by Ann Charles
What the hell? He had déjà vu. On a visit to The Shaft back in September he’d made the mistake of asking Kate how life had been treating her. Dropping the other half of the peanut on the bar, he brushed his hand off on his jeans and then patted her on the back. When she pulled back, his shirt was damp from her tears.
She dabbed her eyes with a bar napkin. “Thanks for asking. I’m doing okay even though nobody believes the sky is falling.”
What did she mean the sky was falling? Was that code for something about Butch? Did it have to do with the baby? Something about Butch and the baby? Hadn’t Claire mentioned on the phone that …
It’s none of my business.
Concerned as he was, he needed to stay out of Claire’s sister’s troubles and focus on the Humdigger mine and any other problems his aunt had at the moment.
Kate smiled at him, but it looked too big, extra toothy. The sort of freakish sight he’d be wary of when visiting an insane asylum. “I’m sure glad you’re here now.” Her left eye twitched several times. “Claire isn’t speaking to me, and I really need you to talk sense into her about going with me to sneak into the Polar Bear’s den.” She shot a suspicious glance to the left and right at his grizzled companions, then moved in closer and spoke next to his ear. “I think we can flush him out before he comes for Ronnie.”
Stepping back, she pulled an order pad from her apron and left without another word.
Mac stared after her. Was Kate taking drugs?
Reeling from his Kate-encounter, Mac watched her across the room where she was taking orders at a table of gray-haired ladies. Open books covered their table, several others stacked two and three high in the center. Birders, he’d bet. He wondered if that flock was staying at the R.V. park. Ruby had mentioned that the place was beginning to fill up with some long-term winter visitors.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder.
He spun around and stared into a pair of brown eyes that he knew well from his fantasies and frustrations.
Claire.
A flame flickered to life inside him. God, he’d missed her cute nose, full lips, beautiful smile. His gaze traveled down over her faded green Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park T-shirt. He’d missed her other parts, too.
Then he jolted with the realization that Claire was there, standing right in front of him. Shit! He didn’t want her at The Shaft tonight, at least not until after he’d talked to Butch.
“Hey there, McStudly. What’ll you have first? A drink or a kiss?”
The old guy to Mac’s right leaned forward. “I’ll take a kiss, babe. Throw in some tongue action and I’ll even give ya a tip.”
Claire recoiled for a split second before covering it with a fake smile. “How about another drink instead?” She grabbed the guy’s nearly empty glass and topped it off, sliding it in front of him.
“Now where were we?” she asked Mac, leaning over the bar. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close. “Oh yeah, right here.”
Her lips were soft. She tasted sweet and salty, spiking his hunger for more. Now. Outside. In the dark. His hands all over her. He sank into her kiss, forgetting all about Butch and the Humdigger mine for several pulse pounding moments.
“You two need to get a room,” Ronnie’s voice interrupted his fantasy about dragging Claire to his pickup for some even heavier breathing.
“We have a room,” Claire said, winking at Mac after pulling away. “I just need Gary or Arlene to come back from their break and we’ll get to it.”
“What about Butch?” Ronnie asked.
“He’s not here.”
“Yes, he is. He came through the front door about ten minutes ago and headed toward his office while you were in the bathroom.”
“You have some kind of Butch radar now?” Claire asked.
“No, Katie does. Her forehead glows red like Rudolph’s nose whenever Butch is in the same room with her. On top of that, she gets all skittish and klutzy. The poor girl ran into that post back by the pool table because she was so busy watching Butch grab something behind the bar.”
That explained the mark Mac had noticed on Kate’s face.
Ronnie held up two empty glasses. “We need two more, bartender, only make mine a soda water.”
“Who’s your new friend?” Mac asked while Claire got her sister’s drinks. Then he remembered he was going to mind his own business.
“Mississippi.”
The guy’s dad must have been a fan of James Caan in El Dorado.
He decided to mess with her a little. Hell, he owed Ronnie for all of those mornings when she’d added fruity-tasting sweeteners to his normally black coffee, insisting he expand his “refreshment palette.” Grapefruit-flavored coffee was for the birds.
“Mississippi,” he said. “Is that with four S’s and two P’s?”
Ronnie thought on that for a breath. “How else would you spell it?”
“Like M-R-S period and Sippi.”
“Why would a man be named Mrs. Sippi?”
“Because Ms. Sippi doesn’t roll off the tongue as well.” He took a swallow of his beer, trying to keep from laughing at the perplexed expression wrinkling her forehead.
Then she reached out and knuckle-punched his shoulder. “Stop messing with me, Mac, or I’ll sic the FBI on you.”
Damn she had hard knuckles. Grinning, he rubbed his shoulder. “For what?”
“I’ll come up with something.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at her pool table buddy. “Mississippi works for the FBI. I have them in my pocket now.”
Mac stared at the tall, lean cowboy as he racked the balls for a fresh game of 8-ball. “He doesn’t look like he fits in pockets.”
“You’re right. Maybe I’m hiding in his.”
“You’re playing pool with the FBI? That must mean I somehow slipped into a parallel dimension on the way out of Tucson. What’s next? You staffing the jail for the Sheriff?”
She took the drinks Claire handed her. “Well, if I did take that job, I could help keep my two sisters from landing in the holding cell every week.” The glare that passed between Claire and Ronnie had guilt and threats threaded throughout it.
As Ronnie walked away, Mac focused on Claire, who was suddenly extra busy wiping down the bar.
“Claire?”
“I don’t know why she’d say something so wacky. She’s been under a lot of stress lately, acting paranoid. Just ask Kate.”
He wasn’t going to risk making Kate cry again. “Claire.”
“Fine! So I spent an hour in jail last night. It wasn’t my fault. Kate had ice cream cravings at midnight and ended up getting the cops called on her for prowling outside The Rowdy Coyote Motel.”
Mac scratched his jaw, trying to figure out how ice cream cravings landed them in front of The Rowdy Coyote. That motel was a mile or two from the only all-night grocery store in town. “And how did your pregnant sister prowling around a shady motel in Yuccaville end with you in jail, too?”
“Kate’s nuts.”
“So you said, repeatedly I might add, when you called me Halloween night from Deadwood’s police station.”
“Yeah, well it’s getting worse. Last night, when Deputy Dipshit checked her license and made the meathead mistake of commenting on the weight she has listed, she went off on him and his many, many shortfalls, which got him all jacked out of shape. When he said he was going to arrest her for assaulting an officer, I stole his handcuffs and threw them in the bushes.”
“Christ, Claire.” Mac had to laugh. It was that or hit his head on the post back by the pool tables, too. “Who sprung you this time?”
“The Sheriff. He brought Ronnie along to calm us down and Butch to haul us over to get Mabel. Kate’s just lucky nobody touched Gramps’s car while we were in the slammer. The Rowdy Coyote Motel isn’t in the best part of town, just around the corner from Meth Lane and Heroin Drive.”
“Did you manage to keep this incident from landing on your record, or do you and Kate have an up
coming date at the courthouse?”
“Grady let us off, but I don’t think he bought that we’d only stopped there to pay Arlene a visit. Especially with the stupid zip-it hand signals Ronnie was giving off to the side during his questioning.”
“Arlene lives at The Rowdy Coyote?”
“That’s what Kate told Deputy Dipshit last night.” Claire tossed the bar towel into the sink behind her. “So does the Polar Bear.”
He was about to ask who this Polar Bear was when Butch walked out through the door to the kitchen. He paused at the edge of the bar, his gaze searching the room until it landed on something that made his lips squeeze tight.
Mac followed Butch’s line of sight and saw Kate taking drink orders from a crowd of young ranchers who looked not quite old enough to grow mustaches, let alone drink. One of them was getting handsy with Kate. First he touched her arm, then placed his palm on her back, and then trailed his fingers up the side of her leg. Before he could get far, she smacked him on the top of the head with her order pad and grabbed his wrist, placing his hand firmly on the table.
Mac looked over at Butch in time to catch a flash of irritation slide across his face.
As Kate came toward them with her order pad in hand, Butch joined Claire behind the bar.
“Hey, Mac,” he said with his gaze still locked on Kate, tension in his voice. “You in town for a while?”
“Not long enough.” Mac turned to Claire with a wrinkled brow, wondering what was going on between Butch and Kate these days. Last he’d heard, Butch was wanting in on the baby’s future.
Claire shook her head and backed away.
Butch spoke over Mac’s shoulder. “Kate, did you check their IDs?”
“Of course.” She handed him a piece of paper, her forehead seeming redder than usual. “This isn’t my first rodeo, you know.”
After a glance down at the drink order, Butch hit her with a scowl. “Well, it sure looks like you have a table full of rodeo clowns over there. If you need me to take over, let me know.”
“And lose a good tip? I don’t think so.”
His eyes narrowed further. “Remind your young pals that I have a hands-off policy when it comes to my wait staff.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Mac frowned at both of them in turn. They had a whole big bar in which to fight. Couldn’t they move this somewhere other than over Mac’s shoulder?
“Damn it, Kate. I know you’re a Morgan sister, hell bent on tearing up this town and everything in it, but as long as you’re carrying my child, you need to let me help you.”
“At what price, Butch?” Kate huffed next to Mac’s ear. “First you spring on me that you’ve changed your mind about playing daddy, and now all of a sudden you want to act like my bodyguard and hide me away in your office.”
Wincing, Mac looked over at Claire.
She mouthed Run!
He grabbed his drink, hesitating. He hated to interrupt their tussle, but he didn’t want Butch to storm off without talking to him first. “Butch, I need to speak with you when you have a moment.”
At Butch’s nod, Mac waved Claire over to an open table. She grabbed a Corona and joined him, taking the seat next to him. Her hand found his thigh under the table, her lips grazed his neck. “I missed you.”
“Good. My diabolical plan is working.”
Her palm crept higher, fingernails scratching over his inseam. “What do you need to talk to Butch about?”
He shook his head. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
She laughed, her whole face lighting up. “Not when it comes to you.”
Damn, there was no way she’d let this go now that she’d sunk her teeth in. “I need Butch’s help getting up to Humdigger mine.”
She raised her brows. “Why Butch?”
“He’s neighbors with the owner of the property we need to cross in order to get up to the mine.”
Butch joined them at the table, yanking out a chair across from Mac. “Sorry about that deal with Kate,” he told both of them. He shoved his fingers through his blonde hair, blowing out a sigh. “She’s driving me nuts, bucking everything I say.”
“Morgan women can really mess with your head.”
“Hey!” Claire elbowed him.
He winked at her. “I meant it in a good way.”
She wrinkled her nose at him and then pointed at Butch. “Ronnie told me it’s your gene pool that opened the cage of mad monkeys in Kate’s head.”
“Yeah.” He sniffed. “Now you know why I’d decided not to have kids. After the stories I’d heard about my mom’s pregnancies and then witnessing my sister-in-law’s temporary insanity for nine months, I didn’t want to be responsible for sending another female over the edge.” He frowned over at where Kate was delivering a tray of drinks. “Especially one I like as much as your sister.”
Claire held up two fingers. “Jailed twice within a week.”
Butch laughed and then apologized. “You shouldn’t have taken the deputy’s handcuffs away. Grady told me the guy has a thing about polishing his weapons. He’s aiming for a promotion this year, trying to impress his moneybags father.” Butch’s eyes crinkled. “I wonder if he found his handcuffs after we left.”
“I threw them way farther into that patch of weeds than where he was looking.” Claire took a drink of Corona. “Maybe I’ll go look for them tomorrow.”
Mac shot her a warning look.
“So,” Butch leaned his elbows on the table, focusing on Mac. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to get to a piece of property that’s surrounded by your neighbor’s land.” Mac fiddled with his glass. “If memory serves me right, Dick Webber isn’t fond of trespassers.”
“Old man Webber has two loves—his collection of coprolites and his Remington 12-gauge pump-action shotgun. He won’t hesitate to use the latter to protect the former from anyone stepping foot on his land.”
“What about you?” Claire asked.
“What about me?”
“He lets you on his land, right? Didn’t you take Kate for a hike up to some ruins on his property?”
Butch’s gaze swung across the room to Kate again, his smile creasing his face. “She showed up in sandals and a sexy little skirt that day. I decided right then and there we’d be climbing the ladder up to the ruins.”
Claire laughed. “I always knew you were a scoundrel.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? One glance at your sister’s legs, and I was plotting ways to get a closer look at them.”
Mac stared at the curve of Claire’s neck, one of his many favorite spots. He could relate to Butch’s demise. The damned Morgan sisters were trouble that way.
“Can you sneak us past Mr. Webber and his 12-gauge?” Claire asked.
Whoa! Mac hit her with a narrowed glare. “You’re not going up to the mine with me, Claire. It’s too dangerous.”
“You think I can’t handle a few varmints in an old mine?”
“It’s not the varmints that concern me. There may be someone watching that mine.”
“Besides Mr. Webber?”
“Exactly.” Mac swirled his beer around in his glass. “Whoever sent Ruby that letter may be trying to lead her into a trap. I don’t want you up there. It’s too dangerous.” He looked at her, his eyes lowering. “And you’re too distracting.”
Butch chuckled.
“What if I promise to blend into the scenery?”
“Impossible, Slugger.” Mac looked across at Butch. “Do you think you can take a couple of hours off tomorrow and go with me to talk to Webber? Maybe get me clearance to go see my aunt’s mine if I promise to hand over any petrified gems I come across?”
“No can do. I need to run to Tucson in the morning and pick up a new fry station. Mine is on the fritz.”
Mac didn’t want to wait another day, but he didn’t want to end up full of shotgu
n holes either. “What about Saturday?”
Butch shook his head. “I have a shipment coming in from the auction last week. I need to be here.”
“Damn. I’d really like to get up there and take a look inside the mine.”
Butch sat back. “Do you know the coordinates?”
“I have the latitude and longitude from the claim paperwork. I plotted it out on a USGS quad map I have out in my truck.”
“How about we go tonight?” Butch offered.
Mac sat back. “Right now?”
“Why not? Dick should be in bed, but I’ll drive to be safe. He knows the sound of my truck.”
“In the dark?” Claire frowned from Mac to Butch.
“With the moonlight, all we need is that fancy GPS of Mac’s and a couple of flashlights,” Butch continued.
“Once we’re in the mine, it doesn’t matter if it’s day or night,” Mac told Claire, adding for Butch, “I have some high-powered flashlights.”
Claire finished off her Corona and set it down with a clunk. “I’m going with you.”
“I’d rather you wait here next to a phone, ready to call the Sheriff if Butch and I don’t come back.” After ending up trapped in a mine not so long ago, Mac liked to make sure someone back home was at the ready to call for help.
“We can tell Kate and Ronnie where we’re going. Let them take phone duty.”
“No, Claire.”
“Damn it, Mac. Quit treating me like a girl.”
“You are a girl.”
“I’ll let you two hash this out on your own,” Butch said, pushing back his chair. “I’ll grab my stuff and let Gary know we’re heading out for a bit.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Mac told him.
“We’ll meet you outside,” Claire said, standing as Butch headed toward his office.
Mac rose, locking onto her arm. “You’re not going.”
“Wasn’t it you who told me we’re a team?”
“That was different. I was talking about financially.”
“Oh,” she huffed, “so we’re only a team when you decide. Silly me, I thought we were partners on all playing fields.”
He grimaced. “Listen, Slugger, I don’t know what’s going to happen up there. You could get hurt.”