Power of the Raven. Aimee Thurlo
advice and move out for a while?”
“Move where? How can I possibly justify staying at a friend’s, knowing I could be leading danger right to their doorstep? I could go to a motel, but I’ll be endangering others there, as well.” She took a shaky breath. “But it’s more than that. Allowing fear to dictate what you do is never a good thing. You lose a piece of yourself when you do that. Can you understand?”
He nodded. “I hear you.”
As they stood by his truck, she glanced at his rifle, hung on a rack and locked in place in the cab. “How about letting me rent that from you for a few days?”
“It’s got a powerful kick. Do you think you can handle it?” He unlocked the rack and took it down. “It’s a Winchester .30-30. It’s accurate up to a couple hundred yards. Have you ever handled one before?”
“No, but how hard can it be? Point the barrel and pull the trigger. Just show me how to put bullets in it.”
He shook his head. “No, forget that. If you’ve never used one, you won’t be able to handle it, especially if you’re frightened. You’re more likely to have it taken away and used against you. Maybe someday I can bring you to my ranch and show you how to shoot, but without any training you’re far more likely to hurt yourself or a neighbor. Bullets travel far and have a way of hitting unintended targets. That’s why rifles, by and large, are too dangerous in urban areas.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said. “I need to think of something else.”
As she looked at him she had to bite back a sigh. She would have loved hiring him as a guard. Gene was tall, his shoulders broad, his chest muscular. Having a man like him beside her would have practically guaranteed the safety of everything but her heart.
Nothing about Gene was ordinary. His skin was the color of warm caramel, but it was his dark eyes that attracted her the most. Despite his strength, they mirrored only gentleness.
Trying to focus on something safer, she pointed to the braided leather bridle that hung on a hook in the back of the pickup’s cab. “That’s beautiful.”
“That belongs to Grit, my brother Paul’s horse. Our foster father left the animal to him. Grit’s a handful, and Paul’s as stubborn as they come, so those two have a minor war going on now. In all fairness, Grit doesn’t make life easy for anyone. I left the bridle too close to his stall, so he bit through it. I had to have a section replaced.”
“It sounds like he’s going to take careful handling.”
“Grit has problems,” he said, nodding. “So far, I’m the only one who can ride him. Grit’s an old rodeo horse that was about to be sold to a slaughterhouse when my foster father found him. Hosteen Silver never had a problem with Grit, but the horse wouldn’t accept any other rider, not without a showdown.”
“You’re good with horses, I take it?”
“For the most part, yeah,” he said without any false modesty. “Horses, like people, have different temperaments. Each one requires individual attention. Grit enjoys hassling my brothers and me,” he said. “It’s like a game for him.”
“I love animals. I don’t know where my life’s going to eventually lead me, but I’m sure of one thing. Animals are going to be part of the picture.” She wanted the conversation to continue forever. She liked hearing him talk and didn’t want him to go.
As they stood by his truck, Lori noticed Gene’s own reluctance to say good-night. Looking into his eyes, she realized that he was worried about her. The knowledge sent a pleasant rush of warmth through her.
“It’s really getting late. You better call it a day. I’ll be fine,” she said at last. “Sergeant Chavez promised extra patrols in the area.”
“Stay away from the windows and keep my phone number handy. I’m just a call and probably fifteen minutes away.”
Lori went back inside and made sure the door was locked and bolted. Still scared, she went into the kitchen, and taking an armful of pots and pans, stacked them near the windows and the doors. If anyone tried to break in, the pans would fall and make a dreadful racket. That would buy her time to run, or hide and call the police.
Lastly, she took her large butcher knife out of the silverware drawer. She’d be sleeping with that, her flashlight and the cell phone beside her pillow tonight.
As she went into the bedroom, her thoughts drifted back to Gene. Would it have killed her to invite him to spend the night? A man like that would not only have kept the intruder away, he would have made each hour an adventure to remember.
Yet even as the thought formed, she laughed. Casual intimacy just wasn’t her style. Her heart’s needs required more than a few hours of passion. For her, it would have to be all or nothing.
Her mother and father had gone from the perfect marriage to divorce—from love to hate. The shock of learning they were splitting up, and the painful aftermath, had left its scars. She’d never settle for the kind of love that came with requirements, boundaries or time limits.
She wanted it all and was willing to wait however long it took to find it.
GENE DROVE AWAY FROM THE house slowly. There was something about Lori Baker that had definitely gotten under his skin. Though she was afraid, she’d still managed to reach down into herself and find the courage not to back down. That alone was worthy of his respect, but there was a lot more to Lori than just that. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d been drawn to her. She was a beauty, and the way she looked at him made him want to take on an army to keep her safe.
He’d spent a lot of years as the underdog and knew the pain and frustration it brought. The fact that he’d been the skinniest runt in the foster home had made him fair game to the bullies, and he’d been on the losing end of a lot of fights growing up.
Time had changed all that. Now he was over six feet tall, as strong as a bull and could stack seventy-pound bales of hay all day, if that’s what he had to do. Work had built up his muscles and he could hold his own in any fight.
Tonight he’d equalized the odds against her, but something continued to nag at him. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, something rare for him, he pulled over to the curb and called his brother Paul. “So what do you think?” he asked after updating him.
“The incidents could be related, bro, but what the heck are you doing getting involved in all that? No, wait—let me guess. She’s hot?”
“Man, you’ve got a one-track mind. Why can’t she be an ordinary lady who happened to ask for help?”
“Because you’re still worried about her. Face it, bro. Up till now, the only females you’ve been interested in have had manes and tails,” Paul said. “So she must be something special. What’s the lady’s name?”
“Planning on doing a background check?”
“Hey, you called me for advice, so let me do what I do,” he said. “Tell me everything you know about her.”
As Gene spoke, he could hear Paul typing away at his keyboard.
“Okay, I’ve got a description and address on that Bud Harrington guy. He’s five foot eleven, one hundred sixty-five pounds,” he said, then read off the address. “Drive by his house and see if anything in particular catches your eye, like a familiar vehicle. Just don’t go poking inside private property or I may have to bail your butt out of jail.”
Gene drove up the well-lit neighborhood street twenty minutes later. Bud Harrington’s house appeared to be an unremarkable, middle-class split-level home. The front had a well-tended lawn and several mature trees. For a home in town, it wasn’t half-bad.
Slowing down to look things over carefully, Gene noted that the porch light and a front room lamp were both on. He could also see at least three newspapers thrown on the porch, and letters