Sudden Setup

Chapter One

Whoever said mistakes don’t define a person didn’t have a clue. Holden Crawford stood over the petite woman curled in his bed, figuring that helping her would cost him dearly. He shook his head at his own stupidity. She’d already been in and out of sleep for a day and a half, and he was beginning to worry that she’d taken a harder knock to the head than he initially assessed. As soon as she woke and he made sure she was all right, he’d drive her close to the sheriff’s office. Then he’d disappear. Again.

Holden had recognized Ella Butler immediately when he saw her hiking. She was the daughter of the wealthiest man in Cattle Barge, Texas—a man who was helping Holden out while he needed a hand and a protected place to stay off the grid.

His daughter was trouble times ten. His best bet would be to leave her in the cabin with a few supplies and take off before anyone connected the dots that he’d been there. And yet, abandoning her while she was so vulnerable wasn’t something he could do. Even someone as hardened as him couldn’t walk away like this.

Holden ignored the annoying voice in his head that tried to convince him sticking around might be an option. His duffel was already packed and sitting next to the door.

He’d told himself that staring at the wavy-haired beauty as she hiked along Devil’s Lid was for survival reasons and not because those long, silky legs of hers were highlighted perfectly in pale pink running shorts. He’d needed to see if she would detour to the cabin on the outskirts of her father’s property where he stayed and expose his hiding spot. Hell, it had been his sanctuary.

Out of nowhere, her head had snapped to one side and then she’d lost her footing. She’d free-fallen a good ten feet before hitting the hard clay soil. She’d rolled another twenty before meeting an equally rough landing at the bottom of the gulch.

It had been no accident.

At that point, Holden had had two choices: help or walk away. Tracking the responsible party hadn’t been a serious consideration, although Holden didn’t doubt his own skills. It was more important to make sure she was safe first. But there was a problem with helping her.

Ella Butler was news.

If it hadn’t been ninety-five degrees at eight o’clock in the morning, he would’ve cleaned her wound and then left her with a couple of water bottles for when she woke. August weather was too unforgiving to leave her stranded and the gash on her head was serious. Holden had had no choice but to bring her back to the cabin.

To complicate matters, she’d blinked up at him. He had to know if she remembered him when she woke because if she could give his description to law enforcement, the real trouble would begin.

Holden walked another circle around the room.

Questions ate at him. First of which, what kind of fool hiked alone in one of the most remote and barren places of the Butler property? There were all kinds of dangerous creatures out there, and he should know because he’d found a scorpion in his boot yesterday morning and had crossed paths with a coral snake by lunch. He recalled the childhood saying he’d been taught to tell the difference between a coral and a harmless snake with similar markings: red on yellow, kill a fellow; red on black, venom lack. This part of the country had no shortage of venomous creatures.

There were other concerns about leaving her alone. Did she know there was no ready water supply? He’d had to hike for miles to locate a decent place to dig to find the lifesaving liquid when he first arrived. Making the trek had become part of his daily routine after morning push-ups and was the reason he’d seen her in the first place. His daily schedule had been the dividing line between life and death for Ella Butler.

Holden had kept an eye on her to ensure that she didn’t get too close to his camp. The place sat on the westernmost boundary of the Butler property referred to as Tierra del Fuego, meaning land of fire in Spanish.

If he was being completely honest, he’d admit to being intrigued by Ella. He’d chalked it up to too many days without female companionship and his dread at realizing the time had come to move on from Cattle Barge.

He’d spent a little more than two years on the run. Two years of not speaking to another person. Two years of eating every meal by himself without anyone to share his life with. And yet in a strange way, Holden had felt alone his entire life.

Scouting a new location was a lot of work, but his diligence had kept him alive so far. He’d been on the move twenty-five consecutive months, never pausing for more than a pair of weeks in one spot. This was the longest he’d stayed in one place, and his instincts had told him that it was time to go even before he’d witnessed the assault.

The problem was that he liked Cattle Barge. Holden felt an unexplainable connection to the land. He’d let his emotions win over logic in staying on too long. He’d erred by not listening to his instincts. And there’d be a price to pay for that lapse in judgment, he thought as he looked down at her.

* * *

ELLA’S EYES BURNED as harsh light and a sharp pain in that spot right in the center of her forehead, like a brain freeze, nailed her. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blur. The outline of a very large man looming over her came into focus, causing very real fear to surge through her. Ella tried to force herself awake but darkness pulled. Her mind screamed to get up and run. Her limbs couldn’t comply and so no matter how hard she fought against it, her eyes closed and she gave in to sleep.

It was dark by the time Ella woke again. She vaguely remembered being helped outside to go to the bathroom once, or maybe it was twice, but then she might’ve dreamed the whole episode.

Glancing around, she tried to get her bearings. Her head pounded as she strained to figure out where she was. The bed was hard but comfortable. There was a blanket draped over her. It was clean and soft.

Instincts kicked in and she felt around to make sure she had clothes on. Movement sent shards of pain needling through her skin. A flicker of relief washed over her when she realized her shirt and shorts were on. The respite was short-lived. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness when she saw the silhouette of a man folded forward in a chair in the corner. Based on his steady breathing, she surmised that he was asleep.

Ella couldn’t make out his face from across the room but a warning buzz shot through her at the sheer size of him. Questions raced through her mind but she couldn’t bring one into focus. Exhaustion kicked in again and it felt like she’d run a marathon in the August Texas heat. All she could do was close her eyes and rest. So she did.

What time is it? Ella asked, unsure how long she’d dozed. She’d been awake for a few minutes, assessing whether or not it was safe to talk. The sun was up. Her thoughts had been engaged in a battle of good versus evil, debating the intentions of the stranger in the room. Eventually, logic won out. If this man had wanted to hurt her, he could’ve done so already. Still, she’d walk a fine line with him and make sure she didn’t provoke him.

You’re asking the wrong question, the strong male voice said—a voice that sent electric chills up her back.

What should I be asking then? She tried to push up to sit but her arms were too weak. The male figure made no move to help her.

It’s Thursday. He turned his back to her in a surprising show of trust and picked up whatever was on his plate. He popped something into his mouth. It must be what smelled so amazing. Her stomach growled despite being convinced that she wasn’t hungry.

She scanned the room for anything she could use as a weapon while he wasn’t watching. Her vision was improving even though looking around still made her eyes hurt. She glanced at the door, hoping to find a baseball bat or something she could use if push came to shove. There had to be one around there somewhere, her head would argue because it felt like one had been used to crack it open.

The room was sparse. There was the makeshift bed in the corner that she was presently resting on. A very uncomfortable-looking lawn chair—the one he’d slept on last night—was pushed up to a table, which was nothing more than a piece of drift board propped up by stick legs tied off by rope. Either this guy was a survivalist or a former Boy Scout. She couldn’t decide which one.

Ella remembered that the stranger had slept hunched forward on that chair made of lightweight aluminum and cheap material. Only a gentleman would give up his bed...right?

Embarrassment heated her cheeks as she recalled him helping her outside to use the bathroom. If he’d wanted to take advantage of her, he’d had plenty of opportunity. And yet he wasn’t being welcoming.

The plate the stranger ate from was some kind of metal, like she’d used for camping with her brothers and sister when they were old enough to set up a tent in the backyard. It had come in an outdoorsman kit, she remembered.

She performed a mental calculation that took longer than it should have and made her brain pound against her skull. I’ve been out for two days?

In and out, the stranger said. She didn’t recognize his voice at all and she knew she would remember such a deep baritone if she’d heard it before. There was an intense but calming quality and it sent a trill of awareness through her, which was totally inappropriate and unwelcomed. She chalked her reaction up to hitting her head too hard.

I’m sorry, have we met before? she asked, hoping to place him. Her mind was fuzzy and she was having a hard time processing information.

No.

Then can I ask who you are? Ella racked her brain trying to figure out who he could be.

No. There was finality to his tone that sent a different kind of shiver down her spine, an icy chill that said he was a man with secrets.

The thought of being alone with a person who wouldn’t identify himself made Ella want to curl into a ball to protect herself. Her father was one of the richest men in Cattle Barge, Texas, and her life had turned upside down after being given the news of his death a few days ago. When she really thought about it, this man could be after her father’s money. She was still fuzzy as to why she was here in the first place, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t come up with a good explanation. She’d lost more than the last two days because she didn’t even remember why she’d gone hiking in the first place.

And then it hit her. Had she been abducted?

Good luck if you’re trying to get ransom for me from my brothers, she said. My father was killed and all of our money is tied up right now.

I’m not interested, he said, his voice a low rumble. He froze.

If it wasn’t ransom money he was after...then what?

Ella didn’t want to go there with the physical thing. Besides, there was something strange in his voice when she’d mentioned that her father had been killed. He’d stopped what he was doing, too.

I should go. She tried to force herself up on weak arms.

That’s not a good idea.

Icy fingers gripped her spine at his response.

I’m perfectly capable of getting up and walking out of here and you can’t stop me, she said with more indignation than she’d intended. It was the latent Irishwoman in her. Her mother had had the bright red hair to match, or so Ella had been told. Dear Mother had disappeared when Ella was too young to remember her and had never looked back. Ella took after her father with his honey-wheat locks and blue eyes. She had the stubbornness to match. She was also astute, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize the stranger was hiding from something or someone. And now she was alone in a cabin with him.

She had no plans to let her guard down.

You need to hydrate. You wouldn’t make it a mile in this heat in your present condition, he said.

Do you live here? she asked. He seemed to know the area pretty darn well and he was right. She wouldn’t last long in the August heat without provisions.

All he did was grunt in response.

Ella looked around, trying to find clues as to who the mystery man could be. The place was tidy. There was no dust on the floor. Her gaze slid to the door where a makeshift broom was positioned. It had been made from hay that had been tied together at the base of a tree limb. Whoever this mystery man was, he’d set up shop with the intention of sticking around awhile. He had survival skills, too. Her mind immediately headed down a negative path... Who would want to be alone on the most remote area of her father’s land? A man who has something to hide, a little voice answered. He could be a doomsday prepper, bank robber or—gasp—serial killer.

Her gaze darted around in an effort to find evidence as to which one he was.

To the other side of the doorway sat a duffel bag that had been zipped closed. She fought against her worst fears that there were torture instruments in there.

The stranger turned around and she could barely make out his features for all the facial hair. His build was football player big and he had to weigh in at well over two hundred pounds. He was pure muscle and his size was intimidating. That thought sent a trill of awareness skittering across her skin. Under different circumstances, she could appreciate the athletic grace with which he moved. Ella’s five-foot-five-inch frame was no match for this guy. Working the ranch kept her strong and in shape but she was small by comparison.

The lawn chair scraped against the hardwood flooring, drawing her attention.

You didn’t tell me your name, she said.

Another grunt came in response as the large figure moved toward the bed. Ella scrambled backward—pain shooting through her with every movement—until her back was against the wall. She fisted her hands, ready to swing if he gave her any indication that his intentions had changed.

There was something in his hand as he moved toward her, the light to his back. His sheer size blocked out the sun rays coming from the window and bathed her in darkness. Her body was ironing board rigid.

Be still. And relax. I’m not going to hurt you, he said, and he looked offended as his features came into focus.

If that’s true, why won’t you tell me your name? she asked, not ready to trust him.

You’re better off not knowing. His side was turned to her and his face was partially hidden. He didn’t make eye contact. Up close, she could see that he would be quite attractive if he cleaned up that beard or shaved it off altogether. More than attractive, actually, she thought as her stomach did an inappropriate little flip when he turned and she could really see into his eyes.

The man was clearly hiding something and an attraction was so out of the question that she had to choke back a laugh. Her emotions were all over the map. How hard had she hit her head?

I’ll be the judge of that, she said, seeing how far she could push her luck.

The layer of blankets dipped where he sat.

Her heart pounded in her chest and it felt like there was glue in her mouth for how dry her tongue was. Her entire body was strung tight.

Let me see that gash on your forehead, he said in his deep baritone. It had an amaretto-over-vanilla-ice-cream feeling and had that same warming effect on her insides. This close, she could see that he had deep-set, serious eyes that were the lightest, most pure shade of blue that she’d ever seen. A square jaw was covered by that dark beard. He had thick, curly hair the shade of a dark cup of coffee.

What happened to me? She inched toward him, not ready to give much more.

"I’m a man of my word. I already told you that I wouldn’t hurt you and I won’t.