Pregnant By The Colton Cowboy. Lara Lacombe

Jeffries turned back to Maggie. “Do you have any enemies, Ms. Lowell?”

      She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t think so, no.”

      “No professional rivals, anyone who views you as competition and wants to see you fail?”

      “Not that I know of.”

      “What about personally? Anyone angry with you, or want to see you come to harm?”

      “No.”

      Bud flicked a glance at Thorne. “You sure about that? Because if this is the company you keep...” he trailed off, the implication clear.

      Thorne narrowed his eyes at the man, but didn’t speak. He refused to give Jeffries the satisfaction of a response.

      “No.” Maggie’s voice was sharp and cold, and Thorne blinked, touched by her unspoken defense of him. It was far more than he deserved, given his recent actions toward her. Further proof that Maggie was far too good for the likes of him.

      The sheriff ignored her tone. “All right then,” he said. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He turned and headed for the door.

      “Wait,” Maggie called out. “Do you have any suspects?”

      Bud paused by the door and nodded. “I sure do.”

      “Can you tell me who it is?” Maggie pressed. Thorne’s exasperation grew with every passing second—it was clear Jeffries was dragging out the process, enjoying the drama of the moment. He was a disgrace to the office of sheriff, and not for the first time, Thorne wished Knox would run for the position.

      Bud tilted his head to the side, his brown eyes glittering with satisfaction.

      “You, Ms. Lowell.”

      * * *

      The man hunkered down at the edge of the tree line bordering Mac’s farm, careful not to make any sudden moves that might give away his presence. The barn and main buildings were about fifty yards away, so realistically there was little chance anyone would see him, especially with everyone focused on the smoldering remains of the car in the dooryard. Still, best to be careful.

      He lifted binoculars to his eyes and peered through the lenses, surveying the aftermath of the explosion. The car was nothing more than a steaming pile of twisted metal, a broken skeleton lying naked in the dirt. Firemen still moved around it, searching for any residual flames among the smoke, but he didn’t linger on the sight.

      He was interested in other things.

      He turned his gaze to the surrounding buildings, searching for signs of damage amid the breaks in the thick gray smoke polluting the area. The stables were directly in front of the car, but from this angle he couldn’t tell if the explosion had had the desired effect. The supply building to the right of the stables showed gaping black holes where the glass of the windows had shattered. The structure to the left hadn’t fared much better—the wood paneling was scorched and several patches of shingles had blown right off the roof. He felt a small measure of satisfaction as he surveyed the area. It wasn’t quite the Armageddon he’d hoped for, but it wasn’t bad for a first effort.

      Unfortunately, his enjoyment was short-lived.

      As he watched, Mac emerged from the barn. His clothes were streaked with soot and his face gleamed with sweat, but otherwise he looked fine. Damn him.

      He thought he’d timed things perfectly; he’d been watching Mac for weeks, learning the man’s daily routine. Mac was a creature of habit, and he should have been crossing the dooryard from the stables to the supply shed at the exact moment the car detonated.

      Instead, he’d still been inside the stables, safe from the brunt of the explosion.

      It hadn’t been a total loss, though. A woman had been hurt. He hadn’t recognized her, and she didn’t look like an employee—her blue skirt and wedge sandals were far too impractical for ranch work. For a brief second, he’d thought she might be Mac’s lover. Why else would she have noticed the fire in Mac’s trunk? But then he’d seen the way Thorne had come flying out of the stable after her and realized he was the one who cared about her.

      He’d filed that tidbit of information away, knowing it might come in handy later.

      As he watched, Mac gave the car a wide berth and walked over to one of the men standing next to the gleaming red fire truck. He pulled a green bandana out of his back pocket and mopped his brow, his lips moving as he spoke to the fireman. The pair of them stood in place for a moment, talking and gesturing to the remains of the car and the buildings. Finally, Mac held out his hand and the two men shook, both of them blissfully unaware of his surveillance.

      He couldn’t read lips, especially not at this distance, but it was easy enough to guess that Mac was thanking the men for saving his property. Their timely arrival had spared the nearby buildings further damage and probably saved lives. Mac and that son of his likely thought they had dodged a bullet today, and in truth, they had.

      Too bad they didn’t realize what was coming next.

      The man smiled as he slipped the binoculars back into their black leather case. He pushed himself off the hard dirt and headed down the gentle slope of the hill, back toward the car he’d parked on the side of one of La Bonne Vie’s abandoned service roads. Today had been a practice run of sorts. He’d discovered the explosives weren’t as reliable as he’d hoped; the initial fire in Mac’s trunk had tipped that woman off and in the future, he didn’t want there to be any warning before he struck. Time to try a different tack for his next move.

      He unlocked his car and climbed inside, tossing the binoculars into the passenger seat next to the birding book. The thick tome was his excuse if anyone stopped him and wanted to know why he’d been roaming around the area in the wake of the explosion. He hadn’t seen a large police presence at the ranch, but that didn’t mean they weren’t in the area. Better to be prepared for any eventuality, no matter how unlikely it may be. He had to stay out of trouble, at least until he’d taken care of Mac.

      He pointed the car north and headed back into town. Thanks to today’s events, Mac would be on edge for a while. And as much as it pained him, he was going to have to wait to strike again. He needed Mac to let his guard down so he could catch him unawares—it was the best way to ensure he was successful.

      “Enjoy your time,” he muttered, glancing in the rearview mirror at the smoky haze rising from the ranch. “You don’t have much more of it.”