Kerry Connor - Her Cowboy Defender

The black cloud rising from the hood made her car pretty hard to ignore, but she still stepped out into the road, waving her arms above her head to grab the driver’s attention. She couldn’t risk that the driver was the kind of person to ignore someone in trouble. A breath of relief worked its way from her lungs when the truck began to slow long before it reached her, easing onto the shoulder behind the rental car.

Now she just had to figure out what to do.

Thinking quickly, she watched as the driver’s door slowly opened. Moments later, two boots hit the dirt beneath the bottom edge of the door, one after the other. Then a hat appeared as the driver ducked his head out of the truck. It was a Stetson, the shape unmistakable and instantly recognizable.

It was a cowboy. A genuine cowboy. A near-hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. She didn’t exactly come across too many of them back in Boston, though they were probably fairly common around these parts. And here he was, coming to her rescue like something out of the Old West, except that instead of on horseback, he was arriving in a truck.

A truck.

Her eyes slid past him, narrowing on his vehicle, the burst of humor instantly forgotten.

Cold, hard resolve settled over her, and she slowly lowered her hand into her bag, closing her fingers around the object there.

And suddenly she knew exactly what she had to do.

CADE MCCLAIN SWALLOWED AN impatient sigh as he climbed out of the cab of the truck. He really didn’t have time for this. The trip to Albuquerque had taken longer than he’d expected, and he’d wanted to get back to the ranch as early as possible. There was too much he had to do. There always was.

But as soon as he’d spotted the smoke on the road up ahead and seen the car, he’d known he would have to pull over. Even if the woman hadn’t flagged him down, he couldn’t have simply driven past a smoking car without stopping. Not only would it have been a lousy thing to do, but there was no telling when someone else might have come along to help. This desert road didn’t see much traffic. He wondered how long she’d been here, or what she was even doing here for that matter.

She’d moved out of the road to stand behind her car. He gave her a quick once-over. She was a slim woman with black hair that brushed her shoulders, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. She carried a bag of some kind, the strap slung crosswise over her body from one shoulder to the opposite hip so the bag itself was almost entirely out of view. She didn’t look familiar. Probably just a lost tourist who’d made a wrong turn somewhere and ended up far down a road she had no business being on.

He did his best to keep his annoyance from showing. It wasn’t her fault she was having car trouble. It had to be a lot tougher on her than it was on him.

“You okay?” he called, stepping around the door without closing it.

After a moment, she gave her head a shaky nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t know what happened. The engine started making this noise, and then all this smoke started coming out of it....”

Her voice quivered, almost like she was about to start crying or something, and he nearly groaned.

Oh, God. Please don’t let her burst into tears. The car he might be able to handle, but the last thing he knew how to deal with was a crying female.

He took a deep breath, hoping if he remained calm his coolness would have an effect on her. “Do you have a phone? Did you call anybody?”

“N-no,” she said slowly, taking a step toward him. “My battery’s dead.” She chuckled, the sound ringing false. “Just my luck.”

“Well, you can borrow mine. Let me get it out of the cab.” He turned away to do just that.

“I have a better idea.”

Her tone immediately put him on edge, the hardness in her voice completely different from how she’d sounded just moments before. He froze, knowing before he looked at her that something was wrong.

He slowly turned back to face her.

She was standing in exactly the same place.

Except now she held a pistol in her hands.

Aimed square at his chest.

Chapter Two

“Throw your keys on the ground in front of my feet,” she ordered. “Don’t try anything tricky.”

Cade did his best to ignore the gun, meeting the eyes behind it. Only now did he recognize the desperation in her voice. Earlier he’d mistaken it for the understandable distress of a woman whose car had caught fire in the middle of nowhere. But this went way beyond that. The woman was seriously on edge.

That still didn’t make her actions any more comprehensible.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Taking your truck.”

“It’s not much. Certainly not worth stealing.”

“It runs, which is more than I can say for that car. That’s all that matters.”

“And you’re just going to leave me out here in the middle of nowhere? No water? No shelter? Nothing to do but hope somebody else comes along?”

“I’m sorry about this. I really am. But I have to be somewhere in less than thirty minutes, and it really is a matter of life and death. I know how clichéd that sounds, but in this case, it couldn’t be more true. Now toss your keys over toward me.”

He didn’t move, the weight of his keys suddenly heavy in his fingers. He quickly considered his few options. Maybe if he pretended to throw them, distracted her long enough to dive back into the truck—

She cocked the weapon, her expression hard as stone.

“I told you, don’t even think of trying anything. If you don’t think it’s worth stealing, then it’s certainly not worth getting shot over.”

“But it is worth shooting somebody for?”

“If I have to.”

He stared at her, gauging her seriousness.

The way she handled the gun, her grip tight and unwavering, told him she knew exactly how to use it.

The way she looked at him, her eyes cold and unflinching, told him she wouldn’t hesitate to.

Damn. It didn’t look like he had a choice.

Biting back a curse, he slowly swung his arm and tossed the keys toward her. He didn’t bother to see where they landed.

She flicked her gaze down for only a second, not nearly long enough for him to make a move if he was crazy enough to try. When her attention was back on his face, she bent slowly at the knees, never losing her aim on him. As soon as she was close enough to the ground, she lowered one hand from the gun just long enough to scoop up the keys which had landed practically at her feet. As soon as she had them, she immediately started to rise again, gesturing toward him with a jerk of her chin. “Step away.”

He did as ordered, slowly moving backward, one frustrating step following another. After his first few steps, she was again on her feet and began to match his motions, stepping forward to the truck. Finally he was standing well behind the tailgate and she came to a stop next to the still-open door.

She glanced inside, then began to climb into the truck. Her movements were awkward, since she was still keeping the gun on him with one hand, but her aim remained true enough. “I really am sorry about this,” she said. “I’ll toss your phone out the window on the other side. You can call someone to come and get you.”

“You aren’t worried we’ll catch up with you?”

“By the time you do, it won’t matter anymore,” she said flatly.

Before he could wonder what she meant by that, she started to straighten in the seat, only to stop. A second later, she glanced back at him. “This is a manual.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I can’t drive a stick shift.”

He snorted. “Well, that’s too bad for you.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at him long and hard. “You’re going to have to drive.”