Honor Bound. B.J. Daniels

After a few minutes, she felt better.

      By the time she came out of the shower and dressed, she had faith she could do what had to be done today without going back to bed—or worse, curling up and dying.

      Her cell phone rang. Checking it, she saw that it was her mother calling. It still gave her an odd feeling when she saw the name Sarah Hamilton come up on the screen—after believing her mother dead for twenty-two years. Almost two years ago now, her mother had returned out of the blue with no memory of where she’d been. Her mother’s last memory was giving birth to the twins, Cassidy and Harper, both now almost twenty-five.

      Ainsley was surprised that Sarah was calling and instantly worried. Her mother never called. Then again, Ainsley hadn’t really reached out to her mother. She felt a stab of guilt. She certainly hadn’t tried to make her mother’s transition back into their lives any easier.

      If anyone should be reaching out to her mother, it was Ainsley since she was the oldest of Sarah’s six daughters and one of the few who actually remembered her. She’d been twelve when her mother had supposedly died after crashing her car into the Yellowstone River in the middle of winter. Her body was never recovered, something not that unusual in the wilds of Montana.

      “Mother? Is something wrong?” she said into the phone.

      “No, that is, I’m just checking to make sure you’ll be home before election night. Your father wants us all together.”

      “I only have a few more days here, and then I was planning to come to the ranch.”

      “Good,” her mother said.

      The conversation stalled as it always did. Ainsley never knew what to say. She glanced at her watch. She really needed to go. “I heard you moved back into the house after you and Dad got married again.” They’d had an impromptu wedding by going to the justice of the peace.

      While Bo, Olivia and the twins, Harper and Cassidy, had been upset that their parents hadn’t waited and had a “real” wedding with all six daughters in attendance, Ainsley was glad they’d been spared the event. She knew Kat felt the same way.

      “Yes. I forgot how beautiful it is here on the ranch,” her mother was saying. “The view from the main house is wonderful.”

      Her mother had returned from the dead to find her former husband had remarried, and a woman named Angelina Broadwater Hamilton wasn’t just living in her house, but sleeping in her bed.

      For a while the media had played up the love triangle between the three. Ainsley had seen how conflicted her father had been during that time. He’d loved Sarah, had six daughters with her and had grieved years before remarrying.

      Then Angelina had been killed in a car wreck, leaving the door open for Sarah and Buck to get back together. Because he was running for president, it had taken them some time, but they’d finally tied the knot again. Ainsley knew her father was hoping their remarriage would bring his family together once more.

      “Well,” her mother said into the long silence. “I look forward to seeing you when you get home. Your sister Olivia thinks we should have a family celebration. Your father and I got married so quickly...”

      “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said, rolling her eyes. It sounded...awkward. But maybe they would all accept their mother, and things would turn out just fine. “I would love to help with the...celebration,” she heard the old Ainsley say politely. “I’m sure my other sisters would, as well.” Probably not Kat, but she didn’t say that. Kat refused to call their mother anything but Sarah. Who knew what her problem was? Ainsley hadn’t been home enough to find out.

      “It would make your father so happy.” But Ainsley could hear a note of happiness in her mother’s voice, too. Maybe it was possible to put this family back together again—before both of her parents headed off to Washington, DC. According to the polls, Republican hopeful Buckmaster Hamilton was going to win by a landslide.

      Landslide. She shuddered at the memory of yesterday and how close she’d come to dying. Sawyer Nash had saved her then—and again last night. She thought about the cowboy and found herself smiling. So Sawyer Nash was partial to the new Ainsley Hamilton, was he?

      A part of her still wanted to cut loose and have more fun. She was sick of being the good daughter, the good sister, the good girl. Wasn’t it time? But maybe she wouldn’t be quite as carefree as she’d apparently been last night.

      That close call in the canyon had made her realize it was time. She would definitely have more fun—as soon as she felt better. She wondered what Sawyer would think about that.

      * * *

      KITZIE HAD LET out a curse as she’d watched Sawyer come out of Ainsley Hamilton’s cabin earlier. She’d blamed herself. She shouldn’t have spiked the woman’s tea. It had been childish and reckless. She smiled to herself. It had been fun to see another side of the prim and proper Miss Hamilton.

      She wondered what Sawyer had thought of it. Of course, he had seen Ainsley home to her cabin. She should have anticipated that, knowing the man. But also knowing Sawyer, he wouldn’t have taken advantage of a woman in that condition. Still, she knew his protective side and could well imagine him holding Ainsley’s head while she puked in the toilet—if it had come to that.

      Moving away from her cabin window, she told herself she had bigger fish to fry. Whatever Sawyer was up to, it was no longer any of her business.

      Still it rankled her that Ainsley was just the kind of woman he would jump at saving. Even still injured and on medical leave, that was Sawyer. She wondered what friend had talked Sawyer into playing hero for the no-doubt future president’s daughter.

      Right now, though, she needed to concentrate on her own job. And yet it nagged at her. Was Ainsley really being stalked, or was this about getting attention during her father’s election? And if there was a stalker, why would Sawyer keep his true purpose from the woman?

      Kitzie shook her head, trying to clear Sawyer from her thoughts. It was a losing battle and had been for some time. She’d fallen for the man. That thought made her chest ache just as it had for months. She loved him, and even though she’d known he didn’t feel the same about her, she’d thought he would eventually.

      Fool, she told herself now as she hurried to get dressed for her undercover job overseeing the kitchen for the crew. Sawyer being here was a distraction she didn’t need. She was no closer to solving her case than she had been when she’d hired on. She could feel the clock ticking. The video production company was set to move on in a matter of days. If she was right, the company was a front for the jewel thieves. She just had to prove it.

      While other agents were looking into other leads, her gut told her the answer was here. Of the thirty-six mall jewelry stores hit across the country, this production company had been in the area all but one time. The most recent heist had been in St. George, Utah, where Spotlight Images, Inc. had been shooting nearby.

      The burglars took only those items that had no serial numbers so were nearly impossible to trace. One of their favorites was a man’s watch known as “the poor man’s Rolex,” which could be resold for five-hundred dollars. The rest of the gold jewelry would be melted down, no doubt.

      A security camera had captured three men, all clearly in disguises, before they’d disarmed it. This was another reason she suspected the production crew. They had access to makeup artists and costumes.

      They also had access to tools. In one burglary, they had used a battery-powered saw to cut the gate at the jewelry store. So there was some know-how, as well. They knew how to cut power to the store, shutting down the surveillance cameras. From what she’d seen of the small crew, they all seemed pretty capable of doing a variety of jobs.

      The thieves had worn gloves, since no fingerprints had been found or any other evidence she could use to pin the heists on these men. So far they had eluded both the police and the FBI.

      “Just because they’re handy with tools doesn’t mean they’re jewel