"Angry with you?” He set the mug down before he spilled the hot liquid on himself. “Now why would you think that? Just because you ran out on our marriage after only three months and left me a note that scorched the paper, why should I be mad at you?"
She flipped her hair in a gesture that once had made his heart hammer and now just made his stomach clench. “Yes, well, I'm sorry about that. I should have at least told you to your face. But I couldn't..."
"You couldn't hack it in, let's see if I get this right, a jerkwater town filled with hicks who probably bathe once a week and enjoy the company of cows more than people. Did I get that right?"
"Morgan..."
"Or was it, oh, wait.” He scratched his head as if thinking. “Maybe it was the ‘lack of sexual activity I provided, preferring to spend time with the town drunks rather than my wife.’ Yeah, I think that's the way you put it."
"Please. I know I have a lot to atone for, but I came here because I really need your help."
Morgan gritted his teeth so hard they ached. “What kind of help? You haven't told me a damned thing yet, so I don't even know what the problem is."
Amber blew on the coffee he'd poured for her and took a sip. “Still drinking the high priced brew, I see."
"Damn it!” He slammed a hand on the table and Amber jumped. “Cut out the bullshit, Amber. What's up?"
Amber rose from her chair and went to circle his waist with her arms. “Just hold me a minute, okay? I'm scared to death."
Morgan took her arms and pushed her away from his body. “Forget it, Amber. Either tell me or I'll throw your butt out of this house so fast your feet won't touch the porch."
"Okay, okay.” She sat down at the table again and picked up her mug. “I, um, got in a little trouble..."
"I thought you said you saw something you shouldn't,” he interrupted.
"Yes. Yes, I did. That's right."
"Amber.” Morgan had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep himself from wrapping them around her neck. “What exactly is the problem? You have to know you're not welcome here, so let's get this show on the road."
"Okay, okay. I saw something bad happen in Dallas, and two policemen were involved. I got away but they got my license plate and they're trying to find me. To kill me."
Morgan's eyebrows raised. “You mean you're still driving the same car? That's pretty damn stupid."
"No. I got rid of it. Bought another one for cash with different plates."
"For cash.” Morgan drank his coffee, watching Amber over the rim of the mug. Something wasn't right here. He got what Ryan always called his hinky feeling, which made him more irritated than he already was. “Where did you get that kind of cash?"
Her eyes skittered away. “I—had a nice nest egg stashed away. I raided it to have some running money."
"And is this money you earned since you left here? Because I don't remember you having that kind of cash when we were married."
Again her eyes evaded him. She got up, rinsed her mug at the sink and put it in the dishwasher. “There are things I just can't tell you. But this is the God's honest truth. Some very bad people want to kill me, and I have no place else to go that's safe. I just need a week or two, until I can get hold of ... someone. Then I'll be out of your hair.” Tears began to trickle down her cheeks again. “Please, Morgan. Just help me out this one time and you'll never see or hear from me again."
He knew the tears were fake but they got to him just the same. The thought of Amber under his roof made him sick, but if she was serious, he couldn't throw her to the wolves. His mother had raised him to be very honorable, especially where women were concerned. He was sure she didn't have Amber in mind when she was training him.
And thinking of women, a cold knot settled in his stomach at the memory of Allison flying out of here and telling him to get rid of Amber before they had anything to talk about. He sure hadn't planned to fall in love again, for sure not with someone who was city born and bred, but there it was. Sneaking up on him like a ghost. They had so much to work out between them, and here was Amber, the cause of all his reservations fucking up his life again.
Damn!
He moved Amber's car into the garage and locked his den as well as double-checking the gun safe. Not that he thought she'd try to steal a weapon, but with her he was taking no chances. Then, with her cursing him every minute, he also unplugged all the phones and threw them in his car
"What if I need to make a call?” she raged.
"They'll trace you right to my house. Then what do you think would happen?"
"So what am I supposed to do?” she pouted.
"Read a book,” he told her. “Watch television. Take a nap. But don't even look out a window. Got it?"
He hurried upstairs and threw his uniform back on, buckling on his holster as he walked back into the kitchen.
"Where are you going?” Alarm streaked through her eyes.
"I have a job to do, remember?"
"You didn't seem to mind taking off for the little princess you had with you,” she smirked.
"You keep your damn mouth shut about her, you hear me, Amber?"
For a moment he was afraid he'd strike her. She must have thought so, too, because she backed away from him.
"All right, all right. Jeez. When will you be back?"
"Later. There's food in the house if you get hungry.” His lips twisted in a nasty grin. “I know cooking's not your thing, but it would beat starving to death."
He looked at her, seeing someone who was a stranger to him. How had he ever thought himself in love with her? If his brain was working, he'd just pitch her right back out on the highway. Well, he'd at least let her stay the night, and do some quiet checking to see what kind of mess she'd gotten herself into.
And see if he could get Allison to at least talk to him.
* * * *
Myra Howell had just turned the stew for the ranch hands down to simmer and was taking out ingredients for biscuits when Allison Moore walked into the ranch house kitchen.
"I hope it's okay that I just walked in,” she told Myra. “I know Paige and Ryan are still on their honeymoon, but she told me I could come out here any time and make myself at home."
"Oh, Miss Moore. Of course it's all right. You're family. I'll have one of the hands get your things out of your car."
Allison dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. “Thanks, Myra. I just didn't know where else to go."
Myra looked at her face. “Oh, honey, what's wrong? You look like your whole world just fell apart."
"I guess you could say it did.” She rested her elbows on the table and dropped her head into her hands. “And I can't seem to find any of the pieces."
Myra poured iced tea and sliced lemon pound cake and between sips and bites Allison poured out the Life and Times of Allison Moore, beginning with Morgan's trip to San Antonio and ending with Amber's arrival at Morgan's house.
"That witch,” Myra spat.
Allison's eyebrows rose. Myra never had anything but a kind word to say about anyone.
"Yes, I know.” Myra twisted her lips in a wry grin. “I'm one of those old-fashioned people who still believes if you can't say something good about someone, keep your mouth shut. But that woman needs a stake driven through her heart."
Allison chewed on the pound cake. “Morgan gave me the Reader's Digest version of the story, but I gather she blew into his life, then blew out leaving a train wreck behind."
"A disaster, for sure.” She took a swallow of her tea. “I never liked her, not from the minute I first saw her. Too brassy for my taste, but she sure had a hook in Morgan's nose. I guess she dazzled him with all that blonde hair and her big—um—assets."
Allison gave a weak laugh. “Oh, Myra, I love you.” She put her fork down, the cake suddenly like ashes in her mouth. “I just don't know what to do. I guess I should go back to San Antonio and figure out how to put my life back together, but right now that doesn't appeal to me."
"You stay right here, Allison.” Myra leaned forward. “The Cutter boys aren't stupid, Just dumb sometimes. And Morgan's got this big protector complex, which makes this whole thing worse. But you need to stay right here where you're under his nose every day."
Allison scrubbed at the angry tears that broke loose, the scene at Morgan's house striking back at her. “I don't know if I can stand seeing him and knowing Amber's sitting fat and sassy in his house, screwing up our lives."
"Sure you can. You're no wilting violet. Just strut around this town like you own it. We'll see how long Chief Cutter can stand that."
Allison, stared at the older woman for a long moment, then jumped up and hugged her. “I think I like this place more and more each day."
Myra gave her a quick squeeze. “Now, I'll get one of the hands to take your luggage upstairs. Why don't you go tell John you'd like to go for a little ride. He can saddle Bluebonnet for you and get one of the boys to ride along. They need to be checking the fence line anyway, and I'm sure they'd rather do it with a pretty woman alongside."
* * * *
Luis was beginning to hate the rides in the long black car. The minute he sat down and closed the door behind him, instant claustrophobia grabbed him. The smoke from Escalante's thin cigar did little to help the choking atmosphere.
"So, Luis.” Escalante narrowed his eyes. “My nephews are doing your research for you?"
"Si, jefe.” My research. Making a bigger mess than ever, is more like it.
"I knew they would turn out to be an asset. That's why I sent them to you in the first place."
And thank you for the bad luck, jefe.
"Yes, of course. Well, I'm leaving to meet them in a place called Monroe so we can decide the best way to scope out this tiny flyspeck called White Tail. I feel it in my bones that the woman will land there if she hasn't already. But we must be careful how we do our searching."
Escalante nodded. “Of course. In small towns anything unusual stands out. Well, then. I expect regular reports, comprende?"
"Of course."
Escalante rapped on the privacy glass, the car slid to the curb and Luis opened the door. He was abut to step out when the older man put a steel hand on his arm.
"Don't take too long, mi amigo."
Luis nodded, closed the door, and as he watched the car move away into traffic drew his first full breath.
Shit!
There was no mistaking Escalante's soft threat, and all he had as insurance was the two stooges. How the hell did a man like Escalante not know what idiots his nephews were? Or had he, Luis, been the only one he could foist them off onto?
Shit!
* * * *
Marcy Whitlock had worked as combination dispatcher/secretary for Morgan since the day he became chief. She'd seen him in all kinds of moods, even weathered the storm when his marriage imploded, but she'd never seen him like this. Every line of his body shouted “rage” but his eyes were colder than an arctic iceberg.
"Thought you went home, Chief,” she greeted him.
"There's a viper in my nest,” he snapped.
Marcy blinked. “Surely Allison didn't turn out to be ... you know..."
"Another Amber? Not necessary, when the real thing shows up."
Marcy's jaw dropped. “Excuse me?"
Morgan headed toward his office. “Is Jace around?"
"Jace?” Marcy stared after him.
"Yes, Marcy.” He spoke slowly, but not pleasantly. “Jace Murdock. Remember him?"
"Oh. Sure, Chief.” She looked at a sheet on her desk. “He's out on the road right now riding herd on the two new officers."
"Call him in. Now."
Morgan slammed the door to his office and sat heavily at his desk. Leaning forward on his elbows, he massaged his temples, trying to ease the pounding in his head. How had this happened? One minute he was in heaven, the next in hell. He wanted to throw something, hit someone, maybe shoot someone.
He closed his eyes, but Amber's mocking face popped up. Why had he ever thought her beautiful or desirable? He thought he was so smart, so how come he never saw the evil behind that carefully made-up face?
Because all your brains were in your pants, asshole.
And then Allison's face flashed before him, rosy and flushed with passion, beautiful without a drop of makeup, the warmth in her eyes so real it reached out and captured him.
Well, Cutter, this is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into.
A rap on the door interrupted his unpleasant reverie.
"Yeah?"
The door opened and Jace Murdock poked his head in. “Marcy said you wanted to see me?"
"Come in.” Morgan motioned him to one of the chairs. “And close the door."
Murdock sat, his body tense. “Am I in trouble, Chief? Marcy said you've got blood in your eye."
"No.” Morgan made a disgusted sound. “If anyone's in trouble, it's me. Did young Boyd ever come up with anything going through all those faxes the other day?"
Murdock shook his head. “Nada. It was a long shot, anyway. Austin still hasn't come up with anything, either."
"I'm not surprised, considering how little they had to work with.” He exhaled a long breath. “All right. I didn't look at the schedule. What's your shift time and can you stay off the road for a few hours?"
"No problem. I was just making sure those kids we hired don't shoot themselves by mistake. And don't worry about the shift. Mary Ellen's gone to Tulsa to a conference this week, so I've got more time than I know what to do with."
"Good. I want you to do something for me, and I don't want you to discuss it with anyone else, okay?"
Murdock cocked his head. “Sure, Chief. Whatever you want."
Morgan studied the young man. He was lucky to have Jace Murdock, who was not only excellent at his job but completely loyal to his boss. That was hard to find these days. “Check the crime sheets from Dallas. Anything in the last six months. Not the petty stuff, just anything big. And do a search on the Internet, too."
"Can you give me an idea what I'm looking for?"
Morgan scratched his head. “I wish I could. Maybe a murder, something like that. And Jace?"
"Yeah, Chief?"
"See if there's any word going around about dirty cops on the DPF."
Murdock's head popped up. “You're kidding, right?"
Morgan tilted back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “Maybe. I just don't know."
"Chief, you want to tell me what this is all about?"
"Not yet.” Morgan sat forward, the legs of his chair hitting the floor and jarring his throbbing head. “Just see what you come up with, then we'll talk."
"I'll get right on it."
When his young sergeant had left, Morgan dropped his head into his hands again. He had to see Allison. Leaving this thing to fester would only make it worse. If she gave him a hard time, he'd just plant himself at the ranch until he wore her down. What he'd thought he had with Amber was just so much fool's gold. With Allison he'd found something that was one of a kind, something many people never even came close to. He had no intention of losing it.
* * * *
Luis was dog tired. The drive from San Antonio had been anything but relaxing, particularly since he'd spent most of it cursing the two morons he was saddled with. He felt in his bones the woman was still in Texas. And if he had to put money on it, he'd bet a bundle she was hiding out with her ex-husband, the chief of police. His sources told him that's where she holed up last time she was dodging heat, marrying the man to ensure she could stay there. Now, Luis was sure she'd find a way to make amends and ask him to protect her.
So. It was simple. Go to White Tail—what a stupid name for a town—make sure the woman was there this time, and figure out a way to grab her when the chief was not around. And don't arouse suspicion while doing it.
Simple, right? Not quite!
There had to be a way to get the information they wanted without being too ob
vious. Time was fast running out. Escalante would not wait much longer.
At last he reached Monroe and saw the neon sign for the motel. Reaching for his cell phone, he called Alex.
"I'm here. Open the door to your room so I can find you."
He punched the End button, clipped the phone to his belt again and reached for the bottle of antacid tablets on the seat beside him. He'd be lucky not to burn a hole in his stomach before this was over.
* * * *
At the last minute, Morgan decided to stop at the D&D before heading out to the ranch. Maybe Allison had been there and talked to Donna, and he could get a sense of how bad things were.
Yeah, right, he snorted. He knew just how bad they were. The only way they could get much worse is if Allison refused to talk to him at all.
The D&D was nearly empty when he pushed through the door. Emory Grant was in his usual booth, waiting for them to throw him out. Tate Donovan was sitting two booths down, facing the door. He lifted his coffee cup to Morgan.
"Say, Morgan, that's some lady you almost had there."
Morgan felt blood roar in his ears and his heart start to bang against his ribs. This was all he needed. The horniest man in White Tail sniffing after Allison.
"Stay away from her, Donovan,” he growled. “She's off limits."
Tate gave him an evil grin. “She didn't look so off limits when she was in here earlier. You'd better make sure she understands you've got a claim on her."
Morgan shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from punching Tate Donovan. He didn't think the citizens of White Tail would be too happy to see their chief of police brawling in public. Instead, he turned away from Tate, toward Donna who was wiping down the counter.
"Allison was here?"
Donna nodded. “But Tate's right. You don't seem to be taking very good care of her."
Morgan hitched a hip onto the end stool. “She told you about Amber."
"Sure did.” Donna dropped the rag into a sink behind her and wiped her hands on a paper towel. “I swear, Morgan Cutter, you have to be the dumbest man I've ever met. What were you thinking of, letting that woman back into your house, never mind your life?"
"Hell, Donna, it's not exactly that I let her."
"Then what do you call it?” Donna put her hands on her hips. “Allison Moore is one of the nicest, most genuine people I've ever met. I hate to pump up your ego by telling you this but I do believe she's crazy about you. How on Earth did you manage to screw this up?"
Cutter's Law Page 17