Page 35 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

Joe closed the laptop. "Your call. But she deserves to know what she's up against."

"I know."

7

By mid-afternoon, Lyle was elbow-deep in the security panel by the back gate, rewiring access codes while sweat dripped down his neck. The Texas heat didn't care that he was trying to save someone's life. It just kept pressing down like a hand on his back.

"This one's gonna cover the blind spot by the cattle guard," he told Mike, gesturing toward the camera angle. "Anyone comes in that way, we'll know."

Kenny appeared from the equipment shed carrying a battered green military footlocker that looked like it had survived three deployments and a flood. Inside were trail cameras, motion sensors, and enough wire to fence in half the county.

Mike eyed the coils. "You planning to catch bad guys or coyotes?"

"Either one tries to get near her, they're gonna wish they hadn't," Kenny said.

"Just don't booby-trap the goat pen again,” Lyle said. “Tiny's still holding a grudge."

Kenny's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Goat had it coming."

With fluid precision, Kenny headed into the wild acreage beyond the barn, motion-triggered cameras slung across his shoulder, his face set in a stony mask. Mike watched him go. Kenny was a man made for danger, but was using his gifts now to protect, to watch, to wait.

Mike hauled feed sacks into the barn, his jaw tight, shoulders rigid. Knowing someone was closing in, they’d all gone into military mode so it was all hand on deck to juggle the added precaution and still keep the ranch running smoothly.

Arletta appeared at the barn door. "She's gone," she said without preamble.

“Who’s gone?” Mike dropped the sack, preoccupied, his mind busy with all that needed to get done.

"Liv. Said she needed air about two hours ago. Haven't seen her since." Arletta's voice was calm, but her eyes weren't. "I checked her room. Bed's made. Phone's on the nightstand. Her good boots are gone."

Mike's chest went tight. "Did she take anything else?"

"Her jacket. The fleece one Heather gave her."

Damn it. His part in their plan had been never to leave her alone. And he’d done just that. He was moving before he'd consciously decided to, texting his brothers, already calculating where she might go . . . or worse, who might have her.

He checked the bunkhouse. Empty.

The kitchen. Nothing.

The side porch where she liked to sit with her tea in the evenings. The only thing there was her water bottle, abandoned on the stone bench.

Mike stood there, staring at that bottle, panic clawing up his throat.

He was halfway to his truck when Charlotte intercepted him, Pudge trotting behind her like a judgmental shadow.

"Is Miss Liv okay?" she asked, eyes big and worried. “Pudge was eavesdropping on Arletta.”

Mike crouched down, knowing good and well Charlotte was the one with big ears and a penchant for lurking. "I'm gonna make sure she is. You go find Heather and stay with her, all right?"

"She looked sad this morning," Charlotte said. "I gave her a rock. The shiny one I found by the creek. But she cried."

Mike's throat tightened. "Sometimes grown-ups cry when they're grateful, sweetheart."

"Are you gonna bring her back?"

"Yeah. I am." Whatever it took. Even if he had to pry her from the hands of a sleazy hitman.

Mike stood and ruffled Charlotte’s hair.