Mike had the perfect motivation for tossing the kittens into King’s stall—retaliation for J.T. reprimanding him for smoking in the barn—but J.T. had no concrete evidence that Mike had actually done the deed.
Maybe he ought to cut his losses and let Mike go with a week’s severance pay. J.T. had no proof the man was guilty of anything, but he couldn’t afford to keep Mike on and possibly risk a potentially dangerous incident that might involve his family. Tomorrow, he decided, would be soon enough to let the hand go.
J.T. scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Hell, when had his life become so complicated? Ever since a violet-eyed woman had drifted into his life and saved him from a certain death. Even her sudden appearance he still found hard to believe, although he had no reason to distrust her.
Tossing Mike’s file aside, J.T. reached for the sketch pad on the corner of his desk. Leaning back in his chair, he opened the cover. The shock of seeing Caitlan’s portrait of him as a young boy had worn off, but he was still baffled as to how she’d accomplished the detailed and oddly accurate sketch.
The longer he studied the picture, the more it seemed familiar, as if he’d seen this particular drawing before. Putting the pad down on his desk, he sighed heavily. His gaze strayed to the bottom shelf of his bookcase, and he thought of the cigar box he’d stashed there, and Amanda’s sketches of him tucked inside.
“Amanda,” he murmured, waiting for the familiar piercing pain to lance through him at the thought of her. The sorrow was dull and distant, overshadowed by his feelings for another woman. Caitlan. Despite his resolve to keep her at arm’s length, he cared for her. Deeply. More than he wanted to admit. Making love to her had changed him in intense, unsettling ways.
Shrugging off the thought, J.T. stood, wanting to compare Amanda’s sketches to Caitlan’s. Just as he reached the bookshelf, the phone rang, deterring his quest.
He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“J.T., I’ve got an emergency on my hands,” Kirk said urgently. “A waterline in my basement busted, and I know you have some spare pipe—”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Great. Thanks.”
J.T. hung up the phone, the cigar box and sketches forgotten. He strode toward the den to tell Caitlan he’d be gone for a while, and paused in the doorway. Laura sat cross-legged on the floor, her schoolbooks and homework spread out on the coffee table in front of her. Caitlan sat on the couch watching TV, legs tucked beneath her, arms wrapped around a throw pillow.
Caitlan’s soft violet eyes slowly lifted to meet his, and everything in the world receded from his mind but her. The quiet longing in her gaze reached past his heart and into his soul, nestling there like a warm ray of sunshine. The powerful, unexplainable link between them tugged at his heart, wrenching it open, ultimately allowing her warmth and gentleness to breach the emptiness he’d lived with for sixteen years.
His breath hitched in his lungs. Lord.
He loved her
.
“What’s up, Dad?”
Snapped from his startling revelation, he jerked his gaze to his daughter, trying to remember his original purpose for seeking out Caitlan. Certainly not to come to the conclusion that he loved her! When had he fallen in love with her? Or had it been happening all along, and he’d been too blind to see it?
“Dad?” Laura tilted her head to the side, gaze curious. “Who was on the phone?”
J.T. gave himself a firm mental shake. “Kirk. He needs my help to repair a broken waterline in his basement. If I don’t get going, he’ll be up to his knees in water by the time I get there.”
He looked at Caitlan and his pulse pounded, reverberating throughout his body.
He loved her
. The rusty words scratched his throat like barbed wire, yet he refused to give them release. His feelings changed nothing between them. She’d be gone in a few days, and he’d be smart to let her go now, unburdened with such a declaration, instead of a year down the road, when she decided ranch life wasn’t enough for her. He had no right to shackle her here, and she’d given him no indication that she wanted to stay. She’d leave and he’d forget about her before the month was out.
Not likely
, his heart taunted.
He glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” Caitlan nodded, and he transferred his gaze back to Laura. “And if I’m not, I want you in bed by nine, Smidget. It’s a school night.”
“Okay,” Laura said on a reluctant sigh.
His gaze flickered to Caitlan once more, and he struggled with the chaos raging inside him. Abruptly he turned and left the den before he said or did something that would make him look like a fool.
Caitlan watched J.T. go, hating the hollowness swallowing her up with his departure. For a fleeting moment she’d seen something soften in his eyes, then those barriers of his slid carefully into place, shutting her out. She shivered from the chill of loneliness and gathered the pillow tighter to her chest.
For the next half hour she tried to concentrate on the sit-com on TV, but her mind refused to cooperate. J.T. filled her thoughts, and all that had transpired between them in the last twenty-four hours.
A gradual uneasiness crept up on her, an awareness she couldn’t shake. As if something evil was going to happen, but she wasn’t quite sure what. After J.T.’s confrontation with Randal today she knew Randal was close to exploding in a mad rage. She’d seen the hatred in his eyes and sensed his building fury. She should have gone with J.T. to Kirk’s, but she didn’t believe the danger was with him, but lurked nearby instead, sharpening her senses to full alert.
Leaving the comfort of the couch, she padded to the kitchen for a drink of water, searching for the source of her unease. Filling a glass with the tap from the sink, she stared out the window, seeing nothing but the murky darkness of night. Black, like an impending doom. An electrical current of anxiety raced along her nerves.
King’s Ransom
.
The stallion’s name whispered through her mind without provocation. A chill eddied down her spine. A strong, niggling intuition propelled her into action. Setting the glass on the counter, she started for the front door, stopping for a second at the den.
She stuck her head in the doorway. “I’ll be right back, Laura.”
Frowning at Caitlan’s brusqueness, Laura stood and followed Caitlan down the hall. “Where are you going?”
“To the barn,” she said over her shoulder, jogging down the porch steps. “Stay here.”
Laura dogged her steps. “Dad said we shouldn’t go anywhere alone.”
“Stay in the house!” Caitlan ordered, her boots crunching on the gravel.
Laura ignored her. “I’m not letting you go to the barn alone. Dad’s gonna freak when he finds out we went down there.”
Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. Caitlan could feel it in her bones, her intuition so strong, so overwhelming, it nearly smothered her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a large silhouette slink around the side of the barn, then disappear behind the structure.
“Hey!” Caitlan yelled to get the person’s attention. A blur of shadowy movement took off toward the bunkhouse. Knowing she’d never be able to catch up to the person, she let him go.
“Who was that?” Laura asked, her voice full of bewilderment.
“I don’t know.” A horse’s high-pitched cry, full of terror, rent the night.
King
. Caitlan broke into a run toward the barn, apprehension rippling through her. Flinging the door open, a cloud of smoke billowed out. The biting, acrid scent of burning wood slipped up her nostrils.
“Oh, God, Laura. The barn is on fire!” Caitlan’s heart pumped furiously and she automatically pushed Laura in the opposite direction, out of harm’s way. “Go back to the house and call Frank, and then your father.”
Laura’s eyes widened, her expression frightened. She clutched at Caitlan’s sleeve, tears of fright filling her eyes. “Don’t go in there—”
Caitlan stole a precious moment to smooth a reassuring hand over Laura’s cheek. “I’ll be fine, I promise, but I need you to call for help.”
Bottom lip trembling, Laura nodded. “Please be careful,” Whirling around, she ran back toward the house, her long hair flying out behind her.
Once Caitlan assured herself of Laura’s safety, she rushed into the barn. The crackle of fire devouring wood reached her ears. Unable to see more than three feet in front of her for all the smoke hazing the area, she guessed the blaze to be at the far end of the barn.
Swallowing back the alarm crowding her throat, she started unlatching stalls and quickly guided the terrified horses, one at a time, out the side door leading to the open pasture. With each horse she released, the heat, smoke, and snapping fire intensified.
King’s scream shattered Caitlan’s concentration. His fear and panic squeezed her heart like a tight fist.
Please let him be okay
, she silently prayed, her only request for divine intervention.
Smacking the last mare on the rump, sending her into the pasture with the other horses, Caitlan headed toward the echo of King’s terrified screams. Searching frantically through the cloud of churning, pungent smoke, she finally located King’s stall and found the true source of the fire.
The empty stall next to King’s was an inferno of hungry flames, the bright orange flares eating their way into the stallion’s pen, lapping the walls of King’s stall and sparking the hay covering the ground. King thrashed wildly, trying to escape the blaze consuming his stall.
She moved forward, grabbing an old towel someone had draped over a wooden bench. The smoke made it difficult to find the coiled lead rope hanging near King’s stall, but her searching fingers finally found the nubbly cord. Eyes stinging, she threw open the stall door. Tossing the towel over King’s head to shield his eyes, she quickly clipped the hook to his halter and guided the screaming and terrified horse from his burning stall.
Struggling against King’s urge to flee, she blindly found her way through the barn. Smoke choked her. Every breath she took burned her lungs.
Her grip on the lead rope slipped, and King took advantage of the slack and shied away, his high-pitched neigh of fright piercing the air. A battle of wills ensued. Caitlan jerked him forward, but he was a powerful animal, driven by fear. He tugged on the rope and danced about, neighing. Thick smoke curled around them, making it difficult to see King, or the entrance.
The crackle of wood splintering sent chills up Caitlan’s spine, then a deafening crash shook the ground beneath her, sending King into another fit of panic and throwing her off balance. She knew King’s stall had collapsed and the fire was rapidly spreading. In the distance she heard urgent shouts for help from the hands, and tried to focus on the sound, to use it as a guide to lead them out of the barn.
Disoriented from King’s thrashing, she started forward. The roar of raging fire filled her head. Scorching heat seemed to surround her from every angle, closing in like a monstrous shark feeding frenzy. She stopped short, trying to find a familiar landmark, but was unable to see anything through the murky smoke. King jerked wildly against the rope and she stumbled.
A helpless sound escaped her raw throat. The structure seemed to close in on her, snatching the breath from her lungs. Head spinning and stomach rolling, she groped for the medallion beneath her sweatshirt.
Heaven help her, she’d lost all sense of direction.
* * *
Bringing his truck to a skidding halt in front of the house, J.T. jumped out of the driver’s side before the dust and gravel had a chance to settle. His feet hit the ground running, too anxious to wait for Kirk, who’d pulled up in his truck behind J.T.’s.
When Laura had called him, sobbing, and told him the barn was on fire and Caitlan was in it trying to save the animals, his heart had stopped beating. All he could remember thinking was that if he lost Caitlan in that fire he’d never be the same again.
Laura’s plea of, “Hurry, Dad, I’m scared” propelled him to hang up the phone and yell the message to Kirk before bolting out of the house to his truck. The drive had taken him less than three minutes.
Now, adrenaline and gut-wrenching fear for Caitlan’s life ruled him. Shoving aside his worry, he ran to the barn, his gaze scanning the area for Caitlan. His men were just arriving on the scene.
Frank shouted orders as he opened the storage shed off to the side, flipped on a flood light to illuminate the area, and began tossing out buckets for the troughs, extinguishers, and water hoses.
Oh, God, where was Caitlan?
Stark terror twisted in his heart as he neared the barn. Smoke spewed out the doors, the windows, and even slithered through minuscule cracks in the structure. The sinister sound of flames enveloping wood, and anything else in their path, breached the night. More adrenaline surged through his body at the thought of Caitlan being trapped in there.
“Dad!”
J.T. whipped around. Laura stood away from the activity, all alone, her arms wrapped around her stomach. The floodlight shone off her tear-streaked face. Relief poured over him at seeing her unharmed, only to be replaced by dread. “Where’s Caitlan?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
A sob broke from Laura. “She’s still in the barn!”
J.T. swore profanely, hating the fear that made his blood run cold. He despised even more the horrifying memories of another woman’s tragic death. And that he’d been helpless to save her.