Pretty Reckless (Entangled Ignite)

by Jodi Linton

  The same way I was beginning to understand that there might be a reason I should think twice about marrying Nathan.

  Gunner whipped his cowboy hat off and started to rake a hand through his hair. Then he stopped and slowly turned his face to meet my eyes. There was no chance of me outrunning his hand, because he snagged my arm up before I had a chance to retreat. Unhurriedly, he traced a finger down my arm, stopping to circle my elbow, and finally finishing by clasping my hand in his. I didn’t want this, didn’t want his touch, his nearness, or his understanding, but he was giving it, and…

  I was comforted.

  Damn it!

  Smiling sadly, he let go of my hand and settled back against the brick wall again. “I’m not sure,” he said, breaking the deafening silence between us, “but I think Dobbs is dirty.”

  “You think?” Not that I’d ever known just how dirty Dobbs was myself, beyond a bit of graft now and then, but hey, I was learning it didn’t pay to give Gunner an inch. “Boy, it took you long enough to figure that one out.”

  That got me a scowl. “Among other things, he’s been acting bent out of shape ever since I arrived back in Pistol Rock.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have that effect on people.”

  A humorless smile slashed his face. “I heard a nasty rumor the other day.”

  After I gave the brick wall a good pounding with my boot, I mumbled under my breath, “You talked to Boomer. That rotten little snitch.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Boomer,” his eyes narrowed, “but since you brought it up, what about him?”

  I shrugged. “He’s just a drunk.”

  “Liar.”

  “Cheater.”

  “Tease.”

  “You’re a horse’s ass.”

  Gunner was grinning when he took a step away from the wall. He turned to face me and leaned forward into the wall, propping himself up with an arm.

  “Feel better now that you’ve got that off your chest?”

  I gave him a pissy look. “Maybe a tad.”

  He flipped my hair off my shoulder. “What do you know,” he said, “and don’t try to half- ass it.”

  “You first,” I began, then clenched my teeth at a look from him and let it spill out. “Boomer saw Luke out on Arrowhead Range the night of the murder.”

  “And what where you planning on doing with this information?” Gunner asked.

  “I’d planned on talking to him today.”

  Gunner’s jaw locked. “Let me handle it,” he said. “You and Luke don’t really have the cleanest track record.”

  Well, that was definitely the pot calling the kettle black, but I nodded anyway. “Sounds like a good plan,” I said.

  I didn’t understand where it was coming from, but this feeling of needing to protect Luke’s ass was very unsettling. Almost as unsettling as not being able to snap the top button on my jeans after a night of putting away an entire carton of Blue Bell, mint, chocolate chip ice cream. My stomach twisted, and even though I wasn’t looking, I could sense Gunner staring at me with that mouthwatering smile.

  “I should get going,” I said. “You know, three murders to investigate, no time to waste playing…whatever it is we’re playing here—unless you want to tell me about that nasty rumor you mentioned.”

  He worked his mouth around the thought, then shook his head. “After what you just told me Boomer said about Luke, I think I might have to revisit that situation before I say anything more.” He shook away thoughtfulness and winked. “Trust me. Maybe we can talk about it tonight.”

  “Right,” I said, exasperated. “But you want trust from me, you gotta earn it and return it.” I pulled my keys out of my back pocket and stuck them into the door of the truck. “Behave yourself, Gunner Wilson.” I pointed a stiff finger at him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Laney, it’s not like I’m going to sock Nathan in the nose”—a wicked grin slowly formed at his mouth—“I don’t have to. You’ll cave eventually.”

  “If driving yourself crazy makes you feel better, then by all means, be my guest.”

  I started the truck up, drowning out his laughter, and drove away.

  …

  I followed up on a few dead end leads, hoping to discover the missing links to Boomer’s memory that would either prove or disprove Luke’s part in Pacey’s death. At the same time, I also tried to figure out if he could be involved in the ketamine trafficking that had gotten Skinny killed. I didn’t really think he had any direct link to Bosley’s shooting, mostly because Luke was an in-your-face kind of guy: if he’d wanted to kill Bosley, he’d have done it, not arranged for a drive-by in which somebody else had all the fun. Also, as much as I didn’t want to find out, I really needed to know if he’d had any kind of hand in Hank’s death. That “Hand to God, I swear I had nothing to do with Hank” business in his note was really starting to twist my thoughts all around.

  I parked the truck and jogged across the lawn and through my front door to sprint upstairs. I was beat from a day of chasing leads that’d frankly left me with more questions than answers. And now, with the Cattleman’s Ball only an hour away, I needed to bust tail in order to beat Gunner to the punch. Personally, I wasn’t too gung hoe on him questioning Luke without me there to rein in the male testosterone, but at the time, it’d been useless to butt heads with the Texas Ranger. So I folded, knowing I had every intention on whisking Luke away before Gunner got his hands on him. For the most part, Gunner was more of the bust ’em-and-ask-questions-later type of guy, especially when it came to a Wagner. Those two had a bone to pick. I didn’t see the feud ending in the near future, so I concluded my best line of defense was the perfect little dress... and probably a beer to show good faith.

  I couldn’t deny that it hurt to think Luke was keeping something from me. All these years I’d believed he’d never once kept a secret from me—especially not one so hurtful. But if Boomer was right, and he was somehow involved in any of the murders I was investigating… Well, I guess he had a good reason to lie. Not even your closest friends shared that kind of information with a cop. I slung open my closet door and stood back, pondering what to wear tonight. I scoured the hangers in search of a respectable dress, pushing aside my black cocktail dress in favor of the red silk. It had a low, scooped neckline and spaghetti straps that crossed in back. I plucked up a pair of black pumps and snatched a bottle of red nail polish from my dresser, then I ambled downstairs.

  Four hours until I needed to be ready for the ball. I slumped against the counter, the pressure of tonight, the murders, and the fact that I still had no idea why someone wanted me out of the way badly enough to beat me up and kill my dog had started to take its toll.

  I warily browsed my kitchen, suddenly realizing that, damn it, there was no sign of Boomer anywhere, not even a cleaned-up counter. That couldn’t be good, especially if anyone besides me and Gunner knew what Boomer thought he saw out at Arrowhead Range. For a moment, I debated about going out looking for the drunken reprobate. The liquor store and Rusty’s bar were probably the most logical places to look if he’d gone off on his own, but there were also dozens of other places he tended to go to ground when he went on a bender, too. I gnawed my thumb over the quandary for a moment. When no solution presented itself, I thought fuck it and hooked the black heels over my thumb, folded the dress over my arm, locked up, and left.

  Hell, yes, I was concerned about Boomer, but there was just no way for me to keep track of a grown man in constant search of self-destruction, so I swore out the serenity prayer and let him go.

  The lights were on when I pulled up outside Nathan’s house and gathered up the dress and shoes. He opened the door holding a nearly empty glass of wine before I was able to shove my keys into the lock and stepped into the humid air. I gave him a small smile and pushed past him through the doorway.

  “Nice dress,” he said, casually touching my arm.

  I hugged it into myself, suddenly unsure where this was going or if I wanted it to go
there. “Thanks. I wanted something memorable.”

  “I think you hit the mark.” He let the red silk slide through his hand.

  “I’ll be ready in forty,” I said, slipping past him and up the stairs. He nodded and watched me go before heading back into the kitchen for more wine.

  I bathed quickly and stepped into the tight, red dress, fluffed my hair, and made up my face, paying close attention to the concealer I used to hide the still visible bruises on my face. Then I stopped in front of the mirror, appraising a job well done. My red dress screamed “drool boys.” I pulled my pocketbook under my arm and walked down stairs.

  Nathan was waiting by the door dressed in a pair of khaki’s and a white dress shirt. “Dang, Laney,” he said. “You’re gonna make some women jealous tonight. And drive the men crazy.”

  I sent him a naughty smile and took his hand. Exactly, I thought, I needed to snag myself a cowboy. In particular one named Luke Wagner.

  He opened the front door and stopped to look over his shoulder at me. “By the way, Dobbs called when you were in the shower. Boomer’s truck was found on the side of the road wrapped around a stop sign post.”

  I gaped at him. Did I just hear him right? Everyone knew Boomer was a drunk, but he never tossed back the bottle and got behind the wheel. “Is he okay?”

  “That’s the kicker—Boomer wasn’t there.” His brows pulled to together. “Honey, Dobbs will handle it. Just for one night, will you do me a favor and not think about work?”

  “Why not?” I lied through my teeth. “Don’t we all deserve a little a vacation,” I said and grabbed hold of the overhead handle, hoisting myself up inside the truck.

  But first thing first, I was going to capture Luke Wagner’s attention, then drag him out by the ears. I didn’t care if the lying bastard kicked and screamed the whole way. I was going to get the information I needed out of him no matter what. Including the information about where Boomer was now.

  And I didn’t give a flying fuck what Gunner might think when I did it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nathan cruised through the wrought iron gates marked with two six foot gold W’s, welcoming us to the Wagner’s ranch. A cast iron sign flapped overhead in the gusty wind, and the paved driveway sparkled from the white Christmas lights looped about the trees. We wound our way up the drive and parked next to a baron oak tree.

  I slid out and slammed my door shut, glaring at the black Yukon Nathan had parked us next to—and it made me wonder if he’d done it deliberately as a means to wave me in front of the Texas Ranger’s face as a prize he’d beaten Gunner out of.

  It was moments like these when I debated becoming an old maid and taking in a dozen stray cats.

  I kicked a heel at the Yukon’s driver’s door and squeezed between the bulky vehicles to find Nathan slumped against the truck’s bumper waiting for me. He straightened as I appeared and gave Gunner’s SUV a self-satisfied smirk that made me want to slap him and slipped his hand in mine to lead me toward the big, red barn doors.

  The wind ruffled up my dress and kissed at the back of my neck. Nathan smiled as we stepped inside the barn and quickly began a slow search of the room. I felt his hand tighten around mine when he locked in on Gunner kicked back in his chair with his boots propped up on the table. The brim of his hat was angled over his square jaw. The sleeves of his black pearl snap were rolled up to the elbows, giving me a view to his inked forearm. Heat swept across my cheeks. Damn tattoo.

  The grin on Gunner’s face widened. I heard Nathan mutter a few choice words before he dragged me to our table.

  Mitch had outdone himself this year. The room was decked out with lace table cloths and crystal, hourglass vases stuffed with an overload of yellow roses. Next to the empty horse stalls, the stage was set up for the local band, The Night Whistlers, who couldn’t hold a tune if their lives depended on it.

  Nathan slipped off his coat and pulled out a chair for me. As I was about to take my seat, a shoulder brushed my back. I spun around to find myself face-to-face with Gunner. I gulped, watching that tight, black pearl snap stretch and pull at those wide shoulders.

  “Howdy.” Gunner acknowledged Nathan with a tip of his hat.

  Nathan jerked me back to his side, never letting his hateful glare leave Gunner’s face. “I’m not stupid, Gunner. I know what you’re up to. Stay away from Laney.”

  I shot a nervous look at Gunner, who casually stuffed his hands into the pockets of his Wranglers and slowly rocked back on his heels.

  “Wasn’t up to anything,” Gunner said blandly. He gave me a wide grin that twisted my stomach in knots. “Just have some business pertaining to work that I need to discuss with Laney. It’ll only take a minute.” He cuffed Nathan’s shoulder. “I promise.”

  Nathan shrugged out from under his hand. “I’m keeping an eye on you, asshole,” he snarled, then laid one hell of a wet one on my lips. “And I’m keeping an eye on you, too, honey,” he promised menacingly, pulling away and leaving me with a pair of sore lips. “I’ll just be over at the bar, Laney.” He stalked away.

  Eyes narrowed, Gunner watched him go. “Someone having a bad day?”

  I ignored the question, shuffling out onto the plywood dance floor with him. When he swung me in to his arms, I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “This isn’t work.”

  He slipped me a wicked smile. He twirled me, then whipped me back, crushing me against his chest. “What, you don’t trust me?”

  “Not even a little,” I said, trying to extricate myself from his embrace. “Has anyone told you lately how sorry you are?”

  “Couldn’t pass up a chance to get my feel of you in this dress.”

  “Gunner, we need to get down to business before Nathan loses it,” I said. “If he does, it won’t be you who suffers.”

  I knew I’d made a mistake when his gaze on me darkened, and he drew our dance to a halt.

  “Is he hurting you, Laney?” When I shook my head without responding, he let go of my waist and rocked back to study me carefully. Then his gaze shuttered, but all he said was, “Okay, let’s discuss Luke then.”

  I gulped. “Fine. But here’s the deal. This is my town and my job. I’m going to handle this with Luke, and you’re going to step aside and let me.”

  His mouth formed a grim line. “It’s my job, too, Laney.”

  I’d just shifted my weight to stare him down when I heard a deep chuckle behind me. I whipped around to find the man in question hanging all over the woman I’d once found in bed with Gunner.

  The trouble with small towns is that there are only so many people to go around, which makes the likelihood of running into someone you never want to see again way too high.

  “Well, if isn’t Gunner Wilson,” Wynona’s sultry voice purred. She flipped a clump of her platinum blonde hair behind a shoulder and pinned her greedy, blue eyes on me. She might be president of the Junior League and the Elizabeth Taylor of Pistol Rock in the looks department, but she was also an all-around bitch. We’d never seen eye-to-eye even before she seduced Gunner. Of course, I might be biased, given that I still held a grudge over my mother choosing her over me as Miss Tumbleweed in eighth grade. The past is muddy, but the hatred was clear as day. “And Laney, how are you and Nathan doing these days?”

  I plastered on an insincere smile. “We’re doing great. Getting married next Saturday.” I cut my eyes back to Luke. “I need a word,” I told him.

  Wynona stepped forward and planted her manicured hand on my shoulder. “He’s with me tonight, sugar.”

  Beside me, I could feel Gunner winding up to get dangerous. I sent him a ‘not here’ glare and put some flint in my voice when I said, “It pertains to a case we’re working. I’ll see you get him back when we’re finished.”

  Of course, I didn’t tell her we might not be finished with Luke for a while.

  She looked like she might argue, but Luke detached himself from her with a firm, “I won’t be long” that she couldn’t ignore.
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  “You might be,” Gunner said under his breath.

  When Wynona shot him a killing scowl, he smiled at her as though maybe she should save him a dance—or two—and she turned and flounced away almost mollified. I sent him a disbelieving stare.

  “Really,” I said, “Right here in front of her date and me? Chain your dog, Gunner. I’ve still got plenty of rock salt.”

  He shrugged, unrepentant. “Got rid of her, didn’t it?” He eyed Luke. “We still need to talk.”

  “What d’ya need?” Mitch Wagner’s son asked affably, leading us off the dance floor and over to a private corner behind The Night Whistlers bandstand.

  As soon as I was pretty sure no one could see us, I smacked a fist into his chest. “You sorry bastard.” My voice spiked up a notch. “Where the hell is Boomer, and what else have you been lying to me about besides not knowing who killed Hank?”

  “What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Luke asked, rubbing the spot where I’d poked him.

  It would be impolite to keep the son of a bitch on his toes all night.

  “How come you didn’t tell me about being on Bosley’s land the night of Pacey Monroe’s murder?”

  I’ll admit that stunned look slowly spreading across his face was the highlight of my night.

  He stilled. “Who told you that?”

  I shoved deeper into the shadows behind the bandstand. “Boomer saw you. Now his truck’s wrapped around a stop sign, and he’s missing, so start talking or I arrest you on the spot.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gunner give me a look of startled approbation, then a big thumb’s up. Before me, Luke’s previously laughing blue eyes turned wary.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t push your luck.”