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Texas Rebels: Egan
Linda Warren


Heart of a HeroBig-city art instructor Rachel Hollister isn’t back home in Texas for more than a few hours before she’s lost in the woods surrounding Rebel Ranch. But, when a ruggedly handsome cowboy manages to save her life twice in the same day, it seems Rachel’s bad luck has taken a turn for the better!Rancher Egan Rebel can’t refuse someone in need, even the daughter of an enemy. It was Rachel’s father who unjustly sentenced Egan to prison years ago, but Egan’s drawn to beautiful, creative Rachel. He’s saved her life… now she might just become his future!







Rachel placed her hand on Egan’s forearm.

His eyes met hers. “It’s time to shelve the guilty feelings. Time to move on and accept that we did our best.”

She leaned over. “You smell good,” she whispered.

“Irish Spring soap.”

“Why are you not pushing me away?”

“I’m too tired.”

“Good. Don’t think. Just feel all the good things that we know about each other.”

“Rachel …”

She placed her forefinger over his lips. “You’re thinking.”

“Nothing can change my past.”

She curled into his side. “I’m not thinking about your past. I’m thinking about now. Here. You and me. We’re two consenting adults and can handle whatever happens.”

“What do you want to happen?”

She raised her head and stared into his gorgeous eyes. “Call me ma’am.”

His lips curved into a smile. “What do you want to happen, ma’am?”


Texas Rebels: Egan

Linda Warren






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Two-time RITA


Award-nominated and award-winning author LINDA WARREN loves her job, writing happily-ever-after books for Mills & Boon. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch, all set against the backdrop of Texas. Her favorite pastime is sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife, especially the injured ones that are coming in pairs these days: two Canada geese with broken wings, two does with broken legs and a bobcat ready to pounce on anything tasty. Learn more about Linda and her books at her website, lindawarren.net (http://lindawarren.net), or on Facebook, LindaWarrenAuthor, or follow @ Texauthor on Twitter.


I dedicate this book to Helen Sheffield, friend, author, teacher and supporter of anyone who was interested in writing. She encouraged and supported me over the years and I’m grateful for having known her. She was an amazing, loving, giving person who never met a stranger. Rest in peace, my friend.


Acknowledgements (#ulink_21b03b27-8311-5b88-9193-759d601c693c)

A big thank-you to the internet. The research for this book was done solely online: weeks of researching and double-checking and chatting to people who were nice enough to share their knowledge, especially about dog bites, prison and court proceedings.


Contents

Cover (#ubfaff7f4-fa5f-5228-8d1b-d2f8b62b3276)

Introduction (#ua62e25eb-d0fb-5c49-b37c-17738bd35a70)

Title Page (#ube2ecd0c-d25c-5ce8-83b3-e34fa40ab49a)

About the Author (#u2b68d5bd-7b13-510f-9ae2-d25effa1c60c)

Dedication (#ued24ab2c-2e6d-5df5-bce7-d55658afb6cc)

Acknowledgments (#ulink_58ae6a16-22ff-5617-9640-44952831a8ab)

Prologue (#u4dde39ef-a34b-5565-acde-8ceb6afd6fd6)

Chapter One (#u421d0956-506f-5fa6-bdee-0f2adae17020)

Chapter Two (#u3f251e95-9772-5741-bdb0-1f4a7701206b)

Chapter Three (#ua57a8c74-1e96-5736-8d98-cad23ea841a3)

Chapter Four (#u998943d6-b87f-508e-8a65-c97b4eea63b2)

Chapter Five (#u7fd6710a-9773-5722-b741-5605f66eccf9)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Prologue (#ulink_da38b593-db69-550d-a2fe-6ce9afd372f8)

My name is Kate Rebel. I married John Rebel when I was eighteen years old and then bore him seven sons. We worked the family ranch, which John later inherited. We put everything we had into buying more land so our sons would have a legacy. We didn’t have much, but we had love.

The McCray Ranch borders Rebel Ranch on the east and the McCrays have forever been a thorn in my family’s side. They’ve cut our fences, dammed up creeks to limit our water supply and shot one of our prize bulls. Ezra McCray threatened to shoot our sons if he caught them jumping his fences again. We tried to keep our boys away, but they are boys—young and wild.

One day Jude and Phoenix, two of our youngest, were out riding together. When John heard shots, he immediately went to find his boys. They lay on the ground, blood oozing from their heads. Ezra McCray was astride a horse twenty yards away with a rifle in his hand. John drew his gun and fired, killing Ezra instantly. Both boys survived with only minor wounds. Since my husband was protecting his children, he didn’t spend even one night in jail. This escalated the feud that still goes on today.

The man I knew as my husband died that day. He couldn’t live with what he’d done, and started to drink heavily. I had to take over the ranch and the raising of our boys. John died ten years later. We’ve all been affected by the tragedy, especially my sons.

They are grown men now and deal in different ways with the pain of losing their father. One day I pray my boys will be able to put this behind them and live healthy, normal lives with women who will love them the way I loved their father.


Chapter One (#ulink_7a83bd7a-1764-509f-9f02-c30dc007ecf6)

Egan: the third son—the loner

A cowboy’s work was never done.

Holidays, weekends, in bitter cold and extreme heat, Egan Rebel was in the saddle on Rebel Ranch, herding cattle, branding, tagging, vaccinating, fixing fences and feeding. It never ended. But that’s who he was—a cowboy. It was a whole lot better than staring at cell bars in front of his face.

Freedom was free, or so they said, but for Egan it came with a price. One he paid every day of his life. He meandered his horse through a herd of red-and-white cattle, forcing the thoughts away. His dog, Pete, trailed behind, on watch in case a moody cow decided to charge.

The vast Texas ranch stretched across miles and miles of gently rolling hills dotted with oak, elm, yaupon, cedar and mesquite, then down into lush valleys of coastal hay fields, prairies of wildflowers and woods so thick only daylight could squeeze through. Two creeks and various natural springs flowed on the property. No place on earth could compare to the spectacular sunrises or the awe-inspiring sunsets. This was paradise on earth to Egan. Fresh air, blue skies and freedom. He’d left here once to his peril, but he would never leave again.

Buzzards circled overhead. He pulled up. A cow bellowed in distress at the edge of the woods. He kneed his horse, Gypsy, in that direction. When he saw the problem he swung from the saddle, the leather creaking as he did. A baby calf lay dead in the grass.

Jericho Johnson rode in and surveyed the scene. “What happened?” Jericho was Egan’s best friend. He’d saved Egan’s life in prison and for that Egan would always be grateful. Egan’s mother, Kate, had given Jericho a job and a home for his actions. They didn’t know much about the man, but Egan knew what was important.

He squatted by the red-and-white calf and pointed. “Teeth marks around its neck. A fun kill. Probably by a pack of feral dogs or wolves. This makes the eighth calf this month.”

Pete sniffed the ground and barked.

Egan followed the dog into the woods. “Come back, boy,” he called, and Pete trotted to his side.

“There are tracks leading to the McCray property.” Egan walked toward his horse. “The woods are too thick for a horse. Take the horses and Pete back to the ranch. I’m going to keep tracking on foot.”

Jericho removed his hat and scratched his head. He was a big man, about six-four. His nationality was unknown, but he’d once told Egan he was a little bit white, Mexican, Indian and black. With his long hair and a scar slashed down the side of his face, he was known to scare the strongest of men.

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Jericho knew of the feud with the McCrays and that avoiding them was always the best policy.

Egan removed his rifle from the saddle scabbard. “Crazy Isadore McCray has dogs and I just want to see if they’ve crossed over onto Rebel land. If Izzy has been killing our calves, I’ll call the sheriff. I don’t plan on being stupid and confronting him. Stupid once in a lifetime is all I can handle.”

“If the two of us track—”

Egan cut him off with a dark stare. “I know these woods like the back of my hand and I don’t need any help tracking. Tell Mom and Falcon I’m on it.”

Jericho inclined his head. “You got it.” He reached for the reins of Egan’s horse. “But if you’re not at the ranch by tomorrow, I’ll come looking.”

Egan nodded to his friend and squatted in front of Pete. “Go back to the ranch with Rico.” He rubbed the dog’s head. He didn’t want the feral dogs to kill him. Pete was an Australian blue healer, a cow dog, but if it came to a fight, he would be right in the middle of it.

Tipping his hat, Jericho rode away, Pete trotting behind. The dog stopped once to look back, but Egan didn’t motion for him to come, so he continued his journey behind the horses.

Egan shoved his hand into the pocket of his dark duster and pulled out his phone. No signal. He was alone, but it had been that way most of his life, even with six brothers.

Following the trail into the woods, he pushed through yaupons and mesquite. He kept his eyes focused on the ground. From the tracks, there had to be at least six dogs and one man. The woods grew thicker and the tracks disappeared, almost into thin air. He was close enough to the McCray property line to know Izzy had been up to no good. Egan may have told Rico he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but he wasn’t about to let Izzy kill any more calves on Rebel Ranch.

* * *

RACHEL HOLLISTER WAS LOST.

For over an hour, she’d been traveling this country back road and the scenery had changed from mesquite and scrub to thick woods. She cursed herself for being a coward and taking the long way home. She’d been away twelve years and still she was stalling, avoiding the moment she would walk in the door of the home she’d shared with her mother and family. The mother who had died because of her. Twelve years was long enough to deal with the guilt. The grief. Or maybe not. It was part of her now.

Every morning when she looked in the mirror she saw herself, but she also saw a young girl who’d been spoiled, pampered and far too used to getting her own way. Rachel didn’t like that girl and had had years to change her. But she hadn’t changed enough to face the past. That was evident by her taking this cutoff to nowhere. If she’d stayed on US 77 she would already be in Horseshoe.

She’d left the blacktop some time ago and now the road narrowed to merely a track. Her heart lifted when she saw a cattle guard. There had to be a house somewhere and she could ask for directions. She looked around for signs of human life, a barn, anything. But all she saw were woods and more woods. The track ended and she had nowhere to go.

Just then the engine made a funny sound and she could barely turn the steering wheel. She stopped and listened. The motor was still running but the car wouldn’t go. Now what?

She reached for her phone in her purse and tried to call her brother. No signal. She looked out the window and couldn’t see power lines. Where was she? Rachel got out of the car and an eerie feeling came over her. The May wind rustled through the trees, the only sound she heard.

She tried her phone again. Nothing. A sliver of alarm shot through her and she got back into the car. How was she going to get out of here? She mustn’t panic. She shut off the engine and waited ten minutes. When she started it again it sounded strange, not like before. She put the car in gear and pressed the gas. The steering wheel was still hard to turn and she knew she couldn’t go very far like this. She turned off the ignition.

Her choices were simple. She’d have to walk out or sit here and wait for someone to find her. From the silence, she feared that wait might be long. A tear slipped from her eye and she slapped it away. She could handle this.

She got out of the car again and looked down at her dress and heels. Not ideal for walking. Her suitcase was in the backseat, so she’d just change into jeans and sneakers.

As Rachel moved toward the door, something in her peripheral vision caught her eye. Her heart thumped against her chest. There was a man emerging from the woods. He was hard to see because he seemed as one with his surroundings. A dark duster like she’d seen cowboys wear in olden days flapped around his legs. His longish dark hair brushed against his collar, and he had at least a day’s worth of stubble. A worn hat was pulled low over his eyes, but what held her attention was the rifle in his hand.

Fear crept along her nerves as she got back into the car, locking the doors manually. The man continued to stride toward her. There was nothing she could do but wait. Who was he? And what was he doing out here so far from anywhere?

Her eyes were glued to him as he drew closer. She scooted away from the window, as if that would help. When he tapped on the window, she jumped; she was so nervous.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

He peered at her through the window and she stared into the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Instead of being paralyzed with fear, her body relaxed. His eyes were riveting. It was like coming in from an icy cold day into a room with a roaring fire. All she felt was the warmth, and she instinctively knew this man wouldn’t hurt her.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” he repeated, and his strong voice propelled her into action. She turned on the motor and reached for the window button, but nothing happened. The window wouldn’t move. She had no choice but to open the door.

As she got out, he stepped back and she realized he was tall. Even in her heels she had to look up.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was deep, masculine and irritated.

“I’m lost,” she admitted. “I was headed to Horseshoe.”

“You’re miles away from Horseshoe.”

She knew that. “I was hoping to find a house and get directions, but there don’t seem to be any homes nearby.”

“No.” He pointed. “Across that fence line is the McCray property and you’re standing on Rebel Ranch. The cattle guard is a back entrance in case we need it. If you turn around and follow the track, it will lead you to a road. You should be able to find your way then.”

“That’s the problem. Something’s wrong with my car. It started making funny noises and now I can’t turn the steering wheel. And the windows won’t work, either.” She looked into those beautiful eyes. “Do you know anything about cars?”

He placed his rifle against the vehicle. “Unlatch the hood and I’ll take a look.”

Unlatch the hood? “Uh...” She had no idea what he was talking about, and it was no use pretending that she did. “This is a rental and I don’t know anything about cars.”

He didn’t roll his eyes or anything like that. He just reached inside her car and pulled something. A pop sounded. He walked to the front of the car and with both hands lifted the hood. Peering over, she watched as he looked around.

He finally straightened. “Your serpentine belt is broken. It controls a lot of the extras on your car, like power steering, power windows and AC. I’m not sure about this model, but it can also control the water pump, which means driving could be dangerous.” He slammed the hood shut.

“Do you live nearby?” she asked with a hopeful note.

“Miles away. I’m out tracking feral dogs.”

“What?” Had she heard him correctly? She had this eerie feeling she’d stepped back into the 1800s.

“Dogs are killing our calves on the ranch.” When he sensed she wasn’t following him, he waved his hand. “You can just follow the track to the road. It’ll take you an hour or so, but someone will eventually find you.”

She looked down at her heels.

“Do you have other shoes?” That note of irritation was back in his voice.

“In my suitcase.”

“My suggestion is you change and start moving, because it’s going to be dark soon.”

The thought of walking alone at night filled her with a claustrophobic feeling. “I really don’t want to walk alone. I’ll pay you if you help me get to Horseshoe.”

He sighed. “Ma’am, I don’t need your money. I just need to get back to doing my job before any more calves die on the ranch.”

“You can’t just leave me out here. I know there are wild animals and no telling what else. It’s dangerous.”

“And that didn’t cross your mind when you were traveling miles and miles without a sign of life?”

“I was looking for Cutoff 149.”

“They changed that many years ago. The roads now have county numbers so it’s easier for emergency vehicles and firefighters.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Horseshoe.”

“Then why not stay on 77?”

He was annoyed and he was making her annoyed. She placed her hands on her hips. “Are you going to help me or not?”

He glanced off to the woods and then at her. “Looks like I don’t have any choice, and I lost the tracks a while ago. If we walk directly east, it should take about two hours to reach a spot where we can get cell phone reception. Then I can call the ranch and someone can meet us in an all-terrain vehicle. Change clothes. I’ll give you a few minutes.” He strolled away without a backward glance.

Goose bumps popped up on her skin. He wouldn’t leave her here, would he? Her gut instinct said no. She didn’t know anything about him, but she sensed he was a man she could trust. Climbing into the backseat, she took a long breath and did a quick change. She felt like Houdini.

This was all her fault and she was angry at herself. She was glad she hadn’t called her father or her brother to let them know she was coming home. They would be worried sick when she didn’t show up. Now they were really going to be surprised. How could one day go so wrong?

* * *

EGAN GAVE THE WOMAN a few minutes, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this mess. He didn’t have time to fool with some ditzy blonde. Being judgmental wasn’t part of his nature, so he should give the woman the benefit of the doubt. But she was far from civilization and it was going to take a big chunk out of his workday to help her. It all depended on how fast she could walk. If he had to guess, he would say it was going to be a slow go.

When he returned to the car, she was standing outside. He took one look and wondered if this woman had any sense at all. She wore short jeans. They had a name, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of it. She had a pink-and-white layered top and pink-and-white sneakers.

He motioned toward the jeans. “Do you have longer ones?”

“No. It’s spring so I brought spring and summer clothes. These are capris.”

“And unsuitable for hiking through the woods.”

Her face crumpled like a little kid’s and he thought she was going to cry. “It’s all I have besides shorts and another dress.”

“It will have to do. Do you have a long-sleeved blouse or a sweater? It’ll get chilly in these hills as it grows darker.”

“I have a lime-green lightweight sweater that goes with my dress, but it doesn’t match what I have on.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He’d gotten himself involved with a city diva.

Her face broke into a smile. “That was silly.”

“Yes, it was. We’re not going to a party. We’ll be hiking through rough terrain and trying to avoid every pesky critter we can. There will be thick woods, brambles, snakes, bugs and every animal from field mice to whitetail deer to bobcats. And believe me, they won’t care what you’re wearing.”

“I assure you I’m not a weak woman. I can handle this.”

“You’ll pardon me if I don’t quite believe that. You’re a city girl.”

She lifted her chin with determination. “I’m a city woman and I’m stronger than I look.”

“Well, city woman, let’s go. Just follow me and don’t complain and don’t ask questions.”

“Wait.” She grabbed her purse and the sweater from the car. She tied the sweater around her neck and slung the purse over her shoulder. Then she got in line behind him as if they were going on a march or something. He shook his head and started off.

For the first thirty minutes she followed on his heels, but the longer they walked, the farther she trailed behind. She was getting tired and wouldn’t admit it, so he slowed down to give her a break. The problem was, they wouldn’t make it far enough to get cell reception before dark.

The woods were beautiful this time of year. The browns of fall and winter had turned to lively shades of green. New life. New season. New beginnings. Rabbits and squirrels scurried about and birds chirped in perfect harmony, the best music to guide their way. A snake slithered up a tree, but he didn’t show her. He feared she might freak out. He glanced back to check how far behind she was, and saw the sun setting in the west. Without thinking, he pointed.

She gasped as she viewed the beautiful oranges and reds that emanated from the large, fiery ball. “How beautiful. It looks as if the woods are on fire.”

He never grew tired of watching the sun set in Texas on Rebel Ranch. It made him aware that there were more important things in the world than his tiny problems.

“We might as well bed down for the night.”

She stared at him with something close to shock in her eyes. “Out here? Maybe our cells will work now.”

“They won’t. We didn’t make it far enough.”

She reached in her purse and pulled out her phone. After several attempts to call, she gave up. “Can we keep walking?”

“It’s too dangerous at night. We’ll stay here and start again in the morning.”

“I went camping once when I was a kid, and I didn’t like it. I don’t think I’m going to like it now, either.”

He laid his rifle on the ground and removed his duster. He spread it out on the sparse grass. “We can rest on this.”

Without a word she sank onto it. Her breathing was labored. “I don’t mean to complain or anything, but water would be heavenly.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” He knelt and fished a canteen from the pocket of the duster.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a collapsible canteen. See—” he unfolded the durable plastic “—we have something to drink out of.”

“But we have no water.”

“There’s a natural spring not far from here.”

She got up on her knees. “You’re not going to leave me here?”

“I won’t be far. Just holler if something happens.”

She sank back on the duster as if in defeat. He watched her for a moment and thought she was holding up well for a city woman.

It didn’t take him long to find the spring. He filled the canteen and drank from it, and then filled it again for her. When he returned, she was sitting on the duster with her arms wrapped around her waist, watching the woods warily. It was getting dark now and her eyes lit up at the sight him. He realized for the first time they were blue—a brilliant, beautiful blue, like a field of Texas bluebonnets.

He sat beside her as she drank the water.

“This is divine.”

“It’s springwater and the best there is.”

She handed him the canteen and he shook his head. “I drank at the spring.”

“Wait.” She dug around in her purse and pulled out two chocolate bars. “I forgot I have Kit Kat bars. I never go anywhere without chocolate.”

“No, tha—”

She held one in front of his face. “Eat it. It’s all we have.”

Before he knew it, he was eating a candy bar with her.

The darkness closed in like a wall, isolating them. It was a dark night and they couldn’t see beyond their hands as crickets serenaded them. The quarter moon hung like a big, bright banana and served as a small spotlight of reassurance that the world was still out there.

She scooted back on the duster. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Yeah.” What else did she want him to say?

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves. You said you worked on Rebel Ranch. Do you know the Rebel family?”

“You could say that. I’m Egan Rebel.”

“Oh, are you Phoenix’s brother?”

“Yes.” It felt a little strange that she knew his family.

“He was in my class in school. He spiked the punch at one of my parties and got everyone drunk.”

“That’s Phoenix. The life of the party.”

“He was always fun to be around, but he was one of the wild boys the girls were told to stay away from. All the Rebel boys were known for that, but it didn’t keep the girls from talking about them or wanting to go out with them.”

“Did you want to go out with Phoenix?”

“No. He really was a little wild for me. I was timid in school.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“It was twelve years ago. I’ve matured and now wild boys don’t scare me at all.” She scooted forward. “I’m Rachel...Rachel Hollister.”

Egan’s chest caved in. It took a moment before he could speak. She couldn’t be... No way. But he had to ask the question. “Are you Judge Hollister’s daughter?”

“Yes. Do you know my father?”

Egan was a mild-mannered man and hate didn’t come easily for him, but he hated Judge Hollister. The man had sent him to prison without any hard evidence. He’d sent him into the bowels of hell and Egan had barely escaped with his life. It seemed surreal that he was sitting here with his daughter. A daughter the man loved. For a brief moment he wondered how Judge Hollister would feel if he lost his daughter. Egan wanted him to feel some of the pain he’d felt.

Could he be the criminal Judge Hollister had branded him?


Chapter Two (#ulink_36bb2fbc-4f44-59ba-8f2a-13b19356148c)

“I can’t sleep.” The woman twisted and turned.

“Just be still.”

“I’m trying, but the ground is so hard.” She sat up and untied the sweater from around her neck. Wadding it into a ball, she placed it on the duster and used it for a pillow. “That’s better.”

After a few minutes she grew still and Egan knew she was close to sleep. The temperature had dropped for the evening and it was cooler. She curled into a ball with her arms wrapped around her waist. He reached over, grabbed the end of the duster and pulled it over her legs so she wouldn’t be cold. When he did that, he knew he couldn’t harm one hair on her head. He wasn’t that type of man. No matter what Judge Hollister had done to him, he had no desire for revenge. At least, not that type of revenge.

“What time do you think it is?” she asked, surprising him.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“No. I’m just tired.”

“Rest, then.”

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“In a minute.”

She sat up. “It’s so dark and quiet, except for the crickets. It’s like I’m having a bad dream.”

Egan wrapped his arms around his knees. “Yeah.” If he closed his eyes, he could hear the shouts, the filthy cuss words, the goading and the ugly faces of evil. He’d thought he was tough, but he didn’t know tough until he had to stand toe-to-toe with hardened criminals.

“I feel so stupid,” she murmured.

“Why?” Her words brought him back from the abyss that always threatened to take him down.

“Because I’m a coward. I should have stayed on US 77 and I’d be home now, facing my past the way I was supposed to. The way I’d planned.”

“You have a past?” He couldn’t imagine what kind of a dire past a beautiful blonde could have.

“My parents spoiled me terribly.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t consider that a past.”

“If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you,” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I love the way you say ma’am.”

“I say it like everybody else in Texas.”

“No, you say it with respect and I feel it.”

That threw him, so he just sat and stared at the blanket of twinkling stars and waited for her to speak.

“My mother was killed when I was seventeen.”

“I remember that. She was shot by gang members while walking to her car in a mall, right?”

“Yes. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time...all because of me.”

He knew he should stop with the questions. He didn’t want to get any more involved with her than he already was. But something in her voice prompted him to ask, “What did you have to do with it?”

She didn’t answer and the silence stretched. They kept looking at the beautiful night sky above them. Then her voice came, low and achy. “I haven’t told anyone this and I don’t know why I’m telling you. I just need to say the words—to hear them out loud.” She paused. “It happened on a Friday. There was a dance at my school on Saturday and I wanted this special dress that I’d seen. I begged and begged my mother to buy it, and she said no, that I had plenty of dresses.” A muffled sound followed the words and he knew Rachel was crying. He remained still, not making any movement because he had a feeling she didn’t want him to react. And he wasn’t comfortable with that type of emotion.

“She must’ve changed her mind because that’s what she was doing at the mall—buying my dress. The police gave it to me later and I threw it in the garbage. I killed...my mother.”

“Come on, you can’t possibly believe that.”

“She wouldn’t have been at that mall if I hadn’t continually kept asking for the dress.”

“But it was her choice to go.”

Rachel rested her chin on her knees. “My mother was the most loving person I’ve ever known, and she didn’t deserve to die like that. I just can’t forget it and I’ve tried. For twelve years I’ve been trying. I went to art school in Paris, hoping that would obliterate the guilt, but it didn’t. I longed for home and my mother. But she wasn’t there anymore.”

“I don’t know anything about your mother, but I’m almost positive she wouldn’t want you to live with the guilt.”

“I tell myself that all the time and it doesn’t make that ache go away.”

“Have you talked to someone in your family?”

The answer was a long time coming. “No. I wanted to tell my best friend, Angie, and my brother, but I could never find the right words.”

Egan stared into the darkness and tried to find words of his own to help her. That blew his mind, because he didn’t want to help her. But there was something about her that just begged for protection. His mama had always told him he could never resist a person in need. Even when he considered them the enemy.

“You don’t have a past. You have a guilt complex, and the only way to get rid of it is to talk to your family, the ones who are close to you.” Judge Hollister’s name stuck in his craw and he couldn’t say it out loud.

“That’s what I finally decided to do. You probably know that my brother, Hardy, married Angie Wiznowski, and they have a new baby. I’m dying to see him and to meet their older daughter, Erin, so I planned to come home and deal with all the guilt. And what did I do?” She slapped the top of her knee with her right hand. “At the last minute, I balked and stalled for time by taking the long way and getting lost. Now here I sit with a very nice stranger, wondering if maybe I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re not. Tomorrow we’ll make it to the ranch and you can call your family and talk and tell them how you’re feeling. I’m told talking works wonders.”

“Mmm. You don’t like to talk, do you?”

“Nope. It’s not my favorite thing.”

“Are you married?”

They were getting into personal territory and he certainly didn’t like that. Talking about himself was his least favorite subject. A coyote howled in the distance, diverting her attention.

“How close is that?” she asked, edging a little nearer to him.

“Not very.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you married?”

He gritted his teeth. She was one of those women who just wouldn’t let go. “No. I’m not married. If I was, I wouldn’t be spending the night in these woods.”

“Have you ever been married?”

“Ma’am, it’s time to get some rest.”

“Since you said that so nicely, I will.” She wrapped her arms around herself “It’s getting chilly.”

“You can use the duster. It’ll keep you warm.”

“I will not.” She shoved her right arm into a sleeve. “Now, do the same with your left.”

“What...”

“Remember, you said no complaining.”

He shoved his arm into the hole and it drew them together inside the duster. Maybe too close together. A flowery scent from her hair reached his nostrils, and he wanted to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.

“See, this way we both can stay warm,” she said, with a smile in her voice. “Now we just lie back and go to sleep.”

He grunted, but did as she’d instructed. It took a moment for them to get comfortable. They tried several positions, and finally, lying on their sides worked best. Her soft curves fitted nicely into his hardened body. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman and the feeling was doing a familiar number on his senses. All he had to do was remember who she was and his mind cleared. For a second.

“Are you going to sleep with your hat on?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” She wiggled against him and that was a problem. “I just find it strange.”

“I spent a lot of time in these woods, and on one occasion I took off my hat and the next morning it was gone. A varmint had stolen it. A raccoon is probably wearing it now.”

“I like you, Egan Rebel.”

Don’t like me. Please don’t like me!

“Go to sleep.”

“Call me ma’am.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I will if...”

“Go to sleep...ma’am.”

She laughed, a tingly sound that warmed parts of his heart that had been cold for a long time. He immediately shut out the sound and the feeling.

After a moment, he heard her easy breathing and knew she had fallen asleep. It was a long time before he could succumb to the tiredness of his mind and his body. He had to have the most rotten luck in the world. How ironic was it that he would rescue the judge-from-hell’s daughter? His beautiful daughter.

This had to be one of the worst days of Egan’s life.

* * *

RACHEL WOKE UP to aches and pains, yet felt oddly relaxed. She turned her head and found Egan staring at her with those beautiful eyes. A masculine, woodsy scent reached her and her stomach curled into a pleasant knot. With his hat still on his head, he gave ruggedly handsome a new meaning. The lines of his face were pronounced, his growth of beard arousing, his nose straight and his mouth a sexy slash, begging to be touched and experienced. She licked her lips, wanting that pleasure.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yeah,” she murmured.

He already had his arm out of the duster and now sat up. She felt a bereavement she couldn’t explain. She wondered what he would say if she invited him to touch her, to hold her, to... What was wrong with her? Her mind was straying into dangerous territory. She wasn’t that type of woman. But looking at Egan Rebel, she wanted to be.

With one swift movement, he was on his feet. She, on the other hand, was a little slower. Dawn was breaking over the valley below and she stood for a moment to gaze at the beauty of God’s creation. It was as if God had kissed the night into submission and now the sun could show its glory. It did, in beautiful rays of yellow, a breathtaking scene. She wished she had a canvas to paint it, but she would keep it in her memory for later. Just as she would the man standing beside her.

“I’m going to get some water,” he said.

She reached for her purse and pulled out a small sketch pad she kept.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to sketch this scene so I can paint it later.”

Egan shook his head and disappeared into the woods.

Rachel sat cross-legged with the sketch pad on her lap. She drew broad strokes. The scene before her faded and Egan’s face appeared. The strong lines, longish hair, hat, the shape of his eyes and that steadfast, masculine demeanor. It was all there with each stroke. She stared at it for a moment and then tucked the pad back into her purse. No matter what happened, she would have a memory of this unforgettable man.

Seeing her hairbrush in the purse, she pulled it out and attempted to work the tangles from her hair. A sound caught her attention and she turned her head. She froze. Fear leaped into her throat. Wild-looking dogs stood near the edge of the woods, baring their teeth and growling. A bearded man stood behind them with a rifle.

Rachel tried to get to her feet, but her shaky legs wouldn’t comply. Before she could process the situation, the man said something to the dogs and they charged toward her.

Oh my God!

She scrambled to her feet, trying to run, but the dogs were upon her. “Egan! Egan!” she screamed.

* * *

EGAN DROPPED THE CANTEEN and ran, the rifle in his hand. The scene before him chilled his blood. A dog was on Rachel, ferociously trying to reach her throat. She beat at it with a hairbrush, foiling its attempts. Two more dogs tore at her clothes. Another joined the attack. Rachel kicked and screamed, the sound disrupting the peace and quiet with spine-tingling terror.

He raised his rifle and fired. One dog went down. He fired again and another rolled to the side. A dog leaped up at the sound and Egan fired once more. The animal fell backward and rolled down the hill.

The dog on Rachel wouldn’t let go of its prey, and was too close to her for Egan to shoot without a guarantee he wouldn’t hit her. Running forward, he pulled the knife from the scabbard on his waist, then stabbed until the dog released her and lay motionless.

Rachel cowered there, covered in blood, the hairbrush clutched in her bloody hand. “It’s okay,” Egan told her. “I’m here.”

“There’s...more,” she gasped.

He raised his head and saw Izzy McCray and two more dogs about twenty yards away. Egan’s gun lay on the grass and he immediately reached for it.

“You killed my dogs, you bastard!” Izzy screamed.

“You’re next!” Egan shouted back. He fired over Izzy’s head and he and the dogs retreated into the woods.

Rachel shook from head to toe and her teeth were chattering. Egan pried the brush from her hand and threw it on the ground. Seeing the green sweater, he reached for it. With a sleeve, he wiped blood from her face and her throat. “Calm down,” he cooed, as if to a child. “I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. Take a deep breath. Take another.”

“E-gan,” she cried, and tears rolled from her eyes.

He dabbed blood from the scratches on her face and neck. Luckily, they didn’t look deep. “Come on, we have to get out of here. That crazy fool might be waiting in the woods.”

Rachel shook violently. Egan grabbed the duster and wrapped it around her. Then he looped her purse over his shoulder and lifted her into his arms. The rifle lay on the ground and he bent for it. Walking into the woods to where he’d dropped the canteen, he squatted and reached for it, while resting the rifle against his leg. He screwed off the top with his thumb and forefinger and put the canteen to her lips.

“Drink.”

She raised her hands and he saw how bloody and scratched they were. His gut tightened at what had been done to her. He should never have left her. Damn!

After she finished, he screwed the top back on and let the canteen rest on her chest. Holding her close, he got to his feet with the rifle in hand and then took off into the woods, trying to walk as fast as he could.

“Where are we going?” She laid her head against him, her blond hair matted with blood.

“My great-great-great-grandparents settled on Yaupon Creek and their cabin is still there. I try to keep it up. It has a bed and the bare necessities, but you can rest and I can clean your wounds. The only problem is it’s taking us farther from the ranch, but I think you need medical attention more right now.”

“Do you think he’s following us?”

Egan wanted to tell her no, but he wasn’t sure about crazy Izzy, and he wanted to be honest with her. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare her to death. She’d been through enough for one day.

“Don’t worry. I have my rifle and we’ll be at the cabin in no time.”

Egan thought he was in good shape, but by the time he saw the one-room log cabin nestled on the bank of the creek his muscles were tight and aching. Tall oaks and scrappy yaupons surrounded the place. The view from the front porch was the same as it had been over a hundred years ago. The lazy creek flowed like a pale ribbon and was inhabited by fish, frogs, snakes and turtles. Animals came to drink at different times of the day. Enormous live oaks and cedars shaded it. The yaupons had been cut back for a better view of the valley below.

The steps creaked as he put his weight on them. He needed to fix that, but never seemed to find the time. Juggling Rachel and the rifle, he managed to open the door and carry her inside. “Doin’ What She Likes” by Blake Shelton blared loudly.

He laid her on the mattress of a single bed in a corner across from a stone fireplace.

“Where’s that music coming from?” She curled up on an old patchwork quilt of his grandmother’s.

“A transistor radio I keep on to discourage little critters from coming in. It works pretty good. If they hear a human voice, they go elsewhere.”

“How clever.”

“Yeah.” He turned off the radio. “Rest,” he told her. “I’m going outside to get more water.”

She sat up, her eyes wild. “Egan...”

“It’s okay. I’ll be right outside. The only way in is through this front door and I’ll have my eye on it. Just try to relax.”

It didn’t take him long to get the old pump working at the well. It had been repaired so many times, but still provided water. He filled the bucket and carried it inside, keeping his rifle in hand and a close eye on the surrounding woods as he did so. An armadillo rooted about and birds chirped. Other than that, it was just a normal day in the woods.

But it was anything but normal.


Chapter Three (#ulink_68219d84-9a02-513d-89d0-8f26b8684d8f)

Rachel’s skin burned and she wanted to scream. But she feared if she started, she would never be able to stop. She kept her eyes open, because if she closed them, she could feel the dogs on her—their smelly breath, coarse fur and claws so sharp they’d ripped through her skin.

A scream clogged her throat and she pulled the duster closer around her. The woodsy, masculine, sweaty scent enveloped her, but it wasn’t abrasive. It was soothing because it reminded her of Egan.

She kept her eyes on the door and soon he walked in with a bucket of water, which he set on the floor. Blood covered his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

“I have to clean those wounds and see how bad they are.”

She pushed herself to a sitting position and brushed her fingers through her blood-caked, tangled hair. Egan’s hand touched her face and neck and she stilled. No one had ever touched her that way—gentle, caring and respectful.

“The skin is broken in several places and your neck has two punctures, but they don’t look deep. I’ll clean them with the water and then I can see better.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dipped it in the bucket. Looking at her, he added, “It might be best if you remove your blouse. Some of the scratches on your neck go down.”

Without a second thought, she lifted the blouse over her head and exposed her breasts in a lacy pink bra. He seemed completely unmoved by the sight. Gently, he wiped and squeezed water over each scratch and wound until the liquid in the bucket was bloody. The cloth was cool on her skin, but an inner fire was building in her. With each stroke, she wanted to catch his hand and hold it to her breasts, to feel his touch in a more personal way. It probably was due to the trauma she’d been through, because she’d never reacted this way to any man before.

“I’m going to push on the neck bites to get them to bleed so it will cleanse the wounds of saliva and bacteria.”

“Okay.” She winced as his fingers pressed into her skin.

“I’m worried about rabies, even though Izzy takes very good care of those dogs. Still, they’re in the woods all the time and a few skunks have tested positive for rabies. There’s whiskey in the cabinet. Do you think you could stand it if I pour it over the scratches and bites? It’ll kill whatever bacteria is there and it’s all that I have available here. It’ll sting, but...”

Rachel reached out and removed Egan’s hat. He drew back slightly, which was his only reaction. “I can’t see your eyes with your hat on,” she said.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Is it necessary to see my eyes?”

“Most definitely.”

He went to a small cabinet and came back with a bottle of whiskey. Handing it to her, he said, “You might want to drink some first.”

“Straight?”

“It’ll numb your senses.”

“All righty.”

She lifted the bottle and took a swig, swallowed and coughed as it burned her throat. Her eyes watered, but she took another drink.

“I have to get more water and rinse out the handkerchief. Sip it slowly or your eyes are going to bulge out. Evidently, you’re not used to hard liquor.”

“A margarita or a glass of merlot is more my style.”

“I could’ve guessed.”

She made a face and took another swig, coughing until she thought it was going to come up again. Lying back, she watched glittery rainbows float across the old wood beams of the ceiling. A numbness invaded her mind. She reached out for Egan’s hand. His strong fingers closed around hers and she knew everything was going to be okay. Egan would take care of her. That seemed odd, since she’d been fighting for years for her independence. But with Egan it was different.

“I like you, Egan Rebel.”

“Ma’am...”

A bubble of laughter erupted from her throat, and she thought if she could hear him say that word in that tone for the rest of her life, she would be in heaven.

* * *

EGAN WENT OUTSIDE for more water and rinsed the handkerchief until it was as clean as it was going to get. Back in the cabin Rachel was falling in and out of consciousness. He placed his hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever, but her skin was cool. She was just getting drunk and he had a feeling she didn’t do that often. If ever.

“Ready?” he asked, squatting by the bed.

She drew a deep breath. “Yes.”

He took the bottle from her and soaked the handkerchief. He started with the scratches on her hands and arms, where she’d fought the dogs. The moment the whiskey touched the open wounds she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. He admired that. She had guts.

Quickly, he continued, making sure each scratch was covered with alcohol. She flinched when he did the ones on her face.

“Is it bad?”

“It’ll heal in no time and you’ll still be beautiful.”

“Ah, you think I’m beautiful?”

He soaked the bites on her neck and she bit her lip again, preventing her from talking, which he thought was good. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. God had heaven in mind when he’d created her. Natural blond hair, blue eyes and model-like features. Everything about her was perfection, including her curved, feminine body. Touching her skin was an exercise in restraint. Egan had never felt anything so soft, supple and tempting. One scratch arrowed down to a breast and his hand slowed as he reached its fullness. He wanted to cup it, to feel its weight in his palm. With superhuman strength, he pulled away and screwed the top on the bottle of whiskey.

Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. Then he whipped his T-shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Your blouse is ruined, but you can wear this.” He wanted to cover up those breasts any way he could.

She tugged it over her head and pull the duster around her. “I’m so sleepy.”

“It’s the whiskey.”

Her eyelashes were light brown and lay softly against her skin as a liquor-induced sleep claimed her. He touched her forehead one more time to make sure she didn’t have a fever. Once he was sure of that, he walked outside to the long porch on the front of the cabin.

He sat on the stoop and stared at the creek and the valley below. If she had a fever, they’d have to leave quickly to get her medical attention. They could probably reach the ranch by noon if they walked at a steady pace. He’d let her sleep for a bit and then they’d start out.

Egan’s emotions were all over the place and he couldn’t think straight when he was around her. He’d never had this problem before. She was making him forget that he’d ever known Judge Hollister. But the memory always returned. Egan would never be able to forgive the man for what he’d done, and that meant he couldn’t have any kind of relationship with his daughter.

Relationship?

Where did that come from? He wasn’t planning a relationship with Rachel Hollister. He just wanted to get her back to wherever she belonged. And that wasn’t with him.

He ran his hands up his face and took a deep breath. It would be a long time before the memory of those dogs clawing at her would fade. He’d been so afraid they would kill her. And that was unacceptable and terrifying. He was glad he’d gotten there when he had. Izzy was going to pay for this one way or another. Egan would call the sheriff just as soon as they made it back to the ranch. Izzy had trained those dogs to kill, and that wasn’t safe for anyone.

Glancing down, Egan saw that his knife was in its sheath. He didn’t even remember putting it there. The handle was covered with blood. He pulled it out and saw that the blade was, too. He got up and made his way to the well. There wasn’t anything to clean it with but water. He scrubbed the dried blood with leaves and that did the trick. Slipping it back into its sheath, he knew he might have to use it again.

“Egan!”

His name echoed through the valley with mind-splitting terror. He ran back to the cabin and Rachel flew into his arms.

“Egan.” She threw herself against him and held on, her body trembling. “I...thought...you’d left me here.”

He stroked her back. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Calm down. You just had a bad dream.”

“Every time I close my eyes...”

“Shh.” He led her to the bed. “How do you feel?”

She drew in a deep breath. “Better now that you’re here.”

“We need to start walking soon.” He checked the scratches and bites on her neck. “Everything looks good.” Touching her forehead, he added, “And you don’t have a fever.”

“Can we stay here a little while longer? I don’t want to go back out there just yet.”

“The sooner we leave, the faster we’ll make it to the ranch.”

She looked down at the scrapes on her hands. “I can’t go home like this.”

“Rachel, you’ve been through something horrific and you need your family.”

She raised her eyes to his and they filled with tears. At the sight, his resolve weakened.

“I need you. I know that sounds crazy, but—” she shook her head “—it’s the way I feel. Please, let’s stay here just a little while longer and then I can face my family.”

The pain in her voice got to him, but he had to be honest. “Rachel, you hardly know me. You’re clinging to me because you’re afraid.”

“I know,” she said in a dejected voice. She got up and walked to the doorway. “Oh, look at that view. I can understand why your ancestors chose this spot.” She walked out onto the porch and he followed. Six deer were at the creek, drinking. Quietly, she eased onto the stoop as if mesmerized by the sight.

“I’d love to paint that,” she whispered.

He sat beside her. “Obviously, you’re an artist, because you seem to want to paint everything.”

“Yes. I teach art in a private girls’ school in New York.”

At that moment, he realized Rachel was way, way out of his league. Yet it was hard to explain the feelings that had ignited between them. They had nothing in common and she was... He didn’t even want to think the words, so he stared off to the creek below.

They sat in silence for a long time, both comfortable with each other, but he was very aware of her breasts pressing against his T-shirt.

Finally, she turned to him. “I’m so hungry.”

“I think I left some canned stuff here. I’ll check.” He went inside and left her to her musings. He found a can of SpaghettiOs and one of ravioli. After opening them, he carried them outside with two plastic spoons.

“We try not to leave anything up here because it attracts foraging animals. Canned stuff is the only thing they won’t drag off.” They sat on the stoop and ate like two kids with a treat.

“This is delicious,” she said. “Or I’m just really hungry.”

“You’re really hungry.” He spooned ravioli into his mouth and it wasn’t bad. “When we were kids, my mom used to buy this by the case. On the ranch, you’re always busy and kids are always hungry. It was a go-to staple.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Six. My mom had seven kids in eight years. Jude and Phoenix were born in the same year.”

“I can’t even imagine that.” Rachel licked the spoon. “Jude and Phoenix were in my class. Jude dated Paige forever. Did they ever get married?”

“No,” Egan said shortly. He didn’t want to discuss his family.

“That’s sad. They were so in love.”

“Mmm.” Paige had chosen a career over love and family. Egan didn’t understand that, but he felt for his brother.

“There was another brother a year ahead of me and he was a bull rider.”

“That’s Paxton.”

“The girls were crazy about him.”

Egan ate the last of the ravioli. “Yeah, Paxton’s a ladies’ man.”

Rachel glanced sideways at him. “Are you?”

“Not close. My mother calls me the loner in the family. I’d rather be out here in these woods than in a crowded room of people.”

She pointed the spoon at him. “You see, I would have guessed that about you. You’re a quiet thinker and Paxton has nothing on you in looks, except his hair is lighter. But personally, I prefer dark hair and serious thinking men.”

The conversation was getting way out of his comfort zone. Egan took the can and spoon from her.

“What are you going to do with those?”

“Bury them so animals won’t be tempted into the cabin.”

“Doesn’t the music keep them out?”

“Not if they smell food.”

A shovel lay on the edge of the porch. He reached for it and walked into the woods. She didn’t panic that he was leaving her, but he could feel her eyes on him. He took his time because he had to gather his thoughts. They were getting too close, sharing too much.

After a few minutes he returned to the cabin, determined to keep things on an impersonal level.

“It’s so peaceful and quiet here. I love it.”

“But it’s far away from what you’re used to.”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her thumb over the dried blood on her jeans.

“Rachel, we need to talk.”

She glanced at him, but didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t cause your mother’s death, so there’s no reason to fear going home.”

“Then why do I feel this way?”

“You’ll feel differently when you talk to your family. They’re who you need right now. Not me. I’m a stranger.”

Her eyes held his and he felt as if he was swimming in the blue waters of South Padre Island, warm, inviting and irresistible.

“You don’t feel like a stranger to me. I trusted you from the moment I looked into your eyes.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“But I do. You saved my life, and I don’t think there’s anything you can say about yourself that will change my mind.”

There was only one way to change her mind and he had to do it. “I spent time in prison. I’m an ex-con.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

Exasperation replaced his patience. “Yes.”

With her tongue she licked around her lips. He watched the action as if she had hypnotized him. Desire uncurled in his stomach.

“Could I have some water, please?”

He grunted and went to refill the bucket before he said something he would regret. But this wasn’t over. She had to face facts. They had to start walking soon.

When he returned to the stoop, she wasn’t there. He found her inside sitting on the bed. He handed her the ladle from the bucket and she drank. He was trying his best not to stare at her in his T-shirt. Even after being attacked by dogs, she looked better in it than he ever had.

He set the bucket on the floor. “Rachel...”

“I’m tired, Egan, and I just want to rest.”

“You can’t spend the rest of your life avoiding your family.”

“Don’t lecture me.” Anger coated her words for the first time. He was getting a reaction. That was good. He had to keep pushing.

“I’m not your hero. I’m just a man who got caught up in your life, and the sooner I get you back to your family, the sooner I can get back to mine. And please don’t weave a fantasy around me. I’m not a fairy-tale type guy.”

“I know,” she snapped. “You told me. You’re an ex-con. Do you expect me to run away screeching in terror?”

“No, but I expect you to understand that we need to go now.”

She stretched out on the bed. “But I’m so tired and I feel weak. Please let me rest. Then we’ll do what you want.”

Her voice was low and troubling. He reached out to touch her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

She pulled the duster around her. “I just need to rest. My nerves are all tied in knots.”

Egan gave up. He couldn’t push her if she didn’t feel well. Glancing outside, he saw the shadows lengthening. It was getting late. Too late for them to start walking. They’d have to spend the night here.

There was an old wooden rocker in the cabin and he pulled it forward and sat in it. “Do you feel sick to your stomach?”

“No.”

“Do you have a headache?”

“No, but you’re giving me one.”

He let that pass. “In a little while I’ll need to put whiskey on the scratches and bites again.”

“Okay.”

She closed her eyes and he thought she was asleep. But then her voice came, soft and inquisitive, “What did you do that you had to go to prison? You’re so gentle I just can’t imagine you doing anything bad.”

“It was a long time ago and I don’t like to talk about it.”

Using her hands as a pillow beneath the side of her face, she got comfy and asked, “How old were you?”

“I was twenty and in college.” He hadn’t meant to answer, but the words slipped out.

“In college, kids drink a lot. Did you do something while you were drunk?”

He hated the memories as bad as anything in his life, but something in him had a need to tell her so she would understand.

“Yes.” That was the only word that came out of his dry mouth, and he hoped she would drop the subject.

“I told you my deep dark secret, so you can talk to me. What we say here stays here.”

“We’re not in Vegas.”

Her lips curved into an enchanting smile. “That would be nice to share with you.”

“Rachel, please stop seeing me as someone you’d like to have a relationship with.”

“Why?”

He had to tell her. It was the only way to stop the fantasy in her head. “I was twenty years old and enjoying college life, like all kids that age. It was the end of the school year and summer beckoned. Celebration parties were going on everywhere. I attended one with my friend and got drunk, way too drunk. He hooked up with someone and I didn’t have a ride home, so these two guys said they would drop me off at my dorm. The next thing I knew I was in a hospital bed under arrest.”

She sat up, her eyes enormous. “What happened?”

“Seemed the two idiots decided to rob a liquor store. They were high on crack and killed the man inside. I was passed out drunk in the backseat. I didn’t really know these guys and had no idea of their plans.”

“But you didn’t do anything.”

“No, I didn’t. Even after the toxicology report came back and showed I didn’t have any crack in my system, only booze, the judge didn’t buy it. My friends at the party testified that I had just gotten a ride home from them. The judge thought I needed to be taught a lesson about how to choose my friends and how to have more control over what I drink. And to be more responsible. He could have given me probation and community service, but he sentenced me to a year in prison.”

“How awful. Oh, Egan, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Before he could stop her she slipped off the bed and onto his lap. He tensed. She’d blindsided him with her reaction and he didn’t want to react. He wanted her to...

Her arms went around his neck and she rested her forehead against the side of his. “That must have been terrible for a young man.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her and the fragrance that lingered in her hair. All feminine. All intoxicating. All he wanted at that moment.

Then from the deepest, darkest part of his soul the words came, words he’d never said to anyone, not his brothers, not his mother, not anyone.

“It was hell on earth. When they drove us into the prison and those big gates closed behind the van, I knew I was in the worst possible place. Everything was taken from me. I was stripped of my clothes, my pride, my life. Then they ushered me down long halls with cell after cinder-block cell. I was pushed into one, and as the steel door clanged shut, I was frightened beyond anything I’ve ever felt in my life. There was no way out. I was trapped like an animal, with other animals who had no qualms about inflicting pain. They called me pretty boy. I made a friend, Jericho, and he saved me many times. But daily I lived in fear for my life. I can’t tell you how that changes a man. I—”

“Shh.” She kissed his cheek. “Don’t relive it. You don’t have to. You’re free now.” Her mouth trailed to the corner of his and he turned his head to meet her lips. He groaned at the sweetness of her and deepened the kiss. His arms tightened around her and the earth stood still as, for the first time, he let someone else share the pain of that time. Allowed someone to console him. She tasted of spaghetti and liquor, and it was the best taste he’d ever had. He wanted more and more and more...

His hand trailed beneath the T-shirt to caress the softness of her breast. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew this was wrong. He had to stop it. Now!

“Rach...”

“How long did you have to stay there?”

He withdrew his hand from her breast. He had to gain control. “My mother hired another attorney and he collected more evidence, damning evidence. The crime had happened in Waco, Texas, and the judge was a visiting one. My lawyer at the time had advised me to let the judge decide my sentence instead of going through a jury trial. My family and I agreed. Being familiar with my family and Horseshoe, the judge should have recused himself. He chose not to. My new lawyer brought this out in an appeal and the original sentence was overturned. I was finally exonerated, the charges were dropped and I was released after three months. But three months scarred me for life.”

“Egan...”

“I’m telling you this so you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I say you and I will never have any kind of relationship. I will get you back to your family, but that’s it.”

She went still in his arms. “I don’t understand. I don’t think any less of you for what happened, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“We’ve known each other for about twenty-four hours now. We should never have met, but sometimes fate is cruel.”

“I know you’re going somewhere with this, but for the life of me I have no idea what it is.”

Egan removed his arm from around her waist and studied the blood under his fingernails. “The judge who sent me to prison to make a point, to teach me a lesson, was Hardison Hollister, your father.”


Chapter Four (#ulink_a7b301f0-cae2-5a0a-af35-25b7736377ad)

Rachel slipped from his lap, shaking her head. “No, that’s not true. My father was known for his honest and fair decisions. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

Egan stood—tall, rigid and defiant. “He was also known for his stiff and unrelenting decisions dictated by his high moral code. The only thing I was guilty of was underage drinking. But he said I’d made choices and I had to be accountable for them. And since my family had a history of violence, he couldn’t just let it go. I needed to learn a lesson, and the only way to do that was to think about my actions in prison. There was nothing fair about his words or his judgment.” Egan swung away and strolled outside in the dwindling light, as if saying the words took every ounce of energy he had.

Rachel sat on the bed, speechless. Her father had been a judge for many years and she’d never thought much about his occupation. But his decisions affected lives...like Egan’s. Growing up, she’d seen little of her father. He was always busy, in court or out of town at political events, or sitting in as a visiting judge. Her mother had always been the mainstay in Rachel’s life. She drew a deep breath and curled up on the bed.

Coming home was turning into a nightmare. How much guilt could she load onto her poor old soul? Egan’s pain was something she could feel, but he didn’t want her sympathy or her comforting words. What could she say to him?

Even after everything he’d told her, those feelings she had for him hadn’t changed. A lot more questions about her father lingered, though.

From the bed, she could see Egan sitting on the stoop, staring into the darkness and battling the demons inside him. The moonlight shone a path between them. As if he sensed her stare, he got up and walked back into the house.

“I have to put alcohol on your wounds,” he said, his voice a rough edge of reality. No matter how much he wanted to ignore her, he couldn’t. Her safety and welfare were important to him and that said more about him than any sentence he could have been given.

He went to the cabinet and pulled out something. A split second later there was light in the cabin.

“Oh.” She was startled by the brightness.

“It’s a kerosene lantern,” he said. “It belonged to my grandparents and I use it for light sometimes.” He placed it on the floor, grabbed the whiskey bottle, sat beside her and began to dab at the scratches on her arms and neck.

“Where did you get that piece of cloth?”

“I cut it off of your top.”

“I didn’t see you do that.”

“Just sit quietly.” He soaked the scratches on her hands, arms and neck. It didn’t sting as badly this time. With the flickering lamp and the darkness crowding in, the setting and the moment could have been romantic. But there was nothing romantic about their situation.

His hand lingered on her neck and moved gently to her cheek. His touch was soft, almost a caress. She imagined he made love the same way—gently, with total concentration and attention to detail. Without thinking, she leaned her face into his hand.

He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to remove the T-shirt so I can soak the scratches on your chest.”

The shirt came off with one easy movement. He dabbed at the scratches, his hand lingering over the fullness of her breast.

A ragged breath caught in her throat. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” His voice came out hoarse.

“No.” She reached up and removed his hat. “I mean like you want to touch me.”

He stood abruptly. “That’s done. Now get some rest.”

Pretending she hadn’t spoken wasn’t going to stop her. “Egan...”

“Don’t say anything else. We’ve said enough.”

“There’s a chemistry between us that has nothing to do with my father. It has to do with us.”

He sighed. “Rachel, there’s nothing between us. We’re two strangers who met by accident. That’s it.”

“You wanted to touch my breast in a more intimate way. Don’t deny it, because I felt it.”

He turned from putting the whiskey bottle in the cabinet. “You’re a beautiful woman. What man wouldn’t be attracted to you? I’m human. That’s all.”

There wasn’t much she could say after that. She had to stop fighting for something that was never going to be. She’d met him only yesterday. Once she was away from him, her world would right itself and she would forget about him. But something inside her told her differently. Forgetting Egan wouldn’t be easy.

“Go to sleep.” He blew out the lantern and moved toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to sleep, too?”

“Maybe later. I don’t sleep much. I’ll sit on the stoop for a while.”

“Do you think that man is still out there?”

“Izzy is somewhere, but I doubt if he’s hiding in these woods. We’ll be long gone before he sets out to track us in the morning. Don’t worry. Just rest.”

She tugged the T-shirt over her head and curled up on the bed, her eyes on his rigid back. As she moved, her hand touched something. His hat. He’d forgotten his hat. That had to be a first, and she wondered if he slept in it when he was home. She doubted it. In that moment, she knew she wanted to know a lot more about Egan Rebel.

* * *

EGAN KEPT THE RIFLE by his side. He wasn’t as sure about old Izzy as he’d pretended to be to Rachel. The man was crazy and could pop up at any moment, but Egan was ready for him.

An owl hooted through the chirp of crickets and the night wore on. It had to be close to midnight. He didn’t wear a watch anymore, since he’d got it caught on a string of a bale of hay and almost had his arm ripped off. His phone was now his watch, but it was in his duster and he wasn’t going to disturb Rachel. Besides, there was no signal.

He flexed his fingers, recalling the smoothness of her skin against his fingertips. She was right. He wanted to touch her in a more intimate way, and that feeling angered him. There were so many girls in the world and the one that he could never have was the one he was drawn to. There was no way on God’s green earth he could see himself dating Rachel Hollister. But she was tempting. He’d just leave it at that.

A long walk was ahead of him in the morning, so he had to get some rest. The rocker was preferable to sitting on the stoop. He tiptoed inside and lightly closed the door. The rocker was as hard as the stoop, but he’d adjust.

“Sleep on the bed, Egan. You need to rest.” Her voice was soft, yet strong.

Being male and in control, he stretched out on the bed and his body relaxed.

“Do you want your hat?” she asked. “It’s right here.”

A grin spread across his face, but he was the only one who knew that. “No. I actually don’t sleep in my hat or my boots at home.”

“I didn’t think so.” She moved around on the mattress, bumping into him.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking off my sneakers. I can’t sleep in them another night.”

After a moment, she curled up next to him and it was a little too close for his comfort. But he was in control, he told himself again.

“Did you take your boots off?”

“No.” He wanted to be ready in case Izzy made an appearance. Egan wouldn’t tell her that, though.

Finally, the silence was wonderful as they gave in to the tiredness of their bodies.

“I’m really sorry for what you went through, Egan.”

“I know. Just go to sleep, and tomorrow you’ll be back with your family.”

“I’m excited and dreading it at the same time.”

“Just relax and everything will go smoothly.”

There was a long pause. “Can I see you before I go back to New York?”

He moved restlessly, not wanting to have this conversation. “I’d rather not.”

“I never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I know you don’t want to hear that, but I’m just being honest.”

“Rachel...”

“I’m very aware you don’t want to be attracted to me.”

“You got it.”

“You don’t have to be cruel.”

“I’m not. I’m just being honest, as you said.” He flipped onto his side and waited for her to stop talking. They didn’t have anything else to talk about, and the less they said, the better it was for both of them.

“You’re very stubborn.”

“Mmm.”

Egan must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, his back was warm and he was uncomfortable. A raspy sound came from Rachel. He leaned over and touched her forehead. Damn! Her skin was red-hot. She had a fever. He jumped from the bed and gently shook her.

“Rachel, wake up. We have to go.”

“Is it morning?” she asked sleepily. “My head hurts and I feel funny.”

“I must’ve missed one of the scratches because you’re burning up with fever. You need medical attention, so we have to leave now. Can you put on your sneakers?”

“What?”

“Put on your shoes. I’m going outside for water.” He grabbed his hat and slammed it onto his head.

When he came back, Rachel was slumped over on the bed, asleep. He shook her awake. “Come on. You have to wake up.” He held the canteen to her lips. “Drink this.”

“Oh, it tastes wonderful.”

He ripped her ruined top into strips and soaked them in water. As he secured the wet cloth around her neck, she drew back. “What’s that?”

“Something cool to bring down your fever.”

“It feels good.”

He searched for her sneakers on the floor. The lantern was a few feet away, but he didn’t have time to light it. They had to go. He’d never put shoes on a woman before and found it a chore. “Help me here, and stop scrunching up your toes.”

“I can put them on myself,” she complained.

But he had them on her in seconds and laced them up. He helped her to her feet. “We have to start walking.”

“Didn’t you say we couldn’t walk in the dark?”

“We don’t have any option now. You need a doctor.”

He fished his phone out of the duster and shoved it into a pocket of his jeans. Grabbing his rifle, he ushered her to the door. He didn’t take anything else; it would only slow them down. Once they were outside, he closed the door. They never locked it. There wasn’t a lock, even if he’d wanted to. This far back in the woods, if anyone wanted to break in they’d find a way. Besides, there was nothing valuable in the cabin but memories.

He filled the canteen one more time and looped the strap over his neck and shoulder. “Stay right behind me,” he told her as they started off.

She didn’t answer.

“Rachel?”

“I’m so hot.”

“I know. That’s why we’re walking.”

It had to be about 5:00 a.m. and it was slow going. He’d cut a trail to the cabin a long time ago, but there were still some low-hanging branches and overgrown yaupons. Rachel stayed close behind him and he made sure none of the branches hit her.

The morning was cool. Soon birds began to chirp, so daylight wasn’t far away. Suddenly, Rachel fell into him, and Egan turned quickly to catch her before she injured herself further.

“Uh-oh.”

“It’s okay,” he said, holding her up.

“I’m dizzy and feel sick to my stomach,” she mumbled.

He lifted her into his arms and began to walk at a faster pace. He had to get help soon. As they reached the ridge, the morning sun peeped over the treetops like a golden angel flapping her wings. He began to run. Since he could see clearly, he wasn’t afraid of falling. But after a mile or so he dropped to his knees, needing to rest.

Placing Rachel on the green grass, he took a couple deep breaths and then reached for the canteen. He soaked the cloth and her body with it.

“My leg hurts.”

Her right leg was swollen at the calf. Damn! With his knife, he slit her jeans to ease the pressure. He immediately saw the infected red scratch. He’d missed it. He said another cuss word under his breath.

“I’m floating, Egan. Don’t let me float away.”

He stroked her sweat-soaked hair away from her face. “I won’t. Just hold on, sweet lady. We’re getting close.” Leaning back, he pulled out his phone and checked for a signal. There still wasn’t one.

“I like that.”

“What?”

“Sweet lady.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d called her that. It had just slipped out.

“I like ma’am, too,” she mumbled. “Some women don’t like it. They feel it insults them, but they’ve never heard you say it.”

She was delirious. A long sigh escaped Egan and he got to his feet with Rachel in his arms. The rifle he had to leave behind, because he could no longer carry it. He kept the phone in his hand. Soon he should get a signal. He had to.

* * *

HARDY HOLLISTER TIPTOED down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The baby and Angie were finally asleep. In the kitchen, he made coffee. His cell buzzed and he started to ignore it, but he was the DA, so he pulled it from his robe. It was his friend Wyatt, the sheriff.

He clicked on. “This had better be good, Wyatt. We’ve been up most of the night with Trey.”

“I remember those days. I’m so glad J.W. sleeps through the night now. It’ll get better.”

“What’s up this early in the morning?”

“Is Rachel coming home for a visit?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I talked to her a few days ago and she didn’t say anything about coming home. Why?”

“I got a call from the highway patrol. A rental car was found at the back of Rebel Ranch, a deeply wooded area with not a house around for miles. The car was rented in Austin to Rachel Hollister on Friday. A suitcase with clothes was in the backseat. Her name is on the tags.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Judge Hollister walked into the kitchen, obviously looking for a cup of coffee. “Just a minute,” Hardy said to Wyatt. “Dad, have you talked to Rachel?”

The judge pulled out a chair and sat at the table, sipping the hot brew. “No. She’s mad at me because I chewed her out about not coming home. She probably won’t talk to me for a couple weeks.”

Hardy picked up his cell again. “Dad hasn’t heard from her, either. This doesn’t sound right and it’s not like Rachel to do something like that.”

“I hate to give you any more bad news, but there’s a witness who said he saw a man drag a woman from the car into the woods.”

Hardy’s hand tightened on the phone. “Can he identify the woman?”

“No, but he identified the man.”

“Who.”

“Egan Rebel.”

“Something’s not right, Wyatt. Egan’s a model citizen and I don’t think he knows Rachel.”

“Rachel?” The judge shot to his feet. “What about Rachel?”

“I’m coming in, Wyatt. I just have to get dressed.” Hardy laid his phone down and faced his dad. He told him exactly what Wyatt had said. It wasn’t a time to keep secrets. His father was a strong man.

“Egan Rebel. I sent him to prison years ago. He said he’d get even, and this could be his way of getting back at me. He better not hurt my daughter or he’ll never see the light of day again.”

“Calm down, Dad.” Hardy picked up his phone again. “I’ll call her apartment in New York. This has to be a big mistake. She would want us to know if she was coming home.”

It didn’t take long for Rachel’s roommate, Della, to answer the phone. From her sleepy voice, he knew he’d awakened her.

“I’m sorry to call so early. This is Hardy Hollister, Rachel’s brother. I’m trying to get in touch with her.”

“What? Rachel left on Friday to visit her family in Horseshoe.”

“Are you sure? She didn’t call to let us know.”

“She wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Thank you, Della. She never arrived and we’re worried. I’ll call you back as soon as I find out anything.”

“Please do.”

* * *

THE WIND PICKED UP and seemed to be pushing Egan backward, but he kept going. He punched the phone repeatedly, praying for it to light up. When it finally did, he almost tripped and fell. He sank to the ground, still holding Rachel, who was now completely limp.

“Egan...Egan...are you there?” It was Rico.

His body sagged as he answered. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah. Man, where have you been? The whole family’s looking for you.”

“I’m west of the big coastal hay patch, in direct line to the barn where Jude makes his saddles. I have a casualty. She’s been attacked by dogs and needs to get to a hospital. Call 911 and bring a Polaris Ranger out here. I’ll keep walking until you get here. Do you hear me?”

“Got it.” The good thing about Rico was he never asked questions. Egan struggled to his feet and started walking again. Help was on the way. He relaxed just a little.

“Egan...” Rachel murmured. “Don’t let me float away.”

He held her a bit tighter, picked up his pace and then slowed when he saw the ranger speeding toward him. Sinking to his knees, Egan clutched Rachel in his arms.

“Help is on the way, sweet lady. We made it. Can you hear me?”

“E-gan...” Her flushed face rested against his chest, her lips barely moving.

His brothers Falcon and Quincy jumped from the ranger. Falcon was the oldest and had taken control of the ranch after their father’s death. He wasn’t quite the same after his wife had left him and their three-month-old daughter. He was strict and stern and gave no one any leeway, not even his little girl.

Quincy was the second son, with dark hair and eyes similar to Egan. He was the peacemaker in the family. He’d taken it upon his broad shoulders to keep unity among the brothers, which was not an easy task, since they seemed to have wildness branded onto their souls.

“Is an ambulance on the way?” Egan asked.

Falcon and Quincy squatted beside him, staring at Rachel. “What happened?” Falcon asked.

“Is an ambulance on the way?” Egan repeated.

“Rico’s waiting at the ranch entrance, but I talked to the dispatch lady and told her it might be best to send a medical helicopter, since you were so far out on the range.” His brow knotted. “She looks as if she’s been in a fight or something. What are those scratches from?”

“Help me get her in the ranger,” Egan said. “I’ll explain later.”

He stood once again with Rachel in his arms, but paused when he heard the sound of a chopper.

Quincy waved his arms, guiding the helicopter in. Things happened quickly after it landed in a whirlwind of dust. Two paramedics jumped out with a stretcher and Egan laid Rachel on it. They immediately began to assess her condition.

“What happened?” one of them asked.

“She was attacked by dogs. A scrape on her right calf is infected.”

The other paramedic talked on the phone and then glanced at Egan. “Do you know who owns the dogs?”

“Isadore McCray of Horseshoe.”

“Rabies is a concern, but we have to get her to the hospital now. Her temperature is 103.”

As they rolled the stretcher to the chopper, Rachel stirred. “Egan...”

He went to her. “Everything’s going to be okay. They’re taking you to the hospital and your family will meet you there.” Egan glanced at the paramedic. “Her name is Rachel Hollister and her father is Judge Hardison Hollister of Horseshoe. He shouldn’t be too difficult to locate.”

“E-gan...”

“Shh. You’re going to be fine.” He brushed wet hair from her forehead.

“Don’t let me float away.”

Egan’s throat closed up and he stood there in silence as they loaded her onto the chopper. The blades began to swirl, the force of the draft almost knocking him off his feet. His hat blew away and he let it go. He kept staring at the chopper as it lifted up and disappeared into the blue sky.

Just as quickly as she’d arrived in his life, Rachel was gone. He should feel relief, but what he was feeling he couldn’t describe. It had to be the tiredness that was pulling him down. When he could no longer see the helicopter, he whispered, “Goodbye, sweet lady.”


Chapter Five (#ulink_4efec800-2afe-5334-9584-40c1a4166003)

Wyatt frowned as Hardy walked into his office.

“Did you locate Rachel?”

The sheriff stood, anger in every line of his tall body. “I’ve had other things to keep me occupied.” He picked up a piece of paper and slapped it onto the desk. “I have a warrant signed by Judge Henley for Egan Rebel’s arrest.”




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