LITMIR.BIZ

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looks like him,” Merrie said absently. “It’s sturdy and quiet and comforting.”

      Delsey was lost for words. She knew that the girl was talking about Ren, but she was surprised that she was so astute. Sturdy and quiet and comforting. She just hoped Merrie wasn’t in for too big a surprise when Ren disapproved of something she said or did.

      * * *

      REN CAME IN very late. Merrie had gone downstairs, still in her jeans and sweatshirt, to ask Delsey about an extra blanket. It was kept cold in the house and she was used to warmer temperatures in Texas.

      She stopped on the staircase when Ren spotted her, and his hard face grew even harder. He was looking pointedly at the front of her sweatshirt. For a minute she wondered if she was wearing something with writing on it. Then she remembered, it was just gray and plain. She swallowed hard. Surely he wasn’t looking at her chest!

      “Why the hell do you wear that?” he asked shortly.

      She was taken aback by the venom in the question. “I... I like sweatshirts,” she began.

      “Not the sweatshirt. That thing!” He pointed to her cross.

      She recalled Randall saying something about Ren’s feelings on religion. It hadn’t registered at the time, but it did now. She put her hand protectively over the cross.

      “I’m a person of faith,” she said in a faint tone.

      “Faith.” His eyes glittered at her. “Crutches for a sick, uneducated world,” he scoffed. “Superstition. Useless!”

      She drew in a sharp breath. “Mr. Colter,” she began.

      “Take that damned thing off, or hide it. I don’t want to see it in my house again. Do you understand?”

      He was like her father. He spoke and it was like thunder. He frightened her. She tucked the cross under the sweatshirt with shaking hands.

      “And if you’re looking for something to eat, we don’t have à la carte food after supper time. You eat at the table with us, or you don’t eat. Am I clear?”

      She swallowed down the fear. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice as shaky as her legs.

      “What are you doing down here in the dark?”

      “I... I wanted to get a blanket,” she stammered. “It’s cold in my room.”

      “We don’t run a sauna here,” he said icily. “Even on a ranch this size, we conserve heat. There are blankets in your damned closet. Why don’t you look before you start bothering other people about trifles?”

      She backed away from him. He was much scarier than she’d first thought. That posture, that icy look on his face, the fury in his eyes made her want to run. She’d rarely been around men. Mostly at art classes, and the men who took art were gentle and kind. This man was a lone wolf, not even housebroken. He made her shake when he spoke. Her first impression of him, of a handsome, kind man, took a nosedive. He was the devil in a pair of faded blue jeans.

      “That’s it,” he chided. “Run away, little girl.”

      She shot back up the staircase. She never even looked back when she got into her room. As an afterthought, she locked the door.

      * * *

      SARI HAD SAID that Merrie could call her, but she was afraid to. Even though she had six throwaway phones, she was afraid that one of them could be traced if she used it. The man who was after her would be wily. Paul Fiore, Sari’s husband, worked for the FBI. They were trying to find the man who’d been paid by the son of their father’s former lover to kill Merrie. The man he’d hired to kill Sari had been caught, and turned out to be their chauffeur. The man he’d hired for Merrie was far more dangerous.

      Timothy Leeds had planned to kill both of Darwin Grayling’s daughters, to hurt the man who’d killed his mother in cold blood. But Darwin had died suddenly, and Timmy had been too drunk to know who he’d hired to do the job. He was horrified at his own actions. He’d been grieving for his mother, furious at Darwin and wanting to get even, to hurt him. But Darwin had died just after Timmy made his deals. He’d taken cash, the money his mother had left him, and paid men to do murder. He was sitting in jail, waiting to be arraigned. He’d turned state’s evidence, but there was no way to get around the fact that his intent had been to kill two innocent women. Intent was the thing in law. Merrie should know. Her older sister, Sari, was an assistant district attorney in Jacobsville, Texas.

      She wondered what Sari would think of this taciturn, antagonistic rancher who was offended by a simple cross, a symbol of Merrie’s faith. That faith had carried her and her sister through some incredible sorrows. Their father had beaten them both, kept them like prisoners in the mansion where they lived, made them afraid of men. He was a killer, and he’d been involved in laundering money for organized crime. If he’d lived, he’d have gone to prison for life, despite his wealth.

      That wealth had almost cost Sari a husband. Paul Fiore was the only member of his entire family who hadn’t gone into crime for a living. Paul had been with the FBI for a long time, with a brief few years as head of security for the Grayling properties. Now he was assigned to the FBI office in San Antonio. Sari had concocted a story whereby Darwin Grayling had left a hundred million dollars to Paul—half the amount Sari had received from their mother’s two secret bank accounts that she’d left to the girls in her will. Each was given two hundred million, and it had almost sent Paul running. He didn’t want people to think he’d married Sari for her money. But now he and Sari were very happily married, and Merrie was happy for them. She and her sister had some terrible scars, mental and physical, at their father’s hand.

      She sat on her bed, still shivering a little from the rancher’s anger. She wondered if she was going to be able to stand it here. Ren Colter scared her.

      * * *

      SHE DID SLEEP, FINALLY. She went downstairs a little late for breakfast, hoping Ren would already be gone. But he was just getting up from the table.

      He glared at her. “We keep regular hours here for meals,” he told her curtly. “If you come sashaying down late, you don’t eat.”

      “But, Mr. Ren...” Delsey protested.

      “Rules aren’t broken here,” Ren returned. He looked at Merrie, who was stiff as a board. “You heard me. Delsey will tell you what hours mealtimes are. Don’t be late again.”

      He shoved his hat down over his eyes, shouldered into his heavy coat and went out without another single word.

      Merrie was fighting back tears.

      “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Delsey said. She drew the girl close and rocked her while she cried. “He’s just getting over a broken engagement, and he’s bitter. He wasn’t like this before. He’s basically a kind man...”

      “He said my cross was stupid and I wasn’t to let it show again,” she sobbed. “What kind of man is he?”

      Delsey rocked her some more and sighed. “It’s a long story. He went to a famous college up north on a scholarship and a professor there changed his mind about religion. He was an excellent student, but when he came home, he was suddenly antireligion. He sounded off to his mother about her Christmas tree and her faith, and had her running away in tears. Then he overheard her telling Randall that Ren was as cold and heartless as his father, whom she’d divorced. She was proud of Randall, because he was a better son. Ren just left. He’s never spoken to his mother again.”

      Merrie pulled back and looked at the older woman through red eyes. “She divorced his father?”

      She nodded. She handed Merrie tissues to dry her eyes with. “His father owned this ranch, but it was a hard life. His mother had very expensive tastes, so the story goes, and Randall’s father wanted her. So she ran away with him.”

      Merrie grimaced. “It’s a huge ranch now.”

      “Yes, it is. But it was small and in

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