Elle James - Hot Target

“They will be busy processing a crime scene.”

“Then, I can take care of myself,” Grace said. “I’ve been going out in these mountains alone for nearly a decade. I don’t need a man to follow me, or protect me.”

The sheriff laid a hand on her arm. “Grace, he’s right. We’ll be busy processing a crime scene. Once you get us there, we won’t have time to keep an eye on you.”

“I can keep an eye on myself,” she said. “I’m the one person most interested in my own well-being.”

Caveman pressed a finger to her lips. “You’re an independent woman. I get that. But before now, you probably have never had someone shooting at you. I have.” He took her hand. “Even in the worst battlefield scenarios, I rely on my battle buddies to have my back. Let me get your back.”

For a moment, she stared at his hand holding hers. Then she glanced up into his gaze. “Fine. But if you can’t keep up, I’ll leave you behind.”

He nodded. “Deal.”

* * *

SHE GAVE THE truck and trailer’s location to the sheriff and the deputy. Because she didn’t want to slow them down from getting out to the site, she was forced to accept a ride from the man who’d picked her up off the ground and carried her around like she was little more than a child.

A shiver slipped through her at the thought of Caveman touching her body in places that hadn’t been touched by a man in too long. And he’d found her unconscious. Had she been in the city, anything could have happened to her. In the mountains, with a shooter after her, she hated to think what would have happened had Caveman not come along when he had.

If the killer hadn’t finished her off, the wolves, a bear, a mountain lion could have done it for him. Much as she hated to admit it, she was glad the stranger had come along and tucked her into the backseat of his truck.

“We’ll meet you in fifteen minutes,” Grace said to the sheriff.

He tipped his cowboy hat. “Roger.” Then he was all business back on the telephone before Grace made it to the door.

Once outside, Grace strode toward Caveman’s truck, now fully in control of the muscles in her legs. She didn’t need to lean on anyone. Nor did she need help getting up into the truck.

Caveman beat her to the truck and opened the passenger door.

She frowned at the gesture, seeing it as a challenge to her ability to take care of herself.

“Just so you don’t think I’m being chauvinistic, I always open doors for women. My mother drilled that into my head at a very young age. It’s a hard habit to break, and I have no intention of doing that now. It’s just being polite.”

Grace slid into the seat and gave a low-key grunt. “You don’t have to make a big deal out of it,” she said through clenched teeth.

Caveman rounded the front of the truck, his broad shoulders and trim waist evidence of a man who took pride in fitness. She’d bet there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, yet he didn’t strut to show off his physique. The man had purpose in his stride, and it wasn’t the purpose of looking good, though he’d accomplished that in spades. And he was polite, which made Grace feel churlish and unappreciative of all he’d done for her.

When he slid into the driver’s seat beside her, she stared straight ahead, her lips twisting into a wry smile. “Thank you for helping me when I was unconscious. And thank you for giving me a ride to my house.” She glanced across at him. “And thank you for opening my door for me. It’s nice to know chivalry isn’t dead.”

His lips twitched. “You’re welcome.” Twisting the key in the ignition, he shot a glance toward her. “Where to?”

She gave him the directions to her little cottage sitting on an acre of land on the edge of town. She hoped Bear had found his way home after his earlier scare. The town of Grizzly Pass was situated in a valley between hills that led up into the mountains. Grace had ridden out that morning from the little barn behind her house.

As she neared the white clapboard cottage with the wide front porch and antique blue shutters, she leaned forward, trying to see around the house to the barn. Was that a tail swishing near the back gate?

Caveman pulled into the driveway.

Before he could shift into Park, she was out of the truck and hurrying around to the back of the house.

Her protector switched off the engine and hurried after her. “Hey, wait up,” he called out.

Grace ignored him, bent and slipped through the fence rails and ran toward the back gate next to the barn, her heart soaring.

Bear stood at the gate, tossing his head and dancing back on his hooves.

She opened the gate and held it wide.

Bear slipped through and turned to nuzzle her hand.

Grace reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the piece of carrot she’d planned on giving Bear as a treat at the end of the day. She held it out in the palm of her hand.

Bear’s big, velvety lips took the carrot and he crunched it between his teeth, nodding his head in approval.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Grace hugged the horse, relieved he wasn’t hurt by the bullet or by wandering around the countryside and crossing highways. “Hey, big boy. Glad you made it home without me.” She held on to his bridle and leaned her forehead against his. “I bet you’re hungry and thirsty.”

Bear tossed his head and whinnied.

With a laugh, Grace straightened and walked toward the barn. Bear followed.

Inside, she opened the stall door. Bear trotted in.

She removed Bear’s bridle and was surprised to find Caveman beside her loosening the leather strap holding the girth around the horse’s middle. “I can take care of that,” she assured him.

“I know my way around horses,” he said, and pulled the saddle from Bear’s back. “Tack room?”

“At the back of the barn. I can handle the rest. I just want to get him situated before we leave.”

“No problem.” He took the saddle and carried it to the tack room. Caveman reappeared outside the stall. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m leaving as soon as I’m done here.”

“Understood.” He took off at a jog out of the barn.

With her self-appointed protector gone, Grace suddenly had a feeling of being exposed. Shrugging off the insecurity, she went to work, giving the horse food and water, and then closed the stall.

From another stall, she rolled her four-wheeler out into the open. She hadn’t ridden it in a month and the last time she had, it had been slow to start. She’d had to charge the battery and probably needed to buy a new one, but she didn’t have time now. She’d promised to meet the sheriff in fifteen minutes. Already five had passed.

The next five minutes, she did everything she knew to start the vehicle and it refused.

Just when she was about to give up and call the sheriff, a small engine’s roar sounded outside the barn.

She walked out and shook her head.

Caveman sat on a newer-model ATV. “Ready?”

“Where did you get that?”

“My boss dropped it off.” He checked the instruments, revved the throttle and looked up. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I can’t get mine to start, and we’re supposed to be there in five minutes.”

“Let me take a look.” He killed the engine and entered the barn.

Okay, so she wasn’t that knowledgeable about mechanics. She knew Wally, who had a small-engine repair shop in his barn. He fixed anything she had issues with. That didn’t mean she couldn’t take care of herself.

“Your battery is dead.” Caveman glanced around. “You got another handy?”

She shook her head. “No. Fresh out.”

“Got a helmet?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I won’t need it if I can’t get my ATV started.”