Elena, Iââ
âWeâre not going to argue about this. Youâre going to stay here on the ranch and live every day as normally as you possibly can. J.T. is an expert on private security. Heâll know what to do to keep you safe.â
âI canât tell J.T. that I wasââ
âDonât sell my big brother short. Heâll understand. You can count on him. Trust me, Jo. Please. And trust J.T.â
Trust J.T.? How could she trust him? How could she trust any man?
âThis agency in Atlanta,â Joanna said, âare there other agents? Someone J.T. could send back here when he returns? Mother will pay forââ
âWhat do you mean when he returns! Once I tell him about your situation, heâll stay here and guard you himself.â
âI wouldnât ask him to do that.â She wasnât sure what she feared most, Lenny Plott finding out where she was or J. T. Blackwood agreeing to act as her bodyguard. If he found her, Plott could kill her. But if she allowed herself to become involved with J.T., he could completely destroy her emotionally.
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J.T. DISMOUNTED , dropped the reins and spoke softly to Washington, who followed behind him while he walked along the bank of the streamâhis favorite spot on the ranch, high in the hills, secluded and quiet, close to nature.
The rage inside him simmered. A hot fury that he barely controlled consumed him. Part of the anger he felt was directed at himself for being such a macho jerk, such a total idiot. He should have known there was more to Joanna Beaumontâs skittish nature and wariness than just an instant dislike of him. His damn ego had gotten in the way of his usual keen perception. His ego and his male libido.
He wasnât sure he had ever wanted a woman the way he wanted Joanna.
J.T. pulled his rifle from its leather holster attached to the saddle and removed the cloth bag heâd hung over the saddle horn. He ordered Washington to stay, then began aslow, steady climb up the mountainside. When he reached the summit, he braced his rifle against the side of a huge rock, then opened the cloth bag and removed a varied assortment of bottles and cans. He lined them up across the top of the rock formation, then lifted his rifle and walked backward, close to the edge of the summit. He aimed his rifle and fired repeatedly, destroying the row of inanimate objects he pretended were Lenny Plott. When he finished, he stood there and stared up at the blue sky, the afternoon sun blinding in its intensity.
âJoanna was raped five years ago.â J.T. heard his sisterâs voice. âShe testified against her rapist. He has escaped from prison and already killed one of the women who testified against him. He swore heâd hunt all four women down and kill them.â
J.T. let out a bloodcurdling cry as savage and brutal as the primitive emotions he felt.
âI told her that sheâd be safe here on the ranch. I assured her that youâd know what to do to protect her.â
Protect Joanna. Yeah, he knew all about protecting people. Heâd spent most of his life acting as someoneâs bodyguard. He had laid his life on the line every day heâd been a member of the countryâs Secret Service.
After the army and college, heâd spent more than a year undergoing exams, interviews and a complete investigation into his background before being hired in Washington. He had served time in field offices from Omaha to New Orleans, which had taken him from tediously boring assignments to stakeouts of underworld counterfeiting operations. He had guarded presidential candidates more than once, and had even pulled White House detail for several years.
His last assignment had nearly cost him his lifeâ had cost him the vision in his left eye. But it had gotten him the Medal of Valor and an early retirement.
For the past six years, heâd worked with Sam Dundee, a man who had become