Tag blinked. He wasn’t surprised by Cranshaw’s attitude but he was shocked to learn it was so transparent.
“Are you saying he’s discriminated against you?” Boone asked. His voice was as tight as the lines around his mouth.
Carson shrugged. “Nothing provable. He’s an ass, not an idiot.”
“I beg to differ,” Boone muttered.
“Carson, is your resume in that stack on my desk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re hired. Do what you need to get out from under Cranshaw’s thumb. If he gives you any shit, send him to me.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Hell yeah,” he said. “I’d be a fool to let a law officer of your caliber slip through my fingers.” He gave her a snappy salute. “Contrary to popular belief, I am not a fool. I think we’ll still hire one more junior officer. Go through the resumes and pull the ones you think I should interview.” He was pleased with the way he’d deftly delegated the job to his new deputy. He opened the door. “I’m going to lunch.”
* * * *
Rebecca rubbed the inside of her elbow where the bright-yellow duck bandage marked her blood donation. It itched like the dickens. She trembled as she rode between Wade and Tag back to Tag’s house, but it had nothing to do with the needle that had recently been in her arm.
Nor did it have to do with being surrounded by two, strong, attractive men. No, what was keeping her silent and shocked was the small kernel of information she’d just gleaned about Tag.
He had type AB negative blood. Just like the unknown sample at the crime scene. When he’d given the blood donation nurse that information, Rebecca thought she’d pass out.
She hadn’t though. Tag’s watchful gaze had been zeroed in on her so she’d done her best to plaster a bland expression on her face.
Wade killed the engine in front of Tag’s house. The sudden silence was nearly ear-shattering. Rebecca cast around for something, anything, to say but nothing came to mind that didn’t sound stilted.
“It’s early,” Tag said. “You guys want to come in for a beer or something?”
“Yeah,” Wade replied and shoved open his door. “I need a six pack or two.”
Tag looked down at her. His palm covered her knee and squeezed. “Bex?”
“Rebecca,” she muttered automatically then nodded. “Beer with a whisky chaser sounds good to me.”
He looked startled then grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”
Wade pounded on the hood of the truck. “You two coming or what?”
The air inside the cab shifted and grew heavier. Goosebumps raced down her neck and tightened her nipples.
“Come on, let’s get in the house.” He opened the door, slid out then offered her his hand.
His fingers were warm and large and strong as he handed her down.
Rebecca couldn’t contain the burst of awareness that ran through her at his touch.
Tag settled his palm at the small of her back and led her up the flagstone paved walkway to his front porch.
The bright and cheery Hypericum swayed in the gentle May evening breeze. One of the rockers creaked lightly.
Tag opened the door and motioned her inside.
She stepped into the house and once more felt an odd sense of warmth and welcome. Tag’s home was still very unexpected. The leather and wrought-iron décor was nice, but the smaller touches like the rose-patterned tablecloth, gilt-edged picture frames, and multitude of candles in the place made it inviting.
“Let’s go sit in the dining room,” Wade said.
She followed him to the large oval table and sank into the chair he held out for her.
“Bex, you serious about that whisky?” Tag hollered from the kitchen.
She didn’t bother to correct him on the name. She really needed that drink. “Yes. A double sounds good. Hell, bring the whole bottle.”
Wade settled into a chair across from her. His gaze was sharp and intent, which was quite a bit different from his usual laid-back, good-ole-boy approach.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
Tag trundled into the room with a six-pack stuffed under one arm, a bottle of whisky in the other, and three tumblers clenched between his fingers.
She shrugged.
Tag set everything down and unscrewed the bottle cap. He gave her a slight smile as he poured the alcohol. The sharp, hot aroma grabbed at her senses.
“It’s okay, Bex. Tell him what’s got you on tenterhooks.”
He slid a full glass her direction then picked another up and sipped.
She looked up at him in surprise. “You know?”
He snorted. “Hell, woman. I’m a lawman. If I didn’t know how bad it looked, I’d be a mighty poor one. And I am damn good at my job.”
“What are you two talking about?” Wade demanded.
Rebecca took a fortifying sip of her whisky, then another. “When we went to the donation center today, they asked Tag for his blood type.”
Wade frowned and waved his hand in the air. “Yeah. Standard procedure. So?”
She licked her lips and sighed. “So, it turns out Tag’s blood type is AB negative. That’s the same as the unknown sample found in Fischer’s jail cell. The one from the bed.”
Wade shrugged. “And?”
Tag grinned as he sat down. “Quit playing dumb with her.”
Wade shook his head. “I’m not playing dumb, Tag. I know you didn’t kill Fischer and I don’t care what kind of blood evidence they found. It might be the same type but it’s not yours.” His vivid blue eyes speared her. “You know that, right?”
Tag also pinned her with a hooded look.
Rebecca took another healthy drink of whisky. The burn as it slid down her throat was harsh yet gratifying. The liquor pooled in her stomach and spread through her limbs with forceful speed.
She stared back at the two of them and channeled every bit of her so-called abilities. Is Tag guilty of murder?
No!
Her eyes widened at the automatic and fervent internal answer. She’d rarely been wrong but she also had never been so confused by a client. She didn’t usually become involved with them and from the moment she’d met Tag, he’d been working away at her senses and worming his way into her psyche.
“No,” she said softly.
Tag’s eyes widened.
Rebecca sat up straighter then flattened her palms to the table as she rose. “No,” she stated empathically. “Taggart Cain, you are definitely not guilty of murder.”
Tag also stood. He came around the table and cupped her shoulders. He turned her to face him. “How can you be so sure?” he asked hoarsely.
Good question.
“I know who you are.” She struggled to give logical voice to the highly illogical feelings on which she based her decision. She laid a hand over his heart. The steady thud ramped up. “You can be overbearing and arrogant and downright surly but you are not a killer.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Wade appeared behind her and slid his hands around her waist. She swayed backward but her eyes never left Tag’s face.
“We’ll get through this,” she said. “We’ll find the real killer.”
He lowered his head and his whisky-hot breath touched off another round of tremors deep inside of her. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She barely had a moment to breathe before he took that breath away with a kiss. His touch was featherlight and just as soft. His lips settled warmly over hers. The prickle of his five-o’clock shadow scraped along the edge of her mouth and she shivered in his arms. Tag increased the pressure of his mouth. He suckled at her bottom lip until she couldn’t contain a whimper and opened for him. His tongue followed the curve of her upper lip then trailed along the bottom before delving inside and finding her tongue.
The soft glide sent a wracking thrill through her. Her nipples pebbled and heat built between her thighs. She whimpered and dug her fingers into his taut shoulders.
He lifted his head and she forced her eyes to focus on his handsome face.
“Bex,” he rasped. He kissed her again. This touch was soft and light like the caress of a kitten’s paw. The sweetness made her groan and reach for him but he moved away.
His hand slid along her jaw and caressed the sensitive skin just below her ear. Goose bumps ran down her neck.
“Thank you,” he said again then pulled away.
If not for Wade’s steadying hands on her hips, she may have fallen backward. She turned her head to stare at Wade. He grinned back at her.
Rebecca pulled away and eased her body from between their solidity. “Why did you kiss me?” she asked Tag.
His green eyes glittered and a wicked smile creased his mouth. “Because I wanted to. I’ve been aching to taste you since you opened the door at the airport.”
She gaped. “You have?”
“God, yes.” He curled a finger in the droop of her ponytail. “The sun poured over you and turned your skin into beautiful liquid gold. Your eyes were wide and green and shocked as hell. But your mouth captivated me, Bex.” His other hand slid along her quivering bottom lip. “Here,” he said with a guttural sigh. “I wanted to find out if you tasted half as sweet as you looked.”
Do I? She clamped her mouth shut around the question.
But he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. Tag slanted another fast and furious kiss to her mouth then winked. “Hell yeah. You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Amen,” Wade said softly.
Tag looked up at him then back down at her. A slow, maddening look of mirth crossed his face. He nodded sharply.
“How about we play some cards?”
Rebecca scuffed at the hardwood floor as she tried to wrap her mind around everything that just happened. She’d kissed both Wade and Tag in the space of eight hours. Both men had talented mouths. Both made her tense and ache with a desire she’d not felt in years.
She snuck a finger into her hair and began curling the end round and round while she pondered a plan of action.
“Bex?” Tag nudged her shoulder. “Cards?”
She dropped her hand and gave them a smile. “Sure. On one condition.”
Wade looked wary as he sat back down. “I don’t know about that. Somehow I think we’ll come up on the short end of the stick with you.”
She feigned scratching her nose. No sense letting them see her devious anticipation. “I promise to take it easy on you. You’re not afraid of a girl, are you?”
Tag snorted. He turned and opened the sideboard drawer before producing a well-worn deck of cards. He flopped into his chair. “A girl, no. You? Totally different story. Not to mention you’re a lawyer.” He waggled his brows at Wade. “Everyone knows you can’t trust a lawyer. Lying for a living is an attorney’s bread and butter.”
She gasped then narrowed her eyes at them. “Is that so?”
Tag expertly shuffled and cut the cards like he’d been a casino dealer all his life. A rare bout of uncertainty hit her. She was damn good at cards.
“Yep. But I’m willing to risk it.” Tag fanned the cards on the table then snapped them back perfectly square. “What’s your condition?”
Rebecca picked up her tumbler and downed the remainder of her whisky. She set it back down with a loud thunk. “Strip poker.”
The temperature in the room spiked immediately into lava-hot territory. Wade and Tag shared incredulous looks.
“Are you sure?” Tag asked.
She tipped more whisky into her glass and settled herself at the table. “Absolutely.”
Tag grinned. “I like the way you think.”
“Got any chips?” she asked.
He turned back to the sideboard and opened a door on the end. He produced a silver case with locking latches. When he flipped them up and lifted the lid, Rebecca saw rows of gleaming professional weight chips.
He certainly was prepared. She had the sudden feeling he wasn’t as much a casual player as she’d anticipated.
Her stomach flip-flopped. In all her years of college games she had lost only twice. Both times to Boone. Fortunately for her he’d never cashed in on her rather scandalous IOUs. She couldn’t imagine what sort of relationship they’d have now if she’d ever submitted to him back then.
While he was a good-looking guy, Boone was a little too intense for her. She’d seen him in action as a Dom and though she enjoyed playing the submissive, she felt their styles were too incompatible to last longer than a white-hot minute.
Her gaze flickered between Tag and Wade and the waves of lust rippling through her grew stronger. Luckily for her, she had a feeling these two were going to be amenable to her demands. If she won.
Tag doled out fifty dollars worth of chips. “Ten cent ante,” he said. “Lady’s choice. What game are we playing?”
“What do you know?” she asked.
He nodded at Wade, who was stacking his chips in neat little piles. “Screw Your Neighbor, Chicago Hi-Low, Stud, Spit in the Ocean.” He winked at her. “You’re a Yankee so you probably don’t know Texas Hold ’Em.”
She snorted. “Reverse discrimination is alive and well, I see.”
Tag shuffled the cards and set them in front of her. She tapped the top card with a nail. “Texas Hold ’Em.”
Wade rubbed his hands together. “Strip rules?”
She squirmed in her chair. “Socks and shoes are individual items. Losers get choice of what to take off first.”
Tag dealt the cards. “Jewelry? Accessories?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Does your ponytail holder count as an item of clothing?”
She wiggled her lips. “Hm. Good question.”
Wade lifted his right hand and showed her a plain black ring he wore on the middle finger. “If the pony holder counts then my father’s ring does, too.”
Rebecca did a double take at his identification of the black circle. “Oh, so that was your dad’s?”
He grinned and held it closer. “No. It’s like a Mother’s Ring but for guys. My son Riley bought it for me for Father’s Day when he was six years old. He worked around his mom’s house and at the neighbor’s, raking leaves, taking out trash, and walking dogs to earn the money. It’s black onyx.”
Her entire being suffused with a warmth equivalent to the gooey center of a perfectly baked chocolate-chip cookie. Wade’s love for his son was vibrant and deep in his voice.
“What a kid,” she said.
“Yeah. He’s one in a million.”
Tag cleared his throat and glared at them. “I don’t have any kind of crap like that.”
Rebecca turned a frown on him. “Are you always this grumpy?”
Wade snorted and Tag’s frown grew deeper. “I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll need to work on that.” She tapped her fingernail against her bottom lip. “We’ll count your badge as an accessory. And everyone will have just the one.” She reached up and removed the small diamond studs in her ears. She stuffed them in a pocket of her purse. “There. That’s all the jewelry I have. Are we ready to go?”
Wade covered her hand with his. “Are you really, really certain you want to do this?”
Even his light touch seared her. She nodded. “Yes. I really do want to.”
Tag refilled the whisky glasses. “Let’s go. Everyone ante.”
They threw their chips in.
“Here’s the flop.” He spread three cards out in the center of the table.
Rebecca kept her gaze cool and her face expressionless. Inside she chortled with delight. The flop gave her a natural straight. If she could pick up an eight of spades, she’d have a straight flush.
She casually tossed in two twenty-five cent chips. Wade raised her by a dollar. Tag called both and the betting returned to her. She was not about to let this hand go so she matched Wade’s bump in chips.
“The turn. Good luck, everyone.” Tag laid down another card. The four of
hearts did nothing for her but she repeated her fifty-cent bet.
Again Wade raised and Tag called.
Rebecca studied her cards. She was holding a seven-high straight. If that four had done anything for either man, it likely wasn’t enough to top her.
Top her. Her brain took an abrupt left turn from getting whipped in cards to getting whipped in bed by either—or both—of these strong Texans.
Her fingers trembled as she pushed her chips in.
“Doing okay?” Tag asked. “You’re looking a little dazed over there.”
Wade chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “She gets that look when she’s thinking. I believe those are some mighty interesting thoughts but she hasn’t shared them with me yet.”
Tag nodded. “We haven’t talked final stakes yet. Here’s the river.”
Rebecca blinked rapidly. Following their discussion and the cards was proving more difficult than she’d anticipated. Maybe I should ease up on the alcohol. Rebecca dismissed the thought as soon as she had it. She knew the liquor didn’t have a thing to do with her trembling or the lack of concentration she seemed to be experiencing.
No, her problem was the powerful waves of attraction and magnetism Tag and Wade projected.
She stared at the seven of spades on the table then dropped back to her hand.
Damn. She’d missed a straight flush by one freaking card.
Rebecca ran her finger over the edges of the fanned cards in her hand then folded them into a neat pile.
“I’ll bet a dollar,” she said.
Wade whistled. “Getting pricey in here. I’ll see your dollar and raise you two.”
She frowned at him. He smirked back.
Tag stacked and un-stacked his chips as he studied his hand, then the cards on the table. Just when she thought he was going to fold, he casually called Wade’s wager.
She gritted her teeth and tossed in two more dollars. One chip rolled to the side and Wade caught it just before it fell off the gleaming table.
“Hey, hey,” Wade said teasingly. “No splashing the pot.”
“Sorry,” she said.
He reached over and tapped her on the nose. “That’s one.”
Tag chuckled before she could ask one what?
Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 11