“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Cowboy asked for the umpteenth time. But he couldn’t help himself. The thought of losing Kia…it was tying him up in knots about what to do at this point. His leave would eventually run out. With the death of the assassin he hoped there would be answers. It had only been twenty-four hours since she’d recognized the guy, but couldn’t figure out where she’d met him other than serving him in The Back Forty. The sheriff had concluded the man’s death didn’t warrant any arrests as Tank and he were attempting to protect Kia. Luckily there had been witnesses who had been happy to tell the sheriff how awesome they had been.

But Jerry did say he would be proactive in trying to identify the dead man. Maybe the two lackeys who had been part of the attack could shed some light. Where that investigation was at this point, Wes had no clue. His job would be to continue to protect Kia any way he could.

“Yes, now let me get ready for the dance. You look amazing, by the way, very handsome.” She smoothed her hands down the lapels of his Western cut, dark brown suit. A bolo tie with an eagle cinched under the collar of his tan button down shirt. Her expression sobered. After having lived in a uniform for most of his working life, the suit felt a bit strange. The best thing that came about dressing up was the brand new dark brown felt Stetson on his head.

He stared into her eyes, and then she bit her lip. “I’m scared, Wes,” she admitted after a moment. “This is feeling bigger and scarier by the minute. I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but this is making me think twice.”

He hugged her, then closed his eyes, holding her hard against him. “I’m here, darlin’,” he whispered. “I can handle anything that’s thrown at you.”

“Or throw me around, you beast,” she said her voice breaking on an unsteady laugh.

“Yeah, that, too.” He drew a deep, uneven breath, his voice raw with emotion. “I think you’re amazing lady.”

Rising on tiptoe, she molded herself tightly against him as he shifted his hold, bringing her fully aligned with him from shoulder to thigh. He shifted his head, his mouth connecting to hers in a kiss that was much more about how they felt for each other than anything physical.

He held nothing back because he couldn’t. He felt the way she reciprocated, the wonderful, hot, all-consuming fire that seemed to come from her very soul.

He let her go, and she disappeared into the bathroom.

He headed downstairs and found Tank sitting on the couch rubbing Echo’s ears and head. The dog was half in his lap. He’d gone for more casual attire, black slacks, black T-shirt and a black leather jacket.

“She all right?” he asked. Ever since Wes had seen the way he was touching Kia while he was teaching her to throw a punch, there had been this undercurrent of animosity toward each other.

“She’s putting on a brave face.”

Tank nodded. “That’s Kia for you. She wouldn’t shirk any of her responsibilities not for this reunion and not when it comes to whatever is going on with this assassin shit. I don’t like it.” Tank wasn’t his rival. He knew that. But the way he looked at Kia put Cowboy on edge. Cowboy was heading back to San Diego soon, and he wasn’t sure what would happen between him and Kia. Tank’s admiration of her only made him completely aware that other men would find her attractive, without him in the picture she would move on. He wasn’t sure he could handle that, but the reality of him being a permanent fixture in Reddick was iffy at best. There were just too many memories here. Even though he was trying to mend fences with his mom, dealing with their baggage from the past, her resentment and feelings of being left out of his life still between them, he couldn’t see himself here. Not in his mind. He’d moved on with the SEALs and his loyalty was to them.

“I don’t either, but until we get some answers, we’re in the dark.”

The SEALs were his future, and no matter how much he had clung to Sweetwater, he knew now he was going to re-enlist for another four years. He still wanted the ranch, still couldn’t let go of his heritage and a large part of his past. The responsibility for it was ingrained in him, a part of his flesh and bones. Getting that ranch back in the family was still his goal.

With the realization that he had tied his personal honor to his dad’s actions, he was beginning to understand with the hero’s parade and his dad’s nomination that honor was more personal than public, that what mattered was how he conducted himself, his accomplishments, not his dad’s desperate, last-resort act.

“Not a place I like to be unless I have my combat knife, my weapon and the rules we make for getting the job done.”

Cowboy was all for that. “I hear you, pardner.”

Tank’s expression changed, went blank with admiration and he straightened. Echo jumped down and Tank said, “Wow.”

Cowboy turned around and Kia stood in the hall doorway leading to the stairs. Her glossy dark hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard style with tiny silver butterflies perched and nestled into the mass, a sheer sand tone tulle mini-dress with strategically placed pansies and delicate fairies were embroidered with pink, silver, gold and copper thread to give her a barely-there look. Matched flesh-toned fishnet stockings and beautifully delicate pink and silver butterfly sandals took his breath and wouldn’t give it back. She blew him, away and all he could do was stare. She looked like she was fresh out of the Garden of Eden or some secret fairy hideaway. Wow, indeed.

Both of them were spellbound.

She blushed, and it made him want to just throw her over his shoulder like a caveman and drag her upstairs, keep her in her room forever until any threat against her had ended.

“You guys are great for my ego and as much as I hate to stop this awed, jaw dropping party we have going here, Cinderella has to get to the ball.”

He walked up to her and offered her his arm. Tank smirked at his gentlemanly conduct. But Cowboy didn’t care. “You look amazing, darlin’.” Her blush deepened.

There had never been anyone that affected him like Kia and that long-ago time back in high school he knew she would do something to him no woman could. What had he been afraid of back then? He wasn’t sure, but this woman had gotten deeper than any woman had ever…or maybe…just maybe, she had always been there.

She took a steadying breath as he kissed her temple. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said unevenly. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come.”

He smiled and together they headed for the truck.

When they arrived, The Barn was lit up at the edge of town like a bright sun. It sat perched just at the edge of a wide lake. Cowboy wheeled his truck into the empty parking lot near the front door.

Picking up her binder with all her information and her delicate handbag, the light breeze caught and ruffled the butterflies in her hair as if they were alive and flapping their wings. She looked so enchanting as she exited on his side, Tank slamming the door to the passenger side. His eyes moving as he scanned the perimeter, he opened one of the big double doors for her, and they entered the big area, a dance floor now taking up the space where the tables had been before. The tables were lined up on either side of the open area, a riser for the band against the back wall.

He kept an eye on her as she went about her organizing, especially after people started to arrive and the room filled up.

After staring at her for most of the night, Tank came up to him and nudged his shoulder. “Ask her to dance for Christ’s sake, knucklehead,” he growled. “I’ve got you both covered.” When he didn’t move, Tank rolled his eyes in disgust. “Okay, I’ll ask her to dance.”

“You do, and I’ll break you in half,” Cowboy said, smiling for affect.

“You can try, pardner,” Tank drawled.

Cowboy walked over to Kia who was talking to some of her former nerdy classmates. He touched her elbow as a slow dance started up. “Wanna dance, sugar?”

“I thought you’d never ask, and I would feel like this awkward wallflower all night.”

He chuckled as she pinched his ribs. He glanced down at her. “You’re no wallflower, and the reason no one else has asked you to dance is because I’m glaring at any man who even approaches you.”

“I hadn’t noticed any man but you,” she murmured. “I never did.”

He stared at her; then he looked away and swallowed hard, his grip gentle as he took her hand. His heart contracted. “I think we missed this dance ten years ago,” he said.

“I think we missed a lot ten years ago.” Regret was never stronger than now. With her tremulous smile, his second chance with Kia was turning out better than he could have imagined. But his first chance with her was a missed opportunity, and now he didn’t know what was going to happen, how it could happen.

It was a romantic cluster fuck.

But one he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

Insulated by the crowd, he drew her against him, the weight of his hand against her back pressing her deeper into his embrace. Her forehead nestled against his jaw, Kia cupped the back of his neck as he fought all the emotions rolling through him. It was on overload after being so rigid and controlled for such a long time.

Inhaling unevenly, Cowboy rested his head against hers, his arm tightening around her as they began moving to the music, drawn into the intimacy of their own private space. The sensual, intimate tempo folded around them, the power and eloquence of the lyrics expressing the soul of their own private love song. And it was Cowboy’s love song to her of how she gave him hope and consolation, how she gave him the strength to open up his heart.

Easing back into his embrace, she looked at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her gaze revealing everything she was feeling. “I’m so glad you came back for the reunion,” she whispered, a deep, heartfelt joy making her voice tremble. Moving to the rhythm of the music, he stared down at her, unwavering, searching. Tightening his hold on her hand, he pressed her knuckles against his mouth, his throat tight with emotion. Drawing a deep breath, he pulled her closer, urging her head against his jaw. Then he tucked their joined hands against his chest, letting the melody and lyrics enclose them in their own private space.

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur and, as usual, the brunch went off without a hitch. Kia announced the winners of the Paris trip and the couple were overjoyed. He could only think how special she was to be so generous to people who had treated her like a pariah.

On Monday, they went to the Sheriff’s Office, but the only thing he had to report was that the two lackeys who had been with the man now identified as Paul Lambert were nothing but local muscle, had no clue about why he wanted to kill Kia and served up another dead end. He said he had found that NCIS was looking for any information regarding the assassin, and he would let them know any new information as soon as they had it. With sleight of hand and an upset trip to the bathroom, she cloned the assassin’s phone, then turned the ringer off.

Now if the person who had hired him called. Kia would be the one to answer the phone.

* * *

The two dogs wrestled with each other knocking over a lamp until they were reprimanded. Then it was Wes and Tank. They argued about how to boil pasta, how to set the table, how much wood to put on the fire, but when they got to arguing about old naval battles then about the difference between pirates and privateers, the first flicker of annoyance pumped through her.

She had been doing some work, but ever since Jerry had mentioned NCIS and that they had information on Lambert, she couldn’t stop herself from working on hacking into their database. The assassin’s phone hadn’t so much as beeped. What connection could she possibly have to a man who was wanted in conjunction to a murder of a suspect in custody? What was this about?

The Cat Who Must Not Be Named, yowled, growled and swiped at her ankle, then sat there staring at her with his golden unblinking eyes. She tried harder to concentrate on what she was doing. This was her paying job. The job that supported this house, horses, and these freaking out of control animals. It helped with her expenses at the bar and made her a very comfortable living. “Stop it, BFA.” She nudged him away with her foot. But he was relentless, pawing at her again, just as the two dogs started at it again and Cowboy insisted that privateers, buccaneers and pirates were all the same.

Something dinged in the email she kept for business purposes, and she felt a headache coming on. Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw it was a real estate broker inquiring about the ranch. She wanted to talk to the owner about a possible bid on the property. Her heart started pounding when she saw the client’s name: Wes McGraw.

It was highly amusing to her to string Red Sweeney along because he was such a surly so and so and his father had staged Travis McGraw’s suicide. But it was another to have Wes ask her to find out who owned Sweetwater when she was the owner! This wasn’t at all funny, but it was ironic at the very least and horrible to be in this predicament in the extreme.

They had such a wonderful time this weekend, all except that guy trying to kill her and the bruised ribs to prove she wasn’t as resilient as a football, nor as hardy as a bag of potatoes.

Wes’s voice boomed across the room and her stomach fell in on itself. It hit her that she had this thing with the ranch hanging over her head. The investigation into the gun she’d just gotten access to only begun. Now she was going to break the law and hack into NCIS to find out how much crap she was really in—without looking, she’d have to say neck deep.

“Just because you have government sanctions to rob and pillage, doesn’t make you anything other than a pirate.”

“But they weren’t called that, and they served a specific purpose, a guerilla band that helped to control the seas. It was more patriotic.” The two of them filled her house to bursting.

The information she held could really affect Wes and she just didn’t have anything to share with him right now. Not anything that was going to make a difference. She wanted to have it all worked out, then spring the information that she owned Sweetwater. Had since it had gone up on the auction block ten years ago. She’d amassed a fortune hacking with sneaky ways to make money that weren’t legal. Back then, she felt justified in her teenaged rage at being who she was, how she couldn’t, didn’t fit in, was ridiculed for the way she dressed. It only made her more determined to be different. She didn’t want to be like all the unorphaned teenagers. But that defiant attitude only masked her real desire. She did want to be like them, but she never could. Her parents were dead and no one understood her. No one.

“Pirate is pirate,” Cowboy said through gritted teeth. The debate raged on and Kia felt the control on her life slipping backwards. The stuff from her past crowding her in on all sides. Back then she hadn’t had anything to lose, but loss was something she remembered keenly. She glanced at Wes, and she took a painful breath. Hurting him in any way just wasn’t an option, but how could she avoid that? She didn’t see a way out of it.

Tank was in thoughtful mode, his brows furrowed. He was just as intelligent as Wes, just as intense, just as…alpha. There were definitely too many males here. She was outnumbered.

“How about the Barbary corsairs?”

That email looked like a doomsday message. She closed it without typing back an answer. She didn’t have an answer. The ranch would never be for sale. Ever.

“Are you kidding me with this?” He sat straight in his seat and got in Tank’s face. This argument didn’t have a damn thing to do with pirates. It was buried aggression. Wes was reacting to the way Tank talked to her, looked at her, and generally interacted with her. He was jealous. It was clear to her. That revelation should have made her giddy, but it only made her stomach feel like lead. It meant that Wes was involved with her, falling in love with her, maybe?

“Just because they were French and drank their stinking tea with pinkies extended doesn’t change a dang thing. Still freaking pirates.”

That’s when BFA bit her and she snapped, rising from the sofa, her fists clenched, shouting, “That’s it! What a freaking zoo!”

At the tone of her voice the dogs stopped in mid-wrestle, Catmageddon yowled, but it was from across the room. Cowboy and Tank straightened, looking at each other, then in her direction.

“Could the both of you come with me?” she said, a tight smile on her face, her tone deadly calm, crooking her index finger at them.

They rose, giving each other the kind of look that probably passed between them when they weren’t quite sure if they were dealing with a suicide bomber or not. The message was clear. Danger: Use extreme caution. Crossing the room warily, they were primed for action.

She went to the front door and opened it. They came to stand in front of her and she shoved them both out onto the porch, threw their boots out, grabbed both dogs by their collars and sent them out there, too.” Catcujo was nowhere to be found. Smartest one of the bunch.

“Kia?”

“Go and argue outside. I don’t want to hear it. I have work to do. Work that pays my bills! Whatever has your alpha shit all riled up, you can duke it out and SEAL it into submission. Use your words or your fists. Whatever works for you to get this aggression out.” She groused under her breath. She set her hands on her hips. “It’s bad enough that I have this ornery male cat who hates me, three male horses, one of which fights me every step of the way and two male alpha dogs to deal with, but now two alpha males…yeesh. Stay out!” The dogs, quite aware who was the alpha bitch, sat on the porch, subdued, watching her, the horses moved restlessly in the corral, nickering. “Don’t try to butter me up!” she shouted. “That goes for you three, too! No horses in the house.” Her voice got watery. “There’s way too much testosterone in this here Gray Havens! I’m freaking alphaed out. So just deal with it.”

In the ensuing silence, BFA padded up the stairs and dropped a dead mouse on the Welcome mat.

Everyone looked down, dogs and humans, and uncharacteristically, he sat down, curled his tail around his hindquarters, picked up one delicate paw and started to wash his face. “Well, I’ve made my point and he’s made his.”

She slammed the door, grabbed her laptop and went to her room. Throwing herself face down on the bed, she squeezed her eyes closed. Turning over, she kicked her legs and flailed with her arms and fists into the mattress. Wes. So wonderful. Why couldn’t this just be easy? She’d had the best intentions, but now that so much time had passed, what would he think? How would he really react? All she knew was that she had no evidence to back up her claim, and if she told him about the ranch, the information about his dad would come out, her suspicions and her silence all these years would definitely put him in a tailspin.

She wanted to come clean, but she just wasn’t prepared for any of this. Dammit. She didn’t have the social skills to deal with so many people, animals…the fact that she was hopelessly in love with Wes.

She sat bolt upright. That’s nothing new, Kia.

But her inner voice mocked her. Yes, it is. You didn’t know him before which made what you felt for him infatuation and based on airy-fairy fantasy. But, now? Now you know him, a complicated, gorgeous, heroic, living, breathing man who has quite simply taken you by storm. Now you have a basis for how you really feel, have a strong foundation to build something wonderful with him. He’s been in your bed, been deep inside you and is embedded in your heart. It could all come crashing down, and that is a scary thing for you to deal with. Then it mocked her. Orphan. You know what it’s like to be utterly alone. You remember the pain of abandonment. Do you really want to go through that again?

She dropped her head into her hands. That stinking voice was right.

After a moment she opened the laptop and with her hands shaking, sick that she had to once again illegally obtain what she needed before she went insane, she worked at hacking into NCIS. They had some strong measures in place, but Kia was just that good. She’d hacked all the way into the President’s email one time just to see if she could. She sang “Hail to the Chief,” every day for a week after that. No one had a clue.

But she’d given that up. She had put illegal and dangerous stuff behind her. When she got into the database, she searched for Lambert and that led her to Bryant Anderson. When a file popped up on him, she accessed it. The Special Agent’s name was Paige Wilder.

In growing horror, she read every word, a litany bursting from her lips, her stricken eyes widening as each word burned into her brain and seared her heart. “Oh, God, oh God, oh, God…” over and over again. Then she sat back against the pillows. After a moment, she covered her mouth and ran for the bathroom and was sick. Kneeling on the tiles, the cold had seeped deep into her bones. She burst into tears, frightened, remorseful sobs that echoed in the small room. Anderson had tricked her, completely pulled the wool over her eyes. He and his accomplices had gotten her to hack the security and then stolen weapons and warheads. She could barely breathe. Then, her face crumpled again and she sobbed softly, two military policemen had been killed. Their blood was on her hands, too. She felt the enormous weight of their deaths pressing in on her, the betrayal by the people she’d worked for making it all that much worse.

She got up and rinsed out her mouth and brushed her teeth, tears of anger and betrayal now coursing down her cheeks.

The assassin’s cell rang, and she rushed to her bed and picked it up. The number was blocked. She pressed the accept button.

“Is it done?”

Her heart slammed into her throat at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line, a voice she recognized, a voice she’d trusted.

Then like a lightning bolt out of the blue, Lambert’s face slammed into her, and she remembered where she’d seen him as clear as day. It had been the day she’d gone to the DoD. She knew who was behind this and as soon as Special Agent Paige Wilder got here and Kia answered her questions, he was going to pin everything on her, make her the fall guy. Without any evidence, she would be arrested and go to jail. What would Wes think of her, then?

“You son of a bitch!”

“Fuck. Kia! You’re a dead woman walking.” Then he disconnected the call. In shock she dropped onto the bed, a sick, horrible feeling churning inside her. She thought she was going to be sick again. She trembled all over and then, she got angry. Good and angry. They had tricked her into something so heinous and were willing to make her the fall guy. Bryant Anderson had died for his involvement. He’d been cleaning up loose ends and she was left dangling.

She went to her closet and packed a suitcase, setting it back inside and out of sight. Then she pushed her clothes aside and opened the small safe tucked away in the back and took out the documents she needed. She was done with being the hunted.

Her biggest regret was that she was going to have to leave Wes behind. She couldn’t compromise him or Tank. Not active, dedicated Navy SEALs. Not Wes.

She was on her own.

Again.

* * *

“You think she locked us out?” Tank asked.

Cowboy just looked at him and he backed up a step. “Hey, this isn’t my fault. You’re the one who’s on edge.”

He turned and sat down on the top step. The two dogs were still a little traumatized after their beat down and went and laid at their feet. Cowboy knew how they felt. Something was up with Kia. He wasn’t sure if it was the trauma, the stress or something else she wasn’t telling him.

And, he was peeved at Tank. But it didn’t have to do with thinking he was after Kia. He was tussling with his own emotions and arguing with Tank helped him to combat some of the frustration.

“I would never step into your girl, man. I swear. I think she’s great, but she’s only got eyes for you.”

“So if she didn’t just have eyes for me, that would be a game changer?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. She reminds me of my sister. You know I’d follow you into hell and that buddies don’t poach other buddies’ girls, but she’s something special. I hope you see that.”

“I’m not sure where the hell it can go,” Cowboy growled. “Here I thought I would come home, try to get the ranch. I had this stupid notion that I would quit the SEALs, get out and ranch again.”

“But?”

“I don’t want to leave the navy. That ranch doesn’t belong to me anymore. I lost it a long time ago.”

“Kia and I overheard what you said to your mom. We didn’t mean to, we were just concerned. You looked pretty spooked there.”

“Yeah, that nomination…I thought no one would ever look at my dad again without thinking about him taking the easy way out. About him being a coward.”

Tank looked off into the distance. “I’ve never had anything like that, mostly just crappy apartments and my dad bailed long before I became a man. So I’m not the one to give you great advice about the paternal stuff or lost birthrights. But I can say that you have to be honest with your family. True to form, you were brutally honest. But if you don’t get that shit off your chest, it festers.” He sat down deeming it was safe. “Did you join to prove that you weren’t, by association, a coward?”

“Maybe. All I know is I was working myself ragged, and it felt good. I let everything go except the exercise. People were worried. I could tell. I guess I needed a reason to work out to the extreme.”

Tank chuckled. “That’s basic, man. I guess you got what you bargained for.”

“And then some, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Not even her?”

That question hung in the air between them, and Cowboy came to the same blank dead end he’d been wrestling with for a while. “My gut ties up in knots, and the thinking just stops with her.”

“Maybe you should talk to her. Maybe she feels the same way.”

“She’s grounded here. She has a business, a home, horses. What can I offer her? I’m gone all the time, the distance would be too much and coming back here, even to visit my family has been tough.” He closed his eyes, fighting against what he had believed for so long, but had to remember what he’d discovered. His personal honor wasn’t tied to anyone but his own actions. The fact that he wrestled with it, that even now, he wasn’t fully convinced.

“It’s really none of my business, but I think if she means more to you than just something casual, if that mushy feeling is strong—”

“Mushy feeling? Is that the official term?”

“It is for guys like me who don’t like to talk about mushy feelings.”

“It’s strong.”

“Then you’ve got to say something. After this is over are you just expecting to walk away from here and tell her, ‘It’s been fun, babe. Catch you when I’m in town.’”

“No. That doesn’t fit, but telling her how I feel may not solve anything.”

“Or it may solve everything.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said.