Most Eligible Spy Page 10

  Only one light was on in the house, Molly’s bedroom. A shadow crossed behind the curtains. Stopped. She reached to the top button on her shirt and Mo swallowed hard. Then she stepped out of sight, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  He trained his binoculars elsewhere in case she came back to the window. She had no idea he was in the mesquite grove, in straight line of sight. He didn’t want to invade her privacy.

  He scanned the yard again, the outbuildings. Nothing but the two dogs moved. According to Molly, unless there was lightning and thunder, they preferred to sleep outside.

  She’d kept them inside since Skipper had been poisoned, but he’d asked her to let them out tonight. If someone was sneaking around, they would signal. And this time, he was here to make sure nothing bad would happen to them.

  But the dogs seemed relaxed, Max settling in to sleep, Cocoa patrolling the grounds.

  Mo settled in for a long night, too. Some of his teammates hated surveillance. He didn’t mind it. He liked quiet. He was comfortable being alone with his thoughts.

  Except, this time, his thoughts kept returning to Molly Rogers.

  A little after midnight, the light came on in her window. Maybe she was going to the bathroom. Then the light came on in Logan’s bedroom. And stayed that way.

  Mo glanced at his phone on the passenger seat next to him. If she was in trouble, she would call.

  Unless she couldn’t...

  Someone could have gotten in through the front.

  No. The dogs would signal.

  Except it wasn’t impossible to get by two dogs who were sleeping in the backyard. Cocoa and Max were stretched out next to each other.

  Mo quietly slipped from the pickup, making sure he had his phone and his gun. If someone was out there, he didn’t want to tip the guy off by turning on the motor or the lights. So he ran forward on foot, keeping to what little shadows the landscape provided.

  The dogs woke up as he neared, came to check him out. He pushed them away and stole to the back door. It took less than thirty seconds to pop the old lock with the help of his knife.

  He was just inching through the kitchen when Molly came down the stairs in that lavender silk nightgown that played a starring role in his dreams lately.

  First she screamed, then she threw a heavy water glass at his head. He ducked just in time.

  “It’s me,” he said quickly. “Are you all right?”

  “Mom?” Logan called from upstairs.

  “Spider,” she called to him, then whispered to Mo, “What are you doing in here?”

  “Saw your light come on.” He picked up the glass that had luckily landed on the cushioned window seat. “You got a good arm.”

  “How did you get in?”

  He shrugged. “I know a few useful tricks.” He held out the empty glass. “What happened?”

  “He had a nightmare. He’s settled down now. I just wanted a cold drink.”

  But when she turned, he could see at last that she was more shaken than she’d let on, her eyes filled with worry.

  “A dream about bullies?”

  She shook her head as she walked to the fridge. “He dreamed he was out in the fields, far from the house, lost and alone.” She filled her glass and held out the tea pitcher. “I think it’s because of Dylan’s death.”

  He picked another glass from the dish drainer and held it out for her to fill. “I think you’re right.”

  He’d had those dreams, different variations, when he’d first found out he’d been abandoned by his parents as a baby, and then when his foster mother had died. He kept having dreams that his foster father would somehow disappear, too, and he would be alone in the world. He used to wake up in a dark terror, shaking.

  “Do you see why it’s so important for me to clear Dylan’s name? I want to at least give Logan that.”

  He wished that was possible. But both she and Logan needed to somehow deal with Dylan’s death, and the truth. Because his name wasn’t going to be cleared. He wanted to fix this for her somehow, hated that he couldn’t.

  The shaft of moonlight that fell across her face revealed the desperation in her eyes.

  He was here to protect her, Mo reminded himself. Touching her, in any way, would be plain stupid and completely inappropriate, even if the protection detail wasn’t official. But no matter what he told himself, nothing seemed to work.

  He sat his glass down and pulled her into his arms.

  * * *

  SHE COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time anything felt half as good as it did to be held by Moses Mann.

  He was big and strong and made her feel protected. Nothing was going to get through him to get to her. She felt safe in his arms and comforted.

  And not alone.

  She’d felt so alone since her brother’s death.

  Logan was the light of her life, but Logan was different. She was responsible for Logan. Dylan had been another adult, more of a partner in life’s small troubles. It really was nice to have another adult around again.

  A week ago, she couldn’t wait to see the last of Moses Mann. Now she dreaded the day when he would leave. It seemed impossible that she could come to trust him this fast. And her growing attachment to him, too, was disconcerting. She normally had better self-control than this.

  She looked up and found him looking down at her. Even in the semi-darkness she could see the heat in his eyes. He wasn’t touching her in any sexual way, offered nothing but comfort, but the heat was there between them anyway.

  She didn’t look away.

  And then, in the blink of an eye, somehow everything changed. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to protest, he lowered his lips and brushed them over hers.

  Oh, wow. Was this really happening?

  That Moses Mann would be kissing her seemed surreal on some level. He was so...strong and brave and a millionaire and worldly—everything she wasn’t. She was just a plain country girl.

  They were so completely wrong for each other. Unfortunately, her hormones didn’t give a damn. Need punched into her like never before, something big and scary and overpowering and completely unexpected.

  For a second, she was too startled to do anything.

  Then it was too late to resist, the flood of need washing over her completely. As if a dam had broken, she responded to the kiss with every fiber of her being. A low moan escaped her throat, her hands dug into his arms, her lips parted under his.

  She burrowed against him, needing, wanting.

  He tasted like the sweet tea he’d just drank. Like sunshine and, at the same time, the opposite—something dark and excitingly male. He tasted just right, frankly, after years of sexual repression and frustration.

  So she wasn’t dead below the neck like she’d told herself all these years, she thought, dazed, and as his tongue slow danced with hers, she swam with the pleasure.

  Chapter Seven

  She filled his senses. Her curves pressed to him, woke up his body and then some. The passion that exploded from her damn near took Mo’s breath away. This was it, his instincts said, the real Molly, the one she took great pains to hide.

  The grounded country girl, the good mother, the loyal sister he respected and was attracted to. The passionate woman he couldn’t resist.

  And, with everything he was, he wanted her.

  But she pulled away suddenly, her hands pressed to her cheeks, her eyes round with embarrassment.

  “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. “I don’t know why I did that. I’m really sorry.” Then she turned on her heel and ran up the stairs, leaving him standing and staring in the middle of her kitchen.

  He felt as if a tank had run him over.

  He wanted to go after her, wanted to convince her that they both needed
more of what they’d just shared. But he was pretty sure her speedy retreat upstairs meant no. And his foster father’s many lessons included one on situations like this. When a lady said no, a real man accepted it and walked away. No pushing.

  Even if it killed him. Even if in every other area of his life he’d been trained to push until he achieved his objective.

  He ran his fingers through his crew-cut hair, considering dumping his remaining iced tea over his head. He could have used a little cooling off. But gaining perspective wasn’t an easy thing with just a few steps separating them.

  Steps he shouldn’t take.

  Their situation was pretty tricky. She was in trouble. He’d come to protect her, not to seduce her. Better put a little space between them right now.

  He went outside, locking the doggie door to keep Max and Cocoa inside. They could guard the house while Mo took on the rest of the property.

  He checked the outbuildings again and wouldn’t let himself think about that kiss. No signs of anyone sneaking around while he’d been inside. All the animals were peaceful, all the doors closed and barred as he’d left them.

  He didn’t go back to his truck. He climbed up to the barn’s hayloft. The old boards had enough gaps between them that he could see out in every direction, aided by the moonlight. An easy job, really, lying in the hay. It beat walking the border and having to worry about stepping on rattlers or being ambushed by smugglers.

  Half his team was on patrol duty tonight, the other half on break. Even commando soldiers needed sleep. He was on break. Technically. But he didn’t like leaving Molly alone at night. He wished she’d move into Hullett already.

  He wished they were still in her kitchen, kissing. As much as he didn’t want to think about that, he did, quite a bit, as he waited. Dawn was about ready to break when he heard some noise from down below that didn’t come from the cows.

  He listened more carefully to the slight scratching. A mouse?

  No, something bigger. He eased toward the ladder, taking each step slowly so as not to rustle the hay. The scratching stopped. One of the cows, Nellie, turned to look at him and flicked some flies off her back with her tail.

  He stood still in the shadows and waited. A minute or so later, the scraping sound returned. He could hear it better now, well enough to be able to tell where it was coming from: the small equipment room in the back where Molly kept her barn tools.

  He stayed in the shadows as he moved forward, pulling his gun, ready.

  The door, which had been closed before, now stood open. He eased his way over, saw a man inside with his back to the door, tapping the floorboards.

  Mo stuck his gun behind his back, into his waistband. Better to take the bastard down by hand than shoot him. Dead men didn’t talk, and he needed information. They needed to know who he was, who he worked for and what exactly he was looking for here.

  He vaulted forward and crashed into the guy with his full weight. They slammed against the wall then went down, the both of them groaning.

  Fist to the chin.

  Grab the man’s gun.

  Toss it.

  So far so good.

  The intruder had plenty of muscle and knew how to use it, but Mo had managed to startle him. They grunted in unison as Mo tried to flip the man, get his hands behind his back so he could snap on the plastic cuffs he always carried.

  Damned if the bastard didn’t twist away at the last second. He put up a good fight, cursing alternatively in Spanish and English, both of them breathing hard once they’d rolled around a couple of times, smacking into the wall and various pieces of furniture, rolling over a pitchfork that nearly took out Mo’s eye.

  He had to put all his combat skills into play before he finally got the upper hand. With his knee in the middle of the guy’s back, he used his whole weight to keep the man down while he twisted his arms back and finally snapped on the plastic cuffs. Just as he heard a footstep behind him.

  He twisted, reaching for his gun. Too late.

  The newcomer already had his weapon drawn.

  * * *

  THE DOGS WERE going mad at the back door, waking her from a perfectly good dream, in which she had a perfectly good man in her bedroom. Perfectly naked. Molly couldn’t see his shadowed face, but his wide shoulders and massive build looked suspiciously like Mo’s.

  She opened her eyes and groaned at the ceiling in protest as she came awake. The dogs’ barking grew more frenetic. Then she remembered that Mo was out there tonight.

  Oh, God. Had they really kissed? She’d thrown herself at him like a starving woman. Embarrassment and heat filled her at the memory, in equal measure. Then worry, as the dogs kept barking.

  She reached for her cell phone on the nightstand and dialed his number.

  He didn’t answer. And suddenly all sorts of bad premonitions filled her. She yanked on her bathrobe and ran downstairs. Grabbed her rifle from the gun cabinet. Pushed back the dogs, who were fighting to get out the back door as soon as she opened it.

  “You stay here. Go to Logan,” she told Cocoa as she went outside with Max. She locked the door behind her. Her dogs were sweet, but if anyone went after her or Logan, she was pretty sure they would have something to say about it, would probably give their lives to protect their humans. Max had gone up against an ocelot a couple of years ago to protect her and her horse when she’d been out riding.

  The dog ran straight to the barn, still barking, so she followed, a little more carefully, keeping to cover.

  “Mo?” she called out from the door.

  Max had gone into the back room and stayed in there, quiet.

  “Mo!” She raised her voice, clutching her weapon. She didn’t dare turn on the lights, wasn’t sure who might be in there, waiting for a chance to take a shot at her.

  Then Mo called “In here” from the back.

  She flipped on the lights then, but saw nobody save the cows. She ran to Mo.

  He was sitting in the middle of the floor, rubbing his chest, looking dazed. Max was licking his face, doing the whole “I’ll lick you back to health and happiness” routine dogs did so well.

  Mo’s face was bruised, his clothes scuffed.

  “What happened?”

  “There were two men.” He groaned as he pushed to his feet. Patted Max. “Got me with a Taser.”

  “What?” She swung back toward the open barn, keeping her rifle ready. “When?”

  He rubbed his chest again. “I think I blacked out a little.” He looked at her rifle. Frowned. “You should have stayed inside.”

  She braced a hand on her hip. “Because you’re the big bad man and I’m just a little helpless woman?”

  He glared. “Have you ever shot anything bigger than a rattler?”

  Okay, not really. But she didn’t want to seem totally incompetent. “The bigger they are, the easier to hit, right?”

  “The bigger they are, the worse they fight back.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “I’m going to call in my team to take some fingerprints.”

  She felt terrible that he’d gotten hurt on her property and wanted to help, but she was at a loss as to how to do that. He wasn’t like Logan, who could be set to rights with a hug and a kiss and some ice cream.

  Yet she wanted to go up to him anyway, up real close...

  She backed away. “I need to go back inside. Logan’s in there alone.”

  “I’m coming with you.” He followed her as he talked to someone on the other end, reporting in.

  He went inside the house first, looked around while she made sure Max came back with them. He checked every door and window, every room upstairs, while she looked in on Logan, then plodded back down the stairs.

  “Doesn’t look like anyone tried to get in here,” he told her.

  “Logan
is sleeping.” She sank into one of the kitchen chairs. “Why do they keep coming?”

  He thought for a long second. “They think you have something they want.”

  “I don’t have anything.”

  “Maybe you don’t know you have something.”

  Her jaw muscles tightened. “We’ve been over this with Kenny. Dylan wasn’t hiding any contraband. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t into smuggling. And even if he was, he would never bring anything here and put Logan and me in danger.”

  “Wish I knew what it was,” he said. “Searching for it would go easier if we knew we’re looking for a truckload of weapons or a suitcase full of money.”

  She shook her head. None of this made any sense. Dylan didn’t have a suitcase full of money. If he had, he wouldn’t have mortgaged the ranch.

  Mo rubbed his thumb over his damaged eyebrow, looking deep in thought, then he raised his head and considered her for a few seconds before he spoke. “I don’t want you to stay here. For the time being. Especially at night. I can’t be here every night, and you shouldn’t be alone out in the middle of nowhere with Logan.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said on reflex, even if she knew he was right.

  “How about we consider this for a minute?” he said patiently.

  “Fine.” She glared at him. “Be completely reasonable in an emotional moment. Just like a man.”

  The corner of his mouth tilted up.

  She so didn’t want to leave. She loved the ranch. It was the only thing she knew. But as much as she hated the idea of moving, for her son’s safety she would. She would do anything for Logan.

  She nodded with reluctance. “I’ll be getting Dylan’s apartment the day after tomorrow. Kenny talked to Shane about it. He’s going to get me the keys.”

  He seemed to weigh her words. Then he said, “I’ve seen the apartment. Not exactly high security.”

  “I can’t afford Secret Service detail.” She couldn’t afford to rent the apartment, either, and Dylan only had the rent paid until the end of the month. “You could stay at my place,” Mo said carefully. “You can still come back here during the day to take care of the animals. I can make sure someone from the team is here when you come.”