Page 64 of Taylor’s Warrior

The odd emphasis he placed on the nickname this time gave her an even more uneasy feeling. Whatever he was about to reveal, her instincts were screaming at her to run. “What truth?”

“I’m not your biological father.”

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His mind was only half on the conversation Rhys was having with Cruz Livingston. The other half was on Taylor, standing just a few feet from her father, who was rubbing his wrists after the removal of the handcuffs.

The scene troubled him. There was something about Markham’s body language that didn’t read right, not even when he gave his daughter a hug. And judging by Taylor’s stiff body language, she wasn’t happy, either. Rhys stopped in the middle of what he was saying and shifted his entire focus to his woman. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was watching a predatory master manipulator targeting his prey.

“Dalton?”

He spared a glance at the FBI agent. “Do me a favor and get the handcuffs back on Markham,” he said quietly. “I’ve got a bad feeling this is about to go sideways.”

Quite how, Rhys didn’t know, but that was what his gut—always reliable—was telling him. With a swift, silent gesture, Livingston ordered his closest agent to move in. In the same instant, Taylor was stepping back, her hand covering her mouth as she shook her head in blatant disbelief. Rhys launched into the fastest sprint of his life, and as he closed in on whatever was going down, he heard Taylor’s horrified denial.

“No. What you wrote… the note. It can’t be true. It can’t.”

“You can bet your life it is, Punkin. After all, I did—bet your life, I mean. Think about it. Would your real father have put you at risk by sending the incriminating material to you, rather than sending it to the Feds?”

The incongruous remark was puzzling enough, but Rhys’ focus zeroed in on three words—your real father. What the hell had he been saying to her?

As the FBI agent slapped the cuffs back on Markham’s wrists, Rhys made a grab for Taylor and swung her away from the prisoner, shielding her with his own body. Markham was in no position to pose a viable threat, but Rhys was taking no chances, especially with Taylor clearly in a state of shock.

“I don’t know what you said to her, Markham, but if you want to speak to her again, you go through me.” Rhys ground out the words as Livingston caught up with them. He wanted to say more but issuing death threats in the presence of an FBI special agent probably wasn’t a good idea.

“Take him away.” Livingston turned to Taylor. “Are you all right?”

Rhys spun around, dreading what he might find. Taylor was pale, frighteningly so, and looked to be almost in a state of shock. “Tay?”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, but there was a bleakness to it that caused him genuine alarm. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the shelter of his body. She needed to get away from here, and fast, no matter what Livingston needed from them.

“You can see she’s in shock. I know you’ll need statements from us, but it’ll have to wait. I’m taking her home.”

Livingston’s eyes darted from Rhys to Taylor and back again, finally swinging away in the direction of the agents taking their prisoner away. “He’ll be going in front of the judge on Monday. It would be… useful if we could have your statements before then. I’ll call you later.”

Rhys lifted his chin to acknowledge the concession. “You got my number?”

Livingston removed his cell phone from his pocket and swiped the screen with his thumb several times, before reciting a number. “That yours?”

“It is. We’ll talk later.”

As the agent left, Rhys’ arms tightened around Taylor. “Don’t try telling me you’re okay—a blind man could see you’re not. Let’s go home, fy nghariad. I’ll talk to Livingston when he calls, and if you’re not ready to see Nick and Charity, I’ll run interference until tomorrow. And… I want you to stay with me tonight. I don’t want you to be alone. Are you okay with all of that?”

After an agonizing few seconds, he felt her nod of agreement against his shoulder. “I can’t believe what just happened. It doesn’t seem real.”

It was real, all right. “Listen to me. I know it’s difficult, but for now, all you need to remember is, the good guys won, the bad guys lost, and everything will be all right. I promise.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

Maybe, on one level, it was, for everyone except Taylor. For her, if what he’d heard proved to be true, her world had been swept from beneath her feet and fed into a woodchipper. She’d be mentally and emotionally drained—hardly surprising—and was likely about to hit the wall of an adrenaline crash. There was only one thing to do now.

On the way back to the ranch, Rhys didn’t attempt to open up a conversation with Taylor, and once they were back on the ranch property, he heaved a silent sigh of relief that they were almost home. Now, all they had to do was run the gauntlet of Nick and Charity. It wouldn’t be right to sneak past the main house and leave them wondering how Taylor was.

The main ranch house door was flung wide before Rhys even put the pickup in park. Charity came running out, with Nick right behind her.

“Thank God you’re both back and safe.” Nick opened the driver’s door, while his wife did the same for Taylor.

Rhys stepped down from the pickup and closed the door, to be greeted with a brief, back-slapping masculine hug. “Glad to be back.”