Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association)

by Olivia Jaymes

  They reviewed the rest of the contents and it was late in the evening before they were done. Even Barney was yawning and stretching his stiff back and arms. Remembering how Griffin had cornered her about her name in front of the cameras made her want to run and hide. They’d both forgotten they were being taped. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  “Shit, I’m beat,” Barney said, grabbing his black leather supply bag and tossing it over his shoulder. “See you in the morning.”

  The cameraman practically ran out of the door obviously hoping they wouldn’t find anything else to do. Jazz’s stomach growled loud enough to get Griffin’s attention.

  “You need to eat,” he pronounced. “I’m sorry I kept you so late.”

  “It’s no big deal.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and started to back towards the door. “I’m probably going to head to the diner.” She sucked in a breath and gathered her courage. She wasn’t ready for the evening to be at an end. “Want to join me?”

  She held her breath in hope, butterflies flying merrily in her abdomen and making her a little nauseous. The more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. It was a vicious cycle but damned if she wanted to stop.

  “I’m too fucking exhausted to eat. I need to get some sleep.” Griffin yawned and she tried to push away the disappointment. “Tomorrow we’ll go talk to Casey’s mother. Have your questions ready.”

  Always back to business with him. Well, screw him—she could do that too.

  “I will. Thanks.”

  She turned and flew out of his office and then out of the station heading straight for the diner. The message was loud and clear from Sheriff Sawyer. He wasn’t interested and that was that.

  She needed to concentrate on winning the contest and finding Casey’s killer and not on the sexiest man she could remember seeing in…well, her whole damn life. No sense getting her panties all bunched up about a man that didn’t even see her as a woman.

  Focus. She wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted from what was really important. Her career.

  Chapter Ten

  Jazz sat next to Griffin in the SUV while Barney took up most of the back seat with his camera and sound equipment. They were heading to the edge of town where Margaret Charlock lived in one of those planned housing communities were all the homes looked the same except for a few variations. It was a neighborhood perfect for the bland and colorless woman Griffin had first met nine months ago.

  Griffin had finally gotten some quality sack time last night after he’d shut off his mind from thinking about Jazz and Casey and the contest. And Jazz.

  Shit, he was in deep with this woman and he barely knew her. At one point last night when she’d shyly asked him if he’d slept he’d wanted to lean down and kiss her full pink lips. Pull her into his arms and see if her curvy body felt just as good against his as it looked. Her expression had been so serious and concerned. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been truly worried about his well-being. Other than his mother. You’d think after ten kids she’d be immune to a stuffy nose but every time he got a cold she acted like he had one foot in the damn grave.

  Keep your mind on business. Not the glimpse of tanned cleavage just peeking out of her dark red blouse. Or her dainty feet with their shiny cherry red toenails ensconced in a pair of white sandals.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked, more to get his mind out of the gutter than to actually get the answer. He’d already looked over her proposed questions and deleted a few and added his own. If she had been more seasoned or had any law enforcement training whatsoever outside of the last few days, he would have proposed they play good cop/bad cop. But that was out of the question at this point.

  Jazz was obviously nervous, plucking at the denim of her jeans and chewing on her lower lip. For someone who acted in front of the camera for a living, she couldn’t act cool about this.

  “I think so. I’m worried about doing something wrong,” she admitted, her eyes wide. He felt something lurch in his chest and swung his gaze away from those guileless blue topaz eyes and back to the road.

  “You’ll be fine. We’ll do this together. Just remember what we went over. Never lose your cool, and never act like you don’t believe her. Always be her friend. Get her to trust you. That’s when they say things they wouldn’t normally say. If anyone needs to get tough, I’ll do it. Got it?”

  “Got it. I–” Jazz started to say something else but Griffin’s swearing interrupted her.

  “Shit, what now?” he said to no one in particular, bristling with frustration. It was bad enough being on camera all the damn time, then Dare quitting—now something was wrong with the truck. The check engine light was illuminated and he pulled the vehicle off onto the shoulder. Ignoring the inquiring expressions of both Jazz and Barney, he hopped out and opened the hood. Damn cars these days were all run by computers but it might be something simple.

  A quick perusal showed a leak in the evaporative system of the vehicle. A crack in one of the hoses could cause an increase in the pressure in the gas tank. Not good. The thing was this was no crack in an old hose. This was a clean cut as if from a knife.

  Someone wanted them to have to pull over. Griffin had a pretty good idea who that was.

  He slammed the hood shut and swung back into the driver’s seat, ignoring Jazz’s question about what was wrong. He was too pissed to answer at the moment. Instead he got on the radio and called for a tow truck and eyed the cameraman in the rearview mirror. Finally, he took a deep breath to rein in his anger and turned to the woman beside him.

  “Grab your stuff, we’re going to have to walk from here. It’s only a couple of miles.”

  Jazz frowned but did as he asked, sliding out of the passenger seat. To Griffin’s amusement, Barney did the same, the heavy leather bag hanging from his shoulder and clearly weighing him down. Not in the best of shape to begin with, there was no way the man would be able to make the two mile hike with all that equipment.

  But that wasn’t why he wasn’t going.

  “You’re staying with the vehicle, Barney. Someone needs to be here when the tow truck shows up.”

  Barney started to protest but Griffin waved away any arguments the man might have had. But he was going to make sure the cameraman knew why he was staying.

  “Let’s step over here for a minute and talk.”

  Jazz was watching them both with interest but Griffin had to hand it to her—she didn’t ask a lot of questions or try to interfere. She let him pull Barney aside where it would be hard to hear them talk but she could still clearly see them.

  “I’m going with you.” Barney’s jaw was set in a stubborn line but Griffin didn’t give a shit. He didn’t like being manipulated. At all.

  “The fuck you are,” he said softly, keeping his voice low but with enough depth that Barney would know Griffin was damn serious. “Funny thing about that leak. It looks like a clean cut on the hose. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  The telltale red stained cheeks on the portly cameraman told Griffin everything he needed to know. Barney stammered but couldn’t seem to get any words out.

  “I assume this wasn’t your idea,” Griffin grated. “Tony and Gordon?”

  The man flushed a deeper crimson and nodded. “They wanted you and Jazz to have to spend time together.”

  “Well, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. But you won’t be there. Tough luck.”

  “C’mon, sheriff. Cut me a break. Tony’s already crawled up my ass this week. I need this job.”

  “Who would you rather have mad at you?” Griffin gave the man his most steely, intimidating stare. The one he’d perfected in the military when he was in the Middle East. “Me or Tony?”

  Barney swallowed hard and his red cheeks turned pale. “Tony.”

  “I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding. I’ll be having a talk with your boss, don’t worry. I’ll let him know how little I appreciate stun
ts like this.”

  Griffin didn’t waste any more time. Turning away, he motioned for Jazz to follow him and they started trudging on the side of the highway. She didn’t speak for a long time and then finally she stopped and placed her hand on his arm, sending a rush of heat through his body.

  He almost cursed out loud at the unwelcome tingling her fingers evoked. She was part of this circus that was fucking with his life and that meant she was trouble. Capital T.

  “What happened back there?” she asked, her head tilted to the side in question, her long blonde hair falling over one shoulder. He quelled the urge to reach out and see if the strands were as silky as they looked. “I have a feeling I missed something.”

  “I’ll tell you later,” he growled, still pissed off and frustrated at the interlopers who were trying to mess with his life and his town. There wasn’t an amount of money in the world that was worth all this shit as far as he was concerned. “Let’s get a move on. She’s expecting us.”

  “You will tell me, Griffin Sawyer,” she vowed, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Something is definitely going on.”

  Something was going on and Griffin was going to nip it in the bud. Now. No one was going to push him together with Jazz just for ratings or money or whatever the fuck their reasoning was. She was off limits.

  He was her fucking boss, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t go around dating or fucking his employees.

  Well, shit. Now he had an image of them rolling around naked in his giant king sized bed together. He willed his cock to behave behind the button fly of his jeans and concentrated on how the sun was setting in the west. Hell of a way for the day to end.

  “I’ll tell you everything, Jazz. Just as soon as we question Margaret Charlock. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she echoed. “You’re a very strange man. Do you know that?”

  “Hollywood, you don’t know the half of it.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Her laughter echoed in the silence. She had a nice laugh. Not too loud and not too soft. Just right, really.

  “Mine,” he readily agreed. “Things are complicated, that’s all.”

  “You don’t want us here,” she stated succinctly. “I get that.”

  “I like you, Jazz. I just don’t like having a camera stuck in my face all the time.”

  “Is that why you made Barney stay behind?”

  Griffin laughed at the naive question. “Nope. Barney stayed behind for a completely different reason. Now let’s get going.”

  They hurried their pace as they walked side by side on the shoulder of the deserted road. Griffin would tell her what was going on later. She’d said Tony was a pretty good guy but Griffin had his doubts. If he was capable of this, what else was he trying to manipulate for his own ends?

  Griffin was determined to find out.

  * * * *

  “I don’t know what we have to talk about,” Margaret Charlock said as they all three sat down in her beige living room. Jazz inwardly shuddered at the impersonal furnishings devoid of any semblance of individuality. There wasn’t even a photo of Casey anywhere that Jazz could see. The room could have belonged to anyone anywhere in the world.

  “We want to make sure there’s nothing we missed,” replied Griffin, settling himself on the oatmeal colored sofa with only slightly darker throw pillows. “We appreciate you speaking with us today.”

  Margaret folded her hands in her lap and waited for their questions. At forty years old, she was an attractive woman with short auburn hair and a trim figure. Her face was carefully made up with a skillful hand and her clothes were stylish but as bland as the living room. It was almost as if the woman wanted to fade into the background of life wearing earth tones.

  “I am tired after working all day,” she said pointedly. “If we could get this over with I would be glad.”

  “As I said we appreciate your cooperation.” Griffin nodded toward Jazz. “This young woman is Jazz Oliver, one of my deputies in training. We’re both going to be asking you a few questions.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed and her cheeks turned pink. “I’ve heard about the reality show being filmed in town.” Her hands seem to flutter around and finally landed on the sofa cushions. “You’re not filming this, are you?”

  “No. We’re not filming or recording,” Griffin assured her. She seemed somewhat mollified but still nervous.

  Griffin nodded for Jazz to begin. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her voice and tried to control her madly beating heart. This was worse than opening night jitters.

  “Mrs. Charlock, when you gave your statement to the police you said that Casey and Buddy had broken up. Were they in contact with each other at all?”

  “Not that I know of, but Casey was an adult and I didn’t interfere in her life.” Margaret shook her head but her right hand had swung up to cover the base of her throat. “She had lots of boyfriends. I didn’t pay much attention, honestly.”

  That statement caught Griffin’s attention apparently. “Was she dating anyone else at the same time she was dating Buddy? Or afterward?”

  The woman’s hand stayed right where it was giving Jazz a front row seat to a woman who just might be lying. She at least felt vulnerable. Her body language was screaming it even if she didn’t verbally say it.

  “She dated a lot,” Margaret insisted. “There were always boys hanging around. I didn’t get all of their names.”

  “She dated someone after Buddy?” Jazz asked, watching the woman closely.

  “I really don’t know for sure.” Margaret shook her head but her gaze was darting around the room as if she didn’t want to look them in the eye. “My daughter lived her own life.”

  Anger churned in Jazz’s gut at the indifferent statement from the clearly non-grieving mother.

  “She was nineteen,” Jazz snapped. “Still a teenager. I doubt she lived her own life by choice. She was a young girl who needed her mother.”

  Margaret’s mouth fell open and a cold expression crossed her face. “Are you questioning my parenting? Who do you think you are?” the woman said frostily.

  If Griffin had any ideas about halting this line of questioning, Jazz never gave him a chance. She was too far gone to remember his instructions despite the warning bells ringing in her own ears.

  “I’m someone who understands your daughter, that’s who. She was nineteen, Mrs. Charlock. Not far from a child and she lived under your roof. Are you saying you have no idea what she did the last few days of her life? That you haven’t given it any thought since she died?”

  “That’s enough, Jazz,” Griffin cut in, his voice sharp and commanding. Her voice died but the righteous anger she’d felt was still stirring inside. The back of her neck was hot and she could hear her pulse pound as if someone with a snare drum was sitting and playing in this colorless living room.

  “I’m sorry about Ms. Oliver, Margaret. She’s still in training and can get carried away. Please continue. We appreciate your understanding.”

  Jazz doubted Margaret Charlock appreciated anything about them at the moment. Her face had turned a peculiar shade of purple, probably with anger, and her shoulders seemed to shake.

  She jumped to her feet and went over by the sliding glass doors to look out, ignoring both of them. Griffin’s lips had formed a grim line and Jazz knew she was in for an ass chewing when they left. She’d done the opposite of what he’d asked but being friends with this woman simply wasn’t something she was capable of doing.

  “The last day I saw Casey she said she wanted me to meet someone. A new boyfriend.” Margaret’s fingers plucked at her strand of pearls, her body turned away from them. “I don’t remember his name, if she ever told me, which is why I never mentioned it before. What’s the point? You can’t find someone without a name. I don’t even know what he looks like.” She finally turned toward them, her expression mutinous. Whatever small cooperation they’d had at the beginning was long gone. “Now I’d like you to leave.”

  Gri
ffin stood, pulling Jazz up with him, his hand under her elbow. She could feel the tension in his frame as they stood side by side. “Thank you, Margaret. We appreciate the help and we’ll call if we have any more questions.”

  “Do that,” she replied, her tone brittle. “But I doubt we have anything more to discuss. Let my daughter rest in peace, Sheriff.”

  “That’s exactly what I aim to do, ma’am.”

  Griffin tipped his hat and guided Jazz to the door so quickly she almost stumbled trying to keep up. The door swung shut behind them and they walked silently to the end of the driveway where a patrol car waited, complete with Deputy Adam as a driver. Griffin hustled her inside the vehicle and it smoothly pulled away from the curb. Once they were away from the house, Griffin turned to her, his expression stormy.

  Uh oh.

  “What in the hell were you doing back there? What were you thinking?”

  Boy, did he sound pissed. Mental note. Don’t upset the sheriff.

  “I was thinking she was a lousy mother. And she was lying. I could tell.”

  “You could tell,” he repeated. “You’re some expert in lying as well as an actress?”

  She ignored his sarcasm.

  “She was being evasive. As an actress I study body language, and when a person does this,” Jazz placed her hand over her throat. “That means they feel the need to protect themselves. They’re worried about something. They could be lying.”

  “She was lying when she said she didn’t know anything,” he admitted but didn’t look all that damn happy about it.

  “Exactly! I helped.”

  Griffin shook his head grimly. “Helped? I’m not sure I’d call it that. You had some dumb luck. It could easily have gone another way, Jazz.”

  “But it didn’t,” she insisted. “I may not have done what you said but it worked. Admit it.”

  “I admit nothing,” Griffin retorted, frustration in his tone. “You better hope that this lead pans out because after what you pulled in there she will never – I repeat – never speak to us again. On or off the record. Shit, Jazz. It’s not just this, can’t you see? What if we’d been in a dangerous situation? You need to listen to me and do what I tell you. Failure could get you killed. As in dead.”