by Ann Charles
Downtown Yuccaville was a busy little beehive this Monday mid-morning. With people buzzing here and there, Ronnie wanted to get the hell out of town. It was too hard to spot any potential gun-toting strangers when this many probable gun-toting locals were filling the sidewalks and alleyways. Had Wyatt Earp felt this bug-eyed when he’d walked the streets of Tombstone with his brothers? Maybe she needed to hire a modern day Doc Holliday to be her sidekick.
Claire adjusted the seatbelt, loosening it across her purple Deadwood Rocks! T-shirt. “I’m not getting a speeding ticket just because you’re having one of your fits of paranoia.”
Ronnie stared down a couple of long-legged cowboys leaning against the side of a dusty white pickup. One of them tipped his hat at her as they rolled past. He looked familiar, but then again while helping out at The Shaft over the last month, she’d seen more cowboys than she could count.
She turned back to her sister. “Call me paranoid again and I’m going to have Henry lick your face while you’re sleeping.”
Claire shuddered. “Don’t you dare! That dog licks his balls on a daily basis.” She frowned across Mabel’s leather bench seat at Ronnie. “What’s up with you this morning? You’ve been acting all skittish and freaky-eyed since you came out of the library.”
“Something feels weird here today.”
“Have you considered that maybe you’re the one feeling weird today?”
Ronnie saw a black Hummer parked a block ahead with tinted windows and shiny rims. She slid lower in her seat. “Listen, dear sister of mine, you’re supposed to be helping me keep an eye out for thugs and instead you’re spending all of your time pointing out my faults.”
“As your loving sister,” Claire started.
“Loving?” Ronnie let out a bark of laughter.
Claire continued, speaking over Ronnie’s sarcastic laughs. “It’s my job to be honest with you. So here’s a hard truth you need to swallow: You have not only moved into paranoia-ville, you’re running for mayor now.”
“It takes a paranoid nut to know one.”
“Oh, so I’m paranoid, too?”
“Yeah. Look at how obsessed you were about someone coming for that antique gold watch before we got rid of it.” Ronnie tried to see through the tinted window of the Hummer as they cruised by but had no luck.
“Obsession and paranoia are two different monsters.”
“Whatever, Miss Denial, but I’m not paranoid.” Ronnie had thought about her actions a lot last week when her sisters were up in South Dakota. She’d lain in bed alone in that dark Winnebago night after night, listening for the sound of footsteps outside of the bedroom window. Many times throughout the long early morning hours, she’d wondered if she’d see the morning sunlight again, hating the way her heart rattled at the smallest sound. “I’m merely suffering from an overly heightened state of awareness.”
“You’re like those munchkins in Oz, always freaked out about the potential for blue monkeys in their little Shriners caps to come flying in and drag you off.”
“You can point fingers and call names all you want, but I bet you’d be singing a different tune if you had goons coming to torture you for money you don’t have.”
“Maybe.” Claire started picking up speed as they reached Yuccaville’s city limits. “But after being obsessed, as you called it, about that gold watch and all of the other shit probably stashed around the R.V. park thanks to Joe and his criminal past—may he not be resting in peace—I’ve come to a decision.”
Ruby’s previous husband, Joe, had been a real piece of work, no better than Ronnie’s ex. Both men had brought a potential shit storm down on their wives’ heads after they were safely tucked away—Joe in the ground and Lyle behind bars.
When Claire didn’t continue, Ronnie glanced her way. “Well, don’t keep me on pins and needles over here. What’s your big decision?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you really suck at sarcasm? Don’t quit your night job.”
Ronnie sighed. “Sorry. I’ll behave.”
“I don’t think that’s possible for you these days.” Claire softened her jab with a smile.
“Probably not. So what’s your decision?”
“That it’s better to play offense than defense day in and day out.”
Ronnie slid back up her seat again now that the traffic had cleared and greasewood bushes were the only things lying in wait alongside the road. “Does that mean you’re going to seek out potential criminals by placing ‘Lost and Found Treasure’ announcements on light poles?”
“I’m still working out the details, big mouth. But I recommend you follow my lead and switch to offense soon before you start wearing a tinfoil hat and camouflage overalls.”
Maybe Claire was on to something with this line of thinking. Ronnie stared out the car window, the desert blurring as her focus shifted inward.
Damn her ex and his cocaine lifestyle. It was bad enough that he’d been laundering money for ruthless kingpins from Chicago to New York and Miami to Dallas, but why did he have to cross the addict line and snort up all his common sense along with the nose candy? If she made it out of this raw deal alive, she was going to pay Lyle a visit in prison and jam something else up his nose. Maybe that creepy four-inch centipede she’d seen in the campground laundry room last week.
It was his last phone call full of warnings and worries for her safety that had spurred Ronnie to get out of South Dakota; she’d come down to southeastern Arizona where she could live close to the Mexican border in case fleeing into anonymity became a necessity. Too bad her ex hadn’t been as concerned for her welfare during their so-called “marriage” when he had been screwing every other blonde he came across and living high on gutter glitter.
Claire and Katie had talked her into staying in spite of Lyle warning her of impending doom at the hands of those he’d robbed. While she enjoyed being here with her family, she worried night and day about their safety and the risk of taking her in right now. If something happened to one of them because of this mess, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
It was this fear for her family that had upped her level of paranoia lately and had her courting options she hadn’t considered in the past, options having to do with men and women who carried badges for a living. The same men and women who’d done their damnedest to destroy her pride while smashing apart her previous life in pursuit of the criminals Lyle had called “associates.” The same badge-carrying bastards who were hanging around Jackrabbit Junction and using her for bait these days, dangling her out on the line while waiting for the sharks to start biting.
Ronnie was getting damned tired of dangling down here in Arizona. Claire was right. It was time to start …
“Shit.” Claire interrupted Ronnie’s ruminations. “Looks like Sheriff Harrison is up and at ‘em early today. You think he’s running radar?”
Ronnie looked out the windshield. Up ahead parked next to a dilapidated gas station sat a Cholla County Sheriff’s Bronco.
Speaking of badge carrying law dogs, Ronnie had a bone to pick with Sheriff Hardass.
Claire lifted her foot off the gas pedal though she was barely doing the speed limit.
“Why are you slowing down?” Ronnie asked.
“To be safe. I don’t feel like getting pulled over this morning.”
Ronnie peered at the Sheriff through his open driver’s side window as they rolled closer. He had his cowboy hat on, his tanned forearm resting on the windowsill. Her heart sped up at the mere sight of his profile, damn it.
Why hadn’t he stopped by last night after closing like he’d said he would? Had he been out on a call, or did this have to do with her theory about the Sheriff of Cholla County being too good to be seen in public with a member of the Morgan sister clan?
There was no time like the present to ask.
“Slow down some more, Claire.”
“Why?” Claire took her foot off the gas.
“Let’s see if he’s paying att
ention.” Ronnie rolled down her window as they drew near the Sheriff’s Bronco. She grabbed Claire’s empty soda cup from the floor. “Hit the horn.”
“I will not!”
Ronnie reached across and honked the horn long and loud before Claire shoved her hand away. When they rolled in front of the Bronco, she leaned halfway out her window and dropped the cup onto the road.
“What the hell are you doing?” Claire clamped onto the waistband of Ronnie’s jeans and yanked her back inside. “You can’t litter right in front of him, you doofus. He’s gonna pull us over. It’s his duty.”
“I know.” Ronnie sat back with a grin and waited for the sound of his siren.
Seconds later, the sound of his siren came through the open window, followed by Claire’s cursing as she pulled to the side of the road.
“You better fix this, Ronnie, or I’m going to catch that nasty centipede in the laundry room that you keep whining about and put him in your sheets.”
“Oh, I’m gonna fix him all right.” Ronnie heard a door slam behind them and straightened the wrinkles out of her jersey T-shirt, tugging the neckline down enough to show a hint of cleavage. She brushed nonexistent crumbs off her worn blue jeans. “Trust me, you won’t get a ticket.”
Sheriff Harrison approached Ronnie’s open window instead of Claire’s and leaned down. He pulled off his aviator sunglasses. His whiskey colored eyes raked down over her before returning to her face. The unconcealed attraction staring back at her got her engine revving.
Ever since the first time he’d pulled her over, he’d had a way of seeing past her subterfuge of bravery and cockiness and locking in on the angry yet scared woman inside. That always-vigilant gaze of his also made her want to tear his clothes off and have her wicked way with him—with or without his handcuffs.
“Step out of the car, Ms. Morgan,” he said in that deep, deep voice of his that almost always gave her goosebumps, especially when it was gravelly with lust for her.
“Why, Sheriff Harrison, whatever for?”
“Out,” he growled more than spoke, opening her door.
“I’ll be back in a few,” Ronnie told Claire and then climbed out of the car, strategically brushing past the Sheriff so that her knuckles glanced over his belt area.
He caught her arm in a solid but painless grip and hauled her back toward his Bronco. He opened both doors on the passenger side of the vehicle and moved her between them so most of her from the knees up was shielded from view.
She crossed her arms over her chest, meeting his glare head on. “You didn’t show up last night.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Did you miss me?”
“No,” she lied.
One black eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I saw Claire through The Shaft’s windows when I cruised the lot after closing.”
“We sent Kate home early. Claire stayed to help me clean up.”
He stepped closer to her, the smell of his bay rum cologne making her libido run rampant. “You should have sent her home, too.”
“Why’s that, Sheriff Hardass?”
He grabbed onto both doors, pulling a Red-Rover-like move to fence her in. “I believe it’s time for another handcuffing, Ms. Morgan.”
She scratched a fingernail up his shirt alongside the buttons, from his belt buckle to his open collar. “Maybe it’s time for me to handcuff you, Grady.” She covered his shiny Sheriff’s star with her hand, the metal cool on her palm while his skin under his tan shirt heated her fingers. “Although with my being a notorious Morgan sister and all, maybe you’re afraid of my riding roughshod all over you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Fear is the last thing I’m feeling when it comes to you riding roughshod all over me.”
“You talk tough, Sheriff, but I’ve seen you without your shiny badge and big ol’ hat. Frankly, I’m not so sure of your ability to follow through.”
His hand covered hers where it still hid that damned star. “God, you have a sassy tongue on you, woman.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
He lifted her hand to his mouth, running his lips over her knuckles, lighting her up even more. “Trust me, I have all sorts of ideas.”
So did she, and most of them had to do with Grady and a future she couldn’t have because of who she was now.
“Well, see, Sheriff, it’s that trusting part that gives me pause.” She pulled free of his electric touch before it zapped her brain again. “And you, too, based on your actions lately.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You figure it out, law dog.” She held her hands out, wrists together. “Now, are you going to handcuff me for littering or what?”
He grabbed her and whipped her around so she faced the Bronco. Holding her hands up so her palms were flattened against the edge of the roof, he came up behind her, his breath warm on her neck below her ponytail. “Don’t tempt me.”
She peeked over her shoulder at him. “But, Sheriff, that’s what I do best.”
His body pressed against hers as he pretended to frisk her, his fingers finding far more than weapons. “Tonight, Veronica.” His lips brushed down the side of her neck. Chills spread up her spine. “In the dark behind The Shaft. Alone.”
She trembled with aches only he could appease. In the short time she’d known Grady, he’d aroused a carnal side she hadn’t known existed when she’d been married to her ex-husband. Now she couldn’t get enough. There was no satiation when it came to Grady, just a continual hunger for more of him that ate at her night after night.
“I’ll have to take a look at my schedule.” She kept her voice smooth in spite of his heated touch. “I’ll see if I can fit you in.”
He stepped back, turning her around. “Make time.”
She loved it when he got all caveman on her, but she was getting tired of being hidden away from his public life. She understood that his position was an elected one and how important public opinion could be, but her pride was beginning to sit up and take offense at being his secret lust.
“Maybe I will.” She led the way back to Gramps’s car, which sat idling as Claire fiddled with the radio. “Maybe I won’t.” She slipped back inside.
He shut the door and leaned down into the open window. “Claire, you need to turn around and make your sister pick up that litter.”
“Will do, Sheriff.” Claire shot Ronnie a narrowed glance. “Won’t we, Ronnie?”
“Of course. That was purely an accident, Sheriff.”
He stared at Ronnie for an extra few seconds before pushing upright. “You girls take it easy now,” his deep voice came through the window along with a sun-warmed breeze. “Don’t be speeding.”
Claire leaned down to peer out at him. “I wouldn’t take the risk in this car, Sheriff.”
“Quit being such a kiss ass,” Ronnie said to her sister as the Sheriff strode back to his Bronco.
“I was wrong. You’re not paranoid, you’re just plain psycho.” Claire shifted into gear and did a U-turn, easing to a stop opposite the soda cup. “Go get it, litterbug.”
Ronnie took her time retrieving the cup. The road was empty except for a passing eighteen wheeler. The rig driver honked when she waved.
Grady followed the semi-truck, both heading toward Yuccaville. He stared out the window as he passed by, his aviator sunglasses back in place.
She flipped off his taillights. Stupid badge. She liked him a lot better when he shed his pointy star and righteous ideals along with his pants and inhibitions.
When she climbed back in, Claire shook her head at her.
“What?” Ronnie set the cup down by her feet. “Let’s roll.”
“Why can’t you two just have a normal relationship like the rest of us?”
“It’s not my fault. He’s the one who’s ashamed to be seen with me in public.”
“Ashamed? Why would you think that?”
“He only touches me when he thinks nobody else is looking.”
>
“Maybe that’s part of the fun for him.”
Could be. “Is it too much to ask me out to dinner like a regular guy would?”
“Your ex used to take you out to dinner and look how that ended up.”
“Yeah, but he was a lying piece of shit.” Grady was as honest as they came, sometimes too honest for her own good.
“I’m sure the Sheriff has a respectable reason for taking this relationship with you nice and slow.”
Ronnie thought of what Grady’s aunt had told her about his ex-wife and how the bitch had put him through hell. How she’d lied about the baby from another man until it was born and Grady’s insurance had paid the bills. Then she’d up and skipped town with her lover and their child, leaving Grady alone to face the music. He probably didn’t relish another public humiliation fest on his behalf.
“Maybe he does, but I’m not accustomed to back alley screw jobs.”
“True, you’re used to being fucked over with watered-down champagne and fake jewelry.”
“Kiss my ass,” Ronnie snapped back.
“Sorry, I’m just being honest again.”
“I’m not sure I’m hip to this newfound honesty policy of yours. A straight up lie is fine with me.”
“Bullshit.”
Ronnie stared out the windshield at the black ribbon of open road melting into the wavy horizon. “You’re right.” Lies would only steer her down the wrong path again, back to a valley of make-believe happiness.
“About not lying?”
“About Grady and Lyle, and my past.”
Claire was also spot on about playing offense instead of defense. It was time to stop living in fear and take the bull by the horns.
“I like the sound of it when you tell me I’m right,” Claire grinned over at her.
“Don’t get used to it.”
“And while we’re being so honest, I have to tell you something else.”
“If this is about Mac and you having problems, you don’t have to tell me. I already know.”