Chapter 2
SHAMUS TOSSED a saddle over Bourbon, his newest mustang, named for his rich-brown coat, while Sparky nudged him from behind, scraping his hoof on the hard, dry ground. Bourbon shook his head, snarling in the direction of Sparky, the most impatient horse Shamus had ever seen. However, Sparky had a uniqu look with the sharp contrast between his creamy, white coat and near-black mane. He also liked to show off every chance he got, prancing around and rearing his hind legs. Only skilled riders could handle that horse and even then, Sparky liked to mess around, hence the name.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t stay in the main house,” his mother called from the front porch. “Your father and I have no ill will toward Amber.”
No one could blame Amber for his half-sister, Colleen’s, death, and no one did. Amber’s father had been the town drunk for as long anyone could remember. His farm was always on the brink of bankruptcy. He’d been picked up for three DWIs, but that hadn’t kept him off the road the night that changed everything.
“You saw the news. She was the last person to see that man alive and is wanted for questioning as a person of interest. Not only would I be putting you and Pop in a sticky situation, I’d also be putting you in danger if whoever chased her last night came looking for her here.” He tightened the belt on the saddle, securing it under Bourbon’s belly before turning toward his mother, who leaned against the north fence, arms folded across her chest, and her long, blonde hair, with streaks of grey, bouncing over her shoulders. The morning sun streaked bright orange and red across the sky.
“I understand,” his mother said with a nod. “I’m being a little selfish, too. Your dad thinks he’s still fifty and tries to do too much. Having you around forces him to take it easy.”
He pushed his sunglasses down his nose, peering over the rims. “Ma, at fifty-five, you do too much.”
She waved her hand. “I’m not pushing eighty like your dad.”
Shamus often wondered if his parents had thought about their age difference when they’d married, not that it mattered. His dad, minus the aches and pains of getting older, didn’t look a day past sixty, and he was as fit as a fiddle. His mom just wanted him to retire, but Liam Shamus O’Neil would do no such thing.
Lifting the other saddle off the railing, Shamus groaned as a sharp pain rippled across his lower back, reminding him that he had been forced to retire from the Army a year ago at the ripe old age of twenty-nine, just as his career had really taken off as an intelligence officer with the Green Berets. It wasn’t that he didn’t love ranching, but being back in Montana made his mind wander to what could have been, had his half-sister not been run down by a drunk driver.
“I’m only a couple miles away at the cabin, and the cell service out there is great, so I can be back in a flash if you need me,” he said, tightening up the belt on Sparky, who pranced like a puppy waiting for a treat. His sister loved horses. All animals, which is why she’d become a vet.
Colleen had been fifteen years older than Shamus. Growing up, they hadn’t been close. She’d left for college when he’d been a small boy and hadn’t returned until he was in high school, only to die his senior year. She was more like a favorite aunt than a sister. To this day, the mere thought of her brought the sting of tears to his eyes. And it wasn’t just her death that day that had changed his life in ways he still had a hard time reconciling.
His mother strolled over to the horses, holding out apple slices for each. “How do you feel about seeing her again?”
“I honestly have no idea.” When he’d heard Amber’s fearful voice last night, adrenaline kicked in, and he became hyper-focused on finding a team that could get her out safely. However, when the phone disconnected, his heart squeezed with the same torment the day she told him he was better off without her—the same day they’d buried his sister. He could almost understand the shame she must have felt when they hauled her father off in handcuffs, but that hadn’t changed how they had spent the few hours before the tragic event.
Or that he’d loved her with all his heart and soul, and he thought she’d felt the same way.
No, he knew she loved him, but tragedy changes people, and it changed them both in ways they, as teenagers, couldn’t fathom.
“But Hank hired me as a Brotherhood Protector, and it’s my job to make sure nothing bad happens to her.”
His mother reached out, grabbing his chin, tiling it down so she could look him in the eye. His mother was stronger than any woman he’d ever met and the rock of the entire family. “Don’t let the past rule your life.”
“You know I don’t.”
She arched a brow. “You’re still bitter about being discharged from the Army.”
“It’s not that I’m bitter.” Oh, hell he was more than bitter. “I loved serving my country. It’s just been an adjustment.”
“Life is a constant adjustment.” She turned his face to the side and kissed his cheek.
The whopping sound of helicopter blades cutting through the thick air echoed across the mountains.
“Give her our best,” his mother patted his shoulder.
“Will do.” The only problem with that was that Amber had always believed that his family would only see the daughter of the man who killed their child and not a young woman born to shitty circumstances. He slipped his foot in the stirrup and kicked his leg over the saddle. Sparky kicked up his front legs in excitement. Bourbon bent down and gnawed on grass, totally bored.
“Whoa.” He pulled back on the reins, letting Sparky know who was boss. “I gotta go, Mom.” He pointed to the chopper coming up fast and flying low. “If you need me, call, okay?”
“Be safe,” she stepped back as he kicked Sparky in the ribs, pulling on the reins of Bourbon, quickly making it to a gallop as the dust flicked up behind him. He glanced at the sky, the chopper gleaming in the morning sun burning over Crazy Mountains. Racing across the meadow toward the hunting cabin on the far corner of the family ranch, he tried to push out the memory of the last time he’d been inside the small three-room house. The best night of his life had turned into his worst nightmare, and he’d never recovered.
He tugged on Bourbon’s reins while slowing Sparky down to a gallop the other horse could tolerate. In less than ten minutes he’d be face to face with the woman he never thought he’d see again, yet she never left his mind...or his heart.
The sun lifted over the mountains, shining its rays on the small log cabin in the distance. Less than a mile out, he watched the chopper set down on the front lawn, Hank jumping from the bay doors, reaching a hand out and helping Amber.
“Jesus,” Shamus muttered, swallowing his breath.
Her long, black hair pulled back in a slick ponytail trickled down her back. Her jeans hugged her body like a worn saddle hugging the back of a fine horse. She sported a black tank top that showed off the curves of a woman…the woman he remembered even if she’d only been seventeen.
“Come on,” he kicked Sparky, hoping Bourbon wouldn’t push back too hard. The need to see her dark-chocolate eyes squeezed his heart like an unexpected visit from a pack of puppies. He remembered every curve of her five-foot-eleven-inch frame against his six-foot-one frame. The memory eased the pain throbbing in his back where he’d been pelted with a half-dozen bullets, nearly paralyzing him for life.
Someone tossed her a backpack from the chopper. Hank waved before climbing back on board, the bird lifting from the ground, lunging forward in the air, spinning over his head.
Amber stood a good forty feet from the front porch with a bag tossed over her shoulder and a hand covering her eyes. The hair, gathered in a long ponytail, sailed in the wind as the chopper sped by, Hank waving from the open bay doors.
Shamus tugged on the reins, bringing the horses down to a trot, then a walk, and finally a stop just past Amber. He slid off his horse, tying both to the side of the house before turning, holding his breath. Over the years, he’d practiced numerous speeches if he ever saw her again, but staring into her rich eyes, his mind went completely blank.
“Hey, babe,” he said. While everyone in town called her pigtails, he’d always called her babe, a term he never, ever called another woman since. He started calling her that after they’d watched a movie by the same name, and he just kept it up. She’d always had a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment.
“Hey, yourself,” she said, inching closer, her chestnut eyes glazing over him like a roasting fire licking at his skin. “You look good, considering.”
He pushed his sunglasses to his forehead. “So, you heard?”
“I watched your homecoming on television,” she said, tossing her bag on the porch, standing with her hands on her hips, just a few feet away. “But before that, I was in Syria covering a story, so the ambush came across my newsfeed.”
“It was just a little over a year ago.” He wanted to close the gap between them, but his feet wouldn’t move, frozen in place, staring at her tanned skin and sweet smile. He couldn’t say they were like two strangers, but an awkwardness had engulfed them like the calm before the storm.
“I tried to see you when you were in the hospital in Germany, but they wouldn’t let me.”
It felt like his heart stopped and his lungs collapsed. “I had no idea. What were you doing there?”
“We were forced to leave, and my news crew and I had hitched a ride with an Army transport to Germany just days after the bombing. I called in a few favors to find out where you were, but they wouldn’t let me see you.”
“I was unconscious for weeks,” he said, kneading his fists in his back. The constant pain had, for the most part, become background noise, but the ache in his heart had never gone away, and standing a scant few feet away from her felt like a knife jabbed through his chest. No matter how many girlfriends he’d had over the years, no one made him feel like he had jumped from a plane and was freefalling, spinning over the earth.
“I was glad to hear you pulled through, but sorry you had to leave the Green Berets. I know how much that meant to you.”
It had meant the world to him, but he was still grateful to be alive.
And walking.
“I’m vertical, so that’s all that matters.”
She nodded, inching forward.
“You look exactly the same,” he whispered, scuffing his boots on soil that desperately needed a good rain.
She tapped the area between her temple and eye. “Other than that scar, so do you.”
“If you saw my back, you wouldn’t say that.”
Her forehead crinkled as she wrapped her arms around his back. “I can’t believe I’m back here,” she whispered, dropping her head to his shoulder. “And of all places at this cabin…with you.”
He breathed in the soft, lily scent lifting off her hair, kissing her temple. “Hank and I both thought it would be the best place to keep you safe while we try to figure out what the hell is going on at the MDA.”
Her body shivered. “I didn’t know who else to call. Hank has always been there for me.”
“Had you given me a chance, so would have I.”
Her body went rigid as she stepped back. “Let’s not go back there.”
He nodded, dropping his hands to his sides, trying to forget how perfect she fit against him, even after all these years. “I’m here for you now.”
“Thank you,” she said, turning and making her way up to the porch. He remembered chasing her up those very steps, pushing her through the front door as his lips assaulted hers in a tangled web of teenage lust before tossing her on the bed in the only bedroom in the cabin. That evening they learned about love and passion…followed by the anguish of death and destruction.
“I’m glad you called Hank, and I’m honored to help.” He leapt in front of her, opening the door. “I’ve done some research and talked with a few buddies in the intelligence community, but I need to read through what you have so we can make a plan going forward.”
“Do you mind if I shower first? Riding in the back of a C-150 is never fun.”
“Not at all. I had the hot water turned on last night, and my mom made sure there are clean towels in the bathroom.”
She set her bag on the table, her eyes scanning the room. “Wow. This place hasn’t changed.”
“I learned that when I came home a year ago, not much has.”
“I bet my old place has changed.” She stood next to the plaid sofa, her fingers gliding across the cushions.
“I haven’t been there, but my folks say the new owners are good people.”
“Unlike my father,” she said under her breath. Quickly, she held up her hand. “Don’t say it. I know. I’m not my father, but being back here brings it all crashing down on me. Add in the fact that someone tried to kill me last night, I’m feeling a bit off.”
He took a step toward her, wanting to hold her and tell her it would be all right. That things weren’t as bad as they seemed. That he and his team would help her figure this out and restore her life to something that resembled her existence before she uncovered a plot that could expose military secrets and put American citizens at risk.
She took a step back.
He pointed to the backpack. “Everything in there?”
She nodded. “The file folder that Bud gave me and my flash drive, which needs a laptop.”
He moved to the table, tapping his finger next to the computer. “All taken care of.” He nodded toward the bedroom. “Go get cleaned up. We’ll muddle through all of this after a good breakfast.”
“You’re going to cook?” her lips turned into a half-smile.
“I’ve learned a thing or two since we’ve both been gone.”
“Good Lord, I hope it’s edible, I’m freaking starving,” she said, yanking her hair tie, letting her waist-long hair cascade over her breasts.
He coughed, trying not to stare at the exotic sight.
“I have no clothes with me,” she said, smiling that killer smile that sent his insides into a twist.
“My mom sent some over.”
“She always took care of everything.”
“Still does.”
Amber turned, her hips swaying as she strode toward the one and only bedroom, something he hadn’t given much thought to when he suggested they stay out at the cabin.
“Hey, babe?”
She laughed. “What?”
“It really is good to see you.”