Книга - The Gentrys: Cinco

The Gentrys: Cinco
Linda Conrad


Rancher, security expert, family man. Cinco Gentry has already had enough excitement for one lifetime. Now all he wants is to run his ranch - and his family - without any complications. Until the arrival of U.S. Air Force Captain Meredith Powell changes everything.Forced to stay at the ranch for her own safety, she resists Cinco at every turn, until danger drives her into his passionate embrace. But will the sexy cowboy be enough to satisfy her thirst for adventure once the danger is gone?









The Urge To Plant A Devastating Kiss Across Her Perfect Lips Made His Body Twitch In Anticipation.


But that wasn’t exactly what Kyle meant when he asked Cinco to protect Meredith.

“Look, darlin’,” said Cinco. “You and I have to reach a truce here. I only want what’s in your best interest.”

The first real semblance of a smile crossed Meredith’s face.

“Look, cowboy, I think I know what’s in my best interest better than you do. I insist on pulling my own weight—and carrying my own bags. And I’m not your…darlin’.”

“Okay. Carry your own load.” Cinco turned around to face her with a sexy grin. “But this is my house, and I’ll lead the way upstairs…darlin’.”


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Our compelling yearlong twelve-book series DYNASTIES: THE BARONES continues with Where There’s Smoke… (#1507) by Barbara McCauley, in which a fireman as courageous as he is gorgeous saves the life and wins the heart of a Barone heiress. Next, a domineering cowboy clashes with a mysterious woman hiding on his ranch, in The Gentrys: Cinco (#1508), the launch title of THE GENTRYS, a new three-book miniseries by Linda Conrad.

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Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire




The Gentrys: Cinco

Linda Conrad










LINDA CONRAD


Born in Brazil to a commercial pilot and his wife, Linda Conrad was raised in south Florida and has been a dreamer and storyteller for as long as she can remember. After her mother’s death a few years ago, she moved from her then home in Texas to Southern California and gave up her previous life as a stockbroker to rededicate herself to her first love: writing.

Linda and her husband, along with a Siamese mix cat named Sam, recently moved back to south Florida. She’s been writing contemporary romances for about five years and loves sharing them with readers. She enjoys growing roses, reading cozy mysteries and sexy romances and driving her little convertible in the sunshine. But most important, Linda loves learning about—and living with—passion.

It makes Linda’s day to hear from readers. Visit with her at www.LindaConrad.com.


For Frank Sanders, a real-life Texas cowboy who once worked on a place very much like the Gentry Ranch. The people and the place wouldn't have come to life without your help.

Thanks, my old friend.


Texas Cattle Baron And Wife Lost At Sea

Late last night the Coast Guard announced it is formally abandoning search and rescue operations for T. A. Gentry IV and his wife, Kay, current owners of the Gentry Ranch in Costillo County. The two have been missing for five days off the coast of Dry Tortugas.

According to a spokesman for the Coast Guard, the couple was vacationing on a friend’s yacht when unexpected hurricane-force winds developed in the area of their last known position. No signs of the yacht or those onboard have been located despite an exhaustive search. According to the owner, the yacht was not equipped with an EPIRB signaling system and no radio distress calls have been intercepted.

The couple leaves behind their three children. Sons: nineteen-year-old T. A. Gentry V; Callon Aaron, seventeen; and daughter, Abigail Josephine, twelve.

A memorial service will be held at the First Community Church in Gentry Wells on the twenty-third of this month.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve




One


Cinco Gentry closed his cell phone, listening as the snap echoed off the Texas hills. He wondered if he’d just agreed to do the right thing—or if one more catastrophe was about to get the better of him.

At this ungodly hour of the morning, his longtime friend and business partner, Kyle Sullivan, had called from nearby San Angelo to say he needed a favor. A new client needed Cinco’s protection on the ranch. This client was Kyle’s old Air Force buddy named Frosty, and the guy had apparently found himself in a world of trouble.

Well, that’s what Cinco rather smugly thought he was the best at doing, after all. Security and protection. Surely a new project for his Internet security firm would work out better than the rest of his life had recently.

Because of the frustrating conversations he’d had last night with his brother and sister, Cinco had found himself, once again, standing at the foot of his parents’ empty graves just as the dawn peeked over the trees. He cursed all four generations of Gentrys that had come before him. Stabbing at a wayward weed with the toe of his boot, he especially damned the two headstones that had always failed to provide him with any answers.

Dang, what he’d give to be able to ask his parents just a few more questions. Like what had really become of them on that storm-swept night so long ago, and what in the world he should do about his rebellious siblings now.

The granite markers for T. A. Gentry IV and his wife, Kay Hempstead Gentry, put there only as memorials, had silently mocked Cinco for these past twelve long years. Instead of answers, only the vague reverberations of ghostly voices joined the cell phone echoes bouncing off the distant hills, reminding him that he would never know the truth.

Spectacular countryside spread out below him. On one side of Graveyard Hill the waning full moon magnified the shadows of mesquite and cottonwood. The bright moonlight shone on the sparse patches of a late fall frost and tinted them a deep shade of blue. From the other direction the sun peeked over a distant hill and gave the frost on that side of the valley the appearance of fire—glowing a warm reddish-orange. The whole world around him blended into a rainbow of color. And Cinco barely noticed.

Since his parents’ disappearance he’d managed the ranch’s business affairs and watched over his kid brother and sister. But he’d give up the job as head of family in an instant if he could hand the whole thing back to the father who’d raised him. The father who taught him to believe that a man has a duty to become the best he could dream how to be. That same father whose apparent drowning had left Cinco no choice but to give up on his dreams and come home.

Now his top priority was keeping what was left of the family together. To keep Cal and Abby safe and sound. Although, both of them were stubborn as mules when it came to listening to his concerns about their safety. The two of them should just understand that this was his whole world now, dang it. Security was the one thing Cinco had become really good at over the years. He’d even managed to excel at the online security business with Kyle.

Now, if only he could also convince his younger brother and sister that he knew what would be safest for them, too.

An hour later, with the coffee brewing, the kitchen warmed and the dishes shoved into the sink, Cinco was beginning to wonder if maybe he should’ve given Kyle some driving directions. After all, his partner hadn’t been to the ranch in several years.

Cinco grabbed his coat and hat and pulled the keys to one of the trucks off a peg on his way out the mudroom door. There was only one way into the main house by road. If Kyle was lost, Cinco would find him easily enough.

Just as he stepped out onto the wide, wooden back-porch stairs, a cloud of noisy dust roared into the caliche-covered yard. Through the cloud, Cinco could make out the vague outline of an expensive British-racing-green-colored sedan. Long, low and sleek, the car seemed as foreign in this country as a cowpoke riding an elephant would’ve been.

Cinco knew the Gentry family’s ranching operation was as modern and up-to-date as any in the country, but he also knew what kind of impression any spread like this one made on city boys like Kyle. He wondered what this Frosty fellow would think of the place.

The sedan pulled to a stop on the other side of the yard as Cinco tried to get a glance at Kyle’s old buddy through the windshield. Tinted dark, none of the windows offered him any kind of hint about the man who needed his protection.

Cinco headed out across the yard, choking on the particles of West Texas dust kicked up by the car and lingering in the crisp autumn air. Kyle stepped from the driver’s door and said something to the other man. Cinco watched the passenger door open as the stranger turned, backing out of his seat before Cinco could get a good look.

The guy must’ve been trying to collect something from the front seat because his upper body was still bent over inside the car while his feet stood on the caliche outside the door. A khaki-covered backside was all Cinco could make out from this angle.

The remnants of the gray-colored cloud of dust slowly filtered back to earth and Cinco got a better look—at one of the shapeliest, sexiest behinds that he’d ever had the grand fortune to behold. What the heck? Who…?

Kyle came around the car, grinning like a damned idiot while the sexy bottom slowly straightened and transformed into a tall, fair-skinned woman who turned to face Cinco. Wearing black aviator glasses that covered most of the deadly serious expression on her face, the woman remained ramrod straight as she scanned the yard and buildings.

This was Frosty Powell? Hoo boy. Just wait until he got Kyle alone. No way was she staying on the ranch.

Kyle reached his side and slapped him on the back. “Great to see you, Gentry.”

Cinco stood his ground, gawking silently at the woman dressed in plain, khaki slacks and shirt, covered over by a tobacco-colored, leather flight jacket. Tall, at least five ten in flat-heeled shoes, her chin would probably hit him about shoulder level.

Whipping off the sunglasses, she took a quick glance around at the house behind him and then at the outbuildings and barns in the distance, finally letting her gaze settle on his body. She perused him from the tip of his old work hat to the soles of his scuffed lizard boots.

Immediately he felt compelled to try shining up his boots by rubbing them against the backs of his jean-clad calves. Resisting the urge, he stared back at her with his best scowl. After all, this was his place—not hers.

He noticed her chin come up ever so slightly and knew she’d felt his challenge and the tension.

He’d never seen anything quite like her. She looked like a Viking queen. Golden hair, pulled back in a thick braid, hung over her right shoulder feathering her breasts. Fiery blue eyes shot sparks of energy and, at the moment, appeared to be spitting mad. Her stance left little doubt she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

“Frosty, this is Cinco Gentry.” Kyle turned to introduce the two of them. “Cinco, this is my old buddy—”

“Frosty Powell?” Cinco cut in, with as much disbelief in his voice as he could manage without embarrassing himself.

“Well, yeah.”

The woman stepped closer and stuck out her hand. “Captain Meredith Powell, United States Air Force, retired. Pleased to finally meet you Mr. Cinco Gentry. Sorry about Kyle. We’ve just known each other too long. He sometimes forgets that I have a real name.” A semblance of a smile cracked the corners of her mouth but never reached her eyes.

Cinco managed to shake her hand but, apparently, he was struck dumb because he found his mouth sagging open. Her voice had been deep and musical, full of secret connotations. When she’d said his name, a purple haze of quick desire flashed through him, leaving him unsettled and frustrated.

He tried to pull himself together. The way she looked and the way she sounded were so incongruent that he felt pushed off balance. He didn’t like the feeling at all.

Her handshake was firm, polite while at the same time a little too strong. He seldom shook hands with women, and when he did, his impressions were usually of softness and silk. Rather wishy-washy and tentative. Nothing about Captain Meredith Powell’s handshake was hesitant—or wimpy.

In fact, nothing about her seemed familiar at all. Not like any woman he’d ever known. A fleeting image of the one true love of his life, Ellen, the woman he’d expected to love and protect forever but failed, spun through his mind. Dark, luscious hair and soft frilly clothes, that had been more Ellen’s style. The tall blonde before him wasn’t anything like that.

He coughed, trying to swallow any unwanted images. Felt in his throat every particle of the dust that had been dislodged by Kyle’s car. Then he coughed again.

Pulling his hand free, he tried to ignore her and turned to Kyle. “Let’s go inside for coffee.”

“I need to get Frosty’s bag from the trunk. Just a minute.” Kyle swiveled toward the car.

Cinco grabbed his elbow and squeezed. “Inside first…buddy. Then you and I need to have a little chat.”

When Meredith stepped inside the back door of the ranch house, she felt, more than ever, the eerie feeling of being Alice as she moved through the looking glass into Wonderland. The whole place, the entire atmosphere of the surrounding area, had started off feeling backward and weird.

During her career, she’d been stationed in several foreign countries and had even spent a few special deployments on third-world bases. But this? She could’ve sworn someone had accidentally dropped her into the middle of the movie set of an old Western.

With Cinco Gentry starring as the cowboy.

Kyle had failed to mention how authentically Western this part of Texas truly was. It absolutely reeked of raw-hide and leather. As did the man in charge.

Cinco, whatever kind of name that might be, had not been precisely what Meredith expected either. With his well-washed, tight-fitting jeans and black cowboy hat pulled low on his forehead, he looked exactly like she’d always pictured an old-fashioned Western movie star.

Then…his hand had gripped hers and she’d really gotten a look at his eyes. Warm chestnut brown at first glance, but the longer she’d stared into them, the darker and more intelligent and dangerous they’d become. He quickly ranked right up there as one of the most important reasons why she couldn’t stay out here in this wilderness.

“Let me take your coats.” Cinco tugged at the back of her flight jacket as she jammed her sunglasses into the pocket and shrugged her shoulders free.

He grabbed Kyle’s coat and hung both their jackets on pegs that jutted out from the rough, wood-paneled walls in the small hallway that was lined with boots along the floorboards. The shoes stood like little sentinels, guarding the entry.

“Go on into the kitchen. The coffee’s already made. Grab yourselves a mug.” Cinco slipped his hat off and put it on a rack, nodding toward the door opposite the one they’d just entered. Kyle led the way, leaving her to look around as she followed the enticing aroma of fresh brewed coffee.

The outside of this place had appeared oddly out of time. As she’d arrived, her view had been mostly obscured by tall trees and bushes, although she’d noticed the place rambled on over a wide area and impressed her as being sort of slapped together from differing styles.

She knew she’d spotted what looked like clapboard on one two-story wall but another adjoining room seemed to be made from a grayish-colored brick. All that confusion didn’t even begin to take into account the strange buildings she’d spied in the distance.

Stepping into the kitchen behind Kyle, she found herself in the same sort of out-of-time room. The cabinets were made in an old style from hand-sawn wood but done with precision and care. The appliances were stainless steel in an institutional-type style, brand-new and sparkling clean.

One wall was a floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace, with a big enough hearth for a six-foot man to walk into. The blackened side walls and old-fashioned fire boxes looked ancient. On the other side of the room, a huge expanse of glass covered the wall from countertop to raised ceiling above the sink. Hanging plants and small pots of greenery surrounded the sink and partially blocked the view of trees and grass beyond the window. Glancing only at this part of the room, a person would swear it was a picture from a glossy magazine article in some modern home and style digest.

Meredith’s head began to swim with visions of the two differing eras, so without thinking, she dragged a huge wooden chair from under a polished cedar table. She sat down just as Kyle handed her a blue-and-white mug full of steaming black coffee.

“Cool ranch house, don’t you think?” Kyle stepped over to the slate counter and poured himself a cup from the glass carafe on the stove.

Looking up at him, she saw that the peaked ceiling had barely discernable modern track lighting tucked alongside the huge, roughly finished beams. The incongruity of the distant past existing right next to the gleaming future made her shake her head in wonder.

“It’s…interesting,” she mumbled. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen before. But it doesn’t change anything. I still don’t need to be imprisoned out here, Kyle.”

“We’re not going through that again, Powell. The decision has been finalized, and that’s all there is to it.”

Cinco appeared inside the kitchen doorway. “All there is to what? What’s going on?” He was running his hands through hair that Meredith realized was the same warm-chestnut color as his eyes.

Cinco grabbed his own mug and filled it with the steaming coffee. “What’s the problem between you two?”

“No problem.” Kyle took a slug from the mug so he wouldn’t spill it, swallowing the hot liquid with an audible gulp. “Frosty’s got it in her head that she can simply go on with her life like nothing’s happened while a crazed murderer skulks around the country gunning for her. That’s all.”

Meredith wasn’t about to sit through this argument again. She jumped out of her chair and faced the two men.

“I am not planning on going ahead with life like nothing’s happened. My whole life was about to change anyway,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

She and Kyle had been over this so many times during the past couple of days that Meredith was exhausted from talking about it. She decided to try convincing the cowboy. He looked like a fairly intelligent man. Maybe he could make Kyle see reality.

“Look…Cinco. It’s like this,” she began. “When that insane jerk shot the general right in front of me on the steps of the Capitol, it also happened to be my very last day in the Air Force. I’d already resigned my commission and had accepted a position as a pilot with a commercial airline.

“Transcon Air has been kind enough to hold the pilot’s position open for me. Meanwhile, the feds bungled their arrest and lost the guy. And now the airline says they’ll keep the job free for only a little longer.”

She spread her hands wide, trying to appeal to Cinco’s best judgment, but immediately felt way too open and vulnerable and crossed her arms over her chest instead. “So tell me, how would crazy man Richard Rourke know where to find me if I went ahead with my plans and began the airline’s flight school?”

“Rourke may be crazy, but he’s not stupid,” Kyle said, as he stepped to Cinco’s side, facing her. “You know the FBI believes Rourke has contacts in several militia groups, and the militias have access to all kinds of supposedly confidential information. You’re not nearly devious enough to elude the militias if they want to locate you. Why, you’d probably use your own social security number for payroll purposes, wouldn’t you?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but first Kyle turned to plead his case with Cinco, the same way she’d tried to do.

“You know as much about security as I do, Gentry,” he declared. “Do you honestly think a woman who looks like this one could hide out in plain sight without being spotted?”

Cinco turned his narrowed gaze on her but kept silent.

Meredith felt a chill under his perusal and rubbed her arms in response. “Wait just a minute.” She spun on Kyle. “Who do you think you are to—”

She felt a strong hand on her shoulder, silencing her more efficiently than any words.

“You’re the witness that can identify Richard Rourke as the murderer of General VanDerring?” Cinco asked, while he gently turned her to face him. “The whole damn country’s looking for Rourke. You’re the only thing standing between him and freedom. No one else can place him at the scene.”

Cinco softened his gaze and pinned her with a piercing but concerned look. “He isn’t someone to fool around with. You must know that.”

“Fool around?” She tried to keep her voice low but heard the words cracking with her anger.

Kyle slid an arm over her shoulder and squeezed. “Easy, Frosty. This is a senseless argument anyway.” He dragged her to his side, taking her by surprise and silencing her once again as he explained to Cinco. “The U.S. Marshal’s Office wanted to place Frosty in protective custody while they search for Rourke. After she called me for help, I convinced them that I had a place and a man capable of providing the same security they could…but with fewer restrictions.”

Cinco nodded, as he apparently agreed that his ranch was as secure as anything the U.S. Marshals might come up with.

Meredith sighed, knowing her case was lost. She only had two choices—federal prison or ranch life with her friend’s partner. She realized she had to give up the fight, but she didn’t have to like it.

Cinco smiled at her for the first time, but the dimple creasing his left cheek didn’t do much to soften his eyes. “This here’s a real homey place, sugar,” he drawled. “You’ll be a lot happier and safer here.”

She straightened her shoulders and stood tall. “I’m sure.” But in her heart she knew the truth of her situation.

She probably would’ve been much better off locked up in some federal jail instead of being confined way out here with the original Lone Ranger as her guardian.




Two


“You could’ve at least warned me Frosty was a woman,” Cinco muttered. He and Kyle had walked out to retrieve Meredith’s bags from the sporty sedan while she made use of the facilities.

Kyle ducked his head and pulled the keys from his pocket. “Hmm. It’s just that I forget sometimes. I don’t usually think of her as a woman.”

Cinco stopped in his tracks and planted his hands on his hips with a frown.

“Well, I don’t,” Kyle insisted. “She’s the best pilot the Air Force ever lost. She’s tough and intelligent and can take care of herself in a barroom brawl better than any guy I’ve ever known.”

“The facts are…she is a woman,” Cinco declared, and was immediately chagrined that he’d stated the obvious quite so forcefully. “It’ll be really awkward for me to give her the protection and comfort she needs out here.”

Cinco shook his head in disgust and turned toward the car’s trunk. “Why couldn’t you have brought me an honest-to-God barroom brawler? Some guy I could knock a little sense into and kick around when the waiting gets on our nerves.”

“Give Frosty a chance, Gentry. She’s a no-maintenance female and could probably kick you farther than the last fence post on Gentry Ranch.” Kyle grinned and opened the trunk.

“And that’s another thing. What the hell kind of name is Frosty, anyway?” Cinco didn’t feel the least bit better about his unintended guest.

“Most pilots in the armed services have nicknames.” Kyle shrugged. “Earned in training usually.”

“What’d she do to earn that one?”

“Nothing.” Kyle pulled a duffel and a briefcase from the car and slammed the trunk lid.

At Cinco’s exasperated expression, he continued. “She never flinched, never looked scared, never raised a sweat during all of training. It was like she had ice water in her veins. And only once did anyone see some jackass come on to her. She frosted him but good. No one ever dared it again.”

“Ah. I get it. Ice water…Frosty.” Cinco grabbed his friend’s shoulder, preventing him from moving across the yard and into the warmth of the house. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d been convinced yet.

“What’s the matter with you, Gentry?” Kyle squirmed under Cinco’s hand. “It’s not like you to simply ignore a person in distress. And it’s really out of character for you to shirk your responsibilities to anyone who might need your shelter.” Kyle jerked his shoulder free and shifted his grip on the bags.

Ah, hell. Kyle knew him too damn well. His friend had just played his best card. The moment Cinco had learned she was the witness from the TV news accounts of the shooting of General VanDerring, he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—turn her away. But that didn’t mean he had to like being manipulated this way.

The real problem suddenly became clear as glass. What on earth was he supposed to do with this Amazon woman? Why he’d even be willing to bet she’d be better on a computer than he was, although that’d be stretching it some.

He scrubbed a hand across his face. This had just turned into the worst twenty-four hours he’d spent since that endless day twelve years ago when all he could do was hang on and pray it was all a dream. Starting last night, when his brother, Cal, called to say he’d gotten some racing groupie pregnant and was going to marry her. Then continuing with Abby calling to say she’d decided not to stay in school for her master’s because she wanted to come home and take over the ranch foreman’s job.

Now this.

“Geez, Kyle. What the devil am I supposed to do with a female while I’m giving her safe harbor?”

Kyle threw him a wry grin. “How the hell should I know? I said I don’t think of her as female, I think of her as a pilot…and I haven’t the foggiest idea what there is to do out here in cowboy land.”

When Cinco grimaced and cursed under his breath, Kyle quickly tried to smooth it over. “Look, Gentry. Just give her a break will you? She’s been through a lot in the past few months. First, her father suddenly dies of a heart attack. Then, just as she’s about to fly her boss home from his last Pentagon meeting before she retires from the Air Force for good…she watches him die in a hail of bullets that could very easily have taken her down, too.”

Kyle turned, continuing as he headed toward the Gentry family’s homestead and the warmth of the kitchen, “But whatever you do decide to do, keep her off the Internet and out of a plane. Either one of those two things could bring an abrupt ending to the feds’ star witness against Richard Rourke. And we certainly can’t afford to lose a client…or turn this into some kind of media circus.”

No, Cinco thought, he’d been there and done that. One media circus per lifetime was about all he could stand, thank you.

Kyle stood at the door with his hands full of Frosty’s baggage, waiting for Cinco to swing it open for him. “And it wouldn’t do Cyber-Investigations’ reputation as security specialists any good to lose such a major client, now would it?”

“You know Kyle well?” Meredith asked as she placed her used coffee mug in the sink.

She and her host had just come inside the house after watching Kyle’s Jaguar pull out of the yard and head toward civilization. And freedom.

“We go back about thirteen years.” Cinco leaned his elbows against the kitchen counter and crossed his ankles in front of him. “We went to MIT together.”

“MIT?” She suddenly realized she’d been slouching again and deliberately straightened her shoulders. “You went to MIT?”

A real grin began to spread across his features. But he quickly contained it and only managed to look amused instead.

“Aw, shucks, ma’am. What’s that ol’ saying my daddy used to have?” He stared up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, with an expression on his face that said at the moment this was the most important thing he had to do in the world. “Oh, yeah. I remember. You can’t always judge the bite by the sound of the snake’s rattle.

“Take this house, for instance.” He swung his arm around in a circle. “From the outside, you can’t tell what it’s supposed to be. But with enough time for a little study, you’ll find remnants of the hearts and souls of each of the five generations that have made it a home.”

Meredith knew her too-fair skin was betraying her once again. She could feel the burn of embarrassment creep up her neck and plant itself high on her cheeks. No amount of schooled features could hide what she was feeling. It was her curse.

She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to find some words that wouldn’t make her sound like a complete idiot. “Sorry. This situation doesn’t exactly bring out the best in me. I didn’t mean to imply…”

He waved off her apology. But instead of letting her off the hook entirely, he pinned her with a silent stare that made her feel squirmy and bewildered.

She blinked, realizing that the man actually bothered her. Not only with his chiseled good looks, but on some deeper level. Someplace buried within her that she really didn’t care to go.

But no man ever bothered her. Not even… Oh, no. She wouldn’t think about the jerk from her past along with everything else right now. She once again buried the memories of a man she’d vowed to forget.

Well, maybe it was Cinco’s size. Though that wasn’t all there was to it. Those broad shoulders and wide-palmed hands seemed made for soothing…protecting. Not as if they’d ever be raised in anger.

She shook her head to clear those old scary thoughts of anger and wrath. Surely this odd feeling when Cinco looked at her came from something simple and straightforward. Maybe it was that Texas drawl of his—even when he wasn’t putting the accent over-the-top for her benefit. Slow and as cocky as his grin, his words oozed charm and made her think of streaky sunshine over rose and blue clouds at 40,000 feet.

Meredith pulled herself out of her thoughts. She’d been lost in them for too long. An awkward silence had settled over the kitchen, and his gaze had become more of a curious perusal. She needed to think of some diversion. Fast.

“Uh. Five generations did you say?”

He nodded silently and crossed his own arms over his chest.

It finally hit her. “And you’re the fifth…Cinco.”

“Si, señorita.” He straightened and bowed slightly. “Theodore Aloysius Gentry V, at your service.”

“Theodore? Aloysius?” She tried desperately to keep the chuckle out of her voice.

He made a face, then sighed. “Yeah, I know. Very old-fashioned and not very Spanish sounding, is it? Well, when the first Theo settled here and married Maria Alonso Aragon de Castillo, most of the land they worked had been given to them as a wedding present by her father. The land was part of a huge Mexican land grant, most of which has since been incorporated into our family’s ranch holdings.”

He shrugged and turned to run water over their used mugs. “It’s all part of the heritage of the place…of my heritage.”

“I think Cinco is a fine name,” she managed without so much as a smile.

“Well, in five generations there’s been Theo, Teddy, Tres, and my father was T.A. All in all, I’m pretty happy to have Cinco. Though, my mother used to call me Tad sometimes.”

“No, Tad doesn’t seem to suit you.” She narrowed her eyes slightly in thought. “You said ‘was’…‘used to.’ Have your parents passed away, then?”

Uh-oh. Cinco was afraid the conversation had just turned a little too close to home where the Amazon queen was concerned. He sure knew how much it hurt him having to dredge up the pain of losing his parents. Even after all these years her question rocked him.

“Sort of.” That wasn’t much of a civilized answer, and at her shocked expression he was immediately sorry he’d been so blunt.

He tried to remind himself that the wound of her father’s death must still be fresh and raw. “Sorry. The truth is, no one’s positive whether either of my parents are dead or alive. They went on a cruise twelve years ago and never returned.”

“Oh, my God.” She paled and Cinco nearly reached out for her.

He’d stopped himself, not because he didn’t want to comfort her or need to hold her close, but because he knew she’d never allow him to be so intimate.

“It’s been a long time. Life goes on. Time…” He suddenly decided it was time for them to get out of the kitchen, so he swung around toward the back stairs. “Time, Meredith,” he added over his shoulder, “can heal most anything if you have the patience to wait for it.”

He bent to retrieve her duffel and briefcase before he headed upstairs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She bristled past him and made a grab for the bags.

Cinco closed his fingers around the handles and straightened. “Carrying your bags up the stairs to the room you’ll be using.”

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own things… and my own weight. I can handle it, if you’ll kindly just give me directions.” She threw her hands on her hips and pulled her chin up.

He kept his grip tight and stood aside to look at her. Her eyes were shooting those electric-blue blasts of cold energy again. Ferocious and adorable all at the same moment. Cinco decided he liked the way the bridge of her nose crinkled when she was piqued.

He decided to see just how bothered he could make her and what other delights he’d see as she grew angrier. He set the bags down next to his feet in silence, folded his arms across his chest and cocked one eyebrow in her direction.

And there he stayed. After two full minutes of silence, Meredith blinked and began to squirm a little where she stood. He was grateful she’d been the first to crack, because another few seconds and he would have given up. The sweat was already beading across the small of his back.

He’d gotten to her. Good.

Suddenly the urge to drag her against him and plant a devastating kiss across those perfect lips made his own body start to twitch in anticipation. However…that wasn’t exactly what Kyle had in mind when he asked for her protection.

“Uh, look, darlin’,” Cinco finally said. “You and I need to reach a truce here. I’m not your enemy. I only want what’s in your best interest.”

The first real semblance of a smile crossed her face, making Cinco even sweatier than before. Have mercy, but this woman was a stunner when she smiled.

“I’m forced to accept your hospitality, cowboy. And yes, I agree a truce is definitely the only way we’ll ever live through however long I must stay here.” She took her hands from her hips and raised her own eyebrows at him. “But I think I know what’s in my own best interest better than you do. And I insist on pulling my weight… and my own bags.”

She reached for the duffel bag’s handle. “And I’m not your…darlin’.”

“Okay. Carry your own load. It’s no skin off my nose.” He put one foot on the first stair, then turned around with a grin. “But this is my house, and I’ll lead the way upstairs…darlin’.”

Meredith followed him up the staircase, and Cinco stood aside to let her be the first to enter the room that would double as her cell for the foreseeable future. It was the third one down the hall from the top of the stairs. As she’d made her way down the hall, she’d noted that farther along the hallway a short flight of stairs led to more rooms, in what might pass for a different wing entirely. She supposed that wing had been patched on by a generation other than the one who had built this room.

And what a room it was.

The furniture was well built, sturdy—and big. Huge slits for handholds were carved right into the fronts of the chest of drawers. She’d bet someone had designed and built those by their own efforts. The bed was oversize and covered by a soft, tanned-leather throw. A matching leather easy chair, big enough for two of her, was comfortably placed in a corner with a decent-looking reading lamp on the brass-topped table beside it.

The walls were white cracked stucco and the slanted ceiling was held aloft by huge, blackish-brown beams. The room was old, the furniture nearly new. Smelling of furniture polish and leather, the whole thing was spotless, and Meredith was positive it belonged to a man. A man with very good taste.

Probably the very man standing at the threshold, gazing at her with a confused and wary smile.

“Is this your room?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Naw.” He shook his head and gave her a hesitant look. “My room’s across the hall. This was my brother, Cal’s, room once. He moved out about eight years ago so he could try his hand at the stock-car circuit. I had it renovated a few years back in the hopes that maybe he’d come to his senses someday and return home to the ranch.”

He shifted to the other foot but didn’t step any farther into the room. “Guess it won’t be happening now.”

She didn’t want to care, but he sounded so despondent that she was curious. “Oh?”

“He’s getting married today.” Cinco made a face like he’d tasted something sour and foul. “She’s expecting. Apparently, they’re having a quick, shotgun wedding.”

“Yes, well…” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Maybe as new parents they’ll want to be closer to family. When your brother becomes a father, maybe he won’t want to do anything as dangerous as car racing.”

Cinco shook his head. “I doubt it. Cal’s a star. Last year he won the championship cup. That means he won the most races on his circuit. This year he’s so far ahead of the pack that he could just skip a few races and still win this year’s cup. He gets endorsements and TV offers. I don’t think he’d be willing to chuck all that and come home to boring ranch life. Not even for his own child’s sake.”

She felt compelled to say something soothing, regardless of the fact that she had no idea how to do such a thing. “I’m sure ranching isn’t all that boring. I bet it’s probably exciting sometimes,” she said with a smile.

The look he shot her wasn’t boring, lazy or the least bit bemused. All of a sudden his gaze turned hot, sharp and fast—like an F-16 fighter.

“You know when you smile, you sure are easy on the eyes,” he drawled, in complete opposition to the intensity she saw in his gaze. “You ought to do it more often.”

She could feel the pink burn start deep in her chest and gush toward her cheeks again. Damn him. She should’ve known better than to try to be nice to such a control freak.

Meredith turned her back on him and unzipped her duffel. She’d packed lightly. Really, she didn’t own much more than these few things. All her previous clothing had been flight suits or uniforms and she didn’t want to buy anything new. Her intention was to be wearing a pilot’s uniform again soon. Very soon, she hoped.

A couple of T-shirts and sweats, her running shorts and shoes, and the nice navy-blue slacks outfit she’d bought last year to attend her father’s retirement party. That, the clothes she wore and some underwear were about all she owned.

She began stowing her gear in the huge walk-in closet and in one of the drawers when, without warning, she felt Cinco’s presence behind her. She rounded on him, ready for anything. The man had so far been totally unpredictable.

Cinco bent over to pick up a pair of underpants Meredith hadn’t noticed she’d dropped. When he felt the satiny smoothness of the flimsy black briefs, he’d become enchanted. They weren’t at all what he would have expected coming from the uptight Viking pilot. He failed to notice her warrior stance until he’d straightened up.

Holding the silk lightly in his fingers, he grinned into her deadly stare. “Here you go. Mighty sexy undies for a captain.”

Meredith snatched them from his grip, narrowing her eyes in defiance. Her hands curled into fists, and Cinco was amused to see she seemed ready for a fight.

All in all, she surely did look fine. Every furious inch of her long, lean body. Not too lean, mind you. The curves he figured were hidden underneath that starched, khaki outfit would be a perfect match for him. He just knew it.

Uh-oh. Where did that come from? He was supposed to be her guardian. Her protector. He never figured he’d have to protect her from himself.

As he stood there, speechless and breathless from the mere nearness of this spectacular woman, she turned and continued cramming the underwear and some T-shirts into a drawer.

He stepped back and tried to get a grip on his racing hormones. He needed to think of her as a client. Or a sister. Or a buddy he could pal around with while they bided their time. He could do that.

Cinco swallowed hard and moved to open the drapes covering the big picture window on the east wall. The sun quickly filled all the dark corners of the room, and he felt a lot steadier.

“So. What do you like to do for fun, Meredith?” he asked while still gazing out the window. “Do you ride…or have you ever done any line dancing?”

“The only things I ride are propelled by horsepower not horse meat,” she muttered. “And the only lines I’ve ever danced around were ones thrown by superior officers who decided it might be worth their stripes to try coming on to me.”

Meredith slammed the drawer shut on the last of her things. Then she hefted the duffel into a far corner of the closet. Returning shortly to her comfortable prison cell, she faced her slow-talking jailer who still stood in front of the window.

She hated the way her heart pounded when he came into view. Nor had she been at all prepared for the thick honey that seemed to replace the blood pulsing in her veins as his low voice sent heat trembling up her spine.

“I don’t think you’ll find anything out here in the wilderness that will keep me occupied, Gentry. That is, unless you have a plane hidden around somewhere.” She didn’t like the sarcastic tone in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Her world was slowing, turning on its side.

“As a matter of fact, we do have a few planes on the spread,” he said softly. “No fighter jets or fancy jumbos that can haul around generals, mind you. But we do have a couple of single-engine prop planes that we use for ranch work, and a small Learjet we use for corporate…”

He stopped midsentence like a person who’d just remembered he hadn’t turned off the stove’s burner when his car was a mile down the road. “Oh, no. Don’t go getting any ideas about flying while you’re on the ranch. As it is, we have to think up a cover story about who you are and what you’re doing here. Having a gorgeous lady pilot turn up on the ranch might be a bit too suspicious. We don’t want any speculation going around. It wouldn’t take long for word to get out and your security would be compromised.”

His fatherly concern suddenly seemed more like the obsessive control she’d always hated coming from her father or from her sole, onetime romantic interest. She gritted her teeth and tried to choke down the urge to smash him and run for her life. How in God’s name would she manage to last even one day out here in no man’s land with this…this…cowboy?

Meredith took a breath and plopped into the easy chair. “I don’t suppose you have a good bookstore or a workout gym in this rinky-dink dust bowl?”

She eased back into a patch of sunlight that lit her hair with golden sparkles. Cinco’s breath caught at the sight of the dusty halo around her head. She looked like a glittering angel.

His mind was suddenly wiped clean, kinda like a PC that crashed with no warning. When he found his voice again, he forgot she was as prickly and skittery as a unbroken filly. He forgot it was his job to keep her safe and sound, and away from bad influences. He forgot that he’d promised himself to only think of her as a client or a pal.

He forgot everything except how absolutely beautiful she looked. And how, in this light, she suddenly resembled a fragile, china doll more than an icy Amazon queen.

He hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and gave her a slow smile. “No bookstores or gyms, I’m afraid. But don’t you worry, sugar. We’ll work something out.”




Three


After forty-eight hours of solitude on the ranch, Meredith felt a little more like her old self. Composed, well-rested and…simply bored right out of her mind. She’d thought she might bump into Cinco, or that he might want to search her out and show her around. But she hadn’t seen much of him in almost two days.

Finally able to get the cadence right, she jogged in the crisp, early-morning light. The dusty country roads leading to and from the main house offered a less than perfect avenue for a run. But she had them conquered now and picked up her speed.

No one was around at this early hour to bother her. In fact, she was exceedingly grateful not to have to dodge cars or be faced with making small talk to other runners the way she did on an air base or in the city.

She inhaled a deep breath as she jogged and instantly regretted it. She’d caught the familiar scents of sage and clover earlier, but now something else overpowered them. Was that the smell of cow manure? Whew! She supposed it could have been worse. Maybe she’d smelled something more rank at some point, but she couldn’t exactly remember when.

Right this minute she couldn’t remember a time in her whole life when she could lounge around, doing nothing but breathe in fresh air and read books all day. The freedom should’ve been luxurious, but she’d been so close to grabbing the ultimate freedom—of being allowed to decide her own fate.

Meredith actually sighed. She’d come so close to a new life.

The thought of what she’d been forced to forgo caused a sharp pain in her lungs. She slowed to a stop and leaned over. Placing her hands on her knees, she breathed deeply.

She needed—no, she absolutely lived—to control her own world. To be in charge of every situation and be able to walk away whenever she wanted.

All her life she’d been in a prison of one kind or another, controlled by someone who’d claimed only to care about her best interests. And when the clear air of freedom had been almost within her grasp…she’d found herself forced back into the stale air of a prison, even though it was beautiful countryside. And once again guarded by someone else who claimed to care only about her protection.

Meredith wanted to assume total responsibility for her own life, and had for as long as she could remember. She had no doubt that she could protect herself, either. Her current impossible situation made that whole dream feel like a nightmare.

Logically she knew the ranch was the best, perhaps the only, place for her at this point. But her heart wasn’t buying logic right now.

Meredith glanced around at the acres of fenced land surrounding her. For miles—literally miles in every direction—nothing but sparse brown grasses and an occasional clump of stubby trees appeared on the landscape.

During the past couple of days when she’d been outdoors like this, she’d seen a few horses with riders on them in the distance. And once or twice a cow or two had wandered within yards of the road where she ran. She didn’t care for the way her skin crawled and stomach lurched at the nearness of them, but the animals never looked up at her. Anyway, this was no time to let that old weakness of hers out of the box in her mind where she’d relegated it.

The ranch had a feudal character. Sort of like a bygone era. It gave her the creeps. Nothing should be this laid-back and boring. Where was all the action?

The minute she’d thought the word laid-back, the one thing she didn’t find particularly boring around here came clearly into her mind. Cinco.

Despite not having enough time to figure him out, Meredith thought he must really be a kind person to take her in this way. That first day, after he’d shown her the family’s personal library and told her to help herself, he’d surprised her by also leading her to a makeshift weight room located in the far reaches of the ranch house. He’d explained that in the dead of winter even cowboys need some exercise.

She’d found herself starting to like him—a little. He was easy and funny, even if he was committed to controlling her actions and her life for the near future.

All things considered, for a jailer, he wasn’t half-bad.

She started to run again in earnest. Cinco had made himself scarce for the past two days. He’d left her breakfast and dinner on the kitchen counter with notes saying he’d be tied up for a while and for her to make herself at home. The ranch could never feel like a home, but it was nice of him to offer. Perhaps he’d be in the kitchen when she returned this time. They could talk.

As she rounded the last bend in the road, leading into the yard surrounding the house, she saw a man standing on the wide porch. Meredith couldn’t make out his features yet, but she knew it was Cinco by the way he filled out the denim shirt and jeans he was wearing.

The closer she came, the slower she ran. His black felt cowboy hat cast a threatening shadow across his eyes, as he sipped a cup of coffee. Silhouetted above her at the porch railing, he seemed big, tough and unfriendly.

Her forward progress slowed to a crawl. He looked mad. Whatever had possessed her to want to talk to him? And what right did he have to be angry?

She was the one who had every right to be mad at her situation. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t asked for this mess. She hadn’t wanted to be brought out to some distant and uncivilized backcountry. She hadn’t needed his damn protection in the first place.

By the time she’d stopped moving, she was fairly shimmering with livid energy. While she tried to catch her breath, his gaze skimmed up her bare legs, over her thighs and heaving chest, and upward on a long, lazy journey to her eyes.

“’Bout time you finally decided to get back here,” he growled. “Where’ve you been, Meredith?”

“Running,” she answered automatically. She’d almost complained about feeling like a caged animal, but thought better about it. Did she owe him any explanations?

He wasn’t her superior officer. He wasn’t her father. He hadn’t even bothered to check on her welfare at all in two days. She didn’t owe him any answers.

“What’s gotten into you this morning, Gentry?” she shot back at him. “You said it’d be all right for me to exercise. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

Cinco tamped down on his rising panic. Ever since he’d realized Meredith wasn’t in the house when he’d gotten home from his morning rounds, the insidious worry grew like wild mesquite on the range.

He’d had very little sleep in the past couple of days, trying to finish up the latest security program he’d promised another Cyber-Investigations client. Going at it straight through so he could spend more time keeping Meredith entertained, he was tired and not just a little edgy.

“I didn’t say you could go out of the house without leaving me word. I was about to organize a search party when I saw you coming down the road.” He looked at his hand—the one holding the coffee mug—and realized it was shaking. “Don’t do that again.”

Meredith bristled, bounding past him up the stairs and into the kitchen. “I can’t stay cooped up in this house for days, no matter how big and nice it is. Just what do you expect me to do?”

Cinco closed the door and took a deep breath. She was okay.

“Well, we could always try wrestling,” he drawled slowly…for effect. “Kyle tells me you’re really quite good.”

That did the trick. She stopped dead in her tracks, her skin turning the spectacular sunrise-pink color he’d noted the other day. He was starting to love that particular shade. No longer angry, she looked downright embarrassed. Served her right for scaring the good sense right out of him.

“I’m sorry to be so out of sorts.” Meredith managed a mumbled apology, then looked up at him with those huge blue eyes. “But us wrestling…might not be such a bad idea. Do you think?”

He could scarcely believe it, but her eyes were twinkling with both chagrin and mischief. The more he got to know this uptight pilot, the more he found to like about her.

An assignment to protect a witness for the U.S. Marshal’s Office should remain impersonal. Despite his attempts, however, he was finding it harder and harder to keep their relationship on that level.

He urged himself to keep on trying.

“Look. I’ve made time today to show you around the spread and try to find a few things you might enjoy doing while you’re here. Why don’t you change into something…” He glanced at her long legs topped by the shortest of running shorts and tried to remember to breathe.

He forced his gaze up to latch on to hers. “Go put on some jeans and get into leather-soled shoes with a heel,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Another few seconds of looking at those legs—the ones going on forever, the ones designed to make a man forget his own name—and it would be the end of him. He headed toward the staircase, putting distance between his libido and the sight of all that skin.

Meredith felt the flush of her anger begin to replace the crawl of embarrassment from a few minutes ago. “If that’s an order, Mr. Gentry, I respectfully…request that you shove it. You’re not my commander.” She headed for the coffeepot. “I don’t own a pair of blue jeans, anyway.”

Cinco halted midstride and spun around. She braced herself to hear a barrage of reasons why she should heed his demands in order to ensure her own safety.

He quickly moved toward her and placed his huge hands on her shoulders, gripping them firmly but tenderly. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like an order. I’m only trying to make you feel more comfortable around the ranch.” Instead of sounding stern, his voice turned soft…almost pleading. “And to make you aware of how dangerous a ranch can be. This is no place to run around half-dressed. You could get hurt…or worse.”

Looking up into his chocolate-colored eyes, she felt her knees turn to heated butter. Impossible. She was strong, tough. Cold as ice. After all, hadn’t people told her so often enough?

She resented her own thudding pulse. This was no time for a breakdown of some sort. No time to become all vulnerable and mushy.

Meredith pulled herself free from his grip. “I usually run in shorts. Most civilized people don’t consider that half-dressed. But if it makes you happy, I’ll change to sweats.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Did you mean it when you said you didn’t own any jeans?”

“Yes. I’ve never had any use for a pair. Never thought they looked regulation…or terribly comfortable.”

Cinco’s expression was stunned for a second, but he recovered quickly. “Well now, darlin’. Why don’t you…please…go put on warmer clothes. I think we’ve just found ourselves a little chore to do today.” He headed toward the stairs once more. “You’re going to get a real kick out of this.”

About an hour later Meredith wanted to kick something, all right.

They’d been bouncing along the bumpy, gravel roads in one of the ranch’s fleet of pickups for what seemed like forever. Didn’t the man believe in shock absorbers?

She stared out the window, hoping to see something that looked more like civilization than the endless vistas of scrub and stubby trees. Trying not to think about the huge man sitting next to her, taking up most of the bench front seat, she struggled to regulate her breathing.

Within the confinement of the truck cab, it was hard not to dwell on the bolt-action Weatherby rifle hanging on pegs in the window behind her head. She supposed she could fire one as well as the next guy, but it seemed rather barbaric to carry a firearm of any sort inside the passenger compartment.

If going to Gentry Wells to buy a pair of jeans was Cinco’s idea of fun, she’d have to set him straight on a few things. Just then, the truck ran over some kind of metal grate placed flat in the road, and she wondered if she’d need her teeth straightened first.

“What did we just run over? It sounded like it did some damage to the pickup.” She noticed he hadn’t even flinched at the clanking noise or jarring bumps.

“What?” He looked over at her as if she’d just asked whether the moon was green. “Oh, that.” He smiled—a little grin, and his face was transformed. “That’s a cattle guard. Don’t want any steers out roaming the main roads, now do we?”

He slowed the truck, coming to a stop at a blacktop road with printed road signs, a white stripe painted down the middle and…everything civilized.

“You mean a little grate thing will keep them in?”

Cinco nodded. “Yep. That and about a thousand miles of wire fencing.”

Think of that. She shivered slightly. Those huge beasts would be afraid of a little metal. So, they really weren’t very bright, just as her father had always told her. They’d surely be impossible to reason with, like all animals…and probably like the man sitting next to her as well.

After looking both ways down long, empty stretches of road, Cinco pulled out onto the blessedly smooth blacktop. They hadn’t traveled more than a mile when they passed a road sign announcing the speed limit at fifty-five and then another sign announcing that Gentry Wells would be ten miles farther along.

“What are the holes in those signs designed to do?” she asked, as they whizzed by.

With a grin as wide as a four-lane highway, Cinco turned to her. “Those aren’t designer holes. They’re bullet holes. Rifle-shot for the most part.”

“What on earth for?”

“Not for anything. That’s just where the teenagers around here practice their aim after they’ve had a few beers. I doubt there’s a sign in the entire county that doesn’t have them.”

She stayed quiet a second, picturing rowdy teens—with guns. “Did you do that when you were a teenager?”

He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. “Well now, darlin’. I suppose I might’ve. There’s nothing wrong with letting off a little steam, as long as it’s directed toward inanimate objects. Especially out here where no one will be injured.”

This guy was sure a puzzle. He spoke with a twang and had some funny ideas about things, but he also used language the way a man of letters might. Odd and a little dangerous, but definitely compelling, Meredith mused.

“We need to talk about making up a cover story for you,” he told her. “Gentry Wells is the kind of place where everyone knows everybody else who lives here. I’m sure when you and Kyle stopped in town last week, you started tongues wagging.”

“Oh?” It was hard to believe any town could be quite so…provincial.

“I’ve given it a lot of thought,” he continued. “You know a little about computers, don’t you?”

She nodded, but kept herself from bragging that there wasn’t a machine in the world she didn’t know something about.

Cinco apparently saw the nod. “Well, everyone in the county knows all my spare time is spent with computers. They don’t exactly understand about the security business, but they do know I have a lot of equipment.”

At the word equipment, a picture of what else that might refer to zinged through her brain. Oh, he definitely had the right equipment as far as she was concerned. She felt the blush coming on, so she turned to look out the window.

He concentrated on the road ahead and didn’t seem to notice. “I thought we could tell everyone that you’re a computer consultant who’s come here to install some new machinery…satellite connections and whatnot.”

“Yes, all right. If you think that will work, I can probably pull it off.”

He grinned. “Great. We’ll tell that story to everyone, including the hired hands.” He seemed to mull that over for another second. “Hmm. My sister will be home from college in a few days. I think we might have to tell her the truth.”

“Fine. Whatever.” It didn’t make any difference.

Just then the engine noises changed a decibel or two. She looked over at Cinco, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Did you see that the engine warning light just came on?” She pointed down at the amber light on the dash in front of him.

“That happens sometimes. Don’t worry. The light’ll go off soon enough.”

“Don’t you think that means something’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “Naw. Probably just the light’s broken. We have two mechanics, both working full-time to keep our rolling stock running smooth.”

A few hundred feet down the road she noted something had changed. “The light’s still on and now the temperature gauge is on the high side. Isn’t that a problem?”

Once again he shook his head. “Stop worrying so much. You’ve got real threats to aggravate yourself about. The mechanical workings of our pickups shouldn’t be your concern.”

Typical male, she thought. But she let it be, even though she felt another flush of unease over his controlling nature. He was certainly right, though. His trucks were not her responsibility.

Still, she couldn’t help but ask. “So, you don’t want to stop and check it out then?”

“Just relax. You don’t know the first thing about life out here. Let me handle it.

She straightened in her seat and glanced out the passenger window to keep from saying something she might regret. His words flashed her back to a time long ago when her father, Rear Admiral Stanton Powell, had said much the same thing, over and over again.

She gritted her teeth and tried to forget how she’d learned what he’d really meant by that. How he taught her to be a good little soldier—or else. How he’d never let her properly grieve over her mother’s death, or any of the many other nightmarish memories she’d done her best to put behind her now that he was dead.

Shaking her head softly to clear it, she wondered why in the world those old nightmares had come back to her at this moment. She sneaked a glance at the handsome cowboy in the driver’s seat. He was not her father.

She still wasn’t exactly sure who Cinco was inside, but she was positive that he was only interested in her safety—not really trying to control her life. She had to find a way to deal with her temporary situation and not take out frustrations or deep-seated fears on the man who didn’t seem any happier about her being here than she was.

Turning to face forward, she saw steam begin to blow out from under the hood. Well, that didn’t take as long as she’d thought it would. Within a few seconds the billowing clouds of steam covered the windshield and forced Cinco to bring the truck to a stop at the side of the road.

He didn’t look at her, but opened his door and stepped to the ground. “Sit tight. I’ll see what’s wrong.”

No chance of that. She counted to ten then climbed out, walking to the lifted hood and the puzzled-looking man who stood gazing at the engine, scratching the back of his neck.

Cinco narrowed his eyes at her. “I see you mind real well, Captain Frosty. You must realize it’s past time for you to start doing what I say.”

He flung his arm in a huge arch. “We’re not protected out here. There could be a sniper just waiting for you to be out in the open.”

She rolled her eyes and tsked at him. Tsked at him, for God’s sake!

“All right,” he conceded. “Maybe that’s a little farfetched, but I’m the security specialist, not you. It’s my job to keep you safe while you’re under my protection.” He gave up on the steaming engine and reached for his mobile phone. “I’ll just call the ranch. Someone should be able to come for us shortly. Meanwhile you can wait in the pickup.”

Meredith moved around him and peered down at the errant machinery under the hood. “Mind if I take a look first?”





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