy or something? CIA?”

  “Not CIA. Not a spy.”

  “Security. You said you worked in security. Overseas.” She searched her foggy memory for any other details he’d given.

  “I can’t talk about what I do beyond that. Sorry.”

  “Are you a SEAL? Like the guys who killed bin Laden?”

  He twitched a grin. “Those guys get all the high-profile jobs and glory. But no, I’m not a SEAL.”

  “But you’re some other kind of special forces. Am I right?”

  He gave her a mysterious smile. “How’s your coffee? I guessed on the amount of sugar.”

  She grunted. “I see. You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me. Is that how it works?”

  “Nothing personal. I’m just not allowed to discuss my job.”

  “Okay. Next question... Why not fly directly to Amarillo?”

  “Because I hitched a ride with the Air Force to Dyess Air Force Base in Abilene.”

  “So you’re in the Air Force?”

  He gave her a patient grin. “I didn’t say that. Dyess is where I stored my truck when I left the country.”

  She narrowed a speculative look on him. “But the Air Force doesn’t let just anyone fly with them.”

  He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and squeezed. “Chelsea, let’s just say some higher power knew you were in need of someone with my particular skill set and put me on that road so I could help you.”

  “Is that what you believe?”

  “I don’t know.” He sipped from his mug, then set it aside. “Maybe. I believe life is 10 percent what happens to you and 90 percent how you play the cards you’re dealt.”

  She nodded her agreement. “You’re right about that.”

  “I also know that I’ve been in worse situations before and come out alive. A snowstorm with no power is a cakewalk by comparison.”

  “Uh...have you forgotten the armed-and-deadly escaped felon?”

  He scowled. “Oh, I haven’t. I have every intention of capturing Brady and turning him in.”

  Chelsea blinked at him, and her gut pitched. “Wait... Capturing him? You plan to go after Brady?”

  “Damn straight.”

  “But, Jake—”

  “Hey...” He caught her shoulders and met her gaze with a hard, level look. “Keeping you safe is my top priority. But I can’t ignore the fact that Brady is out there, that he’s already killed three people we know of. I have a duty to find him and bring him in.”

  “But...he’s dangerous!”

  A muscle jumped in Jake’s jaw, and any trace of humor or comforting warmth fled his eyes. “So am I.”

  Chapter 6

  After they drank their coffee and ate some hot soup, Jake arranged a pallet on the floor in front of the fire using sofa cushions and blankets. Chelsea settled in on the makeshift bed, still feeling weak and shivery despite the hot food and clothes. All she had to do was look out the window at the driving snow or think of poor murdered Mr. Noble and a deep-seated chill would shimmy through her.

  Before long Sadie crowded onto the pallet with her, and she rubbed the Australian cattle dog’s ears. Nela also joined the party near the fire, perching on the hearth and blinking sleepy eyes at the strangers in her house. Jake returned from taking their soup bowls to the kitchen and had a package of Oreos. He popped a whole cookie in his mouth and chewed, offering her a chance to take one, as well. After the embarrassment of having been seen in her underwear and hearing Jake grunt when he lifted her onto his back, she waved away the Oreos. No time like the present to start the diet again. He could make all the polite excuses about knee injuries from his job that he wanted, but the truth was carrying her had been no picnic for him. Chelsea was determined to lose those extra pounds before bathing suit season.

  “You sure?” Jake put another cookie in his mouth and hummed happily. “Man, I can’t remember the last time I had Oreos. I’d forgotten how good they are.”

  “I’m sure.” She watched Jake eat another cookie, and she wrapped her arms around her middle when her stomach growled.

  He tugged a lopsided grin and arched one eyebrow. “I can see what else is in the pantry if you want.”

  “No, I...” Chelsea turned to stare into the fireplace. “It feels weird to be eating Mr. Noble’s food, being in his house. I mean, I understand the circumstances make it necessary, and he’s...he’s dead and all, but...”

  “But he was your neighbor, and it feels like an invasion of privacy,” Jake finished for her.

  “Exactly.”

  He squeezed her shoulder, his fingers rubbing the tense muscles near her neck. Despite their dangerous predicament, the deep massaging of his hands turned her to goo. Chelsea bit the inside of her cheek to muffle the groan of pleasure that rose in her throat.

  “If he were alive, what do you think Mr. Noble would have done when we showed up on his doorstep, given the situation with the storm and Brady being in the area?” Jake asked.

  She gave Jake a quick glance, considering his question. “He’d have...invited us in, offered us something hot to drink and insisted we’d be safer if we stayed with him rather than trying to get to my parents’ house.” A pang twisted in her chest remembering previous visits with the widower. “He always loved having company stop by, especially after his wife passed.”

  Jake nodded slowly. “And I bet he’d want someone looking after his horses, Sadie and Nela, too. Which we are.” Jake paused, setting aside the cookie package and dusting crumbs from his fingers. “This is only temporary, Chelsea. As soon as the weather clears, I’m moving you somewhere safer, and we’ll send the authorities out here to handle the scene in the stable.”

  The crime scene. She shuddered. Everything about the situation rankled. She was hunkered down in the home of a murdered neighbor with a mythically handsome man who may or may not be a CIA spy or elite forces soldier, while a colossal winter storm raged outside. She gave her head a shake as if she could clear the fog of surrealism. And today had started so normally....

  Chelsea curled her fingers in the warm folds of Sadie’s fur and cut a worried glance to Jake. “I’ve been thinking about the other neighbors in the area, especially Darynda Jones. She’s alone at her place with young kids. What if Brady was going house to house scavenging weapons and money and...” She swallowed hard, not wanting to contemplate the tragic possibilities. “What if he killed Darynda and her children, too? Or Mrs. Posey, who lives a couple miles past my parents’ house. Who knows what—”

  “Hey—” Jake caught her hand in his, his blue eyes a smoky shade in the darkening room “—let’s not borrow trouble. Taking out one old man and stealing his guns is one thing, but I doubt Brady would risk being seen by more people than necessary. Just the same, when the storm eases and we can get out, we’ll check on the neighbors or send the cops to make sure everyone’s safe.”

  Meanwhile, she had, in Jake, the best protection a girl could ask. She should be counting her blessings rather than dwelling on all the things that had or could go wrong. “Okay.”

  He moved the Oreo package aside and scooted closer to her. His shoulder bumped hers as he leaned back against the base of the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him, and a heady tingle swept through her.

  “The snow’s really piling up out there. I used to
love weather like this when I was a kid.” He grinned at her, his change of topic clearly designed to distract her. What diverted her thoughts instead were the sexy crinkles beside his eyes when he smiled and the tiny chip missing from the corner of a bottom incisor. Otherwise his teeth, his smile, like the rest of him, was perfect. And she was alone with him all night.... Oh, my! Another flash of prickly heat shimmied through her and coiled in her belly.

  “School would be canceled,” Jake said, drawing her out of her musings, “and we’d roast hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire, even if the power was still on.” He sighed and drew his eyebrows together. “Of course, my dad would be worried about his herd. He’d disappear for hours with his ranch hands, checking on the cattle and hauling stored hay into the fields for them to eat.”

  She tipped her head sideways as she looked at him. “You didn’t go with him?”

  “Once I got older, sure. I remember the first winter storm I helped him with. I was thirteen, I think. Man, I remember coming home cold to the bone and so exhausted I could barely stay awake through supper.” He lifted one cheek in a grin. “Best kind of tired in the world. My dad used to say, you sleep well at night when your pillow is an honest day’s work.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad. That you’re stuck here, instead of with him.”

  He angled a sad smile toward her. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He fell silent, staring into the fire, and Chelsea fidgeted with the edge of the throw, weaving it around her fingers. “My mom spent several months in the hospital about year ago, fighting breast cancer that had metastasized to her lung. It’s scary to think about losing a parent, you know. I mean, you take them for granted and roll your eyes when they try to micromanage your life, but then something like that happens and you think, wait a minute! My mom can’t die! I need her!” A familiar worry knotted her gut and fluttered in her chest. She took a slow breath to calm herself, reminding herself aloud, “She’s a lot better now. The Hawaii trip is to celebrate her being in remission.”

  “That’s good.” He flashed another lopsided grin, but it seemed tinged with sadness.

  “Yeah. Her doctors are hopeful, but I still get a little panicky when she has a bad day or acts tired. Now I’m the one nagging her about eating healthy and getting enough sleep.”

  She was rambling, she realized, chattering nervously because the fire, the dark room and quiet house felt too intimate.

  He’d seen her in her underwear, for cripes’ sake! Carried her on his back...

  And now they were alone together. All night. Her pulse stumbled.

  She rearranged the throw around her shoulders and shifted her weight from one numb butt cheek to the other. Sadie yawned, then propped her chin on Chelsea’s leg.

  Glancing at Jake’s profile, she asked, “When was the last time you saw your dad?”

  “Hmm.” He scowled and scratched his chin. “Thanksgiving.”

  “So...at least you saw him recently.” She infused her tone with a note of optimism, trying to lift his spirits. “That’s good.”

  He glanced at her, his expression guilty. “Not this past Thanksgiving. The one before that. Like fourteen months ago.”

  “Oh.” She blinked at him and fumbled. “That’s—”

  “Not so good.”

  “Well,” she hedged, “but you were working, right? Doing important, top secret security stuff. Protecting lives...”

  He cut her off with a side glance. “I could have made time between missions, but there was always another assignment calling, more bad guys to chase around the world.”

  “So...why didn’t you stay with ranching? What made you get into the spy game?”

  He quirked one eyebrow. “I’m not a spy.”

  “So you say. But maybe you are, and you’re just telling me you’re not to try to throw me off track.” She gave him a teasing grin. “And you didn’t answer the question. Why did you give up ranching with your dad?”

  His expression grew pensive as he stared into the flames. “I’d made a promise I had to keep.”

  “What kind of promise? To whom?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and she feared she’d crossed a boundary. Finally he sighed and said, “To my mom. She used to tell me and my sister to be the change we wanted to see in the world.”

  “Gandhi.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Yeah, very good.”

  She shrugged. “I think I heard it on Jeopardy last week.”

  He flashed a grin before turning back to the fire and growing pensive again. “Ranching was fine for my dad, but I wanted to make a difference in the world, do something to counter the evil that’s all too prevalent in our world. I’d started college working on an ag science major, but I decided pretty quickly I wanted to do something that mattered in the big picture.”

  “I’d say you’ve done that, Spy Guy.” After a moment, Chelsea asked, “What did your dad say about your leaving the family business?”

  “He was a little irked at first, probably because I dropped out of school without talking to him first. I think, mostly, he was disappointed I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps.”

  She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. “How can he not be proud of what you’re doing for your country? You risk your life to protect others....”

  He nodded. “Oh, sure. He’s happy for me now, but I left home during a rough time for my family. Later when I joined the Air Force, he told me he respected my decision.” His cheek twitched in a quick lopsided grin.

  She wrinkled her nose in query. “I thought you said you weren’t in the Air Force.”

  He turned up one palm. “I’m not anymore. I left for my current position. The military experience and working knowledge of planes and helicopters serves me well on the job.”

  Chelsea arched one eyebrow. “The top secret, can’t-tell-me-what-it-is job.”

  His mouth curled up in a wry grin. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “What about your mom? How does she feel about your top secret spy gig?”

  His eyebrows whipped together in a deep crease, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t know. She died when I was sixteen.”

  “Oh.” Her heart wrenched in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  He acknowledged her condolence with a quick nod but didn’t pursue the topic. Chelsea mentally kicked herself. She’d been yammering about how scary it would be to lose her mother and Jake had lost his. She felt like a heel. How does that foot taste, Harris?

  “Probably the hardest thing about my job for my dad is that we can’t talk very often,” Jake said, yanking her out of her self-recriminations. “I can’t tell him where I am, what I’m doing, when I’ll see the family again...”

  “Are you and your dad close?”

  “We were. Before I left home and took this job.” He paused a beat. “Or maybe it started when Mom died. A lot changed that summer.” He snapped his mouth closed and clenched his teeth.

  She didn’t miss the melancholy that drifted over his face.

  “But he knows you care, that you’d be there if—” She caught his darkening expression and huffed her frustration with herself. “Crap. I’m not helping, am I?”

  He moved his hand to her knee and flashed a lopsided grin. “None of this is your fault. And if I have to be snowbound, at least I have pleasant company to help pass the time.”

  She twisted her mouth in a wry moue. “Pleasant company who promises to find lighter topics for discussion from here on out.”

  He winked at her, then turned back to the fire. When he winced and raised his hand to the bump on his head, she remembered how hard he’d hit his head when he fell after being shocked by the stun gun.

  Concern twisted inside her. “You okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just have a headache.” He gave her a dismissive shrug.

  “I bet you do. You hit your head pretty hard and were out cold for a scary long time. You probably have a concussion.”

  He hummed his agreement. “Wouldn’t be my fir
st.”

  “Mr. Noble probably has some OTC painkillers in his bathroom. Want me to get you some?” She let the blanket drop from around her shoulders and started to push up off the floor.

  He caught her arm. “I’ll go.”

  She shrugged away from his grip and rose shakily to her feet. “No, let me. You’ve been taking care of me the last several hours. It’s my turn to do something for you.”

  “Suit yourself.” He climbed to his feet anyway. “I’ll go out and get us more firewood before it’s completely buried under the snow.”

  As he headed to the door, she noticed that he wavered a bit. “Jake, are you dizzy?”

  He waved her off. “I’ll be fine.”

  Chelsea pressed her mouth in a line of disapproval. Her dad was stubborn about seeing a doctor or admitting he felt bad. As if accepting help or acknowledging he hurt was a show of weakness. Men!

  Chelsea headed down the hall toward the bathroom, which because of its lack of windows was pitch-dark. Retracing her steps, she searched every drawer in the living room and kitchen until she found a flashlight. Switching it on, she returned to the bathroom and opened Mr. Noble’s medicine cabinet. And blinked. The man could supply a pharmacy. She checked each bottle, shining the flashlight on one label at a time. High-blood-pressure medicine. Asthma medicine in Mrs. Noble’s name. A popular antidepressant. Poor Mr. Noble had missed his wife so much....

  Pushing the prescription bottles aside she found a bottle of ibuprofen in the back of the bottom shelf and took it down for Jake. Heck, she’d probably take one, too. As her muscles thawed out, they’d started to ache.

  She reached the living room just as Jake came through the back door with an armload of split firewood. He stumbled, lurching sideways, and his shoulder bumped the doorframe. Two of the logs in the stack tumbled to the floor, startling Nela, who scurried away from the fireplace with her fur bristled.

  Jake grumbled a curse under his breath, then hesitated when he noticed Chelsea watching him. “Okay, so I’m a little dizzy. Yes, I probably have a concussion, but I’m fine.”

  He retrieved the logs he’d dropped and walked slowly to the fireplace. Without looking at her, he began poking more wood in the fire and blowing on the embers to stoke the flames.