Page 11 of Wyoming Cowboy Undercover

“It wouldn’t be entirely selfless. I’ve been going through a rough time lately. Caught up with the wrong crowd. People who entice me to revert to unhealthy habits.”

“Do you mean with drugs or alcohol?”

“Your questions are always so direct.”

That was the way her father had raised her. Emotional transparency. Complete honesty. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not an easy thing to talk about. But I need a break without the temptation. You’d be helping me out in a big way by sharing your community with me.”

The principle of giving help when asked for was branded on her soul.

At the compound, the counselors were good at assisting people through rough patches. In their treatment sessions, they would get him to talk about everything. Unburdening was an essential part of the process. “You might find the movement difficult to accept.”

“I want to understand it. Your world. Your way of life on the compound. I want to see why so many choose to stay. Why you stay.” His warm brown gaze fixed on her face. His expression was sympathetic. “Give me time to get to know you better. And you me.” His voice was soft and comforting. “What do you want, Mercy?”

Change.

To have things on her terms for once. To step out of Empyrean’s shadow.

Defiance prickled across her skin. She wanted to keep something for herself that her father held no dominion over. And this man she’d come to know and bonded with would not fall to his knees in blind worship of the Shining Light.

At least, she hoped not. Her father could be mighty persuasive.

But Rocco was tough and would not be easily swayed.

Embracing the rebellious idea, she tilted her head to one side, watching him as he did her, studying his ruggedly beautiful face. He was younger than he appeared. It was the threads of silver in his neatly trimmed goatee and around the edges of his hairline that made him look older than thirty-two. She remembered everything he told her also.

He stared at her with an intensity that left her trembling, but strength seeped through her as determination to take a chance set in.

Although Rocco only offered friendship, which was no small thing, to have a steady shoulder that was all hers to lean on—something she’d never had—she knew exactly what she wanted, even if it was only for a little while because he would never choose the Light.

And she could never truly leave it.

She wanted more moments with him. Private and special and hers alone.

She wanted Rocco.

Chapter Four

In preparation for dinner, Marshall McCoy changed from his white suit and button-down shirt into a simple white tunic with matching linen slacks. As he strode barefoot down the front staircase of Light House, a vehicle he didn’t recognize pulled up the circular drive.

A Ford Bronco.

They didn’t use that make and model at the commune.

Even more surprising, Mercy alighted from the passenger’s side. He continued down the staircase, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows to catch a glimpse of the driver. Wearing a cowboy hat, the man strode around the front of the vehicle into the amber light. Marshall stopped, frozen in curiosity as to who he was. The guy stood a head taller than the security guards gathering out front, or even Alex. His shoulders were broader than average. Dark hair fell, brushing his collar and obscuring his face.

The armed guards parted for him like the Red Sea to Moses.

Whoever this cowboy was, one thing was certain. He was trouble with a capital T.

Quietly, Marshall watched them enter the house from his position on the staircase. Mercy guided the stranger to remove his shoes, putting her hand on his arm as she whispered something to him. The man had interesting features. His body looked as if it had been sculpted from stone, every muscle defined. Striking tattoos ran down his arm.

His little girl was now a grown woman. Although she had never shown the slightest romantic interest in anyone at the commune, Marshall could see what she might find appealing about this one.

In five seconds, he could tell the attraction was mutual. This man stood close to her. Closer than any of their guards had ever dared. They kept sharing little glances as if their gazes were drawn back to one another.

Marshall had to resist the urge to crack his knuckles.

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