Page 68 of Forbidden Obsession

“Mack, you don’t have to stay here and babysit me.”

“Yes, I do. I enjoy sayingalive.I’m not stepping foot outta this house until the boss comes back.”

“Fine,” I huffed, rolling my eyes. “You can help.”

“And I will, just as soon as I get another cup of coffee in my system.” He smirked, filling his mug and jerking a nod toward the table. “Join me?”

“Why not? If your chores can wait, so can mine.”

Doing my best to ignore Grant’s absence, I sipped my brew while Mack and I talked about benign things like the ranch, cows, and weather.

Long minutes later, when our mugs were empty, we tackled the kitchen.

We continued talking about surface stuff while I rinsed the dishes and Mack loaded them into the dishwasher. I appreciated his help, but his unusual presence only amplified the fact Grant was gone. Not out in the field tending to the cows, or inside the barn, but gone-gone.

An icy chill slid down my spine.

Though it wasn’t, the house felt empty. And I suddenly realized; yes, Grant was a big, burly man, but his presence was a thousand times bigger…and filled every room.

“Do you think we’re all worrying about nothing and simply getting carried away with paranoia?”

“If we are, so what?” Mack shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“I know, I just hate the idea of him wasting his money on surveillance equipment because of me.”

Mack scoffed and closed the dishwasher. “Sweetheart, he’d buy the sun, moon, and stars, and part with every penny he owned to keep you safe.”

Because he feels guilty he wasn’t able to save Aubrey.

“I know, but putting so much pressure on himself isn’t healthy,” I said, strolling back to the table.

“Health has nothing to do with it,” Mack said, sliding into the chair across from me. “I’ve known Grant a long time. I know he hasn’t told you. Hell, he probably hasn’t even told himself, but that man is in lo—”

The blare of a loud alarm cut Mack off. Launching out of the chair, he darted across the kitchen and yanked open the pantry door. Silencing the scream with a curse, he raced to the back door and pressed his head against the glass.

“What’s going on? What was that?” I asked as he peered toward the barn.

“Fire alarm. Smokes rolling out of the barn,” he bit out, gripping the doorknob.

Suddenly, he froze and glanced at me over his shoulder.

“What are you waiting for? Go. Try to put it out. I’ll call—”

“It’s a trap…a diversion.”

“You don’t know that. What if it’s not? You’re not going to let the whole barn burn down while you stand here babysitting a grown woman, are you?”

“Damn right, I am,” he said, releasing the knob. “I’m not leaving you in here alone.”

Gaping at him in disbelief, I wanted to scream as he yanked out his cell phone and punched in 9-1-1.

“Call Grant. Tell him we might have a situation,” Mack said, waiting for the operator to answer. “Tell him to get his ass back here, pronto.”

While Mack calmly recited the address of the ranch and requested the fire department, I tugged my phone from my back pocket. Holding the device in a death-grip, I quickly scrolled for Grant’s number.

After ending his call to 9-1-1, Mack breezed past me and disappeared inside the pantry again. I tapped Grant’s number and pressed the phone to my ear. Impatiently waiting for the call to connect, I softly gasped as Mack emerged from the pantry gripping a dull, black handgun.

“Emma?” Grant’s voice was as sharp as a blade.

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