Snowbound with the Bodyguard & The Cowboy's Secret Twins: Snowbound with the Bodyguard / The Cowboy's Secret Twins

Dalton’s eyes narrowed and he drew in a quick breath of surprise. “I think maybe you need to start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

She leaned back against the plump sofa cushion and closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming grief that still reached out to smother her in its clutches. She opened her eyes and gazed down at Sammy, who in the midst of her heartbreak had fallen asleep.

Looking at Dalton, she fought against the tears and drew a deep, steadying breath. The beginning. “It happened one night when I was driving home from the classes I was taking to study for my GED. They took place at a community college about twenty-five miles from where I lived in Sandstone.”

She rose from the sofa, unable to sit as she fought against the panic that remembering that night always brought. It was a panic that constricted her lungs, closed up the back of her throat and quickened her heartbeat. It was the fear of having to remember and the additional stress of wondering if Dalton would believe her.

“Janette.” He reached out and took her hand. Holding it firmly he drew her back on the sofa next to him. “It’s okay, you’re safe for now.” He didn’t let go of her hand. It was as if he knew she needed support, something to cling to as she went back to that horrible night.

She nodded and swallowed hard. “The highway between the community college and Sandstone is pretty deserted after dark. I was about halfway between the college and home when I saw the lights of a patrol car in my rearview mirror. I knew I was speeding so I pulled over to the side of the road, figuring I was about to get a ticket.”

She paused and drew another deep breath, trying to still the frantic beat of her heart. Dalton squeezed her hand, as if to give her strength and she desperately needed it. She needed all the strength he could give her to get through the rest of it.

“I thought something was odd when he told me to turn off my headlights and get out of the car. He told me I had been speeding and asked if I was doing drugs. I’ve never touched drugs in my life,” she stated emphatically.

Dalton nodded, his expression giving nothing away of his inner thoughts. “Had you had run-ins with him before that night?”

“Never,” she replied. “I’d seen him around town, on the streets, but he’d never spoken to me before, never even noticed me that I knew of.”

“What happened next?” he asked.

A trembling began deep inside her. It was as if all the warmth of the room had been sucked out and an arctic chill had taken over the world. Tears blurred her vision once again and she blinked them away, angry that after all this time the memory of what happened still had the power to make her cry.

“He told me he needed to frisk me and he warned me that he’d hate to have to shoot me for resisting.” She looked down at Dalton’s hand around hers, unable to look him in the eyes.

“He raped me there on the side of the road.” The words didn’t begin to describe the horror, the violation of that night.

Her nose filled with the sweaty, ugly scent of Sinclair. Her skin wanted to crawl off her body as she thought of the way he’d touched her, the sounds he’d made as he pushed himself against her. “I won’t bore you with all the ugly details.”

She pulled her hand from Dalton’s, afraid he could feel the ugliness inside her. She couldn’t look at him, was afraid to see disbelief in his eyes. She’d fall completely to pieces if she saw doubt or condemnation there.

“What happened after?” His voice was soft, as if he understood the emotions blackening her soul. Thank God he didn’t press her for any of the details of the rape itself, for she’d shoved those particular memories deep inside her in a place where she wouldn’t easily retrieve them.

She looked up into those warm green eyes of his. “Nothing,” she said simply. She forced a smile of dark humor. “I guess I should be grateful that at least I didn’t get a speeding ticket.” The smile faltered and fell away as tears once again burned at her eyes.

He raised a dark eyebrow. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

She leaned back and stared at a point just over his shoulder. “Who was I going to tell? I couldn’t exactly report the crime to the sheriff.” There was more than a touch of bitterness in her voice.

She shook her head. “I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to tell Nana because I thought it might destroy her. It wasn’t until I realized I was pregnant that I finally told Nana and the man I’d been seeing at the time.” A shaft of pain stabbed through her. “He asked me what I’d been wearing that night, implying that it was somehow my fault. Needless to say that was the end of that relationship.”

“And you’re sure Sheriff Sinclair is Sammy’s biological father?” There was a faint note of apology in his voice.

She wanted to be offended by the question, but realized Dalton really didn’t know anything about her. It was a fair question, she supposed.

“I’m positive. The guy I was seeing at the time…we hadn’t…you know, been intimate.” Her cheeks burned and she kept her gaze averted from his.

“So, you realized you were pregnant. What happened then?”

She looked at him once again. It was impossible to read him. She had no idea if he believed her or not, couldn’t get a sense of anything that might be flowing through his head.

“The last thing I wanted was for Brandon Sinclair to know that I was pregnant. I managed to hide my condition from everyone until late in the pregnancy, then I told people who noticed that I’d had a fling with a salesman passing through town.” She gazed down at Sammy. “As far as I was concerned Brandon Sinclair had no right to know about my condition. From the very beginning Sammy was my baby and nobody else’s.”

“So, he didn’t know anything about Sammy.”

“I didn’t think he knew until three days ago when he walked into the café where I worked.” She told him about Sinclair and his deputies coming in and the sheriff asking her about her son.

“There was something in his eyes, something in the things he was saying that let me know I had to take Sammy and run and so that’s what I did. I didn’t steal anything from the café, but the moment the sheriff left, I told Smiley, the owner, that I didn’t feel well. I also told him I wasn’t happy working there and I was quitting, then I went home.”

She paused a moment to draw a deep breath then continued, “Nana agreed that I needed to take Sammy and leave town, get as far away as possible from Sheriff Sinclair. One of Nana’s friends drove me here to catch the bus. Our plan was that I’d get settled someplace far away from Oklahoma, then I’d send for Nana and we’d start building a new life together.” Grief once again rocked through her and new tears burned at her eyes as she thought of her grandmother.

Dalton studied her, a tiny frown furrowing the area in the center of his forehead. “After that night of the rape, did he continue to bother you? To threaten you in any way?”

She shook her head. “No. Of course, I went out of my way to avoid him. I kept my pregnancy pretty well hidden, too. The few times we did run into each other, it was as if nothing had ever happened. He’d look right through me, as if he had no memory of what he’d done.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting a new chill. A bitter laugh escaped her. “Who was I going to report it to?” she said more to herself than to him. “Who was I going to tell about the rape? The sheriff? His deputies? Brandon Sinclair owns Sandstone.”

Leaning forward she stared at the wall just over Dalton’s shoulder. “Everyone is afraid of him. He’ll get Smiley, my boss at the café, to agree that I stole money. He’ll get anyone in town to say anything whether it’s true or not, because nobody wants to get on his bad side. Besides, when he was done with me he reminded me that I was nothing but trailer trash and nobody would ever believe my word over his.”

“I believe you.”

Those three words, so simply spoken, wove a strand of warmth around her heart. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted to hear somebody other than her nana say them. She began to cry again.

* * *

Dalton pulled her against his broad chest as her tears flowed once again. He believed her. Dalton, better than anyone, knew that a gold badge of law enforcement could hide a sick, twisted soul.

There was no way she could fake the grief she felt for her grandmother and there was no way she could have manufactured the trauma she’d exhibited as she’d told him about the rape.

He tightened his arms around her. There was a special place in hell for men who raped women, and a place beyond hell for men in authority who abused women.

Janette’s tears finally ebbed and she raised her head and looked at him, the blue of her eyes dark with tortured sorrow. “I just can’t believe she’s gone,” she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. “I just talked to her yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday morning?” Dalton frowned, the sheriff’s words replaying in his mind. “You spoke to your grandmother yesterday morning?”

She nodded and moved out of his embrace. She wiped at her cheeks and tucked a strand of her shiny hair behind her ear. “I called her from here to let her know that I was stuck here because of the storm.”

“But according to what Sheriff Sinclair told me, he found her dead before the storm moved in.”

Janette blinked in confusion. “But that’s impossible.” Her tears disappeared as a tenuous hope shone from her eyes. “He lied. And if she wasn’t dead when he said she was, maybe she isn’t dead at all. Maybe he just said that to get you to turn me over to him.” She jumped up from the sofa and headed to the cordless phone on the end table.

Dalton leaned forward and watched her. As she punched in numbers she looked small and fragile, and the thought of a man touching her, taking her with force filled him with a simmering rage.

He watched her face as she gripped the phone receiver tightly against her ear. The hope that had momentarily lit her eyes faded.

“Nobody answered,” she said as she hung up. “Even the answering machine didn’t pick up.” Her eyes grew shiny with tears once again.

“Is there anyone else you can call to see what’s going on?”

“Nana’s friend, Nancy.” She quickly punched in the number. “She lives next door to Nana at the trailer park. She’ll know what’s going on. Nancy,” she said into the phone. “It’s me.”

Myriad expressions played across her face as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. “Oh, God, is she…” Tears once again fell from Janette’s eyes but she offered him a tremulous smile.

“Nana, are you all right?”

As she said these words a knot of tension eased in his chest. Either she was a better actress than Meryl Streep or she was now talking to the grandmother she’d thought murdered.

“Does he know where you are now?” Janette asked. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” She paused and listened for several minutes, then continued, “We’re fine and hopefully tomorrow we’ll be on the bus. Don’t worry, Nana, everything is going to be okay. I love you, too. I’ll stay in touch.”

Janette hung up the phone and stared at Dalton, her eyes once again haunted with fear. “She’s alive, thank God.” She returned to the sofa. He saw the tremor that went through her body, but when she gazed at him he realized it was anger shining from her eyes, not fear.

“What’s happened?” he asked.

“Yesterday morning Nana braved the snow to go to Nancy’s and have coffee. She was there for about two hours. When she got home she had the feeling somebody had been in her trailer. She didn’t find anything out of place or missing so she chalked it up to her imagination. Then last night she was feeling lonely and unsettled, so she went back to Nancy’s to play some cards and spend the night. During the night her trailer was set on fire.”

Shock filled Dalton at her words.

“Thank God she wasn’t home. He meant to kill her, Dalton.” Janette’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “He meant to kill her and blame me so he can see me in prison. Then he’ll be free to claim Sammy.”

They both looked at the sleeping child on the floor. A weary resignation filled him. He’d offered her safe harbor from a snowstorm but now it appeared that the storm in her life had nothing to do with the weather outside. And he had a feeling whether he wanted it or not, her storm had become his.

“Why don’t we get something to eat? It’s past dinner-time and I think we both could use something warm in our bellies.” He got up from the sofa and she followed him into the kitchen. “Grilled cheese and soup?” he asked and pointed her to the table.

She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter what he offered her. He opened a can of tomato soup and poured it into a saucepan, then when he had it warming up he prepared the grilled cheese for the awaiting skillet. As he worked, she stared out the window where darkness had begun to fall.

He had to admit that there was something about her that touched him, that called on protective instincts he’d thought had been lost when he’d lost Mary.

“It must have been a tough decision to have the baby under the circumstances,” he said. “A lot of women would have chosen a different option.”

“I thought about an abortion,” she replied. “But, to be honest it was just a passing thought. It might be an option for a lot of women, but it wasn’t for me. I was easily able to separate the innocent baby from the monster who had raped me.”

She smiled then, the first smile he’d seen from her since the appearance of Brandon Sinclair on his doorstep. It was like sunshine breaking through chill wintry clouds. “Sammy is the best of me and there hasn’t been a single minute that I’ve regretted my decision to give him life.”

That’s mother love, he thought. That fierce, shining emotion he saw in Janette’s eyes, that was what he’d lost when his mother had been murdered. Dalton rarely thought about the mother he couldn’t remember, but a shaft of unexpected grief stabbed him now.

“It was a sheriff who murdered my mother twenty-five years ago,” he said. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “The sheriff of Cotter Creek, Jim Ramsey. He was arrested a couple of months ago when he stalked my sister.”

“Why? Why did he kill your mother?”

Dalton stirred the soup, then placed the first two sandwiches into the skillet. “He said he loved her, but it wasn’t love, it was a sick, twisted obsession. He approached her one night on the highway and told her he loved her, that he wanted her to leave my dad, and when she refused he lost it and strangled her.”

He didn’t miss the parallel in what had happened to his mother and what had happened to Janette. Men they should have been able to trust had accosted both on a lonely stretch of highway. The only difference was, Janette had survived and his mother had not.

“Oh, Dalton, I’m so sorry.”

He nodded and swallowed around the unexpected lump of emotion that rose up in his throat. “It was a long time ago. She was a wonderful, loving person.”

“And your father never remarried?”

Dalton flipped the sandwiches. “No, never even looked at another woman. He and my mom were true soul mates and when she was gone he never showed any interest in pursuing a relationship with anyone else.”

“From what my grandmother told me, my mother wasn’t even sure who my father was.” Her gaze went back to the window again and when she looked back at Dalton a tiny frown furrowed her forehead. “Why would he tell you that I’d killed Nana?”

Dalton took up the grilled cheese sandwiches and placed them on two separate plates. “If he burned down her trailer last night it’s possible he doesn’t know she isn’t dead. If he puts out the word that you’re wanted for questioning in a murder case, then you’re going to have trouble hiding out. He can get law enforcement officials in every county keeping an eye out for you.”

He set the plates on the table then went back to grab the two bowls of soup. “If you’re trying to cheer me up, it isn’t working,” she said dryly.

She placed her spoon in her bowl, but didn’t begin to eat. Instead, she looked back out the window, where night had completely fallen. “Do you think he believed you when you told him you didn’t know me, that I wasn’t here?”

Dalton followed her gaze to the window and a tight knot of tension formed in his chest. “I have a feeling we’ll know before the bus shows up in town.”

* * *

Brandon raised his collar against the stiff wind that blew from the north. He stood across the street from Dalton West’s place, eyes trained on the upper windows. She was in there. He smelled her, the trailer trash tramp who was trying to keep his son from him.

He’d known that she’d blown town, had taken his son and left Sandstone. A visit to her grandmother’s house yesterday had given him his clue. The old lady wasn’t home but he’d gotten inside and taken a look around. The minute he’d seen the name and phone number on the nightstand, he knew in his gut that he was on her trail.

It was obvious from the condition of the small bedroom in the trailer that Janette had packed up and left. Clothes were thrown helter-skelter and there wasn’t a baby article to be found except for the crib, which was stripped of bedding.

He’d been enraged. He’d gone back to his office, researched to find out what he could about Dalton West, then late last night had returned to the trailer and set it on fire. He considered the death of Janette’s grandmother collateral damage. He hadn’t yet gotten the official report of the fire from their fire chief, but he knew the man would write up whatever Brandon told him to.

With the old woman dead and Janette wanted as a suspect in an arson-murder case, she’d find it difficult to get out of Cotter Creek. She was a wanted woman, and if he put a reward on her head, she wouldn’t be able to show her face anywhere.

He’d known he’d find Janette, and he had. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the windows. Even though Dalton West had told him he’d never heard of Janette Black, that there was no woman with a baby inside his place, Brandon knew he’d lied.

The sheriff had done his homework. He knew Dalton West was a bachelor who lived alone. But he’d watched the silhouettes move back and forth in front of those windows and knew the professional bodyguard wasn’t alone. And if that wasn’t enough, when Dalton had opened the door and Brandon had gotten a glimpse inside, he’d seen a diaper bag on the living-room floor, a diaper bag with the same blue teddy bear print that had decorated one area of one of the small bedrooms in the trailer.

She was in there, and there was no way she was going to escape him. One Oklahoma bodyguard wasn’t going to stand in the way of Brandon Sinclair getting exactly what he wanted.

Chapter 6

The cough woke Dalton. An irritating cough that pulled him groggily from his sleep. His eyes burned as he sat up on the sofa and realized the air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke.

Fear shoved aside the last of his sleepiness as he grabbed his gun off the coffee table where he’d placed it before going to sleep the night before.

He turned on the lamp next to the sofa and gasped as he saw the dark smoke that swirled in the room. Fire! They had to get out.

Maybe George had forgotten to turn off a stove burner and something had caught flame. Dalton didn’t give much thought to what caused the smoke, he just knew he needed to get Janette and Sammy out, for the smoke appeared to be thickening by the second. Fire could be dangerous, but smoke was just as deadly.

He pulled on his boots, then grabbed a coat, his cell phone and car keys and hurried into the bedroom where Sammy and Janette were asleep. He turned on the overhead light and Janette stirred, but didn’t awaken.

“Janette.” He walked over to the bed and shook her shoulder with a sense of urgency. A spasm of coughing overtook him as she opened her eyes. “We need to get out of here,” he finally managed to gasp.

She didn’t ask questions, obviously aware of the imminent danger that whirled and darkened the room despite the overhead light. “I’ll get your coat,” he said. “Just grab what you need.”

As Dalton raced back through the kitchen into the small utility room where he’d hung her coat the night she’d arrived, he felt no heat beneath his feet, heard no ominous crackle of flames. But that didn’t mean they weren’t in danger.

She met him at the bedroom door, pulling her suitcase behind her and Sammy in her arms with a blanket over his head. He thought about telling her to forget the suitcase, but realized the case contained all the possessions she and Sammy had left in the world.

He grabbed the suitcase from her and motioned her toward the door that led to the interior staircase. He needed to make sure George got out as well.

Before he opened the stairwell door he felt the wood, wanting to make sure it wasn’t hot, that deadly flames weren’t already attempting to burn through. The door radiated no heat so he opened it and motioned for her to precede him down the stairs.

The smoke wasn’t as intense in the staircase, and still he could feel no heat radiating from any of the walls. But where there was smoke, there had to be a fire.

They hit the landing to the first floor and Dalton entered George’s area of the house. “Wait here,” he said to Janette as he raced through George’s living room and down the hallway to the bedroom where the old man slept.

It took him only minutes to rouse George from sleep and get his coat and shoes on him, then together they all made their way to the front door.

It wasn’t until they opened the front door to get out that Dalton’s brain fully kicked into high gear. “Wait,” he said urgently before Janette ran outside.

His mind whirled with suppositions. Brandon Sinclair had burned down Janette’s grandmother’s place. This evening he’d come to ask if Janette was here. Was it possible Sinclair hadn’t believed Dalton when he’d said he didn’t know Janette? Was it out of the question that he’d set a fire to try to smoke her out?

“Janette, my truck is in the driveway. I’m going out first and when I get outside you run for the truck. George, you come out after Janette.” He released the lock on his gun, knowing he might have to provide cover for her if Sinclair was outside.

He knew by the look in Janette’s eyes that she perceived his thoughts, realized the potential for danger. She gripped Sammy more tightly against her as George took the suitcase from her hand.

“Problems?” George asked.

“Possibly,” Dalton replied. George nodded and straightened his thin, sloped shoulders.

Dalton went out the door, gun drawn, and with every sense he possessed on high alert. The night held the eerie silence that snow-cover produced, a preternatural calm that could be deceptive.

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped onto the front porch. The cold air stabbed his lungs as he drew deep, even breaths. He looked both directions, seeing nothing amiss but unwilling to trust that the night shadows held nothing dangerous.

He took several more steps, then turned back to the house, noting dark smoke rolling out of a partially opened basement window. Had George left it open? The old man had a workshop downstairs where he did some woodworking. Had he left his wood-burning tool on, and somehow it had caught fire?

His heart pounded as adrenaline continued to pump through him. He had no idea how big a fire might be burning there, but it was apparent he needed to get the others out of the house as soon as possible.

Looking around once again he saw nothing that indicated any danger. He walked back up to the door and motioned for Janette to follow him as he tried to watch every direction around them.

The gunshot came from the left, the bullet whizzing by Janette’s head as she screamed in terror. Dalton’s body slammed her to the ground, and he hoped that in the process Sammy wasn’t hurt.

“Get down, George,” he yelled at the old man, who had just stepped off the porch. George dove into a snow-bank with the agility of a man one-fourth his age.