Cowboy Under Siege Read online

  “There’s something you aren’t saying,” she said slowly. “Something else has happened, more than the cows. Something your aunt Bonnie Gene didn’t want to say.”

  He exhaled, knowing he might as well tell her the truth. She was smart. She’d eventually figure it out. And he couldn’t take the chance that she’d nose around, asking questions that could get her killed.

  He released a sigh. “All right, look. No one outside the family knows this. You have to promise you won’t tell anyone, not even your father. I can’t let this leak out.”

  “I promise.”

  He nodded. “Lana’s been kidnapped.”

  Her face paled. She pressed her hand to her throat. “Kidnapped? When? What happened? Oh, Cole.”

  “We don’t have many details. She’s been in Italy, studying art history, getting her master’s degree. A few weeks ago she went to Paris on vacation…and disappeared.”

  He bit down hard on his jaw, suppressing the terror swarming inside him. His sister had to survive. “My dad got a call last week, and she’s alive, thank God. But we don’t know where she is.”

  Still looking shaken, Bethany hugged her arms. “What does the FBI say? You’ve called them, right?”

  “My dad has. He has some high-level contacts. All I know is that we’re supposed to keep this under wraps.”

  “What do they want? Money?”

  “That’s my guess, but they haven’t said.” More panic ballooned inside him, but he ruthlessly tamped it down. Lana was fine. The kidnappers would call and demand the ransom. His father would pay it and bring her home.

  “Cole…I’m so sorry.” Bethany rested her hand on his arm, her soft, feathery touch a balm to his nerves. “I can only imagine how tough this is. And your poor sister!”

  He met her eyes. Her sympathy tugged at something inside him, kicking off a wave of warmth in his chest. Bethany had always understood him. She’d connected with him in a way no one else ever had. They’d been the best of friends, explosive lovers. He’d been so damned crazy in love….

  He dropped his gaze to her lips. Time ground to a sudden halt, as if they’d been transported to the past. And any thought of danger flitted away.

  She was so close. So beautiful. And the soft, satiny feel of her had burned him alive.

  His blood turned heavy and hot. Hunger rose inside him, the need to feel her again in his arms. He widened his stance and shifted closer, his pulse beating fast.

  His cell phone chirped. He froze, then straightened, appalled at what he’d been about to do. He couldn’t kiss Bethany. He couldn’t get anywhere near her. She was the one woman who had the power to make him need her—a risk he couldn’t afford.

  Determined to keep his mind on track, he whipped out his cell phone and checked the display. The ranch house. He clicked it on with a frown. “Cole here.”

  “It’s your father,” his housekeeper, Hannah Brown, blurted out. “You need to come quick.”

  His heart faltered. “What’s wrong?”

  “He got a phone call…he looks terrible…all gray… I’ve phoned the doctor but—”

  “I’ll be right there.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket and launched himself onto the horse.

  “What is it?” Bethany swung up onto Red.

  “My father.” He wheeled the gelding around, then spurred him into a lope. Bethany instantly caught up.

  They streaked through the field in silence, taking their mounts to the limit, anxiety pounding his nerves. His father was generally healthy, but the stress of the last few weeks had taken its toll. And if something terrible had happened to Lana…

  He cut off that train of thought. His sister had to be all right. He refused to believe the worst.

  They reached the county road. Cole leaped down to open the gate.

  “Go on,” Bethany urged him. “I’ll close the gate. Call me if you need help with your dad. Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning when we get those cows.”

  Grimacing at her tenacity, he led his horse through the gate. He didn’t want her around. He had enough on his mind with crises erupting at every turn. But nothing mattered more than the ranch.

  And as much as it galled him to admit it, he needed help.

  “All right.” He swung back onto the horse and caught her eye. “You’re hired. But you’ll stick close to me. You understand? I’m not taking a chance with armed vandals roaming the ranch.”

  He nudged the horse into a lope, then galloped toward the ranch house, but even the steady drum of hoofbeats couldn’t banish his feeling of doom. He would save his ranch. And he’d keep Bethany safe; he’d make damned sure of that.

  But could he do the same with his heart?

  Chapter 4

  Senator Hank Kelley slumped on the sofa in the great room, a clammy sweat moistening his brow, his hands trembling so hard the ice cubes clinked in his highball glass. He knocked back a gulp of Maker’s Mark whiskey, feeling the burn scorch straight to his gut.

  But even the triple shot of ninety-proof liquor couldn’t erase the terror of that call. They’re going to kill Lana. You have to turn yourself in now.

  “You shouldn’t drink that. Not until the doctor says it’s all right.” Hannah, Cole’s housekeeper, hovered by the sofa, watching him with the same rabid attention the border collies trained on rebellious cows.

  “I told you I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Your face still looks like chalk.”

  “I had a dizzy spell, that’s all.” Thanks to the threat he’d just received. The secret society would kill Lana if he didn’t surrender; they’d execute him if he did.

  He took another long swallow of bourbon and shuddered hard. None of this should have happened. Joining the top-secret, ultra-exclusive Raven’s Head Society had been his ticket to wealth. He’d felt privileged, powerful, proud.

  Until he’d found out they were plotting to assassinate the president of the United States.

  He gulped down another slug of whiskey, then wheezed in a shaky breath. He wasn’t a murderer, for God’s sake. He’d tried to quit the Society, but he knew too much and they refused to let him go. He’d gone to ground, tried to hide, but they’d kidnapped Lana to flush him out.

  “Just sit right there,” Hannah said. “Don’t you dare move. The doctor will be here soon.”

  He opened his mouth to protest. He was a senator, by God. She couldn’t order him around. He had a staff to do his bidding, voters clamoring for his attention, beautiful women vying for a turn in his bed.

  Senator or not, he’d managed to muck up his life. His doting wife had left him. He’d become a laughingstock in the media, the brunt of late-night comedians’ jokes. And instead of fighting back he was hiding out in Montana, cowering behind his bodyguards, while his political enemies attacked him like feral dogs.

  And Lana… His stomach went into freefall at the thought of his kidnapped daughter. He’d never dreamed they’d go after her. And where was the mercenary he’d hired? Instead of rescuing her as he was supposed to, the man had gone AWOL for the past two weeks.

  Cole’s old dog wandered over, then whined and nudged his knee. His lips curling, Hank jerked his leg away. “Get this damned mutt off me. I don’t want him slobbering all over my clothes.”

  Hannah shot him a reproachful look. “Here, Ace. Come on, sweetie. Let’s go get you a treat.”

  The dog turned and trotted off. Annoyed, Hank flicked the fur off his pants. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the end table and slopped more into his glass.

  The door to the porch burst open. He jumped, his pulse racing off the charts, but Cole strode in, his gaze arrowing straight to him. “What happened?”

  Hank gulped down another mouthful of bourbon, hissing as it seared his throat. “Nothing.”

  “Is it Lana? Did something happen to her?”

  “No, nothing happened.” Not yet.

  “Then who called?”

  “Nobody. Just Mickey. Mickey O’Donahue.”


  “The rancher?”

  “Yes.” O’Donahue owned a ranch near Hank’s California estate. He was also a member of the Raven’s Head Society, but no one outside the group knew that.

  Cole’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion clear. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing important,” Hank fudged. “He just had a suggestion about a business concern.”

  “And that made you collapse?”

  “I didn’t collapse. I just got a little dizzy. Hannah overreacted. I told her not to call anyone.”

  Cole folded his arms, his gaze hard on his father’s. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Hank mopped the sweat from his brow. The motion made his sore ribs twinge, reminding him of his recent attack in town.

  Another frisson of guilt slithered through him. He’d done more than endanger himself and his daughter. He’d brought the Society here to Maple Cove. “I heard about your cows. I…I wish that I could help.”

  Cole’s eyes slitted. Anger vibrated off him in waves. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you at all.”

  “I know.” Cole didn’t need him. He’d built an impressive business on the family homestead. It wasn’t a lifestyle Hank wanted, but it seemed to suit his son. And he’d done it on his own.

  An empty feeling spread through his belly, mingling with pride for his son. While he’d been busy working, Cole had grown into a man deserving respect.

  “I just…” Hell, this was hard. He wasn’t used to apologizing. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

  “You think that helps?” Hostility rang in Cole’s voice. “Your words don’t mean a thing. They never have. They aren’t going to help Lana, and they’re not going to save my ranch.” He stomped from the great room into his office, his boots clipping the hardwood floor.

  Hank exhaled. Cole was right. He’d been a piss-poor father, making promises he never kept. Not to the voters, not to his children or his wife. It hadn’t seemed important. Who had time to attend a kid’s birthday party when he had a government to run?

  And now… Now it was too late.

  He studied the ice cubes melting in his highball glass, aware that he’d screwed up. He’d driven away his family—and someday he’d make amends. But first he had to figure a way out of this mess and bring his daughter home.

  But how? He couldn’t tell anyone about the Raven’s Head Society—not his family, not the police or the FBI.

  Not if he wanted to keep his daughter alive.

  But if the Society murdered the president…

  If anyone got wind that he was involved…

  And if that mercenary failed…

  “The doctor’s here,” Hannah announced, hurrying to open the door.

  Thoroughly rattled, Hank polished off the bourbon and set aside his glass. And dread burrowed inside him, a chill lodging deep in his gut.

  Because he had the terrible feeling events had spiraled beyond his control—and they all would pay the price.

  Bethany stood in Red’s stall an hour later, still struggling to process Cole’s revelation as she brushed the mare. Kidnapped. The enormity of it made her reel. She couldn’t imagine the terror Lana must be experiencing, the horror of the dreadful ordeal.

  She shuddered, wondering how the family was holding up. Lana’s mother would be devastated, of course. Cole was obviously furious, especially since his father was at fault.

  Was hers?

  That thought shot out of nowhere, and she paused with her hand on the horse. No. She refused even to consider it. Her father would never harm an animal, let alone a human being. The idea went against everything she knew of the man.

  But if he’d gotten caught in some sort of difficulty, maybe found himself in over his head…

  Striving for perspective, she exchanged the currycomb for a softer brush and continued grooming the mare. He was hiding something, she knew that. But it was a huge leap from refusing to answer questions to conspiring to commit a crime. She was letting her imagination run away from her, looking for trouble where it didn’t exist.

  Still, it was time she demanded answers. She didn’t like knowing her father was keeping secrets from her. And if he was caught up in something shady, he could be in danger. If the senator’s enemies had kidnapped Lana, who knew what else they might do?

  She gave Red a final swipe. “All right, time for your grain.” Then she needed to talk to her dad.

  She set the brush on the corner shelf and moved toward the door of the stall, but a sudden thud reached her ears. She stopped, her heart missing a beat, and whipped her gaze to Red. The mare had her head raised, her ears pricked forward.

  The horse had heard it, too.

  Her pulse began to race. She stood stock-still, listening intently, hardly daring to breathe. Who was there? Cole? One of the cowboys? But long seconds passed without another sound. She was imagining things. No one was in the barn. The hands were all in the bunkhouse, eating dinner. Besides, Cole had said they were safe near the house.

  Chiding herself for her overreaction, she continued to the door. But then another thud came from outside the stall. She froze again, sharp fear blocking her throat. She hadn’t imagined that noise. It had come from the direction of the tack room farther down the aisle.

  Her hands trembling, she cracked open the door. She peeked out, her throat dust dry, and glanced past the row of stalls. Nothing moved. A horse snuffled from a nearby stall.

  Then a cat streaked past in a blur of black, and Bethany pressed her hand to her chest. The barn cat. He’d probably knocked something over while hunting—and she’d instantly suspected the worst.

  Rolling her eyes at her wild imagination, she went down the aisle to get the grain. She didn’t usually jump at shadows. She lived in Chicago, for heaven’s sake—and it had a lot more crime than Maple Cove. But learning about Lana’s kidnapping had put her nerves on edge.

  Still jittery, she scooped out Red’s grain and lugged the pail back to the stall. She gave the mare’s water a final check, then made herself walk slowly from the barn, refusing to give in to her fears and run.

  But she scoured the deepening shadows as she crossed the deserted yard. The pole light blinked on, casting a silvery gleam over the ground, but did little to dispel her nerves. She’d always loved the country at night—the hooting owls, the brilliant canopy of stars, the profound silence gripping the land. But tonight the ranch seemed sinister, empty, exposed.

  She glanced at Cole’s stone house with its wide, welcoming veranda, and her traitorous thoughts swerved back to him. She didn’t want to obsess over Cole. She didn’t want to worry about his problems or spend her vacation trying to find out who’d killed his cows.

  And she certainly didn’t want to think about that moment in the field when she’d thought he was going to kiss her. Talk about an overreaction! Her face flamed at the thought. He’d looked at her with those dazzling blue eyes and she’d gone off the deep end, letting her memories sweep her away.

  She shook her head in disgust. So Cole still attracted her in a major way. That was hardly a surprise. But she absolutely could not start fantasizing that they had any sort of future. Their relationship had ended. They’d both moved on in their lives.

  And she had other problems to worry about—such as discovering why her father had lied.

  She found him a few minutes later at the kitchen table, reading the Bozeman paper. “Hi, Dad.” Careful of his injuries, she bent down and gave him a hug. “How’s your leg?”

  “Not bad.”

  The pallor of his face contradicted that. “You don’t look good.”

  “Don’t start hassling me about those pills. I’ll take one before I go to sleep.”

  She sighed at his testy tone. She’d hoped he’d be in a cooperative mood. But maybe a meal would sweeten him up. “What would you like for dinner?”

  “I already ate. Hannah brought a tuna casserole by. It’s on the counter.”

  So much for that approach. She went to the sink and
washed her hands. “Did Cole call?”

  “No. Why would he?”

  She exhaled. Lord, he was touchy tonight. “He said the senator wasn’t well. I thought he might have needed my help.”

  “No, no one called.”

  She dried her hands. “He’s probably all right then.” Surely they would have heard if the news were bad. She reached up, closed the window above the sink, and caught her father’s frown in the glass. “What’s wrong?”

  He grunted. “What isn’t?” He folded his paper and shoved it aside. “That storm front’s closing in, and we’ve got hay to haul, calves to ship to market, cows still stranded in the mountains—and here I sit with this danged bum leg.”

  She understood his frustration. As foreman, her father should be in the thick of things, directing the work. She scooped some casserole onto a plate, put it in the microwave, and set the time. “So what happened in the mountains?”

  Her father leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “A hundred head splintered from the main herd and went up a ravine. I rode in a ways, but they’d disappeared. They’ve probably holed up in a meadow near the divide. We brought the others back, figuring we’d return in a couple of days to find the rest.”

  But then he’d broken his leg, and someone had started killing Cole’s cows.

  She sat in another chair at the table, carefully choosing her words. “Cole wants to start shipping the calves out tomorrow. I told him I’d help.”

  “I don’t want you getting involved.”

  She blinked, stunned by the vehemence in his voice. “Why not? You don’t need me to do anything here—you even said so. And I feel guilty sitting around when Cole’s shorthanded. You raised me better than that.”

  “He can find someone else to help. You stay out of this.”

  “But why? You have to give me a reason.”

  He crossed his arms, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s not safe.”

  She leaned her forearms on the table and frowned back, tired of being warned away. She’d grown up around cowboys. She could rope, ride and shoot with the best of them. She could do anything Cole needed on this ranch—drive a truck, deliver calves, castrate and brand a bull. And her father knew that; he’d taught her those skills himself. So what was he afraid of? The men?