Snowbound with the Bodyguard

She filled their cups, trying to ignore the way Sinclair’s eyes lingered on her breasts. Her throat tightened and her heart banged harder against her ribs.

“Never guess what I heard through the grapevine,” Sinclair said to his deputies.

“What’s that, Sheriff?” Deputy Jed Billet asked.

“I heard that Janette has a little baby boy. What is he, about five months old, Janette?” Sinclair gazed at her knowingly.

She turned to get their pie, her hands trembling as she opened the display case that held the desserts. He knew. Dear God, he knew.

“Gonna be tough, being a single parent,” Deputy Westin said.

As she placed the pie in front of Sinclair he reared back on the stool. “A boy. There’s something special about a boy, don’t you think so, Jed? I mean, I love my three little girls, but I always dreamed about how great it would be to have a son. Unfortunately, all my wife could pop was girls. Still, a boy needs a father, don’t you agree?”

A roar went off in Janette’s head. She had to escape. She had to take her son and leave Sandstone because she knew what evil Sheriff Brandon Sinclair was capable of, and as long as she remained in Sandstone he had the power to do whatever he wanted to do.

If he decided he wanted her baby boy, she knew he’d find a way to get him.

Chapter 1 (#u9bad6cbb-56df-5ff2-9268-015c2fc9dd7c)

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I just got word that the bus isn’t coming.”

Janette blinked and stared up at the man in charge of the Cotter Creek bus station. She straightened in her chair as she realized she must have dozed off. She wrapped her arms around her still sleeping son and gazed at the man with confusion.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“The bus. It’s not coming. It’s been held up by weather.”

“By weather?” Dulled by sleep, she stared at him as if he were speaking a foreign language.

He nodded. “Ice.” He pointed out the window. Janette followed his finger and gasped in surprise as she saw the icy pellets falling from the sky. The ground was already covered with at least an inch.

Where had it come from? When she’d arrived at the bus station two hours ago the skies had been thick with gray clouds, but there hadn’t been a hint of snow. Of course the last thing on her mind when she’d left Sandstone had been the weather forecast.

She looked back at the man and tried to swallow against the sense of panic that had been with her since she’d packed her bags and left Sandstone that afternoon. A friend of her grandmother’s had driven her the thirty miles to Cotter Creek, where a bus to Kansas City ran every other day. It was supposed to run today.

“Will it be here tomorrow?” she asked.

“Depends if the weathermen are right or wrong. They say we’re in for a blizzard, but they’re wrong more often than they’re right.” He shrugged his skinny shoulders and pulled a stocking cap over his head. “You best get settled in someplace for the night. I’ve got to close down here. Check back in the morning and I’ll know more about the schedule.” He was obviously in a hurry, tapping his heel as he looked at her expectantly.

“Of course.” She stood, grateful that Sammy still slept in his sling against her chest. She didn’t want to show how scared she was, didn’t want to do anything that might draw unnecessary attention to herself.

She’d find a pay phone, call the nearest motel and get a room for the night. Hopefully she’d still have time to get as far away from Sandstone as possible before Brandon Sinclair even knew she’d left the small town.

She grabbed the handle of her large suitcase and draped the diaper bag over her shoulder, still groggy from the unexpected catnap.

She was barely out the door before the bus station, little more than a shack, was locked up behind her. The ice that fell had coated the sidewalk and created shiny surfaces on everything else in sight. Under different circumstances she might have found it beautiful.

With Sammy safely snuggled beneath her wool coat, she looked up and down the street. She didn’t know Cotter Creek well. Perhaps there was a bed-and-breakfast someplace nearby where she could spend the night.

A new disquiet soared through her as she eyed the deserted streets. It was just after six but it was as if the entire town had packed their bags and left. There wasn’t a person or a car on the street.

She should have asked to use the phone in the bus station. She should have asked the man where she could get a room for the night. But the nap had dulled her senses, and he’d hurried her out too fast for her to think clearly.

The sight of a phone booth in the distance rallied her spirits. Cotter Creek was near a major highway, and that meant there had to be a motel somewhere nearby.

Pulling the suitcase behind her, she hurried as fast as the slick concrete would allow toward the phone booth, feeling as if luck was on her side as she spied the small phone book hanging on a hook just inside the door.

She stepped into the booth and closed the door behind her, grateful to be out of the cold wind and stinging ice. With cold fingers she thumbed through the book until she found the page with the motel listings. Make that one listing. The Cotter Creek Motel.

Digging change from her purse, she felt Sammy stir as if the rapid beating of her heart disturbed his sleep. She drew a deep breath to steady her nerves.

She’d wanted to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible from Sandstone and Brandon Sinclair. Okay, so she couldn’t get on the bus tonight. She’d cool her heels in a motel room and catch the bus the next day. Although she hated to part with a dime of the money that was neatly folded and tucked into a side pocket in her purse, she really didn’t have a choice.

She had to get out of town tomorrow. Thirty miles was far too close to the devil and his minions. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she was a thousand miles away. Once she got settled in a new town, she’d send for Nana and the three of them would build a new life where Brandon Sinclair couldn’t bother them.

She dropped the change into the slot and punched in the number for the Cotter Creek Motel. A man answered on the third ring. “No room at the inn,” he said.

“Is this the Cotter Creek Motel?” she asked, her hand tightening on the receiver.

“Yeah, but if you’re looking for a room, we’re full up. They’ve shut the highway down up north and I’ve got a houseful of travelers. I’ve even rented out my sofa in the lobby.” He sounded positively gleeful. “Sorry.” He hung up.

Janette held the receiver for a long moment, her heart pumping with panic once again. She hung up and frantically thumbed through the skinny phone book, looking for a listing of a bed-and-breakfast, a rental room, anywhere she could get a warm bed for the night. There was nothing.

She wanted to call her grandmother and ask her what to do. Where to go. But she’d only worry Nana, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Besides, Janette was an adult. She had to handle this. She was twenty-four years old and a mother, and the most important thing in her life at the moment was little Sammy. She had to get him someplace safe and warm.

She leaned her head against the cold glass of the booth and watched as the ice began to turn to snow and pick up in intensity. What was she going to do? She and Sammy couldn’t spend the night out in the elements.

Desperation filled her and she felt a panic attack coming on. The palms of her hands grew slick with sweat as her throat seemed to constrict. She closed her eyes and drew in deep breaths, forcing the attack away. She didn’t have time to be weak now. Sammy needed her, and she needed to get him someplace safe for the night.

She opened her eyes once again. The clouds and ice were creating an early twilight. She straightened as she saw a light shining from a window of one of the storefronts in the next block.

Where there was light there might be somebody who could direct her to a place for the night. She checked to make sure her coat was securely fastened to keep Sammy as warm as possible, pulled up her hood and tied it beneath her chin, then stepped out of the phone booth and into the wind that had begun to howl with fierce intensity.

She kept her gaze focused on the light, a beacon of hope. It didn’t take long for her gloveless fingers to turn numb and her cheeks to burn with the cold. Ice pellets pinged on the sidewalk and her bare skin.

She walked slowly, carefully, not wanting to fall on the slick walkways. Before she reached the radiating light, she saw the shingle that hung above the doorway. West Protective Services.

She knew that name. She frowned thoughtfully, then remembered. There had been an article in the paper not too long ago, a human interest story about the family who owned and operated a bodyguard business. The article had described the family as honorable, trustworthy people who put their lives on the line for their clients.

If she remembered the article correctly, they had been instrumental in cleaning up Cotter Creek when a development company had tried to take ranch land and had hired people to kill the ranchers.

You have to trust somebody, a little voice whispered in her head. She had no other choice. Once again she felt her throat closing up, a quickening of her heart and a sense of doom that portended one of her panic attacks.

Not giving herself a chance to second-guess her decision, she started for the door. She reached for the door handle just as a man barreled out and into her.

He bumped her with just enough force to cause her to lose her footing on the slippery sidewalk. She felt herself careening backward, but before she could fall, two big strong hands grabbed hold of her shoulders and steadied her.