Undercover Cowboy Page 11

  She sought a glimpse of Nick across the distance. Suddenly, behind him, the sky caught fire. It took her a moment to realize it was the roof of the barn. Terrified horse whinnies echoed through the night. Demon!

  “Fire!” she shouted as she ran toward the blaze, heart racing. Over her shoulder she called, “Alicia, get Dad and Uncle Luke.”

  Booted steps followed behind her. She didn’t look back. Her mind was focused on getting to the barn. Gray smoke circled like thunder clouds around the night lights and billowed out from under the closed barn doors. When she yanked a door open, a window exploded. Blast-furnace heat poured out.

  Horses screamed in terror.

  “Sara Jane,” Nick called. “Wait.”

  But she couldn’t. Horses’ lives were at stake—Demon’s life!

  She drew in a breath and stepped into the heat. Flames crackled and licked at the overhead beams. Spears of fire dropped into the hay-lined stalls. Smoke filled her nostrils and squeezed her chest with invisible clamps. Why wasn’t the sprinkler system working? Why wasn’t the fire alarm clanging? She covered her nose and mouth with her neckerchief, narrowed her stinging eyes, and raced toward Demon’s stall.

  It was empty!

  How could that be? Panicked, she headed for the boarding stalls where she housed Monica’s horse. Instead of Vision, she found Buttercup, another mare that belonged to the ranch. Having no time to puzzle over that, she yanked open the paddock gate and after covering the horse’s head with a nearby blanket, she led the mare to the exit leading to the grazing corral. She slapped him on the rump and yelling “Ha!” she sent the horse galloping to freedom.

  Nick called her name from somewhere inside the barn. His voice seemed far away, but even if he was close by, she wouldn’t be able to see him through the thick smoke.

  “Help me get the horses out!” she shouted. With the roar of the fire and the chaos of stomping and whinnying horses, she couldn’t hear his answer. Smoke disoriented her. Somewhere near the inside front entrance, she heard men’s voices.

  Her father shouted, “Get out, Sara Jane! We’ll take care of this.”

  She had to find Demon first! Her heart pounded as she ran from stall to stall, opening gates and setting the stomping animals free. She didn’t have time to cover their eyes. They tossed their heads and screamed in terror as they galloped away. All she could do was stay out of their way. The door to freedom was open. It was up to the men to herd them outside.

  Working her way down the paddock line, she discovered that all the horses had been switched around—and she couldn’t find Demon. Smoke burned her eyes and throat. She could barely see.

  Her heart pounded crazily. She had at least two dozen more stalls to check.

  From the deepest bowels of the barn, a choked voice called, “Demon’s here.”

  She ran toward the voice. It didn’t sound like Dad or Uncle Luke. Or Nick. But who would sound like himself after swallowing smoke? When she stepped around a roof support that crackled with flames, she caught a glimpse of the silhouette of a man. The form disappeared behind her and something came down on her head with the force of a hammer or gun butt. Bolts of light flashed behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth, fighting pain and a sinking sensation. She felt herself going under. Please, someone, get Demon out, she prayed as she succumbed to the blackness.

  ****

  Nick ran, calling Sara Jane’s name. He traveled the whole length of the paddock and found Demon in the last stall, snorting and kicking the hell out of an exterior wood wall. Flames blocked the gate and Nick couldn’t get to it. The wood wall had been reinforced to withstand restless horses, so Demon didn’t have a prayer of escaping without help. Smoke would overcome the horse before he broke through. Nick swore and tightened his jaw. Sara Jane was his prime concern. Still, if anything happened to this animal… Flames blocked his way to the stall. Even if he could climb inside, he knew better than to charge into a small space with a terrified horse. He spied a forklift and climbed on. He flicked the ignition switch and pressed the accelerator. Nothing happened. Damn, he didn’t have time for this. He had to find Sara Jane.

  A nagging voice at the edge of Nick’s mind told him that Demon would die of smoke inhalation if he didn’t get him out now. That would kill Sara Jane. He tried the ignition again. The sputter of the engine gave him hope. He gave it another try. Finally, the engine roared to life. Stealing himself against the blow, he drove clean through the wall. Air rushed in from outside and fanned the flames, sending them leaping around him. Part of the stall had collapsed with the wall. Demon tossed his mane, snorted and bolted through the opening to freedom.

  Nick whirled and ran in the opposite direction. Now he had to find Sara Jane before the roof caved in. He couldn’t see a thing past the walls of smoke and flames. He dodged around a support and tripped over a body. It was Sara Jane! He scooped her into his arms and struggled to his feet. With fire all around them, he’d never make it to the entrance. The opening in the wall was closer. He ran for it, yelling, “Matt, I’ve got Sara Jane.”

  Outside chaos reigned. Men manned hoses attached to a huge water truck. But it was too little too late. The roof caved in, sending sparks into the night like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Nick prayed that everyone had gotten out.

  He glanced down at Sara Jane. He’d thought at first she’d been overcome by smoke until he saw the blood matting her hair.

  Chapter Six

  In the shadow of the equipment shed, about three hundred feet from the burning barn, Nick lowered Sara Jane to the ground and bent over her. The flames licking the night sky glowed on her face. He gently turned her head. The gash looked deep, but not fatal. From the hammerhead shape of the injury and because he’d seen no evidence of fallen debris near her, he suspected that someone had tried to crush her skull—then left her for dead. He had to get her out of harm’s way, but first he had to stop the flow of blood. He folded a clean handkerchief into a two-inch square, pressed it gently to her head, and affixed it in place with his neck bandana.

  An explosion rocked the earth. The rear of the barn where he’d found Sara Jane crashed inward like an implosion. He had gotten her out just in time! He closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank you, God.” When he opened them again, he knew what he had to do. This was his opportunity! He would let everyone believe she died in the fire!

  When she regained consciousness, she would probably go ballistic. But he wasn’t hired to make her happy—only to keep her safe. Getting to the truck unseen would be risky. But he could lay her in the bed and make her comfortable. On the other hand, he couldn’t travel off-path in that bucket of bolts, which added to their risk of being seen. Another vote against using it was that whoever cut the hose knew the truck and might see him drive away. He reached into his pocket. Damn. He had already returned the keys to Sara Jane and he’d seen her give them to Matt.

  Nick scanned the corral. The horses ran in clusters, whinnying, thrusting their heads and stomping. Where was Jazgirl? Wait a minute—if Jazgirl or Demon turned up missing from the ranch, it would be a red flag to the killer. Nick frowned. His only option was to rope an unfamiliar horse.

  He glanced down at Sara Jane’s limp form. The thought of leaving her, even briefly, sent a sharp pang through him. He tightened his jaw. The sooner he roped their ride, the faster he could return to her. He grabbed a rope from the equipment shed and was as surprised as the black stallion when he lassoed him on the first try.

  He lacked the skill to mount and ride bareback carrying an unconscious woman. He wrapped her in blankets and kissed her cheek and whispered, “I’m sorry about this, sweetheart.” He had no choice but to lash her to the shifting and stomping horse’s rump like a sack of potatoes. He tied her securely, and after several tries, he mounted the bucking horse. Digging his heels into the animal’s flanks, he urged him away from the raging fire and the shouts of men trying to save surrounding structures. He rode into the night with only the moon and a sky full of stars to guide hi
s way. He kept glancing back at Sara Jane, filled with worry and regret. Soft unintelligible mumbles now and then told him she would be coming around soon. With his care, she would be all right. His throat constricted—he had to believe that.

  He moved quickly through the underbrush, ducking for low tree limbs, cutting a zigzagging path to assure himself that if the man who assaulted her tried to follow, he’d fail.

  An hour later, they approached a familiar clearing shadowed by a tangle of oak and mesquite trees. Moonlight filtered through the boughs, highlighting the pitched roof of the line shack. Luckily, his truck and trailer were still parked nearby.

  Nick dismounted. To protect his precious cargo, he tied the reins securely to a post. He rushed inside the shack, lit the kerosene lamp and raced back to Sara Jane, his heart beating like crazy. Feeling the pressure of the time she had been without medical care, he unlashed her from the horse’s rump and gently gathered her into his arms. The wooden porch creaked as he turned sideways and entered the one room sanctuary. He strode to the only cot, his booted footfalls loud and hollow against the bare wood floor. Nick eased Sara Jane down to rest on the two blue blankets used as a makeshift mattress for the hard canvas. He stared at her still form for a moment with a lump in his throat, then headed for the first-aid kit in his truck.

  ****

  Sara Jane felt herself floating in and out of consciousness. Someone lifted a strand of hair at the crown of her head where all the pain was centered. She heard a loud snip. She winced when someone patted a stinging antiseptic into her wound. She thrust her head from side to side, fighting the annoying person and the bandage pressed against the injury. “Go away,” she mumbled as pain radiated through her skull.

  “Everything’s all right,” a deep, soothing voice said. “You’re safe.”

  She tried to open her eyes, but managed only a flutter of lashes. Even the dim lighting was too bright and sent more pain to her head. The man with the gentle voice pressed something wonderfully cool to her forehead. She relaxed and sank back into a troubled dream. Fire blazed all around her. Then pain shot through her skull. The man who had assaulted her tied her to the hind quarters of a horse and rode through the night with her, his black cape flying and slapping the breeze. Where was Nick? Why wasn’t he saving her?

  Someone shoved pills through her lips and followed it with water. She gulped the cool liquid greedily. She forced her heavy eyelids open. The room spun like a horse-training wheel in a windstorm. A man crouched beside her. She blinked to bring his face into focus. The haze cleared. “Nick!” An unexpected surge of joy swept through her. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, but her limbs felt like lead.

  “How do you feel?” His voice deepened and carried a tenderness that caressed her like a gentle prairie breeze.

  “Where am I?” The small unfamiliar room, lighted with a kerosene lamp had only a table, two chairs, and the cot she rested on.

  Nick rubbed his jaw and watched her with an intensity that made her heart beat faster. Finally he said, “It’s an old line shack on the east border of your ranch. After the fire—”

  “Fire!” Memory shot panic through her. “Demon!” She sprang to a sitting position. Pain rushed to her spinning head.

  “He’s fine. I got him out.”

  “Thank you.” She reached out to throw her arms around Nick, but another thought stopped her. “You brought me here?” Anger thrummed through her veins. “What gave you the right to take me from the ranch? They need me now, more than ever.”

  His mouth tightened, flattening into a hard line. “I called your dad on my cell phone. He’s the only one who knows, but he’ll tell your mom.” Nick raked his hair with his fingers. “When I told him about the assault, he agreed that this is best.”

  She rubbed her aching head. “What are you talking about?”

  Nick’s jaw tightened. “We had to let the killer think you died in the fire.” He stood and tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and studied her.

  “Died!” She swung her legs over the edge of the cot and struggled to her feet. She wavered. When he steadied her, she shook off his hold. A pulse throbbed in his jaw. He made no move to touch her again, but his smoldering gaze locked on her, held her immobile. “You had no right to make that decision without discussing it with me!” A flood of betrayal filled her. “I thought we were a team now, working things out together. But you’re even more controlling than my dad. At least he never made me play dead to make his job easier.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Nick’s hard stare raked over her. “Someone left you for dead. This isn’t like breaking into your room or cutting the hose on the truck. This was attempted murder.”

  Banked anger sizzled beneath his response. Fighting the way his words tore at her, she clenched her fists tight, ignoring the pain as her fingernails dug into her damp palms. “How could you cause such pain to the rest of my family? Mom and Dad will have to go around pretending to grieve.” Sara Jane groaned, thinking of how hard that would be for them. Unable to stand Nick’s closeness a second longer, she stepped back from his blasted FBI take-charge machismo. “What about my business? All of my clients will leave me and find a new trainer. It’ll be the end of a dream that I’ve put my heart and soul into.” She closed her eyes a moment, thinking how far reaching something like this was. Would her grandma hear about it? It would kill her. “I just can’t go along with this.”

  A pulse throbbed in Nick’s temple. “You’re missing the point—you’re alive. Besides, the ruse is already in motion. I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. When the danger’s over and the killer is behind bars, everyone will understand—and be damned glad to have you back.” Agony flickered over his face. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century!” She staggered to the window and looked out into the darkness. “How did we get here?”

  “Horseback. But don’t get any funny ideas. My job is to keep you here. And I will—hog-tied, if necessary. Make it easy on both of us. Give it a few days. We’re all working on this—your dad, the sheriff, and the FBI. We want it over as much as you do.”

  Sara Jane slammed her fist down on the windowsill. “Why? You have nothing to lose. All you’re out is a few weeks away from the city and whatever you do when you’re not making my life miserable.” She spun around, trying to ignore the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her, and headed for the door.

  Nick reached out and caught her wrist. She tugged against his steely hold. Then, everything went black….

  ****

  Nick scooped Sara Jane into his arms. Her hair smelled of smoke; how close he’d come to losing her. His heart pounded wildly. Suddenly he felt as though he had leapt off the edge of Lustre Plateau, plunging to certain disaster. He exhaled heavily. The more he held her in his arms the harder it would be to leave her. And now, she hated him.

  He eased her onto the cot and, after checking her pulse, he lay down on the bare floor beside her, listening to her even breathing. Had he made the wrong decision? He mulled it over and over in his mind, always coming up with the same question. With her life in danger, how could he pass up the opportunity to pretend she was dead? The sorrow and inconvenience he had caused tore at his gut. But, damn it, faking her death was necessary!

  After turning from side to side for over an hour, he got up, walked out on the porch, and listened to the night sounds. Nearby, his borrowed stallion snorted, and, in the distance, a wolf howled. Strangely, under this wide, blue-black Texas sky full of stars, he found the sounds reassuring. The world was far away, and as long as he kept Sara Jane here, she was safe.

  Nick tended to the horse, and checked the cargo space behind the seat of his truck. He sighed in relief. His meager belongs were still there in the lower drawer of his tool chest. He couldn’t have left L.A. without his few possessions—the bits and pieces of his messed up life. He stared at a photo-booth strip of his sister and him making goofy faces, their gra
duation tassels, her silver locket with a picture of their mom. These things reminded him of his humanity—and a vulnerability he couldn’t afford to let others see. He ran his index finger over the glossy strip with its metal frame and cardboard backing and stared at a grinning Shirl. The Honey Killer had cut her down in the prime of life before she could nest and make a family for herself—a family like neither of them had ever known. Making a family was her dream and, since he was too realistic to have such a dream for himself, she wanted him to be a part of hers whenever he was in town. Now neither of them would ever share a sense of family beyond the desperate clinging of two scared kids shifted from one abusive foster home to another.

  He pounded the back of the seat with his fist. Shirl, why couldn’t you have gone to secretarial school…or become a teacher…anything but an FBI agent? He knew why, she had always wanted to do whatever he did—only better. Nick wiped moisture from the center corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and pressed the button on the false bottom of the chest to make sure his Glock and extra clips were safe. It was best to concentrate on this job, and not the previous Honey murder.

  He strode back inside determined to get some sleep. He’d need all of his strength to deal with Sara Jane tomorrow. He rubbed his burning eyes, feeling exhaustion settle into his bones. Damn. As he tired as he was, if he ever got to sleep, he would really conk out. When Sara Jane passed out, she had been heading out the door. He had no choice. He dug out his handcuffs and cuffed himself to her. Lying on the floor with his arm propped up against the edge of the cot was as uncomfortable as hell, but even in her weakened condition, he couldn’t trust her not to try to escape.