CHAPTER 23
Cash’s vision spotted. What in the everloving fuck was a guy with a camera doing talking to Kate? More importantly, why did she look terrified? He rushed the guy, taking him down in a tackle that would make a linebacker proud, rolling as he landed, then hopping to his feet, ready to go again.
“What the fuck, man?” the man sputtered, sitting up.
“Don’t move, or I’ll break your face,” Cash ordered.
The man’s camera lay at his feet, and he picked it up, searching for the memory card. Popping it out, he pocketed it. He’d destroy it later. Right now, he wanted to get this scumbag as far away from Kate as possible. Dropping the camera, he crushed it with his boot heel, just in case there was additional memory in the device.
“Hey! That’s a five-thousand-dollar camera. You can’t do that.”
Cash widened his stance and crossed his arms. “Considering you’re trespassing and the sign at the entrance to the ranch says trespassers will be shot, you should be glad I didn’t rearrange your face.”
“I’m just doing my job,” he whined.
“And I’m just doing mine.” Cash grabbed the man by his collar and hauled him up. “We’re going to take a little walk.” He turned to Kate who stood off to the side, wide-eyed. “Don’t move,” he growled. “I’ll be back.”
He turned for the main ranch, pulling the man along. “Who’s paying you?” Cash asked as he kept his pace swift, not caring the man was stumbling over his feet.
“N-N-Nashville Examiner.”
“And how much were they offering?”
“Twenty-k for a close-up.”
Motherfucker. He let off a string of expletives as they crested the rise. How had this guy managed to make it this far into the property with no one noticing? The old familiar guilt pressed against his sternum. Would he never be able to keep the people he loved safe? “You go back to your bosses and any of your friends who might be lurking around, and you tell them to stay the fuck away from Resolution Ranch. Any more of your type come crawling around here, we’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”
Who in the hell had let it out that Kate/Kaycee was here? As far as he knew, there were only a small handful of people who knew that Kate was Kaycee. No way would Travis or Elaine let it slip. They knew how valuable Kate was to the ranch. Sterling? Emma? He chewed on that for a moment as they reached the yard between the barn and the main house. Was this some kind of a publicity stunt? But it could backfire. Not to mention, everyone in the know had signed non-disclosures. What about Kate’s friend? Cheyenne? Was this a ploy to flush Kate out? Or was the breach more insidious? Was some crazed fan stalking her again?
His lungs emptied at the thought of someone stalking Kate again. But he couldn’t rule it out. And he wouldn’t take any chances with her safety. Not this time, not ever. His mind raced as he dragged the man down the half-mile-long drive to the road. First things first, he had to make sure Kate was safe. He could ask all the questions later.
When they reached the edge of the property, Cash gave a giant heave and hurled the man under the wrought iron arch. “Don’t even think of coming back. If I see your face within spitting distance of this property, I will kill you.”
The man’s face grew ugly. “You can’t do that. I’ll have you hauled up on charges.”
“Good luck if you’re dead, asshole.”
He remained under the arch, arms crossed, until the man climbed into his car and drove away. The entire walk back to the main house, he scanned every bush, every rock, looking for anomalies that would indicate another trespasser. The yard was deserted, so he took the porch steps by two, knocked once, then pushed open the door. Travis stood at the kitchen counter, afternoon pot of coffee in hand. “What’s up?”
“We have a mole.”
Travis’s expression instantly became guarded. “How so?”
“I found some cockroach of a photographer harassing Kate, calling her Kaycee and demanding a photo. He’s on the payroll of some rag called the Nashville Examiner.”
“Goddammit,” Travis bit out, face pulling tight. “I was worried something like this might happen. I’ll call Weston.”
“Do that. Where there’s one, there’s bound to be more. I know a safe house. Kate and I will be gone in less than twenty.”
“The timing couldn’t be worse.”
“Keep my wages, hire some extra help. I’ll be in touch.” He spun away before Travis could say more. Not that it mattered. Travis knew what needed to be done as well as he did.
Ten minutes later, he crested the rise overlooking the shallow dip in the landscape where the little cabins were sited. He paused to count the day laborers. Nothing that raised a red flag there, nor did he see other movement around Kate’s place. He could see her pacing her porch, shoulders tight, shaking her head. Taking off at a jog, he hurried back to her. “Grab your things.”
She started at the sound of his voice and turned, face filled with fear. “What?”
“You heard me. You have exactly two minutes to grab a change of clothes and meet me back here.” He held out his hand. “And give me your phone.”
She pulled her hand out of reach. “Why?”
“It might be hacked. We can’t risk anything right now.”
Her face became fiercely determined. “Cash–”
“Now,” he growled. They didn’t have time to fuck around. And he be damned if she got hurt again.
Mouth flattening, she handed him the phone. He turned it off and stowed it in his pocket. “Two minutes.” Without giving her a chance to answer or object, he turned and stalked to his cabin.
Cash went directly to his closet and pulled out his go-bag. Some habits died hard, including this one. Grabbing his Stetson and a jacket, he was back out the door in less than a minute. If they didn’t bug out now, they’d pick up a tail on their way out of town, and that definitely wasn’t happening. Not on his watch. Heck, they should have been gone ten minutes ago. But when he came in sight of her cabin, she was still standing where he’d left her, hands on her hips. Didn’t she understand the urgency? “Kate. Let’s go,” he hollered as he reached the porch.
She glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. I’m not going to run anymore, Cash.”
“Now is not the time to have this conversation,” he gritted.
“I think it’s exactly the time to have this conversation,” she shot back.
“Not when your safety is at risk, and we don’t know why the paparazzi suddenly know where you are. I’m not risking something happening to you again, Kate. Now get your things.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Your growly voice isn’t gonna cut it with me, buster. I’m not one of your commandos.”
He hid a smirk. She’d be adorably funny if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I’m not messing around, Kate.” He looked at his watch. “We’re leaving in less than two minutes. You can choose to pack a bag or not. Your choice. You can choose to walk next to me, or I will sling you over my shoulder. Your choice.”
The look she flung at him was scathing.
Too fucking bad. He stared back, equally determined. “Ninety-seconds, Kate.”
With a little growl, she stomped her foot and rushed inside, letting the door slam behind her.
He’d make it up to her later. Once they’d gotten to the bottom of this. But for now, he was sticking to his guns, even if she didn’t like it. “Sixty-seconds,” he hollered.
With fifteen seconds to spare, Kate stepped outside, still fuming, a bag slung over her shoulder and a guitar in hand.
“What’s that?” He motioned to the guitar.
She made a face. “What does it look like?”
“Uh-huh.” He shook his head. “A guitar is a dead giveaway.”
“I don’t care. I’m not going without it.”
“Kate…”
Her jaw set stubbornly. “I’m not. My grammy left me that guitar when she died. It’s coming with us.”
At least she’d agreed to go without him resorting to carrying her. “Fine. But it stays in the trunk until I say so.”
She nodded once, mouth thinning.
He held out his hand. “C’mon. We don’t have time to waste.” He hustled her over the hill and back to the main house, putting their bags in the back of his SUV. He walked around and held open the passenger door. “Get in.”
“Cash?”
“Get in. We can talk when we’re on the road.”
Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, she accepted his help up. By the time he slid in behind the steering wheel, she’d buckled herself in. The engine roared to life, and he jammed the vehicle into reverse.
“Where are we going?”
No doubt about it, her tone of voice screamed he was in the doghouse. He’d live with the consequences as long as it meant she was protected. “Someplace safe.”