Page 227 of Ride a Cowboy

“Get your clothes. We’re getting out of here.”

“What happened?” she asked. “Did you find something in Ellen’s house? Did you get caught?”

Rodney looked around the kitchen to make sure they were alone. Her heart began to race. She’d seen him go into warrior-mode only twice before, both times when the hit man took his shots at her.

“I didn’t find anything in the house, but we’re going to have to give up on that, Bridget. He’s here.”

Her stomach twisted into knots. “He?”

Rodney tilted his head, didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. “I searched the house last night. Didn’t find a fucking thing. That Ellen woman didn’t even own a computer. Went back to the B&B and started looking at the message again. I’ll be damned if I can figure out the fucking code, so I tried your suggestion. The next sentence has the word key in it. Decided maybe I was looking for the wrong damn thing.”

“You think he gave Ellen a key?”

“Well, he sure as hell didn’t give her a flash drive. I turned that place upside down looking. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d take another swipe at the house. Look for a key.”

“Did you find one?” she asked.

“Never made it back to the house. I was on the outskirts of town when I saw him walking out of one of the hotels. God knows how long he’s been here. I’m trying to figure out how the hell he found us.”

“I don’t know. He must have tracked us from Oklahoma somehow.”

Rodney nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. Bridget, we gotta move. Now.”

“Where?”

“I have no fucking idea. But it’s not safe here anymore. Not for you, not for our friends.”

Bridget’s blood ran cold at the thought of the danger she’d put the James brothers, Todd, and Steven in. Reaching down, she picked up her shoes. Fortunately, she’d pulled them off while making dinner. She lived in bare feet in her apartment. Matt and Mark had teased her about her habit of taking her shoes off the second she walked in a house. “Let’s go.”

“What about your clothes?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to risk waking up the guys.”

“Here.” Rodney took off his coat and helped her put it on. Even with the extra layer, she was going to freeze her ass off on the way back to the inn. Literally. The boxers weren’t much protection. “You sure about this? You don’t want to leave a note or something?”

“No. They won’t let me leave easily. It’s better this way.”

Better, she thought, as she hastily followed Rodney along the secluded trail, her heart breaking more with every step she took.

Better, but not easier.

Chapter 8

Bridget threw the rest of her clothing in a bag and glanced around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Rodney had packed up his own things, then insisted she remain in the room while he tried to sort out their next hideout. He insisted it would be a big mistake for them to run off without any direction. It was better for her to stay out of sight. He’d borrowed Steven’s truck and taken off over an hour ago. She was starting to worry Thompson’s henchman had caught up with him. He’d been gone too long.

She glanced down at the floor, mildly surprised to find she hadn’t paced a hole in the carpeting. She was a nervous wreck. With each moment that passed, her anxiety grew. She’d hoped to be gone well before Matt and Mark discovered her absence from their bed. What would they think when they woke and couldn’t find her? Would they think she’d freaked out and run? Changed her mind?

A light knock at the door sent her jumping nearly two feet in the air. Rodney wouldn’t have knocked. She froze, uncertain what to do. What if it was the hit man?

“Open the door, Bridget. We know you’re in there.”

Mark’s voice drifted through the wall. She’d run out of time. Now she would be forced to lie again. But lie she would if it meant protecting the men she cared about from harm.

She opened the door. On the other side, she was greeted by two thoroughly annoyed lovers. They weren’t happy about her disappearing act.

“Hey,” she said, realizing it was an inane greeting.

“Hey yourself.” Matt walked into the room and handed her a large bouquet of flowers. Her heart skipped a beat at the romantic gesture. As quickly as her joy came, it fled, an ache blooming in her chest instead. Leaving them would be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

---