Page 2 of Ambush

She tried to obey the command, but her legs barely supported her as she went in the same direction. What if a jaguar was out of its enclosure? This time it might rip her arm right off instead of leaving her with weakness and a bad scar. Her mouth bone-dry, she wobbled as she ran after him toward the barn.

A horse trailer was behind a pickup, and an old, swayback horse stood off to one side. Several people circled the elderly animal, and they stared with horrified expressions into the trailer.

Blake approached the group and spoke to a man standing by the back bumper of the truck. “What’s going on?”

The man gestured toward the trailer. “Call the police station, Blake. There’s a body in there.”

What body? Then Paradise spotted a mass of blonde hair. Not a mane, not fur. Hair. A woman’s hair. And she was clearly deceased. “Call the police.”

***

The forensic team swarmed the scene, collecting evidence into bags. Blake luckily stood upwind of the stench of manure in the paddock, but he hadn’t had the good fortune to avoid examining the body. Deputy Greene leaned against the fence with his thumbs hooked in the loops of his belt, and Blake approached the officer. “Got an ID yet? She was on her stomach and I didn’t see her face.”

Greene nodded, and his gaze sharpened on Blake. “I’m not at liberty to say. You touched the body?”

The accusation in Greene’s voice stiffened Blake’s spine. “I was a combat paramedic in the Marines. I checked for a pulse, but she was already dead. Looked like someone used a knife on her.” He’d seen several slashes on her arm.

Greene frowned. “The medical examiner will determine cause of death. Where did the horse come from?”

Creed had moved to town during Blake’s senior year, and he’d been a bully back then too. They’d had a fight in the hall once when Creed slammed a friend’s head into the wall. Becoming a law enforcement officer had only made his power trip worse. And now, apparently, he was also a detective in the sheriff’s department.

Blake wanted to be as uncooperative as the deputy, but he restrained the impulse. “Dillard Ranch.” The ranch abutted the preserve a half mile to the east, and the Dillards had been generous with their dying livestock ever since Mom and Blake’s stepfather bought the wildlife refuge.

He spotted his mother under a towering magnolia tree and headed that way. His steps slowed when he saw Paradise standing with her. Seeing his first love again after fifteen years had been a bolt out of the blue. Why had Mom asked her to come, and even more importantly, why hadn’t anyone told him? He wasn’t sure what kind of pressure Mom had exerted to get Paradise to agree either.

He pasted a neutral expression on his face and joined the women. “Did anyone mention the woman’s identity?” It wasn’t hard to keep his attention on his mother, who stood wringing her hands and biting her lip. The trauma of this situation would leave its mark on his tenderhearted mom.

His mother’s eyes were red, and she nodded. “It was Danielle Mason.”

His eyes widened. “The animal rights activist?”

He should have recognized the frizzy blonde hair. The woman had been a major nuisance for the past two months. It was hard to get past the protesters and into the park on some mornings. When he’d offered to show the Mason woman around and prove how well the animals were doing, she refused. She’d made up her mind with no evidence.

“You realize the police will suspect us,” his mother said. “It’s no secret how the protests have adversely affected the park’s profits.”

His gut twisted. This kind of publicity could only make things worse. “No wonder Creed was so accusatory. He practically blamed me for tampering with evidence.”

In his peripheral vision he caught a movement from Paradise, and he let his full attention swing toward her. Ignoring her wasn’t going to improve anything. The sun touched her curly light brown hair and enhanced its red and gold lights. Standing about five-seven, she was a little taller than she had been at fifteen, but the last fifteen years had only increased her beauty.

Her amber eyes still wore a wary expression though. Maybe any kid who’d been through the foster-care system would wear the same armor. Getting past that steel plate she wore back then had been a rare honor, and he’d blown it.

“You haven’t changed much, Paradise.”

“Neither have you,” she said in a subdued voice.

He wanted to ask her what brought her back, but now wasn’t the time. One thing was certain—it wasn’t a job. Some kind of big enticement had gotten her past her vow never to step foot here again.

Blake tore his gaze away and glanced around for his little brothers. “Where are the boys?” They were five and seven, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they were poking around in the chaos.

“I saw them a minute ago.” His mother turned to peer around.

He spotted the youngest first. Five-year-old Isaac was in the fork of a tree branch, and his brother, Levi, sat under him in the shade with a book. The older boy was an avid reader already. The two looked a lot alike, but Levi had dark brown hair like Mom and Blake while Isaac’s was blond like Hank’s.

“Hey, boys, let’s go get some lunch. You hungry?”

Isaac jumped down from the tree. “I am.” He approached Paradise and stared at her. “Are you a girl lion? Can I touch your hair?”

She darted a glance at Blake, and her lips curved in that enchanting smile he remembered so well. “Did you coach him?”

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