Page 4 of Silos and Sabotage

Ella didn’t see anyone on that side of the room.

Oh, wait.There he was. A lanky cowboy swaggered out of the men’s room. There was something about his size and the way he moved that made her shiver as he took a seat against the wall, facing her. She wasn’t sure when or where, but she’d seen him before. He was half hidden in the shadows since the curtain was pulled closed over the window behind him.

“I’ll take two eggs, scrambled,” she murmured, averting her face from the man. “Hash browns and bacon. Turkey bacon if you have it.”

“We do.” Casey gave a trill of laughter and turned away to fill Ella’s order. “I’ll be right back with that water,” she assured merrily.

Ella winced at the volume of her voice. She had zero interest in attracting attention to herself. She watched from beneath her lashes as the man on the far side of the room glanced their way. His gaze flickered over Casey and landed on Ella. He grew still, and his nostrils flared.

He’d recognized her. The moment he shot to his feet, she wished she had the energy to do the same. And take off running.

“There you are!” His voice was that of the man she’d hidden from on the side of the road earlier.

Her stomach pitched sickeningly as he strode her way. She wished she knew why he looked so familiar. Had they met before?

More memories resurfaced, spun, and flashed through her head — a dim room, a hospital mattress beneath her, her father sitting in the chair beside her, a shadowy figure without a face rising behind the chair with something sharp in his hands, a woman screaming…

“Ella, Ella, Ella,” the cowboy drawled in a low voice. Without waiting for her permission, he slid onto the bench beside her. And kept sliding her way until their knees touched. Like Jim, he smelled like grain and dirt. He also smelled like stale smoke and something sickly sweet. One rope-like arm snaked around the seat back behind her, and his fingers bit into her upper arm.

He bent his head closer to hers to speak directly in her ear. “You sure are hard to track down.”

“What do you want?” She wiggled beneath his arm, trying to loosen his grasp.

“To talk.” He hitched her closer, making her want to gag at his stench.

Talk about what?Up close, he was older than she’d originally estimated,in his early to mid-fifties. His nose was red, his teeth were rotten, and he bore an inexplicable resemblance to her father, of all people. Did it mean they were related? Surely not! The thought made her cringe. She didn’t want to be related to such a creepy person.

Casey reappeared and delivered Ella’s glass of water to the table. She plopped a small white bowl of lemon wedges beside it. “You two know each other, huh?” She sounded disappointed.

“I…” The fingers digging into Ella’s arm made her draw in a sharp breath.

Casey walked away, shaking her head.

“I don’t want to talk,” Ella hissed, trying again to loosen the man’s grasp.

His arm tightened painfully around her, threatening to crunch her shoulder blades. “Listen,” he rasped in her ear, “I’m not the one who actually wants to talk to you. They make me do this.” His whole body twitched. “For the money.”

They?Who did he mean bythey?She momentarily closed her eyes, tasting panic. Then her better judgment kicked in. They were seated in a public place. He couldn’t hurt her here, could he?

He must have taken her silence for agreement, because his grip on her relaxed a few degrees. “I’ll take you to them.”

You most certainly will not!There was no way she was going anywhere with him. She dug deep inside herself and managed to resurrect a normal tone of voice. “Please leave me alone.” Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she found herself staring into the vacant, red-rimmed eyes of a junkie. They were blue, but not the fountain of crystal blue kindness like her father’s. This man was only the shell of what he’d once been. Sandy hair stubbled his jaw line, and there was an impatient curl to his upper lip. All he wanted was money for his next fix.

He looked taken aback for a moment. Then he recovered. “That ain’t a very friendly thing to say.”

“Walk away,” another voice interrupted coldly.

Ella’s startled gaze flicked up, up, upward to the indomitable brown gaze of one of the tallest men she’d ever encountered. And the broadest. And the most corded with muscle.

One hand was resting on the butt of the gun holstered against his side. His long fingers were curled around the grip, his trigger finger hovering suggestively in the air.

It took Ella all of a split second to recognize him. “Gage?” she panted out his name, close to hyperventilating with relief. “Is it really you?”

He looked surprised by the question, and there was no answering flash of recognition in him. Even so, there was no mistaking that he was the man she’d been searching for.

His features returned to the same chiseled, immobile lines he’d worn before. She sensed he was a force to be reckoned with.

Apparently, so did the man hounding her. His grip on her eased a little more.

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