by Jodi Linton
“How’s everything going?” I asked, stuffing a cookie into my mouth.
The normally loquacious sheriff simply snorted. “Fine.”
I narrowed my eyes, sensing that things weren’t “fine”, then shook off the sensation. So Dobbs was keeping a tight lip for a change. No biggy. Besides, maybe it was the place and the company. If so, I could deal with that. I nudged his arm, coaxing him to relax. “Come on, something’s bothering you.”
“Back off, Laney,” he spat and stalked off.
Okay, so Dobbs was a little grumpy. Everyone had their days, and maybe this just happened to be his time of the month. I watched him head back into the chapel and disappear behind the organ.
“Are you dodging me?”
I almost jumped out my heels. I spun around to find Gunner slouched against the wall, giving me a sinful grin. “Sort of,” I said.
He reached out and snatched a cookie from my hand. He took a bite and said, “You might want to try harder.”
“Count on it.”
He moved in and ran a finger along the neckline of my silk blouse. I blushed involuntarily.
“Hey, there are people around,” I said, slapping at his hand.
Gunner’s grin widened as he took a single step back. “That blouse of yours is causing me all kinds of pain in all the right places.”
I gave my blouse a once over and quickly decided that there was nothing wrong with the dang thing. “Then maybe you should go back to your motel room, grab a towel, and do something about it,” I told him.
He wrapped a callused hand around my face and tipped my chin up. Our mouths were way too close. “I could use the help of a good-looking lady.”
“Well, this one’s engaged,” I said, pulling my chin out of his hand and stepping back. “You keep looking, though.”
He shrugged. “I would if I thought it would do any good. By the way, if you haven’t noticed, that fiancé of yours has a bug up his ass.”
I couldn’t deny it. “That’s because Nathan hates your guts.”
“Figured that much,” he sighed and pressed his shoulders back against the wall.
I fell in next to him. He slanted a glance down at me, and the hard line of his mouth faded. His dark brown eyes melted into his face, and I felt something inside me melting, too. It was just that kind of knee-weakening look.
“This is crazy, right?” he said. “Us beating around the bush like this.”
“Irresponsible even,” I agreed, before quickly looking away.
“Why the hell are you marrying him?” he asked suddenly, sounding almost plaintive.
I let out a resigned sigh. “Nathan never broke my heart.”
If I was discounting yesterday, my relationship with Nathan had always been picture perfect. But I’ll be the first to admit that I’m slow to figure out that perfection can be a dangerous path to walk down. It’s hard to outrun the past.
Gunner gave me a sad-eyed look. “You could have let me try to fix that.”
“We would’ve never worked.” This time when he reached for my hand, I was quick, tucking it out of the way behind my back. “I should go find Nathan.”
I turned on my heels and left him standing alone. How could sticking to my guns cause me so much heartache?
Maybe because I was sticking to the wrong guns?
The thought disturbed me, and I picked up my pace to get away from it. As I was passing by the hallway toward the bathroom, a hand reached out and pulled me into the dark corridor. I didn’t start to panic until that same hand covered my mouth and slammed me into the wall. I raised a heel and kicked it straight into a shin.
“Shit, Laney,” Boomer yelped and hopped to his other leg. “I need to talk.”
I peeled his hand off my mouth. “What the hell, Boomer?”
He lifted two fingers to his lips. “Shush, please be quiet.”
“Fine,” I mumbled and crossed my arms over my chest. “So what’s so damn important that you had to scare the shit out of me?”
Boomer’s eyes darted down the length of the hallway then back to me. He leaned in, breathing stale whiskey fumes into my face. “I remember where I was that night,” he whispered.
I pushed him back and moved out from underneath his arms. “What are you talking about?” I asked.
He gulped. “Laney, I wasn’t at Rusty’s Saloon that night I forgot where I was.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I was out on Bosley’s Ranch.”
I stared at him. Boomer wasn’t always the best source for reliable information, even about himself. “What exactly are you telling me?” I asked. “That you saw the murder?”
Boomer hesitated. “Yes...”
I gave him a punitive stare. “Well, spit it out. We don’t have all day.”
“Laney, you’re not going to like this…”
“Just cough it up.”
Boomer lowered his eyes and ran a hand through is tangled, red mop. “Luke Wagner.”
I was speechless. Luke Wagner? No way…
But then I remembered what he’d said to me when he’d come to my place to offer his condolences about Hank. “Hand to God, I swear. I had nothing to do with Hank.” And then his note with the daisies: Took care of your little problem… Crap. Anything was possible when it came to that bastard.
I narrowed my eyes on Boomer. “Have you told anybody?”
“Just you.”
I jerked at his arm. “That’s the way we’re going to keep it,” I vehemently ordered.
Boomer swallowed hard. “You mean I can’t tell Gunner?”
I eyed him sharply, wondering why he’d want to. Gunner could be almost as untrustworthy as Luke on a good day. “Damn straight that’s what I mean.”
I took him by the arm and dragged him out of the chapel, deciding that the first thing I was going to do was lock Boomer up inside my house with a bottle of Jack for safekeeping. That would keep his lips sealed for at least four or five hours, solving one of my problems. I was going to have to have my wits about me when I hightailed it over to Four Spurs, demanding an answer about who’d killed…well hell, all of them: Pacey, Skinny, Bosley, and Hank.
I pushed open the double doors and stepped outside with Boomer glued to my side. All the vehicles were gone except for Nathan’s red Dodge Ram. He was sulking next to the bumper, clearly unhappy that I hadn’t been the one waiting for him. I tugged at Boomer’s hand and marched across the gravel drive to the truck.
Nathan lifted his chin and straightened when I approached the driver’s side of the truck. “Where have you been?” he asked, opening the door.
I grabbed the overhead handle, hopped into the truck, and stared at his perturbed face. “Looking for you,” I lied.
…
As Nathan turned into my driveway, I decided to check on Boomer to see how he was holding up. Sitting there in the extended cab’s back seat, he had the look of a man who knew he was in over his head. In all fairness, it was killing him, my not letting him run straight to Gunner with his secret, but hell, for the idiot’s own safety, I had a right to demand his silence. Besides, he was sleeping in my house because he was afraid someone was watching him. Given what he’d just told me about Luke, there might be a real reason for his drunken paranoia.
Nathan stopped the truck and started to unbuckle his seatbelt.
I placed a hand on his lap. “I’ll walk Boomer inside,” I said and jumped out. “It’ll only take a minute.”
Chilly air hit my lungs. The storm had snuck upon us the way a fox pounces on its prey. I stuffed my hands in my jacket pockets, hunkered into my collar, and followed Boomer. When he took a seat on the porch step, I hovered on the porch above him, teeth chattering.
Tilting his eyes skyward he said, “Nice weather, don’t you think?” I tried to crawl deeper into my jacket. “It’s freezing.”
“Feels good,” he said dreamily, “Like the calm before the storm.”
I nodded, trying to hide my gloomy expression. Yesterday’s heat was something I
could deal with. Cold belonged anywhere but here. “Boomer, do you really think Luke had something to do with Pacey’s death?”
He sighed and brushed his floppy bangs out of his eyes. “Truthfully, no, but I know what I saw. Luke was out at Arrowhead Range that night. And I think there’s more to the cattle poisoning then anyone is letting on. Please be careful. I wouldn’t trust a single soul in town.” He looked across the lawn at the pickup idling in the storm. “Not even your closest friends, okay?”
I leaned back on my elbows and looked him dead in the eyes. “Don’t get mad,” I said, “but how drunk were you?”
He chewed on his lower lip. “Really…you’re going to go there?”
“Boomer,” I said, trying for a patience I was fast losing, “I have to ask, and you know it. How much did you have to drink?”
He raised a hand and started counting his fingers. I watched them roll down into his palm once, then twice before he gave up, and shook his head in dismay. “Maybe a twelve pack,” he admitted. “Hell, Laney”—his chin dropped into his neck—“there might’ve even been a bottle of whiskey or two.”
I shook my head and peered down into eyes that asked me to believe in him for once. Then I turned away to prop myself against the wall of the house, hoping it would be warmer there. “That’s what I thought.”
“You don’t believe me?” he asked.
“We’ll talk about it later.” I opened the front door and gestured him into the house. “Please just go inside and stay there.”
Not happy about it, he nevertheless did as I asked. I waved at Nathan and picked up my pace down the steps and over to the truck. I heard the screen door crash into the house as I climbed in.
“Is everything okay?” Nathan asked.
Mouth tight, I strapped on my seatbelt. “Couldn’t be peachier,” I snapped, sinking into my seat.
And damn Boomer for being my best friend anyway.
Chapter Fourteen
I tossed about my pillow and turned on my side, rolling into Nathan. He slung his arm across my chest and kissed my rumpled hair.
“Good morning, Laney,” he mumbled at my ear.
“I’ll go get the coffee started,” I said, and began to inch out of his arms.
“What’s the rush?” he asked, tugging me back. “I can’t think of a better reason to be late for work.”
He wrestled with the sheets, pulling them over his head, and lazily slid down on top of me. At the same time that he pressed his tongue into my mouth, he scooted a hand under my nightshirt to cup my breast. I stretched back on the mattress and rested my head on the pillow.
“I love you so much,” he whispered through a smile. Then he tugged off my panties.
A short while later, I pulled the shower curtain closed and allowed myself to soak under the hot water. Nathan’s lovemaking had been rougher and more possessive than usual—not quite a repeat of the other night in the front hall, but not…considerate, either. When I’d finished washing my hair and scrubbing my grimy-feeling skin, I stepped out and quickly dried off, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve navy T-shirt, and stepped into my boots.
Nathan was waiting for me in the kitchen when I came downstairs, sipping on a cup of coffee. He smiled back at me and pecked me on the cheek, then handed me a mug. “So, what are your plans today?” he asked.
Mostly the usual, I thought. Meaning that first, I’d smile at Dobbs’s crabbiness and try not to be rude to Elroy until noon, and lastly, I’d have to force myself to ignore Gunner at all costs. Except that today I also had to follow up on what Boomer’d told me about Luke while making sure Gunner didn’t step in and screw that pooch all to hell.
I sagged against the countertop and sipped my suddenly tasteless coffee. “Not much. It should be a pretty boring.” I shrugged. “I guess the most important thing I need to do is swing by my place to pick up a dress for the Cattlemen’s Ball tonight.”
“Sounds like a busy day.” He rinsed out his coffee cup. “I’ll be home around five.” He tucked my hair behind my ears, smiled, and pressed a hard kiss on my lips.
I stood slack against the counter and watched him snatch his briefcase off the table, yank the clinic keys from the wall peg, then he walked out the backdoor.
Time to bite the bullet.
I dumped my coffee down the drain, grabbed Nathan’s truck keys, and hit the porch steps. I hauled myself up inside the cab, and cranked over the engine, gripping the steering wheel as if it was my damn lifeline. The glimmer of my engagement ring snagged my attention. Fucking sparkly bastard knew I was lying not only to Nathan but to myself. I dreaded my impending nuptials and absolutely did not want to go to the Cattleman’s Ball—not with Nathan, not with anybody.
Especially not Gunner.
“This is ridiculous,” I said out loud, needing these doubts of mine to stop. But no voice filtered through the silence to tell me I was just suffering a case of nerves. That cold feet were normal before a wedding, that the man I intended to marry was a good man…
Who hadn’t tried to hit me the other night or been too roughly possessive with me this morning…
Because I had more guts and respect for myself than to let either of those things happen.
“Shit!” In a fit of helplessness, I gave the steering wheel a beat-down. In the end, all my little breakdown rewarded me with was a broken nail and a heart that felt like a two-ton brick weighing down my chest.
I stamped a lead foot on the gas and spun the wheels backing out of the drive. Rain splattered the windshield, making visibility almost impossible. I switched on the wipers, smearing dried bug guts across the glass, and clipped the corner down Center Street. When I pulled up outside the station, the Yukon was already parked, taking up two spots. I chugged into the only empty slot and lumbered out of the truck. What I didn’t need was another confrontation with Gunner—we’d beaten that dead horse into the ground.
I pushed through the door, stumbling across the leg Dobbs had sprawled across the doorway while he snoozed at his desk. Unhappy and irritated as hell, I kicked a boot at his leg. Dobbs popped forward in his chair, snorting awake as he spun to face me.
He looked me over then spit a wad of chewing tobacco next to my boot. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he said, swiping his handkerchief across his mouth to blot away the tobacco spit.
“I assume I still work here.”
He rolled back in his chair and pushed himself upright. “Heard the wedding has been moved up to next Saturday, so I thought you’d be planning for the big day.”
“Where did you hear that?” I asked, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.
“Sorry, I might’ve let it slip,” Gunner interrupted, rounding the corner with two Styrofoam cups of coffee. He handed one to me. “Coffee?” he asked and sat down beside me.
I grimaced but nodded thanks. I didn’t need this. And I sure didn’t need those tight jeans of his brushing my leg every damn second.
“Good morning, Gunner,” I said as politely as I could and forced down a sip of the bitter stationhouse brew.
He grinned and squeezed my thigh. “Same to you, sweetheart.”
I gave him a nasty look. He didn’t seem to care. I plucked his hand off my leg and let it drop hard against the edge of the desk we were sitting on.
The bastard’s grin got wider.
“Well, since we’ve gone through the morning pleasantries,” Dobbs said, planting himself in front of us, “could y’all inform me what went down in Harper’s Ridge?”
Gunner took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup on the desk. “It’s complicated. They have a photo of a guy I’m assuming is our man.” He rose and stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his tight-assed Wranglers. I gulped and quickly took another drink before my throat went dry. “But Sheriff Neal sent the photo off to Austin and is still waiting on the lab results.”
All the color vanished out of Dobbs’s saggy cheeks. “So you’re telling me no one has a clue as to who our guy is?
”
It might have been my imagination, but he didn’t seem the least disappointed by the bad news. Trying to work that one out, I scooted my butt off the desk and tossed my coffee in the trash. “Sheriff Bob said the lab is trying to clean up the photo, and the results should be back in a few days.”
“Dammit, I wanted to call this case closed,” Dobbs grumbled. He sat in his chair and popped his knuckles. “We all know Bosley had his hands in this. Why not just pin the whole damn mess on him and call it a day?”
Gunner slammed his fists down on Dobbs’s desk and leaned into my boss’s face. “That would be a stupid move, old man.”
“Tell me again,” Dobbs said coldly, “why the hell I haven’t shipped your ass back off to Houston.”
“You don’t have the authority, for starters,” Gunner barked, “and someone is still selling the ketamine out on your streets.”
Dobbs laughed. “Like I give a fuck about a few dead whores and druggies,” he said, stretching back in his chair.
I stared at him, appalled. Dobbs was a shitty old man at the best of times, but this was…this was…I had no words for what this was.
“Jimmy Dobbs, you’re the sheriff for crying out loud,” I gasped. “And those hookers and druggies probably have mothers looking for them.”
Dobbs shrugged. “Well, if their mothers are anything like yours, I bet they’re glad to be dead,” he shot back.
I had a mind to toss that crummy paper weight at Dobbs’s squishy face when I felt a tug on my shirt sleeve. “Laney, let’s get some air,” Gunner said and hauled me outside.
We stood at arm’s length from each other, huddled underneath the window awning. Rain rushed over the overhang, cascading in sheets onto the sidewalk. I stepped closer to my cowboy nemesis, looking for shelter…and maybe comfort. The knowledge that Dobbs was even less than I thought him to be was not only painful but disturbing. Previously, I’d been able to shunt aside my disrespect for him as just one of those things I did—I wasn’t a fan of authority, and it generally wasn’t a fan of me, either. Now my distaste for my boss was just one more thing I couldn’t overlook because now I knew there was a reason for it.