Because Jasper had saved Cale, too. Not in a jungle, in a desert, when a mine had gone off and they’d both come close to being blown to hell.
“Just crank the truck, Jasper.” Now she sounded disgusted. “Maybe we’ll both figure out just what it is that we want.”
He didn’t have to figure it out. He already knew exactly what he wanted. But taking it could prove dangerous.
To him. And to her.
* * *
WHEN THE TRUCK stopped in front of the ranch, Veronica pretty much leaped out of the vehicle. She was embarrassed and angry and scared. A combination that had her stomach knotting. She was attracted to Jasper. He seemed attracted to her. But then he’d gone all Ice Man on her and—
The alarm wasn’t beeping.
Veronica tensed. She’d unlocked the front door, and, normally, the alarm would beep until she typed in the code.
But the alarm wasn’t beeping.
Jasper’s arm closed around her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“The alarm...”
He swore, seeming to realize what wasn’t happening instantly. Then he was pulling her back. Putting his body in front of hers. He reached for his gun.
She wished she had a weapon, too. Veronica hated feeling helpless. And she was pretty much feeling that way 24/7 these days.
He stepped inside the house. Veronica peered over his shoulder. The foyer looked fine. The den didn’t appear disturbed. Maybe it was nothing. A glitch with the alarm.
“Stay here,” he said and eased inside the house.
Stay there—out in the open? Um, she hadn’t been worried when she’d hopped out of the truck and started walking earlier, but the memory of standing in front of that sheriff’s station, waiting—and then seeing two men get shot right before her eyes—that memory was front and center for her. With the silence of her alarm, the security she felt at the ranch had been shattered. The place didn’t feel safe.
As for staying out on that porch...
No, thank you.
She glanced around. Her gaze searched the small scattering of buildings around the main house. What if a shooter was out there? She’d make a perfect target.
Veronica rushed inside the house and nearly slammed into Jasper. “I’m coming with you,” she whispered.
He frowned, but nodded.
They made their way down the hallway. Nothing was missing. Nothing broken. It didn’t look as if anyone had been there. Maybe she was wrong.
He motioned with his hand to indicate that they should head up the stairs.
Her fingers curled over the wooden bannister. The third stair creaked beneath her feet, and that sound was far too loud.
Her breathing was too loud, too. Too quick. Too raspy.
He turned at the top of the stairs and headed for her brother’s room. The door was partially open. With his left hand, Jasper opened the door wider, even as his right hand kept his gun ready.
The door swung open.
Destruction.
The room had been ripped apart. The mattresses slashed. Every dresser and chest drawer yanked out and overturned. The dresser mirror lay in what looked like a thousand pieces.
“Somebody was looking for something.” Jasper’s quiet voice.
It looked as if somebody had been looking to wreck the place.
Jasper’s hand wrapped around her wrist and they headed back into the hallway. The next room they checked was hers.
The door was shut. She was the one to turn the handle and push the door open.
Her room looked even worse. Because it wasn’t just her mattresses that were slashed. Her clothes were slashed. Her photos. Every memento that she’d ever had was in pieces on her floor.
It was as if someone had grabbed her and punched her in the face.
This? This was someone looking for something? No, this was a personal attack.
She must have made some kind of faint sound because Jasper’s gaze jumped to her face. In that stare, she saw a white-hot fury. It was a fury she felt, too.
My home. My safe place.
Someone had come in here and tried to destroy her world. To rip away her safety.
No, to cut away that safety. Because it sure looked as though someone had used a knife on her mattress and clothing.
A knife... The intruder had attacked all of the things that were personal to her. If she’d been there, what would the intruder have done?
Would he have attacked her?
Killed her?
She heard a faint creak. The same creak she’d made when she stepped on the loose stair. In an instant, Jasper was rushing past her and heading for the stairs. “Stop, you son of a—” Jasper yelled, but then his yell died away.
Veronica was right on his heels. She could see why he’d stopped his order. Because the man on the stairs had a gun, too. One that was trembling, but still aimed right up at Jasper.
And that man was Deputy Jimmy Jones.
Chapter Six
“Drop your weapon!” Jimmy ordered, his voice breaking.
Jasper swore. The last thing he wanted to do was lower his gun. “Tell me why you’re in the house.”
Jimmy blinked his eyes, eyes that looked watery, nervous. The kid’s gun began to lower. “The...front door was open. With...with all the stuff that’s been goin’ on around here, I was worried.” Then his gun flew back up, as if he’d just realized that he’d lowered his hand. “I told you, drop the weapon!”
Jasper lowered his weapon, but he also made sure that he closed the distance between him and Jimmy. If it came down to it, he could still take the deputy out, weapon or no weapon. Close-contact fighting was a specialty for him.
But as soon as Jasper lowered his weapon, Jimmy holstered his own gun. Jimmy’s gaze darted to Veronica’s face. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” Her voice wasn’t weak. It was angry. She gritted, “Someone’s been in the house. Cale’s room is trashed. So is mine.”
But Jasper wasn’t so sure it was just about trashing. Sometimes a smart thief could trash the place in order to hide the fact that he’d taken something.
Something very important.
And not even something that had been in Veronica’s or Jasper’s room. Maybe trashing those particular rooms drew attention away from the fact that he’d taken something small from the rest of the house.
Jasper’s gaze swept over the edge of the staircase.
What did you want?
“I’ll call the sheriff,” Jimmy said. “He sent me out here to check on you. He was worried, after what happened last night.” Jasper’s gaze returned to the deputy just in time to see Jimmy’s Adam’s apple bob. “Guess he was right to be worried.”