Pretty Lawless

by Jodi Linton

  I gave him a questioning look.

  He unlatched a pair of keys from his belt and playfully dangled them at me like some fucking carrot. “For the cuffs, sweetheart. And then I’ll reward you with a treat and let you check out the goods I’m packing,” he muttered in a sexy growl as his gaze took a little too long of a roam over my rack.

  Oh, good grief.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gunner

  I threw a folder down on the desk. Big brown eyes widened in surprise. I understood the shock, since I’m way too good at keeping secrets. Secrets were my life. One of the reasons I was so damn good at my job—well, that and the fact I never missed a target.

  She began to pillage through the numerous photos. I gave her a couple more minutes to shuffle through the casework I’d put together over the past six months. That smile spreading across her beautiful face made me so damn proud. My girl was impressed.

  Laney looked up, bottom lip sucked between her teeth. It was that cute expression she used when the wheels in her head were spinning overtime. She scooted a picture across the table and tapped it with a finger. “That’s Mitch Wagner, Luke’s dad, shaking hands with Wyatt.” Her nose wrinkled in thought. “Gunner,” she said, the accusation in her tone not lost on me, “why in the hell is my cousin rubbing elbows with Mitch Wagner?”

  Rocking back in the chair, I stretched both arms above my head, flexing my tattoo into view since I knew that would be a distraction, and grinned. “Well, darling”—I laid the southern gentleman drawl on thick—“that’s because Mitch was paying Wyatt to run guns and drugs for him.”

  Her mouth fell open. “You’re shitting me.” She glanced back at the photo, then lifted her gaze to me. “So that I got this straight”—she paused and glanced at the picture again—“the consensus is Mitch Wagner not only sells cattle, but he’s a low-down criminal.”

  “Yep. And our friendly blond rancher ratted out his own dad.”

  One brown eyebrow arched. “Then why did you arrest Luke?”

  The file sat in the middle of the table, photos littering the space between me and my girl, detailing all the long hours I’d put into this case. A case that hinged by the thread of one man’s testimony, the same prick I’d slugged a few hours ago.

  “We agreed that in order to snuff out the big dog, we’d need to arrest Luke,” I told my deputy girlfriend the final piece of the puzzle. “And in exchange for Luke’s testimony, the rangers would turn the other cheek when it came to Mitch Wagner.”

  That piqued her interest. “There’s no way in hell y’all good ol’ boys would let Mitch walk away a free man.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Sometimes you have to let the little fish go so you can fry the big ones.”

  Laney squared her shoulders and leveled me with a pointed look. “Explain to me how all this ties into Danny Redbud. Colt told me you’ve been working more than a few late nights on the swinger party murder case.” She reached a hand across the table and tenderly skimmed a fingernail across the back of my hand. “He believes this whole damn case goes a lot deeper than a few men and women finding new places to stick it.”

  I leaned forward, about to spill my truths, only to be interrupted by the door swinging open.

  “Howdy, ma’am.” Wesley, the other ranger on standby, smiled at Laney. Then a file covered my ear as he muttered, “Wilson, you’re needed in room two.”

  Pushing back from the table, gaze never leaving Laney, I stood and proceeded toward the door. Not exactly fantastic timing, but duty called, and it must’ve been pretty damn important for Wesley to pull me away. Most of the rangers in the office knew a brunette deputy stationed out in Pistol Rock had me smitten. Hell, once word got around of Laney storming into the station last week demanding classified records pertaining to her cousin’s case, my deputy girlfriend had sort of become a celebrity. And yeah, my male coworkers constantly ragged on me about who wore the pants in the house. If they only knew.

  Stepping out in the hallway, I paused for a split second and glanced over my shoulder to acknowledge Laney. “Shouldn’t be long,” I told her as I pulled the door shut.

  Before I got a chance to make headway, a finger tapped my shoulder and caught my attention. I turned and scowled at Wesley. “Mind telling me what was so important you felt the need to barge in on an interrogation?”

  Wesley shoved a file into my hands. “Take a look, Wilson.”

  I flipped the folder open and saw all my hard work flush down the toilet with a single fucking sentence. Printed in black and white was Redbud recanting his statement about the swinger party murders. What the hell was he up to? First, he’d claimed Luke was at the scene of the crime, and now the criminal I knew to be at the core of the case—and responsible for the deaths of my parents—had stated he’d never crossed paths with Luke Wagner. He was a goddamn piece of work.

  “When did he give this?” I asked, closing the file as if it’d scorched my hands.

  Wesley frowned. “About two hours ago, while you were rounding up the deputy and the marshal over at the strip club.”

  “Who else has seen it?” I looked at the door, keeping Laney safely locked away.

  “I came to you first,” Wesley said, giving me an odd look. “Redbud is playing us, Wilson.”

  Not knowing how high up the food chain Redbud’s payoffs went, I stayed mum on that subject. “Let’s keep this between you and me until I get a chance to discuss the new information with our informant.” I handed the paperwork to my partner. “That includes McNalley.”

  McNalley happened to be my boss, the big guy running the show behind a cozy desk in the glass office. Yet at the moment trust was hard to come by, and Redbud had eyes and ears everywhere. I needed to get Laney out of here.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Laney

  I was completely beat and more smelly than an old sock when my Texas Ranger came strolling back through the door. But as it stood, I’d pull an all-nighter to hear Gunner come clean. Cups of bitterly stale coffee lined the table as well as opened files housing so much paperwork, I figured in about two minutes my head might explode. Pushing the paperwork aside, I met the cowboy eye fucking me across the table.

  “Start talking, Gunner Wilson.”

  Gunner whipped off his hat and raked a hand through his messy brown hair. “For starters, I meant every damn word I said to you on Christmas Eve. Every. Fucking. Damn. Word.” Cool, desperate eyes met mine. “Yeah, I handled Wyatt poorly”—he reached out and pulled my hand into his and squeezed tenderly—“Luke’s arrest…” Gunner let out a much-needed sigh as he debated his next thought. His mouth formed a grim line and his brows narrowed. “Off the record, okay?” He muttered out a curse.

  I made a show of discreetly crossing my heart. “Pinkie swear.” The two of us had already burned so many bridges, what was one more fiery inferno? A lot had changed since Christmas Eve. Maybe more than I wanted to accept. “Secrets.” I lifted up out of my chair and gently pressed a finger against his dry lips. “Sometimes you keep so many I’m worried they’ll burn the both of us alive.”

  He shifted, a moan slipping from his mouth. “I’ve really done a number on you over the years, huh?” he drawled, the deep undertone of his voice hoarse and so damn tired. His hand cupped my chin in a firm grasp. Shit, I badly wanted to hang onto the warm embrace of his touch until I took my final breath, and yet this was Gunner, and he’d always been too wild to tame. I’d learned that piece of knowledge the night I’d freely allowed him to pop my cherry. And he hadn’t ever disproved the one thing I considered truer than my love for him…Gunner Wilson was haunted by demons. Ones that not even my love could slay for him.

  I pulled a tight lip, and said, “Not anything I couldn’t handle. Besides, I knew what I was getting into with you the moment we kissed for the first time.” My gaze fell to his red, bruised knuckles, and then I looked up and spotted his split lip and black-and-blue cheek. The image of him wounded and in pain was a slow death to my troubled soul. I tug
ged at his full bottom lip. “How about telling me how you got the bruised knuckles and messed-up face?” I leaned in and nervously swept a finger across his battered fist. Letting my hand slip from the warm feel of his skin, I scooted back on the edge of the chair, only to be stalled by his hand still gripping my face. I lifted my chin. Those brown eyes of his held the potential to cut through my ice princess facade.

  As he tenderly squeezed my chin, the twinkle I’d grown so fond of over the years was hidden behind a pool of frustration as he murmured, “Might’ve taken a swing at Luke Wagner this morning during our coffee break.”

  I gave him an odd look. “So you arrest my friend and punch him in the face? Sounds like you have everything under control.”

  “I’ll admit it sounds worse hearing you put it that way.”

  “You think?”

  “Wagner had it coming.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Oh my god, are we like five or something? I was under the impression we all passed the blame-game stage when the three of us hit puberty.”

  His thumb circled soothingly back and forth over my hand as he kept his eyes focused on the scattered paperwork. “Damn it.” He rubbed his eyes with his other hand. “I never arrested Luke on murder charges.”

  I jerked my hand back. “Come again, cowboy?” I questioned.

  Gunner fell back in the chair. “A few weeks ago, Luke came to me with information that Danny Redbud planned to blackmail his old man because their business dealings had gone sour.”

  Definitely threw me for a loop with that one.

  “Still not understanding why you arrested Luke for murder.”

  “Redbud found out Luke talked to the rangers, and he framed Luke for murder to get back at them,” Gunner said.

  “What does Redbud have against the Wagners?” I asked.

  Gunner scrubbed his chin for a second, then looked me square in the eyes. “Not sure, sweetheart. All I know is since the rangers are investigating Redbud on drug and other charges, we were alerted to a meeting he had with Detective Cavanaugh about the murder victims.”

  I darted my eyes around the quiet room. “And where is that good ol’ detective now?”

  Gunner hunched over on his muscled forearms and winced as he told it to me straight. “I put a bullet through his head.”

  “Holy hell. You shot Cavanaugh?”

  “He tried to kill Luke.” Knowing he’d protected Luke’s ass—the single most hated man to cross my bullheaded Texas Ranger’s path—really impressed me. It shed a whole new light on that I-am-a-flawed-man persona he enjoyed toting around so much.

  “Thank you,” I replied, wanting…no, needing my boyfriend to understand how much it meant to me to hear about him sticking his neck out for Luke Wagner.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s my job to protect the witness.”

  “Not following.”

  With a grumble, Gunner offered up a short reply. “Luke came to me asking for help.”

  My interest was piqued. “Why would Luke reach out to you? I’m pretty sure he’s in the running with my mother to be the number-one I Hate Gunner Wilson fan.”

  He cracked a smile, and damn, it was extremely charming. “I’m known to grow on some people.”

  “Cut the crap, Wilson.”

  “Fine.” He grunted. “When Luke came into the ranger station wanting to make a deal, I told my boss I knew him and I’d be willing to help out.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How generous of you.”

  The playboy grin returned. “Knew I’d make my girl proud by lending a hand to her best friend,” he said dryly, the dimples in his cheeks pulled taut.

  “Oh, please.” I whistled out a breath. “We both know you offered to help Luke because something was in it for you.”

  He nodded, his mouth molding into a frown. “Well, that, too.”

  “See, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  It didn’t take long for Gunner to pull that bullheaded cop face back on. Normally, the look alone wouldn’t have surprised me, but suddenly my eyes were open and everything wasn’t a blur anymore. Gunner cared a lot more than he’d willingly let on with how everything went down between Luke Wagner, our relationship, and the shit storm he’d brewed up in Pistol Rock.

  I decided to give him space…well, only temporarily. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

  Gunner rose from the chair and quickly gathered up the reports on the table. “There’s not much more to say except Brock’s in the morgue and Colt and Luke are waiting out back in his Jeep, and”—he offered up a hand—“you and I need to get a move on.”

  I looked him in the face and jabbed a thumb at his stocky, masculine chest. “Don’t take my following your orders as something to get used to, Gunner.” Standing, I shrugged the hem of my miniskirt back down over my butt and began to stroll toward the metal door. “I’m only following your lead because I want to see Luke.” I cocked my head in his direction. “Someone needs to make sure you kept that man in one piece.”

  A deep chuckle buzzed in my ear. “When have you ever known me to enjoy taking a bullet?” Gunner took me by the hand, pulling me into his side. “I promise I’ll discuss more of the case with you on the way to the house.” He pressed his mouth gently into my hair, adding, “Damn, you always smell so good.”

  Ignoring his blatant attempt at changing the subject, I asked, “What house?”

  He stalled with a hand holding the doorknob. “We’re taking Luke to a safe location,” he said. “Someone inside tipped Brock off about Luke meeting with the rangers.” His gaze narrowed, all serious and fierce. “Since Luke came forward and gave the rangers information about Redbud’s coming and goings, we’ve placed men at point outside every one of his established businesses. My guy outside Pokey’s had intel Redbud was supposed to show for a poker game today, but instead I ran into you and Colt.” He pushed the brim of his hat up, gaze locked in on my mouth. Pathetic. Even though the both of us were in the middle of an investigation, all I could think about was the way those sexy lips had touched, caressed, and traveled below my waistline mere days ago. “And then I found my gal half naked and cozied up with a cowboy.” His hip butted against mine. “Redbud is still free, and Luke is the only man that can bring him down. Which means…”

  “Keep going…” I bit my bottom lip, trying to clear my head of the image of his ruggedly handsome face between my legs.

  A strong arm snaked around my waist as the door flung open and his low, authoritative voice whispered, sending my heart pounding, “That I don’t trust anyone. Myself included.”

  Then he whisked me out into the hallway, past several offices, and through the back door, leading us out into the alley.

  “Give me a sec, Gunner,” I told him, slipping out from underneath his arm.

  He frowned, looking me up and down. “Laney, you can clean your heels off back at the trailer in Bristol Mills,” he said. “Hell, I’ll even buy you a new pair if you’ll just keep moving, and right now that means as far away from the station as possible.”

  Right then tires screeched into the lot. We both turned, taking in the red Jeep Wrangler idling next to the curb. And then a Stetson peeked out the driver’s side window.

  “Howdy there, Ranger.” Colt nodded at Gunner and me.

  Gunner edged to the sidewalk. “Luke”—his gaze drifted toward the federal marshal—“Colt treating you all right?”

  That’s when a white cowboy hat veered into view, and I was smacked in the eyes by a friendly face I’d never expected to see again, except during weekly prison visits. “I’m sort of upset you’ve already gotten tired of me, big guy.” Wrinkles grew around those baby blues, one of which was black and puffy, and the corners of that charming grin turned up a notch, split lip and all. “Hello, cutie.” His southern croon melted me on impact. “Miss me much?” Luke said, the cockiness on full blast. Damn, did I appreciate hearing his bullshit. I could have spent all night lying awake listening to Luke Wagner shoot the bull.


  But none of us had an entire night.

  I smiled back at Luke. “I’ll confess my life’s been pretty dull without beating heads with a spoiled little rich boy.”

  Luke threw his head back, his hand landing on Colt’s shoulder, that deep, hearty laughter only amusing to yours truly. The frown alone on Colt’s face suggested he hadn’t found Luke’s friendly back slap all that funny. With that smart-ass glimmer sparkling in his gaze, Luke playfully slapped Colt, saying, “So, cutie. You a Yukon or Jeep kind of girl tonight?”

  We all stared at one another momentarily and allowed everything from the day to sink in. Then Gunner stepped forward, arm still draped around my waist, hat hung low, and voice a gravelly drawl.

  “Colt, you’ll be following me,” Gunner affirmed, answering Luke.

  As I hopped inside the Yukon, the Jeep engine revved from behind, and then tires spun, burning rubber into asphalt. Gunner readjusted the rearview mirror, then drove out of the ranger station parking lot.

  Riding shotgun, I felt the warm, soothing touch of my boyfriend’s hand fall upon my lap. “Don’t worry, Laney,” Gunner said, peeling out into traffic. “I always get my man.”

  True. Although this time I couldn’t help but think maybe that man was one step ahead and laughing all the way to the bank.

  We crept across the Odessa county line shortly after dinnertime, heading toward the welcome sign into Pistol Rock. Gunner was quiet as a mouse, jaw set tight, and white-knuckling the wheel. The Yukon tires spun on the wet asphalt as he gunned the SUV over the railroad tracks. I fished my phone out of my pocket and sent a text.

  Luke tell you anything? I sent to Colt.

  He’s keeping a pretty tight lip.

  I smiled, then texted a reply. Just stay close, Colt.

  Rain battered the windshield, and Gunner had taken it upon himself to crank the volume on the radio. In the vacancy that tugged between us, Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” filled the cab. I was about to ask him to switch off the music when my phone beeped in my hands again. I looked down at the incoming text.