Bulletproof Christmas. Barb Han

down in a bunk on their deer lease.

      Stealthily, he moved along the perimeter of the campsite.

      This time, he looked for any signs that a heavy object, such as a body, had been dragged out. But then, if Dex was a murderer—and that was a big if—he might’ve already done away with the remains. The campsite could be part of his cover—girlfriend stormed off just before midnight after an intense fight. She doesn’t return. Body is never found. With all the animals out searching for a meal, her remains could be scattered across the land.

      It wouldn’t be the first time such a tragedy had occurred. Rory had come up against similar situations and worse in his ten years as a tracker. And even though his work brought him face-to-face with everything from hardened criminals looking to hide—and willing to kill whomever stood in the way of freedom—to profiteers seeking to make a quick buck on the black market, a trade that was unfortunately thriving, to traffickers—human and animal—he’d always brought them to justice.

      In his life, no two days were the same and the variety kept his blood pumping. Most of his meals were cooked and eaten out in the open. There was something about food heated over an open fire that made it taste so much better than anything he’d ever tasted from an oven.

      He could admit that life on the fringe had lost some of its appeal recently and that probably had to do with the beating heart in his chest, making him think about things he knew better than to want or expect, like a real home.

      This life was uncomplicated. He didn’t spend his time glued to an electronic device like people in town. He didn’t answer to anyone or have to spend time with anyone he didn’t want to see, which also sounded lonely when he put it like that.

      Taking in a slow breath, he inched forward.

      Out on the range, a person’s mind could wander into dangerous territory if he wasn’t careful. Being alone with his thoughts for long periods used to clear his mind but not lately.

      Inevitably, his thoughts would wander to Cadence. Conversations with her had always been enjoyable and especially with her spunk. Her smile was quick and genuine.

      His heart acknowledged that she was dangerous and he knew deep down she could do a whole lot better in life than be dragged down by the likes of a man like him. He might’ve walked away first but she would’ve eventually. She would’ve figured out they were no good for each other. And his heart might not have recovered. For the hundredth time in the past five months, he reminded himself this was the only choice and that he’d done her a favor.

      He’d catch the poacher who was running the show—if that man wasn’t Dex—which would shut down the heart of the operation. And then get back to Wyoming, where he’d taken personal leave. He was needed on the SJ Ranch as soon as he tied up this loose end. If he was going to show his hand, he’d admit that the possibility of seeing Cadence again caused all kinds of uncomfortable feelings to surface.

      For now, he’d deal with what was right in front of him, the camp. He’d managed to inch close enough to see that there was no cooler. Was Dex gone?

      Rory palmed the makeshift dog treat. Improvising was the name of the game out in the wild, where he’d learned to make do with what was on hand.

      Boots opened his eyes and lifted his head as Rory dropped down next to him. Rory was no dog whisperer but he knew his way around animals. Another survival tactic. One he enjoyed.

      “Shhhh, it’s okay, Boots.” He held out the broken pieces of power bar on his flat palm as he surveyed the area. Dex could show up any minute.

      And then his gaze landed on the object that Dex had been hiding...a rifle with a scope pointing south, the direction of the Butler home.

      Hold on. From this vantage point on the land, could he see as far as the estate? It would depend on the power of the scope.

      Rory emptied his hand of the treats, dropping them next to the dog’s mouth. Boots wagged his tail as he happily went to town on the bits.

      Rory pulled his night goggles down from his forehead and secured them over his eyes. Another quick scan of the area and everything looked copacetic. Of course, the goggles only allowed him to see fifteen feet around. Pitch-blackness circled the camp like a heavy fog.

      He gave another pass to the area in order to make sure he and Boots were alone.

      Dropping down to check the angle of the scope, he removed his goggles.

      A curse rolled up and out.

      Dex had a perfect angle.

      The rifle was aimed at the Butler estate all right.

      Rory would recognize that bedroom window anywhere.

      It belonged to Cadence Butler.

       Chapter Three

      Rory backed away, making sure he didn’t damage any of the fingerprints on the rifle or scope, and then he called the sheriff.

      “There’s a situation on the Butler property you need to be aware of,” he said to Sheriff Sawmill. Rory could almost see the frustration that accompanied the heavy sigh coming through the line. “I can give you my GPS coordinates.”

      “Mind sending a few photos of the site?” Sawmill asked.

      “Not if it’ll help,” Rory said. He didn’t mind taking a few risks if it meant helping Sawmill figure out who Dex really was.

      “I don’t have anyone near your location. I’ll get a deputy out before morning,” he promised.

      “Thanks, Sheriff.” There was no use pressuring him. Rory could tell by the man’s tone that he wished he could do more but didn’t have the resources. He also knew how overstretched the sheriff’s office had been since the murder. Pressure mounted to find Mr. Butler’s killer as time went on and that had to be weighing on the sheriff’s mind.

      After snapping pictures from multiple angles and then watching over the site for another half hour, Rory assumed Dex wasn’t coming back. The most likely scenario was that Rory had scared Dex away and he wouldn’t return. The man had taken off in a hurry after Rory had invaded the camp and the probability there’d be fingerprints on the weapon were slim to none.

      The fire had burned out. Since Rory couldn’t rightly leave the little dog to freeze, he took the shivering beagle into his arms and placed him inside his jacket so he would stop shaking.

      Dex would know someone had been there if he returned before the sheriff’s deputy arrived. Rory highly doubted the guy was coming back, though, based on experience.

      Game on, Rory thought as he tracked east. He’d circle around to his conversion vehicle and take the beagle, which couldn’t be more than a year old, with no tags, with him to the Butler ranch. If Dex thought he could outsmart him, he needed to think again. No one was better out on the range than Rory and he had no doubt that he could track Dex and see to it that the guy spent the rest of his life behind bars.

      Cadence was home. Rory wasn’t supposed to know that. No one was. However, he couldn’t help himself and had tracked her whereabouts. She’d left Colorado that evening and would’ve arrived an hour or two ago. He needed to warn her and her family that she could be in danger.

      A dark thought hit. Had Dex already made his way to the main house?

      That thought had Rory picking up the pace. In a full-out run, Rory made it back to his vehicle in record time. He secured the beagle in the front seat and took the driver’s seat before heading southwest toward the main house. From his current location, it would take an hour to wind around on the country roads to get to the place. He knew a shortcut that involved going off road but could possibly get a lot of attention from security.

      Rory spun the wheel left. He needed to get to the house as fast as possible. It was possible that Dex had moved closer to get a good shot. Damn. The