Special Agent. Valerie Hansen

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       THREE

      In retrospect, Katerina was not keen on asking the taciturn federal agent for a ride home the following day. The problem was, she had few other options. Her poor pickup truck was probably toast after the barn blew up and except for a few friends who worked in town and maybe the ranch foreman, there was nobody she felt she could call. Heath McCabe would be in deep trouble with her dad if she asked him, so she did the sensible thing and dialed Max West’s private number.

      “West.”

      “Um, hi. It’s Katerina Garwood. They’ve discharged me and I need a ride if your offer is still open.”

      “Of course. Did you have a quiet night?”

      “As quiet as it gets in a hospital,” she said with a wry smile.

      “Understood. I can be there in twenty. Does that work?”

      “Yes, I think I’ll last that long. I’d walk down to the cafeteria for a latte if I wasn’t still a little dizzy.”

      “Are you sure you’re okay to leave?”

      It was refreshing to hear genuine concern reflected in his question. “The doctor says I am so I’m going. This is not a fun place. I want out.”

      “Hang tight. I’m on my way.”

      She wanted to tell him how truly thankful she was that he’d made himself available but did not. Her instinct to trust had been so ravaged by Vern’s betrayal and her father’s rejection she couldn’t rely on her instincts. Not yet. Besides, considering all she’d learned about law enforcement in the past few months, Max was probably only being nice to her in order to catch whoever had menaced her or set the bomb at the ranch. Or because he still had doubts about her innocence. Given his job and her background, she figured the agent would become even more suspicious if she acted overly friendly.

      Katerina let her thoughts wander as she perched on the edge of the bed in the too-big green scrub outfit the nurses had provided. Her own clothes were ruined. The back of the shirt she’d been wearing looked as if it had been blasted with a shotgun, as her tender shoulder blades kept reminding her. Jeans were tougher but hers were so dirty she’d refused to put them on. Her leather cowboy boots were about the only thing she could still wear, although they slipped without thick socks.

      “I should fix my hair,” she muttered, wondering why it mattered when she wasn’t meeting anyone but Agent West. Nevertheless, she slid off the bed, took a second to steady herself, then made her way to the bathroom mirror. Nurses had helped her shower and the hospital had provided a comb but her long, wavy hair resisted efforts to tame it. Pulling on tangles made her scalp hurt unless she carefully held each portion, so the job took a while and was less than perfect. Well, too bad. If her volunteer taxi driver didn’t approve, so what?

      That hostile attitude not only struck her as wrong, it made her blush. Whatever his motives, Max was no chauffeur. He was going out of his way to be nice to her. The least she could do was try to look presentable.

      A knock on the door startled her. She steadied her balance on the sink and called, “Come in.”

      One look at him today, when she was fully lucid and aware, took her breath away. Not only was he tall and ruggedly handsome, his dark blue uniform shirt fit the way it should, displaying a powerful form with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, unlike many men his age. How old was he? she wondered. It was impossible to tell, although her best guess put him somewhere in his early thirties. Definitely not over-the-hill. Far from it.

      Max acknowledged her with a brief nod. “Ready?”

      “Absolutely.” She began to move toward him, hiking up her sagging scrubs as the pants started to slip.

      He eyed her. “Nice outfit.”

      “The boots are mine. The rest is borrowed.”

      He cleared his throat but Katerina still heard the chuckle he was trying to mask when he said, “Glad they had your size.”

      “I could fit two of me and a couple of the ranch dogs in here at the same time,” she quipped, stopping and spreading her arms to better display the two-piece scrub ensemble. That was an error. The room started to tilt and she made a grab for the doorjamb. “Whoa.”

      Beside her in a fraction of a second, Max caught her around the waist. “Easy. You sure you’re ready to leave?”

      “I’m signed out and everything. Just had my chickens scattered, as Mom used to say.”

      “Your parents are divorced?” He was guiding her toward the open door.

      “No. My mother passed away when I was fourteen. That’s when I started putting all my efforts into training horses.”

      “So, last year?”

      Katerina knew he was teasing to try to lift her spirits and played along. “I’m twenty-two, going on forty, which my file should tell you.” Leaning on his big, strong arm as they walked, she asked, “How about you?”

      Max gave her a wry smile. “Older than dirt.”

      “That old, huh?”

      Pausing at the doorway he looked back. “Do you have anything to take with you? Meds or bandages or anything?”

      “Just that plastic sack of ruined clothing at the foot of the bed. Since I’m on a tight budget I need to try to salvage the jeans.”

      Making sure she was well balanced, he fetched the bag and picked up where they’d left off. They were almost to the exit when a nurse spotted them and tsk-tsked. “You’re СКАЧАТЬ