Blainey had a way of giving orders that didn’t sound like orders, yet they were nonetheless effective.
Too tired to argue, Jennie led the way.
With Cameron following close on her heels, she felt a familiar tingle of awareness feathering across the base of her neck. So much had changed since he’d been gone, yet many things were still the same. Sure she’d been married and widowed, but the two families still hated each other and Cameron still wanted his life outside the ranch.
Since her mother had died, Jennie had promised to help her father with the ranch. As his only child, it was up to her to take care of her father, too. He needed someone to love him and see to his health. If she ever left, what would become of him?
In the meantime, what had become of her? A lonely widow who’d spent all her life working a ranch, for what?
She eased into a wooden rocker, stretching her booted feet out in front of her, hoping she appeared relaxed when every muscle in her body tensed to run. “So, Cameron, what brings you to the Flying W?” Deep down a part of her wanted his reason to be her. Her practical side knew better. If he’d wanted her, he’d have come home and fought for her ten years ago. Better still, he wouldn’t have left.
For a long moment, he stared down at his hat and then he looked out across the foothills of the Rockies. “I think you and your father are in danger.”
Chapter Two
Until he’d seen her, he had no idea how hard his mission would be. Covered in dust, her chambray shirt marred with stains from working out on the ranch, she couldn’t have been more beautiful. So earthy, familiar and Jennie. The years had honed her body to tight athletic lines, her jeans rode loose on slim hips and her breasts were a bit fuller, fitting tightly against the worn cotton of her shirt. Her body had matured, but it was her eyes that had changed the most.
Instead of the open and happy harvest-gold they’d been in her youth, there were shadows beneath them and her expression was guarded. As it should be. After ten long years, having Cameron Morgan to show up her doorstep had to be a shock—probably not a pleasant one at that. The last time they’d been together, he’d given her a hard choice and she’d done what she always did, made the right decision.
Cameron shifted and straightened. All that was in the past. “You and your father are in danger,” he repeated, his gaze scanning her face, searching for a hint of alarm, something to indicate her understanding of the gravity of his announcement.
She smiled, the curve of her lips easing the tension from her face. “Could you give me a few more details?” The teasing tone of her voice was the Jennie he remembered—the one he’d fallen in love with in his misspent youth.
“I work for Prescott Personal Securities out of Denver. We found evidence of a possible conspiracy to buy out landowners in this area.”
“Buy out the Flying W?”
“Yes, and or the Bar M.”
“Why?”
“We’re not sure, but we think it’s because of a recent discovery of oil reserves found in the area.”
“So how does that put us in danger?” Jennie crossed her arms over her chest. “The Flying W isn’t for sale.”
“There is a possibility they’ll play rough to get the land. Maybe even kill.”
Jennie’s eyes widened. “What proof do you have?”
“Two men who, because of their debts, were forced to sell their land and businesses for cash and a share in a blind trust. After they sold their property, both were murdered. Then we discovered a disk with coordinates of the dead men’s property on it. We found the coordinates pointing to the border between the Flying W and the Bar M ranches right below the other two. We think it’s the next target for acquisition. We have reason to believe whoever murdered the two men, might come after the Wards and the Morgans in order to acquire the land.”
“What did your family say to this news?”
He shifted his hat in his hands. Why hadn’t he stopped there first? “I haven’t been there yet.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
“Since there are five Morgans and only two Wards, I thought…” He stopped short of telling her why he’d dropped everything in Denver, shifting his current bodyguard gig to another agent just to race out to the Flying W.
“You thought we would be the easier target, didn’t you?” Jennie’s lips tightened into a thin line. She walked across the wooden decking, leaned a hip against the rail and stared out at the pine, fir and aspens sprinkled across the hillside.
In profile, her face appeared more drawn and worried than when he’d first seen her. The sudden urge to take that worry away from her pushed him forward and he took her hands. “Jennie, I work as a bodyguard. Let me protect you and your father.”
She stared down at his hands and gently pulled hers free. “Dad will never go for it. He wouldn’t tolerate a Morgan on Ward land for the amount of time it takes for him to say ‘get the hell off.’ You remember how it was. Nothing’s changed.”
Oh, he remembered all right. The nights he’d driven his truck up to the gate with the lights off and hiked up to the house just to see her. The stolen kisses behind the barn and the walks in the moonlight through the woods. He remembered all too well, as a familiar surge of longing threatened to muddy his thoughts. “I know, but we’re both older and smarter than we were ten years ago. Surely he still isn’t carrying a grudge against the Morgans.”
Jennie’s eyebrows rose. “Please. You’re talking about Hank Ward, a man with the memory of an elephant. Whatever got them started on their silly feud is as fresh as the day it began. And you know as well as I, he’s as stubborn as that old mule out in the pasture. No way he’ll let you or anyone else protect him.”
“You don’t understand. These guys are playing for keeps. This is life or death.”
“And every day on the ranch isn’t life or death?”
When Cameron would have argued more, the sound of horses’ hooves pounding toward them caught his attention. A sorrel horse with an empty saddle raced toward the house, ears pinned back and eyes wild. At the last moment, it veered toward the barn.
Jennie pushed away from the rail. “That’s Red, Dad’s horse.” She was off the porch and running toward the barn, following the direction of the horse.
Cameron took off after her, his heart pounding against his ribs. Was he too late? Had whoever was responsible for all the killing already got to Hank Ward?
Before he cleared the side of the house, he heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.
Astride a four-wheeler, Jennie gunned the handle and spun around in the gravel headed straight for him.
“Wait!”
She dodged him and took off across the lawn and through the open gate leading out of the barnyard.
Cameron hopped on the back of another four-wheeler, kick-started the engine and spewed gravel in a tight turn.
Jennie was already halfway up the hillside before he passed through the gate. With a wide-open throttle, he sped after her, hoping his four-wheeling skills hadn’t gotten too rusty to keep up.
“Slow down!” Cameron called out when he pulled up beside her. “You won’t do him any good if you kill us both in the process.”
“No way. He could be hurt.” She twisted the handle sending more gas to the engine and the vehicle leaped forward.
After several minutes of hard riding they topped the rise and descended into a mountain meadow filled with blue columbines and wild irises. The leaves on the aspens were a fresh spring green. If they weren’t in such a hurry, Cameron would stop and soak up the beauty of being home in