“This is a nice place.” She looked around, saw the woodstove, the blinds that covered a sliding glass door, the flat screen TV, the dining room, the kitchen with its stainless-steel appliances and walk-in pantry. “I can’t believe they’re just letting us stay here. If we’re staying in their cabin, where are they?”
“This place?” Joaquin got to his feet, a big grin on his face, his body so close that she could feel his warmth. “It’s nothing.”
He moved past her, walked to the sliding glass door, and opened the blinds.
Mia followed him and found herself looking out onto a postcard. “Wow.”
Through aspens, she could see a valley stretching out before them, ringed with high mountains. A mansion—she didn’t know what else to call it—sat in the middle of that valley, stables and barns on one side of it, men going about their chores.
“They own all of this. See that big house, the place you called a hotel last night? That is where they live.”
“I called it a hotel? I don’t remember that.”
“You were pretty out of it.”
“This is just a guest cabin?”
“I think they rent it out to hunters. They stocked the kitchen for us, split and stacked firewood, and even left a shotgun and shells for us.” Joaquin pointed to the Winchester 12-gauge leaning up against the wall. “They thought of everything. There’s even a wine cellar—a wine pantry, really—and wine chilling in the fridge.”
“Why would they do this?” Mia wasn’t used to acts of generosity on this scale. “They don’t even know me.”
Joaquin turned to her, drew her into his arms. “Hunter is part of their family through his sister Megan’s marriage to Nate. Nate and I are friends, and you’re my friend. My group of friends—we help each other out. We take care of our own.”
“I like that.” She rested her head against his chest.
“The Wests are great people. I’ve been here before to ski and barbeque. They hold the best barbeques. They’ve let me ride around their property taking photographs in exchange for photos of their horses.” He kissed the top of her head. “Why don’t I get a fire going, and we can make breakfast?”
“As long as we start with coffee first.”
He grinned. “Sí, claro. You think I’m loco?”
Joaquin scrolled through his text messages and emails, trying to catch up with everyone while Mia made more coffee. He had already called his mom and dad to tell them what had happened and let them know that he and Mia were okay. He’d left it to them to pass the word to Elena and everyone else via the family website and had promised to get in touch again when he had more news.
Matt had messaged him to let him know Tom was out for blood.
Sophie had sent a text urging him to be careful.
Kara McMillan, who had once worked with the I-Team but was now a freelance journalist, had texted him to ask what the hell was going on.
Tessa Darcangelo, Julian’s wife and another former I-Team reporter, had also texted, saying that she’d heard what had happened from Julian and that she hoped the cops caught the bastard soon.
Holly Andris, another former co-worker who now worked for a private security firm, had told him to stay safe and offered to set up a consultation with her boss, Javier Corbray, to come up with a security plan.
Stay safe! Also, who is this Mia???? I’m dying to meet her! If she’s woman enough to interest you, she must be special.
Kisses,
Holly
Her message made Joaquin smile, but that was Holly to a T—always looking at the light side of life.
Mia set a fresh mug of coffee down beside him. “A lot of people care about you.”
“I’m lucky.” He was lucky, but it bothered him that Mia didn’t have what he had—a big family and a close circle of friends. He got to his feet, picked up his coffee. “It’s time to face the music. I’ve got to call Tom.”
She gave his arm a squeeze. “Good luck.”
He walked out onto the deck so that Mia wouldn’t have to hear his conversation with Tom and worry. Tom yelled at Joaquin for a solid two minutes about not returning texts, pages, and calls, and then asked him if he was okay. Then he asked Joaquin to tell him what the hell was going on between him and Mia.
So, Joaquin told him, leaving out his feelings for her or the fact that they had kissed. That was none of Tom’s business.
“You ran into her at the cop shop, offered her a ride back to her vehicle, but took her to dinner instead.”
“Yeah—and that’s it. She and I have not slept together.” It was true at the moment, so, hey, good enough.
“Are you telling me she was just stopping by for a casual visit last night?”
“Something like that. I didn’t even know she was there.” That was true, too, in a strictly literal sense. He’d known she was coming over, but he hadn’t known she was there at that moment. “This asshole took a bunch of shots at her, fired a shot at me through my windshield, and made a mess of my truck. I would have called you back, but I was at the hospital with Ms. Starr.”
Tom went quiet for a moment. “Chief Irving called me this morning.”
“Yeah?” Joaquin tried to sound like he didn’t have a guilty conscience.
“He said that the administrative assistant he fired is accusing Cate of asking her to steal documents.”
¡Carajo!
It was legal for a reporter to take possession of stolen documents—as long as they had nothing to do with those documents being stolen. If Cate had asked Irving’s assistant to steal that file, she had committed a crime.
“That’s a serious allegation. What does Cate say?”
“She’s off trying to get the service record of the most recent victim. When she gets back, she and I are going to talk.”
“Is Irving going to press charges?”
“He said that if the paper had gotten a hold of those pages and published them, he would. He said the fact that he caught the source before that happened is the only thing stopping him. I assured him that no member of my staff would ask anyone to steal files. Then I asked him if you had tipped him off.”
Joaquin’s breath seemed to freeze in his chest.
“He said one of his detectives warned him. Apparently, this guy had been watching her, waited for her to make her move, and then told Irving.”
Thank you, Darcangelo and Irving.
But Tom wasn’t finished. “The question then is: Did someone tip off the detective, or did he figure this out on his own?”
“I guess you’d have to know which detective it was and ask him—or her.”
“You’re good friends with some of those detectives.” Tom had always had an uncanny sense of people. “But I am letting this go. In this instance, I’m glad they caught the source. I’d rather lose a story than see the paper up to its chin in legal bullshit. We don’t need that kind of trouble. Something like that could destroy a reputation I’ve spent most of my career trying to build and protect.”
“I hear that.”
“HR has processed your leave. You’ve got a week, and then we’ll re-evaluate. If Irving’s boys would do their job and catch this bastard…”
“Don’t I wish.”
“See you in a week. And, hey, Ramirez, watch your ass.”
“Will do.”
As he walked back into the cabin, Joaquin realized it was the second day in a row that he’d dodged a bullet.
He found Mia finishing up the breakfast dishes. Her head came around the moment he stepped through the door, her eyes filled with anxiety for him.
“It’s all good.” He slipped off his boots. “I still have a job.”
Relief blossomed on her face. “What did your boss say?”
He told her about his talk with Tom—leaving out the bit about Cate possibly breaking the law. “Then he asked Chief Irving point blank whether I had tipped him off, and Irving told him that he’d gotten word of it from one of his detectives.”
Mia drie
d her hands. “I’m glad to hear that. I was afraid he was going to fire you.”
“So was I.” But there was something else. “Tom also said Cate is trying to get a hold of Jason’s military record now.”
Mia gave a little laugh. “She won’t get much from that. The government won’t release more than the basics without his family’s permission. There’s nothing about Tell al-Sharruken in the official records anyway—or mustard gas or looting.”
Joaquin drew her into his arms, kissed her forehead. “I know this whole situation sucks. What happened yesterday—it must have shaken you up. I don’t know how you’re holding it together the way you are. Try to use the time we’re up here to heal. Let go of the rest of it.”
She rested her head against his chest, wrapped her arms around him, held him tight. “I wish it were that easy.”
God, it felt good to hold her like this, to feel her alive in his arms, to know that she was safe. Yeah, yesterday had shaken her up. It had shaken him, too.
She drew back, looked up at him. “Jack called on the landline. He wanted to know if we’d like to go on a sleigh ride around the ranch and join them at the house for lunch. He says he’s making his world-famous chili.”
Under normal circumstances, Joaquin would have walked all the way to the ranch from Denver through a blizzard for Jack’s chili. The man wasn’t kidding when he said he it was good. But Joaquin wasn’t sure Mia was up for meeting new people or going out in the cold. “How do you feel about that?”
Mia laughed. “I said yes. Hey, I grew up in Colorado, too. When someone boasts that their chili is world famous, I take that seriously. They need to put up or shut up.”
Mia opened the cabin’s front door, a smile coming over her face when she saw the sleigh and … “Oh! What a beautiful horse.”
Jack climbed down from the sleigh. “That’s Buckwheat, my granddaughter Emily’s favorite gelding. You can say hello if you like. He’s as gentle as he is big, aren’t you, Buckwheat, old boy?”
Buckwheat jerked his head and snorted, as if he understood.
Mia tromped through the snow and reached up to stroke the horse’s forehead. “Hey, there, Buckwheat.”
“Have you spent time with horses?” Jack asked.
Mia shook her head. “Not really. I went for some trail rides when I was in Girl Scouts, but I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“We’ll have to do something about that.” Jack reached into his pocket, pulled out a couple of carrots. “Want to give him a treat? Put the carrot in your palm and hold your hand out flat. Yep. Just like that.”
Mia held out the carrot, Buckwheat’s velvet muzzle tickling her palm as he took the carrot from her and munched.
She heard a click—and turned to see Joaquin taking photos. “Oh, no! You can photograph the horse, but don’t take photos of me. I’m not photogenic.”
“Is that so?” Joaquin turned his camera so she could see. “I don’t believe you.”
There was a digital image of a woman with red cheeks and a bright smile on her face, a horse eating from her hand. She seemed happy, alive, even … pretty.
Mia looked up at Joaquin, surprised.
Joaquin grinned. “See?”
“Let’s get this show on the road.” Jack climbed into the front of the sleigh. “We need to make tracks if we’re going to get back to the house in time for lunch.”
Joaquin helped Mia into the sleigh, the wound near her hip making her grit her teeth as she stepped up. “Be careful.”
There were thick sheepskin blankets folded on red leather seats, a thermos and three insulated mugs tucked into a basket beside them.
“Just make yourselves comfortable back there. Those blankets ought to keep you warm.” Jack climbed into the seat, took up the reins. “I brought hot chocolate, too.”
“Thanks, West.” Joaquin sat beside Mia, pulled one of the sheepskin blankets over the two of them, then took her hand. “You comfortable?”
“As toasty as a marshmallow.”
Jack made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Let’s go, boy.”
The sleigh moved forward with a jerk and then began to glide through the snow, bells on Buckwheat’s bridle jingling.
Mia couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She looked over at Joaquin, saw that he was watching her. “This feels like Christmas.”
He kissed her temple. “Hang on, angel, because it only gets better.”
He wasn’t just saying that.
Jack took them behind the cabin and onto a path that led through stands of aspen and snowy pines, the valley opening off to their left, mountains all around them, their snowy summits hidden by clouds.
“God, it’s beautiful here.”
As they flew through forest, across meadows, around a frozen lake, and then down into the valley, Mia’s tension began to melt away, her mind empty of everything but the beauty around her—and the man beside her. His body was warm, his breath mingling with hers in a cloud of white, his scent mixing with pine, snow, and fresh air.
Jack told them the story of the ranch—how his great-grandfather had bought this spread after World War I and raised his family here. “Nate is the fifth generation of Wests to work the ranch.”
“That’s amazing.” Mia tried to imagine having such deep roots, having a place that told the story of one’s family.
They stopped a few times so Joaquin could take photos. Apart from that, he sat beside her, holding her hand, asking her if she was warm, pouring hot chocolate for her, laughing with her when a startled squirrel jumped from one Pinus ponderosa bough to another and brought a shower of snow down on their heads.
She wasn’t used to being treated like this by a man. She wasn’t used to being the focus of such tenderness and concern. She wasn’t used to someone putting her first, as he had done time and time again this past week.
You’re falling in love with him.
Adrenaline hit her bloodstream, made her pulse spike.
Some part of her tried to deny it, but she knew it was true.
Knock it off.
What if she didn’t want to knock it off?
“Look.” He pointed, snowflakes on his eyelashes, his cheeks almost as red from the cold as hers. “There, through the trees.”
A moose grazed on aspen shoots, its head coming up as they passed.
Yes, she was falling in love with him, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do a damned thing about it.
They came to a stop outside the great house at noon sharp. A ranch hand took the reins from Jack as he climbed down. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Mia pushed aside the sheepskin blanket. “Starving.”
Joaquin helped Mia to the ground. “I only hope you made enough chili so that the rest of you can have some.”
Jack led them through a heated garage into a mudroom that was about the size of Mia’s living room. “There’s a restroom through here.”
“Thanks.” Mia went to the restroom, then washed her hands and followed delicious smells and the sound of voices into the kitchen.
Jack was washing his hands at the sink, and Joaquin was talking to two women and a man with a scarred face who must have been Nate, the Marine who’d been burned.
Joaquin saw her first. “This is Mia Starr.”
Nate walked over to her, held out a scarred hand. “Welcome to the Cimarron.”
The half of his face that hadn’t been hurt was incredibly handsome, and she could see his resemblance to his father.
“Thanks for letting us stay here.”
“You’re welcome. We’re happy to help out.” Nate motioned toward one of the women. “This is my wife, Megan. Our daughter Emily is at school right now. The boy with the messy face—that’s Jackson.”
“You’re Marc Hunter’s sister,” Mia said.
“Marc has told me so much about you. It’s nice to meet you, Mia.” Apart from being tall and having brown hair, Megan didn’t resemble her brother. She struggled to take Jackson out of his high chair
, but he didn’t want to come. “He needs a nap.”
A shorter woman with darker hair waved to Mia, a little girl in her lap. “I’m Janet, Jack’s wife. This is our daughter, Lily. She needs a nap, too.”
While Janet and Megan put the kids to bed, Nate gave Mia a tour of the house. There was the living room with its enormous fireplace of river rock. There was the two-story library with its own fireplace. There was the gym, the home theater, the sauna, and enough bedrooms for friends and extended family, all of it tastefully decorated.
“This is the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.” Mia was just being honest.
“Thanks,” Nate said. “We’ve put a lot of love and hard work into it.”
“Marc said you lived in a little cabin. I was expecting no heat, an outhouse, and spittoons.”
Nate chuckled. “That joker.”
By the time they returned to the kitchen, lunch was on the table, the scents making her mouth water. A pot of chili. Salad. Cornbread. Butter.
“This looks delicious.” Mia caught Joaquin’s gaze, shared her amazement with him in a glance, only to watch him smile.
He was used to this place. She wasn’t.
“Have a seat, and help yourself,” Jack said.
Mia did just that—and had to fight not to moan, flavors exploding across her tongue. Beef. Tangy tomato. Cumin. Onion. Black beans. Beer. “This is delicious.”
“I told you he wasn’t kidding,” Joaquin said.
They talked through the meal, Nate and Joaquin ribbing each other the way men did when they were friends, Janet and Megan asking Mia questions about her job. Mia was surprised at how relaxed she felt. She’d met Joaquin just one week ago and Jack only last night, and still she felt like they were old friends.
Only after they’d finished their meal did Jack bring it up. “I hear you’ve had a hard time of it lately, Mia. I’m sorry about that. Hunter said he couldn’t tell us everything, but I gather you witnessed some top-secret bullshit in Iraq and someone is trying to get back at you for that. He called you a hero, and that means a lot to us coming from him.”
“It sure as hell does.” Nate’s expression went serious. “He’s one of the most courageous men I know.”