by Debra Webb
“Just be careful. I don’t want you to end up like those two interlopers.”
“I will be very careful. Don’t forget about that ad space for Happy’s center. I promised her you would take care of it personally.”
“I’ll take care of it. You just take care of you.”
She gave him a thumbs-up, and when she would have shifted into Drive and pulled away, Colt’s truck parked next to her.
She looked from the big black truck to the man standing outside the window of her driver’s-side door. “Tell me you did not call him.”
Brian held up his hands. “I swear I did not call him.”
Colt opened the passenger-side door and dropped into the passenger seat of Brian’s car. He pulled off his hat and placed it in the back seat on top of her supplies. “Ready?”
She glowered first at him, then at her trusted friend and employee. She powered up her window and shifted into Drive. “What’re you doing here, Colt?”
As she rolled away from the newspaper parking lot, he tugged on his seat belt and made himself comfortable by powering the seat back as far as possible, which was not very far. She was surprised his long legs fit into the vehicle, much less the rest of his lean, hard body.
Dear God, stop with the physical details already!
“Keeping you out of trouble, Rey,” he said in answer to her question.
She glanced at him as she pointed the car toward their destination. “I’m not in trouble, Colt.”
“Not for a lack of trying,” he grumbled.
“Did Brian call you?” She couldn’t believe he had lied to her—straight to her face.
“He did not.”
“Happy, then?” Why hadn’t Happy just told Colt about Ezra in the first place? Damn her.
“I said Brian didn’t call me. I didn’t say he didn’t tell me.”
Fury tightened Audrey’s lips. “He sent you a text.”
“Three,” Colt confirmed. “One: ‘you gotta get over here, Colt.’”
She was going to have a very long, very unpleasant conversation with Brian.
“Two: ‘she is planning a stakeout tonight.’”
Audrey put her anger on pause. “What about the third one?”
“‘I’m worried she might need backup.’”
A grin spread across her face. “So he didn’t tell you where I was going?”
* * *
FIVE HOURS LATER there hadn’t been any movement at the Zimmerman place. Ezra’s truck had been parked in the driveway when they arrived and it still was. The lights had gone out about ten. Colt was happy she was prepared for the stakeout. She had chips and her favorite chocolate bars, which happened to be his favorite as well. They’d binged on the junk food the way they had back in high school, but they washed it down with water rather than colas.
Still, she would be sorry tomorrow.
“This wife is his second one?” Audrey asked. Her mother had mentioned Mrs. Zimmerman dying a few years back. If memory served, the Zimmermans didn’t have children. But there had been a really young woman, maybe midtwenties, and two children when Audrey knocked on the door. The woman had said she was Ezra’s wife.
“Yep. His first wife died a while back, maybe five or six years ago. They had been married since they were teenagers. He married again about three years ago and had two kids.”
“Living alone gets to you sometimes. It’s probably really difficult after spending your whole adult life with someone and then finding yourself alone.”
The words echoed in the confined space and Audrey flinched in the darkness. That was one admission she would have preferred to keep to herself. She certainly hadn’t intended to say it aloud to Colt. “Mom said that to me a couple of times,” she amended, her words tumbling over one another. “You know, before I came back home.”
He was silent for a while. Surprisingly, sitting in the dark with him was easy. She didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied being within a dozen yards of him. Maybe it was not being able to see his face or those gray eyes of his. No, she decided. It was because he couldn’t see her. Couldn’t spot the way her pulse quickened whenever he was close or the way her lips burned, requiring that she moisten them repeatedly, for the taste of his.
She sighed. Would she never get past this ridiculous physical attraction that should have vanished eons ago?
“I know what she means,” he said, his deep voice low and somehow soothing in the darkness. “I’ve been single for going on eight years and the loneliness creeps up on me sometimes.”
“What do you mean?” She stared at him, wished she could see his eyes just now. “You have your son. How can you be lonely?” God knew, he’d probably had his pick of the single ladies in the county. Maybe even a few who weren’t single. Anger stirred deep in her chest.
“Shared custody, remember?” He leaned his head back against the seat. “He came to my house on Friday, stayed until today. Now he’s at her house until this Friday. It’s a really crappy way to raise a kid. I hate it more than you can imagine.”
Audrey didn’t want to hear about his issues with her. Before she realized what she was doing, she’d crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead. Couldn’t help herself. Talking about the other woman—no matter that it was eighteen years later—made her angry still. Hurt, still. Maybe that hurt was the kind one never recovered from.
“I know I’ve said this a thousand times.” His voice was soft now, gentle. “But I’m sorry for what I did. I love my son and I can’t regret him, but I would give anything on this earth if I hadn’t hurt you.”
She moistened her dry lips for the hundredth time, worked hard to keep the anger and resentment out of her voice. “That was a long time ago, Colt.”
“No amount of time will change how much I regret being so stupid.”
Audrey had to bite her tongue to prevent saying she was glad to hear it. “We’ve all made mistakes.”
He exhaled a big breath. “Some of us just make bigger ones than others.”
“You think Sauder is in there?” She had to change the subject before she said something she would regret.
“I don’t know, but if he is, I want to be here when he comes out.”
Audrey didn’t say anything else after that and neither did Colt. She considered powering down the window to let in some air. His aftershave was nicely understated, barely there in fact, but the soft scent of lemons and leather was driving her mad.
Maybe she should just close her eyes and pretend she was somewhere else.
Somewhere far away from Colt Tanner and the past that appeared determined to linger in the present.
Chapter Nine
Wednesday, February 27, 6:15 a.m.
Audrey woke to the gentle sound of rain, the lingering taste of chocolate in her mouth and the scent of Colt Tanner warming her senses. Would she never stop dreaming of the man?
“Morning.”
She froze.
Car. Stakeout. Zimmerman place.
Her head was lying on his shoulder.
Audrey jerked upright. Banged her head on the seat back. “Good morning.” She grabbed her bottle of water and busied herself with guzzling the remainder. Then she leaned forward and peered at the old farmhouse on the opposite side of the road. “Anything moving over there this morning?”
It was raining. Not hard, just drizzling, but enough to prevent opening a window.
“Couple of cows and a few chickens moving about.”
She shot him a sour look. He grinned. “You know what I mean.”
“No one has gone in or out the front door. No movement around the house, aside from what I’ve already told you about.” That lopsided grin appeared again.
She glanced away, couldn’t bear to look at him or see that grin. Not like this. “Should we knock on the door and ask him if
he’s seen his buddy Sauder?”
“How about pulling into the driveway? Then we’ll go from there.”
Audrey started the car, anticipation of something other than the man seated far too close to her zinging through her veins. She wanted the story on Sauder. This was big and it was happening right in her backyard. She parked behind Zimmerman’s truck and shut off the engine.
“So let’s see who’s home.” She reached for the door.
“We aren’t going to see who’s home, but I am.” He opened the passenger-side door. “Stay put, Rey. I mean it.”
“Whatever you say, Sheriff.” She propped her arms on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. It was easier to lie to him when she wasn’t looking at him.
“Do not get out of this car,” he reiterated before closing the door.
Mad as hell, she watched him climb the steps and cross the porch. Even more maddening was the idea that he still looked great after sleeping all night in a compact car. His shirt wasn’t even wrinkled, but it was getting all wet in the rain, plastering to his body.
“You are so bad, Rey,” she muttered as she glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She groaned. Mascara was smudged beneath her eyes. Her hair was mussed.
From the corner of her eye she saw movement. A figure—a man—was running across the field beyond the house. She glanced at the front door. Zimmerman was talking to Colt.
Audrey bolted from the car and lunged across the yard, rain slapping her in the face. “He’s running!”
Before she reached the fence, Colt darted ahead of her, flying over the fence with only one hand braced on the top rail to launch his body. The fleeing man was disappearing in the distance. She couldn’t be certain it was Sauder, but who else would be running? Seemed like a very good question to ask the homeowner.
Audrey turned around and headed back to the house. Mr. Zimmerman stood on the porch watching the show. “Is that Wesley Sauder?”
Zimmerman shrugged. “Could be.”
Which meant yes. “Mr. Zimmerman, you do realize...”
Before she could finish her statement, the man had turned and walked back into his house, closing the door behind him.
So much for neighborliness.
Audrey crossed the yard, then dropped back into the car and backed out of the driveway. She might as well drive in the direction Colt had disappeared. Whether he caught the guy or not he would need his cell phone, which was lying on the console, and he certainly would need a ride.
* * *
ABOUT A MILE beyond the Zimmerman driveway, Colt waited on the side of the road. The thick woods behind him were likely the reason he’d lost the running man. He was soaked to the bone, every inch of fabric clinging to his muscular body. Another groan emanated from her. She needed to take care of those basic needs or she was going to screw up royally.
Colt climbed into the passenger seat. “Lost him in the woods.”
“I asked Zimmerman if that was Sauder and all he said was, ‘Could be.’ Then he went into the house and closed the door. I don’t think he’s going to be amenable to answering questions.”
“At least we know Sauder is staying close.”
They drove back to the Zimmerman house and Colt knocked on the door. No answer.
When Colt dropped back into the passenger seat, Audrey asked, “You really think that was him?” She headed back into town, doing everything within her power not to look at the way his wet clothes had molded to every square inch of him.
“I’m reasonably sure it was him all right. I got a pretty good look at him twice. I can’t believe he outran me.”
“I can’t imagine it’s easy to run in cowboy boots.” She glanced down his long damp legs at the footwear in question.
“I guess I’m used to doing whatever I do in boots.”
A vision of Colt kissing her senseless before pulling her into his truck filled her head. She blinked the memories away. Yes, he rarely pulled off his boots. But then they’d always taken the fastest route possible to what they wanted. She pushed away the thought. Reminded herself that she shouldn’t be going there, particularly with him so close...so wet...and so...
Stop. Stop. Stop.
“If you’ll drop me off at the paper, I’ll get my truck and run to the house for a shower.”
She cleared her throat, focused on the practical. “I need to do the same.”
The silence that thickened between them for the rest of the drive had her reliving the time they had gotten caught in the rain, ending up soaked to the bones just as they were now. Only that time they had made love. Hard as she tried she could not make the images go away.
What in the world was she doing?
* * *
BY THAT AFTERNOON she and Brian had laid out a good, meaty article about organized crime and its reach for Thursday’s edition of the Gazette. Somehow she had to find a way to get Sarah to talk to her. Maybe she should pay a visit to Nikki Slater again. If her husband was in trouble, would Sarah share her concerns with her best friend? Seemed the logical thing to do. Unless she was afraid of putting her friend in the crosshairs. Both Colt and Branch had warned that more of the men looking for Sauder—if that’s what they were doing, and it appeared to be—would be coming. If Sauder had something they wanted or knew something he shouldn’t, they wouldn’t stop coming until they had handled the situation.
But what could this seemingly community-and family-oriented Mennonite man know about organized crime? He’d been living in Winchester for more than ten years.
Maybe it wasn’t what he knew now, but something he had known before?
Audrey still had a few contacts in Chicago. She might as well reach out and rattle that cage, see what shook loose. Judd Seymour was the top crime beat reporter in the Windy City. Audrey called, got his voice mail and left him a message.
Brian poked his head into her office. “You have a minute?”
She smiled. “Always.” She cringed as he sat down. “Oh, I forgot to put gas in your car and Colt got the passenger seat wet and the floorboard muddy. I’ll pay for the cleaning.”
Now that she thought about it, she’d been almost as wet and muddy as Colt. If she hadn’t been so distracted by him in his wet clothes and the fact that Sauder had given them the slip, she might have taken better care of Brian’s car.
Brian laughed. “Not to worry. I topped the tank off at lunch and dropped the car off for detailing at the car wash. You’ll find a charge on the newspaper’s account for all of the above.”
“Good.” She folded her arms over her chest and eyed her friend and partner in most crimes. “So, you set me up last evening.”
Brian blushed. “Possibly. For the most part I was worried about you. I like having you here. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I really was,” he argued. “Ezra Zimmerman lives in a pretty remote area. Besides, if you and Colt can figure out the most likely places Sauder would hide, what makes you think the bad guys looking for him aren’t able to do the same thing?”
Audrey laughed. “Okay, okay. All is forgiven.”
He narrowed his gaze. “So, how did it go? I mean, you did spend the entire night in a rather cramped space with him.”
“It was...fine.” She nodded. “For the first time in eighteen years we didn’t bite each other’s heads off.”
“Sounds like progress.”
Before she could set him straight, her cell shuddered against her desk. “Excuse me.” She grabbed her phone.
Brian stood. “Back to the grind.”
She gave him a salute and answered the call. “Audrey Anderson.”
“Audrey, how are you?”
Judd Seymour.
“Judd, hey, thanks for returning my call.” After her exit from the Post, she was surprised he even bothered. Unless, of course, he�
��d heard about the shootings. She was more than happy to juggle a little quid pro quo.
“Anytime, Audrey. You will always be my favorite Southern lady.”
Oh yeah. He wanted information. “Good to hear, Judd. What can you tell me about the organized crime in your fair city?”
“It just so happens that I’ve been doing a little research on the Cicero family.”
“Perfect. The Cicero family is the one I’m primarily interested in.”
“They’ve been around for a very long time, Audrey. Five generations.”
“Yeah, I read that online. I also read that the current head of the family has a trial coming up. The Feds have been putting the evidence together for years, trying to get this guy on a docket. You think the trial has anything to do with what’s going on in my little town?” Didn’t seem possible, but stranger things had happened.
“As far-fetched as it sounds, I think that’s a strong likelihood.”
“I need more than your conclusions, Judd. What makes you believe this is the case?”
“I did a little digging,” he went on. “Twenty-odd years ago, Winchester showed up in an investigation on the old man, Louis Cicero. Nothing came of it, but I thought it was strange that Winchester, Tennessee, a speck on the map, would be mentioned in the pile of documents related to all the crimes the cops and the Feds can’t seem to prove against the family. To tell you the truth, I don’t think they’ll ever get this trial started. They have some circumstantial evidence, but they just don’t have anything solid enough and no witnesses.”
A rush of cold poured through her. “Was there a person’s name mentioned in connection with Winchester?”
The sound of papers shifting went on for a few seconds. “No name, just that there was a snippet of discussion picked up on the wiretaps. Winchester was mentioned several times. It reads like the old man thought there was trouble of some sort down there. But no names. Criminals tend to use code words, you know. Sometimes the Feds figure them out, sometimes they don’t. They’ve always needed someone on the inside of the organization, but no one who dares talk about the Cicero family ever lives long enough to do it in front of a camera or a judge.”