Cowboy Bounty Hunter

by Lori Wilde

  But now Ray wanted him to stop?

  “You’re making a mistake,” Sam told him. “I’m so close to getting him.”

  “One week.” Ray rolled his wheelchair closer to Sam, his intense gaze unrelenting. “That’s the deal. Give me your word as a man.” Ray held out his hand. “And as Henry Holden’s grandson.”

  Sam knew he didn’t have a choice. This was the only thing Ray had ever asked of him since that fateful night.

  After a long moment, Sam reached out and shook Ray’s hand. “Deal.”

  #

  Later that afternoon, Gracie was still thinking about that kiss when she almost collided with Merle Fry on the sidewalk in front of Jolene’s Antique Emporium.

  “Whoa there!” Merle gave her a cocky grin as perspiration rolled down his face. “Why is a bigshot like you always in such a hurry, Gracie? Coming to pay your last respects?”

  His jubilant attitude unsettled her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means your aunt’s days in this building are numbered.” He rubbed his fleshy hands together. “Yes, siree, it’s finally happening. I’m giving her the boot as soon as the contracts are drawn up and a judge signs off on it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is this another one of your empty threats?”

  “This is the real deal, young lady.” His grin widened. “Jolene’s had plenty of chances to set things right with her shop. But business is business, so it’s time for her to bow out.” Then he tipped his hat to her and went on his way, whistling a happy tune.

  Gracie hoped he was just bluffing again as she entered the antique shop.

  “Hey, there,” Aunt Jolene greeted her with a smile. “This is a nice surprise.”

  Relief washed over Gracie that her aunt didn’t seem upset by Merle’s latest visit. “I just ran into your nemesis outside. He’s really full of himself today.”

  “You can say that again.” Aunt Jolene chuckled. “Merle’s feeling all high and mighty because he arranged some kind of deal to buy all my debt and now, he’s demanding payment.”

  Gracie moved closer to the front counter, certain she hadn’t heard her right. “What kind of debt?”

  Jolene sighed. “Oh, I borrowed some money from a private loan company a couple of years ago to cover expenses after that busted pipe flooded my shop. I’ve been making the payments, but with the high interest rate, I can’t cover all of them. I guess that’s why they sold my debt off to Merle’s finance company.”

  “Oh, no!” Gracie wanted to strangle her aunt. “Why didn’t you come to me instead of some high interest loan company? I could have helped you.”

  Jolene tipped her chin. “As I’ve told you before, I don’t take handouts from my niece or anybody else. I’d rather sink or swim on my own.” Then her expression softened. “I’ve sunk plenty of times before, Gracie, and I’ve always found my way back to the top.”

  “But you can’t just give up. You love this place.”

  Jolene breathed a wistful sigh as her gaze moved fondly over the shop. “I do love this old building. I’m sure I’ve told you it used to be a soda shop when I was a little girl.”

  Gracie smiled. “Only a few dozen times.”

  “My mama and daddy would bring me and your mother here on Sunday afternoons for ice cream. They both worked so hard and so many hours just to keep the family afloat. Coming to this place once a week was one of the few times we could all be together as a family.”

  Gracie reached out to squeeze Jolene’s hand, often marveling at how differently her mother and Aunt Jolene looked back on their childhood. One had determined never to be that poor again, even if it meant abandoning her own daughter. The other had found joy in building the life she wanted, even if it wasn’t perfect.

  “Don’t you worry about me,” Aunt Jolene told her. “I’ll hang on to this place as long as I can, just to muddy up Merle’s plans. Then I’ll find a new adventure.”

  Gracie plopped down on the stool across from her aunt, stunned by her aunt’s words. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well, it looks like I’ve got a customer coming in, so you have some time to think on it.”

  The door to the shop opened, and Gracie turned around and saw a familiar face. “Hey, Michael, this is perfect timing.”

  Her aunt rose to her feet and walked over to greet him. “Hello, I’m Jolene, and I’m always happy to meet a friend of Gracie’s.”

  “Michael Robinson,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jolene. I’ve heard a lot about you and your lovely shop.” His gaze roamed over the impressive displays Jolene had created to showcase her antiques and collectibles. “You’ve done a beautiful job here.”

  Gracie walked toward them. “Aunt Jolene, Michael is a top executive at Delacroix Image Consultants and does amazing work.”

  “I deal mostly with accounting and legal matters for the company,” Michael said. “It’s not as flashy as the work of the designers, but I’m a whiz with a red ink pen.”

  Aunt Jolene laughed. “Well, then you might want to stock up on those red pens. I’m guessing Gracie asked you here to help me get my finances straight?”

  “No,” Gracie interjected. “You made it clear you didn’t want any financial help. But Michael came up with an idea that might keep Merle from ever getting his grubby hands on this place.”

  “Well, now I’m interested.” Aunt Jolene waved him to the front counter. “Let’s sit down for a nice chat. But before we do, I’ve got some sweet tea chilling in the back room. Would anyone like a glass?”

  Michael raised a hand in the air. “I’ll take one. And the sweeter the better.”

  “Now that’s a man after my own heart.” Jolene laughed, then turned to Gracie. “And how about one for you, girl?”

  “No, thanks, I have to run. But I would like to speak to you for a moment.”

  Jolene waved her toward the storeroom. “Then come on back.”

  When they reached the storeroom, Gracie watched her aunt retrieve a big glass jar of sweet tea from the refrigerator. Then she blurted out, “Sam’s moving in with me.”

  Jolene whirled around, the tea splashing inside the jar. “Wow! That’s a little sooner than I expected, but good for you.”

  “What?” Gracie gaped at her aunt. “No, it’s not like that. We’re not a couple. How could you even think such a thing?”

  Aunt Jolene sighed. “Oh, Gracie, I’ve always believed a little spontaneity is good for the soul. I know you’re upset with the man for tricking you, but I see the look in your eyes when you talk about him.” She smiled and leaned closer. “He fires you up in a way I’ve never seen you act before. And men like that are few and far between, honey. So, now’s not the time to hold a grudge.”

  Gracie didn’t know how to respond to that. Thinking about Sam just made her feel a little crazy, so she changed the subject. “The only reason I’m doing it is to help Gilbert.”

  “Is that so?” Aunt Jolene reached for two glasses, then poured tea into them. “Are you sure this is just about Gilbert? Because you sound different when you talk about Sam. You act different, too.”

  "That's ridiculous." But despite her words, Gracie could feel a warm blush creep into her cheeks.

  Aunt Jolene screwed the lid back on the tea jar. "Well, I can't wait to meet this bounty hunter of yours.”

  But Gracie didn't want to talk about Sam anymore. She thought about him too much already. "Thanks again for giving Michael a chance. I hope it helps."

  “I do too, but either way, I’ll be just fine.” Jolene placed the tea jar back in the refrigerator, then walked over to her desk and picked up an envelope. "I almost forgot to give this to you. It came in the mail today."

  Gracie took it from her and immediately recognized Gilbert's handwriting on the front of the envelope. There was no return address. "Thanks."

  She waited until Aunt Jolene left before she opened it. Apprehension slid up her spine as she tore the back flap loose wi
th her fingernail and pulled out the single sheet of paper inside.

  Dear Gracie,

  You're the only person I can trust right now. I know that sounds like something out of one of those old, corny thrillers we used to watch, but it's true. I don't know yet when I can see you. Things have gotten dicey around here. In the meantime, please hide that tape I sent you until I can work something out.

  I'm in big trouble, Gracie. Please don't let me down.

  Love, G.

  She read the letter again, hearing the desperation in each word. Gilbert was terrified. She wished she could reassure him that help was on the way. Sam had promised to protect him—a promise she fully intended to make him keep.

  But they had to find Gilbert first.

  She turned the letter over in her hand, noticing the small gray smudge on the back. When she rubbed her index finger over it, the gray substance adhered to her skin, fine and powdery. Her first clue to finding Gilbert.

  And now she knew just where to look.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  That evening, Sam was standing at the stove in Gracie’s kitchen when he heard the front door open. He glanced at the clock, noting that she was later than he’d expected. Hardly surprising, since she'd been adamant about maintaining her independence during this investigation. A trait he admired about her—even if it did make him worry.

  "Sam?" she called from the living room.

  "I'm in here."

  He didn't turn around, letting the anticipation of seeing her again buzz inside of him. After making that deal with Ray, Sam realized it meant he’d only have a week left to spend with Gracie. For some reason, that realization had hit him almost as hard as giving up the case.

  He'd thought about her the rest of the day while digging up background information on Allison Webb and canvasing Pine City for any sign of Gilbert. Now she was home, safe and sound, and he could finally relax.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Making us some dinner." He stirred the Spanish rice so it wouldn't stick to the bottom of the skillet. "I have chicken enchiladas in the oven and a pitcher of margaritas in the refrigerator. I hope you like Mexican food."

  Gracie set her purse on the kitchen table. "I love Mexican and I’m starving. But you don’t have to cook for me.”

  “I love to cook whenever I get a chance.” Sam removed the skillet from the burner, then turned to face her. "I guess it comes naturally. When I was about six, I used to sit on the kitchen counter and watch my mom bake cakes and cookies.” He smiled. “My brothers made fun of me, but I was always the first one who got to lick the bowl.”

  “And what does she think of your current occupation?”

  Sam shrugged as he stirred the rice again. “She and my dad died in a car accident when I was seven, so I hope they’re both proud of me.”

  "Oh." Gracie looked contrite. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Sam reached for a spatula. “My grandparents raised my brothers and me on their ranch and gave us a great life.”

  He hated this stiff formality between them, especially after the very informal night they'd spent together. Part of him had hoped this dinner might dissolve some of the tension in the air.

  "Look, I appreciate the thought, Sam, but this really isn't necessary. I can make my own dinner."

  "This one is already made," he replied, pulling out a chair for her. "And I figured we’re going to talk about the case, so why not do it over a nice meal?”

  Suspicion gleamed in her blue eyes, but she relented at last. “Okay.” Gracie slid into the chair with a resigned sigh. "It really does smell wonderful."

  "And tastes even better." Sam pulled the enchiladas out of the oven, then dished up a plate for each of them. After he set them on the table, he poured her a margarita, then one for himself.

  Gracie took a long sip, then set down her glass. "Almost as good as Aunt Jolene’s margaritas."

  "That's quite a compliment," Sam said, seating himself in the chair opposite Gracie. "I read about her in your emails, and she sounds like quite a woman.”

  "And I’ve told her quite a bit about you," she said, picking up her fork.

  He winced. “I’m guessing she’s not a fan?”

  “On the contrary,” Gracie said with a smile. “She thinks I shouldn’t hold a grudge for the way you tricked me the night of the reunion.”

  “She sounds like a very smart woman.”

  “She is, but I don’t agree with her about this.”

  He met her gaze. "I never wanted to hurt you, Gracie."

  "I just wish I’d trusted my own instincts. I knew deep down you couldn’t be Gilbert. He never made me feel...”

  Sam waited for her to finish the sentence, but instead, she picked up her fork and began eating. His stomach growled, but he ignored it, wanting to set the record straight. “I figured you'd realize I wasn't Gilbert the moment you saw me. I was going to come clean then, and just hope you'd give us a chance to get to know each other."

  She looked skeptical. "Then why were you wearing Gilbert's name tag?"

  He shook his head. "That's the crazy thing. Everybody there just assumed I was Gilbert without me even telling them. Then I got a break in the case." He set down his fork. "The first break in three long years. So, I had a choice to make—continue the charade and the investigation or tell you the truth."

  "You couldn't do both?"

  He shrugged, realizing he hadn't given her enough credit. "I wasn’t sure how you'd react if I told you that I'd been reading all your emails to Gilbert. I thought you might become angry and give away my identity to everybody in that ballroom."

  "Wait a minute," she said, her brow crinkling. "What break in the case are you talking about?"

  "I met Allison Webb at the reunion." He scooped up a forkful of rice. "She thought I was the real Gilbert too, but she's been in contact with him and is somehow involved in all of this.”

  Gracie closed her eyes. "Oh, no."

  He lowered his fork. "What?"

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "When were in high school, Allison Webb was always Gilbert's weak spot. He was the smartest man I knew, except when it came to her."

  "We all have our weak spots."

  The way he said it made Gracie's stomach do a triple somersault, though she might be reading more into his words than he'd meant. If she believed him, and part of her really wanted to believe him, then his deception at the reunion hadn't been planned. But it had clearly shown his priorities. When the choice had come down to his case or her, he'd chosen his case.

  Something she needed to remember. Especially when he kept doing things to lower her defenses, like making this wonderful dinner and looking at her in a way that made her itch to kiss him again.

  For one brief, insane moment she considered doing just that. Standing up and taking the fork out of his hand, then kissing him where he sat. But she’d already blindsided him once today. If she did it again, then he might get the wrong idea. Gracie reached for her margarita, taking a long, deep drink.

  "Tell me more about Allison," Sam said, oblivious to her thoughts.

  It was a good thing, too, Gracie told herself, since he was staying with her now. She needed to keep these ridiculous romantic fantasies to herself.

  "I didn't know her all that well." Gracie set her glass back on the table. "Allison was different—a nonconformist. I think that's why she appealed to Gilbert. He always had a rebellious streak."

  "So, they dated?"

  Gracie shook her head. "No. As I remember it, Allison barely even talked to him. He loved her from afar."

  "Sounds like his taste in women was screwed up," Sam said. "Pining after Allison when he had you right by his side."

  Now Gracie knew she wasn't imagining things. Sam Holden was paying her a compliment. She suddenly realized this was becoming more like a date than an agreement to find Gilbert together and bring him in safely. She couldn't let herself forget Sam's priorities. Or her
own. "I received a letter from Gilbert today."

  He put down his fork. "Can I see it?"

  She reached into her purse and pulled it out. "There's not much in it. But the postmark is local, so he must be somewhere in the area."

  Sam took the letter from her, his brow furrowed in concentration as he scanned it. "Hide the tape," he read aloud, then looked up at her. "What the hell is on that tape?"

  She shrugged. "I don’t know. I haven’t tried to watch it again since... that night."

  "Then maybe we'd better watch it tonight.”

  Gracie pictured them snuggled together on her living room sofa to watch the movie, like the night they’d shared that love seat. Giving in to temptation again was a definite possibility. Sam had ignited a passion inside of her that she had never known existed.

  And the anger that had replaced that passion was burning away too fast, leaving her vulnerable to him again. She didn't want that to happen. But if her instincts were right, he wouldn't be around much longer.

  "We don't need to watch the tape to find Gilbert," Gracie announced.

  Sam looked surprised. "Why not?"

  "Because I think I know where he's hiding."

  #

  The next morning, Sam rode in the passenger seat of Gracie's Miata, wondering why he didn't feel more excited at the prospect of tracking down Holloway. He'd been searching for the guy for the past three years, but there was a heaviness inside of him that he couldn't explain. Maybe it was the fact that if this lead was another dead end, he’d have to give up on the case in six days. Right now, it was hard for Sam to imagine what life would be like without Gilbert constantly on his radar.

  "How did you sleep last night?" Gracie asked him. Dark sunglasses hid her beautiful blue eyes. Her window was half open, the wind blowing through her blond curls.

  "Fine," he lied, unable to stop looking at her.

  The truth was that he'd been up half the night tossing and turning in the guest room, all too aware of Gracie sleeping just a few feet down the hallway. He tried to tell himself that he’d feel that way about any other attractive woman. But that was just another lie.