An expectant mother’s protection is a cowboy’s promise in Elle James’s Covert Cowboys, Inc. miniseries

Thorn Drennan stares death in the face when he’s nearly shot by a ranch trespasser. But this is no ordinary trespasser. Pregnant and running for her life, Sophia Carranza has crossed the Mexican border, leaving a trail of ruthless enemies behind.

Sophia’s protection is Thorn’s first assignment as an undercover agent and he senses trouble. Inexplicably drawn to Sophia’s beauty and fighting spirit, Thorn fears his growing desire for Sophia could jeopardize the mission. And when Sophia’s captors finally catch up to them, will Thorn trade his own life for another?

Thorn recognized the strength it had taken for her to come this far and her fierce desire to provide a better life for her baby, but he also knew how vulnerable she was.

As much as he wanted to have Hank reassign him so that he didn’t have to dig his own emotional grave deeper, he was stuck. He’d gone way past being able to hand her off to someone else. So far past, that all he wanted was to hold her in his arms and keep her safe from anyone who wanted to hurt her.

“I can leave. You don’t have to help me.” Her fingers dug into his shirt, belying her suggested solution.

“You know damn well I can’t let you leave.” Thorn pulled her into his arms, crushing her mouth with his. He dragged her body close to his, melding them together in an embrace far more flammable than a lit match to a stack of dry tinder.

A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing fulltime. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at ellejames@earthlink.net or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

Cowboy

Resurrected

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CAST OF CHARACTERS

Thorn Drennan—Undercover agent for Covert Cowboys, Inc. battling guilt over the deaths of his wife and unborn child.

Sophia Carranza—On the run from her abusive ex-fiancé, a drug-cartel leader with connections on both sides of the border.

Hank Derringer—Billionaire willing to take the fight for justice into his own hands by setting up CCI—Covert Cowboys, Inc.

Antonio Martinez—One of the leaders of la Familia Diablos drug cartel.

Grant Lehmann—FBI regional director and old friend of Hank’s.

Scott Walden—Forman of the Raging Bull Ranch.

Cara Jo Smithson—Pretty single woman who owns the diner in Wild Oak Canyon.

Pj Franks—Hank’s grown daughter.

Brandon Pendley—Hank Derringer’s computer guru.

Zach Adams—Former FBI special agent tortured and broken by Los Lobos cartel.

Jacie Kosart—Big Elk Ranch big game hunting trail guide desperate to find her twin sister.

Ben Harding—Former cop with the Austin police department.

Kate Langsdon—Inherited the Flying K Ranch from the father she’d never known. Husband killed in Afghanistan a month before their daughter was born. Just looking to provide a safe home for her little girl.

Chuck Bolton—Wounded soldier returning to Wild Oak Canyon to join Hank Derringer’s team, Covert Cowboys, Inc.

This book is dedicated to my husband, whose love

and support helped clear my schedule to write!

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 One

Elena Sophia Carranza gunned the throttle to make it up the steep, rocky slope, doing her best to keep up with Hector. Thank God he’d taken the precious extra time to train her on how to ride a dirt bike in rough terrain. There was no more treacherous landscape than the border crossing between Mexico and the United States leading into the Big Bend National Park.

“You can do this, Señorita Elena, but you must be brave,” Hector had insisted when they’d set off on their desperate escape. “Once we leave, we cannot return.”

She’d known that from the start. Her ex-fiancé, Antonio, would not stop until he found her. And if he did catch her, there would be the devil to pay.

Squeezing Hector’s hand, she’d whispered, “You must call me Sophia from now on. Elena no longer exists.”

“Sí,” he’d agreed before mounting his bike and taking off.

It was imperative Sophia commit to her goal, or she’d die. Others had risked too much to help her break out of the compound. Hector had risked his life and his future to get her this far. The least she could do was hold up her end by keeping pace with him, not going so slow as to put them both in jeopardy. They had come across the United States border without being detected thus far. Now all they had to do was find help.

They’d splashed through the Rio Grande at a low-water crossing before dawn and headed into the canyons, zigzagging through the trails, climbing, dropping down into the shadows, heading north as far as they could before Antonio discovered their betrayal and came after them.

No matter what, Sophia couldn’t go back. Even if she could withstand another day of physical and mental abuse, she refused to let the tiny life growing inside her suffer the same.

Escape seemed impossible from the far-reaching Mexican Mafia la Familia Diablos. As soon as Antonio realized she’d left, he’d send a gang of his sicarios, enforcers, to find and return her to Mexico or leave it for the Americans or the vultures to clean up her body.

As far as Sophia was concerned, she’d rather die and take her baby to heaven with her than subject another innocent life to the evil of Antonio Martinez and the drug cartel he called family.

Anna, her only friend in la Fuerte del Diablo, the Chihuahuan compound, had compromised her safety and that of her young son to get Sophia out. Sophia couldn’t fail. Too many had risked too much.

Deep in the canyons of the far edges of Big Bend National Park, Sophia dared to hope she could evade Antonio and his band of killers long enough to find a place to hide, a place she could live her life in peace and raise her child.

Sophia had been born in Mexico, and her mother was an American citizen, ensuring Sophia had dual citizenship and could speak English fluently. Unfortunately, she no longer had her passport. Antonio had stripped her of identification after he’d lured her away from her family in Monterrey.

Once she found a safe haven, she’d do whatever it took to reinstate her citizenship and ask for asylum. In exchange, she’d give the Americans any information they wanted on the whereabouts of Antonio’s cartel stronghold on the Mexican side of the border. Not that it would do them much good. The Mexican government struggled to control their own citizens. What could the Americans do across the border?

Sophia knew that Antonio had contacts on the American side. High-powered, armed contacts that guaranteed safe passage of his people and products for distribution. Since the death of the former cartel boss, Xavier Salazar, Antonio had taken over, amassing a fortune in the illicit drug trade of cocaine, methamphetamines, heroin and marijuana. His power had grown tenfold, his arrogance exponentially, but he reported to a higher boss, a mysterious man not many of the cartel had actually seen. Rumor had it that he was an American of great influence. True or not, every time he visited, cartel members who’d betrayed la Familia were executed.

Sophia’s only hope was to get far enough onto American soil and reach Hank Derringer. Anna said he would help her and protect her from Antonio. She’d said Señor Derringer was an honest, good man who had many connections on both sides of the border.

Her motorcycle hit a rock, jerking the handlebar sharply to her left. Sophia’s arms ached with the constant struggle to keep the vehicle upright. She slowed, dropping farther behind Hector as they climbed yet another steep trail. They’d been traveling for hours, stopping to rest only once.

Her stomach rumbled, the nausea she’d fought hard to hide from Antonio surfacing, telling her she needed to eat or her body would set off a round of dry heaves that would leave her empty and weak.

When she thought she could take it no more, the beating sound of chopper rotors swept into the canyon, the roar bouncing off the vertical walls.

Adrenaline spiked through her, giving her the strength to continue on.

Ahead, Hector climbed a trail leading to the rim of the canyon.

Sophia shouted, wanting him to wait, seek cover and hide from the approaching aircraft. She feared Antonio had discovered her escape and sent his enforcers to find her and bring her back. He had the firepower and access to aircraft that would enable him to extract her from the canyon. Sophia had seen the airplanes and helicopters near the compound’s landing field. Money truly could buy anything.

Hector cleared the top of the trail, then leaped over the edge and out of Sophia’s sight. The helicopter pulled up out of the canyon headed straight for Hector.

Sophia prayed the aircraft was the bright green and white of the American border patrol. The setting sun cast the vehicle in shadow. When it moved close enough, Sophia gasped. The helicopter was the dull black of those she’d seen at la Fuerte del Diablo. Her daring escape had been discovered.

She skidded to a stop, hiding her bike beneath an overhang of rocks. Her entire body shaking, she killed the engine and waited, the shadows and the encroaching nightfall providing as much cover as she could hope to find until the helicopter moved on.

As the chopper passed over her without slowing, Sophia let out the breath she’d held, then gasped as sounds of gunfire ripped through the air.

Madre de Dios. Hector.

Her foot on the kick start, Sophia fought the urge to race to the top of the canyon rim to help Hector. Nausea held her back, reminding her she wasn’t alone. The child inside her womb deserved a chance to live.

Sophia waited fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe more, for the helicopter to rise again into the sky, then realized it must have landed and the crew might be searching for her. She remained hidden for all those agonizing minutes, while the sun melted into the horizon. Storm clouds built to the west, catching the dying rays and staining the sky mauve, magenta, purple and gray.

When the helicopter finally lifted and circled back, Sophia pressed her body and the bike up against the canyon wall, sinking as far back into the darkest shadows as possible. The chopper hovered, moving slowly along the trail they’d just traveled, searching.

For her.

After what seemed like hours but was in fact only minutes, the aircraft moved on, traveling back the way it had come.

The smoky darkness of dusk edged deeper into the canyon, making the trail hard to find. Sophia eased her dirt bike out from the shadow of the overhang. Tired beyond anything she’d ever experienced, she managed to sling a stiff leg over the seat and cranked the engine with a hard kick on the starter. At first, the bike refused to start. On the fifth attempt, the engine growled to life. With a quick glance behind her, she was off, climbing the trail more slowly than she’d like in the limited light from encroaching nightfall.

At the rim of the canyon, her heart sank into her shoes.

The other motorcycle came into view first, lying on its side a couple hundred yards down the steep slope. Ahead on the trail lay the crumpled body of Hector, her ally, her only friend willing to help her out of a deadly situation.

She stopped beside Hector’s inert form, dismounted and leaned over the man to check for a pulse.

The blood soaking into the ground told the tale, and the lack of a pulse confirmed it. Hector Garza was dead.

Sophia bent double as a sob rose up her throat. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, dropping to the dry earth, where they were immediately absorbed in the dust.

Anna had sent Hector to guide her. Hector had been the one to encourage her along the way. He’d arranged to buy the bikes from a cousin in Juárez and had hidden them in a shed behind his brother’s house in Paraíso.

The hopelessness of the situation threatened to overwhelm Sophia. The only thought that kept her going was that Anna and Hector would have wanted her to continue on. Sophia brushed away the tears and looked around, not sure which way to go. Instinct told her to head north. With only a compass to guide her, and the few provisions she’d loaded into her backpack, she was on her own. Alone and pregnant.

Afraid the helicopter would return, Sophia removed the rolled blanket tied to the back of Hector’s bike and secured it to her backpack. She forced herself to climb back on the bike, the insides of her thighs and her bottom aching from the full day of riding and the strain of remaining seated on the motorcycle across the rough terrain.

She removed the compass from her pocket and clicked the button illuminating the dial. She set her course for north and took off across the desert, the night sky full of stars guiding her. With the threat of rain fast approaching, she increased her speed, refusing to give up when she’d come this far.

Before long, she came across a barbed-wire fence. If she hadn’t seen the silhouettes of the fence posts standing straight and tall in a land of short, rounded and oddly shaped cacti, saw palmetto and sagebrush, she would have run right into the razor-sharp barbed wire.

Hector had armed her with wire cutters for just such an occasion. He’d warned her that the wire was stretched taut and not to get too close or, when she cut it, she’d be wrapped in the sharp barbs, unable to extricate herself without grave harm.

Sophia held her arm out as far as she could when she cut through the bottom strand. The wire snapped, retracting into a coil farther down the fence line.

She cut the other two strands and drove her bike through, exhaustion making her movements slow and sluggish. If she didn’t find a place to hide soon, she’d drive off a bluff or wreck.

With only the stars and her compass to guide her, Sophia picked her way across the terrain, dodging vegetation not nearly large enough to hide a dirt bike or a woman, but large enough to cause serious damage should she hit it.

After the third near miss with prickly pear cacti, she finally spotted the square silhouette of a small building against the horizon. No lights gleamed from windows and no electricity poles rose up into the night sky, which might indicate life inside.

She aimed her bike for the dark structure, her body sagging over the gas tank, her hand barely able to push the throttle.

As she neared the building, she cut the engine and drifted to a stop, ditched the bike in the dirt and walked the remaining distance. She swung wide to check for inhabitants. Nothing stirred, nothing moved around the exterior. The building had a lean-to on the side and a pipe chimney. The place appeared deserted.

Sophia opened the door and peered inside. With the starlight shining through the doorway, she could see twin bed frames, no more than cots with thin mattresses rolled toward the head. A potbellied stove stood in one corner, and a plank table with benches on either side took up another corner.

Not the Four Seasons, but heaven in Sophia’s tired eyes. She trudged back to where she’d left the bike, pushed it under the lean-to and stacked several old tires against it to hide it from view. With nothing more than what she carried in her backpack, she reentered the cabin.

The door had neither lock nor latch to secure it. Too spent to care, Sophia shook out a thin mattress, tossed her blanket over it, placed the pistol Hector had given her on the floor beside the cot and lay down.

She stared up at the dark ceiling, thinking of Hector and Anna and all they’d sacrificed to get her away from Antonio. One tear fell, followed by another. Sobs rose up her throat and she let them come, allowing her fear and sorrow a release. Tonight she could grieve. Tomorrow, before sunrise, her journey continued.

* * *

THORN DRENNAN HADN’T planned on being out this late, but he’d promised his boss, Hank Derringer, that while he awaited his first assignment as a special agent with Covert Cowboys, Inc., he’d check the Raging Bull Ranch fences for any breaks.

With the number of illegal aliens and drug runners still crossing the border from Mexico into the United States, any ranch owner this close to the border could count on mending his fences at least two or three times a week, sometimes more.

On horseback, it had taken Thorn far longer than he’d anticipated. The sun had set an hour ago, and he still hadn’t completed a full inspection of the southern border of the massive ranch. He’d continued on, despite how tired he was, taking it slow so that he didn’t overtax his mount.

Since the stars shone down, providing enough light to see the fence, Thorn didn’t have a reason to return to the ranch sooner. He’d just climb into his truck and head to his little empty house in Wild Oak Canyon and lie awake all night anyway.

Sleep meant nightmares. The kind that wouldn’t let him get on with his life—the kind that reminded him of all he’d lost.

Tonight was the second anniversary of the murder of his wife and their unborn daughter. He couldn’t have gone home, even if he’d completed the inspection of the fence. And the bars didn’t stay open all night.

His house was a cold, grim testament of what his career had cost him. He’d slept on the couch for the past two years, unable to sleep in the bed he’d shared with Kayla. He’d loved her since high school. They’d grown up together there in Wild Oak Canyon. She’d followed him across the country when he’d joined the FBI and back home when he’d given up the bureau to take on the role of county sheriff. He’d made the switch so that he would be home more often, and so he and Kayla could start the family they both wanted.

Their plan had gone according to schedule—until a bullet aimed at Thorn had taken Kayla’s life and, with hers, that of their unborn child.

Thorn stared off into the distance. His horse, Little Joe, clumped along, probably tired and ready to head for the barn. So much had changed, and yet South Texas remained the same—big, dry and beautiful in its own way. Never had he known a place where you could see as many stars overhead. Kayla had loved lying out at night, staring up at the sky, picking out the constellations, insisting they teach their daughter all about the world and universe they lived in.

Thorn didn’t know much about the cosmos other than what he’d read in magazines, but he knew how to find the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt because of Kayla. And because of Kayla, Thorn never failed to marvel at the immensity of the universe, much less the galaxies beyond their own solar system.

Tonight the vastness only made him realize just how alone he was.

Little Joe ground to a halt, jarring Thorn out of his morose thoughts, and just as well. Coiled in big, loose curls was a tangle of barbed wire where the fence had been cut.

Thorn cast a quick glance around to make sure whoever had cut the fence wasn’t still lurking before he went to work mending the break. An hour later, fence mended, he stretched aching muscles. The moon had risen high above, near full, shedding enough light that it could have been daytime. The light wouldn’t last long. Thunderclouds looming to the west would change that soon. He’d have to hurry if he wanted to get back to Hank’s before the storm reached him.

In the dust at Thorn’s feet, a single tire track, probably a motorcycle, led from the break in the fence into the ranch. At that moment, the wind wasn’t blowing and the track remained intact. Thorn stowed his tools in his saddlebag and swung up into the saddle. Hank’s sprawling ranch house lay in the general direction of the tracks. With the moonlight illuminating the trail, Thorn chose to follow the tracks and see where they led. Perhaps he’d catch up with the trespasser.

After thirty minutes of slow riding, dropping to the ground to double-check the direction and climbing back into the saddle, Thorn spotted what looked like an old hunting cabin ahead in the distance. The motorcycle tracks were on a collision course.

Thorn pulled his rifle out of the scabbard and checked to make sure it was loaded and ready. When he got close enough, he dropped down out of the saddle and left the reins hanging.

Thunder rumbled, and Little Joe tossed his head and whinnied.

The flash of lightning reminded Thorn that the storm would soon be on him, obliterating the moonlight and any chance of finding his way back to Hank’s ranch house in the dark.

Thorn crept around the cabin, checking for any sign of life. He spotted the motorcycle buried beneath a couple of old tires. His pulse quickened.

The person who’d cut Hank’s fence was inside the cabin.

Standing to the side of the door, Thorn balanced his rifle against his hip, grabbed the doorknob, shoved open the door and darted out of range.

An explosion erupted from inside the cabin and wood splintered from the door frame, bouncing off Thorn’s face. He ducked low, rolled through the doorway and came up in a crouch, aiming his rifle in the direction from which the last bullet had come.

“Vaya, o disparo!” Another shot blasted a hole in the wall near Thorn’s shoulder.

He threw himself forward in a somersault, coming up on his haunches. The rifle lay across the cot, pointed at the side of the shooter’s head.

“Por favor, no disparar!” a shaky female voice called out. “Don’t shoot!” Slim hands rose above the other side of the cot.

“¿Hablas Inglés?” Thorn asked.

“Sí. Yes. I speak English. Please, don’t shoot.”

“Place your weapon on the floor and push it toward the door.”

The thunk of metal hitting wood was followed by the rasp of it sliding across the floor.

Thorn hooked the gun with a foot and slid it toward himself. “Now you. Stand and walk toward the door.”

She hesitated. “Do you promise not to shoot?”

“I’m not going to shoot, as long as you don’t do something stupid.”

A slim figure emerged from the shadows, rising above the cot. Long, straight hair hung down around her shoulders, swaying slightly as she moved toward the door, picking her way carefully. For a second, she stood silhouetted in the light filtering in from the moon, the curve of her hips and breasts in sharp contrast to her narrow waist.

She glanced toward him, moonlight glinting off her eyes.

Thorn stared, transfixed.

Then, before he could guess her intentions, she flung herself outside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Thorn shot to his feet, ripped the door open and ran outside. He turned left, thinking she’d go for the motorcycle under the lean-to.

Just as he rounded the corner of the house, he realized his mistake.

Little Joe whinnied, then galloped by with the woman on him.

Thorn tore out after them, catching up before Little Joe could get up to speed.

He grabbed the woman around the waist and yanked her out of the saddle, the force of her weight sending them both to the ground.

The wind knocked out of him, Thorn held on to his prize, refusing to let go, a dozen questions spinning through his mind. Who was she? What was she doing on the Raging Bull? And why did her soft curves feel so good against his body?

Chapter Two

When Sophia landed on the man, the fall forced the air from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, gathering her wits and her breath. Then she fought to free herself of the steel vise clinched around her waist. “Let go of me.” She scratched and clawed at his arm.

“No way,” the deep voice said into her ear, his breath stirring the hairs at the back of her neck. “You almost killed me twice and tried to steal my horse.”

She jabbed her elbow into his gut and jerked to the side.

The man grunted and refused to loosen his grip.

Lightning flickered across the sky and a crash of thunder sounded so close, Sophia stopped fighting for a second.

The horse, standing a few feet away, reared and took off, probably racing for the barn as the sky lit again, this time with a thousand fingers of lightning.

Wind whipped Sophia’s hair into her eyes, and the first drops of rain peppered her skin.

The cowboy gripped her wrist and rolled her off him onto her stomach.

He came down on top of her, straddling her hips, his pressing into the small of her back. “I’ll let you up if you promise to behave.”

She snorted and spit to the side. “And I should trust you?”

He chuckled. “You don’t have much of a choice.”

Sophia squirmed beneath him, trying to free her wrist from his ironlike grasp. “Let go. I’ll leave and you will never see me again.”

Thunder boomed so loud it shook the ground.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you’re not going anywhere in this storm.”

As if to emphasize her captor’s point, the water droplets grew thicker, the wind blasting them against her skin.

The dry dust kicked up, stinging her eyes and choking her breath. “Okay.” She coughed. “I’ll behave.”

The man’s weight left her body and he jerked her to her feet.

As soon as she stood, the storm unleashed its full power in a deluge so thick she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

“Get in the cabin!” her captor yelled over the roar.

Water streamed down her face, blinding her.

A shove from behind sent her stumbling toward the open door. Her heart hammered against her ribs; fear of the storm nothing compared to fear of being trapped with this strong, dangerous stranger inside the small confines of the cabin.

He stepped around her and dragged her along behind him.

Sophia planted her heels in the mud and jerked hard.

The rain allowed her to slip free of his grip, but she hadn’t accounted for how easily. She teetered backward and landed hard on the ground, mud sluicing over her clothes, soaking her all the way to her skin.

The cowboy stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “If you’re not struck by lightning, the flash floods will get you!” he yelled.

“I’ll take my chances.” Sophia scrambled to her feet, slipped, almost fell and steadied herself.

The cowboy’s lips quirked, and he shook his head. “Stubborn woman.”

Sophia’s chin tipped upward. Before she could think of a scathing reply, the cowboy moved, leaving the protection of the cabin to scoop her up. He tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of onions and spun back toward the cabin.

The wind again knocked out of her, Sophia bounced along with every one of his huge steps until they entered the cabin.

The brute of a man kicked the door shut behind him and set Sophia on her feet in the dark.

The temperature had plummeted with the rainfall, cooling her body. She shook, her teeth clattering against each other. “Don’t try anything or I’ll...I’ll...” She strained her eyes to search the room for a weapon, the darkness hampering her efforts and only flashes of lightning giving limited relief.

Finally she straightened, holding her head high, not that he could see her. She’d come too far to fall victim to yet another man who wanted to use her. Sophia dropped her tone to one she hoped sounded tough and menacing. “I’ll kill you.” Too bad a shiver shook her as she said the words, making them sound weak and quivery.

“Sweetheart, I have no intention of ‘trying’ anything with you. You look like a drowned rat and you’re covered in mud. You’re about as appealing as a pig. Less so. I could at least eat a pig.” He shuffled around the cabin, bumping into things.

Sophia stood close to the door, debating how to make her escape. The bellow of thunder and the rain pounding the roof intensified, making her think again.

Something rattled to her left, then a scraping sound rasped in the darkness and a match flared. The cowboy held it up and stared at the potbellied stove. “Here, make yourself useful.” He handed her a box of matches. “Light one.”

She took the box from him as the match he held flickered out. Hands shaking, she removed a match from the box and scraped it on the side. The blaze from the match circled her and the cowboy in an intimate glow.

He grabbed a candle from the mantel and held it to the match, then stuck it in a tin holder. “That will do for a start, but it’s cold, we’re wet and we’ll need a fire or we’ll have a really bad night of it.” He lifted the lid off a box beside the stove and grunted. “Nice.” Several logs lay in the bottom, along with old newspapers. “Hank knows how to stock a cabin,” he muttered as he lifted the logs out and stacked them in the stove.

Sophia’s heart skipped several beats. “Hank?”

The man wadded up newspaper and jammed it beneath the logs before responding. “Yeah, you’re trespassing on the Raging Bull Ranch. I take it you were the one to cut the fence?” He shot a narrowed glance behind him. “Illegal alien?”

She refused to be intimidated by his glare. “I am an American citizen.”

“Even American citizens don’t have the right to destroy other people’s property or trespass. You can take it up with the law in the morning.”

Could it be she’d found her way to Hank Derringer’s land? Hope rose inside her. “I’d rather take it up with this man Hank.”

The cowboy shrugged. “Suit yourself, lady. I don’t care.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take those matches now.”

She handed him the box and stood back.

He got the paper burning and the dry wood caught soon after, crackling and popping. He left the door to the stove open, the blaze lighting the interior of the tiny cabin in a soft, cozy glow.

The heat didn’t extend beyond a few feet from the stove.

Still leery about the cowboy’s intentions, Sophia remained outside his reach, her arms clutched around her body, her teeth chattering.

The big man stood, holding his hands to the fire. “Sure is warm over here.” He cast a glance at her and shook his head. “Good grief, woman, you’re freezing. Get closer before you catch your death.”

“I’m f-fine,” she insisted, her gaze on the flames, mesmerized by the thought of warmth.

The cowboy unbuttoned his soaked shirt and peeled it off his shoulders.

Sophia gasped and backed even farther away until the backs of her knees ran into the side of the bed and she almost fell. “What are you doing?”

“Getting out of my wet clothes. I don’t plan on freezing all night.” He scooped her backpack off the floor and opened it. “Do you have any dry clothes in here?”

She darted forward and snatched at the backpack. “That’s mine.”

He held on to the strap, his eyes narrowing. “Seeing as we have to share this cabin for a night, I’d like to know you’re not hiding a knife or another gun in here that you plan on using on me in my sleep.” He peeled her fingers off the other strap and dumped the contents of the backpack on the closest of the twin beds.

Foil-wrapped tortillas, a can of frijoles pinto and two bottles of water fell out on the bed. Enough food for two people for a single day. Beside them, a flashlight, fifty dollars of American money and one extra T-shirt was all she had to her name.

“Not much to go cross-country on.”

“I was backpacking in the canyon. I didn’t plan on staying,” she lied.

He dug in one of the side pockets of the backpack and brought out the wire cutters. “Something you carry on hikes?”

She shrugged. “A girl never knows what tools she’ll need.”

“Anyone ever tell you it’s not safe to travel alone in this area? Especially if you’re a woman.”

Sophia swallowed hard on the lump forming in her throat. She hadn’t planned on traveling alone. Hector was to guide and protect her until she found Hank Derringer. Now Hector lay dead back in the canyon. With no one to help her, she had to rely on herself. She lifted her chin. “I don’t need a man to protect me.” Especially one who wanted to control her and keep her locked away from the world.

“Glad to know that. I didn’t plan on signing up for the job.” He lifted the blanket she’d tossed on the bed earlier. “Since you have a dry T-shirt, I’ll use the blanket until my jeans dry.” He nodded toward the bed and the pile of supplies. “Get out of your wet clothes. Getting sick will do you no good.” He reached for the button on his jeans.

Sophia’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. “What are you doing?”

He shook his head and spoke slowly, as if to a dense child. “I told you, I’m getting out of my wet clothes. You can watch...or not.” He flicked the button open and ran the zipper down in one fluid movement.

Sophia gasped and spun away from him. “I don’t even know you.”

“It’s not like I’m going to make love to you. I prefer my women willing, dry and preferably not covered in mud.”

“All the more reason to remain in my wet clothing.”

“Suit yourself.” He tossed the jeans over a chair beside her. “If it’ll help, I’ll turn my back while you strip out of those muddy things. I might even be convinced to take them out in the rain and rinse them for you so that you’ll have something semiclean to wear in the morning.”

She did feel gritty and cold. The dirt she could handle, but the cold couldn’t be good for her baby. “Fine.” She turned toward him, happy to note he’d wrapped his naked body in the blanket. “Turn around.”

She’d been raised in Monterrey by her Mexican father and her American mother, but the proprieties of life in Mexico demanded she didn’t strip naked in front of a stranger.

Granted, proprieties had gone by the wayside when she’d chosen to move in with Antonio, despite her parents’ objections. They’d begged her to wait until she had the ring on her finger before committing to such a drastic move. But Antonio had been eager to have her to himself, and Sophia had been young and stupid in love.

“Look, I’ll turn my back,” the man said. “But you have to promise not to stab me in it while I do.”

Sophia snorted. “I don’t have a knife, and you took my gun.”

* * *

THORN KEPT HIS back to her, watching her movements through his peripheral vision and the movement of her shadow.

She eased along the wall toward the stove, wary of him and as skittish as a wild cat. If she didn’t get out of the muddy clothes, they wouldn’t dry by morning and she’d possibly get sick or suffer hypothermia from being cold all night.

Thorn didn’t relish the idea of hauling a sick woman back to the ranch. Especially if they were going to have to ride double on the motorcycle she’d hidden beneath the lean-to.

“Since we’ll be sharing this cabin until the storm abates, it might help to know your name. I’m Thorn Drennan.”

She didn’t answer for a long time.

When he turned to see if she’d somehow slipped by him and left, his chest tightened.

The woman had shed her wet, dirty clothing and was slipping the dry T-shirt over her head and down her body.

Silhouetted against the fireplace, her curves were all woman and deliciously alluring.

A shock of desire ripped through him, and he closed his eyes to the image.

He hadn’t felt anything for another woman since Kayla had died two years ago. Trapped in a cabin with a stranger, he wasn’t prepared for the heat burning through his veins.

The woman turned toward him, her eyes narrowing. “You said you’d keep your back turned,” she whispered accusingly.

“You didn’t answer. I thought you might have bolted for the door.”

“As you said, I’d be foolish to make a run for it in this storm.”

He nodded. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She shrugged. “My name is not important. But you can call me...Sophia.” The woman hesitated over the name, as if she wasn’t used to giving it or using it.

Thorn didn’t believe that it was her real name. But then, why would she keep her name from him unless she had something to hide?

Already uncomfortable with the situation, and not sure she wouldn’t stab him in the back, Thorn carried her gun and his rifle to the door and laid them within reach.

“I’ll take those clothes,” he said.

Sophia gathered her dirty jeans and shirt and handed them to Thorn. Their fingers brushed, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up his arm.

She must have felt it, too, because her eyes widened and her lips opened in a soft gasp.

Thorn brushed his reaction aside, blaming it on supercharged air from the lightning storm. He flung the door open, welcoming the cold rain that blew in with the fury of the storm.

With the blanket tied around his waist, he figured he’d get soaked no matter what. He held Sophia’s clothes under the eaves, letting the rush of rainwater pour over the garments. When they were sufficiently free of mud, he wrung them out and closed the door.

Sophia moved another chair by the stove and hung her jeans across the back, then laid her shirt on the wooden seat. When done, she held her hands to the flames, her face pale, her jaw tight and determined.

Thorn scooped the gun she’d used to shoot at him off the floor and tucked it into the folds of the blanket around his waist. He leaned his rifle against the wall beside one of the two beds.

Sophia’s gaze followed his movements, her brows knitted and her arms wrapped tightly around her middle.

Thorn liked that he made her nervous. She might be less tempted to take another stab at killing him if she was intimidated.

“Are you going to take me to the police in the morning?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his brows raised. “Are you going to convince me not to?”

Sophia shrugged. “You have made up your mind already. Why bother trying?”

His eyes narrowed. “If you really are an American citizen, where are you from?”

She glanced to the far corner.

Thorn could almost see the cogs turning in her brain.

Finally she faced him, her brows raised. “San Antonio. Sí, I am from San Antonio.”

“Vacationing in Big Bend, huh?” He raised a hand to his chin and stared down his nose at her. “I’m familiar with San Antonio. What section of town?”

Her eyes flared, then closed. She turned her back to him. “The north side.”

“Ah, you must prefer shopping at Ingram Park Mall since it’s closest to you, right?”

Her shoulders were stiff, and she remained with her back to him. “Right. Ingram.”

Thorn’s teeth ground together. If she really lived on the north side of San Antonio, the closest mall was not Ingram. She didn’t know San Antonio any more than she knew where she was at the moment.

She dragged in a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with it. “What now?”

Thorn opened his mouth to call her out on her lie, but stopped when he noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes and what appeared to be the yellowing remnants of a bruise across her cheek. He’d get the truth out of her, but it could wait until they both got a little rest. “Now we sleep.”

He unfolded the second bed’s mattress and stretched across it, laying the pistol beside him and lacing his hands behind his head. “You look done in. I suggest you get some shut-eye.”

Her gaze swept over his naked chest, and lower. She hesitated, her tongue sweeping out across her lower lip.

The brief appearance of her pink tongue stirred a heated response low in Thorn’s belly. Damn. What was wrong with him? He’d loved Kayla more than life itself. Why was his body reacting so strongly to this woman? Was it the vulnerability in her green eyes, or that she’d tried so determinedly to escape him that appealed to him on a deeper level? Whatever it was, he’d be glad when he handed her off to the authorities tomorrow. He closed his eyes to her image bathed in the glow of the fire in the stove. “I’m not going to sleep until you do, so move it.”

“I’m not sleepy.”

He opened his eyes. “Too bad.”

Her glance darted from him to the bed beside his. “I have enough food for two people. Unfortunately, I don’t have a way to open the cans. Hector—” Her lips clamped shut, and her face paled even more.

“Hector?” Thorn’s eyes narrowed. He was up off the bed in a second. “You were traveling with someone else.” He closed the distance between the two of them. “Weren’t you?” Thorn gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging into her shirt.

Sophia, eyes wide as saucers, shook her head back and forth, tears spilling from the corners. “N-no. I was alone.” She cowered, her eyes squinting, ducking her head as if expecting a blow.

“You’re lying.” He shook her. “Where is he?”

She gulped, the muscles in her throat working convulsively. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With her body close to his, her arms warm beneath his fingers, heat surged, followed by anger. “Damn it, woman, I’m tired of playing twenty questions. Spit it out. Where is this Hector? Do I have to stay awake all night in case he comes in and tries to kill me, too?”

“No!” Sobs shook her slight frame and her head tipped forward, her damp hair falling over her face. “Madre de Dios.” She crossed herself. “He is dead.”

The words came out in a whisper. Thorn thought he’d heard it wrong. He bent closer. “What did you say?”

A sob ripped from her throat and her head fell back, tears running like raindrops down her cheeks. “He’s dead. They shot him. He tried to help me, and now he’s dead! And it’s my fault.”

Chapter Three

Sophia swallowed hard, realizing her mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Who shot him?” Thorn shook her. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to wrench another sob from her throat.

She looked away, the memory of Hector lying in a pool of his own blood far too fresh to erase. “I don’t know.” She choked back another sob, reminding herself that she couldn’t cry forever. After all the time she’d spent as a captive in the compound, she’d learned one thing: crying didn’t solve anything. What would it hurt to tell this man a few details? “Someone in a helicopter fired a machine gun at Hector.”

His brows rose into the lock of hair drooping over his forehead. “A machine gun?”

Sophia nodded.

“Where is Hector now?” Thorn demanded.

“We were in the canyon. Hector had topped the ridge when the helicopter flew in. I h-hid beneath an overhang.” She looked at him through her tears. “I should have helped.”

“Against a helicopter?” Thorn’s lips pressed together. “Not much you could do on your own unless you had a rocket launcher.” He tipped his head to the side. “Question is, why did a helicopter fire on you and your friend Hector if you were only out hiking in Big Bend country?” Thorn’s eyes narrowed. “Now would be a good time to tell me the truth.” He dropped his hold and crossed his arms. He waited a few seconds. “Neither one of us is going anywhere until you do.”

She glanced toward the door. Thunder rumbled, rattling the doorknob. “I told you, we were hiking.”

His lips thinned, and he shook his head. “I’m not buying it. There’s a motorcycle in the lean-to that wasn’t there a day ago. I’m betting you rode in on it.”

She stared up at him, her mouth working, but nothing came out.

“Which brings me back to my original theory. You’re an illegal alien.”

“I’m not. My mother is American and, though I was born in Mexico, I have dual citizenship.”

He held out his hand. “Then you won’t mind showing me your passport.”

She stared at his hand, her throat muscles working at swallowing the lump lodged in her windpipe. “I don’t have it on me.”

“Thought so. No documents, riding a bike across the desert near the border, helicopter in pursuit.” He snorted. “You are definitely an illegal and possibly dangerous.”

“Think what you will.” She tossed back her long light brown hair. “Tomorrow I’ll be away from here, and you won’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

She frowned. “Count on what?”

“That you’ll be gone, or that I wouldn’t worry about you. I’ve kinda taken a liking to you. Must have been the fall.” He raised his hand to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry to say I have not taken a liking to you, señor,” she said, tipping her chin upward.

“Really?” Thorn leaned close, his eyes narrowing even more. He stared at her long enough to make her squirm.

Then he tilted his head back and laughed out loud. “You are entirely too naive and predictable, Sophia.”

She harrumphed, clasping her arms around her body. “I’m happy you find me amusing.”

Lightning flashed, sending shards of light through cracks in the boarded windows, followed by a deafening clap of thunder.

Sophia jumped, bumping into Thorn’s naked chest. She raised a hand to steady herself and encountered smooth, hard muscles. Heat suffused her entire body. She might not like the man, but she couldn’t help admiring his physique. She told herself it was nothing more than appreciation for a fine form.

Her belly rumbled loudly, reminding her that she needed to eat or risk dry heaves. And preparing food would allow her to put distance between herself and Thorn. She nodded toward the food on the bed. “I’m hungry.”

“So you said.” He reached out.

Sophia flinched, raising her hand to block his as she ducked.

Thorn’s frown deepened. “Did you think I’d hit you?”

Sophia straightened, her body tense. “You wouldn’t be the first man.”

He continued to reach past her. Plucking a metal object from a shelf on the wall, he held it up. “I was reaching for the can opener.” Thorn tossed the device on the bed and turned to grip her arms. “For the record, I don’t hit women.”

She planted her feet wide, her eyes narrowing to slits. “No? But you grab them and hold them hostage.”

“Damn it, woman. For your own good.”

“And how is being a captive good?” She snorted. “You’re like most men, thinking a woman must be controlled, that she doesn’t have a brain to think for herself.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.” His hands fell to his sides. “Given that you could have died with your friend Hector and might have been caught in a flash flood or struck by lightning, I think I can prove my case for keeping you here.”

She shrugged and ducked around him. “I don’t care what you prove.” Sophia grabbed the can opener and set it against the lid on the can of beans. After several attempts, she gave up, her stomach twisting, the hollow feeling making her nauseous.

“Good grief, woman.” Thorn took the can and opener out of her hands. “It’s not rocket science.”

“No? Then you do it.” She backed away from him, the nausea increasing until heat radiated through her body and she knew she couldn’t hold back any longer. Sophia ran for the door, her footsteps drowned out by the pounding of rain on the tin roof. Her hand closed around the knob as the first wave hit.

Before she could yank the door open, a hand closed over hers. “Going somewhere, sweetheart?” Thorn asked, staring down at her, his brows drawn together in a fierce frown. “I thought we’d settled all this running away stuff, at least until after the storm.”

She clawed at his hand. “Please.” Sophia swallowed again and again, trying to force the bile back. “I have to get out.”

He moved to stand in front of her, his arms locked over his chest like a barroom bouncer. “No.”

“So be it.” She heaved. What remained of the food she’d eaten the night before rose like a projectile up her throat. She bent in time to miss Thorn’s face, but anointed his bare feet.

The heaving continued until Sophia’s body shook so badly she fell to her knees on the hard wooden floor.

She cowered, waiting for Thorn to curse her and call her stupid for barfing on his feet. Sophia braced her body for the beating that was sure to follow.

The harsh words and beatings never came.

When the wave of sickness abated, she lay down on the floor, pressing her heated cheek to the cool wood.

Thorn crouched beside her, brushing her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry. Had I known you were sick—”

Thorn’s voice washed over Sophia like a warm blanket. She lay with her eyes closed, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other to her belly, afraid to move and set off the nausea all over again. “I’ll be okay. I just need to eat.”

“You can’t lie there on the floor.” He touched her arm. “Let me help you to the bed.”

“No.” She brushed away his hand. “Leave me alone. It’ll pass.” After several minutes, her head quit spinning and she dared to open her eyes. “I’m sorry I threw up on you.”

“I’ll live.” His frown had softened to an expression of concern. “Think you can move now?”

She nodded, lying there for a moment longer before attempting the simple task.

“I’m going to clean up this mess.” Thorn moved about the cabin, the soft rustles giving away his location and negating the need for Sophia to look.

Before she could brace her hands on the floor and push herself to a sitting position, Thorn’s strong fingers scooped beneath her legs and back, and he lifted her up in his arms in one smooth, easy motion.

Sophia closed her eyes, praying her stomach wouldn’t churn and release again. “Please, put me down.”

“I will.” He crossed to the mattress he’d unfolded for himself and laid her out on a blanket. “I found another blanket in a box.”

With the back of her hand resting over her eyes, she breathed in and out several times, her mouth tasting so bad she feared she’d lose it again.

The snap of metal on metal made her glance across at Thorn.

With deft fingers, he had the can of beans open in a few quick twists of the can-opener key.

Sophia’s lips tipped upward. “How is it you say...show-off.”

“I never learned how to cook, so I had to get good at eating canned food or starve.”

She smiled.

* * *

THORN’S HEART TUMBLED and came to a crashing stop.

Despite her pale face and slightly green complexion, her smile managed to light up the room, chasing away Thorn’s natural distrust of the woman who’d done nothing but lie to him the entire time they’d been together. Something about her sad eyes and her inherent vulnerability called to his protective instincts. He still held the can, and his heart pounded against his ribs.

Sophia’s smile faded. “You’re staring at me.”

He spun away, wondering what the hell had come over him. He rummaged in the wooden box where he’d found the blanket and emerged with a pot. He emptied the can of beans into the pot and set it on the potbellied stove. Then, using a stick from the box of wood, he stirred the embers inside the stove, making them glow brighter. Heat warmed his cheeks.

The bedsprings creaked behind him.

Sophia had pushed to a sitting position and was reaching for the foil-wrapped package on the other bed.

Thorn got to it before she did and unwrapped several soft tortillas. “Is this what you were going for?”

She nodded and peeled one off the top. Sitting with her legs pulled up beneath her, she nibbled on the corn tortilla, color slowly returning to her cheeks.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he asked.

She refused to meet his gaze. “I don’t remember.”

“And you were out for a hike on motorbikes.” Thorn stared at her for a long time. “Still not talking?”

She finished the tortilla and nodded toward the stove. “You’re burning the beans.”

Thorn spun back to the stove and rescued the boiling beans. He scrounged up two tin plates and spoons from the storage box, held them under the eaves by the door to rinse them off and scooped beans onto each damp plate.

Sophia accepted the plate without complaint and dug her spoon into the fragrant beans, eating every bite.

Thorn sat back, his own plate forgotten. “How can you eat like that after being sick?”

She accepted another tortilla and sopped up the remaining juices from her plate. She finished the tortilla before answering. “I get sick if I don’t eat.”

“Are you anemic or something?”

“Something.” Sophia set the plate on the floor, stretched out on the mattress and pulled the blanket over herself, closing her eyes.

“That’s it?” Thorn asked.

“I’m working on, what did you call it? Shut-eye.” Her eyes remained closed.

The fire burned down into glowing coals, heat from the stove filling the small space, making it cozy and comfortable despite the storm outside.

Thorn ate the beans on his plate, and then rinsed the pot and both plates and spoons in rainwater. Once he’d returned the eating utensils to the box, he cleared her backpack off the remaining bed, gathered the handgun and rifle beside him and settled on his side, facing Sophia. In the fading light from the fire, he studied the stranger. Her Spanish accent led him to believe she’d spent the majority of her life south of the United States border, but her grasp of English made him want to believe her story that her mother was American.

Her dark blond hair and pale skin could mean either her mother was American, as she’d insisted, or she could be Mexican of Spanish decent.

Sophia’s chest rose and fell in a deep, steady rhythm, her eyelids twitching as if her dreams were not all that pleasant.

What was she afraid of? Why wasn’t she telling him the truth about her presence on the Raging Bull? Who had hit her to make her so skittish?

The more he reflected on Sophia and her possible reasons for being in the cabin, the more questions Thorn came up with. Finally, exhaustion pulled at his own eyelids, dragging them downward.

His final thought of the woman beside him was one that left him frowning into his dreams. She’d stirred in him a spark of awareness he hadn’t felt since Kayla had died in his arms. And worse, he didn’t understand the desire he felt inside to protect her from whatever she was running from.

Hiking in the mountains. Not likely.

With one hand on the rifle, the pistol tucked beneath him, he drifted into a fitful sleep, the storm outside raging well into the early hours of the morning. His dreams were filled with the horror of the shooting that had taken his wife and unborn child, the nightmare of holding Kayla in his arms as she bled out. He’d held her so long that the EMTs had to remind him where he was and that he couldn’t stay in the middle of the street. He had to let go and get up.

“Get up!” a voice said into his ear. A hand grabbed his arm and shook him.

At first Thorn thought it was the EMT telling him they had to load his wife’s body. As he swam to the surface of consciousness, he remembered his wife had been dead for two years. The hand moved from his shoulder, and something tugged in his fingers.

Thorn sat up and grabbed the hand trying to pry the rifle from his fingers. “Let go, or I’ll shoot you,” he said, pointing the pistol at his attacker.

Sophia raised her hands and backed up a step. She wore the jeans and shirt she’d spread out earlier to dry, and her gaze flicked to the door of the cabin, her eyes wide and filled with terror. “Please, don’t let them take me back.”

Thorn frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone is outside. It might be the men who shot Hector.” Sophia tugged at his arm. “Get up. Hurry.”

As the fog of sleep cleared, Thorn realized the rain had stopped and, with it, the lightning. But what he’d thought was thunder was the rumble of an engine, like that of a heavy-duty diesel truck.

He jammed his legs into his jeans and boots, grabbed his rifle and reached for the doorknob. Before he could open the door, it was flung wide, slamming against the wall.

A towering figure filled the frame, backlit by the headlights of a truck standing a few feet behind him, engine running. From his silhouette, he appeared to hold an assault rifle.

His heart racing, Thorn raised his weapon and aimed for the middle of the man’s chest. “Not a step farther.”

The man froze in the doorway.

A voice behind the man in the door called out, “Thorn? Is that you?”

Thorn stared past the man with the assault rifle, his hand steady on his own gun. “Hank?”

The older man pushed past his bodyguard and held up his hands. “You gonna put that rifle down or shoot me?”

Thorn lowered the weapon, ran a hand through his hair and stared out into the darkness. “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“Thought you might need rescuing. When your horse came back without you on it, I sent out a search party, figuring you got thrown or bushwhacked.” His gaze swung to the woman cowering in the corner by the potbellied stove. “Ah, you have company.”

“Sorry to get you and your men out in that weather. The storm scared my mount, and he took off without me.” Thorn turned toward Sophia. “I took shelter in this cabin, only to discover a squatter beat me to it.” He waved toward Sophia. “Hank, this is Sophia. Sophia, this is Hank Derringer, the owner of the property you’re trespassing on.”

Before Thorn’s last word left his lips, Sophia flung herself at Hank.

Hank staggered backward, his arms going around Sophia to steady them both.

The bodyguard reached for Sophia’s arm.

“It’s okay,” Hank said. “She’s not hurting me. Sophia, this is Max. Max, Sophia. There. You’ve been properly introduced.”

Sophia buried her face in Hank’s shirt, silent sobs shaking her body. “It is a miracle,” she whispered, then her body went limp and she would have fallen to the floor if Hank hadn’t had his arms around her.

Thorn stood by, his hands aching to go to Sophia’s rescue, but he forced himself to stand back.

Hank stared over the top of the unconscious woman’s head. “What the devil is going on here?”

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