by B. J Daniels
It crossed her mind that he might be trying to get her drunk. She met his gaze, then tossed the coin up, catching it and bringing it down flat on the tabletop.
He took on an excited, eager look as he stared down at her hand and waited for her to lift it from the coin.
Drawing a breath, she did so, instantly relieved to see it was heads.
She smiled at him and took a drink of her wine.
He leaned back, raising his hands in defeat and grinning. “You win, and I’m a man of honor whether you believe it or not. So what do you want to know? The truth, I swear.”
“Who did you see earlier going out the back door?”
He glanced toward the bar, clearly hesitating, then slowly said, “Truthfully? I’m not even sure. I just caught a glimpse of the man. Actually, it was the way he moved. It reminded me of someone I used to know. But it couldn’t have been him, because he’s dead.”
She eyed Dillon suspiciously. “What was his name?”
“Halsey Waters.” Dillon met her gaze, and she saw pain and anger. “I guess it’s because I’ve been thinking about him.”
“He was a good friend?”
Dillon nodded. “We were best friends. He was like a brother to me. I’ve never been that close to anyone since.” He smiled ruefully. “Just one of those regrets in life, you know what I mean?”
“Yes,” she said, and looked toward the bar, wondering who Dillon had seen that might remind him of Halsey Waters. Or if he’d made up the whole thing.
“Trust,” he said, with his usual amusement.
Then Morgan Landers walked in the door with Nate Waters.
Chapter Ten
Jacklyn couldn’t very well miss the instant that Dillon saw Morgan. His entire demeanor changed. Like him, she watched the two come in on a cool gust of night air, Morgan laughing, Nate totally absorbed in her.
When Jacklyn turned back to Dillon, he was on his feet, excusing himself to go to the restroom. He walked away, not looking back. Jacklyn turned, pretty sure she’d find Morgan watching Dillon go, but her view was blocked by a man standing next to her table.
“Jacklyn Wilde?” he asked, but before she could answer he slid into the seat Dillon had just vacated. “I’m Buford Cole. A friend of Dillon’s.”
She studied the man across from her. He looked like most of the other cowboys, wearing jeans, boots, a western shirt and hat. His face was weathered from a life outdoors, and crow’s-feet bracketed his brown eyes.
“How much do you know about Dillon Savage?” Buford asked before she could comment.
His question took her by surprise. “Not much,” she said, telling herself how true that was.
“He ever tell you how he got into rustling cattle?” Buford didn’t wait for an answer. “Dillon believes that his family’s ranch was stolen.”
“Stolen?” she asked, even though she knew that’s how Dillon felt.
Buford nodded. “Cattle disappeared, others got accidentally closed off from water and died. There were a lot of strange accidents around the ranch, including his father’s near-death accident that left him dependent on a cane. After that his dad just gave up. His spread was bought by Shade Waters. Dillon’s always believed his father died of a broken heart. That ranch was his life.”
She’d suspected as much.
“But even if Dillon believed that Shade Waters stole his family ranch, why not alert the authorities or just steal cattle from the W Bar if he wanted revenge?” she asked. “Why steal from all his neighbors?”
“Dillon’s father tried to get the neighboring ranchers to join forces and fight Waters. They all turned a blind eye to what was happening on the Savage Ranch. By the time it started happening to them, Dillon’s old man was dead, the ranch lost. Then Waters bought up one ranch after another, usually after each had had its share of bad luck.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Waters—”
“I’m trying to tell you what Dillon believes,” Buford interrupted, glancing toward the hallway to the restrooms where Dillon had disappeared. “In the end, all but two of the ranchers sold out to Waters.”
“Why, if what Dillon believes is true, weren’t those two forced to sell as well then?”
“You ever meet Reda Harper? As for Tom Robinson, he was barely hanging on by a thread. Now after what happened…” The cowboy shook his head. “Word is that Waters has already bought it from Tom Robinson’s niece. As for Reda… She’s old. Waters can wait her out.”
“You sound as if you don’t like Shade Waters any more than Dillon does.”
“I don’t like fighting battles I know I can’t win. Dillon’s an idealist. He still believes in justice. And vengeance.”
“You think Dillon is out for revenge?” she asked, thinking about the ranchers that Dillon had rustled cattle from. They’d all later sold out to Waters. When she’d finally caught him, he’d been on the W Bar, Shade’s own ranch. She’d thought Dillon had gotten greedy and that had been his downfall. Now she wondered.
She’d seen how much Waters and Dillon hated each other, but the big rancher’s hatred of Dillon seemed out of proportion to the amount of cattle he’d lost over the years.
“Why does Shade hate Dillon so much?” she asked, feeling the effects of the wine.
“Did you ask Dillon?”
She shook her head.
“Shade Waters blames him for his son’s death.”
“Halsey,” she murmured, frowning to herself. “But he was Dillon’s best friend.”
Buford smiled at that. “We were all friends. Did you ever wonder what happened to the cattle Dillon rustled?” he asked. “Dillon put them in with Waters’s herd.”
She stared at him. Wouldn’t she have heard this from Waters if that were true?
The cowboy chuckled. “The cattle just seemed to disappear. Who knows what Waters did with them.”
Jacklyn thought about the dead calves in the stock truck that Dillon swore had been shot. Is that what Shade Waters had done with the rustled cattle he’d found among his herd?
And then what? Just taken them out and buried them?
What a waste. And for what?
She couldn’t believe the lengths Dillon had gone to. But was any of this true? Or was it just the way he rationalized his thieving ways to his friends?
“You seem to know a lot about Dillon’s rustling activities,” she said.
Buford smiled. “You aren’t going to ask me if I was in on it with him, are you?”
“You were one of his closest friends, right? This gang of rustlers—you think he has anything to do with them?”
Buford looked wary. “I wouldn’t know.”
“But you think it’s possible.”
He sighed, still not looking at her. “I just know Dillon isn’t finished with Waters.” He shook his head as he rose from the booth. “He won’t be, either, until Waters is either behind bars or dead. Unfortunately, Dillon Savage is the kind of man who takes a grudge to the grave. I would just hate to see him in an early grave.”
Why was Buford telling her all this? Buford appeared to be genuinely worried about his old friend. But didn’t he realize this only made Dillon look guilty of being the leader of this latest band of cattle rustlers?
As Buford walked away, Jacklyn saw that Nate Waters was sitting alone. Where was Morgan? And why hadn’t Dillon returned?
MORGAN GASPED as Dillon stepped directly into her path. Her hand went to her throat, her eyes looking around wildly as if searching for a way to escape the dim restaurant hallway.
“Dillon.”
He smiled as he moved so close he could see the fear in her eyes. “Morgan.”
She licked her lips and smiled back nervously. “What are you doing here?” Without Nate Waters beside her, she’d lost a lot of her haughtiness.
“I wanted to see you, Morgan. Don’t tell me you didn’t expect to meet up with me again.”
“I didn’t think you could…that is, I thought you weren’t allowed to go any
where alone.”
He smiled at that. “Is that what you thought?”
She swallowed, looking again for a way to escape, but he was blocking the hallway. She’d have to go over him to get back to Nate.
“We should get together sometime,” she said, shifting nervously. “To talk. A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.”
“So I gather. You and Waters.” Dillon shook his head. She would turn Nate any way but loose before she was through.
“Nate and I are getting married.”
“You’re perfect for each other.”
She frowned, thinking he was being facetious.
“Seriously, I wish you all the best.”
“You’re not upset?” She was eyeing him now, obviously not wanting to believe that he’d gotten over her.
“I had a lot of time to think in prison,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “It cleared up a lot for me. Like, for instance, how I just happened to get caught.”
She shifted again, pulling her shoulder bag around to the front, her hand going to it.
He put his hand over hers and smiled. “Carrying a gun now? You have something to fear, Morgan?”
Her gaze hardened as she jerked her hand away from his.
“You set me up that day, didn’t you?”
She was shaking her head. “You’re wrong. I swear to you.”
“Come on, Morgan, you were the only person who knew where I would be.”
“No, the others knew. It had to be one of them. Or maybe your luck just ran out.”
“Yeah, maybe that was it.” He reached into her purse and pulled out the gun, swinging the barrel around until the end was pointed at her forehead. Her eyes widened as she heard him snap off the safety.
“Here’s the one-time deal,” he told her. “The truth for your life. Because, Morgan, I’m going to find out who set me up. Tell me the truth now and I walk away. No foul, no harm. For old time’s sake, I’ll give you this chance. But,” he added quickly, “if I find out you lied, I’ll come back and all bets are off. So what’s it going to be?”
“I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t say a word to anyone. I swear. It wasn’t me, Dillon. I couldn’t do that to you.”
He would have argued the latter, but his time was up. Jacklyn would have realized by now that he was missing. He couldn’t chance her finding him holding a gun on Morgan.
He emptied the gun, snapped the safety back on and dropped the weapon into her purse, pocketing the bullets. “Wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot anyone,” he said with a grin.
It would have been like Morgan to shoot him in the back and say it was self-defense. And with the Waters family behind her, she would have probably gotten away with it.
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again,” he said.
“Not if I see you first,” Morgan snapped back.
He chuckled to himself as he turned and walked away. Behind him, Morgan let out a string of curse words. That’s what he’d loved about her: she was no lady.
Back at the table, Jack seemed relieved to see him. As Morgan returned to her own table, Jack shot Dillon a suspicious look.
He picked up his menu and studied it. But he could feel both Jack and Morgan looking in his direction. He’d known what kind of woman Morgan was. The kind who would lie through her teeth. The fact that she was carrying a gun didn’t bode well in the truth department. She was afraid of someone. Him, no doubt. Which led him to believe she had something to hide.
She’d said the others knew where he’d be that day.
Yes, the others. His friends, his partners, the men he’d trusted with his life. He’d have to have a little talk with each of them. If he helped Jack bust up this rustling ring, he’d get the opportunity, he was sure.
“Have you made up your mind?” Jack asked.
He couldn’t help but wonder if Morgan might not be involved. She was carrying a gun and had hooked up with the son of one of the richest and most influential ranchers in the state of Montana.
He looked up from his menu. “Definitely,” he said, smiling at her.
“About what you’re going to order,” she said, but not with her usual irritation at his foolishness.
The wine had mellowed her some. Her cheeks were a little flushed. She looked damn good in candlelight. Dillon had the wildest urge to reach across the table and free her hair from that braid.
The waitress appeared at that moment, saving him. After they’d ordered, he stole a glance in the direction of Morgan’s table.
Morgan and Nate were gone.
JACKLYN COULDN’T HELP thinking about everything Buford Cole had told her as she ate her dinner. The wine had left her feeling too warm, too relaxed, too intent on the man across the table from her.
Dillon was his usual charming self. And she found herself enjoying not only the meal, but also the company.
But what difference did it make? She was sure she’d lost her job tonight. In fact, she was surprised that Stratton hadn’t already called to fire her.
After dinner they walked back toward the community center, both falling into silence as if a spell had been broken. The night was dark and cold. Lewistown was close to the mountains, so that often made nights here chilly, especially in spring.
Without a word, Dillon took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. She thought about protesting, but was still in that what-the-heck mood.
Tonight he’d sweet-talked her, stood up for her, wined and dined her, and she’d liked it. In the morning, she’d be her old self again. Not that it mattered. She was sure Stratton would be picking up Dillon to take him back to prison, and would fire her.
What would she do? She didn’t have a clue. But for some reason not even that bothered her right now.
“Pretty night,” Dillon said, as he stopped to look up at the stars.
She stopped, too, taking a deep breath of the clean air, feeling strangely happy and content. A dangerous way to be feeling this close to Dillon Savage.
His hand brushed her sleeve, and she turned toward him like a flower to the sun. They were so close she couldn’t be sure who made the first move. All she knew was that when his lips brushed hers, she felt sparks.
She leaned into him, wanting more even as the sensible Jackyln Wilde tried to warn her that she’d regret it in the morning. Heck, she’d probably regret it before the night was over.
Dillon pulled back. “Jack, you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve kissed someone,” she said.
He laughed. “No, I didn’t think it was. It’s just that—” He looked past her and let out a curse.
She turned and saw her pickup sitting alone in the community center parking lot. Sitting at an odd angle.
“Someone slashed your tires,” Dillon said, sounding miserable.
To her surprise, she found she was fighting tears. The slashed tires were the last straw. She marched toward her pickup, angry at the world.
“I’m sure you had nothing to do with this, either,” she snapped over her shoulder.
He caught up to her as she reached the truck. She started to open the driver’s door to get out her insurance card and call for towing, but he slammed it shut, flattening her back to the side of the vehicle.
“How can you say that?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I was with you all night.”
“Right, you have the perfect alibi. You were getting me drunk.”
He raised a brow. “Is that what that kiss was about? You just had too much to drink?”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t. She wanted to push him away, to distance herself from him. Every instinct told her that Dillon Savage was nothing but trouble. And these feelings she had for him, had had for him years ago when she’d spent days learning everything she could about him, chasing him across Montana and finally coming face-to-face with him, well, they were feelings she was damn determined not to have. Especially now.
“Ja
ck?”
She pushed on his chest with both hands, but he was bigger and stronger than she was, and he had her pinned against the truck with his body.
“Trust me, Jack,” he said, his eyes dark with emotion. “I know you want to. Let me prove to you that I’m through with that life.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to believe him. But she’d seen the other look in his eyes, the hatred, the need for vengeance. He would never forget that she’d put him in prison. No matter if she believed anything Buford had told her, she believed Dillon Savage was a man who held a grudge.
“Damn it, Jack,” he said with a groan. He dragged her to him, his mouth on hers, his arms surrounding her and pulling her in.
He caught her off guard. Just like the first time he’d kissed her, the day she’d captured him. Her lips parted now of their own accord. Just as they had the first time. And just like the first time, she felt the stars and planets fall into line.
Noise erupted from a bar down the street. Dillon stepped back as abruptly as he’d kissed her. She followed his gaze, surprised and disappointed that he’d ended the kiss.
That is, until she saw the lone man standing outside the bar, watching them. As he scratched a match across his boot and lifted the flame to the cigarette dangling from his mouth, his face was caught in the light.
Sheriff Claude McCray.
DILLON FELT SHAKEN. He’d seen the look on the sheriff’s face. All Dillon had done was bring Jack more trouble—as if she needed it.
Worse, she’d given him nothing but silence and distance ever since. But at that moment he would have done anything to convince Jack she was wrong about him. As if a kiss would do that! And yet, it had been one hell of a kiss. He’d felt a connection between them. Just as he had the first time. It had haunted him for the past four years, locked up in prison.
Just as this kiss would haunt him.
He mentally kicked himself on the way back to the motel. She was skittish again when it came to him. Distrustful.
He almost laughed at the thought. Hell, as it was, she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. How could it be any worse?