Читать книгу: «To Protect His Own»

“Maybe you ought to go over there and ask her if she’s Caitlin Kramer.”

But Alex knew it wasn’t a good idea. The woman in the wheelchair at the other table seemed uncomfortable in her surroundings…any fool could see that.

“Nah.” Hallie kept her full attention to her meal, munching fries, wolfing down her huge cheeseburger.

Where did she put it all?

“You want to hit a movie after this?”

The girl shook her head.

Alex hated that his little girl’s innocence had been tainted by a senseless act of violence.

“Gotta pee.” Hallie jumped up and headed for the bathroom.

Inside, she closed herself into one of the two stalls. She waited impatiently for the woman in the next one to hurry up. A few moments later she heard water running as the lady washed her hands for what seemed an eternity.

Come on, come on! Hallie stood quietly, listening for the sound of the door. At last the dryer shut off, the door snicked open, then shut with a soft click.

Hallie closed her eyes and focused. She could do this. It was easy, once you learned how. She raised her fingers to her mouth and felt her stomach begin to heave in a familiar wave of motion. Then she leaned over the toilet, purging herself of everything she’d just eaten.

But not just the food.

Of everything bad that lay like a thick, black poison inside her.

Dear Reader,

Do you ever stop and think about how the course of our lives can change in an instant? I often think about that and wonder “What if?” What if a person made a different choice at one single moment along his or her life’s journey? It fascinates me that one small action can drastically alter everything.

But sometimes the path we take is not by choice. Sometimes it’s by accident, or a seemingly cruel twist of fate. Yet I’ve found that good can come from the proverbial dark cloud. When Caitlin Kramer suffers a severe accident, she’s forced to take a long, hard look at her goals and dreams. At exactly what sort of person she is.

Alex Hunter has traveled a similar path. His main concern is protecting his daughter, and he’ll go to any length to do it, including moving to the small Colorado mountain town of Deer Creek. Little does he know that fate has plans for him. And for Caitlin.

I hope you’ll enjoy the twists and turns of Alex and Caitlin’s journey to true love. Don’t you just love a happy ending?

I enjoy hearing from my readers. You can e-mail me at BrendaMott@hotmail.com (please reference the book title on the subject line). Or stop by my author’s page at the Smoky Mountain Romance Writers Web site at smrw.org or SuperAuthors.com. Happy reading!

Brenda Mott

To Protect His Own
Brenda Mott

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to the wonderful women

who made my lifelong dream come true:

my editors, past and present—Paula Eykelhof,

Beverley Sotolov, Kathleen Scheibling, Victoria Curran,

Laura Shin—and my agent, Michelle Grajkowski

of Three Seas Literary Agency.

My thanks go deeper than words can say.

CONTENTS

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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

“BE CAREFUL DRIVING HOME, Caitlin. It’s starting to snow.” Shauna pulled her head back inside, then partially closed the front door behind the other woman.

“I will. Don’t forget—the indoor arena, six sharp.” Caitlin pointed an accusing finger at her longtime friend. “No hitting the snooze button. We need to get in one last practice session before I head back to school.”

“I’ll be there,” Shauna promised with a laugh.

Caitlin waved and hurried toward her Pacific-blue Jaguar, parked near the barn a short distance from Shauna Meyers’s front yard. As she headed down the dirt-and-gravel road, she flipped the heater on full blast. February in Colorado could be brutal, and it looked like tonight would be no exception. She regretted that she hadn’t worn a coat this afternoon when she’d left for Shauna’s house. She should’ve known the fickle mountain sunshine and mid-fifties temperature made no promises. But it didn’t matter. The Jaguar X had heated seats, and her long-sleeved sweater was warm enough.

She slid a CD into the stereo, then turned her wipers on as the overture to the Marriage of Figaro filled the car. The snowflakes were getting bolder, bigger, and she flicked her headlights to low beam. By the time she reached the two-lane highway, the snow was coming down in earnest. She’d hoped to get home before the roads got bad, but the ranch was a good seven miles from the Meyers’s place, and the snow was starting to stick to the pavement. Suddenly her car shimmied. She looked in her mirrors but couldn’t see anything. Yet the car handled in a way that told her something was wrong, so Caitlin pulled over to the shoulder.

Nuts! A flat tire. Left rear side. If only she’d taken Dillon up on his offer to teach her basic vehicle maintenance, including how to change a tire. At the time, his big-brother concerns seemed unnecessary. After all, she had her auto club membership. But as she stood in the falling snow, the thought of waiting for the auto club to send someone from town didn’t seem like such a good idea after all. At the pace people moved in Deer Creek, it might take a while, and she didn’t relish the thought of sitting in her car at the side of the dark mountain highway.

Besides, she realized with a groan, she’d left her cell phone at home. Again. Should she walk back to town and find a pay phone, or stay here in the hope a Good Samaritan came along? The thought was no sooner in her head when a Chevy Blazer eased around a bend in the road from the same way she’d come, and slowed to a crawl. Relieved, Caitlin waved frantically at the driver to stop. But as the Blazer pulled in behind her, the vulnerability of her situation made Caitlin suddenly wary. She relaxed, though, when she saw the lone occupant was a woman who looked not much older than her own twenty-three years.

Before she could make a move toward the vehicle, another SUV rounded the curve in the Blazer’s wake, swerving wildly. It crossed over the highway’s dotted yellow line, then veered back toward the shoulder of the road. Toward the Chevy Blazer.

Caitlin froze in the headlights.

The SUV struck the Chevy with such force, a deafening screech rent the air, and Caitlin tried to scramble out of the way. Tried to flee from the on-coming vehicles. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the Blazer skidded sideways and plunged into the ravine below. The dark-colored SUV fish-tailed as the driver attempted to correct his mistake in judgment, and struck Caitlin’s car.

Her sluggish mind reasoned that even diving into the ravine would be better than being run down. But the Jag clipped her before she could reach safety, flinging her not into the ravine, but in the opposite direction. Onto the highway. She heard squealing brakes and felt intense pain that seemed to wrack her entire body.

Then nothing.

CHAPTER ONE

CAITLIN KRAMER found it ironic that her dreams would be shattered on her birthday. She faced her physical therapist, finally realizing what she hadn’t wanted to admit in the six months since the accident. That she would be lucky to even ride a pleasure horse again. She could definitely kiss the Olympics goodbye.

It wasn’t fair to take her frustration out on Terri, but Caitlin couldn’t hide her bitterness. “Why aren’t I getting better? At this rate, I’ll never have the balance to ride a show jumper, will I?” She’d hoped the doctors were wrong, and she would be the exception to the rule and heal quickly and completely, returning to her normal self. But the regimen of physical therapy she’d undergone today proved she was the one who’d been wrong.

Caitlin tried to swallow the hot, burning sensation at the back of her throat. Nine days in a coma had left her as helpless as a newborn kitten. She’d spent the first couple of months after the wreck relearning everything. How to walk, sit and eat. How to dress herself. And now this. The painful therapy, which had begun to pay off as she forced her useless muscles to work the way they once had, only seemed to take her so far. But she’d cried enough. She was sick of it. Anger felt like a much better tool.

“You are getting better,” Terri said. “I told you this isn’t going to happen overnight.” The therapist rested one hand on the vestibulator—a piece of equipment that reminded Caitlin of an adult-size baby swing. “Do you want me to stop?”

The vestibulator was used to test balance and reflex. A netlike, mesh contraption hung suspended from the top of the metal frame, and Caitlin sat in it, feeling stupid and helpless, like a toddler being pushed by her mother. She couldn’t even balance enough to swing independently.

“No. I’m going to do this or die trying.”

Terri grinned. “That’s the attitude. Perseverance and patience are key to your recovery.” She manipulated the machine. “Maybe when you’re done here, we’ll take you over to my place and you can have a go-round on Jake’s bucking barrel.”

“Ha-ha,” Caitlin said, ashamed of her crabbiness. She seemed to have little or no control over her emotions these days. “Knowing your dear hubby’s psychotic obsession with pain, I’m sure he’d love that.”

Terri’s chuckle was low, amused. “Psychotic obsession, huh?”

“He’s a bull rider, isn’t he? He’s got to be nuts.”

“Says the show jumper who sails over seven-foot walls on a twelve-hundred-pound horse.”

Caitlin gave her a mock scowl. “I get your point.” She held her arms out from her sides. “Let’s try this again.”

An hour later she sank, exhausted, into her wheelchair. Damn, but it would be good to be rid of the thing. She hated that she still had to use the chair part-time. And feared, deep down, she would never walk completely on her own.

“How’d it go?” Her mother’s cheerful voice made Caitlin’s spirits sink lower as she watched her step into the room. To have everyone around her constantly acting upbeat and positive got old, even though she knew they meant well. There were days when she wished they’d let her throw herself on the floor and cry like a baby. Days when she wished they’d cry with her.

She looked up into her mother’s coffee-brown eyes. “Same torture, different day,” she said dryly. “Where’s Gran?”

Evelyn leaned over the chair and kissed Caitlin’s cheek. “Waiting. She’s taking us out to lunch for your birthday. To Bella Luna.”

“I don’t want to go.” She hated going out in public, putting up with curious glances and rude stares. The whispered comments and speculation ate away at what little self-confidence she had left. “Can’t we eat at home?”

“No.” Evelyn took hold of the wheelchair, and with a goodbye to Terri, began to push Caitlin from the room. “You’ve hibernated enough. It’s time to get out. Get some air.”

“I can get air at the ranch.” Foxwood Farms had become her haven away from people. Once seen as a local celebrity, now she was only someone to be pitied. She didn’t want pity or sympathy. She wanted her life back the way it was before some jerk of a drunk driver had ruined it.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, right. Then the whole town can see how I can barely feed myself, like some helpless infant.” Her fine motor skills had not yet returned to the left side of her body. And she was left-handed.

“So eat finger food,” Gran said, rising from a chair in the waiting room as Evelyn wheeled Caitlin out. “We’ll skip Bella Luna and go to Pearl’s Diner instead.” Proud and regal like her daughter-in-law, Noreen Kramer was also every bit as stubborn. And every bit as beautiful. Her silver hair curled just above the collar of her blouse. Tall and slender, her peacock-blue eyes sparkled above prominent cheekbones, sculpted not by some clever plastic surgeon, but by Mother Nature. At sixty-five, Gran could’ve easily passed for fifty.

None of the Kramer women looked their age, including her. Or at least she hadn’t before the accident. Now when Caitlin looked in the mirror, the face staring back at her seemed older. And she felt about a hundred.

She rolled her eyes at Gran. “I don’t do finger food.”

“Well, you do today. Come on.” Noreen took over, pushing the wheelchair. “Chicken fingers and French fries sound like a winner to me.”

“Ugh.” Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “No way am I putting that junk in my body.”

Noreen smothered a grin, eyes flashing as she looked at Evelyn. “Listen to her. She actually thinks she’s going to win this argument.”

ALEX HUNTER slowed his Ford Ranger as he exited the highway. “Are you hungry, Hallie?”

In the passenger seat, his twelve-year-old daughter slumped against the truck’s window, staring at nothing in particular. Her long, sandy brown hair tumbled down her back in a waist-length ponytail. At least she’d combed it today. Some days she didn’t bother.

Hallie lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”

“Pearl’s Diner okay? I hear they’ve got great burgers.” He spotted the home-style restaurant up ahead.

She nodded, but her expression said she couldn’t care less if they ate hamburgers or rocks.

Alex held back a sigh. Their move from the Denver area a few weeks ago had been tough, but there was no way he was going to stay in the city anymore. Where random violence could change people’s lives in the blink of an eye.

“Well, I’m for a double cheeseburger and a chocolate shake.” He swung into a parking space behind a sleek black Mercedes and let out a low whistle. “Wow, look at that. Guess not everyone in this town drives a pickup, huh?” He gave her a wink, tipping his new black Stetson, hoping to at least coax a smile from his daughter.

But Hallie remained impassive as she opened the door and slid out. Alex placed his hand on her shoulder as they walked toward the diner’s entrance just as two teenage boys came out, laughing and shoving each other. Alex’s heart raced as he took in the boys’ baggy clothes, earrings and tattoos. He readied himself for the slightest sign of a threat.

One of the boys bumped into him and turned to flash, not a gun, but a smile. “Excuse me.” Then they were gone, and Alex let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

Sweat beaded his upper lip and his pulse pounded at his temples. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But they were already here, inside the restaurant. His hand still on Hallie’s shoulder, Alex made his way toward an empty booth. About to sit, he noticed Hallie staring at something. No, not something…someone. He followed her gaze to a corner table where three women sat—one of them in a wheelchair—and his breath hitched as he stared into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes set in a face that could’ve easily graced the cover of any fashion magazine.

Young, probably barely in her twenties, her hair fell, thick and dark, just past her shoulders. He caught her scowling at him and quickly averted his eyes. But not Hallie. She was still flat-out staring at the woman.

Alex started to reprimand her, but then how could he scold his daughter for doing something he’d been equally guilty of? Embarrassed, he leaned to whisper in Hallie’s ear.

“It’s not polite to stare.” He slid into the booth.

She glanced at him, and for a moment he was afraid she’d retreat even deeper into her shell. The one she wore like a wary turtle, protecting itself from danger. “She looks like Caitlin Kramer,” Hallie said, sitting opposite him. “You know…Colorado’s Olympic hopeful.”

Alex stared at his little girl. This was the longest string of words she’d uttered in a long time. Thanking God and the hoards of horse magazines he’d subscribed to for her—even if she hadn’t read them lately—Alex smiled. “Does she?”

Hallie nodded. Then she slumped back against the seat as the waitress came to bring them ice water and menus. But she kept her eyes on the woman in the corner.

Alex stole another glance toward the table. The young dark-haired woman didn’t seem to be hungry, picking at her lunch. The other two looked so much like her, he guessed they must be relatives. Perhaps her older sister and her mother. Or an aunt?

“Hallie, don’t stare,” Alex quietly repeated, as much to reprimand himself as anything else.

“It is Caitlin Kramer. What happened to her?”

Keeping his voice low, Alex pretended grave interest in his water glass. “Let’s don’t speculate,” he said. “It’s rude, and besides, that’s probably not her, honey.” He vaguely remembered Hallie rambling on and on about a grand prix jumping horse and the woman who rode him. But he also recalled she’d been enthralled with the professional barrel racers she read about in her horse magazines, and the high-dollar horses they rode. For months all Hallie had talked about was getting a horse and competing at the Denver National Western Stock Show. Not a practical wish when they lived in the city.

But he planned to give his daughter everything she wanted now that they lived in Deer Creek. If he could have a wish of his own granted, he’d ask for only one thing. To turn the clock back four months and get Hallie out of town before she’d witnessed the drive-by shooting that had taken her cousin Melissa’s young life.

The waitress brought their orders, and Alex poured ketchup onto his plate, then dunked a fry in it. Hallie continued to steal glances at the nearby table.

“Maybe you ought to go over there and ask her if she’s Caitlin Kramer,” Alex said. But even as the suggestion left his lips, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. The woman in the wheelchair seemed uncomfortable in her surroundings…any fool could see that.

“Nah.” Hallie wrinkled her nose and turned her full attention to her meal, munching fries, wolfing down her huge cheeseburger.

Where did she put it all?

“You want to hit a movie after this? I saw a theatre in town.”

She shook her head.

Alex’s meal turned sour in his stomach. Hallie was all he had. His wife had walked out on them for another man when his daughter was only three. He’d been the only constant in her life since Julie left. He hated that his little girl’s innocence had been tainted by a senseless act of violence. Hated even more that he’d once designed video games that portrayed similar acts. Shoot-’em-up blood and gore. Kill more bad guys, make more points. The more realistic the graphics, the more his games were in demand, which allowed him to provide well for Hallie.

But one bullet had changed his outlook on the business.

He finished his lunch and placed his crumpled napkin on his plate. “Ready to go, Hal?”

“Gotta pee.” She headed for the bathroom.

Alex took out his wallet and laid a five-dollar tip near his plate, then tucked a twenty into his hand along with their order ticket. He stood and slipped the wallet back into his jeans, using the opportunity to glance at the corner table. The woman in the wheelchair didn’t look at him, but the other two did.

“Ladies.” He flashed them a smile and tipped his hat, enjoying his new cowboy gear and the Western tradition it stood for. He’d wanted to fit in with the farmers and ranchers of Deer Creek by dressing the way he had when he was a boy growing up in the mountains.

The silver-haired woman gave him a polite nod, and the other dark-haired lady briefly returned his smile. Confound it. He wanted the young woman to look at him again. Wanted to see those gorgeous sapphire-blue eyes up close.

But she only toyed with the straw in her cup, looking down. Ignoring him.

With a sigh, Alex made his way toward the register near the restrooms to pay for lunch and wait for Hallie.

IN THE LADIES’ ROOM, Hallie closed herself into one of two stalls. She waited impatiently for the woman in the next one to hurry up and flush. A few moments later, the sound of water running in the sink reached her ears as the lady washed her hands for what seemed an eternity.

Come on, come on! Hallie stood quietly in the bathroom stall. Listening for the sound of the door. At last the dryer shut off, the door snicked open, then shut with a soft click.

Hallie closed her eyes and focused. She could do this. It was easy, once you learned how. Her friends in Aurora had shown her the way.

She raised her fingers to her mouth and felt her stomach begin to heave in a familiar wave of motion. Then she leaned over the toilet, purging herself of everything she’d just eaten.

But not just the food.

Of everything bad that lay like a thick, black poison inside of her.