"I'm a big boy, darlin'. I can take care of myself. I'll get a drink and stay out of trouble. Do they serve bourbon at these functions?"
"You bet. Let me get you one at the bar, then I'll go earn my pay.” She frowned at him. “You could table hop with me."
He threw back his head and laughed. “Allie, I can keep to myself without causing a ruckus, but if I had to listen to you butter these people up I'd shoot myself."
"Okay.” She got him a drink, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “But I'll be keeping an eye on you, cowboy."
"I'm not a cowboy, remember? But I'll behave."
And he did for the first hour, leaning against a wall and watching Allison do her job. He took pride in the ease with which she circulated through the crowd, smiling, chatting, charming everyone. A few men even stopped by to introduce themselves to him, wondering who the stranger was holding up the wall. Some of them knew Ryan and recognized the Cutter name.
Well, he thought, getting himself another drink, this isn't too bad. He didn't know if he could do it all the time, but once in a while, for Allie, he could bite the bullet. Allie. He groaned silently. How could he ever expect her top give up all of this for a tiny West Texas town? Could he readjust to life in San Antonio?
He was mulling over the choices they might have to make, if the relationship progressed to the next level, when Jerry Malanski and two of his friends wandered by, and everything went to hell.
"Well, well, if it isn't Clint Eastwood again.” A blind man could tell Malanski and his friends had refilled their glasses once too often. “I'm shocked that you own two suits."
Morgan sighed, determined not to be provoked. He owed it to Allison to behave, not that he was much of a brawler to begin with. “Move along, little boy. Don't look for trouble."
"Trouble? You think I can't handle you?” Jerry stuck out his jaw in a pathetic attempt to look menacing, then turned to his friends, who gave him a thumbs up.
"Look.” Morgan made his voice as even as possible. “I don't know what you're problem is, but I don't think this is the place for a confrontation, do you?"
"Maybe you're just afraid to take me on.” Jerry's mouth twisted into a sneer. “Maybe you're all talk, no walk."
Morgan sipped his drink, staring at the drunken trio over the rim of the glass. “You know, I promised Allison I'd behave myself, or you'd be kissing the floor."
"Ah, yes. Allie. Sweet Allie. And what did she offer you as a reward for good behavior? A night doing the horizontal mambo? She's one hot little piece of ass, you know. Too bad you spoiled my evening. I had big plans for tonight."
That did it. Morgan put his drink down carefully and grabbed Jerry by the arm. “Let's go outside so I can tell you how to apologize for what you just said."
Jerry yanked his arm away. “I'm not going outside and I'm not apologizing. If she wants to whore around with you, it's no skin off my nose. Just shows how bad her taste in men is."
Morgan moved without even realizing. One minute he was clenching his fists, the next one of them was connecting with Jerry's face. The other man crashed into one of his friends, stumbled forward and threw a punch. Morgan realized the room had grown silent except for the sounds of the fight. He backed away from Jerry, trying to put an end to things, but Jerry came at him again, leaving him no choice but to deck him.
"Morgan?” Allison was there, her face a mask of fury. “What the hell is going on?"
Jerry lay on the floor, blood gushing from his nose, one eye already swelling shut. “Your asshole friend started it,” he raged. “That's what you get for bringing low class people to a high class event."
Allison turned to Morgan. “I know Jerry's a pain in the ass, but couldn't you behave yourself for a few hours?” She waved at the crowd closing in. “These are people I work with, clients of the bank. How do think this looks?"
"Allison..."
"Don't Allison me. This was totally uncalled for. You, as an officer of the law, should know better than to brawl in a public place."
Morgan stared at her, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “Cutter's Law says you don't let someone insult a lady. Especially one that means a lot to you. But since my taking offense at the things he called you bothers you so much, you can find someone else to defend your reputation. And while you're at it, you can find another ride home."
He picked up his drink, downed it and stalked from the room.Allison stared after him, open-mouthed. Then she turned to Jerry and the two men supporting him. “Is he right? Is that what you called me?"
He opened his mouth to deny it, but the look on the faces of his friends told the story.
She felt fury erupt inside her, drew back her hand and slapped him full on his broken nose.
"Allison? What's going on here?"
She turned to see Darren Scott, her boss, standing behind her with two of his senior vice presidents.
His face wore a somber look. “Was that a friend of yours in this fracas?"
"Her no-class friend,” Jerry snuffled.
Darren held up his hand. “Jerry, if you don't mind, I'd like to sort this out. Well, Allison?"
She drew in a deep breath to steady herself, and let it out slowly. “Yes, Morgan Cutter is my friend. He was only defending me after Jerry made some very unflattering remarks."
"That's a lie,” Jerry denied, but he didn't put much strength into it, and his friends still looked embarrassed.
"Well, you might want to call it a night, go home and compose yourself. We'll talk about this on Monday."
She shook her head. “I'm sorry you were embarrassed tonight, but I don't think a discussion will help. You'll have my resignation on your desk first thing Monday morning when I come in to get my things."
His lips thinned in irritation. “I'm not sure that's necessary, but you do what you feel you must."
So much for her important job and being a valued employee, she thought. “I can't possibly work in a place with people like him, people who say things like he did about me. I apologize to you and the Andersons, and everyone else, You're right about one thing, though. It's time for me to go home.” She found her purse on the table where she left it. Passing Jerry, she smacked him with it, taking pleasure in his cry of pain. “Take that, you—you—pencil dick."
The sound of shocked laughter followed her out into the night.
Waiting for the valet to find a cab for her, she felt sick to her stomach. She was sure Morgan would be gone buy the time she got home, and it was no more than she deserved. Why on earth had she been so quick to assume it was his fault? She knew how Jerry was. But at the moment she'd seen her career shattering around her and it had blinded her to everything else.
Her career. She snorted. That was a laugh. Her career didn't call her darlin’ or make wild, passionate love to her. Her career didn't make her feel more like a woman than she'd ever felt in her life.
She fingered the little deer on the chain around her neck, tears running unheeded down her cheeks. What the hell did she do now?
Chapter Twelve
Morgan was glad he didn't pass any sheriff's deputies or highway patrolmen on his wild ride back to White Tail. For the first hundred miles he cursed steadily, using words he hadn't thought about in years. The rest of the trip he spent mentally kicking himself in the ass.
He was old enough to know better than to brawl in public places. Certainly it was bad behavior for a police chief, and he'd done his best to hold onto his temper. But the little jackass had pushed his buttons and he reacted without thinking. He didn't care what the guy said about him, but no way could he let him insult Allison. So there he was, the knight defending her honor, and she ragged on him.
Well, he had no one to blame but himself. Hadn't he learned his lesson with Amber? These damn women from the city were all alike, not to be trusted for one minute. Why in the hell did he think Allison would take his side against her friends and co-workers? So much for seeing where the relationship took them. Now he could see how little
they really had in common.
So they had great sex. Big deal. He could get great sex from any number of women in Austin.Not so, a tiny voice in his head argued. Allison was more than a roll in the hay.
"No, damn it,” he shouted. He couldn't afford for her to be anything else. He'd never open himself up to that hurt again. He let his guard down and look what happened.
Well, never again. He'd had it. Allison Moore could kiss his ass before he'd give her the time of day again.
By the time he reached White Tail he'd worked up a good head of steam. Unwilling to go home and lie down in the bed where he and Allison had made spectacular love, he decided to swing by the police station. Maybe Boyd had dug up something on all those faxes he'd been going through.
Jace Murdock was the only one at the station. He sat with his feet up on his desk, reading The Ledger. When he saw Morgan come in, he hastily folded the paper and took down his feet.
"Hey, Chief. Thought you were in the big city for the weekend."
"Change of plans.” His tone of voice warned the younger man not to ask any questions. “Pretty quiet around here."
"Yup. Thank the good Lord. Nice to have an easy weekend for a change without locking up the drunks from the Pig's Eye."
Morgan dropped into a chair at one of the other desks. “Happen to know if young Boyd, our eager beaver, found anything in all those faxes he went through?"
Jace shook his head. “Nope, not a thing. But I told him he gets A for effort."
"It's like a damned puzzle, with half the pieces missing. This looks like some kind of professional hit, so why isn't he on someone's bad list? He didn't just hatch one day and get wiped out the next."
"Don't know, Chief.” Jace got up to get a soda from the refrigerator in the corner. “But I agree with you. It's not too likely he isn't wanted somewhere for something.” He popped the top of the can and waited for the fizz to settle before taking a swallow. “I'll get Boyd doing a computer search tomorrow. Maybe if we widen our parameters a little we'll find something.” He scratched his head. “It just doesn't make sense, though, that someone would pick White Tail to dump a body, does it?"
"That's what I can't figure, either. Think I'll catch up on some paperwork as long as I'm here."
"On a Saturday night?” Jace's voice was heavy with disbelief.
"Same as any other night.” Morgan closed the door to his office and sailed his hat onto the file cabinet. His desk was, indeed, piled with paperwork, most of it what he called “busy bullshit"—reports to the City Council, requests for speaking engagements, correspondence from the Police Chief's Association. And his annual budget would be due pretty soon.
But none of it would get touched tonight, despite what he said to Jace. His mind was too focused on one thing—the scene at the party tonight. He cradled his right hand in his left, rubbing a thumb across his bruised knuckles. The reminder of the fight would end up lasting longer than his relationship with Allison.And he sure wasn't looking forward to answering questions when Paige and Ryan got back from their honeymoon. That was an interrogation he planned to put off as long as possible. He could already imagine the things Allie would be telling Paige and he cringed.
Damn, damn, damn.
* * * *
Allison lay on the bed, hugging the pillow to her, inhaling Morgan's scent which still clung to the pillow case. She was surprised any of it remained, as soaked as the cotton was with her tears. Her eyes were sore and puffy, her chest hurt and throat was raw from crying the better part of an hour.Just as she expected, by the time she reached her building, Morgan was long gone. There wasn't a single indication he'd even been there, except for the lingering traces of his aftershave. The key which she'd given him last night was lying on the little table in the foyer. She'd run through the condo like a madwoman, screaming his name, searching every room as if, ridiculously, he was hiding in a corner somewhere.But she knew at the start it was fruitless. His car was gone, and so was he.
God, how had this happened? She'd been so excited because he wanted to see her in her own home, her job, her life. To see if there was a fit there for the two of them. Now it was all shot to hell. Because of that stupid pencil dick, Jerry Malanski, whose ego was bruised because she blew him off.
She buried her head in the pillow, feeling tears burning her eyes again. She'd thought she was all cried out. Now she knew what Paige meant when she'd told her that what she found in White Tail was real. Not that she and Ryan planned to shut themselves off from the world. Austin was a quick trip away and San Antonio an easy overnight. But the people in White Tail didn't play the kind of games she'd spent her adult life learning, clawing their way up the ladder to the A-List. They said what they meant, and when they gave you their word, you knew they'd keep it.
And outside of the infamous Sally Hughes, who'd done her best to break up Paige and Ryan, they didn't go around name-calling or insulting people.
Well, shit. She had no one to blame but herself. She thought back to the day less than a month ago when Morgan had driven her home from White Tail What a brat she'd been, baiting him, teasing him, playing the game that was a habit with her. Treating him like ... like ... like Jerry Malanski and all the Malanski clones.
She didn't know how long she lay there, burrowing into the bed she and Morgan had set on fire. Her body ached for him, her nipples tingling, the pulse between her legs throbbing with demanding need. She wanted to feel his big muscular length covering her, his hard erection filling her, his sensuous mouth devouring hers. She wanted to hear his soft, “Darlin'” and see that slow grin that drove her nuts. She thought she'd had it made with her job, her friends, her dates. She give them all up this minute if she could have Morgan back.
When the grey fingers of dawn drifted in through the open curtains at the window, she dragged herself off the bed. Her red dress that she'd put on with such high hopes she tossed into a crumpled ball in the corner. She was sure she'd never wear it again. Her pantyhose and lingerie she stuffed in the laundry hamper and stepped into the shower. Her body ached as if she'd run a marathon, but she knew exercise had nothing to do with her physical state.
She stood under the needle spray until she was waterlogged, hoping the shower would clear the cobwebs from her brain and wake up her thought processes. Lying on that bed all night she'd focused on two things: after she turned in her letter of resignation at the bank and picked up her things, she never wanted to see the place again, and she had to find a way to make Morgan talk to her. The first would be easy enough to accomplish. For the second she needed advice. Paige was on her honeymoon, but there had to be someone else she could call, someone with a sympathetic ear.
Sitting in the kitchen in her robe, a towel wrapped around her head and a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, she looked at the number she'd programmed into her cell phone only weeks ago. Taking a deep breath, she punch it in and listened to it ring, chewing on her bottom lip. She was about to disconnect when someone answered.
"Hello?"
Hearing the warm voice Allison nearly cried. “Donna? It's Allison Moore."
"Oh! Hi, Allie. How are you?"
"Actually, not so good, which is why I'm calling you at home on a Sunday. Did I catch you at a bad time? I know it's early."
"We have church, but that's not for a couple of hours. Is this some kind of emergency?"
"In a manner of speaking."
She swallowed hard and told Donna Young her story.
* * * *
The blonde was tired of driving, the trip up from El Paso taking longer than she expected. She thought at first she could make it in one day, but a couple of times she'd spotted the same car behind her and taken a detour to see if it followed. BY the time she cut off the highway into medium sized cities three times, winding back and forth through the maze of streets, she was sure she lost whoever it was.
She was unwilling, however, to drive through the night with the possibility of Escalante's men on her tail. She knew if they caught
up with her they'd take her to el jefe himself, and she could imagine the kind of pain she'd face to get her to give up the money. Besides, she didn't want to arrive at her destination in the dark. She'd be quite a shock to the person she was going to see, and wanted all her senses on full alert to handle whatever came along. She needed a convincing story, and she'd have to eat some crow to get it across, but at this point she had no other choice.
For the thousandth time she cursed Jared, calling every misfortune down on his head. Why he'd picked Escalante without the real background on him was the biggest mystery in the world to her, and just another example of the man's stupidity. She'd be lucky if this didn't get her killed.
We had such a sweet thing going. How could he mess it up so badly?
Now she spent half her time looking over her shoulder, and that certainly sucked.
About a hundred miles from her destination she drove into a medium-sized town. Checking constantly in the mirror to see if the car she'd spotted was following her, when she was sure she was clear she pulled into a La Quinta Motel. Smack in the middle of town, it had an interior parking lot so her car would not be visible from the street. She asked for a corner room, and after she double locked the door, she shoved the dresser in front of it.At last, exhausted, she dropped onto the bed and fell immediately to sleep.
* * * *
"So how was the big city last weekend?” Donna Young put a full mug of coffee in front of Morgan and studied his face.
"About like I expected.” He blew on the hot liquid, then sipped at it.
"So, is that good or bad?"
"It is what it is.” He frowned. “Don't you have work to do?"
Donna laughed, and slid into the booth across from him. “My work is taking care of my friends, especially when they look as miserable as you do. Come on, give."
Morgan twisted his mouth in a gesture of distaste. “There's nothing to give. I went, I came back, that's all."
Cutter's Law Page 13