Home For a Cowboy Christmas(2)

“Dwight’s place is the safest location for you. He’s ex-FBI and Homeland Security. He’ll know exactly how to keep you safe while I plug the leak.”

Emmy hoped so. But if he didn’t, then she had a plan of her own that included the weapons and one of the burner phones Dalton had given her so they could contact each other in case of emergency. She wouldn’t be at anyone’s mercy ever again. If she had to run and hide, then she would do it. Not only because she wanted to testify against her old client but also because she didn’t ever want to feel as helpless and frightened as she had when death had come calling.

The SUV slowed, pulling Emmy from her thoughts. Dalton turned off the paved road. A fence ran for miles on either side of the drive, extending in all directions. The pastures were empty as the land undulated gently, adding to the already striking scenery.

“Riverlands is an eleven-thousand-acre ranch,” Dalton explained. “Dwight has cattle, horses, and even alpacas. Portions of the land are farmed for hay.”

She licked her lips. “Sounds nice.”

“It’s been in his family for four generations.”

Emmy grunted, no longer able to find words. She was so tired. Now she wished she had slept during the drive, but she’d wanted to be alert to aid Dalton during their escape.

When the two-story log cabin came into view, Emmy’s heart started beating wildly. The closer they got to the house, the more she began to doubt Dalton’s plan. The ranch was remote, but that wouldn’t stop those coming for her. It would only put everyone at the ranch in harm’s way.

Before she knew it, Dalton had put the SUV into park, but he didn’t shut off the engine. He looked at her and covered her hands in her lap with one of his. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

“I trust Dwight.”

God, how she hated this. Emmy swallowed, though it was difficult. She was about to reply when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She slid her gaze slightly to find a tall man walking out onto the porch to lean against one of the log columns. He wore a thick jacket and a black Stetson and held a steaming mug in his hand.

Dalton followed her gaze and nodded. “That’s Dwight.”

She couldn’t see Dwight’s face clearly, but she saw the clean-shaven lower half of it. If things were different, she would’ve been keenly interested to see the rest of him. Dwight lifted the mug to his lips and drank as if he had all the time in the world.

“I’ll give you a few moments while I go speak with him,” Dalton told her.

She quickly grabbed Dalton’s arm before he could leave. “I do trust you. You saved my life, but…”

“I know,” he said softly, understanding in his brown eyes. “I’ve handled a lot of people in the witness protection program, but this is the first time anything like this has happened. My job is to ensure that you stay alive to testify, and I plan on being right beside you when we walk into that courtroom.”

Emmy released him and sank back against the seat. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Dalton exited the vehicle. A gust of cool air hit her as he closed the door behind him. She turned to look out her window and spotted a barn and a nearby pasture where a mare and her foal grazed. Emmy took in the valley and the mountains in the distance. She could just make out a waterfall. The tranquil beauty of it all brought a smile to her face.

Sooner or later, she would have to meet Dwight. This was where she would be for the foreseeable future. There was nowhere else. Dalton had asked for her trust, and she would give it to him.

Finally, after a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped onto gravel. She could sense the gazes of both men as they grew quiet. Her knees knocked a bit, but the feel of the knife and cell phone gave her courage. She lifted her chin and walked around the front of the vehicle to the porch steps.

Before she could greet her new host, a dog trotted toward her. She eagerly paused and bent over on the steps to pet the Australian Cattle Dog, noticing that his collar said: Sam. The instant her fingers slid into his mottled fur, a mixture of blue, black, and tan, she felt some of her stress dissipate. She liked his big, pointed ears and the solid black patch over his right eye, giving him a roguish look. The dog gazed at her with the most soulful dark eyes she had ever seen.

Until she looked up and found herself drowning in blue eyes that belonged to none other than Dwight Reynolds.

She forgot to breathe as she stared at him, taken aback by not only the color of his eyes but also the intensity in them. Handsome didn’t come close to describing the man before her. He had a rugged appeal, the kind that made people fall for cowboys, time and again. He was tall, and while his jacket hid his body, it couldn’t hide his broad shoulders. She spotted dark brown hair between his hat and the collar of his jacket. She ran her gaze over his strong jawline and chin, his razor-sharp cheekbones, and a firm mouth that curved slightly at the corners.

“Ma’am,” he said and tipped his hat to her.

This man wasn’t playing cowboy. He was authentic, down to his drawl. Something about him made her want to hand him her troubles. Was it his deep voice? The drawl? It could be his gorgeous face or those penetrating eyes. Or maybe it was the ranch. She couldn’t explain why—or when—her apprehension about Dalton’s plan began to dissipate, but it did.

She forgot about the dog as she straightened and glanced at Dwight. “Hi.”