Against the Wind by Kat Martin

glad you’re having fun.”
    â€œSam says if it’s okay with you, he could teach me to ride Midnight. She’s a pony, Mom, and she’s just my size. Can I?”
    Uncertainty rolled through her. Sarah glanced over at Jackson, who had just walked into the doorway. “There’s a pony named Midnight. Do you think it’s safe for Holly—”
    â€œMidnight’s twenty years old. Both Jimmy’s boys learned to ride on her. Holly couldn’t be safer.”
    Sarah turned back to the phone. “You can ride her—as long as Livvy or Sam’s dad is out there with you.”
    â€œYippee!” The sound of clanging pots and pans came over the line. “I gotta go, Mom. Livvy’s taking the cake out of the oven.”
    â€œHave a good time, sweetheart.” The line went dead and Sarah hung up the phone, wishing she were there instead of in L.A.
    â€œEverything okay?”
    â€œEverything’s fine. She’s having a great time. I don’t think she’s missing me—especially not when she’s got a pony to ride.”
    He chuckled. “She’s living on a ranch. She needs to learn to ride.”
    â€œI suppose. I just…I worry about her.”
    â€œThat’s what mothers are supposed to do. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.” His expression changed and so did the subject. “Do you still have a key to your condo?”
    She nodded. “I meant to leave it there when I left that last day, but I was so anxious to get on the road I forgot.”
    â€œWe’ll go there first.”
    â€œAll right. I’d like to call Gran before we go, make sure she’s doing okay.”
    Gran was fine. She told Sarah to enjoy the trip with her handsome cowboy.
    â€œWe’re just friends,” Sarah tried to convince her, but Gran just chuckled into the phone.
    The rental car still sat in front of the hotel. Jackson waited until Sarah got in, closed her door, then went around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel.
    It didn’t take long to reach the impressive Whispering Sands condominium development where Sarah had been living before her move to Wyoming. They parked in guest parking, then Sarah used her key to the private elevator, which they took to the seventh floor.
    She steeled herself, expecting the worst, and handed Jackson the key to the door. When the door swung open, she saw that the apartment had been trashed as she had feared.
    â€œLook familiar?” Jackson asked.
    â€œUnfortunately, yes.”
    â€œI was pretty sure they’d hit here first.”
    â€œSo was I.” She surveyed the overturned cream-colored sofa and chairs in the living room, the cushions sliced open and the stuffing torn out. They had done a thorough job, she saw, even pulling up the carpet in the bottom of the closets. Still, the impact wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been in the little cottage she thought of as home.
    â€œWhen we get back to Wyoming, I’ll call the real estate office,” she said. “Tell them what’s happened. They’ll need to get the place cleaned up.”
    â€œYou’d better call the police.”
    She stiffened, turned away from surveying the wreckage to face him. “I’m not calling the police, Jackson. I had more than my share of dealings with them after Andrew died. If I call, it’ll start all over. I can’t go through that again.”
    He said nothing for several long moments, just stood there studying her face. “All right, we’ll play it your way. For now.”
    She knew he was worried about the danger she might be facing. But there was a danger in all of this that Jackson didn’t understand. She turned away from him, walked into the master bedroom, surveyed the destruction in there.
    Jackson walked up beside her. “Looks like they did a pretty thorough job.”
    â€œVery thorough.”
    â€œAny place they might have