Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(86)

The death grip Cowboy held on his pistol tightened even more. “I’ve seen dozens of scars on her body that beg to differ.”

Stuart’s face twisted with something strangely resembling pain or possibly agony as his eyes darted to me. “Baby girl, we need to talk about your mother. You need to know I—”

“You’re talking to me now,” Cowboy growled, cutting off Stuart’s words. “Not her. Don’t address her. Don’t even f*cking look at her.” He stood and, taking a few steps forward, fine-tuned his aim directly at my father’s head. “If you have something to say, you say it to me…and only me. Got it?”

The corner of Stuart’s mouth twitched and amusement lit his eyes.

“Keep smiling, you sick sonofabitch. I dare you.”

The overriding fury in Cowboy’s caustic voice frightened me, and a shiver ran the length of my spine. His posture stiffened and his body quivered with undeniable rage. Intense green eyes held Stuart’s as if Cowboy were waiting for the man to give him a reason to shoot him. But would Cowboy actually pull the trigger?

Several vehicles with flashing red and blue lights slowed out on the main road and turned onto the long dark driveway leading to the barn. But their howling sirens had nothing on the warning bells going off in my head.

From what I could tell, Stuart was keeping his distance and no longer posed a threat to anyone, including me. If Cowboy’s wrath unraveled any more, it was possible he would snap and do the unthinkable. Not that Stuart Nelson didn’t deserve it. He did. But I wasn’t about to let Cowboy commit murder for me. Which is exactly what he would be doing if he shot an unarmed man.

“Don’t,” I said, though it came out as barely a whisper. “Please, Cowboy.”

He didn’t even look at me. “Why not? He deserves it after what he put you through. At most, it’s justifiable homicide. He tried to kill you tonight.”

I shook my head and cleared my raw throat. “H-he didn’t. I don’t know why, but…he pulled me away from the fire.”

Cowboy paused. “Even so, if he wouldn’t have started the fire to begin with—”

“I started the fire,” I admitted.

Finally, he glanced over, his gaze meeting mine. “You set the barn on fire?” he asked, confusion slanting his lips.

Still trying to catch my breath, I nodded. “It was an accident.” I coughed so hard, I ended up gasping for my next breath.

Two Liberty County Sheriff cruisers, three fire engines, and an ambulance pulled onto the scene. An older sheriff with a mustache slid out of the car closest to me and pulled out the gun in his hip holster. He kept it lowered, but held it ready in his hand for any sign of trouble. “Cowboy, lower your weapon.”

Slowly, Cowboy brought his arm down to his side, pointing his pistol at the ground, but kept his piercing eyes on Stuart.

“Now, would someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” the sheriff asked, as if he were puzzled as to why we were all standing around watching an old barn burn to the ground.

“This man is Stuart Nelson, a convicted murderer who was recently released from prison. He’s been stalking Anna Weber, the only surviving victim of a fire this man started twenty-two years ago.”

The sheriff’s face hardened and his eyes zeroed in on me. “Is this true?”

Still coughing and feeling short of breath, I answered again with a quick nod.

The sheriff and the two deputies flanking him turned all their attention on my father. “Lie face down and put your hands behind your back.”

“Maybe I can clear up some of the confusion,” Stuart said, addressing the sheriff directly.

“On the ground. Now,” the sheriff ordered, approaching him cautiously.

“Okay, fine,” Stuart responded, dropping to his knees. “But my daughter and her friend are in need of medical attention. They were both locked in the barn when the fire broke out. The old man is still lying in the field on the east side of the barn. I left him there in order to get Anna to safety. I think he has a broken leg.”

Dan? He’s alive? Thank God!

The sheriff motioned for his deputies to check on Dan and then his eyes cut to me and his brows pinched together. “Daughter?” he repeated.

With just that one word, my breath backed up into my chest and my body went numb. I gasped for air, but it was like my lungs didn’t know what to do with it. Now that the perceived danger was gone, emotions overwhelmed me and tears of relief swept over me.

Without a word, Cowboy stalked past me to his truck and shoved his gun under the driver’s seat. Then he returned, lifted me into his strong arms, and carried me toward the ambulance parked nearby.



I opened my eyes, blinking at the bright lights above me, as the oxygen mask made a hissing sound. Inside the ambulance, the paramedic hovered over me, strapping a blood pressure cuff on my right arm.

“Is she going to be okay?” Cowboy asked, his voice thick with fear and strained with worry.

“Let me finish checking her over,” the paramedic replied. “She has some minor cuts and burns, but I think she’ll be all right. The dislocated shoulder probably won’t need surgery since that guy popped it back into place so soon after her fall. She’ll most likely have to wear a sling for a short time, though.”

I tried to speak Cowboy’s name, but my throat was hoarse and too raspy to make out the word. Even though I had an IV hooked into my left arm, the paramedic handed me a bottle of water. “Sip this carefully. Only a little at a time.”