Cowboy Justice

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Impressed that he’d made the connection, too aware of his every move, of the way his trousers stretched across his thighs, of the way his shirt strained across his back, she said, “I noticed you have good taste in handcrafted furniture yourself.”

  While Cash ran delicate fingers over the design carved into the wood, Reine wrapped her arms around her middle.

  His voice low and husky, he said, “I learned to appreciate real quality when I was living and working with Nemesio.”

  “Like adobe buildings.”

  He rose and nodded. “Like that.” His expression bemused, he said, “Uh, the kettle...”

  Flustered, Reine suddenly realized the kettle was overflowing. She shut off the water and set the kettle on the stove. Then, going for a safe topic, she asked, “So, do you think Selena Cullen could be the one?”

  “Could be, although I have trouble picturing a middle-aged city woman riding in on a man’s own territory, taking him hostage and covering her tracks as she goes.” He moved closer and set a hip against the counter’s edge. “If she’s the one behind Gray’s disappearance, she had to have had some reliable help.”

  “How does one get that kind of help?”

  “Money can buy anything.”

  Hating the cynicism in his tone, she argued, “Not anything. At least, not the things that count. But illicit hirelings, yes, I’m sure. The question is, how do you find someone willing to become a kidnapper? Advertise?”

  “My guess would be by asking around. Recommendations from friends and associate. We don’t have a clue as to Selena’s background. Who she knows.”

  “She knows Uncle Jasper.” And part of Reine was still wondering how well. “Maybe I should ask him.”

  “Brave girl. Why do you imagine he’d tell you anything? You have more confidence in his willingness to cooperate than I do.”

  “It would be in his own self-interest. He’s desperate over Gray.”

  Cash nodded but didn’t reply, and Reine realized that he was suddenly down-in-the-mouth quiet.

  “What?” she asked softly. “I didn’t say anything you didn’t already know.”

  “‘Self-interest,’” he echoed. “Mine. I’m beginning to think there could be long-term consequences to every action one takes—things you never counted on happening.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as my taking over one of Matlock’s subsidiaries eventually resulting in Gray’s disappearance.”

  She leaned a hip on the counter next to him. “I don’t get it.”

  “It was a heating and air-conditioning company. I took over Matlock’s, so he took over Cullen’s....”

  Grasping his train of thought, Reine tried to reassure Cash. “Like you said, it’s business.”

  But that didn’t keep the possible connection from bothering her, as well. She felt no conviction in her words of comfort. If it was true...

  How horrible, and not only for Gray.

  Cash looked so despondent, she put her arms around him just as easily as she would have done years ago, without first considering the consequences....

  Slowly, he responded, his arms encircling her back, allowing her to move away if she would.

  Heat simmered along her flesh—a welcome, life-affirming heat. The sensation was at once calming and disturbing. Familiar and alien. Seductive and dangerous.

  “Reine,” he whispered, his lips in her hair.

  Confused, she didn’t know whether to push him away or to pull him closer. Instead of doing either, she closed her eyes and freed her mind from its jumble of confusion.

  The years tumbled away.... Fifteen again, she was wildly in love for the first and only time of her life.

  And so, when he moved his head, his lips trailing her jaw to her mouth, she couldn’t protest.

  She didn’t want to.

  She wanted his mouth covering hers, claiming her, opening her, outside and in.

  The touch of his tongue on hers sizzled with promise that started at her head and worked its way down to her toes, licking every nerve in between. His hands moved to the small of her back, then slipped lower, pulling her to him. He pressed hard against her belly until he cupped her bottom, reshaped and fitted her to him.

  After which he turned to trap her against the cabinet, angling her so he could pin her there while freeing his hands. The silk blouse and satin bra were no barrier to his touch. Through the thin layers of material, he palmed her, squeezed her, tormented her.

  Her limbs turned liquid and she clung to him to remain upright. Fully clothed, in the middle of her kitchen, she was being made love to and loving every second of it.

  His hands stroked down her chest and belly to her waist, then moved around her hips. He began tugging on the material of her skirt, hiking it up, bunching it around her waist. The air laved her naked legs like a lover’s caress. A soft moan escaped her lips and her fingers dug into his back.

  He reached under her to assault her panties from behind—hooking one finger beneath the elastic, then another—sliding them around and under her buttocks.

  He rocked his hips and slid his hand farther under her, thereby assaulting her from both directions at once. Unable to help herself, she hung on to him with both arms, curled her legs around his thighs and arched against him.

  His mouth against her neck, he murmured, “I want you.”

  She wanted him, too. Most of her did. But a tiny part—the part with the memory of how he’d abandoned her and of what he’d become—shrilled a warning.

  Caution!

  Stop. Now.

  While she still could.

  But the shrill noise continued, penetrating the fog of desire that was clouding her mind.

  The kettle—it was steaming!

  As was she.

  Freeing her mouth and pressing her hands against his chest to put a few inches between them was one of the hardest things she’d ever made herself do.

  “The tea.”

  “I’d rather have you.”

  “Even you can’t always have what you want,” she said, untangling herself from his embrace.

  “But you’re the one who asked me what I wanted to help you....”

  Unable to tell whether or not he was joking, Reine backed away and busied herself with the kettle, her hands shaking slightly as she poured water into the teapot and set out the mugs. Her heart was pounding and not only because of the hot embrace they’d shared.

  Surely Cash hadn’t actually agreed to help her in exchange for sexual favors. He’d given her enough hints over the past two days. Remembering she’d been almost desperate enough to offer herself didn’t make her feel any better.

  She wanted it to be about Gray, not about her.

  About loyalty, not about seduction.

  About love, not about possession.

  What did Cash really want?

  Though she yearned to ask him, fear kept her silent. She didn’t want to hear the wrong words—the ones that would shatter the little bit of renewed faith she had in him.

  “How do you like yours?” she asked as the tea leaves steeped in the pot.

  “Any way I can get it.”

  Their eyes met and she knew he wasn’t talking about the tea. Feeling her temperature rise, she deliberately slammed a sugar bowl in front of him and moved to the refrigerator. He’d always liked to fluster her. To make her blush.

  “I have both lemon and cream,” she said as calmly as she could manage.

  When Reine glanced back, Cash wasn’t looking at her but at a spot to her right. “Shouldn’t you check your messages?” he asked.

  She followed his gaze. “Oh, no. I didn’t even notice.”

  With trepidation, she approached the answering machine whose red light blinked at her accusingly. Only one person had called. Certain that this was about Gray, she hit the message button and held her breath as the tape rewound and sprang to life.

  “We heard from the k-kidnapper,” came her aunt’s shaky voic
e. “Reine...i-it isn’t good. He wants two m-million dollars...and Jasper says we don’t have it to g-give.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Reine murmured as her aunt sobbed out loud.

  “Jasper isn’t going to do anything to get the m-money, either. He won’t let go of his obsession. He insists Gray will be all right b-because Cash has him....”

  Cash’s low curse startled her, but she didn’t blame him for being angry—not one bit.

  “I have to get my hands on the money s-somehow, Reine. I’m going to do whatever I must, even if it means going against m-my husband. I have to save my child....”

  More crying—softer, but desperate.

  Then, because Marlene didn’t speak again, the machine cut her off.

  Leaving Reine stunned.

  “Dear God, two million dollars!” she whispered.

  A lot of money, but Uncle Jasper had a lot of resources. Or used to. Something had to be terribly wrong. He would never refuse to do what he had to for Gray. Could it be there was no way he could get his hands on the money and so had fabricated the excuse about Cash in his desperation?

  But...

  “Aunt Marlene seemed to think she could get her hands on that kind of money,” Reine mused aloud. “How?”

  “Calling in favors?”

  Reine whirled on Cash. “Listen to yourself! Everything isn’t a business, you know. This is life we’re talking about, here!”

  Life and death...

  “But in this instance, Gray’s life does come down to money,” Cash reminded her. “And a lot of it.”

  Reine knew only one person who would have no trouble producing two million dollars. She stared at Cash. He stood back, his expression oddly impassive. She couldn’t even hazard a guess as to his thoughts.

  But her own mind was following a single track: What would it take to convince an embittered, greedy man to buy back his brother’s freedom and possibly his life?

  Chapter Seven

  Cash mulled over the content of the message from Marlene Matlock. “She didn’t say how long.”

  “What?” Reine whispered, her expression confused. She appeared to be coming out of a shocked stupor.

  “How much time she has to come up with the money.”

  “No, she didn’t. I’d better return her call and find out.”

  Reine grabbed the phone and punched in the number.

  Watching her, Cash wiped a shaky hand over his face. Two million. That was damn serious money. Even he would be hard-pressed to come up with that kind of cash.

  What the hell was Matlock going to do?

  Nothing! According to his wife, at least.

  He’d rather sit around and blame the son he’d always wished had never been born.

  “Aunt Marlene,” Reine was saying tightly, “I, uh, got your message. Please call me as soon as you can.”

  And what could Matlock do even if he weren’t being such a fool? Cash wondered.

  Thanks to his own concerted endeavors—and to the contributing efforts of smart businessmen always willing to take advantage of weakened competition—the old man’s company was teetering. Cash figured he probably had resorted to pouring his personal resources into Matlock Construction. Undoubtedly, he was strapped.

  Crossing the kitchen toward him, her arms wrapped around her middle, Reine said, “Maybe I should go back to the ranch right away.”

  Cash thought of telling her to stay put but figured that would only spur her to go against his wishes. Instead, he chose calm logic.

  “What if your aunt is sleeping?” he suggested. “You’ll awaken her for nothing. Besides, you could use some rest. You look too exhausted to drive.”

  Cash wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her to bed himself, but he knew any good intentions would dissipate the moment he touched her.

  “Besides,” he added, “what kind of help will you be to her if you’re too tired to think clearly?”

  “You’re right,” she said. “And what can anyone do in the middle of the night? I suppose first thing in the morning will be soon enough.”

  “To call, anyway.”

  “What do you mean, ‘call’?”

  “As in connecting via telephone. Holding her hand isn’t going to get things done. I thought we were committed to figuring out who’s behind this scheme. Considering the stakes, don’t you agree it’s more important than ever?”

  That was part of it, Cash knew. He could manage what needed doing alone. Being honest with himself, however, Cash admitted to an ulterior motive. He wanted Reine, and his getting her wasn’t going to happen long-distance. He wasn’t welcome on Matlock land, so the less time she spent there, the better for his cause.

  “What if we still can’t find Selena Cullen?” she asked him. “Then what?”

  “First of all, Selena being a suspect doesn’t make her guilty.”

  “I know that.”

  “So we have to keep looking at other possibilities,” Cash insisted, “and I’d say our timetable was just moved up. Who’s the equivalent of Tobiah Hill at Matlock Construction?”

  “You mean like a foreman?”

  “I mean someone who knows everything that goes on in that company.”

  “That would be Nora, I guess,” Reine told him. “Nora Archer is Uncle Jasper’s executive assistant.”

  “Sounds like she’s our woman—that is, if we can we get her to talk. Would she see doing so as being disloyal to Matlock?”

  “She might... On the other hand, she’s always been fond of Gray.”

  “How well do you know her?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Then it’ll be up to you to convince her Gray’s life is more important than some confidentiality issue.”

  Reine nodded. “I’ll contact Nora first thing in the morning.”

  “Our paying her a surprise visit might be more effective,” Cash suggested.

  “Together?”

  “That would be the plan,” he agreed. “If we show up on her doorstep, it’ll be a lot harder for her to say no. She won’t have time to think. Won’t have time to call her boss and alert him.”

  He could only imagine Matlock’s explosive reaction. A perverse part of him would like to be a fly on the wall to see that one.

  “I suppose you have a point,” Reine conceded.

  “So where do we find her on a Saturday?”

  “Nora and her husband have a small piece of property just outside Española.”

  Which was quite a bit closer to Chimayo than Santa Fe. He considered their options.

  “Where shall I meet you?” she asked. “At your place?”

  “What’s wrong with right here?”

  “I have to get over to the ranch sometime tomorrow, anyway,” she argued. “And why would you want to drive all the way back to Santa Fe?”

  “Who said anything about driving back?” Cash moved a little closer and ran a finger up the side of her arm. “I don’t have to leave at all.”

  Reine licked her lips. “Yes, you do,” she said a bit breathlessly.

  So she wasn’t going to sleep with him. Yet. They were equally in lust, but he was the only one being honest about it. As far as he was concerned, it was a done deal. Her nerves told him so. He could be patient for as long as it took. Still, he couldn’t give in so easily.

  “I’m a man who knows how to compromise. That couch of yours looks perfectly comfortable.”

  “It is, but you’re not invited to try it.”

  “You’d rather have me in your bed, then?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  She was squirming and, callous creature that he knew himself to be, he was enjoying every second of her discomfort. He ran the side of his thumb along the line of her jaw and was rewarded by her quick intake of breath.

  “I don’t know, Reine. I felt pretty welcome a little while ago.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  “No mistake.”

  If she didn’t want the same thing he did, she would co
me right out and say so, he was certain. He slipped his hand around the back of her neck, where the silk of her fallen hair teased his knuckles.

  “I’m giving you fair warning,” he went on softly. “I want you and I mean to have you.”

  She slapped his hand away and pushed past him and through the door into the hallway, muttering, “What either of us wants isn’t important right now.”

  At least she wasn’t denying the obvious.

  “That’s why you’re throwing me out?”

  “If I don’t, neither of us will get any sleep.”

  Knowing he’d probably pushed as far as he should, Cash finally conceded. “All right. I’ll leave and I’ll even put that other discussion on hold—for now. But I’ll be back in the morning, first thing.”

  “I’ll meet you at the truck stop outside Española,” she countered.

  Cash stared at her intently, but she didn’t back down. Her body language and stubborn expression told him she was set on having her own way. He guessed he would give it to her.

  This time.

  MARLENE HAD BEEN UP FOR hours, waiting for sunrise. At the first flow of dawn across the horizon, she left the house.

  Her departure went unchallenged.

  Jasper had undoubtedly passed out in his study. Either that or he’d used a guest room. This had been one of the few times in their marriage when she’d locked him out of their bedroom.

  Not that where he chose to sleep would be an issue for much longer.

  Starting up the car, she got onto the road as the sky lightened to a luminous blue, streaked with morning mauve. She wasn’t going far. Sam Valdez’s place was only a few miles down the road.

  Jasper would have a stroke if he knew.

  As far as she was concerned, he could just have one. It would serve him right.

  He’d never loved her; had only married her to get his name on the land with water rights, and in the process, had handed off the woman carrying his child to his foreman. She hadn’t known about Luna then, or she would never have conceded to her father’s wishes.

  She and Sam had always been neighbors. And once—twice, really—they’d been more.

  As she turned onto his land, a flurry of butterflies made her queasy. She clutched the steering wheel and took a deep breath. Why should she expect more of him than she could get from her own husband. From Gray’s own father.