Chapter Eight
Rhys sat in Sheriff Barron’s office, waiting while the lawman collected a copy of Caitlyn’s email message from the printer. For now, he performed his own grunt work. A deputy called in sick and the dispatcher was late. As much as Rhys tried to make light of the situation when Caitlyn shared the message, he couldn’t fool himself. Those bastards pestering her had stepped up their taunts.
Sheriff Barron walked behind his desk to the bookcase and lifted down a green binder. “An FBI bulletin from a couple months ago stated a suspected ultra-right group was operating in southern Montana. An agent is assigned to infiltrate, but he’s not made much progress. The inner circle is tight, and leads keep drying up. The group’s motto is making American great again. They believe in America’s world-wide role as protector of the democratic way.” He waved a hand at the printout. “Research about the effects of war on soldiers goes counter to their ideals. They want the American people believing in the war machine, not having testimony presented about PTSD. So, your friend has a target on her back. Better stay close.”
Suddenly aware of how vulnerable he’d left Caitlyn, Rhys stood. “I will. What did you learn about the trucks we reported yesterday?”
Barron’s brows furrowed. “I haven’t seen any reports. The clerk will probably finish them later this morning.”
Rhys jumped in the truck and spit gravel from the tires as he spun out of the lot. Something wasn’t right. His senses were tripped, and he couldn’t afford to ignore them. As he raced to the ranch, he worked on the logistics for a plan. Experience told him the reception was where a strike would occur—party atmosphere, loud music, free booze, guests moving in erratic patterns.
This time, he’d have to involve all four women to be his eyes and ears. The three who lived at the ranch would spot a local who shouldn’t be present. Unfortunately, his blonde beauty, Caitlyn, would have to mingle in the crowd as bait.
Activities were in full whirlwind-mode when he arrived at the ranch. He barely had time to connect with Caitlyn to get her agreement and work out details before Tilda assigned him bartender duties to report at sundown. That left him only five hours to reposition the microphones—not an easy job with the potential of up to one hundred guests milling around—and test the equipment.
Hours later through his earpiece, he heard the wedding ceremony start, which provided a great sound check. As he donned the uniform of black trousers and white shirt, he scanned the equipment on his desk. Everything appeared to be working fine. He dropped a small case holding extra earbuds into his jacket pocket. Both of his weapons were in place. Under the circumstances, the rudimentary safeguards were the best he could arrange.
Rhys arrived in the kitchen as Tyler Stratton, the head of the private security team, gave his last-minute instructions. Two members of the permanent team guarding Jason Newcastle wore business suits and were assigned the standard six- to ten-foot radius. An average height, dark-haired woman was assigned to the new wife, Brandy Mifflin Newcastle. The remaining dozen were dressed more casually in slacks and dress shirts to better blend with the other wedding guests.
Each member wore a serious expression, and Rhys wondered if their mingling skills were fresh. One of the men across the room looked familiar. Rhys squinted and recognized Brander “Thor” Rutland who he served with on his first tour in Afghanistan. When the briefing ended, he made his way across the room. “Hey, Thor.”
The six-foot, two-inch blond stuck out a hand. “I thought that was you, Radar. Small world to meet up again.”
Their handshake was firm. “You’re located in Los Angeles now?”
Thor ducked his head. “Alternating between there and back home in Oregon. LA is where I’m picking up jobs then I return to my hometown to relax.” He waved a hand at the room. “You work at this ranch?”
“Private security running an undercover protection detail.” Rhys glanced around then pulled the box with earbuds to the top edge of his pocket. “I’m alone here, guarding a woman who’s been subjected to ongoing threats. Long story but she’s a friend to returning vets. Sure could use a brother on my six.”
“I’m in. But I’m not carrying.”
“You know the basic layout?”
“Got a tour of the immediate vicinity an hour ago.” Thor held out a hand. “Is the threat recognizable?”
“Unknown threat or threats.” Rhys handed over an earbud and grabbed his phone. “Here’s what came with an emailed warning.” He displayed the image of the shield. “Golden Warrior Brotherhood.”
Thor’s mouth thinned. “Hate when radicals disparage a good word.” He inserted the listening device. “Who’s the subject?”
Rhys moved to the swinging door and opened it several inches. After locating Caitlyn serving hors d’oeuvres, he waved over Thor and pointed. “Thin blonde in the pink dress.”
A grin spread Thor’s lips. “Just my type. Think I’ll request a couple dances.”
Jealousy flashed like a knife through his chest. Gossip a couple years ago was Brander Rutland was quite the ladies’ man. “Don’t go after more.”
“So, that’s how it is.” Thor’s eyes danced under raised eyebrows.
“Damn right.” He turned and met the soldier’s gaze. “Appreciate your help.” Then he eased into the room and walked the perimeter until he reached his bar stand in the far corner of the lodge’s dining room. From this spot, he had a good visual of the deck and a few feet to both sides, in addition to the dining room and the hallway. Although he shared duties with another cowhand, Ryan, the two were kept busy filling drink orders.
Rhys did his best to work efficiently and still keep an eye on Caitlyn. She had instructions to stay within sight. Too often a muscled member of the security team obscured her for a few seconds as movement across the room occurred. Maybe he should have consulted with Stratton and at least made the team aware of who to keep tabs on. Too many contingencies. His breath hitched, and his ears roared. Others were in jeopardy because he’d missed something in the coverage. A hole in the perimeter existed.
“I see panic on your face. What happened?”
Caitlyn’s concerned voice immediately snapped him back, reducing his panic. He squatted and pretended to check the inventory before whispering, “Meet me in the kitchen.” Then he stood and turned to Ryan, waving a hand toward the lineup of bottles. “Would you believe it? We’re out of Stoli already. I’ll get a replacement.”
She waited at the island when he stepped through the door, head tilted. “What’s going on?”
“Momentary freak-out.” He closed the distance and drew her against his chest, breathing in the spicy scent she wore today. “Appreciate the reality check.” He planted a quick kiss on her forehead, too aware of smearing her lipstick on them both. “Update. Recruited a backup—picture a Viking. Name’s Brander Rutland, but his handle is Thor. Fitting, huh? Probably hit on you for a dance or two.” He released her, stepped to the long counter loaded with cartons of liquor, and grabbed two bottles of vodka. “Gotta go. Remember, stay in sight.”
“I know.” She pressed a hand to the middle of his back for just a moment.
Rhys returned to the bar stand and focused on the guests’ weird mixed-drink concoctions of a half jigger of this and two splashes of that. Give him an icy bottle of beer, and he was happy.
The DJ started playing his tunes, which moved lots of people onto the dance floor.
Now the drink orders came in rushed batches. Watching for Caitlyn got harder. He dabbed his sweating forehead with his jacket sleeve and wished for a cooling breeze. A flash of pink flowing skirt crossed his vision. Thor smoothly glided Caitlyn past in a hold that was too intimate for his preference.
Tilda paused at the stand and requested a sparkling water. “Everything going well here? Need any stock replenished?”
“Gotta say, boss, you’re looking beautiful. Emerald highlights your eyes.” Rhys dropped in a wedge of lime and handed her the glass. “This crowd enjoys a cocktail or three or five.”
She blushed and averted her gaze. “The caterer informed me dinner will be served in a few minutes so drink orders should slow.”
“No worries.” He ran a towel over a couple of water droplets like he’d been doing the job for years. “Ryan and I make a good team.”
“Who’s that with Caitlyn?” Tilda jerked her head to the side. “She doesn’t look happy.”
He almost opened his mouth to supply Rutland’s name. But as Rhys looked where Tilda indicated, he realized he wasn’t hearing her conversation. He tapped his ear and her voice emerged. How did the damn thing get turned off?
Caitlyn stood at the edge of the deck, her shoulders rigid. “Why, Deputy Lucas, I’m surprised to see you here.”
Rhys gripped the edge of the bar. Tilda doesn’t recognize one of the town’s deputies? Could make sense for a law-abiding citizen. But he did not like it.
“Don’t mention my title. Might wreck the party atmosphere.”
“Oh, of course.”
“I have information about the trucks you reported and knew you’d want to hear it.” He stepped forward, pinning her against the railing.
A gasp sounded. “So, you’re not here as a wedding guest?”
“Just come with me, Miss Auliffe.” Within three seconds, the deputy hauled her around a building corner.
Rhys rose on the balls of his feet, counting down five seconds for them to come back into view.
“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“Don’t resist.”
“You’re hurting me.” Three quick sneezes sounded. “Don’t stop near these Persephone roses. I’m allergic.” More sneezes.
The distress word and a location. Clever girl. Rhys stepped from behind the bar stand. “Thor, converge on the rose garden. Suspect heading away from back deck. Six feet, average build, black hair. Abduction in progress.”
“Copy. On the move.”
Rhys grabbed his phone and hit speed dial #3. “Send in the cavalry.”
A few bars of music sounded. With shouts and cries of The Macarena, guests surged to the dance floor.
Rhys was caught in some kind of line dance with flailing hands and had to dodge and weave to get to the exit, wasting precious time. Blood pounded in his ears. At least two minutes had passed since he’d lost visual on Caitlyn. The pair had quit talking, as well. He had to learn what was happening.
Once he was clear of the gyrating crowd, he took a couple deep breaths and drew his weapon from the small of his back. Using the garden as cover, he worked his way over to the garage. Caitlyn, keep talking. Come on, darlin’, give me another bread crumb. Lead me to where you are.
“Slow down. I can’t climb an incline in these heels.”
“Keep moving, bitch.”
Rage boiled in Rhys’ gut. “Thor, behind the barn.” Gun held upright at his shoulder, Rhys stuck his head around the garage wall.
About a hundred yards away, Lucas dragged a limping Caitlyn toward the edge of the forest.
Thor advanced from the other direction, a shiny revolver in his extended hands.
A siren whoop-whooped.
Sheriff must be in the driveway, like we planned. Rhys fired a shot overhead to signal the sheriff and started running. He wished for the speed of a star athlete. Anything to reach Caitlyn before Lucas took out his anger on her over being caught.
A mounted deputy emerged from the trees and headed toward Lucas, rifle aimed square at his chest. “Give it up, Doug Lucas. You’re outnumbered.”
Rhys slowed enough to lower his gun into firing position but still moved forward at a jog. Three to one, sucker. You’re toast.
The cornered deputy cocked his arm as if to draw and then took stock of weapons aimed his way. He shook his head and cursed.
Wide-eyed, Caitlyn glanced around and connected with Rhys’ gaze. Then she broke Lucas’ grip, stomped on his instep, jabbed his nose with her elbow, and punched him in the gut.
Howling, Lucas dropped to his knees, hands bloodied from a possible broken nose.
“You got him, deputy?” Rhys kept his weapon leveled until he saw the uniformed man’s nod.
“Yes, sir. Just waiting on the sheriff.”
Crossing the last twenty feet at a walk, Rhys slipped the gun into his back waistband. He scooped up Caitlyn and swung her in a circle. “My beautiful warrior.”
Smiling, she shoved aside a tendril of hair that hung loose from her clip. “Daddy insisted on self-defense training.”
“Someday, I’d like to meet this smart man.”
Thor approached and kept his revolver trained on the downed suspect.
“Thought you weren’t carrying, Thor.” Rhys kept an arm around Caitlyn’s waist.
“Saw it in a case in the library.” He shrugged then grinned. “No bullets, but the size makes for a helluva good show.”
“An empty weapon was my arranged backup?”
“Hey, we got the job done. Or I should say Miss Caitlyn did.” He leaned forward so he could wink at Caitlyn. “Nice job.” Then he pinned a sharp gaze on Rhys. “Hold her close, or competition might make a play.”
A long look into her caring gaze confirmed Rhys’ thoughts. “Not a chance.”