by Jodi Linton
Luke is such an annoying shit.
:)
Be safe, Briggs.
And then a loud pop sounded in the distance and something rammed the Yukon’s bumper. I turned, catching the tail end of Colt trying to gain control of his Jeep. Rule number one: don’t text and drive. The marshal should have known.
Gunner grabbed the wheel in a choke hold and veered the Yukon off to the side of the road. “Looks like we might have some backseat company,” he said, letting the engine continue to rumble.
“Aren’t you damn glad I didn’t let you buy that Jeep?” I pushed open my door and landed a heel on the gravel street.
He laughed. “Maybe a little.”
Standing on the side of a desolate country road butted up next to my hot-one-minute-cold-the-next boyfriend, I saw the smoke puffing up from under the front left tire of the Jeep. Colt hooked a hard right turn and puttered the Jeep off the road and away from oncoming traffic, which consisted of two trucks.
A muscular arm dangled out of the open Jeep window, and then that overconfident male voice graced me with his appearance again. “Got room for two more, Wilson?” Colt winked at me like a sucker punch.
“Let me help you grab your stuff,” Gunner responded and swaggered over the double white line, heading behind the parked Jeep.
I followed after him.
Seconds later, with a duffel bag tucked under my arm, I was paying close attention to the buddy-buddy action Gunner and Luke had going on, wondering when everything I knew had spun on its head. Fine, I’ll confess, I was slightly jealous at becoming the third wheel and gaining one snotty-mouthed marshal as my newly appointed sidekick.
Duffel in tow, I began to march around the deceased Jeep Wrangler when a solid arm slammed hard into my breasts. On a laugh Colt said, “Whoa, there, honey pie. Start paying better attention. You could have gotten sideswiped by an oncoming vehicle.”
“Huh?” I leaned around wide shoulders, spotting Gunner and Luke loading the Yukon with a laptop and some department-issued shotguns, yet I didn’t spot a fucking truck for miles. “You must be seeing things, Marshal. Might want to get those eyes checked,” I told Colt and eased a smidgen away, breaking free from the coverage that his tall, toned body gave.
At that moment, headlights flooded the lonely two-way road, and my heels sank into a muddy slush puddle as I found myself blinded by the light. Then a door creaked open, and Gunner shouted, “Gun.” His voice thundering in the blackness, echoing madly in my ears. “Laney—” my protective Texas Ranger called, his voice trailing off with the howling wind and a gun blast. Then another round fired off. Bullets flew. My eardrums pounded, causing my head to throb. “Cover her. I’ve got Luke. She doesn’t have a fucking gun,” Gunner hollered. A shot rang out, lighting up the sky in an array of fireworks. “You goddamn motherfucker.” The black cowboy hat shot up, poking out from behind the Yukon. “Luke, stay the fuck down,” Gunner ordered, then he looked over at me huddled by the Jeep, Colt posed at my side with his gun clutched in his hand. Gunner gave me a halfhearted smile before storming off to be the goddamn heroic savior of the evening.
Sometimes I wished my boyfriend would just flee the scene instead of having to take up the damn sword.
“You must be the Texas Ranger giving my boss all hell,” the stranger stated as he straddled the yellow highway line. “Just hand over Wagner, and we’ll call this little spat old news.”
“The last guy that aimed a gun at me wound up with a bullet in his head.” Gunner kept his semiautomatic pointed at our assailant. “And you can ask just about anybody, and they’ll tell you I don’t take too kindly when somebody tries to blow my girlfriend’s brains out.”
The stranger cocked the rifle in his hand. Shit, this couldn’t be happening. I had no gun—because my dumbass self thought it was a good idea to place my 9mm and holster on the dashboard instead of hitching it to my hip like a smart lawwoman would’ve done. And the icing on the cake was I had a babysitter who went by the name of Colt Larsen blocking any advance I might be able to gain on the Yukon hatchback. I knew for a fact there was at least one loaded rifle stashed under the backseat.
And then everything snowballed out of control.
Stay put was all he’d been asked to do. But like always, Luke Wagner never listened. Walking with hands held high and talking in a slow, drawn-out southern drawl, Luke moved out in the open. “All this shit-talking over little old me?” he said, mouth pouring on the conceit as he positioned himself in a sweet spot right next to Gunner. “I’m touched.” He cut a glance at Gunner. “Really, I am.”
The gunman took a step. “Hand him over.”
“I hope your quick draw is better than mine,” Gunner growled.
Fuck this shit. I scrambled on my hands and knees in the direction of the Yukon. A firm hand latched onto my calf as I rounded the Jeep’s front tire. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t seem to shake my tail.
“Get off me, Colt Larsen,” I hissed under a breath. “Those two are gonna get themselves shot, and I need that damn rifle from the Yukon.”
Colt squeezed my leg tighter. “No. You’re gonna get yourself shot.”
I’d really had enough of this I-am-man-hear-me-roar attitude. And there was no way in hell I was going to allow two of the men in my life to take a bullet while I stood by watching. I lifted my foot, then sent my heel into the pesky marshal’s stomach. An oomph tore from his chest as he fell back, giving me an opening.
My palms burned, and my knees were tender from crawling on the asphalt when I heard a gun go off, then tires burn against the asphalt as the lone truck peeled away from the scene.
A heavy hand hit my thigh. I went completely still. A deadly quiet hung overhead. Slowly recognition dawned on me at the sound of the muted breath panting into my backside. I tilted my head, and that’s when I saw all the blood.
“No! Oh, god, no.”
Blood coated the pavement. A gun slid past my face. Gravel bit into my backside, clawing at my bare thighs. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see for shit. The tangy taste of warm metal seeped down my throat. Had I been shot?
Then, in that moment, everything seemed to stall. A hand pressed into my chest, and a stubbled chin grazed beneath my jaw.
“You’ve been shot,” Colt whispered, sounding so damn weak.
Blinking rapidly, I lowered my lids, taking in the Stetson lying near the car tire, the plaid pearl snap ripped open, and the cool warmth pooling against my stomach. Skimming a hand down my belly, I touched the growing red circle. My flesh was intact, but the stream of blood continued to flow. Lord, no.
Hand shaking and lips trembling, I said, “Not my blood.”
“Laney, honey pie, don’t look at me like that.” He tried to roll onto his side, but winced and instead chose to stay flat on his back. Colt lifted his head and stared at the bullet hole that pierced his side. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
Flesh wound, my butt.
“Someone please help us…now.”
Then some girl started screaming uncontrollably. Even though I recognized the voice, I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that it was me losing my shit.
Chapter Fourteen
Gunner
I’d waved my asshole card.
Though I wanted to be that man, the type that comforted and held his girl’s hand in a time of need, for Laney, I was still a guy. And an hour of hysterical crying had been my breaking point. So as usual I’d pulled a chickenshit move and passed her off to Luke. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts, and besides, Luke always pouted about not spending enough time with our cute brunette deputy.
The thing is, I’d rather have a pissed-off Laney than an upset one on any given day. And sometimes, if I admitted it, well, just the sight of Laney puffy faced and worried brought back too many tortured memories of that fateful day we lost our baby. Not something I was ready to stare head-on.
That’s why I’d pulled my man card and chosen to hang out with a shirtless Colt Larsen instead of
soothing my girlfriend. Clearly my priorities were out of whack.
“That chick of yours is a fucking gun magnet,” Marshal Larsen grumbled while the doctor finished wrapping the gauze around his midsection.
I couldn’t argue with such a damn good assessment of Laney. Although she’d have my balls in a mason jar if she heard me agreeing with him.
So to save my ass from the chopping block with a smart-mouthed brunette deputy, I gave the lawman a noncommittal smile. “Almost done here, Larsen?”
“It was just a damn bullet graze. There’s no need to babysit me, Wilson.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I said on a hat tug. “All that blood on the pavement scared the shit out of Laney.”
Colt grinned. “Glad at least one of us can get the girl riled up.”
“Let’s not make things worse.”
He slapped the blood-splattered Stetson on his head and slid off the bed. “Not much more could go wrong by the way I see it.” Colt holstered the gun back on his hip, taking a moment to toss a wink at the nurse scribbling away on a tablet as she stepped through the doorway and out into the hall. He stopped and frowned, the wrinkles growing along his forehead. “All of y’all are crazy as shit,” he said, pushing through the doorway, but then he stalled, stepped back, and pulled it closed. Secure. No one outside the room would be any wiser about what transpired between the two of us. “Tell me something, Wilson. Why is Redbud setting up a criminal empire in Pistol Rock?” Colt scrubbed his jaw, eyes locked on my nervous stance by the window. “The man has no connections to the town other than a few business associates who help him run his melon farm while he travels from state to state. And the records show, the only other time he’s strutted his boots on Pistol Rock soil was almost twenty years ago, before leaving Texas altogether to attend college.”
Caught red-handed.
Kicking off the wall, I stepped in front of the nosy marshal. “Not a word of this outside the room. Understand?”
Colt laughed. “Holy shit. Do you even know who shares your bed?”
Yep, and I wasn’t in the market for a new hide.
“Haven’t really decided on how or what to tell Laney,” I said, the sweat cloaking my forehead causing the brim of my hat to slip forward. “I’m assuming you’ve heard about my old man.”
Colt grunted. “The almighty Tex Wilson. Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”
I was definitely having second thoughts about telling Laney to let me handle the federal marshal while she sat with Luke in the waiting room.
Rubbing my gun, I stated coldly, “Starting to think you believe the rumors.”
It’d been wildly speculated that at the time of my parents’ deaths my father had flipped sides and traded his star for drug money. Though I would never believe such bullshit about my old man. He’d been my hero. The guy I promised myself one day to grow up and become. Laney deserved that kind of good man in her life. And even if the cops had escorted me out of the family home that fateful day, only to let me return once my parents were gone and the premises cleaned…I still found pride over the years in squashing such hogwash rumors about the onetime Texas Ranger director.
He cocked his head to the side. “We all have skeletons, just some of us go about burying them a little more cleverly.”
“My old man wasn’t dealing drugs, Larsen.”
The wide-leg stance grew. “Just get to the point as to how Danny Redbud became your target practice.”
I grumbled and whipped off my hat and raked a hand through my hair. “Redbud used to be a mule for the Dirty Southern Mafia back when my father was investigating their organization. I believe he might be responsible or know who put the hit on my parents.”
Colt just nodded and moved toward the door again. “Well, good luck with that one.” Then he walked out of the hospital room, the sound of his voice causing my blood to boil as he called out Laney’s name.
I followed after him. Laney was standing with a hip resting against the receptionist desk. “Howdy.” I tipped the brim of my hat at the men circling her as if she was a piece of meat and free for the taking. “Mind if I take my girl home?”
Luke stepped up first, and there was no discounting my old nemesis would dish out a few choice words. He spat the toothpick on the tile and slung a possessive arm around Laney, then tugged her close. Their mouths met a mere millimeter from my comfort zone. “Colt”—he glanced over at the marshal standing at bay a few inches away—“tells me you assigned him to watch my back until Agent Burrows is able to pick me up.” Both blue eyes narrowed on me, and then finally he let his arm fall from my girl’s shoulders. Otherwise I might’ve seen fit to break the damn thing in half. “Don’t you think I’ve earned my keep enough to be filled in on these things?”
“Just happened,” I said, looking at Colt. “Ain’t that right, Larsen?”
A humorless smile painted his face. “Yep. I’m big on lending a helping hand.” He cut Laney a cool, hard stare. “Ask our lady deputy friend, and she’ll fill y’all in on how much of a service I was at the strip club.”
My fists clenched at my side. I cleared my throat, about to speak, but Laney beat me to the punch. She rolled up on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss smack-dab on Luke’s cheek. The action didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Actually, it made me want to slug a fist through the wall.
Her smile grew as she slung a hand upon her hip. “Have you picked out that handicap parking sticker yet, Larsen?”
That sparked a laugh.
“Call me when you to get to Bristol Mills,” I said to Colt as I reached a hand out to Laney and smiled, pulling her into me. “Pretty sure those two can manage to get home on their own.”
After parting ways with Luke and Colt, we walked back outside and jogged across the parking lot. Ice poured down, making the parking lot slick. With an arm secured tightly around Laney, I led her to the Yukon. We stopped by the passenger door, my hat shielding her from the drizzle.
She tugged the neckline of that eye-popper shirt back up over her tits. Once I got her alone, that too-hot-to-touch shirt would see a trash can.
“Need to make a deal here.” Her cute nose crinkled, the wheels churning in her head as she wrenched open the car door. “If I’m gonna be sharing the same roof with you tonight, I’ll need a beer.” Her beautiful mouth quirked in amusement. “Maybe even two.”
Guess it might’ve been a bad idea to ask the Lord to help me get lucky tonight.
Chapter Fifteen
Laney
We’d left Odessa in a whirlwind of commotion and angst. Thirty minutes after midnight, an old farmhouse rose over the bend—the place Gunner was holding his breath that I’d accept as our new home. Rain battered the windshield as wipers smudged bug guts and drizzle glared up the line of sight. A long dirt road crunched beneath slick tires. Gunner parked the Yukon next to the swaying front porch, hands still white-knuckling the wheel as he muttered something inaudible under his breath.
When the engine died, he turned and smiled that boyish grin. “We’re here.” He reached across my lap and unlocked the passenger door. “There’s not much inside but a few cots and a cooler of beer.”
“Why bring me here?” The chilly winter air slapped me in the face as I scooted out of the SUV. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”
“The two of us still have some unfinished business.”
I gave him a questioning look.
He chuckled and dropped his voice to a low whisper. “We need to talk, and you’re getting all wet.” Gunner tugged his hat lower as he edged around the fender toward me. “Let’s get you inside and into some dry clothes.”
A small cement porch butted against the brittle, dead lawn. Two oblong windows draped in pinewood shutters framed the red front door. There was a stone path leading around to the barn, and a half-finished wooden fence enclosed the home as if it was in the middle of a subdivision instead of on ten acres. Gunner had been busy. The run-down property was actually starting to
resemble a home.
“If I’d known the rangers paid you so well, I’d have asked for a better Christmas present.”
His callused hand fell upon the small of my back, and I shivered. Then that heated drawl seared my ears on a deep, manly chuckle. “I was given a raise.” The hand circled, softly drawing X’s on my now-flushed skin. “Might’ve forgotten to mention I’ve been undercover and working a few cases on the side.” Gunner reached past me and pushed open the door. “After you, Deputy.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” I said, strolling past his muscular arm sticking squarely in my face. When he caught me staring, Gunner grunted, truly pleased with the fact he still rang my bell. “All I wanna do is talk and then get some shut-eye.” I stormed inside the dark home. The light switched on, and there I was again, staring down my brooding dark horse leaning hipshot against the entryway wall. I really deserved a break. “Tomorrow’s a big day,” I told it straight to Mr. Hot Pants. “I get to watch you hang yourself on the stand at Wyatt’s hearing. A birdie told me it should be pretty damn entertaining.”
“Why don’t I grab the two of us some beer, and then you and I can have a sit-down in the makeshift office I slapped together.” He tipped the brim of his hat, only to brush past me standing in the middle of the living room, and swaggered on into the kitchen as he called out, “You are going to be pretty damn impressed with my skills before this night is over, sweetheart.”
I chased after him, heels beating the warped wood floors en route to the kitchen. Gunner shot upright, beers in hand, and with a smug smile on his face that made me want to chuck a red high heel directly in its path.
He popped the cap on a Miller Lite and strutted into my personal space. I reached out to accept the beer, but Gunner pulled it back, saying, “Just one question…” He drew the bottle to his lips and took a swig, holding onto that damn puppy dog grin. It pained me how cute it made him look. When he’d finished swallowing, he continued with the Q and A. “Have your feelings changed about making your bed with a prick?” He slung back another drink, his gaze never falling from my face as he waited to hear my response.