by Nina Bruhns
“Yes, I can see the appeal.”
But on a deeper level, she wondered. About why O’Donnaugh would be “traveling around” with no desire for a job. About what kind of “background” he had that would prompt an offer to be police chief of anywhere. About what a man like him needed so badly that was satisfied by hiding out in a town of three hundred permanent residents smack in the middle of nowhere.
Interesting.
Not that she gave a fig about Philip O’Donnaugh or the devils that drove him, she reminded herself.
All she wanted was to find Clyde Tafota and beat it back to St. Louis as soon as humanly possible. She had a retrieval fee to collect and a P.I. business to open. After eight years on someone else’s payroll, she now had the skills to branch out into more than bounty hunting. She wanted to become her own boss, and this was the paycheck that would put her savings account over the magic number she needed to do that.
“Looks like this might be the right road,” Philip said, turning off the highway. There hadn’t been a single road sign since Dulce, and the directions the sergeant had given to Donna Tafota’s place were sketchy at best, so it was hard to tell.
The dirt track meandered through the Ponderosa pine forest eventually emerging into a small valley. Luce wound the window down all the way and filled her lungs with crisp mountain air.
She loved the smell of New Mexico. She’d noticed it the moment she’d opened her car door after arriving yesterday. It smelled wild and fresh, like juniper and sage and wildflowers and ancient earth, all mixed up in one unique scent. There was something exotic about that smell, and at the same time strangely soothing and somehow familiar.
Which of course was crazy since she’d never stepped foot in New Mexico before. The only reason she was here now was because of her boss, Arthur’s, warped sense of humor. Luce collected Santas. As in Santa Claus. She was the first to admit that her collection, started at the tender age of four and encouraged by a doting adoptive mom, had gotten a little out of control. She must have more than two hundred figures and depictions of various sizes, shapes and origins. For some reason she’d always been a sucker for the jolly old grandfather in the red suit. Anyway, Arthur thought the whole concept of relentless, workaholic, take-no-prisoners Luce having a tender spot for the warm, fuzzy icon was hilarious. So he took special delight in assigning her all skip-trace jobs involving any place name that had the word Santa in it.
Santa Fe was the capital of New Mexico, and that was good enough for Arthur. She couldn’t help but smile. She loved her job, and Arthur was one of the main reasons why.
But she would love it even more when she could hire him for jobs, instead of the other way around.
“What do you think?” Philip asked when they reached the end of the road.
Luce studied the group of three white structures that nestled together in a glade of shade trees bordered by a small brook.
She shook her head. “I thought he said the sister’s house was pink adobe. And I don’t remember anything about a stream.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Philip pulled into a dirt parking area containing a couple of old trucks and a new Honda sedan. As soon as he turned off the engine they were surrounded by a trio of barking dogs, but their tails were wagging and they looked friendly enough.
The man who emerged onto the porch of the main house looked less so. Philip wasn’t armed—having stowed both their weapons earlier in a strong box hidden in the back bench seat—and as cop cars went, his Jeep wasn’t all that imposing. Unadorned black with a rack of red and blue lights on the roof, a siren, and a police-band two-way radio. But that and his uniform shirt were plenty to put people on their guard, including this guy.
“Can I help you, Officer?” the man asked, approaching Philip’s side.
He had the slow, proud, rolling gait and windblown wrinkles of a man who’d worked outdoors all his life, along with the bronze skin and long, pulled-back hair of a traditional Indian man.
Luce decided to let Philip do the talking yet again. She didn’t mind. It was actually kind of nice letting someone else do all the work for a change. Besides, she didn’t want anyone here knowing she was a bounty hunter. Nothing would drive Clyde underground faster.
“Morning, sir,” Philip said, sliding from the vehicle. He identified himself thoroughly and showed his credentials. “I was hoping you might help me. I’m looking for Clyde Tafota. I understand his sister lives around here?”
The man looked assessingly at him for a long moment, then slid his gaze to Luce, no doubt taking their measure, deciding how much he should say. Luce gave him a smile.
“Her place is farther south. Down the highway,” he finally said in a pleasant sing-song.
Philip nodded, and turned unhurriedly to gaze at the mountains, then watched a large bird of prey circle lazily above them. “Beautiful land,” he said after a while.
Luce shifted in her seat, wondering what the heck Philip was up to. It was getting hot in the Jeep. She pulled at her turtleneck.
The old man didn’t comment, but also gazed up at the peaks, his eyes smiling. The two of them stood looking for a few more minutes in silence, then Philip turned back to him and indicated the man’s vest.
“Nice beadwork. You ever use porcupine quills?”
The old man’s expression didn’t change. “Not so much anymore.”
Luce knew the sale of porcupine quills was illegal, with a few exceptions for Native Americans, so she was puzzled by Philip’s line of questioning.
“I had a tourist run over one a while back,” he said to the old man. “Still have some quills.” He strolled to the Jeep and leaned into the back seat, giving her a wink as he did so.
“What’s this all about?” she whispered.
“Respect,” he said, smiling over at her. “Thanks for letting me handle it.”
“No problem.” She didn’t have a clue, anyway.
Flipping up the bench top, he gathered a handful of long, elegant quills from a tackle box sitting next to the strong box and returned to the old guy. “Figure you could use them more than I can,” he said, and poured them into his hand. “Thanks for the info.”
Then he slid back into the Jeep and revved it up. Just before pulling out, he stuck his head out the window and asked, “By the way, have you seen Clyde since last Thursday?”
The man looked down at the quills on his palm, then closed his hand over them. “No,” he answered.
Philip nodded. “Well, if you do, can you tell him he’s been cleared of that mess in St. Louis? He just needs to turn himself in and it’ll go away.” Then he wheeled the Jeep around and headed back toward the highway.
Suddenly everything he’d done made sense.
Luce was impressed.
“Nice work,” she said. “Using the native telegraph to tip off Clyde that he’s been cleared.”
He gave her another wink. “I’m betting by the time we find his sister’s place he’ll already have heard, so he won’t be afraid to show himself.”
“And come with us willingly.” She nodded. “Pretty smart, O’Donnaugh.”
His shoulder lifted. “My dad taught me respect gets you a lot farther in this business than strong-arm tactics. You would have done the same thing.”
“We bounty hunters can’t afford to be so subtle. Drawn guns and handcuffs are the respect we count on.”
He chuckled. “Funny, I don’t remember anything about guns the time you pretended to be an IRS agent.”
She glanced over at him, jaw dropping. “How do you know about that?”
“I do my research. I know a lot about you.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. The thought of him digging through her life made her nervous. Not that she had anything to hide. But why would he want to know?
“The only thing I don’t get,” he continued conversationally, “is what made you choose bounty hunting in the first place. That’s not the sort of work women usually go in
for. Especially ones with straight As in school.”
“I like kicking men’s butts,” she said tartly. It was her stock answer. It shut most people right up about the topic. Especially if they were male.
“Tough girl, eh? What made you hate men so much?”
Unfortunately, she was beginning to realize Philip wasn’t most people.
She suppressed a sigh. She didn’t like going into all this. Nobody ever understood it wasn’t the danger that drew her, but the restless need the job fulfilled within her. Always searching for something that was always just out of reach. She wasn’t sure what she was searching for, but it was like a compulsion within her, the search.
She’d know what it was when she found it.
She hoped.
“I don’t hate men,” she said. That much was true. She liked men as much as the next female. Possibly more. It was just…complicated. “And I’m not a girl.”
He shot her an amused glance. “Woman, then.” His gaze slid down her body and his amusement faded, replaced by something edgier. Something hungry, circling around her like that hawk he’d been watching. “Definitely woman.”
“Don’t,” she murmured, feeling the impact of his perusal from her head to her toes. Remembering the look in his eyes from the motel room that morning.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to seduce me.”
He regarded her for a moment, then said, “Nothing’s further from my mind.”
Yeah, right. She mustered a determined tone and stated, “Good. Because I’m not interested.”
She slid him a look to check his reaction. And he shot back a smile. A knowing smile that called her a liar louder than if he’d yelled the word at her.
“So, tell me about the bounty hunting,” he said, as though he hadn’t just exposed her for a complete fraud.
She fought back the spiraling feeling of panic in her stomach and waited for the tell-tale heat in her face to diminish. Then, because it was either that or do something really crazy like ask him to kiss her, she told him the long, detailed history of how she’d become a bounty hunter. About gun safety classes and target shooting with her dad from the time she could walk; about seeing a wanted poster at the post office her senior year and out of the blue spotting the guy the next week at a department store and contacting security to report it; about getting a substantial reward along with job offers from six different bail bond outfits the day after graduation. She even touched briefly on the unrelenting restlessness in her soul that the ever-moving, ever-exciting job kept in check.
Anything to avoid talking about the loaded shotgun that was hovering there, big as life between them.
A shotgun called desire.
Things were not going well.
After jostling up and down the third unmarked dirt track with no success, Philip pulled off the highway and banged his fist onto the steering wheel in frustration. Frustration over not being able to concentrate on finding the right road because all he could think about was the woman sitting next to him.
A swearword escaped his lips. “They all look alike.”
Luce chuckled. “Maybe you should have given the old guy more quills.” He scowled over at her. “Relax,” she said. “We’ll find it.”
“Sometime this century, I hope,” he muttered, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Over the past four hours the temperature must have climbed thirty-five degrees.
And that wasn’t even counting the extra twenty or so jacked up by the chemistry sparking between him and Luce.
She started to laugh.
Philip stared at her, his irritation increasing exponentially with the duration of her laughter. She just laughed even harder.
“Oh, lighten up, O’Donnaugh! Look around you!” She popped off her seat belt and jumped out of the Jeep, twirling around with her arms in the air. “The view’s gorgeous and the weather’s perfect!”
Philip leaned back in his seat, tipped his hat up and watched her as she shaded her eyes and took in the scenery with a spellbound look on her face. Slowly his annoyance evaporated.
He had to admit, the view was gorgeous. Luce’s turquoise turtleneck fit her upper body like a glove, showing off her generous curves and highlighting her golden hair to perfection. He couldn’t see much of her jeans below the hood of the Jeep, but what he could see made his mouth water.
She sure was pretty. Maybe not a beauty queen, but to him her face was all the more appealing for being natural and bright, glowing with confidence, eyes twinkling with mischief.
Damn shame she didn’t care to explore their potent attraction. He felt instinctively it could be something real special.
On the other hand, he wasn’t looking for special. Certainly not with a woman only in town temporarily. He was just getting back on his feet after the fiasco in California, and definitely didn’t need another woman turning his life upside down. Been there, done that.
No, thanks.
He climbed out of the Jeep and pulled his uniform shirt over his head. After wiping the sweat from his face and the back of his neck with it, he threw it on the back bench seat. Fortunately he’d worn a PLPD T-shirt under it, black cotton with a gold embroidered badge on the chest. It was a lot cooler, and maybe the casual image it projected would make people open up more when he and Luce actually found the damned place.
“Hey, no fair.”
He glanced up to see her giving his chest the once-over. She seemed to be enjoying the view, too.
Hmm. How upside down could things get in only a few days? He should be safe enough. If he could just talk her into taking a closer look at that view.
He grinned. “What’s wrong? Didn’t bring a T-shirt?”
“Of course I brought one. But there’s nowhere to change.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t be shy on my account.”
“In your dreams, O’Donnaugh.”
She had no idea.
“Call me Philip,” he told her for about the fifth time. “Since we’re undressing together and all.”
She wagged her finger at him. “I’m not undressing.”
“It’ll probably be eighty-five degrees out by noon,” he warned.
“I’ll live.”
He climbed back in the Jeep with her, suddenly in a better mood. She was right. It was a beautiful day. Why not enjoy it, and her, instead of stressing out about things he had no control over? He’d done that for eleven years back in California and look where it had landed him.
They’d find the right turnoff sooner or later. In the meantime, he should kick back and take pleasure in his surroundings. There were worse things than driving around in spectacular country with a sexy woman by your side. He just had to keep it all in perspective.
The next road he tried was the right one.
His police vehicle didn’t even cause a ripple in the large crowd when he pulled up to the Munoz place and parked next to a truck bearing the tribal police emblem. The old man had done his job well.
People were everywhere, on the wraparound porch of the ranch-style house chatting, beside the garage where a basketball hoop was being attacked by a bunch of young men, around back where a fire pit burned and long tables had been set up, children running back and forth with dogs and a Frisbee. Men sat around the tables talking, and women strolled back and forth with dishes and babies. A few looked up, but most just continued what they were doing.
Before he and Luce had climbed out of the Jeep, a tall, lanky man wearing a brown uniform walked over to them. He had hair past his shoulder blades in the style of a younger Indian man but the piercing black eyes of a seasoned veteran who’d been around the block a few times.
“You must be the Piñon Lake cops,” he said.
“That’s right,” Philip responded.
“Not me.” Next to him, Luce sent the officer a brilliant smile. The policeman’s brow hiked.
What the hell was she up to? Philip put out his hand and introduced himself to prevent questions.
“Just a few questions I’d like to ask him,” Philip said.
“And the lady?”
“I’m only along for the ride.” She casually took hold of Philip’s arm with both hands. Like she belonged there. And beamed up at him. “I’m visiting from out of town.”
What did she mean by that? Philip froze, taken aback by the implications of her improvised strategy. What was he supposed to do now? Act like her boyfriend?
“Mixing a little business with pleasure, eh?” Joseph said with a nod of masculine approval.
“Doing my best,” Philip managed, shifting mental gears fast.
Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, eh?
All at once the day got a whole lot more interesting.
Reaching over, he tucked a windblown lock of Luce’s hair behind her ear. And beamed back.
Her eyes flared and he saw exactly when she realized she’d made a tactical error. A big one. She tried to step away from him, but he was quicker, putting his hand over hers on his arm. Holding her there.
She tugged at her hand. “Um, listen, um, Philip…while you talk to the lieutenant, I think I’ll look for somewhere to change out of this turtleneck. I’m boiling.”
Well, well. She’d finally used his first name. He figured that called for a celebration.
He gave her a lazy smile. “Sure thing, sweetheart. How about a kiss before you go?”
To her credit, the only way he knew she was worried was from the way she wrenched one hand from his grip. That and the gritted teeth beneath the “kiss this” smile she flashed him just before she poked him in the chest.
“You forget, you’re on duty, Chief O’Donnaugh,” she said sweetly.
He grinned and watched her scamper off into the crowd, pausing next to a group of ladies with casserole dishes, presumably to ask where she could change.
“Your woman’s quite a handful,” Joseph remarked, but there was approval in his voice.
A wad of emotions tumbled through Philip. Emotions he couldn’t begin to analyze. Or even want to. Jealousy first, followed quickly by denial. “She’s a handful, all right. But she’s not my woman.”