Killer Cowboy (Cowboys of Holiday Ranch) Read online

  Minutes ticked by. There was not a person in sight as far as she could see. Where was Dillon? And where were any of her men? What was taking so long? The minutes turned into an hour and still she stood at the window, her heart in her throat as she waited to find out what had happened.

  She gasped in relief when finally she saw Dillon and Tony riding together toward the stables with her horse following behind Tony. She swallowed her disappointment at not seeing somebody tied up and arrested with the two. Still, her joy at seeing Dillon unharmed far outweighed the disappointment.

  The two men disappeared into the stables and then minutes later Dillon reappeared and walked to the back door. He barely got inside before she was in his arms and weeping.

  “It’s okay, Cassie,” he said, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re safe here.”

  “I’m not crying over me, you big lug. I was terrified for you,” she managed to say between sobs. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything bad happened to you.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “The good news is we’re both okay.” He released a deep sigh. “The bad news is I didn’t get him.” She felt the new tension that filled his body.

  “What took you so long to get back here?”

  “Come on, dry those tears and let’s go sit on the sofa.” He led her into the great room. Before he sat he pulled not only his gun and set it on the coffee table, but also hers, as well.

  “I wondered what happened to that,” she said.

  “I think we need to work on your responses to danger,” he said.

  “You think?” she replied drily. She scooted closer to him.

  “After Dusty got you out of there I rode into the woods to see if I could find out exactly where the shooter was positioned.”

  “Did you find the spot?”

  He shook his head and a knot in his jaw pulsed with what she knew was his frustration. “After we checked the woods I told Flint to get all your cowboys into the dining room as quickly as possible. When they were there, I checked all of their guns to see if any of them had been fired recently.”

  “I’m assuming none of them had, otherwise you’d be booking somebody into jail instead of sitting here with me.”

  The knot of tension in his jaw pulsed a little bit faster. “You’re assuming right. Whoever this is, he’s good and he’s smart.”

  “And you still believe it’s one of my men?”

  His gaze held hers intently. “I do, Cassie. Those shots came from your own property.”

  “Somebody else might have gotten on my land,” she replied without much conviction. As much as she hated to believe it, she had to admit to the very real possibility that one of her men was the killer. “I think it’s safe to take Dusty, Flint, Mac and Tony off the list of suspects.”

  “And I’m not looking at your two new hires too much,” he added. “But that still leaves eight men.”

  “Clay has a concussion and was supposed to be in bed.”

  “That doesn’t take him off my list. He could have easily gotten out of bed and left his room without anyone else seeing him. None of the remaining eight are off my list.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “And then there’s Cord Cully. What do you really know about him?”

  “Not much,” she admitted. Anyone would say that Cord, aka Cookie, was a fantastic cook and provided healthy, filling meals to the men. He was also a loner who kept to himself. “I know Aunt Cass hired him soon after she had most of the young cowboys working for her.”

  “You ever have any problems with him?”

  “None. I pretty much stay out of his way and let him do his thing.”

  He released a sigh. “I’m going to call in a couple of my deputies to go through those woods more thoroughly. Even finding a footprint would be helpful.”

  She leaned her head back against the sofa as he made his call. Who was the killer? Clay, with his sparkling blue eyes and charming smile? Sawyer, who always seemed to have her back? Adam, who had been a kind and patient teacher? Or maybe Brody, who was always the first one to step up when there was extra work to be done? Her mind continued to think of the rest of them.

  Nick Coleman was now happily married and no longer lived on the ranch, but he continued to work here. What about Jerod, who she knew spent some of his spare time working with kids at the community center? Wasn’t there a serial killer in real life who had dressed up like a clown to entertain children?

  “Will you be all right here while I go back outside with my men?” His voice pulled her out of her troubled thoughts.

  “Of course,” she replied. She’d be okay because she had to be. He had to follow up to see if he could find clues that might lead to identifying the guilty.

  Within twenty minutes he was gone. Cassie went into the kitchen and busied herself making coffee and sandwiches that she’d told Dillon the deputies could enjoy after their hunt through the woods.

  It felt good to do something active and not dwell in her own head. She was still having trouble believing that somebody had actually shot at them that afternoon.

  If the shooter managed to kill Dillon with a bullet would he have then come after her? She knew with a horrifying certainty that the answer was yes.

  There wouldn’t be any more shooting practice for her. Now that they knew the killer didn’t shy away from shooting a gun, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be leaving the house again anytime soon.

  She’d become a prisoner in her own home and for the first time a rich anger filled her. This was her ranch, dammit, and somebody was playing deadly games with her.

  There was no way she was leaving here until this homicidal maniac was caught. As long as he was focused on her, then Dillon might have a chance to catch him. With her absence from here he might go dormant again and never get caught. He could continue to murder more people.

  She had no idea what she had done to warrant a killer’s attention, but at this point it didn’t matter. The murderer had to be caught.

  It was just after dark when the men came in. Dillon walked in first with Juan Ramirez and Ben Taylor close at his heels. “Nothing,” Dillon said in disgust, answering her question before it left her lips.

  “Sit down and get something to eat,” she replied. “Juan...Ben...coffee?”

  “Sounds good,” Juan replied.

  “Yeah, it does,” Ben added. “Thanks.”

  Cassie poured them all a cup. If there was one thing she’d learned about Dillon it was that he never turned down a cup of coffee.

  They helped themselves to the sandwiches and potato chips she’d set on the table and then she leaned with her back against the counter as they ate and talked.

  They rehashed everything that had happened since they’d been called out to the ranch because of Sam’s murder. Cassie listened to them and a knot of tension formed in the center of her chest, along with a new dose of anger.

  Who had killed those seven young men? Who was after her now? And when would they get those answers? Her reaction to the shooting that afternoon felt slightly odd. Other than the few tears she’d shed when she was relieved to see Dillon unharmed, she hadn’t cried about it at all.

  A month ago she would have curled up in her bed and wept her eyes out. At the first sign of danger she would have thrown her clothes in a suitcase and boot-scooted it right out of town.

  But she didn’t want to leave yet. She definitely wanted to see this thing through. Her gaze lingered on Dillon. Was it the mystery she wanted to see through or the crazy, wild feelings she had for him? She didn’t know the answer.

  It was almost eight when Juan and Ben got up from the table. “Cassie, thanks for the sandwiches,” Juan said.

  “Yeah, appreciate it,” Ben added.

  “It was nothing,” she assured them.

  “You remind me so much of your aunt,” Juan said. “This was something she would have done.”

  Cassie looked at him in surprise. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

&nb
sp; “You should. She was a terrific woman,” Juan replied.

  After the men left, Cassie cleaned up the few dishes and then joined Dillon in the great room. He sat on the edge of the sofa, a deep frown cutting across his forehead.

  She sank down next to him. “You’re obviously having dark thoughts if your frown is any indication.”

  The frown smoothed out and he shook his head. “I was just thinking about how much I’ve underestimated this particular enemy. So far he’s done everything right to keep himself hidden from view.”

  “Have there been any murders in the past in town that weren’t solved?” she asked, wondering if this man could be tied to other crimes.

  “None,” he replied with a sigh. “The only evidence I have is that damned ring that was found, and it might not belong to the killer at all. It could have been on one of the victims when they were dumped into the grave.”

  She placed her hand on his thigh. “Don’t get discouraged, Dillon. I know you’re going to get him.”

  He smiled at her, but the smile lasted only a minute and didn’t quite lift the shadows in his eyes. He pointed to her gun on the coffee table. “You know there won’t be any more target shooting.”

  “I’m not eager to have a repeat of today and I’m assuming having a picnic in the pasture is out, too.”

  His eyes lightened to a soft dove-gray. “A picnic in the pasture sounds great right about now, but we’ll have to postpone that fun for a while.”

  She suddenly wanted a picnic with him. She wanted to sit on a red-checkered tablecloth down by the creek with a light summer breeze playing across them. They’d eat cheese and fruit and drink champagne out of paper cups then make love under a beautiful Oklahoma moon.

  “Cassie?”

  His deep voice pulled her out of her happy thoughts. “Sorry, I was just thinking about that picnic.”

  “You do know I don’t want you to leave this house for any reason. The gunfire this afternoon changed everything. I expected a man with an ax and now he’s an even bigger threat because it’s obvious he can change his modus operandi.” His frown and darkened eyes were back.

  She squeezed his lower thigh. “Dillon, you’re doing the best you can. Hey, you must be doing something right. I’m still alive.”

  “I want to make sure you stay that way.” He leaned forward and picked up her gun. “I want you to put this in your nightstand next to your bed. If for any reason somebody gets through me to come after you then you need to grab it and shoot. Pull the trigger all the way back and aim for his chest or belly. Don’t shoot to wound, Cassie. Aim for center mass and shoot to kill.”

  She pulled her hand away from his thigh. “You just scared me,” she said softly.

  “I want you to be scared,” he replied. “Scared will keep you from taking any chances.”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m not taking any chances. But I don’t want to think about anyone somehow getting through you to get to me. I told you before. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

  His gaze held hers and in the depths of his eyes she saw the same emotion she’d often seen in his over the last ten days...desire and want.

  She’d never longed for a man as much as she did at this moment. A warm rush of heat swept through her and pooled in the very center of her. She wanted to reach for him, but she was afraid that he’d rebuff her, and he didn’t reach out for her. Instead he thrust her gun toward her.

  “Why don’t you take that upstairs and maybe we should call it a night. Even though it’s early I feel like this has been a very long day,” he said as he broke eye contact with her.

  She took the gun and did as he’d asked. She trudged up the stairs with a weariness she hadn’t felt minutes before. For crying out loud, she’d survived a gunman’s attack, but her heart hurt just a little because Dillon didn’t want to take her to bed. What on earth was wrong with her?

  Once in her room, she placed the gun in the top drawer and her cell phone on top of the nightstand. Then she sat on the edge of the mattress, unsure what to do next. Dillon had to be exhausted, but a restless energy whirled around inside her, letting her know sleep wouldn’t come easily.

  She could always paint a little before bedtime, or maybe she should clean out the top of her closet. She eyed the mish-mash of items all stacked haphazardly on the top shelf.

  Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea tonight when Dillon was trying to get a good night’s sleep. She was sure there was going to be a lot of crashing and cursing when she finally decided to tackle that job.

  Maybe she’d just spend the rest of the night before sleeping by resuming her reading of her aunt’s journals. With this thought in mind she got up to get her nightshirt out of one of the dresser drawers, but before she could get more than one foot in that direction Dillon appeared in her bedroom door.

  “I just wanted to tell you good-night,” he said.

  “Good night, Dillon.”

  He remained standing in the doorway. “Cassie,” he whispered and his features filled with naked hunger. She wanted to jump up and reach for him, but she didn’t. This time he had to want her enough to come to her.

  And he did.

  He stalked across the room and pulled her into his arms. His demanding lips plied hers with a fiery heat as his hands gripped her hips and pulled her tightly against him.

  Instantly she was on fire. She ripped at the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel his smooth muscled nakedness. His mouth left hers and she threw her head back as he nibbled behind her ear and down her throat.

  “I was so afraid for you out there today,” he murmured. “I was so afraid that he’d get to you.”

  Surprise winged through her. She framed his face with her palms. “But he didn’t. We’re here, Dillon, and we’re both okay.” She barely got the words out of her mouth before his mouth took hers again.

  When their kiss ended again, they undressed in a frenzy and fell onto the bed. Hot kisses...even hotter caresses, they moved together like longtime lovers.

  He knew exactly where to kiss, where to touch, to ratchet her desire higher and higher. He teased and tormented her, licking first one of her nipples and then the other while his fingers caressed her inner thighs.

  By the time he finally caressed her where she wanted him to most, she practically screamed with the intense release that washed over her.

  He was ready to take her, but she wanted to tease and torment him like he had her. She pushed him onto his back and kissed him on the neck, across his broad chest and down his muscled stomach.

  He hissed his pleasure as he whispered her name over and over again. He was hard, yet velvety soft, and before she could really torment him like she wanted to he rose up and rolled her to her back.

  He took her fast and furiously and it was just the way she wanted it. She met him thrust for thrust. It was an affirmation of life that she knew they both desperately needed after death had come so close to them.

  When they were finished he kissed her with a tenderness that swelled her heart. And she felt like crying because she knew she was in love with a man who had already told her he wasn’t looking for love.

  Chapter 13

  It wasn’t just about sex.

  Dillon stared out his office window the next morning, his thoughts not on town business, but rather on Cassie. He’d thought that he had an intense physical desire for her but it would be, could be, nothing more.

  He’d been wrong.

  Something had happened to him the day before when he’d covered her body with his own while the shots had rung out. He’d realized at that moment that somehow, someway, his heart had gotten involved. And he didn’t like it.

  Cassie was nothing like the kind of woman he’d always dreamed of in his life, and even if she was, he and this town weren’t what she really wanted.

  Throughout the time he’d spent with her, she’d talked often about her dream of being somebody in New York City. She might be satisfied at the moment selling her painti
ngs through Mary’s website, but he feared that wouldn’t fulfill her forever.

  Even if he managed to talk her into staying here with him, he worried she would eventually come to resent him. As much as he might want her to stay, he refused to be the person who stole her dream from her.

  Last night had just been another mistake on his part. He should have never gone into her room the night before. But he would never confess to anyone how utterly terrified he’d been when those shots had occurred.

  He hadn’t been terrified for his own death, but he’d been afraid that he’d take a bullet that would kill him and then she’d be unprotected and easy prey for the killer.

  The evening had fled without him really processing his fear for her, until that moment when he’d stepped into her bedroom supposedly to tell her good-night. And then all he’d needed was to assure himself she was alive and well.

  He’d wanted to hear her heart beating reassuringly against his own. He’d needed to feel the warmth of her soft skin against his. He’d been so crazed with his need, he hadn’t even thought about protection.

  And then, to make matters worse, he’d slept with her in his arms and awakened this morning spooned around her warm, soft body. He’d remained there for several long moments, imagining awakening like that every morning for the rest of his life.

  He had to distance himself from her. Dammit, he had to find a way to disengage his emotions, his desire, where she was concerned. It wasn’t fair to either of them to keep this going on when they were obviously so wrong for each other.

  Painting was Cassie’s passion and he wanted to be some woman’s passion. He wanted—needed—to be some woman’s number one, just as he wanted to make her his number one priority.

  Damn, but he needed to get whoever was after Cassie behind bars. The shooting the day before was only a grim reminder that somebody wanted her dead. If only he knew why...then he would be closer to knowing the identity of the guilty.

  “Chief?” Annie stuck her head in the door. “Leroy is here to see you.”

  “Send him in,” Dillon replied, grateful for any distraction that would take his thoughts off Cassie and murder.