Special Ops Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison

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      “Nobody was pawing anyone, Larry,” Kate said.

      He snapped a churlish look toward Kate. “Stay out of this! This is between me and my wife!”

      Gage groaned internally. Great. A jealous husband.

      Larry stalked behind the counter and grabbed Janet by the arm. “I know what I saw when I came in. Don’t lie to me!”

      His muscles tensing, Gage lifted a hand, palm out. “Take it easy, pal.”

      “Honest, honey. Nothing happened. I—” Janet whimpered in pain as her husband squeezed harder on her upper arm and jerked her toward the door.

      “I knew I couldn’t trust you.” He started for the door, dragging Janet, who stumbled along behind him.

      Gage bristled and felt a rush of heat flood his face and neck, his jaw tightening.

      Kate flew around the counter after her sister. “Wait, Larry. Maybe Janet should stay here for a while.” She stepped in Larry’s path and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Just until you’ve had a chance to calm d—”

      Larry planted a hand in the middle of Kate’s chest and shoved her so hard she fell backward, knocking over several chairs as she tumbled to the floor.

      Gage launched off his stool and intercepted Larry at the door, blocking the irate husband’s exit. The last thing he wanted was to be distracted from his security job by domestic problems of the local residents, but he couldn’t let the jerk’s abhorrent treatment of his wife and Kate go unchallenged, either. Abusive husbands ranked somewhere just below sewage scum in his esteem.

      “Outta my way, creep,” Larry growled.

      “I don’t think so.” Gage crossed his arms over his chest, ready to do battle with the cretin if needed. “Not until you apologize to Kate and let go of your wife’s arm.”

      Larry puffed out his chest and got in Gage’s face. “Who the hell do you think you are telling me my business with my wife?”

      “Looks like I’m the guy who’s going to teach you the right way to treat women.”

      Hank Kelley stared at the woman on the television screen and ground his back teeth together. Even here in Montana at his son Cole’s ranch, he couldn’t escape the endless parade of reports blasting his private life to the world. The beautiful blonde now simpering for the cameras and staring back at him from the screen had been a temptation too great to resist while he’d been vacationing in Aspen two years ago. Apparently the Colorado ski resort didn’t have the same motto of discretion that Vegas did. Not that his Vegas tryst had “stayed in Vegas” either. So far, six of his affairs had been aired for the media as one willowy blonde after another had come forward, maligning his name and driving another nail into the coffin of his marriage.

      Hank rattled the ice in the highball glass he clutched, then tossed back the last gulp of Maker’s Mark. If only the women coming out of the woodwork were the worst of his problems. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Hank set the glass aside and used the remote to turn off the TV. Acid swirled in his gut as he considered the dangers that had driven him into hiding. While his mistresses took aim at his reputation, other enemies had threatened his life. Had put his family in the crosshairs.

      Just days ago, someone had taken his only daughter, Lana, hostage in an attempt to win his cooperation with a nefarious plot, and his son Dylan had hired two bodyguards to babysit him around the clock. Arrangements had been made for him to come here, to the Bar Lazy K, to hide.

      Hide! Like some pathetic rabbit scurrying down a hole away from a fox. He was a senator, damn it! A leader! He hated the idea of holing up in his son’s ranch like some cowering wimp. He needed to be doing something to find Lana. To get the wolves off his back. Not hiding at his son’s house, no matter how well-protected and secure the ranch was.

      Hank gritted his teeth and drummed his fingers on the bedside table.

      If only he’d never gone to that meeting of the Raven’s Head Society, the highly secretive assembly of powerful men who now had him by the balls, he wouldn’t be in this mess. Lana would still be safe in Europe. His career wouldn’t be on the line. He wouldn’t be constantly looking over his shoulder wondering who he could trust.

      Or waiting for the media to flash breaking news that President Joe Colton had been killed and he’d been framed as the chief suspect in the murder conspiracy.

      Hindsight might be twenty-twenty, but it provided no solutions—only deep regret. He gritted his teeth and slammed his fist on the bedside table. Dammit, there has to be a way to stop this juggernaut before anyone gets hurt!

      Across the room, Bart Holden, his night-duty bodyguard, folded his arms over his barrel chest. “If you’re ready to call it a night, I’ll give you some privacy. If you need me, I’ll be right outside the door. Or you can use the intercom.”

      Hank cast a side glance to the call button by his bed and jerked a nod. “Good night.”

      One reason for coming to Cole’s ranch rather than lying low somewhere else was Cole’s elaborate security system, which Hank’s somewhat paranoid mother had installed to protect her vast wealth before selling the property to her grandsons. The entire main house had been wired with an intercom system, the wine cellar had been modified to be a panic room in case of trouble, and security cameras and an alarm system protected each outbuilding and the main house.

      But being locked down in a house as secure as Fort Knox didn’t ease Hank’s mind. Lana was being held hostage. The president was in danger. And past mistakes of every sort had crept out of the shadows to ruin Hank’s career and threaten his life.

      He had to find a way to stop the Raven’s Head Society. And soon.

      Kate rubbed her throbbing elbow, which had taken the brunt of her fall, and held her breath as Gage squared off with Larry. This could get ugly.

      She glanced toward the kitchen where Pete Greenburg, the cook, would be cleaning pots and pans in preparation for closing. Pete, who had recently celebrated his sixtieth birthday, had expressed his concern for Janet’s situation before, but also made it clear he chose to stay out of other people’s business. The cook would be of little help if a brawl erupted.

      Maybe she should call the local police. Or better yet, since Larry had too many friends in the Maple Cove Police Department, she should call Wes Colton, the county sheriff. Wes had a reputation with the ranchers for being a fair and reliable lawman.

      “Let. Go. Of. Her. Arm.” Gage grated through clenched teeth. His icy blue eyes lasered into Larry, and veins stood out on his linebacker neck.

      Rising slowly from the floor and dusting her hands, Kate studied Gage’s glowering countenance and chiseled features. His granite expression brooked no resistance, nor did his unflinching position blocking Larry’s escape. Muscled arms, one with a barbed wire tattoo around his bicep, folded across a chest wide enough to more than fill the door.

      Kate shivered. If she hadn’t seen flashes of good humor from Gage earlier, she’d swear the man was made of rock or steel. Hard. Cold. Surly.

      Yet he was defending her and Janet from Larry’s rough treatment. Something no other man in Maple Cove had ever СКАЧАТЬ