Lasso That Cowboy

by Lynde Lakes

  “Worth a try,” Luke drawled, his slow gaze taking in the bed—and her on it.

  He braced one hand on the wall, which brought him almost directly above her. His stance lengthened the line of his torso and revealed the long, tapering lines of his lean body. A male model couldn’t look better than he did in that well-fitting chambray shirt and those tight Levi’s.

  When Evie’s line rang repeatedly, the fine hairs at Amber’s neck prickled. What if those men had come back? She let the line ring much longer than reasonable before hanging up. She forced a lightness to her tone. “So much for that idea.”

  Luke watched her. Shadows fell across his face, accenting the scar on his cheek and the missing tip of his ear. She looked away from the storm in his eyes to find herself staring down at the bed. With heat rising from the pulsing hollow in her neck, her gaze flew back to his, and she jumped to her feet. It was a mistake. It brought her mere inches from Luke. She pressed a hand against his chest to keep from falling into him.

  She cleared her throat. “What’ll we do now?”

  His wide shoulders and impressive chest made him look strong enough to do most anything he wanted.

  Her heart pounded erratically. Although he looked downright intimidating, even dangerous, his woodsy aftershave and sexy male scent coiled around her like the loop of a lasso, drawing her to him. She stepped back and bumped the edge of the bed. Why didn’t he say something? His even breathing whispered off the walls. Although she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, could she handle spending the night with a man who exuded such raw, hard-edged sensuality?

  The clock on the nightstand blinked 8:30 PM. It had been a long time since they’d eaten. Still, with her worries over Coco and concerns about her own will power she might not be able to do more than push food around her plate. Nevertheless, she needed to get out of there. She cleared her throat. “What about that food you mentioned earlier? The restaurant here looks promising. Sorta quaint and local. Maybe we can get some authentic Virginia ham or something.”

  A slow grin spread across his face. “That’ll work. We can check out the journal while we wait for our order. But don’t you want to freshen up first?”

  She’d love to shower and change into a dress, but that meant taking off her clothes. She grabbed her purse and the journal and headed out the door. “I’m fresh enough,” she said over her shoulder. Good grief, she sounded like an idiot. “That is…I’m fine.”

  Minutes later, Amber exhaled in relief when the hostess led them to a deserted section of the restaurant. While she didn’t want to linger in a bedroom with Luke’s sexuality, she also didn’t want to face curious eyes, especially when she couldn’t seem to control the heat that kept rising in her cheeks. She shouldn’t have been that warm since the windowless tropical room felt as cool as a cave.

  The hostess stopped and gestured to a booth. When Amber slid into it, Luke followed. Her startled gaze met his. “This way, we can read the journal together,” he drawled

  She nodded, wishing her heart wouldn’t race every time he came near. She looked away. A soft roar echoed from a re-circulating waterfall that fed into a stone pool. A gentle mist coated stalks of the leafy exotic plants at the water’s edge. The cooling moisture swirled around them like a cocoon, making her feel even more vulnerable to the romantic setting. She fanned herself with the menu, then set it aside without reading it. She ordered the special the waitress, Sandy, recommended—Virginia ham with raisin sauce.

  “Make it two,” Luke said in a husky voice that hummed through Amber like low saxophone tones. Journal! Concentrate on the journal!

  A rustic candelabra in the center of the room and a wall sconce just above their heads provided barely sufficient light, but reading here was better than the distraction of two beds and a very masculine cowboy. Fighting his untamed sexuality with steely determination, she fixed her gaze on the page. An intriguing seven figure number grabbed her attention. “Looks like a partial set of books for the plastics firm Mr. Rhoades wanted to buy,” she said, amazed at the steadiness in her voice. “Look at this. There’s a strange entry for $2,000,000 labeled other income.”

  Luke pointed to a pencil notation in the margin that read: revenue from explosives. “I don’t like this,” he said. “Let’s take a squint at the maps at the back.” He moved closer, pressing his thigh against hers, sending a warmth through her, and flipped through the pages.

  “What do you make of these maps?” Her voice came out in a squeak.

  “Not sure,” he said as though he hadn’t noticed. “One is in an unpopulated area of Nevada near the nuclear test site.” He tapped one of the construction layouts. “This must be the plastics plant.”

  Amber narrowed her focus to the drawing and shivered. “Plastics firm. Explosives. Remote nuclear test site. I don’t like what I’m thinking.”

  “Good Lord!” Luke said, yanking the journal closer. “I expected this to be about casinos and gambling, but it’s looking a helluva lot more sinister.”

  When Sandy brought the steaming baked potatoes and ham, Amber pushed it aside. Wild scenarios chased one another in her head. “What if this is about espionage…or terrorism?”

  Luke took a deep breath and met her gaze. “Whatever it is, we can’t sit on it.”

  He gestured to Sandy who hurried to the table and frowned at their untouched plates. “Something wrong, sir?”

  “Not with the food or service. Where’s the nearest copy shop?”

  “At the strip mall on Peach Blossom Avenue, ’bout two blocks south.” She paused and glanced at her watch. “Closes in a half hour, though.”

  Grabbing Amber’s hand, Luke told Sandy, “There’s an extra ten in it for you if you package this food up to go, and keep it warm until we get back.”

  ****

  On the way to the copy shop Luke explained his plan, certain Amber wasn’t going to like it. But if the security of the country was at stake… “We’ll fax a copy of the suspicious pages to Matt. If he agrees with our assessment, he can forward them to the FBI. I’ll take a full hard copy to him, too. He’ll want to see the whole thing and probably send it on, too.” Luke darted Amber a sideways glance. “Here’s the part you might balk at. We gotta make a copy for the local cops, in case there’s a clue in there to help them find Coco.”

  “And help them find me.” Her voice was soft, resigned.

  “I’ll figure out a way to get a copy to them without involving you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This is bigger than me. Bigger than my amnesia, bigger than a murder charge.”

  Luke reached over and patted Amber’s icy hand. He wanted to stop the car and kiss her, let her know how proud he was of her, but they had to get to the copy shop before it closed.

  The minute the shop manager laid eyes on Amber he was all smiles. He was a surfer-blond jerk with a John Wayne swagger. “Do you plan to copy the whole journal?” he asked with his smile still in place.

  “I know it’s almost closing.” Amber’s voice was soft, fetching. “So we’ll hurry like the wind. But if we’re in the middle of our project when you’re ready to lock the doors, you aren’t going to kick us out, are you?”

  He assured her with a wink that, for her, he would be happy to stay as long as she needed. Luke frowned. The smiling jerk was looking at Amber like she was the latest model copier with all the bells and whistles.

  “Got a spine remover to detach this cover?” Amber asked.

  Surfer Dude pointed to a gadget on an assembling table.

  “Thanks.” Amber slid the coiled spine into the machine and slammed the handle down. The coil opened and she lifted the pages free.

  Luke shook his head, impressed. He had never seen a gadget like that. He would have just ripped the cover off. This was much neater. Quicker.

  She handed him half of the pages. “We’ll use two machines and split the work for teamwork and speed.”

  The manager was still ogling Amber. Luke grabbed her arm and ushered her to
the back. It wasn’t like she was dressed fancy. She was still in her traveling duds. But her Levi’s fit across her hips and over her cute little butt like a tight leather glove, and the green tank top that barely captured the swell of her breasts revealed a deep shadow a man could get lost in. Luke had an urge to take off his shirt, wrap it around her, and secure all the snaps from high on her neck to below her hips.

  Amber finished copying before he did and took additional pages. It felt right working with her. Even though he was a bit slower, they made a damned good team. By the time they had made the hard copies and faxed the disturbing pages to Matt, they had stayed twenty minutes past closing. Luke tipped the manager two tens for being so accommodating. Of course he knew it was only because the guy got an itch for Amber that they hadn’t been kicked out.

  The manager looked straight at Amber and pressed a card into her hand. “Come again soon. We’ll work out a generous discount next time.”

  As they left the shop, Luke glanced back, then possessively wrapped his arm around Amber’s shoulders.

  ****

  Amber looked up at Luke, puzzled. He was touching her again—a very possessive touch that sent flames coursing through her. He certainly knew how to keep her off balance.

  Minutes later, as though on a holiday instead of on the fringes of something very scary, they cruised down the street in their Mercury Mystique, windows open, wind blowing her hair, with the radio playing, Let Me Into Your Heart, by Mary Chapin Carpenter.

  Amber forced herself to relax into the seat. “Now what?” she asked.

  “Police department. We’ll drop off the copy, then go eat. A ten-minute detour at the most.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You make things sound so simple.”

  “Most things are easy if you think them through. Police stations are probably a lot like the pokey in the sheriff’s office, where I spent many unlucky nights sobering up. If you pick the right hour, when things are hectic, a guy can be darn right invisible.”

  “I wonder if you ever drank as much as you think you did?”

  He let out a long exhale. “Probably more.”

  She reached over and touched his hand. “If you were as wild as you’ve led me to believe, I’d say you’ve come a long way.”

  “It’s a stupid man who forgets his past and fails to learn from it.”

  “What about a woman who closes out her past?”

  “It’ll all come back. I have an idea that might help speed up the process. We’ll talk about it over dinner.”

  He pulled into a parking space about a block from the police department. “I’d feel better if you came with me.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “I’m allergic to cops and afraid of Murphy’s Law.”

  Luke hesitated. Amber gave him a little push, taken aback at how solid his shoulder was. “Go. The sooner you leave, the sooner we’ll get to eat. And believe it or not, I’m getting hungry.”

  “Okay. Keep the doors locked and wait here.” He left on the run with a copy of the journal under his arm, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Darkness was good, she told herself. A leafy elm closed out most of the light from the nearby street lamp. No one would be able to see her waiting here. So why did she feel like a sitting duck? She chalked it up to nerves. Who was she worried about? There wasn’t a soul around. Unusual. Where were all the people, anyway? As the silence wrapped around her, her own breathing thundered in her ears.

  Sweat formed on her upper lip and she wiped it off with the back of her hand. She rolled down the passenger window. She would be safe enough as long as she left the others up. Amber sighed as the hint of a warm breeze caressed her face. She glanced at the ignition. Darn. Luke had taken the keys. She couldn’t even start the car to check the clock. He had promised a ten-minute detour. Hadn’t it been at least that already? What if the cops arrested him—held him as a material witness or something?

  A big, dark vehicle turned the corner and moved slowly down the street toward her. The headlights were bright, blinding. The vehicle could be black—could be a van—could be the 4Runner! She yanked open her purse, unzipped the pouch where she kept the bullets, and with a trembling hand, loaded her .38.

  ****

  Leaving a copy of the journal at the P.D. was trickier than Luke expected and took longer. Afterward, he slipped into the nearby phone booth and called the desk sergeant. “The papers on your desk are copies of a journal that might apply to the Rhoades’ kidnapping,” he said.

  Before the sergeant could trace the number, Luke hung up.

  Staying in the shadows, he headed for the car. He felt like clicking his heels. He’d pulled off the drop without getting stopped and without having to answer a bunch of questions. He was only a half a block from where he’d parked when he heard a bang and a crunch of metal—followed by what could’ve been a car backfiring—or a bullet discharging…

  Amber! His heart pounded. He poured on the speed. He shouldn’t have left her alone. He had believed she was safe locked in the car. It was stupid! Stupid. She wasn’t safe anywhere alone.

  Luke saw a black van disappear around the corner. He ran to their car. Amber just sat in the middle of the seat, looking out the window. “Amber, are you all right?” She looked at him blankly, not moving. He tapped on the window. “Amber, let me in.” Luke fumbled for his keys and swore when he dropped them. He retrieved them and unlocked the door. Fighting a tightness in his chest, he slid into the car. She was holding her gun limply in her lap. He took it from her, engaged the safety, and shoved it into the glove compartment. Then, he gathered her trembling body into his arms. “Honey, what happened?”

  She drew back a little and focused on his face. Then, like a dam had burst, she began to explain in gasps. “Van made a U-turn…slammed into my door…a black 4Runner. Driver got out and rushed toward me. I aimed at his head. Told him to stop, or he was a dead man.”

  Amber was shaking uncontrollably. Luke drew her close again and stroked her back to calm her. “Was the guy alone?”

  “There were three of them. When I pointed my gun at the driver the other two backed off.” A muffled sob escaped her lips, and she withdrew a little again. “Oh, Luke. Until I heard the bang, I didn’t realize I’d squeezed the trigger.”

  “You did great. You scared them off.”

  “It was awful. The masked guy stood frozen for a moment, apparently as shocked as I was that I’d fired. I think we were both even more surprised that I’d missed at such close range.” She paused for a shaky breath. “Then, he scrambled back into the van and took off.”

  Luke remained silent, cursing himself.

  Amber shook her head. “The other guys had guns, but they didn’t shoot. Why?”

  “They must’ve had orders to take you alive.”

  “Luke,” Amber said with a trembly voice, “I knew how to load and aim, but I think this was the first time I’ve ever actually shot a gun—and it was by accident.” Her throat was dry. “I was shaking. I almost killed a man—almost blew a hole in his head.”

  Luke kissed her forehead. “If you hadn’t shot at him, you might be dead.”

  “You don’t understand. I wouldn’t have had any qualms about killing him if he didn’t back off, but I wasn’t in control of my weapon.” She shuddered. “The thought of taking a life by accident…”

  Luke wanted to hold her longer, but those guys could come back. A gun shot less than a block from a police station was probably what had scared them off.

  Amber’s breath caught. “Luke! Cops are heading this way with their guns drawn.”

  “Duck.” He didn’t want to get trapped explaining things. He hoped the cops wouldn’t notice the bashed in passenger door. He covered Amber’s body with his and buried his face in her silky hair, inhaling the scent of flowers and gunpowder.

  They lay still, bodies pressed close, his humming with arousal. Their breathing echoed through the car hard and heavy. Luke couldn’t ignore Amber’s soft, warm bod
y beneath his.

  He counted minutes. After five had passed, he rose enough to see without being seen, and scanned the area. “It’s clear,” he said huskily. “You can get up.” He started the car, and eased out of the parking space. “Those men didn’t find you by chance. They had to have a description of our car.”

  “Evie was the only one who saw it,” Amber said.

  “It’s risky, I know, but we should swing by her place and see who she talked to. Are you game?”

  “Sure. Maybe she’s heard something about Coco, too.”

  Luke suspected that any news about Coco would be tragic, but he remained silent. No sense upsetting Amber. She’d already been through too much today. Luke raked his hair. God, he’d almost lost this brave woman tonight. If she hadn’t had the gun…

  He had no idea how she could go on, pushing herself armed only with sketchy memories. But he was damned proud of her.

  Luke drove on automatic pilot, his mind skipping back and forth from Amber to the journal. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t small potatoes. The way things were coming down, he suspected that the men after Amber didn’t know she had amnesia and they were afraid she knew something to derail them.

  Luke was relieved when their exit came up quickly. Calmer now, he began organizing the questions he wanted to ask Evie. His stomach knotted when he turned the corner of her street and saw two police cars parked askew in front of her house. An ambulance was in the driveway. He slowed to a crawl. He pulled up to a group of neighbors, stuck his head out the window and addressed a white-haired man. “Pardon me, sir, but what happened here?”

  “Someone cut up my neighbor, then beat her to death.” The old man’s voice was thick with emotion.

  Luke heard Amber gasp. He tightened his jaw and kept his attention on the man. “Do the cops know who did it?”

  “If they do, they’re not saying. I don’t know what this neighborhood has come to. We had a kidnapping earlier this evening, too. Another neighbor, Coco.” The man shook his head. “And people wonder why I keep a shotgun next to my bed.”