Bonnie Vanak - Navy Seal Protector

Take-charge Nick. Maybe he could save the ranch. She pushed a hand through her unruly hair.

“Sabotage. I have no idea who is doing it, or how they gained access to the ranch, but it has to be someone very familiar with the workings. The security system...” he suggested.

She sighed. “It’s fake. Silas had me stop paying the monthly fee over a year ago to save money. It’s pretty bad, Nick.”

A low curse tore from his throat. “Tell me everything.”

“Beaufort isn’t the first developer to make Silas an offer. There have been others. He’s offering the least money, though. Silas refused. He said the ranch has been in the family for generations, and it would remain that way.”

“Stubborn,” he muttered.

She gave him a calm look. “Like someone else I know.”

Shelby fetched two cups, adding cream and sugar to hers, and added a sprinkle of cinnamon to Nick’s cup from the container on her spice rack.

“You remembered.”

He offered a smile that erased the hardness in his eyes, and made her lady parts ache with yearning. Same killer smile that could coax women into his bed, same charm that tamed the wildest horse.

Stay immune to that charm, Shelby. He’s dynamite.

She sat at the table, turning the cup around in her hands, the familiar tightness squeezing her stomach. This time, it was as much Nick’s nearness as her anxiety over the ranch’s failing business.

“Tell me exactly what your role is at Belle Creek,” he ordered Shelby.

“I handle the accounting, deposits, invoices and data entry for the farm. And payroll. Everything but the family’s personal finances.” Shelby sighed. “And the mortgage. I had no idea Silas had the ranch that much in debt.”

“How much did Silas pay you for that?”

Shelby shook her head. “Nothing, as of the last year. I stopped taking a salary and living off my waitressing job when I saw the income was dropping. I wanted to help save money.”

Nick stared at her. “Are you a saint?”

Anger surfaced, but she struggled with her temper. “No, I’m pragmatic. Silas gave me a place to live, rent-free. It was my way of paying him back.”

“I have a new offer to make.”

She listened intently. Maybe she wouldn’t get tossed out after all. Nick offered her a real salary, with a ten percent increase once the ranch operated in the black, and a five percent share in the profits. If he sold, he’d give her a flat cash fee of fifteen thousand dollars after all debts were settled. He intended to draft the agreement to have them work together to make the ranch solvent.

Jake would get the same offer.

“Jake might not like it. He’s family, and he’s the one who runs the stables and handles the horses. I’m only the bookkeeper.”

Nick gave her a wry smile. “I doubt it. I suspect you run this ranch more behind the scenes than Dan or Jake.”

Warming to his praise, she hid a smile. Very perceptive of him.

“When did the losses start?” he asked.

“We started losing boarders about eight months ago, right after three Realtors first approached Silas about selling some of the land to him for development. This section of Tennessee, with its main artery only forty-five minutes to Nashville, is prime real estate for those wishing to commute to the city.”

“The ranch has a solid rep. What happened to Jack?”

At the mention of the ranch’s top-notch trainer, she shook her head. “He moved back to Kentucky. Someone made him a lucrative offer at a very big stable. And then the social-media posts began.”

She fetched her laptop from the bedroom and opened it on the kitchen table, then navigated to the ranch’s business page on social media.

Nick narrowed his eyes as he scanned the posts. She winced as he came across the most recent, virulent posting.

Don’t board yer horses here. They kill them for dog food.

“I don’t need to see more.”

She shut the lid, glad to switch off the ugliness of the words. That posting had been mild compared to others that accused them of stealing money.

“The posters create anonymous social-media accounts and then shut them down by the time we notify Facebook. No one seems to be able to track them down.”

“I can.”

Hardness filled his gaze, making her shiver. She’d never seen this side of Nick before, dangerous and purposeful. Small wonder he’d been a SEAL. Pity the enemy who ran into him.

Maybe Nick was exactly what the Belle Creek needed to pull through this mess.

“Someone hacked into our social-media sites and said that Belle Creek was letting its horses starve. There were horrible photos of starving horses, probably photos stolen from animal-rescue sites. Rumors spread, and soon no one wanted to board their horses here. The reviews on travel sites have been much, much worse. Anonymous posters saying that we deliberately beat the horses and never muck out the stalls. Business was starting to taper off before, and now it’s positively at a standstill. The only two boarders we have left are Chuck Beaufort’s daughter Natalie’s mare, Fancy, and my friend Ann’s horse.

He studied the liquid in his cup, the dusting of spice floating on the top. “Someone was trying to make Silas sell. Small wonder the old man didn’t capitulate.”

Loyalty to his father surfaced. “It would take more than vulgarities on social media and a few threats to bring him down when he was alive.”

“No, it took his own damn stubbornness. Why the hell didn’t he see a doctor when he was that sick?” A pulse ticked at the side of his neck.

Fresh tears threatened. She sipped her coffee, ducking her head to hide them. “Doctors are expensive and he said home remedies worked fine for him. He said that up until the EMS came to take him to the hospital.”

He slid his hand across the table as if to comfort her, but she drew back. The less skin contact they shared, the better. Nick gave a rough nod.

“I’ll stay, for now. If you agree to work with me on finding out who the hell is doing all this.”

His voice lowered. “It means working close with me, Shel. Can you manage?”

At her little nod, the tension left his broad shoulders.

“I’ll find whoever is doing this. And they’ll pay.” He lifted his mug in a salute. “To you, Silas. Wherever the hell you are, I hope you know you roped me into this place good.”

Tipping back his mug, he took a large swig of coffee.

And coughed violently. Liquid sloshed over the cup’s side as he slammed it down.

“Sweet Jesus,” he gasped, still choking.

Nick raced to the sink, twisted the tap and grabbed a glass from the dish drainer. He chugged the water and then set down the glass.

“It’s cinnamon, just as you used to like in your coffee.” Bewildered, she stared at him.

“That’s not cinnamon,” he muttered. Nick strode straight to the small spice rack on the counter and began pawing through the bottles. He found the cinnamon, uncapped it and sniffed.

“Someone isn’t just messing around with Dan and his wife, Shel.” He held out the bottle.

Her eyes watered and her throat closed up as she inhaled a whiff. Shelby coughed violently. Nick fetched her a glass of water.

“Drink,” he ordered.

She did, and the tightness eased in her throat a little. “What is that?”

“Cayenne pepper.” He studied the little glass container clearly labeled Cinnamon. Shelby’s heart dropped to her stomach, and her pulse raced.

Whoever was threatening her at the restaurant had followed her here as well.

The implications slowly dawned on her. “I don’t have cayenne pepper in the house. I threw out that bottle that came with the spice rack. I was going to make Timmy a cake for his birthday. With cinnamon frosting.”