Chapter Four
As usual, Sarah barely slept. When she did doze off, otherworldly images of monstrously long angled arms cut around her, tightened and entrapped her.
Scythes and sharp blades swiped through the air, their pointed tips coming for her.
No matter how she struggled, she could not escape them.
Fear strangled her, choked off her breath.
She woke gasping, perspiring, fighting free of damp covers.
At dawn, she gave up and abandoned the bed. Showering and putting on her usual jeans, boots, and cotton shirt, she left her long hair down to dry. The damp strands fell thick and heavy to her hips.
Collecting her pistol from her nightstand where she’d begun placing it, she opened her locked bedroom door.
Because Big Jim liked to eat his breakfast each day in town at Milly’s Diner, she ate a banana and buttered toast and took her truck keys, shoulder bag, and hat off the kitchen hook. She planned to head into town as well.
Closing the door behind her, she turned around and saw him.
As though he had all the time in the world, Ben Paxton leaned back against the driver’s side door of her truck, his brawny arms crossed. A big man, he emanated strength and calmness. He wore jeans, boots, and a black felt hat.
He nodded at her politely. “Morning, Sarah.” His voice held a light Texas drawl she remembered from the day before.
She forced the greeting out between gritted teeth. “Morning.” She hadn’t seen him since yesterday when he’d made that silly proclamation about her belonging to him. Ha! She didn’t know if he’d eaten any dinner or breakfast and hoped he’d gone hungry.
“Excuse me,” she said, waving him away from her vehicle.
She was fairly certain he planned to dog her heels all day.
To be fair, she wanted him nearby and was certain she’d feel better having him close when she left the ranch.
If she were honest, she was almost sorry for trying to throw him off the property.
Almost.
The arrogant man didn’t have to know that.
“Where are we off to?” He held out one large palm. “I’ll drive.”
“It’s my truck!” She stopped short. “If you’re going, I’ll do the driving. Now move aside, please.”
As immovable as the Big Horn Mountains looming behind him, Ben continued to gaze at her steadily. He didn’t lower his hand. “You’ll be safer with me at the wheel.”
“Look, I understand that Rio has sent you here to protect me, okay?” She tried persuading him with logic. “I get that you’ll want to stay close by,” she went on, “and on the watch.”
“Correct.”
“I don’t want to be unreasonable.” She attempted to sound logical. “Believe me, I don’t want this stalker after me any more than you do.”
“Understood.” Annoying Becca, Ben appeared to be enjoying himself.
“I have appointments to keep. Like now, I’m headed to town to do some business. I can’t have you hanging over my shoulder every second.” She tilted her head. “You’ll need to be ... unobtrusive.”
“Gotcha.” He wagged his fingers.
She stared at him. Finally giving up, she slapped the keys into his hand.
She tried not to flounce around to the passenger door. Sliding onto the bench seat, she kept to her side.
The first thing Ben did was move the seat back to accommodate his long legs.
His broad shoulders filled her cab and she shifted in her seat.
Of course she didn’t know him at all. However, it had been a long, long time since she’d reacted so viscerally to a man.
Masculinity vibrated off him in waves, reached out to the woman in her.
Somehow, just his proximity put her in mind of lazy humid afternoons spent in bed, of slow, sensual caresses, of languorous erotic lovemaking.
He seemed too close, too big. And she could smell him, a not unpleasant scent of winds soughing through pine trees.
She firmed her lips. What thoughts! With effort, she pushed them down.
Perhaps they’d gotten off on the wrong foot. However, she didn’t like him much. While the man did have a definite presence, he was too full of himself.
Sneaking a sideways glance at him, she took in his strong profile, his two-day growth of beard, his broad chest and flat belly.
When he took off his black felt hat and set it on the seat between them, she saw that his full head of brown hair could use a trim.
His skin was tanned, his eyes hazel, his lashes thick and black.
Ben Paxton was ruggedly handsome, she’d give him that.
“Like what you see?” he asked without looking at her.
Caught! Shifting away, she gave a short, mirthless laugh to cover her embarrassment. “I was only thinking that you remind me of Rio, your build. You’re just as tall ... and stuff.” She didn’t want to describe his impressive musculature.
“We served together on the Teams,” he said. “In Afghanistan and South America. SEALs work out a lot. On missions like those, we have to carry a ton of gear. Can’t be weak.”
She didn’t respond.
“Where are we headed?” He put his hands on the wheel.
“Mountain Wood. It’s the little town you probably drove through to get here from the Billings airport. I was at the grocery store when I found the latest threat—a note left on my windshield.”
“I remember the town.” He fired up the engine and started down the mile-long drive to the county road. “We’ll have a few minutes to talk, so let’s start a threat analysis. I’ll need to ask you some questions.”
“Okay.” Tensing, she folded her hands in her lap.
“Rio told me this began with emails.”
“Yes. A while back, I started getting weird emails from different accounts I didn’t know. The accounts had normal names, like Steve321 or Penny9, so I opened them.”
“What was in them? And did you print any out? I’d like to have a look. As far as tracing them, I’m sure they used a spoofing tool. It’d take the FBI using specialized programs to trace him, and this doesn’t yet rise to that level.”
The FBI? She shivered. She hoped not. “I can print them later.”
“For now, stop opening all your email, okay?”
“Yes, all right.”
“So, what happened next?”
“The emails said I shouldn’t be alive anymore. That I deserved death. Each one had the same icon of a blade dripping blood. I blocked the senders, but new ones kept getting through. The last one used my name. It said, Die, Sarah.”
His jaw hardened.
“Then, I got a lot of blocked-number cell phone hangups.”
He pulled off the gravel driveway onto the county road and they rolled toward town. “And yesterday you got the note on your car?”
“Yes. I came out of the grocery store and it was stuck under my windshield wiper. It had that same knife blade, and the paper had spots that looked like rust.”
“Blood?”
“Maybe.” She shivered again. “Ted King, our Police Chief, said they’d perform a presumptive test, see if it is blood.”
“Ted King’s office in town? I’ll have a word with him.”
“It’s in the square, close to where we’re going.”
“Has this sort of thing ever happened before? Ever had a stalker?”
“I actually have.” She fidgeted in her seat.
“Five years ago. A man kept calling, telling me he loved me and we were meant to be together. He was sick. He ... he sent me pictures of himself. Then, candy and flowers. He showed up at my appearances. I didn’t know him.
The modeling agency provided security, but he slipped past them, got into my apartment building and cornered me in the hallway. ”
Ben turned to glance at her, frowning. “Tell me you kicked him in the nuts.”
“He—he ripped my blouse.” She stammered, remembering the violent attack.
“I think he was going to rape me. He had a knife—held it to my throat. He started dragging me into my apartment. I screamed, fought him. Lucky for me two guys down the hallway were just getting home from work. They pulled my attacker off me, held him down until police were called.”
“Where is he now?” Beside her, Ben frowned.
“Prison. Turns out he was wanted for rape in two states.”
“None of this was in the press, was it?” Ben seemed to relax a little. “I bet I’d have seen it.”
“My agency tried to squash the report. They got it buried. They didn’t want bad press about their models getting assaulted. Not good for business.”
“I’ll need his name to make certain he’s still behind bars.”
She gave him the name. “Ridley Kemper. You think it could be him?”
“Don’t know. Gotta chase down every lead. Is there anything else? Any other situations like this?”
“No. It’s just...”
“Just what?”
“When I found the note, it felt like somebody was watching me. It was eerie.”
Surprising her, he said, “Humans can sense when we’re being observed.” He lifted one shoulder. “It saved my bacon more than once in Afghanistan.”
“It’s so creepy, the feeling of being stared at.” She was amazed at herself for confiding so soon in Ben yet somehow couldn’t stop. “It felt so malicious, and I couldn’t locate the source. Don’t make fun of me. It ... it felt evil.”
Pulling into the town square of Mountain Wood, Ben parked at the two-story building she indicated.
He put the truck in park and turned off the engine.
Facing her, his expression was serious, honest. He placed a hand on her forearm.
His palm was warm, calloused, and a flash of electricity shot up her spine. “Sarah, I’d never make fun of you.”
She met his gaze and something arced between them.
Time stalled. Somehow his touch connected them in a way Sarah had never before experienced.
For no reason she could identify, images of tangled sheets and sighs of pleasure filled her mind again.
Images of him touching her in her most intimate places filled her mind.
She thought of his hands stroking her, thought of his nude body, and hers, moving together in a sexual, time-honored dance.
Her breath caught.
“I’m here to protect you from all threats, both great and small.” His voice was low and rumbling. He gave her arm a small squeeze. “I’ll guard you with my life.”