Endangered Heiress. Barb Han

down a story outside of Houston,” she said. When she really thought about it, the ranch must be swarming with media by now. Any news about Mike Butler’s death guaranteed above-the-fold placement in print and major promo for broadcast. “Plus, there must be dozens of reporters at the gate chomping at the bit for something to report. Why tell me? I mean, just walk outside your front door and pick someone if you want to get your story out.”

      “This is personal,” he said. “In fact, you may want to take vacation days.”

      Days? She decided to entertain him for just a second. “Okay, so let me see if I have this correctly. You want me to take off work at the snap of a finger for a man I’ve never met and a reason you refuse to tell me? Does that sound about right?”

      “I’m afraid it’s better than it sounds,” he admitted.

      “Who wants me there?” Maybe she could come at this from another angle to get an answer.

      “Your presence was requested by Mr. Butler.”

      She waited for the rest of the sentence but Ed Staples would’ve made a great poker player.

      “Pardon my directness, but he’s...gone. It would be a little difficult for him to ask for me,” she stated.

      “I’m aware.” He didn’t give up anything with his tone. And she wouldn’t even still be on the phone if he hadn’t thrown out the name Mike Butler. But her mild curiosity wouldn’t be enough for her boss to green-light an overnight trip. “This matter is urgent.”

      Hadn’t she just read about his oldest daughter being targeted for murder? Was it possible the family wanted an objective reporter to confide in? Then again, that incident had happened after Butler’s murder and the lawyer had said this was personal. If it was, wouldn’t she at least know Mike Butler? And, again, why her? She exposed neglect in nursing homes and small business fraud.

      “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I can recommend—”

      “Your refusal will come at a hefty cost to you, Ms. Kensington,” he said firmly.

      “No disrespect, but I have a good handle on what’s important to me,” Madelyn shot back.

      “I didn’t mean that as a threat.” He sounded frustrated that he couldn’t pick the right words to persuade her. A few beats of silence came across the line. And then, “Are you sure you want to walk away without knowing what a man like Mike Butler wanted you to be aware of? Out of everyone he could’ve picked, he chose you.”

      Well, when he put it like that she could admit the initial pull was becoming a stronger magnet. Walk away and she might never know what Mike Butler wanted to tell her before he died. Curiosity was growing the more she thought about it and a big exclusive could be huge for her career right now. She could prove to her boss that he’d made a good move in promoting her.

      “Fine. I’ll talk to my boss,” she finally said, knowing full well she could get the time off.

      “I’ll email the details of your stay.” The lawyer sounded pleased and a little bit relieved.

      “I’ll make my own arrangements.” She’d learned a long time ago not to put herself in the hands of a source. And that was just how she’d treat this out-of-the-blue request, like any other news story she was covering.

      “Be advised that you’ll need to take off several days. I’d suggest a minimum of three,” he said.

      Wasn’t that cryptic? She thanked him and ended the call, figuring she would take it one day at a time. Pretty much her new mantra, she thought.

      For the rest of the workday, her thoughts kept circling back to Owen. Not even a hot cup of coffee could thaw the icy chill that crept into her bones when thinking about him. Nor could she shake the feeling of being watched as she walked to her vehicle after work—a feeling that was becoming a little too familiar. Madelyn had always been able to trust her instincts. Until recently. Until Owen. He’d knocked her off balance and she was still trying to regain her footing.

      This, too, shall pass. The saying that had gotten her through so many sad or frightened nights as a child provided no comfort.

      By six thirty the next morning, Madelyn had eaten breakfast, picked up her convertible from the shop and was on the road. She wanted to get out of Houston before traffic was too bad. The call still had her scratching her head and her imagination running wild. Dozens of scenarios had zinged through her mind when she should’ve been sleeping. But then, sleep had been as realistic as a unicorn sighting since Owen had made those threats. He’d been stalking her, too, and that had her scanning faces wherever she went, expecting him to pop up at the grocery store, gas station and every other place she visited.

      Her thoughts returned to the call from Ed Staples. The lawyer had said this was personal but that wasn’t exactly a new tactic to get a reporter’s attention. It ensured she’d agree to the meeting without asking too many questions. Her mind ran around the same hamster wheel.

      Even though she was a reporter, she didn’t work the crime beat. Furthermore, she worked in Houston, not Cattle Barge, although Mike Butler’s money seemed to reach all parts of Texas.

      Did the lawyer want to leak information to her? Or was this truly personal as he’d suggested? She searched her thoughts and couldn’t think of one logical reason she’d plan to stay on for a few days. What could be so important? Why her? Those and other questions that had kept her awake when she should’ve been sleeping had her yawning as she maneuvered onto the highway. Possibilities churned through her mind.

      She tapped her fingers on her steering wheel, keeping time with the music on the radio. There was another good reason to get out of Houston. His name was Owen Lockwood. Dating him had been a mistake. He came from Houston oil money, family money, which she had promised herself she wouldn’t hold against him when they first met. He’d been charming and polite on those first couple of dates. And then work had gotten even busier leading up to her promotion. Before she really processed their relationship, he was bringing her six-month anniversary flowers.

      When he wanted to celebrate their milestone, all she could think about was how she’d lost six months of her life to nonstop work.

      Owen had planned out an elaborate date and said he wanted to talk about their future. A future? She’d almost laughed at him until she realized he was serious. Working fourteen-hour days, she barely had time to shower. The last thing she needed was the complication of a real relationship. And, face it, her time with Owen had been winding down anyway. He’d started to become possessive when they were out to dinner and another man smiled at her or looked her way.

      When she’d asked why they needed to do more than enjoy each other’s company, he’d blown up. His reaction seemed over-the-top. She’d told him as much. That was when everything started heading south.

      Madelyn gripped the wheel tighter with her left hand and brought her right to her mother’s dragonfly necklace. A migraine threatened and that reminded her even more of those last few weeks with her ex. He’d been the one to point out that she’d been getting them more and more frequently as their relationship had progressed. He’d insisted that she’d been spending too much time at work and insinuated she wanted to be with her coworker Aiden Creed. Owen had demanded that she spend all of her time off with him. And then he’d dropped the bomb that he’d been following her.

      They’d fought. She’d told him it was over and he’d come unhinged. A man like Owen was used to getting what he wanted. He didn’t take the breakup news well.

      She’d filed a report when he broke her bedroom window. Another when he’d spray-painted the word skank across the hood of her new convertible. She’d saved an entire year for the down payment on her blue two-door sedan. Nothing had been handed to Madelyn and that was okay by her. She’d learned how to do things for herself at an early age.

      It wasn’t until she’d filed the police report against Owen last week that she found out about his past. The officer who’d taken the report