Honor Bound

CHAPTER FOUR

AINSLEY SPENT A busy afternoon with the director and the cameraman discussing the logistics of the next few locations. Gunderson was upset about not being able to use Box Canyon. His cameraman, a long-haired thirtysomething named T.K. Clark, suggested some ideas, while “Gun” made more demands of Ainsley to find something perfect. Fortunately, she hadn’t had time to think about earlier and how close she’d come to dying.

She was studying a local map for more ideas, when the woman who ran the cafeteria stopped next to her.

“You’re certainly burning the midnight oil,” Kitzie said. “Did you even have dinner?”

Ainsley was surprised, first, that Kitzie would even notice that she’d been missing at mealtime and, secondly, that the woman was talking to her at all. Since the project had begun, the attractive redhead had been anything but friendly.

“There’s a group getting together around a bonfire,” Kitzie said. “Come on. I heard there would be something to drink. You look like you could use one.”

“Thanks, but I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Well, I am,” the woman said, taking her arm. “And I need the company, so come on.”

For days Ainsley had wished for some female company since all of the crew she worked with were male. Growing up with five sisters, she missed girl talk. Not that she expected that with Kitzie. But she went along because of the woman’s insistence and, also, because she didn’t want to be alone tonight after what had happened in the canyon.

“So, where are you from?” the cafeteria manager asked as they walked toward the glow of a blaze some distance away.

“Beartooth, Montana,” she said and told her about growing up on the ranch with her five sisters and her father. She didn’t mention that she was the daughter of Republican presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton. Either Kitzie already knew that or didn’t put it together.

“Huh” was all the woman said when Ainsley finished. By then they had reached the bonfire where the crew had gathered. Even Gunderson had joined them. He stood on the other side of the blaze talking to Ken Hale, the owner of the carnival that would be the last shot before the commercial wrapped.

Hale was a big man with a round red face and a hearty laugh. He and Gunderson seemed to be in deep conversation before Gun, as everyone called him, moved away from the fire.

“I’ll get us something to drink,” Kitzie said, heading for the cooler someone had brought. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there is something nonalcoholic in there.”

* * *

DEVON GUNDERSON TOOK his drink and walked toward the meadow until he reached the Ferris wheel. He turned to look back at the old hotel and the cabins tucked in the pines on the mountainside behind it.

He wished Hale would get some of the rides going. Tonight he’d love to be sitting on the top of the Ferris wheel when the lights came on in the small town in the distance. He did his best thinking far and away from other people.

A splattering of laughter rose beyond the pines where the crew had gathered beside the creek. He could smell the smoke of the campfire drifting on the breeze as he sat down on the Ferris wheel seat. It rocked, creaking under his weight.

From the first time his father had taken him to a carnival he had been enchanted. The lights, the noise, the brittle cheapness of it. He even liked the carnies calling to him, determined to steal his last dime on some game he couldn’t possibly win. And then there had been the rides.

Just thinking about it made him smile. That’s why he had to use a carnival in this commercial, his last. He had to return to that childhood place where he’d first began to dream that he could do whatever he wanted with his life. He’d known at a young age that he wasn’t going to fulfill any of his parents’ fantasies of success. He was cut out for better things. Like the carnival, he liked the sleight of hand, the lure of riches in a game of chance, the promise of something beyond imagination.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Hale said, coming out of the darkness.

He grimaced to himself, having not wanted company. But even if he’d told the old carnie this, it wouldn’t have kept him away. Not a man like Hale.

“Turn this thing on,” Gun said. “I want to go for a ride.”

The older man shook his head. “Even if I could see to crank it up, I’m not going to. Hell, I’d get you up on top and the thing would stop. I don’t think you want to spend the night up there while I’m down here working on it in the dark.”

“You might be surprised.”

Hale shoved him over where he could sit next to him. He was breathing hard after the walk all the way out here in the meadow. “You sure picked an out-of-the-way place for this little...get-together.”

“I like it out here.” When he’d first seen the hotel, he’d been tempted to buy it when this was all over. He had thoughts of restoring it, making the place earn its keep, but had quickly realized that he wouldn’t have liked it once it was full of noisy tourists.

“Aren’t you going to miss it?” Hale asked.

Gun knew he wasn’t referring to this place. “It’s time. As that old gambling song goes, you’ve got to know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em.”

“And know when to walk away or when to run?” Hale looked over at him. “Is that what you’re doing, Gun? Running? I heard about your divorce. Another man, I heard.”

He stood, this conversation over as far as he was concerned. Stepping off the ride, he started toward the hotel.

“I’m not sure I like where your head is at right now.”

At those words, Gun stopped and turned to look back at him. It was too dark to make out Hale’s features. The Ferris wheel seat rocked and creaked under the big man’s weight. The breeze whispered through the nearby pines and rustled the dry grass of the meadow. A chain on one of the rides clinked softly.

“You don’t want to go there,” Gun said.

“Come on, I know you. You and I go way back. I know how you felt about her.”

“Don’t mistake a business partnership for friendship,” Gun said carefully. “You’re overstepping, Hale. Don’t do it again. And I want that Ferris wheel running tomorrow.” With that he turned and took the back way to his cabin, so he could avoid those around the campfire by the creek. He wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone.

* * *

AFTER MOVING HIS few belongings into his cabin, Sawyer had spent the remainder of the day learning everything he could about Spotlight Images, Inc., and its current employees. He’d had Sheriff Curry run all the license plates from the vehicles parked around the cabins and hotel, as well as the names of the crew. Kitzie had slipped a list of the names and jobs under his cabin door earlier.

It was definitely a bare-bones crew for a video production company. He’d been glad when Frank had called him with information on the main players.

Devon “Gun” Gunderson was the director as well as producer. Sawyer had seen him earlier in the canyon with Ainsley. Divorced three times, he was fifty-four, blond, blue-eyed and stocky. He had an air about him that told Sawyer he ran the show with an iron fist.

His camera and boom operator was a long-haired thirty-four-year-old named T.K. Clark. He’d been with Spotlight Images, Inc., since it began five years before. He wore his long, dishwater blond hair in a ponytail and sported a half dozen tattoos.

With the company since its inception, Nathan Grant was thirty-eight, divorced twice, and employed as a lighting technician and carpenter. He looked like the dark-haired moody type behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

Twenty-eight-year-old Bobby LeRoy was a handyman. He’d been with the company only a month.

None had any priors. The one man here with an arrest record was the founder of Goodtimes Entertainment, the fifty-year-old who owned the carnival now set up in the meadow. Ken Hale was a big brawler of a man who apparently liked to fight, according to his several arrest records.

“He’s all carnie. Born and raised traveling with his parents who worked the show,” Frank had told him. “The only other one you asked about, the security guard, Lance Roderick? He’s a former lawyer. Filed bankruptcy a year ago after being disbarred. Pulled some legal shenanigan.”

From lawyer to security guard on a fly-by-night video production company. That definitely sent up a red flag.

Sawyer had thanked Frank and headed for the hotel. He managed to grab a bite to eat in the kitchen just before it closed without crossing paths with Kitzie or Ainsley. This time of year, it got dark by six. As he walked around, he noticed that Ainsley’s cabin was unlit.

Voices and laughter carried on the breeze. He followed the sound to find the crew around a big campfire in the pines next to the spring creek. He helped himself to a beer from one of the coolers someone had dragged up and, staying in the shadows, simply watched. Of the group around the fire, he gathered most of them were the crew. The man he’d seen earlier, Lance Roderick, was still wearing his uniform shirt.

It was hard to tell if any of the men were more interested in Ainsley than was warranted. She was a beautiful woman. They all flirted with her and Kitzie, except for the man Sawyer took for the carnie, Ken Hale. Hale had left the fire for a while but had only recently returned. Hale had noticed Ainsley. His gaze kept straying to her. But his wasn’t the only one.

Lance Roderick secretly watched her as if not wanting anyone to know. Bobby LeRoy wasn’t as sneaky about it. Neither was T.K. Clark.

Not that he could blame them. Ainsley’s face glowed in the firelight, making her even more striking.

The only person missing was Gunderson. Kitzie hung around for a while, joking with the men before saying she was turning in for the night. As the fire burned down and the night cooled, he watched people wander off. LeRoy, Clark, Grant and Hale headed into town, after trying to get Ainsley to go with them and failing.

Roderick stayed only for a little bit before he trundled off, saying he had to take a look around to make sure everything was locked down for the night.

Sawyer waited until the guard left before he moved up to the dying fire—and Ainsley. As he joined her, she didn’t look up. All night she’d seemed lost in the flames, avoiding conversation with the others and keeping to herself.

That’s why he was surprised when she asked, “Have you ever had your life flash in front of your eyes?”

She sounded tipsy, and he wondered what she’d been drinking. He’d noticed that her glass hadn’t been empty while Kitzie was there. Kitzie had been keeping them both in refreshments.

At her question, Sawyer chuckled to himself given his near-death experience from the train—not to mention the rock slide earlier. “I take it yours passed before your eyes?”

She nodded, still not looking at him, her blue eyes wide in the firelight, her attention locked on the flames. “Today I realized I’ve never done anything. I’m the oldest of my sisters, the good one, the one everybody in my family depends on. But guess what?”

He hated to guess. Nor did she give him a chance.

“I’ve never lived. I’ve never...cut loose. The most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done is quit law school.”

“Then why did you quit?”

Ainsley shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it was my one act of rebellion.”

“So, do you still want to be a lawyer?”

“Actually, I do.” She laughed, losing balance and stumbling a little. He caught her arm. She wasn’t just a little tipsy. She was drunk.

“What is that you’re drinking?” he asked.

She frowned as she looked down at the liquid in her large plastic cup. “Tea. Strong tea. Kitzie made it for me.”

He’d just bet she had. He took the paper cup from Ainsley and sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “I’d say it was strong. Hundred proof. Have you ever been drunk before?”

“I told you, I’ve never done anything before.” She took it back from him and, draining it with a grimace, tossed the cup into the fire. The paper cup flamed up, sending sparks into the air. Smiling, she turned to him for the first time since he’d joined her.

She blinked. “I know you. You’re that cowboy who saved my life and took off without even giving me a chance to say thank you.”

“Sawyer Nash,” he said, extending his hand.

Her hand was warm and small in his. “The new Ainsley Hamilton,” she announced with a flourish. “I’m sick of being the old me. I feel like a snake that’s about to shed its skin.” Her eyes sparkled in the firelight. “I feel like doing something completely not like the old me.” She looked around, her gaze lighting on the dark silhouettes of the carnival in the meadow. “I’m going to climb that Ferris wheel and bay at the moon.”

He couldn’t let her do that. Not in her condition. “Why don’t I walk you back to your cabin?”

She shook her head. “I’ve had enough of men trying to protect me. Putting me on a pedestal. I’m like the princess who’s been locked in her tower. I’m suddenly free, and I want to do something wild and completely irresponsible.” Her big blue eyes locked with his. “Don’t you want to do it with me?”

Damned if he didn’t. She wasn’t just beautiful with her long blond hair and moon-like blue eyes; there was something endearing about her—even drunk. He also knew what it was like to be the good son, the one his parents had depended on.

She sighed. “There is so much I haven’t done, I don’t even know where to begin. What should we do first?” she asked, slurring her words. Her gaze went to the spring creek nearby in the pines. “I’ve never been skinny-dipping. Let’s go skinny-dipping!” She began unbuttoning her Western shirt as she moved away from the campfire toward the creek.

Hell, that water would be freezing cold this time of year. But he couldn’t very well let her go in alone. She’d drown for sure. He followed her trail of discarded clothing through the darkness of the pines to find her standing naked at the edge of a deep dark pool in the crook of the stream. Silhouetted there against the moonlight, she was a sight for sore eyes.

“You coming in?” she asked over her shoulder and then fell face forward into the water.

CHAPTER FIVE

AINSLEY WOKE WITH the worst headache of her life. She groaned as she opened her eyes and quickly closed them.

“Here, this might help.”

Her eyes flew open, sending a dagger of pain straight to her brain. She grabbed the sheet and pulled it up to her neck as she stared at the strange man not only in her cabin, but also sitting on the edge of her bed.

“What are you doing here?” she cried and quickly peeked under the sheet. She was naked as a jaybird. “Oh no, I didn’t!”

“You didn’t,” he said in a deep, sultry voice she remembered. This was the cowboy who’d saved her in the canyon—but at what cost? “Your virtue is safe.”

“How long have you been here?” She spotted his boots by the door. “You stayed all night?”

“I didn’t trust you not to do something even more...wild, given your condition.”

“More wild than what?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Skinny-dipping.”

She groaned and, sliding back down in the bed, covered her head with the sheet. “Please tell me I was alone,” she said in a tremulous voice from under the sheet. “The rest of the movie crew—”

“Weren’t there. It was just the two of us.” He pulled the sheet down until their eyes met and gave her a big smile. Had she noticed last night how handsome he was? Is that why she’d decided to go skinny-dipping with a complete stranger? Well, nearly a complete stranger.

“You were the only one naked,” he said, as if trying to reassure her. “Actually, you were the only one who went in the water, except for when I had to wade in to fish you out.”

She didn’t think she could feel worse. “I might have had too much to drink.”

“You think?”

“I don’t drink but a glass of wine occasionally. Normally.”

“So I gathered.”

Ainsley realized she didn’t remember any of this. Memory loss ran in her family, she mused, thinking of her mother’s return from the dead and complete lack of memory of those missing twenty-two years. The stray thought might have made her laugh if she hadn’t felt so awful.

“I don’t remember...anything,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry. Nothing happened, other than you sobering up from the icy water enough that I could get you back to your cabin and to bed. Alone. I slept on the couch.”

She glanced over and saw his black Stetson and his jean jacket on the couch.

“Now, drink this.” He handed her the glass he’d been holding. As she peered suspiciously at the ugly thick brown sludge, he said, “Trust me. That is going to make you feel much better.”

“It looks...awful.”

“It’s my own remedy for a hangover.”

“I’ve never had a hangover before.”

He laughed. “Apparently Kitzie was making your drinks? You might make your own in the future.”

She was still staring at the glass of thick brown stuff.

“Best to chug it.” He stood. “I don’t know about you, but I have to get to work. I have to go before everyone in camp sees me leaving your cabin.”

Ainsley felt her eyes widen in alarm.

“Don’t worry. It’s still early. Your reputation is safe.”

She groaned. “I don’t understand what happened last night, but it won’t happen again.”

“That’s too bad. You were trying out the new Ainsley Hamilton. She was up for anything. I kind of liked her.”

“I’ll just bet you did.” She tried to summon what dignity she could. “Well, I won’t be needing your...assistance again because of intoxication.”

“That’s too bad, too.” He gave her a wink before he stepped to the couch. She sat up to watch him pull on his boots, hat and jacket.

“We won’t be seeing that Ainsley Hamilton again,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Back to the old, boring Ainsley Hamilton.”

“Just between you and me, there is nothing wrong with the old Ainsley Hamilton either.” With that, he left.

She took a whiff of the drink and her stomach roiled. Holding her nose with her free hand, she chugged the thick liquid and gagged. What had the man given her? She thought for a moment that she was going to be sick. But then her stomach began to settle down. After a few minutes, she felt better.

By the time she came out of the shower and dressed, she had faith she could do what had to be done today without going back to bed—or worse, curling up and dying.

Her cell phone rang. Checking it, she saw that it was her mother calling. It still gave her an odd feeling when she saw the name Sarah Hamilton come up on the screen—after believing her mother dead for twenty-two years. Almost two years ago now, her mother had returned out of the blue with no memory of where she’d been. Her mother’s last memory was giving birth to the twins, Cassidy and Harper, both now almost twenty-five.

Ainsley was surprised that Sarah was calling and instantly worried. Her mother never called. Then again, Ainsley hadn’t really reached out to her mother. She felt a stab of guilt. She certainly hadn’t tried to make her mother’s transition back into their lives any easier.

If anyone should be reaching out to her mother, it was Ainsley since she was the oldest of Sarah’s six daughters and one of the few who actually remembered her. She’d been twelve when her mother had supposedly died after crashing her car into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter. Her body was never recovered, something not that unusual in the wilds of Montana.

“Mother? Is something wrong?” she said into the phone.

“No, that is, I’m just checking to make sure you’ll be home before election night. Your father wants us all together.”

“I only have a few more days here, and then I was planning to come to the ranch.”

“Good,” her mother said.

The conversation stalled as it always did. Ainsley never knew what to say. She glanced at her watch. She really needed to go. “I heard you moved back into the house after you and Dad got married again.” They’d had an impromptu wedding by going to the justice of the peace.

While Bo, Olivia and the twins, Harper and Cassidy, had been upset that their parents hadn’t waited and had a “real” wedding with all six daughters in attendance, Ainsley was glad they’d been spared the event. She knew Kat felt the same way.

“Yes. I forgot how beautiful it is here on the ranch,” her mother was saying. “The view from the main house is wonderful.”

Her mother had returned from the dead to find her former husband had remarried, and a woman named Angelina Broadwater Hamilton wasn’t just living in her house, but sleeping in her bed.

For a while the media had played up the love triangle between the three. Ainsley had seen how conflicted her father had been during that time. He’d loved Sarah, had six daughters with her and had grieved years before remarrying.

Then Angelina had been killed in a car wreck, leaving the door open for Sarah and Buck to get back together. Because he was running for president, it had taken them some time, but they’d finally tied the knot again. Ainsley knew her father was hoping their remarriage would bring his family together once more.

“Well,” her mother said into the long silence. “I look forward to seeing you when you get home. Your sister Olivia thinks we should have a family celebration. Your father and I got married so quickly...”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said, rolling her eyes. It sounded...awkward. But maybe they would all accept their mother, and things would turn out just fine. “I would love to help with the...celebration,” she heard the old Ainsley say politely. “I’m sure my other sisters would, as well.” Probably not Kat, but she didn’t say that. Kat refused to call their mother anything but Sarah. Who knew what her problem was? Ainsley hadn’t been home enough to find out.

“It would make your father so happy.” But Ainsley could hear a note of happiness in her mother’s voice, too. Maybe it was possible to put this family back together again—before both of her parents headed off to Washington, DC. According to the polls, Republican hopeful Buckmaster Hamilton was going to win by a landslide.

Landslide. She shuddered at the memory of yesterday and how close she’d come to dying. Sawyer Nash had saved her then—and again last night. She thought about the cowboy and found herself smiling. So Sawyer Nash was partial to the new Ainsley Hamilton, was he?

A part of her still wanted to cut loose and have more fun. She was sick of being the good daughter, the good sister, the good girl. Wasn’t it time? But maybe she wouldn’t be quite as carefree as she’d apparently been last night.

That close call in the canyon had made her realize it was time. She would definitely have more fun—as soon as she felt better. She wondered what Sawyer would think about that.

* * *

KITZIE HAD LET out a curse as she’d watched Sawyer come out of Ainsley Hamilton’s cabin earlier. She’d blamed herself. She shouldn’t have spiked the woman’s tea. It had been childish and reckless. She smiled to herself. It had been fun to see another side of the prim and proper Miss Hamilton.

She wondered what Sawyer had thought of it. Of course, he had seen Ainsley home to her cabin. She should have anticipated that, knowing the man. But also knowing Sawyer, he wouldn’t have taken advantage of a woman in that condition. Still, she knew his protective side and could well imagine him holding Ainsley’s head while she puked in the toilet—if it had come to that.

Moving away from her cabin window, she told herself she had bigger fish to fry. Whatever Sawyer was up to, it was no longer any of her business.

Still it rankled her that Ainsley was just the kind of woman he would jump at saving. Even still injured and on medical leave, that was Sawyer. She wondered what friend had talked Sawyer into playing hero for the no-doubt future president’s daughter.

Right now, though, she needed to concentrate on her own job. And yet it nagged at her. Was Ainsley really being stalked, or was this about getting attention during her father’s election? And if there was a stalker, why would Sawyer keep his true purpose from the woman?