Second Chance Cowboy. B.J. Daniels

wrong. You don’t know Violet. If you let her out—”

      “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m afraid the evaluation of her mental health isn’t up to you. We are just required to let you know. Good day, Mrs. Evans.”

      “No,” Arlene said into the phone even though she knew the doctor had hung up.

      Violet was getting out.

      She stood in her bedroom too stunned to move. Hadn’t she known that her life had been going too well? The business? And Hank?

      Hank. She felt her heart sink. For just a few hours she’d let herself believe she could be happy.

      Not that she’d ever thought she deserved it.

      She reached for the phone and dialed Hank’s number, telling herself it was for the best. Better to end it before it was started. Better to end it before he did.

      She glanced toward the chair where her mother had sat for years.

       You’re right, Mother. It’s all my fault. You told me I would end up alone. You were right. That must make you very happy.

      She made a swipe at her tears. Hank’s line was busy. She’d have to try again in a few minutes.

      Facing the mirror, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She would face this alone. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been here before.

      “WHO IS THIS GUY anyway?” Cody asked as he and Bo drove into Hank Monroe’s ranch.

      “We’re about to find out.” Bo had waited until he’d seen Hank drive out before he’d instructed Cody to drive down the hill to the huge ranch house. No one should live in such a large house. Especially some dude living by himself, Bo thought angrily.

      “You sure he doesn’t have someone working for him?” Cody asked, sounding nervous.

      “I asked around,” Bo said. “Hank has a bunch of land, but the only animals on the place are a couple of horses. He has Claudia Nicholson come out twice a week and clean. There’s no security system.”

      Cody pulled up in front of the house, cut the engine and sat for a moment, staring at the house. “Is the guy crazy?”

      “Apparently so, since he’s dating my mother,” Bo quipped. “Come on.” He opened his door and climbed out.

      “What exactly are we looking for?” Cody asked.

      “Whatever we can find.” Something incriminating. So he could tell his mother what he suspected she already suspected: Hank Monroe was too good to be true. Bo was counting on it as he picked up a rock to bust a window.

      “This guy is a fool,” Cody said as he tried the front door and it swung open. “The door wasn’t even locked.” His friend made a face as Bo dropped the rock. “I don’t like this. Seems a little too easy, you know?”

      Bo knew. “The guy is clueless. Don’t worry about it.” He shoved past Cody and entered the cool, dim, massive living room. Hank Monroe apparently had money. But how had he made it?

      “Where do we start?” Cody asked as they took in the place. “Nice. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he married your mother.”

      “He’s not going to marry her,” Bo snapped. “No one marries someone like her unless he has to.” He’d heard how she’d come to marry Floyd Evans; he’d overheard his grandmother Evans talking about it. Floyd Evans wouldn’t have married her except that she’d been pregnant with Violet.

      “Still, what does it hurt having a guy like this dating your mother?”

      Bo ignored the question. He didn’t like talking about his mother’s love life. He couldn’t imagine what Hank saw in her. The guy had to be up to something.

      Cody followed him down the hallway.

      “You check the bedroom,” Bo ordered. “Look for drugs or anything weird.” He stepped into what was obviously a home office and went straight to the file cabinet first. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he didn’t find anything interesting and turned to the computer.

      The computer appeared to be brand-new, state-of-the-art, and it didn’t have anything on it except the software it had come with.

      Discouraged, he glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the answering machine—and the flashing red light.

      He reached over and hit the play button.

      HANK FELT HIS CELL phone vibrate when he was not two miles from the ranch. While he didn’t lock the doors at the ranch, he did have a security system of sorts: when a door was opened, he got a call on his cell. And since this wasn’t the day that Claudia Nicholson cleaned, he turned around and sped back toward the ranch.

      He took the back way in and, as he came over a hill, met with a road full of cattle and two cowboys on horses herding the slow-moving cows to another pasture.

      That cost him valuable time.

      He parked just over the hill from the house and took out the gun he kept taped on the underside of the SUV seat.

      Crickets chirped in the tall green grass as he made his way toward the house. The evening breeze stirred the stand of ponderosas, sending the scent of pine wafting through the warm air. In the distance, the Little Rockies range slowly turned from violet to black against the midnight-blue sky.

      Hank could feel the air grow heavy around him, the heft of the gun too familiar in his hand. He’d been here before, too many times, and had thought he’d put this part of his life behind him.

       Right. That’s why you keep guns stashed in places easy to get to should you need them.

      The back door was unlocked. He turned the knob without making a sound and stepped in. The air inside felt cool and smelled of the orange-scented cleaner Claudia used.

      The back door opened into the laundry room. He stepped from it to the doorway to the kitchen. Empty.

      He moved quickly through the large commercial kitchen, into the open living area with its huge fireplace and assorted leather furniture. The ranch house had come furnished. He had yet to sit in every chair.