All-American protector

After a successful career as a Texas rodeo champ, Johnny Lang quit living on the wild side. Now he was devoted to a cause he understood all too well: giving kids a second chance. But when he hires a mysterious woman, Johnny knows trouble has reentered his life. Not only is Rachel Presley beautiful, but the fear in her eyes—and in those of her five-year-old son—practically breaks his hardened heart. It isn’t long before strange “accidents” put Rachel in serious jeopardy, convincing Johnny her past has caught up with her. Sharing some of his secrets is the only way to get to the bottom of Rachel’s...even if retelling them could have their own dangerous consequences.

“Mommy, look there’s a dog! A real dog!”

“That’s Cleopatra, but we call her Cleo,” Johnny said. “Come on, Kenny. She’s been lonely and needs a friend.”

Rachel sensed he wasn’t just talking about the dog. That he had figured out more about her from their initial meeting than she’d intended to reveal.

No…that wasn’t possible.

“Cleo was a stray I found on the side of the road,” he said. “She’d been abandoned and abused. She needs someone to love her.”

Tears burned Rachel’s throat. He sounded so sincere.

And somehow he’d picked up on the fact that her son needed stability. Peace. Normalcy.

She let him guide her toward the dining hall. They would stay, she decided.

But at the first sign of trouble, that her ex had followed them, they’d hit the road and never look back.

Certified Cowboy

Rita Herron

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling to kids for romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at P.O. Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, or visit her website at www.ritaherron.com.

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Johnny Long—This sexy rodeo star turned rancher has problems of his own. But when danger strikes, he wants to protect a single mom and her son. Only she has secrets in her eyes, and Johnny must protect his heart.

Rachel Presley—She’s running for her life. Will her ex-husband catch her in the end?

Kenny Presley—The little boy craves a home and a family. Will he find it at the Bucking Bronc Lodge?

Rex Presley—How far will he go to get his wife back? And when he does, will he kill her as he vowed?

Rich Copeland—The rich rancher who owns the spread next to the Bucking Bronc Lodge is adamantly against housing troubled kids next door. Would he sabotage the ranch and endanger lives to make the ranch fail?

Ricardo Mendez—The orphaned teenager is out to cause trouble. Could he be making problems at the ranch?

Frank Dunham—An ex-con who’s working at the ranch and a friend of Carter Flagstone’s, a man who had a vendetta against Johnny and his friend Brandon. Would Carter pay Frank to cause trouble as a way of getting revenge?

Dewey Burgess—He attacked Rachel in the barn. Did he have his own agenda, or is he working for Rachel’s ex?

To a great friend and writer, Delores Fossen—thanks for talking up the cowboys!

Contents

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

Rachel Presley was suffocating.

“I told you I’d never let you go.”

Her ex-husband’s sinister voice made her body convulse with fear. Rex had found her.

Again.

“No,” she whispered in a raw voice. “Please…” She tried to pry his hands from around her neck, but his grip tightened, and his fingernails dug into her throat, closing off her windpipe.

She jerked awake, trembling. Her hands felt clammy, her throat raw, her stomach heaving.

It couldn’t be real. She was dreaming again. Having another one of the terrifying nightmares that had dogged her since she’d left Rex.

But a wet tongue trailed a path down the side of her face. A very real wet tongue. “I’d forgotten how beautiful you look when you’re sleeping, Rach.”

Nausea flooded her. How had he found her this time? She’d covered her bases, changed her name again, hadn’t left a paper trail behind…

But the acrid scent of sweat and whiskey breath told her that she hadn’t been smart enough.

Rex’s heavy weight pressed her into the mattress, and stirred her panic to a frenzy.

“Just tell me you’re sorry and come back to me, Rachel.” Another swipe of his tongue and he ground his crotch into hers. “You want me,” he murmured into her hair. “I can feel it.”

“No,” she whispered. But her efforts to escape were cut off as his hands tightened around her throat.

“Yes, you do. Say it.” He kneed her legs apart with his and rubbed the rough stubble of his jaw against her face. He’d always thought it was funny to hear the rasp of his whiskers scraping her delicate jaw. And he’d taken pride in the whisker burns he left behind. He liked to mark her, brand her like a piece of cattle, so any man who looked her way recognized that she belonged to him.

“Our son needs me, too,” Rex murmured. “And I intend to be there for him. To teach him how to be a man.”

Over her dead body.

Ever since she’d left Rex, she’d been prepared for him to find her. Attack her. Beat her up. Try to kill her.

He had once before.

That was the reason she’d run. And bought a .38.

“After we make love, you can whip us up a batch of pancakes,” Rex said. “Kenny will be happy to see me, won’t he, Rach?”

The thought of Rex touching, fathering her precious son sent rage through her, and she summoned every ounce of strength she possessed. Kenny would never be subjected to Rex’s violent mood swings.

But Rex had gained weight and he was even heavier than she remembered. She had to use her wits to gain advantage long enough to retrieve her gun.

“Rex, please…you’re choking me.” She lifted her hips slightly as if she was warming to his touch, and in the moonlight streaking the room she saw a slow lecherous smile spread across his face. Rex was such a narcissistic man that he still believed she’d fall for his charms.

“That’s it, baby. Show me you still love me.” His hands slid down her throat to her breasts, then he shifted slightly, ready to shuck his jeans.

Taking advantage of the moment to strike, she raised her knee and slammed it into his groin, then shoved him backward with all her might. Rex bellowed in pain and shock, and she reached sideways below the mattress and grabbed her gun.

He lunged at her, but she flicked off the safety and pointed the barrel at his chest.

“Move and I’ll shoot.”

Shock made his eyes bulge. “You wouldn’t, Rachel. You’re too soft.”

“You changed that,” she said sharply. Keeping the gun trained on him, she slowly pushed herself up on the bed and slid off the side. He started to move toward her, but she shook her head and cocked the trigger, then yanked open the drawer to her nightstand and removed a pair of handcuffs she’d bought at a pawn store.

“One inch,” she said. “And you’re dead.”

His jaw hardened to steel and he froze, but the menacing look in his eyes grew fierce and deadly.

“You wouldn’t shoot the father of your son,” he said, although his voice had a tremor to it this time.

Good, let him know what it felt like to be afraid.

“Now sit down in that desk chair,” she said between clenched teeth.

His eyes narrowed, but he gave a cocky shrug as if he thought it was a game. Then she pressed the gun to his temple and tossed the handcuffs into his lap. “Handcuff yourself to the chair. Now.”

He shot blades of steel from his eyes and cursed violently, but did as she said.

“You’re going to regret this,” he growled.

“The only thing I regret is marrying you.” Still keeping the gun aimed at him, she tugged on her jacket, grabbed her purse, then ran to get Kenny, tucking the .38 in her handbag so he wouldn’t see it. He was asleep in his bed and looked so innocent and cozy snuggled with his blanket and stuffed puppy that she hated to disturb him.

But they had to go.

He stirred as she lifted him in her arms. “Mommy?” He blinked and glanced around his room, confused.

“It’s okay, sweetie. We’re taking a little trip. Go back to sleep.”

She wrapped him in the blanket, tucked his stuffed animal under his arm, then ran toward the den. The chair clanged against the floor in the bedroom, then Rex’s grating voice shattered the air.

“I’ll kill you when I find you, Rachel. You’ll never get away from me. Never!”

Rachel’s throat clogged with fear, but she forged ahead and ran out the door. A breeze kicked up, stirring leaves and dust around her as she settled Kenny in the backseat and buckled him in. Just as she climbed in the driver’s side and shut the door, Rex ran onto the front porch, dragging the chair behind him. His arms were still chained to the wood, and he was cursing and raging like a bull tied in a pen.

Grateful she’d kept a suitcase for her and Kenny packed in the trunk, she cranked the engine and stepped on the gas. Then she gunned the engine and ripped down the dirt road, praying she could outrun him this time.

If he caught her again, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d kill her.

JOHNNY LONG HAD TO MAKE one more attempt to help his old friend Carter Flagstone clear his name.

He just hoped to hell Carter didn’t refuse to see him as he had the last time he’d tried to visit the jail.

The sprawling ranch faded in his vision as he headed toward the state prison, and his thoughts turned back to the meeting with Brody Bloodworth, the founder of the Bucking Bronc Lodge. The ranch was designed to give troubled boys a second chance through working with animals, ranch hands and cowboys, and reminded him of how he, Carter and Brandon Woodstock had all grown up.

He admired Brody and his plans and appreciated the fact he’d given his sister, Kim, a job, yet Johnny had sworn never to put himself in the limelight again. And spearheading the rodeo Brody wanted to raise money for the summer camps would do exactly that. Worse, using his name could backfire in all their faces.

Still, the idea of a rodeo for a bunch of needy, troubled kids, kids like he had once been, sent an adrenaline rush through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. If it hadn’t been for the rodeo, he might never have pulled himself out of the gutter. But fame and fortune came at a price.

And the events of that last year, the way the media had turned on him, had almost destroyed him. Still, as a kid, channeling his anger and energy into penning, roping cows and riding had saved his life.

That and his friendship with Brandon and Carter. They had been like the Three Musketeers, growing up.

All from poor, dysfunctional homes. All roughhousing boys who liked to ride and cause trouble and skirt with the law. All had sorry daddies who’d beaten them. Mothers who’d done just as much damage by walking away, finding home in a bottle or just plain ignoring the abuse.

So they’d found each other, had watched each other’s backs for years, even taken beatings for one another.

Until five years ago when everything had gone wrong.

When Carter had been arrested, he and Brandon had taken a good hard look at their own lives and decided it was time to grow up. Sure, they’d had bad childhoods. Lived in hellholes. Never had a family who gave a damn.

But they’d made a pact to show the world they weren’t the white-trash losers the rich rancher kids had dubbed them.

Yet Carter had still wound up in jail. Not that Johnny believed he was guilty of the murder he’d been locked up for. Well, maybe he’d had a few doubts, but he really didn’t think Carter was a cold-blooded killer….

Only, Carter had refused to talk and had begged him and Brandon to give him an alibi. A phony alibi.

If he wasn’t guilty, why had he asked him and Brandon to lie?

Their refusal to commit perjury, circumstantial evidence, incompetent lawyers and a lowlife judge who might have been paid off had cost his friend his freedom.

Even worse, Carter claimed he and Brandon were getting revenge for his short fling with Johnny’s sister, Kim. Brandon had dated Kim first, much to Johnny’s consternation, then he’d broken her heart, which had caused tension between him and Brandon. On the rebound, she’d fallen into Carter’s arms, which had ended badly for everyone, causing a rift between Brandon and Carter.

But Kim had suffered, as well, and Johnny had had to work to contain his own bitterness. His sister had been off-limits and both his friends had crossed the line.

But that wasn’t the reason he hadn’t lied for Carter.

Still, Carter had refused his visits and letters over the years.

Didn’t Carter know that it hurt them to see him locked up? That they wanted justice, too?

He had to give it one more try.

But he fought a sense of guilt as he parked his pickup in front of the prison and reread the news article about Carter’s father’s death. How was Carter handling the news?

Ten minutes later, he’d made it through security, his nerves spiking as memories of being arrested needled him. He’d come so close to being locked in jail himself that he still half expected one of the rangers to snap a pair of handcuffs on him and throw him in a cell.

His stomach churned as he slid into the vinyl seat in the visiting area. It seemed like hours, but finally the metal door screeched open, and Carter shuffled through the door in handcuffs, his face pale and bruised, his lip busted, fresh scars on his arms. His eyes looked dull, his jaw set firm as he dropped into the seat on the other side of the Plexiglas. For a moment, Johnny didn’t think he was going to look at him, then Carter leveled a sharp stare at him that felt like a knife piercing his gut.

“What do you want now?” Carter ground out.

Johnny swallowed and tried to control his anger. If Carter had just talked to him and told him the truth years ago, maybe they could have helped him.

Instead of rehashing that, though, he gestured to the news article. “I’m sorry about your old man.”

Fresh pain and fury flickered across Carter’s face, then he released a sarcastic laugh. “You know I didn’t give a damn about that mean old cuss.”

With good reason. The bastard had put plenty of bruises and scars on Carter. “He’s still your old man.”

“He was a drunk who hated my guts.” Carter gripped his hands together and leaned closer to the microphone. “But he had a nice piece of ranch land, once.” Carter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is that why you’re here? The rich and famous Johnny Long planning to buy up my old man’s spread to add to his empire.”

Johnny ground his teeth. “No, Carter. I came as a friend.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Carter snapped. “I lost them years ago.”

“That’s not fair, Carter.”

“What’s not fair is that I’ve been stuck in this pit watching my daddy’s spread go down the toilet while you and Brandon built your fortunes.”

Johnny understood his need to vent, but he was still Carter’s friend whether Carter liked it or not. “Is the property going into foreclosure?”

The chair clanked as Carter stood. “So you are here to see about buying it?”

“No,” Johnny said quickly. “But I do have money, Carter, and if you need me to do something to keep the property from going into foreclosure, I will.”

“I don’t want your charity.”

“Then what about a loan? We can come up with some kind of payback plan for when you’re released—”

“For when I’m released?” Carter hissed. “Don’t you get it, Johnny? I’m never getting out.” Carter’s voice was cold, but Johnny detected fear underlying it.

“There’s parole,” Johnny argued.

A look of defeat settled in Carter’s eyes. “Even if I did make parole, I’ve got nothing. No way to keep the land. And no one in Texas is going to hire a convicted murderer.”

Johnny started to say that he would, but before he could voice the thought, Carter shook his head in warning.

“Don’t you dare,” Carter snarled. “I don’t want your pity. And I would never work for you.” He turned and strode toward the door, the chains around his ankles rattling.

“I’ll hire another attorney,” Johnny said. “I’ll find the best, Carter—”

Carter slowly turned around, his expression bitter. “Go to hell, Johnny.”

Johnny silently cursed as the metal doors banged shut behind Carter. Damn. What good was having money if he couldn’t use it to help his friend?

Johnny stood, frustrated, his stomach tied in knots. Maybe he couldn’t do anything for Carter now, but there were kids at the Bucking Bronc Lodge who deserved his help. To hell with worrying about the press putting a negative slant on him.

Brody and the ranch needed him. He was going to start organizing that rodeo as soon as he got back.

“WHERE’RE WE GOING, Mommy?” Kenny clutched his stuffed puppy to him, his voice edged with worry. He’d obviously sensed her distress when he’d woken up in yet another strange motel and realized they were on the run again.

“To a big ranch, bud.” Rachel tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. “I think you’re going to like it there.”

And she would like the solitude, the distance from the city, and the miles between her and Rex. Provided he hadn’t already sniffed out their trail.

Kenny craned his neck to see out the window of the Jeep she’d traded her sedan for. “Are we there?”

“Almost.” They’d passed San Antonio an hour earlier, and he’d been asking the same question since. Relief swept over her as she turned down a long, winding road, then spotted the welcome sign. “Look, it says BBL—the Bucking Bronc Lodge.”

“They really got horses and I can ride one?” Kenny asked.

“Yes, they do. And there’ll be lots of space to play outdoors.”

“Maybe we can get a puppy here!” He hugged his stuffed toy. “A real one!”

Rachel shrugged. “Maybe.” Although, having a pet made it harder to travel or pick up and move again if they had to. And she had no doubt they would at some time.

As they drove down the mile-long drive to the main house and headquarters of the operation, she admired the lush pastures, the stables and riding pens, the cattle grazing lazily around the pond, the horses galloping across the land, and her nerves settled somewhat. If anyone needed another chance, she and Kenny did.

This place was just isolated enough to provide a reprieve…

She only hoped they still had some positions open.

“Look, there’s horses!” Kenny brightened, making guilt nag at Rachel. She wanted a home for Kenny so badly she could cry. But he hadn’t had a place to call home in two years. And he barely remembered the house she’d shared with Rex.

Thank God. Hopefully that meant he’d forgotten the screaming and brutal fights.

A large two-story rustic log cabin with skylights to let in light, farmhouse decor, a metal bull outside on the lawn and fence posts designated for tying horses in front of the house appeared in her view, and her heart stuttered. A huge porch complete with rocking chairs and colorful flowers flanking the front made it feel homey and inviting. Then she spotted other log cabins strewn across the land, and realized the lodge was central to the operation but they also offered individual cabins, probably for guests or employees. From what she’d read, there were acres and acres of riding trails, ponds and camping sites for the campers.

This house, the sprawling ranch, the stables and rolling land, was the kind of place dreams were made on.

Only, she’d stopped dreaming a long time ago.

Still, she parked and grabbed her purse. Before she could go around to open the back door for Kenny, he’d unfastened his seat belt and jumped out. “Can I ride now?”

Rachel climbed from the vehicle. “No, not yet.” Rachel led him up the stone pathway to the front porch. “Now remember, Mommy has to get a job here so we can stay. So be a good boy for me, okay? And remember our game. Right now our last name is Simmons. Rachel and Kenny Simmons.”

He bobbed his head up and down. She knew the name change was confusing, but it was necessary, so she squeezed his hand, then knocked on the door.

A second later, the door opened, and Rachel could only gawk. A big rugged cowboy wearing a black Stetson with silver trim, chambray shirt, jeans, a belt buckle engraved with a bucking bull and black boots with rhinestone studs stared down at her. He was at least six-three, had shoulders so wide that he filled half the doorway, and crystal blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of the devil inside. Lady-killer eyes.

Eyes she recognized from magazine articles, newspaper stories and TV.

Johnny Long. Famous rodeo star. Bronco rider. Barrel racer. Champion bull rider. You name it, Johnny Long had done and had won it.

He was also a notorious playboy. A man who wrecked women’s hearts.

Suddenly her voice wouldn’t work.

“Howdy,” he said in a lazy Texas drawl. “Did you come to register your little boy for camp?”

Kenny pulled at her hand. “Mommy, can I do camp?”

Rachel struggled to pull herself together. “Actually, I…came to apply for a job.”

“All right.” His eyes cut over her, then he seemed to zero in on her neck, and the friendly gleam in his eyes died.

Rachel automatically adjusted the scarf she’d tied around her throat to hide the bruises Rex had left.

But it was too late. He had seen them.

Her heart hammered. If he thought she was in trouble, he probably wouldn’t hire her.

Then where would she and Kenny go?

REX CURSED AS HE TORE through the small house where his wife had lived. It had taken him half an hour to cut the damn handcuffs apart with bolt cutters, then another ten to pick the stupid lock.

He rubbed at the angry red marks on his wrists. The damn bitch would be sorry for what she’d done.

He stormed through the bedroom, ripping apart the bedding with his knife, then he slashed the mattress covering and pillows, shredding the insides just to purge his fury.

But his blood was still boiling.

Determined that she wouldn’t escape him, he raked through the small desk in the corner, searching for any clue as to where she might take his son next. He’d been chasing her for months from one small Podunk town to another, from divey hotels to rental houses to cabins not fit for a dog to live in, much less his kid.

She was turning Kenny against him. His own son looked at him as if he was a monster just because of the filthy lies that came from that woman’s mouth.

How could she do this to him?

She’d vowed to love him, to honor him and cherish him, but she’d turned on him. She’d told filthy lies about him. Used his son to bargain her way into earning sympathy from that snotty lawyer lady.

Hell, she’d probably spread her legs and slept with the bastard judge to get him to sign those damn divorce papers.

Both of them would pay for that.

Blind rage ate at him, and he jerked open the dresser drawers, yanking out the contents. Satin panties, bras, tank tops—he ripped them all to shreds and dropped the remnants on the tattered carpet. Again, he searched for a notepad, address book, brochure, anything that might tell him where she was running to this time, but found nothing except receipts for the cabin, which she’d paid for in cash.

She was learning not to leave a paper trail.

She’d pay for that, too.

Balling his hand into a fist, he raced to the kitchen and searched the drawers. No address or notes there, either.

But he found a hammer in a kitchen drawer and he slammed it against the counter, cracking the cheap surface, then used it to obliterate the glass-front china cabinet, breaking the door and smashing the dishes inside.

Then he went back to the bedroom and smashed the mirror above the dresser, then the bathroom mirror, watching as glass shattered and sprayed the floor.

His blood pounded through his veins as he headed back to his car. Heaving with unspent anger, he stepped outside in the night air. A smile curved his mouth as he removed the wedding ring she’d thrown back at him from his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers. The gold band was simple, but it was an unbroken circle, which symbolized how their lives were supposed to be entwined.

An image of Rachel wearing that white wedding dress the day they’d married at that little country chapel flashed in his mind, and he squeezed the ring so hard that his knuckles turned white.

He had put that ring on her finger and made her his wife. And she had agreed to love him until death parted them.

To hell with the judge.

Divorce papers couldn’t separate them.

Only death would.

Chapter Two

Johnny gritted his teeth at the sight of the bruises on the woman’s throat. Her long, curly black hair, which looked dyed, swirled around her neck, and she’d tied a scarf around it to hide the worst, but the purple-and-black marks were still visible and looked stark against her pale skin.

Someone had hurt her, bad.

Her husband? Boyfriend? Lover? Or a stranger?

His temper rose, his protective instincts kicking in. Having a younger sister had done that to him. Taught him to respect women, not to use his physical power to get what he wanted.

No matter what the press might have said.

He opened his mouth to ask her who had tried to choke her, but the wary look in her eyes and the way she quickly tried to cover up the bruises made him pause.

“My name is Rachel Simmons, and this is my son Kenny. I saw the ad in the paper,” she said, straightening her spine.

He sensed she wanted to look tough, but he towered over her, and soaking wet, she probably didn’t weigh a hundred and ten pounds.

“Right, a job,” Johnny said, collecting himself. He glanced down at the little boy and immediately checked for bruises but didn’t see any, so he breathed a sigh of relief. Still, the kid looked scared and kept his head bowed.

“Come on in.”

Rachel nodded, and she and her little boy followed him through the entryway into one of the offices adjoining Brody’s. Because all of the contributors had their own ranches to run and needed to keep in touch while they volunteered at the BBL, he’d designated several smaller offices for them to use, complete with state-of-the-art computer systems, faxes and phones.

Rachel looked surprised at the office furnishings. “Wow, I thought this was going to be a working ranch.”

“It is,” Johnny said. “Don’t let this setup fool you. Outdoors, it’s all ranching. But running an operation like the BBL requires organization, funding, volunteers, employees.”

“Of course it does,” she said. “It’s a wonderful idea. The concept of helping kids in need through hard work and counseling, of giving them role models, is very admirable.”

Finally, the little boy looked up at him, his curiosity overcoming his fear. But his voice sounded timid. “Are you a real cowboy?”

Johnny smiled at the kid and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been riding since I was born.”

“You own all these horses here?” Kenny asked.

Johnny shook his head. “No, they belong to the Bucking Bronc. But I have horses and cattle on my ranch at home.” He almost spouted off the impressive number of cattle he owned and the champion horse breeding he was so proud of, but decided now was not the time to brag.

Kenny’s eyes widened. “I seen you before. You was on TV.” He moved closer, tipping his head back and looking up at Johnny with starstruck eyes. “You’re famous.”

Johnny slanted a look toward Rachel and wondered what she’d heard. Judging from her wary expression, obviously the rumor mill had made its way around, including the good, the bad and the ugly. “Fame’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he muttered, but the kid scrunched his nose as if he didn’t understand.

Rachel didn’t give him time to say more. Instead, her look turned chilly. “The ad said to contact Brody Bloodworth. Is he here?”

Johnny shook his head, sensing she didn’t want to talk to him. Dammit. Maybe his reputation had preceded him. It bothered him more than he wanted to think.

“Afraid not. Brody had business in town.” He gestured toward a comfy leather couch facing an oak coffee table loaded with horse and ranching magazines along with brochures about the services, accommodations, camps, trail rides and other programs the BBL offered. “We’re just getting set up now, so there’s a million things to do. But I can get you an application.”

Through the window, Kenny noticed Kim working with a quarter horse in the pen and tugged at Rachel’s hand. “Can I watch the horses, Mommy?”

“Of course, buddy.” Rachel squeezed his shoulder and gave him such a tender, motherly smile that something moved inside Johnny’s chest.

The apprehension the little boy had had earlier seemed to dissipate slightly as he raced over and looked out the window.

When Johnny glanced back at Rachel, he had to swallow hard. Earlier, all he’d seen was a bruised and frightened woman, one who was likely running scared.

Now he realized how attractive Rachel Simmons really was, and his gut tightened. He’d sworn off women after that fiasco in Durango, and the last thing he needed to do was get tangled up with a filly in trouble. For all he knew, she might have pulled a con on some poor Joe, run off with his money, and the bruises were a sign that she’d been caught in the act.

But more likely, she’d been victimized and needed a helping hand. Wasn’t that the goal of the BBL?

“What kind of job are you looking for?” he asked.

Rachel twisted her hands together. “I can do anything—cook, clean houses or cabins, work with the kids, muck stalls, groom horses.”

“Have you worked on a ranch before?”

A nervous flitter entered her eyes. “Not exactly, but I’ve done lots of odd jobs.”

“What kind of jobs?”

She sighed. “Waitressing. Dishwasher. Factory work. Cleaning. Retail sales. Receptionist—”

He held up his hand. “Okay, I get the point.” She sounded educated, but all those odd jobs…

“Where are you from?”

She curled her fingers tighter inside her palms, another sign that she was trying to hide a case of nerves. Or lies.

“Here and there. We’ve moved around a lot.”

Uh-huh. Definitely sounded like someone running from trouble.

He lowered his voice, “And the boy’s father?”

She quickly glanced at her son, then back at him. “It’s just the two of us.”

“I see.” He reached inside the desk and removed an application for employment. “Here, fill this out and list your references. Then we’ll see what we can do.”

Her hand trembled as she took the application, then she cast a worried look at her son.

“I…don’t have any references to offer,” she said quietly. “Like I said, we haven’t stayed in one place very long this last year.” She drew a deep breath, making her chest rise and fall, and drawing attention to how thin she was. It looked as if she hadn’t had a good meal in days. The little boy looked a little on the lean side, too.

“But I’m a hard worker and a fast learner. And…” She gestured toward the brochure. “I’d like to be a part of what you’re doing here.”

He clenched his jaw so hard that it ached. Those protective instincts that had kicked in earlier roared off the charts.

“All right.” He made a snap decision and hoped to hell he wouldn’t regret it. “You can cook?”

She nodded a little too eagerly. “I’ve been cooking since I was born,” she said as if mirroring his earlier comment about riding.

“She makes the bestest blueberry pancakes on the planet,” Kenny said as he inched back to her side.

Rachel ruffled his hair with an affectionate hand, and Johnny’s reservations faded. He couldn’t turn her and this little boy away. He would give her a job.

At least temporarily.

“I’m afraid the salary’s not great, but we have a small cabin near the dining hall, where you and your son can stay, that’s included with the job. And Kenny can also participate in the camps as a perk.”

Rachel gave him such a relieved and appreciative smile that his chest clenched.

“That sounds wonderful.” She hugged Kenny to her, her smile deepening to reveal dimples. “Thank you so much.”

Johnny amended his earlier thought. She wasn’t attractive. The woman was downright drop-dead gorgeous.

But hell, that didn’t mean he trusted her.

Or that he would get close to her.

As soon as he showed her around and got her settled in a cabin, he’d run a background check and find out just exactly who she was. And if she was a criminal or dangerous, he’d send her packing.

RACHEL HOPED HER DESPERATION didn’t show, but she’d read the pitch for the BBL, with its promises, wide stretches of open land and location miles and miles away from San Antonio, and realized it was a perfect hideaway for her and her son.

And the type of place Rex might never think to look for her.

Rex liked city life, fancy shows, expensive restaurants and the glitzy nightlife. He wouldn’t be caught dead riding a horse, cleaning a stall or touching a cow, and had adamantly refused Kenny any kind of pet.

That had been another sign that he wasn’t the man she’d thought she’d married.

Besides, she and Kenny both needed to breathe some fresh air, take a break from the city hopping they’d been doing for months, and have some semblance of a normal life.

But Kenny would start school in the fall, and then what? She supposed she could homeschool, but their life had been difficult enough. Kenny needed friends his own age. Here, there would be other children and animals and land. At least for a little while…

“I can show you around and then take you to the cabin to settle in,” Johnny said.

“Thank you. I can start anytime.”

“Tomorrow’s good enough. We don’t have kids here tonight, but in the morning a group of teens from an orphanage are coming in, and we’re starting our first camps.”

Rachel tried to ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the sound of his rugged voice. He sounded excited at the prospect of the children’s arrival.

But she’d been fooled by Rex at the beginning, by his charm. She’d never make that mistake again.

Johnny led her and Kenny outside to his pickup truck, a big, shiny, red vehicle with a gigantic cab, backseat and a truck bed nicer than any car she’d ever owned. As he drove them across the property, he gave a running monologue describing the size of the ranch, pointing out the stables, pens, creek, river, pastures and rolling hills where they would eventually expand and add to the herd.

“We’re planning to teach the kids to ride, how to groom and take care of the animals—responsibility will be part of their discipline and therapy,” he clarified, “and we’ll organize trail rides, camps, shows and competitions.”

His enthusiasm seemed so genuine that the man intrigued her. And Kenny was staring out the window of the backseat in awe.

“We’ll also teach the boys how to rope and do tricks and maybe even help on a cattle drive. But in exchange they’ll have to work the ranch. Help clean stalls, mend fences, build pens, feed the animals.” Johnny paused. “Hard work builds character.”

Rachel nodded. Rex’s theory had been that money built character.

Instead, Johnny was a hands-on guy. And he had big, broad, callused hands… Sexy hands. No wonder all the women had found Johnny Long so irresistible.

But she had to be immune.

Not that he was interested in her or ever would be.

For God’s sake, she had a child and a dangerous ex. And she was certainly not his type.

No, the news had shown photo after photo of him with voluptuous young blondes and redheads who followed him on the road. Rodeo groupies whose names were Candy and Brandi with an i, women who didn’t have dishpan hands or tired, lank hair or nails chewed down to the quick from worrying about money and a son she needed to care for and protect.

Her throat thick with emotions and exhaustion, she massaged her temple, battling an unexpected rash of tears.

“There are the bunkhouses for the campers,” Johnny pointed out. “They’re set up like dorms and divided into quadrants according to ages. We hired some college students as camp counselors. Hopefully, as the camp and our reputation grow, we’ll have returning youth who will assume that role.”

“It’s impressive,” Rachel said, and meant it. “But I’m surprised your investors are actually physically working with the program themselves.”

Johnny shifted, looking uncomfortable. When he parked at a long building with a wooden sign that read Dining Hall and looked up at her, pain flashed briefly across his face.

“Not all of us were born with money or had things handed to us on a silver platter.” His voice held a defensive hint. “Some of us…had problems of our own. Now we want to give back.”

Rachel’s heart stuttered at the lost-little-boy look in his eyes as his gaze met hers. She hadn’t meant to sound condescending, but she must have pushed a button.

She tried to remember what she’d read about him. Something about a woman making accusations against him.

But Kenny released a squeal of excitement, halting her thoughts, and threw open his door. “Mommy, look, there’s a dog! A real dog!”

Rachel glanced at the mutt and nearly choked on a laugh. Cleo was a mixed mutt of some kind, a cross between a basset hound and a beagle and God knew what else.

Johnny’s troubled look faded at her son’s outburst, and he turned to Kenny with a smile. “That’s Cleopatra, but we call her Cleo,” Johnny said. “Come on, Kenny. She’s been lonely and needs a friend.”

Rachel sensed he wasn’t just talking about the dog. That he had figured out more about her from their initial meeting than she’d intended to reveal.

No…that wasn’t possible.

Not unless Rex had followed her or somehow discovered she’d been checking out this ranch. If he had, he could have already contacted the people here. Maybe he’d called Johnny and spouted off his book of lies.

What if he’d asked Johnny to play nice to her, to lull her into a sense of safety until Rex could show up?

Her head was churning with suspicions, her panic-voice urging her to run again, so loudly that she hadn’t noticed that Johnny had helped Kenny down from the truck and they were playing with the dog.

The pathetic, bony-looking animal had sprawled on the ground and was salivating as Kenny scratched between her floppy ears.

Rachel climbed down to join them, the joy on her son’s face deflating her earlier worries. She was just being paranoid. There was no way Rex could know she was here.

“Mom, Cleo and I are gonna be best friends.”

She knotted her hands, ready to deny him. But Johnny stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. A gentle hand that made her look up into his eyes. Eyes that were usually flirty but eyes that looked soulful now, as if he saw too much.

The realization made her shift uncomfortably.

“Cleo was a stray I found on the side of the road,” he said quietly. “She’d been abandoned and abused. She needs someone to love her.”

Tears burned Rachel’s throat. He sounded so sincere.

And somehow he’d sensed the fact that her son needed stability. Peace. Normalcy.

The BBL offered all those things. The kind of comfort and home neither of them had had in a very long time.

She let him guide her toward the dining hall. They would stay, she decided.

But at the first sign of trouble, that Rex had followed them, they’d hit the road and never look back.

Chapter Three

Johnny noted the skittish gleam in Rachel’s eyes but forced himself not to push for the reason. Breaking horses had taught him patience, that it took time to win an animal’s trust, and he figured the same for her.

Besides, did he really want to know about her problems?

No. He couldn’t get caught up in her life. He was here to help the lost kids, not become involved with a woman.

But the sight of Kenny’s excited face as Cleo licked his hand stirred emotions deep inside him. And so did Rachel’s obvious love for her son.

Unlike his own mother…

Don’t go there, Johnny.

“Let’s step inside the dining hall and I’ll introduce you to Ms. Ellen. She’ll be the main cook and is the head honcho in the kitchen.”

“Can I stay out here and play with Cleo?” Kenny asked.

Rachel glanced around the property, then chewed on her bottom lip as if debating whether she should leave him alone.

“It’s okay,” Johnny assured her. “It’s safe here, Rachel.”

Her gaze jerked to his, and for a brief second fear registered. That and distrust.

Did she think he would hurt her?

Maybe she had seen that news story…

But she conducted another visual sweep of the area, then gave a reluctant nod to her son. “Okay, Kenny, but stay here by the building. Don’t wander off.”

Kenny plunked down on the grass under a Texas red oak, and Cleo rested her head in his lap. “Then we can see the puppies?”

Johnny nodded. “Do as your mama says and yes, then we’ll see Cleo’s pups.”

Kenny’s crooked teeth shone as he bobbed his head up and down, then he cuddled the dog and began to rub her belly.

“He’s always wanted a pet,” Rachel confessed as they climbed the porch steps and entered the cafeteria-style room. “But I hope he doesn’t become too attached.”

Meaning she probably didn’t plan on sticking around. “We’ll probably be looking for homes for the pups,” Johnny said anyway.

She glanced at him, but again that wary expression returned. But she was saved from answering by Ms. Ellen, who came bounding around the corner of the kitchen.

The scent of homemade cinnamon rolls filled the air, and Johnny’s stomach growled.

“Well, if it ain’t the Johnny Long,” Ms. Ellen said. “You must have smelled the buns in the oven.”

“Thought I was smelling heaven,” Johnny said with a wink. Ms. Ellen was a plump middle-aged woman with a smile as broad as her hips and a heart that never quit giving. When Brody had mentioned needing a cook, Johnny had visited one of the homeless shelters near San Antonio and found the gem of a woman.

After all, she needed a second chance herself, so hiring her was the perfect solution.

Ms. Ellen wiped her hands on her apron and looked at Rachel. “And who is this, Mr. J.? Your girlfriend?”

Rachel’s face blanched, and Johnny nearly choked. “No…uh…she’s your new assistant cook.”

“Well, thank the Lord,” Ms. Ellen said. “With all those hungry kids and the hands coming in, I need some help.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you’re awfully skinny, girl. You really know how to cook?”

Rachel smiled, seemingly grateful to have the awkward moment pass. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ms. Ellen made a smacking sound with her mouth. “Well, then, welcome to Ms. Ellen’s kitchen. How about I show you around?”

“Can it wait till tomorrow?” Johnny said. “She just arrived, so I need to give her a tour of the rest of the ranch and settle her into a cabin.”

Ms. Ellen nodded, then bundled up them both some cinnamon rolls before she allowed them to leave. Johnny dug into one as they walked back outside, then handed one to Kenny, whose face lit up as he sank his teeth into the gooey pastry.

Rachel laughed, and the three of them, plus Cleo, climbed back into his truck for the rest of the tour. He showed her the stables where they kept the quarter horses, the pens for training and for riding lessons, the arena where they planned to hold the rodeo, and the barn and pastures for the beef cattle and calves.

Kenny seemed to loosen up, his excitement mounting with each discovery, and Rachel finally relaxed. And when Johnny showed them inside the barn, and Kenny saw the puppies, he thought he detected tears in Rachel’s eyes.

“Kenny,” Johnny said gruffly. “If you’re going to stay here, you have to earn your keep.”

Kenny’s smile faded and apprehension streaked his little face. Then he inched closer to his mother and ducked behind her, his big eyes frightened again. “Yes, sir.”

Johnny grimaced at the sudden change in the boy’s demeanor.

“What does he have to do?” Rachel asked, her tone defensive.

Johnny knelt in front of Kenny and scooped up one of the puppies. “I thought you’d look after Cleo and her boys. Make sure Cleo gets food and water every day, and play with the pups. They’re just babies and need exercise.”

The frightened expression in Kenny’s eyes morphed from relief to childlike glee in a millisecond.

“Do you think you can do that for me?” Johnny asked, careful to use a gentle voice. “It would really help me out.”

“Yes, sir, I can do it.” Kenny squared his shoulders as if he was a little man and had just been given an important job.

Johnny gave him a high five, but the boy’s reaction still troubled him. Kenny had expected something worse to be asked of him. Just what had happened to the kid?

Johnny glanced at Rachel and noticed she was trembling slightly.

Dammit. He hadn’t meant to frighten her or the boy. But someone else obviously had. And he intended to find out who it was.

Then he’d see to it that it never happened again.

RACHEL SAVORED THE FRESH night air as Johnny showed them to the cabin, yet her eyes constantly scanned the area for signs that Rex had followed them.

“The cabin isn’t large,” Johnny said almost apologetically. “But it’s clean and furnished and you’ll have your own kitchen, so you can make meals on your days off and if you and Kenny decide not to eat every meal in the dining hall.”

He unlocked the door and Kenny bounded in, racing through the den/kitchen combination to explore.

“There are two bedrooms,” Johnny said. “But you’ll share a bath.”

“That’s fine,” Rachel said, admiring the wood floors and beams in the ceiling. “This has a lot of rustic charm.” And was more cozy and homey, with its country furnishings, throw rugs, pillows and the painting of horses above the couch, than any place she’d stayed in the past year.

“Mom, there’s bunk beds!” Kenny shouted from the second bedroom.

Johnny chuckled. “I always wanted bunks when I was a kid.”

“Did you get them?” Rachel asked, curious about the rodeo star. He’d seemed so…normal today. Not like the arrogant playboy the papers had claimed him to be.

He shook his head. “Nope. A couple of friends of mine, we built a fort in an old tree. That was about as close as I got.” A faint blush stained his cheeks. “But I did put them in one of my guest rooms at my place.”

Rachel quirked a brow, wondering about that detail. Had he planned to have a family someday?

He shifted, then gripped the front door. “Let me help you bring your stuff in, then I’ll let you get settled.”

“I can handle it,” Rachel said, stiffening.

Kenny raced back in. “I can see the horses from the window by the top bunk.”

Rachel smiled. It had been a long time since she’d seen her son so happy.

She only wished it could last.

“Come on, partner,” Johnny said to Kenny. “Let’s bring in your stuff.”

Kenny loped up beside Johnny and the two of them headed back to her Jeep. Rachel followed, tensing as Johnny opened the back and spotted the two small suitcases.

He pivoted to look at her, questions in his eyes. “Is this it?”

She nodded. “We like to travel light.” Because I had to leave my other stuff behind.

He stared at her for a long minute, then nodded, lifted her suitcase and Kenny’s smaller one, handed Kenny his backpack of toys and strode back inside the cabin.

Rachel heard a truck rumble and jerked around, fighting panic, her heart racing as she searched for Rex.

But the truck rolled on past in a cloud of dust.

She sighed in relief, grateful for the reprieve as she met Johnny on the steps.

She just wondered how long it would last.

REX SLID LOWER INTO THE seat of his car, where he’d parked beneath a cluster of live oaks, his fingers sliding over the Smith & Wesson in his hands as he studied the Georgian house with the gigantic columns and sculpted shrubs.

The house belonged to Judge Walton Hammers. A rich, powerful man who held the fate of people’s lives in his hands.

An arrogant bastard who’d signed the papers granting Rachel the divorce.

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. The stupid, fat fool had no idea that by doing so he’d signed his own death warrant.

A Mercedes rolled up and Rex tensed, his heart pounding, his fingers itching to do the job. The judge steered the Mercedes into the driveway, then hit the garage door opener, and the door slid up. The Mercedes coasted inside, then the lights flicked off.

Night had fallen, dark shadows casting the mansion in gray as Rex climbed from the sedan, grabbed his rope and inched his way along the wooded lot toward the garage.

He tiptoed into the space, hiding in the shadows as the judge and his wife climbed from the car. The judge staggered, a little tipsy, and his wife moved around to help him inside.

Rex gripped his gun at the ready, then bolted up behind them and jammed the gun at the judge’s back.

“Inside now. And disarm the security.”

The woman shrieked and the judge started to turn around, but Rex crammed the gun in his back. “Do it or you both die.”

“Who the hell are you?” the judge grumbled.

“Just do as he s-says,” his wife cried.

The judge stumbled in, his wife gripping his arm, and punched the alarm. Rex relaxed slightly at the sound of the beep, then shoved the man into the room.

“Why are you doing this?” the judge bellowed.

The wife started to sob. “Please, my jewelry is upstairs. Just take what you want and don’t hurt us!”

Rex released a sinister laugh. Good idea. Make it look like a robbery gone bad.

“Up the steps,” he ordered.

The judge tilted his head sideways to look at him, but Rex jerked his arm. “I told you to move!”

“You won’t get away with this,” the judge growled.

Rex shoved them both toward the hallway and followed them as they climbed the winding staircase, the wife clutching her husband as if she might fall if he didn’t hold her up. When they entered the bedroom, the judge reached for a light.

“No.” Rex shoved the woman onto the bed, jammed the gun at the judge’s head, then pushed the rope into his hands. “Tie her up.”

The judge stammered a protest, but Rex turned the gun on his wife and he complied. The woman cried and wept as her husband bound her hands and feet, and the judge kept apologizing to her, promising that it would be all right. When he had the knots secure, Rex ordered the judge to sit down beside her.

“Just take the jewelry, and there’s money in my safe,” the judge offered in a shaky voice. “You can have it all. Just don’t hurt my wife.”

Rex barked a laugh. “You don’t understand, Judge. You took my wife from me. Now I want you to feel that same pain.”

With a flick of his finger, he pulled the trigger and shot the woman in the head. She screamed a second before the bullet pierced her brain. Blood splattered, then she slumped onto the bed in a flood of red.

The judge bellowed in shock and grief, then charged toward him. Rex pulled the trigger, firing a round into the fat man’s gut.

Then he pushed him back onto the bed and sat down, smiling as the blood began to seep from the judge’s belly.

The judge groaned and wheezed for a breath, struggling to get back up and fight.

But it was useless. He was going to die. It was only a matter of time.

The sweet taste of victory surged through him, and he fired a shot into the man’s kneecap and was rewarded by a loud scream of pain.

The woman’s death had been quick and relatively painless.

But the judge would die slowly, bleeding to death.

He grinned. He would watch the old bastard suffer until the end.

Chapter Four

The next few days Rachel avoided Johnny as much as possible. He was nice to her, good with Kenny and patient with the older boys who’d arrived. He had allowed Kenny to join in the camp activities with the other children, and let her son follow him around. He tolerated his questions and never lost his temper.

He was too good to be true.

And too sexy.

Not that she was interested in sex. No, Rex had ruined that for her, too.

But as she hurried back to the dining hall to help Ms. Ellen with dinner, she spotted him working with a group of teens in one of the pens. He was teaching them how to rope a calf, his muscles bunching as he gripped the animal and tied the rope around its legs.

She kept waiting for the ball to drop, for him to go off on one of the boys like Rex would have, but so far, he’d remained calm and in control.

Was the article she’d read about him having a hot temper simply gossip?

Kenny hung on to the fence, watching, infatuated with the cowboy’s every move.

Apprehension tightened her shoulders. If he grew too fond of the man, it would only make it more difficult when they had to leave.

And she had no doubt that that moment would come.

Rex’s harsh words echoed in her ears. I’ll kill you next time.

He would never give up. He would find them. And then the running would have to start again. A new name. A new town.

A new house or apartment or trailer, whatever she could find.

Another reason she couldn’t call the little cabin she and Kenny were staying in home. Although, the fireplace and homemade quilts and warm earthy tones made it cozy, and it felt more like home than any place she’d ever lived.

So did the dining hall. And Ms. Ellen… She was like a grandmother to Kenny and a second mom to her.

She liked Kim, Johnny’s sister, too, and her four-year-old little girl, Lucy, was adorable.

Kim taught riding skills to the younger campers and also did personal counseling, and Lucy and Kenny had enjoyed playing together.

Ranch life started early and she rose at five-thirty to help with the day’s meals while Kenny fed Cleo and played with the pups. Ms. Ellen arrived at the kitchen at four to start breakfast, but she always greeted her and Kenny with a warm smile and a pan of hot biscuits or cinnamon buns.

It was the first time since her parents died that she’d come close to having a semblance of a family.

She was desperately afraid she and Kenny were both losing their hearts to the ranch and the people here.

“Come on, Rachel,” Ms. Ellen called. “This barbecue sauce needs your special touch.”

Rachel grinned and went to taste the sauce, then added a dollop of molasses, and Ellen deemed it perfect. For the next two hours, they worked side by side, setting up the buns and Brunswick stew and slicing brownies to add to the dessert table along with bowls of homemade banana pudding.

A group of young boys from a middle school in a lower-income area filed in, then another church group of day-trippers, then six teenage boys from the orphanage. Two of the older boys looked rough around the edges, with tattoos and scowls that indicated a bad attitude. Rachel tensed as the oldest one, Ricardo, glared at her from the food line.

“This is pig slop,” the boy muttered.

Suddenly, Johnny appeared beside him. “Treat the lady with respect,” Johnny said in a tone that brooked no argument. “And if you don’t like the food, you can do without.”

Ricardo looked up at Johnny, his face turning to stone, but he nodded and mumbled an apology. Still, something about the sinister gleam in his eyes suggested he was faking it in front of Johnny. That if Johnny wasn’t around, he’d let his true side shine, just like Rex.

A shiver rippled up Rachel’s spine, but Kenny loped up, wearing a black Stetson like Johnny’s and imitating Johnny’s stance, and thoughts of the other boy fled.

“Look at my hat, Mom!” Kenny tipped the Stetson to show off the silver trim around the brim. “It’s just like Mr. J.’s!”

Rachel’s heart clenched at the hero worship in her young son’s eyes. “It’s awesome,” Rachel said tightly, but she frowned at Johnny as she handed him a plate.

His gaze met hers, and his brow furrowed in question, but then one of the middle school boys called his name and he turned to talk to them.

“Tell us about the time you won that big trophy for penning,” one of the boys said.

Johnny joined the boys at the table, then began to entertain them with his rodeo stories.

“I wanna learn to ride like that,” a ten-year-old named Pedro said.

“Me, too,” another boy yelled. “And I wanna learn to pen just like you, Mr. J.!”

Kenny piped up. “Can I be in the rodeo?”

Johnny patted Kenny’s shoulder. “Sure. We’ll start working on some riding skills tomorrow.” He fisted his hand and placed it in the middle of the table. “Who’s in?”

The boys clamored with excitement, balling their hands into fists and stacking them on top of Johnny’s until he gave the signal and they all shouted a cheer.

“He’s so good with the children,” Ms. Ellen commented. “Your little one seems to have taken a shine to him.”

“Yes, I see,” Rachel said, although her stomach was twisted in knots.

“Where is his papa?” Ms. Ellen asked.

Rachel added more buns and barbecue on the trays for the ranch hands filing in. “It’s just me and Kenny.”

“Then Mr. J. is a good role model, right?”

Rachel chewed her bottom lip. “Yes, it looks that way.” But she hurried to finish restocking the remainder of the food trays, determined to avoid the subject. One thing she’d learned on the run was to avoid intimacy with anyone.

Even well-meaning people like Ms. Ellen, because Rex might hurt the woman to get to her.

The next two hours flew by as she and Ms. Ellen served the ranch hands, grooms, camp counselors and other staff. So far, she’d yet to meet Brody, but Ms. Ellen assured her he was a fine man with a good heart.

Kenny hung with the other boys until she and Ms. Ellen had cleaned up and she was ready to leave. As she and Kenny stepped outside, she breathed in the fresh air, savoring the scent of fresh grass and the hint of wildflowers in the air.

But gravel crunched and she jerked around, immediately on edge.

Johnny hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought I’d walk you two back to your cabin.”

Hating to be caught off guard, Rachel stiffened. “We’re fine on our own.”

Johnny shrugged but fell in beside her anyway, his sexy swagger irritating her to no end. Heaven help her. She didn’t want to like him, but from what she’d seen, he was great with the kids. And he was so tough and masculine at the same time that he was downright irresistible.

But she had to resist. Besides, he might be wearing a mask to fool her just like Rex had.

Kenny broke into a run as they neared the cabin.

“I’m gonna see Cleo and the pups!”

The barn door banged shut as Kenny rushed inside, and Johnny turned to her, concern etched on his chiseled face. “Kenny seemed nervous when you first got here, but he’s starting to open up.”

Rachel tensed. She didn’t intend to answer questions about her past.

Even more unsettling was Johnny’s masculine presence. And the scent of his body was so intoxicating that she could hardly breathe. What was it? Some woodsy smell and sweat? It shouldn’t be so potent or inviting, but for some reason, it stirred desires she’d thought crushed to death by Rex’s brute force.

“What’s wrong, Rachel?” Johnny asked. “Why was Kenny so scared when you first arrived?”

“He’s just shy around new people.” Her defenses rose and she whirled toward him. “Why did you give Kenny that hat like yours?”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “He liked mine so much I thought he’d enjoy having one of his own. Is something wrong?”

No, it really was very nice. Touching even. But neither of them could get accustomed to it. “I appreciate you being kind to him, but you can’t give him gifts without asking me first.”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Rachel recognized the sincerity in his voice and felt like a heel. “It’s just that he can’t get used to receiving gifts from you or anyone else. Especially things that I can’t give him.”

He gave her a devilish smile, a leftover of his rodeo days. “It’s just a hat, Rachel, nothing more.”

Rachel’s mouth thinned. “I don’t want him hanging false hopes about staying here or…”

“Or what?” Johnny asked.

Rachel didn’t know how to explain her reaction without revealing the truth. And the truth could be dangerous for them all.

“I just don’t want him to become too attached,” she finally admitted.

“Because you don’t plan to stay?”

God help her, she wanted to stay. She was tired of running, but what choice did she have?

“I…don’t know,” she said quietly. “I just don’t want Kenny to get hurt.”

Johnny folded his arms. “I would never hurt your son or any of these boys.”

Rachel believed he wouldn’t intentionally harm him. But allowing Kenny to idolize him then to be torn away from him one day could crush her son.

She started to turn away, but Johnny caught her arm. “Rachel, tell me what’s wrong. Let me be your friend.”

The moment his fingers closed around her wrist, a shudder coursed through her as unbidden memories of Rex nearly snapping her wrist in two as she’d tried to walk away from him crashed back.

“I don’t need a friend. I can take care of myself and my son.” She jerked her arm away, then rubbed at her wrist and stepped toward the barn to get Kenny.

“Everyone needs a friend,” Johnny said in a gruff voice.

Rachel shook her head, unable to voice the fears gnawing at her. She couldn’t share the truth, couldn’t let him or anyone into their lives. If Rex saw her with Johnny, even if nothing personal was going on between them, he’d go out of his mind with jealousy. He’d done it before.

He might even attack Johnny before he killed her.

And just like before, the police wouldn’t believe her. Not with Rex’s connections.

So she turned and ran inside the house. She’d call Kenny in a minute. But first she needed a moment to calm her raging emotions.

Maybe she should leave the BBL tonight. Johnny was already suspicious. He might have already run a background check. If not, and if he decided to look into her past and discovered the warrant for her arrest, he might turn her in to the sheriff.

Then she’d go to jail and her son would never have a chance.

But the moment she entered the cabin, she froze, her lungs choking as the scent of another man’s cologne wafted toward her. Not Johnny’s woodsy scent, but an expensive brand that nauseated her because it reminded her of Rex.

Dear God, had he found her?

JOHNNY WANTED TO ASSURE Rachel he was only trying to be nice to her son. But he couldn’t force her into liking him or sharing her past.

Dammit. He’d put off checking into her background. Why, he didn’t know.

Maybe because she was so damn pretty and looked so lost and frightened and in need of a friend. Or maybe it had to do with her son. Maybe Kenny reminded him of himself at that age.

But he couldn’t stall running the background check any longer. Not with the other kids around.

He walked back to the dining hall, retrieved his truck, then drove back to the main headquarters. Inside, he grabbed a cold beer, then slipped inside the office. He hated to probe, but he was her employer and they had rules, so he phoned the service they used to run background checks.

Troy Staley, the guy the BBL had used before, answered and plugged Rachel’s name into the database.

He took a long pull from the bottle and waited several seconds, then Troy spoke.

“Several different women with that name popped up, Johnny. The first is seventy-five and lives in Wyoming.”

“So it’s a common name,” Johnny said, although his pulse was clamoring.

“Yeah. There’s also a teenager from Georgia who won a beauty pageant.” Troy sighed. “I’m checking down the list, but none of them match the description you gave me. Well, except the last one. But that Rachel Simmons was buried in Austin three weeks ago.”

Hmm, she’d lived in Texas and was about the same age as Rachel.

He frowned, his mind clicking away various possibilities. Maybe the database had missed her for some reason.

Or maybe Rachel had given him a fake name.

But why?

“Thanks, man. If you find out anything else, give me a call.”

“Right, I’ll keep looking.”

Johnny disconnected, then headed out the door, irritated that Rachel might have placed the kids at the BBL in danger. Night had fallen, the full moon a ball of fire casting a shimmering glow across the pastures as he climbed into his truck and drove to her cabin.

He loved his own spread, but this place had come to life with the kids this week. And for the first time in years, he felt as if he was doing something worthwhile.

He couldn’t let anyone jeopardize the operation or the people here.

The truck rumbled across the dirt drive, the sight of the quarter horses they’d just brought in running through the east pasture a reminder that he had to start organizing the rodeo. Plan the events, advertise, make posters… It was going to take time and all his focus.

A vehicle parked at the ridge by the creek on the hill drew his eye, and he frowned. Maybe one of the grooms or ranch hands had driven out there for some fresh air? He craned his neck to see the make of the vehicle, but didn’t recognize it.

Odd.

Still, he didn’t know every SUV or truck belonging to the hands.

Then again, what if their neighbor Rich Copeland was snooping around? He’d protested when Brody had bought the land and designated it for a kids’ camp. Copeland tried to stir up supporters to stop Brody, claiming troubled boys would endanger his own property and hands. Brody had tried to make the man understand that his fears were unfounded, but Copeland wouldn’t back down and had spread rumors and stirred animosity and worry with others in town. There was bad blood between the men now.

He’d reached Rachel’s cabin and forgot about the vehicle and Copeland as he pulled to a stop and tried to determine the best way to approach her.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he climbed out, pausing to study the cabin. Even though she’d been here only a few days, Rachel had planted flowers in the flower boxes and had attached wind chimes from the awning of the front porch. She’d even hung the bird feeder Kenny had built in the day camp with the other boys and filled it with birdseed.

As if she was making this a home.

Guilt slammed into his gut for what he was about to do. Because if she didn’t come clean with him, he had no choice. He’d have to ask her to leave.

And that meant tearing out a little boy’s heart.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted Kenny getting attached to him.

He started toward the porch, but suddenly a scream pierced the air. A woman’s scream… Rachel…

The image of her bruises flashed in his mind, and he took off running.

KENNY THOUGHT HE HEARD a scream outside. He clutched the butterball puppy to him and craned his head to hear again.

No, it had to be the wind. He was safe and so was his mama.

He stretched against a haystack, and Cleo plopped her head in his lap. The puppies started crawling all over him, up his leg, and the fat one fell off and rolled onto its back with a squeal.

Kenny rubbed its belly, then helped it turn over. The fat butterball got on his feet but wobbled and fell over again and he laughed.

Cleo snuggled against his arm and he hugged the dog.

“I like it here, Cleo,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “And I really like Mr. J.”

The dog licked his neck, and he swallowed back tears. He was a big boy and not supposed to cry.

But his mama was scared. She jumped at every little sound. He just knew any minute she’d tell him it was time to leave.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he whispered to Cleo.

But a shadow moved in the barn, and just like his mama, he jumped. A squeaking sound came from the far corner, and he scooted back behind the haystack, pulling the puppies with him. The butterball one got away, though, and waddled across the barn floor.

Kenny held his breath.

Had his daddy found them? Was he in the barn?

He choked back a cry. If he was, he might hurt the puppy.

Kenny looked around for something to fend him off with if he came toward him. A stick or a rock. Anything to save the little butterball from his daddy.

Outside he heard a scream.

Not the wind. His mama.

His heart pounded. He had to save her. “I love you, Cleo,” Kenny whispered. He hugged the dog, then scratched behind her floppy ears and settled Cleo back down beside the other puppies.

The butterball one had made it to the door, and he ran to get her, then carried her back and put her in the stall. His legs felt shaky, and he wanted to hide inside the barn with the dogs.

But he remembered the bruises on his mama’s face and neck, and he balled his hands into fists. Then he ran back to the barn door and peered outside.

Daddies were supposed to be nice like Mr. J.

But his daddy was a monster.

He couldn’t let him hurt his mama anymore. He just wished he was big and strong like Mr. J. so he could stop him.

He sucked in a big breath and slowly opened the door. He might not be big and strong, but he’d try anyway.

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