The Widow's Protector

“Ryder? Have you ever had great sex?”

His hands froze for a second, then resumed massaging. “Yeah. A very long time ago. At least, I remember it as being great.”

“I never have,” Marti continued. “I thought it was one big disappointment and couldn’t understand why it was such a huge deal.”

Again his hands froze. Then he whispered, “Oh, lady, you just handed me a grenade.”

She opened her eyes to half-mast. “Grenade? What do you mean?”

“I’ve been wanting you since I laid eyes on you. Now you’ve all but asked me. Tell me you don’t mean it.”

“Why?”

“You know all the reasons. You’re pregnant. I’ll be leaving eventually to go see Ben. I’m an emotional train wreck…Why in God’s name would you want to get mixed up with me even temporarily?”

She barely hesitated. “Because I want to know.”

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.

To my readers, who bring so much joy into my life.

The Widow’s Protector

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Ben Hansen hung up the phone, and he was furious. He’d been furious ever since Brandy had killed herself, and he knew who was responsible. Of course he knew who was responsible. Brandy hadn’t had a single problem until she’d married that dolt Ryder Kelstrom.

That was when the sickness started, and Ben didn’t need a map to tell him who had made Brandy so depressed. But damn it, he wished Ryder would just get his butt out here.

He’d looked for an opportunity to pay the guy back at the funeral in New York and hadn’t been able to get Ryder alone for even ten seconds. Even if he had, he’d have left too much evidence behind.

No, he reminded himself. He needed to get Ryder away from anyone who would even know he was there. Then he’d deal with him.

He’d pushed Ryder to come out to Fresno by himself, but instead of hopping a plane, the guy had decided to take the bus and hike. Weeks. Weeks! And Ben had already been waiting eight months for his opportunity.

At first he’d thought Ryder’s trip would make it easier. The guy was in the middle of nowhere, for God’s sake, where no one knew him. If something happened to him, they’d never trace it back here to Fresno.

But the trip was taking too long, and Ryder never said exactly where he was.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Ben counseled himself to patience. At some point he’d figure out where Ryder was planning to travel. At some point he’d pin the guy down.

And then he was going to leave Ryder to bleed to death just the way Brandy had.

Ryder Kelstrom strolled along one of Wyoming’s dusty roads in no particular hurry. He’d chosen the slowest way possible of getting from the East Coast to the West because he had a lot of emotional baggage he wanted to deal with before he met his brother-in-law in Fresno. So here he was, hiking along some desolate county road in a place he’d never heard of, with only a map to guide him to the next town and the next bus station.

Fine by him. He was still sorting through a lot, trying to make sense out of the insanity. He felt events settling inside him, but understanding was still beyond reach. Maybe it always would be.

The sky was turning an ugly black-green, and the clouds hung low and heavy. Getting wet didn’t worry him, though. He’d managed to live most of his life outdoors, working construction and eventually owning his own building business. He wasn’t one to fear the elements except as a possible delay on a contractual deadline. Right now he didn’t have any deadlines at all.

Wind pushed at him suddenly, at first chilly enough that he buttoned up his denim jacket. After another half-mile, though, it suddenly turned warmer.

That was odd. He looked up again and could have sworn some of those inky clouds would have scraped treetops if there had been any trees in sight. These wide-open spaces had become familiar to him in his travels, but it still astonished him sometimes to realize he could look horizon to horizon and not see any sign of habitation. He was used to the denser population of the East, and the seemingly empty spaces he’d found since hitting the Midwest delighted him. It was almost possible to feel as if he were alone on the planet.

Certainly he felt utterly alone these days.

The wind buffeted him again, still warm, nearly knocking him off his feet. He staggered a bit then kept on walking. He was definitely going to get wet. A crackle of lightning in one of the clouds concerned him, though. He seemed to be the tallest thing around for miles.

He heard an engine roaring up from behind him, but he didn’t bother to stick out a thumb. It was okay to get wet, and he really wasn’t in a mood to converse with a stranger. And these days thumbing a ride didn’t get you very far very fast. Most people knew better than to pick up hitchhikers and, as he’d already learned from a cop, hitchhiking was now illegal in many places.