Protecting her life will mean betraying her trust

Ainsley Hamilton has always been the responsible one of the family. As the oldest daughter of presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton, she’s also a potential target. For months she’s sensed someone following her. When an expedition to scout locations for a commercial takes a terrifying turn, she’s rescued by a natural-born cowboy who tempts the good girl to finally let loose.

Sawyer Nash knows just how reckless it is to fall for someone he’s gone undercover to protect. Yet masquerading as an extra on set, he starts to see beneath Ainsley’s controlled facade. And with the election—and a killer—drawing closer, Sawyer stands to lose not just his job and his life but the woman for whom he’d gladly risk both.

Praise for New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels

“Crossing multiple genres, Daniels successfully combines Western romance, suspense and political intrigue with ease.”

—RT Book Reviews on Hard Rain

“The heartwarming romance gets wrapped up here, but the book ends with a cliff-hanger that is sure to have fans anxious for the next title in the series.”

—Library Journal on Lucky Shot

“Forget slow-simmering romance: the multiple story lines weaving in and out of Big Timber, Montana, mean the second Montana Hamiltons contemporary...is always at a rolling boil.”

—Publishers Weekly on Lone Rider

“[The Montana Hamiltons] should definitely be on the must read list... A great introduction for new readers to this amazing author.”

—Fresh Fiction on Wild Horses

“Truly amazing crime story for every amateur sleuth.”

—Fresh Fiction on Mercy

“Daniels is truly an expert at Western romantic suspense.”

—RT Book Reviews on Atonement

“Will keep readers on the edge of their chairs from beginning to end.”

—Booklist on Forsaken

“Action-packed and chock-full of suspense.”

—Under the Covers on Redemption

“Fans of Western romantic suspense will relish Daniels’ tale of clandestine love played out in a small town on the Great Plains.”

—Booklist on Unforgiven

Honor Bound

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With utmost appreciation I dedicate this last book in the series to my agent, Lisa Erbach Vance. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

Election night

IT WAS THE old priest’s limp that caught Ainsley Hamilton’s attention as the presidential election results were announced over the loudspeaker. A deafening roar rose from the bundled-up crowd gathered at the fairgrounds outside Beartooth, Montana, that cold November night.

Her father, Buckmaster Hamilton, had just been announced the new president. Music began to play loudly as the throng cheered. She watched the priest, hunched over his cane, edging ever closer to the platform where her father would be giving his acceptance speech. Ice crystals danced in the night air against the backdrop of the Crazy Mountains. Millions of stars twinkled in the velvet blue of Montana’s big sky overhead. There was an excitement in the air as well, an electricity that had her feeling warm inside.

Ainsley’s heart surged. She was so proud of her father, so happy for him. This was his night. He’d worked hard to get here. She told herself that nothing could spoil it for him, especially her sister Kat’s concerns about security. The fairgrounds were crawling with Secret Service agents, sheriff’s department deputies and National Guard; even the sheriff himself was here.

Her gaze went again to the priest as he limped forward. The crowd parted for him, seeing his physical disabilities as well as his determination to get closer. When he finally reached the elevated platform where she was standing with her family, he leaned heavily on the cane as if trying to catch his breath. Like her, he must have wanted to be part of this history-making night.

Another roar erupted from those gathered as her father strode out onto the stage. He smiled and nodded, then turned to motion to his wife and six daughters. They had been waiting in the wings out of the cold for this moment. Ainsley looked at her sisters.

Bo smiled at her, so pregnant with her twins that she appeared to be wearing a small tent. The grown twins, Harper and Cassidy, were holding hands, both crying. Olivia was dabbing at her eyes, as well. It was clear that they had all been moved to tears, all except sister Kat, who looked nervous as their mother led the way across the stretch of red carpet to her waiting husband.

Out of the corner of her eye, Ainsley noticed that the old priest was straining to see. His limp looked painful, she thought as she saw him clutch his cane with both hands. She knew her interest in him was because of his limp. It reminded her of another man, a man she’d trusted her heart to recently only to have it broken.

As if she needed a limp to remind her of Sawyer Nash and what a fool she’d been. Thoughts of him were never more than a heartbeat away. Unconsciously, she ran a fingertip over the burn scar on her wrist, another reminder of Sawyer.

The crowd was roaring again as Sarah joined her husband, followed by one daughter after another. Ainsley fell back, letting her sisters go ahead of her. Too many emotions had her feeling vulnerable. She wasn’t ready to face all of these people right now.

As Kat started down the carpet to join their father, Ainsley had no choice but to join them. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this night was for her father, the first Montanan to be elected president. The excitement of the crowd filled her heart to bursting.

Standing on the platform next to her family, she smiled at her father through her tears. Her pride in him closed her throat as she tried not to cry with this many people watching.

Fortunately, the cameras—just like the Secret Service agents—were trained on the future president as he hugged each of them and then stepped to the microphone to make his acceptance speech. She and her five sisters and mother moved back toward the warm room again as he took his place to the applause of the massive crowd.

Buckmaster Hamilton had won by a landslide, and no one within four hundred miles wanted to miss this, even on such a cold night.

Ainsley had been making her way back, willing herself not to cry, when the priest looked up and their eyes met. Recognition made her stumble. She would have fallen if her mother hadn’t caught her arm.

But Ainsley hardly noticed. She was staring down into the priest’s face. He wasn’t as old as he had seemed when she’d first spotted him moving through the crowd, leaning so heavily on his cane. Even more shocking was that she knew him. A childhood memory surfaced in a wave of guilt because of the promise she’d been forced to keep all those years ago.

The man had been younger back then, but so had her mother. From her bedroom window, she’d watched the two of them out by the stables.

Ainsley, barely twelve, had seen at once that there was something wrong as the man had approached her mother. Her mother had taken a step back. Suddenly the man had grabbed her mother’s arm. Her mother had been struggling to get free of him. Ainsley hadn’t been able to hear them, but she could tell that they were arguing.

She’d rushed down the stairs and ran out to the cool shadows of the stables where they were standing. The man had seen her and quickly let go of her mother’s arm. She’d been close enough that she heard what he said to her mother.

“This isn’t over, Sarah.” Then he’d disappeared around the back of the building, but not before his gaze had bored into Ainsley. She’d known she would never forget those eyes. An electric blue that felt as if they had branded her.

“Who was that?” she’d demanded of her mother, recalling how he’d said her mother’s first name.

“No one.” Her mother had quickly wiped her eyes. “A stable hand. I had to fire him.”

“He hurt you!” Ainsley had cried, seeing where the man’s fingers had bit into her mother’s arm.

“I’m fine,” she’d said, pulling down her sleeve to hide it before she’d taken Ainsley’s shoulders in her trembling hands. “You can’t tell anyone about this, your sisters, especially your father. It will only upset him. I’ve taken care of it. The man won’t be back. Do you hear me? Promise you won’t ever tell.”

“But he said—”

“Please.”

It was the word please coming out almost as a sob that had made Ainsley make a promise she’d guiltily kept all these years. Weeks later her mother would drive her SUV into the Yellowstone River and be presumed dead when her body wasn’t recovered from the iced-over river. For twenty-two years her mother would be dead—until recently when she’d returned from the grave with no memory of where she’d been.

Now those electric-blue eyes from her childhood burned into hers for one startling instant before they shifted to where her mother was standing next to her after steadying Ainsley when she’d stumbled.

It happened in a split second. But felt like slow motion. The man’s hands twisted the top off the cane. Even when he raised what looked like a toy plastic pistol, she knew it was as real as her memory. Even as her mind argued that he would have had to go through security to get in here tonight, she knew he’d somehow avoided detection. Just as she knew he’d come here not to kill the new president—but the woman he’d argued with all those years ago.

As he raised the weapon, pointing it at her mother, Ainsley cried out. But her voice was lost in the roar of the crowd. All eyes, including those of the Secret Service agents, were on the president, not the old priest.

Ainsley didn’t remember pushing her mother aside to launch herself at the man holding the gun. She didn’t hear the weapon discharge. She hadn’t even been sure he’d fired until she felt the burning heat an instant before she crashed into him, taking them both down. She hit hard, heard screams around her and a struggle.

The cold November night and the canopy of stars seemed to move in and out. Her chest burned while the rest of her felt as if she were freezing. Sounds were indistinguishable. Above her she caught glimpses of faces. They seemed to sway in the breeze.

Arms came around her, and a male voice was saying, “She’s hit. Get an ambulance! Hurry! Ainsley, can you hear me? Stay with me, sweetheart.”

“Sawyer?” She blinked, thinking she must be hallucinating or dying, because then she heard Kitzie’s voice. “Sawyer! You’d better see this!”

Fading in and out, Ainsley heard the commotion around her as she was lifted into strong arms. She fought to bring the man’s face into focus, but the darkness closed in, and she dropped into it.

CHAPTER TWO

Days before

“HEY, COWBOY, I heard about that stunt you pulled. Chasing a killer on the top of a moving train? Who do you think you are? A modern-day John Wayne?”

Sawyer Nash chuckled into the phone, unconsciously rubbing his injured leg. “The chasing part wasn’t bad. It was the getting shot and falling off the train that bruised my ego.”

“Sounds like it bruised a lot more than that.” Sheriff Frank Curry grew solemn on the other end of the telephone line. “Seriously, how are you?”

“Bored. The doc says I can’t go back to work for a few months. They tried to saddle me with an office job, but you know me.”

“I do. You like to be where the action is.”

“Same could be said about you, Frank. How are you doing?”

A long silence filled the line, making Sawyer sit up straighter.

“I’m thinking about retiring after the election,” the sheriff said.

“Really? Have anything to do with who gets elected?”

“Not exactly. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you. As you know, our local rancher and senator, Buckmaster Hamilton, is the Republican candidate for president.”

“If this is about canvassing for his vote, he’s got it.”

Frank laughed. “No, it’s about his daughters. Well, one daughter in particular.”

“Oh?”

“I hear she’s in your part of the state. Her name is Ainsley Hamilton. She’s the oldest of the senator’s daughters. The other five are living around here now. Bottom line—I’m worried about her. Apparently there’s been some man following her off and on for months now.”

“A reporter?”

“I don’t think so. She was home for a visit recently and happened to mention it. She thought maybe her father had hired him to keep an eye on her. Buckmaster swears he didn’t, and I believe him. It just seems...odd.”

“You think it has something to do with her father’s run for president?”

“Seems likely.”

“She get a good look at this guy?”

“Apparently not. He wears a cowboy hat, keeps his distance, but according to her, he’s followed her from town to town.”

“What does this Hamilton daughter do that takes her from town to town?” Sawyer asked.

“She’s working as a scout for movie and television commercial locations in the state. I realize you’re not a hundred percent—”

“More like seventy-five to eighty.”

“So you wouldn’t be up to seeing if you could find out what’s going on?” Frank asked.

“As bored as I am? Are you kidding? Anyway, it sounds pretty cut-and-dried. I can check it out. If he’s tailing her, he shouldn’t be hard to spot. I could have a little talk with him.”

“I’ll email you everything you need to know to get started. Just send me the bill,” the sheriff said.

“Not a chance. I owe you. You’re the one who got me into law enforcement to begin with.”

“And look how that turned out.”

* * *

AINSLEY HAMILTON REINED in her horse to look back toward the mouth of the narrow canyon. Shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she glanced past the walls of rock to the dark pine trees at the entrance.

The Montana sky was a cloudless blue overhead, the sun hot on her back, but there was a bite in the air reminding her it was almost November. Winter wouldn’t be far behind. But fortunately, this was her last contract finding locations for productions. She hadn’t even wanted to take this one, but Devon “Gun” Gunderson had made her an offer she’d felt she couldn’t refuse. It had been fun for a while, but dealing with directors was getting her down.

Gunderson turned out to be worse than most because he was a perfectionist. He kept changing locations so it was no surprise that the commercial had run over schedule. She’d never imagined it would take this long to shoot. She’d already been here for two days, and as far as she could tell, she would be here another two or three days, maybe longer.

The canyon ahead of her would make a beautiful spot to shoot one of the last scenes before the commercial for a pharmaceutical drug company wrapped. But she wasn’t sure she could convince Gunderson of it. While the others on his crew called him Gun, she couldn’t bring herself to because he seemed to like his nickname too much.

At a noise nearby, Ainsley turned. A few moments ago she’d heard what sounded like someone behind her. Listening, she heard only the wind high above the canyon walls. Turning back, she studied the opening in the walls of rock. Nothing moved.

Had she been followed from the old mountain resort? Gunderson had gotten accommodations for them, even though the place had already closed for the season.

But that didn’t mean that whoever had been following her for months wasn’t behind one of the trees or rocks in this very Western-looking part of the state watching her. She’d sensed someone watching her for so long, that this time she could be only imagining it.

But her instincts told her it wasn’t her imagination. Over the months, she’d often sensed the man’s presence. As she did now. It gave her an eerie vulnerable feeling she didn’t like. If only the man would show himself. She’d gladly confront him. But he was careful never to let her get a good look at him. All she’d gotten were glimpses of a shadowy figure wearing a dark-colored Western hat.

He also was careful never to appear when there were other people around. It was one reason she had mentioned it to only a few people. It made her sound unbalanced, since one moment he was there and the next he was gone as...as if he’d never existed.

It was enough to make a woman think she was losing her mind. Not Ainsley, though. She had too much common sense for that, she told herself and spurred her horse forward.

As she rode deeper in the canyon, she luxuriated in cool shadows that fell across her path. The day was getting warmer. But she knew from being born and raised in Montana that the weather could change in a heartbeat. That was one reason this commercial needed to be completed this week—before a storm blew in and snow began to fall and they all got stranded back in here.

The canyon was as lovely as she’d heard it was. One of the local girls hired to work in the kitchen had suggested it. With the sheer rock walls, a few scrub pines and the spring at the end of the canyon, it looked as Western as any part of Montana. Now all she had to do was talk Gunderson into taking a look.

Ainsley rolled her eyes thinking of the conversation she would have with him when she returned. Ahead, she could see where the box canyon ended in a wall of rock. Only one way out of here. Back the way she’d come.

She led her horse over to the rocks where a warm spring bubbled up. It was beautiful here, perfect. Gunderson would be a fool not to consider it. She groaned at even the thought of having to deal with him today. Just a few more days, she told herself. Then what?

The original company that hired her had another film crew wanting someone to scout locations for some winter scenes, but she’d declined the offer. She had to be home for election night. Her father wanted his family with him. She couldn’t help being excited for him. Of course he would win.

Then maybe whoever had been following her from town to town would quit shadowing her every move. At first she’d thought the man had to be a reporter. And yet he’d never tried to talk to her. If only she’d gotten a good look at his face. With a shiver, she reminded herself that he could be anyone, and she wouldn’t know it.

“Can you give me any kind of description?” the sheriff had asked after her father had insisted she talk to him.

“That’s just it. I can’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was imagining him. I’ll be somewhere, and I sense him watching me. I turn and catch movement as he drops back out of sight in a group of people or hidden in the darkness. One time I ran after him—”

“That’s a bad idea,” Frank had said.

Ainsley had laughed. “Tell me about it. I hadn’t gotten very far, when I came to my senses. I don’t think he’s dangerous, though. I almost feel like he thinks he needs to keep an eye on me. I know that sounds crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t. Have you seen him recently?” the sheriff had asked.

“A few days ago when I was in town, but now I’m staying out in the mountains at this closed resort.”

“At least there you should be safe.”

But she didn’t feel safe, she thought. Especially today when, unless she really was losing her mind, she sensed he had followed her into the canyon.

Her horse’s ears went up at the sound of the clatter of rocks underfoot was carried on the wind. She rubbed her horse’s neck as she looked back down the canyon. There were too many twists and turns for her to see very far.

“You heard it, too, didn’t you?” she whispered to the horse. “I wasn’t wrong. We aren’t alone, are we?”

Another clatter of rocks echoed through the canyon. Her horse’s head came up as the mare let out a whinny.

She’d definitely been followed. But this time, she was ready for him.

* * *

NEAR THE END of the mountain road, Sawyer rounded a curve, and the resort came into view. The huge old stone hotel looked abandoned, but behind it, he spotted a scattering of small equally old log cabins set against the mountainside. There were vehicles parked in front of all but one.

He’d stopped in town to get directions to the isolated resort. A woman at the general store had told him that the resort was closed, but some movie types were staying up there shooting commercials.

“At least that’s what they said they were doing,” she told him suspiciously. “I doubt any of theirs will be airing during the Super Bowl, from what I heard from the locals who got hired.” She’d eyed him openly. “You looking for work?”

“I heard the place is for sale,” he said noncommittally.

“It is. You thinking about buying it?”

He’d only smiled and thanked her for the directions.

Now, to the right of the hotel he saw a wide meadow where it appeared a carnival had been erected. None of the rides were moving, though, and he didn’t see anyone around. The rides had taken on an almost ghostly look out in the meadow so far from civilization. Strange, he thought as he drove on in.

There was only one car parked in front of the hotel. As he pulled up, he saw the license plate read: MURPH. As he got out of his pickup, a nondescript dark-haired man came out of the hotel. He had on a tan uniform shirt that read Security. He eyed Sawyer but said nothing.

Sawyer tipped his Stetson and limped up the stairs to the wide porch. The view of the mountain peaks surrounding the place was incredible. He couldn’t help taking in the breathtaking beauty of the area as he opened the huge, weathered wooden front door and stepped inside.

It was cool and dim in the old lobby. At one time, no expense had been spared to maintain this landmark hotel. But that was years ago. Times and tastes had changed. The carpet was as worn as the marble floors. He called out a tentative, “Hello?”

“In here,” came a female voice from a room off the lobby.

As he headed in that direction, he debated how to handle this. The door was slightly ajar. He tapped on it.

“It’s open,” called the female voice from inside. “Don’t be shy.”

He stuck his head in the doorway to see a woman sitting at a desk, her head down as she scribbled something on a scratch pad. “I’m looking for—”

“You’ve found her,” the woman said without glancing up. “Come on in.”

As he stepped in, she looked up and gave him an appraising once-over. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” She motioned in a circle with her hand. When he didn’t move, she said, “Turn. Let’s see your backside.”

“Pardon me?”

“Don’t pretend to be shy with me. I’ve seen more than my share. Turn around.”

Sawyer did as ordered, chuckling to himself as he heard her let out a low whistle. What kind of commercials were they making up here anyway?

“Yep, you’ll do,” she said, getting to her feet. “Wait a minute. Are you limping?” Before he could speak, she said, “You can ride, though, right?”

“I assume you’re referring to a horse?”

She smiled and jammed her hands down on her abundant hips. “Cowboys,” she muttered under her breath as she sat back down. “You’re the best I’ve seen today. Just tell me if you can ride for long shots.” She was eyeing him as she talked. “You could also stand in for a carnie once they get the rides going. Yep, I’m betting they’ll want you for a couple of days.” She turned toward a board with keys on it. “You’re in luck. We have one cabin left since the hotel is closed. So I’m assuming you wouldn’t have driven all the way up here unless you could stick around for a few days?”

He started to correct her, to tell her that he hadn’t come here looking for a part in whatever she was shooting. But instead, he heard himself say, “I can ride, and I can stay for a while.”

“Great. Fill out this form and be back here by seven in the morning.” When he didn’t interrupt, she continued. “Here.” She slid a cabin key across the desk at him. It was connected to a piece of wood with the number eleven burned into it. “There’s food in the hotel kitchen 24/7 when we’re shooting. You can dress just like you are. But if you feel you need wardrobe—”

“No.” He’d play along but would draw the line at being duded out. “I didn’t see any horses on the way in. Where do I—”

“Just go back out the front door and follow the smell. Ted will assign you a horse and saddle.” With that she waved him out as her phone rang, and she quickly picked it up with a—

“Hey, that better be you calling to tell me you have what I need for tomorrow.”

As he left, he hoped Ted would know where he could find Ainsley Hamilton.

* * *

AINSLEY TIED HER horse’s reins to a tree limb and pulled the pistol from her saddlebag. She’d taken it from her father’s gun safe before she’d left home the last time. She hadn’t told him, not wanting to worry him. He wouldn’t miss it, and she’d been afraid she might need it. He’d taught her and her five sisters to shoot at an early age, so a gun felt just fine in her hands.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of guns, but also I want you to have respect for them,” Buckmaster had said. She and her sisters had become quite adept at target practice since they were all fairly competitive.

The problem was the difference between a paper target—and a person. It was a person who’d followed her. Someone on horseback? If so, that would mean he’d gotten one of the horses being used for the commercial shoot.

And if she was right, he’d followed her, knowing that she was trapped in the box canyon with no way out if he decided to take this opportunity to finally confront her.

Show your face. The way he kept hidden added to her growing anxiety about the man. What did he want? Maybe she was about to find out.

She snapped off the safety, telling herself she wouldn’t kill him—just wound him. Unless he was armed. That thought sent her heart pumping. He finally had her entirely alone. Was that what he’d been waiting for?

The sound of rock on rock. Gun raised, Ainsley moved through the narrowest part of the canyon and stopped to listen. She could almost hear him breathing; he felt that close.

* * *

TED WAS A young cowboy, skinny and tall with a shock of red hair and ever-present sunburn. He gave Sawyer a nice-looking roan and a saddle and told him he lived on a ranch not far away. It was clear that he was excited to be providing horses for a TV commercial.

“A friend of mine works up here. Ainsley Hamilton? Do you know where I might find her?” Sawyer asked.

Ted nodded and smiled, before pointing off to a wide open meadow and a stone cliff behind it. “She took off toward Box Canyon about twenty minutes ago. You could probably catch up to her. Wouldn’t hurt to get some saddle time in before you have to go before the camera, I would imagine,” he said.

“I’d appreciate that,” Sawyer said and saddled up. Riding past the still and silent carnival, he headed for the canyon. The day was quite warm now for the end of October. The leaves on the aspen trees in the meadow hadn’t fallen yet. Sun-dappled, they shimmered red, orange and gold in the breeze. Past them, the pines were a dark cool green at the mouth of the canyon.

The moment he rode into the ponderosa pines, the temperature dropped. The sheer rock walls cast the canyon in shadow. Sawyer noticed what appeared to be an old creek bed winding its way out of the canyon. He could see Ainsley’s horse’s tracks in the dirt.

Reining in, he swung out of the saddle. He’d decided to walk into the canyon, rather than ride, to give him time to consider how he would handle this. Normally he preferred the truth.

But he’d gotten the feeling from Frank that he was dealing with an independent woman who might resent him butting into her business. Also, she didn’t know him from Adam. He figured it might make her less self-conscious if she thought he was just an extra hired on for the commercial. He might be able to find out who was following her, take care of the matter, and Ainsley would never have to be the wiser.

The commercial was supposed to wrap in a few days, according to Ted. Sawyer figured he’d be able to find the man tailing Ainsley long before that.

Tying up the horse at the opening of the canyon, he ventured in. As he came around the corner between the two rock cliffs, he heard something and drew up short. Standing just yards ahead was a young blonde woman dressed in jeans, boots and a blue-checked Western shirt, holding a gun on him.

CHAPTER THREE

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Sawyer ordered as a stream of pebbles cascaded off the side of the cliff, clattering on the ground between them. Glancing up, he caught movement as someone stepped away from the edge of the canyon wall above them. He swore and held up his hands. Frank had faxed him a photo of the young woman, but it certainly hadn’t done her justice. “Please, don’t move!”

“I believe that’s my line,” Ainsley said and kept coming toward him, brandishing the gun. “Why are you following me?”

There wasn’t time to explain. From the top of the canyon wall fist-sized rocks began to come down like a waterfall. She glanced up in surprise, the tumbling rocks distracting her enough to give him the edge.

Sawyer launched himself at her, wrenching the gun from her hand as he took her down, rolling them both back under the edge of the canyon wall. A moment later, an avalanche of larger rocks came crashing down just inches from them. Dust choked the canyon, and for a few moments neither could see anything.

The rocks continued to fall in a deafening roar. Neither of them moved until the trickle of rocks finally ended with several large boulders booming down in another cloud of dust.

Sawyer had covered her body with his own when the rock slide began. Now he lifted himself up on his arms to stare down at her. She was ghost-white and seemed to still be trying to catch her breath.

“Are you all right?” he asked, hating how close a call it had been.

She nodded, but he could see she was still shaken.

He moved to let her sit up in the small space under the rock face. She looked from the gun resting in his open palm to the huge pile of rocks next to them. From her shocked expression, she was just now realizing what had happened. If he hadn’t come along when he had and thrown her under the ledge, she would have been under those rocks.

Ainsley stared at him, hugging her knees to her as she pressed her back to the canyon wall. Her blue eyes were wide, her bow-shaped mouth tremulous, lips slightly parted. He had the craziest desire to kiss her.

Those eyes focused on him, and he saw suspicion darken the blue. In a heartbeat, the two of them were back where they started. “Why did you follow me?” she demanded accusingly.

“I was out riding, getting used to the horse before my commercial shoot tomorrow, when I saw this canyon. If you were followed, it was by someone on top of the canyon wall—the one who I suspect started the landslide.” She didn’t look convinced. “I just got here. I’m guessing you were already armed and on foot when I entered the canyon.”

She took a breath and let it out as she considered that. “That’s assuming the slide didn’t merely start on its own.”

“It didn’t. I saw a shadow up there as the first rocks began to come down. Someone was up there. If it makes you feel any better, I think you were right about being followed. It just wasn’t me.”

She seemed to hug herself tighter, but she was no longer looking at him with so much suspicion.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I think it’s safe now.” He had to move some of the rocks to make an opening for them to crawl out. The pile of rock had nearly blocked the narrow canyon.

Until he checked where the slide had started, he couldn’t know for sure what or who had triggered the slide. But he was fairly certain of what he would find when he checked it out. Ainsley had been followed, and that person had set off the landslide.

“I would suggest getting out of the canyon in case whoever was up there is still around.” He didn’t think the person had stuck around, but he also didn’t want to take any chances. “Let me go first—just in case.” Sawyer eased out of the space he’d made, offering her a hand. She took it as she scuttled out and stopped. Her gaze widened at the sight of the huge boulders that had careened down. He could see that she was thinking the same thing he was. That had been a close call for both of them. She looked more afraid than even before.

Given that she’d suspected she’d been followed—not just this time—for months now, he could understand her fear. Had the man following her gotten tired of his game and decided to end it in this canyon? Or had he gotten too close to the edge and inadvertently set off the rock slide?

“The person up there probably didn’t mean to set off the slide,” he said, hoping to reassure her when he wasn’t all that convinced himself.

Right after the slide had stopped, he’d wanted to hightail it out of the canyon in the hopes of catching the culprit. But one look at Ainsley and he knew he couldn’t leave her. Also, he couldn’t be sure that there wouldn’t be more.

His guess was that whoever had set off the rock slide had to be somehow connected to the commercial, since they were so far from everything out here. Anyone could have gotten hired on; look how easy it had been for him.

He watched her glance up and, following her gaze, saw no one in the narrow strip of brilliant blue above them. He heard nothing. Nor did he see anyone. He was betting that whoever had set off the slide was long gone. But he couldn’t count on that.

“Where is your horse?”

She pointed back up the canyon.

“I’ll go with you to get it,” he said. She didn’t answer, just stood hugging herself as if reliving what had happened. “Here, you’ll want this back.” He handed her the gun, which he’d stuck in the waistband of his jeans. Her gaze lifted to his in surprise. She took the weapon, her fingers brushing his. She seemed startled as if she’d felt the same jolt he had.

She quickly pocketed the weapon, turned and started toward the boxed end of the canyon. He followed, limping and reminding himself that he wasn’t up to much more of these kinds of antics.

Ahead of him, Ainsley had stopped next to a spring to retrieve her horse. He watched her swing up into the saddle. There was something both strong and determined about her, as well as vulnerable. He felt a pull stronger than gravity and cursed under his breath.

Just do this job and don’t get involved. Whatever her story is, it ain’t yours. Let’s not forget what happened with the last woman you rescued.

* * *

AINSLEY HAD JUST retrieved her horse and put her gun away when she heard the roar of four-wheelers headed her way. As the sound came to a sudden stop, she caught voices coming from the mouth of the canyon. A few moments later, several of the crew appeared, including Devon “Gun” Gunderson.

“How did you think we were going to be able to shoot in this canyon?” Gunderson demanded. “We could barely get in past the fallen rocks.”

Inwardly she groaned as she glanced around for the cowboy who’d saved her from the rock slide. But he must have slipped out when the others arrived. She realized she hadn’t even thanked him. Nor did she have any idea who he was, other than he was apparently an extra.

She was still shaken, but she did her best to hide it as she discussed possible scenes that could be shot near the entrance to the canyon and other locations she’d found for them. If anyone noticed that she wasn’t herself, neither Gunderson nor the others commented on it.

Her mind kept reliving her near-death experience again and again. Everything had happened so fast. She’d heard what she’d thought was someone in the canyon, but now realized someone on the top of the canyon cliff had started the slide, just as the cowboy had said.

That made her shudder at the realization that she would have followed the sound of the rocks falling—right to her death—if it hadn’t been for her mystery cowboy. She was still trembling from the near miss later when she rode back to the hotel.

* * *

SAWYER HADN’T WANTED to leave Ainsley alone, but once some of the people from the crew had shown up, he’d taken advantage of it. He found a way to get to the top of the canyon walls a few hundred feet past the entrance. A trail of sorts wound up for a spectacular view of the area.

But it wasn’t the view he was interested in. Not wanting to set off another rock slide with people in the canyon, he waited until they’d all left before he moved cautiously toward the rim. He knew exactly what he was looking for—a spot where the rocks had been displaced and any sign of recent footprints.

The wind was strong up here. It sang as it blew through the rocks and pines. He’d left his horse tied up in the pines below. As he walked, he found dozens of footprints. Clearly a lot of people had discovered this spot. He wondered how many people from the production company had known about the trail.

As he neared the edge of the rock cliff, he saw where rocks had recently been displaced. There were fresh tracks next to the spot. He bent down to inspect them. It appeared someone had been walking along the edge of the canyon and stopped at this spot to look down. The footprints ended where rock had broken away and dropped over the side.

Someone wearing man-sized cowboy boots had set off the rock slide. Had the man followed Ainsley? Had he known she was down there and purposely started the rock slide or had it been an accident?

Once he had ridden back and put his horse and saddle away, Sawyer headed for his cabin behind the hotel. He was deciding how to proceed when a female voice called, “Sawyer?”

He turned and swore under his breath as he recognized the last woman he’d rescued. Katherine “Kitzie” McCormick. She walked toward him, squinting in the sun as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. He couldn’t either. What was she doing here? His mind raced for an explanation as to his presence here, realizing he was going to have to tell her the truth, even though it could get him into trouble with his real job if his boss found out.

“Sawyer, what are you doing here?” she demanded in a whisper when she reached him. “I thought you were on medical leave? Tell me they didn’t send you as my backup.” Anger brought her words out in a spurt like machine gun fire. “If you think you are going to come in here like you have always done and save the day—”

“I’m not here...officially.”

That stopped her cold. She took a step back, studying him openly. “What does that mean?”

It was clear that she thought their boss had sent him to check up on her—or save her again if the need arose. “I’m not on the clock officially or unofficially. It’s...personal.”

He caught the twinkle in her eye, the half grin, and cursed his bad luck along with his poor choice of words. Now she thought he was here because of her. He definitely was going to have to tell her the truth. “Is there somewhere we could talk?”

She smiled. “How about my cabin? Oh, hold on a minute,” she said as an old pickup rattled past. “That’s my delivery guy. I forgot he was coming today. I’ll be right back.”

Sawyer watched her take off at a run to intercept the driver of the truck. He couldn’t believe his bad luck at finding Kitzie here, he thought as she stood talking to the driver, a guy wearing his baseball cap on backward.

“You’re working here?” he asked when she joined him again.

Kitzie didn’t answer as she led the way to a cabin on the other side of the wide expanse behind the hotel. As she pulled out the key for cabin No. 3, he worried. Given their history, he knew this could get ugly if he wasn’t careful. She seemed to have it in her head that this was about the two of them. She wouldn’t be happy when she learned the truth. But he couldn’t see what choice he had. He certainly couldn’t let her go on thinking what she was right now.

But what was she doing here? She pushed open the cabin door, and he followed her inside the small, cramped space. Glancing around, he took in the dated knotty pine interior. It was only large enough for a couch, fold-down kitchen table and one folding chair, a tiny kitchen with an old fridge, a miniature bathroom with a toilet and shower, and a bedroom with a bed that had seen better days. All the essentials of home, he thought, realizing his would be exactly like this.

Kitzie moved to the refrigerator, opened it and took out two beers. Without asking him, she handed him one, opened one for herself and curled up at the end of the couch.

He took the folding kitchen chair and pulled it up, rather than joining her on the small couch. She didn’t miss the gesture. A frown crossed her face before she checked it and took a sip of her beer.

“So, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m doing a friend a favor.” That didn’t seem to relieve her curiosity. “So you’re working here?”

“I’m undercover in charge of feeding everyone.”

“You cook?” That would be more surprising than hearing she was undercover.

She rolled her eyes. “I oversee the kitchen. I grocery shop mostly and get two teens from town to do the real cooking.”

“So you’re...undercover?” he repeated, wondering if she was on the same case he was. Maybe Ainsley’s father had made an official request for surveillance on his daughter.

“You first,” Kitzie said. “If you aren’t here...officially, then tell me about this...favor.”

“I thought we might be here for the same reason. One of the other employees here has a stalker.”

Her brow shot up, and he knew that wasn’t her assignment. “A stalker? What employee?”

“Ainsley Hamilton.”

“Ainsley?” She laughed and took a big gulp of her beer. The rich honey-brown eyes he’d once found beautiful had turned dark with instant jealousy at even the mention of another woman. Even one involved in a case. Anger pinched her features. She shook her head with both disappointment and fury. “And I thought you might be here because of me.”

“I’m sorry you thought that. I think it was pretty clear when we broke up that things were over between us.”

“Did you?” She wiped a hand across her mouth. “So you’re going to save prim and proper Miss Ainsley. That is what you do, isn’t it? Save them and leave them.”

He ignored that, wondering why she had referred to Ainsley as prim and proper. “She doesn’t know who I am. Or, as you said, what I really do. So I’d appreciate it if this stayed just between us. I’m still on medical leave.”

“I noticed you were limping. Another heroic rescue on your part?”

He didn’t answer that. “I’d appreciate it if Ainsley continues to think I’m nothing more than an extra.” He waited for her to agree.

Kitzie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So someone is really stalking her?”

“Apparently. Have you noticed anyone on the commercial paying extra attention to her?”

The laugh had barbs in it. “Are you kidding? Every man here has paid her extra attention—not that it’s gotten them anywhere. She’s not...sociable.”

He hated how quickly jealousy had reared its ugly head. He was sure Kitzie had been jealous of Ainsley before this, but now it would be worse. “I’m not interested in her, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve never even laid eyes on her before today.”

Her smile was snide. “I’m sure you found her...refreshingly charming.”

He took a sip of his beer and glanced around the cabin. This was one of the reasons their “relationship” hadn’t lasted long. “So, how many people are up here on a daily basis since the commercial began?” he asked, changing the subject.

“It’s a small video production crew, bare bones and, no doubt, low budget. They’re still in preproduction right now and haven’t starting shooting much yet. I can give you a list of the players. Ainsley is still scouting locations. Gun is hard to please.”

“Gun?”

“Devon Gunderson, the producer-director. The rest of his crew he brought up from California with him. He’s only been in town a few weeks.”

If Ainsley’s stalker had been following her for months, then it couldn’t be any of the main crew or Gunderson, Sawyer thought. “I understand some locals have been hired?”

“You mean other than the teenagers I got to cook?” She nodded. “There’s Ted Carter, the wrangler, and Lance Roderick, security.”

“I’ve met Ted. I passed Roderick on the way in. That’s it?”

She nodded. “A few people come and go. As for security, you don’t really need more than someone to keep everyone out of the carnival equipment.”

He glanced toward the window. “I saw the Ferris wheel all the way from the bottom of the mountain,” he said as he watched the deliveryman wander over to talk to some older man working on the Tilt-A-Whirl. “I would imagine it attracts attention. Is it for the commercial?”

Kitzie nodded. “Gun wanted a carnival, so he hired some guy by the name of Ken Hale to haul it up here and get it going. From what I’ve heard, it’s the final shot of the commercial. It will be up and running in the next couple of days. But I doubt you’ll be here that long, once you save Ainsley from her...stalker.”

He could tell that she didn’t believe Ainsley was being stalked. What did she think—that the young woman had made it up to get attention? Probably. It was something Kitzie might have done herself. But she hadn’t seen how afraid Ainsley had been earlier.

Kitzie was letting her unreasonable jealousy get the better of her judgment. He felt a deep sense of regret at the way things had turned out between them as he put down his half-empty beer on the table and rose. “I’d ask about your undercover assignment—”

“It has nothing to do with Ainsley Hamilton or her stalker. Nor am I about to let you in on it. We both know how...involved you get in a case. I don’t want you in mine.”

He nodded. “I cared about you, Katherine. I still do.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Just not enough, though.”

He couldn’t argue that. “Thanks for keeping it quiet about my real reason for being here,” he said, even though she hadn’t promised. “I’m afraid whoever’s been stalking Ainsley is getting more...aggressive. Just between you and me, Ainsley had a near accident today while out scouting locations.”

“Let me guess,” she said with a laugh. “You saved her.”

Sawyer could see that there was nothing more to be said, so he did something he hated doing. He lied. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Sure it is,” she said.

“If you need my help—”

“I won’t.”

CHAPTER FOUR

AINSLEY SPENT A busy afternoon with the director and the cameraman discussing the logistics of the next few locations. Gunderson was upset about not being able to use Box Canyon. His cameraman, a long-haired thirtysomething named T.K. Clark, suggested some ideas, while “Gun” made more demands of Ainsley to find something perfect. Fortunately, she hadn’t had time to think about earlier and how close she’d come to dying.

She was studying a local map for more ideas, when the woman who ran the cafeteria stopped next to her.

“You’re certainly burning the midnight oil,” Kitzie said. “Did you even have dinner?”

Ainsley was surprised, first, that Kitzie would even notice that she’d been missing at mealtime and, secondly, that the woman was talking to her at all. Since the project had begun, the attractive redhead had been anything but friendly.

“There’s a group getting together around a bonfire,” Kitzie said. “Come on. I heard there would be something to drink. You look like you could use one.”

“Thanks, but I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Well, I am,” the woman said, taking her arm. “And I need the company, so come on.”

For days Ainsley had wished for some female company since all of the crew she worked with were male. Growing up with five sisters, she missed girl talk. Not that she expected that with Kitzie. But she went along because of the woman’s insistence and, also, because she didn’t want to be alone tonight after what had happened in the canyon.

“So, where are you from?” the cafeteria manager asked as they walked toward the glow of a blaze some distance away.

“Beartooth, Montana,” she said and told her about growing up on the ranch with her five sisters and her father. She didn’t mention that she was the daughter of Republican presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton. Either Kitzie already knew that or didn’t put it together.

“Huh” was all the woman said when Ainsley finished. By then they had reached the bonfire where the crew had gathered. Even Gunderson had joined them. He stood on the other side of the blaze talking to Ken Hale, the owner of the carnival that would be the last shot before the commercial wrapped.

Hale was a big man with a round red face and a hearty laugh. He and Gunderson seemed to be in deep conversation before Gun, as everyone called him, moved away from the fire.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” Kitzie said, heading for the cooler someone had brought. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there is something nonalcoholic in there.”

* * *

DEVON GUNDERSON TOOK his drink and walked toward the meadow until he reached the Ferris wheel. He turned to look back at the old hotel and the cabins tucked in the pines on the mountainside behind it.

He wished Hale would get some of the rides going. Tonight he’d love to be sitting on the top of the Ferris wheel when the lights came on in the small town in the distance. He did his best thinking far and away from other people.

A splattering of laughter rose beyond the pines where the crew had gathered beside the creek. He could smell the smoke of the campfire drifting on the breeze as he sat down on the Ferris wheel seat. It rocked, creaking under his weight.

From the first time his father had taken him to a carnival he had been enchanted. The lights, the noise, the brittle cheapness of it. He even liked the carnies calling to him, determined to steal his last dime on some game he couldn’t possibly win. And then there had been the rides.

Just thinking about it made him smile. That’s why he had to use a carnival in this commercial, his last. He had to return to that childhood place where he’d first began to dream that he could do whatever he wanted with his life. He’d known at a young age that he wasn’t going to fulfill any of his parents’ fantasies of success. He was cut out for better things. Like the carnival, he liked the sleight of hand, the lure of riches in a game of chance, the promise of something beyond imagination.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Hale said, coming out of the darkness.

He grimaced to himself, having not wanted company. But even if he’d told the old carnie this, it wouldn’t have kept him away. Not a man like Hale.

“Turn this thing on,” Gun said. “I want to go for a ride.”

The older man shook his head. “Even if I could see to crank it up, I’m not going to. Hell, I’d get you up on top and the thing would stop. I don’t think you want to spend the night up there while I’m down here working on it in the dark.”

“You might be surprised.”

Hale shoved him over where he could sit next to him. He was breathing hard after the walk all the way out here in the meadow. “You sure picked an out-of-the-way place for this little...get-together.”

“I like it out here.” When he’d first seen the hotel, he’d been tempted to buy it when this was all over. He had thoughts of restoring it, making the place earn its keep, but had quickly realized that he wouldn’t have liked it once it was full of noisy tourists.

“Aren’t you going to miss it?” Hale asked.

Gun knew he wasn’t referring to this place. “It’s time. As that old gambling song goes, you’ve got to know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em.”

“And know when to walk away or when to run?” Hale looked over at him. “Is that what you’re doing, Gun? Running? I heard about your divorce. Another man, I heard.”

He stood, this conversation over as far as he was concerned. Stepping off the ride, he started toward the hotel.

“I’m not sure I like where your head is at right now.”

At those words, Gun stopped and turned to look back at him. It was too dark to make out Hale’s features. The Ferris wheel seat rocked and creaked under the big man’s weight. The breeze whispered through the nearby pines and rustled the dry grass of the meadow. A chain on one of the rides clinked softly.

“You don’t want to go there,” Gun said.

“Come on, I know you. You and I go way back. I know how you felt about her.”

“Don’t mistake a business partnership for friendship,” Gun said carefully. “You’re overstepping, Hale. Don’t do it again. And I want that Ferris wheel running tomorrow.” With that he turned and took the back way to his cabin, so he could avoid those around the campfire by the creek. He wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone.

* * *

AFTER MOVING HIS few belongings into his cabin, Sawyer had spent the remainder of the day learning everything he could about Spotlight Images, Inc., and its current employees. He’d had Sheriff Curry run all the license plates from the vehicles parked around the cabins and hotel, as well as the names of the crew. Kitzie had slipped a list of the names and jobs under his cabin door earlier.

It was definitely a bare-bones crew for a video production company. He’d been glad when Frank had called him with information on the main players.

Devon “Gun” Gunderson was the director as well as producer. Sawyer had seen him earlier in the canyon with Ainsley. Divorced three times, he was fifty-four, blond, blue-eyed and stocky. He had an air about him that told Sawyer he ran the show with an iron fist.

His camera and boom operator was a long-haired thirty-four-year-old named T.K. Clark. He’d been with Spotlight Images, Inc., since it began five years before. He wore his long, dishwater blond hair in a ponytail and sported a half dozen tattoos.

With the company since its inception, Nathan Grant was thirty-eight, divorced twice, and employed as a lighting technician and carpenter. He looked like the dark-haired moody type behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

Twenty-eight-year-old Bobby LeRoy was a handyman. He’d been with the company only a month.

None had any priors. The one man here with an arrest record was the founder of Goodtimes Entertainment, the fifty-year-old who owned the carnival now set up in the meadow. Ken Hale was a big brawler of a man who apparently liked to fight, according to his several arrest records.

“He’s all carnie. Born and raised traveling with his parents who worked the show,” Frank had told him. “The only other one you asked about, the security guard, Lance Roderick? He’s a former lawyer. Filed bankruptcy a year ago after being disbarred. Pulled some legal shenanigan.”

From lawyer to security guard on a fly-by-night video production company. That definitely sent up a red flag.

Sawyer had thanked Frank and headed for the hotel. He managed to grab a bite to eat in the kitchen just before it closed without crossing paths with Kitzie or Ainsley. This time of year, it got dark by six. As he walked around, he noticed that Ainsley’s cabin was unlit.

Voices and laughter carried on the breeze. He followed the sound to find the crew around a big campfire in the pines next to the spring creek. He helped himself to a beer from one of the coolers someone had dragged up and, staying in the shadows, simply watched. Of the group around the fire, he gathered most of them were the crew. The man he’d seen earlier, Lance Roderick, was still wearing his uniform shirt.

It was hard to tell if any of the men were more interested in Ainsley than was warranted. She was a beautiful woman. They all flirted with her and Kitzie, except for the man Sawyer took for the carnie, Ken Hale. Hale had left the fire for a while but had only recently returned. Hale had noticed Ainsley. His gaze kept straying to her. But his wasn’t the only one.

Lance Roderick secretly watched her as if not wanting anyone to know. Bobby LeRoy wasn’t as sneaky about it. Neither was T.K. Clark.

Not that he could blame them. Ainsley’s face glowed in the firelight, making her even more striking.

The only person missing was Gunderson. Kitzie hung around for a while, joking with the men before saying she was turning in for the night. As the fire burned down and the night cooled, he watched people wander off. LeRoy, Clark, Grant and Hale headed into town, after trying to get Ainsley to go with them and failing.

Roderick stayed only for a little bit before he trundled off, saying he had to take a look around to make sure everything was locked down for the night.

Sawyer waited until the guard left before he moved up to the dying fire—and Ainsley. As he joined her, she didn’t look up. All night she’d seemed lost in the flames, avoiding conversation with the others and keeping to herself.

That’s why he was surprised when she asked, “Have you ever had your life flash in front of your eyes?”

She sounded tipsy, and he wondered what she’d been drinking. He’d noticed that her glass hadn’t been empty while Kitzie was there. Kitzie had been keeping them both in refreshments.

At her question, Sawyer chuckled to himself given his near-death experience from the train—not to mention the rock slide earlier. “I take it yours passed before your eyes?”

She nodded, still not looking at him, her blue eyes wide in the firelight, her attention locked on the flames. “Today I realized I’ve never done anything. I’m the oldest of my sisters, the good one, the one everybody in my family depends on. But guess what?”

He hated to guess. Nor did she give him a chance.

“I’ve never lived. I’ve never...cut loose. The most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done is quit law school.”

“Then why did you quit?”

Ainsley shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was my one act of rebellion.”

“So, do you still want to be a lawyer?”

“Actually, I do.” She laughed, losing balance and stumbling a little. He caught her arm. She wasn’t just a little tipsy. She was drunk.

“What is that you’re drinking?” he asked.

She frowned as she looked down at the liquid in her large plastic cup. “Tea. Strong tea. Kitzie made it for me.”

He’d just bet she had. He took the paper cup from Ainsley and sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “I’d say it was strong. Hundred proof. Have you ever been drunk before?”

“I told you, I’ve never done anything before.” She took it back from him and, draining it with a grimace, tossed the cup into the fire. The paper cup flamed up, sending sparks into the air. Smiling, she turned to him for the first time since he’d joined her.

She blinked. “I know you. You’re that cowboy who saved my life and took off without even giving me a chance to say thank you.”

“Sawyer Nash,” he said, extending his hand.

Her hand was warm and small in his. “The new Ainsley Hamilton,” she announced with a flourish. “I’m sick of being the old me. I feel like a snake that’s about to shed its skin.” Her eyes sparkled in the firelight. “I feel like doing something completely not like the old me.” She looked around, her gaze lighting on the dark silhouettes of the carnival in the meadow. “I’m going to climb that Ferris wheel and bay at the moon.”

He couldn’t let her do that. Not in her condition. “Why don’t I walk you back to your cabin?”

She shook her head. “I’ve had enough of men trying to protect me. Putting me on a pedestal. I’m like the princess who’s been locked in her tower. I’m suddenly free, and I want to do something wild and completely irresponsible.” Her big blue eyes locked with his. “Don’t you want to do it with me?”

Damned if he didn’t. She wasn’t just beautiful with her long blond hair and moon-like blue eyes; there was something endearing about her—even drunk. He also knew what it was like to be the good son, the one his parents had depended on.

She sighed. “There is so much I haven’t done, I don’t even know where to begin. What should we do first?” she asked, slurring her words. Her gaze went to the spring creek nearby in the pines. “I’ve never been skinny-dipping. Let’s go skinny-dipping!” She began unbuttoning her Western shirt as she moved away from the campfire toward the creek.

Hell, that water would be freezing cold this time of year. But he couldn’t very well let her go in alone. She’d drown for sure. He followed her trail of discarded clothing through the darkness of the pines to find her standing naked at the edge of a deep dark pool in the crook of the stream. Silhouetted there against the moonlight, she was a sight for sore eyes.

“You coming in?” she asked over her shoulder and then fell face forward into the water.

CHAPTER FIVE

AINSLEY WOKE WITH the worst headache of her life. She groaned as she opened her eyes and quickly closed them.

“Here, this might help.”

Her eyes flew open, sending a dagger of pain straight to her brain. She grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her neck as she stared at the strange man not only in her cabin, but also sitting on the edge of her bed.

“What are you doing here?” she cried and quickly peeked under the sheet. She was naked as a jaybird. “Oh no, I didn’t!”

“You didn’t,” he said in a deep, sultry voice she remembered. This was the cowboy who’d saved her in the canyon—but at what cost? “Your virtue is safe.”

“How long have you been here?” She spotted his boots by the door. “You stayed all night?”

“I didn’t trust you not to do something even more...wild, given your condition.”

“More wild than what?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Skinny-dipping.”

She groaned and, sliding back down in the bed, covered her head with the sheet. “Please tell me I was alone,” she said in a tremulous voice from under the sheet. “The rest of the movie crew—”

“Weren’t there. It was just the two of us.” He pulled the sheet down until their eyes met and gave her a big smile. Had she noticed last night how handsome he was? Is that why she’d decided to go skinny-dipping with a complete stranger? Well, nearly a complete stranger.

“You were the only one naked,” he said, as if trying to reassure her. “Actually, you were the only one who went in the water, except for when I had to wade in to fish you out.”

She didn’t think she could feel worse. “I might have had too much to drink.”

“You think?”

“I don’t drink but a glass of wine occasionally. Normally.”

“So I gathered.”

Ainsley realized she didn’t remember any of this. Memory loss ran in her family, she mused, thinking of her mother’s return from the dead and complete lack of memory of those missing twenty-two years. The stray thought might have made her laugh if she hadn’t felt so awful.

“I don’t remember...anything,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry. Nothing happened, other than you sobering up from the icy water enough that I could get you back to your cabin and to bed. Alone. I slept on the couch.”

She glanced over and saw his black Stetson and his jean jacket on the couch.

“Now, drink this.” He handed her the glass he’d been holding. As she peered suspiciously at the ugly thick brown sludge, he said, “Trust me. That is going to make you feel much better.”

“It looks...awful.”

“It’s my own remedy for a hangover.”

“I’ve never had a hangover before.”

He laughed. “Apparently Kitzie was making your drinks? You might make your own in the future.”

She was still staring at the glass of thick brown stuff.

“Best to chug it.” He stood. “I don’t know about you, but I have to get to work. I have to go before everyone in camp sees me leaving your cabin.”

Ainsley felt her eyes widen in alarm.

“Don’t worry. It’s still early. Your reputation is safe.”

She groaned. “I don’t understand what happened last night, but it won’t happen again.”

“That’s too bad. You were trying out the new Ainsley Hamilton. She was up for anything. I kind of liked her.”

“I’ll just bet you did.” She tried to summon what dignity she could. “Well, I won’t be needing your...assistance again because of intoxication.”

“That’s too bad, too.” He gave her a wink before he stepped to the couch. She sat up to watch him pull on his boots, hat and jacket.

“We won’t be seeing that Ainsley Hamilton again,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Back to the old, boring Ainsley Hamilton.”

“Just between you and me, there is nothing wrong with the old Ainsley Hamilton either.” With that, he left.

She took a whiff of the drink and her stomach roiled. Holding her nose with her free hand, she chugged the thick liquid and gagged. What had the man given her? She thought for a moment that she was going to be sick. But then her stomach began to settle down. After a few minutes, she felt better.

By the time she came out of the shower and dressed, she had faith she could do what had to be done today without going back to bed—or worse, curling up and dying.

Her cell phone rang. Checking it, she saw that it was her mother calling. It still gave her an odd feeling when she saw the name Sarah Hamilton come up on the screen—after believing her mother dead for twenty-two years. Almost two years ago now, her mother had returned out of the blue with no memory of where she’d been. Her mother’s last memory was giving birth to the twins, Cassidy and Harper, both now almost twenty-five.

Ainsley was surprised that Sarah was calling and instantly worried. Her mother never called. Then again, Ainsley hadn’t really reached out to her mother. She felt a stab of guilt. She certainly hadn’t tried to make her mother’s transition back into their lives any easier.

If anyone should be reaching out to her mother, it was Ainsley since she was the oldest of Sarah’s six daughters and one of the few who actually remembered her. She’d been twelve when her mother had supposedly died after crashing her car into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter. Her body was never recovered, something not that unusual in the wilds of Montana.

“Mother? Is something wrong?” she said into the phone.

“No, that is, I’m just checking to make sure you’ll be home before election night. Your father wants us all together.”

“I only have a few more days here, and then I was planning to come to the ranch.”

“Good,” her mother said.

The conversation stalled as it always did. Ainsley never knew what to say. She glanced at her watch. She really needed to go. “I heard you moved back into the house after you and Dad got married again.” They’d had an impromptu wedding by going to the justice of the peace.

While Bo, Olivia and the twins, Harper and Cassidy, had been upset that their parents hadn’t waited and had a “real” wedding with all six daughters in attendance, Ainsley was glad they’d been spared the event. She knew Kat felt the same way.

“Yes. I forgot how beautiful it is here on the ranch,” her mother was saying. “The view from the main house is wonderful.”

Her mother had returned from the dead to find her former husband had remarried, and a woman named Angelina Broadwater Hamilton wasn’t just living in her house, but sleeping in her bed.

For a while the media had played up the love triangle between the three. Ainsley had seen how conflicted her father had been during that time. He’d loved Sarah, had six daughters with her and had grieved years before remarrying.

Then Angelina had been killed in a car wreck, leaving the door open for Sarah and Buck to get back together. Because he was running for president, it had taken them some time, but they’d finally tied the knot again. Ainsley knew her father was hoping their remarriage would bring his family together once more.

“Well,” her mother said into the long silence. “I look forward to seeing you when you get home. Your sister Olivia thinks we should have a family celebration. Your father and I got married so quickly...”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said, rolling her eyes. It sounded...awkward. But maybe they would all accept their mother, and things would turn out just fine. “I would love to help with the...celebration,” she heard the old Ainsley say politely. “I’m sure my other sisters would, as well.” Probably not Kat, but she didn’t say that. Kat refused to call their mother anything but Sarah. Who knew what her problem was? Ainsley hadn’t been home enough to find out.

“It would make your father so happy.” But Ainsley could hear a note of happiness in her mother’s voice, too. Maybe it was possible to put this family back together again—before both of her parents headed off to Washington, DC. According to the polls, Republican hopeful Buckmaster Hamilton was going to win by a landslide.

Landslide. She shuddered at the memory of yesterday and how close she’d come to dying. Sawyer Nash had saved her then—and again last night. She thought about the cowboy and found herself smiling. So Sawyer Nash was partial to the new Ainsley Hamilton, was he?

A part of her still wanted to cut loose and have more fun. She was sick of being the good daughter, the good sister, the good girl. Wasn’t it time? But maybe she wouldn’t be quite as carefree as she’d apparently been last night.

That close call in the canyon had made her realize it was time. She would definitely have more fun—as soon as she felt better. She wondered what Sawyer would think about that.

* * *

KITZIE HAD LET out a curse as she’d watched Sawyer come out of Ainsley Hamilton’s cabin earlier. She’d blamed herself. She shouldn’t have spiked the woman’s tea. It had been childish and reckless. She smiled to herself. It had been fun to see another side of the prim and proper Miss Hamilton.

She wondered what Sawyer had thought of it. Of course, he had seen Ainsley home to her cabin. She should have anticipated that, knowing the man. But also knowing Sawyer, he wouldn’t have taken advantage of a woman in that condition. Still, she knew his protective side and could well imagine him holding Ainsley’s head while she puked in the toilet—if it had come to that.

Moving away from her cabin window, she told herself she had bigger fish to fry. Whatever Sawyer was up to, it was no longer any of her business.

Still it rankled her that Ainsley was just the kind of woman he would jump at saving. Even still injured and on medical leave, that was Sawyer. She wondered what friend had talked Sawyer into playing hero for the no-doubt future president’s daughter.

Right now, though, she needed to concentrate on her own job. And yet it nagged at her. Was Ainsley really being stalked, or was this about getting attention during her father’s election? And if there was a stalker, why would Sawyer keep his true purpose from the woman?

Kitzie shook her head, trying to clear Sawyer from her thoughts. It was a losing battle and had been for some time. She’d fallen for the man. That thought made her chest ache just as it had for months. She loved him, and even though she’d known he didn’t feel the same about her, she’d thought he would eventually.

Fool, she told herself now as she hurried to get dressed for her undercover job overseeing the kitchen for the crew. Sawyer being here was a distraction she didn’t need. She was no closer to solving her case than she had been when she’d hired on. She could feel the clock ticking. The video production company was set to move on in a matter of days. If she was right, the company was a front for the jewel thieves. She just had to prove it.

While other agents were looking into other leads, her gut told her the answer was here. Of the thirty-six mall jewelry stores hit across the country, this production company had been in the area all but one time. The most recent heist had been in St. George, Utah, where Spotlight Images, Inc. had been shooting nearby.

The burglars took only those items that had no serial numbers so were nearly impossible to trace. One of their favorites was a man’s watch known as “the poor man’s Rolex,” which could be resold for five-hundred dollars. The rest of the gold jewelry would be melted down, no doubt.

A security camera had captured three men, all clearly in disguises, before they’d disarmed it. This was another reason she suspected the production crew. They had access to makeup artists and costumes.

They also had access to tools. In one burglary, they had used a battery-powered saw to cut the gate at the jewelry store. So there was some know-how, as well. They knew how to cut power to the store, shutting down the surveillance cameras. From what she’d seen of the small crew, they all seemed pretty capable of doing a variety of jobs.

The thieves had worn gloves, since no fingerprints had been found or any other evidence she could use to pin the heists on these men. So far they had eluded both the police and the FBI.

“Just because they’re handy with tools doesn’t mean they’re jewel thieves,” her partner, Pete Corran, had argued.

“They were in the area for all the heists but one,” she’d argued back.

“Proof, Kitzie. And soon, or we’re going to be pulled off onto something else. I am doing my best to keep an eye on the people who are capable of fencing that much loot. But nothing so far.”

“This shoot will be over in a few days. They’re talking about taking some time off, maybe going south for the winter,” Kitzie had told him. “I’m telling you, they are going to fence the goods here in Montana in a few days. I can...feel it.”

“I’m a believer in your gut instincts, partner, so give me something I can work with.”

She wished she could. She’d been watching the bunch of them, but she hadn’t turned up anything. What if her instincts were off? Her boss thought they were. Since she’d screwed up, and Sawyer had had to save her months ago, she’d felt that her boss didn’t trust her instincts anymore. She had to prove herself.

She needed this arrest because, without Sawyer, all she had was her career, and her boss was getting antsy. No mall jewelry stores had been hit for weeks now. Also, there were no close towns with mall jewelry stores. Either they were taking a break before the holidays or... Or they were here to fence the goods.

So was there a fence in Montana who could handle a major deal? Pete was busy on that end of things. In the meantime, she’d already scoped out the men on the crew who she believed were involved based on the one surveillance video, her experience with men and criminals. She even had a good idea who the leader was. She was putting her money on Gunderson. But she had no proof. Yet.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for the burglars to make a move. The one thing she couldn’t do was let Sawyer distract her. Or worse, blow her cover trying to protect the Hamilton woman.

* * *

SAWYER DIDN’T OPEN the plastic bag in his pocket until he reached his own cabin. He gingerly removed the note he’d found the night before taped to Ainsley’s door.

The handwriting looked hurried, a scrawl of letters that he feared said too much about the writer.

I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you today in the canyon. Please forgive me. I would never hurt you. You are the most precious thing to me.

Sawyer felt a chill as he pulled out his cell phone. He’d seen notes like this before from “fans” who could turn ugly in an instant.

“Any chance of getting some fingerprints run?” he said in the phone when Sheriff Frank Curry answered.

“You’ve already found Ainsley’s stalker?” Frank asked, sounding surprised, before he laughed. “I knew you were the man for the job.”

“We’ll see about that.” He related what had happened the day before. “I do think it was an accident, but she still could have been killed.”

“Maybe he’ll leave her alone now,” Frank said.

“I don’t think so. He’s upset about yesterday, but I don’t think it will deter him, especially if he’s been following her for months. At least now I know that he is out here. He taped the note to her cabin door. That means he isn’t worried about anyone seeing him around the cabins. Also, he had access to paper from a scratch pad like the ones I saw in the main office.”

“You sound more worried,” the sheriff said.

“I was hoping the reason he was following her had something to do with her father and the presidential race.”

“You’ve ruled that out?”

“Not entirely. But I’d rather have a political fanatic than a romantic one. This guy seems a little too desperate that she might not like him after what happened yesterday. I’m anxious to find him and put a stop to this. The commercial will be over in a few days. He’ll be easier to find here than when Ainsley leaves. At least I hope that is the case.”

“Be careful.”

Sawyer laughed. “You know me.”

“That’s what is starting to worry me. You’ve already been injured. I don’t want to see you get killed because of me. What do you think of Ainsley?”

Sawyer thought of her naked in the moonlight. “She’s quite the woman.” He chuckled. “I’ll send the note he left her. I’m betting he was upset enough that he didn’t think to be careful about leaving his prints.”

CHAPTER SIX

“HOW’S YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” Kitzie asked as she sat down next to Sawyer in the kitchen at breakfast. Everyone had already finished and gone back to work, so they had one of the tables to themselves.

He didn’t take the bait. Kitzie knew that Ainsley wasn’t his girlfriend—not that it stopped her from being jealous. “She isn’t feeling so hot today.”

“Really? Must be something going around.”

“Yup,” he said, knowing that Kitzie had purposely gotten Ainsley drunk last night. But he wasn’t about to get into it with her. “Must be.”

She chuckled.

“Thanks for the information you slipped under my door.”

Kitzie glanced toward the back part of the kitchen where both teenagers were supposed to be cleaning up. Instead they were texting on their cell phones. “I did remember something that might help you.” She lowered her voice. “Bobby LeRoy. I’ve seen him watching her. I didn’t think anything about it until you told me what you’re doing here. What caught my attention was that he wasn’t looking at her like a man looks at a woman. He seemed...protective, you know what I mean?”

He considered that. “The security guard, Roderick? He seems a bit odd. Has anyone else been hanging around?”

“Not really. We’re isolated here, so we don’t get many visitors. The hotel owner comes up occasionally. The delivery guy brings up supplies every day or so.” She shrugged. “He’s been trying to butter up to Gunderson, thinks he can get into the movies. Don’t we all?”

He was taking this all in as he finished his breakfast. Bobby LeRoy was young and foolish, from what he’d seen. Roderick? He was something else altogether. So was the wannabe movie star.

“I’m surprised you got a cabin,” Kitzie said, studying him openly. “Murph must have liked the looks of you. I heard she turned down all the other cowboys who came up to audition.”

“Murph?”

“Murphy Hillinger, the woman who hired you.”

“Who has access to the four-wheelers and the horses?”

Kitzie shrugged. “Anyone who needs them.”

“Including security?”

“I believe Roderick patrols the area every night on horseback. If that’s all, I have to get my crew lined out on the lunch menu.” She got to her feet.

He turned to look at her. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anything for an old...friend.” She left, having hardly touched her breakfast. “Good luck.”

* * *

AS LUCK WOULD have it, the first person Ainsley had to deal with this morning was Gunderson.

“The canyon scene isn’t going to work out. I need you to find some other locations we can use, and I need them by noon,” he ordered. “By the way, you look terrible.”

“Thanks.” Her cell phone rang as she was heading for the stables. It was her sister Kat. “Good morning,” she said by way of greeting. “I can’t talk. I need to get saddled up and off to work.”

“You call that work?” Kat said but quickly got to her reason for phoning. “Dad asked me to call and make sure you were going to be home for election night.”

“Mother already called me early this morning to confirm that I would be there. Did she mention to you that there is going to be a party, kind of a celebration of their marriage? Apparently we’re putting it on for them. I said we would help.”

Kat groaned. Besides refusing to call her mother, she still acted suspicious of everything Sarah did. “Whatever,” she said of the party. “Election night we’re all going to be at the Beartooth Fairgrounds, along with a thousand well-wishers and who knows how many crazies who might want the family dead.”

“What are you talking about?” Ainsley asked. “This isn’t about The Prophecy, that anarchist group from the 1970s that you’re convinced our mother was a part of, is it?”

“She was the leader.”

Ainsley rolled her eyes as she entered the stables. Ted was already saddling her horse. He grinned at her and mouthed, “Knew you’d need it this morning.”

She mouthed thank you back.

“Security will be a nightmare, but you know Dad,” Kat was saying. “We’ve all done our best to talk him out of it. The Republican Committee wanted it in the capital in Helena, but Dad wants it here. We should all wear bulletproof vests, not that it would probably do any good since Sarah’s MO is bombs.”

Kat had always been the doomsday negative sister, so it was hard to tell if there really was a security problem or if this was just Kat being Kat. Except since she’d met Max and fallen in love, she’d been more upbeat.

“I’m sure there will be dozens of Secret Service to protect him,” Ainsley said, trying to lighten the conversation. “Let’s just be happy for Dad.”

“There will be a lot of Secret Service, but only because Sheriff Curry insisted on it. You know Dad. He thinks he’s invincible. Frank is calling in local law enforcement as well as the National Guard.”

“So it should be fine.”

“Yep, one big happy family on parade.”

Ainsley knew her sister’s sarcasm stemmed from her problems with their mother and this crazy idea of hers that their mother was some kind of terrorist. “Now that Dad and Mom are married again—”

“I’m not worried about putting on a party for the two of them. There’s a lot you don’t know. Let’s just hope Dad survives election night. Let’s hope we all do. I have to go.”

Ainsley disconnected, her headache pounding. Kat couldn’t forgive their mother for disappearing for twenty-two years from their lives. Since it had only been months after the twins were born, Ainsley had speculated that maybe their mother had been suffering from postpartum depression. Why else would she leave six children and a husband she professed to love to try to kill herself that night in the river?

She sighed. Kat’s problems with their mother aside, what was that about Dad surviving election night? Why did Kat always have to be so dramatic? And what was this about Mother being the leader of The Prophecy? She wondered where Kat got this kind of stuff. As far as Ainsley knew, some of the members had tried to throw their mother under suspicion to hurt their father’s presidential campaign, but it hadn’t worked.

Ainsley wasn’t looking forward to election night either for her own personal reasons. She hated being in the spotlight. But this wasn’t about her. It would be their father’s night. He’d worked hard for this and deserved to have his family by his side when he won the election, which according to the polls, was in the bag.

She felt goose bumps along with a surge of pride. Her father would make a wonderful president. She just hoped it was everything he thought it would be. As for their mother... Just a few more days and she would be home. Then she could decide if Kat’s concerns were valid.

“Good, I’m not too late to catch you.”

She turned to find Kitzie standing in the stables doorway, silhouetting her against the bright October day. “A peace offering,” Kitzie said and held out what looked like a small breakfast burrito wrapped in plastic. “I just ran into Gun, so I know you missed breakfast. Sorry about spiking your tea last night.”

Ainsley took the burrito. “Thank you. Actually, you might have done me a favor last night. Now I’ll never drink again.” They both laughed.

“Well, I’d better get to work,” Kitzie said and turned to leave.

She looked down at the burrito. Just the smell was enough to make her want to barf. “Hungry?” she asked Ted.

His blue eyes lit up. “Always.”

“I thought that might be the case,” she said, and thanked him again for saddling her horse before riding out.

* * *

BUCK STOOD AT the window of another nondescript room in yet another city. He was tired, but he could see the end just days away. Except there was a bone-weariness about him this morning that he couldn’t seem to shake off. He knew it well. It was a feeling of impending disaster. It had been with him now for almost two years—not long before Sarah dropped back into their lives.

He told himself that he was too busy finishing up his campaign to worry. But late at night he would suddenly come out of a deep sleep and sit straight up in bed, terrified for apparently no good reason.

Of course there was a reason. Not that he let himself go down that particular perilous trail during his waking hours.

“This is it, Buck,” Sheriff Curry had said to him the last time he was home. The sheriff had stopped by the ranch and said they should take a walk.

Buck hadn’t wanted to hear whatever it was that Frank wanted to tell him. For more than two years since Sarah had returned, the sheriff had been warning him about Sarah and what Frank feared she was capable of doing.

“The election is only days away,” he’d argued. “Whatever it is you have to tell me—”

“Let’s walk,” Frank had insisted.

When they were out of hearing distance of the house, the sheriff had stopped and turned to him. “We only have a few more days. I’m just concerned about the venue—”

“Sarah isn’t going to do anything.” He’d wished that he’d sounded more convincing. The woman he’d married hadn’t come back. Instead, this different Sarah had returned. Not a bad different necessarily. But definitely an unsettling different.

She was...stronger in some ways. Maybe scarier because of it. Add to that what had been happening since her return from the dead. People had been dying around them and all because of an anarchist group from the 1970s called The Prophecy.

He thought of the pendulum tattoo on Sarah’s buttock. She swore she had no idea how it had gotten there or that she had nothing to do with the group—even though she’d known the members back in college. And it did appear that they had tried to implicate her—and failed.

So why was he so worried during those dark pre-dawn hours?

His campaign manager, Jerrod Williston, came into the room. A bright young man in his mid-thirties with blond hair and blue eyes, Jerrod had proven that he was the best at what he did.

He was on his cell, talking rapidly, but stopped when he saw Buck standing by the window.

“I’ll get back to you,” he said into the phone. Pocketing the cell, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Buck tried to shake off the premonition of disaster. “Just a little tired.”

“It’s Sarah,” Jerrod said with a groan.

“Why do you say that every time?” Buck demanded, instantly annoyed. He’d spent the past two years defending Sarah to not just Jerrod, but also his daughters and everyone else, including the sheriff.

“Because every time it is Sarah. What has she done now? I thought all was well. Married, living in the main house on the ranch, none of the six daughters causing trouble. What could be wrong with Sarah now?” Jerrod sounded as testy as Buck felt.

“Nothing is wrong with her. I was just resting for a minute.” He’d never been a good liar. “Okay, maybe since the sheriff is worried about election night,” he sighed, “well, then, I guess maybe I should be, too.”

Jerrod shook his head. “Your sheriff has called in the National Guard as well as local law enforcement and Secret Service agents. The only way to make you safer is to move the venue. You want to do that?”

His campaign manager knew he didn’t. “No. Like I said, everything is fine.” He worked up a smile. “If anything, it’s the realization that this is almost over, and a whole other lifetime of dramas is about to begin.”

The younger man laughed. “That’s more like it, Mr. President.”

“Not yet. Don’t jinx it.”

Jerrod made a mocking face. “You got this one. It isn’t even going to be a close race. So relax. A few more days. You up to it?”

Buck straightened, fixed his tie and nodded as Jerrod began to go over his schedule for the last hours up until the election. He half listened, the rest of his mind back on Sarah.

The sheriff was convinced that something was going to happen election night. Buck tried to reassure himself. At least he didn’t have to wonder much longer if his wife would try to kill him.

* * *

SARAH JOHNSON HAMILTON found herself wandering around the huge rambling two-story house feeling empty. Her phone call to her daughter Ainsley had left her feeling a little better. But ultimately her children didn’t know her. She’d lost them, just as she’d lost those missing twenty-two years from her memory.

Since her return from the dead, she had wanted desperately to be back here in this home that she’d shared with Buck and her children. But it felt...strange after all the years she’d been gone. It also felt...temporary since after Buck won the election, they would be living in the White House.

But she knew that wasn’t the only reason she felt out of sorts. During the twenty-two years she’d been presumed dead, her children had all grown up. Now they were all busy with their own lives—lives that had little to do with her. She couldn’t blame them. The younger ones had no memory of her. Her six beautiful daughters had turned out fine without her. Probably better than if she had been here, she thought miserably.

Worse, her secret would be coming out soon—unless she did something. Exhausted and anxious after being on the campaign trail for months, she had begged off Buck’s one last swing through the worrisome states, and returned home.

Buck had been disappointed, but his campaign manager, Jerrod Williston, had said it was exactly what she should do.

“I think it would be smart for you to do some charity events back in Montana these last few weeks before the election,” Jerrod had said. “In fact, I’ve already scheduled one for you.”

She’d started to argue that she didn’t want to do any more of them right now since she knew they had nothing to do with Buck being elected. She suspected that Jerrod just wanted to keep her busy and out of trouble.

“Just one, I promise,” he said. “You need to rest up. Things will get crazy by election night.”

She had laughed at that, fearing how crazy it could get. That and her secret were what kept her awake in the wee hours of the morning. For so long she’d felt trapped, unable to change what she feared was coming until she got all of her memory back. She’d been waiting now for weeks to hear from the one man who could give her the final piece of her memory, Dr. Ralph Venable.

As she moved restlessly through the huge house, she was terrified. Terrified he wouldn’t call. Terrified he would. Dr. Venable had been experimenting with brain-wiping for years. Until recently, she wasn’t sure she believed he had wiped her mind of Buck and the kids all those years ago.

But then she’d seen what he could do. Now she lived in fear of the day he would show up and give her back the rest of her memories—including the one she didn’t want.

After disappearing for twenty-two years and not being able to remember any of it, she’d been petrified of what she’d done those missing years. But as it turned out, it wasn’t those years that she had to worry about. It was her college ones and what she’d done that had now come back to haunt her. How had she gotten involved with an anarchist group that thought they could change the world by bombing buildings and killing innocent people? The answer was love. Or was it lust?

A charismatic handsome young man named Joe Landon must have seen how vulnerable the bright-eyed, innocent Sarah Johnson had been. She’d fallen for him—and his cause, becoming a co-leader of the group for a while. Worse, she’d been told that she had been the true leader of the group, The Prophecy. Since then, though, Joe had taken back over, and, as her scorned former lover, he was determined to pull Sarah in again or die trying.

Sarah stopped in front of a mirror and stared at her reflection. Often she didn’t recognize herself. When you thought you were twenty-two years younger than you were, it messed with your mind.

In the mirror, a blonde, blue-eyed fifty-nine-year-old woman stared back at her. She was still in good shape, still felt no more than thirty-seven, still believed she could do anything. Just as she had in college, she reminded herself with a tremor.

Her fear was that Joe Landon had something big planned for election night. She imagined a huge explosion that would kill them all once the polls were in and Buck had won.

She’d once believed that killing herself would save her family from ever knowing about The Prophecy and her part in it. Failing that, she’d disappeared for twenty-two years only to return with no memory of The Prophecy or the missing years.

But slowly, it was all coming back, thanks to Dr. Venable and Joe’s determination that she would be the woman she’d once been—an anarchist who went by the name of Red. She’d even dyed her hair red, according to the photographs Dr. Venable, or Doc as he was known back then, had shown her of the group.

When she’d realized that Joe and The Prophecy were using her to get to Buck and the presidency, she’d decided to stop them by confessing all to Buck and the sheriff. But Joe, knowing her...intimately, had seen that coming and threatened her daughters to stop her.

Joe had also put a man she loved in the hospital in a coma. Russell Murdock had befriended her when she’d returned to find the life she’d left gone. Buck had remarried, her children didn’t know her, and she didn’t even know this older version of herself.

Russell had been the only one she could trust, the only one she could lean on. He’d also been the one who’d found out the truth about her memory loss and its tie-in to the anarchist group pulling her strings like a puppeteer.

And look what The Prophecy had done to him. Even if he came out of his coma after he’d been attacked, the doctor didn’t have much hope that Russell would ever recover.

No wonder she was terrified. Election night loomed. Her six daughters would be coming home, so they could all be together when their father gave his acceptance speech. When she’d called Ainsley, she’d hoped she would say she couldn’t make it home for election night. But of course all six of Buck’s daughters planned to be there.

Sarah felt as if she was on a runaway train, and ahead there was nothing but an open abyss. She desperately needed to stop The Prophecy. Stop her former lover Joe Landon. But how, without Joe finding out and retaliating against one of her daughters or her grandchildren?

Her cell phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. She checked caller ID. The hospital was calling. Her heart dropped like a stone. No! Please God, don’t let it be bad news about Russell.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Hamilton, you asked to be called if there was any change in Russell Murdock’s condition...”

Tears burned her eyes. “Yes?”

“He has come out of his coma. The doctor is with him now.”

Sarah hardly remembered thanking the nurse for phoning. She disconnected and burst into tears.

For months since Russell had been attacked she’d prayed for him to come out of the coma. But as more time went on, she knew that his chances worsened. She’d almost given up hope.

Now hope flared. If Russell could testify against the men who’d attacked him, then maybe it would all come out about The Prophecy. She didn’t care if she went to prison as long as Joe was stopped. Russell would know what to do. He had loved her, asked her to marry him, stayed around because he was worried about her. Together they could stop Joe. She prayed The Prophecy was like a house of cards. Once you began removing a few of the cards... Grabbing her purse, she headed for the door.

* * *

AINSLEY KNEW SHE was bound to cross paths with Sawyer at some point. This was a small video production company. Somehow, she’d avoided him almost all morning. But as she was leading her horse out of the stables, her luck ran out.

He walked up leading his horse, and she remembered belatedly that he’d had an early shoot. “I was just thinking about you,” Sawyer said.

“Yes, me, too.” The words were out before she could call them back. She’d been thinking how embarrassed she was, how lucky she’d been to avoid him and half hoping that he’d already done his scene and had left for good. “I mean...I...”

He laughed. “You don’t need to explain.”

She looked away for a moment before turning to face him with a sigh. “About last night—”

“No explanation needed for that either.” He grinned at her, and she was struck by how completely charming he was. “I heard that the landslide yesterday ruined plans to film there. Are you riding out to look for another location?”

She nodded.

“Would you mind if I rode with you? I haven’t seen much of this country around here. I’d love to tag along.” His gaze met hers. “That’s if you don’t mind.”

Ainsley actually felt tongue-tied. She’d known her share of handsome cowboys, but there was something about this one. Not to mention he’d saved her life yesterday, but then she’d embarrassed herself in front of him last night.

“If you’re thinking I’m a walking disaster who needs looking after—”

“I would never think that about you. Anyway, you said you were putting the new Ainsley Hamilton to rest, so there shouldn’t be much saving to be done, darn it.”

She couldn’t help but weaken. He was doing his best to joke away last night and make her less self-conscious. She appreciated that more than he could know. Sawyer Nash was one of only a few people in the world who’d seen her at her worst. And naked, too, she reminded herself with a silent groan.

“Sure, tag along, if you want to.” She ducked her head, hating how juvenile she sounded. It reminded her of the first boy who’d ever asked her out, a high school freshman when she’d been an eighth-grader.

“Great,” Sawyer said. “I’ll get my horse some water before we go,” he said and left her in the cool shadow of the barn as he led his horse over to the water trough.

Ainsley stopped to watch him go. For a moment, he was silhouetted against the daylight. His broad shoulders sculpted in relief. She shook her head at her wayward thoughts and tugged on her horse’s reins to get the mare moving again, telling herself she hadn’t noticed Sawyer’s slim hips or his long legs or how he filled out his Wranglers. It was just like eighth grade all over again, except...except that more daring, carefree Ainsley Hamilton was fighting to get out again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SAWYER RODE NEXT to Ainsley, debating telling her who he was and why he’d shown up the way he had. But just minutes ago she’d made it clear that she didn’t like the idea of him riding along because he thought she needed saving.

But damn if she didn’t need saving. That note he’d found on her door had been nagging at him all morning. Her secret admirer was more than a little obsessed with her. Following her from town to town meant he had some means of support rather than a regular job. It also showed how determined he was. A sane man didn’t follow a woman around like that unless...

He looked over at Ainsley. He could see that she was at home in a saddle. There was something so strong and self-assured about her, not to mention beautiful and smart and funny, he thought, remembering this morning when she’d been hiding under the covers. He smiled to himself. He could see where a man might become infatuated with Ainsley Hamilton.

She glanced over at him and smiled as if content with the silence between them. He felt the same way. It was another remarkable fall day. A clear brilliant blue sky hung over the pine-covered mountains. Patches of golden-leafed aspens rustled in the breeze, and an occasional hawk would sweep past overhead, casting a winged shadow over them before disappearing behind a rocky bluff.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, looking out at the Western landscape as they rode along.

“Beautiful,” he said, his gaze on her.

She glanced over at him as if she’d felt his stare on her and knew he wasn’t talking about the country. Her smile was warmer than the sun on his back.

They found several locations that Ainsley thought might suit Gunderson.

“I think that’s enough options,” she said.

“One of the kitchen girls told me about a hot spring up this way,” Sawyer said, not wanting their time together to end just yet. “I’m not sure it would make a location for the commercial, but if you want to see it...”

Ainsley glanced at her watch. He could tell that she was torn. The old Ainsley who always did what was right and prudent needed to get back to Gunderson with her latest ideas. The new Ainsley?

“Are you trying to lead me astray, Mr. Nash?” she asked when she looked up and saw the way he was studying her.

He grinned. “Is it working?”

Again she hesitated. “I suppose we better check it out.”

They rode in silence a short way up a narrow valley until they came to a rock formation set against the mountain. Sawyer could feel Ainsley’s excitement. He assumed it was because this would be a beautiful place for the commercial shoot since the canyon had fallen through, so to speak.

He dismounted, tying his horse to a pine tree, and started to reach for Ainsley, when she swung a leg over her saddle horn and slid down next to him. Feeling like a kid, he took her hand, excited to see the spring.

It was better than he could have imagined. Steam rose from an oval pool of clear water surrounded by large boulders.

“Why didn’t I know about this?” Ainsley demanded of herself.

“I overheard one of the girls who work in the kitchen talking about it. They are planning to ride up here tonight with some boys they know.” He looked up at Montana’s big blue sky overhead. “I bet it is beautiful at night.”

Ainsley was still looking guilty that she hadn’t been aware of it. As if being the location scout, she should know everything about the entire state. She finally looked over at him. “What are you doing?”

He removed his coat, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “Going skinny-dipping.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He laughed as he stripped off his shirt. “You were all for it last night.”

“That was different. I was—”

“The new Ainsley Hamilton, the adventurous, the woman who was bound and determined to do everything she’d missed out on.”

She lifted her chin as he reached to unsnap his jeans. “If you think you can tempt me to—”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t mind going in alone.”

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. “You think I won’t do it.”

Sawyer cocked his head at her. The buttons on his jeans popped out one after another. As he began to shrug out of the denim, she turned her back. He smiled to himself as he stopped to watch her toss aside her jacket, then slowly unbutton her shirt.

He stepped into the warm pool. It quickly became deep. He sank into it, relishing the heat. “It’s perfect!” he called to her. She had taken off everything but her bra and panties. He could see she was about to chicken out. “You won’t want to ride back in wet underwear. I’ve already seen you naked, but I’ll turn around if you like. I can be a perfect gentleman. If that’s what you want.” His words were apparently sufficient.

“I’m not as big a prude as everyone thinks I am,” she called to him without turning in his direction.

He saw her unhook her bra, and he turned around as promised. He heard her enter the water a few moments later. He felt small ripples move against him. “Is it safe to turn around now?”

“I guess so,” she said. She was neck deep in the water. Had the water been clearer he might have been able to see her below the surface. But he didn’t need the view. He’d never forget what she looked like after last night in the moonlight.

He stayed where he was, sensing that’s the way she wanted it. But he was smiling to himself. He was damned proud of whichever Ainsley Hamilton was sharing the pool with him. He admired a woman who accepted a challenge, especially for something out of her comfort zone.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

* * *

SARAH HURRIED DOWN the hospital hallway, reaching Russell’s hospital room as the doctor came out. “How is he?”

He recognized her from all her other visits and like most people in the county, knew that she had been Russell’s fiancé not all that long ago.

“It is nothing short of a miracle,” the doctor said, closing the door behind him. “He’s still a little confused. We’ll need to run more tests, but it appears he will have a full recovery.”

She breathed a sigh of relief that brought tears to her eyes again. “Thank you. Can I see him?”

“Just keep your visit short.”

Sarah took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The first time she’d come to see Russell was right after his attack. He’d been so badly beaten that he hadn’t been expected to live. The doctor had worried that he would have brain damage. So it really was a miracle.

As she entered the room, she let the door close behind her. Russell lay on the bed on his back, his eyes closed.

She moved quietly to his side and took his hand. His eyes opened at her touch, and he turned his head toward her, a smile coming to his lips.

“I am so glad to see you’re awake,” she said, unable to hold back the tears.

His smile wavered. “I’m sorry, I thought for a minute you were my daughter, Destry.”

“I’m sure the doctor has called her.”

He nodded and looked toward the door. “I thought the two of them would be here by now.”

She stared at him. Now she was the one confused. “Destry and her husband?”

“Destry and Judy, my wife.”

Judy? His deceased wife?

She stared at him. The doctor had said there was some confusion after such major injuries. “Russell, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I know you were just trying to help me. If I could take any of it back—”

He pulled his hand free, his frown deepening. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do I know you?”

She was momentarily stunned. “Russell, it’s me, Sarah.” He still looked puzzled. “Sarah Hamilton.”

His eyes widened as he finally seemed to recognize her. “I’m sorry, but I thought you were... That is...” He looked around the room as if now not sure where he was. When his gaze came back to her, he looked more frightened than confused. “I’m sure I recall going to your funeral.” He fumbled for his call button to alert the nurse, all the while he just kept frowning at her.

Sarah stared at him, almost too shocked to speak. “You don’t remember finding me on the road outside Beartooth months ago?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Finding you?”

“You don’t remember...” She couldn’t bear to say the words. You don’t remember falling in love with me, asking me to marry you? You don’t remember promising to help me? The door opened behind them. Sarah turned as a nurse came in.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to leave,” the nurse said, glancing from Sarah to Russell and back again. Russell was visibly upset.

Sarah nodded. Russell was still frowning at her, looking scared since his last memory was going to her funeral all those years ago.

“I was just leaving.” She forced a smile. He didn’t remember her. She’d heard about head injuries where there was memory loss. His had apparently wiped out everything they had been to each other since she’d returned.

She thought of her own loss of memories due to Dr. Venable eradicating them. At least for Russell, forgetting her was a blessing. “I’m so glad you’re better,” she said, her heart breaking.

* * *

AINSLEY PLAYED THE conversation over in her head, mentally kicking herself. She still couldn’t believe that she’d actually gone skinny-dipping—again! It was so not like her and yet... She smiled to herself. She’d felt a sense of freedom like none she’d ever experienced. And Sawyer had been a man of his word. He’d behaved like a perfect gentleman.

So what had made her say she would have dinner with this cowboy? He’d caught her at a weak moment, she told herself.

“I thought you might enjoy getting away from here for a while,” he’d said. “I feel like I’m in a fishbowl up here, you know what I mean?”

She knew that feeling only too well. But then she’d felt like that for months. “Not much goes on out here that someone doesn’t witness. That’s why there is so much gossip.” Fortunately, she hadn’t heard anything about her and Sawyer, given his early-morning exit from her cabin.

Ainsley had been ready to leave it at that. Going into town with him would only get tongues wagging. She had opened her mouth hoping a good excuse would come out.

“Unless you’ve gone back to being the old Ainsley Hamilton, the one who isn’t allowed to have fun...”

She had groaned. Did he really think he could dare her into having dinner with him? “Last night I was—”

“Drunk?”

“A little overdramatic.”

“So you don’t think going into town with me to the local café would be living too dangerous for you?”

Right then she couldn’t imagine anything more dangerous. There was something about this man beyond his good looks, his obvious charm, his way of making her feel safe.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Not at all. Like I told you, I like both the old and the new Ainsley. It will be interesting to see which one comes out with me tonight.”

She’d laughed. It had felt good. It also felt good to be asked out by this handsome cowboy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a man up on an offer for dinner. No way was she going to let that Ainsley Hamilton from last night out, but what would it hurt to let down her hair just a little?

“Okay, cowboy,” she’d said. Only later back in her cabin did she worry. Sawyer brought out a woman in her she didn’t know. It scared her, but it also excited her. Something told her that she should keep her distance from the man.

* * *

SAWYER HAD MADE up his mind that he would tell Ainsley the truth at dinner tonight—if she went out with him. He feared she might change her mind. He didn’t like keeping the truth from her, now that he’d met her.

But at the same time, she’d made it clear that she prided herself on her independence. As she’d said, she could take care of herself. The rock slide yesterday, though, had shaken that solid foundation she’d built her life on. She seemed to think she’d contained that urge she’d had to do things she’d never done. He wasn’t so sure about that, given that he’d talked her into going into the spring with him.

Truthfully, he’d love to see the new Ainsley come back. Had she been sober, he would have gone skinny-dipping with her last night. But then again, had she been sober, it would probably have never crossed her mind.

On the ride back to the stables, Ainsley had asked, “I’m curious. What do you do when you aren’t playing a cowboy extra?”

He’d avoided the truth. “I was raised on a ranch, so me and horses are a given. But I promise to tell you anything you want at dinner.” He made an x over his heart with one finger. “Scout’s honor.”

Ainsley had seemed to relax a little. He knew she was still suffering from a bad hangover. He had no idea how much alcohol Kitzie had put in the drinks, but enough to down an elephant, he was betting. Kitzie. He pushed all thoughts of her away.

He wished he wouldn’t have to tell Ainsley the truth until he’d found her stalker. That was why as soon as they got back to the stables, he’d set out to find the person who’d left the note on her cabin door last night. He had it narrowed down to the security guard, Lance Roderick. He fit the profile.

The rest of the crew seemed okay, since, according to Kitzie, almost all of them were from California and had been on the road during the months that someone had been following Ainsley in Montana.

He wondered again what assignment Kitzie was on but told himself it apparently didn’t have anything to do with Ainsley’s stalker. That was all he had to concern himself with. If Kitzie needed help, she knew where to find him.

* * *

THE TRAMP! WHAT HAD happened to the woman he’d adored from afar? From the shadows, he watched Ainsley and the cowboy ride back from wherever they’d been for hours. She laughed at something the long, tall cowboy had said, her laughter coming to him on the breeze.

He felt bile rise in his throat. She was flirting with the man as if she had no morals at all. Look at how she threw her head back when she laughed. Look at how she touched her hair. Look at how she gazed at the cowboy shyly from under her lashes. How could she behave like this? Wasn’t last night bad enough?

The thought of her standing naked by the creek filled him with a burning anger. To take off her clothes with a man she didn’t even know? He’d been so disappointed in her, but last night he’d excused her behavior. While staying back in the blackness beyond the campfire, he’d heard her talking about her life passing before her eyes because of the rock slide. He had attributed her lack of decorum to her near accident—one he had caused.

So he had excused her even when the cowboy had bundled her up and taken her back to her cabin. He had waited outside, counting the minutes. But the cowboy hadn’t come back out. He’d moved closer. Ainsley had been drunk. If that cowboy laid one finger on her...

But at the cabin window in the back where the bedroom was, he’d heard only Ainsley’s faint snores. He’d stayed there, listening. He’d learned how to move around the place without anyone paying him any attention. No one had been able to see him in the trees behind the cabin, and if the cowboy had tried anything, he would hear it and wake up, should he doze off.

Nothing had happened. Not that he was happy about the cowboy spending the night in Ainsley’s cabin. What if someone else had seen the cowboy come out of there this morning? Her reputation would be ruined. People would talk. He thought of his mother and shook his head. She would not have approved. She would have demanded that Ainsley be punished.

The thought made his heart beat faster.

This morning he’d asked the girls in the kitchen about him. Sawyer Nash was nothing but an extra, some dumb cowboy who had a couple of ride-on parts in this ridiculous commercial.

Still, he’d been willing to let last night be forgotten if Ainsley came to her senses today. She had seemed to be her old, proper self this morning when he’d watched her with the director. He’d been cheered by that, and forgiving. Whatever she’d done last night, it wasn’t her fault, so he would overlook it.

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