The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop. Jeanie London

warn you right now. Whatever you do, don’t believe a word this young fool tells you. He’s full of Irish blarney. Or full of himself. Either one is bad for a pretty girl like you.”

      Before Brady could defend himself, the cell phone in his pocket rang. After one swift glance at the number, he answered, listened briefly, then briskly replied, “Take Tate with you. I expect they’ll be some resistance. Yeah. Thirty minutes.”

      Snapping the phone shut, he dropped the phone in his pocket. “Gotta go,” he explained to the two women. “Trouble in the Valley of Fire.”

      Picking up the urgency in his voice, Lass watched him turn and trot off in the direction from which they’d just came. And as she watched him go, she was suddenly reminded that for all his playfulness, Brady was a lawman and his job no doubt often put him in danger. The idea left her very uneasy.

      Kate Donovan patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Lass. My grandson is a fine deputy. He knows what he’s doing.”

      Yes, but did Lass know what she was doing? She’d come here to the Diamond D to stay until she could figure out where she really belonged. So why did one touch, one smile, from Brady Donovan make her feel like she’d just found home?

       Chapter Five

      Much later that evening, as night fell over the Diamond D, Lass sat quietly in an armchair in her bedroom. As she watched stars emerge in a purple sky, and wondered how she’d gone from lying unconscious in a mountainside ditch to a luxurious ranch, a light knock sounded on the door.

      Maybe Brady had finally returned home, she thought hopefully. All afternoon she’d been thinking about him, imagining him in all sorts of dangerous, life-threatening situations.

      Glancing over her shoulder, she called, “Come in.”

      Instead of Brady pushing through the door, a tall, young woman with light auburn hair and a cheery smile stepped into the room. A crinkled floral skirt swirled against her brown cowboy boots while a coral-colored blouse flattered her vibrant hair. To Lass she looked like a beautiful ray of sunshine.

      “Hi,” she said. “I’m Dallas. Brady’s and Bridget’s sister.”

      Smiling, Lass quickly rose from the chair and walked over to the other woman. Extending her hand, she said, “I’m very happy to meet you, Dallas. I’m … well, I’m Lass.” Her short laugh was a mixture of helplessness and humor. “At least, that’s what Brady has christened me.”

      Dallas laughed along with her and Lass instantly realized she was going to like this woman.

      “Well, that’s much better than the name he gave one of our barn cats. I won’t repeat that one to you.” She glanced appreciatively over the pale blue dress Lass was wearing. “Hey, that looks great on you. Grandma said that she and Mom found you some of Bridget’s things to wear. Since the two of you are both petite and about the same size. But listen, if you’d like to go on a shopping trip, just let me know. We’ll take an afternoon and raid all the shops in Ruidoso. My treat. After all, a girl needs intimate things of her own.”

      “Oh, I couldn’t. I mean, Brady didn’t find a pocketbook, money, credit cards or anything on me. I’m a—” She held up her palms in a helpless gesture. “I suppose I’m what you call a charity case.”

      The tall redhead shrugged one slender shoulder. “So what? You won’t always be dependant. Besides, I just might put you to work,” she added with a wink, then touched Lass’s shoulder and urged her toward the door. “If you’re ready, let’s go down. Dinner is close to being served and the family is having drinks.”

      Lass followed her out of the bedroom and as they descended the steps, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Has Brady made it home yet?”

      Dallas shook her head. “No. None of us have had any contact with him. One of the hands down at the barns heard over the police scanner that shots had been fired, but that was more than an hour ago.”

      A heavy weight sunk to the pit of Lass’s stomach. “That … sounds ominous.”

      “Well, Brady has worked as a law officer for a long time and it’s pretty rare for shots to be fired. But we try to take it all in stride. He knows what he’s doing. And he doesn’t want us sitting around worrying about him. But it’s definitely hard not to worry. Especially when he was shot last year during a drug sting.”

      Lass felt chilled. “Shot? Was he wounded badly?”

      “A flesh wound in his arm. We were all thankful it wasn’t worse.”

      Hoping the other woman couldn’t see the fear in her eyes, Lass murmured, “I’m sure.”

      The two women descended the last few stairs, then made their way to the family room where Fiona pressed a glass of port into Lass’s hand. While she sipped the sweet wine, the woman introduced Lass to Brady’s father, Doyle, and his two brothers, Conall and Liam. Surprisingly, the three men were nothing like Brady. Conall was dark and quiet, Liam polite, but with an air of indifference, while Doyle appeared to be a blunt, no-nonsense sort of man.

      When the family finally gathered around a long dining table, Lass couldn’t help but notice the empty chair to Fiona’s left elbow was conspicuously empty. And as the conversation flowed back and forth between the family members, she got the feeling that they were all concerned for his safety, but doing their best to make light of the situation.

      “It’s probably a drug bust,” Fiona said as salads were served by one of the housemaids. “What else would anyone being doing out in the Valley of Fire? There’s nothing there but miles and miles of lava beds.”

      Liam said, “The way Reese heard it over the scanner, the call had something to do with a domestic dispute.”

      “Way out there?” Dallas countered. “That doesn’t make sense. There aren’t any homes out there.”

      Liam frowned impatiently at her. “I’m just repeating what I heard, sis.”

      “It doesn’t matter what the call was about,” Doyle said brusquely. “Brady’s simply doing his job. He’ll be fine. Now let’s talk about something else.”

      At the opposite end of the table from Doyle, Kate cleared her voice loudly. “You’re right, son. We have a guest and I’m fairly certain she’d like to talk about something else besides shootings and criminals.”

      Lass looked up from her salad to find several pairs of eyes on her. Feeling more than conspicuous, warm color flushed her cheeks.

      “Oh, please, don’t let me interrupt,” she said in a small voice. “I’m very happy to just listen.”

      The older brother—Conall—looked straight at her. Lass got the impression he’d been carved from a chunk of ice.

      “So you don’t know where you come from?” he asked. “No clues at all?”

      “Well, hell no,” Kate boomed back at her eldest grandson. “If she did, do you think she’d be wasting her time sitting here, listening to you?”

      “I don’t know, Grandmother,” he said with exaggerated patience. “Maybe she doesn’t like where she came from.”

      Her lips pressed into a grim line, Kate shook her head at him. “Sometimes you can really disappoint me.”

      He shrugged. “Sorry. I guess I was just made that way,” he quipped.

      Feeling worse than uncomfortable and wishing Brady was at her side for more than one reason, she tried not to squirm on her seat. She hated to think that some of this family thought she might be faking her amnesia, or that perhaps she might be part of a con, directed at the Donovan family. Didn’t they realize that it was all Brady’s idea to bring her here? As far as she was concerned, things would have been much simpler if she’d gone to the women’s shelter in Ruidoso rather than try to integrate herself into this large, complex