Pretty Lawless

by Jodi Linton

  Life was a messy bitch. And I’d already racked up so many mistakes, what difference would it make tossing another log on the fire? I never should’ve fallen hard for a dirty liar, yet it would’ve been crazy to think I could outrun fate. At least I wasn’t in the market to make another horrible mistake. Well, I hoped to hell not.

  I tucked an errant auburn curl behind my ear, shouting as my voice blended in with the call of the wind. “Let’s get moving, Larsen. I’m not in the mood to spend Christmas night at a whorehouse with a loose-mouthed cowboy and his even looser hands.”

  Colt jumped out of his Jeep, bomber jacket zipped up to his neck, duffel bag slung over a wide shoulder, and a frown creasing his taut face. “Pull that stick out of your ass, Laney,” he said, his voice a soft murmur against the buffeting wind. “Since I have on good faith you aren’t letting anything prod it.”

  My arms shot out at my sides. “God damn it, Larsen,” I yelled, slightly pitchy. “I saved your ass. Remember? Not that cocky lip of yours, but me. So can you please stop trying to piss me off?”

  He gave me an odd look; it almost mirrored concern, although Colt Larsen didn’t have a soft bone in his body. “How much are you drinking?”

  Does a bottle of Jack and a case of beer constitute a drinking problem? Some things were better left unsaid.

  Choosing to ignore that question, I motioned for him to follow my lead and made haste to the trailer. I’d needed somewhere hidden from the watchful eye to tuck my newfound friend away. I’d had to bribe Kenny Perkins, owner of the whorehouse, with a week’s worth of my time—although I denied him a piece of my ass to put on display, we’d finally compromised by way of written consent that the local sheriff station would turn a blind eye for the next couple of weeks—to snag this little peach of isolated paradise. It was a known fact around town that Bristol Mills’ business and rates went up during the holiday season. With all the Christmas deliveries, those lonely truckers needed somewhere to lay their weary heads.

  We made our way past the barn that housed Perkins’s whores. A few topless girls ran across the brittle lawn, breath puffing in and out in a cloud of fog as they giggled, dragging some poor old soul along for a damn ride to drain his pockets dry.

  “So do I get one of those?” Colt gazed at the ass-shaking prostitutes.

  “No. You’d need to get a clean bill of health first.”

  He snorted. “Real funny, Briggs.”

  “What can I say, Kenny likes his clientele cootie-free.” I jammed the key in the lock and turned. “Your palace awaits, your highness.”

  Colt swaggered up next to me. “You should’ve told me you were such a cheap date.” He winked, nudging me in the arm as he strolled on into the not-so-swanky digs. “I would’ve asked you out sooner.”

  I rolled my eyes and sidestepped around him into a room that quite frankly made my parents’ facilities look like a five-star hotel. Pale brown-tinged shaggy carpet covered the floor. A single window was draped in a blackout shade. The double bed was done up in a floral quilt not even a flea market would carry. Cool, crisp air jutted out from the whiny air-conditioning unit. I crossed the tiny room, leaving Colt to his own devices, and crouched down in front of the unit.

  “Well, don’t just stand there all night.” I glanced up at him when I felt the nightly breeze dancing under my shirt. The heater came on with a flip of the switch. “There’s not much space, but you seem to be a man with few needs.” The mini-fridge wheezed in the background. And water dripped annoyingly from the bathroom faucet. “Just try not to piss Kenny off by screwing around with his girls, okay?” I said as I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling all the stress of my day straining my shoulders.

  I heard the bag drop with a thud and then boots clomping in my direction.

  “Ain’t gonna be that easy, Laney, to get me on board with this harebrained plan of yours.”

  I knew his immediate help was too good to be true.

  Whirling around on the heels of my boots, I came face-to-face with what only could be described as a hurricane of anxiety. “Gunner can’t find out you’re here,” I stated flatly, feeling the tears surfacing again. Stay strong. Nothing good will come from allowing another man a peek inside your soul. “We aren’t too peachy at the moment,” I continued, “if you catch my drift.”

  The sadness flickering about those distant gray eyes almost got me to cave. “Betrayal hurts.” Colt took a step closer, the toes of our boots bumped. “Witnessing your boyfriend arrest your friend must’ve sucked.” He reached out a hand, but like hell I’d take his sympathy. I jumped back and felt my boot heels slam into the bed. “I’m right here if you need a friendly shoulder to cry on, Briggs,” he drawled, shaking his head, the anguish in his face bleeding fierce and packing a punch to the gut. “You don’t have to go about this alone.”

  I swiped my eyes dry with the back of my hand. “This wasn’t a friendly call, Larsen.”

  “Hell, Laney. You and I both know damn well this was more than a housecleaning call.” His gaze fell toward the girls and stayed there before looking me in the eyes again. “We need to get a few things straight.” He opened the leather satchel strapped across his wide, muscled chest and pulled out a file. “Take a look,” Colt said, tossing it on the bed stationed smack-dab in the middle of the room.

  “How sweet. You brought me a present.”

  The sly grin returned, and for a split second it reminded me of better times. “You can thank me later.”

  Shortly after that spine-tingling comment, I was nose-deep in the file, feeling the shit pile up as I read. Clearly I hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the goings-on in my hometown. I peeked up from the file. Colt was lounged back against the wall, Stetson tilted ceiling high, boots crisscrossed at the ankles, and hands shoved into his front jeans pockets. That devastating smile of his smacked me directly in my eyes like the windshield of an eighteen-wheeler pops open a grasshopper out on the highway. I set the folder aside and picked up a piece of paper as I eyed him under the dim fluorescent lamp bulbs.

  I glanced over the report. The fear of loss and betrayal began to creep back, forming a solid lump in my throat, and then my gaze fell upon one deadly sentence…and holy cow! There in black and white was a statement from Danny Redbud taken by Gunner Wilson, my lying Texas Ranger boyfriend, claiming to have seen Luke Wagner getting all down and dirty with the alleged swinger party victims.

  Fuck me running.

  The paper dropped from my hand, and I desperately tried to catch a breath. “Where did you get this?” I asked, voice shaky and on edge.

  Colt kicked off the wall. “I have friends in some pretty low places.” He jutted his chin at the file sprawled open on the bed. “This case that your rancher friend seems to be the prime suspect in goes way deeper than a few good ol’ boys in Pistol Rock finding new places to stick their peckers.”

  This was so not happening.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I answered, leaning back on my elbows as I kept both eyes fixed on him.

  He sighed halfheartedly. “There was never an El Paso case. Some guy named Cash Sterling, I recall from the reports, but it was an alias the rangers were using while sniffing around Redbud’s enterprises.” Colt shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on top of the mini-fridge, then set his sights back on me. “Laney…” He paused, and I knew it was so he could take in my whitening face. Shock didn’t come close to describing the icy chill suffocating my entire goddamn body at the moment. “Gunner…well, the rangers never sent that boyfriend of yours to follow up on leads in El Paso. This whole damn time he’s been working angles on an ongoing case here in your neck of the woods.”

  I would’ve sworn a heart couldn’t shatter into more than a million pieces, and yet mine had just crumbled to dust.

  Gulping, I tugged at the scarf around my neck strangling me like a hangman’s noose. I couldn’t breathe. It was as if everything from my lover to my hometown of Pistol Rock were slowly dying. There was no way
in hell I could swim to the surface fast enough before finding myself swallowed up in that giant clusterfuck of a sinkhole otherwise known as my life. The little devil whistling sweet promises in my ear danced enthusiastically on my shoulder.

  I turned, trying to hide the pain consuming me. This cowboy hip bracing a mini-fridge inside a desolate trailer on some barren piece of west Texas land didn’t ever need to be privy to the horrors of my darkest well-kept secrets. He only needed to hear one truth, and that was the fact his help meant gaining back my best friend. So I decided it was best to not look overexcited about his willingness to stick his neck out for me. “Why should I believe you?”

  He unlatched the holster attached to his waist, and the line of his mouth thinned, making the hard-ass mask he chose to wear on a daily basis fracture a bit. “Gunner’s been working with the feds as an undercover swinger for the past three months out in Odessa.”

  He strained his neck, and tension rippled under the flexed muscles. Placing the gun on the nightstand, Colt moved away from the wall and rested a hand on a hip. “From my understanding, those murder victims don’t have a single connection to the lifestyle. Well, except the unidentified woman who seems to be a regular at the parties.” He blinked, then shifted his stance. I’d seen that move a dozen times. The man was allowing that little piece of information to sink in full force before walloping me with a slap across the face. “I don’t believe any of this has to do with those kinky sex parties,” Colt stated, his tone cold and troubled.

  It shook me to the core. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with the Wilson cold case.”

  Colt unbuttoned a cuff, rolled the sleeve up to his elbow, then got to work on the other. “When Tex Wilson died, he was investigating a human trafficking ring connected to the onslaught of Molly being muled over the border through cattle shipping.” He paused, letting the omission sink in. “Which I’m sure you’re aware of.”

  All I could do was nod. My birdbrain cousin Wyatt had just recently been arrested on suspicions of distributing Molly, along with pushing guns for a known thug in town, used car lot owner Willie King.

  Though, now it seemed the case had taken a turn, pointing toward Danny Redbud, our local town ghost. His name had popped up more than once over the past couple of weeks while I’d been investigating leads on my cousin’s whereabouts. Everyone and their dog suspected the guy to have more than a friendly connection with Mitch Wagner. But to date, no one—not even my Texas Ranger boyfriend—had been able to make the relationship of their business ties stick. I really wasn’t in the mood to hear such bedtime stories. And yet it’d been silly of me to not have made the connection. Every single bread crumb led back to the single most important case of my boyfriend’s life…the day his parents had been killed. How in the hell was Luke connected to all this? Like father, like son. No, Luke was never interested in his father’s business, the legal or illegal parts. Nothing added up.

  When I didn’t immediately respond, Colt kept chugging along. “Your boyfriend’s father was in deep with the swinger crowd at the time of his death.” He knelt down in front of me and reached out, cupping a hand around my face and tilting my chin upward. “Don’t you dare shut down on me now, Laney Briggs.” Soft lips pressed against my forehead. Stunning how I didn’t move a muscle. Maybe a piece of me had died on Christmas Eve. And maybe I just ached to be held. Colt pulled back, hand fitting under my chin. “Redbud seems to be connected to the Wagner family in some fashion, and I ain’t talking about business relations. Got any idea how he knows Mitch and the clan so well?”

  I edged around him and leaped off the bed. “No. And now you’re saying the joke has been on me this whole damn time?” The fan whipped overhead, and I found myself distracted by the sound of giggling ladies from nearby trailers. Damn, I desperately needed to walk away. Not to mention I should probably listen to that nagging voice inside my head screaming, “Run for your life.”

  Colt whipped off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “I need you to listen to me,” he stated, flatly. “Whatever is going on, whoever our man is”—he swallowed, long and hard—“he’s a cop killer.” His gaze met mine, stern yet casually calm. “I’ve already lost one female partner cop, and I’m not in the market to lose another.”

  “Everything is making perfect sense now”—the hurt lodged in my throat all fiery hot—“that’s the reason why you left Tarpon Pass without a single question asked.”

  He let that sink in a minute, his eyes narrowed, that tight frown still holding firm across his ruggedly handsome face. Then he answered in that short, clipped fashion I’d grown used to. “You could say that.” The tension in his voice leveled out as the hard line of his mouth softened unpleasantly. “A few years back, my partner died.” Immediately I saw the sadness weighing down his normally upbeat face. “She was murdered, Briggs.” He sucked in a breath. “I’ve never been able to pin her death on anyone, but I swear on my last breath that it had to do with that damn kinky lifestyle she led.” He turned, his fist meeting the wall head-on. And hard.

  I jumped, heart banging erratically in my chest. “I’m sorry.” There wasn’t really anything else to be said, but I asked him anyway. “You want to talk about it, or something?” I watched the shutters draw on his eyes, putting more distance between us. He was good at pushing me away. Almost better than Gunner. Almost.

  “Enough about my problems, Briggs.” He grunted. “Besides, we didn’t decide to touch base so we could fix my shitty-ass life.” Colt walked toward the trailer door. “Probably best you be on your way.” He pushed the door open, scooting a boot out into the dead of night. “We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.” He scrunched his nose in thought. “That friend I told you about…” He shuffled in his boots, momentarily getting lost in the tattered carpet. “My retired marshal friend? Well, he was able to track down Hannah Roberts.” That smile I loved rang true again. “She’s working at Pokey’s Strip Club under an alias.”

  Picking up my keys off the bed, I smiled, pleased. “How did you become such a bloodhound on sniffing out leads?”

  “No worries, honey pie,” Colt said, voice packed plumb full of hotheadedness. “I can be anything you need me to be, even a snitch.” He toed the doorjamb. “Anything at all, Laney Briggs.”

  I pushed past his stocky chest and stalled in the doorway. “Don’t worry about paying for the room.” Pivoting on my boot heels, I turned, needing to make some headway to my next disaster but was momentarily stopped in my wake by a rough, callused hand.

  “So now I’m on your dime, Deputy?” Colt hissed under his breath.

  Scowling, I yanked my hand out of his grasp. “Let’s get something straight here, Larsen.” I lowered my voice, hoping I sounded like the sassy-pants deputy most folks considered me. “You need to check this bullheaded I’m-a-man attitude at the door.”

  “Oh, please,” he tsked.

  I poked a finger into his hard shoulder. “And, no, you aren’t on my dime.” My voice spiked so high it could’ve given the neighbor’s rooster a morning wake-up call. Giving him a dismissive hand wave, I told him one of my truths. Too many would’ve made me a pushover. “You’ll be living off the Wagners’ hard-earned dollars. I took the liberty to swipe some cash from Luke’s place this morning while locking up. Feel free to thank him later when we get him back home.” Well, that must’ve hit a nerve, because the shocked expression slowly spreading across his face could’ve been seen from Mars.

  “Real nice, Briggs,” he said, back falling against the door. “Mind telling me what that pretty-boy Texas Ranger has to say about all this?” He gestured at the confines of the small trailer.

  I pinched the brim of my straw cowboy hat. “Nothing, really,” I stated matter-of-factly. Then our eyes met, all serious and cold. “We keep all this between us. Understand?”

  Colt muttered, unimpressed, “But you’re still shacking up with the Texas Ranger?”

  “Would you still want to be shacking up with me if the last encounter
we had was me calling you a backstabbing bastard?” I raised an eyebrow in question. “Besides, I haven’t heard a goddamn word from that man since he told me this morning it’d only be a few hours to clear the air with Luke, then we’d be stopping by my parents’ for Christmas dinner.”

  He rocked forward on the toes of his boots. “I suppose not when you put it that way. But hell, Gunner’s always been a bastard so I don’t see why you’re so surprised.”

  The problem was, if I started talking about Gunner, I wasn’t sure if I could stop the waterworks. So it was best to keep it short and sweet and to the point.

  “Just keep on task,” I told him straight and walked outside, leaving Colt staring me down with a hip leaned into the doorway.

  “Laney,” Colt yelled, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. “Wanna tell me why you’re going to all this trouble to go behind the ranger’s back?” He rested an arm indolently against the door. “We could just put a call into the local law offices to see what the heck everyone is up to.”

  “It’s simple, really. I’ve never been a good sport. And I hate to lose.” I shrugged, the weight of the lie setting heavily on my conscience.

  Although I’d called Colt because his marshal badge happened to be more effective than my small-town deputy status when it came to digging up information, he was still an outsider, and a cocky one at that. I’d learned over the years that some secrets were best kept close to the vest. Like the knowledge I had of Gunner sneaking around behind my back and lying straight to my face about the family photos he’d taken. Or maybe, deep down, I understood if I allowed Colt a tiny morsel of the lingering doubt niggling away at my thoughts about Luke’s involvement in the murder case he’d want to have a heart-to-heart.

  And it would be a cold day in hell before I opened up to another good-looking broncobuster.