CHAPTER SIX

W ITH A FULL MOON TO HELP HIM NAVIGATE , C AIN TOOK THE curves up Highway 89A a little faster than he should have. He was driving his newly purchased, forest-green Jaguar F-type, a sleek two-door that really hugged the road.

Quinn and Denver were off to the Skeleton Bar and Grill or the Burro Saloon, not far from the ranch. Billy had met a girl from Prescott, so there was a good chance he'd be hooking up with her there tonight. It was Sanchez's weekend to stay at the ranch.

Cain had finally succumbed to an itch that urged him to return to Jerome. He had always listened to his intuition, and all day it had nagged him, telling him the trouble Jenny had faced with the bikers wasn't over.

He probably should have just called her, made sure she was okay, but the idea didn't sit well. He was worried.

Or maybe he just wanted to see her.

Either way, he reached the top of the mountain, made the sharp turn onto Clark Street, and headed downhill to Main Street. It took him a couple of minutes to find a parking place, and in the end, he had to walk a block back to the saloon.

Even a block away, he could hear the country music, same singer, same guitar as last night. He stopped in the shadows outside the bar. The same row of motorcycles he'd seen last night were parked in the same space as before. He recognized a couple of them, one black-and-chrome with silver conchos on the seat, another with red-and-orange flames streaking over the gas tank.

His strides lengthened. His intuition rarely let him down, and apparently, it hadn't tonight. He pushed through the swinging doors, his gaze going in search of Jenny, but he didn't see her.

A row of tables had been pushed together, same as before, the bikers sitting around it, though none of them had their motorcycle boots propped on top.

The Steel Cobras were there—all but one. Ryder was not among them.

Ryder was missing, and so was Jenny. Worry slid through him. He strode across the room to where Troy stood behind the bar, pouring a customer a whiskey and Coke.

"Where's Jenny?" Cain asked.

"She had a headache and quit early."

"She went home?" He knew she lived in Cottonwood. She was going to be working for him. After tonight, he was going to know a lot more about her.

"Jenny's in a room upstairs. She went up to lie down." Troy collected the cash for the drink and rang it up in the old-fashioned brass cash register next to the credit-card machine.

Cain glanced back at the bikers' table. Still no sign of Ryder. "Jenny may be in trouble. Which room is she in?"

"I'm not allowed to give out that information."

"I just want to check on her. Which room?"

"Sorry," Troy said, mopping the top of the bar.

Tired of being polite, Cain reached over, grabbed the front of Troy's black Copper Star T-shirt, and hauled him halfway across the bar. "Which room!"

"I'm . . . I'm not sure. We've got a full house tonight. She said it was in the new section, number eight, I think."

Cain let him go, turned, and strode across the room to the lobby. Praying for once his instincts were wrong, he headed up the stairs.

* * *

Something shifted in the air. Jenny felt the bed dip, and her eyes flashed open to see a man's face in the shadowy darkness above her. A scream rose in her throat, but a meaty hand cut off the sound.

"Take it easy, and you won't get hurt."

She started shaking. The man was using his weight to press her down in the mattress, trapping her arms, and he weighed a ton—Ryder, she remembered, big, bald, and ugly. She'd been worried about ghosts, not the biker she had pissed off in the bar last night.

"Now . . . here's what's going to happen," the biker said. "You and I are going to have us a little fun."

She started squirming and twisting on the bed, trying to break free, trying to push off his heavy weight, but he only laughed.

"You're gonna spread your pretty legs for me, sweet thing. You might as well get used to the idea."

She thrashed and tried to scream, but the sound was muffled by his big, thick-fingered hand. She had locked the door. How had he gotten in?

Reaching between them, he yanked up her sleep-tee, and she started fighting harder. The hand over her mouth moved a little, and she sank her teeth in and bit down as hard as she could.

"Fuck! You little bitch, you're gonna pay for that!" Ryder let go of her long enough to pull back and slap her across the face. Jenny screamed, but his fingers crushed down over her mouth again, and it sounded more like a whimper.

The buzz of his zipper sliding down was the last thing she heard before the door crashed open, splinters flew, and Cain Barrett burst into the room. He took one look at the big bald biker, yanked him off her, and smashed a fist into his ugly face.

The fight was on as the two big men swung a series of blows, but there was no stopping Cain. The fury in his eyes said he would kill Ryder if he had to.

She glanced from Cain to Ryder as she rolled out of the bed, saw that the biker's nose and mouth were bleeding, one of his eyes beginning to swell. Grabbing the brass lamp on the nightstand with shaking hands, she took a steadying breath, braced her feet apart, and swung the lamp with all her strength, crashing it against the side of Ryder's head.

The biker swayed on his feet. Cain's last punch sent him hurling into the wall, his big body sliding down to the floor, his head lolling forward, unmoving. Cain stood over him, breathing hard, his dark eyes still burning with fury. His fists were clenched, his powerful biceps bulging.

Jenny sagged down on the edge of the bed. She couldn't stop shaking. In all the years she had been around the bar, nothing like this had ever happened.

Cain bent down and checked Ryder's pulse, pulled out his cell, and called 911. A few quick words, and he ended the call. "The cops are on the way."

Since the police station was right across the street, it wouldn't take long for them to get there. She should have been relieved, but instead, the fear she'd been feeling rushed back with the force of a blow, and a sob caught in her throat.

Cain turned at the sound. He walked over to where she sat on the side of the bed. She flinched as he reached toward her, and his hand fell away. "You're all right, honey. He's not going to be hurting anyone anytime soon."

Jenny couldn't control the shaking. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn't do any good.

"Let me hold you," Cain said. "You're safe with me, I promise you."

She shouldn't. She was a grown woman. She didn't need someone to take care of her, and yet . . . Trembling all over, she rose from the bed, and Cain eased her into his arms.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," he said. "Everything's going to be all right."

Jenny rested her head on his shoulder, and her fear slid slowly away. She was safe. The police were on the way, and Cain was there.

She lifted her head to look at him. "Thank you. If . . . if you hadn't come along when you did . . ."

She felt the tremor that went through Cain's big body.

"How did . . . how did you know?" she asked.

"I've got good instincts. I had a hunch those guys would be back."

"I checked the door. I don't know how . . . how he got in."

"It was bolted when I got here, but I could hear you inside. Probably opened the door with a lock pick. Guy like him would know how to use one." Cain glanced at the splintered door, destroyed by a kick from his heavy leather boot. "You need to put chains on these doors."

She realized her trembling had stopped and forced herself to move away. "They're on order. I'll put them up as soon . . . as soon as they get here." At least the sound of the chain breaking would have given her some warning.

She turned to see two of Jerome's finest rushing into the room, realized her sleep-tee was ripped halfway to her waist on one side, and straightened it as best she could. Cain pulled the blanket off the bed and draped it around her shoulders. She gave him a whispered "Thanks."

"What's going on here?" one of the officers asked. Gerry Simmons, tall, bean-pole thin, and a really nice guy. Jenny knew all the guys in the local police department, which consisted of a chief, a lieutenant, two full-time, and two part-time officers.

"Ms. Spencer was attacked by the man over there on the floor," Cain said. "Fortunately, I got here in time to stop him."

"Nice work," Gerry said. "You're Cain Barrett, right? You're the new owner of the Grandview?"

"That's right."

The other officer, Neal Gibbons, a nice-looking, gray-haired man, knelt to check on Ryder's condition, then locked a pair of handcuffs around the biker's thick wrists. "EMTs are on the way. Won't take 'em long to get here."

Jerome had a well-trained volunteer fire department, with a station house also on Main Street, not far away.

Ryder groaned and roused himself enough to realize his hands were cuffed behind him.

"Take it easy," Neal said. "Paramedics are on the way. They'll take you to the hospital in Verde Valley."

"Fuck you. I don't need no fuckin' hospital."

Cain stepped in front of him, one of his scarred hands unconsciously fisting. "Keep talking and you will."

Gerry put a hand on Cain's shoulder. "We got this. But we're going to need a statement from you and Jenny."

"Tomorrow," Cain said. "Jenny's had enough for tonight."

"It's all right, Gerry," Jenny said. "I'm okay. Just tell me what you need."

Gerry cast a long, disgusted look at Ryder. "We can do it tomorrow. Like Mr. Barrett said, you've had enough for tonight."

Cain relaxed. "It's just Cain. We'll see you at the station in the morning. I'll call, let you know what time we'll be there."

The EMTs strode through the door just then, spotted Ryder, and hurried toward him. He was swearing, calling them filthy names. He loudly declined any help. The EMTs verified he was okay as far as they could tell without taking him in, and the officers hoisted him to his feet.

"We'll see you two in the morning," Gerry said, as the police hauled the biker out through the ruined door. After the shuffle of feet and Ryder's cursing disappeared down the hall, silence fell.

"I can't thank you enough for what you did," Jenny finally said.

"You work for me now. I take care of my people."

The words were like a wake-up call, putting things back in perspective. She was just an employee, nothing more. She had to remember that. "Nothing like this has ever happened here before. Whatever the reason, I'm glad you came."

Cain nodded. "Get dressed, grab your overnight bag, and let's get out of here."

"What?"

He glanced at the shattered door. "You can't stay here. Troy says the rooms are all full. You can stay over at the Grandview."

She started shaking her head. "I'll just drive down the mountain to my house."

"The storm outside is blowing like a bitch, and after what happened, you're in no shape to drive."

That much was true. Every time she thought of the attack, about how bad it could have been if Cain hadn't arrived when he did, she started shaking again.

"I'll sleep on the sofa in my suite," Cain added. "You can have the bedroom."

The thought of sleeping in Cain Barrett's bed was enough to make hot color wash into her cheeks.

He must have noticed. Amusement touched his lips. "You don't have to worry. Ryder's in jail, and I'm nothing like him."

She managed to keep her eyes on his face. Nope, Cain Barrett couldn't be more different. "It isn't that. I just . . . I don't want you to have to give up your bed."

"I can handle a night on the sofa. You're going to be working for me, and as I said before, I take care of my people. Get dressed and let's go."