by Lynde Lakes
“That’s not it. Amber’s in trouble. When have we ever turned our back on someone who needs help?”
Matt looked at him long and hard. Then, he swore under his breath and shook his head. “I know I’m going to regret this. Got something in mind?”
“I’ve been thinking—maybe the guy who killed Amber’s boss tortured Elmer to find her, then the SOB murdered him. Maybe even Mando’s attack was part of it.”
“Bull!” Matt said. “Mando was just a cowpoke in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Luke slammed a fist into his callused palm. “Yeah? I say, find the damned stolen horse and we’ve got us a suspect.”
Matt’s laugh was hollow. “Forget it. Last night Blaze returned to the ranch on his own.”
“You sure about that? Or maybe someone rode him to the ranch to lurk around and get info about Amber.” Luke arched an eyebrow. “Hire anyone new in the last few days?”
“You know we’re not hiring now.” Matt took off his Stetson and scratched his forehead. “Wait a minute. Come to think of it, there were a couple of strangers who came through asking for work, but Alfonso turned them down.”
“Timing’s suspicious. You’re certain they left?”
“Yeah. Buck was hiring, so Alfonso referred them here.”
“What? They’re here?” Luke’s heart thudded—and he had left Amber alone.
****
Amber’s cheeks burned. The room remained silent for several seconds after Matt and Luke stormed out the door. Why had Matt whisked Luke away so abruptly? She closed her eyes for a moment. Good grief, she’d been abandoned in a room full of near strangers. What now?
She darted a furtive glance around Buck George’s living room. It was a museum of rodeo memorabilia with pictures on the walls of cowboys on bucking bulls, trophies in glassed cabinets, and cowboy gear displayed on hooks around the room. Buck and his wife, Wanda, fit right into the western setting. Buck was rangy and lean, the picture of an aged, hard-living Marlboro Man. His handlebar mustache looked like it belonged on an old-time movie sheriff. Wanda was tall and silver-haired with an Amazon’s bone structure.
Wanda laughed. “Those brothers! Always butting up against each other.”
“They’re just talking man talk,” Molly said. Her cheery voice didn’t match the worry in her eyes.
Amber had a hunch their talk might be about her. She wished she could’ve been a fly on the wall. What if Matt persuaded Luke to talk? The ex-FBI cowboy might turn her in. She’d gotten herself into a real fix—trapped way out in nowhereland, miles from public transportation. She’d have to trust Luke, yet everything in her cried trust no one.
To calm her frayed nerves, she glanced at Alicia. She was playing roll-the-jack’s-ball on the floor with Matt and Molly’s child, Sara Jane, a two-year-old with carrot red hair. The girls were giggling over the big tabby cat trying to paw the small ball away from them.
“Aren’t they great?” Wanda said. “They’ve grown so since I last saw them.”
Amber smiled at the little girls, and her world softened a bit around the edges.
Wanda shook her head solemnly and lowered her voice so the children wouldn’t hear. “She looks so much like Connie Lou. It must be hard for Luke to be reminded of his lost soul mate every day.”
Amber felt like a horse had just kicked her in the chest. She gasped for breath. Soul mate—was Plato right? Is there only one person we can love completely? No. She didn’t believe it for a minute. Love wasn’t something people rationed out. If Luke could love his wife so deeply, he could love that way again. An unexplainable sadness welled up within Amber. Although she didn’t entirely understand it, one thing was crystal clear—she could never settle for less than a man who could love her like that.
“Amber?” Molly said. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.” Amber felt like crying. She lifted her chin and plastered a smile on her face.
Alicia laughed uproariously and pointed to her new mouse-shaped watch. Sara Jane laughed, too. Amber sighed in relief to have the attention diverted away from her. “Alicia’s learning to tell time, you know,” Amber said.
Molly stared at Amber with a question in her expression, then, as though she had come to some conclusion, she chimed in, telling some of the bright things Sara Jane had done. Virginia added her two cents to the conversation, bragging about both girls, and mentioning how clever Parker’s children were as well. Amber remembered Parker was the murdered brother. She’d never met his children. Someone had said they lived in Dallas near the maternal grandparents.
“We’ve got the best grandkids in the world,” Virginia said.
The ice was broken. If Amber had nothing else in common with these women, at least they had one thing—they all adored children.
Amber turned at the sound of booted footsteps, hoping it was Luke. Suzy and Roberto came into the room holding hands, light apricot and deep coffee fingers loosely laced.
“Roberto!” Amber said before she could rein in her surprise.
“I thought I’d see you here.” His voice wobbled between boyish and mannish in a lyrical Spanish accent. “Maybe we can practice our lassoing later.”
Amber nodded. Why did he think he would see her here, and who else knew she was at Buck’s ranch?
From the moment their little group of three landed at Buck’s private landing strip, she had felt uncomfortable, as though eyes were watching her. Maybe her uneasiness was a delayed reaction to the nightmares that had haunted her sleep last night—masked faces, hulking shadows—pain shooting through her skull. Or maybe her wariness came from a sense of real danger. Amber wished she were somewhere else, far, far from here.
Wanda turned to Amber. “Have you met our daughter, Suzy?”
Daughter? The pieces were starting to fall into place. Amber hadn’t exactly met Suzy, but from the conversation she’d overheard, she’d made judgments about the saucy little blonde.
“Suzy entered the calf roping competition,” Wanda said.
Hmmm. A charity event. Maybe Suzy wasn’t as shallow as she had first seemed. Amber had been wrong about Roberto, and maybe she was wrong about Suzy, too. Without a memory to keep her in balance, maybe she should question all of her judgments. Even her fears.
“Are you interested in entering one of the events, Amber?” Wanda asked. “It’s all for a good cause.”
“I’ll help, but I’ll stick to something that doesn’t require getting on a four-legged animal.”
“You don’t like horses?” Wanda looked aghast.
“Love them, but I guess I’m what you’d call a tenderfoot.”
“Hang around ranchers a while and you’ll get the hang of riding and roping and such.”
If danger was really closing in on her, staying long enough to learn anything might not be possible.
Luke and Matt strode through the doorway—tension emanating from them like heat waves off the scorched Texas earth. When they’d left earlier, they’d looked like two lightning clouds about to collide. Now, neither looked bruised nor rumpled, so they’d avoided coming to blows. However, the firm set of their jaws suggested the battle wasn’t over.
“Perfect timing,” Wanda said, looping her arms through those of the brothers. “Time to herd this party to the patio. I’ve got some good grub for y’all.”
The enclosed brick patio, decorated with sombreros on the wall and palm trees in huge clay pots, smelled of cooked beef and spicy peppers. Bantering and laughing, the group began to seat themselves at a long picnic table.
Luke grabbed Amber’s arm before she could sit down. “We’ll get something later. I need to talk to you. Now.”
Amber’s stomach growled in hunger. “Can’t it wait?”
Luke glared at her. “No!”
Buck twitched his salt-and-pepper handlebar mustache and winked at Amber. “Better go, missy. These Ryan boys don’t take no for an answer.” His bass-drum drawl rumbled from his lips with a fatherly warmth.
About time they learned to! Amber thought. “What about Alicia?” she asked.
“I’ll bring her up, later,” Molly said. “The girls are having a good time. And I know they’re hungry.”
“May I stay, Daddy?” Alicia asked.
When he nodded, Alicia rewarded him with a big, dimpled grin that warmed Amber’s heart. She laughed in spite of her annoyance at Luke and wondered if a little begging and a cute pixie smile would work as well for her.
“If you’re going upstairs,” Wanda said, “please corral your bags and take them with you. Amber and Alicia can stay in the lavender room and you next door in the blue room. You can powwow in either room to your heart’s content.”
Without commenting, Luke grabbed the suitcases. Amber watched his arm muscles flex under his shirt as he easily lifted the bags, juggling two under his arms and carrying two in his hands. He headed up the wide, curving stairway two steps at a time, and Amber hurried to follow with resentment burning in her belly. “I could carry my own,” she snapped, further angered that his flexing muscles and energetic agility had stirred her so.
He didn’t answer. When they reached the top landing, Luke gestured with his head. “Get the door if you want to help.”
In her haste to do her part, the strap of her purse slid off her shoulder. As she swung the door wide and stepped aside to make room for Luke and his burden, her purse fell to the floor and the clasp opened, sending her .38 revolver sliding across the hardwood floor.
Luke’s eyes widened, and then darkened like black rain clouds. He dropped the suitcases with a thud. Holding Amber’s gaze with a murderous look, he crouched and picked up the gun. “What the hell are you doing with this?”
The lavender walls closed in on her. Still, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze with all the calmness she could muster. “Protecting myself.”
His eyes narrowed. “You carry a gun around my daughter?”
“You have guns in your house.”
“Yeah, under lock and key.” He flipped the chamber open.
Did he really expect to find bullets? She wasn’t stupid. “Don’t act like an empty gun on the ranch is some big deal. You had one lashed to your horse’s rump when we went on the picnic.”
“You know how to use this?” he growled. “Or did you forget that, too?”
She lifted her chin. “I know enough to load, aim, and shoot.”
Luke shoved the .38 into a drawer and grabbed her wrists, pulling her close, quickening her heartbeat. He smelled of leather and hay. “Why didn’t you tell me about the gun?” The hurt and anger in his voice sent pain surging to her heart.
“Because I couldn’t answer the questions you were likely to ask.”
His eyes flashed. “Like is that the gun that killed your boss?”
Her heart pounded harder. “It could be.”
“Are you the one who fired it?” His voice lowered to a dangerous rumble.
Amber bristled, but she held in her frustration. “I told you. Someone else did it.” She looked up at him, hoping for confirmation that he still believed her. When she failed to detect any sign of trust, she stepped back and tried to twist free of his steely hold. Still trapped, she rebelled by giving her tangle of hair a furious shake. “What did you want to talk to me about, anyway?”
He drew her so close she couldn’t distinguish between his pounding heart and her own. “I have some news for you,” he said. His tone was hard, angry. A warning flashed in his eyes. “But maybe it won’t be news after all.”
She bit her lip, terrified of what he might tell her. “Try me.”
“I know who you are.”
Her breath caught. “Who?”
“Amber Miles.”
“Miles.” She rolled the name over her tongue, tested it for familiarity, but the name didn’t trigger anything.
Luke glared at her. “You failed to mention Rhoades had connections to a Vegas crime boss.”
“He didn’t. At least not that I know of.” Then, the implication behind Luke’s mysterious knowledge hit her and she narrowed her eyes. “Hold on here. How did you find out all of this?”
“What difference does it make?”
Tension shot up her spine. “You told Matt about me, didn’t you?”
“He checked you out on his own. To keep him from bringing in the cops I told him about your amnesia.”
She gave a little doubting snort. “What makes you think that will stop him?”
Luke met her gaze. “He could have gone straight to the cops. Instead, he came to me. He’s agreed to help us.”
“Us? Fat chance. He doesn’t approve of me. Hasn’t from the start.”
“Should he? With you toting a gun? Probably the murder weapon?”
Amber pressed her lips together tightly to keep from screaming. The amnesia had stolen her past and left her with a postage stamp world, and the main person in it—the man she’d started counting on—was about to jump the corral. “When I regained consciousness, it was in my hand. But I didn’t kill Mr. Rhoades.”
Luke gave a hollow laugh. “Oddly enough, experience makes me believe you. After Web Viceman murdered Parker, he put the murder weapon in my hand. Only I had passed out, drunk—not from a blow to the back of the head like you.”
Hope rose within Amber. “Then you believe me?”
He stared at her as though still making up his mind. She was on the edge of quicksand—one false step… “Maybe all this has something to do with the package I mailed to Mr. Rhoades’ sister.”
“And conveniently forgot where you mailed it.”
Amber closed her eyes and tried to visualize the address she’d printed on the package. A tap on the door broke her concentration. Luke released her wrists to answer it. It was his mom, Virginia, looking all fluttery like a humming bird.
“Wanda’s about to serve her prize winning chocolate pecan pie,” she said, “and she wants Amber to try it. Can’t you two have your little gabfest later?”
Amber snapped her fingers. “That’s it! Chocolate. Coco. Coco Rhoades, Richmond, Virginia.”
Luke’s eyes brightened. “I don’t know how you came up with that, but with the name and state Matt can get the exact address for us. Let’s talk to him.” Luke smiled at his mother. “Pie suddenly sounds very good,” he said. “Lead on, we’re right behind you.”
Amber smiled at his change in mood. The address was a small thing, but coming up with it seemed to renew his faith in her.
Later, after they’d devoured the scrumptious pie, Matt, Luke, and Amber went out on the front porch to talk. Luke gave Matt the name and city to check out.
An image of the tickets flashed in Amber’s mind. “Before those men burst in, I had tickets in my hand. I don’t know what happened to them.”
“Do you remember the destination?” Matt asked.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead, straining to open her memory. In a surge of kinetic energy, the answer came to her. “Las Vegas, Nevada. Then we were going on to Richmond where his sister lives.”
Suspicion flickered in Matt’s eyes. “As private secretary you must have known all about Rhoades’ dealings.”
Amber raked a trembling hand through her hair. She and Matt were like two pieces of sandpaper scraping against each other. She wished Luke hadn’t brought his FBI brother into this. But maybe if she told Matt what she knew, he would start trusting her. “Mr. Rhoades bought businesses in trouble. He was going to see a man at the MGM Hotel about buying a plastics firm that was near bankruptcy.”
Matt nailed her with a probing gaze. “I thought you had amnesia?”
“I’m starting to remember,” she snapped. “I thought you wanted to know things as they came to me. But if not—”
“What else?” Matt growled.
Luke shifted on his dusty boots and sent his brother a scathing look. “Give her a chance. The doc says she should avoid pressure.”
Amber felt warmed by Luke’s concern. “There were government contracts involved
. Mr. Rhoades sent letters to Senator Whitmore, a Nevada congressman, about them.”
Matt looked skeptical. “If the sister’s name checks out, I should have an address by tomorrow noon. We can decide our next step then.”
It sounded like Matt was taking over. She wanted to talk to Luke alone about that. If the cops or Feds got to the package first, she might never know the contents. The more she thought about it, the more she believed it might be the key to Mr. Rhoades’ murder. And what she needed to prove herself innocent.
Before she got the chance to talk to Luke, Buck came out on the porch. Luke put his arm around the man’s shoulder. “Buck, how many recent hires?”
The question and the serious look on Luke’s face sent a chill up Amber’s spine. Did he think the killer had somehow followed them here?
Buck twisted the corner of his mustache and looked thoughtful. “Always take on about a dozen ’round rodeo time.”
“You got a list?” Luke asked.
Amber touched his arm. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
He met her gaze with guarded eyes. “Just being cautious.”
“I’m on my way to the bunkhouse now,” Buck said. “You can look over the sorry bunch fer yerself.”
Amber started to go with them. Luke stepped in front of her. “You should stay here. A woman in the bunkhouse around shower time wouldn’t set too well with the men.”
She rolled her eyes at his weak excuse. She would have insisted upon going with them, but she wouldn’t recognize the killer if she saw him. She felt sure now something had happened to make Luke suspicious of Buck’s new hands. But what? She had several things to talk to him about when he returned.
Amber leaned on the porch railing and watched the men cross the grounds. Darkness was closing in on the ranch, sending deep shadows in every direction. The ranch was quiet now, but she imagined it would be brimming with life in a few days when the rodeo started. She listened to the crickets. The wind had died down, and the heat enveloped her like clammy phantom fingers. Nearby bushes moved. Amber got the prickly feeling that someone was watching her. She rubbed her arms. What if the killer suspected she had the missing package and assumed she’d seen his face? Suppose he believed as Matt did that she knew all about whatever was going on? And what if the faceless person had somehow followed her here? It was absurd, but—