the alarm on her face. “For all we know the break-in wasn’t related.”
Cara didn’t look convinced.
“Now find those letters so I can drive you home.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and stood, then walked to her office in the back.
Mason followed, his instincts on alert.
She unlocked a safe then removed a manila envelope from the inside.
“You saved them all?” he asked.
She nodded. “I thought I might need them, just in case there was trouble.”
“Smart thinking.” He took them from her, then helped her up from the chair. The fact that she didn’t protest told him she must be totally exhausted, or frightened, or in pain.
Or all three.
His lungs squeezed for air as they walked outside. She settled inside her Pathfinder, then drove from town, and he followed, his heart in his throat.
The image of Nellie’s mangled body taunted him.
Lord help him, he’d die before he’d let that happen to Cara, or allow anyone to hurt his son.
* * *
H E TRACED A FINGER down her slender throat, smiling at how easily she’d fallen for his charms. Of course, the alcohol she’d consumed had blurred her mind, but that had been her choice.
Not his.
He had been watching her for a week now and partying was an every night outing for her.
Tonight would be her last.
“Come here, lover boy,” she whispered against his neck.
The cheap motel lights glittered outside, blinking against the dingy sheers covering the window. Country music from the bar next door blared through the parking lot, echoing through the thin walls of the room and pulsing around them in a sickening thud.
That music would drown out her screams.
He smiled again, then slid the knife from his pocket and rose above her. She raked her fingers over his shirt and popped the buttons.
Disgust rose in his throat.
He refused to dirty himself with her filthy body.
Instead when she thought he was going to screw her, he jammed the knife into her belly and twisted it. Her scream pierced the air, lost in the wailing sound of the music.
Then blood spurted onto his hands and relief filled him. One more sinner had died for her sins.
Now on to another...
Chapter Seven
Mason clenched his jaw as he followed Cara across the BBL to her cabin. He was staying a couple of cabins over while he was here and had no idea how close he’d been to her.
If he had, would he have made an effort to see her?
No, he probably would have avoided her. Seeing her and not having her was just too damn hard.
When he’d first heard of the BBL, he’d known he had to join the group of ranchers who devoted time and money to help troubled boys. God knows he would have ended up nowhere if the men on the reservation hadn’t taken him under their wing. They had not only taught him how to hunt and fish, how to utilize tracking skills, but had also instilled a pride for his people and a tolerance for other nationalities.
The one golden rule—they had a zero tolerance policy against hurting women or children.
Night had set in, darkness bathing the ranch, the sound of night critters chirping and scrambling through the wooded areas echoing through the evening air. The campers had turned in by now, the camp counselors planning the next day’s events.
The image of the boys he’d met flashed in his mind. Their stories were all different yet held similarities that bonded them to this place. Broken families, abuse, crime, poverty, orphans...
A couple of the stories had broken his heart. TJ was six, had been in and out of the hospital because his father had beaten him so badly that now he walked with a limp and was skittish about getting close to anyone. Micky’s mother had left him in charge of his two younger brothers when he was only five. Finally when a neighbor caught the little guy stealing food from her pantry, she realized they had been left alone for almost a month. The mother had later been found dead in a crack house.
And little Deagan’s father had left him in a garbage
Cara didn’t look convinced.
“Now find those letters so I can drive you home.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and stood, then walked to her office in the back.
Mason followed, his instincts on alert.
She unlocked a safe then removed a manila envelope from the inside.
“You saved them all?” he asked.
She nodded. “I thought I might need them, just in case there was trouble.”
“Smart thinking.” He took them from her, then helped her up from the chair. The fact that she didn’t protest told him she must be totally exhausted, or frightened, or in pain.
Or all three.
His lungs squeezed for air as they walked outside. She settled inside her Pathfinder, then drove from town, and he followed, his heart in his throat.
The image of Nellie’s mangled body taunted him.
Lord help him, he’d die before he’d let that happen to Cara, or allow anyone to hurt his son.
* * *
H E TRACED A FINGER down her slender throat, smiling at how easily she’d fallen for his charms. Of course, the alcohol she’d consumed had blurred her mind, but that had been her choice.
Not his.
He had been watching her for a week now and partying was an every night outing for her.
Tonight would be her last.
“Come here, lover boy,” she whispered against his neck.
The cheap motel lights glittered outside, blinking against the dingy sheers covering the window. Country music from the bar next door blared through the parking lot, echoing through the thin walls of the room and pulsing around them in a sickening thud.
That music would drown out her screams.
He smiled again, then slid the knife from his pocket and rose above her. She raked her fingers over his shirt and popped the buttons.
Disgust rose in his throat.
He refused to dirty himself with her filthy body.
Instead when she thought he was going to screw her, he jammed the knife into her belly and twisted it. Her scream pierced the air, lost in the wailing sound of the music.
Then blood spurted onto his hands and relief filled him. One more sinner had died for her sins.
Now on to another...
Chapter Seven
Mason clenched his jaw as he followed Cara across the BBL to her cabin. He was staying a couple of cabins over while he was here and had no idea how close he’d been to her.
If he had, would he have made an effort to see her?
No, he probably would have avoided her. Seeing her and not having her was just too damn hard.
When he’d first heard of the BBL, he’d known he had to join the group of ranchers who devoted time and money to help troubled boys. God knows he would have ended up nowhere if the men on the reservation hadn’t taken him under their wing. They had not only taught him how to hunt and fish, how to utilize tracking skills, but had also instilled a pride for his people and a tolerance for other nationalities.
The one golden rule—they had a zero tolerance policy against hurting women or children.
Night had set in, darkness bathing the ranch, the sound of night critters chirping and scrambling through the wooded areas echoing through the evening air. The campers had turned in by now, the camp counselors planning the next day’s events.
The image of the boys he’d met flashed in his mind. Their stories were all different yet held similarities that bonded them to this place. Broken families, abuse, crime, poverty, orphans...
A couple of the stories had broken his heart. TJ was six, had been in and out of the hospital because his father had beaten him so badly that now he walked with a limp and was skittish about getting close to anyone. Micky’s mother had left him in charge of his two younger brothers when he was only five. Finally when a neighbor caught the little guy stealing food from her pantry, she realized they had been left alone for almost a month. The mother had later been found dead in a crack house.
And little Deagan’s father had left him in a garbage
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