LITMIR.BIZ

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imagined Nate changing his name and hiring on as a handyman or cowboy at a ranch somewhere far away. Most ranchers weren’t particular about job history when they hired a new hand, and Nate had skills. In addition to ranching, he’d been working as a handyman for years. “He might get away with this.”

      “It’s too bad Nicole’s asleep,” Carolyn said. “If Nate’s around here, she might have some idea where he’s hiding.”

      “Nobody is going to question her.” Dylan was firm on this point. “She’s suffered enough. It’s best for her to just forget about what happened.”

      “If she can forget,” Burke said. “That’s a big if.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I’m not a profiler, but I know a thing or two about victims of violent crimes. It’s important for people who’ve gone through trauma to tell their stories.”

      “I agree,” his sister said.

      “Of course you do,” Dylan muttered.

      Carolyn always complained about how cowboys kept their feelings bottled up. She’d rather have them sit around the campfire and have group therapy. “Nicole needs to talk about what happened.”

      She reached up and tightened her ponytail. Her coloring, with black hair and green eyes, was the same as his. She was tall and lean, like him. The two of them looked like the male and female version of the same DNA pattern. They were both stubborn and competitive, constantly butting heads.

      “I don’t want you interrogating her,” Dylan said. “Either of you.”

      “Even if it’s for the best?” Carolyn asked.

      “I’ll decide what’s best for my wife.”

      He heard a soft footstep behind him and turned. Nicole, wearing a navy blue velour robe, stood behind him. “Actually,” she said, “I’ll make that decision.”

      He wrapped an arm around her and escorted her to a chair. “I don’t want you to be pressured. Your only job is to get well.”

      When she looked up at him, her gaze was sharp and determined. “Here’s what I want,” she said. “Nate Miller in jail.”

      “We’re on the same page,” he said.

      “If there’s any way I can help put him there, I’m ready.” She looked at Burke. “Ask your questions.”

       Chapter Three

      Moments ago Nicole had wakened from a nightmare, sitting up on her bed. Her neck arched. Her mouth stretched open, wide-open, as if to scream in terror. Only a tiny moan escaped.

       No one can hear me.

      She knew that wasn’t true. She was free. And yet her eyes darted wildly. The room was hazy. The wallpaper faded into concrete walls. She looked down at her hands. Though she wasn’t bound, she couldn’t pull her wrists apart. Invisible handcuffs held her.

      “No,” she whispered. She was at home in her own soft, comfortable bed. She was warm, clean and safe. Alone.

       No one can see me.

      Concentrating, she struggled to control the rapid beating of her heart. She forced her wrists to separate. With one arm on each side of her body, she lay back on the pillows. Her body went stiff. Frozen, she waited for the panic to subside.

      Her stomach churned. She bolted from the bed, raced to the bathroom and vomited. Her eyes avoided the mirror as she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Coward! She didn’t want to see the self-doubt in her eyes, didn’t want to confront the fear that caused her heart to throb inside her rib cage.

      She could pretend that she was all right, but it was a lie. Until Nate was caught, she was shackled inside her own terror.

      Looking back at the bed, she knew going back to sleep was out of the question. Though Dylan had promised to stay with her, she was kind of glad that he hadn’t. She didn’t want him to see her fall apart.

      Pulling on her robe and slippers, she went downstairs where she heard Dylan talking to Carolyn and that big, tall FBI agent with the dark, piercing eyes. They were making plans to catch Nate, and she could help.

      Dylan sat beside her at the dining-room table. “You don’t have to do this, Nicole.”

      “I can handle it.” If she ever wanted to rest easy, she needed to know that Nate was behind bars. She looked toward the FBI agent. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

      Carolyn rested her hand on the man’s broad shoulder. “This is Agent J. D. Burke. Otherwise known as my fiancé.”

      That was a shocker. Carolyn hadn’t been serious about anyone in years. “Congratulations.”

      “They’re a good match,” Dylan said with a wry smile. “Burke’s the only man I’ve ever met who just might be tough enough to handle my sister.”

      Ignoring her brother, Carolyn turned to Nicole. “Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Coffee?”

      “Herbal tea,” she said. Something to soothe her stomach. “Chamomile with honey. The teabags are on the second shelf—”

      “I know where to find the tea.”

      Never before had Nicole seen her sister-in-law prepare any sort of food or drink. “Don’t tell me you’re learning how to cook.”

      “I can zap water in the microwave.” She glared at Burke, who was doing his best not to smirk. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not about to turn domesticated.”

      “The thought never crossed my mind.” Burke watched as she stalked toward the kitchen, then he took a seat at the head of the table, directly to Nicole’s right. In a calm but authoritative voice he said, “I’m not going to pressure you. My questions will help figure out Nate’s behavior patterns so we can predict what he’ll do next.”

      “FBI profiling,” she said.

      “How do you know about—”

      “I watch TV.”

      “Then you know what I want,” Burke said with a grin. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? Tell us about the day you were kidnapped.”

      Nicole exhaled a long sigh, remembering that day. They’d been having trouble at the ranch—incidents of sabotage in the south field had culminated in a fire that burned down the old stable. Dylan had hired Longbridge Security to keep an eye on things, but tensions were still high.

      “Jesse Longbridge warned me not to go off by myself. If I wanted to take a ride, I was supposed to let him or one of the other bodyguards know.”

      But she’d been angry. Dylan had been trying to weasel out of an appointment at the fertility clinic the following day because he claimed that he needed to be at the ranch until all this sabotage was straightened out. For eight months they’d been trying to get pregnant, and the timing of this appointment was crucial. How could he refuse? It seemed as if he just didn’t care about having a baby.

      “I broke Jesse’s rule,” she said. “I needed some time alone. So I went to the barn, saddled up and rode. I headed toward the creek near the south pasture.”

      She’d dismounted and gone to the water’s edge. Her teeming emotions had blinded her to the approaching danger. She hadn’t seen the two men lurking in the trees. “The man who grabbed me was Sam Logan—the leader of the Sons of Freedom. They’re that cult that rented the Circle M from Nate to set up their compound.”

      “We know,” Burke said.

      “I didn’t recognize the other guy, but I later learned that his name was Pete Richter. I struggled. One of them hit me.

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