Wyoming Cowboy Bodyguard

Zach shrugged. “Doesn’t matter either way.”

Cam chuckled. “Sure. You’re not worried about what might happen if she’s some long-lost cousin of mine?”

“No, I’m not. I’m worried about keeping Daisy Delaney safe from her stalker, assuming there really is one.” Because the Daisy Delaney case would set the tone for what he wanted to offer here. On the surface it would look like a ghost town. But below the surface it could be a place for people to find safety, security and hope while the slow wheels of justice handled things legally.

If he believed in life callings, and these days he was starting to, his was this. He’d been a part of the slow wheels of justice. He’d failed at protecting because of it. Now he’d do all he could to keep those entrusted to him safe.

“I should head off to the airport. You’ll do the double check?”

Cam nodded. “Is turndown service offered as part of the package?”

“Up to you, boss,” Zach said with a grin, slapping Cam on the back.

Cam eyed him, but Zach ignored the perceptive look and headed for his car. He didn’t need Cam giving him another lecture about taking things slow, having reasonable expectations for a fledgling business.

Zach had endured a bad year. Really bad. His brother had been admitted to a psychiatric ward, and his long-lost sister had forgiven the man who’d murdered their father and kidnapped her. He’d been kicked out of the FBI—which meant no hope of ever getting back into legitimate law enforcement. And then he’d tried to help one of his cousins outwit a stalker-murderer and been hurt in the process.

In some ways all that hardship had brought him everything he’d ever wanted—his long-lost sister back in his life, a job that didn’t seem to choke the very life out of him and some closure over the murder of his father.

Then there was this project. Ghost Town. He couldn’t tamp down his enthusiasm, his excitement. He had to grab on to the rightness he finally felt and hold on to it with everything he had.

He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to move forward.

Daisy Delaney was going to be the way to do that. He drove down deserted Wyoming roads to the highway, then to the regional airport in Dubois where his first client would be landing any minute.

Zach parked and entered the small airport, all the excitement of a new job still buzzing inside him.

He’d facilitated crisscrossing flights with his former FBI buddy, and only Zach knew the disguise she’d be wearing. Though he wondered how much a wig and sunglasses would do for a famous singer.

Zach liked country music as much as the next guy, so it was impossible not to know Daisy Delaney’s music. She’d somehow eclipsed even her father’s outlaw country reputation with wild songs about drinking, cheating and revenge. Country fans either loved her or loved to complain about her.

Of course, since her divorce from all-American sweetheart Jordan Jones, the complainers had gotten more vocal. Zach hadn’t followed it all, but he’d read up on it once this assignment had come along. She’d been eviscerated in the press, even when the stalking started. Many thought it was a publicity ploy to get people to feel sorry for her.

It had not worked.

Zach couldn’t deny it was a possibility, even if a man was dead—the security guard. A shame. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a ploy. You never knew with the rich and famous.

Still, Zach was determined to make his own conclusions about Daisy Delaney and what might be going on with her stalker, or fictional stalker as the case may be.

The small crowd walked through the security gates. He’d been told to look for black hair and clothes, a red bag and purple cowboy boots. He spotted her immediately.

In person, she was surprisingly petite. She didn’t exactly look like a woman who’d burn your house down if you looked at another woman the wrong way, but looks could be deceiving.

He’d done enough undercover work to know that well.

He adjusted his hat, gave the signal he’d told her people to expect and she nodded and walked over to him.

“You must be Mr. Hughes.” She used the fake name Jaime had chosen and held out a hand. The sunglasses she wore hid her eyes, and the mass of black hair hid most of her face. Whatever her emotions were, they were well hidden. Which was good. It wouldn’t do to have nerves radiating off her.

He took her outstretched hand and shook it. “And you must be Ms. Bravo.” Fake names, but soon enough they wouldn’t need to bother with that. “Any more bags?” he asked, nodding to the lone duffel bag she carried.

She shook her head.

“Follow me.”

She eyed everyone in the airport as they walked outside, but her shoulders and stride were relaxed as she kept up with him. She didn’t fidget or dart. If she was fearing her life, she knew how to hide it.

He opened the passenger-side door to his car. She slid inside. Still no sign of concern over getting into a car with a stranger. Zach frowned as he skirted the car to the driver’s side.

But he wiped the frown into a placid expression as he slid into his seat. “We have about a thirty-minute drive ahead of us.” He pushed the car into Drive and pulled out of the airport parking lot. “You could take your wig off,” he offered. “Get comfortable.”

“I’d prefer to wait.”

He nodded as he drove. Tough case. A hint of nerves here and there, but overall a very cool customer. Cautious, though, so she clearly took the threat of danger seriously.

He drove in silence through the middle of nowhere Wyoming. He flicked a few glances her way, though it was hard to discern anything. He didn’t get the impression she was impressed, but he hadn’t expected her to be. He imagined she preferred, if not the glitz and glam of the city, the slow ease of wealthy Southern life she was probably used to.

Wyoming wouldn’t offer that, but it would offer her security. He drove down the main street that was now his domain, this ghost town he and Cam had bought outright.

At some point they’d all be safe houses. Or maybe even a functioning town behind the facade of desertion and decay.

For right now, though, it was just the main house. He pulled up in front of the giant showpiece.

It had been built over a century ago by some railroad executive. From the outside the windows were all knocked out, the wood was faded and peeling paint hung off. Everything sagged, and it had the faint air of haunted house.

It made him grin every time. “Well, here we are.”

For the first time he could read her expression. Pure, unadulterated horror. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get a little kick out of that. “I promise it’s not as bad as it looks.”

She wrenched her gaze away from the large house, then stared at him through the dark sunglasses. “Can I see your ID or something?” she demanded.

He shifted and pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Have at it.” He pushed open the door and got out of the car. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

Chapter Two (#uc870f4cf-38a7-5ab8-929d-cd1e776c95e5)

What Daisy really wanted to do was call her brother and ask him if he’d lost his mind. Call Jaime and ask if she was sure this guy was sane. Call anyone to take her home.

But inside the wallet the man had so casually handed her was a driver’s license with the name Jaime had given her. The picture matched the man currently standing in front of the horror-movie house outside the car. There were also all sorts of security licenses and weapon certifications.

Vaughn had said this place was isolated, even more isolated than their old family cabin in the Guadalupe Mountains. But she hadn’t been able to picture how that was possible.

Oh, was it possible. Possible and horrifying.

She flipped the wallet closed and then looked at the giant, falling-apart building. If she didn’t die because a stalker was after her, she’d die because this building was going to fall in on her.

It had to be infested with rats. And probably all other manner of vermin.

She couldn’t get her body to move from the safety of this car, and still, the man whom she’d been assured would keep her safe stood outside, grinning at the dilapidated building in front of him.