She hated waiting for the Grim Reaper to show up unexpectedly. Then again, since Zack and Joe were planning this ridiculous plan to fake Zack’s death, it wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Whitney tried to relax as she sat on the lounge chair on the veranda outside the back door. The veranda overlooked the large expanse of land all the way to the thicket of trees. The sun had dipped on the horizon, and she sat with a dark brown wool blanket wrapped around her. A cool breeze teased the loose hairs on her neck, causing her to shiver. Underneath the blanket on her lap was her Glock. She wouldn’t leave home without it anymore.

The day had worn her nerves ragged. As much as she argued with Zack and Joe about their ridiculous scheme, she had wasted her breath. Those two stubborn men were convinced that they could make the shooter believe Zack was dead. Exhaustion had taken its toll on her, and now all she wanted to do was sit on the lounge chair and watch the sunset as the day turned into night.

Mixed emotions filled her head, confusing her. She wanted to be a good FBI agent, and she was determined to stop the hitman from completing his job. But she also knew she was doing it for the wrong reasons. When most of her life she’d been fighting to get approval from those she’d loved, it was nearly impossible to stop and allow people to love her for herself and not what she could do for them.

For years, her mother had hinted that Joe didn’t want either of them, which explained the divorce, but now Whitney knew different. Joe loved her unconditionally. And the other man in her life... What were his feelings? He was attracted to her, but only when she wore make-up and left her hair long and flowing over her shoulders, and wore pretty clothes. And yet, some of the things he’d said to her made her feel as if he liked her for more than her looks. If only she could believe that.

“Good evening, Whitney.”

The man’s voice startled her, and she jumped. Automatically, her fingers wrapped around the butt of the gun still hidden underneath the blanket on her lap.

One of Joe’s employees stopped his horse several feet away from the veranda, jumped off the animal, and then tied the reins around a post. Wallace – Wall, to most everyone at the ranch – had worked for Joe since he was a little boy playing with stick horses. Wallace was around her age, too, but when she lived on the ranch with her mother, the pompous woman forbade Whitney from becoming friends with the ranchers even though at the time it was Wallace’s father who worked for Joe, not Wall. Her mother was all right with Whitney becoming friends with the household staff, but not the rugged cowboys. Whitney recalled her mother acted as if they were too far beneath their station in life. At the time, Whitney didn’t know what that meant. Now she understood completely what her mother referred to.

What a snob her mother had been... and still was.

Whitney relaxed her fingers around the gun and gave Wallace a small smile. “Hi, Wall. Are you done for the night?”

“Yeah. I was just taking the horse back to the stable when I saw you.”

He stepped closer, removing his hat out of politeness. Whitney always thought Wallace was a nice guy. He was always so gentlemanly with the girls, and even the older women. Whitney never looked at him and saw more than a friend. His gray eyes and bright smile were his finest features. Chestnut hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes a little. If only he’d push back the hair – or get it cut – people would be able to see his face better. He was slender and tall – but too lanky for her taste.

“I’m glad you stopped. We haven’t seen each other in years. How is life treating you?”

Smiling, he nodded. “Not bad. I’m one of your dad’s right-hand men, and I enjoy working on the ranch. Joe is a great employer.”

“Are you married yet?”

His cheeks flamed with red. “No.”

“Why not? You’re a great guy. Any woman would be lucky to have you as her husband.”

The color covering his face turned brighter. “I just don’t know how to meet girls, and I certainly don’t know how to talk to them.”

“I’ll have Zack help you.”

Sheepishly, he shrugged as his gaze dropped to the ground. “I don’t know if that’s what I want right now.”

“That’s okay. I won’t push.”

“I... um,” he stammered, stepping closer. “I’m glad you and Mr. Greyson are all right from this morning’s shooting. I wish we could have found the coward who did this.”

Sighing, she nodded. “Coward? Yes, possibly. I just wish I knew why someone was shooting that close to the house. I definitely don’t think coward, I think idiot.”

“I agree. They weren’t using their brain.”

“Tell me, Wall,” she shifted on the longue, bringing her feet off the chair and onto the ground. “Did you see any signs of where the shooter had been?”

He frowned and shook his head. “No, and we searched the grounds thoroughly, looking behind every tree and inside every bush. Whoever it was didn’t leave behind any evidence.”

“Not even bullet shells?”

“Especially not that.”

She frowned. “That scares me.”

He sat in the empty chair beside her. “It scares me, too. I don’t want to think of anything bad happening to my childhood friend.”

She gave him a smile and moved her hand out of the blanket to pat his arm. “You’re a good friend, Wall.”

He grasped her fingers and gave them a small squeeze. “I’ll find this shooter, Whitney. I promise you.”

Her heart softened from his kindness. “Wall, please don’t place yourself in harm’s way just for me. I’d never forgive myself if something terrible were to happen to you.”

Suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes widened as they darted around them as if he wanted to keep their conversation private.

“Whit,” he said in a lower voice, “I think I know who it is.”

She sucked in a quick breath and her heart stilled. “You do?”

He nodded. “Earlier, before the shooting, I saw Jim Craig going toward the trees with a rifle.”

She narrowed her gaze on him. “Who is Jim Craig?”

“You don’t remember him? He’s been with Joe for years. He’s about ten years older than us.”

She searched her mind, but the name wasn’t familiar at all. “I knew a Jim Bob, but—”

“Yes, that’s him. His last name is Craig.”

“Oh, yes. I remember Jim Bob. He always used to tease me, though.” Memories of the kid bullying her came to mind, none of them pleasant in the least. She never knew why the kid disliked her so much. “You think Jim Bob was shooting at Zack?”

“No.” Wallace leaned closer, so she also moved closer. “I think he was shooting at you.”

Her blood turned ice-cold and she jerked back. Fear took on a different meaning, and bile rose to her throat. “Me?”

Wallace nodded. “I never wanted to say anything before,” his voice lowered, “but he felt threatened when you were around. Joe adored his new stepdaughter, and because you got all of the attention, Jim Bob was ignored.”

She scowled. “That’s just ridiculous. Joe was married to my mother. Of course, he’s going to treat me with more love and attention.”

“Yeah, but Jim Bob...” He glanced around them again. When he met Whitney’s stare, he tugged on her hand, making her lean closer. “There was a rumor going around that Jim Bob was Joe’s illegitimate son.”

This time when she gasped it was much louder. She snapped up straight and slapped a hand over her mouth. Slowly, shaking her head, she tried not to think of the shocking news, but everything made sense. Jim Bob had always treated her badly right after they first met. He was always glaring at her, and giving her mean looks. He’d accused her of being spoiled, like her mother. Whitney could never understand his resentment, but with this news... Yes, it made perfect sense.

“Oh, Wall,” she grasped his hand again. “How are we going to prove it?”

“I don’t know.” He released a sad sigh. “I’d said something to Joe earlier today about seeing Jim Bob going toward the woods, but when Joe asked him, he had an alibi.”

“Alibi or not, at least we have a suspect.” Whitney nodded sharply. “And believe me, I’m not going to take my eyes off that man until I’ve cleared him of the crime.”

“I’ll keep a close watch on him, too. I’ve never liked that guy.”

“Thanks, Wall. You’re a good friend.”

She gave him a light hug, and as she pulled away, Wallace jumped to his feet with his face aflame a fire red.

“I... um, I guess I should get the horse back to the stable.” He hurried to the horse and gathered the reins. “Please don’t tell Joe about the rumor I’d heard. I know Joe hates gossip.”

“He sure does.” She nodded. “I won’t say anything.”

As she watched Wallace leave, her thought shifted to a different direction. Starting first thing in the morning, she was going to spy on Jim Bob Craig. One way or another, she was going to arrest someone before nightfall tomorrow.

She left the veranda and hurried up to her room. She suspected Zack and her dad were still planning Zack’s fake death. She shivered. That plan really did not sit well with her. Something would go wrong. It always did in her life.

She entered her room, and immediately, she felt another presence in the room. The person’s deep breaths were a dead giveaway that she was not alone. Her heart pounded irregular, and a sickening chill rushed through her. Slowly, she reached for her Glock and pulled it out of the shoulder holster, preparing for anything.

Silently, she prayed that she’d remember her FBI training and the self-defense classes she took. She really didn’t want to have to kill anyone in her bedroom.