touch, every glance, every word they shared. All Javier had to do to make her heart beat faster was smile. She felt like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush—except that there was nothing childlike about her feelings for him and nowhere for her feelings to go. And yet, apart from the times when he was out on the land with Nate, he was never far away. He sat beside her at meals, put his arm around her shoulder when they watched DVDs in the evening, walked her to her room and kissed her on the cheek every night when she went to bed.
Their last afternoon at the ranch was spent grilling on the porch, the day unusually warm, the sky bright and blue. They’d just finished eating when Emily got down from her booster seat, took her grandpa Jack’s hand, and disappeared into the house, a secret smile on her cute little face. When they returned, they were each carrying a big gift-wrapped box topped with a bright red bow. Emily brought hers to Laura, while Jack handed his to Javier.
“What is this?” Laura asked Emily, who popped a finger in her mouth and smiled, looking over at her grandfather.
“Open it and find out,” Jack offered.
Laura tore through the wrapping paper and ripped open her box to find a white cowboy hat. She laughed, lifted it carefully from the box, and realized it was the real thing. “Will you show me how to wear it, Emily?”
Emily nodded, stood on the picnic bench beside Laura, and helped Laura settle it on her head. “Now you’re a cowgirl like me.”
Laura hugged Emily, the little girl precious in her arms. “Thank you, sweetie.”
“Now we’re talking.” Javier’s was black. He took it out and settled it on his head, pulling it low over his eyes. “How do I look,
He looked incredibly, unbelievably . . .
Laura met his gaze, saw the warmth and humor in his brown eyes, and found herself struggling to form a coherent sentence. “He . . . um . . . looks very handsome, don’t you think, Emily?”
Emily looked over at Javier and gave a shy smile.
Javier grinned. “Maybe the ranching life is for me—getting up early to feed the cows, fixing fences, eating steak.”
“Steers, bro. Those were steers.”
Laura laughed along with the others.
“I bet some of your best rodeo stars are Puerto Rican. Am I right?” Javier adjusted the hat on his head. “We
“That’s the Javier I know.” Nate rolled his eyes, shook his head.
“We wanted you to know you’re always welcome here, come rain or shine, tarnation or hellfire,” Jack said. “You’re both a part of this place, and it’s a part of you.”
Laura smiled. “Thank you, Jack. Thanks to all of you.”
“I SAW YOU playing with that little girl,” Javier said as they drove toward the highway, his gaze warm. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother some day.”
He had no idea how deeply his words cut her.
THEY ARRIVED BACK in Denver Sunday evening to find that Tower had told Laura the truth, the backlog of e-mails and news articles like an onslaught after five days of quiet. Laura read through them one by one, determined not to lose the sense of peace she’d gained from her time at the ranch, but it wasn’t easy. The media were making Tower out to be the selfless hero who was helping to keep Laura safe despite her suspicions toward him. He was no longer a suspect in the bombing, and the Washington office of the U.S. Marshal Service had, indeed, apologized in what must have felt like a smack in the face to Zach and the Colorado office.
Laura called her attorney and left a message asking her to begin the process of getting a restraining order against Tower. He might not be behind the bombing, but that didn’t mean she had to put up with him.
“Don’t let him get to you,
MONDAY MORNING FOUND Laura sitting at her desk, joining the morning I-Team meeting via Skype, while Javier took a shower. As much as she had enjoyed her time up at the Cimarron, it felt good to be getting back to work again, even if that meant enduring the image of Tom Trent’s scowling face on her monitor.
“You’re late, Harker. What’s on your plate?” he asked Matt.
Matt’s voice came from somewhere nearby. “The city is moving to condemn a stroke palace on Colfax—a place called Candy’s Emporium.”
“A stroke palace?” Kat asked. “What’s that?”
Laura had no idea what that meant either.
“Uh, yeah . . .” Matt stammered.
“Candy’s is basically a cross between a porn arcade and a strip club.” That was Alex. “Men go there to jack off.”
“Apparently, customers get a helping hand at Candy’s. Police have been trying to shut it down for years but have never been able to prove what was happening there, so the city decided to take a different approach and went after the building’s owners for violating fire codes. I’m guessing about fifteen inches.”
“Can we get photos?” That was Syd, the managing editor.
“Done.” Joaquin said. “I went by there yesterday. That place is pretty seedy.”
“See if you can get interviews with some of the working girls,” Tom said. “Find out what impact this has on them.”
“I’ll be happy to take that on if you don’t have time, Harker,” Alex offered.
Laura rolled her eyes.
“Carmichael, since you seem to have energy and spare time, you’re next.” Tom’s gaze shifted to his left. “You’ve got follow-up stories about the bombing and the Al-Nassar verdict.”
“The feds aren’t sharing anything new at this point. I can see what the talking heads at the alphabet soup agencies have to say, write an update, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the same as Friday.”
Judging from his expression, Tom didn’t like this. “I want the bombing on the front page every day until it’s resolved. Some asshole tried to take out one of my reporters and damned near killed the entire I-Team staff. What about an interview with the kid’s parents?”
“I’ve called four times. I’ll try again.” Alex sounded irritated.
Then Tom looked directly at Laura. “Are you privy to any info the feds haven’t felt like sharing with the public?”
Laura stiffened. “No. I haven’t spoken with anyone from the FBI or the Marshal Service since last week.”
Surely Tom realized she couldn’t share information from an active investigation just because she worked for the paper.
His gaze shifted back to Alex. “Get me something—an interview with a source close to the investigation, the kid’s parents, witnesses. I want at least ten inches on this, enough for a decent headline.”
“Whatever you say.” Alex was definitely irritated. “There was a gang-related killing in the state pen overnight. The suspected head of one of the Mexican nationalist gangs was found dead in his cell this morning with his throat slit. Word is that the head of the white supremacist group green-lighted the murder from his cell in D- seg. I’d like to report this—maybe ten inches—and use it as a springboard for a bigger piece about gangs in Colorado prisons.”
While Tom and Alex discussed possible angles for Alex’s proposed story, Laura looked over her notes, knowing it was almost her turn in the hot seat. She heard footsteps and looked up to see Javier. Her breath caught, her mind going blank. He stood in her office doorway wearing nothing but a towel. In the sauna, seeing him dressed like this had been one thing. But seeing him standing in her office, daylight highlighting his muscles, making his dark skin gleam . . .
“Can I use your washer?” he asked quietly.
