Chapter Three
Her sunny smile kicked up Tag’s heart rate. If only her response was meant for him. Most likely, she reacted to Pixie’s head tilt and panting tongue visible through the truck window. “Sorry if I scared you.” Her eyes were the prettiest blue he’d ever seen, and he could keep gazing into them for hours. Too soon her smile faded, and he didn’t like how she wouldn’t maintain eye contact. The urge to reassure her rose. He rested a hand on the passenger door.
She glanced down, her gaze narrowing as she chewed her lower lip. Then she looked up again. “I’ve been a bit jumpy since…”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Ever since the truck sped out of sight that dark day, he’d been worried about that type of reaction. While giving his statement at the scene, he’d heard the officer’s radio announce the hostage had been located. The intense relief he’d felt then mirrored what he felt at finally meeting her. An officer must have driven her to the sheriff’s department because he hadn’t seen her again that day. “I met with the detective probably for the same reason you did. I wanted to introduce myself. Tag Redmond.” He shifted Pixie, tucking the dog under his left arm then extended his hand.
Frowning, she cringed away from the window before gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “I’m Malin Langstrom. But I really need to be getting back to…um, home.”
No shit, she’s jumpy. “Sure. I just thought…” What had he thought? That he’d get her number and call for a date? “I wanted to make sure you’re doing all right.”
“I will be fine.” After powering up the window, she adjusted the gearshift and the truck rolled backward.
He stepped to the front of the parking slot. The determined note in her voice didn’t match the haunted look in her eyes or the shaking of her hands. At least, they’d finally met, and he learned her name. As he watched the truck exit the lot and turn left, he noticed the ranch logo and read the business name painted on the door, making a mental note.
Pixie wiggled and licked his hand.
Tag crouched to set Pixie’s feet on the ground. Then he stood, told the dog to heel, and strode toward his truck at the far end of the parking spaces.
From nearby, an engine roared to life and revved.
Sudden noises still caught his attention and put him on high alert. He scanned the immediate area and saw no occupants in the parked vehicles. Then he glanced over his shoulder and froze, his pulse kicking up.
A black king-cab truck rolled along the path Malin had taken.
Shit. His skin prickled. That same truck was at the robbery. “Let’s run, Pixie.” He jogged toward the back of the lot, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. After reaching the vehicle, he yanked on the door handle and lifted Pixie into the backseat, clipping on her travel harness. Then he scrolled through his contacts and punched the one for Rayburn as he hopped behind the wheel. “Detective, Tag Redmond. Spotted suspect’s truck.” He hit the button for Speaker and set the phone in a cup holder before putting the vehicle in motion.
“Where?”
“Outside your office. In pursuit now.” He turned right onto North Alaska and scanned the vehicles ahead. Her beige truck already waited at the next intersection. “No license visible.”
“Give me your exact location.”
“Alaska and Granite.” Waiting for the light to change, he drummed his fingers on the wheel.
“Geez, you are close.”
“Driver probably waited for either of us but followed her exit.” He turned right then checked his mirrors and signaled to maneuver into Malin’s lane. In the background, he heard Rayburn yelling instructions to the dispatcher. “Crap.”
“What?”
“Dumbass driver wouldn’t let me change lanes.” After several seconds passed, he eased the truck left and waved a hand to the trailing car. “I’m assuming she’s headed to one of the southbound streets that connect with the interstate.”
“Probably Montana.”
Tag glanced at the street sign. “Correct. Left there. Which onramp will she use—north or south?” At the sign of the yellow light, he punched the accelerator and tapped the horn before racing through the intersection. He hated to draw attention, but he couldn’t let the vehicles get too far ahead.
Pixie whimpered as her nails scratched against the seat.
“Can’t tell you that.”
“Damn it, Rayburn.” He pounded a fist on the wheel. “Have you got the resources to protect her?” He pulled into the same lane as the black truck, keeping a compact car between their vehicles. Squinting, he searched for a reflection in the truck’s side mirror. But the window tint was too dark to see the occupants. “Does she even live in your county?”
“I’ll contact Sheriff Bar—uh, the sheriff where she’s headed and let him know what’s going on. That’s the best I can do.”
Had he been about to say Barron? The sheriff of the Eagle Rock department. Tag pulled a fisted hand downward. Something finally went right. “I’m driving a 2009 red four-by-four with Wyoming plates. Tell the responding officers I’m the good guy.” He ended the call then picked up the phone. Glancing between his driving and the screen, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Hank Patterson and hit Call. He really had to get a hands-free headset.
“Brotherhood Protectors. Hank here.”
“Hank, Tag Redmond.”
“Hey, Tag. How are—”
“Listen up. I’m tailing a vehicle I suspect is connected to that Butte bank robbery.”
A chair creaked, and tapping sounded on a keyboard. “Got a license number? I’ll check my resources.”
“Plate’s missing.” He drove through another intersection, keeping his gaze on the light-colored top of Malin’s truck. “Do you know Dream Vistas Ranch?”
“Yeah, I do. A guest ranch north of town owned by the Langstrom sisters.”
Bingo. “One of them was a witness, too, and the suspect truck is following her.” Tag wondered if she spotted the tail and how she reacted.
“Damn. Then they’re headed this way. How far back are you?”
“Two car lengths. Soon as I hit the interstate, I’m sliding between the vehicles.” The scumbag won’t run her off the road. Not on his watch. Huh. “I might have created my first assignment.”
“Got no agents free right now to send your way. Drive here as soon as you can. Stay safe.”
“Roger. Redmond out.” He tapped the screen, drove under the freeway overpass, and accelerated onto the two-lane divided I90/15 highway. The traffic was heavier than when he’d driven north, but it wasn’t too bad. Additional vehicles provided good cover. Within three miles, he positioned himself in the fast lane a car length behind the black truck. Malin stuck to the posted speed limit. Tag checked the rearview mirror and spotted a sheriff’s SUV hanging back about one hundred yards. The more he thought about the situation, the more convinced he became the deputy probably couldn’t pull over the vehicle unless the driver made a stupid blunder.
Tag crept forward and then signaled to ease the truck into the slow lane. Once there, he allowed a safe distance between their trucks then set the cruise control. Short of hauling Malin into his own vehicle, he’d done what he could to protect her. His grip on the wheel loosened, and he flexed his fingers. Rolling his shoulders, he glanced around. Clouds stacked up along the ridge of the Crazy Mountains to the west. Might get a little rain later.
The next time he looked in his rearview mirror, he spotted a yellow SUV behind him and glanced over his shoulder to verify the black truck was gone. Moving sideways in his lane revealed the trailing car was a blue sedan. Tensing, he glanced in all directions. Where was the law enforcement vehicle? Then he remembered seeing a sign for Madison County. Out of Butte-Silver Bow’s jurisdiction.
Time for a new plan. He steered into the left lane until he drew abreast of Malin’s truck then honked. Her head didn’t turn. He eased forward a few feet and honked again, adding a big wave.
Malin glanced over, and her eyes widened.
He pointed to his chest and then toward the upcoming ramp exit sign. Seeing her nod, he pulled ahead and flipped his right turn signal. Tag held his breath as two then three seconds passed before he spotted her signal flash. Past the next city street, he pulled over onto the shoulder then jogged back to her vehicle.
“Why are you following me?” Malin frowned over the partially lowered window.
“Did you see the black truck on your tail since you left the sheriff’s department?”
“Holy crap.” Gasping, she shook her head. “Was it the one from the robbery?”
Tag rested a hand on the window frame so he could bend over. “I think so. I want to take you to meet a friend who can help with this situation.”
“I met you for the first time minutes ago. Why would I go with you anywhere?” Head shaking, she powered up the window. “I should never have left the ranch.”
“No, wait.” He took a deep breath. He’d seen her panic in the lot near the sheriff’s department. So, he had to act calm and rational. A lot rested on how he phrased his next statement. “Have you heard of Hank Patterson and Brotherhood Protectors?”
The window dropped three inches. An eyebrow arched, and she tilted her head. “I have. Last fall, one of Hank’s agents helped my cousin, Caitlyn.”
“Will you follow me to his ranch so the three of us can discuss a way to protect you?”
Mouth pressed tight, she gripped the wheel and stared straight ahead.
That he couldn’t see her eyes, know what she might be feeling, bothered him. Tag watched her lips move but couldn’t hear what she said.
“What’s the name of Hank’s ranch?”
Smart girl to verify what I know. “White Oak Ranch.”
“And the name of his child.”
On his first visit to the Brotherhood Protectors headquarters, he’d met Hank’s wife, Sadie, and saw her with a chubby-cheeked girl. But he hadn’t paid much attention. He ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Um, blonde hair and blue eyes. Emma? No, her name’s Emily.”
She shot him a glance and then looked forward again.
“Malin, I’m an ex-Army Ranger with eight years of service. My goal is to find a way to make you feel secure.” For a strange reason, he wanted her agreement more than he’d wanted anything in recent months. “Trust me, please.”
“All right, I’ll follow you.”
“Great.” He turned toward his truck and almost missed hearing her final whispered words.
“I trust you.”
Those soft words, spoken so hesitantly, confirmed the need to protect her. A lump formed in his throat. I will not let you down this time, Malin Langstrom.
****
Why did I agree? Malin kept her gaze on the tailgate of the red truck ahead. True, the dark-haired man knew the basics about the Patterson family. But did that fact alone mean he was trustworthy? He had dark brown eyes that looked as deep as a vat of chocolate. Plus dogs were a valid indicator of a solid character. They wouldn’t be calm around someone who wasn’t good at heart.
She blew out a harsh breath and tightened her grip. Just because the man’s persona made her heart flutter faster than normal didn’t mean she should rely on the guy. She tapped her thumb on the wheel. So much had been affecting her habits this past month, she wondered if she could count on her own judgment. Maybe she needed to hear the voice of reason.
Ahead, the right turn signal of Tag’s truck lit and blinked. The upcoming off ramp exited the freeway several miles north of Eagle Rock. One exit before the one that led to Dream Vistas. After slowing for the westward turn, she drove along fenced pastures where horses and cattle grazed. When the road started to climb into the foothills, she grabbed her phone headset then punched in a preset number. “Suzanne, are you free?”
“Malin, hello. I have about five minutes. How can I help you?”
“I had to sit through a lineup of robbery suspects today, and I had another attack.” The memory of its intensity still shook her nerves. She slowed for a hairpin curve, hoping her cell reception held through the thickly wooded area she’d just entered. “Why aren’t the attacks going away? Shouldn’t I be farther along in my recovery?” She hated the wimpy whine in her voice, but Malin wanted to return to the person she’d been before the robbery.
“Possibly, the time’s right for you to step outside of the safe world you’ve constructed. Stretch your comfort zone and do something for others. A few weeks ago, I met the director of the Brighter Days Rehab Ranch, which I believe is not far from where you live. Her name’s Hannah Davila. Read up on the therapeutic advantages of working with animals. You might want to check out the place.”
The name was familiar. Malin probably heard something about it from one of her sisters. She loved animals and rode her mare, Dumpling, at least twice a week.
Brake lights ahead flashed as the red truck rolled into a clearing and pulled to a stop.
“Gotta go. I’ll think about it. Thanks.” She parked a few feet away from Tag’s truck and looked up at a large, two-story cabin with huge windows. The setting was almost as beautiful as where she lived. The Crazy Mountains rose on one side and a view of the valley spread in the other. Climbing from the car, she heard the babble of a nearby creek. With eyes closed, she took a deep breath of tangy evergreens, earthy vegetation, and the sweetness of early blooming wildflowers. For the first time in several hours, the tension from the experience at the sheriff’s office released. Her body relaxed.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?”
At the deep voice, Malin jumped then turned and offered a smile. “I agree.” She looked at the tall man who stood a few feet away. Every detail about him screamed capable and confident male. A brown T-shirt fit tight enough to highlight honed shoulders and carved chest. Camouflage-colored cargo pants hugged lean hips. Somehow, the straw Stetson and tooled leather boots completed the picture of this soldier-cowboy.
“Ready to go inside? I know Hank’s waiting.”
Shaking away her errant thoughts, she nodded and grabbed her purse. “If you think this discussion is necessary.” The farther she’d driven from Butte, the less she believed the possibility the robbery suspects had been inside the truck Tag spotted. How would they have known she’d be at the justice center at any given time? In Montana, trucks probably outnumbered other vehicles two to one, and black was not an unusual color.
“I do.” He collected the dog from the back seat and let her run to the end of her leash to relieve herself. “Pixie, heel.”
Malin couldn’t help smiling at how the little dog always glanced upward for the next command. Poor thing had a long way to look. Walking beside Tag, Malin felt dwarfed, even with her five-foot-seven height. The weight of his hand pressed to her lower back caused a shiver to run through her. But she didn’t pull away—the first unsolicited touch that hadn’t created a knot in her stomach.
The screen door swung outward. “Come on in.” Hank waved them inside. “Hello, Malin.” He extended his hand. “Tag.”
“Thanks for seeing us.” Nodding an acknowledgement, she glanced at the ex-Navy SEAL who kept himself in good physical shape. A man in his early thirties, he probably still turned heads with those deep green eyes. She followed him into an office that overlooked the broad valley and sat in front of his desk.
Hank rested his forearms on the desktop in the space between a computer monitor and an inbox stacked with files. “I was sorry to learn you were a victim of the guys responsible for the bank robbery.”
She tensed, her grip tightening on the chair arm. Every time she heard that word ‘victim’ she rebelled. She hated that label. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
“Good.” Hank gave her a smile. “Positive thinking helps.”
Tag maneuvered the dog to sit between their chairs. “Well, all the positive thinking in the world won’t change the fact I spotted a tail on Malin today. That same truck was still missing a back license plate with the identifying logos removed.”
“I was hoping we’d have more to go on.” Hank scrubbed a hand down his face. “A lot of trucks drive on Montana roads.”
Exactly my thought. She and Tag were perfect examples of his statement. A weight, followed by warmth, pressed against her ankle. Malin glanced down to see the dog curled up next to her foot. The gesture was kind of sweet. Since the family pet, Skipper, walked the rainbow bridge a few years back, the only dogs on Dream Vistas were owned by a couple of the ranch hands and lived in the barn. Maybe she should make a point of getting down there more often.
Tag scooted forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Rayburn said he’d call Barron and give him an update. Do you have enough pull with the local sheriff to gather any intel?”
“Not really.” Hank flattened his mouth. “Sorry, but Joe shares only when a threat is imminent. On occasion, he’s verified facts when I supply specific identifying data.”
Malin shot sideways glances toward the intense man on her left. His rigid posture and stiff expression shouted his displeasure at the news. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. My everyday activities don’t take me to Butte very often.”
“Are you still using the security system Morgan installed at your ranch last fall?”
“Rhys did that?” She slumped back in her chair. Tilda hired him as a ranch hand, but he’d really been acting as an undercover Brotherhood Protector to guard her cousin, Caitlyn. “Before he came, we used a service with devices that monitored the doors and windows and relayed information to an offsite company.” Guilt stabbed her as she realized how lax they’d been. “Unfortunately, guests were always setting it off because they snuck outside to the hot tub or for late-night stargazing.” As she spoke, she noticed the wide-eyed expressions on both men’s faces. “We got dinged for each incidence after the third false alarm, and thinking of the budget, I cancelled the service.”
“You cancelled it?”Tag’s dark brows crashed downward.
At the raised voice, the dog perked up and stared at her owner.
Malin leaned away. What gave Tag the right to yell?
“So, you have no way of knowing if unauthorized personnel encroach on the perimeter late at night?” He pushed to his feet and paced to the window.
“Tag.” Hank frowned and shook his head then angled his body to face front. “Malin, what Tag should have said is that we need to analyze the ranch’s layout and check for ingress points.”
Her head swam with the unfamiliar terms. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’re asking. Dream Vistas is a customer service operation with people coming and going throughout each day. Guests are booked solid from now until the snow is deep enough to block the roads.”
Glancing toward the computer screen, Hank punched at the keyboard. “Can you get your hands on the original blueprints from when the place was built? Or from the last time improvements were made?”
Blueprints? Too complicated. She scooted forward and rested a hand on Hank’s desk. “Probably. But I don’t see how all this effort is necessary. Two of the thieves are in custody. Although I don’t know exactly what role the two played in the robbery, I’m sure the sheriff has leads on tracking down the other two.” With a slow move, she slipped her foot from under the dog, reluctant to disturb its little nap. “I’ll call my cousin and ask about the equipment you say Rhys used. Maybe he left it behind. He’ll tell us what we need to do to reconnect it, and then we’ll be secure.” She stood. “Really, you two don’t need to concern yourselves.”
Tag whirled and stalked across the room. “Don’t brush us off, Malin. I am concerned. The people in that black truck saw your vehicle the same as I did today in Butte. You drove there in a company truck that advertised the ranch. Now they know you’re associated in some way with Dream Vistas.”
Gasping, she could only stare. She’d been driving ranch vehicles for so long she never gave a thought to what was painted on the side doors. Her stomach knotted and roiled. Had cooperating with the investigation put those she loved in danger?