“I’ll never be able to thank you enough, Clara, for everything you’ve done.”
“Don’t be silly. I can use the extra money and having your daughter here is the highlight of my day.”
Tory had mentioned the possible threat against Josh, but said the FBI hoped to have the man in custody very soon. She had also told Mrs. Thompson about Damon, though she hadn’t mentioned the murder since there wasn’t any proof.
“I hope you and Josh are being careful.”
“Everyone’s on alert. I’m sure it’ll all get straightened out soon.”
But she couldn’t help wondering what would happen once things went back to normal. Would Josh still want her to stay on the ranch? Or would his restlessness continue to grow? Would he still desire her the way he always seemed to? Or would he be ready to move on?
And what about what she wanted? She was in love with Josh, but she would never be satisfied with a man who thought of her as little more than a friend. Better to end things, make a home for her and Ivy somewhere besides the ranch. Make a life that didn’t depend on a man.
Her eyes stung. She refused to give in to tears, but her mood was dark when she returned to the house.
It wasn’t time for her riding lesson, but feeling strangely claustrophobic, she wandered outside anyway. Josh was training a red roan horse named Woody. On a horse, he looked even more impressive than he usually did.
Tory loved watching him, the way he kept his shoulders so straight and yet moved in perfect rhythm with the animal beneath him. The way the horse understood his slightest command.
He glanced over and saw her, drew rein on Woody and swung down from the saddle, tied the roan to a ring in the fence and walked toward her.
“Sorry about last night,” he said. “I should have let you know I wasn’t coming over.”
“I had a feeling you weren’t coming.” She looked up at him. “It’s all right, you know. I’m not your wife. I’m not even your girlfriend. You don’t have to answer to me.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “That right? What about you? You don’t have to answer to me, either?”
“There’s no reason I should. We’re friends who enjoy having sex. That’s all we ever have been.”
“Just friends? That’s it?” He reached out and caught her shoulders. She gasped as he dragged her hard against him, angled his head, and his mouth crushed down over hers. Heat scorched through her as he walked her backward till his hard body pressed her against the wall.
Josh kissed her and kissed her, kissed her until she was making little noises in her throat and clinging to his shoulders.
Then he broke away.
“Dammit, you make me crazy.” He stalked off, stared out through a newly replaced window, then walked back and stopped right in front of her, propped his hands on his hips.
Tory looked up at him. “You make me pretty crazy, too,” she said softly.
Josh sighed. Reaching out, he gently touched her cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.
But Tory wasn’t so sure. She opened her mouth to say so when the sound of an engine reached them. “Someone’s coming.”
Since it was doubtful someone who wanted to kill either one of them would drive right up to the house, Josh headed for the barn door and Tory fell in beside him.
“It’s Taggart,” Josh said, recognizing the big black SUV and the blond man with the buzz cut behind the wheel.
The vehicle pulled to a halt and Quinn Taggart straightened and came out of the driver’s seat. Josh walked up and the men shook hands.
“You want to go into the house out of the heat?” Josh asked.
Taggart shook his head. “Don’t have time. Let’s go stand in the shade.”
They walked into the shade of the barn. It smelled like dust and hay. “What’s going on?” Josh asked.
“We caught a break in the case. Our interrogators are some of the best. One of the men we arrested during the attack on the capitol started talking. We’d already connected the dots about Saldana and Whitmore both being in Afghanistan at the same time, but apparently the threat is more specific than we thought.”
“How’s that?” Josh asked.
“Turns out both men were involved in the fighting that took place in the Bala Murghab River Valley.”
Josh nodded. “That’s right. Special operations took on a large insurgent force near the ruins of an old medieval town.”
“Marw al-Rudh.”
“Seems you’re well informed.”
“Well enough to know your team was also engaged in the fighting there.”
“That’s right.”
“The thing is, Josh, the man we swept up in the raid is an Afghan named Ahmad Bijan. He came from the village of Bala Murghab. His father is from the Buzi tribe, Mullah Ramazan, a spiritual leader in the region. He’s extremely influential.”
“What does any of that have to do with the murders?”
“According to Ahmad, his brother was killed by marine special ops soldiers who fought in that battle. Their father vowed revenge.”
“You think this guy, Mullah Ramazan, would go to that much trouble?”
“He sent his son over here. Couldn’t have been easy smuggling him into the country.”
Josh grunted. “Good point.”
“Two men are dead. The rest of the special ops marines involved are still on active duty, most deployed out of the country. That leaves you. If the killer is carrying out Mullah Ramazan’s revenge, you could very well be his next target.”
Chapter Thirty
Night sounds reached him through the darkness, crickets in the grass beneath the window, the hoot of the barn owl he’d spotted a couple of days ago.
Josh eased out of Tory’s bed, careful not to wake her. Lately, after he came over and they made love, he’d been sleeping on the sofa. He hadn’t had any more nightmares, but he wasn’t taking chances.
Grabbing his jeans and boots off the floor, he went into the living room to put them on, then walked out on the porch. One of the vets he had hired for night guard duty stood near the barn smoking a cigarette, the red tip glowing in the dark. Josh headed in that direction.
Turley spotted him, snuffed his smoke, and met him halfway. At forty, Wes Turley was whipcord lean and rock-hard, his skin darkly tanned and leathery. He wore camouflage pants and a black T-shirt. A Nighthawk .45 rode in a holster tied down around his thigh.
“How’s it going?” Josh asked.
“Been quiet. Aside from the horses and cattle, nothin’ moving around out there.”
“What about Ben?”
“Checked in half an hour ago. Hasn’t seen squat.”
“Good. You need anything?”
“We got a thermos of hot coffee and a couple of sandwiches. We’re good.”
Josh scanned the grounds looking for Ben Rigby, the other vet he’d hired. It took a moment to spot the faint movement in the thick foliage down along the creek. He could just make out the shape of a man.
“That’s him,” Turley said.
Josh waved and Rigby waved back. “See you in the morning,” Josh said, and started back to the trailer.
No trouble so far. Part of him wished something would happen. He could deal with a problem now easier than waiting for something down the road.
Restless, he walked back inside and stretched out on the couch. Thanks to his years in the marines, he could sleep damn near anywhere. The bad news was he also came wide awake at the slightest disturbance.
He slept fitfully that night. Too much on his mind. By the time the sun came up, the men were gone and he was back in his own house getting ready for the day. Tory came over and fixed him breakfast. He ate and headed outside to work.
The veterinarian was coming out this morning, Doctor Alejandro Nunez. One of the mares had come up lame and the foreleg seemed to be getting worse. Nunez was good. Unfortunately, he was a handsome devil and he clearly had eyes for Tory.
As Nunez pulled up in his dark brown GMC pickup, she came out of the house looking way too sexy in a clingy little blouse and those jeans with the rhinestones on the pockets.
Nunez parked, got out, and headed straight for her, homing in like a man on a mission. Josh felt a sweep of irritation.