Chapter 8
Nash ate the burger,although he didn’t really taste it. When Londyn had joked about not making it to dessert, her words had hit too close to home.
They’d been teasing about the criteria a man had to meet to be with Londyn. He’d insisted all he needed on a burger was meat and a bun. But it was more than that.
Her insistence on pickles made him want to go back to the table with the pickles and pour the entire container onto his damned, meat-only burger. Only then would he prove he could rise to her bar, and they could be together, according to her standard.
But could they?
He shoved the last of his burger into his mouth, chewed and swallowed the evidence that could eliminate him as a potential candidate for Miss Tyler-Lovejoy’s interest.
It didn’t matter that his hamburger preference was different than hers. What did matter was that he was only the employee—there to protect the movie star client.
He hadn’t counted on the movie star being so...exotically beautiful, independent and courageous.
She was nothing like what he’d expected. He’d built up in his mind a spoiled actress, imagining sabotaged props to get attention from her celebrity mother. He’d thought this was more a job of babysitting a spoiled little rich girl with nothing more dangerous than fans invading her personal space.
What he’d found was a woman uncomfortable with her role as a performer. A girl more comfortable on a ranch in Montana than among the glitz and glamor of Hollywood’s elite.
A woman whose touch ignited a fire at his very core he hadn’t felt in...well, forever. No woman had made him feel the way he did when he was with Londyn.
And the danger had escalated exponentially within the first few minutes on the job. An explosion, no less. The very thing that threw him back to his last mission in Afghanistan. The one that had left him wounded in body and spirit.
After months of therapy for his injury and for PTSD, he’d thought he was ready to face the world and the job.
Now...he wasn’t so sure.
A few of his panic attacks had left him almost catatonic. What good would he be to Londyn if he froze in the heat of battle?
He’d just promised to see her through to dessert. Which, to him, meant he’d promised to keep her alive.
Could he live up to that promise? Or should he call Hank now and tell him to send a replacement?
He wasn’t ready.
The thought of someone else taking over and providing for Londyn’s protection made Nash’s gut bunch into a knot.
If Hank pulled him off the job and sent him back to West Yellowstone to pick up some security detail for a sporting event or rodeo, would he be able to quit thinking about Londyn? Would he stop worrying about her?
He gave himself a moment to think about it.
No.
He wouldn’t stop worrying about her, wondering if whoever was after her had gotten past her protector and finished the job the explosion had not.
It scared him more than anything he’d ever encountered in special operations warfare.
He shot a glance toward Londyn.
She nibbled on her burger, her eyes on her plate, not him.
What was she thinking?
Had he come on too strong with his promise to keep her safe? Had holding her hand made her uncomfortable?
His breathing became more labored, and his heart pounded against his ribs. If it got any faster, he’d be in a full-on panic attack. The last thing Londyn needed was for her hired bodyguard to freak out.
Using some of the techniques his therapist had taught him, he focused on breathing, forcing air in and out of his lungs in long, slow breaths. He willed his pulse to slow, his heart to relax and his thoughts to still.
Londyn’s hand covered his on the tabletop, sending his heart into orbit again, his pulse racing, pounding so loud in his ears he could hear little else.
“Hey,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“I am.” He turned his hand over and gripped hers. He prayed she didn’t feel the vibrations of his hand shaking.
“I know you’re going to do everything you can to protect me,” she started, “but I want you to know that if all else fails and I die, please let Ben Standing Bear know. He’ll break the news to my ranch hands. I guess my mother will ultimately inherit the ranch should I not survive. She has a lawyer who will help her sell the ranch.”
“You think she’ll sell it?”
Londyn nodded. “I know she will. She never wanted to come back. Not even to see me. I’d have to fly out to Hollywood when she wanted time with me.”
“Did you resent her for that?”
“No,” Londyn said. “She could’ve forced me to live in California with her. But after one summer on the ranch, I knew where I wanted to be. She didn’t like that she couldn’t see me whenever she wanted or had time to, but I didn’t like Hollywood.”
“So, she just let your grandfather raise you?”
Londyn nodded. “Yes. I was six years old when I came to stay with my grandfather for the summer. I told my mother that I never wanted to leave. That if she loved me, she’d let me stay with him.”
“A little emotional blackmail?” Nash suggested.
“Is it blackmail if you ask for what they want anyway?” Londyn challenged.
“Was it what your mother wanted?” Nash asked.
“I believed it was,” Londyn said. “The bonus was that I would be with family—my grandfather—instead of a nanny. I’d gotten quite a few nannies fired in my short life. I was done with them. Meanwhile, my mother was busy getting her career off the ground. Having a small child held her back. It wasn’t until I went to live with my grandfather that her career took off.” She raised her hands, palms up. “I was in her way. What else would I think?”
“Your mother seems to care now,” Nash said.
“Or she wants to take credit for finding the right person for the part…?” Londyn drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Whatever it was, I took this job to save the ranch without having to rely on my mother’s wealth to bail me out.”
“Wasn’t taking this job allowing your mother to bail you out?” Nash asked softly.
Londyn’s jaw hardened, and her eyes narrowed. “She might have gotten me the audition, but I’m the one who has to perform. I’m working for the money they’re paying. I will not take handouts.”
A sheriff’s deputy approached. “We’re ready to interview you, Miss Tyler-Lovejoy.”
Londyn rose from the picnic table and gathered her paper plate and half-eaten hamburger with the pickle. “Let me discard my trash, and I’m all yours.”
Nash’s gaze followed her, knowing how much she hated the interruptions. But she hated even worse what could have happened.
Her decision to aim at something rather than someone had spared Troy’s life.
Anyone else would have followed the director’s instructions, aimed at Troy, and Troy would have been injured or killed.
But Londyn wasn’t anyone else. She’d been raised on a ranch by her grandfather. The man had taught her well about the proper use of deadly weapons.
Yeah, Londyn Tyler-Lovejoy was nothing like what Nash had imagined.
She was so much more.
By the timethe sheriff and his deputy left, the cast and crew were ready to move on to where the cattle drive scene would take place.
Haynes had contracted with a local rancher to use his herd and horses.
Londyn was ready to get it over with. Being questioned by the sheriff two days in a row, performing physically and emotionally draining scenes for the movie and coming to grips with the attraction she was feeling for her bodyguard were taking its toll.
The crew went ahead of the cast to a ranch adjacent to Yellowstone National Park. Londyn changed into the costume provided for the cattle drive scene, wanting to hit the ground running as soon as the director called for action.
She’d spoken with Haynes about allowing Nash to be one of the cowboys on the cattle drive. The costume designer scrambled to find something that would fit Nash’s broad shoulders. Fortunately, he’d come with his own cowboy hat, which he’d left in his truck.
He wouldn’t let Londyn close to her truck or trailer until he had performed a thorough inspection, searching for explosives, checking the brakes and looking over the engine for any sign of tampering. When he was done, he helped her load her horse into the trailer.
Londyn closed the trailer door and secured the latch. She faced Nash and lifted her chin. “I’ll drive.”
“Are you sure?” His gaze held hers. “I’m experienced driving trucks with livestock trailers.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I know, but I need to be in control of this one thing. Especially since everything else in my life seems to be spinning completely out of my control.”
“Okay,” he said.
She’d expected him to argue. His short response took the starch out of her.
“I have no problem riding shotgun,” he added. “It leaves me free to shoot if the need arises.” He made no move to get into the truck. Instead, he took another step toward her, raised his hand and cupped her cheek. “Either way, I’ll be with you all the way.” Then he dipped his head, and his mouth connected with hers. He broke away, spun on his booted heels and strode to the driver’s door of the truck. He pulled it open and held it for her.
Londyn raised her fingers to her lips. They still tingled from the light brush with his. His simple touch left her brain scrambled and set her pulse into high gear. As she walked toward him, she had the wildest urge to take that kiss to the next level. Rather than climbing into the driver’s seat, she stopped in front of him and stared up into his eyes. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Kiss me,” she said softly.
“Two reasons. One, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Two, it was the only thing I could control.” His lips twisted, and he shook his head. “Except it backfired.”
Londyn frowned. “How so?”
He gave her a weak smile. “Now, I don’t even have control over my response to that kiss. All I want to do is kiss you again. Please, get in the truck before my lack of control results in yet another kiss.”
Londyn’s breath hitched in her chest. Every muscle, every nerve and every inclination urged her to follow through with her initial instinct. She leaned up on her toes, wrapped her hand behind the back of his neck and pulled his face closer. When her lips met his, she felt a shocking combination of raw desire and the feeling of having come home.
Nash satin the passenger seat on the drive over to the ranch where the cattle drive would be filmed. He remained on high alert, aware of his surroundings at all times. More disturbing, he was aware of Londyn in the seat beside him. The scent of her shampoo wafted in the air. The feel of her lips against his lingered in his senses. How—in two days—could one woman get under his skin so completely?
Maybe the act of brushing her hair the night before was where it began. Unlike brushing his little sisters’ hair, working the tangles out of Londyn’s had been anything but brotherly. Her thick black hair, as much a part of her heritage as her high cheekbones and richly toned skin, had him thinking about how her black hair would look spread across a white pillowcase or cascading over her naked shoulders.
He’d had a major boner by the time he’d finished. Just thinking about running his hands through her hair had his groin tightening all over again.
He stared at the wide-open expanse of prairie land stretched before them. Places like this brought a calm he hadn’t felt in a long time. He could get used to this.
“What made you decide to join the Army?” Londyn asked, breaking the silence stretching between them.
“My stepfather. I had a huge amount of respect for the man. He deployed often, but when he came home, he didn’t try to take over from my mother. He shared the household chores, setting an example for us kids. He was strong and proud of his country and his contribution to protecting it and his family. I wanted to be like him.”
“He sounds amazing.” She stared at the road ahead. “I never knew my father. Thankfully, Gramps filled that hole in my life.” She sighed. “I grew up wanting to be like him. I miss him.”
“The thing about losing someone you care about is that you don’t ever lose them completely,” Nash said. “They’re always with you in your heart and in your memories.”
Londyn glanced his way, a frown denting her forehead. “Do you still have your parents?”
Nash grinned. “I do. Now that they’re empty-nesters, they sold their house, bought a motorhome and travel the country.”
“Where are they now?” Londyn asked.
Nash tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “I think they were headed for the Upper Peninsula of Michigan this week. They’re making their way through all the national parks, concentrating on the ones up north during the summer, then moving south for the winter.”
“And your sisters? Where are they now?”
“Maddie lives in Seattle, working for a high-tech firm. She and her fiancé are getting married in December. They wanted a winter wedding in Whistler, Canada. Juju.” Nash chuckled. “Juliet. She hates being called Juju. She lives in San Diego with her Navy SEAL husband and has her own travel agency. She’s been all over the world, and she’s only twenty-seven.”
“What about sister number three?”
“Mona and I were the most alike. We were both into sports, and both of us wanted to follow in our father’s footsteps. I enlisted as soon as I graduated high school. She was always the smarter one. She went to college, joined ROTC and entered the Army as a Second Lieutenant. Where I learned how to jump out of helicopters and airplanes, she learned how to fly them. She kicks ass as a pilot.”
“You’re very proud of your family,” Londyn noted.
He smiled. “Damn right, I am.”
“As much as you love your family, I’m surprised you don’t have a family of your own.” She shot a glance his way. “At least, I assume you don’t.”
His lips twisted. “I don’t.”
“Why not?” she asked. “You can tell me to mind my own business. It won’t hurt my feelings. It’s really none of my business.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I married a woman I met in Basic Combat Training. We were young, stupid and didn’t know what we were doing. Since neither one of us had much rank, the Army didn’t make it a priority to station us together. We spent the first two years of our married life apart. When I was deployed to the Middle East, she met a man who wasn’t in the military. She asked for a divorce.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. We weren’t ready for commitment. We were so young we ended up outgrowing each other.” He shrugged. “We still stay in touch. She got out of the Army, had four kids and is happily teaching fifth-graders.”
Londyn laughed. “Is anyone happy teaching fifth-graders? I know I was a handful then, as was every other kid in my class. So, she found her soul mate. You didn’t?”
Nash shook his head. “I wasn’t looking. When you’re in Special Forces, you never know when you’re going to deploy. You spend very little time at home. It’s not conducive to long-term relationships.”
“I guess not.” Londyn slowed, turned onto a gravel road and passed through a gate, bumping over the metal grate of a cattleguard. “Did you retire from the military?”
Nash looked at the dusty road ahead. “Medically retired, as are many of the people Hank hires. Not good enough for active duty, but we still have a lot of life left in us.”
Londyn tilted her. “You seem physically fit.”
Nash gritted his teeth. “Not by Army standards. Tell me what the premise of the movie you’re making is. I’ve only seen two scenes, and I have no idea.”
“It’s about a young Native American woman who inherits a ranch from a white man who raised her after her parents died in an automobile accident he was responsible for.”
“Sounds familiar,” he said, giving her a pointed look.
She nodded. “There are some similarities that make the part easy for me to portray. The difference is that my parents aren’t dead. At least my mother isn’t dead. I have no idea who my father is. And the man who raised me was truly my grandfather.”
“Okay, but you did inherit your ranch from the man who raised you.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I would think inheriting a ranch is a gift that would make the person happy. So, what is the conflict?”
“Besides missing the man she’d come to think of as a father figure, she owns a ranch. She’s a female in a male-dominated world. And she’s Shoshone in an area where many white men are highly prejudiced against Native Americans. It’s a story of her struggles to prove herself when others want her to fail.”
Nash frowned. “Have you run into situations like that, having inherited your ranch?”
She shrugged. “No one has been blatantly angry or ugly to me. However, I don’t get the same respect or treatment when I take my cattle to auction or purchase feed at the feed store. Men tend to think I’m not capable of managing a ranch. What they don’t know is that my grandfather taught me everything he knew about running the ranch, raising cattle and managing the land. I can ride as well or better than any man in the state of Montana. I’ve helped countless cows deliver breech calves, trained my own horse, and cut, baled and hauled hay. I’ve branded, culled and castrated steers. And yet, my male counterparts who don’t know me ask to talk to my husband or father when they want to discuss business.”
“And the character you portray?”
“Gets the same treatment and worse. The villain is angered by the fact she’s a female and Native American. He feels she doesn’t deserve the ranch and has no business owning or operating it in a white man’s world. He wants her to disappear and is intent on making it happen.”
“Do you think whoever is targeting you has the same issues with your inheritance?” Nash asked.
She shook her head. “I was doing just fine on my ranch with the help of my neighbor. There were no ‘accidents’ or attempts on my life. It wasn’t until I landed this role and came to work in Wyoming on the movie set that things started happening.”
“Could it be that your time on the film location is an opportunity for someone to sabotage your efforts without casting suspicion on himself back home?” Nash asked. “Someone who wants you to lose your ranch and maybe gain from your loss?”
Her brow knitted. “I can’t imagine who would gain from me losing my ranch.”
Nash tapped his fingers on the knee. “Has anyone approached you in an attempt to buy your property?”
“No.”
“If you lose the property because you owe back taxes, couldn’t someone pay those back taxes and take ownership of that property?”
“Maybe. But I’d think the bank that carries the mortgage would foreclose on it and try to sell it before the government could confiscate it for the back taxes.”
“Have any of your neighbors ever expressed an interest in buying the property?” Nash’s eyes narrowed. “It would make sense if one of them wants to expand their own holdings.”
“Our neighbors have always been there to help when we needed it, and we’ve reciprocated. I can’t imagine any of them trying to kill me in hopes of taking the ranch.” She flung her hand in the air. “I don’t know. I’ve always felt like we were all just trying to survive and had each other’s backs.”
“Greed can change?—”
The truck swayed suddenly.
Londyn gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
“What was that?” Nash asked.
“Something’s happening with the trailer. It’s tugging on the truck’s hitch.” Londyn took her foot off the accelerator, her gaze going to the rearview mirror.
The truck jerked again.
“This isn’t right.” Londyn brought the truck to a stop, shifted into park and pushed open her door.
A loud bang sounded from the trailer, and it rocked on its wheels.
“It’s Butterscotch,” Londyn said and ran to the rear of the trailer.
The mare let out a startling scream that curdled Nash’s blood. The trailer shook violently as the animal inside slammed its hooves against the inside walls.
Londyn unhooked the latch.
“Wait,” Nash said. “She’s upset. You open that door, and there’s no telling what she’ll do.”
Londyn hesitated.
Butterscotch kicked the walls again and screamed like nothing Nash had ever heard before.
“At the rate she’d going, if I don’t open the door and bring her out, she’ll kill herself.” Londyn yanked open the heavy metal door.
Nash grabbed Londyn and pulled her back behind the door as Butterscotch leaped through for the opening.
Her lead stopped her at first.
Her eyes were wide, and she was foaming at the mouth, lunging and fighting against her tether.
The metal loop on the trailer wall where her rope was attached snapped.
The buckskin leaped out the door.
“Butterscotch!” Londyn pushed free of Nash and dove for the lead.
The mare reared, her hooves coming so close to Londyn.
Nash’s heart leaped into his throat. He grabbed her around her waist and hauled her back against him.
The mare came down on all fours and took off like her tail was on fire, bucking and kicking as she raced across the prairie.
“No!” Londyn fought her way free of Nash’s rip. “Butterscotch!” She ran after the horse.
Nash followed. Though pain shot through his knee, he kept going, cursing the injury that had ended his Army career. He didn’t catch up with Londyn until she’d gone nearly a hundred yards.
By then, the mare had disappeared into a dusty haze.
Londyn slowed to a stop, breathing hard. She bent at the waist and braced her hands on her knees. “Have to...find her.” She shook her head. “She’s never... run free. She won’t...survive...on... her own.”
She dragged in a ragged breath and started running again.
Nash didn’t let her get too far this time. Reaching out to grab her arm, he pulled her to a stop.
“Let go of me,” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. “I...have to...find her.”
Nash pulled her into his arms and held her. “We will. But we can’t do it on foot. We’ll need help.”
“She doesn’t know...how to survive...in the wild.” Londyn buried her face against his chest. “She’ll die.”
“No. She won’t,” Nash insisted. “We’ll find her.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she looked up into his eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise.” Nash gathered her close.
Londyn’s body melted into his.
He held her as she cried, his heart breaking for her.
Londyn had lost her grandfather, the one person who had made her feel safe. Now, she’d lost her beloved horse.
How many acres did the rancher own? Nash had heard someone say it was more than fourteen thousand acres. He couldn’t even fathom what that looked like or how hard it could be to find a single horse loose on that large of a spread.
He didn’t know how they’d do it, but Nash had to find that horse if it was the last thing he did. He’d promised.