The Cowboy's Deadly Mission

by Addison Fox

  Yet every time, they landed in the same exact place.

  Was it possible a killer was closer than any of them ever imagined?

  * * *

  He made it to midnight.

  Not bad, Tate thought to himself as he rolled out of bed and dragged on his jeans. If he’d been making a bet, he’d have given himself until one, but this was real life, not some stupid wager in his mind.

  Nor was it a game.

  The call Belle had received earlier had made that abundantly clear. Their dinner at an end, she’d raced out of the house, but not before tossing him a set of keys and asking him to lock up behind himself.

  Such a strange juxtaposition.

  They could barely carry on a civil conversation, yet she trusted him with the keys to her home. Had trusted him with the heavy weight of her suspicions over Russ Grantham. And had trusted him with her body.

  But where did that leave them?

  Back to the same damn point they always reached, he thought in disgust as he wrenched open the door to his truck and climbed in. At odds despite all the trust and compatibility that lived between them.

  Do you honestly think I could go on if something happened to you?

  He’d finally said the words out loud. He’d used a version of them a decade ago when they’d ended their relationship, but he’d never been that blunt. Nor had he ever voiced his fears so deliberately.

  What if something did happen to her?

  It wasn’t like it wouldn’t tear him up, whether they were in or out of a relationship. Belle Granger was the only woman who’d ever stolen his heart and it wasn’t like he’d somehow gotten it back the day he pushed her out of his life. And best as he could tell, that same cold, bruised heart hadn’t shown up anytime since, if he were honest with himself.

  He flirted with women. Had dated more than a few. Took a few of them home when the itch got too great. And the rest of the time, he was sullen, broody and lonely. He hid it behind lazy smiles and dumb jokes, but none of those filled the holes.

  Nothing fixed the emptiness since he’d sent her away.

  And now she was on the hunt for a killer, doing her job and standing for the dead. Why did that impress the hell out of him?

  Maybe it was because it was hard enough to go into battle on behalf of those who did deserve it. But it was even more impressive when you placed justice over the reality of those who’d spent their lives as criminals. It was those very moments when justice must have seemed pointless, yet she fought for it anyway.

  It was also in that battle that he saw his own. His father had ruined Reynolds Station, leaving a nearly dead entity in his wake. He hadn’t seen the value in running a good business or treating his customers with the respect they deserved, and he certainly hadn’t seen the value or the pride that went along with Reynolds beef.

  But Tate had. He, Ace, Hoyt and Arden had all seen it. And they’d worked and sweated and believed until there was no other outcome possible but success.

  Didn’t Belle deserve the same?

  The truck was cold, the coolness seeping through his jeans and Henley, and he hit the heater. The rain that week had seen to it that a few vestiges of winter were determined to hang on and he waited to warm up as he bumped down the driveway toward town.

  Toward Belle.

  She’d be home by now. And if she wasn’t, he’d wait for her. But there was no way he was leaving things the way they were. No way at all.

  * * *

  Belle gave one of the on-scene techs a ride back to the precinct and followed him in to pick up a few items off her desk. It was a ruse, designed to give her a chance to look at Captain Grantham’s office with fresh eyes, so it was a surprise to find him sitting in his chair, staring at his computer screen.

  She’d worked out her plan through the long hours at the park. The information she’d lay on his desk, using the quick moments to assess the room. Not that she expected to find anything, but she wanted to use the time to see if anything looked different. Wanted to picture him in that seat so she could convince herself he wasn’t capable of all she suspected. In her mind, that necklace was firmly in place around his neck.

  It had to be.

  It’s just a piece of jewelry.

  That had been her argument and, like a litany, it had looped through her mind since her conversation with Ricky Suarez outside the evidence room earlier.

  Had it really only been a few hours?

  The heaviness that had settled on her chest felt like it had been there forever. It gave credence to the fact that her suspicions were unfounded. Russ Grantham was a good cop and a good man. If he were the killer, wouldn’t something like that weigh on him?

  Drag him down to a dark and lonely place?

  She’d worked with him for years and hadn’t seen any evidence of that. In fact, she’d seen the opposite. To Ricky’s point, of late Russ had seemed to have come out of the dark place that his son’s death had left in his heart. There was a lightness about him. A renewed purpose. He’d spoken to the rookie class a few months back and had glowed about a career in law enforcement and what it meant to wear a badge.

  Men like that simply didn’t torture and kill other men.

  “Belle! You’re here late.” Russ’s smile went all the way to his eyes, a reinforcement that he was healing and had moved past Jamie’s death.

  “I had to pick up a few things.” She went into improvisation mode. “Saw your light on so I wanted to come say hi. I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

  The words spilled out of their own accord and it was only after the casual greeting that she realized the truth of that. He had been missing for a few days. She’d chalked it up to the amount of time she’d spent in the field, but now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him.

  If the comment bothered him, it didn’t show as he tapped on a stack at the edge of his desk. “Just wrapping up my stamp of approval on the paperwork on the Evans case.”

  “I heard Aames and Gonzalez closed that one.”

  “Yeah. Open and shut. And even better, Mrs. Evans has her heirloom jewelry back.”

  “Always nice when we do the job and return all that was lost,” Belle said.

  “It makes for happy customers.”

  “Mrs. Evans does love her jewelry. Claims it keeps her young.”

  Russ rolled his eyes at that. “I’ve heard she uses that line on her insurance underwriter, too. Each and every time she goes in to update her policy rider.”

  The talk of jewelry gave her an in and she weighed instinct over self-preservation. He hadn’t seemed put off when she mentioned his days out so maybe this would go the same way.

  “Had a breakthrough earlier on the Abrogato murder.”

  “Oh?”

  “Something about the scene had been nagging at me, so I went back out to walk the grounds.”

  Russ’s fatherly smile never wavered but his eyebrows did narrow at her comment. “I can’t imagine you found much after the rain we’ve been having. Scene has to have been compromised by now.”

  “Rain actually worked in my favor, as a matter of fact.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I wasn’t looking for prints or blood. I wanted to see if anything was left behind. Mother Nature and some old-fashioned bloodhound work got me what I wanted.”

  “You found something?”

  Her gaze deliberately shifted to Russ’s empty neck before flicking back to meet his eyes once more. “A small piece of jewelry. The Reynolds family didn’t recognize it so I think it’s a sure bet it came off either our killer or our victim.”

  “You seem pretty sure about that.”

  “I am.”

  “You get it into evidence?”

  The question was casual and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she’d likely never have seen the calculation
that flashed deep in his eyes.

  “Yep. Followed protocol to the letter. Just like you taught me. Like you taught all of us.”

  “Good.” He nodded, whatever she’d seen in his gaze vanishing as if it had never been. “Very good.”

  “I’d better get going. It’s going to be a big day tomorrow.”

  “Why’s that?”

  The alarm bells that had rung since her conversation with Ricky silently blared in her ears, louder than a line of drummers as the opening she’d wanted fell right into her lap.

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “We caught another one. The murderer who’s taking out drug runners. He killed another one.”

  * * *

  Belle’s blood still pumped double-time as she made the last turn onto her street. Captain Grantham hadn’t said much more in their conversation, but she saw the obvious upset in his expression that he’d been left out of the loop on the case.

  Saw it even more clearly as he tried to tap dance over the fact that dispatch had never called him to the scene.

  Did Chief Corden know more than he’d let on? Agent Ross, too?

  They’d taken her into their confidence on their concerns over the killer, but they’d never called the captain to the crime scene? That was a serious breach in protocol and command, even if the Chief was on-site already. Did they have their suspicions, too? She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but every instinct she possessed kept pointing at Grantham. It pained her, but not as much as it pained her to leave a killer on the loose, ready and able to wreck more havoc.

  Her lights flashed over her driveway as she closed in on the house, a large truck filling the pavement.

  Tate’s truck.

  What was it still doing here? She’d given him the keys to lock up and had assumed he’d follow her wishes. Had he stayed? Or had something happened and he’d had one of his siblings pick him up after she’d left?

  She hit the button for her garage door and pulled up beside the truck, only to find Tate sitting in the driver’s seat. His expression was somber and despite their fight before she’d left for the crime scene, she couldn’t deny how good it was to see him. Or how her heart leaped in her chest at the sight of his solid strength and soft smile.

  He was here.

  In that moment, that was all that mattered.

  She eased into the garage, her focus on parking the car, even as she itched to throw off her seat belt and race for Tate.

  There was so much between them that still needed resolution, but all of it faded in the face of having him there. Of being able to take a few moments for herself, away from the pressure of the case and the confusion over Grantham and even the pain of their earlier fight.

  He was here.

  His car door slammed, echoing back to her from the driveway. Belle turned at the noise and the steady tread of footsteps. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “How long have you been sitting there?”

  He shrugged. “About a half hour. Figured you’d get home sooner or later.”

  “You had a key.”

  “Which you gave me to lock up. It seemed wrong to take it and let myself back in.”

  Belle considered him, standing there in the long-sleeved Henley she already knew would be soft to the touch and the hard set of his shoulders. She noticed the way his hands shoved into his pockets and his faded jeans hung low and hugged his hips. And she saw the need in his eyes and knew hers reflected the same.

  And in that moment, something inside of her melted. Many things, actually. Her anger. Her pride. Her resistance.

  In that moment, there was just the two of them and Belle knew she’d regret it the rest of her days if she didn’t take what she knew without question would be offered.

  “I’m really glad you came back.”

  “I’m really glad I came back, too.”

  Without checking the impulse or worrying about what the morning would bring, she raced into his arms.

  And reveled in the fact that they were already open when their bodies met.

  * * *

  Tate hadn’t understood what impulse had driven him back over to Belle’s, but now that she was in his arms, he finally understood what his soul had instinctively known. She needed him.

  And he needed her, too.

  The weight of her case. The discovery of the body on Reynolds land. And the implications of both on a man he deeply respected had taken their toll.

  He knew all of it, yet he fought to push it to the back of his mind as he focused on the woman in his arms. Her slim shoulders quivered under his hands as his mouth roamed over hers. Their mouths met, the kiss long and soulful and full of all the things he was unable to say.

  How much he wanted her. Needed her.

  And loved her.

  No matter how he sliced it or ignored it or disregarded the feelings, they were there. They’d always been there, long before he even knew how to put a name to it all.

  He loved her.

  With all that he was, he loved Belle Granger. Hadn’t he always?

  Unable to wait a moment longer, he walked her backward toward the door, never breaking the contact of their bodies. She reached for the door handle behind her back while he reached up and hit the button for the garage door, the heavy rumbling confirming he’d hit his mark.

  In moments, they’d moved through the small house. The interior might look different, updated in the latest fashion, but he’d remembered the layout from when they were kids, and he marched her on a path to her bedroom based on memory alone. They shed their clothes on the walk, finally tumbling onto her king-size bed, both laughing and naked.

  “A king?” he asked the question as he nibbled a path down over her neck, flicking his tongue against her collarbone.

  “I like space.”

  Tate lifted up on his elbows and gazed down at her. He couldn’t hold back the wolfish grin. “And I plan to put every square inch of it to good use.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  “You bet they are.”

  With that, he moved down her body, determined to make good on every one of them.

  The urgency that had gripped them that afternoon in her car was still there, but it had changed. Expanded, really. What had been a raging, out-of-control need was still...a raging, out-of-control need.

  But it was layered with something more. The quiet surety of what lived between them.

  Tate ran his tongue over her heated skin as his hands danced over her flesh. The scent he remembered so well—the hints of vanilla and sweet flowers—was complemented by the fresh traces of the outdoors that still lingered on her skin. It shouldn’t have been so natural—especially for all the reasons she’d spent her evening outside—yet it was.

  It was Belle.

  And when his focus shifted to the warmth between her thighs, that banked urgency rose up, spiking high as her moans grew more fervent. Tate fought to hold on to the moment—to keep the pleasure building—but he knew how badly he wanted her.

  Knew even more how desperately he needed her.

  He pressed his lips to hers, capturing her cries with his mouth, and knew the moment she came apart. Seeing her through her pleasure, he held her close, drawing out every last drop of her response with his touch.

  “Wow.” The hands that had clutched tight to his shoulders throughout her release slackened as a loopy smile covered her face. “That’s some welcome home.”

  Tate pressed a hard kiss to her lips, filled with pride at what they shared. At the pleasure he could pull from her. “I’m not done welcoming you yet.”

  “Perhaps we could share the load on that a bit more.” Temptress that she was, her hand snaked down between their bodies, capturing him firmly in hand. “I’d like to do a bit of welcoming myself.”


  “Far be it from me to argue.” The joy that lit up the bright blue of her eyes dimmed slightly but he saw it immediately. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  He reached between their bodies, taking her hand to rest it against his chest. “What is it?”

  “I know it’s been a while. And, well, I know we’ve been other places. But I’m on birth control. And I’d like things to be like they were before between us. No barriers.”

  His body was already in a state of razor’s edge arousal and her words nearly tumbled the last of his self-control. “You want that?”

  “I’m good. I don’t—” She broke off, a light blush washing over her cheeks. “I’ve spent more of the past few years taking care of things all by myself than with anyone else. And, well, I’m good. Healthy.”

  “I am, too.” He reached for her chin, tilting her head slightly so she had to meet his gaze. “And I haven’t been all that prolific either.”

  “You haven’t?”

  He hadn’t been celibate, but the past ten years had included more similarities to hers than he wanted to admit. His regular, healthy annual checkups had only reinforced that point. “I’ve dated a bit and I’ve had relationships. But no, I’ve not been running wild through south Texas.”

  “You haven’t?”

  He took a deep breath, hoping all he felt would actually come through. “None of them were you. They never were. After a while, it felt sort of pointless to try.”

  “Was Dove one of them?”

  It was the oddest moment to laugh but he found he couldn’t hold it back. “She got to you a few weeks ago, didn’t she?”

  “Am I a bad person if I say yes?” A small line squinched up between Belle’s eyes and Tate could only laugh harder.

  “No, you’re an honest person. And for the record, I think she was trying to get your goat that night over at Tabasco’s.”