Bonnie Vanak - Shielded By The Cowboy Seal

Cooper would give her a place to stay with Sophie as long as she needed. She’d be safe. Coop, as he was called, was great with dogs.

Meg hated relying on strangers. But she needed a hiding place until she could obtain the proof that Prescott knew the body gear was defective.

If Prescott didn’t find and kill her, the New England storm surely would.

Now, they were parked alongside a dark road, no one in sight. She glanced down at her fashionable clothing. Perfect for leaving Palm Beach and avoiding suspicion from any of her neighbors.

Not so perfect for braving the chilly temperatures of the north. She tried turning the ignition again. Nothing.

After putting Sophie on the backseat, Meg climbed over the console and joined her. She reached for her grandmother’s antique quilt, her most precious possession, and wrapped it around them both. Sophie wagged her tail and licked Meg’s face, as if to offer reassurance.

Shivering, she curled up next to Sophie, the cold spiking her body like steel nails, and said a little prayer for some kind stranger to find them.

And not her soon-to-be ex-husband.

* * *

Cooper “Coop” Johnson rubbed the shoulders of the quivering mare. “Easy, girl,” he murmured.

Betsy was going on thirty, and had a mild case of colic. Colic had already killed one horse on the Sunnyside Farm, and he wasn’t about to see his baby sister’s favorite mare succumb to it. He walked her around the barn, mindful of her arthritis, rubbing her down, hoping the heavy blanket would help.

Jarrett, his former squad leader from the teams, had asked him to give refuge to a woman in trouble. Coop agreed because he would do anything for his ex-boss, but family came first these days. He’d taken leave from the Navy to help his mom run the bed and breakfast while her sister’s family visited relatives in Oregon. Mid-November was the slow time, so his aunt, uncle and their three sons decided to combine a family wedding with a much-needed vacation while Coop helped out with the farm and inn.

They’d closed the inn after his oldest sister, Brie, had died. Fiona, his mother, had reopened it two months ago, but with the approaching winter, only a few guests had registered. Keeping horses was expensive. Summer boarders helped pay for food and overhead. Those boarders had packed away their mounts into shiny trailers and headed south.

Probably to Florida, where it was warm.

Or Palm Beach, where it was warm and wealthy, where his assignment was supposedly traveling from.

Meg. He didn’t know anything about her, other than the photo Jarrett sent and the fact that she lived in wealthy Palm Beach and she needed a place to stay while her divorce was being finalized.

No one would take her in because her dog was vicious and bit people.

Jarrett said Meg’s money was all tied up until the divorce and she couldn’t afford a pet-friendly hotel. Coop doubted she was in trouble. The photo Jarrett sent showed a brunette woman who looked like a beauty queen dripping in diamonds. But it wasn’t his place to judge, just give her shelter.

All Jarrett had told him was that Meg had a dog that Coop needed to train. He refused to share anything else out of respect for Meg, who was supposed to arrive six hours ago.

Maybe she had to stop somewhere to buy the dog a prime rib dinner.

Coop stopped walking Betsy and placed her in the stall. “Good girl,” he crooned.

His sister had had a way with animals, and could always make Betsy better.

Betsy nosed around, looking for the carrot Brie had always placed there as a treat. Coop’s throat tightened. He stroked her withers.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You can’t eat yet, not until you get over this colic.”

Betsy whinnied.

“I know,” he whispered, laying his head against the horse. “I miss her, too. But I promise, I’m going to do everything she would have to get you well again.”

Giving her a final pat, he headed outside, pulling up the collar of his faded sheepskin jacket. Dark storm clouds had blotted out the moon, and the night had turned wicked cold.

Inside the house, he went into the private family living room and found his mom sitting by the fireplace in the rocker Brie had always liked to use when she was home. Fiona glanced up, lines furrowing her brow.

“How’s Betsy?” she asked.

“Better.” Not exactly a lie, but he wasn’t going to worry his mom any more than necessary. “Horses are all fed, bedded down. They’ll be fine. And the guests?”

“They left a while ago. They wanted to get a head start away from the storm. I refunded the rest of their stay.”

Cooper wanted to protest, but his mother’s warning look stayed him. “Why?” he asked.

“Return business is important, Cooper. I didn’t want them to think we put our guests’ safety last and money first.”

It sounded like a wonderful principle, but it wouldn’t pay the bills. They were okay for now, but the first payment on the refinance of the farm was due soon.

Not to mention the costs of burying Brie...

He rubbed at the tightness in his chest. Sabrina was only twenty-six when a stray bullet pierced her body armor. She’d been responding to a routine domestic disturbance call with her partner. The husband shot them both, but Brie’s partner wore the standard departmental body armor.

He lived.

Brie died.

Cooper had purchased the armor especially for his baby sis when she started working as a beat cop in dangerous areas of the city. He didn’t want her having the standard body armor the department issued. He wanted the best.

Now Brie lay six feet under, and Combat Gear Inc., the company that produced the defective gear, kept rolling in profits. He would hire a lawyer to sue, but the company’s owner, M. E. Franklin, probably had enough money to purchase a cruise ship filled with attorneys. Coop had googled his name, but found nothing. He seemed a total mystery.

All he’d found so far was that the bulletproof vests were invented by Randall Jacobs, vice president of Combat Gear Inc. Coop had done a little more checking and found out the man owned a posh summer home on a lake near here. Once he got over some of his grief, maybe he’d pay the man a visit.

He studied his mother, worried about the purple shadows beneath her eyes. Today had been a tough day. Federal authorities had opened an investigation at last into Brie’s death after someone tipped them off about the faulty bulletproof vests. He’d sent the family lawyer to give a statement to the Feds and the media.

Dredging up Brie’s death had opened old wounds. For all of them.

Fiona’s warm brown gaze sharpened as she looked up at the antique clock on the fireplace mantel. “Isn’t your guest overdue? I made up the cottage with fresh linens and blankets, and stacked firewood.”

Coop stiffened. “I thought she could stay at the inn.”

“She has a vicious dog. Better if she stays in the cottage.” His mother gave him a knowing look. “With you.”

Uh-oh. He recognized that spark in her eye. “No. Maybe for the night, but, ah, no. I can find a place for the dog.” He flexed his hands in their worn leather gloves. The cottage behind the barn, with a fabulous view of the White Mountains, had been Brie’s retreat.

“Brie would approve of a woman in trouble staying there,” Fiona said in her gentle way. “You can’t keep that house as a memorial to your sister, Cooper. You have to let go sometime.”

“It hasn’t even been six months.” He went to the fireplace to warm his chilled body. “And I’m not sure how much trouble this Meg is in. She lives in Palm Beach and she’s rich. She looks like a spoiled beauty queen.”

“Don’t judge. Your friend Jarrett vouched for her. Isn’t that enough?”