Linda Castillo - Operation - Midnight Cowboy

“You tell me.” Tired of being underestimated, Rachael revved the engine and let off the brake.

Bo stepped back just in time to avoid being run over.

Spewing gravel, the ATV leapt forward like a big mechanical beast. Gripping the seat with her thighs, Rachael swung the vehicle into a 360-degree circle.

Bo stood near the shed, watching her and shaking his head. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been accused of that once or twice.”

“Don’t go too far. And be careful once you get on the trail. A lot of country out there.”

“I think I can handle it.” She patted the purring engine.

“I was talking about the cougars and black bears,” he said deadpan.

The mention of fanged carnivores gave her pause. Rachael might be a whiz at taking down someone twice her size armed with a gun, but the thought of facing down an animal with claws and teeth made her rethink the wisdom of her afternoon jaunt to the trails. “They’ll have to catch me first.”

Without waiting for a reply, she hit the gas and headed toward the ridge on the north side of the ranch.

THE DIRT TRAIL was well-marked and ran north for several miles before curving south and looping back toward the ranch. At the top of the northern-most ridge, the land fell away into a postcard-pretty valley where horses and cattle grazed on golden prairie grass.

Rachael stopped the ATV at a good vantage point and shut down the engine. Removing her helmet, she shook out her hair and just sat there staring at the scene. Around her, a light breeze whispered through the tops of the tall ponderosa pines and low-growing juniper. Birds twittered and swooped in the branches. Somewhere in the distance a cow bawled for her calf.

Pulling the water bottle from her backpack, Rachael drank deeply, savoring every cold swallow. Alone and surrounded by nature, her every sense seemed heightened. She dropped the bottle back into her backpack and was about to start the engine when the snapping of a twig froze her in place.

Bo’s words about cougars and bears flashed through her mind. But what made the hairs at her nape prickle was the ever-present knowledge that Karas wanted her dead. She planned to be ready if he made a move.

Spinning, she jammed her hand into the backpack, grabbed the Beretta and brought it up.

The resonant click of a hammer being pulled back froze her in place. “Hold it right there, Missy.”

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