Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association)

by Olivia Jaymes

  Ambrose’s cool facade slipped slightly with a tightening of his lips as he sank back down into the chair. “Do you have any more questions?”

  “I do indeed. Gordon, did you know that Tony had a sexual relationship with Sandy as recently as yesterday morning?”

  The brighter red shade of Gordon’s face answered the question. The assistant had known and had maybe even helped to cover it up.

  “I did,” Gordon answered carefully. “It was consensual.”

  “Never said it wasn’t.” Griffin turned back to Tony. “Now, can you tell me about your two arrests for domestic battery?”

  Tony’s face turned purple and he went to stand, but Ambrose patted him on the shoulder and told him to calm down.

  “That was supposed to be erased from my record. How did you find that out?”

  “We’re not as backwoods here as we appear,” Griffin replied, keeping his tone cool. “Let’s talk about those incidents.”

  Ambrose placed his hand on Tony’s just as he was going to speak. “I don’t think any prior acts are germane to this discussion. Next question.”

  “No, I want to answer this,” Tony protested. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Lena was crazy and she’d attack me. Then she’d call the police and tell them I assaulted her. I was only defending myself.”

  How many times had Griffin heard that very same whiny tale? Too many to count. He didn’t believe it this time either.

  “So your explanation is that a woman who was five feet one and less than one hundred and ten pounds hurt you so badly you had no choice but to hit back? That’s your story?”

  “It’s the truth,” Tony swore. “Ask Gordon. He met Lena. He knows what she’s like.”

  “It’s true,” Gordon nodded. “Lena would go after Tony with kitchen knives. She was insane.”

  Was Gordon covering for his boss? It sure seemed like it at the moment. But Gordon couldn’t rig an entire crime lab.

  “I have a warrant for your DNA, Tony.” Griffin held up one of the envelopes. “A lab tech is going to be here in about fifteen minutes to collect it.”

  Tony turned and gave his attorney a frantic look. “Can they do this?”

  Griffin slid the envelope across the table to Ambrose who quickly scanned the contents. “It appears the warrant is in order.”

  This time Tony did stand up, the chair flying backwards. He paced up and down the small room, his breathing becoming increasingly ragged.

  “I admitted that Sandy and I slept together. What do you need my DNA for?”

  “Sandy fought her killer, Tony, and she had skin underneath her fingernails. Will your DNA match, I wonder?”

  “No,” Tony said forcefully, coming to a halt. “I didn’t hurt her. I swear as God is my witness. The last time I saw Sandy she was alive.”

  “Then you won’t have any problem giving us a sample. If you’re innocent it won’t match,” Griffin replied reasonably.

  Tony rubbed his forehead and nodded. “Fine. Whatever. Is that all?”

  Sliding the second envelope over to the lawyer, Griffin shook his head. “Not quite. I also have a warrant to impound and search all the vehicles belonging to the crew. That means your rental and all the trucks and vans.” Even Ambrose didn’t look happy this time as he perused the warrants. “And lastly, I have a warrant to search the rooms of Tony and Gordon.”

  Tony groaned and leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling. “There’s nothing to find. I didn’t do anything. God, this is worse than any movie. I’m being railroaded for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “If you didn’t do this, the best way to clear yourself is to cooperate and let the lab do their job.”

  “Sure,” Tony snorted. “That’s probably what you say to everyone. Right before you arrest them.”

  Griffin stood as well, wanting to make sure Tony understood what was going on very clearly.

  “Listen, I don’t get a commission if I arrest you. I get paid either way. I want to find the killer. The real killer, not just a notch on my belt. That’s not good enough. The only way to get justice for Sandy is to find out who really did this. If it’s not you, then fine. This is not a personal thing. This is about Sandy. Got it?”

  The man swallowed hard and nodded. “Got it. What happens now?”

  “You stay out of the way while your room is being searched. You give up your DNA quietly when the lab tech comes to get it.”

  Ambrose cleared his throat. “And Gordon?”

  Griffin leveled a gaze at the assistant, still unsure as to where he fit in all this mess. “I tried to get a warrant for his DNA as well but I was turned down. Not enough probable cause. That could change if I find something in his room. In the meantime, he needs to cooperate and not leave town.”

  “Fine,” the attorney answered briskly. “Do we wait here?”

  “Yes, and then Adam will escort you out the back entrance. There’s no need for the press to get a hold of any of this. Although Wayne has probably called his office and told them everything.”

  “What about Wayne?” Tony asked, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t know? Wayne’s a reporter with The Latest.”

  If Griffin had doubted Wayne earlier when he said Tony wasn’t involved, there was no doubt now. Tony and Gordon both looked astonished. To Griffin’s surprise, Tony turned on his assistant immediately.

  “You little worm! Did you know? Did you? Did you set me up?” Ambrose had to stand hastily and keep Tony from going after Gordon. There was that nasty temper again.

  “I didn’t know,” whined Gordon. “I didn’t.”

  “Then you’re incompetent. You’re supposed to check out the contestants. When we get back to Los Angeles, you can clean out your desk. You’re fired,” hissed Tony, a small amount of spittle landing on his chin. The pretty boy producer wasn’t so good looking at the moment.

  Gordon cowed in his chair while Ambrose tried to calm the producer down. A seasoned attorney would know this little display of emotion was not helping his client in the least.

  “I’ll leave you three alone. I think you have plenty to discuss.”

  Griffin turned and exited the room, closing the door behind him with a small smile. The first step was to shake up Tony and Gordon walking in lockstep with each other. Whenever Griffin encountered alibis that were co-dependent like this it made him very suspicious.

  Something was there and Griffin was going to get to the bottom of it.

  Tony had motive. Covering up an illicit relationship, plus a violent past.

  But did he have opportunity? Only Gordon really knew.

  The next step was to find the crime scene and the vehicle Sandy had been transported in. Maybe Jared might come through with more details as well. Heck, even the press might come up with motive. All the lines were in the water—he simply needed a few fish to take the bait.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Can I use your phone after dinner?” Jazz asked Griffin. “Tony still has mine. I need to call my friend Caitlin. I’m sure she’s heard about all this by now. She’s got to be freaking out.”

  They were both staring into the refrigerator trying to figure out what to eat for dinner. It had been a long day at the station but Jazz was glad she’d been able to help out. It was a heck of a lot better than sitting around waiting for answers.

  “Tony doesn’t have your phone—the crime lab does. I was able to get a warrant for everyone’s rooms and the phones too.”

  “Will I get it back?” Jazz sighed as she thought of her brand new phone being pulled apart and ruined by some guy in a white coat.

  “You will, I promise.” Griffin turned at the sound of the doorbell pealing insistently. There were a few reporters camped out at the end of the long lane to the house, but most had turned in for the night. Besides, she doubted they’d come right up to the front door and ring the bell.

  Griffin shrugged and looked outside the window before breaking into a grin. “It’s
my friend Reed and it looks like he brought food.”

  Pulling open the door, Griffin ushered in a tall handsome man carrying several takeout containers. The smell of fried chicken made Jazz’s stomach growl and she pressed her hand to her abdomen in embarrassment. If the two men noticed, they didn’t act like it. Slapping each other’s back and smiling, they led the way to the deck while she grabbed plates, silverware, and paper napkins from the kitchen.

  It was another beautiful night, the air warm and soft. A small breeze kicked up and tousled her hair and cooled her skin. Their visitor stuck out his hand with a smile.

  “I’m Reed Mitchell, and you must be Jazz.”

  “I am,” she nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Jazz couldn’t stop her gaze from going back and forth between the two men so similar and yet so different. Both had dark hair, although Griffin kept his cropped short while Reed’s was slightly longer with some strands falling over his forehead and a few curls at his neckline as if he was due for a trim. Both had the square jaw and impressive physique that made women’s heads turn and their panties damp.

  But it was Reed’s eyes that caught her attention the most. Steel blue, they were guarded and wary. This was a man who was either hiding something painful or trying to keep something painful from happening to him. Perhaps both. Yet at the same time he seemed to carry himself with the utmost confidence, a pure male swagger to his step.

  All that emotional unavailability paired with a face and body like a god, he had to have women following him around with their tongues hanging out. Females were suckers when it came to a testosterone laden hunk with baggage.

  “As nice as it is for you to bring dinner, I have a feeling you’re here for something else,” Griffin said as he handed out cans of soda. Jazz opened the containers and steamy goodness wafted from the styrofoam all the way to her nose. They passed around the food and filled their plates as the crickets chirped in the background along with the occasional splash from a fish or duck.

  “I figured you hadn’t had time to eat with everything going on. I saw your press conference on television today. You handled it well. It’s still a clusterfuck though. Excuse me, Jazz,” Reed apologized ruefully. “Sometimes I forget I’m around a lady.”

  “I’ve heard and said most dirty words, so curse away.” Jazz lifted a forkful of fluffy mashed potatoes to her mouth and almost groaned aloud at the deliciousness. Starch and butter were so damn good.

  “Jared asked me to help,” Reed continued. “I’ve been looking into your victim’s past and found out some very interesting things.”

  Griffin wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do tell. Was she a drug dealer or something?”

  Putting his fork down on the plate, Reed shook his head. “She was a high school dropout who kicked around living on the dimes of rich, older men. Married ones, mostly. They’d get her a place to live and a credit card and she was all set. Until she’d inevitably try to blackmail them for more money. She’d threaten to tell their wives to get the big payoff. Then she was off to the next victim.”

  “So she wasn’t an actress on Broadway?” Jazz shook her head in disbelief. If this was true, Sandy had missed her calling. She would have been a great actress. No one had had a clue.

  “That’s what she called herself.” Reed shrugged his shoulders and buttered a roll. “I think she even went on a few auditions from what I could dig up but that wasn’t the point. She went there to meet successful people who had connections.”

  “And she never went to college?” Jazz passed Griffin a roll before going back to her own dinner. It was sad to hear that Sandy’s life had been one scam after another. Jazz hadn’t gotten close to the girl, but no one deserved to die the way she had no matter what they’d done.

  “The closest Sandy got to college was an apartment near NYU.” Reed pushed away his now clean plate. Jazz was always amazed at how much and how quickly men could put food away.

  “If she was blackmailing Tony, that would give him motive,” Griffin observed, drinking the last of his soda.

  “If,” interrupted Jazz. “Who was she going to tell? Tony and Caitlin aren’t married. All Caitlin would have done is dump Tony’s ass. It’s not like they had three kids and a house in the hills.”

  “Maybe she threatened to tell the network.” Griffin had leaned forward, his fingers steepled in thought. “I’m sure the bigwigs don’t want their producers playing hide the weasel with one of the competitors.”

  Almost spraying ginger ale she’d just guzzled, Jazz clapped a hand over her mouth. She choked and coughed as she tried to swallow the cool liquid and giggle at the same time. Both Griffin and Reed slapped her on the back.

  “Hide the weasel?” Jazz wiped the tears from her eyes with the napkin. “Holy shit, don’t say things like that when my mouth is full. Since when did you become funny?”

  “I’ve always been funny.”

  “I think she means funny haha, not funny strange,” Reed retorted, a huge grin on his face. “But to your point, that could be construed as motive. He would want to protect his position at the network. When do your forensics come back from the lab?”

  “Hopefully soon. My gut tells me I’m not going to get a confession. I’m going to need DNA and trace evidence to find the guilty party.”

  Reed glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Shit, I need to get going. I promised one of my deputies to cover their shift tonight.”

  They all stood and Jazz started to gather up the plates while Griffin talked to Reed softly. Not sure what they were saying, she carried the dishes into the kitchen and began to load the dishwasher.

  “A woman who does dishes? She’s a keeper.” Reed shoved his hat back on his head. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ve got my cell on me twenty-four-seven.”

  “Thanks for dinner and the information.” Griffin walked Reed to the door. “I’m guessing the tabloids would have dug this up eventually but I don’t have time to waste.”

  “None of us do. Have a good night.”

  Reed clomped down the porch steps and Jazz heard the growl of a truck and then the hum of the engine as it disappeared into the night.

  “You two were whispering.” She closed the dishwasher and walked back to the deck to gather up the empty food containers. They all must have been hungry because there was very little left. “Can I ask what you were talking about, or would that fall into the nosy interfering female category?”

  “He asked me if I needed help keeping the press away from you. In my experience, Reed is extremely protective of females. I told him we were okay for now but I would keep the offer in mind. I trust you’ll let me know if the reporters start to hound you.”

  Griffin took the styrofoam from her hands and shoved it into the trashcan, pushing it down before closing and tying it off.

  “He seems like a nice man. I didn’t see a wedding ring so I assume he’s not married. Has he ever been?”

  Maybe a woman had put that pained look in Reed’s eyes. Even a man like him could be hurt.

  Griffin spread his arms wide and chuckled. “Who the hell knows? Reed never, and I mean never, talks about his past. I’m told he mentioned sisters once, but that’s it. He could have been pulling our legs. All of us know absolutely zilch about Reed before the day we met him. If we found out he was grown in a lab until the age of thirty we wouldn’t be shocked. Or maybe he hatched from the egg of an alien. All I know is he is the most secretive son of a bitch I’ve ever met. He’s also one of the nicest guys. He’d give you the shirt off his own back if you needed it. He’s just that way.”

  “What do you know about him?” Jazz’s mind was whirling, thinking of a million possible scenarios for the handsome sheriff.

  “Only what he’s dropped in passing. He was in the military like pretty much all of us. We know he did tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. We know he came back about six years ago and had a job offer with Homeland Security but he turned it down. He likes steak and pizza, Steven Seagal m
ovies, and motorcycles.”

  “That’s it? How can you even call yourself friends? I know everything about Caitlin and she knows everything about me.”

  “That’s because you’re women. Men don’t need to talk about their feelings and eat ice cream, honey.”

  Jazz blew a raspberry and Griffin laughed as he carried the trash bag into the house. He’d already explained to her the folly of leaving food outside when there were wild animals all around.

  “So how do men bond?” she asked, locking the door behind her out of habit. “Beer, poker, and cigars?”

  Griffin double bagged the trash and placed it in the garage right outside the kitchen door. “Personally I like fishing, hunting, and checking out women’s racks.”

  “Guns and boobs, huh? How typical,” she chided but her pulse was already beginning to speed up at the gleam in his eyes. She’d seen that very same look last night and this morning.

  Hallelujah.

  “Speaking of awesome racks, Hollywood, I like that yours is purely factory original.”

  Jazz rolled her eyes and looked down at her chest. “Do you know how many times people in the business have told me I should have my boobs done? I’ve lost count, that’s how many.”

  Griffin finished washing his hands at the sink and dried them on a towel. “That would be a real shame. They’re perfect just the way they are. Perfect size, perfect shape.” He tossed the towel away and placed his hands on her hips, letting then slide upward until they were cupping her breasts. Streaks of heat went straight to her pussy and her nipples tightened under his palms.

  “They wouldn’t be better…bigger?” She had to swallow hard to speak as his thumbs brushed the tips making them ache and harden even more.

  “No way.” Griffin shook his head and then lowered it, placing a kiss on each taut peak through the fabric. “They wouldn’t fit with your frame.”

  Part of her wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but then he slipped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers and she forgot all about it. He took his time with the kiss as if they had all night, and they actually did. It was still early, the sun not quite down. They could explore each other to their hearts’ content for hours and still get a good night’s sleep.