His disappointment hit her like a wet hay bale. So Raider had done a good job with his cover. “He’s a good man, Daddy.” That was the truth, but at the moment, she kind of wanted to punch Raider in the balls. This was a disaster.
“No, he’s not. He’s looking to break the law, and even though I think he does care for you, he’ll end up in prison.” Her dad shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze barely meeting hers. “I’m afraid you’ll end up there, too. You have to stop using your skills for the wrong man.”
She’d give anything to toss the camera necklace out of the window and tell her dad the truth. She’d take it off to sleep and then forget it in the morning. He’d be out early with the cattle, so she could catch him then. For the night, the stupid HDD agents could believe what they wanted. Nothing was worth making her dad think she was still a moron. She couldn’t take that look on his stubborn face any longer. “Dad, I don’t want to fight.”
“Me either.” He sighed, and the lines in his face seemed to deepen. “We can talk more tomorrow. Raider ain’t sleeping in here.”
Warmth flooded cheeks. “I know.” She couldn’t even imagine sleeping with a man under her father’s roof. The guy was so old-fashioned. “He’s a good man, Daddy. I hope you gave him a chance.” Except Raider wasn’t acting like a good man.
“It might not be an issue,” her dad muttered. “Guys like that don’t seem to stick around for long.” He looked around the room and then backed out. “’Night.”
“’Night,” she repeated as he shut the door. The second she was alone, she dropped her head into her hands. “You guys are dicks,” she whispered toward the necklace. Before undressing for bed, she removed the heavy silver and placed it in the wooden jewelry box her dad had made her years ago. No way was Rutherford getting a show. Settling into bed felt like coming home, especially with the rain pattering against the window.
Her mind spun through the last day or so. She enjoyed working for the government. Enjoyed being one of the good guys putting away bad guys.
Until now.
She drifted off to sleep in worn flannel sheets that smelled faintly of fresh air and sunshine. Did her dad have her sheets changed regularly in case she came home? He could be so sweet when he wasn’t in the room. The idea made her snuggle deeper into the sense of home and family. Her sleep was calm and her dreams languid.
A sound jerked her straight up in bed before dawn.
Her heartbeat sped and she looked around, trying to get her bearings. Had she been dreaming? Rain still fell outside, and she took several deep breaths.
The boom of a shotgun firing had her jumping out of bed and running for the door. “Dad?” she yelled, running through the hallway and down the stairs. Her dad wouldn’t shoot Raider, would he? An explosion bellowed through the early morning, and she rushed for the front door, bursting onto the porch.
Fire billowed from the closest barn. Slats of burning wood rained down from the demolished structure along with heavy tools. Another explosion rocked the buildings, and she ducked her head as fire heated the rainy air around her. “Dad?” she called.
Her father came around the side of the house, firing toward the barn. “Get off my property, you sons of bitches,” he bellowed, dressed only in a pair of old jeans and boots.
Oh, God. She started down the steps in her bare feet, which instantly chilled from the hard wood. “What is going on? Raider?” She looked frantically around as the fire crackled. Where was he?
“Get back inside,” her dad yelled, rain matting his gray hair to his head as he advanced toward the fire.
Her vision blurred, and her body shook. Then she caught sight of a black SUV on the other side of the burning barn. She squinted to see better, and just then a man from the other side of the vehicle fired toward her father. Letting out a yelp, she ducked and hit the wet grass, rolling toward the side of the house for cover. She was a sitting duck on the porch. Where the heck was Raider?
Then a bullet hit her dad, and he went down. Two men with guns rushed her way. She screamed.
* * *
Rain splattered against the side of Raider’s face, and he groaned, spitting out grass. Or was that hay? Pain pounded in his face, and he gingerly rolled over, letting the water cool what felt like fire. He blinked and opened his eyes. More pain, agony really, slashed into his skull. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, forcing himself to sit.
The alfalfa stalks swayed around him from wind and rain. Even with the rain, the moon was strong enough to barely lighten the clouds above him, enough that he could see a bit, but it wasn’t dawn yet. Not even close.
He rubbed his burning temple and jaw, feeling for a fracture. Dizziness swamped him, followed by surprise. The old farmer had dropped him with one punch. He smiled and then winced at the instant agony. Okay. If he didn’t want to puke so badly, he’d be impressed. Nobody got the drop on him, and he’d learned to take a hit years ago. In fact, he hadn’t lost a fight in a decade.
Until now.
He pushed himself off the wet ground and tried to get his bearings. He stood off to the side of a barely there dirt road. Stalks and more stalks of alfalfa surrounded him. The old bastard had knocked him out and then driven him to the middle of nowhere. Raider snorted a laugh. The unit would be in hysterics right now. Apparently, Sean Banaghan didn’t want Raider dating his daughter.
It’d be funny if his face wasn’t broken. Raider ducked his head against the rain and studied the road. It narrowed farther to the left, so he should probably go right. It was as good a plan as any. He reached for his phone in his back pocket. Nope. Gone. Also his wallet with his fake identification.
Good thing he’d left his authentic license and badge beneath the seat in the rental vehicle. What he wouldn’t give for a cell phone right now.
The wind picked up, slamming against him as if it was on the farmer’s side. The smell of wet hay filled his nose as he began walking down the muddy road. What was the difference between hay and alfalfa, anyway? Just the color? It all smelled the same.
Was he concussed? A hit to the temple would do that to a guy.
He put one foot in front of the other as his mind finally started to clear. The chilly wind and unrelenting rain actually helped. What was he going to tell Brigid? More importantly, how was he going to handle Sean? This was obviously a warning—and not a subtle one. The ex-enforcer would probably go with a bullet next.
