Duty To Protect

“A few miles.”

“What about you?”

He wearily rolled his head against the neck rest to look at her. “I need to be here in a couple hours anyway. I’ll just doze in the truck and set my cell phone alarm.”

“I might as well stay here, too.” She shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not worth getting a room for such a short time.”

“Go ahead—there’s nothing for you to do here, and maybe you can sleep till noon or so. I’ll pay for two nights so you won’t have to check out.” A corner of his mouth kicked up into a tired grin. “If the motel I’m thinking about has a room available, you’ll find a dollar store a few doors down.”

His thoughtfulness surprised her. Most of those stores carried basic clothing and toiletries, and just the thought of a long, hot shower and clean clothes was pure bliss. “Let me help you here. Can I carry anything?”

“I’ll bring in the horses and feed. But if you want to grab a couple of water buckets out of the trailer, I’d appreciate it. I’m sure there must be spigots inside the building.”

Pulling her hat down over her ears, she zipped up her jacket and stepped out into the cold. After finding the buckets in the dressing room of the trailer, she followed Jake, Maisie and the two horses into the building.

It was wonderfully warm inside, pungent with the rich scents of hay and horse and leather. Dim lights glowed from up in the rafters. Horses already in the stalls stirred, rustling their bedding and nickering as Jake led the mares down a long aisle, the metallic four-beat clip-clop of their shoes echoing in the cavernous space.

“This place is huge,” she whispered as she watched him snug up each mare’s blanket surcingles and put her in the appropriate stall.

“There are indoor and outdoor arenas on the grounds, one of the biggest sales barns in the country, and five hundred stalls here in the horse barn, I think.”

The sharp angles and planes of his jaw, darkened by five o’clock shadow, gave him the air of a rugged, handsome hero on the Western reruns she often watched late at night, and there’d always been something about a confident, skilled and easygoing man that had appealed to her…maybe because nothing in her life had ever been stable.

Watching Jake stirred feelings that had no place in her life right now, and she struggled for a moment, trying to recall the conversation. “So this is a horse palace.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Not quite. You oughta see some of the horse operations in Texas and Oklahoma.”

“And where you come from?”

He laughed at that. “Where I come from, things are just a tad more rustic.”

“But beautiful, I’m sure.”

He gave her an odd look. “You’re sure you want to go someplace where you don’t know a soul?”

“I may know…someone. But it’s been many years, now. I’m not even sure I can find her.” Or if I dare. Bringing trouble to her sister’s door after all this time was the last thing she wanted to do. “So, where do I find water for these buckets?”

He nodded toward the end of the aisle. “Go down there, take a left. I think there are faucets just around the corner. I’ll go back outside and get the grain, hay and ground feeders.”

Maisie followed at Jake’s heels as he strode back toward the entrance. Emma walked down the aisle, listening to the sounds of his fading footsteps as she passed another dozen horses in stalls, six on each side of the aisle. Most were dozing, heads low and a hind hoof cocked, or laying down. A couple of them moved up against the vertical bars at the front of their stalls and eyed her expectantly, as if hoping for early breakfast.

Beyond those horses was a long stretch of empty stalls, the stall doors open, the interiors shadowed and dark as the mouth of a cave. She felt a prickle of unease crawl across the back of her neck as she passed each one.

The barn had seemed warm and welcoming when she’d first arrived, alive with the peaceful presence of the horses. Back here, anything—or anyone—could be lying in wait for her.

But of course, that was ridiculous.

No one from Chicago could’ve predicted that she would be here. The man she’d seen back in Ogallala would’ve had to battle the same tough winter conditions if he’d tried to follow, and with such poor visibility he would’ve had to second-guess every exit, wondering if Jake might’ve turned off and headed for parts unknown.

Until she and Jake reached the Denver metro area, she’d never even noticed any headlights in the rearview mirror, other than those of a few semis that had crawled slowly past. And she certainly hadn’t heard anyone enter the building since they’d arrived here.

Taking a deep breath, she reached the end of the aisle and turned the corner. Sure enough, there was the water spigot a few yards ahead for filling buckets. “Just a few minutes more, and I’ll be in some nice comfy motel,” she muttered under her breath. “Door locked, nice and safe.”

Warm, stale breath fanned across the back of her neck. Or did it?

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, the fingers digging painfully into the hollow above her collarbone. The cloying order of cheap aftershave filled her nostrils.

“Stop right there.”

She froze as panic raced through her.

“I wouldn’t make a sound, if I were you. Now drop those buckets, nice and easy, and start walking. We’re going to make a phone call and take care of you, believe me.”

Her heart lurched. All of the lights were off in this section of the barn. The shadowy aisle ahead faded into complete darkness. It was the last direction she dared go—yet her attacker behind her stood between her and possible safety with Jake.

Jake.

What if he was…what if he was already dead?

She forced herself to take a step. Then another, her thoughts racing, her knees weak with fear. Two things were clear. Cooperation would leave her dead. With an escape attempt, it was just a strong possibility.

“Please—just let me go.”

The grip on her shoulder tightened as the man behind her forced her to walk faster. “Shut up.”

His voice grated across her skin. She edged a hand into her jacket pocket, praying that her car keys were still there. Fought back the shivers racing through her as she judged her surroundings. “You’ve got the wrong person. Honest. I—”

“You’ve caused enough trouble already,” the man snarled, giving her shoulder a sharp jerk.

She surreptitiously unzipped her jacket a millimeter at a time, offered a fast, silent prayer, then she slashed at his fingers with the jagged edge of her car key and let her knees buckle.

“Hey!” He clawed at her loosened jacket, his grasp broken. She spun around. Rammed her elbow into his side. He swore, flailing his arms as he stumbled sideways and fell, but he was at her heels in a split second, grabbing for her collar.

She struggled. Slipped free of the jacket. Then she raced back toward the way they’d come, screaming Jake’s name, skidding on the smooth cement as she rounded the corner, her heart thundering and her lungs raw.

Somewhere ahead, she heard Maisie break into furious barking, the sounds coming closer. The dog burst into view around the corner and Emma dared a glance back.

In the next heartbeat she slammed into a solid wall of muscle. Powerful arms surrounded her. Maisie anxiously danced at her feet, whining and jumping up against her.

Emma screamed, fought to escape.

“Emma.” Her captor loosened his grasp. “Emma, it’s me. Listen to me.”

It was Jake. Relief flooded through her, followed by another wave of fear. She threw another wild glance over her shoulder and saw only an empty aisle behind her. “Th-there’s a man. He’s back there. He—he grabbed me.”

Jake held her at arm’s length and studied her face for a second, then looked over her shoulder. “Quiet.”

They both stood still, listening. All she could hear was the uneasy rustlings of the horses she’d just passed.