Chapter 2

The next morning, Bridget sat down for breakfast in the BB's dining room. As she'd expected, Rodney had given her an ass-chewing of epic proportions the previous afternoon. It was well deserved, but she was still smarting a bit from it.

The only reason she had been allowed to come back out in public was because Rodney had determined Todd, Steven and the hunky twin cowboys were decent guys who didn't have a clue who she and Rodney really were. Besides, as he'd said, the damage was done. There were now witnesses who could identify them to anyone who came looking. The four men would become suspicious if she suddenly took to hiding in the room. He'd decided it would be better if they went about their business as if everything were normal. However, he stressed she wasn't allowed to set one foot outside the inn.

So much for her riding lessons dream.

Because of the mess she'd made, Rodney's new goal was to find a secluded cabin to rent in the woods near Saratoga while they tried to piece out the clues in the remainder of the letter.

Much to her chagrin, they would have to leave the BB immediately. Bridget was loath to return to the solitary existence that had become her normal life the past few months. While Rodney was nice company, she hadn't realized how much she'd missed people until yesterday's flirtatious conversation with Matt and Mark. She was tired of being alone and lonely.

Guilt pierced her heart with that thought. Lyle's face as he lay dead on the cold warehouse floor flashed before her eyes. She was doing this for him. She'd made him a promise that night. Three more weeks. Twenty-one days until she could see justice served. She owed that to Lyle. Until then, it was too selfish to wish for anything else.

Once she'd repaid that debt, she'd figure out a way to return to her own life. She just prayed she could find it again.

"That's not a very happy face."

Bridget jumped, nearly spilling the glass of water Todd had put in front of her only a few minutes earlier. "Oh God!"

"Damn. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Quick hands reached out to catch the water.

Speak of the devils. Bridget glanced up to find Matt and Mark looking down at her.

"Hey," she said, the racing of her heart no longer based on fear. The sight of the cowboys sent her body into overdrive. "What are you guys doing here?"

Mark removed his hat, running his hand through his hair. "Todd offered us a big breakfast as a thank you for moving the oven. We don't turn down one of his western omelets."

"They're that good?"

Matt followed his brother's lead, removing his hat as well. "Best in the state. Sorry about scaring you. Thought you saw us walk in."

She shrugged off her unwanted fears, forcing a lie from her lips. "I was daydreaming."

"Must have been some dream to take you so far away. Didn't look like a particularly nice one either," Mark said.

She used to believe nightmares were only for sleeping. However, after spending the past six months wide awake in the midst of a horrible dream, she now knew better.

She forced the unpleasant thought from her mind and painted on a smile. For now, she was exactly where she wanted to be—surrounded by nice people in a place that felt safe and homey. She'd focus on that instead. She gestured at the empty seats across from her. "Would you like to join me?"

Mark grinned. "Thought you'd never ask."

She rubbed her hands on her lap as they each claimed a chair at the table. Sweaty palms? Was it due to anxiety from her earlier concerns or girlish nervousness over being so close to the James twins? Rodney would kill her for pushing her luck, but she was running perilously low on common sense or care these days.

The months since Lyle's shooting had passed in one long blur of constant pain, limitless fatigue and never-ending motion. She was tired of being suspicious of everyone.

Prior to Lyle's murder, she'd never known a stranger. She'd won friendliest in her high school yearbook's Who's Who, and she missed talking to people, hanging out with friends, dating. Most of all, she really missed sex. Not that she was promiscuous, but criminy, it had been nearly a year since she'd even kissed a member of the opposite sex. She wasn't cut out for a chaste lifestyle.

On top of the everlasting horniness, it was exhausting to look at everyone as the enemy. She hated walking into a room and wondering if someone there was plotting her death. There was something comfortable about the handsome twins that told her she could trust them.

Matt leaned back in his seat, stretching his long legs out beneath the table. His foot accidentally rubbed against hers. She had to fight to keep her libido at bay. "How's your headache?"

She frowned for a moment, wondering what he was talking about. Then she recalled Rodney's lie. "Oh, it's fine. All better."

Todd came out of the kitchen and made a beeline for their table. "I was starting to wonder if you guys were going to take me up on my omelet offer."

"We had a bit of trouble with one of the horses this morning. One of the Appaloosas threw a shoe. It set us back a bit of time," Mark replied.

"Well, it's no problem. I've still got my new stove fired up and hot. I know what you guys want. What about you, Bridget?"

"I'll just have a bowl of cereal." She wasn't a hundred percent sure breakfast was included in the price of the stay.

Matt shook his head. "Cereal? No wonder you're so skinny. She'll have an omelet too. On us."

"Oh, you don't have to?—"

Mark reached across the table and patted her hand. "We're not letting you leave Wyoming without trying this omelet."

She laughed. "Well, in that case, I suppose I'd better relent."

Todd poured each of them a cup of coffee before heading back to the kitchen. She'd postponed coming down for breakfast, thinking she could avoid the rush. She thought her plan had worked as she'd had the whole place to herself for a few minutes. Funny, how the space had seemed large and cold when she'd been alone with only her sad memories. Now, with the James twins flanking her, the room seemed pleasantly crowded and decidedly warmer. For the first time in a very long time, fate was smiling on her.

Mark leaned over and put his cowboy hat on the vacant table next to them. "Did you give any thought to our offer for riding lessons?"

She tried to find a way to put them off without seeming rude. There was simply no way she could afford to pay for lessons even if Rodney agreed to it, which he wouldn't. He'd gone off early this morning to find them somewhere else to stay, and he'd been very firm in his instructions that she "lay low". There was a good chance he'd succeed in securing them a new hiding spot, and by afternoon, they'd be crawling into some other lonely hole.

"I have a confession," she said. Both men were looking at her intently. She was entranced by their similarities. They were mirror images of each other. It was almost unnerving.

Matt grinned. She'd noticed yesterday that Matt had a slight cleft in his chin his brother didn't share. It was her only clue in telling them apart. "They say confession is good for the soul."

"There's a difference between wanting something and doing something." She almost winced as she said the words. She wanted something—two somethings—but there was no way she could do anything about that desire. Mainly because she was running for her life, and secondly, who wanted two men…at the same time? It was ludicrous. "While the idea of being a cowgirl sounds like fun, I'm deathly afraid of horses."

The words weren't exactly a lie. She'd nearly been run down by a horse-drawn carriage in Central Park as a child. The experience had stuck with her, and since then she'd given those carts, as well as police horses, a very wide berth.

Mark shook his head in disbelief. "What? How can you be afraid of horses? They're the most loving, gentle creatures on earth."

She shrugged. "They're huge, attract flies, and their eyes are on the sides of their heads. I find that very unnerving."

Matt burst into laughter. "I'm not sure I've ever heard that excuse for a fear of horses, but you've got a point."

Mark gave his brother a warning glance that was more amused than annoyed. "Don't encourage her. She shouldn't be afraid of horses."

Bridget leaned closer. "I'm not sure it's fear as much as I'm simply not familiar with them. The only horses I've ever seen were city creatures—police horses or ones hooked to carriages. The whole concept of getting up on one of those things isn't a comfortable concept to me. I mean, if you want to know how to get from midtown to Canal Street on the subway, I'm your girl. You want to know the quickest route from point A to point B so the taxi driver doesn't rip you off, ask me. Put me on a horse and I wouldn't even know how to make the thing go. It's not like you can put money in the slot and have it take off."

Matt chuckled. "Girl, you haven't lived until you've ridden a horse."

"I'm fine with the subway and taxis, thank you very much. I prefer my modes of transportation to have wheels, not legs."

Todd emerged from the kitchen carrying three large platters. Bridget's eyes widened at the sheer volume of food on her plate. "You expect me to eat all of that?" There were two pieces of thick toast slathered in butter, an omelet the size of her pillow, and at least five pounds of potatoes, whipped up hash brown style with green peppers and onions.

Since going rogue with Rodney, they'd existed on peanut butter sandwiches and cereal. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Matt said, snatching a slice of toast of her plate. "We'll help you finish whatever you can't eat."

She reached over and grabbed a piece of his toast to replace hers. "Don't worry about me. We city girls know how to eat."

Mark picked up his fork and lifted an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe. You're too skinny to be that good an eater."

"You know, that's the second time you boys have called me skinny. I'm starting to feel like that's an insult."

Matt's gaze drifted down her body, away from her face. "Believe me, there's no insult intended." His eyes lifted and met hers once more. "You're damn easy on the eyes."

She blushed at his compliment. There was something so open, so honest about both men that she found it hard to resist them. She tried to dismiss the thought from her mind because she certainly wasn't going to have a chance to get to know either of them better.

Conversation slowed as the three of them dug in to their enormous breakfasts. She had to hand it to the twins. It was, by far, the best omelet she'd ever had, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself enjoy a meal. Lately, eating had become something she had to do to survive. Back in New York, she'd loved going to different restaurants, trying different things. She missed the salad at Carmine's and the little Thai place in Hell's Kitchen.

"Damn, Mark, doesn't look like we're going to get to help her clean her plate after all," Matt joked.

Glancing down, Bridget realized she'd polished off all of the eggs and was almost finished with the hash browns. "I can't believe I ate all that, or how good it was."

Mark wiped his mouth with his napkin and put it back in his lap. "You looked like you hadn't eaten in a year. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I did. I can see why you'd ask for that as payment for work. Todd's an amazing cook."

Matt put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and well fed. "We come over here quite a bit for breakfast and lunch. Used to be four bachelors living in our house. Cooking wasn't something we had a lot of time for."

Bridget leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. She was genuinely curious to learn more about them. "Four bachelors?"

Mark joined in the conversation. "Matt and I live with our older brother, Caleb, and our kid brother, Jacob. Caleb's a doctor at the local hospital, so he works some screwed-up hours. Jacob does a lot of the cooking, but he's what you might call a free spirit, so counting on him for vittles is risky. Whenever he gets involved in a project—whether it's an article he's writing or something for his college class—it can be days before he looks up."

Bridget's ears perked up. "Article?" She missed her writing more than she could say.

Matt nodded. "Yep. Kid loves to write. He freelances for a couple of magazines and newspapers. Mainly stories about gay rights, living life outside the closet, stuff like that."

"Your brother is gay?"

Mark stiffened up slightly and she backtracked quickly, afraid she'd offended him. "I wasn't asking to pry or to insinuate anything is wrong with that. Fact is, Rodney is gay too. I was thinking maybe we should introduce them."

Matt laughed. "You want to hook our brothers up?"

Bridget grinned. "No…well, maybe."

If Rodney was feeling as lonely and horny as she was these days, maybe a hot hookup with a cowboy would take the edge off. Lately, Rodney had been wound up tighter than a spring. Not that she blamed him. In all likelihood, he'd lost his job at the police station the day he'd stepped off the radar with her. His future was as uncertain as hers at the moment. "Is your younger brother as hot as you two?"

Bridget wasn't sure where the words had come from, but the deadly dimples reappeared on both of the men's faces as their smiles grew.

Mark leaned toward her, taking her hand in his. She hoped he couldn't feel the sudden trembling there. "You think we're hot?"

Both of them had moved closer, and she had to press her legs together to still the sudden twinge in her pussy.

Matt grasped her other hand. "Who's hotter—me or Mark?"

She burst into laughter as she studied their mirrored images. Mark rolled his eyes at his brother's inane comment. Then she realized there were other definite differences besides the cleft chin. As she learned more about them, they suddenly didn't seem so similar.

Matt was clearly the fun-loving one with a great sense of humor. There was a wicked twinkle in his eyes that guaranteed he was always up for a good time. In contrast, Mark seemed the epitome of a country gentleman: kind, more serious. She had no doubt he was the type of guy who opened doors for women and insisted on picking up the tab.

"I plead the Fifth on that question. So what did you mean when you said it used to be four bachelors? Did someone move out?"

Mark shook his head. "Nope, someone moved in."

Bridget's heart skipped a beat. Did one of them have a girlfriend? She'd never considered they may already have significant others. "Oh?"

Matt offered the explanation. "Caleb got himself a girlfriend, Jessie. We're expecting him to pop the question any day now."

She smiled, foolishly relieved. "Nice. You like her?"

"Jessie?" Mark asked. "Oh, heck yeah. She's a helluva lady. Been through a rough patch this past year. She and Caleb deserve a little happiness."

Bridget could relate to tough years. "So she'll live at the ranch with all of you?"

Matt shook his head. "Nah. I figure they'll want to start a family pretty soon. Since Mark and I run the ranch, it's hard for us to move out. We need to be close to the stables. Caleb mentioned building his own house closer to the main road to make it easier for him during the winter when he's on call. We have a fairly long driveway, and after it snows, it takes some effort to plow it so he can get out."

She was used to snowy winters in New York. It was one of the things she'd missed this year. She and Rodney had spent a great deal of the last few months hopping from safe house to safe house in the south. They'd celebrated Christmas in Phoenix and the temperature had been in the eighties that day. At the time, she'd considered the lack of snow a blessing. With the heat and unfamiliar surroundings, she could pretend it wasn't Christmas, and it kept her homesickness at bay.

"Sounds like you own quite a bit of property."

Mark nodded. "We do okay. Our family's lived in this area for several generations. It's home."

"It must be nice to have such solid roots. I grew up in the city, but my parents were originally from Jersey."

"You have any other brothers or sisters besides Rodney?" Matt asked.

Bridget sucked in a sharp gasp of air. It had been on the tip of her tongue to say she was an only child. She knew she was treading on thin ice, tempting fate by talking to them, but Matt and Mark were so easy to be with, they made her forget what a fucking mess her life was at the present. "No. It's just him and me."

Mark frowned. "No parents?"

She shook her head because it was easier than making up another long story she'd likely screw up later. She hated lying to them. Her folks were alive and well and retired in Hoboken. She was also certain her mother hadn't slept a wink since Bridget had gone into protective custody. Another pound of guilt she'd had to carry around. Her heart ached at the thought, and for one very foolish moment, she wanted to confess the truth to Matt and Mark, to tell them about Lyle, the judge, the murder. She had nearly convinced herself it was a good idea to unload all her burdens on their very capable, strapping shoulders and had even opened her mouth to speak the words when fate stepped in.

"Hey, Bridget. I wondered where you were."

Rodney walked up to the table. He didn't seem as annoyed to find her out and about today as he was yesterday. She suspected that was because he'd spent some time getting to know the James brothers. He'd confided last night this seemed like a safe place and the people were genuinely nice.

Maybe she'd talk Rodney into telling Matt and Mark about their plight. They seemed like the kind of men who'd be willing to help.

She smiled and held out her hands. "Looks like you found me. Matt and Mark treated me to the best omelet in, hmmm, I'm trying to remember." She looked at Matt. "Did you say in the state or in the world?"

"Universe," Matt replied, adding to her joke.

"Gotcha, the best omelet in the universe," she finished. When Rodney looked at her empty plate with an expression of hunger and jealousy, she felt a pang of guilt for not saving him half. "I should have saved some for you."

He shrugged good-naturedly. "That's okay. I'll grab something later."

"Actually," Todd said, coming out of the kitchen with a full plate, "I've kept this warm in the oven, hoping you'd come back soon." He placed the dish at an empty spot at the table and gestured for Rodney to sit down. "This is on the house, to say thank you for helping us move the dinosaur stove out of the kitchen yesterday."

Rodney quickly claimed the chair, not remembering to speak until he'd shoveled in two enormous mouthfuls. "Thanks."

Matt laughed. "I can tell you two are related. Never seen two people go after a plate of food with the same level of enthusiasm."

Mark turned to Rodney. "We were just trying to convince your sister to come over to the James Ranch for riding lessons."

Rodney swallowed quickly. "Riding lessons? I don't think we'll have time for that. We're leaving soon."

"Oh, darn," Todd said. "I thought Steven said you'd be here through the week."

"That was the original plan," Rodney said, "but now I'm not sure we're going to be able to stay that long."

Bridget tried to ignore the sudden ache she felt at the idea of picking up and moving on yet again. Hanging out with the twins had been a nice change after months of monotony. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to let herself feel pure, simple attraction. Lyle's murder had skewed her ability to judge people and their motives and while she longed to accept Matt and Mark's offer of friendship, fear held her back.

"Well, you have to stay through tonight at least. I'm making a Valentine's Day feast. We thought we'd follow that up with dessert and games," Todd offered.

Bridget glanced Rodney's way, trying to determine exactly how fast he wanted to move. She couldn't tell from his facial expression if he'd even found them somewhere new to hide.

Rodney nodded. "That sounds great. We wouldn't leave until tomorrow or the day after at the earliest."

Bridget released a slow breath. One more night. She looked at the twins. "Will you two be here?"

Matt gave her a wickedly sexy grin. "You looking for a Valentine, Bridget? Because if so, I'm your man."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Did you ever consider that she might be interested in a real man, rather than a guy who acts as old as his shoe size? What size are your feet again? Eleven?"

Matt scooted his chair closer and grasped her hand. "I doubt she's looking for some boring stick in the mud. Be my Valentine, Bridget, and I'll show you a good time."

Her face flushed as she envisioned how good that time could really be. She needed to get a grip. "You two are incorrigible. I'm not really in the market for a Valentine, so how about if I just promise to keep you in mind if that changes?"

"You got a boyfriend?" Mark asked.

She shook her head. "No, that's not it."

Matt squeezed her hand. "Then I've still got a chance."

She laughed. "Maybe you didn't hear my brother, Rodney. We're leaving soon."

Mark shrugged as if unconcerned. "Maybe we can convince you to stay longer."

It would take very little for either man to convince her to stay. They looked at her with an unnerving hunger in their gazes. Her body was responding to it—hook, line and sinker.

She considered herself passably pretty, though certainly not what anyone would call a raving beauty. She didn't wear makeup and usually wore her long hair pulled back. In New York, she dressed in more conservative, professional attire at work. However, since arriving in Wyoming, she hadn't been out of blue jeans.

She'd had her fair share of dates and even lovers, but none of them had ever looked at her like Matt and Mark were looking her at that moment. Worst of all was the fact she was attracted to both of them. What the hell was she supposed to do with that unnatural feeling? If they stuck around and she indulged in a little play, she'd have to choose. For the life of her, she couldn't decide which James brother appealed to her more.

Rodney saved her from having to respond. "You're welcome to try to convince her, but it won't work. We really do need to leave."

Todd began clearing away the dirty dishes. "I hope nothing bad has come up to disrupt your vacation."

Rodney shook his head. "No. Just some things we need to take care of at home."

All of them rose from the table. The James twins picked up their hats and put them back on. She had never realized how sexy the cowboy look truly was until she'd met these two men who wore it so damn well.

"Well, I guess Matt and I should head back to the ranch. We'll be back later for dinner. Save me a seat next to you, Bridget."

Matt wrapped his arms around her shoulders and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Save the other side for me."

She wasn't sure if she'd truly heard the sexy innuendo in his tone or if it was wishful thinking on her part.

Her power of speech temporarily left her, so she merely nodded.

"See you later, Bridget," Matt added, placing a friendly kiss on her cheek.

Mark shook Rodney's hand and the two of them left as Todd returned to the kitchen.

Rodney glanced around the room to make sure they were alone. "Damn. Looks like you've made quite an impression on those guys. Might be better if we left now. They're both eyeballing you like you're the prime rib at a banquet."

She grinned at his analogy, but didn't bother to deny the truth of it. She didn't even want to deny it. It felt too good. Two of the hottest men she'd ever laid eyes on were attracted to her. She was going to hold on to this high for as long as it lasted. Given her current position, it didn't appear she'd manage to maintain it for longer than a day.

"Did you find somewhere for us to stay?" she asked.

Rodney shook his head. "I found a couple possibilities—cabins in pretty secluded areas, but the issue is going to be money. I asked Steven if I could borrow his truck to do a little exploring. I'm just about to head out to take a look at them."

"Why bother if money is going to be an issue?" Bridget wanted to stay at the BB. A city girl at heart, she took comfort in having more people around. Hiding out in quiet cabins unnerved her. She'd had no idea how loud nature was, how much squirrels scampering in leaves could sound like a villain with a gun sneaking up behind her.

"You're not going to like this, but I'm checking to see if we could hole up in one without going through the realtor. I got the impression from the rental website that neither of these places gets used much in the winter. Weather tends to be an issue."

She looked at Rodney with amazement. He was the most honest, law-abiding person she'd ever met. "You're going to break in?"

"Bridget. We're low on money and running out of options. The trial starts in three weeks. We just have to hang in there that long. I'll call my partner a couple days before we need to return, explain why we took off and ask him to secure us transportation back to the city."

"We came here to try to find the information Lyle had on the judge. We can't exactly do that if we're stuck on some mountainside, squatting in someone else's house."

"Yeah, about that." Rodney took Lyle's letter from his pocket. "I was playing around with this earlier and I want to show you something."

They reclaimed their seats at the table. Bridget could hear Todd cleaning up in the kitchen, singing along loudly with the radio. She grinned at his off-key accompaniment to Lady Gaga's "Born This Way". She wasn't sure where the rest of the guests had gone, but aside from his performance, the house was relatively quiet.

Rodney pointed out the part of the code they'd already broken. "So if the first sentence is every sixth word, then we're left with Sara and toga. Bridget, remember in college when Sara got totally trashed at the toga party. If you count six more words after toga, it takes us five words into the next sentence."

Bridget nodded. "We've done that. Silly girl swore to God and then on her mother's grave she would give up alcohol. The next word after toga is God, but counting out six more words leaves us grave. God's grave."

She'd repeated that phrase a million times in her head. They'd searched the only churchyard cemetery within the city limits the moment they set foot off the bus. They'd been so certain they would find a clue. Instead, they'd come up with nothing.

"What if it's not every sixth word? What if in the second sentence it's every fifth?" Rodney asked.

She glanced at the paper and re-counted. "Godmother's? Oh my God. What if it is?"

"Do you know if Lyle had a godmother? Who she was?"

Bridget closed her eyes, forcing her memories of Lyle to the foreground. She should have been a better friend. She didn't have a clue. She racked her brain trying to remember, but nothing came to her.

"Fuck," she finally admitted. "I have no idea."

Rodney only looked slightly disappointed. "So go five more words over and you get the word up. I have no idea what that means, but count five to the next sentence and I think Lyle gave us a clue about that the godmother."

Bridget looked at the third sentence. "Ellen."

Rodney nodded. "Ring any bells?"

She shook her head. "No, but I suppose we could ask around. What do you think the chances are his godmother has his last name—Turner?"

"Slim to none," Rodney replied. "And the rest of that sentence doesn't seem to offer up a surname. I tried highlighting every fourth word, thinking maybe it was a countdown code, but that doesn't seem to work either."

Bridget continued reading silently. And then Ellen told her that the key was "drink in moderation first." "Every fourth word leaves us with the and in. Those are pointless."

"Yeah. I know. And then the last line is still hanging out there."

She reread the final sentence of the missive. Always loved that wealth of unhelpful, impractical information. Call me later, Lyle. "What if we just pull out words that look important?" she suggested.

Rodney sighed. "We've tried that, remember? Too many words. Too many variables. Plus we still have that damn up hanging out there unexplained, which could mean my godmother Ellen theory is shot to hell."

"We're closer now."

Rodney leaned back in his seat. "Yeah. I guess. But I have to tell you, if Lyle weren't already dead, I'd probably kill him for leaving us such shitty clues."

Bridget laughed. "You'd have to get in line. Why he thought I could figure this out is beyond me. He must've tried to explain how to work sudoku puzzles to me a thousand times, but I never got it."

"We still have some time. There's three weeks until the trial. We'll just keep plugging along until then. At that point, we're going back to New York—with or without the flash drive. I'm going to grab the keys to Steven's truck and go check out the cabins."

"You know, if the cabins don't work out, we could always just stay here. We have enough money to cover us for most of the three weeks if we're careful. It feels safe here."

Rodney gave her a knowing grin. "You can't kid a kidder, Bridge. Safety has nothing to do with it. There are two fucking gorgeous cowboys here, and you're hot to get into their sexy-as-shit, too-tight jeans."

She narrowed her eyes. Apparently, she hadn't been the only one checking out the James brothers' Levis. "Yeah, well, just remember they're my cowboys, hot stuff. You can look, but no touching."

"Believe me, those two don't play for my team."

She laughed. It had become a pass-the-time game on the bus trip from Oklahoma to Saratoga for her and Rodney to decide whose sexual-orientation team their fellow travelers played for. "Maybe not, but their brother does."

Rodney closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. "Christ, kitten. We're running for our lives here. We don't have time to get laid."

She stuck out her lower lip in playful pout. "All I'm asking for is a few more days. If we really are looking for a woman named Ellen, we'd have a better chance finding her if we're closer to town. Besides, imagine if their younger brother is as hot as them. You've gotta be feeling the effects of this forced abstinence as much as me."

"Here comes the persuasion again," Rodney muttered. "Fine, Bridget. I'll admit it. I'm horny as shit and tired of sharing a room with you. It's not like I can take care of my own needs with you snoring across the bedroom."

"I don't snore."

"But I'm not about to jeopardize your life or mine for a quick screw with a cowboy I'll likely never see again after we leave here. We're so close to end, Bridget. Let's don't fuck it up now."

He was one hundred and twenty percent right. Damn him. "And you say I'm the persuasive one. Fine. I'm focused again. Promise."

He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. The gesture was meant to comfort her. She wanted to shrug it off, rail at him, but she couldn't. He understood her frustrations because he shared them. It wasn't fair for her to blame him for something that was ultimately her fault. Would Lyle still be alive today if she hadn't suggested he share the information he'd uncovered with her? If she hadn't planted the seed that they break the news by splashing it all across the front page of the newspaper? If she'd insisted that they call the cops first?

Rodney refolded Lyle's letter and put it back in his pocket as he stood. "Why don't you expand on your friendship with Todd? See if you can't find a way to figure out who this Ellen might be."

She forced her concern aside at Rodney's worried glance. She gave him a jaunty salute. "Aye aye, Captain."

He laughed, fooled by her feigned attempt at lightheartedness. "I won't be gone long. Don't get in to any trouble."

"I won't."

She watched him leave but made no move to rise. She was suddenly feeling very tired.

Three more weeks and the running would stop.

Three more weeks and she could return to her normal life. That thought didn't bring her as much comfort as it used to. She wasn't the same woman who'd escaped New York in the middle of the night. That woman was driven, obsessed with climbing the ladder of success. That woman let her best friend sacrifice his life simply to provide her with information for a lousy newspaper article.

That woman didn't exist anymore. Her life had been snuffed out the instant the judge's bullet pierced Lyle's flesh.

Three weeks.

Then what?