Pretty Reckless (Entangled Ignite)

by Jodi Linton

  “Yeah,” I shouted, dashing into my bedroom and locking the door.

  I gave my teeth a good, minty, fresh scrub, then sent a shot of my breath into my hand and took a sniff, pretty sure that the morning breath was gone. After that, I threw on a pair of jeans, a black tank, and slid my feet into my boots. When I came downstairs, Gunner was leaning against the fireplace mantle. He turned as I entered the room.

  “Nice top.” His smile turned lustful. “Hugs in all the right places.”

  I tugged at the neckline of my top. “You have to stop saying things like that to me.”

  “Whatever.” He cocked his head. “But that top still gets my approval.” Grinning, he approached me. “You ready?” he asked not so casually dropping his eyes at my tits.

  I rolled my eyes and shrugged away from him while inside, my heart raced. Damn it, just like always, I wanted him. “Just let me get my gun.”

  I disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Gunner to his own devices. My Glock was inside the kitchen drawer. I checked the safety then wedged it into the holster at the back of my jeans and returned to the living room. Gunner was bent over, scratching Hank’s belly.

  “I think he missed me.”

  “You wish.” I patted my legs for Hank to come to me. The dumb dog just sat there panting, his tongue wagging out of his mouth. Slobber dribbled down his chin and fell onto the floor. Gunner looked up, nodding in an ‘I told you so’ sort of way. “Hank’s tired.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” Gunner stroked his belly harder. “You missed me, didn’t you boy?”

  Hank’s tail beat against the wood floors.

  “Stop that,” I demanded.

  Hank jolted up and turned to look at Gunner before wobbling out the back door. The damned man followed.

  I locked up the house and went outside to find him standing next to the Yukon with the passenger door open, waiting for me. I hesitated at the steps, not sure of how good of an idea it was to be cruising around old dirt roads with Gunner Wilson.

  “I’ll take my car,” I said, walking across the lawn.

  “Oh come on, Laney.”

  “What? You might need to go somewhere.”

  “And where would that be?” he asked, slamming the door.

  “Beats me.” I waved him off, opening the cruiser’s door and taking a seat.

  Clearly irritated, Gunner climbed into his Yukon and pulled out first. Though I truly might need my cruiser today, I also needed space between us right now. With Nathan gone and me being alone in the house, I was vulnerable to his charms, and I knew it. I was also nervous enough having to have a sit down with Luke Wagner without adding proximity to Gunner into the mix. I prayed Luke’s father would be away on business. I had a sinking feeling Mitch might know that I’d spent one very lonely night with his son once upon a time and say something that would cause even more of a shit storm than the one we were currently in. Though we had slept together—as in sleeping in the same bed—nothing in particular had passed between Luke and me that night that I could remember, but Pistol Rock couldn’t be bothered with the facts even if they listened to them, and Mitch had ears all over town. The last thing I needed was for Gunner to find out about that and do…well, I wasn’t sure what, but it wouldn’t be useful.

  It took us twenty minutes to reach the edge of Four Spurs Ranch. Gunner pulled past the gate and down the paved driveway shaded by giant oak trees lining both sides. I followed and parked next to his Yukon, then stepped out into the relentless sunshine.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked, stifling our usual swift exchange of words.

  I winked and strolled up next to him. “I’m always ready.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Shut up,” I fired back and walked up the wide porch steps.

  The front doors of the limestone and granite mansion shot open. A plump woman dressed in white, cotton servant dress stepped out and gestured us into the house. “Mr. Wagner is waiting for ya’ll in the study.”

  We followed her past a living room decked in marble from floor to ceiling. There were bear skins rugs thrown about the floor, huge, black leather sofas, and crystal wherever Mitch felt he could squeeze it in. Down a narrow hallway lined with hunting trophies, she pushed open two, eight-foot oak doors.

  The study walls were lined with forest green duck-hunting wallpaper. Two double barrel shotguns hung on the far, left wall and a huge bay window looked out onto Four Spurs Ranch. A pine, finished bookcase lined the entire length of the wall to my right.

  An oversized, black leather chair swiveled around to reveal Mitch Wagner. He wore a starched white, pearl snap shirt; a sterling silver bolo tie hung around his wrinkled neck. He tipped back his cream cowboy hat and took in slow puffs of a giant cigar squeezed between his long fingers. I stiffened as he scrutinized me with his coal black eyes.

  “Why, Laney Briggs,” he said curtly. “Your mother know you’re here?” He puffed out a ring of smoke.

  I gulped uneasily. “I’m here for work,” I managed.

  Gunner stepped up and placed a hand on my shoulder. “We need to speak with Luke.”

  Mitch laughed, sending a chill down my spine. Ever since I was a child, I’d heard horror stories about how he would slit a man’s throat before giving away a dime of his own money. Most of the stories were told by my father, but I’d listened like he was reading me the gospel.

  “Gunner Wilson.” Mitch dropped his cigar in the brass ash tray on his desk. “I heard you fled to Houston on account of Laney here.”

  Gunner ignored the comment coolly. “Came back to deal with a case. That being so, Luke and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

  Mitch wheeled his black chair back, pressed his hands down on top of the desk, and stood and stomped around to the front, digging his heels into the carpet with each step. Smoke poured out of his nostrils as he leaned his butt on top of the glass top.

  “He’s out back.” He gestured out the window, his eyes on me. “I know how much my son enjoys spending time with you, Laney.”

  My mouth gapped open. I quickly looked over at Gunner. His eyes were blazing.

  “Gemma, will you kindly escort our guests out back?” Mitch ordered, waving toward the big, double oak doors.

  Gunner had already turned and was pulling me with him when I felt a calloused hand wrap around my free wrist.

  “Tell your mother hello for me,” Mitch said.

  I frowned at the old bastard, not the least bit amused.

  Gemma led us through a maze of hallways out to the back patio. She stopped in front of a glass, sliding door. “Mr. Wagner is waiting for y’all out here,” she said softly and slid open the door.

  “Mr. Wagner,” Gunner snarled under his breath.

  My cheeks heated, but I said nothing.

  Outside, the bright sun blinded my eyes for a second before I caught sight of Luke. His bare, tan back was toward us. A pair of old Levi’s fit snugly around his trim waist. He turned around, grinning when he saw me. Eyes on me all the while, he slowly and deliberately wiped the sweat from his powerful chest and chiseled abs with a white T-shirt. I gulped nervously, feeling heat stain my cheeks. Luke winked at me and tossed the dirty T-shirt aside. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he loved my response to it.

  Still watching me, he grabbed a clean T-shirt from the porch railing, slid it over his head, and pulled a pair of aviator sunglasses from his jeans pocket.

  “Laney, you look like you could use a glass of cold water,” he said and slipped the sunglasses on.

  “I’m fine,” I snapped and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  Luke cocked his head. “Just a suggestion, cutie.”

  He pulled out a metal chair for me, and I sat down. Gunner was still hugging my side, not the least bit amused by him. He jerked out a chair and scooted it right next to me, taking a seat and making an obvious point to place a hand on my leg.

  Luke laughed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the
two of you were engaged.”

  I swatted Gunner’s hand away. “Then you should probably do less thinking.”

  Grinning, Luke tipped his sunglasses down his nose. “Alright, cutie,” he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that Gunner here is known to get what he wants…or deserves.” He cut his gaze toward Gunner. “Ain’t that right, big guy?”

  I heard Gunner grit his teeth. His fists were firmly balled in his lap, and I knew he really wanted to clock Luke, but, to his credit, he said nothing.

  “So where’s the fiancé? He didn’t bail, did he?” Luke asked.

  “No. Nathan’s in Houston at a veterinarian conference,” I said with as much composure as I could muster.

  “So I guess he didn’t take the money this time?”

  “You didn’t,” I shouted.

  “Oh Laney, you give me too much credit.” He winked, then slumped back in his chair, smirking.

  “What money?” Gunner asked harshly.

  “Nothing.” I glared at Luke. Over the last three years, he’d periodically offered Nathan money to dump me. I’d been under the assumption he’d stopped. I should’ve known better.

  “You’d tell me if there was something going on here, right?” Gunner asked annoyed.

  I smiled, trying to lighting up the mood at the table. “No, since it’s none of your damn business,” I replied.

  Nodding acceptance, but not happy about it, Gunner tipped his hat back and propped his boots up on the edge of the wire picnic table. “Laney tells me you and Bosley had a confrontation the other day,” he told Luke.

  Smirking, Luke tilted his hat to shade his face. “I don’t know if you could exactly call it that. The old bastard shot at me with his god damn shotgun again.” He stretched his arms over his head and popped a couple of knuckles. “You know how that goes.”

  Gunner and I both ignored him this time.

  “So do you mind telling me what happened before Laney here showed up?” Gunner asked, sticking to the point.

  Luke rolled his eyes, stopping them on my chest. Annoyed by his constant childish efforts to bait Gunner, I said, “Just spit it out, Luke, before I take you in for obstruction of justice.”

  Luke drummed his fingers along his legs, cocked the toothpick out of his mouth with his tongue, and huffed. “Ah, hell, since y’all made the effort to come out this way…” He tipped the toothpick to the edge of his tongue, sat up, and rested his elbows on the table. “I was minding my own business when I heard Bosley outside the house here yelling for me. The old coot was ranting and raving about how half his cattle was dead, and he wanted the son of a bitch who did it.”

  He paused and pried the toothpick from his mouth, flicking it on the ground. “From his tone, I suspected he figured it was me. It wasn’t like I was going to let the old bastard accuse me of something I didn’t do. So I moseyed myself on over to his ranch. I pulled up his driveway, but before I could get a single word in, the son of a bitch shot at me.” Luke pulled off his white cowboy hat and ruffled his hair before returning it to his head. “I did what anybody would do. I shot back at the bastard.” He looked my way. “That’s when Laney here came out and found the dead body.”

  My bullshit detector was shooting off all kinds of red flags.

  “Why didn’t you just confront him when he was here instead of going all the way out to his place if you know nothing about the poison parsley?” I asked.

  Luke laughed instead of answering and kicked his legs down from the table. “Seriously, Laney, you believe I had something to do with killing that old fart’s cattle? I mean, if I wanted to, I could have found a much better way to stick Bosley where it hurts.”

  “You never know,” I snapped, “the Wagner’s are known to have a few tricks up their sleeves.”

  He snorted. “I suspected some accusation like that from Gunner, but not you, Laney. I thought you knew me better than that.”

  That garnered me a look from Gunner. He narrowed his eyes and rose. “Sorry for our little intrusion. Give my regards to your father.”

  He glanced at me, and I stood, too, nodding at Luke.

  “I’ll do that,” Luke said, smirking. “And next time you need to talk, feel obliged to contact my lawyer.”

  Gunner nodded, adjusting his hat. “Have a nice day, Luke.”

  Together, he and I turned and started to walk toward our cars when Luke hollered, “Hey, I almost forgot to give these to you.” He ran over and placed a pair of tickets in my hand, sweeping his fingers slowly against my palm as he closed my fingers around them. “For you and Nathan for the Cattleman’s Ball this Saturday. Hope you’ll come, Laney. Wouldn’t want to miss a chance to see you all dolled up.”

  I forced a tight smile. “Thanks. But with Nathan out of town, I’ll probably skip the lovely event.”

  Luke tugged at his back pocket. “Here,” he said, handing a ticket to Gunner, “you didn’t think I’d leave an old friend out.”

  Gunner took the ticket and stuffed it in his pocket. Luke pushed his sunglasses back up and headed to his truck. He’d always been a cocky son of a gun, and I should have known better than to come to this interview with Gunner, who had flung open my car door and took a step to block me getting in.

  His eyes on me were narrow and furious. “Laney, were you and Luke ever cozy?”

  “What? Me and Luke cozy?” I stammered. “Uh… no…?”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said, moving out of my way. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

  I sat still for a second until I started breathing again. This was what I’d wanted, right? To have Gunner Wilson lose interest in me. But it hurt like the dickens. The way he’d looked at me, seeing straight through my lie. One drunken night with Luke—that I didn’t quite remember—was the only luxury I’d awarded myself until Nathan. But that luxury had just imploded faster than a two dollar hooker takes to her knees.

  …

  I pulled up outside the Filler-Up, the only gas station in town. I swiped my sheriff department Visa, got the pump running, and headed inside. I grabbed an Almond Joy and a bottle of Dr Pepper, told the clerk to add it to the gas bill, and went back outside to put away the pump. Afterwards, I sat behind the wheel, running through my head any plausible explanation as to why Luke hadn’t just confronted Bosley when the old coot came out to Four Spurs that night. Nothing came to mind that made sense—unless Luke was flat out lying, and I didn’t think he was. He, Gunner, and I had known each other a long time, and we each had our “tells”. Including the one that sorry, old shit Mitch Wagner had let from his evil lips. I thumped my forehead. What the hell was the matter with me? I had a good man. I sure as shit didn’t need those other two horse’s behinds making my libido crazy in the bargain—especially not when I had the biggest case of my sorry-ass law enforcement career to solve. Still…

  I leaned forward and popped my tits up, ruffled my hair, and added an extra layer of lipstick to my chapped lips. A little damage control never hurt anybody, and I was a lot overdrawn on good will at the moment.

  When I reached the station, I tore open the Almond Joy and managed to scarf down both bars before I killed the engine. I flipped the tab on the Dr Pepper and took a giant slug, letting the cold, sweet carbonation sink to my gut. Feeling much better, even though I now felt the need to do some crunches, I swung my door open and stepped out onto the burning street. After taking a second to glare at Gunner’s Yukon by the curb, I lugged my body inside. The front office was empty, and I didn’t see Gunner waiting around anywhere. My eyes began to twitch at the nagging pounding my head. Something felt seriously off.

  Hand on my gun—just in case—I went that way, rounding the corner to find Gunner slumped in a chair, hat pulled over his eyes. He wasn’t moving. I took a step forward and heard my boot crunch on top of a fast food wrapper. Damn it. Did Elroy never pick up his trash?

  The Texas Ranger’s head shot up. He pulled his hat back, showing me his unhappy brown eyes. “Laney, you might want to stay put.”<
br />
  I slid my hand off my gun. “And why is that?”

  He stood and positioned himself between me and the cell’s bars, which made me look around him to see what I’d managed to miss—and instantly regretted it. There was Skinny, clear as day, swaying from a noose snugged tightly around his neck. Unable to look away, I watched his body sway like a tire swing, slowly rocking in the wind, his bare, veiny toes pointing at the floor.

  “Holy shit! Where’s Bosley?” I gasped.

  “Sent him to stay with Rusty Weir. He was in a complete frenzy when I arrived.” He stepped forward and gathered my shell-shocked body into his arms. “Laney?” he said anxiously.

  “What?” I asked, pressing away from him in order to meet his eyes.

  “I found another note,” he said placing it in my hand.

  I unfolded the Post-It, feeling my fingers quake along the corners of the paper. In fine print, written in black, it read: I would watch my step, Laney Briggs.

  Numbly, I read it over three more times before the threat sank in. What had I done to earn this sort of regard from anybody, let alone someone who’d kill a guy like Skinny? So far, I’d managed to accomplish almost nothing on any of my investigations, but clearly someone found me a threat. But to what? Shoving myself away from Gunner, I took one last look at Skinny, then took my nausea quickly out into the Texas heat where I sprawled on a bench outside the station trying to collect myself. The heavy sun beat down on my face, turning my throbbing headache into the beginnings of a migraine. I shaded my eyes with a hand and watched Gunner exit the station, cell phone at his ear. From the looks of it, the conversation didn’t look friendly. He turned, caught sight of me, and quickly hung up.

  “How are you feeling? You okay?” He took a seat next to me.

  “Like my head’s going to explode,” I said, pressing my thumbs into the middle of my eyebrows. “What the fuck happened in there? How did anyone get access to Skinny?”

  “I don’t know.” Gunner leaned back, shaking his head. “I didn’t think we were that close to finding the Ketamine connection here in Pistol Rock, and I sure as shit don’t know why anyone would want to threaten you over it, but I think maybe you should consider stepping away from this case. I’ve called my department for back up. The Odessa crime lab is coming out to take care of Skinny—”