Page 21 of The Breakdown

“Vaughn, I really don’t want you to do things that make you uncomfortable. And lying…I understand why you don’t want to. I hate lies. Allen…he lied to me about nearly everything. I—” She shook her head. “I understand.” She dropped her hand.

“Just forget about it,” Vaughn said. “It’s over. Over and done with. He shouldn’t have a need to come back.”

“Yes, but he’s going to know it was my car, if he doesn’t already. There’s the license plate and the VIN number. I’m doomed.”

“He didn’t mention your name,” Vaughn said. “Or even suggest that you were here.”

“Still, Allen could find out that my car was found. He has ways. Private detectives and shady friends who do things for him. I don’t know what I was thinking believing I could hide from him.”

“Hey,” Vaughn said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Try not to worry about it, okay? Should he come here, we’ll deal with it. And I’ve been thinking…” She looked back toward the driveway. “I’m going to put up some no trespassing signs and lock the gate. Maybe put a little camera up so we know when someone is approaching. I’ve been meaning to do it, to prevent theft and such. We’ve had some trouble in the past. And with those ranch hands still out there doing God knows what…it’s best if I do something to deter them from coming back. They aren’t welcome here anymore.”

Natalie seemed grateful. Her eyes softened and sparkled in the sunlight. “I’ll stay as long as you’re okay with it. But the second you aren’t, I want you to tell me and I’ll go. I’ll be gone so fast you won’t even know I was here. Deal?”

She extended her hand. Vaughn eyed it for a second and then took it in her own. It was smooth and warm. Not at all like her own or anyone else’s she knew.

“Great,” Natalie said. “Thanks.”

She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to go get back to it. You good?”

Vaughn adjusted her hat, trying to ignore the emptiness she felt in releasing her soft hand. “Yep, I’m good.”

“I’ll see you at lunch?” She started walking back toward the guesthouse.

“You will.”

She smiled and turned to continue on her way.

Vaughn watched her go, amused at her liveliness and good spirits. For a woman who was dealing with so much trauma and trouble, she sure seemed to be handling things well.

As she started her own walk back to the horses, she thought about Natalie and her future. If only things could work out for her so she could truly be happy and not have to worry so much.

If only.

Chapter Eight

“I don’t care if she said no!” Allen Beaufort screamed into the phone line. “Just get her to refinance with that higher rate, otherwise you not only lose this client, but you lose your job as well.” He slammed down the receiver and ran his hand through his hair as he leaned back in his reclining office chair.

“Idiots,” he seethed, looking out the window of his sixth-floor office. How could everybody be such idiots? Granted, this new one was just starting out, but my God, when he first started he had no problem talking clients into anything. High interest rates? No problem. Hidden fees? No big deal. Balloon payments? Piece of cake. All this new girl had to do was promise to fix a problem if the client refinanced with a higher rate. Jesus, it should be a cake walk. It would be for him. Maybe he should just do it himself.

No. The girl had to learn, and he couldn’t run a profitable lending business if he had to run around wiping everyone’s noses. Lately however, that seemed to be all he was doing. Especially when it came to his female employees. They seemed to have the most trouble in getting things done. They often complained of feeling dishonest or doing things that went against their morals. Jesus. Most of the time he fired those people. He really wished he could hire all men, because the women were too weak. Wasn’t that the case when it came down to anything though?

Christ on a cracker.

But he had to keep employing women. It made him look good and the clients, especially the ones who were more hesitant, seemed to respond better to them.

His phone beeped and his secretary came on over the speaker. Speaking of women, boy was he glad he’d hired her. She was as sexy as she was efficient. “Mr. Beaufort, Tom is here to see you.”

“Tom?”

He heard her muffle the phone as she spoke to the visitor. “He said he has the information you’ve been waiting for.”

Right. Tom.

“Send him in.”

A few seconds lapsed before the dark oak door to his office opened and the young kid with the long blond hair walked in. Allen wanted to yank him by that hair and force him into a barber’s chair for a good haircut, but he’d been assured by his contact, Nico Fritz, that this was the go-to guy for surveillance so he left it alone.

“Sit,” Allen barked as he leaned forward in his chair. He rested his elbows on the desk and waited. The kid didn’t look good, wouldn’t meet his eyes. So he knew the news was bad. “Spill it,” he said.

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