Allison Leigh - A Weaver Wedding

Five years didn’t seem all that temporary to Axel, but he kept the thought to himself. “A few years before Sloan was finally accepted into the gang, another federal agent had gotten in. But his cover was blown. They killed his family before they executed him.” There was nothing he could do to soften the facts. They were what they were.

And they were only part of the reason behind Sloan’s rightful concern, now.

But Axel still felt like a bastard when her face paled all over again. His hands fisted in his pockets. It was either that, or reach for her, and he was pretty certain she’d push him away. Again.

“The Feds couldn’t make a murder case stick at that point,” he continued quietly. “Your brother was the one who finally came up with the glue.” About murder and a host of other felonies. “Now that the trial is finally going forward, it’s likely they want payback more than ever.”

“But Sloan’s identity was supposed to be protected.”

“There’s no guarantee about that,” he said carefully. “Information has a way of getting out. Your brother’s not taking any chances that it might lead to you.”

“I don’t even use my maiden name. I’ve spoken with Sloan once in the past five years! I don’t have a phone number for him or even an address. All I can do is sit around on my thumbs waiting for him to contact me.” She grimaced. “And to blow me off again even after he has. Why… why would anything about my brother lead to me?”

“You’re not some far-flung relation of his. You’re his twin sister.” Sloan’s only living family.

Her lips compressed. “So what am I supposed to do? Give up everything again and go start somewhere new?”

He frowned at the assessment. “Right now, Weaver is still the best place for you.”

“And how long have you known about all of this?”

“You mean about the order on Sloan, or the reason you moved to Weaver?”

She looked ill. “Both.”

He finally pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Since this morning, and since you came to town five years ago.”

“Great.” Her expression grew even more pinched. “So all that talk in Braden about your horse-breeding business was just a story. A line. You’re with the ATF, too.”

They hadn’t just talked about his business. They’d talked about hers. About movies and books and politics and religion. And they’d made love. Again. And again.

“I didn’t lie to you. I am a horse breeder.”

“But that’s not all you are,” she said her voice flat. “Right?”

“No,” he allowed. “But I’m not with the ATF.”

“But you said you were with the agency—”

“The ATF didn’t move you here to Wyoming. An agency called Hollins-Winword did that.”

Her lips parted. “But Sloan told me—”

He lifted his hand. “It doesn’t matter.” In a perfect world, the ATF would have been able to see to the full protection of its own agents. But he’d learned long ago that the world wasn’t perfect. McCray had done what Axel would have done in the same situation. He’d found someone to take care of what his own agency wouldn’t. “Sloan trusted Hollins-Winword to keep you safe before, and Hollins-Winword is going to keep you safe now.”

She closed her eyes for a moment as if she were searching for strength. He started to reach for her no matter the chances of rejection but she planted her slender palms on her knees and pushed abruptly to her feet.

Her brown eyes looked like bruises against her pale face. “Fine. You’ve told me. Now will you go?” She started toward the door. “Your five minutes are long gone.”

He closed his hand around her arm and absorbed the frisson that raced through him at the contact. “It’s more than a matter of just keeping you updated on the situation.”

She’d gone still the moment he touched her. Her gaze seemed focused on his hand on her arm. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning, I’m your new bodyguard.”

Tara wasn’t certain she’d heard right. “Bodyguard.”

But Axel didn’t correct her. He just stood there, watching her with that steady, golden-brown gaze that she couldn’t get out of her mind, while his hand seemed to burn like some branding iron through her long sleeve.

She shook off the ridiculous notion. She wasn’t branded by this man any more than she was going to put up with this bodyguard nonsense.

“No.” Her voice was flat and she headed straight for the door. “No. No. And no.”

“It isn’t your choice.”

She pulled open the door. “It most certainly is. Just like it’s my choice to tell you to leave.” For years, she’d lived a life that she hadn’t chosen for herself, all for the benefit of Sloan’s overprotective streak. She’d gone along with it then because he’d asked her to, and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t have done for him.

He was not just family—her only family—he’d been her best friend. She was his “goober” and he was her “bean.”

Now her brother was more of a stranger who seemed to be glad she was out of his hair.

As for Axel—it was best that he get out of her hair. “I want you to leave. Now.”

He surprised her by actually moving toward the door. But he stopped before passing through, standing so closely that she could feel the warmth of him. His head tilted toward her and it was all she could do to keep from trembling. “One way or another I will be guarding you, Tara. You’ll make it a lot easier if you work with me on it.”

So much for not trembling.

She hoped he’d attribute it to the cold air curling around them and not the effect he had on her. “I don’t feel compelled to make your life easier.” She wanted there to be plenty of distance between them before it became evident to anyone who looked at her that she wasn’t looking quite as thin as she ordinarily did.

Unexpected pregnancies weren’t just the domain of the young and foolish. She was a competent adult, and she’d still gotten “caught.” For now, though, nobody but her obstetrician in Braden knew.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice dropping another notch, “there isn’t anything easy about this,” he assured her and stepped out onto the sidewalk outside her door.

She firmly shut it, staring at him through the mottled stained glass as she deliberately set the locks.

“I’m not going to let this drop,” he warned.

“Then you’ll be wasting a lot of time,” she answered, and hated the tightness in her throat. She made herself turn away from the door. Ignoring all of the items that needed to be returned to the shelves, she headed straight to the rear door, barely stopping long enough to hit the light switches and grab her coat.

She got in her car that was parked out back and, half-afraid she’d see his big truck rolling into view, bolted down the alley with a shameless disregard for caution. Less then ten minutes later, she’d pulled into the garage beside her house.

Axel hadn’t followed her.

She told herself she wasn’t surprised.

His “bodyguard” threat was just that. A threat.

Which didn’t explain at all why, once inside, she kept peering through the plantation shutters at the windows for any sight of his truck.

When she realized the street lights had come on outside, she wanted to tear out her hair. She’d wasted at least an hour padding from window to window. Watching and waiting for Axel to appear. Or worse.

Stomping to her closet, she gave a practiced yank on the enameled doorknob, hard enough to spring the stubborn, warped door open. She snatched out the first decent dress her hand encountered. She tossed it on the bed, then went down the hall to the bathroom.