This blonde, that blonde, dead blondes. Tigers in the night. The dog-boys stealing through the trees to do their dirty business. How could he tell J.D. any of that when he didn’t have the slightest clue what was real and what wasn’t? It was all real to Del, but he knew his nephew didn’t see dead girls in the night, or tigers on the mountain.

The shame of that trembled inside him like a fist that had been tightened and tightened until the knuckles turned white. If only he could do something to stop it all. If only he could make the blondes go away forever. If only he could be strong again, his mind whole for just a little while. He didn’t ask for much from this life. If he could just have this one thing for just a little while.

He would have asked, but there was no God to hear him or He would have answered years ago.

THE CROWD in the Moose lounge was edgy and electric. Talk of the break-in rippled through the room. Being questioned by the sheriff’s department had put an unexpected spark of excitement into a number of vacations. Strangers swapped interview stories and traded theories about the vanishing bandit. He was a local lunatic who had been lying in wait to attack the woman. He was a local lowlife who saw the well-heeled patrons of the Mystic Moose as easy targets. He was an infamous jewel thief who had followed his prey up from Hollywood. He was an infamous jewel thief by night who was a famous actor by day. He was Robin Hood, Jesse James, and Hannibal Lecter rolled into one, and it was all the more exciting that he hadn’t been caught. Lodge management had assured there would be no repeat performance, and extra security people prowled the halls, only adding to the frontier atmosphere people had come here for in the first place.

Samantha listened to the stories and speculation as she worked the tables, a little worried about spending the night alone. She didn’t sleep well by herself on the best of nights. She had grown up in a small house bursting at the seams with people. Nights had been filled with the sleep sounds of her brothers and sisters-bedsprings creaking, covers rustling, her sister Rae talking in her dreams, her father snoring, bare feet padding to the bathroom in the middle of the night. All those years she thought she would have given anything to sleep alone, in her own bed, in her own house. Now she dreaded the idea. The bed was too empty. The house was too quiet. Most nights she lay awake, staring in the dark at the space beside her, where Will should have been. Tonight she would lay awake and stare at Will’s spot and wonder if the mystery bandit might break in and attack her. And if he did, would Will even care when he heard about it?

She had spent the night of the party in the guest room at Bryce’s. Her mind filled with the bright afterglow of excitement, sleep had been a long time coming. She may have felt out of place during the evening, but in the aftermath she relived every scene with enthusiasm, remembering the people she had met and the conversations she had been a part of. It was like a dream, like stepping into a whole other world-the celebrities, the beautiful clothes she had worn, the music, the champagne, the pool glowing as darkness crept down the mountainside.

A wry smile touched her mouth as she served a Falstaff and a Chivas to a couple from Beverly Hills. A fairy tale. Sam Rafferty as Cinderella with Evan Bryce as the fairy godfather. But the clock had struck, the enchantment was over, and she was back hustling for tips at the Moose, working the late shift until she could go home to her dumpy little empty house to sleep alone.

The black mood swooped down on her like a vulture and dug its claws into her stomach. Tears gathered behind her eyes and she blinked them back as she made change for a fifty and gave service with a smile. Half an hour to go, then she could cry all she wanted and there would be no one to see her except Rascal.

When she turned to go back to the bar, Bryce caught her eye. He was at his usual table, drinking Pellegrino with lime. The crowd around him was small. Just Sharon, Ben Lucas, and another man she had seen briefly at the party, a tall, stiff-looking man who might have been a television news anchor or a leading man from the era of Kirk Douglas. Of the foursome, only Bryce appeared to be having a good time. He flashed her a grin and motioned for her.

“Hey there, beautiful, what time do you get off?”

Samantha gave him a crooked smile, not quite sure how she was supposed to react. If she hadn’t been stuck in New Eden, Montana, her whole life, she might have come back with a witty remark, but she felt awkward trying to pretend sophistication she didn’t possess.

“They’ve kept you hopping tonight,” he said. “I guess everyone is charged up over that break-in we heard about.”

“Yeah,” she said, pulling her empty tray up in front of her, warming to him. He went out of his way to include her, to make her feel more important than she knew she was. She greedily soaked up his generosity and tried not to worry about what the rest of his friends probably thought about her. “Did you hear whose room it was?” she asked, excited at the prospect of sharing what little gossip she knew. “Marilee Jennings. She was at your party.”

Ben Lucas raised his eyebrows and glanced across the table at the older man-Townsend.

Bryce frowned and rubbed his chin. “Really? That’s terrible. Was she hurt?”

“He hit her in the head. I heard she had a concussion, but she’s not in the hospital or anything. She was lucky.”

He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were doing math in his head. “Yes, I guess she was,” he murmured.

“It’s creepy,” Samantha said, shivering a little, the fear showing through. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen here. People getting attacked and robbed and stuff like that.”

Bryce sharpened, his blue eyes narrowing. Concern creased his high forehead as his brows pulled together. “You’re home alone. Will you be all right?”

“Sure,” she said without much enthusiasm.

“No, no, no.” He wagged his head. “I don’t like that idea at all. Come and stay at the ranch.”

Samantha blinked at the offer and the temptation that hit hard on its heels. A vision of the guest room played through her head like a commercial for a luxury hotel. “No, I couldn’t,” she said automatically.

“Of course you could. We’d be glad to have you, wouldn’t we, Sharon?”

Samantha flicked a glance at the statuesque blonde. Sharon didn’t look glad to her. The smile that twisted the woman’s thin lips was the kind that usually comes as a reaction to sucking on something unexpectedly bitter.

“No, thanks, really,” Samantha said as her self-esteem sank. She imagined she could hear the words behind Sharon Russell’s flat gaze-stupid little hick waitress. “I’ll be okay. I’m used to staying alone. Besides, I don’t have anything a thief would want.”

“Maybe he wasn’t a thief,” Sharon pointed out calmly, running a finger around the rim of her margarita glass.

Samantha’s eyes widened. Bryce shot his cousin a glower. “Way to go, cuz, scare the poor girl to death.”

Sharon licked the salt off her finger and shrugged, unrepentant. “Better safe than sorry. A woman has to consider all the possibilities and act accordingly. If you don’t feel safe, Sam, by all means, come out to Xanadu. You’ll be safe with us.”

Three tables over, a man cleared his throat noisily and raised an empty glass when Samantha glanced his way. She held up a hand to acknowledge him and turned back to Bryce. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be okay.”

He reached up and gave her hand a squeeze, made eye contact, and gave her a dose of sincere and fatherly. “Think about it. We won’t be leaving for a while yet.”