"Is she your girlfriend?" Cruz returned the insurance card to the glove box as Niall merged back onto the empty two-lane highway.
"What?" His gaze snapped to her face. "No."
"Ex-girfriend?"
"No."
"Well I just thought—"
"You thought wrong."
"Okay!" She put her hands up. "Jeez! No need to get defensive."
"No, Jolene was never my girlfriend. I don't date."
"What? Never?" Cruz found that hard to believe. Men like Niall and her brother, those manly men types who oozed testosterone, usually had to beat women off with sticks. A cowboy bachelor like Niall out here in the boondocks must have had his pick of the ladies.
"No. Never."
His tone signaled the end of that conversation topic so she switched to the other question burning the tip of her tongue. "So why did you let her think my baby is yours?"
"Because that's easiest cover for you out here, Cruz," he replied matter-of-factly. "You have to some kind of story. That's the most obvious one."
"So what? We're just going to play house?"
"Basically."
She gaped at him. "You're crazy."
"Crazy like a fox, maybe."
Cruz rolled her eyes. "You're so full of yourself."
Niall flashed a mischievous grin. "You sound surprised."
She tried to ignore the excited flutter in her belly at the sight of his pearly whites. "You should get your hearing checked. That's annoyance, not surprise."
He snorted and slowed to turn off the highway down an unmarked caliche road. They pulled up to a nondescript metal gate. A small sign displaying two entwined C's and the name Campbell Creek Ranch caught her eye. Niall rolled down the window and punched in a code on the keypad tucked away in a small box with a Plexiglass front. The gate slid open and they started down the lonely stretch of private road, the truck kicking up a huge cloud of dust.
Her attention slid to the surprisingly beautiful landscape. Open pastures and a sparse smattering of trees extended as far as she could see in all directions. It was clear the area had suffered from the drought, just like everywhere else in Texas. Her apartment complex had stopped watering the grass completely to conserve water. She wondered what they did out here when water was scarce. Prayed, she assumed.
"You have a lot of livestock?" She spotted some goats grazing and cows congregated in shady areas under trees. Serene, quiet—maybe it wouldn't be so bad out here.
"No. I'm a fledgling operation. I've been working as a hired hand on other places since leaving the service. I just bought this place a few months ago."
"Oh." A barn, tractors and fenced pens popped into view. She doubted the rusted old tractor even moved but the barn and fence were in good shape and showed signs of recent repair. Her gaze skipped to a farmhouse looming on the horizon. Green shutters stood out against the stark white siding. A long, wide porch lined the front of the house. A couple of rocking chairs and a porch swing decorated the space. The landscaping in front of the house was in sore need of attention. Empty flower beds lent sadness to the place.
Niall pulled into the dirt rectangle that served as his driveway. He killed the ignition and exhaled loudly. "Well—we're home."
Cruz mirrored his movements and unlatched her seatbelt. Her tummy quivered with anxiety and her mouth went dry. Being on the road had kept her from facing the stark reality of her new situation. It had been a fun road trip, sort of, but now they were here and it hit her hard. El Alacrán wanted to kill her and Felix. She'd left everything behind and put her life in the hands of a stranger who was grumpy as all get out one second and fun and playful the next. He blew hot and cold and she couldn't get a handle on it.
"Hey." Niall's fingertips brushed her arm, once again breaking her don’t touch rule. Of course, the more he did that, the less she cared about that stipulation. "It's going to be okay, Cruz. I promise."
She nodded bravely and climbed out of the SUV. Her back twinged and the baby flutter-kicked into a more comfortable spot. She patted her belly and smiled. His movements, some gentle and others forceful, were a constant comfort to her. Whatever else happened, at least she wasn't alone. She had little Felix with her 24/7.
Niall started to unload her luggage from the backseat of the truck. She noticed a pair of shoeboxes and frowned. "Those aren't mine."
"They are now." Niall handed one to her. "Carlos left them for you in the SUV that he arranged for us."
She lifted the lid on the heavy box and was stunned by what she discovered. Stacks of cash filled the cardboard interior. "What is this?"
"You can't touch your checking account or credit cards or even your health insurance, Cruz. Your brother made sure you're provided for until we get this sorted out."
"Is it…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the words.
"Drug money?" Niall stared at the cash. "Does it matter?"
"Yes!" She gestured to her tummy. "Drug money got me into this situation. I sure as hell don't want any part of it now."
Niall fixed her with a stare. "Do you really think your brother would give you dirty money?"
"The old Carlos wouldn't but this new Carlos?" She shook her head and put the lid back on the box. "You wouldn’t recognize him. The new Carlos wouldn't bat an eye at handing me thousands of dollars of skimmed drug money." She thrust the box at Niall. "Take this. I don't want it."
"What you want doesn't matter, Cruz. You need this money. Your baby needs this money. Hell," he swore, "just consider it reparations, if that makes you feel any better."
Her jaw dropped. "You've got some nerve."
His face twitched and she knew he regretted what he'd said. She doubted he'd apologize and wasn't surprised when he loaded up his arms with luggage and turned toward the house. She glared at his back and wondered if he'd stop to see if she followed. When he headed right into the house without a backward glance, she growled with frustration and headed after him.
The screen door clanged as it bounced in its frame behind her. She stood in a sparsely decorated entry way. There was a hat rack and a tray for muddy shoes. The living room was just as simply furnished. The wood floors were nice though. Very clean, she noticed. Not a speck of dust anywhere, not even on the TV screen mounted on the far wall. She doubted Mr. Congeniality had a housekeeper so he probably did all the dusting and cleaning himself.
She heard Niall moving around upstairs and headed up to find him. She tracked him down in the bedroom at the end of the hall. Immediately, Cruz recognized the room as the master suite. Before she could protest about taking his room, Niall spoke. "You'll need the space and the bed is more comfortable, especially for someone in your condition." He eyed her belly. "There's an adjoining bathroom too."
Cruz let her gaze flick to the door he gestured toward. "Where will you sleep?"
"Across the hall in one of the guest rooms." He adjusted one of the suitcases on her bed. "I'll be downstairs. Come find me after you get settled in and changed."
Left alone in the room, Cruz sat down on the edge of the bed and surveyed her new space. The no-nonsense blues and tans wouldn't have been her first choice. She'd always tended toward the bohemian end of the decorating scale.
And it was so quiet. Cruz already missed the constant bustling background noise of Austin. She'd become a city girl so fast and lived for the noise and life of the place. Plunked down in the middle of nowhere with Niall? How the heck she was going to avoid cabin fever?
The baby kicked again, whacking her full bladder and making her wince. She rubbed her tummy and pushed off the bed. As she entered the bathroom, she decided stir crazy was a much better alternative to six feet under. Besides, this was temporary. Carlos would fix her problem, and she'd be able to return to her old life soon enough. She simply couldn't fathom the alternative.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, Cruz went downstairs. The scent of ham and biscuits met her nose. She found Niall at the stove. Her gaze skipped to the rustic dining table and the stack of shoeboxes filled with money. Cruz hated that she had no other choice than to accept dirty money. It made her skin crawl.
"You hungry?"
She moved closer to the small island. "Yes. Do you need help?"
He shook his head. "There's a desktop in the office. You're welcome to use it but—"—he pointed a warning finger at her—"—no email or other identity-sensitive business."
She figured this was his way of making amends after the crude reparations remark. "It would be nice to have access to data and models on the university servers and my university email account," she said almost wistfully.
"It would also be nice if you didn't give away your location by allowing this guy to trace my IP."
She waved her hand. "There are ways around that. I can run everything through a—"
"No. We're not taking the risk over some emails. I'm sorry, Cruz. I can't let you put yourself or the baby at risk over something as silly as a math problem."
She narrowed her eyes. "Boy, I'd like to know when earning a doctorate in computational and applied mathematics became as simple as solving a silly math problem! Man, have I been getting the runaround at UT. Four years wasted on a silly math problem!"
Niall exhaled roughly and spun to face her. He waved the spatula in her direction. "Look, I didn't mean it like that."
"Whatever." She didn't want to fight with him. It would be too easy to say something rude. Huffing loudly, Cruz sat in one of the chairs at the table. "So what am I supposed to do out here?"
"Relax. Get some sun. Read. Watch television." He shrugged. "We're a little low on culture and entertainment out here, but I'm sure you'll make do."
Her gaze drifted to the bay window behind him. "Maybe I could help around the ranch."
Niall gave her a strange sidelong glance. "Doubt it, Cruz. It's rough work and you're not used to it. On the job training is a bad idea when you're pregnant. Besides—"—he reached for one of the plates he'd put on the island—"I've got Hank and Joe."
"Hank and Joe?"
"Ranch hands. They came with the place."
"Came with the place? What? Like a china hutch or some rose bushes?"
"Something like that," he said with a smile. "They've worked here for thirty some odd years."
"Do they live here?"
"They share a smaller house on the west end of the property. They've been
roommates
for a long time."
She didn't miss the way he said roommates and simply rolled her eyes. "Roommates? Is that really how you're going to play that one, Niall?"
"That's the way they describe their arrangement. Far be it from me to label them. Besides, it's probably a good idea to keep up that charade considering the way small towns work. Rumor is one thing. Confirmation is a whole other beast."
Cruz didn't want to get into a discussion of small town politics so she let the subject drop. Her stomach pitched with hunger when Niall slid a steaming hot plate of eggs, ham and biscuits in front of her. She wasted no time tucking into her breakfast. Niall plunked down a glass of orange juice near her plate before moving to his place on the other side of the table.
"This isn't ideal, Cruz. I realize my place isn't some cushy five-star hotel, but it's the best you're going to get. Better adjust your expectations and make the best of it." He picked up his fork and stabbed some scrambled eggs. "I'm not going to kid you, Cruz. This won't be easy."
4
Chapter Four
Niall dove behind a crumbling stone wall and crouched low to avoid the bullets snapping overhead. He grimaced at the sharp pain stabbing his side and placed his palm over the area. His hand came away bright red, the metallic scent of his blood filling his nose and making his stomach roil. Ignoring his injury, he cast a glance over his shoulder and prepared to bark orders to his men.
But there was no one there. He spun around, his knees digging into the hard ground, and searched almost frantically for his team. Carlos, Lefty, Griff, Jack—not a damn one of them was in sight. He swore angrily and reached for the radio mic at his throat. His fingers felt only sweat-slicked skin. He scratched at his neck and touched his ear. Both the mic and earpiece of his radio were gone.
Panic gripped his chest. Pinned down and cut off from his team, Niall's options were few. He reached for his weapon but grasped only air. His eyes widened at the realization his rifle had vanished. What the hell?
The growing whine of an incoming mortar round tore his attention away from the inexplicable disappearance of his weapon. He shielded the back of his neck and pushed tight against the wall for protection. The explosion rocked him off his feet. Before he recovered, the whine began again. A never-ending barrage of mortars threatened his position. He had to move.
As chunks of stone and dirt pelted him, Niall skittered along the wall in search of safety. Louder and louder, faster and faster, the mortars fell closer and closer. One hit too close and suddenly he was airborne…
Niall jerked awake. He sucked in a long, deep breath. His lungs expanded painfully. Dizzy and shaking, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Somehow he'd ended up on the floor of his bedroom. His trembling hand tapped the wood floor around him. He'd learned the hard way that sometimes he'd break light bulbs or picture frame glass in the throes of his nightmares.
His fingers found the bedside table and lamp. Both were inches from his body and on their sides. His cheek and chin ached. He'd probably taken out both bits of furniture with his face when he fell out of his bed. His alarm clock rested nearby. It was nearly three in the morning. Niall panted and squeezed his eyes in a desperate attempt to slow the spinning, out of control feeling.
And then he heard the hesitant rapping at his door.
"Niall?" Cruz's worried voice carried through the wood. "Are you okay?"
"Go back to bed." His throat burned when he spoke. He'd been screaming again.
"Niall, I can help. Just open the door—"