The Wrangler And The Runaway Mom - RaeAnne Thayne

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me go at DeMarranville another way. Maybe I can work on a couple of his men who might be ready to cut a deal against him. Last I talked to Joey Perone, he sounded like he could be bought.”

      “No dice. I need you there. Right where you are.” Beckstead paused. “You realize there’s more at stake here than just the disk, don’t you?”

      “What do you mean?”

      “We both know it’s only a matter of time until DeMarranville tracks her down.”

      “If he hasn’t already.”

      “He hasn’t. Our sources inside his organization are quite clear on that. Not for lack of trying, though. His people are looking everywhere.”

      “Damian is nothing if not efficient.”

      “He doesn’t know she witnessed the hit on her husband—if he did, she never would have made it this far—but he wants the disk more than we do. He’s going to be very unhappy if she doesn’t give it up.”

      “What if she doesn’t have it?”

      “Do you think he’s going to play nice if he thinks she’s holding out on him? If she really doesn’t know what her husband was involved with, I’d hate to see her or the kid get caught in the crossfire.”

      Son of a bitch. Colt stared out through the rain streaking down the window like tears. He hated to think of Maggie or her son in DeMarranville’s hands.

      “I’d feel better knowing one of our agents was close to her, to offer some degree of protection,” Beckstead went on.

      What would his boss say if he knew exactly how close Colt wanted to be to the accountant’s widow? “Okay,” he growled, pushing the thought away. “But the stakes just went up. I want three months away from the Bureau when I’m done here.”

      “We bring down DeMarranville and you can have as much time as you want.”

      But would it be enough to make him forget Maggie Rawlings, with her big eyes and her outlaw son?

      Somehow he doubted it.

       Chapter 4

      Her kingdom for a decent shower.

      With apologies to William Shakespeare, Maggie fought shivers as she turned off the trickling little spray that was all the Butte, Montana, campground facilities offered and reached for the thin towel she had hung over the stall door just a few moments before.

      A month ago, if someone had told her the idea of a pounding hot shower would come to symbolize the height of luxury to her, she would have laughed hysterically.

      Funny how she had taken so many things for granted before her life degenerated into chaos a month ago. A decent shower topped her list—with all the hot water she could dream of and complete, heavenly privacy instead of these flimsy shower stall doors between her and the rest of the world, this thin barrier that left her feeling entirely too vulnerable.

      She could barely remember what it had been like to shower as long as she wanted, without this constant, nagging worry at leaving Nicky sleeping in their locked trailer for even these few stolen moments. What would she do if she had time to do more than just scrape her hair back into a wet braid and apply only the bare minimum of makeup?

      Might as well wish for the moon while you’re dreaming, she scolded herself and slipped quickly into the clean clothing she had brought over from the trailer. This wasn’t so bad, anyway. It could be much, much worse. She and Nicky had clean, warm clothing to wear, food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads—even if it was a thin aluminum roof with a tendency to leak when it rained.

      Besides, in a big city, what were the chances of your neighbor stopping to fix a flat tire in the middle of the night so you wouldn’t have to deal with an unpleasant surprise in the morning?

      A picture of Colt McKendrick in the watery darkness back in Wyoming the week before crystallized in her mind and she smiled softly as she tugged a comb through her wet, tangled hair.

      In the four days since she had found him fixing her flat, she couldn’t seem to shake the man from her thoughts. He sneaked in whenever she wasn’t looking, with that teasing grin, his strong shoulders and those shockingly blue eyes.

      How long had it been since she had felt her pulse skitter and hop like that just by a heavy-lidded look from a man like Colt McKendrick? She laughed aloud at the absurdity of her question. When had she ever even had a heavy-lidded look from a gorgeous man before that night the weekend before in his camper?

      Of all the times for her to develop an attraction for a man, when she was so strung out on nerves. Nothing could possibly come of it, after all. Even if she were the sort of woman who could interest a rough and rugged rodeo cowboy—which she most certainly was not, despite his flirtation the week before—she couldn’t spare the energy for this. She needed all her wits about her just to survive.

      Besides, her emotional bank balance matched her real one—completely empty. She didn’t have anything left to give any man.

      If he showed up and followed through on his invitation to dinner, she would simply have to turn it down. It was the safe, sensible thing to do, she knew it perfectly well. So why did the knowledge leave her with a little ache of regret in her chest?

      She sighed. No sense worrying about it now. He’d probably forgotten all about them. On a whim, she decided to leave her hair loose, then gathered her clothing and walked out of the rest room into the early-morning air that smelled tart and fresh, of pine pitch and newly cut grass.

      Maybe all this angst was for nothing. Maybe their paths wouldn’t cross again. He said he planned to compete in the Butte rodeo, but maybe he had changed his mind. Tonight was the opening round, and she had yet to see his fancy blue truck with the beat-up cab-over camper.

      It probably would be for the best if he didn’t show up, although it would break Nicky’s heart. He had his sights set on riding Colt’s horse, and when her stubborn little boy decided he wanted to do something, changing his mind could be a nightmare.

      Wondering how she would possibly deter him, she rounded the corner of the little cinder block building housing the rest rooms, but any thought of Nicky was completely wrenched from her mind when she smashed headlong into a solid wall of flesh.

      She swayed from the impact and her bag of toiletries tumbled to the ground. Her heart stuttered in sudden fear when hard hands clamped around her forearms, holding her immobile.

      She couldn’t see who held her, could only focus on the wide male chest in front of her, but her survival instincts immediately kicked in, adrenaline gushing through her in hot, roiling waves.

      Escape. She had to escape. Fighting and struggling against the taut grip, she tried fiercely to jerk away.

      “Easy. Easy, now, Doc. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

      Gradually, like water through porous sandstone, reason seeped through her panic and she drew a ragged breath, stilling her frantic scramble to freedom.

      She recognized that soft drawl—it belonged to the cowboy she had just been thinking about. Tilting her chin up, she found those startling blue eyes watching her carefully.

      He gave her arms a reassuring squeeze then released her. “There now. That’s better. Sorry if I scared you, Doc. I was just trying to keep you from falling over after you came barrelin’ around the corner.”

      Her fear ebbed, leaving embarrassment in its wake. Heat soaked her cheeks and she fought the urge to press her hands to them. Okay, so she had overreacted just a tad. What must he think of her, fighting and clawing at him like he was some kind of mad rapist on the loose?

      “I...it’s not your fault,” she mumbled. “You just startled me. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I guess I didn’t expect anybody else to be out

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