Rancher Under Cover. Carla Cassidy

the window and stared out unseeing, her mind racing.

      Where was Lana tonight? Lana, with her honey-blond hair and bright blue eyes. Was she even still alive? Caitlin didn’t understand why the Kelleys hadn’t gone to the authorities the minute Lana had been taken, but Mickey had told her that Hank was dealing with the situation in the best way to keep his beloved daughter alive. Caitlin made a note to herself to check in with Lana’s brother Dylan the next day to find out the latest news.

      She leaned her head against the cool glass of the window and released a sigh. Her best friend had been kidnapped and her friends the Kelleys were in trouble. Her own father was missing and she had no idea what his connection was to the men who had attacked her.

      With a sense of foreboding, she turned away from the window. Suddenly, being home felt no safer than the jungles of El Salvador.

      Rhett Kane watched the woman in the window, unable to help but notice how the dark-colored nightgown clung to her lush curves. The photos he’d seen of her hadn’t done her justice.

      That flaming-red long hair of hers would entice a man to tangle his fingers in it, to pull her head back to steal a kiss from her full lips. She had the body of a pinup—full breasts and hips and a tiny waist.

      From the photos he’d seen of her he knew her face had beautiful, delicate features, that her eyes were gray and her lips plump without looking fake.

      At least the intel he’d received that she was coming home from her work in Central America had been true. As her bedroom light went out he walked the short distance to the small corral near his foreman’s cabin; a single horse stood in the center.

      By the brilliant light of the full moon overhead he could see the emaciated condition of the young mare and the festering wounds on her flank that had been made by the rusty old barbed wire she’d tangled with at some point in time.

      “Hey, girl,” he said softly. The horse’s ears flared back as she sidestepped, the whites of her eyes gleaming wildly in the moonlight that spilled down.

      “You and I are going to become friends,” he said. The horse backed up as if to protest his words.

      Rhett remained at the corral for a few more minutes, sweet-talking the horse, who obviously wanted nothing to do with him. He finally left the corral and headed for his room in the nearby building. The horse needed wound care, but she was so stressed he worried she’d either kill herself or kill him if he tried to tend to her.

      He was hoping to gentle her, to get her to trust him enough to allow him to take care of her, but that took time and he wasn’t sure she—or he—had that kind of time.

      All the other ranch hands lived off-site, which was fine with Rhett. He wasn’t here for any male bonding. The last thing he needed was to make friends. His thoughts returned to the woman in the window.

      Surely her presence here would work to his advantage. Mickey O’Donahue would get in touch with the daughter he loved, and if Rhett got close enough to Caitlin O’Donahue then he would be able to find out where the elder O’Donahue was hiding.

      And he needed to find Mickey O’Donahue. Mickey had vital information that affected national security. It was crucial that he find him before other people did, people who wanted Mickey dead.

      The cabin for the ranch foreman was located beside the stables and was small and furnished sparsely, holding a single bed and a chest of drawers. On top of the dresser was a microwave, and a mini refrigerator stood in one corner. The adjoining bathroom held a stool, a sink and a shower. Certainly not the lap of luxury, but it contained everything he needed, and besides, Rhett had been in much worse surroundings.

      It took him only minutes to prepare for bed. He got comfortable, pulled up the sheet and fell asleep thinking about how best to use Caitlin O’Donahue to achieve his ultimate goal.

      It was nine the next morning when he walked to the big house and knocked on the back door, eager to meet Caitlin in person. Esmeralda greeted him with a wide smile as she gestured him into the kitchen.

      “Good morning, Mr. Kane,” she said.

      “Randall, I told you to call me Randall,” he replied with a chiding grin.

      Randall Kane existed for the sole purpose of finding the whereabouts of Mickey. The identity included a résumé of ranch work that would make him a desirable employee, a résumé that was surprisingly close to the life Rhett had led before tragedy had struck. Rhett knew the false identity and the résumé would stand up under normal scrutiny, and he was expecting nothing more than that in this case.

      “Then it’s Randall,” Esmeralda agreed. She nodded and reached a hand up as if to check the tidiness of the dark, plump bun at the nape of her neck as her cheeks pinkened in pleasure. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Randall? I just pulled homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven. Perhaps you’d like one of them?”

      “They smell wonderful, but actually I was just wondering if you’d heard from the boss. I have something to discuss with him.”

      Her smile instantly fell and she shook her head. “No word from the boss, but his daughter, Caitlin, arrived last night. She should be down any minute and you can discuss whatever is necessary with her.” She motioned him to the table. “Sit, and while you wait for her to come down you can have one of my rolls and a cup of fresh coffee.”

      Rhett slid into a chair at the table and watched as Esmeralda poured his coffee and then carried the cup and a saucer with a fat, iced cinnamon roll to him.

      “I hope you slept well, Mr … Randall,” she said as she sat in the chair opposite him.

      He gave her a lazy wink. “When you work hard and live right you sleep like a baby every night.”

      She laughed, as if pleased by his words. He’d worked hard since arriving here to charm the older Hispanic woman, knowing that if for any reason Caitlin didn’t show up at the ranch, the housekeeper might be his only path to finding Mickey O’Donahue’s whereabouts.

      He took a big bite of the cinnamon bun and rolled his eyes heavenward in pleasure. “Esmeralda, these are fit for the gods.”

      The plump housekeeper giggled and preened like a woman half her age. He finished the roll in two more bites.

      “Good morning.”

      Esmeralda jumped out of her chair and Rhett turned to see Caitlin standing in the doorway. She was clad in a pair of tight jeans and a navy T-shirt that clung to her full breasts and emphasized her tiny waist, and her beauty momentarily stole his breath away.

      Her glorious hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, fully exposing the delicate bone structure of her face and emphasizing her gray eyes. He got up from his chair as she entered the kitchen.

      “Caitlin, this is the man I told you about, the one I hired to take over for Garrett as foreman,” Esmeralda said. “He’s here to discuss some things with you.”

      “Randall Kane.” He walked toward her and held out his hand with a smile.

      She hesitated a beat and then gave his hand a quick, perfunctory shake. “Please, sit.”

      She smelled of something clean and lightly floral, a scent that instantly went to his head and kicked off a slight spark of warmth in the pit of his stomach. He returned to his chair and she slid into the one across from him that Esmeralda had vacated.

      “I knew you’d be down as soon as you smelled these rolls,” Esmeralda exclaimed as she poured Caitlin a cup of coffee and served her one of the hot treats. “My girl loves my cinnamon rolls.”

      Up close Rhett noticed that Caitlin’s eyes weren’t just an ordinary gray, but had indigo rings around the gray. They were beautiful eyes, but at the moment they gazed at him warily. “Where are you from, Mr. Kane?”

      “I grew up in Wyoming,” he replied. “And please, make it Randall. In recent years I’m from no place in particular. I go wherever I can find ranching work.”