The Man From Falcon Ridge. Rita Herron
Hailey was much more vulnerable than his dad. She’d obviously encountered violence before and still wore the bruises.
“Thanks for the coffee, Rex.” She placed the empty cup in the sink. “I should go back now. Do you mind driving me?”
He squared his shoulders, his libido stirring again as his gaze zeroed in on the rose-petal sweetness of her parted lips. Struggling for control, he dragged his eyes from her mouth, but they fell to the soft swell of her breasts and a hot streak of desire surged inside him. Worse, her chest rose with uneven breaths, her bravado drumming up admiration. A few minutes earlier she’d fled in terror, yet now she was ready to face whatever had frightened her.
Because she didn’t want to be alone with him?
Was he that damn scary?
“Sure.” He strode to the corner, removed his SIG Sauer from the cabinet and tucked it into his belt. He wanted to check out the items, too, see if they might help him find the real killer. “Let’s go.”
She bit down on her lip, then nodded, hugging her arms around her to ward off the cold as he led her back through the foyer. He stopped at the door, yanked his bomber jacket from the closet and handed it to her. “Put this on. It’ll keep you warm.”
Hailey hesitated, then shrugged into the worn, warm leather. The jacket nearly swallowed her whole, making her appear small and so damn sensual he nearly reached out to tug the coat around her. An image of her alone at the Hatchet House rose to taunt him, his desires mingling with protective instincts again. Another vision coasted on its tail—Hailey in his king-size four-poster bed, his down comforter brushing her nakedness while he trailed kisses along the pale skin of her neck.
“Maybe you should stay here or in town tonight.”
Her eyes flashed with wariness, and he realized his gruff voice had sounded suggestive.
“I saved for a long time to buy a house,” she said, her tone stronger now. “I refuse to let anyone run me off.”
He read fear in her eyes, but determination and strength darkened her irises, too. Damn, he didn’t want to like her. Even more unsettling, he sensed his own loneliness mirrored in her words. She’d run here to find solace and now someone had messed with her security, so she was fighting back.
His mother had let the locals run them off from Falcon Ridge years ago. It had taken growing up for him to have the courage to confront the people who’d shunned his family.
What had shaped Hailey into the strong woman she was now? And who the hell was she running from?
ALTHOUGH REX’S BIG STONE KITCHEN was intimidating and austere, the woodburning stove and smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped her in warmth, tempting Hailey to accept his offer and forget about the dangers haunting her—at least for a night.
But Rex’s dark raking eyes and towering presence posed another danger. One she wasn’t prepared to tangle with now. Maybe never.
An intoxicating aura shimmered off the man in rays that heated her blood and created an illusion of false security. Sexual attraction did not mean caring or safety.
It usually meant trouble.
Hadn’t she learned that from experience? Or was she forever going to be lured into trusting a man just because he hadn’t yet hit her?
This man could turn on her in a second….
“What kind of bird do you have in back now?” she asked, changing the subject as they walked to his Jeep.
“A ferruginous hawk.” His grim expression indicated he hadn’t liked the way he’d found the animal. “It was hit by a pellet gun. The pellet damaged soft tissue in its right wing.”
“So it’ll recover enough to be returned to the wild?”
He nodded. “He’s grown, he should do fine. But sometimes the juveniles get too dependent and have trouble adapting, especially if they’re kept in captivity too long.”
“What sparked your interest in birds?”
He shrugged, his expression guarded as they drove to her house. “There was a local wildlife center nearby when I was growing up. I used to volunteer there.” He gestured out the window, across the rocky terrain, his look pensive. “Just look at the space, the freedom the birds have. They’re lucky.”
He obviously identified with the birds of prey on an instinctual level, maybe even envied their freedom. She wanted to hear more, but they arrived at her house, and Rex parked. Even through the haze of snow flurries clogging her vision she noticed the screen door was still flapping in the wind. Another gust sent debris swirling across the porch. Hailey clutched the door handle, a shiver chasing up her spine.
“Wait here,” Rex said in a low, commanding voice. “I’ll check it out.”
Tempted again to accept his offer, Hailey hesitated. It would be easy to relinquish control to this man. But this house belonged to her, and she’d never asked anyone to fight her battles for her. She couldn’t start now.
“I’m going with you,” she said, surprised at her calmness when an edginess tightened every cell in her body.
“Hailey—”
“Whoever was in there is probably long gone,” she argued.
“All the more reason we should call the police and let them dust for fingerprints.”
“No.” Hailey opened the Jeep door. “Let’s look inside first.”
Dark clouds obliterated the dwindling afternoon sunlight as she followed Rex to the front door. He held his gun in front of him as he slowly stepped inside the entrance. He kept her behind him, his footsteps slow and steady, his eyes scanning the interior with caution. Shadows hovered in every corner, the dim lighting of the house adding to Hailey’s anxiety, each footstep bringing another creak and groan to the old house. They searched the downstairs room by room but found nothing amiss.
Hailey sighed with relief, but a screeching noise above shattered the momentary peace. Rex pressed a finger to his lips to indicate for her to keep quiet, then inched up the steps. Hailey followed, holding her breath until they reached the landing, then her gaze flew to the attic door.
Her pulse pounded. “The note, it’s gone.”
Rex frowned and glanced at the doorway, then back to her.
“The picture, it was there, I swear it.”
He pressed a finger to her lips, then motioned that he’d check out the rooms. Hailey followed, cringing when they entered the children’s empty bedrooms.
Although the paint had faded in the boy’s room, and someone had obviously removed most of the toys, wooden bunk beds still sat in the corner. Simple navy bedspreads, dusty and faded, were draped over the tops. Hailey froze, imagining the young boy at play, a train set winding around the room on the floor.
Grief for the poor child followed, her throat swelling.
The next room was painted pale yellow, the room bare except for a twin Jenny Lind bed and antique dresser. Oddly, there was no comforter or spread on the bed, but she pictured a frilly pink spread on top with lacy pillows scattered at the headboard and rag dolls and stuffed animals overflowing the now bare shelves.
“There’s no one here,” Rex said, jarring her back to reality.
“I told you he probably already left.” Hailey’s shoulders fell in relief. But the thought of the young lives lost so senselessly still troubled her. She had to talk to the locals and learn more about the people who’d lived here. More than ever, she wanted to honor their memory.
Rex studied her as they walked back to the attic door. “You’re sure someone was inside?”
Hailey hesitated. Had there been someone inside or had she imagined it? “Yes. How else would the note and picture get there, and then disappear?”