“You know where Abilene is?” he asked, shutting the fridge and twisting open a longneck. Christ knew he could stand a drink just now. He’d been hoping to cap off a long-ass day in front of the fire, put his feet up, nurse this beer with nothing on his mind except how good his bed would feel under his achy back. It was one drama after another today.
“Den,” she said.
“Thanks.”
He’d expected to find Casey there with her and to find the both of them on high alert from the shouting, but instead it was just Abilene, sitting cross-legged on the couch. The baby was nestled on a blanket between her thighs, nursing a bottle of its own. She looked up and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” He sat on the coffee table, facing her. “You hear all that commotion just now?”
Her brow furrowed. “No. What happened?”
“Where’s Case?”
“Upstairs bathroom.”
The man appeared just then, on the landing above.
“We have a little situation,” Miah told the both of them.
Casey’s expression darkened and he jogged down the steps. “What do you mean?”
“Ware was just here.”
His blue eyes widened, hands curling into fists at his sides. “What?”
“I didn’t talk to him—didn’t even see his face. But somebody was creeping around the side of the house when I pulled up. I chased the guy but couldn’t catch him. He was white—I saw his hands when he jumped the fence. And he was driving a truck with the plate taped over.”
“Black truck?” Casey asked. “A Ram, maybe? I ran into him this afternoon, but I was too busy memorizing his plate number to catch the make. Sounds like I shouldn’t have bothered.”
“It was dark, for sure. Older. Not a Ford—that’s all I could tell you.”
“I can’t remember what brand it was,” Abilene said. “But it wasn’t new. And it wasn’t big, not like your truck,” she said to Miah.
“This was midsized. Probably mid-nineties.”
“Who the fuck else is it going to be?” Casey asked grimly, then paused, glancing at the baby. “Sorry.”
“He’d parked a hundred or more yards down the highway,” Miah went on. “By the time I ran back to my truck and got it on the road, he’d have gotten far enough to disappear down the residential streets. I just wish I could’ve taken a shot at his tires, but my dog was in the way.” He sighed, pissed and tired and frustrated, and took a drink deep enough to drain half his bottle.
“I can’t believe he’d have the gall to come here,” Casey said. “Not after I gave him a perfectly reasonable way to get in touch.”
“Guess the man isn’t the perfectly reasonable type,” Miah offered, then looked to Abilene for confirmation.
“He is and he isn’t,” she said. “I mean, when things were good between us, he was pretty rational. But he can get mad, too, and when that happens I couldn’t say where his head goes.”
“One too many drinks wouldn’t help matters, either.”
“He was never a drinker.”
“Maybe not, but the man’s been stewing in prison,” Casey said. “And I’m guessing he doesn’t like doing things on another man’s terms. What I fu—frigging want to know, though, is who told him where to find her. Who knew, and who’d tell? It was Dancer who told him to see me, but who would’ve told him Abilene was staying here?”
“Just about anybody might, if threatened,” Miah said. “I’ll ask all my hands tomorrow. They could’ve easily run into him at the bar. They were all told it was strictly confidential, her staying here, but threats are threats.”
“Duncan wouldn’t have told,” Abilene said. “Or Raina.”
Miah shook his head. Much as he loathed Welch, the guy was too stubborn and pompous to let anyone bully him into doing anything. And Raina would no doubt whip her shotgun out from under the counter the second somebody got pushy. No, one of the ranch hands was the most likely source. Miah just hoped if that was the case, the party in question would have the balls to own it. They were good kids, but they were young, most of them, still prone to self-preservation above most things.
“I guess in the end,” he said through a sigh, “it doesn’t really matter who told him. He knows now, and what we need to figure out is, do we need to move you two again?” He nodded to Abilene and the baby.
She looked stricken in a breath. “No.”
Casey’s expression was grim. “This is still the most secure place in town. I mean, I can’t keep them at mine—I live on the main drag. Everybody would know inside an hour. Same as the motel. Plus she’s got your parents’ support here, not to mention there’s cameras. The only other option might be to take her out of Fortuity.”
Miah nodded, thinking maybe that would be best. Abilene’s safety was paramount, no doubt, but he did have a business and his employees to think about, as well. Hell, the thought of Ware returning and threatening his mom had his blood boiling.
“Talking to Ware is still the most direct route to getting this shit resolved,” Casey went on. “I sure wish I’d taken down his goddamn number when I gave him mine.”
“Could he have the same one from before he went downstate?” Miah asked, looking to Abilene.
She shrugged. “Even if he did, I don’t have it anymore.”
“Vince might,” Casey said.
“Maybe.” But doubtful. The men had met in prison and spoken only during visiting hours these past few months. As unlikely as the prospect now seemed, they might just have to wait for Ware to call, or else go in search of him around town.
“One good thing,” Casey offered, “is that he didn’t appear armed, right? He ran. Didn’t pull anything on you.”
Miah nodded. “That’s true.” Maybe Ware hadn’t come with entirely malicious intent; perhaps merely with a stalker’s agenda, wanting to confirm that Abilene was indeed at the ranch. With her car in the shop, spotting her through a window would be the man’s only chance to do so. Still, no rational person could look at this situation and tell himself that stalking was the best course of action. Hell, the psycho could’ve fucking knocked.
“My dad’s going to get the security cameras turned back on tonight,” Miah told Abilene. “They’re hooked up to motion-sensor lights, but don’t panic if it goes bright outside in the middle of the night—could easily be the barn cats or a coyote or any other thing. Just tell me or Case and we’ll go out and investigate. Okay?”
“Sounds good.” Sounds terrifying, her expression corrected.
“Anyhow, not much we can do for the moment.”
“Except wait for him to call,” Casey said.
Miah nodded. “Yeah. There’s always that.”
Casey eyed Miah’s beer. “You done with work for the night?”
“Believe it or not.”
“Would you do me a favor? Hang with these two for ten minutes while I grab a shower?”
“Sure. And I checked with my dad—I can handle things here in the morning while you run your errands.” Casey had texted that afternoon to ask about it. “Only until about eight, though.”
“That’s fine—I just need to catch Vince before he goes to work, then swing by the post office. Thanks. And for this shower,” he added. “It’s in everybody’s best interest, I promise.” He grabbed his bag from beside the couch and headed back upstairs to the guest wing, leaving Miah alone with the ladies.
He couldn’t help but notice the way Abilene’s gaze followed Casey up the steps, and prayed it was innocent apprehension at watching her bodyguard disappearing out of sight. He loved his friend, but the last thing this girl needed was to develop feelings for Fortuity’s prodigal son. Kid had come a long way since he’d skipped town, and he was a step up from James Ware, no doubt, but he wasn’t exactly ready to take on the commitment this girl would require.
Still, far be it from Miah to tell anybody how to conduct their love lives.