Evidence of Trust (Colorado Trust 1)

“That could compromise my entire investigation. There’s been no evidence that proves the poacher isn’t a local resident.”

“I’m not saying you hold a press conference, Joel. Just talk to Mark, he’ll let you know which of his wranglers can be trusted.”

He didn’t agree with the idea one bit. Boss or no boss, he didn’t like being told how to run his investigation. “I’d prefer to suspend their contract until we catch this bastard.”

“No, not just yet.”

Unable to completely stem his resentment, he asked, “What about the other ranches? Do I need to make house calls on them as well?”

“Highlands is the only ranch with unlimited access.”

“And what makes them so special?”

“It’s grandfathered in from years ago. We choose not to challenge it as long as Mark’s there.”

Twenty minutes later, he made the turn for Highlands Ranch and parked in the lot. This was the last place he’d expected or wanted to be this morning. It had as much to do with his investigation as it did with the woman who’d declared, All you’ve proved is you can kiss halfway decent. He’d almost pulled her back to prove a hell of a lot more than that, but thankfully common sense overrode his ego.

She was going to love him showing up on her turf questioning their right to be in the park. Because grandfathered or not, that’s exactly what he intended to do.

He paused, and a small smile tugged at his mouth. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. Might even be fun.

As he approached the stables, he saw all the activity was centered alongside an arena beside the barn where a lone horse stood on the far side of the enclosure. He switched direction and approached the men by the fence with a simple greeting. “Mark. Casey.”

Fuller ignored him from where he sat on the fence, a lasso coiled in his hands. Mark cast a swift glance from his watch, down toward Joel, and back to the arena. “Where’s Ryan?”

“He couldn’t make it…” He trailed off as he caught sight of Brittany standing dead center of the fenced circle. Now that he was closer, he could hear snippets of her soft voice carried on the wind.

Without warning, the dark bay horse charged straight at her. Mark and Casey tensed, but neither made a move to help her as she stood frozen, like a deer in the headlights. Joel’s stomach dropped, and he rushed to climb the fence, then vaulted over the top board even though he knew he’d never reach her in time.

He raised his arms and yelled, hoping to distract the animal before it trampled her into the dirt. At the very last second, the horse swept past her, within mere inches. He had no chance to be relieved over her safety as the muscled bullet angled his way.

“Get out of here,” he hollered at Brittany.

“Don’t move,” she countered, her voice sharp like when she commanded her stallion.

He froze, mentally judging the distance to the fence, weighing his chances while unfamiliar feelings of protectiveness for the woman twenty yards away warred with the natural instinct to run. As the mare bore down on him, he took a backward step.

“Hold.”

The mare swerved past him and circled toward Brittany again. The foolish woman held her ground and the mare galloped past, finally returning to the far side of the arena. Brittany had pivoted, keeping her full attention on the horse. Without moving from where she stood, she called out to her boss that she’d meet them in the office.

Mark instructed Casey to stay with her, but now with the excitement apparently over, Joel’s temper surfaced in full force. What the hell were they thinking letting her do something so dangerous?

“Come on inside, we’ve got fresh coffee in the pot,” Mark offered.

“Not until she comes in.” He leaned against the inside of the fence, making it clear he had no intention of moving. From the corner of his eye, he saw Casey open his mouth to protest, but Mark silenced him with a jerk of his head.

“We’ll meet you inside then.”

Joel didn’t take his eyes off Brittany still talking to the horse. Why did he let her get under his skin? He shouldn’t care one bit about the risks she took, and yet the thought of her getting hurt bothered him at a level he didn’t quite understand—and definitely didn’t welcome.

After a few minutes, she raised a hand to brush her wind-blown curls from her face and turned toward the gate. Her step faltered the instant she spotted him. Then she squared her shoulders and started forward.

God, she really was something. He just wasn’t entirely sure how to handle that something. His gaze swept past the defiant tilt of her chin, those lips that he couldn’t seem to keep from kissing, and screeched to a halt on the bruise that darkened the left side of her face.

Instead of marching by as he expected, she stopped in front of him. “What do you want?”