Shotgun Daddy. Harper Allen

the sports utility to a stop, tears of disappointment and fear pricking at the back of her eyes. Even as her vision blurred she blinked the tears back.

      At one end of the ramshackle building a rusty nail protruded from a broken board. Slung from the nail was what she’d first taken as a rag but on second glance proved to be a shirt. It wasn’t faded enough to have been hanging there for years.

      She opened the door, stepped out of the vehicle and walked to the side of the building.

      He was standing beneath an oil drum that had obviously been rigged up as a primitive shower. Water was sprinkling down through holes punched into the bottom of the drum. He was lean muscle and whip-cord sinews and bronzed hide. He was completely naked.

      Caro’s breath caught in her throat. She put her hand on the side of the building to steady herself.

      Gabe looked over his shoulder and his gaze met hers. “Don’t come another step closer,” he said flatly.

      She’d expected hostility from him, she acknowledged numbly. She hadn’t expected the piercing pain that demolished her already-shaky defences at this curt evidence that whatever Gabe Riggs might once have felt for her was dead and gone.

      He reached up to the side of the oil drum and, before she understood what he was doing, he brought down a sawed-off shotgun, braced it one-handedly against his body and pulled the trigger. Out of the corner of her eye she saw splinters fly explosively from the side of the building as the heavy body of a greenish-colored snake gave one last, headless spasm a few feet away from where she stood frozen in her tracks. It was a moment before she could trust herself to speak.

      “I—I think you just saved my life.” Her voice wasn’t entirely steady, but she hoped he would put the quaver in her tone down to what had just happened.

      “Since that was a Mojave rattler, I think I did, too.”

      As Gabe replaced the shotgun in a sling at the side of the oil drum, she saw a gleam of silver on his left wrist and recognized the bracelet he’d worn the night they’d met. With no self-consciousness at all, he ducked his head under the final trickle of water before stepping away from the patch of already-drying earth under his makeshift shower and picking up a pair of patched khakis. He put them on, raked wet hair out of his eyes and retrieved the shotgun, then walked past her.

      “How did you find me?” As he spoke he kept walking, while shrugging his shoulders into his shirt.

      “Through an old friend of yours, Jess Crawford. I met him once or twice at parties when I was dating Larry. I work for him now, as his social secretary.” She resisted the impulse to look away. “My situation’s changed since we last met, Gabe, but that’s not relevant. Jess needs your help. From what I gather, he and you go back a long way.”

      “Fifteen years.” Gabe’s jaw tightened. “Did ol’ Jess feed you a line about the crazy times we had together with Tyler Adams and Virge Connor at the Double B Ranch, when we were sent there as juvenile delinquents to turn our lives around? Did he credit the fact that he’s now a software billionaire and a solid citizen to Del Hawkins, the ex-marine who runs the ranch and whipped us into shape?”

      She stared at him, disconcerted. “Not in so many words, but yes. He told me that being sent to the Double B was the best thing that ever happened to him. He said all four of you felt that way.”

      “Jess is a nice guy. His problem’s always been in believing that wanting something bad enough makes it come true.” Gabe shrugged. “If it’s a Double B band-of-brothers reunion Jess wants me to attend, tell him thanks but no thanks. And tell him to come himself the next time he needs a favor.”

      He opened the SUV’s door. “Expensive vehicle, expensive-looking dress, and those strappy little sandals you’re wearing probably cost more than I used to make in a week before I quit Recoveries International. It doesn’t look to me as if your situation’s changed that much, even if you are filling in time by playing secretary for Jess. You’re still a snow princess. Better be on your way before that creamy skin starts to burn.”

      She couldn’t afford to take offence at his tone, but a spark of desperate anger flared in her nonetheless.

      “Maybe the changes in my life just don’t seem so significant in comparison to your situation.” She gazed steadily at him. “Why did you disappear, Gabe? Was it because you blamed yourself for Leo Roswell’s death?”

      “Leo’s death was why I stopped being a hostage negotiator. I knew that if I hadn’t seen what Kanin was planning, the instincts I’d always relied on were gone.” His smile was brief. “As for why I dropped off the face of the earth, I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business, sweetheart.”

      “Then I’d better stick to what is my business. I’m here because Jess once told me that if he was ever kidnapped, the only man he’d trust to negotiate his release would be you.”

      The sunlight was so strong that Gabe’s eyes seemed a translucent amber, but just for a moment they deepened to black. She saw his jaw tighten as he took in what she hadn’t said.

      “When and where?”

      For the first time since she’d found him here in this nowhere spot Caro allowed her emotions to show. “Two days ago, just across the border in Mexico. His abductors snatched him while he was down there supervising construction of a new Crawford Solutions plant he’s having built.” She shook her head. “Oh, Gabe—Jess’s business partner Steve Dixon called in Kanin’s firm to handle negotiations for his release. I’m afraid something’s going to go wrong.”

      “If Recoveries International’s been hired, even if I wanted to I wouldn’t be able to involve myself.” His tone was flat. “I wouldn’t have the authority to replace—”

      “But that’s just it—I do,” she interrupted. “I told you I was Jess’s social secretary. That’s true, as far as it goes, but our relationship’s grown over the year and a half I’ve been working for him. A few weeks ago he asked me to marry him.”

      He looked away. “Congratulations, but I don’t—”

      “I said I needed time to think it over, but he still insisted on signing some document that gave me power of attorney over his affairs, which is why my choice of hostage negotiator will take precedence over Steve Dixon’s. I won’t lie to you, Gabe—I’ve decided I’m going to tell him I accept his proposal. But first I need your help to bring him home.”

      His expression closed. “Jess deserves a negotiator who’ll give him a fighting chance to come out of this alive, not a burned-out case who could get him killed.”

      “He deserves the man he asked for when he first suspected this day might come—” she retorted, “the man he has faith in. You’re that man, Gabe, whether you like it or not. Maybe you’ve been able to walk away from the rest of the world, but you can’t walk away from one of your oldest friends.”

      “No?” His smile was humorless. “Just watch me, princess.”

      She’d gambled and lost, Caro thought dully. But what had she expected? Gabriel Riggs had once called her a rich bitch, and the morning after they’d slept together she’d done everything she could to convince him that his assessment of her had been correct. She’d been insane to think that a plea for help from her would mean anything to him.

      “You said Jess suspected this day might come.” About to turn away, he paused. “What made him think he was in danger of being kidnapped?”

      “Nothing specific,” she said tonelessly. “Just the feeling once or twice that he was being followed. But when I suggested he hire a bodyguard, he told me he’d never wanted his wealth to curtail his life and he wasn’t going to start now. I guess that attitude made it easy for his kidnappers. The one who phoned to tell us they had Jess certainly seemed to think so.”

      “You’re leaving something out.” His gaze sharpened. “What aren’t you telling me?”

      He