Point Blank Protector. Joanna Wayne

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      “I heard you had some trouble last night. I came over to see if I can help.”

      “That’s nice of you, but everything’s under control.”

      “Not if you plan on shooting everyone who stops by.”

      “Not everyone,” she said, “just the ones who look like trouble.”

      But his new voluptuous neighbor had finally lowered the gun. He took that for an invitation, so he grinned and headed for her porch. Suddenly renewing old friendships and offering comfort didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

      Chapter Two

      “I really am okay,” Kali said, when Zach joined her on the porch.

      “I believe you, but since I’m here you might as well invite me in.”

      “The house isn’t exactly ready for guests.”

      “That’s okay, as long as you don’t expect me to grab a mop.”

      “I make no promises, but if you’re not afraid of dirt and bugs, come on in.”

      The front door opened directly into a large dark-paneled room with a brick fireplace. The heavy oak tables, two brown tweed sofas and a couple of rocking chairs were covered in a thick layer of Texas dust and a substance Zach guessed to be fingerprint powder.

      The windows were so streaked with grime that the bright rays of late-morning sunshine could barely fight their way through. Worse, every nook and cranny sported a filigreed network of spiderwebs.

      “I see what you mean,” he said. “No offense but the place looks like a haunted house at an amusement park.”

      Only this time the dead body had been real. And Kali had walked in on the scene late at night and in the middle of a thunderstorm. He’d have expected her to be speeding down the Interstate by now heading back to wherever it was she’d come from. Instead she was swatting at a wasp that had just dive-bombed her.

      Zach picked up one of the stained towels she’d obviously been using for cleaning and slammed it and the wasp against the wall. When the struggling insect fell to the floor, he squashed it under the toe of his boot. “Save you from having to waste a shotgun shell on him,” he teased.

      “Not funny.”

      She was right, he decided as he eyed the bloodstain on the floor. “Your arrival last night must have been a shocker.”

      “To say the least.”

      “Yet you came back out here today. That takes guts.”

      “I don’t have a choice. I quit my job in Atlanta and sold everything I owned except my Jeep and the belongings I could stuff into it so that I’d have funds to get the Silver Spurs up and running again.”

      “Surely you’re not planning to do that by yourself?”

      Her eyebrows arched. “You think I can’t because I’m a woman?”

      A loaded question that called for an evasive answer. “I just wondered if… I wondered if you were married.” A blatant lie, but better than getting her riled.

      “I’m not married, but I’m not some helpless Southern belle, either. I’m used to taking care of myself.”

      In town, maybe, but out here? He had his doubts. “Ranching is a competitive business these days. If you’re set on trying it, I’d suggest you hire someone who knows cattle. My brothers Bart and Matt might have some recommendations for a foreman. You should check with them.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind, but my first priority will be making the house livable. I was pleasantly surprised when the sheriff gave me permission to return to the ranch today.”

      “Ed Guerra might talk like an unsophisticated cowboy sheriff, but he knows his stuff.”

      “I guess. It’s just that…”

      Her words ran out and vulnerability seeped into the depths of her caramel-colored eyes. Zach shifted his weight to the other foot and hoped she didn’t go all emotional on him.

      “The body was right there,” Kali said, pointing to the bloodstain near the front door. “It was as if the killer had just dragged her inside to shoot her.”

      Or that she was trying to escape and he stopped her. “Did you hear shots?”

      “If I had, I would have thought it was thunder. The storm had turned violent at that point.”

      “Were there any signs that the killer and victim might have been camping out in the house?”

      “The sheriff asked that same question, but I really don’t think anyone had been staying here. There was no food in the cabinets and no sheets on the beds. And the electricity had been off until I had it turned on last week.”

      “What about the water from the faucet? Was it clear or did it have that rusty look from sitting in the pipes too long?”

      “I’m not sure. The sheriff rushed me out before I had a chance to try it.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry, Zach, but I really don’t want to talk about the murder anymore today. I’ve already gone over every detail with the sheriff.”

      Reluctantly, Zach changed the subject. He walked to the window and looked out at the high grass and the overgrown weeds. “You could use a bush hog.”

      “I’m not planning to raise any kind of hogs.”

      “You don’t raise a bush hog. It’s a rotary cutter that can take care of the low brush, weeds and grass in no time. I’m sure your grandfather had one. It’s likely in the metal storage building, but you’ll need someone to operate it for you.”

      “I’ll check it out once I get the house and stables in order. I’m hoping to bring in the first horses by the end of the month and be open for business by the first of April.”

      “Business?”

      “Right. The Silver Spurs Riding Stables and Horseman Training Center. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

      “Is that because your grandfather raised a few horses?”

      “No, it’s because it’s what I choose to do.”

      She turned her back on him, picked up a broom that had been leaning against the hearth and started knocking spiderwebs from the ceiling. Her hair fell down her back, the multiple layers of auburn locks swishing back and forth with the motion of her body. Even her hair was different from the wild red tangles he remembered. It was a gorgeous auburn color now and smelled of spring flowers.

      None of which meant she knew a thing about horses. “What qualifies you to teach horsemanship?”

      “I’ve taught at a private stable just outside Atlanta for the past four years.” Her tone registered her irritation with his question.

      “Teaching at some СКАЧАТЬ