Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance)

by Smith, Angela

  She’d always wanted a brother. Her heart ached that she’d never have a chance to know him.

  This morning, Reagan finalized her plans to leave Montana. The plane would leave tomorrow afternoon, and she planned on telling Garret tonight.

  She planned to sleep with him, too, but she’d have to show him those particular intentions.

  “You still have those Hot Irish Nuts?” she asked Chayton as she sat at the bar.

  “Yes, I do. Don’t tell me you’re ordering another?”

  “Yes, I am.” Reagan smiled and turned away, blatantly looking for Garret.

  After weeks of knowing Garret as a friend, Reagan didn’t know the intimate details of his life. Chayton owned this bar, but what did Garret do? He said he was only on vacation so he didn’t live here, but she still hadn’t ever learned where he lived.

  Familial conversations never arose. She only knew Chayton was his half-brother by something he’d said one night, but it was never mentioned again. They had fun when they went out, she felt she’d known them both forever and she trusted them with her life, but what did she really know about either of them?

  “Where’s Garret?” she asked, turning to Chayton. Her last night here wouldn’t be spent worrying and wondering. How much did you really need to know about a guy you wanted to sleep with, anyway?

  “Uh, not sure,” Chayton replied hurriedly. “He’s probably finishing up some things to get ready for the presentation.”

  Chayton was busy, had no time to talk, and Reagan downed her green drink. She missed Naomi. She felt so foolish being here alone. She was not the type of woman to sit at a bar and wait on a man, so why was she here waiting for Garret? He lived next door to her, why didn’t she just knock on the door to his condo?

  She was here for Chris, she reminded herself. A man she’d never met, but someone important to her new friends.

  Chayton left the bar in the hands of Simone and another bartender, and stepped up to the stage. The crowd hushed.

  “I want to thank everyone for being here tonight,” Chayton said. “I’m sorry it was kind of last minute, but many of us decided that Chris deserved a tribute, and we’d like to pay homage to him tonight. This isn’t fancy. Neither is it gloomy. Chris loved to laugh and he loved to party, so that’s what we’ll do for him.”

  Chayton activated a screen, keyed a few buttons in the laptop, and the projection fired to life. “I have pictures to share and I want to thank those who contributed theirs for this presentation. Help yourself to the food table. Drinks are half off for the next two hours, so drink as much as you can, as fast as you can. That’s how Chris lived life. Now, many of you knew Ray. We’ve already paid our respects to him, but his niece never got that chance. Well, she’s here tonight, and so this is for Ray, too.”

  Tears filled Reagan’s eyes as she scanned the room. People applauded and Chayton started the slideshow. She wondered if anyone here knew she was a fraud. She wasn’t his niece.

  Apparently, Garret hadn’t told him. On one hand, she appreciated that. On the other, she didn’t want to continue to lie. Because of his closeness to Ray, telling Chayton would be more difficult. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

  Pictures of people she met in town, people she’d never seen before, Garret, Chayton, Ray, and the man she now knew as Chris flashed across the screen. Wearing winter garb, summer attire. Fishing, hunting, laughing, drinking, sitting around the fire. They were happy. Content. Settled.

  A deep pit of despair filled Reagan’s gut. She would never be settled and even when she tried, something came along, like her bank account problems, to muck it up.

  She wondered why her mother never forgave her own son, for whatever he did. Ray may have been infantile at one time, but he’d grown up, and everyone here loved him. What kind of crime family could he have been involved with?

  Sharon had always been selfish. Follow her rules, or else. Was that why Ray left? Was that why they couldn’t get along? Had Sharon punished him with the knowledge he would never see his family just out of spite?

  It broke Reagan’s heart to think her mother could do such a thing.

  After narrating a few pictures, Chayton handed it over to someone else and returned to tend bar. One by one, people proceeded onstage to share their stories of Chris and/or Ray. Chayton was busy, so Reagan asked the woman bartender for another drink, which was a good thing. Knowing Chayton, he wouldn’t want her to have another one. Like she couldn’t handle it or something.

  By the time Garret went onstage and shared his stories, she was on her third drink. The room spun, and she could barely pay attention to what he said. She was too busy paying attention to what he looked like.

  Garret finished his acclamation and stepped off stage. He scowled as he ordered a drink. The crowd pushed against him and he had to move in closer to Reagan — she wasn’t about to step out of his way — and wound his arm across her body to grab his beer.

  Placing her hand on his arm, she leaned into him. “That was nice,” she said, though she couldn’t remember a thing he’d said. She’d been too focused on her own thoughts and how great he looked.

  Garret nodded. “Thanks.”

  Awkward silence. What did one say after a eulogy?

  “I have something to tell you,” she said. Was now a good time to tell him she was leaving tomorrow but she wanted to sleep with him tonight?

  She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a drink and set it down, his minty green eyes looking into hers. Her heart lurched.

  Reagan gulped the last of her drink. After this, no more. Well, maybe one more to gain the courage she needed to invite Garret to her condo. She should want to be in command of her senses when she was around Garret, but she needed liquid courage. She’d made the mistake of drinking too much last night, but she hadn’t told Garret everything she wanted to tell him. This time, she would.

  The people stopped talking onstage. Chayton went up one last time and invited everyone to dance. The music roared and the strobes against the club floor made the ceiling look as if it were splitting in two and about to fall on top of her.

  Garret hadn’t shaved this morning, and Reagan liked that, a lot. The faint fuzz of facial hair was an aphrodisiac, and Reagan couldn’t stop from reaching out and caressing his face.

  • • •

  Garret had felt like a jerk when he entered Air Dog, spotted Reagan, and thought about avoiding her until he imagined the scent swathing her body like a mating call, unintentionally of course, and knew he couldn’t live without smelling her at least once. The shampoo she used, the perfume she wore, something she had on her last time he saw her had kicked his testosterone into overdrive and he wanted to know if she wore it today.

  She did. Like sweet citrus, warm wood, and mint.

  He wanted to avoid talking to her because he knew what he needed to tell her, and he knew he wouldn’t. Every time he saw her, he felt like a liar. Every second that ticked by, he wondered why she needed to know. He would have sought Reagan out even if Buchanan hadn’t assigned him to this stupid, asinine, fucked up obligation. She was a beautiful, interesting, caring woman and he would have never taken as long to know her if he hadn’t been forced to.

  That’s when he really felt like a heel.

  She’d been visiting jewel sites. Normal women didn’t visit those things unless there was a reason, and it couldn’t be a good reason.

  After his conversation with Buchanan last night, he’d called this morning to inform him Nelson Mass had been arrested for petty offenses and Lauren Cox, who had been the one who was supposed to meet with Kyle before he ran, had been discovered on the beach with her throat slashed. They hoped to pin her murder on Nelson, but so far they had nothing to go on.

  When he approached her, his heart was beating faster than his brother’s downhill skiing, and that was pretty fast, even one-armed. He’d been mooning over her more than any woman he’d slept with. He didn’t mean to sound heartless, but that’s how it was
. Women didn’t make him think. Women didn’t make him emotional. Especially after being fucked by Suzanne. He told himself he’d never let a woman fuck him — unless he was enjoying it of course — but for some reason he couldn’t get Reagan out of his mind.

  A bright but shy smile splayed across her face when she saw him. He loved that she had no idea the effect she held over men. She was not the manipulative ball-buster who played men like a ping-pong machine. He didn’t imagine she’d cry to get her way, like so many women he’d known in the past.

  Especially Suzanne.

  Comparing the two was like comparing rock to water. Solid, trustworthy with a strong foundation versus cold, calculating, and changing from liquid complacence to a frozen shell of indifference. The rock could be busted up but still maintain its dignity, the water could be frozen and melted all within hours, if not minutes. Just like his ex-wife.

  Okay, now he was comparing his ex and a woman he was very fond of to rocks and water. What the hell was wrong with him? It was true what he told Chayton about Suzanne not being the reason he didn’t have serious relationships, but he also knew his job wasn’t good for pursuing serious relationships. And he damn sure couldn’t have a serious relationship with Reagan when he was investigating her.

  Reagan was lying to him. She was interested enough in jewels that she researched websites and forums. And now she had something to tell him? Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as he thought.

  He reminded himself to stop being an easy target with Reagan. His job as a Special Agent taught him to trust no one. In his line of work, nobody was innocent until proven guilty. They were never innocent. Yet he was trusting Reagan when she’d given him no reason.

  He tried to relax his stance on his beer mug. His emotions were mixed up, one part of him angry at her but the other part wanting to wrap her in his arms and protect her. When she touched his face and slid her hand across his cheek, white heat exploded. His brain went crazy, skewing his perspective like he’d had one too many drinks. He clenched his jaw to keep from doing something stupid — like cup his hands under her ass and take her on the bar right now.

  He caught Chayton’s eye and gave him a one-finger salute and a nod to indicate he needed a glass of whiskey. Just one. And now. The beer didn’t offer enough strength for tonight.

  Chayton rolled his eyes and brought it anyway. “What’s up bro?” he asked as he slid the glass towards Garret. He glanced at Reagan. “Anything else?”

  Reagan giggled. “Yes, please. One of those green drinks.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Garret glared at his brother, but he couldn’t tell either of them when it was time for Reagan to stop drinking. Especially because he hadn’t yet.

  Reagan appeared vulnerable tonight, like she had something on her mind. He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew something, but quickly dismissed that thought when the crowd pushed her closer to him, her breasts pressing against his chest.

  He should ask her to dance, or take her home. He felt like a teenager on his first date. Gangly and awkward.

  “What did you want to tell me?” Garret asked.

  “Um.” She flicked a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Can we go to my condo first?”

  • • •

  After the music stopped and everyone had bailed, Chayton was left alone in his club. He tied the trash and pulled the bag from its canister, slung it to the floor, and wrestled with another, all the while attempting to quell the thoughts in his head.

  He was an idiot, dwelling over a woman who obviously didn’t want him. Naomi was gone, didn’t even have the decency to tell him goodbye, good to meet you, see you soon, or never see you again you asshole.

  She was a fucking wardrobe stylist, entertaining models, actors, and Christian Bale look-alikes. Never mind he’d been compared to Christian Bale a time or two.

  He could never compete. And why in the hell should he want to? He barely liked Naomi anyway. She was feminine, sexy, sultry, just like Hollywood should be, yet she could probably climb higher, ski faster, and work harder than he ever thought possible.

  He hadn’t meant for the eulogy to be depressing but couldn’t prevent the gloom from lodging deep in his throat. Saying goodbye to Chris had been hard. Being alone only worsened his mood.

  On a night like tonight, it’d be easy to hand the reins over to someone else and let them worry about two-o’clock-in-the-morning-cleaning. Most guys had either gone home with their woman or a strange face they wouldn’t remember in the morning. He had no one to go home to.

  He’d never minded staying late before. After all, plenty of women didn’t mind staying with the bartender while he locked up and cleaned. He could remember several times in his wilder days when he’d got it on behind the bar.

  He’d put his heart into Air Dog, though it wasn’t the only business he owned. It was the only business he truly loved. He’d never been the kind of man who needed someone. He could do what he wanted when he wanted. Sleep until two P.M. if he wanted, ski until midnight. He didn’t have to answer to any woman, and he didn’t want to.

  But tonight, he’d like to be in the arms of a woman who loved and appreciated him, someone who would allow him to feel sad over his friend’s death and would comfort him the way nobody else could.

  Naomi wasn’t that woman and unfortunately for him, no other woman would do.

  As he stepped outside with the trash, the wind blew, whipping the trees against the roof. The waste receptacle rattled and crashed to the ground. Snowflakes swirled in the air like specters, mingling with the lights from the buildings and creating odd-shaped phantoms.

  Something felt off tonight. The eulogy had darkened his mood, but something else heavy filled the air.

  Suddenly, he heard a grunt, a louder screech, what sounded like a struggle. Only the wind. He stopped, hesitated, thought he saw a dark figure recede into the background until it disappeared.

  Was he seeing ghosts now?

  He cautiously approached the trash dump, the ice crunching under his feet with the tenor of a foghorn. The weatherman had predicted a blizzard-type storm by tomorrow morning. Righting the receptacle, he froze. Blood-red stains in the snow, a boot protruding from the corner.

  A dead man.

  “Oh shit.” His heart raced, pelting him with an antagonizing flutter of nerves. He took a step back, scanned the area, and dropped the bag of trash to land with a thump on the pavement.

  He considered running, but his father had taught him better than that. Instead, he kneeled, searching for ways to help the guy. First, check for a pulse, though the man’s throat had been slit from one side to another, eyes staring vacantly ahead.

  Whoever he was, he wasn’t a local. Chayton didn’t recognize him.

  Chayton leapt up and stumbled backward, reaching for his phone. He called the police, then raced into the darkness where he’d seen the figure retreat.

  He stopped, his blood pulsing with heavy anticipation. Running would not be cool. Whoever did this could be standing in the shadows, watching, waiting. Chayton wasn’t sure how well he could defend himself if he didn’t know what to expect. He slithered along the sidewalls of the buildings, every nerve taut and alert, tense and aware.

  While he hid in the shadows, he punched in Garret’s number and listened to it ring in his ear like fingers grating against a chalkboard. Garret didn’t answer, and Chayton left a cryptic message. The sonofabitch was probably with Reagan, which wouldn’t have bothered him so much if Garret wasn’t such a jackass. His brother would never admit he was falling for the woman. Chayton could tell, it was written all over Garret like the blood in the snow, fresh and unspoiled yet with the likelihood of doom.

  Chayton emerged when red and blue lights flickered across the buildings and into the snow. He raised his arms so the cops wouldn’t shoot him, and let them down when he recognized Allen and was sure the officer recognized him.

  A faint glimmer in the snow near his feet caught his attention. The huge slice o
f diamonds flared against the lights of the patrol car.

  Chayton bent down but didn’t touch.

  “Allen.” He waved the cop over and they both studied the gems.

  A torn necklace. Incomplete. The exquisite diamond chain couldn’t compare to the intriguing reddish purple rock lying underneath.

  It was obvious why the man died tonight, but nothing else was obvious. Like who did it, where the jewels came from, why it happened here. But if the man who got away had dropped these trinkets, he’d be back.

  Allen was the first to speak. “I better call for backup.”

  • • •

  Garret sat under the abrasive lights of the police department’s conference room, cursing the day he’d ever joined the FBI and became a top-ranking bureaucrat for gem identification.

  This was the necklace. The necklace that killed his partner. The necklace that haunted his dreams. And here it was, in Tanyon.

  This was the necklace the FBI had been searching for, the one they suspected the Mass brothers possessed. One of many, but one that could make or break their case. Now it was only a fraction of its true beauty.

  He shifted the jewels with his gloved fingers, studying it. The gems sparkled. Even broken, this necklace was worth more than Garret could ever make in a lifetime.

  He’d like to believe in coincidence. That his last assignment followed him and his dead partner taunted him, accusing him of not finishing the job. But here was this necklace, in Tanyon. And so was Reagan. A woman possibly involved.

  He could no longer deny her involvement.

  “Did you get a glimpse of the suspect?” Garret asked his brother.

  “I already told you no. It was dark, snowy. Hell, I didn’t know anyone was there until I heard the crash, but by then it was too late.”

  Police officers now scoped the area for more clues and gems. They’d hounded Garret until he came to investigate since he was the only one who knew how to operate along this scope.

  After all, it was his specialty.

  As soon as he walked into the room and saw this necklace wrapped in an evidence bag, he’d nearly collapsed. He’d never, ever expected this.