Killer Colton Christmas. Regan Black

the highway at the sign for Shadow Creek. Under other circumstances she might let herself enjoy his handsome, stoic profile.

      “I’d really rather deal with this in a familiar area,” she added.

      “So you’ve said.”

      “Can you blame me?” she asked. Were all FBI agents so unyielding? Townsend’s face flashed through her mind. Initial charm aside, he clearly hadn’t liked her and he might even suspect she was involved in the cyberattack. Investigators often looked for an inside source. Marie quickly counted her blessings again that Dashwood had assigned Ortega to watch over her.

      “Not at all,” he said. “What you’re going through is very common. People don’t like to be yanked out of the familiar routine. Not even FBI agents.” He spared her a quick glance, then put his gaze back on the road stretching endlessly in front of them. “The FBI doesn’t like for those same people to get hurt while we’re investigating.”

      “At least you get to do your job.” She couldn’t fathom filling the hours she normally spent at work. “What am I going to do out here?” Too afraid of the answer, she couldn’t voice the bigger question: How long would she be stuck out here?

      “You might be surprised by how busy we are on a working ranch.”

      “If you’re expecting me to herd cattle, you’re in for a big disappointment,” she said.

      His low laughter was unexpected. “We do have a modest herd, thirty head of longhorn cattle, and plenty of help with that. There are also horses, goats, dogs, cats and an ever-changing variety of other animals. My parents are both veterinarians, and because we have space and staff, they tend to rescue more than their share of needy animals.”

      She kept her mouth shut. They might as well be from two different planets. One of her foster families had had a big orange tabby cat that wasn’t a fan of children. There’d been a year of mutual hatred between her and a yappy little Chihuahua at another stop on her route through the foster-care system.

      He lifted a finger off the steering wheel and aimed it toward a point in the distance she couldn’t see. “We’ll head down Main Street, give you a feel for the town.”

      Did that mean he’d allow her out of his sight long enough to come back into town? Was this a test? She understood she’d been threatened online and in real life. Understood no one wanted her help, which could only mean the FBI believed she might have assisted the Cohort’s hack of her company’s defenses. Things had spun so quickly out of her control today and she didn’t grasp the new rules of the situation.

      She wanted to ask him to be clear about his expectations for her, of her. Why couldn’t she get the words out? Simple questions, really. What are my chores? Where is my room? Is there a lights-out rule? Am I under house arrest? Questions she’d learned to ask upon her arrival at a new foster home. Well, except for that last one.

      They passed a beautiful white church spearing up from the landscape, backed by a lovely cemetery. She imagined the weddings, baptisms, funerals and weekly gatherings of families into a larger community that created generations of history. Her nose stung with tears she’d learned long ago to suppress. Tears were rather useless against loneliness.

      As if inspired by that first church, Shadow Creek stretched out before them, buildings and businesses, and neighborhoods holding the vast Hill Country at bay. Bigger than she’d expected, it was merely a speck in comparison to Dallas or Austin. Still, something inside her relaxed as they passed bed-and-breakfasts and a sign for a farm called Hill Country. That sounded like a friendly place.

      With the tidy buildings and well-maintained facades exuding charm, Shadow Creek might as easily have been found in Hollywood serving as a backdrop for a Western movie. A movie set at Christmastime, she amended. Evergreen garlands climbed lampposts and draped over railings. It seemed every business had a different festive wreath at the door. She assumed tiny white lights sparkled delicately through it all at night.

      Christmas. In her head she always emphasized the word with the same dismay Indiana Jones used when he said the word snakes.

      She tried to give her spirits a boost as they passed businesses like the Shadow Creek Mercantile, the Cozy Diner and the Secret Garden floral shop near a thoroughly modern bank, a salon-spa and a printing shop. A lovely spot for a weekend getaway, she thought. Too bad she didn’t bother with those.

      Catching a glimpse of the tall, modern hospital was a harsh reminder of the Livia Colton announcement and the serious nature of Marie’s trouble.

      “Claudia Colton owns a shop you might like down here on Main Street.” Agent Ortega pointed. “Honeysuckle Road. From the way the women around here talk, they love that she brought some New York City style to Shadow Creek.”

      “You’re saying I’m free to walk around and go shopping here like a normal tourist?”

      “You’re not under house arrest, Miss Meyers.” He glanced at her feet. “Although you won’t want to walk from the ranch back into town in those heels.”

      “Call me Marie.”

      “Marie it is,” he said, giving her another of those long looks while they were stopped at a traffic light. “And Emiliano is fine.”

      She tested his name silently in her mind and decided the sensual cadence fit the sexy man perfectly.

      “The FBI is simply trying to keep you safe,” he continued. “We can do that more easily out here.”

      “Where strangers stand out?” She should be used to the feeling. There were so few times in her life when she hadn’t been one of the new faces on the fringes, looking at groups with established routines and hierarchy, waiting for her to prove if she could fit in.

      “Where neighbors aren’t afraid to take a stand,” he corrected. “It’s a good-sized town, and the community isn’t crammed up together like Dallas. Look around.”

      She had been. The businesses on Main Street sparkled as if the sun itself was happier shining here, reluctant to say farewell for the day. Sidewalks were clean and wide, and it seemed as if everyone smiled, a few people waving as Agent Ortega—Emiliano—drove by.

      “Plus, with no ties to the area, no one will think to look for you here.”

      No ties anywhere, she thought, craving the safe anonymity of the city. Surely one of the gazillion hotels in Dallas would have been sufficient to wait out the hacktivists. Here, she suspected people knew where everyone else came from and would never forget about a foster kid’s science project that caused a kitchen fire. Seeing a sign for another bed-and-breakfast, she felt her stomach twist. Although she’d learned long ago to deflect questions about her personal history, she’d rather not put that to a small-town hospitality test.

      Dusk was falling, the sky growing heavy and deep, and as she’d suspected, those holiday greens started to sparkle. She was discomfited by the joyful, carefree vibe in town, and the space and distance of the ranch suddenly held far more appeal. “Tell me more about the ranch.”

      “It’s quiet, not as big as some other ranches in the area.” He stopped for another traffic light and pointed to Big Jim’s Burger Shop. “Best burgers in town, in my opinion.” He hitched his thumb back the way they’d come. “Aldo’s vies for the same honor. We’ll try both and you can weigh in.”

      Dinners, plural, with Emiliano? “Is the plan to show me around Shadow Creek?” Maybe he wanted to use her as bait to lure the hacktivists. It wasn’t a pleasant idea, though she kept saying she wanted to help.

      “Plan?” His straight eyebrows snapped together. “Just an option,” he said, not looking at her. “The ranch is self-sufficient.”

      Contrite that he misunderstood her real concern, she tried to apologize. “Shadow Creek is lovely. I just wondered...” As his scowl deepened, she fell silent.

      “You’re wondering if I’ll hang you out like a worm on a fish hook,” he finished for her,