Dead Man's Rules

by Rebecca Grace

  “I’m on my way to Taos.”

  She shot up on her lounger. “What? Why?”

  “You know my dad loved to paint. I’ve been thinking maybe someone there has seen him.”

  “When are you coming back? Do you have money? Where will you stay?”

  “Nena is making reservations and picking up the bill. She’ll wire money if I need it. Prima, I know what you’re thinking, but I gotta do this. Besides, you have Marco.”

  “Actually, Freeda, Alan may want me back.”

  “What?” A screech came across the line. “Not yet! We’re on vacation.”

  “You’re on vacation. I’m on suspension. If I come up with a story idea I might get back on the payroll. He’s letting me blog again. And there’s more. Audrey’s been talking to her network boss. I might get Gail’s job.”

  Freeda’s shriek almost made her drop the phone. “But we can’t go back yet. I just need a few more days. Come on…”

  Cere could read the sound of desperation and it touched her. “Okay, how about doing me a favor in Taos?”

  “Sure, babe, anything.”

  “This is serious, Freeda. Don’t blow it off or we will have to go home.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “I need a story, something with a star angle. If you come up with an idea, we could stay a few more days. I might even get Alan to send a video crew.”

  While Freeda wasn’t particularly trustworthy, she could be remarkably versatile when she wanted. This might also provide time to complete Marco’s story. If Alan didn’t want it, maybe the network chief might. Cold cases were a big thing on the network magazine programs and it would demonstrate she was more than a Hollywood reporter.

  “I don’t know, Cere, I’m gonna be busy…”

  “While you’re wandering around, ask about Hollywood stars, if anyone has a good story, you know what I’m looking for.”

  “Hey, that’s a good idea for cover. I’ll flash my press pass and tell them I’m working for Scope. Can I use your name and number?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, cuz. I’ll get back to you with the goods.”

  As she sank back onto her chaise lounge, Cere felt uneasy, like she was being watched. The back gate jiggled and she shot up as a pair of bright black eyes focused on her. At first she barely recognized him. Rafe had trimmed his hair to a short, fashionable length and shaved his beard. Without them, he looked younger—and even more handsome. Why hadn’t she noticed the lean, chiseled lines of his face before? The strong jaw? A jagged scar zigzagged down the edge of one cheek, keeping his face from perfection, but giving it a rugged appearance. An unsettling buzzing set her senses spinning, and warmth flooded her.

  “What are you up to, Tafoya?”

  He drew back, clearly defensive. His eyes darted away. “I’m looking for my daughter. She likes to play with Roxie.” His fingers tugged at his chin, the trademark of a man used to facial hair.

  “Roxie’s inside. I haven’t seen Ginny.”

  “I left her with a neighbor while I got a haircut, and she disappeared.”

  Cere felt warm under his gaze and she reached for a gauzy cover up. He turned away, face slightly red. Was he affected by the sight of her in a bikini? The idea sent another spark of awareness through her.

  He scanned the yard, eyes anywhere but on her. “Tell her to come home if you see her.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for her. She’s a sweet little girl. Must take after her mother.”

  Rafe shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Actually she does. I hope she grows up to be just like her. Her mother was a wonderful woman. Smart too.” His wistful voice touched Cere. Here was a man who still loved his dead wife.

  “I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot. Do you miss her?”

  “Naturally. So does Ginny. She needs a mother. Mom thinks I should remarry for that reason.”

  The thought startled her. “That’s crazy!”

  “Maybe. Hell, forget it. I have to find Ginny.” He flicked a hand as though swatting a fly, the macho man caught in a personal discussion that required a show of emotion.

  “I’ll watch for her.”

  The buzzing of the mower stopped, and stillness enveloped them. Cere waited for Rafe to leave, but he hesitated. Was he waiting for her to comment on his appearance? Why had he changed his looks? Could it have something to do with her? She thought about the electric sparks she felt when she was close to him.

  Rafe fought to slow his quickened breath. The sight of a partially-clad Cere stretched out on a chaise was not what he had expected when he let himself into Lottie’s backyard. Seeing her in a bikini started a racing in his blood. He fought the sensation plus the tightness in his jeans. The sheer force of his physical reaction stirred up disturbing fears of disloyalty to Carmen. It didn’t seem right to find another woman so desirable.

  He told himself she wasn’t the reason he chopped off the beard and hair. His mother had been hounding him for months to do it, but after seeing Cere that morning, something had just hit him to do it. During his lunch hour he’d gone for the works. Now he felt exposed. The beard and hair had been with him since Carmen died.

  Looking down, he noticed a leather book at her feet. “What are you reading?”

  Cere picked up a sheaf of pages. “Frank gave me some of Marco’s songs. Considering his background and that he didn’t graduate from high school, they’re actually impressive.”

  “Some of us homeboys are pretty smart. Even if we didn’t go to fancy schools or graduate from expensive universities.”

  “I’m not being patronizing. I think it proves my point that he was special.” She rose from the chair and moved toward him.

  Below the cover up, a thin layer of sweat welled in the golden valley between her breasts. Heat seized him. Then cold. He felt quivery all over. He dragged his gaze from the tempting sight.

  “Let me know if you see Ginny.”

  The sudden touch of her fingers on his bare arm was like a searing burn, but he savored it even as it scorched his senses.

  “Rafe, I am sorry for my stupid comment. Actually, I think you’re a pretty special guy.”

  His heart skipped as his breathing accelerated. Rafe wanted to lift the hand and hold it. Touch it to his lips. He wanted his fingers or lips to explore her velvety skin, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  He flashed a quick smile, purposely adopting a teasing demeanor. “You’re not so bad yourself, Medina. At least now I know there’s a woman in there.”

  Her breathing grew shallow and her parted lips tugged at him. Then she slapped his arm. “More woman than you can handle, Tafoya. I treat romance like I do reporting. If I go after a story or a man, I get the job done.”

  Her lips drew him. The temptation was too great. He leaned forward, and his lips brushed hers, a fleeting touch aimed at teasing her. Like a magnet her lips caught his, held them. A sudden surge of desire raced through him, stronger than he had felt in years. Then images of Carmen floated across his eyes and guilty pangs pulled him back.

  “Yep, I bet you do treat a man like a story. Use him until you’re finished and then move on to the next.” He touched her soft lips with a finger before jerking away and turning to the gate.

  Cere sank to the chaise, shaky fingers on her lips, knees weak. What a strange encounter. Her lower body tingled with desire. She wanted Rafe to kiss her, really kiss her.

  She’d seen fire in his dark eyes, and they warmed her skin more than the summer sun. She’d wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin, to feel his hard body against hers.

  Why had he pulled back after that brief touch? Thank goodness he had left—before he noticed her hard breathing or saw the hardness of her nipples. A few more minutes and she’d have thrown him to the ground and they would have been wrapped around each other’s naked bodies.

  No! She couldn’t get romantically entangled. Long distance relationships didn’t work, and she would not give up her dream of working at
the network for anyone.

  A sudden movement in the corner of the yard drew her attention. Ginny bolted from behind the house, a mischievous grin splattered across her face. “Hi.”

  Cere summoned a stern voice. “Your Dad is looking for you.”

  “I know,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  How long had Ginny been lurking? Had she seen them? She studied Ginny, recalling his comment that she needed a mother.

  In a pastel play set of shorts and T-shirt, with hair held in pigtails by pink and blue ribbons, she looked like a little girl who was loved and cared for down to the red, white and blue bandage on one knee.

  His parents said he gave up his career to get Ginny out of the city. Would he put his own happiness on the line and marry simply to give her a mother?

  “You shouldn’t hide from your dad.”

  “He was going to leave me with Aunt Lela. I’d rather be with Roxie and the bunnies.” She shrugged her thin shoulders, a wistful expression on her young face.

  A feeling of sympathy overwhelmed Cere. The girl appeared so small. It must be tough growing up without a mother. “Ginny, why don’t you make new friends?”

  Her innocent smile was disarming. “You’re my new friend.”

  “I meant kids.”

  Ginny’s shiny hair danced around her head as she shook one pigtail loose. “I don’t like the kids. My cousins are big and mean. They pushed me in the dirt last time I was there.”

  Cere recalled instances with older cousins who pushed her and Freeda around when they were little. Those experiences had bonded them. “Come here. Let me fix your hair.”

  She approached and Cere brushed through the strands with her fingers and pulled out one bow that was about to fall off. She started to re-braid her hair, but Ginny pulled away. “That hurts.”

  “I’m sorry. You had a tangle.”

  “My dad never hurts when he fixes my hair.”

  She chuckled. “Your dad is better at this. I’m not used to taking care of little girls.”

  Wide, searching eyes turned up to Cere. “Do you like my dad?”

  “He’s nice.”

  “My grandma asked him if he liked you.”

  Her heart did a wild flip flop. Was his mother playing matchmaker? “What did he say?”

  A thin shoulder lifted in a shrug. “He said you’re okay. Too obsessed with work.”

  Obsessed? Was that how he saw her? Her efforts to retie the ribbon failed and Ginny fidgeted until she gave up. How did Rafe manage?

  The gate jiggled, and Rafe came through. He ignored Cere, stern eyes on Ginny.

  “I knew I’d find you here. Didn’t you hear me calling? Come on, Munchkin, the lady has more important things to do than deal with missing children.” He patted Ginny’s shiny head gently.

  The small face jerked to Cere, her black eyes pleading. “Can’t I stay here? I’ll be good.”

  She felt her insides melt at the appeal. “Why don’t you let her stay? I’m not doing anything except sitting in the sun. She can play with Roxie and Mom will be back soon.”

  His dark eyes met hers, and a smile tugged at his lips. One eyelash fluttered like a raven’s wing. “I’m going to take you up on that just to keep you out of trouble. Why don’t you bring her to the Matador later and I’ll buy dinner. Call if she proves too much to handle.”

  Cere fought a sudden bout of giddiness as her bones turned liquid, threatening to deposit her on the grass in a puddle of sunscreen. Was he asking her out? Her nod was quick.

  Rafe leaned over and kissed Ginny’s head. “Behave, baby. Don’t get in trouble and do what she says.” His eyes flicked up at Cere. “I think this might be better for you than her.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Ginny played with Roxie while Cere read the smudged words of the songs. Damn ghost. She could feel his cold fingers reaching out to reclaim her interest. The man who wrote these words of peace was not the sort to despair and kill himself. He had no material goods, but did he care? He worked on ranches—what kind of a threat could he pose? Or maybe it was a charade. He preached peace while breaking into stores, taking his revenge, stealing money with the idea of moving on.

  She shivered as shadows began to cover the back yard. Ginny sat on a chair, skinny arm stretched out, and eyes blinking. Some babysitter. She hadn’t noticed the little girl was falling asleep. Cere carried her inside and put her on the sofa, covering her with a blanket.

  A sudden noise startled her and mail slid through the slot on the bottom of the front door. She walked over to pick it up. A medium sized manila envelope caught her eye. It was addressed to her. Who would send her mail? The postmark was Rio Rojo the previous day. The envelope rattled as she shook it. Cere slit it open and peered inside. A shiny gold circle was visible. She poured out the contents. The smashed face of her lost watch slid into her hand. A single piece of paper fluttered to the floor. She unfolded the note and gasped.

  Don’t let this happen to you.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cere fought to calm her nerves as she slid into the booth across from Rafe. She couldn’t keep from looking at his lips. Why hadn’t she noticed them before—nicely formed, pouty, kissable? She folded her arms to hide goose bumps. She had more important things to think about than kissing.

  She had pretended she wasn’t dressing special for him as she put on a denim skirt and a pair of her mother’s huaraches. The skirt was short enough to show off the newly acquired tan on her legs. A fitted sleeveless white cotton blouse also showed off her tan, as it nicely outlined her breasts. She chose the simple combination because she knew he wouldn’t look favorably on silk and spiky sandals. After taking time on her make-up and pinning up her hair, Cere decided she looked good.

  Would Rafe notice? Why did she care what he thought anyway? Was this a real date? Or just a payback for babysitting? Besides, she didn’t have time for frivolity. She had more serious things on her mind.

  Ginny settled onto the bench beside him. His big fingers began fixing her bows, which were falling again.

  “Did you behave?” he asked.

  Ginny’s young face was solemn as she nodded. “I fed the bunnies and Roxie, and Cere fixed me a peanut butter sandwich and an apple.”

  Cere shrugged at his questioning look. “After you called to say not to bring her until seven, I decided she needed to eat.”

  “Can I go play?” Ginny asked.

  “Sure. Grandma’s coming to get you in a few minutes.”

  Ginny slid off the bench and hopped over to the play area in the back of the restaurant. Cere glanced around, surprised at the thinning crowd.

  “Is it always this quiet? I’d have thought this place really got going once the sun went down.”

  “People eat early. It’s busiest at five. I’m sorry I’m late. That happens…”

  “You’re talking to a journalist, Tafoya.” She leaned across the table, speaking in a low voice so no one could hear. “Anything I need to know? Like about Diaz?”

  He grunted and leaned forward too, clasping his hands together. “There’s something there, but I can’t pin it down. He’s not working at Tres Padres. They’re contracting out their project to a Santa Fe company. I called them, but he’s not on their work rolls. It looks like that parcel of land may be privately owned through some deal that I haven’t been able to track down. All I know is the owner is from Dallas, and that’s where he’s from so maybe he works for them.”

  Before Cere could reply, Frank brought out an order for a customer and waved toward their booth.

  “Hey, Rafe, Cere, be with you in a minute.”

  “Take your time,” Rafe called back. “Just get Ginny a little cheeseburger to go.”

  “Actually I’m not very hungry,” Cere admitted. The thought of food, even one of Frank’s delicious bowls of chili, didn’t appeal to her.

  He seemed to sense her unease. “Something wrong?”

  Cere tugged at her lip, not certain how to tell him what had happened
.

  “Did you find something in the songs?”

  In reply she removed an envelope from her bag and poured the contents on the table. The broken crystal of her watch and its insides made a tinny sound as they rolled across the surface.

  “You found it?” Surprise turned to anger. “You didn’t take Ginny to the Palladium and then instruct her to tell me that story about the rabbits.”

  Cere licked her lips and swallowed hard, trying to get some saliva into her dry mouth. “It came in the mail.” She turned over the envelope and pointed at her name and address.

  “You’re thinking whoever locked you in the room sent it?”

  “It had to be. How else would they know it was mine?” Cere pulled out the note that accompanied the watch and handed it to him.

  Rafe read it over, handsome face tense and concerned. “Damn, this is getting crazy.”

  “It’s worse,” she admitted.

  “Huh?” A frown furrowed his brow, and Rafe glanced quickly around the room, as though afraid their words would be overheard.

  The time had come to be totally honest. “I told you about the message warning me not to look into the Marco case? The other day someone called the house and left another—that if I keep asking about Marco, I could end up like Naldo.”

  Trouble brewed in his dark eyes as he slid the contents back into the envelope. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about that call as soon as it happened? Or this? Maybe you should give up on the story.”

  “I knew that’s what you’d say. That’s why I kept quiet. Don’t you think this is further proof the deaths are related? Maybe that’s why they’re trying to stop me.”

  “Whoever sent this watch wants you to stop investigating. It could be the person who hid the box, but we don’t know that. Nor do we know it’s the same person who warned you off Marco or who shot Naldo. I can’t deal in supposition, Cere. I need facts.”

  “Why would two people do the same thing? Leave messages like that? I’ve been thinking. Maybe the money in that box was the stolen cash, Marco’s treasure.”

  “You’re not thinking of putting that theory into your story, are you?” His disgusted tone left no question of what he thought.