Her Mountain Protector
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Jenna Ryan
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Prologue
He’d made a mistake, a big one. They’d catch him now for sure, lock him in a cell and throw away the key. His mother had warned him not to let his emotions get the better of him. Truthfully, she’d nagged him half to death on the subject, but he’d stopped listening to her a long time ago. Unless he counted the echo of her whiney voice that popped into his head at random moments and made him want to break things.
He’d broken something tonight. The blood on his hands was proof of that. Now, back in his hotel room, fear as dry as Colorado dust was setting in.
He opened and closed his mouth several times to loosen his jaw.
“Shut up!” he ordered, when his mother’s voice threatened to intrude. “It’s done, and there were no witnesses. I’m here. I’m safe. I’ll deal with the problem, talk to my idiot cousin and get out of this rat-hole town.”
Unless he got caught first.
He balled his hotel room key in a bloody fist.
The woman at the front desk had been flirting with him for the past two days. He’d pitched himself as Anthony Rush, a loner from Telluride, Colorado, looking to buy a small ranch here in the northern part of the state. She’d swallowed the lie whole and popped open another button on her shirt. He’d smiled and winked at her.
She’d vouch for him. He was a nice man who only drank beer and didn’t like to be disturbed after 10:00 p.m.
It would be fine.
He continued to flex his jaw as he turned on the radio. The announcer was droning on about some bigshot local landowner. He spun an Eagles’ song while Anthony went into the bathroom to deal with the blood.
One thing Anthony Rush knew how to do was cover his tracks. Oh yes, Mother had taught him to be thorough in all things, large and small.
Cleanup accomplished, he switched off the lights and collapsed on his bed.
He must have slept, didn’t know how with so many thoughts chattering in his mind, but it was full morning when his eyes opened and he sat up, fuzzy headed and blinking.
He groaned when he saw the blizzard outside. It was the second in two days. Then he heard the radio newscaster and froze.
The liquor store had been robbed last night. An hour later, someone had done a gas and dash at the filling station on Center Street. A 4x4 had hit a lamppost on Wilmot, and there was a big commotion brewing out near Painter’s Bluff. The sheriff would be a very busy man today.
Anthony absorbed the details of the broadcast through a haze. His head swam. He pictured the blood on his hands and worked his jaw open and shut, open and shut.
Can’t get caught, a voice in his head whispered. Have to get away. No more time to wait. Prisons were hell for people like him.
But first...
Fingers curled, teeth grinding, he bolted for the bathroom. And threw up everything in his stomach except the icy ball of fear.
