To Con A Cowboy (Hunks and Horses Book 3)

by Maggie Carpenter

  "Don't keep me guessing. Tell me!"

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Though it sickened her, Amber hand-fed Andrew scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and toast, then held a mug of coffee with a straw. She had no choice. Though Steve had expertly treated and bandaged Andrew's hands and fingers, they remained painful and immovable. Steve had also cleaned up Andrew's face, neck, arms and chest, treated the many abrasions, then taken him to a guest room and removed the last of his clothing. Now fast asleep and covered with a sheet, Brett, Amber and Steve stood at Andrew's bedside. The man who had caused such turmoil was lying helpless, badly injured and at their mercy.

  "I hate him, he's a despicable human being, but he needs a hospital," Amber remarked. "His breathing is terrible."

  "I know, and I will call an ambulance," Brett promised, "but not until I know we're in the clear. How badly burned are his hands?"

  "They're not burned," Amber replied. "They're ripped up. I can't imagine how it happened."

  "A bird," Steve murmured.

  "A bird?" Amber repeated. "Is that what he told you?"

  "He did, but I already knew."

  "But how could a bird hurt him so badly?"

  "An aggressive attack." Then raising his eyes to hers, Steve added. "An owl."

  A chill pricked her skin.

  "He'll sleep now, but he won't rest easy," Steve continued. "His dark heart will haunt his dreams."

  "I'm going to take a shower," Amber murmured. "I feel grimy after being around him."

  "You go ahead," Brett said, giving her a quick hug, "and maybe take a nap. You look tired, darlin'."

  "I am. I feel like I've been hit by a truck. A shower and a nap. That's exactly what I need, but please come and get me when Spike arrives."

  "You bet. I could use a cup of coffee. What about you, Steve? Wanna join me?"

  Steve nodded, and leaving the room, Amber headed down the hall while Brett locked the bedroom door.

  "Steve, how much of your sleeping tonic did you give him?" Brett asked. "Do you think he'll sleep through the afternoon?"

  "Hard to say. I gave him only enough to help him relax through the pain, but I fear his dreams."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He is a tormented man who spent a night under attack from a deadly fire and a bird of prey," Steve remarked as they headed to the kitchen. "There's no telling where his mind will take him."

  "Huh. Then I'm glad I locked the door. I sure hope the computer guy will be able to take care of things before he wakes up. The sooner I can call the sheriff to come and get him the happier I'll be."

  "About this visitor coming to help you…"

  "How can I trust a stranger?"

  "It's an obvious worry."

  "That was my first thought, and Amber's too," Brett said, pouring the coffee and handing a mug to Steve. "Heath vouched for Caleb, and that's gold. Caleb swore Spike was completely trustworthy, but the bottom line is, Spike will need to trust me as much as I need to trust him."

  "But I sense you're still concerned."

  "My gut tells me this guy is the answer, but my head isn't so sure."

  "Your head is your logic telling you to ignore your gut."

  "Uh, yeah, I guess it is."

  "Logic comes from experience. Gut comes from a higher place. A pure place. An untainted place."

  "Damn. You're right."

  "When does he arrive?"

  "He said around three."

  "Then you have time to sit with this, but the best way to sit with something is to leave it alone, then come back to it."

  "You told me that when I first broached the idea of reachin' out to Amber. It sure worked then. Weird about the owl. I've never heard of an owl attack. How many times have we ridden through those woods at night? Never a problem. You think maybe the fire caused the bird to act that way?"

  "Amber thinks the totem pole has magic, and she is particularly attached to the owl."

  "But you don't believe that."

  "I can only repeat what I said to her. What you believe, is. Thanks for the coffee. I need to get back to work. There's still a lotta cleanin' up to do."

  "I'm goin' into the studio. There's a song buzzin' around my head. I'll see you later."

  "Where's Jasmine? Isn't she supposed to come today?"

  "I called her first thing this mornin' and told her to wait until tomorrow."

  "Why?"

  "I just had a feelin'."

  "You had no idea Andrew Stern was still alive and would stumble in here, or that a guy named Spike would be coming. That was your gut."

  "Point taken," Brett said with a grin. "I'll see you later."

  * * * * * * * * * *

  Though Brett had offered to bring in part-time laborers to help clear up the debris, Steve thanked him, but refused. He didn't like strangers on the property, and most especially near the horses. The idea of a biker roaring on to the grounds didn't thrill him, but he would welcome anyone able to help Brett through his dire situation.

  Clearing the branches from the paddocks had been an arduous, but enjoyable task. The horses wanted to be involved, especially Catori, who picked up the smaller branches with his teeth and followed Steve to the fence line. When he pricked his ears and looked towards the driveway, Steve knew he had heard the motorcycle coming down the private road. Striding briskly back to the barn, he climbed into the ATV, and with Loki on the seat next to him he drove up to meet the visitor. Brett would answer the call button and open the gates, but not wanting the horses to be spooked, Steve needed to make sure the stranger rode in quietly.

  Reaching the driveway, he was surprised to see the biker already inside and making his way slowly to the front of the house. It bode well. Catching up, Steve climbed from the ATV as Spike turned off his bike, kicked out his stand, then pulled off his helmet.

  "Hi, I'm Spike," he declared, wearing a wide smile.

  "Steve."

  "And who is this handsome guy," Spike asked, looking across at Loki.

  To Steve's shock, his usually reserved Malamute leapt to the ground, then jumping up, he placed his huge paws on Spike's chest and began to lick his face profusely.

  "You are gorgeous," Spike exclaimed, rubbing his thick coat. "I bet you'd love a ride on my bike. I can see you in a helmet and goggles."

  A stream of warm energy flowed through Steve's body.

  "I'm guessin' you're Spike," Brett proclaimed, stepping through the front door with Johnny and Cash.

  Bounding down the porch steps, Johnny barked, vying for attention, while Cash did what he did best: run in a circle, then jump up and down, performing the pattern with no apparent end.

  "This is like Dogville USA. I love it," Spike exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You probably shouldn't have let me through the gate. I'll never want to leave."

  "Hey, fellas, leave the poor guy alone," Brett said, unable to suppress his chuckle. "Come on in, Spike."

  "Good to meet you, Steve," Spike said, as Loki dropped to his feet.

  "Likewise."

  "Let's have some coffee," Brett suggested. "Steve, you wanna join us?"

  "I have to finish clearing the paddocks."

  As Steve patted the seat next to him and Loki jumped on board, Brett ushered Spike inside, and Johnny and Cash excitedly followed.

  "Who are these guys," Spike asked. "The little one sure is cute."

  "Johnny's the black lab, and Cash is the terrier."

  "Hey, that's clever, but you're missing June."

  "You're right! Maybe I'll get a new puppy. Like things aren't crazy enough around here! Let's go through to the kitchen."

  Brett felt an instant comfort around the rough-hewn biker. The diamond earring, billowing shirt and leather vest reflected an independent thinker, perhaps even a rugged individualist. Brett had the table already set with a plate of muffins and cakes, a coffee thermos, and cream and sugar.

  "Expecting company," Spike asked. "Someone's in for a treat."

  "Yeah, but he's late. Too
bad for him," Brett quipped. "Have a seat and help yourself. I hope you don't mind if I come directly to the reason you're here."

  "Not at all. I'm sure you're anxious."

  "I am! Very! Caleb said he wasn't allowed to discuss anything on the phone, so I assume you know nothin' about what's happenin' to me and my girlfriend. I gotta say, I was surprised you agreed to help out with no details, but I'm very grateful."

  "No-brainer," Spike said, pouring his coffee. "Caleb's like my brother and we have a sort of code, so I have an idea. He wouldn't have called and asked for my help unless it was urgent, but these things usually are. That's why I said I'd come over right away. Why don't you tell me what's happening?"

  "A photographer managed to take some extremely personal photographs, and even though his camera burned up in a fire—"

  "The one last night? Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I heard about it on the morning news, and I could see the charred landscape on the ride up the canyon."

  "Yeah, the one last night. This creep was responsible for startin' the damn thing. He was on a hill across from this house and could see into my bedroom."

  "Scumbag."

  "Anyway, his equipment didn't survive, but he says he emailed the pictures to himself and he's tryin' to blackmail me. I have no way of knowin' if the photos actually exist. It's like havin' a gun to my head and someone threatenin' to pull the trigger, but I don't know if the gun is loaded."

  "Great analogy."

  "Are you able to hack into other people's emails?"

  "Sure."

  "You say that like I just asked if you could boil water."

  "Because that's how easy it is," Spike said with a grin. "For me, anyway."

  "That's impressive, but, uh, I need to talk to you before my girlfriend comes down. This is extremely embarrassin' for her, so if you are able to get in, and there are photographs…"

  "Hey, no sweat. I'll get in, and if I see attachments, you can be the one to check them. If they are there I'll destroy them. In fact, I just blow up his computer regardless. The dirtbag deserves it."

  "You can actually do that?"

  "Yeah, but, Brett, this is highly illegal. Before I do anything you need to understand you can't tell a soul. If you do we'll be standing in a courtroom listening to a prison sentence. You can't tell anyone about this, or me, or what I do."

  "I get that. This is a trust/trust situation."

  "Exactly. What about your girlfriend?"

  "Amber? She's the last person you need to worry about. This guy put her through hell. He tried to blackmail her even before this latest episode. She'll swear on a stack of bibles to keep your secret."

  "Great. Okay, Brett, I'll take care of this for you."

  "I'm more grateful than I can say," Brett said earnestly. "I truly am. Do you charge an hourly rate? How long will it take? Whatever your fee, it's no problem."

  "Uh, Brett, this will only take me about ten minutes."

  "Ten minutes? Did you say, ten minutes?"

  "Actually, probably five, but I didn't want to totally freak you out. All I need is somewhere to set up, and this guy's email address."

  "No problem. We can go into my studio."

  "As in, your recording studio?"

  "Yep."

  "Me working in Brett Preston's recording studio."

  "Not a big deal. I work in there all the time."

  "Ha. You're a funny guy."

  "But you still haven't told me your fee. I'd like to pay you in cash so—"

  "No. I don't take money for this kind of work. It gives me great pleasure to screw things up for bastards like this guy, but there is a favor I'd like to ask."

  "Anything."

  "Your horses. Can I meet them? It's taken me years, but I finally own one. He lives at Caleb's ranch. I get out there every weekend and never want to leave."

  "Of course, and I'll ask Steve to give you a rare look at his horse's special talents."

  "Steve's interesting."

  "You're right about that. He's a remarkable guy. Anyway, I'll fetch Amber. We had a long night and a crazy mornin'. She's takin' a nap. Help yourself to a muffin, and don't let the dogs tell you they're never fed, 'cos they will the minute I walk out that door."

  "I tend to believe dogs. I might weaken."

  "You just might. They can be pretty persuasive. I'll be right back."

  Striding from the kitchen and trotting up the stairs, relief flooded his body. He and Amber were about to be let off the hook, and he couldn't wait to put her mind at ease. Walking into his bedroom and expecting to find her sleeping, to his surprise she was sitting up, her computer on her lap, and she appeared to be deeply engrossed.

  "Hey, Sassy Lassy."

  "BD!" she exclaimed, her head darting up. "I didn't hear you come in. Has Spike arrived?"

  "He sure has, and what a character. You'll like him. Whatta you workin' on?"

  "A story that came to me," she replied, closing her computer and sliding off the bed. "Does he think he can help?"

  "He's gonna help and then some."

  "That's fabulous, but, uh, there's just one thing," she said hesitantly. "What if Andrew did send those pictures? I don't want Spike seeing me, uh, us, uh, in bed."

  "Already handled," he said reassuringly. "If Spike finds an email with an attachment, he'll let me open it up and look at it first."

  "Oh, my gosh. What a relief."

  "Hey, come here," he said softly, pulling her into his arms. "This whole thing, and I mean Undercover Publishin' as well, will soon be eatin' our dust."

  "I know. It's wonderful."

  "But darlin', at some point you've gotta tell me about why you were so desperate."

  "It's hard."

  "Obviously, but you've gotta find a way to rip off the bandaid."

  "I will, but I'm not there yet. Now take me to meet Spike. I can't wait to see him in action."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Finding the kitchen empty, but hearing laughter coming from the front of the house, Brett and Amber walked outside. An aluminum case sat on the porch, and Spike was busily tossing a small stuffed toy for Johnny and Cash.

  "Your terrier beats the lab every time," Spike declared, throwing it again. "Poor Johnny. He doesn't stand a chance."

  "If you throw it further Cash can't keep up," Brett offered. "He tries though."

  "Adorable. Hi, you must be Amber," Spike said, walking up the porch steps. "Sorry you had to go through all this, but I can fix it."

  "I hope so. Thank you for coming so quickly."

  "Brett told me the situation has to do with an overly-zealous photographer, and that's what I figured. I'm sorry to say this happens all the time. The sooner dealt with the better. Besides, this canyon is one of my favorite rides. Great to have an excuse to get out here in the middle of the week."

  "You've dealt with this sort of thing before?"

  "Sure. I fly under the radar, but I have a couple of close friends who manage some big names in the crazy world of show biz. They call me when the paparazzi has managed to score some compromising pics of their clients."

  "Lucky managers," Brett remarked. "Are you ready to get started?"

  "Absolutely," Spike said earnestly, picking up his case. "Lead the way."

  Walking down the hall with the dogs bounding ahead of them, Brett opened the studio door, and entering the comfortable living area Spike let out a low whistle.

  "This is cool."

  "The studio itself is through there," Brett said, pointing to a door.

  "Can't wait to see it, but I'm sure you're both anxious for me to get to work. Is it okay if I set up on this coffee table?"

  "Of course," Brett replied. "Do you need anything from us?"

  "Just this jerk's email address, which I assume you have, Amber?"

  "Yes. Do you want it now?"

  "Hold on one-second," he said, sitting down on the couch and opening his case. "Why don't you have a seat on either side of me so you can see everything?"

 
; Spike lifted two black boxes and two laptops from the molded foam packing as Brett and Amber settled next to him. Powering up the equipment, he began typing on the larger laptop, then turned to Amber and asked for Andrew Stern's email address. Typing it in, his fingers flew across on his keyboard, and his screen began filling with numbers and letters.

  "Shouldn't be long now," he murmured, abruptly sitting back. "The information is in the hands of internet magic."

  "How did you learn to do this?" Brett asked.

  "I was always fascinated by technology, but one day, on a hunch, I tried something crazy and it worked. Suddenly everything began falling into place. That's when I became obsessed. I suppose a bit like you and your music. When you start doing something you love things begin to snowball. Ah. Here we are. When do you think he sent this email to himself?"

  "Sometime last night, so in the last eighteen hours," Brett replied. "I just had a thought. Is it possible he could have two email addresses?"

  "It appears he has three. Let's check the one you gave me first. He has received no emails since early yesterday afternoon. Huh. Who is Robert Hoffman?"

  "His boss," Brett replied. "The owner of Undercover Publishing, and the guy who pays him to do this dirty work. Why?"

  "Endless emails between the two of them. I'm going to open up this photo folder titled JL sent a week ago. Good grief."

  "That's Justin Long," Amber exclaimed. "Oh, my gosh!"

  "And look at the email from Hoffman to Stern. Put the screws on him. We can get way more than fifty-grand. You two are not alone. I'm going into these other email accounts. This one he uses the name Tommy. Hmm, that's his alias for several dating sites. This third one appears to be what he uses for everything else. Okay, let's go back to the first one. Seems to be strictly related to him and Hoffman. Here's a folder labeled BP. Brett, do you want to open this while I look away? They were downloaded the day before yesterday."

  "I'll bet those are the ones he showed me," Amber interrupted "Go ahead, Spike. If he'd had anything worse I'm sure he would have thrown them in my face."

  "Okay, here we go. You're right. Nothing terrible. The house, and a few of you two horsing around, if you'll pardon the expression."