Deadly Christmas Pretense. Dana Mentink

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       FOUR

      Liam’s almost brother, retired US marshal Mitch Whitehorse, was not prone to smiling. Liam guessed he wouldn’t be, either, with a serial killer for a sibling. But since Mitch had put Wade back in prison almost a year prior, married Jane and adopted her son Charlie, his demeanor was downright sanguine. He was loping through the living room of the Roughwater Ranch main house with Charlie on his shoulders, the day after the incident with Tammy, doing loop de loops around the giant Christmas tree.

      “Playing horsie?” Liam teased. He gave Charlie a high five, reveling in the joy shining in the little boy’s face. He could barely remember life at the ranch before Charlie had arrived, and he didn’t much want to.

      Mitch cocked his head, the scar on his cheek catching the winter sunlight streaming through the window. “Nah, I’m a train, of course. Anyone can see that. Charlie’s excited about riding the Train of Lights next Wednesday.”

      “Choo choo, Uncle Liam,” crooned the three-year-old. The name came out sounding like “Weeum,” which made Liam grin every single time.

      “Ah. Train. How could I have missed that?”

      “You missed a cow, too,” Mitch added. “Got her from the lower pasture and returned her to the herd.”

      Liam jerked. He wanted to blame it on his disastrous new excuse for a herd dog, but it was purely his own preoccupation. He’d spent the early morning, after the feeding duties were done, searching for Tammy Lofton and going so far as to ride to her trailer to check on her. But there’d been no sign of the woman.

      “Something you want to get off your chest?”

      Liam realized Mitch was watching him closely. It would be the smartest thing to do to unburden himself to Mitch, get his take on the whole situation with Tammy and the guy chasing her. But she’d asked him not to and he’d respect that—for now. “Nah. I was just being careless. Won’t happen again.”

      “Careless is one thing you aren’t, brother.”

      No, he wasn’t. It was why he’d earned the nickname Hound Dog from his fellow Green Berets. When he got the whiff of a mission that interested or perplexed him, he’d go after it with methodical zeal and relentless drive.

      Aunt Ginny joined them and Mitch hunched down for her to plant a kiss on Charlie’s cheek. She did so and handed him a gingerbread cookie. “Your mama called and said you need your bath.”

      When Charlie frowned, Liam gently poked his arm. “Hey, little cowboy. Christmas parade’s tomorrow. Gotta look your best.”

      The child brightened and Mitch nodded. “Orders from the conductor. Let’s chug out of here.”

      “Choo choo,” Charlie said gleefully, clutching his cookie as they galloped to the door, heading for the small house on the ranch hilltop that Aunt Ginny and Uncle Gus had gifted Jane and Mitch for a wedding present.

      Ginny had a file of papers tucked under one arm and a laptop under the other. As accountant and joint owner of Roughwater Ranch, she was never far from her paperwork.

      “No cookie for me?” Liam said, pulling a mournful pout.

      She laughed. “There’s a dozen in the kitchen for you. I didn’t even bother to wrap them up.”

      “Too busy?”

      “Insanely. Driftwood is swimming in holiday visitors and they all seem to want to stay at the Lodge and tour the ranch while they’re here.”

      “Who wouldn’t? Good for business.”

      Ginny blew out a breath. “Yes. Thank goodness your sister is a brilliant lodge manager.”

      “That СКАЧАТЬ