Page 52 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

"That's me." She kept her voice light, friendly. "Would you like to try one?"

"I would, thanks." He watched her plate it, his attention too focused, like he was memorizing the way she moved. "You must be new here. Don't remember seeing you on our last visit."

Except the guest log showed this was his first time at the ranch.

Liv knew. She'd checked that morning, this new sense of paranoia swirling around her making her memorize every name, every face.

"I’m here seasonally," she said carefully.

"Huh. Seems like you fit right in." He took the plate. "Thanks. I'll let you get back to work."

He moved away, but Liv felt his eyes on her back as she worked, couldn't shake the feeling that he was cataloging her every move.

Get a grip, she told herself. She glanced over and saw that Mike was watching her. Warmth flooded her chest, replacing suspicion. She loved that he rarely let her out of his sight. His protectiveness gave her strength.

She winked at him and his brows raised in surprise. Then a slow grin spread across his face before he pushed off the wall and ducked back in the kitchen,

After all the guests had retired to their cabins, Liv went out to sit on the porch swing. As much as she tried to suppress them, her nerves jangled like wind chimes in a storm. Charlotte was playing with a litter of rescue puppies on the lawn, their joyful barks a sharp contrast to the anxiety gnawing at Liv's stomach.

The card. The too-smooth guest with his searching questions.

She was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she jumped when Mike's hand settled gently on her shoulder.

"Easy," he murmured, settling beside her on the swing. "Just me."

The warmth of his presence helped steady her, but she couldn't quite shake the chill that had settled in her bones.

"Good day?" he asked, though his eyes suggested he already knew the answer. And he probably did since he’d watched her like a hawk all day.

She considered lying, maintaining the facade of normalcy they'd all worked so hard to build. But the weight of constant vigilance was exhausting, and Mike's steady presence made her want to be honest.

"Mostly," she said carefully. "The riding lesson was wonderful. Planning the bake sale with Charlotte and Heather made me feel... useful. Like I could actually contribute something to this community."

"But?"

She sighed, leaning into his warmth. "But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time I start to feel safe, something reminds me that I'm still a loose end in some crime boss’s orbit."

Mike's arm came around her shoulders, solid and sure.

"I don't want to bring trouble to your family, Mike." she whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I hate this waiting game probably more than you do. I’d just as soon shoot somebody and get it over with.”

She sputtered out a laugh, loved the fact that this man, with a single rhetorical statement, could change her mood and soothe her like the flip of a pancake. “You’re a crazy man, Mike Watkins. And I like you.” The porch swing creaked as she shifted and turned into him. “A lot.”

10

The phone call came at two-seventeen in the morning.

Joe was still awake, had been for hours, watching security footage on a loop and cross-referencing rental car registrations. When his secure line buzzed, the one only three people had the number to, he knew before he answered that the news wouldn't be good.

"Talk to me," he said, voice low so he wouldn't wake the house.

"Your girl's got a shadow." The voice on the other end belonged to Johan Vance, former Marine intelligence, current private security consultant, and one of the few people Joe trusted with his life. "PI out of Dallas named Dan Harris. Former cop, went private about five years ago. Clean record, but he works for whoever pays best. No moral compass to speak of."

Joe's jaw tightened. "Who hired him?"

"That's where it gets interesting. Money trail goes through two shell companies before it dead-ends at a law firm in Manhattan. Russo and Associates."