The Sheriff's Secret Wife

by Christyne Butler

  Chapter Four

  M rs. Steele. Mrs. Steele. Mrs. Steele.

  The words churned inside Racy's head much like the heavy snow swirling in the bright glow of the Jeep's headlights. She stared out into the darkness, not remembering exactly how she'd made it into Gage's vehicle. Her purse and backpack were at her feet, and on her lap were the matching letters from the State Bar of Nevada, one addressed to her and one to Gage.

  That much she did remember. Clawing through the stack of mail on her desk to find her own letter explaining the legal mess they were in. A part of her had wanted to believe the letter Gage had given her was an elaborate joke. It wasn't.

  "You're too damn quiet over there."

  His harsh words caused her stomach to clench. She closed her eyes and kept her face toward the window. "I'm fine."

  "All things considered."

  "All things considered," she echoed softly.

  "You're taking this better than I thought you would."

  "Give me a few minutes. I'll turn into the spitting hellcat you're used to."

  "I'm waiting with bated breath."

  Gage's tone was low, unforgiving. She turned to face him. His rugged profile was lost in the shadows, but the glow of the dashboard accented the hard line of his jaw. Her fingers tightened on the letters.

  "Of all the lawyers in Vegas—"

  "Leave it to us to find the worst one in town."

  "Are you sure this is for real?" Racy waved the letters at him. If he wasn't playing a joke, maybe someone else was. "How do we know someone isn't messing with us?"

  "Who else knows we let booze and the bright lights of Sin City lead us down the aisle? I haven't told anyone."

  His words caused a sharp zinger to nail her in the chest. "Like I have?"

  "I don't know. You ladies love to talk."

  Not about this.

  Despite the teasing threat issued earlier, Racy hadn't been tempted to confide in Maggie about what had happened between her and Gage. She knew her best friend—in the midst of her own romance-induced haze, thanks to falling for the cowboy she'd hired last summer—would turn a crazy night in Vegas into a bigger deal than the mere mistake it was.

  And in a town the size of Destiny, it wouldn't take long for everyone else to find out. She couldn't take that. It was hard enough to live down her first two miserable marriages. Once it got out she'd been the one who'd done the actual proposing, everyone would think Gage had married her out of pity.

  Or as a joke.

  Why else would the town's hero hook up with her?

  No, dealing with the local gossip chain was the last thing she needed while trying to put together her buyout plan for The Blue Creek.

  So pulling a Racy Special wasn't the smartest move, huh?

  Racy pushed away the thought, despite the twinge of satisfaction that filled her. Getting her rebellious side to cooperate with the businesswoman she wanted to be wasn't easy. At least she'd used her brain and deposited her Vegas winnings in a bank down in Laramie.

  Could that be it? Was this screwup somehow connected to her winnings? "Did you tell anyone about the money I scored—"

  "No. How would I explain I knew you're a card shark?"

  "I'm not a shark." On a whim she'd used her bartenders challenge winnings to stake a claim in a no-holds-barred Texas hold 'em game. It would've been foolish if she hadn't won. And won big. "I was lucky."

  "Yeah, that's us…lucky."

  Gage took the turnoff to her house, and the Jeep slid across the unplowed road. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, easily controlling the oversize vehicle. "Damn, these roads are bad. I can't believe you thought you could drive home. You should've used some of those winnings to buy yourself a decent car."

  Not a chance. She had other plans for that money. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves but only succeeded in drawing in the clean, woodsy scent of the man next to her. Something she'd been trying to avoid since he'd shown up in her office, but hell, she needed air.

  "I like my car and I have snow tires. I just haven't put them on yet."

  "I'd ask why, but I'd bet you'd tell me to mind my own business."

  Damn straight. "Wouldn't even give you odds."

  "Lady, I've learned never to gamble when it comes to you."

  "Afraid you'll come out on the losing end?"

  His stare cut to her for a quick moment. "I think I accomplished that in Vegas."

  Ouch, direct hit. Racy turned back to the window. "Just shut up and get me home."

  There was nothing they could do about this marriage mess tonight and Gage was in no mood to talk rationally. The anger rolled off him in waves. Was it finding out they were still legally bound to each other? Or was it something else?

  The Jeep slowly crawled along the snow-covered road that made up her long driveway. Her place was the only one out here. Her father and brothers had preferred it that way. No one around to complain about their extracurricular activities.

  Living here by herself for the last seven years, not counting her brief second marriage, Racy enjoyed the solitude even if she never had the money to fix up the simple ranch house. Husband number two had seen to that when he'd run out with the entire contents of her bank account. Jerk.

  "I know people leave a light on, but isn't this a bit much?"

  Gage's words pulled Racy from her thoughts. As they rounded the last turn, she saw bright lights shining from every window. They stopped in front of the sagging covered porch that ran the length of the house. Deafening rock music drowned the soft country tunes coming from the Jeep's stereo. Two snow-covered cars sat askew in the front yard.

  "You have guests?" Gage put the vehicle into park, but left it running.

  She shook her head. "I don't know what's going on."

  Gage grabbed his Stetson. "Stay here."

  A tall figure opened the front door and staggered onto the porch. Racy gasped. Her stomach plummeted to her feet as she recognized the man, who looked right at home with a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other.

  "Gage." She grabbed one leather-clad arm and nodded toward the house. "Wait."

  He looked, then his gaze shot back to her. "Did you know about this?"

  Racy opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  "Are you trying to tell me—ah, the hell with it." He yanked away from her touch and opened the Jeep's door.

  She did the same. Her feet sank into the snow as she hurried past the still shining headlights. Gage was already up the steps by the time she joined him.

  "Well, if it isn't the honorable sheriff of Destiny. Are you the welcome wagon, too?" The man fell against the porch post and belched. "Hey, sis. You're out of bacon and eggs."

  Racy closed her eyes, offered a quick prayer this wasn't happening and opened them again. No, he was still here. Billy Joe, her eldest brother by five years and until very recently a resident of the Wyoming prison system.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Well, that's a fine howdy-do." Billy Joe straightened and started toward her. "I expected better from family. Come 'ere and give your big brother a kiss."

  Gage instantly moved between them. All Racy saw was the wide span of his shoulders. "That's far enough, Dillon." His voice was easily heard over the loud music. "I think Racy asked you a question. I'll repeat it. What are you doing here?"

  "I live here."

  No, he doesn't!

  Racy bit hard at her bottom lip, stopping her outcry. Thanks to a small insurance policy from her first husband, she'd bought out her brothers years ago. She had no idea they'd used the money to set up a drug-running business. A business that had landed them behind bars eighteen months later.

  But Billy Joe was out now, nearly two years earlier than their scheduled release date.

  "Where's Justin?" She stepped around Gage, but noticed how he angled his body so he still stood between her and her brother. "Is he here with you?"

  Billy waved a hand at the front door. "Inside, entertaining
our guests." He took a long draw on the beer before tossing the can into the snow. "The Dillon boys are out, Sheriff Steele. Wanna see our paperwork?"

  "Yes."

  Her brother headed for the front door with Racy right behind him. Before she could go more than a few steps, Gage seized her wrist. "You really didn't know they were back in town?"

  She whipped back around. His icy-blue eyes stared at her. Was that disbelief she read in their cool depths? "I'm as surprised as you."

  "They've been here awhile. The question is how long."

  "How do you know that?"

  "There weren't any tracks on the road, and those cars—" he jerked his thumb over his shoulder "—are covered with at least four inches of snow."

  "I haven't seen or talked to either of my brothers in over two years." She yanked her hand free. "I told you, I don't know what's going on."

  She turned, unwilling to see the disapproval on his face. He muttered under his breath as he followed, but she couldn't make out the words. Good thing, too. He was probably damning the entire Dillon family to hell.

  The moment she stepped into her living room, she froze. Gage bumped into her, grabbing her upper arms and she found herself leaning into his strength. The furniture had been around since Racy's childhood. The end tables, lamps and television cabinet were yard-sale finds. Former sheets made up the curtains and long-ago-pilfered milk crates lined one wall as bookcases. It'd never be on the cover of a home decorating magazine, but it had always been clean and in order.

  Until tonight.

  Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles littered the tables and floor. Her paperbacks lay scattered, as if they had been thrown against the wall and then left where they'd dropped. Her college textbooks made a makeshift table for an open case of beer, and a fifth of whiskey lay tipped over, its contents creating a dark puddle in the aged shag carpet. The living room opened into the kitchen, which looked like a disaster zone with dishes and pans covering every inch of counter space. A pungent odor of beer, burnt eggs and smoke filled her nose.

  "Hey, sis!" Justin Dillon sat on the couch, his arms around two blondes who looked like they came straight from a city street corner. "Aren't ya glad to see us?"

  Racy slumped. He was drunk. They both were and her home was trashed. Embarrassment heated her face. The tightening of Gage's hands on her shoulders, in sympathy or anger, only made it worse. She pulled in a deep breath and wrenched from his grasp.

  "I think she's mad," Justin said, grinning like a loon. "Sorry for the mess. Don't worry, we'll clean it up."

  "Like hell we will. That's what she's here for." Billy strolled back into the room and hit the power button on the old stereo, cutting off the noise. He shoved the paperwork at Gage. "It's all legal. There ain't nothing you can do about it."

  Racy ignored her brothers and walked farther into the room. She couldn't believe the damage they'd done in a matter of hours. She and Gina had left—

  Gina! Her stomached clenched. Oh, thank God she hadn't been here when they'd shown up. But someone had been. Someone who'd waited for her every night for the last couple of months.

  "Ohmigod, what have you done with Jack?"

  * * *

  The panic in Racy's voice made Gage look up.

  "Where is he? I swear if you've done something—" Racy ran into the kitchen and headed for the back door. She yanked it open and yelled into the night. "Jack! Jack, come here, boy!"

  The clicking of nails on the floor came from what Gage guessed was a back hallway. He'd never been farther inside the Dillon house than the living room. Not even nine years ago when he'd come to tell them about the deaths of their father and Racy's husband.

  He still remembered that night.

  The loss of his own father the summer before had been a fresh, pain-filled memory when he'd driven here after finding no one at the shabby apartment where she'd lived in town. He'd stood on the front porch and tried to keep his eyes off the long, sexy legs of another man's widow as he'd delivered the news.

  Racy cried out, bringing him back to the present. She dropped to her knees as the golden retriever staggered into the kitchen. The animal wagged its tail when it caught sight of her, then sprawled to the floor, his legs giving way.

  "Oh, Jack!"

  The fear in Racy's voice created a hard press of empathy and anger in Gage's chest. She crawled across the linoleum to the dog and cradled its head in her lap.

  "What have you done?" Her eyes were hard as she focused on Billy Joe.

  "Relax." Billy Joe spoke around the cigar he shoved between his teeth. "He just wanted to join the celebration. All that barking when we arrived got him a bit thirsty."

  "You gave him alcohol?"

  "You broke in here?" Gage's question overlapped Racy's. He handed the paperwork back to Billy Joe. "Breaking and entering is a good way to make these null and void."

  "Y-you're crazy, Steele," Billy Joe sputtered. "W-we live here."

  "You haven't lived here for years and if your sister changed the locks, then you two—" his stare took in Justin, who'd risen from the couch "—are once again breaking the law."

  "Tell lover-boy this is our home, too," Billy Joe directed his sister.

  Gage clenched his jaw, not allowing a reaction to Billy's comment. He looked at Racy and found her staring at him, face pale.

  Her gaze flickered to her brother. "Shut up, Billy."

  "What's the matter with you, girl? You've gone soft on the sheriff?" Billy Joe grunted. "Back when he was nothing but a snot-nosed football star you used to call him a dumb jock."

  "He's not my lover." She swallowed hard and looked away, her attention on the dog. Her words came out in a ragged whisper. "I'm the only family Billy Joe and Justin have in this town and they're obviously in no shape to drive. They can stay here."

  Gage ignored the pang in his chest. He concentrated instead on the fact she was letting the bastards off the hook. "Racy, you don't have to—"

  "To worry about that mutt of yours," Billy Joe cut off Gage's protest and grabbed another beer. "We didn't let him have any of the good stuff. A few brewskis ain't going to kill him."

  "Shut your trap, Billy." Racy continued to rub the dog's golden-brown fur. "Before I change my mind and you two can sleep it off in a jail cell."

  A retching bellow from the retriever had Racy and the blonde girls on the couch crying out as the dog flopped into unconsciousness.

  "Jack!" She grabbed a dish towel off a kitchen chair and wiped at the dog. "Oh, please wake up!"

  Gage pushed past Racy's laughing jerk of a brother and reached her side in seconds. "Get a blanket."

  She turned to him, her dark brown eyes filled with unshed tears. His anger at her…over Gina…their marriage…faded at the hurting in her gaze. He found himself wanting to pull her into his arms.

  Instead, he pushed her to her feet and turned her toward the hallway. "Now."

  She nodded and raced to a back room. Gage, mindful of the mess, stepped over the dog, keeping his eye on both of Racy's brothers. "Since neither one of you seems to be in a mood to help, why don't you sit back down with your…guests?"

  "I'll help." Justin took a couple of unsteady steps. "What do you need?"

  "Shut up and sit down." Billy Joe shoved Justin back toward the couch and the bewildered blondes. He turned and grinned at Gage. "Want us where you can see us, huh?"

  "Yeah, something like that."

  Gage knelt when Racy rushed back in with an oversize quilt. He hated to lose the use of his hands but he guessed the animal weighed at least seventy pounds. There was no way she'd be able to pick him up. He gathered the dog in his arms. They had to get help and fast.

  Keeping an eye on Billy Joe, lounging in a battered recliner, and Justin, who sat nearby bug-eyed and white as a sheet, Gage pushed to his feet. "Racy, get the door."

  She ran ahead and Gage followed. He held the dog much like he would a baby, with most of the weight on one arm just in case he needed to reach for his gun. It would
n't be easy, but he'd do it if one of the Dillon boys rushed them.

  He hated to leave them here, but they had to get the animal to the vet immediately. He made a mental note to call in a drive-by for one of his deputies as soon as he could. "Close the inside door," he said once they were on the porch. "Then get in the backseat."

  Racy did what she was told. The rock music blared to life again as he hurried down the steps in an awkward backward motion. The urge to bust up their little party burned in his gut, but he knew there'd be plenty of other chances.