The Rancher Bodyguard Read online

  “That’s what we’re going to try to find out,” Charlie said. He stood and pulled a business card from his back pocket. “If you think of anything that might help our defense of Hope, would you please give me a call?” He handed the card to Lana.

  At that moment the front door opened, and Leroy and Lincoln came in. After Lana made the introductions, she told Lincoln to go to his room and do his homework.

  As the well-mannered young boy disappeared into the back of the house, Charlie felt the chime of a biological clock he didn’t know men possessed.

  Since moving back to the family ranch in Cotter Creek, he’d been thinking about kids and recognizing that if he intended to start a family, it should be soon. He wasn’t getting any younger.

  Charlie sat down and turned his attention to Leroy. He was a big, burly man with a sun-darkened face and arms. His face seemed better suited for prize fighting, but at the moment his rough-hewn features held nothing but concern for his wife.

  Leroy sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder, as if to shield her from any unpleasantness.

  Charlie asked Leroy the same questions he’d asked Lana and got no different answers. Leroy talked about what a wonderful man William had been and how he’d even helped pay for their wedding.

  “I wish to God I knew who was responsible for this,” Leroy said, his blunt features twisted with pain. “But, like we told the sheriff, we don’t have a clue.”

  “We appreciate your time,” Charlie said, recognizing that nothing more could be learned here. Once again he stood, and Grace followed suit.

  “Grace?” Lana looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I know this probably isn’t the time or the place, but Leroy and I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Should we move out of here?”

  Grace frowned thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t do anything right now. We’ll see what’s going to happen with the estate. I’ll check into it and let you know what’s going on. Although I think Leroy should keep up the grounds, I’d prefer you stay out of the house for the time being.” She took Lana’s hand and smiled. “Consider yourself on paid vacation at the moment.”

  They all said their goodbyes, then Charlie and Grace left. “They must be terrified, not knowing what will happen to them now that William is gone,” Grace said, as they walked back to the car.

  “You should probably talk to William’s attorney and find out about his will. Maybe he made some kind of provisions for them in the event of his death.”

  “His attorney is in Oklahoma City. I wonder if anyone has told him William is dead.”

  “I’ll check with Zack,” Charlie said. “And you might think about making funeral plans.”

  He could tell by the look on her face that she hadn’t thought of that. “Oh God. I’ve been so overwhelmed. Of course, I need to take care of it.” She looked stricken by the fact that she hadn’t thought about it. “I’ll speak with Mr. Burkwell tomorrow to find out what needs to be done.” Jonathon Burkwell owned the Burkwell Funeral Home, the only such establishment in the town of Cotter Creek.

  When they got to the car, Grace slid into the passenger seat and Charlie got behind the wheel. He started the engine, but then turned to look at her. “Have you called your mother, Grace? Maybe she should come help you take care of things.”

  Before replying, she averted her gaze and stared out the window. “No, there’s no point in contacting her. She’s out of the country, and there’s really nothing she can do here. I’ll be fine without her. Hope and I will be fine.”

  He studied her pretty profile. As a criminal defense attorney, Charlie was accustomed to people deceiving him, and he knew all the subtle signs of a liar. Right now he had the distinct feeling that Grace was lying to him about her mother.

  It had been a day from hell. Grace sat at her desk in the back of the dress shop finishing up the payroll checks. The store had closed at seven, but on the night before payday she always stayed late in case any employees wanted to pick up their checks early.

  She didn’t mind staying. She was reluctant to go home and face the emptiness of her house and the tumultuous emotions that had been boiling inside her all day.

  She’d spoken with William’s attorney first thing that morning. He hadn’t heard about the murder and was shocked. He, in turn, surprised Grace—she and Hope were the sole beneficiaries to William’s fortune. Grace only hoped that fact didn’t add to the body of evidence building against her sister.

  The rest of the morning was spent making the necessary arrangements at Burkwell’s funeral home. It was one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.

  At noon, she and Charlie had taken the clothes and personal items to Hope. Grace visited with her sister while Charlie went to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.

  After the hospital visit, they’d gone back to the Covington mansion, where she went through William’s desk, seeking something that might tell them who would have wanted him dead.

  She still hadn’t made herself open the door to William’s room—the place where he had died—although she knew eventually she’d want to search it for anything that might help build a defense case for Hope.

  She’d returned to the store at three-thirty, and now it was almost eight. She was exhausted but made no move to head home.

  She’d just finished writing the last check when she heard the faint whoosh of the store door opening. “Grace?” a familiar voice called.

  Grace jumped up from the desk and hurried out of her office. Standing just inside the door, with an eight-month-old baby boy on her hip, was Rachel Prescott, Grace’s best friend.

  “Oh honey, I just heard the news.” Rachel approached her with a wrinkle of concern dancing across her forehead. “Jim had a three-day conference in Dallas, and I decided to go with him. We just got home a little while ago. How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay. At least I’m trying to be okay.” Grace smiled at the baby boy, who gave her a sleepy smile in return, then leaned his head against his mother’s chest. “How’s my Bobby?” She reached out and stroked his silky dark hair.

  “He’s pooped. He didn’t have his nap today. So, tell me, what’s this I hear about Hope being a suspect?”

  “The medical examiner determined that William was killed between six and ten in the morning. Hope was the only one home. There were no signs of forced entry, and the murder weapon was found in Hope’s hand.” As Grace ticked off the pertinent points, a wave of discouragement swept over her.

  Rachel laid a gentle hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Sounds bad, but we both know Hope isn’t capable of killing anybody.” Grace smiled gratefully.

  “I also heard you’ve hooked up with Charlie Black again,” Rachel added, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

  “Not hooked up as in ‘hooked up,’ I’ve just hired him to investigate the murder, and if the world goes crazy and Hope is arrested, I want him to defend her.”

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And who is defending you from Charlie?”

  Rachel was the only person who knew the truth about how Charlie had broken Grace’s heart, and she’d proclaimed him the most black-hearted, vile man on the face of the planet. At the time, Grace had relished her friend’s anger on her behalf.

  “Don’t worry, I have no intention of making the same mistakes where Charlie is concerned. I just need him right now. He’s good at what he does, but that doesn’t mean I want him in my life on a personal level. I haven’t forgotten, and I certainly haven’t forgiven him.”

  Unfortunately, that didn’t mean she didn’t want him on some insane level. Over the last couple of days, she’d realized there was a part of her that had never really gotten over him.

  “I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” Rachel said. “It’s bad enough that you haven’t dated since the breakup.”

  “That has nothing to do with him,” Grace protested. “You know how busy I’ve been here at the shop.”

  “I know this place has become the perfect excuse for you,” Ra
chel replied dryly.

  Grace didn’t respond. She couldn’t exactly argue the point because she knew there was more than a kernel of truth to Rachel’s words.

  “Take that baby home and put him to bed,” she finally said.

  “Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help?” Rachel asked.

  “Just pray they find the guilty party and that they don’t arrest my sister,” Grace replied. At that moment, the door to the shop opened once again, and one of her young, part-time employees came in to get her paycheck.

  When Rachel and Bobby left, Grace gave the high school girl her check and then returned to her desk in the back room. She’d give it another half an hour or so before locking up the store and going home.

  She kicked off her shoes beneath the desk and reached for the mug that held the last of the lukewarm coffee she’d been drinking all evening.

  Charlie. Drat the man for being as attractive as he’d been eighteen months ago. From all indications, he appeared to have settled into ranching and small-town life with his usual aplomb.

  The hard edge he’d possessed before seemed to be missing. He was still strong and self-assured, but he somehow seemed a bit more sensitive than he’d been during their six months together.

  Not that it mattered. The familiar saying flitted through her mind: Screw me once, shame on you. Screw me twice, shame on me. She would be a fool to allow Charlie back into her heart in any way, shape or form. Charlie had proven himself unable to keep his pants on around other women.

  Her present attraction to him was surely just due to her belief that he could save her sister and somehow make sense of the senseless.

  She closed her business checkbook and locked it in the bottom desk drawer. Time to go home. Maybe tonight she would sleep without nightmares.

  Maybe tonight visions of a blood-covered, knife-wielding Hope wouldn’t haunt her. Maybe images of a dead William wouldn’t visit her dreams.

  Once again she heard the whoosh of the shop door opening. She quickly unlocked the desk drawer, pulled out the checkbook and then walked in her stocking feet from the office into the other room.

  “Hello?” She frowned as she looked around the room. It was dimly lit with only a few security lights on, and she didn’t see anyone inside.

  Odd, she could have sworn she’d heard the front door open. Maybe she’d just imagined it. She glanced around one last time, then returned to her office, sat back in her chair, put the checkbook away and locked the drawer.

  She moved her feet beneath the desk, seeking the shoes she’d kicked off minutes before. Suddenly Grace was eager to get home to the two-bedroom house she rented. She’d lived there for the past five years, long enough to fill it with her favorite colors and fabrics and make it a home where she enjoyed spending time.

  Successful in finding her shoes, she stood and stretched with arms overhead, grateful that this trying day was finally at an end. Maybe tomorrow won’t be so difficult. One could hope, she thought.

  She grabbed her purse, turned off the office light and stepped out. Just as she was about to head for the front door, she felt a stir in the air and saw in her peripheral vision a ruffling of the dresses hanging on the rack.

  “Hello? Is somebody here?” Her heartbeat quickened, and she gripped her purse handle. “Who’s there?”

  A dark shadow with a bat or length of pipe raised over his head exploded out of the clothes rack. He didn’t make a sound, and the scream that rose up in the back of Grace’s throat refused to release itself as she threw her purse at him and turned to run back to the office.

  A lock. There was a lock on the office door. The words thundered through her brain as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest.

  She had no idea who he was or what he wanted, but she didn’t intend to stick around and ask questions. She ran past a mannequin and knocked it over, hoping to block his attack and gain an extra second or two to reach the office.

  The mannequin banged to the floor, and she heard a hissed curse. Deep. Male. Oh God, what was he doing in here? What did he want?

  She gasped as she reached the office door, but before she could grab the knob and turn it, something hard crashed into the back of her head. She crumpled to her knees as shooting stars went off in her brain.

  The intruder kicked her twice in the ribs and frantic thoughts raced through her scrambled brain as she struggled to regain her breath. She knew if she didn’t do something he was going to kill her.

  “Grace?” The familiar female voice came from the front door, although to Grace it sounded as if it came from miles away. “Grace, are you here?”

  It was only then that the scream that had been trapped inside her released itself. The attacker froze, then raced for the back door of the store. As he went through it, the alarm began to ring. The loud, buzzing noise was the last sound Grace heard as she gave in to the shooting stars and lost consciousness.

  Chapter 5

  Charlie stepped on the gas, breaking every speed limit in the state of Oklahoma as he raced toward the hospital. His heart beat so hard he felt nauseous and every nerve ending he possessed screamed in alarm.

  He’d called Grace at home to make arrangements for meeting the next day, and when he didn’t get her there, he’d tried Sophisticated Lady to see if she was working late. Deputy Ben Taylor answered and told him there’d been an attempted robbery at the store and that Grace had been transported to the hospital. He had no information on her condition, and Charlie jumped into his car almost before he could hang up the phone.

  Now he squealed into the hospital lot and parked, his heart still pounding the rhythm of alarm. How badly had she been hurt? Had they caught the person who had broken in?

  He raced into the ER and nearly ran into Zack coming out. He grabbed the man by his broad shoulders. “What happened? Where’s Grace? Is she all right?”

  Zack held up his hands. “Calm down, Charlie. She’s going to be fine. She’s got some bruised ribs and a possible concussion.”

  Charlie’s heart dropped to his toes as he released his hold on Zack. “And you call that fine? Ben Taylor said something about a robbery at the store.”

  “We think that’s what it was, but he was interrupted by Ben’s wife showing up to get her paycheck. I’ve got to get back to the store, but if you want to see Grace, she’s in examination room two.”

  Charlie hurried down the hallway, his hands clenching and unclenching. Bruised ribs? A possible concussion?

  A simmering rage began to burn in his stomach as he thought of somebody hurting Grace. He hoped to hell Zack would find out who was responsible.

  Charlie wasn’t a violent man. He was accustomed to using his brain and mouth to solve fights, but at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to find the person who hurt Grace and beat the holy hell out of him.

  The door to the examination room was closed. Charlie gave a soft knock but didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door.

  Clad in a worn, pale-blue-flowered hospital gown, Grace sat on the edge of the examining-room table, her arms around her waist as the doctor sat in the chair before her.

  Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Charlie, and she winced as she shifted positions. “You didn’t have to come here.” Her normally strong voice was weak, reedy. The sound of it squeezed his heart.

  “Of course I had to come here,” he replied. “How is she?” He looked at the doctor, who wore a name tag that proclaimed him to be Dr. Devore.

  “I have sore ribs and a headache. Other than that I’m fine,” she answered. “In fact the doctor was just releasing me.”

  “Against my better judgment,” Dr. Devore muttered beneath his breath. “She has quite a goose egg on the back of her head.”

  Charlie shot a look at Grace. She sighed and raised a trembling hand to her head. “He’s worried that I might have a concussion and thinks I should spend the night.”

  “Then you should stay,” Charlie said.

  “I don’t want to,�
� she said crossly and dropped her hand from her head. “I’m a grown woman, Charlie. I know what’s best for me, and I just need to go to bed. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

  “If she goes home, somebody should stay with her throughout the night,” Dr. Devore said, as he stood. “And if she suffers any nausea, vomiting or blurred vision, she needs to come right back in. I’ll write you a pain prescription for your ribs, and the nurse will complete your discharge papers. Then I guess you can go.”

  “You aren’t going home alone,” Charlie said the moment the doctor left the room. “You have two choices, Grace. You can either have me as a houseguest for the night or you can come back to the ranch with me.”

  He saw the mutinous glare in her eyes and quickly continued, “Be reasonable, Grace. You shouldn’t be alone. What if you get dizzy in the middle of the night and fall? What if you start throwing up and can’t stop? Somebody needs to be with you.”

  “I don’t want you in my house,” she said hesitantly.

  “Then come to mine,” he replied. “I have a comfortable guest room, and if you’re worried about being alone with me, don’t be. Rosa will be there.”

  Once again she raised a hand to her head and winced. “Okay, I’ll go to your place.”

  Her relatively easy capitulation surprised him and made him wonder just what had happened tonight in the shop and what was going on in her head. He intended to find out before the night was over.

  “Can you take me by my house to get a few things?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  The nurse came in with her prescription and discharge papers. She reminded them of all the signs to watch for and to return to the emergency room should Grace experience anything unusual.

  Charlie stepped out of the room so Grace could get dressed, and while he waited for her he called Rosa to make sure she had the guest room ready.

  When Grace opened the door of the examining room and stepped out, Charlie wanted to wrap her in his arms, hold her tight and make sure that nobody else ever hurt her again.