Rancher Under Cover. Carla Cassidy

      The memories exploded again and again in her head, hands holding her arms, her legs, making it impossible for her to move, to fight. Help me, a little voice cried in her head.

      Leave her alone, she wanted to scream at Randall. Can’t you see she’s terrified? Don’t hurt her, just get away from her and let her go.

      “It’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be just fine.” Randall’s soft voice broke through the memories that threatened to consume her.

      Just breathe, she told herself, hoping to ward off the panic attack that was poised to spring. Thankfully, at that moment, Randall managed to lasso Molly around her neck.

      “Grab that towel and the rest of the stuff,” he shouted to her as he kept Molly’s head tight against his chest.

      Grateful for something to do, Caitlin quickly grabbed the items and hurried toward him. “Cover her eyes,” he instructed and then began sweet-talking the horse once again.

      The blindfold of the towel appeared to calm Molly somewhat. Although her body remained tensed, she didn’t try to fight against him.

      “Now, if you can hold her head, I’ll take care of those wounds,” he said.

      Caitlin nodded and grabbed the rope from him. She held Molly’s head close to her chest as Randall grabbed the saline and antibiotic cream and moved to the back of the horse.

      “It’s okay, girl. I know you’re frightened, but the worst is over now,” Randall crooned to the horse. “You got through the scary part and now it’s time to heal.”

      His words, coupled with the gentleness of his tone, seemed to reach inside Caitlin and drag a gentle finger over the ragged pain that knotted inside her.

      A haunting vulnerability swept over her, as unwelcome as the agony that had been her companion over the past two weeks. She could listen to him forever, and the fact that his soft, soothing voice got to her also scared her.

      He worked quickly and efficiently, Caitlin noted with relief, because she felt her composure slipping and needed to escape from Molly and, more importantly, from his soft, soothing voice that touched her, that somehow made her want to listen to him forever.

      “That should do it,” he said as he stepped away from the horse.

      She let go of the rope, the need to escape from him overwhelming. “I have to get back to the house.” She didn’t wait for his response but ran out of the corral, determined not to break down where the hot, handsome cowboy might see her.

      Rhett watched her go with narrowed eyes. There was something bubbling just beneath the surface of Caitlin O’Donahue. He’d seen it first when she’d taken off hellbent for leather across the pasture.

      Chasing out the demons. Although she’d said she just liked the wind in her face, he was sure that’s what she’d been doing. And it begged the question, what kind of demons could possibly be lurking inside the lovely Caitlin?

      He’d sensed a seethe of emotion coming from her again as she’d held Molly’s rope. Tension had rolled off her in waves, a tension that was out of place with what was going on in the corral.

      He was definitely intrigued, and it had been a long time since any woman had intrigued him. Of course it didn’t hurt that the woman gave new meaning to the word sexy.

      Still, when she’d taken off, riding fast and furious across the pasture, his heart had leaped into his throat as a sense of dreadful déjà vu shot panic through him.

      He loosened Molly from the lasso and removed the towel from over her eyes. Instantly she danced away from him, wariness once again in her gaze, in her very stance.

      He left the corral and his thoughts once again went back to that moment when Caitlin had dashed across the pasture. For a moment he’d been flung back in time, back to when he’d raced across a pasture with another woman, a woman who had tragically died in his arms.

      That had been eight long years ago, when he’d been twenty-seven. At that time all he’d wanted in life was to work his ranch, love his wife, Rebecca, and have a couple of kids to add to his joy.

      A wild ride across a pasture had destroyed it all, had nearly destroyed him. He glanced at the house and thought again of Caitlin. She intrigued him, and he definitely felt a kick of desire each time he saw her, but all he wanted here was to do his job, to get her father into custody.

      The man had to show up sometime or at least let his daughter know where he was holed up. Rhett intended to get close enough to Caitlin to learn any information she might get about Mickey’s whereabouts.

      Rhett would do whatever it took to achieve his goal. He wasn’t a happy, laid-back cowboy anymore. He’d spent years as a Detroit cop before being recruited by the FBI. As a federal agent he was doing his best to protect the President of the United States and he wasn’t about to forget it.

      The day passed quickly with chores that had to be done in order to maintain his undercover position as foreman of the ranch.

      There were four other ranch hands and Rhett found them pleasant and competent men. They went about their business with little prodding from him and none of them seemed inclined to idle chitchat.

      At noon the men all disappeared for lunch and Rhett headed for his cabin, where a microwavable pizza awaited him.

      He’d just pulled it out of the refrigerator’s tiny freezer when a knock fell on the door. He opened the door and looked at Caitlin in surprise. She appeared uncomfortable and held a covered plate in her hands. “Esmeralda made some extra fried chicken for lunch and thought you might like some. I figured I’d bring it out here and pick up that résumé you promised me.”

      Once again he noticed that she smelled of clean, minty soap and some sort of exotic flowers, and the scent fired a tiny flame in the pit of his stomach. Her glorious hair was confined sedately at the nape of her neck instead of flowing free as it had done when she’d ridden Buttercup.

      “I was just about to zap a pizza for lunch,” he said as he took the plate from her. “I imagine Esmeralda’s chicken is a much tastier choice.”

      He set the dish on the small table and noticed that she didn’t cross the threshold into the room and that the gun she’d brought on the ride that morning was still stuck in her waistband. Interesting, he thought, that she felt she needed the weapon with her when delivering chicken to his doorstep.

      “You want to join me?” he asked. “It looks like Esmeralda sent enough for five people.”

      “No, thanks, but if you could just get me your résumé I would appreciate it.” She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously ill at ease.

      “No problem.” He went to the duffel bag on the floor and set it on the twin bed. “You make the business decisions around the ranch?” he asked as he rummaged in the bag.

      “For now. At least until my father gets home.”

      “I would have thought he’d want to be here to welcome you back home. How long were you gone?” He pulled out one of the copies of the résumé that had been specifically prepared for him when he’d been assigned this job.

      “A couple of months, but he didn’t know I was coming home.” Tension was evident in her voice. She glanced back toward the house, as if wishing she were back inside and not on his little doorstep.

      “Can’t you call him on his cell phone or something?” Rhett handed her the résumé and then offered a charming smile. “I mean, I hate to get all settled in here and then find myself fired the minute your father comes home.”

      “Unfortunately he’s not answering his cell phone and, in any case, if you do your job well then you don’t have to worry about getting fired,” she replied and took a step back from the door. “Thanks for this,” she said as she held up the résumé. “If I have any questions about it