Cornered in Conard County Read online

  New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee brings her beloved Conard County series to a new home!

  NO PLACE TO HIDE

  Conard County is a refuge for Dory Lake, a place to flee from her tragic past. For extra security, she goes to Cadell Marcus for one of his expertly trained guard dogs. Just the dog. But the part-time deputy can’t help digging deeper into the beautiful stranger’s history.

  After learning the circumstances of the murders Dory witnessed, Cadell isn’t about to leave her at the mercy of the calculated killer. The madman is counting on finding Dory isolated, but Cadell vows that she’ll never be alone. Guarding her 24/7 is the only way to keep her safe…and to break down her emotional walls he wants so desperately to breach.

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  “I believe the feeling is mutual.”

  She looked at Cadell then, daring to meet his gaze directly without sliding quickly away. His gaze was warm, inviting, suggesting delights she could barely imagine. Yet he remained a perfect gentleman with her. He was getting past her guard, little by little.

  An electric shock seemed to zing between them. Something invisible was trying to push her closer to him.

  But then he broke their gaze and turned. “Wanna come inside and rummage through my fridge before I take you back?” He glanced at his watch. “I go on duty in a couple of hours.”

  Yup, in addition to sexual attraction, she was learning to like him a whole lot. Sexual attraction she could deal with. She’d sent away more than one guy over the years because she wasn’t going to get that close to anyone.

  But liking? That could be even more of a risk.

  CORNERED IN

  CONARD COUNTY

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Rachel Lee

  Rachel Lee was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

  Books by Rachel Lee

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  Cornered in Conard County

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  Undercover in Conard County

  Conard County Marine

  A Conard County Spy

  A Secret in Conard County

  Conard County Witness

  Playing with Fire

  Undercover Hunter

  Snowstorm Confessions

  Deadly Hunter

  Killer’s Prey

  Rocky Mountain Lawman

  What She Saw

  Rancher’s Deadly Risk

  The Widow’s Protector

  Guardian in Disguise

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010002

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Dory Lake—A computer graphics designer fleeing from a murderous brother just freed from prison.

  Cadell Marcus—A deputy sheriff and K-9 trainer for Conard County who gives Dory a guard dog.

  Betty Casell—An old friend of Dory’s who offers her a place to stay.

  George Lake—Dory’s brother, who killed their parents when she was seven and now wants to kill her.

  Flash and Dasher—Two highly trained K-9s.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Excerpt from Protection Detail by Julie Miller

  Prologue

  Dory stirred from sleep and tried to cover her ears. Daddy was fighting with her big brother, George, again. But later she realized it sounded different. Voices shouted, but was Mommy laughing? It didn’t sound like Mommy’s fun laugh.

  Curious, Dory climbed out of bed, picked up her favorite bunny and stood at the head of the stairs. Daddy was still shouting. Sticking her thumb in her mouth, she stared at the pool of light pouring out of the kitchen downstairs. Mommy made a strange sound, and curiosity pushed Dory to descend.

  Before she was halfway down, things got very quiet and she stopped. She wondered if she’d get into trouble for being out of bed. Daddy and Mommy were very strict about that. Once in bed, stay in bed until morning. George laughed about it, but he said Mommy and Daddy needed grown-up time. But George was mostly grown-up and he got to go out at night. That was probably why they were yelling. Dory hesitated. The yelling was gone.

  But then she heard a strange sound and came downstairs the rest of the way. Bunny tucked under her arm, thumb in her mouth, she turned toward the light spilling from the kitchen.

  Everything was red. Like paint. It was everywhere and Mommy and Daddy were on the floor covered in the paint. George stood there, his face all tight and funny as he looked at her.

  “It’s okay, Dory. I made the bad man run away.” He squatted and held out his arms to her.

  Usually Dory ran straight toward him, but George was covered with the red paint, too, and she didn’t like that.

  “Dory? Come here, pumpkin.”

  She saw what was in his hand. A knife. It was all red, too. Why was everything so red?

  Some instinct pierced her, and terror shook her out of her confusion. She didn’t know what was going on, but she ceased to think. Something deep within her reacted, and she ran out the front door onto the street and started screaming...screaming...screaming.

  Chapter One

  Screaming.

  Dory Lake awoke with her own screams ringing in her ears. The minute her eyes popped open, blessed lamplight greeted her, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt safe.

  She remembered what she had seen, but over twenty-five years the nightmares had grown less frequent. Now they were coming back again, every night or several times a night.

  Because her brother was about to be released from prison.

  She sat up quickly, and was relieved when she didn’t grow light-headed. She had low blood pressure, and sometimes it took her by surprise, causing her to faint briefly. A minor thing, a mere nuisance most of the time.

  Drenched with sweat, she climbed from bed and walked into the small bathroom to shower. He wasn’t out yet. Not yet. She was okay.

  But the dream had brought that terrifying night back. All the intervening years hadn’t expunged the memory, although it had been troubling her less and less. But ever since she had learned George was about to complete his sentence, the nightmares had returned. Every single night. No escape.

  There was no reason to think George would have any interest in her when she’d never spoken about any of it, and he couldn’t be convicted of the murder again anyway, she told herself repeatedly as the cold water pounded her. As she’d been telling herself ever since she got the news. He couldn’t even be interested in her inheritance which was locked up in an unbreakable trust, a trust his lawyer had told him about.

  Hell, he pr
obably wouldn’t even be able to find her. The last name Lake was an extremely common one.

  At last she toweled off, climbed into a fresh nightgown and robe, and started downstairs. No more sleep tonight. Too bad, she was moving into her own place tomorrow...or was it today?

  Downstairs the kitchen light was on. Her friend Betty made sure the house stayed reasonably well lit at night. For Dory, who couldn’t stand waking in the dark.

  But when she stepped into the gaily colored kitchen, she found Betty was already there with a fresh pot of coffee. Betty sat at the table, mugs, spoons and sugar at the ready, along with a plate of cookies. Her short graying hair looked tousled and, true to her taste, she wore a zip-up robe that was nearly psychedelic with cat faces. Betty was determined to become the cat lady. So far she’d acquired only three, all of whom were now swirling, wondering if it was time for breakfast.

  “I heard the shower,” Betty said. “Again?”

  “Again. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “What kind of friend would I be if I got annoyed by that? I don’t have nightmares like yours, but I’ve had them. Nice to have someone near when they wake you.” Betty bit her lower lip. “Are you sure you should move out? I can’t stand thinking of you all alone.”

  Dory slid into one of the chairs. “I’ve been living on my own since college. I can’t let George’s release take my independence from me. Anyway, there’s absolutely no reason he should want to find me. He served his time and I’m no threat. After all this time, we’re strangers. And, as you know, I need to get back to my job.”

  Of course, those brave words ignored the fact that she’d run all the way to Conard County, Wyoming, from Kansas at Betty’s invitation, when she’d learned her brother would soon be released and the nightmares had returned. Packed up and fled, if she was honest about it. Saying George wouldn’t want to find her felt like whistling past the graveyard.

  Betty, even back in the days when she taught Dory’s high school English class, had been blunt, not one to pull her punches. So it bothered Dory that Betty had felt she should come here.

  Apparently Betty didn’t quite believe George wouldn’t come looking for Dory. Or maybe she had just believed the move would ease Dory’s nightmares. So much for that.

  The coffee went down well, as did a cookie, and soon her fears eased enough that one of the cats, a ginger tabby called simply Ginger, was willing to leap on her lap and beg for pets.

  Such a soothing scene, Dory thought as she rubbed the ginger cat’s cheeks and elicited a surprisingly loud purr. Her relaxation deepened, and she thought that maybe she’d better get a cat herself.

  “So therapy’s out?” Betty asked quietly.

  “I’ve been through years of it. I doubt they can do any more.”

  “Maybe not, but you’re older now.” Then Betty hesitated. “I have a friend I want you to meet this morning.”

  Dory stiffened a bit. She’d been here a week, and so far she’d avoided getting drawn into a social circle. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, and anyway, she’d never been good at it.

  “Oh, relax,” Betty said, reading her reaction correctly. “Someday you’ll want out of that shell, but I doubt it’s going to be right away. You’ve been in it for too many years. No, this is a special kind of friend. He’s the K-9 officer for the sheriff. He trains the dogs and other officers. Anyway, I want you to meet him.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, apart from the fact that he’s got two nasty ostriches he never wanted and can’t get rid of, which I find hysterically funny and interesting, he has lots of dogs. I think you need a dog to keep you company.”

  Dory stared at her. “Why? I was thinking about a cat.”

  Betty smiled. “Think about it, Dory. What’s going to make you feel safer? A guard dog or a guard cat?”

  Almost in spite of herself, Dory laughed. “You make a point.”

  “I always have,” Betty said.

  Back in those long-ago days when Betty had been her sophomore English teacher, Betty alone had showed the infinite patience Dory needed to let someone become close to her. Betty’s campaign had lasted well beyond high school until, finally, surprise of surprises, Dory realized she had a true friend.

  No one else had come so close to her.

  “Oh, and you’re not moving today,” Betty said, reaching for a cookie.

  Dory preferred deciding things for herself. “Why?” she asked, a bit sharply.

  Betty ignored her tone. “Because there was a voice mail message this morning. It’ll be two more days before your high-speed internet is wired in. You need that to work, don’t you?”

  “They promised to do it today,” she answered, but realized getting upset about it wouldn’t help anything. Since she got here, Betty had offered to take her out to the community college to use the internet there. At home, Betty had little need for a high-speed connection. But her connection was good enough to pick up email, so Dory hadn’t taken Betty up on her offer to go to the college. Anyway, the college didn’t have what she needed.

  But she couldn’t stop working indefinitely and it had been too long already. Email sufficed for a short time only. “I need my connection,” she said presently. “Two more days, huh?”

  “What exactly do you do that keeps you online most of the day?” Betty asked. “I get the souped-up computer with all the whiz-bang gizmos, multiple monitors, a graphics card that would break anyone’s bank account...but you can get your email here, right?”

  Dory smiled faintly and poured herself a little more coffee. “I don’t do graphic art all by myself. I work with a team most of the time. Being able to chat back and forth and share files is essential.”

  “I see.” Betty furrowed her brow. “Well, I can call the company again and see if they can hop to it. I know Wil Gladston, and he should be able to pull a string or two.”

  Dory reached out to touch Betty’s arm. “A couple of days more won’t make or break my situation. Everyone knew I’d be off grid for a while. And everyone knows I’m moving. At least we’re not under a tight deadline pressure right now.”

  “If you’re sure,” Betty said. “Things happen so differently in a small town, you know. Nobody’s in a rush without a reason. I’m sure if I explained about your job...”

  Dory shook her head. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy, and I can check email on your connection, as you said.”

  She decided it was time to change the subject. She didn’t want Betty worrying about her. “So this guy with the dogs? You said he has ostriches? Really?”

  Betty’s face smoothed, and a grin was born. “Two of ’em. Nasty critters.”

  “Then why does he have them?”

  “He doesn’t know.” Betty laughed. “It’s such a funny story. Cadell’s dad died unexpectedly. When Cadell came home for the funeral, he found he’d not only inherited the ranch, but those damn ostriches, as well. No clue why or how they got there.” She leaned forward a bit, still grinning. “Now I gotta tell you, that man is patient beyond belief and seldom cusses. But those birds can wind him up enough to cuss a blue streak. A very inventive blue streak. A show well worth watching.”

  Dory was smiling herself, verging on a laugh. “Why doesn’t he get rid of them?”

  “You think he hasn’t tried? Oh, my.” Betty threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll let him tell you. It’s a story and a half.”

  Several hours later as she dressed to go meet this K-9 guy with Betty, Dory wondered why she should need protection. Her brother always had been good to Dory before that night. More tolerant than most brothers that age with a girl of seven. Their relationship had been warm and loving.

  Until that night. Every time she remembered him standing there drenched in blood, holding out his hand, holding a bloody
knife, she wondered what his intentions had been. Would he have killed her, too? She still didn’t understand why he’d killed her parents. Or how it was he hadn’t gotten a life sentence.

  But all those unanswered questions ate at her, and the nightmares proved that she was afraid of him to this day. Maybe that fear was groundless, but he had killed their parents and offered no good explanation for any of it that she had ever heard, not even much later when she was old enough to ask the questions.

  Impatient with herself, she yanked on a polo shirt to go with her jeans and tried to look forward to seeing the nasty ostriches. And the dogs. She’d always liked dogs.

  Just one step at a time, one day at a time, until her emotional upset settled once again. She’d be fine.

  * * *

  CADELL MARCUS STOOD near the ostrich pen, eyeing his pair of nemeses with restrained dislike. Except for some pretty feathers, these were the ugliest-looking birds he’d ever seen. He was a tall man, but they towered over him, a fact they never seemed to let him forget. Dinosaurs. Why weren’t they extinct?

  But there they stood, edged into the small pen he sometimes needed to use because, occasionally, despite ostrich demands, he needed his corral for things besides them.

  Nor did he ever let himself forget those birds could kick him to death with a few blows. Not that they tried, but they’d sure given him the evil eye often enough, and when they stopped being scared of him and quit hunkering down, they had discovered great delight in pecking at his cowboy hats. Two expensive ones had bitten the dust before he’d realized what he really needed was a football helmet when he came within six feet.

  He’d rounded them up into the small pen today, because Betty Cassell was bringing that friend of hers out to see about a guard dog. Betty had given him only the sketchiest of accounts as to why she felt it necessary, so he hoped he’d get more of the story when they arrived.

  In the meantime...those damn ostriches would have to behave whether they liked it or not. At least the electrified fencing contained them. He couldn’t imagine trying to catch them if they ever got out. He’d need Mike Windwalker, the veterinarian, with his magic dart gun.