Running Scared

There has to be some kind of mistake.

The MapQuest directions sat on the truck seat next to Lacey, outlining that this was the right exit. She hadn’t accidentally decided to take a wrong turn. Besides, there weren’t any decisions in her life right now, only directions. She smiled at the thought. Yeah, her attempts at making colossal, life-changing decisions had landed her here, in the middle of nowhere, with no one and nothing around her.

Well, not exactly nothing. There were mountains everywhere. Huge, monstrous mountains, like the kind you could see on the travel channel seconds before some giant paw-waving, open-mouthed, roaring grizzly ate the cameraman.

Oh, yeah, this had to be some kind of mistake. Lacey needed the beach. And people. At this point, she’d settle for a pizza from her favourite beach shack. To hell with anyone else. She needed out of this truck, she realised, surprising herself with a broken mini-sob.

There wasn’t a car in sight when she pulled her truck off the turn lane and stopped a few hundred yards onto the cracked asphalt of the old highway.

Two fumbles at jerking the door handle open, and she jumped down, the map in her hand. Blue sky, a cold November breeze, clean air and mountains filled her senses immediately. One deep breath, two, and half the tension simmering along her skin disappeared. Not the unease, though. The breeze felt different from home. Smelt different. Was different.

This has to be a mistake.

She rubbed her hand through her hair at the thought. Yeah, sure, this had to be a mistake, right? Wrong. Throughout this mess, she’d kept thinking that any time now she’d wake up, that this couldn’t be happening, that there had to be some kind of freaking mistake. Life couldn’t turn from normal to horrible in the blink of an eye. A decision to go outside a club trying to avoid a creepy guy couldn’t destroy everything she’d worked so hard to build.

But, yeah, one look at the rugged, wilderness reminded her that, yeah, one thoughtless decision had ripped her life to shreds.

If she could reverse time, she’d—what? If she’d known that by leaving the bar she’d witness a mob hit, would she have taken her chances with the creepy guy? Probably not.

So here she was, standing on the side of a road on what looked like some crazy Wild West movie set.

Reality sucked. Delusions worked so much better—at least for about ten seconds. Lacey hadn’t witnessed a murder. She hadn’t been beaten to within an inch of losing her life. She hadn’t spent months in a hospital trying to breathe on her own. She hadn’t been forced to testify against some of the nastiest criminals in the world. She hadn’t been left out to dry like this, forced to move, alone, to a place so remote and far from normal she might as well have been on another planet.

She was used to people, sunshine that smelt like the ocean…heck, music and noise, for God’s sake. She was used to delis filled with adorable little old Italian men, smiling at her and asking about her day. She was used to Jewish bakeries with bagels that she’d get up at seven for on a Sunday morning. She was used to coffee shops brewing wicked espresso by the cup. She was used to nice people. Beaches. Safety.

The landscape facing her she was not used to. Big open grasslands, lined with the brilliant colours of fall foliage. Yellow and burnt cinnamon, deep green pines next to the white bark of some other kind of tree—beech or aspen, she didn’t know—all created a wildly beautiful picture.

The view gave her the creeps. Maybe she was afraid of wide-open spaces. Agoraphobia was a possibility.

Humour bubbled up and she rubbed her face with both hands. The map crumpled a little, reminding her of the brutal reality of her new life. She was running scared. Nothing was going to change that. Not standing here, not staring off at the mountains, nothing.

So many regrets washed over her. Tears stung her eyes—she felt like they were clogging her throat. Lacey fought them and ignored the deep hollow pit in her stomach.

She needed a plan. Action washed all the turmoil aside—always had. She’d always filled her life with action. Being forced to sit in a truck for days on end had driven her slightly insane, no doubt.

The real estate office in Troy couldn’t be too far. She’d find that, then her home, and see her new address for the next… Ah, God, who knew how long she’d be here?

Forever?

And didn’t that thought put a huge dollop of pity into her pity-party sundae? Two blinks and the tears held off, so she focused on the mountains. The peaks looked white, possibly ten feet deep in snow by now. She could hike up to that snow; feel the cold on her face, maybe trail run along the ridges and ravines? They would be a challenge. Something to do. Later, maybe, after she’d settled in.

A truck slowed behind her, bringing the heartbeat she’d settled down to normal skyrocketing. What felt like ice water flooded her veins, while goosebumps beaded along her arms and a huge whoosh of adrenaline raced through her veins. The FBI agents had been clear: do not act anything but normal. What that meant, really, after all she’d endured, was a bit unclear. She didn’t feel normal in her own skin, let alone here in this wilderness. Besides, she doubted she would look normal to a small western town filled with redneck cowboys. She was a beach babe, had always been one, and didn’t think the changes of hair and scenery were going to make a difference.

Truck doors closed and she turned to face two guys—two cowboys, she corrected herself, taking in their jeans, rough looking tan jackets, scuffed boots and dusty black cowboy hats. Both walked over, and she panicked. What was she supposed to say?

They don’t look Russian. The thought ran a frantic circle in her mind, followed by, what does a Russian hitman actually look like? God, did he have to be Russian? Or even a he? A humorous hysteria built up, but she took a deep breath and clenched her hand around the map. She steeled herself not to take a step backward as both men walked right up, almost breaking her bubble of personal space.

“Miss, can we help ya out?” The blond guy stopped a few feet from her. At least six feet two, broad shouldered, his face worn with sun and weather, he towered over her five feet three inches. His blue eyes crinkled in a smile that looked genuine enough, but it slowly faded when she didn’t respond.

She managed a shaky smile.

He glanced at the other guy and so did she.

The other guy wasn’t smiling. She caught a flash of his grey eyes in a lean, tough face set in a stern expression. Dark brows, dark shadow on a square jaw, he reminded her of the FBI agents. With broad shoulders packed with muscles, he was handsome in a rough and rugged sort of way. Her heart skipped around.

Lacey was normally a picky kind of girl. Not picky as in the guy had to be this way or that—she never knew what would attract her—but picky as in not many men drew a second glance. She couldn’t pinpoint her attraction to a certain look or background or genetic makeup she could name, but this guy had it, whatever it was. And he had it in a bad way. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her skin tingled, and not because of the cold air. Suddenly very conscious of the scar along her temple, she forced herself not to brush her hair over her forehead to hide the damage.

She was on the run, starting a new life alone, and now her heart was tripping against her ribs for a guy she hadn’t even met. Life was strange.

Suddenly Lacey realised she’d not spoken. With heat hitting her cheeks, she broke eye contact and turned to the first guy, but the other man took a step closer and instantly drew her complete attention.

“Trouble?” the darker-haired guy asked.

Oh, yeah, he was a heartbreaker. He had a deep, kinda rough voice, but crisp and used to authority, which reminded her in an odd way of her father. And made her groan inside her head because, yeah, deep voices like that made her weak in the knees. And from a guy that looked like this? Bad, very bad.

“Trouble?” She backed up a step, stopping when her butt hit the side of the red Chevy. “No, no trouble; just stopped for a quick break.”

“Lost, are you?” The first guy shot her a grin again, no doubt trying to reassure her.

“Ah, well, I was on my way to Troy. Rob’s Realty?”

The guys exchanged a surprised look before they both stepped closer.

Lacey held her directions up like a shield, hitting Heartbreaker in the chest with them to keep him back. He barely noticed. One quick glance down, and he handed them to his partner. He wasn’t threatening, but focused solely on her, his attention packing a powerful punch to her already out of control system.

“Ah, yeah, this works…” The other guy took the map, checked it over and cleared his throat. “Yeah, this will get ya there.”

“Great.” When neither moved, she quickly added, “I go straight down this road and I’ll reach Libby, and, after that, Troy?”

“After about an hour, yeah.”

An hour. She deflated. An hour? She was ready for this adventure to end now, not in an hour. Still, she was close, and that was good news. “Great. Thanks. That’s great.”

“You’re not from here,” Heartbreaker said, then seemed a bit uneasy he’d spoken. He raised one big arm and rubbed the back of his neck, reminding her of when she’d say something that embarrassed her and her neck would heat up. Suddenly, some of her anxiousness settled down a bit. Maybe he wasn’t so scary, after all. Heck, he seemed more nervous than she was.

“Yep, you could say that. I bought a place outside of Troy.”

The first guy gave a low whistle.

She wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Of the two, he was definitely the friendlier, though.

Especially compared to Heartbreaker, who was suddenly scowling. Before she could process the look, he said, “By yourself? From where?”

“Albany.” The lie simply flowed from her mouth, but, hey, this was her life now. Lying. Fun, fun. And she was so good at make believe, too, she thought miserably. Her inner sarcasm really sucked.

He didn’t blink, but she got the impression that she’d startled him.

Another whistle from the other guy. Elbow on the truck, he leant back, seeming to feel they were going to have a nice long chat. On the side of the road. Highway. Whatever.

“New York? Damn, that’s far, ain’t it?” His accent sounded southern, low and soothing. He tipped his hat back when she met his eyes. “So, you’ve come all this way to live here, huh?”

“Yep. I like it here. Came once on a trip and loved it.” Lie. She’d never driven a truck before this trip. Never slept in a motel by herself. Never…done a lot of things. Funny how the possibility of death could make a person appreciate life a bit more. And make one braver. Or too scared to disagree with men in authority, she added in a silent grumble.

Big and Smiling gave her an encouraging nod. Heartbreaker didn’t. She sensed disapproval in his serious expression. Didn’t that take the cake? Not only did she have the hots for a guy, but he was one of those big, domineering guys who thought he knew what was best for her, so much better than anyone else did.

“How old are you?” Heartbreaker asked.

Lacey blinked at the rapid-fire question. Did she look too young to drive alone?

“Just wondering. Travelling alone and all.” He glanced significantly down at her hands and she wanted to groan. God, she should have bought a ring, worn anything that said, yep, I’m taken and he’s a huge linebacker who will kick your ass. Not that the man drilling her for questions would have thought that, even if she had worn a ring.

She was alone. Probably looked it, too. Yep. No cat. No dog. No friends. No job.

Still, she wasn’t answering his question and she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

“Yep, it was a long trip. So…” She trailed off, hoping they’d take the hint.

“If you follow us, we’ll show you Rob’s. I’m Russ Ryland; this is Tim Brighton. We own the Double R and T Ranch.”

“I’m…S-Susan. Fielding.” Shit, that’s it, stumble over your own new name. She usually went by her nickname, Lacey, but now she couldn’t use that, or Sarah, her real name. So, Susan she was. Gah—she really didn’t like the name. It reminded her of a girl back home who had always snubbed her in gym class.

“Ah, nice to meet you, Susan.” Big and Smiling sounded like he’d not missed her stumble.

“Brr—cold out here, huh? Well, it’s nice to meet you both. I’m off. One hour? Great. One more hour to get there, then deal with the realtor, then I can finally take a nap. Later.” Without waiting for a response, she got the truck door open without a fumble and hopped in with a quick wave to the big guys. They hadn’t moved, but she dipped her head and strapped on her seatbelt. When she looked in her rear-view mirror they were already getting in their white truck.

It was only after she’d started the truck and pulled out after them that she realised Russ Ryland—Mr Handsome and Domineering—how old are you?—had been standing on her right and would have been able to see her scar. Was that why he had stared at her so intently?

Men with scars were hot. Women? Nah, not so much. Even if hers was kinda cool, a starburst kinda thing on her temple. Lighter now, but still pink and slightly swollen. The doctors had said the scar would fade to silver. Soon. But not now.

The memory of getting it? That wasn’t fading soon enough.

Russ took a deep breath and shifted in his truck seat.

Not in a million years would he have believed he’d come back from a fucked-up mission in Columbia and run smack into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he’d seen his fair share of women. But none like this one. Small, delicate, soft, and moving into his town.

His neglected dick punched more fully against his Wranglers when he thought about her soft, shy smile. She’d not only looked delicate standing outside her truck, she’d looked scared. He reached up and scratched his cheek. Not scared, maybe—well, yeah, maybe—but vulnerable, too. He’d had to concentrate on her eyes to see the flash of fear, but it’d been there. She’d been brave, too, facing off against two men she didn’t know on the side of a highway. Still, something about her had said she was scared, so the bad boy roaring for action below his belt needed to calm down. Susan was new, and, by the look of her, she wasn’t a simple romp in the hay. She was a keeper.

He’d not missed the look of a woman who’d seen too much of the nastier side of life and lived through it. He’d seen that look too many times. He’d faced the same expression on a few of his teammates. Every mission, every battle, every assignment held danger. Sometimes life threw some punches you couldn’t dodge, and you couldn’t handle them when they landed. ‘Sucker’ had a new meaning when you were suddenly flat on your ass in some desert with several semi-automatics pointed at your head.

He was weary of it. Weary of the chase, the catch, and the kills.

He probably wore the same look she had. It was a starkness, a kind of tired resignation that came on when you knew that one more hit, and you’d not come back up. But he didn’t wear fear. And he sure didn’t wear that smile.

No, Ace Man didn’t smile. Even when he lived up to his nickname, Ace in the Hole, he barely smiled. Not until the mission was done, the fees paid, and the men safe in the barracks. Then he might crack a grin, but not before.

But this woman? She’d been through something. And she’d still smiled softly up at him and he’d known, just known he wasn’t smiling down at her. He’d been too focused, too…pissed off at her for being all alone, he realised. Somehow, her being alone and scared had pissed him off.

On some level, he recognised that she brought out his male instinct to protect, like nothing he’d ever experienced outside of combat. After more than fourteen years of service, ten years of it in the SEALs, he recognised when his body was set for battle. And it wasn’t from the fight he’d left behind in the mountains of Columbia. He was primed to protect a woman he’d just met. Simply meeting her eyes and seeing fear there had clicked his brain into that centred, focused level he usually only hit during a mission.

Eagle laughed low next to him, pulling him out of his misery.

“Damn, Ace, you really can sweet-talk the ladies. How old are you?” he mimicked and shook his head. “Why not say, hey, are you old enough for a quick fuck?”

Ace gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles cracked. “Shut up. Don’t talk about her like that,” he tacked on for good measure. He didn’t like the idea of Eagle thinking along those lines. Or talking about her like that. Or looking at her.

He did a mental catalogue of what he wanted, and, sure, he wanted her in a bed, but he wanted more. His body felt like it was never going down, but his thoughts weren’t centred only on sex. He wanted—needed to lay claim to her.

He mulled that realisation over. The thought should have spooked the hell out of him. But it didn’t. He’d met her—or not even really met her—and here he was driving around thinking of fucking her, which for once in his life made him feel like a sorry son of a bitch, and now he was thinking what? A relationship? He laughed and shook his head.

Eagle gave him a long look, “I’ve never seen you so out of your element. You scared the piss out of the poor girl. She was alone, on the side of the road, and did you even try to look less intimidating—?”

He shot Eagle a look, and his buddy snapped his jaw shut with another laugh.

“She was alone. All that way. Alone. She probably didn’t even have a gun and she was driving across country. What was she thinking? Doesn’t she read the news? Watch the TV? Listen to the radio?”

Well, at least she was single. No way would a guy let such a woman out of his sight. And if he had? Well, the guy didn’t deserve her anyway.

Eagle barked a laugh and shook his head. “What the hell? A gun? Of course not. What would a pretty girl like that have a gun for?”

If she’d been his, he’d have made sure she’d had a gun. “And now she’s going to live alone. Here.”

He got another amused look from Eagle, but he ignored him. He was a little out of his element here. He hadn’t expected to see such a beautiful woman in his town. His place. Alone. Without anyone. He wanted to know everything about her. Find out what made her tick. And what frightened her. And who’d given her the scar.

He’d not missed the mark on her temple. He could shut his eyes and describe every inch of her he’d been able to see, and guess at a few others.

Her hair had been shiny black against the soft sky blue of her eyes and the pink of her cheeks. He knew her breasts would be firm and high. His dick had filled at the sight of her little nipples outlined under her T-shirt. Some band across the front of the soft material had drawn his eyes right to her breasts, making his hands itch so badly he’d shoved them in his jacket. Her ass had been a handful, too. He could imagine turning her hot body over and cupping those lush cheeks as he took her from behind. She’d love it, too. He’d make sure of it.

But not now. He needed to slow down the power of her appeal. Distil it. Or he was going to lose his mind. And with one look into those blue eyes, he’d known she’d needed him to slow down. Maybe she had been frightened of him. He hoped she hadn’t picked up on how hot he’d been for her.

He’d been in lust before.

This wasn’t it.

He’d let one woman in. Or at least part way, he realised. He couldn’t even clearly remember much about Melissa now. She’d been lush, too lush, now that he was thinking about Susan’s little body. She’d moved in with him and they’d had sex. That was pretty much the extent of it. There hadn’t been much more. When he’d gone on his first mission, she’d hooked up with another sailor within days of his departure. Life went on. No big deal. Melissa had been sex, no more. He could see that now. He’d never felt the complete need to protect her that he’d felt after two seconds in Susan’s company.

He wasn’t a sniper in the SEALs any longer. He wasn’t training men to do what he’d done. He was a rancher now. And bored to tears. He’d watched Susan reach up and do something with her hair. She even did that sexily. Right when he felt like life was settling down, in walks the perfect woman.

“So, this should be interesting,” Eagle rumbled next to him.

Tim, or Eagle—because the man had eagle eyes, and not only for enemy snipers—gave him a superior look. No doubt he thought he knew what Russ was thinking. It pissed him off that Eagle would try to read him now, but the man knew him.

Eagle was a man most wouldn’t want on their bad side. Good thing Russell had saved Eagle’s life as many times as the man had saved his. Iraq? Both been there, done it. Afghanistan? Worst fight he’d been in with no support other than his team, and still they’d all made it out alive. Columbia? Hell, yeah. And they’d got the captives back as well. They’d done a great deal together, and Russ would have Eagle’s back any day.

“Sometimes it happens like that, man. You see her and damn if it doesn’t feel like you’ve been sucker punched. Or stepped on a mine and need to chill until the team shows up and takes the trigger out. But, hey, maybe play it a little”—Eagle tilted his head to the side—“less aggressive? Smile, man—try it once in a while. The war’s over. Or at least for us it is, bro.”

Less aggressive? Shit, he had ideas flooding his brain faster than he could process, but being aggressive wasn’t one of them. Although, long, sweaty sex would definitely ease the hard-on he had going on. But he needed to think about this, about her, before he made a move. A sense of urgency to rush forward flooded him, even though he was known for his patience. He gripped the steering wheel tighter to tamp down his desires.

He might have his endurance tested with this little bit of a woman, he mused, adjusting the rear-view mirror to get a better look at her face.

Lacey walked through the house as if she was in a dream. This could not be her new home. It was beautiful but, God, it wasn’t hers. Not one thing was hers. Not one. She could unpack her things, the few the FBI had allowed, and still this empty house wouldn’t be home. Hardwood floors added warmth and colour to every room in the house. They’d seemed to design the place like a home, cosy-like. There were creamy, neutral coloured walls, and heavy wooden beams in a high ceiling that arched over her head in the open-plan living room and kitchen, complete with a big, black wood-burning stove and stone hearth.

“So, Miss Fielding, did the movers set it all up for you? I have to admit I was amazed that they not only moved you in, but they brought you food, too. That’s some moving company. I always dreaded people touching my things, let alone unpacking them, but they did an incredible job, didn’t they? Look at this place…” The realtor’s wife, Irene, trailed off, caught her eye and went on to say, “Simply wonderful. Just like I thought it should look when we first put it on the market.”

Lacey turned from examining the view through her sliding glass back doors and smiled politely at the other woman. She’d not met Rob, the owner, when she’d followed Russ Ryland into town and on to the realtor’s office, but Irene had been there, excited to take her out to see her new home. Middle-aged and smiling, the woman looked curious and friendly. She was dressed in a cute little skirt and jacket set that looked right off JCPenney’s rack, and was full figured and pretty, despite her age—exactly the type of woman her dad would have appreciated.

And what kind of woman did Russ Ryland appreciate?

Now, where did that come from?

She’d had a hard time dodging him. He’d opened her truck door for her, which had freaked her out for several seconds because she hadn’t been sure exactly what he was doing, until he’d stepped back and waited while she hopped down. Then, after an awkward moment, she’d realised that he wanted to usher her into the office, as if she might break on the three foot trip to the front door. And she might have. She’d been tired—still was—and worn out from driving. Worse, he’d made her heart do some strange things, let alone her legs, so maybe an escort to the one and only real estate office in Troy had been necessary.

“And so quiet and efficient, too. Why, we never even knew they’d come and gone. One day a man came for the key, signed your papers and, golly, you were moved in.” Irene paused, colouring a nice pink with embarrassment. “I have to admit I came over to sneak a peek… They did such a wonderful job, though.”

“Yep, I had to pay them well.” Not. The agency had paid for all of it. She suspected they paid because they’d dropped the ball. The agents had nearly got her killed. “It cost a great deal, but look at it. It’s perfect, right?” She’d trade it all in for her old life back.

Irene nodded happily, trailing a manicured hand over the dark surface of the shiny marble counter top, near the built-in six-burner stove. “My goodness, you must be exhausted. How on earth did you drive so far, and alone? I think Rob would pass out if I even considered doing something like that. And this house, all to yourself? Amazing, really.”

Irene was digging. Most people would.

“Yep, all to myself. The trip was difficult, but also very freeing. I mean, I’d never done anything like that either, never even stayed in a hotel by myself, but I did. Now I can say I did,” she added shyly. She liked this woman and didn’t want to lie to her, so she skated the truth, trying her best to stick as close to the true story as possible. “Besides, after my father’s death”—she paused and shrugged, trying to keep the emotions from rising up—“well, a change was needed.”

Irene sucked in a breath, and Lacey regretted opening her mouth when the other woman’s eyes widened in sympathy.

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t realised. Your lawyers never said. I’m so sorry. Losing a parent is so difficult.”

“Yeah, it was. But he was sick for a long time, you know? He was ready, and he would have loved me living here.” Not. Her father, the alpha Navy SEAL he had been, would have hated her driving alone. And he would have had a fit at her living alone. He’d been nothing if not protective. At least, when he’d been able. Even sick and so shrunken with the cancer he could barely sit up, he’d been protective. Grumbling at her to eat, to stop wasting time with him, to go out, to be careful—all those things he’d always harassed her over.

“Oh, dear. That is so difficult. My father died of cancer ten years ago. It was difficult. But I think it got better after a while. Just knowing he wasn’t in pain any longer helped.”

Lacey fought the rush of tears building behind her eyes. Yep, her dad was not in pain, and remembering that was the only thought that kept her going some days. He’d been her rock. Her foundation. She’d not gone a day of her life without thinking of him, of seeing him or at least talking to him on the phone. They’d lost her mother when she was ten, and, since that day, her father had always been there for her. He’d even quit working full-time in his SEALs unit to train SEALs instead. He’d always put her first, even refusing to be relocated twice so she wouldn’t have to switch out of school in mid year. He’d taught others to do what he’d once done, but he’d never gone on another mission. Yep, she missed him. Missed him didn’t even cover it.

“Exactly. Thanks, I didn’t mean to unload on you. I’m a bit tired.”

Irene gripped her cold hands with her warm ones. She had nice, soft hands.

“Don’t worry, honey. All that driving? Terrible. I can’t imagine.” Her words were well meant. Irene released her hands after another squeeze, and walked to where she’d left her big jacket. “Well, you take a nice hot bath in the bathroom they designed for you, have a cup of cocoa and you’ll be asleep before you know it.”

“That sounds great.” Lacey didn’t want to be alone in this house, but she would do it. Yep, she would, all alone in a new, spotless and unfamiliar place. Great.

“How about you meet me tomorrow, honey? We can do lunch and I’ll show you around all the right spots in town.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble…”

“Trouble? Good Lord, you’re new to town. I can’t let you wander around. You come by at, say, eleven. Then we’ll go eat and I’ll show you all the nice shops.”

Nice shops? In Troy? The place had looked like a picture out of some Wild West show. She’d even seen a carved totem pole. A post office, a hotel, a few shops, a grocery store and the town was gone. If they had shops, she must have blinked and missed them.

“That sounds wonderful, Irene, thank you.”

Irene waved a hand and tutted at her. “No, thank you, honey. I can’t wait. You can tell me all about your home back in New York. Well, your old home,” she said, surprising Lacey with a hug that smelt of baby powder, soap and some kind of flowery perfume.

“Of course.”

“All right. See you tomorrow, honey. Welcome to Troy!”

Lacey watched Irene totter out on her high heels to her little white Ford sedan and waved at her when the older woman got in.

As soon as Irene had backed out, having waved once more, Lacey shut the heavy door and let out a deep, long breath, her back to the heavy wood. Well, now what? The empty house was so quiet that her own breath rattled her.

Two bedrooms, both pretty, softly coloured in neutral tones, warm thick comforters and silk sheets on the beds. Two bathrooms. A workshop for her stained glass. A garage. A small shed outside the back window. And acres of land.

All to herself. And all empty.

They’d even sprung for a computer, a television, huge couches, a big wooden butcher-block table with straight-backed chairs, kitchen gadgets, and tools in the garage. There was probably a lawnmower in the shed, and more tools.

Everything a girl would need to start a new life, as if her old one had never existed.

God, it was awful. She sank into a chair in the kitchen and let the quiet fill her senses.

This was so not real. Was it?

The agents had sure seemed to think so. After the attack they’d felt responsible, she knew. They’d said as much. Asked about what she liked to do, what colours she liked, what she thought was essential in a home. Or, at least, they had when her jaw had been unwired. She knew they’d also done some checking into her past and dug up everything they could about her.

A sigh gusted past her lips. And this was what they’d come up with for her? This was it? This was her? Or what they thought was her? Would this make up for everything?

Her stomach bottomed out. Nerves were making her feel too tightly strung, too tense and way too out of control. This wasn’t going to work. She should have told the agents that from the beginning.

This was supposed to be home, she reminded herself.

But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not yet. She was too scared. Too scared of too much. She felt as if she was drowning in anxiety. This was worse than the first night at the hotel. Then, she’d been so nervous she’d placed a chair under the door and sat up in another chair, with the lights out, for hours, waiting for the bad guys to show up. She’d been so certain they would.

Her cell phone rang, almost giving her a heart attack. Her chair made a horrible scraping sound on the wooden floor when she shoved it back, but she answered the phone she’d been given on the third ring.

“Yes?”

“You’ve made it to the house?” a man’s voice asked in a clear, firm, familiar tone. She’d met him once—an older guy with hard, sky blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, deep grooves in his face and a commanding body and voice.

“Yes.”

“Remember that no one can know. No one.”

“Yep, I remember.”

“Blend in, be normal and call if anything, anything doesn’t seem right. You have this number now.”

“Yep.”

Silence filled the line. What else could she say? They knew where she was and they wouldn’t come near here. It was the only way to keep her safe from the men who wanted her dead. If they found out she hadn’t died the first time around. She’d considered running when the agents had explained the plan to hide her away in Montana. Why do it their way? she’d grumbled. Their way had nearly got her killed. But, somehow, the thought of running from the FBI had frightened her enough to do what they ordered.

“Don’t let this battery go down. Keep the phone with you at all times.”

“Yep. I will.”

“Be normal, blend in and you should be fine, miss.”

What to say to that? That she wasn’t normal and she didn’t feel fine? That they’d taken her life and given her—what? This place, and a fear that wouldn’t go away? A fear that kept her up at night and made her cry unexpectedly during the day?

“Great.”

“Goodbye, miss. Don’t call unless you need us.”

Like she would call to say hello?

“I won’t.”

“Remember, you need to activate your bank accounts by tomorrow. You can use the computer in the living room. Be careful and you’ll be fine. Goodbye, miss.”

He hung up, not even waiting for a reply.

Bank accounts? In her living room. On the computer. God, the man knew this home better than she did. Did they have it bugged? Carefully, she set the phone down on the spotless counter and gazed around at the empty house. She couldn’t sleep in here. She couldn’t. She had an extra mattress in the U-Haul. The agents had set up the mattress when they’d driven her partway. They’d made sure to hide her in the back when they’d left town. She’d been all for it. There was no way she’d wanted to chance being spotted.

She’d since grown used to the U-Haul. One more glance around the empty house and she decided. The U-Haul would do for now. She’d lock this place up and sleep out there. It was cold, but she could do that. Sleep out there.

First things first, she needed to go for a run. It was time to start putting her life back together. The physical therapist had said she was good to go. She’d done six miles on the treadmill at the clinic. Time to hit the road…or dirt? Maybe trail running would be fun. Now, if she could just find some running clothes in this museum they called a home…

Russ made it up to the ranch in record time, gathered his gear, showered and was back down the mountain within forty-five minutes. Eagle was probably already hip-deep in his woman. Russell had managed with his fist. Life could have been better, but at least he had taken the edge off. And he was actually looking forward to something.

If only he could look forward to being hip-deep in one dark-haired woman he’d only just met. Of course, he had no such hopes. But a guy could dream.

He’d spooked her. She’d looked a bit dazed in the real estate office, but, by the end, she’d given him some clear looks that had had nothing to do with coming here and having sex until they needed a break for food, and had been all about shock at his interest. She looked eighteen, but was twenty-six. He’d seen her ID when she’d introduced herself to Irene. She looked innocent, and he had to wonder how innocent she was…

When he rounded the bend near Saddleback Creek, he had to jerk the truck nearly off the road to avoid the runner heading down the dirt road.

Son of a bitch. What was she doing? Not resting. Hadn’t she said she’d needed a nap?

Without his boot on the gas, his truck rolled to a stop. He took a few slow, long breaths to calm down. He never got this heart-poundingly frightened by anything. But he could have hit her with his truck.

A soft knocking on his window made him narrow his eyes and swing his head to see her smiling tentatively up at him. Her smile grew as his frown increased. Unbelievable. He had to bite back a smile in response at the wicked little gleam in her blue eyes. She was laughing at him. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? At least she wasn’t running scared.

He hit the button and the window went down.

“Going a bit too fast?” she asked, hardly even breathless. Her cheeks were pink, though, and she was sweating. And smelt wonderful. His cock swelled.

“Did I scare you?” she asked, her smile fading when he didn’t say anything. “I was on the right side of the road and I heard you coming. There was no danger,” she added.

“Yeah, didn’t expect you. Not many runners out here.” Except him. And Eagle. They'd left the SEALS, but stayed in shape for the security jobs they still helped out with, down south.

Her smile returned, then she glanced away. “Well, got to go. Don’t want to lose my groove.” She waved and headed off at a good pace. If she’d kept that up from her house, she was fast. Except, he noticed, she favoured her left leg enough that she’d be sorer on her right by the end of the run. It was a five-mile loop, if she was on her way back to her place.

She kept going, still at the same mile-eating pace. For some reason, that turned him on even more. But that slight limp was going to hurt her. Had she sprained her ankle?

He rolled up beside her. She gave him a surprised look then, of all things, rolled her eyes, but took her ear buds out.

“You’re on the wrong side of the road.”

He grinned at that.

“You’re limping on the left. You’ll be sore if you don’t straighten out that stride.” And if he got what he wanted from her. Down boy. There would be no sex, not tonight or in the immediate future, but one day there would be. He had his new mission, and she was giving him a long look, then the road.

“I can’t straighten out my stride. Not yet. I hurt my left leg; the right is just going to have to cowboy up.” She put her ear buds back in and moved off after giving him one of those cute smiles.

Cowboy up, huh? He grinned after her. She was something. She’d hurt her left leg? How long ago? Should she be running like this? He was about to steer back over to her when she shot him a warning glance and headed off the road, down across the little creek where it narrowed out and crossed the open field. Damn. Obviously, she’d kept track of where she was and knew that this field led straight to the back of her property.

Now, why did that make him even hotter for her? He usually didn’t care if a woman was smart or not. If she was half-decent looking, wanted hot, hard sex and was willing, that was enough. He usually simply needed to blow off some steam. And he had a lot of steam to blow off right now.

Watching her, he considered that. It wasn’t the need to blow off steam that had his dick throbbing at the sight of her. His sex drive was pretty high, or had been until he’d moved here. But he had it bad. He was days off a mission and, now that he’d met Susan, his body was demanding some attention he couldn’t ignore. Usually, any generic woman would do. He didn’t get hot for a smart, teasing women with a sunny smile any more than any other woman when he was like this. Or that had always been the way of it, before meeting Little Miss Sunshine.

Exactly. Before. Before he knew there was a Susan Fielding.

And now?

Here she was. She didn’t look all that willing for hot or hard sex any time soon. So why was he still zeroing in on her like she was the target and he was on a mission? His cock was practically urging him to jump out after her, tackle that sweet, sweaty woman and kiss her senseless. Black Adidas shorts, pink sports top and all.

His mind knew better.

Besides, once all the blood had started pulsing to his brain and not his cock, he’d think of something better than tackling her down. Whether or not he could understand the why of it, that sweet, soft—and, he realised now, stubborn and teasing—woman was the only one who could ease the pounding he had going on. Glancing down at the erection outlined under his jeans, he hoped it would be in the very near future.

He spotted her easily when he looked back up. The muscles of his face softened and stretched in a rare smile as she jumped on a low log and nimbly followed it across the creek, before jumping down again and continuing.

Oh, yeah. He was more than willing to show her how much he could cowboy up.