Page 12 of River Legacy (Powder River #5)

Men, she thought with a silent groan. That kiss must have really scared him. Why else would he keep reminding her of not just her father, but their so-called weekend arrangement?

Whatever his reason, she’d had enough. “Race you back?” She didn’t wait for his answer as she spurred her horse and took off. Let him try to catch her.

W endell Forester felt his chest squeeze his breath from his lungs as he looked at the latest death threat.

It had been shoved under his hotel room door while he was in the shower.

He’d gotten a variety of threatening letters over the years.

Those hadn’t bothered him. When you ran an empire like his, you made enemies.

But these latest death threats had a ring of promise to them.

Someone didn’t just want to scare him, they really wanted him dead.

Coming to Billings hadn’t been only about trying to close a merger deal between Claude and his daughter.

He’d desperately needed to get away to some place he’d thought would be safe.

But the death threat that had been pushed under the door proved that his alleged killer not only knew he was in Billings, but had come here after him.

He thought about taking the note to the authorities, but knew it was useless. There wouldn’t be fingerprints or any way to find the device the note had been printed on—just like the first one he’d taken to the FBI.

From the time he’d been knee-high to a grasshopper, raised dirt-poor, he’d been on his own.

It was what made him so successful. He went after what he wanted, and he didn’t give up.

He picked up his phone and called Brice Schultz, the bodyguard who was supposed to be watching his room.

No answer. Odd, he thought and tried JJ Gibson. Again, no answer.

Walking to his hotel room door, he opened it to find the hallway empty.

Was it possible they’d both gone off somewhere?

Not if they hoped to stay employed. He closed the door and looked around his hotel room.

Anyone could have put the note under his door.

It didn’t take a room key to go to any of the rooms on the different floors.

He’d brought his own security where he didn’t have to worry about it.

He started to call Claude, but remembered he’d sent him off on a wild-goose chase.

There was no way the man was going to get Victoria away from the cowboy.

It was as he’d said: Claude was only a catalyst. If there was any chance that Victoria might be interested in Ryder Stafford, then Claude could push them together.

It was a long shot. It wasn’t as if he thought his daughter would do something drastic like marry Ryder Stafford to spite him.

No, he’d failed miserably in the Getting His Daughter Married department.

It was time to fly back to Dallas where he would hire more security.

All he had to do was get there alive. Even as he thought it, he knew that whoever was after him could still get to him.

He thought of his daughter and worried that he’d put her in the line of fire as well by insisting she come to Montana this weekend.

Maybe worse, Ryder Stafford had her. What if he was the one who’d been sending the death threats?

The moment he thought it, he realized he was wrong.

He’d always been a pretty good judge of character.

Stafford had been upfront with him. He wasn’t sneaking around putting death threats under hotel room doors.

Also, he’d allegedly left town with Victoria. Maybe it was time Wendell found out if his daughter really was at the Stafford Ranch—and safe. After all, the text saying she was at the ranch with her fiancé had come from Ryder’s phone.

He realized he should have called right away to find out if she really was there since he didn’t believe she was Ryder Stafford’s fiancée. If someone wanted to hurt him, a sure-fire way to do it would be to use his daughter. Which was another reason he wanted her married.

The woman who answered the phone at the Stafford Ranch hadn’t known Victoria and said Ryder had gone out on a horseback ride. She could have him return the call. He’d declined and hung up.

There was only one way to find out if she was safe. He’d have to go to the ranch. Pulling out his phone, he called his pilot only to learn that there was no airport near the ranch that could accommodate the jet.

Swearing, he called a local rental agency to have a car delivered.

As he hung up, there was a knock at his door that made him start.

He turned to look at the door. He hadn’t succeeded in life by being afraid of anyone or anything.

But wasn’t that the problem? He barreled his way through to get what he wanted, unconcerned by who got hurt in the process.

Was it any wonder he was getting death threats?

“Mr. Forester?” a male voice he recognized called from the other side of the door.

He moved swiftly to the door and threw it open. “Where the hell have you been, JJ?” he demanded.

Wendell saw something in the man’s eyes before JJ quickly masked it. Not even his security guards liked him.

“I was just down the hall.”

“Really? Then, why didn’t you see whoever shoved a death threat under my door?”

“I thought Brice—”

“Are you telling me you don’t know where he is?”

JJ looked as if it was the last thing he wanted to tell his boss.

“Neither one of you got a description of the person who sent me a death threat. Is that what you’re telling me?”

JJ’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m afraid not, since I thought Brice was covering your door.”

“You’re both fired,” Wendell said. “I’ll leave your severance pay and commercial coach tickets for your flights back to Dallas at the main desk.

” He slammed the door, shaking. He couldn’t trust anyone, and he sure as hell didn’t trust JJ Gibson.

He recalled that JJ had come highly recommended, though he couldn’t remember by whom.

The main desk called to say his rental had been delivered. He quickly packed, anxious to get on the road. It had been so long since he’d driven himself, he was actually looking forward to a trip alone.

Someone was trying to scare him. Or maybe really wanted him dead. He had no idea who, but plenty of people had good reason. As he got ready to leave Billings, he realized that he hadn’t heard from Claude Duvall.

Or maybe he had, thinking of the death threat he now had tucked into his suitcase.