Cornered In Conard County

New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee brings her beloved Conard County series to a new home!

NO PLACE TO HIDE

Conard County is a refuge for Dory Lake, a place to flee from her tragic past. For extra security, she goes to Cadell Marcus for one of his expertly trained guard dogs. Just the dog. But the part-time deputy can’t help digging deeper into the beautiful stranger’s history.

After learning the circumstances of the murders Dory witnessed, Cadell isn’t about to leave her at the mercy of the calculated killer. The madman is counting on finding Dory isolated, but Cadell vows that she’ll never be alone. Guarding her 24/7 is the only way to keep her safe…and to break down her emotional walls he wants so desperately to breach.

Conard County: The Next Generation

“I believe the feeling is mutual.”

She looked at Cadell then, daring to meet his gaze directly without sliding quickly away. His gaze was warm, inviting, suggesting delights she could barely imagine. Yet he remained a perfect gentleman with her. He was getting past her guard, little by little.

An electric shock seemed to zing between them. Something invisible was trying to push her closer to him.

But then he broke their gaze and turned. “Wanna come inside and rummage through my fridge before I take you back?” He glanced at his watch. “I go on duty in a couple of hours.”

Yup, in addition to sexual attraction, she was learning to like him a whole lot. Sexual attraction she could deal with. She’d sent away more than one guy over the years because she wasn’t going to get that close to anyone.

But liking? That could be even more of a risk.

Cornered in Conard County

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

Prologue

Dory stirred from sleep and tried to cover her ears. Daddy was fighting with her big brother, George, again. But later she realized it sounded different. Voices shouted, but was Mommy laughing? It didn’t sound like Mommy’s fun laugh.

Curious, Dory climbed out of bed, picked up her favorite bunny and stood at the head of the stairs. Daddy was still shouting. Sticking her thumb in her mouth, she stared at the pool of light pouring out of the kitchen downstairs. Mommy made a strange sound, and curiosity pushed Dory to descend.

Before she was halfway down, things got very quiet and she stopped. She wondered if she’d get into trouble for being out of bed. Daddy and Mommy were very strict about that. Once in bed, stay in bed until morning. George laughed about it, but he said Mommy and Daddy needed grown-up time. But George was mostly grown-up and he got to go out at night. That was probably why they were yelling. Dory hesitated. The yelling was gone.

But then she heard a strange sound and came downstairs the rest of the way. Bunny tucked under her arm, thumb in her mouth, she turned toward the light spilling from the kitchen.

Everything was red. Like paint. It was everywhere and Mommy and Daddy were on the floor covered in the paint. George stood there, his face all tight and funny as he looked at her.

“It’s okay, Dory. I made the bad man run away.” He squatted and held out his arms to her.

Usually Dory ran straight toward him, but George was covered with the red paint, too, and she didn’t like that.

“Dory? Come here, pumpkin.”

She saw what was in his hand. A knife. It was all red, too. Why was everything so red?

Some instinct pierced her, and terror shook her out of her confusion. She didn’t know what was going on, but she ceased to think. Something deep within her reacted, and she ran out the front door onto the street and started screaming...screaming...screaming.

Chapter One

Screaming.

Dory Lake awoke with her own screams ringing in her ears. The minute her eyes popped open, blessed lamplight greeted her, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt safe.

She remembered what she had seen, but over twenty-five years the nightmares had grown less frequent. Now they were coming back again, every night or several times a night.

Because her brother was about to be released from prison.

She sat up quickly, and was relieved when she didn’t grow light-headed. She had low blood pressure, and sometimes it took her by surprise, causing her to faint briefly. A minor thing, a mere nuisance most of the time.

Drenched with sweat, she climbed from bed and walked into the small bathroom to shower. He wasn’t out yet. Not yet. She was okay.

But the dream had brought that terrifying night back. All the intervening years hadn’t expunged the memory, although it had been troubling her less and less. But ever since she had learned George was about to complete his sentence, the nightmares had returned. Every single night. No escape.

There was no reason to think George would have any interest in her when she’d never spoken about any of it, and he couldn’t be convicted of the murder again anyway, she told herself repeatedly as the cold water pounded her. As she’d been telling herself ever since she got the news. He couldn’t even be interested in her inheritance which was locked up in an unbreakable trust, a trust his lawyer had told him about.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to find her. The last name Lake was an extremely common one.

At last she toweled off, climbed into a fresh nightgown and robe, and started downstairs. No more sleep tonight. Too bad, she was moving into her own place tomorrow...or was it today?

Downstairs the kitchen light was on. Her friend Betty made sure the house stayed reasonably well lit at night. For Dory, who couldn’t stand waking in the dark.

But when she stepped into the gaily colored kitchen, she found Betty was already there with a fresh pot of coffee. Betty sat at the table, mugs, spoons and sugar at the ready, along with a plate of cookies. Her short graying hair looked tousled and, true to her taste, she wore a zip-up robe that was nearly psychedelic with cat faces. Betty was determined to become the cat lady. So far she’d acquired only three, all of whom were now swirling, wondering if it was time for breakfast.

“I heard the shower,” Betty said. “Again?”

“Again. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“What kind of friend would I be if I got annoyed by that? I don’t have nightmares like yours, but I’ve had them. Nice to have someone near when they wake you.” Betty bit her lower lip. “Are you sure you should move out? I can’t stand thinking of you all alone.”

Dory slid into one of the chairs. “I’ve been living on my own since college. I can’t let George’s release take my independence from me. Anyway, there’s absolutely no reason he should want to find me. He served his time and I’m no threat. After all this time, we’re strangers. And, as you know, I need to get back to my job.”

Of course, those brave words ignored the fact that she’d run all the way to Conard County, Wyoming, from Kansas at Betty’s invitation, when she’d learned her brother would soon be released and the nightmares had returned. Packed up and fled, if she was honest about it. Saying George wouldn’t want to find her felt like whistling past the graveyard.

Betty, even back in the days when she taught Dory’s high school English class, had been blunt, not one to pull her punches. So it bothered Dory that Betty had felt she should come here.

Apparently Betty didn’t quite believe George wouldn’t come looking for Dory. Or maybe she had just believed the move would ease Dory’s nightmares. So much for that.

The coffee went down well, as did a cookie, and soon her fears eased enough that one of the cats, a ginger tabby called simply Ginger, was willing to leap on her lap and beg for pets.

Such a soothing scene, Dory thought as she rubbed the ginger cat’s cheeks and elicited a surprisingly loud purr. Her relaxation deepened, and she thought that maybe she’d better get a cat herself.

“So therapy’s out?” Betty asked quietly.

“I’ve been through years of it. I doubt they can do any more.”

“Maybe not, but you’re older now.” Then Betty hesitated. “I have a friend I want you to meet this morning.”

Dory stiffened a bit. She’d been here a week, and so far she’d avoided getting drawn into a social circle. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, and anyway, she’d never been good at it.

“Oh, relax,” Betty said, reading her reaction correctly. “Someday you’ll want out of that shell, but I doubt it’s going to be right away. You’ve been in it for too many years. No, this is a special kind of friend. He’s the K-9 officer for the sheriff. He trains the dogs and other officers. Anyway, I want you to meet him.”

“Why?”

“Well, apart from the fact that he’s got two nasty ostriches he never wanted and can’t get rid of, which I find hysterically funny and interesting, he has lots of dogs. I think you need a dog to keep you company.”

Dory stared at her. “Why? I was thinking about a cat.”

Betty smiled. “Think about it, Dory. What’s going to make you feel safer? A guard dog or a guard cat?”

Almost in spite of herself, Dory laughed. “You make a point.”

“I always have,” Betty said.

Back in those long-ago days when Betty had been her sophomore English teacher, Betty alone had showed the infinite patience Dory needed to let someone become close to her. Betty’s campaign had lasted well beyond high school until, finally, surprise of surprises, Dory realized she had a true friend.

No one else had come so close to her.

“Oh, and you’re not moving today,” Betty said, reaching for a cookie.

Dory preferred deciding things for herself. “Why?” she asked, a bit sharply.

Betty ignored her tone. “Because there was a voice mail message this morning. It’ll be two more days before your high-speed internet is wired in. You need that to work, don’t you?”

“They promised to do it today,” she answered, but realized getting upset about it wouldn’t help anything. Since she got here, Betty had offered to take her out to the community college to use the internet there. At home, Betty had little need for a high-speed connection. But her connection was good enough to pick up email, so Dory hadn’t taken Betty up on her offer to go to the college. Anyway, the college didn’t have what she needed.

But she couldn’t stop working indefinitely and it had been too long already. Email sufficed for a short time only. “I need my connection,” she said presently. “Two more days, huh?”

“What exactly do you do that keeps you online most of the day?” Betty asked. “I get the souped-up computer with all the whiz-bang gizmos, multiple monitors, a graphics card that would break anyone’s bank account...but you can get your email here, right?”

Dory smiled faintly and poured herself a little more coffee. “I don’t do graphic art all by myself. I work with a team most of the time. Being able to chat back and forth and share files is essential.”

“I see.” Betty furrowed her brow. “Well, I can call the company again and see if they can hop to it. I know Wil Gladston, and he should be able to pull a string or two.”

Dory reached out to touch Betty’s arm. “A couple of days more won’t make or break my situation. Everyone knew I’d be off grid for a while. And everyone knows I’m moving. At least we’re not under a tight deadline pressure right now.”

“If you’re sure,” Betty said. “Things happen so differently in a small town, you know. Nobody’s in a rush without a reason. I’m sure if I explained about your job...”

Dory shook her head. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy, and I can check email on your connection, as you said.”

She decided it was time to change the subject. She didn’t want Betty worrying about her. “So this guy with the dogs? You said he has ostriches? Really?”

Betty’s face smoothed, and a grin was born. “Two of ’em. Nasty critters.”

“Then why does he have them?”

“He doesn’t know.” Betty laughed. “It’s such a funny story. Cadell’s dad died unexpectedly. When Cadell came home for the funeral, he found he’d not only inherited the ranch, but those damn ostriches, as well. No clue why or how they got there.” She leaned forward a bit, still grinning. “Now I gotta tell you, that man is patient beyond belief and seldom cusses. But those birds can wind him up enough to cuss a blue streak. A very inventive blue streak. A show well worth watching.”

Dory was smiling herself, verging on a laugh. “Why doesn’t he get rid of them?”

“You think he hasn’t tried? Oh, my.” Betty threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll let him tell you. It’s a story and a half.”

Several hours later as she dressed to go meet this K-9 guy with Betty, Dory wondered why she should need protection. Her brother always had been good to Dory before that night. More tolerant than most brothers that age with a girl of seven. Their relationship had been warm and loving.

Until that night. Every time she remembered him standing there drenched in blood, holding out his hand, holding a bloody knife, she wondered what his intentions had been. Would he have killed her, too? She still didn’t understand why he’d killed her parents. Or how it was he hadn’t gotten a life sentence.

But all those unanswered questions ate at her, and the nightmares proved that she was afraid of him to this day. Maybe that fear was groundless, but he had killed their parents and offered no good explanation for any of it that she had ever heard, not even much later when she was old enough to ask the questions.

Impatient with herself, she yanked on a polo shirt to go with her jeans and tried to look forward to seeing the nasty ostriches. And the dogs. She’d always liked dogs.

Just one step at a time, one day at a time, until her emotional upset settled once again. She’d be fine.

* * *

CADELL MARCUS STOOD near the ostrich pen, eyeing his pair of nemeses with restrained dislike. Except for some pretty feathers, these were the ugliest-looking birds he’d ever seen. He was a tall man, but they towered over him, a fact they never seemed to let him forget. Dinosaurs. Why weren’t they extinct?

But there they stood, edged into the small pen he sometimes needed to use because, occasionally, despite ostrich demands, he needed his corral for things besides them.

Nor did he ever let himself forget those birds could kick him to death with a few blows. Not that they tried, but they’d sure given him the evil eye often enough, and when they stopped being scared of him and quit hunkering down, they had discovered great delight in pecking at his cowboy hats. Two expensive ones had bitten the dust before he’d realized what he really needed was a football helmet when he came within six feet.

He’d rounded them up into the small pen today, because Betty Cassell was bringing that friend of hers out to see about a guard dog. Betty had given him only the sketchiest of accounts as to why she felt it necessary, so he hoped he’d get more of the story when they arrived.

In the meantime...those damn ostriches would have to behave whether they liked it or not. At least the electrified fencing contained them. He couldn’t imagine trying to catch them if they ever got out. He’d need Mike Windwalker, the veterinarian, with his magic dart gun.

They were glaring at him now. He glared back. “You two don’t know how lucky you are that I don’t send you to a boot factory.”

He finally heard a motor approaching and the sound of tires on the gravel. Both birds redirected their attention and backed up, settling low to the ground in a protective posture. “Stay that way,” he suggested, then went to greet his guests.

A smile lit his face the instant he saw Betty. Something about her always made him smile. But the woman who climbed out the other side of the car made him catch his breath. He wouldn’t have thought a living woman could have the face of a Botticelli angel, complete with long blond hair, but this one did. She caught and held his gaze until he realized he was being rude.

Then he saw the rest of her. Oh, man, no angel could have a body like that. Or at least shouldn’t, because it caused an immediate firestorm in him, jeans and loose blue polo shirt notwithstanding.

“Hey, Cadell,” Betty called with a wave.

Cadell gathered himself with effort, mentally whipped himself back into line and focused on her. He approached with outstretched hand. “Good to see you, Betty.”

“Same here,” she said, shaking his hand. “And this is my friend Dory Lake.”

He turned and could no longer avoid looking at her. Simply breathtaking. With blue eyes the color of a summer sky. At one glance she made him feel dusty, unkempt and out of his league.

But she smiled warmly and extended her hand. When he reached for it, the touch was electric. “I heard about your ostriches.”

“Not everything, I’m sure.” Well, at least he could still talk, and the ostriches provided a bridge over his reaction to her. Never had a woman left him feeling so...well, hell, he was a cop. No one, male or female, ever left him gobsmacked.

Until now.

“Betty said you inherited the birds with the ranch?”

His grin returned. “Yup. I have no idea where they came from, just that apparently my dad had been taking care of them. Long enough to put in electrified fencing so they can’t escape. So there they are.” He turned and pointed to the pen. “Don’t get too close—they peck.”

She smiled, a beautiful expression. “Betty says you want to get rid of them?”

“To a good home somewhere the climate will suit them better. So far, no takers.”

“I have to confess I had no idea how big they are,” Dory said.

“Eight feet or so at maturity. Say, let’s go look at the dogs. They make much better company.”

He could feel the evil eyes following him as he led the ladies around his two-story ranch house to the dog run and kennels out back. At the moment he had six in various stages of training, mostly Belgian Malinois, but a German shepherd had joined the mix. In all he had ten kennels with access to fenced areas behind. It would have been unkind to expect them to live on concrete with their messes.

The dogs stood immediately, curious, ears pricked attentively. No barking, no crazy antics. Training showed.

He waited while the ladies looked them over, then Dory surprised him, pointing at the shepherd. “That’s a different breed.”

“Most people don’t even notice,” he answered. “Yeah, he’s a German shepherd. The others are Belgian Malinois, sometimes called Belgian shepherds.”

She looked at him with those blue eyes. “Do they behave differently?”

“A bit. The Malinois can be stubborn. He needs a good handler, but he’s also more powerful than he looks. A great police dog. But the shepherd is more obedient, so...” He shrugged. “I’ve worked with both breeds over the last decade or so, and I love them both. Either breed would make you a good guard dog, but they’re energetic. I hope you like to jog.”

Her smiled dawned, and he felt his heart skip. Too much perfection?

“As it happens, I jog every day. Two or three miles. Would that be enough?”

“Like anything else, the faster you go, the faster they tire. They’ve got a lot of endurance, though, which is why they’re such good working dogs. Both are also courageous to a fault.”

He watched her look from dog to dog almost pensively. He pointed to two on the right end of the kennels. “Those two are almost ready to join the force as K-9s. Their handlers are about to finish training with them. But the other four are at various points in training, and any would make a good guard dog quite quickly.”

She nodded. “Which would you recommend for a computer geek who can forget the time of day half the time?”

Cadell couldn’t suppress a laugh. “The shepherd would lie at your feet and give you soulful looks. The Malinois might poke you with his nose to get your attention. But...they can all be mischievous. No guarantees on that.”

He didn’t expect her to decide just by looking, so he opened two of the kennels, freeing the shepherd and one Malinois. Far from racing away along the dog run, they stepped out, surveyed the newcomers, then politely sniffed both Betty and Dory. Once their immediate curiosity was satisfied, both sat on their haunches and waited expectantly.

“I’ve never seen dogs so well trained,” Dory exclaimed.

“Most people don’t want to be jumped on,” Cadell replied. “They will if you want them to, but I don’t recommend it. Hold out your hand palm up. Once they’ve sniffed it, you should be able to pet them.”

* * *

DORY LOVED THE look of both dogs. Something about their eyes, at once alert and...empathetic? Did dogs feel empathy? She had no idea, but she was drawn to squat down so they were at eye level. Both dogs met her gaze steadily, which surprised her. She held out both hands, one to each dog, and as promised got nosed. Only then did she reach out to bury her fingers in their thick coats.

She’d never had a pet, she knew next to nothing about what she was getting into, but she knew in that instant that she very much wanted one of these dogs. She had the worst urge to wrap her arms around both their necks and hug them.

Amazed by her own response, one she almost never felt with people, she sat back on her heels and tried to regain her composure. “They’re both beautiful. I have to decide right now?”

“Of course not,” Cadell answered. “But it might help if we went out in the paddock and played a bit with them. They have different personalities, just like people do. One of them will catch your eye more than the other.”

So, for a little while, Dory forgot everything else as they played fetch with tennis balls and tug with a twisted rope. In the end she settled on the Malinois. Yeah, she could see the mischief in him, but she loved his coloration, a dark muzzle and legs that looked like they were cased in dark socks. There was something else, too, something that happened when their eyes met. It was almost as if the dog were saying, “I’m yours.”

Crazy, she thought, but she announced her decision. A Malinois it would be. As she turned toward Cadell to tell him, a smile on her lips, she saw the heat in his gaze. Quickly shuttered, but not so quickly she didn’t feel a responsive heat in herself.

She swiftly looked to the dog that had stapled itself to the side of her leg. Cadell Marcus was a very attractive man. Well built, a strong face and a great smile. He stood there in his sweatshirt, hands on narrow jean-clad hips, waiting, and she didn’t dare look at him again.