To Protect His Own. Brenda Mott

she could reach safety, flinging her not into the ravine, but in the opposite direction. Onto the highway. She heard squealing brakes and felt intense pain that seemed to wrack her entire body.

      Then nothing.

      CHAPTER ONE

      CAITLIN KRAMER found it ironic that her dreams would be shattered on her birthday. She faced her physical therapist, finally realizing what she hadn’t wanted to admit in the six months since the accident. That she would be lucky to even ride a pleasure horse again. She could definitely kiss the Olympics goodbye.

      It wasn’t fair to take her frustration out on Terri, but Caitlin couldn’t hide her bitterness. “Why aren’t I getting better? At this rate, I’ll never have the balance to ride a show jumper, will I?” She’d hoped the doctors were wrong, and she would be the exception to the rule and heal quickly and completely, returning to her normal self. But the regimen of physical therapy she’d undergone today proved she was the one who’d been wrong.

      Caitlin tried to swallow the hot, burning sensation at the back of her throat. Nine days in a coma had left her as helpless as a newborn kitten. She’d spent the first couple of months after the wreck relearning everything. How to walk, sit and eat. How to dress herself. And now this. The painful therapy, which had begun to pay off as she forced her useless muscles to work the way they once had, only seemed to take her so far. But she’d cried enough. She was sick of it. Anger felt like a much better tool.

      “You are getting better,” Terri said. “I told you this isn’t going to happen overnight.” The therapist rested one hand on the vestibulator—a piece of equipment that reminded Caitlin of an adult-size baby swing. “Do you want me to stop?”

      The vestibulator was used to test balance and reflex. A netlike, mesh contraption hung suspended from the top of the metal frame, and Caitlin sat in it, feeling stupid and helpless, like a toddler being pushed by her mother. She couldn’t even balance enough to swing independently.

      “No. I’m going to do this or die trying.”

      Terri grinned. “That’s the attitude. Perseverance and patience are key to your recovery.” She manipulated the machine. “Maybe when you’re done here, we’ll take you over to my place and you can have a go-round on Jake’s bucking barrel.”

      “Ha-ha,” Caitlin said, ashamed of her crabbiness. She seemed to have little or no control over her emotions these days. “Knowing your dear hubby’s psychotic obsession with pain, I’m sure he’d love that.”

      Terri’s chuckle was low, amused. “Psychotic obsession, huh?”

      “He’s a bull rider, isn’t he? He’s got to be nuts.”

      “Says the show jumper who sails over seven-foot walls on a twelve-hundred-pound horse.”

      Caitlin gave her a mock scowl. “I get your point.” She held her arms out from her sides. “Let’s try this again.”

      An hour later she sank, exhausted, into her wheelchair. Damn, but it would be good to be rid of the thing. She hated that she still had to use the chair part-time. And feared, deep down, she would never walk completely on her own.

      “How’d it go?” Her mother’s cheerful voice made Caitlin’s spirits sink lower as she watched her step into the room. To have everyone around her constantly acting upbeat and positive got old, even though she knew they meant well. There were days when she wished they’d let her throw herself on the floor and cry like a baby. Days when she wished they’d cry with her.

      She looked up into her mother’s coffee-brown eyes. “Same torture, different day,” she said dryly. “Where’s Gran?”

      Evelyn leaned over the chair and kissed Caitlin’s cheek. “Waiting. She’s taking us out to lunch for your birthday. To Bella Luna.”

      “I don’t want to go.” She hated going out in public, putting up with curious glances and rude stares. The whispered comments and speculation ate away at what little self-confidence she had left. “Can’t we eat at home?”

      “No.” Evelyn took hold of the wheelchair, and with a goodbye to Terri, began to push Caitlin from the room. “You’ve hibernated enough. It’s time to get out. Get some air.”

      “I can get air at the ranch.” Foxwood Farms had become her haven away from people. Once seen as a local celebrity, now she was only someone to be pitied. She didn’t want pity or sympathy. She wanted her life back the way it was before some jerk of a drunk driver had ruined it.

      “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

      “Yeah, right. Then the whole town can see how I can barely feed myself, like some helpless infant.” Her fine motor skills had not yet returned to the left side of her body. And she was left-handed.

      “So eat finger food,” Gran said, rising from a chair in the waiting room as Evelyn wheeled Caitlin out. “We’ll skip Bella Luna and go to Pearl’s Diner instead.” Proud and regal like her daughter-in-law, Noreen Kramer was also every bit as stubborn. And every bit as beautiful. Her silver hair curled just above the collar of her blouse. Tall and slender, her peacock-blue eyes sparkled above prominent cheekbones, sculpted not by some clever plastic surgeon, but by Mother Nature. At sixty-five, Gran could’ve easily passed for fifty.

      None of the Kramer women looked their age, including her. Or at least she hadn’t before the accident. Now when Caitlin looked in the mirror, the face staring back at her seemed older. And she felt about a hundred.

      She rolled her eyes at Gran. “I don’t do finger food.”

      “Well, you do today. Come on.” Noreen took over, pushing the wheelchair. “Chicken fingers and French fries sound like a winner to me.”

      “Ugh.” Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “No way am I putting that junk in my body.”

      Noreen smothered a grin, eyes flashing as she looked at Evelyn. “Listen to her. She actually thinks she’s going to win this argument.”

      ALEX HUNTER slowed his Ford Ranger as he exited the highway. “Are you hungry, Hallie?”

      In the passenger seat, his twelve-year-old daughter slumped against the truck’s window, staring at nothing in particular. Her long, sandy brown hair tumbled down her back in a waist-length ponytail. At least she’d combed it today. Some days she didn’t bother.

      Hallie lifted a shoulder. “I guess.”

      “Pearl’s Diner okay? I hear they’ve got great burgers.” He spotted the home-style restaurant up ahead.

      She nodded, but her expression said she couldn’t care less if they ate hamburgers or rocks.

      Alex held back a sigh. Their move from the Denver area a few weeks ago had been tough, but there was no way he was going to stay in the city anymore. Where random violence could change people’s lives in the blink of an eye.

      “Well, I’m for a double cheeseburger and a chocolate shake.” He swung into a parking space behind a sleek black Mercedes and let out a low whistle. “Wow, look at that. Guess not everyone in this town drives a pickup, huh?” He gave her a wink, tipping his new black Stetson, hoping to at least coax a smile from his daughter.

      But Hallie remained impassive as she opened the door and slid out. Alex placed his hand on her shoulder as they walked toward the diner’s entrance just as two teenage boys came out, laughing and shoving each other. Alex’s heart raced as he took in the boys’ baggy clothes, earrings and tattoos. He readied himself for the slightest sign of a threat.

      One of the boys bumped into him and turned to flash, not a gun, but a smile. “Excuse me.” Then they were gone, and Alex let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

      Sweat beaded his upper lip and his pulse pounded at his temples. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But they were already here, inside the restaurant. His hand still on Hallie’s shoulder, Alex made