Wrangled. B.J. Daniels

crash in the background. Just before the connection went dead she said your name.”

      The whole time she’d been talking she was glaring at him, challenging him to come up with an explanation. He wished he could.

      “Dakota, I have to be honest with you. I can’t remember anything about last night. I woke up this morning alone with these scratches on my face and—” he pushed up his sleeve “—my arm.”

      Her eyes widened a little when she saw the scratches on his arm. He saw fear flicker in her expression, fear and anger. “How long have you been dating my sister?”

      She sounded almost jealous. Which he thought just showed how hungover he was. “I had never laid eyes on her until she showed up at my door last night claiming we had a date,” he said. He saw she was having trouble believing it. “I swear it. And I certainly didn’t know she was your sister. So how is it I never knew you had a sister?”

      “She’s my father’s love child.” Dakota sighed and shifted the ice pack on her swollen knuckles. “I only found out two weeks ago after my father died.”

      He remembered seeing in the newspaper that her father had passed away. He’d thought about sending a card, but it had been so many years, he doubted Dakota would remember him.

      “Are you sure she’s even—”

      “I saw her birth certificate. It had my father’s signature and his name on it. Apparently Courtney’s mother and my father got together either when my mother was dying or right after.”

      He could see how painful this was for her. Dakota had idolized her father, and to find out on his death that he’d been keeping a lover and a sister from her for years …

      “So you’re claiming that Courtney just showed up at your door?” Dakota asked, clearly not wanting to talk about her father.

      Zane told her about his call to Arlene at the dating service, the check someone had used to enroll him and that he was waiting to hear from Courtney, since he, too, was worried about what might have happened last night.

      She studied him for a long moment. “So a woman you have never seen before shows up at your door claiming you have a date, and you just go out with her anyway?”

      He guessed Dakota had probably heard about his reputation with women. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

      Her chuckle had a distinct edge to it, and he remembered why he’d always liked her. Dakota had always been smart and sassy. She’d been a daredevil as a kid, always up for just about anything, from climbing the three-story structure that held the rodeo announcer’s booth at the fairgrounds, to trying to ride any animal that would hold still long enough for her to hop on. Since her father had raised rodeo stock, she’d had a lot of animals to choose from. He’d liked her a lot. Still did, he thought.

      “How well do you know her?” Zane asked.

      “Not as well as you know her, apparently,” Dakota said, and shoved the ice pack away as she reached for her phone.

      “Who are you calling?” He hated to think.

      “I’m trying Courtney’s cell.” She punched in the number and hit Send. “I’ve been trying to call her all day and—”

      At the distant sound of a phone ringing they both froze for an instant. Then, getting to their feet, they followed the muffled ringing.

      Zane hadn’t gone far when he realized the sound was coming from his bedroom. He pushed open the door and stepped in, Dakota on his heels.

      The ringing seemed to be coming from the bed, but when he drew back the crumpled covers, it was empty. As the phone stopped ringing, no doubt going to voice mail, he knelt down and looked under the bed.

      He could just make out the phone in the shadowy darkness under the bed—and what was left of the lamp that had been on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. The lamp lay shattered between the bed and the closet.

      Refusing to think about that right now, he reached for Courtney’s phone.

      It wasn’t until he pulled it out and heard Dakota gasp that he noticed the cell phone was smeared with something dark red. Blood.

      He dropped the phone on the bed, realizing belatedly that he should never have touched it. He had a bad feeling it would be evidence—against him.

      As he turned, Dakota took a step back from him. The frightened look in her eyes hit him like a blow. There were tears in her eyes; the look on her face was breaking his heart.

      “I didn’t harm your sister. Dakota, you know me.”

      “I knew you, Zane, but that was a long time ago.”

      “Not so long. I haven’t changed. Drunk or sober, I would never hurt a woman. You have to believe me.” But how could he keep telling himself that nothing bad had happened last night when the evidence just kept stacking up?

      They both turned toward the front of the house as they heard a vehicle pull up. Zane moved quickly to look out, hoping it would be Courtney and he could get this cleared up and relieve his mind.

      But it wasn’t Courtney’s lime-green compact with the MSU plates.

      It was a Whitehorse County Sheriff’s Department patrol SUV.

      “MRS. CROWLEY,” EMMA cried when she saw the woman’s bandaged hand.

      “It’s nothing.”

      “Oh, here, let me see it.” She reached for the woman’s hand.

      “I said it was nothing,” Mrs. Crowley said, taking a step back and drawing her hand behind her. Her face had closed up, her one good eye glinting as hard as the tone of her voice.

      Emma fell silent. She’d held out hope that she would like the woman Hoyt had hired as her housekeeper-babysitter. Being close in age, she’d thought they might have things in common.

      But every time she had reached out to Mrs. Crowley, offering her friendship, it had been quickly rebuffed.

      “Just let me do my work,” the woman said now. Her wrecked face caught the light; the burn scars looked angrier today than usual.

      Unlike Hoyt, Emma made a point of looking Mrs. Crowley in the eye. She refused to be put off by her injuries—or her manner.

      Hoyt just steered clear of the woman and often apologized for hiring her.

      “She’s fine,” Emma always said in Mrs. Crowley’s defense. She suspected that the woman had trouble getting other positions and couldn’t afford to lose this job. Hoyt paid her well and the living accommodations were probably nicer than any she’d had before. Not that Emma’s kindness or the house or the pay had softened Mrs. Crowley in the least.

      “Whatever happened to her has made her push people away,” Emma told her husband. “We just need to keep trying to make her feel at home here.”

      Hoyt had been skeptical. “You probably pick up stray dogs, too, don’t you? Honey, this time I don’t think even you can make that woman civil—let alone happy.”

      Emma couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Mrs. Crowley that made her like this. She suspected it was more than whatever accident she’d had that had left her disfigured. But Emma doubted she would ever know. It wasn’t like Mrs. Crowley was going to tell her anytime soon.

      “DID YOU CALL THE SHERIFF?” Zane asked without looking at her as Dakota joined him at the window.

      “No.” With a sinking feeling, Dakota watched Sheriff McCall Crawford climb awkwardly out of the patrol vehicle. Dakota saw that the sheriff was pregnant, a good seven or eight months along.

      “Maybe Courtney called her, or—”

      Or Courtney had been found. Dakota didn’t let him finish that thought. “Courtney wouldn’t have called the sheriff.” If her