He sighed. “Take it easy, okay? You scared the piss out of me. Put the gun down. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“I asked you a question. Why are you following me?”
“Christ, you’re gonna get me fired.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Name’s Frank Marino. Ross Townsend hired me and a couple of other guys to provide ’round-the-clock protection, follow you, and make sure you stay safe.”
Anger rolled through her as the pieces all clicked into place. “And Townsend works for Cain.” She put the Glock back in her purse, hauled out her cell phone, and punched in Cain’s number. It only rang one time.
“This is Cain.”
“Are you crazy? You could have gotten someone killed!”
“Calm down, Carly. What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the guy named Frank you hired to follow me. A few minutes ago, I had my Glock nine mil shoved into his face.”
Cain sighed. “Okay, look, I should have told you, all right? I knew you’d pitch a fit. I was hoping he’d be good enough you wouldn’t see him. Tell him he’s fired, by the way. If you could sneak up on him, so could the bad guys.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic. She turned to the guy in the car,noting his red hair and freckled pale complexion, his slightly crooked nose. “Cain says you’re fired.”
Frank released a long sigh.
“I don’t need someone guarding me,” she said to Cain. “I’ve already applied for my concealed carry permit. I’m taking the class this weekend.”
“Dammit, Carly. Remember what happened at Jubal’s? Those guys weren’t kidding around.”
A shiver crawled over her skin. She remembered the hand repulsively cupping her breast. Since she didn’t want to think about it, she changed the subject.
“You talked to Townsend, right? Did your detective come up with anything?”
“We talked on the phone. He’s working a couple of angles, nothing yet.”
Carly waved good-bye to Frank and started walking back to the pickup, her cell phone against her ear. “I don’t know what else we can do. I’m going home. Good night, Linc.”
“Listen, Carly, let Townsend’s men do their job, at least until we get a little more information. It wouldn’t hurt for one of them to be parked in front of your house. It might discourage someone thinking of giving you trouble.”
“The men said they’d call. I think they will. When they do I’ll let you know. Good night.” Carly clicked off and headed back to her truck. Her life was complicated enough without having human guard dogs to worry about.
Lincoln Cain was a major pain in the ass. Still, it felt kind of good to know he was worried about her. Over the years, very few people besides Joe had cared anything about her.
She was smiling as she drove off toward home. When she spotted the taillights behind her a couple of miles down the road, she just shook her head. Good ol’ Frank wasn’t giving up. What the heck? Let him sit outside the house if that’s what he wanted.
Then the car speeded up, rushing up on her way too fast. Another car roared up beside her, a big black SUV. Fear shot through her. She knew who it was, knew it was the same men who had attacked her at theroadhouse. Her heart was racing, pounding in her ears. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.
She pressed down hard on the accelerator and the pickup shot forward, fishtailed on the slippery pavement, then picked up speed. The car behind stayed right on her bumper and the SUV continued to box her in.
All three of them roared down the road. Her wipers were useless. A pothole at this speed could kill her. There was a curve up ahead. No way to make the turn at ninety miles an hour, especially not in the rain.
She had two choices: careen off the road at breakneck speed and die in a blaze of glory, or slow down and let them force her over to the side of the two-lane highway.
Carly thought of the gun in her purse, slowed, and pulled onto the side of the road.
Chapter Nine
Linc paced the floor of the huge, two-story, wood-paneled, book-lined study in the big stone mansion at the ranch. He was still in Iron Springs. When he’d left Drake Trucking, he’d called his chopper pilot and put the return trip to Dallas off until tomorrow morning. A bad feeling had been nagging him all day. Over the years, he’d learned to listen to his instincts.
Instead of leaving, he’d gone back to the ranch and called his assistant, had Millie reschedule his late-afternoon meetings. He’d have to go back tomorrow; there were things he absolutely had to do. But once he was finished, he was clearing his calendar for the rest of the week, working from the ranch instead of the office.
Townsend hadn’t been at the house when he’d arrived. They had talked briefly on the phone but Ross hadn’t shown up until a few minutes ago. The housekeeper had settled the detective in a suite upstairs, then shown him down to the study.
