Virna DePaul - Texas Stakeout

And no way in hell would she help the U.S. Marshals trap her brother.

A whinny came from the barn—a subtle reminder it was well past time to feed the livestock yet one strong enough to act as a lifeline. She grabbed on to it for all she was worth.

Trying to convince Dylan of her brother’s innocence was a waste of time. She knew her brother; he didn’t. She turned, strode outside once more, then headed down the patio steps and toward the barn.

Once again, she heard Dylan following her. Heard him say, “Damn it, Rachel, stop.”

When she didn’t obey him, he gently took hold of her arm, halting her progress and turning her toward him.

With a vicious tug, she ripped her arm away. “Don’t touch me,” she shrilled.

He immediately put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Rachel, you have to listen to me—”

“No! I don’t. Because you refuse to listen to me. No way is Jax a killer. And no way will I help you trap him. Please leave. I have animals to feed. After that, if he hasn’t come back on his own already, I’ll go looking for Peter.”

He put his hands on his hips, his expression radiating impatience. “Have you considered that maybe if you help me, I can help you?”

“I don’t want your help!”

“You sure about that? Because the U.S. Marshals have resources, Rachel. One call and I can get a chopper in the sky, looking for your son.”

An incredulous bitter laugh tore out of her. “You’re telling me you have the resources to find a kid, lost and alone somewhere out in the wilderness of Texas, and you’re refusing to put those resources to use unless I help trap my brother? Isn’t that called blackmail?” When the man refused to answer, she showed him her back and continued marching down the trail to the barn, aware of Dylan on her tail.

“That’s not what I meant. Look—I was going to get the chopper in the sky whether you agreed to help us trap your brother or not. I’d already asked my team administrator to look into it before I got here, just in case Peter hadn’t returned. She’s likely got a pilot at the ready.”

“Ready to move if I do what you want,” she said with a sneer.

“No,” he snapped. “I won’t put your kid’s life in jeopardy by playing games. I’m just pointing out that our relationship doesn’t have to be contentious. You don’t have to fight me because you think I want to hurt your brother. I don’t. I just want him safely returned to custody.”

She stopped and whirled, facing him with arms crossed over her chest. “So you...what? Think we can be friends and do each other some favors? You’ll help me find Peter and you expect me to believe you won’t expect something in return? Something like me handing over my brother?”

He stood only a few feet in front of her so that she could almost feel the fire burning in his eyes. She forced herself not to retreat.

“I know you’ll never hand over your brother,” he said. “All I want is your cooperation, Rachel. No, strike that. That’s all I can ask for. Because anything else I want from you has nothing to do with your brother.”

She sucked in a breath. Looked away. Refused to acknowledge the heat in his eyes that seemed to flare a thousand times brighter as he’d finished speaking. He wasn’t admitting he was attracted to her. And even if he was, so what? Sexual attraction meant nothing; family did. “How, exactly, do you want me to cooperate?”

“Don’t treat me like the enemy. Don’t do anything to warn Jax away. Let me help. Him and you.”

“By putting him back in prison for a crime he didn’t commit!”

“He’s going back to prison,” he said quietly. “He was convicted for transporting drugs. The evidence suggests he shot those marshals, but he hasn’t been convicted of those crimes yet. He still has a chance to tell his side of things. You want to help him? Do it the way you have been doing. By working inside the law. Anything else is going to end badly and you know it.”

She did know it. Jax would never be safe, not labeled an escaped convict.

“You think he murdered Josiah.”

“I can’t ignore that as a possibility, but it’s a slim one in my mind. And I do give great weight to the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty.’”

She stared at Dylan. Took several deep breaths. Took a couple of steps back to put some distance between them physically even if she couldn’t run and hide from what he was saying.

“So don’t warn him away. That’s all you want from me?”

“Not quite. Let me stay here, on the ranch. Pretending to be a ranch hand. That way if Jackson—Jax—shows up, he won’t be suspicious. He’ll think I’m hired help. We can take him in easily—no ugliness.”

A ranch hand. Dylan was proposing to pretend to be her ranch hand. Right. As if a city slicker like him—a man who didn’t even know how to ride Western, for God’s sake, could be an actual ranch hand. She snorted.

She didn’t need his help. Peter was fine. He’d be home soon and then she’d lock them both inside the house. Away from this man and his ugly accusations. First, however, she needed to get her chores done.

“My answer is no.”

Using all her strength, she strode to the barn and raised the iron bar that held the doors open. When sunlight streamed into the darkened barn, the livestock grew agitated. Usually Josiah had fed, watered and turned them out by now.

“Hungry babies,” she murmured, then grabbed a pitchfork. First went oat hay to the quarter horses, Anchor and Row. Next she distributed pellets down the alpacas’ trough, taking time to ruffle soft necks or murmur to the babies—the crias. All the while she was aware of Dylan following her.

“How much longer will you be?” he finally asked.

She refused to turn around. “I work until sundown. And now that I’m missing two helpers, I’ll be working even longer.”

Behind her, she heard rummaging and the clanging of metal against metal. She craned her neck to look around a stack of hay bales to see Dylan, feed bucket in each hand.

“Tell me what to do.”

“I told you. I’m not betraying my brother by letting you stay here.”

“I heard you. I want to help, anyway, okay?”

She stared at him suspiciously. “Sure you do. Do you think Jax is hiding underneath some hay?”

“I think you need to get that I’m just doing my job, Rachel. If you don’t willingly allow me to stay here, I’ll go right back to sitting on the ridge on Ginger, binoculars trained on every move you make, my teammates at the ready to take your brother down by force if he shows up. Before I do that, why not let me help?”

Help. Hanging around ready to nab Jax wasn’t exactly what she’d consider help. But if she didn’t agree, Dylan and his team would still spy on her. How much of her privacy could she afford to give up? She’d need to call Julia—find out what her legal rights were. Julia’s specialty was appellate law, but she’d probably be able to advise Rachel on the legalities of the U.S. Marshals spying on her property. On her every move. Every move her son made.

Peter.

“Weren’t you going to call a chopper?” she asked. “I mean, I know Peter’s fine. But the sooner he’s back, the better I’ll feel.”

Dylan set the buckets down, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phone. Swiftly, he arranged for a chopper to sweep the immediate area around Rachel’s ranch.

When he disconnected the call, he stood silent. Waiting.

Rachel cleared her throat. Forced out, “Thank you. I appreciate you doing that.”

“I want your son found, too, Rachel. I’m not here to harm either of you. I wish you’d believe me.”

But he is here to harm me. How could he think otherwise given what he was accusing Jax of? Her head suddenly started pounding and all she wanted in the world was to lie down, cover her head with something until the world dimmed to nothing and sleep.