The Horseshoe was two thirds full when they walked in, the air filled with the busy hum of conversation. The restaurant hadn’t changed much since the last time she’d been here, and that was nearly fifteen years ago. The same leather booths lined two walls, the same rustic tables and chairs filled the center of the place, and the same long counter stretched across one wall in front of the kitchen. She wondered how many people eating dinner now or working here remembered her. She only vaguely resembled her teenage self, so maybe no one.

Jenna spotted a booth in a corner, which was just what she’d hoped for. She wondered who might recognize her after all this time or if she could slide in under the radar. They’d be out of the way of the people who would be scoping out two strangers, at least for the most part. Hopefully, they could eat their dinner in peace.

Still, she wondered if it was her imagination that the level of sound diminished as she and Scot made their way through the room? She looked straight ahead as they moved past the tables until she could slide into the empty corner booth.

“Let me sit in that seat.” Scot stopped her from sitting down in the seat against the wall.

“Why?”

“So I can have my back to the wall and can keep eyes on the entire restaurant.” His mouth quirked in what she thought passed for a smile. “Besides, this way you don’t have to look at anyone but me.”

Unfortunately that won’t be any kind of a hardship. Whose idea was this “be a couple” business, anyway, and how am I supposed to keep it playacting only, when I have this unwanted electric reaction to him?

She watched him slide into the seat opposite her with smooth, masculine grace, not even having to make an accommodation for the Glock at his back. He unzipped his hoodie, shrugged it off, and smiled at her. Sitting across from him, she took her first really good look at him, and thought, Holy shit! The beard was trimmed and just thick enough to give his face a hard but very sexy look. This close, she could see that his eyes were not just brown but a rich chocolate, with lashes so thick as to be sinful on a man. But looking into those eyes, she saw all the emotions absent from his facial expression. Grey had told her he was a SEAL, a sniper. What had he seen that he carried the history of it in his soul?

“Is there something wrong with my face?” He asked the question in a deep voice.

Jenna gave herself a mental shake. “No. Um, I was just—” What? Trying to see inside him? “Getting ready to skim a glance over the people in here.”

“Go ahead, but be as casual as possible. And just do it once. It’s easier for me from where I sit, and you can bet I’ll be studying the crowd.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “Jenna, I’ve done this enough that they won’t have any idea I’m doing it.”

“I’ve done this before,” she snapped, irritated. Okay, was that too kneejerk? But she wasn’t an idiot, damn it. “How do you think I did research for my news stories or the books I’ve written?”

“Calm down, Jenna.” He said the words in a low, easy tone of voice, as if comforting a high-strung animal. “I read your file. I know this isn’t your first rodeo. But it’s the first with a personal impact on you, and your welfare and safety are my one concern. So just let me do my job, okay? And that includes making sure I warn you about every little thing. Think about what happens if you let your guard down even a little.”

A chill raced over her at his words. He was right. Her precious independence wasn’t worth her life or safety.

“Okay. I got it.” She sighed. “Thank you.” Then she rubbed her forehead. “I guess I didn’t stop to think bow depressed being back here would make me feel. I haven’t had a good day since I was attacked, but at least in Florida I didn’t have to be in the environment.”

“And my goal is to help you get out of here as soon as possible. Get whatever interviews and research you came for and send you back to Florida.”

A waitress arrived with water and menus. Pretending to read, she glanced sideways to take in as much of the place as she could see. There were several couples of varying ages, a few tables of all men and some that were groups of women or young girls. Some of the faces were vaguely familiar, but she reminded herself fourteen years had passed and people changed.

Was he here? she wondered. Calmly eating dinner and maybe choosing his next victim? Sitting across from his wife, maybe even with friends, acting like he was the most normal person in the world? How would she even know who he was, since she’d never seen his face?

She was not looking for her stepfather, that was for sure. Roger Holland had never set foot in any of the businesses in this town even though it was the closest to his vast ranch.

She and her mother never frequented the shops, either. Angela Donovan Holland, who had been more than content to spend her money in the stores where they’d lived before, now frequented only top-dollar places. A helicopter always took them into Bozeman or Helena for shopping, or sometimes for the high-fashion clothes Roger insisted she wear to New York and Los Angeles.

But that didn’t mean her rapist wasn’t here. Maybe the man was watching her right now, shocked to see her, eating his steak dinner while he watched her with assessing eyes.

A shiver danced along her spine, and she was suddenly cold, despite the warmth of the restaurant. Once again the memory of those hands over her eyes and her mouth, the body pressing her down into the mattress while he tied something over her face. The rough way he yanked her clothing up and pulled down her panties. She could still taste the fear in her mouth, and his threat still echoed in her head, even after all these years.

“If you say one thing to anyone I’ll kill you. Count on it.” Those words in a harsh whisper were engraved in her memory bank.

Her stomach cramped as she thought of the danger she was placing herself in. For the first time, she was glad that Grey had paid no attention to her bitching and that Scot Nolan was sitting across from her.

They ordered dinner, although she didn’t much care what she ate. It was just to provide nutrition. She sat back in her seat, running through her list of suspects in her brain, wondering again if she’d recognize any of them now.

“Earth to Jenna.” Scot’s voice intruded on her thoughts and dragged her back to the present.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He was watching her through narrowed eyes, his features set in that same implacable look. Her writer’s curiosity would love to know what was behind that hard look the world saw. Was it just the things he’d seen as a SEAL sniper, or did it go deeper than that?

“I asked if you were okay. You looked like you just mentally disappeared somewhere.”

“Oh. Yes, I guess so.” She rubbed her face. “Just…thinking.”

“Being here has to bring back a lot of unpleasant memories.”

His tone of voice was surprisingly soft and empathetic. She wondered if he carried his own demons around with him. After he’d had three tours as a SEAL, the last two as a sniper, she was willing to bet there were a lot of them.

“Yes.” She took a sip from the water the waitress had brought. “I thought I was prepared, but maybe that’s more than I can hope for.”

“You think your stepfather might show up here? I mean, just so I can be prepared.”

“Not a chance.” She snorted. “He never came into town. The ranch hands took care of anything he needed locally. Once I had the audacity to ask him why he’d bought this huge ranch in the middle of nowhere if he hated the place so much. He stared at me for a long time, and I could tell he was annoyed.”

“Did he answer you?”

She nodded. “He said there was plenty of room to raise a big herd and still have lots of land for oil and gas drilling. He didn’t need to talk to anyone around here. There’s nothing they could say that would interest him.”

“Sounds like an arrogant ass to me.”

“No kidding.” She took another sip of water. Her throat was dry, as it often was when she talked about the man. “A couple of the ranch hands were very nice to me, though. But then one of them mentioned that I was lucky to have a father who’d made so many millions from his drilling, on top of the cattle sales. Oh, and breeding his prize bull. Let me know he was practically printing money.”

“Sounds like he had all his bases covered. But I wonder about a man who owns all those thousands of acres of land out in the middle of no place and doesn’t make himself a part of any community.”

Jenna shrugged. “My mother used to say it was perfect for entertaining, and holding high level meetings. His guests didn’t seem to be bothered by the isolation. In fact, they acted as if they preferred it.”

“Yeah?” He frowned. “Where did he house everyone?”

“He had several guest suites at the main house, plus he could either ferry people from Helena or Bozeman in his helicopter or they came on their own. The helicopter was what he used to send my mother and I off when she got too antsy out there in the middle of no place. Or wanted to do some shopping.”

She always took me with her. Was there something she was afraid of? Did she know he had a friend who liked raping young girls? More than one friend?

The thought popped into her head, as it often did when the memory slammed at her.

Scot waited while the waitress placed their dinners in front of them before saying anything else. “Did you ever think he might be doing something illegal?”

Jenna gave a short laugh. “Oh, yeah. Even as a teenager, I didn’t trust one thing about him. And I never liked any of the people who came to the ranch for his big parties, either. They were all rich assholes like him. Entitled. Arrogant. All those adjectives.”

He nodded at her plate. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold. I didn’t mean to ruin your appetite. We can talk about the rest of this later.”

Jenna wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it at all. She’d spent so many years burying everything as deep as she could. But she knew if she were to write the story properly, it would all have to come out of her mental closet.

She’d ordered the chicken-fried steak, something she remembered as being a favorite, and had eaten about three bites when a deep voice interrupted her silence.

“Jenna Donovan?”

The voice stabbed right into her memory, and she nearly dropped her fork. Then she looked up at the tall man standing beside their booth, dressed in khaki slacks, a tan shirt, and a rancher’s jacket. He had aged well, the gray at his temples making him look distinguished instead of old, the lines in his face that came both from aging and squinting at the sun giving him a decidedly masculine appearance. His body was still fit and muscular, making her wonder if he worked out to keep in shape.

The flap of his jacket shifted, and she saw the star pinned to his shirt.

The sheriff, Jeff Bartell. Of course.

Across the table, Scot set his own fork down and adjusted his position so he could be ready for whatever happened. She had to admit, it made her feel a lot better to know someone had her back, even if it was about the sheriff.

She wet her lips. “Sheriff Bartell.”

His mouth quirked in a smile. “If I hadn’t seen your picture on the back of your latest book, I don’t think I would have recognized you. Nice to see you again, Jenna. I didn’t realize you had already arrived in town.”

“I just got here a little while ago. I was planning to call you in the morning and see when you’d be available to talk to me.” She glanced around and noticed that other diners were eying them. The minute they caught her eye, they looked away.

Bartell glanced over at Scot then back at Jenna, as if waiting for an introduction.

“This is Scot Nolan. He’s uh, we’re together.” Smooth, Jenna.

“Oh. Well.” Bartell’s mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. “Nice to meet you, Nolan.”

Scot just nodded, but it was obvious to Jenna he was on full alert. And in his role of boyfriend, he covered one of her hands with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The heat of the contact shocked her as it shot through her, making her nipples tighten into hard buds and the pulse between her thighs suddenly begin to throb.

What the hell?

Get control of yourself, Jenna. Remember this is just playacting.

“So, can you spare me a few minutes tomorrow morning?” Jenna asked.

He studied her for a moment through narrowed eyes. “That’s about all I can give you, but I’ll tell you again, it’s a waste of your time. I can’t really discuss an ongoing investigation with you.”

“Forgive me, but it’s been ongoing for ten years. Surely by now there are things you can tell me.” Besides, I know how to ask the right questions.

“I’m willing to discuss what’s in the press release, but that’s all. Is nine too early?” When she shook her head, he said, “See you then.”

She wanted to ask him why, in all this time, he hadn’t discovered even one clue. Had there been nothing to find, or had someone been paid off? She’d have to find a way to dig that out.

“Thank you. We’ll be there.”

He gave Scot another of those hard looks then nodded again, turned, and walked away.

Jenna slid a glance sideways and realized people were watching their booth. They’d kept the conversation to low tones, but still. They were strangers and objects of interest, especially with Sheriff Bartell pausing at their booth for a conversation.

“He’s not too thrilled to have you come see him,” Scot commented.

“No kidding.”

She picked up her fork and began to eat again, although with the thought of the morning meeting front and center her appetite had fallen off. But she ate with dogged persistence, knowing she’d need her strength. She was very much aware of Scot watching her as he ate his own meal. Was he assessing her? Thinking about tomorrow? Wondering again why she wanted to do this?

When she’d eaten as much as she could force down, she pushed her plate away and leaned back in her seat. She had just lifted her cup to take a sip of coffee when a woman, dressed in jeans and a long dark-green sweater approached the booth.

“Jenna? Jenna Donovan?”

Jenna studied her, a frown creasing her forehead. The face, framed by shoulder-length, curly dark hair, looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her.

“Yes?”

“It’s been a long time, so I’m sure you don’t remember me.” The woman’s voice also held a familiar tone, even as tentative as it was. “It’s been a long time. Becca Reiter. I used to be Becca Schultz. We hung out a bunch in high school. I, uh, read your latest book, recognized you from the photo on the back cover, and had to come over and say hello.”

Jenna’s brain clicked into place. Of course! One of the few girls she’d developed a tiny relationship with. Until it happened, and she’d withdrawn from everyone.

The woman had been a little thinner then, and her hair had been a lot longer, but now the face was familiar. She smiled at her, doing her best to conceal her surprise that the woman remembered her and approached her this way.

“Of course. And thank you for that. How are you?”

She shrugged. “Doing okay. Married to Grant Reiter, now. He and his brother own the feed store. We have two kids.”

The woman fidgeted, her gaze shifting back and forth between Jenna and Scot.

“Forgive me.” Jenna dredged up her professional smile. “This is Scot Nolan. We’re…together.”

Which, again, she figured sounded better than calling him her boyfriend.

“Oh.” Becca studied him, curiosity stamped on her face.

In high school, Jenna had never dated. Moving to the area when she was fifteen, when friendships and cliques had already been formed, she’d felt uncomfortable in the environment. Then, after the incident, she kept as far away from males of any age as she could.

“We’ve been together for a while,” Jenna added, although she had no idea why.

“Very nice.” Becca looked as if she wanted to say something else but couldn’t figure out what.

Jenna smiled at her. “So everything’s going good for you?”

“Oh, sure. Yes. It is.” A pause. “Listen. Why don’t we meet for coffee? Like, maybe tomorrow morning? Catch up on stuff? Get reacquainted.”

Okay, there was something here more than just a social invitation. Jenna’s curiosity jumped up full-blown, and her secret antenna vibrated. What was going on here? She hadn’t seen the woman in fifteen years, hadn’t been close to her then, and she wanted to have coffee?

“Uh, sure. Late morning okay for you?”

“Yes. That’s fine.” Relief spread over the other woman’s features. “There’s a little place out on the highway called Eagle’s Nest. Remember it?”

“Vaguely, but I’ll find it. You don’t want to meet here in town?”

Becca shrugged. “The Eagle’s Nest has great sweet rolls. I don’t get them often enough.”

Okay, something was really going on here.

“Okay. Is eleven good for you?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. And thanks.” Relief washed over Becca’s face, but then she glanced at Scot. “And, um, can you come alone?”

Okay, so this wasn’t a social get together. She curved her lips in what she hoped was a warm smile.

“Scot and I do everything together.” She winked. “You know how it is. “

Becca glanced again at the man lounging in the booth. “Uh, well, sure. Okay. See you then.”

And she was gone, rushing as if she’d stayed too long at their booth.

Jenna looked at Scot. “That was weird.”

He leaned forward and took her hand again, lifting it to dust a kiss on her knuckles. She knew it was playacting, but she couldn’t decide if she was glad he was getting into the spirit of it or not. What she did know was that it sent little unfamiliar charges of electricity through her. She looked up at him and was shocked to see heat in his eyes, intense for a long moment, then gone. She wondered for a brief moment which would be more dangerous, following through with this charade or calling Grey and telling him to have his friend take Scot off her case.

“Just playing my role,” he told her in a low voice. And just that fast, the heat died out. “Let’s get out of here. I want you to tell me about Becca, but not where anyone can overhear us.” He signaled for the check, shaking his head when she reached for her wallet. “Boyfriend always pays, remember? Hank will just add it to the tab.”

She waited until they were in the pickup before asking, “What tab? I don’t even know how much I’m paying for this. Grey was very vague.”

Scot shrugged. “Not my area of responsibility. I just do what I’m told. Anyway, I got the feeling Hank is doing this as a favor for Grey Holden.”

“Then how do you get reimbursed?”

He gave a rough chuckle. “I just turn in the receipts. Where Hank gets the money is his problem. And don’t get twisted up about,” he added when she started to object. “He and Grey will work it out. They can both afford it, believe me. And who pays for meals is the least of the problems here.”

“I just—” She just hated taking things from people. Letting people do things for her. She’d made a habit from the day she left the ranch to do it all herself.

“I’d much rather talk about other things. For example, I wonder how many more people around here have read either of your books? So far, the two people you’ve spoken to have both read them.”

“That is a very interesting question.” She scrunched her forehead in a frown. “I wouldn’t have thought anyone around here did.”

”Grey told Hank this started because you got an anonymous email telling you about girls who had been raped, reported it and then were murdered. Do you think she’s the one who sent the email? She was doing her best to be friendly, but she acted like she had a tick crawling up her back.”

“So you noticed it, too?”

“Hard not to. Besides, I’m trained to look for things like that. We analyze every single thing about the enemy.”

Jenna blew out a breath. “It’s entirely possible. Anyone who saw her tonight talking to me could just think she’s saying hello to an old friend. I don’t think it was her, although I could be wrong. I mean, did she act like someone who’d been raped by this guy? Besides, if she was, she’d still be too terrified to say anything.”

“Maybe enough time has gone by that she’s pushed it to the back of her mind,” he suggested. “She’s married now, with a couple of kids. Maybe she figures this is her chance to get this guy. Or maybe she’s the one who sent you the email.”

“But would she approach me out in the open like that?” Jenna sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I don’t know, but I’m very interested in what she wants to talk to me about. Let’s find out if she has even a tiny clue who this guy is.”

“Let’s just be extra careful,” he warned. “You’re really flying blind here. You don’t know who’s representing the enemy and digging for information.”

Jenna rubbed her temples, the leading edge of a headache just beginning to show. “I hear you.”

“You still think he’s a friend of your stepfather’s?”

“I do. There’s no other reason he’d have been at the party that night. And if that’s true, you can bet he has the same sense of privilege.”

“I think you’re right that he lives in the area,” Scot told her. “If it was a visitor of some kind, and the sheriff knows how to investigate, his visits coinciding with the deaths would raise a big red flag.”

Jenna shrugged. “It seems most likely. It gives him plenty of time to choose the girls. A visitor would have to be picking one by chance, and that doesn’t always work out so well.”

“What about the man who attacked you? Do you think he was a visitor?”

“No, and I can’t tell you why except at the time it was a feeling I had. I was sure he knew who I was, had maybe even been watching me for a while. For a long time after that, I studied every man who came to the ranch house or we ran into in town.”

“I’m happy to help any way I can, just as long as you remember my first priority is keeping you safe. Anyway, we’re home, and I think maybe you could use a little nightcap to settle your nerves.”

“I don’t know.” She climbed out of the vehicle and headed toward the porch. “I’ve never been much of a drinker.”

“I get that. I hardly drink myself.”

“For me, it brings back bad memories.”

“Then let’s just think of it as a liquid sleeping pill, only better tasting. And you need to be able to tuck those memories away, at least for tonight.” He was right behind her and opening the door before she even had her keys out. She felt the heat of him against her body, the pure masculinity of him.

“You’re probably right about needing a drink, but,” she pointed out, “we don’t have any liquor.”

He chuckled. “The people who rent out these cabins like to provide for their guests, I guess. There’s a small collection of mini bottles in one of the cupboards. Hope none of their guests are alcoholics.”

She giggled at the thought. “Me, too. Okay, let’s see what they’ve got.” After looking at what was available, she chose a mini bottle of Jack Daniel’s. “Might as well go for the good stuff. At least I know it will help me sleep.”

She filled a short glass with ice cubes and poured the whiskey over them then took a slow sip. The tension in her body began to ease at once.

Scot studied her. “Good idea?”

“Uh huh. But I think I’ll take it upstairs and finish it. Maybe I can roll over, then, and sleep without dreaming.”

“Hope it works.” He gave her that same weird look again. “Go ahead and do whatever you need to. I’m going out on the porch for a while.”

“But it’s getting cold out there,” she protested.

“I kind of like the cold. Spent a lot of months in heat over a hundred degrees, so this is refreshing. If I get too cold, I’ll come in.”

Jenna wondered what was really bothering him. Did he have nightmares about his tours of duty as a SEAL? Was he a loner because he found it easier to keep people at bay?

Quit overthinking, she told herself. Go get ready for bed.

She grabbed her pajamas and toiletries kit from the loft and brought everything down to the bathroom where she changed, brushed her teeth, and did whatever else she needed to. Then she climbed the stairs again and crawled into bed, where she slowly sipped the rest of the Jack Daniel’s. When the glass was empty, she burrowed into the big pillows, pulled the quilt up to her shoulders, closed her eyes, and fell into what she hoped would be a dreamless sleep.