The Rancher and the City Girl
Auteur·e
Kathy Douglass
Lectures
15,0K
Chapitres
18
Chapter One
Go somewhere no one will look for you. The words of warning echoed through Camille Parker’s head as she sped down the rapidly darkening country road. It curved suddenly, and she almost lost control of the car. Cursing under her breath, she eased up on the accelerator and jerked the wheel, steering back onto the asphalt. They wouldn’t have to kill her if she did it herself.
Slowing, she began looking for a mailbox. She had to be close by now. Finally she spotted a driveway flanked by two large trees. She stopped next to the mailbox, hoping to find a name and not just the street number. Luckily, she made out “Jericho and Jeanette Jones” in red letters on the metal box. Despite her anxiety, her heart squeezed at the sight of her former friend’s name. How she had missed Jeanette. She always would.
Camille knew no one had followed her from New York, yet she still checked her rearview mirror. Convinced that she was alone on the isolated lane, she turned into the long, winding crushed-rock driveway, driving as fast as she dared. She didn’t want to lose control of the car again when she was this close to safety.
And what if Jericho didn’t let her in? He hated her. And she hated him. She’d never used the term “sworn enemies” before, but it described their relationship more accurately than other words could.
Not only had he convinced Jeanette to break off her engagement to Camille’s brother and marry him instead, he’d brought Jeanette out here to the middle of nowhere and let her die. Camille’s eyes filled with tears as she recalled finding out about Jeanette’s death in the obituary section of their high school’s alumni newsletter. Just one more reason to hate Jericho.
The two-story house appeared around a bend, and she slowed the car, stopping as close to the building as possible. She opened the door and heaved a heavy sigh. Her heart beat hard against the walls of her chest as doubt once more assaulted her.
What if he didn’t take her in?
She shoved aside that worry and tried again to silence the fear that had gripped her since she’d overheard her boss, Donald Wilcox, instructing someone to get rid of her and make it look like an accident. When she’d reached out in a panic to Rafael Delgado, her contact with the FBI, she discovered he was comatose after being in a car accident. That was when she’d run. At this point, she didn’t know whom she could trust. That’s why she needed to disappear for a while.
She couldn’t go to her parents or her brother in Chicago. No doubt that would be the first place the killers would look. And they could easily discover the identities of the friends she’d made in New York, many of whom worked at the Wall Street firm with her, and those she’d left behind in Chicago. So their homes were off-limits, as well. She wouldn’t put her family or friends at risk by seeking refuge with them. She had to go somewhere no one knew about or would ever think to look for her.
The Double J Ranch was just such a place. She and Jericho hadn’t spoken civil words to each other in more than five years. More important, she hadn’t spoken about him to anyone at the financial firm where she worked. No one in the New York banking circles would ever connect her to a horse rancher in North Carolina. The nearest town, Sweet Briar, was located almost an hour away on the ocean, so the ranch had the added bonus of being isolated. She’d be safe here. If he’d let her stay.
Her stomach seized as she considered the possibility that he might slam the door in her face. She couldn’t let that happen. He was her last—no, her only—hope.
She couldn’t risk using her credit cards or accessing her bank accounts once she’d left New York because even she knew she could be found that way. She’d been so rattled she hadn’t given a thought to stopping at an ATM until she was well on her way to North Carolina. Then it was too late. After paying cash for her hotel room last night, she had only the $300 she always kept in her purse. Who would have thought she’d need to use her emergency funds in an actual emergency and not one that involved shopping? And who knew how long she would need to make this money last?
Grabbing her purse, she jumped from the car, then raced up the short flight of stairs. She rang the doorbell several times, and a dog began barking. She heard scratching against the door as the barking grew louder and then stopped. She waited but heard no other sound. The urge to pound on the door nearly overcame her, but she pressed the doorbell for several long seconds instead. The barking started up again, but that’s all she heard.
She didn’t know anything about ranching. Would Jericho be in the house now, or out in the barn? Was the barn near the house? And what if he wasn’t here at all?
She hadn’t called to let him know she was coming. She couldn’t. She didn’t know his phone number. Not only that, she’d smashed and then discarded her cell phone, scattering the pieces along several New York streets so she couldn’t be traced. That might have been overkill, but she’d rather be safe than sorry. She’d never had people trying to kill her before, so the only thing she knew to do was what she’d seen in movies.
She raised a fist to pound on the door, but it was suddenly wrenched open. She lost her balance and fell against the man inside. He steadied her but not before she got a whiff of his masculine scent. Despite the terror that had been nipping at her heels for a day and a half, some tiny part of her was aware of just how good he smelled. The scent of pine and leather mixed in with a hint of soap clung to his skin. More than that, he smelled of safety and security. Like home.
He set her away from him none too gently, and she banished the ridiculous thought from her mind before it could take root. Telling herself to buck up, she raised her head and looked into deep brown eyes. Shock flashed in them briefly before being replaced by anger and hatred, finally landing on ice.
“What are you doing here?”
Jericho’s deep voice was even colder than his eyes. No surprise there.
“I said, why are you here?” His hard voice cut through her musings, bringing her fear to the fore.
“I need somewhere to stay.”
He leaned in closer, and she realized that although her lips had moved, her voice had been a mere squeak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I need somewhere to stay.”
His eyes narrowed and he backed away. She wasn’t sure whether he was inviting her in or planning to close the door in her face. Moving quickly, she stepped inside. A black Lab sat on its haunches several feet away, its tail thumping against the floor.
“Why?” He shook his head. “Never mind why. I don’t care. I’m just surprised you believe you’re going to stay here with me. As I recall you think this ranch is a worn-down piece of dirt in the middle of nowhere. And I’m just a farmer looking to hook up with a rich woman to support me. Those are your words, aren’t they?”
Camille cringed but didn’t look away from the fury in his eyes. She’d said those very words five years ago when Jeanette had confided she was ending her engagement to Camille’s brother and running off to Las Vegas with Jericho. Amazingly, he had quoted her verbatim.
He stepped around her and grabbed the doorknob. Unless she spoke fast and explained her predicament, she’d be on the other side of that door with nowhere to go before another minute passed. Three hundred dollars wouldn’t last long.
She put a hand on his arm. He had to listen to her. A hot jolt of electricity shot through her, and she yanked her hand away before her fingers were singed. What in the world was that? “Please. You have to let me stay here.” She heard the rising hysteria in her voice and clamped down on it. She’d never convince him if she lost her head.
“I don’t have to do anything.”
His hand twisted the knob.
“Please, Jericho. Don’t send me away. You’re the only person I can turn to. People are trying to kill me. If they find me, I’m dead.”
* * *
Someone was trying to kill her? Right. Surely she could do better than that. After all, this was the same woman who’d bribed her way into his Chicago hotel room barely an hour before he was set to fly to Las Vegas and marry Jeanette. He’d never forget how he’d emerged from the shower to find Camille sprawled across his bed wearing a sexy little nothing. He didn’t know what game she’d been playing, but he hadn’t been interested. He’d never told Jeanette what Camille had done. He couldn’t hurt Jeanette that way. She’d gone to her grave naively believing Camille Parker was worthy of her friendship. He knew better.
“Nice try, Camille. But I’m not buying it. Go play your games with someone else.”
“It’s not a game,” she screeched, wild-eyed. “If you make me leave, they’ll kill me.”
Jericho released the knob and took a closer look at the woman in front of him. The haughty expression she’d worn like other women wore a favorite lipstick was missing. Now, rather than curling her lips in disdain, she mercilessly nibbled away at them.
Not caring that it was rude, he let his eyes travel over her body. Tall and thin, she was cover-girl beautiful. The few times he’d seen her, she’d been perfectly coifed and her clothes impeccable. Now her shoulder-length hair looked a mess. The curls were tangled as if she had run her fingers through them over and over. The scarf that had held her locks away from her face was edging toward the back of her head. Her clothes were wrinkled, as if she’d slept in them. There was a frantic expression on her face, and she looked about ready to jump out of her skin.
Could someone really be trying to kill her? And if that was true, what did it have to do with him? “What’s going on?”
Camille jumped, and he realized he’d yelled his question. Her chest rose and fell as she inhaled deeply. She lifted a shaky hand and ran it through her hair, then adjusted her scarf. The smile she gave him was so forced he wondered why she bothered. “It’s a long story.”
“Just cut to the chase. I don’t have time to waste with meaningless details. And if the situation is as dire as you claim, you don’t either.”
“Right.” She compressed her lips, then looked him dead in the eyes. “I told you. Someone is trying to kill me.”
“But why come here? As I recall they have police in Chicago.”
“New York City. I moved to New York eight months ago to start a new job.”
“Okay. Not that it makes a difference. They have police there, too.”
“I can’t go to them. I don’t know who I can trust. I know there’s at least one person in the government involved. Maybe the police are, too. I just can’t risk it.”
Even without the details, this story was too convoluted to hear all the way through while standing in the hallway, not to mention that she was too edgy for his liking and he needed some space from her. So he gestured for her to proceed into his living room.
Her eyes widened in surprise before she let out a breath of what was clearly relief and stumbled ahead of him. She looked around uncertainly before he nodded and pointed toward the chairs before the unlit fireplace. He and Jeanette had spent many winter evenings sitting before a roaring fire. He hadn’t lit it once since her death. He’d avoided this room, coming in only to clean on rare occasions because the memories were unbearable. Still he’d rather live with the discomfort than let Camille intrude farther into his home.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked automatically, then wanted to bite his tongue. This wasn’t a social call. And he definitely didn’t want to prolong her stay.
“No thanks,” she said and sank into a chair. The dog immediately put his head on her lap.
“Shadow, heel.”
Shadow whined, then raced from the room. A minute later he returned carrying a chew toy that he dropped at Jericho’s feet. Jericho ignored the rubber bone and walked past what Jeanette had referred to as his chair, choosing instead to lean against the fireplace mantel.
“I work for a financial institution. An investment banking firm. I’m very good at what I do.”
He nodded and gestured for her to get on with her story. He didn’t have all night to listen to her.
“A few months ago I was working on one of my boss’s accounts and I noticed something was off with the numbers. He was out of the office and I was answering a client’s questions. Anyway, the numbers weren’t adding up. I did a little digging and discovered that one of the vice presidents was massaging the numbers. He was juggling accounts in a way that’s illegal. Money would appear and disappear. I knew something was fishy. I should have just quit, but I couldn’t turn a blind eye. I dug a little deeper and discovered he was laundering money. I reported it to the government. The FBI agent I was working with needed more information to open a case, so I kept looking until I found it.”
She wrung her hands and looked around the room. He had a suspicion she wasn’t seeing the furniture Jeanette had so lovingly chosen, or the spectacular artwork she had purchased. No, the faraway look in her eyes let him know she was seeing something else entirely.
“Yesterday afternoon I was on my way to a meeting. I needed a pen, so I stepped into the supply closet to grab one. I overheard my boss talking with someone and heard my name. He told them to kill me and make it look like an accident.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I waited until they were gone and got out of there. I knew I couldn’t go home.”
“Are you sure about what you heard? This sounds a little far-fetched to me.”
“I know what I heard.”
“Your imagination—”
“I’m not imagining anything.” Her voice rose and her eyes flashed. “I know what I heard. I know they want to kill me. If I die, the case dies with me.”
He closed his eyes. She could be lying, but he couldn’t imagine why she would bother. And she really did seem scared. Nobody could be that good an actress. But then, she had pretended to be Jeanette’s friend, so maybe she did possess the skill. Still, he couldn’t figure out why she would show up out of the blue. She didn’t stand to gain anything by coming to him.
“I’m sorry for bringing trouble to your door, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t go to my parents’ home. That’s the first place they’ll look. Same with Rodney and my friends. No one in New York knows a thing about you, so they won’t look here.”
“What about that agent you mentioned? The guy you told about this.”
“I called his office. They told me he’d been in a car accident. That’s pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”
“People have accidents all the time, Camille.” Still a sense of unease crept up his spine, which was a shock in itself, given the fact that he hadn’t felt anything since Jeanette’s death. Jericho paced the room for several minutes, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. It was just crazy enough to be true. She could be in danger.
But so what? She wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his friend. Truth was, he’d categorize her as an enemy if he’d bothered to think of her, which he hadn’t. Still...
“We haven’t spoken in five years. You and your family disowned Jeanette simply because she fell in love with me. And now you expect me to step in and save you?”
Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to her chest. After a few seconds she nodded, squared her shoulders, grabbed her purse and stood. “I understand. Sorry for bothering you.” She headed for the door.
He should let her go. After the way she had treated Jeanette it was no more than she deserved. He was under no obligation to help her. Surely there had to be someone else she could turn to. Except...she had come to him. Despite how much he detested her, he knew Jeanette had loved her like a sister. She’d loved the entire Parker family. And at one time they’d loved her. Jeanette had never given up hope that one day they would reconcile and become friends again.
Jeanette and Camille had grown up together. When Jeanette’s parents were killed in a plane crash when she was seventeen, the Parkers had taken her in. So no matter how much he loathed Camille, even if he would have been happy to never see her again in this life or the next, he would help her because her family had helped Jeanette.
“Wait.”
She turned and looked at him. If he’d seen even a hint of triumph in her expression he would have kicked her out without the slightest remorse. Instead her hazel eyes revealed trepidation and a sliver of hope. He knew then that allowing her to stay was the right thing to do. He could never send a woman into danger, no matter how much he hated her. If there was a way he could keep her safe, he had to do it.
“You can stay.”
Her knees wobbled, and she reached for the door. Unfortunately, she was too far away to grab it. He rushed forward and caught her as she collapsed, sweeping her into his arms. Her gentle scent wafted in the air and wrapped around him. Some random part of his brain noticed how well she fit in his arms, but he quickly banished the unwelcome thought.
“I’m okay. I can walk,” she said in a small voice that belied her words. “It was just a little weakness, you know, from all the nerves. I’ve been so scared.”
He ignored her protests and kept her in his arms until he reached the sofa, where he gently eased her onto the cushions. “When was the last time you ate?”
Her brow wrinkled, and she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure.”
No doubt she was running on adrenaline coupled with a good dose of fear. Now that she was safe, her strength was gone. “Here’s an easier question. When was the last time you slept?”
She laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know if that’s easier. I overheard the conversation around two yesterday afternoon. I freaked and rushed around the city in a panic for a couple of hours. I actually started toward Maine before thinking of coming here. I checked into a fleabag hotel in Virginia around two in the morning, but to be honest I didn’t sleep very well.”
He stood, needing to put some distance between them. “I’ll heat some soup. Give me your keys and I’ll put your car in the shed so it’ll be out of sight. I don’t think anyone will look for you here, but better safe than sorry.”
She grabbed his arm, and unwanted warmth shot through his body.
“Thanks, Jericho.” Her voice was small but earnest. “You’re saving my life.”
Uncomfortable with her thanks and even more uncomfortable with the way his body responded to the feel of her hand on his forearm, he snapped, determined to set her straight so she didn’t get the wrong idea about his motives. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m repaying a debt.”
“What debt?”
“Your parents helped Jeanette after her parents died and she had nowhere to go. So I’m helping you. When this is over we’ll be even and I’ll never have to lay eyes on you again.”
Telling himself it couldn’t possibly be pain he saw on her face, he stalked to the kitchen to warm up some soup. The sooner he got her fed and safely in the guest room, the better off he’d be. But somehow he had the feeling getting her out of his mind wasn’t going to be as easy as getting her out of his sight tonight.
