by Jodi Linton
Well, shit me.
“Deputy Laney Briggs,” I called out, hand firmly cradling my gun. “I suggest y’all put some goddamn clothes on, because I’m coming in.”
Something hit the floor, and then the sound of the bed creaking filtered outside right as I swung the door wide open and caught a glimpse of two bare-assed women crab crawling about the filthy carpeted floor.
“Good morning, cutie,” an all too familiar male voice said. “That’s the girl that broke my heart, ladies. She sure is a looker.”
My gaze lifted upward and landed directly on the tomcat. He was leaned back against the headboard, muscular arms stretched overhead, washboard abs sprawled out and on display with that damn shit-eating grin plastered across his pretty-boy face. I might’ve swallowed my tongue at the sight of all his naked gloriousness.
“I told ya to put on clothes.” I pulled my hat lower in an attempt at shielding my eyes from the meat fest.
It didn’t work, because oh my God! There was Luke Wagner’s penis standing at attention and clearly not relieved. His freaking monster of a cock stood bold and proud. And to think all these years I’d considered Gunner hung.
The grin widened on a leg swing. “Oh, come on, Laney.” Both blue eyes met mine. “I know you’ve seen a pecker before.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Well, stupid, I’m pretty sure I’ve played with that one before, too.”
He straightened to a stand and let out a boastful laugh. “Now you have.”
“Huh?” I asked, confused.
Picking up his jeans, Luke smiled at the girls who were just as shocked and confused as me. “Ladies, do you mind?” he said, slipping on a pant leg. “My deputy friend and I need a moment.”
The whores quickly gathered up their clothes, dropped me a not-so-casual displeased wink, and scampered out the door, giggling the whole damn way. When the door slammed shut, he zipped up his Levi’s and raked a hand through his I-just-fucked-two-chicks unruly blond hair.
Sadly, even after a threesome, Luke had hair that could’ve passed for a GQ cover model. I hated him.
I hitched a hand up on my hip and tilted my head to the side as I rocked forward on the toes of my boots in an effort to get a better view behind Luke. He was blocking the bathroom, and since being on the job, I knew most of the time if someone had anything to hide they made every attempt possible to shield it from view.
“Anything I should know about, Luke?” I looked over his shoulder at the closed door.
He followed my gaze, smiled, then reached behind him and pushed open the bathroom door. “Take a look. Not much in there but a toothbrush and a toilet.”
“Where’s Colt?”
“I sent him out on a coffee run.”
I whipped off my hat and dropped it by my side. “It’s just that damn easy to get a federal marshal off your tail.”
Luke shoved a hand down the front pocket of his tight-ass Levi’s and kicked off the wall, blue eyes narrowed my way. “It is if you’re a Wagner.”
Over the past few days I’d been stuffed full with so much bullshit if someone poked me I’d have exploded.
“You are so full of shit. Some days I’m afraid your head might implode.”
He winked. “There’s a good chance it might.” Patting the bed nearby, Luke added, “Why don’t you take a seat and we can talk? I know you didn’t come by just to interrupt my bedtime.”
“Just so you know, Gunner is back in my good graces.”
He scrubbed his square jaw, the amusement flickering behind his eyes. “I know. Talked to the man last night on the phone,” Luke drawled, then patted the bed again. “Take a load off, Laney. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ll want to be sitting down for what I’m about to tell you.”
More than likely it wasn’t in my best interest to be sharing a bed with Luke Wagner, but hell, there weren’t too many choices when it came to parking my ass.
I looked from the bed to him. “Just keep your hands to yourself, and we’ll be golden.”
“I’m always a gentleman in the sack. I thought you knew that, Briggs.”
I unlatched my gun. The sound of the mattress shifting set off all kinds of alarm bells inside my head.
“Laney, I’m not gonna try to bang you.” His lips twitched as if he was trying really damn hard to hold back a laugh. “I’m much smoother than a bump and grind.”
I rolled my eyes. “Tell it to God…because I’m starting to find out that most of the men in my life could use a little fine-tuning.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I promise not to bite.”
Like I haven’t heard that one before.
Right now, I had one butt cheek hanging off the bed and the other suctioned on for dear life as I tried not to clock Luke in the chin after what he’d just spewed.
“So what you are telling me…” My gaze dropped to his zipper fly, and I almost choked on my own damn tongue. “Today was the first time I’d seen your pee-pee.”
He nodded, the hint of a smile crooked into the corner of his mouth. “Well, I like to think of him as a steer. The Big Steer, actually.” The smugness in his tone made me livid. “You’ve got to agree we passed the pee-pee phrase at four years old, cutie.”
All these years he’d let me believe I had a drunken one-night stand with him. The ass. I was going to freaking murder the poor little rich boy. Then I was gonna bury him out in the cow pasture on Perkins’s land so he could be used as fertilizer.
“I hate you now more than I did two minutes ago.”
“Figured as much.” He slung a muscled arm across my shoulders and tugged me into his side. “Although I’m still fucking in love with you,” he said, and before I could turn away he placed a kiss on my forehead. Not tempting, or even dirty. It’d just been a pure sweet embrace between two old friends who’d never be anything more than that.
And now even the thought of not having Luke Wagner in my life made my heart ache.
“You love him?” He swept a piece of hair behind my ear. “Because if you don’t, Laney, it might be time to let him go.” The tenderness in his voice broke me in two. “He’s ready to take the next step. Ready to make an honest woman of you. And even though it’s killing me thinking about you taking his name…it only seems fitting.”
My life was seriously jacked up. He’d rendered me speechless. Me? What the hell had just happened?
“When did you become such a romantic?” I asked, taking in the longing clouding his gaze.
“When I came to my senses and decided the girl of my dreams would never have eyes for me.”
He’d slam-dunked that answer.
“I’m sort of disappointed in you, Luke.” I smiled up at him. “How are you going to spend your days now if it isn’t to waste time hating Gunner?”
That got me the laugh I so desperately needed.
“Someone has to tend to the cattle.”
I reached out and touched his cheek, falling head over heels with the deep sigh that tore from his chest. At that moment, I discovered there could be two kinds of love. There could be the man I allowed to own my bed, my heart, and my name. And there was room for the man I’d shared a lifetime with, who understood me, who saw my flaws and still wanted us both to come out on top. It was slightly painful, but it was time to pull up my big-girl panties and accept what life had thrown my way. One day Luke Wagner would find that woman who would capture his heart and his name. It just wasn’t me. Never had been.
A firm, comforting hand squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll admit the man can lie better than Bill Clinton, but he loves you. And all that shit that went down at my house was only done to protect your ass.”
“How long has this case been on his radar?” I was sitting on a bed, wrapped in Luke Wagner’s arms, and in a rush of blissful relief, I knew he’d come clean. He wanted to. Because in the end we were friends, and out of respect we owed each other the truth.
The harsh swallow filtering down his neck told me everything. He knew I understo
od no one could have a clean slate.
“I approached Gunner four months ago about my connection with Redbud,” he informed. Wide shoulders pressed into mine, and the lump in my throat intensified. “I made a fucking mistake by thinking Redbud was the way out from underneath my father’s thumb.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“Redbud asked me to run drugs through the Wagner ranching business,” he complied. The worried look on his face was almost too much to bear. “I never knew my father was already involved with the man.”
The palms of my hands slicked along my jeans-clad thighs as I played what Luke had said over again and again.
Looking up at him, I asked the question that had been plaguing my tired soul since hitting up Bristol Mills. “Why would Mitch agree to run drugs for Redbud?”
Luke let his hand fall from my shoulders. “Because, cutie, the man is his son.”
Talk about being slapped in the face. Okay, Gunner might’ve left that little tidbit out from last night’s conversation.
“Please tell me you’re shitting me.”
Yet everything was starting to make complete sense. The pictures of Redbud that held the uncanny resemblance to Luke, and the reasoning behind him going to Gunner for help. Luke didn’t trust his dad to have his back.
“And Gunner has me hanging out here about to lose my fucking mind with the marshal and ranger watching my every move.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I should be sticking it to my half brother”—the nasty laugh boomed in the small space—“instead of sticking it to some whores.”
My phone buzzed against my butt cheek. I raised a finger at Luke, requesting a moment to check out the caller.
Are you coming to the hearing?
I stared at the text from Gunner before replying simply, Sure.
And then I stuffed the phone back into my pocket as I got up from the bed and said to Luke, “I need to get moving. Wyatt’s hearing is this morning.” Damn, how much I hated the way those blazing blue eyes tore straight through me. “Try not to do anything stupid, Wagner.”
He caught me up by the hand. “Whatever happens, cutie, remember I always loved you.” Then he let my hand slip from his tender grasp and smiled. “Now run along, girlie,” he drawled. “You don’t want to keep whoever is on the other end of that line waiting.”
“Luke…”
“Laney…” He arched a brow. “Like I said, it’s time for you to go.”
Maybe coming to have a little heart-to-heart with an old childhood friend hadn’t been in my best interest. Because if I wasn’t seriously worried before…hell, I was now.
Shortly after the noon hour, I coasted my barely engine-chugging cruiser into a slot around back near the Dumpster outside the Odessa courthouse. Now all I had to do was see how much shit Gunner had gotten my birdbrain cousin into. Besides, allowing Gunner a moment to sweat would be a good workout for his ego. Riding shotgun to my cousin’s sentencing would have gotten him either a black eye or a morning quickie.
Neither was something I’d been looking forward to.
I kicked the driver’s side door open and swung a leg outside, only to land one of my red cowboy boots in bird shit splattered on the ground. Fucking perfection. Shaking it off, I slid to a stand, pulled the brim of my straw cowboy hat half-mast past my nose, and tugged at my belt buckle. About time to let every soul know just how crappy my family really was. Keys clicking in the palm of my hand in tune with the tapping of my soles, I strolled across the parking lot with my head down, shoulders hunched, and whispering to God to pull this clusterfuck of a hearing off without a hitch.
Heaven help us all.
Wide glass doors welcomed me at the top of the cement steps. I pushed through the doorway and approached the security banks. Great, a burly dude parading major pit stains eyed me down from the single metal detector.
I tipped my hat. “Howdy.”
He hitched his holster up around his doughy gut. “Empty your pockets in the bowl down there.” The mall cop security guard gestured toward a plastic dish on a conveyor belt. “And then step on through, missy.”
Well, that comment made my blood boil. Although I wanted to give the blockhead a piece of my mind, I just chalked it up to another shiny moment of this fine morning and dumped all the contents of my pockets—gun included—in the pissing bowl. With my deputy badge faced palm out and my hands held high, I walked aimlessly under the detector.
Nothing dinged, so maybe the day was looking up.
“You don’t look much like a cop.” Why did he have to say what pissed me off more than a lousy pet name?
Turning on a heel, I smiled Bitch 101, then strapped my 9mm back at my waist and called over my shoulder, muttering, “You better believe your ass I’m a deputy.” I slapped my straw cowboy hat on a butt cheek and marched off toward my cousin’s doomsday as I plugged in a text to Colt.
Are you alive?
A man shuffled by, bumping me in the shoulder and jarring the phone in my hand. The edge of his briefcase jutted into my side as he hurriedly gave me an apologetic nod and moseyed off to court. I was about to tell him to watch his manners when my phone beeped in my hands. I looked down at the incoming text.
On my way back to town, Colt replied.
At the courthouse for Wyatt’s hearing. Can you swing by in an hour?
A moment passed before his response lit up the screen.
Sure.
Two minutes later, I was hiding out in a pew five rows back, hand lifted to my forehead to shade my face from all the onlookers. Moody and despairing hope barely even touched the surface of all the feelings exploding like a fireworks show inside me. Coming to court happened to be one of the least favorite pastimes of the job. Yet here I was again, but with a whole helluva lot more riding on it.
I slumped farther down in the highly uncomfortable pew and stared back at the judge presiding over my dimwit cousin’s case. At the moment, the judge happened to be the biggest hurdle I had to overcome on this unforgiving December morning. Well, since every other fucking disaster in my life was entirely out of my hands.
I guess it was time to kiss a pleasant Tuesday morning good-bye.
A thud, then a slam followed by a knock, and the whole damn courtroom shot to attention. Heads turned. Feet shuffled. Hushed whispers bellowed in the dense, cold room. A bulb flashed, and then the double doors sprang open and out clanked the sound of metal cuffs clashing bitterly with the chipped tile floor. I whirled around, clutched my hat in my lap, and pulled a tight smile. Standing between two armed guards, my cousin Wyatt Bennett had arrived, buzzed head hung low, wrists shackled, and legs quaking at the knees. Immediately my gut knotted. Apparently witnessing the real deal of seeing my cousin fixing to have the hammer rain down on him wasn’t something I was prepared for.
Wyatt was fitted in an issued orange jumpsuit. His pasty face had seen better days under the scorching west Texas sun. When he inched down the narrow alleyway, the tightness in his concave face blossomed, giving every attendee in the courtroom an eye-opener to the paranoid bastard’s inner thoughts.
Keeping a low profile had never gone hand in hand with the Briggs lineage.
He began to search the packed room, finally spotting me eye-locking him. Upon trying to save face by giving a simple nod, his lips trembled upward, creating a nasty I-steal-Girl-Scout-cookies smile. We were all going up in flames, and Wyatt would be the first to fry. I casually lifted a finger to my mouth, gesturing for him to keep those squirrelly lips sealed tighter than a butt plug. Neither one us needed any more problems soiling the Briggs family name. Hell, god and everyone in between knew we’d had enough to keep us all out of those pearly gates until our great-great-grandkids kicked up the dirt in Pistol Rock.
Wyatt dropped his head in acknowledgment as he was dragged by the guards to the hangman’s seat, front row and center before the honorable judge.
I had a goddamn gut feeling that this little spectacle wasn’t going down like any Judge Ju
dy episode.
A mallet smacked wood, hard. “Quiet in the court,” a brash male voice deadpanned. And then a hushed stillness slipped across the narrow room. “I’m Judge Joseph Major, and I’ll be proceeding over the case of Wyatt Bennett.” His coal black eyes zeroed in on Wyatt sequestered behind a table. “Mr. Bennett, has your counsel Defense Attorney Samuels filled you in on the charges being brought against you today?”
Wyatt shifted in the chair. “Y-yes.” His voice was so high-pitched he came across sounding like a soprano singer.
Well, this was going to play out about as well as when dirty Uncle Cooper showed up for the town’s annual Easter egg hunt and tried to hit on the Junior League punch stand girls.
With a throat clear, Judge Major looked up, staring both counselors down. “Then let’s move along with today’s proceedings.” He peered at the podium. “Prosecutor Adams, the state is bringing charges of drug possession with the intent to sell”—he stalled to thumb through some papers, then lifted his head—“and aiding and abetting illegal gun smuggling against Mr. Bennett.”
A chair scraped across the floor. “Objection, Your Honor,” Defense attorney Samuels stated adamantly. Wyatt’s attorney proceeded to the front of the table. “There’s no evidence that my client was involved with dealing drugs.” His attorney turned, gesturing at the far back wall of the courtroom. “In fact, the head detective working the case released my client of all drug charges.”
“The state won’t be bringing drug charges against Mr. Bennett,” Adams interrupted. “Although we have Texas Ranger Gunner Wilson willing to testify that Mr. Bennett is a known drug dealer and resisted arrest, putting him and a Deputy Laney Briggs in harm’s way.”
Fuck a cow. Don’t get me wrong, my cousin needed a good lawman spanking, but hell, jail time would turn the clocks in his head back twelve years. That idiot would be dumber than a stick upon release.
My mouth came unhinged. Before I could raise a beef, the doors flung open again. I whipped my head around, and out of the shadows a cowboy wearing a pair of dusty, scuffed-up black boots stepped up to the plate. There in the middle of court, a place attempting to tie the noose around my cousin’s neck, stood my bad-boy cowboy boyfriend in all his black, tight, strutting glory. I watched, stunned by his prettiness, with my palms a sweaty mess as his wickedly smooth gaze scanned the room, dropping like a dead ringer on me. Yeah, I was spitting mad. Gunner whipped off his hat, lowered it to his side, and raked a hand through his tousled brown locks. He stayed focused on me like a hawk as he swaggered that damn fine ass—which my mind definitely shouldn’t be preoccupied with—toward the imposing stand up front. As I played witness to my boyfriend readying himself to take down one of my family members, I zeroed in on the judge, who was fixing to nail my cousin’s ass with a set of charges, probably gaining Wyatt a minimum of ten years.