Under Threat

into the envelope addressed to him and, wiping her tears, had left it on her desk in her old room at the ranch as she climbed into bed. The next morning before daylight her mother had called up to her room to say that the mare had gone into labor. Forgetting all about the letter, she’d been so excited about the new foal that she’d put everything else out of her mind. By the time she remembered the letter, it was gone. Her aunt Stacy had seen it, put a stamp on the envelope and mailed it for her.
At first, Mary had been in a panic, expecting Chase to call as soon as he received the letter. She’d played the conversation in her head every way she thought possible, all but one of them humiliating. As days passed, she’d still held out hope. Now after more than two weeks and that horrible phone call, she knew it was really over and she had to accept it.
Still her heart ached. Chase had been her first love. Did anyone ever get over their first love? He had obviously moved on. Mary took another deep breath and tried to put it out of her mind. She loved summer here in the canyon. The temperature was perfect—never too cold or too hot. A warm breeze swayed the pine boughs and keeled over the tall grass in the pasture nearby. Closer a horse whinnied from the corral next to the barn as a hawk made a slow lazy circle in the clear blue overhead.
Days like this she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. She took another deep breath. She needed to get back to her office. She had work to do. Along with doing the ranch books for Cardwell Ranch, she had taken on work from other ranches in the canyon and built a lucrative business.
She would get over Chase or die trying, she told herself. As she straightened her back, her tears dried, and she walked toward her SUV. She’d give Deputy Dillon Ramsey a call. It was time she moved on. Like falling off a horse, she was ready to saddle up again. Forgetting Chase wouldn’t be easy, but if anyone could help the process, she figured Dillon Ramsey was the man to do it.

Chapter 3
Chase was carrying the last of his things out to his pickup when he saw Fiona drive up. He swore under his breath. He’d hoped to leave without a scene. Actually, he’d been surprised that she hadn’t come by sooner. As she was friends with Rick’s wife, Patty, Chase was pretty sure she had intel into how the packing and leaving had been going.
He braced himself as he walked to his pickup and put the final box into the back. He heard Fiona get out of her car and walk toward him. He figured it could go several ways. She would try seduction or tears or raging fury, or a combination of all three.
Hands deep in the pockets of her jacket as she approached, she gave him a shy smile. It was that smile that had appealed to him that first night. He’d been vulnerable, and he suspected she’d known it. Did she think that smile would work again?
He felt guilty for even thinking that she was so calculating and yet he’d seen the way she’d worked him. “Fiona, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble?” She chuckled. “I heard you were moving out today. I only wanted to come say goodbye.”
Chase wished that was the extent of it, but he’d come to know her better than that. “I think we covered goodbye the last time we saw each other.”
She ignored that. “I know you’re still angry with me—”
“Fiona—”
Tears welled in her green eyes as if she could call them up at a moment’s notice. “Chase, at least give me a hug goodbye. Please.” Before he could move, she closed the distance between them. As she did, her hands came out of her jacket pockets. The blade of the knife in her right hand caught the light as she started to put her arms around his neck.
As he jerked back, he grabbed her wrist. “What the—” He cursed as he tightened his grip on her wrist holding the knife. She was stronger than she looked. She struggled to stab him as she screamed obscenities at him.
The look in her eyes was almost more frightening than the knife clutched in her fist. He twisted her wrist until she cried out and dropped the weapon. The moment it hit the ground, he let go of her, realizing he was hurting her.
She dived for the knife, but he kicked it away, chasing after it before she could pick it up again. She leaped at him, pounding on his back as she tried to drag him to the ground.
He threw her off. She stumbled and fell to the grass and began to cry hysterically. He stared down at her. Had she really tried to kill him?
“Don’t! Don’t kill me!” she screamed, raising her hands as if she thought he was going to stab her. He’d forgotten that he’d picked up the knife, but he wasn’t threatening her with it.
He didn’t understand what was going on until he realized they were no longer alone. Fiona had an audience. Some of the apartment tenants had come out. One of them, an elderly woman, was fumbling with her phone as if to call the cops.
“Everything is all right,” he quickly told the woman.
The older woman looked from Fiona to him and back. Her gaze caught on the knife he was holding at his side.
“There is no reason to call the police,” Chase said calmly as he walked to the trash cans lined up along the street, opened one and dropped the knife into the bottom.
“That’s my best knife!” Fiona yelled. “You owe me for that.”
He saw that the tenant was now staring at Fiona, who was brushing off her jeans as she got to her feet.
“What are