it into the fireplace.
“I disagree.” She stood there, fist planted.
“You always this stubborn when you’re wrong?” he asked, breaking the second leg and tossing it on top of the last.
“I’m usually right,” she said. Ella glanced around. It wouldn’t be dark outside for hours.
“Since you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to town. Go to the sheriff and tell him what happened. I’d appreciate it if you left me out of your statement. That’s how you can thank me for saving you.” Another broken table leg, more tinder for the fireplace.
“I thought we weren’t leaving until the sun went down,” she said, a moment of panic crushing her. Her father was gone. Nothing at the ranch would be the same without him. She hadn’t even begun to deal with his murder. An attempt had been made on her life. Of course she would go to the sheriff but she wasn’t quite ready to return to town and the unknown waiting there.
“Plans changed.”
“You won’t tell me why? I mean, I realize that we heard a noise but everything’s okay now, right?” She was still trying to figure out why she was arguing for more time with the man who wouldn’t even tell her his name. Logic be damned. Ella needed to know he was going to be all right. At least, that’s what she tried to convince herself and not that there was something magnetic about this man that was completely foreign to her.
“Being seen anywhere near you is dangerous for me.”
“What have you done wrong?” she asked, figuring she might as well go for it.
“Nothing that concerns you.” He broke the final leg and tossed it into the fireplace. She might not understand his way of life but she appreciated his self-sufficiency.
“Then tell me what you’re running from,” she said in a last-ditch effort to get him to talk.
A moment of silence passed between them as they stared each other down.
Okay, he won. Ella wasn’t in a position to bargain and this stranger seemed intent on keeping his secrets. He’d helped her and she was grateful.
“I probably haven’t sounded like it so far, but I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” she said as she moved toward him, toward the door.
She paused before crossing over. For a second, time stopped and they just stood there, staring at each other. A sensual shiver goose bumped Ella’s arms. The stranger had the most amazing eyes, piercing eyes. Eyes that she could stare into for days. As odd as it sounded even to her, the moment felt intimate.
The attraction she felt caught her completely off guard. Rugged mountain men had never been her type. It was probably the mystery surrounding him that held so much appeal and the fact that all her senses were on full alert.
Ella broke contact as she heard the whop-whop-whop of helicopter blades in the distance.
“Let’s go,” she said.
* * *
HOLDEN SAT AT the counter of the diner in neighboring Rio Suerte. Another couple of hours and he’d be out of Texas altogether. He’d dropped off Ella Butler two blocks from the sheriff’s office. She could retrieve her Jeep near Devil’s Lid once she gave her statement to law enforcement. Ella was smart enough to take it from there. He’d done his part, repaid his debt to Maverick Mike.
Time to move on, he thought with a heavy sigh. He hadn’t thought about the murders he’d been accused of for two days while he was with Ella. The initials, HA, hadn’t haunted him. He’d discovered them etched into the bottom of a chair leg at his father’s place—the chair where his father had been tortured and killed.
Holden shook off the bad memory. He was no closer to figuring out what had happened then he’d been two years ago.
The restaurant was a typical off-the-highway food stop and seemed like the place frequented mostly by truck drivers. Holden had befriended more than his fair share while crossing the country, making his way to Texas. The diner was shaped like a train car. There was one row of booths behind him matched by a long counter with bar stools for single travelers. Two families were in the booths, no doubt stopping off for a quick meal while on a road trip.
There was only one truck driver in the building. Bathrooms were to Holden’s left, near the end of the counter where the cash register was located. There was one cook in the kitchen and only one waitress on duty. The cook was significantly shorter than Holden, bald, with thick arms. He bench-pressed. The man was in his early fifties with a cook’s belly. Holden dismissed him as a threat. He fell into the same category as the dads. One drove a minivan, the other a Suburban. Holden could tell they were from the suburbs based on their clothing—one was in jeans and a polo shirt, the other wore warm-ups and a T-shirt. They had that haggard look that came with long road trips with young kids.
The truck driver was substantial in size, mostly fat from spending his days seated. He looked strong, though. Holden could see his arms in the sleeveless flannel shirt he wore. The man couldn’t be ignored as a threat. If Holden assigned levels, five being the highest, the dads were ones and the truck driver was a two and a half, maybe three.
There were exactly two exits in the building: the front door he’d come through and the one in the kitchen. Holden was used to memorizing every detail, looking for every possible escape route. Doing so had kept him alive. Was he really living?
Holden dismissed the thought as going too long without human companionship. His brief run-in with Ella Butler reminded him of everything he didn’t have. He’d been alone for a very long time, focused on staying alive, staying one step ahead of the men who were after him. They were good. He was the best. And that was precisely the reason he was still breathing.
The waitress approached. Her metal-plated name tag read Deena.
“Make up your mind?” Deena asked, motioning toward the menu. She was in her late thirties and had early wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her neck was the biggest giveaway of her age.
“Chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy, carrots. More coffee when you have a chance,” he said.
She wrote down his order on the ticket with a smile, a nod and a wink. “Sam makes the best.”
“I’m counting on it,” Holden said, returning the smile. He excused himself to the restroom. He wanted to splash water on his face and wash his hands before he ate. He didn’t sleep much while he’d been taking care of Ella.
As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, he was shocked at the stranger looking back at him. Furry face. Dark circles under his eyes. His thoughts snapped to Ella Butler and her initial reaction to seeing him. No wonder she’d been so afraid when she’d first opened her eyes. Hell, he would be, too.
He pushed those unproductive thoughts aside.
Holden splashed cold water on his face before washing his hands. Maybe it was time to shave the overgrowth. He hardly recognized himself anymore, and he certainly looked more animal than man. It was easy to do while he’d been mostly living off the land. And yet his reflection had caught him off guard.
Walking out of the restroom, he scanned the room. The situation was the same. The threat potential was low. He reclaimed his bar stool and did his level best not to look at the TV mounted in the corner of the room. A cursory glance revealed the channel was set to local news.
Holden picked up his fresh cup of coffee, ignoring the screen. He didn’t treat himself to a restaurant meal often. This was a delicacy he had every intention of enjoying.
And then he made the mistake of looking up.
There was a picture of the Butler ranch on the TV screen. The story was about an heiress’s life being in danger. Holden gripped the cup and waited...
Another attempt had been made on Ella’s life. A witness had seen a man trap a woman between two vehicles on a residential street one block