Certified Cowboy by Rita Herron

vengeance. Her strength and that sweet vulnerability aroused both his lust and protective instincts, a lethal combination that he’d never experienced before.
    He fisted his hands and strode back to his truck, then headed back to the main house. But he wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with images of that animal pawing at her in the barn earlier.
    Or the memory of her mouth seeking his, her hands drawing him nearer, her taste on his lips and her touch on his skin.
    He needed to take a ride to clear his head.
    He parked at the main barn, saddled up Soldier, then climbed in the saddle and galloped across the ranch. Ever since he was a boy, he’d felt at home in the saddle. One with the animal.
    It was no different now. He guided the horse across the terrain, bypassing the stables and arena, then checked to make sure the animals they’d brought in for the rodeo had been delivered.
    Satisfied to find things in order, he rode out to the north pasture again. He scanned the area to make sure the man who’d attacked Rachel hadn’t decided to hide out somewhere on the ranch, then rode along the creek to the river.
    He also looked for other signs of trouble in case Copeland had hired someone to sabotage them.
    The rodeo was only a few days away, and Rachel had promised to stay until it was over. But what would happen then?
    Dammit. He spun the horse around and headed back to the stables. If she wasn’t going to confide the truth about her problems, he’d find out on his own.
    He breathed in the fresh night air as he crossed the pasture, rode past the creek where the youth were camping out and slowed the horse, pausing to watch for a few minutes but staying hidden in the shadows. When he was a kid, he’d loved the outdoors, skipping rocks in the river, digging fence posts, diving into a haystack, but most of all, riding. God, he loved being in the saddle, the powerful feel of the beast beneath him.
    It was the only time he felt in control.
    He’d spent plenty of nights sleeping outdoors to avoid his father when he was on a tear. Camps hadn’t been in the budget. And his old man wouldn’t have sent him if it had been.
    Laughter echoed through the trees, then voices as the group huddled around the campfire. He spotted Kenny sitting beside Willie, and smiled. Kenny didn’t care that the boy was handicapped. In fact, he acted as if he didn’t realize Willie’s limitations, simply accepted him for who he was. Despite what had happened with Rachel, she had done a good job raising her son.
    And the past few days Kenny seemed happy and relaxed, a far cry from the little boy who’d clung to his mother and looked terrified when Johnny had told him he had to earn his keep.
    Memories bombarded Johnny. His father’s drinking had made him violent. Too often he’d borne the brunt of his temper.
    Had Kenny’s father hit him, too?
    The thought sent rage through him, and he whirled the horse around and galloped back to the stables. It took him a few minutes to unsaddle the stallion and brush him down, then he strode into the main house, snatched up the phone and punched in the number for the private investigator he’d used when his own troubles had nearly destroyed him. He didn’t want to use the same service the ranch used for simple background checks. This had become too personal.
    The P.I. answered on the third ring.
    “Leon,” Johnny said without preamble. “I need a favor.”
    “What’s going on, Johnny? Somewhere else making up lies about you and trying to extort you?”
    “No,” Johnny said quietly. “But it is about a woman.”
    “Haven’t you learned, Johnny? Women are always trouble.”
    A grin tugged at his mouth, but he remembered the bruises on Rachel’s neck and it quickly faded. “Yeah, and this one has it written all over her.”
    A long-suffering sigh escaped Leon. “Hell, you’re not going to listen to me anyway, so just spill it. What’s her name and what does she want from you?”
    That was just it.