“Maybe you ought to saddle up and take a look.” Pauline glanced out the window where storm clouds roiled on the horizon. “Looks like it’s going to get bad.”
“I reckon I’d better.” Grabbing his hat, Bo started for the door.
He saddled his most reliable mount—a ten-year-old roan gelding named George—grabbed a slicker from the hook in the tack room and hit the trail at an easy lope.
The ATV’s tire tracks were easy enough to follow. The ground was powder-dry. But he could smell the storm. He could feel the electric energy of it in the air. On the horizon a jagged spear of lightning slashed from sky to ground. The ensuing crash of thunder shook the earth. The storm was getting closer. If it rained, the trail would be washed away.
“Damn tourist,” he muttered.
Two miles from the ranch, traveling at a good clip over a rocky trail, he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. “Whoa.” He stopped the horse and listened. The wind had kicked up, blowing dust and hissing through the treetops. Had he heard a gunshot? Or was it thunder?
A second shot rang out. To the north if he wasn’t mistaken. Who was shooting and what the hell were they shooting at? Bo didn’t allow hunting on his ranch. He liked the wildlife, wanted to keep it the way it was. But he knew hunters occasionally trespassed onto his land from the adjoining ranch, most of the time without even realizing it. Usually a friendly word or two did the trick.
Only this time Rachael Armitage was out here somewhere. A woman with a contract on her head. Sean Cutter had said she would be safe here. But Bo knew all too well that Viktor Karas had a very long reach.
Another shot rang out, followed by another. Not a sniper rifle, he deduced. A handgun.
As if sensing danger, the Appaloosa danced beneath him. Reaching down, Bo patted his neck. “Easy, boy.”
Every sense on red alert, he dismounted and scanned the immediate area. Two more shots exploded. Two hundred yards away. For the first time in two years, Bo wished he were armed.
But the mere thought caused cold sweat to break out on the back of his neck. The shame that followed was surprisingly keen. At one time, he’d been an expert marksman. He’d won every sharpshooter award a man could win. But Bo hadn’t touched a gun since the night Michael Armitage died.
Tying the gelding to the branch of a pinion pine, he crept down a rocky incline toward the source of the shooting. Several more shots rang out. He peeked around a boulder and for the first time had an unobstructed view of the valley floor.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Shock vibrated through him when he spotted Rachael. She’d assumed a shooter’s stance. Legs slightly apart. Right arm straight. Left hand cupping her gun hand. Several tin cans were lined up on a flat-topped rock. One by one she picked them off like target ducks at a county fair.
Worry transformed into anger. Bo had been concerned about her. Evidently, she didn’t care. She hadn’t bothered to tell anyone where she was going or how long she would be gone. Considering she had a contract on her head, that was downright irresponsible.
But deep inside Bo knew the real source of the hot surge of anger burning through him had more to do with his inability to do what he’d once been so very good at.
Because he didn’t want to think about that, he clung to the raging torrent of anger as if it were a life raft. He let it drive him toward her.
Ten yards from her, he growled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She glanced over her shoulder, giving him only half of her attention. “Oh…I was just…killing some cans.”
His temper reached the boiling point. “Do you realize there are people back at the house who are worried about you?”
She blinked. “I’m sorry. I must have lost track of time.”
“You have a contract on your head, damn it. There’s a dangerous storm blowing in.” He motioned dumbly at the ATV. “You could have had an accident. Did it even cross your mind that you should let someone know?”
She looked over at the horizon. “It doesn’t look that bad.”
“Doesn’t look that bad out here turns dry creeks into raging rapids and can wash out bridges.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
He glanced at the Beretta in her hand and the sweat on his back went cold. Coward, a little voice chanted. Big bad sharpshooter afraid to look at a teeny little handgun….
“Why are you so angry?” she asked.
“I’m angry because there are rules,” he snapped.
She choked back a sound of exasperation. “What rules?”
“This is rugged and isolated country, Rachael. When you go off somewhere, you tell someone. You tell them where you’re going and when you’ll be back and you stick to the plan.”
“I told both you and Pauline where I was going.”
“You didn’t show up when you told us you would!”
“I said I lost track of time.”
He jabbed her shoulder with his finger, eliciting a flash of anger in her eyes. “Out here, losing track of time can get you killed.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you and Cutter both are overreacting.”
Bo could feel his teeth grinding. His heart pounding against his ribs. Unreasonable anger pushing him in a direction he did not want to take. “If that’s what you think, you’re a bigger fool than either of us imagined.”
Her mouth tightened. Stepping toward him, she jabbed a finger into the center of his chest hard enough to send him back a step. “Let’s get one thing straight right now, Ruskin. I don’t answer to you. This ranch is the last place I want to be. The only reason I’m here is because Sean Cutter forced me.”
He brushed her finger away. “Yeah, well, here’s a newsflash for you, slick. I’m not going to let you get yourself killed on my watch. You got that?”
RACHAEL STARED into his icy-blue eyes. Anger surged with every beat of her heart. But in addition to being royally ticked off by his attitude, she was also baffled. Bo Ruskin didn’t seem like the kind of man to overreact. In fact, if she weren’t mistaken, his hands were shaking. Was he that worried about her safety? Had she given him a bigger scare than she’d initially thought? Or was there something else going on she didn’t know about?
The skies chose that moment to open up. The deluge of cold water was so sudden and forceful that it took her breath away. Wearing only a sweatshirt and jeans, she was soaked instantly.
“Come on!” Bo shouted to be heard above the hard rush of rain.
“I’ve got the ATV,” she shouted back.
“Won’t make it through Nickel Creek.”
“But it’ll be ruined, won’t it?”
“It’ll be fine until the morning.” He motioned toward the ridge. “My horse is there. Let’s get out of here before that creek floods.”
Surprise rippled through her when he took her hand. His hand was large and encompassed hers completely. Rachael got the impression of calluses and strength, but those elements were buffered by warmth and a gentle touch she hadn’t expected.
Rain and wind pelted them as they dashed up the incline. At the top she caught a glimpse of a spotted horse tied to a bushy pine. Jake strode to the horse, then turned to her. “Get on and slide back.”
“You’re going to walk?”
Rain