Wild Horses. B.J. Daniels

and her father. They had not only met him in this area of Montana, but also had him back to this very house for drinks. It all seemed surreal and yet too real. Her father had always warned his daughters about people who might want to take advantage of them because of who they were. No, she thought now. Because of who he was.

      “Howard asked you what the man’s name was,” Cooper said, bringing her out of her reverie. It surprised her that Cooper wasn’t the one who’d asked before this. Apparently he hadn’t cared. Not that she’d thought the name would have meant anything to him since it hadn’t her.

      “Hank Wells.” It sounded as fake as it probably was now that she’d said it out loud. So why hadn’t she questioned it that night?

      To her surprise, Howard gasped.

      “You know him?” she asked.

      “Hank Wells was the name I went by when I played in a band,” he said.

      “It was a long time ago,” Amelia said as if she’d heard the story too many times. “The band only played a few years and hardly anyone has ever heard of them since they had only one minor hit.”

      One minor hit? “The man played me a song. He said he wrote it for the band. ‘Wandering Ways’?” Livie asked.

      “Appropriate,” Cooper said under his breath.

      “That was it,” Howard said, and Amelia took a drink of her wine. He had paled and now appeared even more upset and confused. “I don’t understand this.”

      Livie hadn’t noticed the beat-up inexpensive guitar in the corner until that moment. “That guitar...” She got to her feet. The battered guitar had seemed out of place that night, so much so that she’d asked the man about it.

      Howard started to say something, but quickly rose to hurry over and take the guitar from her, as if it was a priceless vase.

      “The guitar...” She looked to Howard in confusion. “It’s yours?”

      “It’s my first guitar,” he said, his expression softening with both self-depreciation and fondness. “It was all I could afford at the time. I spent many hours playing this when I used to travel with...”

      “The Sidewinders,” Livie said.

      Howard nodded slowly as he put the guitar back where it had been.

      “The man who brought me here told me about the band and what it was like traveling from town to town playing noisy bars.” She could feel Cooper’s gaze on her.

      “What did this man look like?” Howard demanded as he took his seat again on the couch next to his wife.

      Livie described him. Blond, blue eyes. So different from Cooper with his dark hair and eyes. “He was tall, athletic, mid to late thirties.” What she didn’t say was that his thick hair curled at the nape of his neck, that his eyes were a deep blue that invited her into his confidence, that when he talked or sang, his voice was low and soft, making her think he’d known sorrow.

      She’d felt close to him that night with the storm raging outside. It was as if the two of them were the only people left in the world, she thought with an inward shudder. A part of her had been attracted to the man. The admission rattled her to her core. She might never know what she did that night.

      “Handsome, I take it?” Howard asked.

      Livie merely nodded, aware of her fiancé watching her closely, reading more into her words than she wished. Cooper had his head cocked to the side in a way that told her he wasn’t just angry, he was hurting.

      But neither of them could leave things as they were. They had to know who the man was and stop the blackmail, even if they could do nothing about the past.

      “Was he one of your band members?” Even as she asked it, she wondered about the age difference.

      Howard shook his head.

      “That’s a pretty generic description,” Amelia said. “It could be anyone.”

      “But it wasn’t just anyone,” Cooper said, his voice sounding cold and hard as the granite rock on the fireplace. “It’s someone who had access to your...cabin, probably that rig out front and your husband’s guitar and the stories that go with it, not to mention the hit song.”

      Howard glanced over at his wife. A look passed between them. Livie could feel the increased tension in the room.

      “Look, you have to know this man,” Cooper said, “since he knew his way around your house, where to find your good wine.” Howard winced at that. “And he appears to have made himself at home.”

      “I can’t explain this,” the husband said in exasperation. “I have no idea who this man might have been.”

      Amelia got up to refill her wineglass. “It’s obviously someone who’s been to one of your parties and heard your band stories you’re always telling, Howard.”

      “Who has a key to your house?” Cooper asked. “He did open the door with a key, didn’t he?” he asked, and looked over at Livie.

      She had never seen Cooper’s eyes so dark. He shifted in his chair with obvious impatience. She tried to remember that night, a night she’d spent the past three months fighting to forget. She had seen the man open the door with a key, hadn’t she? Or had he only pretended to? She’d been hurt, cold and still shaken and scared from going off the road in the storm. Looking back, she’d been more vulnerable than she’d known.

      “I can’t be sure. I thought he did,” she said finally.

      “This man told you he owned the house?” Amelia demanded. She’d come back into the room with a fresh glass of wine, but she hadn’t taken her seat next to her husband on the couch again.

      Had he? “I guess he only let me believe he owned the house.” She realized with a start that the reason Howard’s wife had looked so familiar was because she’d seen her before. There had been a photograph of her on the mantel that night. Just as there was now. The man hadn’t said the photo was of his wife, but he’d let her believe it was. Just as he’d let her believe he’d lent her his wife’s clothes since hers had blood on them from the wound on her temple.

      Without thinking, she touched the small scar. Her fingers felt as if she’d burned them as she recalled the gentle way the man had cleaned the wound and put a bandage on it.

      “Who was watching your place?” Cooper asked as he got to his feet. “I’m sure you have a caretaker. I think it’s time to talk to him.” The husband still looked confused. “If your caretaker was doing his job, then wouldn’t he have known someone was using the house?”

      “My thought exactly since he certainly never mentioned it to me,” Howard said as he rose again from the couch. “This is all so...upsetting.” He started toward the door where some winter coats hung along a wall; the hooks were the hooves of elk. He pulled down a quilted down coat. “My caretaker lives up the road. If you want to stay here—”

      “We’ll follow you,” Cooper said, giving none of them a choice.

      Howard stopped at the door to look back at his wife for a moment. Then he pushed out the door, pulling his coat around him, and headed for his SUV, Cooper and Livie at his heels.

      * * *

      COOPER FELT HIMSELF seething as he slid behind the wheel of his pickup. He’d been expecting a fistfight. Never in his life had he dreamed things would go like this.

      “So he played you a song on the guitar,” he said without looking at Livie as she buckled up her seat belt.

      She said nothing.

      “Cozy little cabin, by the way.” When he finally did look over at her, her eyes were filled with tears. He swore under his breath. As Howard’s SUV roared to life and took off down the road, he followed the Suburban a short distance until the brake lights flashed