Cowboys Forgive (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 8)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  She stiffened. Now why would she do that? He pulled back slightly, only enough to look down at her through the shadows. The room was too dark to make out her features or expression, but he got the feeling she wasn’t her usual ready-and-willing self. They were like magnets when they came together and by now, she’d be ripping her sharp nails across his skin and begging him to take her fast and without mercy. He always obliged her.

  He blew out a long breath. Maybe she wanted to play the role of the innocent virgin tonight. Or maybe he’d come on too strong right off the bat, but she never complained before. “Are you playing hard to get?” No answer. “What’s wrong?” His body deflated…some.

  “If I was ‘Saucy’ I’d probably be into this.” The soft voice was tinged with a seductive accent and wasn’t high-pitched like Saucy’s southern twang. Every hair on his body stood at attention. Uh-oh.

  What the fuck? He used the fingers of his free hand to brush over her forehead, following the delicate line of a smooth cheek, her chin, up to eyes, but almost knocked off glasses.

  Since when did she wear glasses?

  Shit! He removed his hand from her breast, but not before he noticed how hard her nipple was.

  He wasn’t sure who he was groping, but it wasn’t his go-to beauty, Seneca. Rubbing his hand down the wall, he found the light switch and flipped it on. He met dark eyes, blinking wildly, framed in large, black glasses. He skimmed his gaze over her bewildered features. She had the palest complexion he’d ever seen. “You’re not Seneca,” he muttered.

  “No, I’m not.” One thin brow popped up as she fixed her crooked frames. “For a Jericho who prides himself on being a top notch private detective, I’m quite disappointed in your skills. Good thing I’m not a maniac wielding a weapon or you’d be a goner.”

  He swept his gaze lower between their bodies that were still pressed together. Her breasts were pushed up, spilling over the white lace of her bra exposed in the scooped neckline of the top, giving him a nice view of the ample, pale mounds. Her fingers rested lightly on his chest, right over the area of his heart that was trying to beat it’s way free. “The ‘no weapon’ is covered, but I’m not ruling out the ‘maniac’ part just yet. Who the hell are you?” Clearly, she was right about his lack of diligence. He’d been thinking with something other than his brain and a man knew that was always a big mistake. In his defense, no one ever came to visit him, especially here at Second Chances Ranch, unless they were invited. This lady wasn’t invited, at least not by him. Had she come to the ranch to see one of his brothers? Probably so. Penn was a bit envious.

  “Now since you see I’m not packing, please remove your,” she cleared her throat, “body from my person. I’m very flattered, really I am, but you’re not my type.”

  “You have the wrong house, lady,” he snorted.

  “Penn, right?”

  He hesitated. “Maybe.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “I’m Harley Tate.”

  His balls tightened. How had he not recognized her? With a growl, he stepped back, pushing a hand through his still-damp hair. “Why the hell are you here? And a bigger question, how the hell did you know which house is mine?” If she’d stopped at any of his brothers’ places, they would have sent her back where she came from, or at least warned Penn that she was in the vicinity.

  Her cool gaze strolled down his chest, his stomach, lingering for a long moment at his erection that didn’t get the message to back off. Her smile grew as she brought her eyes to his face. “Unless you’re showing off, which is a waste of time with me, why don’t you cover up and we’ll chat. Thinking is hard, literally, with that demanding all of the attention.” Her cheeks turned rosy.

  He took several steps and grabbed the first thing he came to, a throw from the couch. Wrapping it around his hips, he held the material in place with one hand. Her stare was now focused on his prosthetic leg as if she’d just realized it was fake. He gritted his teeth. After his accident, he’d gotten used to stares, random questions, and people walking on eggshells because they weren’t sure how to take the ‘new’ Penn. However, she didn’t show any sign of awkwardness—only awareness. He’d never much cared what people thought, but for some reason, he was glad she didn’t show disgust or uneasiness. And he didn’t like it that he appreciated it, not one bit. “Lady, I have an office. Make an appointment.” Best to end this as soon as possible.

  She pushed off the wall, cocked one hip in the skinny jeans, then crossed her arms over her waist, tapping the toe of her shoe on the floor in irritation. “That would have worked out just fine if you would have accepted any of my calls. I was tired of getting the run-around. Thankfully, your receptionist is tired of me calling too. She was kind enough to give me your address and describe your house, down to the old truck in the driveway and the red birdhouse hanging on the tree out front. Not that I wouldn’t have found it sooner or later, but sooner is better for my timeline. I’ve found that everyone knows you and your brothers around these parts. Available bachelors, rodeo stars, community heroes…” She rolled her eyes.

  “I’m no longer a rodeo star, so I don’t give impromptu autographs.” He narrowed his gaze.

  She laughed. “Whatever. I’m not here for your signature. That’s of no importance to me.”

  Did he detect a bit of sarcasm in her voice? He wasn’t sure because her dazzling eyes and grin drew him in. He could see how she must have manipulated poor Susie into spilling his address. And Harley was right, everyone knew everything around town so it would have been easy for her to find him. He pushed through his thoughts attempting to remember everything about her in his surveillance report. Two years ago, she’d opened a small book store on Main Street after moving here from South Carolina. She didn’t have many friends, kept to herself, and spent lots of time at her store reading—something he gathered during his week of observation. She cared for animals—she’d fed every stray one on the sidewalk in front of her store. She’d also given money to the homeless man who slept on a bench at the end of the street. It didn’t matter. She shouldn’t be here, at his house, interrupting his personal life. He made a mental note to fire Susie when he got into the office Monday. “I don’t handle business here.”

  “Oh, it looks like you do.” She dropped her gaze again to his semi-flaccid cock that tented the thin blanket. He should be as limp as a noodle. He couldn’t understand why his body was responding in such a way, yet he did have a sliver of a clue. For those few moments, he’d held the brunette against him, inhaling her scent, licking her plump lips, and he had been into it—really into the sensations rushing through his body. He subtly walked his gaze down the light blue blouse that hugged her breasts, to the dark, skinny jeans that displayed her voluptuous figure, to the tips of her bright red flip flops that exposed neon pink toenails. There was nothing about her that jumped out as seductive or sensual, including the wide framed glasses that screamed bookworm, so he wasn’t quite sure why his body disagreed and his erection was now back, full-blown and making his balls ache. Hell, in his defense, he’d been expecting to be deep inside of Seneca right now—the luscious, seductive Seneca that could suck a ping pong ball through a straw. He shivered.

  Shifting, he swiveled on his prosthetic leg, glad he managed it gracefully, and Harley was more openly staring. Although she still didn’t show any signs of repulsion, he’d learned long ago that most women were bothered about his disability, a term he used loosely, although many of them didn’t let on. He’d been asked once by a woman he just met, “Can you keep the leg on because I don’t think I can handle a stub.” Hell, he understood. It was human nature to be standoffish when someone was different—looked different. Curious if a man or woman could still function without a limb. Maybe even experiencing some relief that it wasn’t them in the same predicament. When he first lost his leg from the knee down, he’d been overwhelmed with all the changes to his body, what he’d have to overcome to walk again and to continue doing all the things he enjoyed. Thankfull
y, the state-of-the-art prosthetic gave him the maneuverability to work on the ranch and pretty much do everything he did before. Riding on the back of a bull wasn’t one of them. The insurance wouldn’t cover him and the circuit didn’t renew his contract.

  “Spit it out why you’ve come, and then I want you to leave. I’m expecting company as if you didn’t already know, lady,” he grumbled the words. Enough of the peep show at the leg.

  Some of the tightness in her expression relaxed, hesitating as if she needed to regroup her thoughts, or come up with a reason for him to listen. She bent down and picked up what she had dropped. An envelope. “This is all your fault.”

  He blinked. “Exactly what is all my fault?” He glanced at the clock. Seneca would be arriving soon. He wanted to get this over with and get this crazy lady out of his house.

  “You were hired to follow me and take pictures? I need to know exactly what he asked you to do and why.” Her expression became very serious. Her bottom lip quivered. Would she cry? Oh hell no.

  He stared for a long second and then chuckled. “Lady—”

  “Please stop calling me that! Harley will do just fine, thank you.” She lifted her chin slightly, and any signs of her being upset were gone, exchanged for one of bravery and strength.

  “Okay, Harley. I’m guessing you’re talking about Marshall Reed?” She narrowed her gaze. “You might not understand what the procedure is, but Reed hired me, SCS Agency to be exact, which means you’re not privy to why or what he asked me to do. Simple.”

  The area between her brows wrinkled. “If you tell me, I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

  Was she being serious? “I don’t care if you promise to glue your mouth shut, I won’t tell. It’s confidential information. Please don’t believe that just because Susie couldn’t stay quiet, that means we all have loose lips.” He stomped to the door, pulled it open and motioned for her to walk through. “Bye.”

  She hesitated, several expressions flitting across her face before she finally stepped up to him. “You need to hear me out.” She was petite, he guessed around five-two and weighing one-twenty soaking wet. Yet her tilted chin and pensive gaze warned him that she was a force to be reckoned with. Against better judgment, he found her courage admirable. Not many women would show up at his house and demand that he listen to her.

  “Make it quick.”

  “I know you must think I’m a mad woman showing up here like this—”

  “What would give me that impression?” He rolled his eyes.

  She swallowed. “But you don’t understand. There’s more to the story. By chance, did Marshall tell you that I broke up with him six months ago?”

  Penn squinted, but quickly gathered his reaction. No, Reed didn’t share that little tidbit. He’d made out that he and Harley were still a couple and he wanted to know if she was cheating. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  She held out the large, manila envelope. He stared at it for a long moment, then finally accepted it. There was nothing written on either side. “What’s this?”

  “I think it’s best that I let you look for yourself instead of telling you. Fact is in the proof.”

  He scrubbed his jaw as his gut tightened. He hated messy situations, especially when it involved a man and woman who ended a relationship on a sour note. Yet, did relationships ever end on a positive one? “I don’t have time for this.”

  “But you had time to take pictures of me for Marshall?” she snapped.

  “He hasn’t done anything wrong, sweetheart. Anyone has the right to hire a PI. Anyway, I’m guessing seeing you with another man is enough to convince him to move on.”

  Her frown deepened. “You’re still not understanding, Mr. Jericho. Marshall was a deceitful web that took me months to extract myself from. Unfortunately, not entirely yet. I realize he puts on a good front, manipulates people into believing he’s a good guy, but there’s a side to him, one that is dangerous, that not many see until they cross him.”

  “Did you cross him?”

  “Someone, everyone, eventually crosses Marshall. Too bad he doesn’t have a warning tattooed across his forehead.” She blew out a long breath. “There’s a reason why I got this.” She tapped her short, pink nail on the envelope flap. “Believe me, he’s a dangerous man.”

  “I’m not the person you should be talking to. If Reed is as dangerous as you say he is, then you should go to the poli—”

  She gave her head a quick shake, sending tendrils of hair smacking across her cheeks. “That shows how much you know him. He has friends at the police department. He’s made that clear.” The lines around her mouth deepened, looking stark against the otherwise flawless backdrop of her cheeks.

  “Harley, why come here?”

  “I guess I had hoped…” She brought her earnest gaze up to meet his, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as if she needed to find the strength to say the words. “Maybe you’d allow me to hire you too, and help me put a stop to Marshall’s clandestine efforts to harass me.”

  “He’s harassing you?”

  “Odd things have been happening. Let me hire you and you’ll see.”

  “I can’t do that.” He realized how thick his voice sounded.

  “You said yourself anyone can hire a PI.”

  He held her gaze and his stomach twisted. Her soft, concerned expression seeped into his bloodstream, making this difficult. He had an overwhelming feeling that he wouldn’t mind one bit ‘keeping an eye’ on her again. Pull yourself back, man. The golden rule of working in security was to never get emotionally involved, and especially never allow a woman to sway him with her looks, no matter how full her lips were, or convincing her eyes could be. “True, but this wouldn’t work.”

  “Why?”

  Because I might want to kiss you again. He was sinking fast. “It would be a conflict of interest. Reed has been a client of SCS since we opened.” Why did he suddenly feel like a jerk?

  “Are you Jericho’s so hard up that you have to do the work for a crook?”

  “You’re not convincing me,” he murmured.

  She nodded and he was surprised that the defiant expression fizzled. “That’s what I thought. If you get a chance, take a look. Find out for yourself what Marshall is like. Something you should have done before you snooped into my life for him.” She darted a glance at the envelope, then she left. He stood in the doorway watching her walk down the pebbled walkway, wanting to allow his gaze to devour her sweet bottom, but hadn’t he stooped low enough already? Why did he feel so damn guilty? He hadn’t done anything wrong. So why was he still unsure?

  The headlights feathered across the front of the house as she backed out and drove away. He slammed the door and looked down at the envelope. Reaching in, he pulled out a stack of photos. On top was one of the surveillance shots he’d taken of Harley in Raymond Patterson’s arms. Penn had researched and found that Patterson was an employee of Reed Oil Industries. After getting a few shots of them on the sidewalk embracing, and kissing each other inside of the bookstore, Penn had waited, but nothing else occurred between the two. At least not sexually. He’d added that in his report to Reed.

  Sliding the picture aside, he came to the next photo. What he saw made his temples ache and his throat tighten.

  Patterson’s head had a drawing of a knife sticking out of his head. And the next, had the same knife buried in Harley’s chest. Each picture was the same, except for the last. Their faces were cut out with the word ‘dead’ written across the top.

  Someone definitely wanted to scare Harley, but was it Reed? What would he have to gain? Would he risk the aftermath? He had a reputation to uphold.

  Dropping the stack of pictures onto the coffee table, they scattered and he stared. No doubt, only a man who didn’t have his head on straight would do such a thing, but Penn had learned long ago not to jump to conclusions. Not everything was as simple as it appeared.

  Why the hell didn’t Harley go to the police? Penn agreed there were
some corrupt men on the force, but there were damn good ones too. He knew because he had a few buddies that proved daily that they took pride in wearing a badge. He’d even lost some friends in the line of duty.

  Did Harley have something to hide?

  When he took the Reed/Tate case, he thought it’d be an open and closed one. Penn had been asked to meet Reed at his office, and he explained his suspicion and desire to find out who Harley was sleeping with. It had taken Penn a week of surveilling her before finally getting the shots of her with Patterson. Looking at the pictures, Penn couldn’t say that they proved that Harley and the man were romantically involved, but one could assume such a thing. Yet, if she and Reed had broken up, why did it matter?

  Hell, Penn knew a lot of men and women who couldn’t seem to let go of a failed relationship—couldn’t bear the thought of someone they loved being with another. A broken heart could be lethal, making people do crazy things.

  If he believed Harley, and she had broken up with Reed months ago, then why did the man lie to Penn? Well, that was obvious. SCS wouldn’t have taken the case if they’d known the true circumstances. He’d turned away many cases because exes just wanted to cause problems.

  Without a doubt, the surveillance photos belonged to Reed. That was a strike against the man. Who else would have the motive to doodle knives, cut out heads on photos, and then deliver them to an ex-girlfriend? Another strike. Again, things were never how they seemed. Penn knew Reed and he didn’t seem like the man to sink to elementary tactics. The man always had a different bombshell on his arm and seemed not to spend too much time sulking over a lost relationship.

  Although, Harley was different than the women Reed normally was interested in.