Killer's Prey. Rachel Lee

at a fair, but Nora didn’t mind at all. Jake kept Daisy on a very short lead, and they ambled their way around the outer edge of the paddock. Every now and then one of the other horses would look up from the scattered hay they were dining on, give it all a disinterested look then lower their heads again.

      “If you get tired, let me know.”

      “I will.” But what she felt like doing for the first time since the attack was throwing her arms up and shouting for sheer joy. The world looked different up here, and the power of the mare beneath her gave her an unexpected sense of her own power and strength.

      “This is wonderful!” She spoke with an exuberance she had doubted she would ever feel again.

      “It is, isn’t it?” Jake agreed. “I love riding. As you get stronger, we’ll take longer ones.”

      “This must be boring for you.”

      “Not at all.” He looked over his shoulder, smiling. “Just seeing you look like you do right now would make me do a whole lot of things a lot more boring than walking around the paddock.”

      The statement startled her. What did he mean by that? Probably exactly what he said. She’d certainly been a drag since he’d picked her up at the airport. It must be a relief to see her smiling. Having dealt with many depressed people in her career, she knew how hard it was when nothing you did could make someone feel better.

      She resolved to try to at least put a better face on things. And why not? She was away from that man—whose name she could never bring herself to think, let alone say—in a safe place in a town that looked after its own. She was mending, however slowly, and with time even the emotional and psychological damage would heal. Some things left permanent scars, but it was possible to deal with those scars and not let them rule your life. She, of all people, should know that.

      It was time, she thought as Daisy carried her around the paddock for the second time, to live in the now, not yesterday, not last month.

      Easier said than done, of course, but most things were. She tipped her head back, letting the sun wash her face with its tingly warmth, feeling the chilly air whisper over her skin, listening to the steady clop of Daisy’s hooves and the quiet sound of Jake’s boots.

      It was a magical moment, and that man’s madness had no right to deprive her of enjoying whatever good came her way.

      Jake spoke, drawing her out of her almost defiant reverie. “Try clamping your thighs against Daisy’s sides. To build up muscle for longer rides.”

      God, he was acting like a physical therapist, something she’d had to give up when she lost her job. She obeyed, though, pressing until the muscles began to tremble, then letting go until they settled down. Over and over again.

      Then, as if someone had just let the air out of a balloon, weakness and fatigue hit her. She began to shake, and even pressing into the stirrups became too much.

      “Jake...”

      They stopped instantly. He took one look at her. “I’m going to help you down. Can you handle that? I’m going to reach for your waist as soon as I get your feet free of the stirrups.”

      She nodded. Either she let him help, or she was going to slide off.

      Daisy stood stock-still, thank goodness. He freed her right foot, then hurried around to release her left foot. Then, something she would have been sure she could never tolerate again happened—he reached up, clamped her waist with strong hands and pulled her out of the saddle.

      When her feet hit the ground, she could barely stand. He didn’t release her, he released Daisy. Wrapping a powerful arm snugly around her waist, he nearly carried her to the gate. No climbing the railing this time.

      “Al?”

      She saw a man emerge from the barn. Tall and almost painfully lean with dark hair that looked as if it had been dusted with powdered sugar, he answered, “Yeah?”

      “Take care of Daisy, will you?”

      Then Jake focused all his attention on Nora. “Let’s get you inside, get you a warm drink.”

      It embarrassed her to be so weak. To be so completely lacking in stamina. She wanted to hide in a hole. And sometimes she wished she had just died.

      Chapter 3

      Rosa had evidently sized up the situation. After Jake settled Nora in the living room, he went to the kitchen and found Rosa already making her own brand of hot chocolate: very chocolaty, not very sweet and sometimes with a bit of chili pepper.

      “No pepper today,” Rosa said.

      “I think that would be wise.”

      “She’s very sick.”

      “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

      “Not dying?”

      “No, recovering.”

      Rosa nodded and began to fill a plate with cookies from the cookie jar she never allowed to run empty. “Maybe I should add some extra milk to her chocolate.”

      “I honestly don’t know.” Jake leaned back against the counter. “I like the way you make it.”

      Rosa smiled. “My family recipe. I only put in a little sugar for you.”

      Jake laughed quietly. He suspected Rosa’s preferred brew would be more like drinking black coffee than anything he had once thought of as hot chocolate. As it was, the way she made it for him it was nearly a bitter brew, saved only by the little sugar and small amount of milk she added for him. And he especially liked it when she spiced it up with a dash of chili powder.

      Her version, he often thought, was probably closer to the way the pre-Colombians had used chocolate.

      He wound up carrying a tray to the living room, and Nora’s mug had some extra milk and sugar in it. Breaking her in easily, he thought with mild amusement.

      He set the tray on the coffee table, then turned to look at Nora. She had curled around herself in the armchair and closed her eyes. Maybe she was sleeping?

      He retreated to his own favorite chair and sat, just studying her. He’d felt sorry for her most of the time they were growing up. The way she had to dress, that father of hers, the horrible scoliosis brace that must have been awful to wear...but mostly because there was enough about her that was different that she was an obvious target for the other kids.

      He knew he’d damn well been her only protector a lot of the time, except for that other girl, Jody, who was now the mother of four and looking matronly at thirty. But Jody had been a bit of an outcast, too, for some reason or other.

      He’d never really understood some of that stuff. At least not until the night Nora had asked him to take her to the senior prom and offered to sleep with him afterward. His own words still had the power to make him cringe, never mind how they had made her cringe. He’d been wanting to apologize for years, but that would have to wait. She clearly had more important issues right now.

      Unlike most of the folks who had to depend on news coverage, as a cop he’d gotten a damn good look at the more detailed reports of what had been done to her, including the initial suspicion that she was covering an affair with a student’s parent to protect her job as a school psychologist. Obstruction of justice? A pretty thin thing to hold a woman on when she’d been nearly killed by a brutal rapist.

      He couldn’t imagine what those cops had been thinking. But he knew enough of the details not to be at all surprised that she was finding recovery slow. There was just so much a human body could take, and she should have died in that ditch. The psychological trauma had to be beyond imagining. And now here she was, back in her hometown and living with that caveman the town called Deacon Loftis.

      It was a good thing Jake had been raised in a different church because if he’d grown up listening to that man, he’d have believed God had abandoned the world to Satan. Or maybe