Certified Cowboy (12 page)

Then one hand closed over her breast, massaging, stroking through the sheer lace of her bra. Even as her nipple stiffened, throbbing for his mouth, reminders of Rex’s rough handling broke through the haze of arousal. She fought to stifle them, but the moment Johnny backed her against the wall, panic shot through her.

She hated to be penned in. Held down. To be at the mercy of a man.

“Please…stop…”

Her raspy breathing turned to a painful gasp for air, and she pushed against his chest.

He leaned back, his eyes dark and feral, pupils dilated with hunger. But concern registered in his expression, followed by questions that she didn’t want him to ask.

Questions that triggered her shame.

A heartbeat of silence stretched between them, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he lifted his thumb and brushed her cheek with the pad, slowly, sensually, so heartachingly tender that tears blurred her eyes.

“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt,” he said gruffly, then took a step away. “But I promise, I will never hurt you, Rachel.”

The sincerity in his husky vow made her want to drag him back in her arms, made her wish she had the courage to confess everything.

Made her want to trust him with her story. With her body. With her heart.

But Rex had hurt her too badly to do any of those things.

“Please,” Johnny whispered, “tell me what you need.”

What she needed was for him to hold her again, to make love to her and erase the memory of Rex’s vile hands.

But she had to keep him at bay and guard her secrets.

Squaring her shoulders, she wrapped a firm band around her heart. “I’m fine, Johnny. I’m just tired.”

Disappointment flared in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gave a clipped nod and walked toward the door. But just as he reached it, he turned back and looked at her one more time.

“Promise me you’ll be here in the morning,” he said softly.

Rachel’s heart fluttered. She wanted to stay forever.

“For Kenny’s sake,” he finished.

She wet her lips with her tongue and tasted Johnny on her lips. The potent mixture of his tenderness and masculinity was enough to bring her to her knees. But the reminder of Kenny brought reality slamming into her hard.

Her main priority was to protect her son.

“For Kenny’s sake,” she murmured with a small nod of concession.

But if she discovered Rex was on the ranch, she’d forget that promise. For Kenny’s sake, she’d run again.

And somehow she’d make herself forget Johnny.

J
OHNNY’S BODY WAS
WOUND
tight as he left Rachel.

Dammit, this woman had him tied in knots. He wanted her with a vengeance. Her strength and that sweet vulnerability aroused both his lust and protective instincts, a lethal combination that he’d never experienced before.

He fisted his hands and strode back to his truck, then headed back to the main house. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with images of that animal pawing at her in the barn earlier.

Or the memory of her mouth seeking
his,
her hands drawing him nearer, her taste on his lips and her touch on his skin.

He needed to take a ride to clear his head.

He parked at the main barn, saddled up Soldier, then climbed in the saddle and galloped across the ranch. Ever since he was a boy, he’d felt at home in the saddle. One with the animal.

It was no different now. He guided the horse across the terrain, bypassing the stables and arena, then checked to make sure the animals they’d brought in for the rodeo had been delivered.

Satisfied to find things in order, he rode out to the north pasture again. He scanned the area to make sure the man who’d attacked Rachel hadn’t decided to hide out somewhere on the ranch, then rode along the creek to the river.

He also looked for other signs of trouble in case Copeland had hired someone to sabotage them.

The rodeo was only a few days away, and Rachel had promised to stay until it was over. But what would happen then?

Dammit. He spun the horse around and headed back to the stables. If she wasn’t going to confide the truth about her problems, he’d find out on his own.

He breathed in the fresh night air as he crossed the pasture, rode past the creek where the youth were camping out and slowed the horse, pausing to watch for a few minutes but staying hidden in the shadows. When he was a kid, he’d loved the outdoors, skipping rocks in the river, digging fence posts, diving into a haystack, but most of all, riding. God, he loved being in the saddle, the powerful feel of the beast beneath him.

It was the only time he felt in control.

He’d spent plenty of nights sleeping outdoors to avoid his father when he was on a tear. Camps hadn’t been in the budget. And his old man wouldn’t have sent him if it had been.

Laughter echoed through the trees, then voices as the group huddled around the campfire. He spotted Kenny sitting beside Willie, and smiled. Kenny didn’t care that the boy was handicapped. In fact, he acted as if he didn’t realize Willie’s limitations, simply accepted him for who he was. Despite what had happened with Rachel, she had done a good job raising her son.

And the past few days Kenny seemed happy and relaxed, a far cry from the little boy who’d clung to his mother and looked terrified when Johnny had told him he had to earn his keep.

Memories bombarded Johnny. His father’s drinking had made him violent. Too often he’d borne the brunt of his temper.

Had Kenny’s father hit him, too?

The thought sent rage through him, and he whirled the horse around and galloped back to the stables. It took him a few minutes to unsaddle the stallion and brush him down, then he strode into the main house, snatched up the phone and punched in the number for the private investigator he’d used when his own troubles had nearly destroyed him. He didn’t want to use the same service the ranch used for simple background checks. This had become too personal.

The P.I. answered on the third ring.

“Leon,” Johnny said without preamble. “I need a favor.”

“What’s going on, Johnny? Somewhere else making up lies about you and trying to extort you?”

“No,” Johnny said quietly. “But it is about a woman.”

“Haven’t you learned, Johnny? Women are always trouble.”

A grin tugged at his mouth, but he remembered the bruises on Rachel’s neck and it quickly faded. “Yeah, and this one has it written all over her.”

A long-suffering sigh escaped Leon. “Hell, you’re not going to listen to me anyway, so just spill it. What’s her name and what does she want from you?”

That was just it. Rachel didn’t want anything from him. Not his money or his help.

Which made him want to help her that much more.

“Her name is Rachel Simmons, and she has a six-year-old son named Kenny.” A frisson of guilt assaulted him for betraying her, but he had to know the truth before he became involved with her.

Dammit. Who was he kidding? Foolish or not, he already was involved

“But I think she gave me a fake name,” Johnny said. “I’m going to fax over a photo of her and the papers she signed when I hired her along with the social security number she put on her application. I want you to find out everything you can about her as soon as possible.”

“Sounds serious,” Leon mumbled.

Johnny chewed the inside of his cheek. He hoped to hell it wasn’t, but he had a bad feeling.

Growing up with a hellion father, breaking horses, working the rodeo circuit and bull riding had taught him one thing—to rely on his gut instincts.

N
IGHTMARES OF
R
EX
AND
the man who’d attacked her in the barn plagued Rachel all night. Each time she jerked awake, she stared into the darkness searching for her ex-husband. Listening. Waiting.

By 2:00 a.m., she’d retrieved her gun and put it under her pillow. By five, she’d given up the battle for sleep, climbed from bed, showered, fed Cleo and the puppies, then hurried to the dining hall to help Ms. Ellen. With the counselors’ assistance, the campers were cooking their own breakfast over the fire, so the group was smaller than normal.

A newspaper lay spread on the table where Ms. Ellen had been reading it. She glanced at the front-page article and staggered with shock at the photograph of the judge who had granted her divorce. Hands shaking, she sank into the chair and skimmed the article.

Police are investigating a double homicide at the home of Judge Walton Hammers and his wife. According to reports, they were held at gunpoint, Mrs. Hammers was tied and bound, then shot at point blank in the head, while her husband was shot in the abdomen and knee and bled out. There are no suspects at the time, but police are investigating the judge’s previous cases. If you have any information regarding these murders, please contact your local police.

Rachel’s head swam. Dear God. Had Rex done this? Killed the judge and his wife because he’d granted her the divorce?

Ms. Ellen bounded in, and Rachel struggled to pull herself together and went to work.

But every time someone entered the room, she tensed and checked to see if it was Rex.

Or Johnny.

She’d ached to have him hold her the night before and chase away her nightmares. An ache she couldn’t assuage.

After cleaning up from breakfast, she hurried toward the pens where Johnny was working with the kids. Kenny waved to her from the opposite side of the fence where the boys watched Johnny leading Willie around on a gelding.

“I’m next, Mommy!” Kenny shouted.

Rachel smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Since they’d arrived, Kenny had blossomed from a shy, nervous little boy who hadn’t had friends to an outgoing kid with rosy cheeks and friends.

But if Rex had killed that judge and was on their trail, they couldn’t stay.

Johnny led the horse to a standstill, then helped Willie down. “You’re a natural,” Johnny said.

Willie grinned as he jogged back to Kenny. They high-fived, then Willie exited through the gate to stand by the other boys. Kenny hurried to take his turn, bouncing on his heels as Johnny helped him into the saddle.

Emotions crowded Rachel’s throat as Johnny spoke quietly to the horse. His calm but confident manner with the animals transcended to the children. He was a born leader.

She glanced around in search of Rex, but she spotted the reporter and cameraman approaching, and her pulse clamored. The cameraman lifted his camera to tape Kenny who looked like a little cowboy in his boots, jeans and Stetson.

Panic beat a staccato rhythm in Rachel’s chest, and she swallowed hard to keep from shouting at the man not to take her son’s photo. The last thing she needed was for her and Kenny’s pictures to be plastered in the papers offering a road map for Rex to follow.

If she caused a scene, she would only draw suspicion to herself.

Maybe if she asked Johnny, he’d convince them to not print her son’s photo. But what reason could she give him?

She’d have to think of some kind of lie.

Anxiety needled her as Kenny finished his riding lesson, but she tried to hide it as Kenny jumped down. The horse lowered his head into Kenny’s palm and Kenny giggled, then looked up at her with such joy that a tingly warmth spread through her.

Johnny motioned to the boys. “Come on, guys, we’re going to meet Elvis.”

“Who’s Elvis?” Willie asked.

“Our prized bull.” Johnny led the boys from the riding pens toward a barn adjoining the rodeo arena, complete with holding chutes and smaller riding pens. The reporter and cameraman mingled with the boys, and Rachel followed at a distance, determined to avoid the media attention.

Kenny raced ahead and climbed through the fence.

“Wait,” Johnny called. “Let me check the bull’s pen.”

But before he could enter the barn, a bull charged out. Rachel’s heart raced with fear as the huge animal roared toward her son, dust flying from his hoofs, his tail sticking straight out.

Some of the boys shouted at Kenny. “Look out!”

“Elvis is in there!”

Kenny jerked his head up and froze, terror on his face as he spotted the bull. The animal’s head was lowered in attack mode.

“Kenny!” Rachel took off at a dead run.

The bull paused in the middle of the arena several feet from Kenny, bellowed, arched his back and shook his head from side to side, sizing him up as he would a threat.

“Run!” Willie yelled.

“Get out!” another boy cried.

“No, Kenny,” Johnny said in a calm voice. He threw his hand up and motioned for the boys to quiet. “Stay back, guys. And stand very still, Kenny. If you run or scream, he’ll think you’re playing and he’ll chase you.”

Rachel trembled, inching toward the fence, desperate to reach her son. But she didn’t want to make matters worse.

Moving slowly, Johnny climbed the fence, speaking in a low, soothing tone as he dropped to the ground. The bull dug his feet into the dirt, throwing it over his back as he lowered his head again, hunched his shoulders and angled his neck to the side toward Kenny.