Ross

by Jennifer Ashley

Chapter Thirteen

  Callie’s heart squeezed with sudden fear. “What are you talking about? Who will?”

  “Guys.” Manny balled his big fists, his brows drawn. “I can’t tell you. They’ll shoot me too.”

  “Yes, you certainly can tell me,” Callie said sternly. “This is a big threat, Manny. Life and death.” She tried to gentle her tone. “I appreciate you coming to me, but you have to tell Ross what you know.”

  “You talk to Ross. He’ll listen to you. He might not believe me, and I can’t be seen with him.”

  “I’ll warn him, don’t you worry,” Callie said. “But you have to say what you know and who these guys are. If you want him to be careful, he has to understand the exact danger.”

  Manny looked close to tears. “I’m not supposed to know anything. I’m just the lookout. The nobody. They’ll come after me.”

  He was working himself into a panic. Callie didn’t dismiss the danger—as the daughter of a locally powerful man, she was familiar with death threats. Resentment was a strong thing, and people let it get out of control. Each threat had been taken seriously and reported to the sheriff’s office, not that Hennessey had ever taken them too seriously.

  Callie remembered the local paper’s headline of the day before—Sheriff Runs Drug Gang out of River County. A photo had shown an empty house, and the writer claimed Sheriff Hennessy and his brave deputies had kept River County safe for its residents.

  “Does this have anything to do with that raid on the house in White Fork?” she asked.

  Manny’s stricken look meant she’d guessed right. “Those guys aren’t there anymore,” he said quickly.

  “I’m betting they’re still around, though.”

  Another fearful glance.

  “Tell you what, Manny. I’ll talk and you nod or shake your head. That way, you’re not telling me squat.”

  Manny folded his arms. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

  “Are they mad at Ross for the raid?” Callie asked. She received a head shake in the negative. “No? But they’re mad at him for thinking about running for sheriff?”

  A nod.

  “Why?” Callie asked, then held up her hand. “I forgot. Let me keep guessing. Because Hennessy lets people get away with shit and Ross won’t?”

  An emphatic nod. Callie’s breath deserted her a moment.

  The implications of Manny’s answer were legion. It might be nothing, and Manny might have misunderstood, but if he was correct, it pointed to corruption.

  The criminals had deserted the house before the sheriff’s department had shown up, the newspaper had said. Could that mean they’d been tipped off? Ross hadn’t said much about the raid when he’d talked to Callie in the clinic cafeteria, nothing more than she’d read in the paper, but Manny’s worry spoke volumes.

  What if someone in the sheriff’s office had warned them? Ross hadn’t known about the raid before Mildred had called him, which meant that the other deputies probably hadn’t either. But of course, Hennessy had.

  What if the criminals, knowing they’d avoid capture while Hennessy was in office, had realized that Ross winning an election would mean the end of their free ride? They must believe Ross had a good chance, or else they wouldn’t bother with him.

  “Thanks for coming to me, Manny,” Callie said, her heart beating faster. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Keep my name out of it,” Manny said. “Ross might come looking or me, and that would put him in more danger. If they think he has a direct line to information, they won’t wait.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” She touched Manny’s arm, which seemed to calm him. “But you do me a favor. Stop working for those guys, and men like them. It isn’t worth your life.”

  Manny swallowed. “You’re probably right, but I can’t mow your yard every day, and anyway, your gardener will get mad. No one will hire me, and I can’t blame them. What those guys give me at least keeps the electricity on. My dad hasn’t worked in years.”

  Callie’s anger flared—at Manny’s father for not taking care of his son, at the drug dealers who kept Manny tied to them with the money he needed. At Ross for not taking Manny away from his situation sooner, at the entire town for not noticing Manny needed help. She grew mad at herself for the same reason.

  “You know what?” she said, hands balling. “I’m going to need a lot of assistance getting the rehab ranch up and running. I’ll hire you to help take care of the horses and make sure their stalls are clean every day and the feed doesn’t run out. Sort of a stable manager. Starting now. All right with you?”

  Manny’s eyes widened as she spoke. “Seriously? Me? Are you crazy?”

  “You’ve already proved you’re a hard worker and reliable. You show up and do a job without fussing. We can negotiate a salary—it will depend on what we get in the grant, but we asked for several paid positions. The only thing you have to do for me is finish school. You didn’t graduate, did you?”

  “Nope. Didn’t have time for it.”

  “The deal is, you go back to school this fall and you come work for me in the afternoons. If you need help with your schoolwork, I can do that or find you a tutor. But you will graduate, you will get a job, and you will win the respect of Riverbend. All right?”

  Manny’s eyes went wider still, and his grin returned. “I’m really smart, promise. I can pass the tests—I just never bothered to show up for them.”

  “It will be part of the job,” Callie said, trying to sound stern, but Manny’s good humor was infectious, and she wanted to hug him instead.

  “You got it. You’re awesome, Callie. Tell Ross to marry you, and everything will be all right.”

  Callie laughed, but nervously. “I’m seeing him tonight. But not for marriage. I don’t think.”

  “If he doesn’t marry you, he’s seriously stupider than I thought.”

  Manny started to run off, but Callie stopped him. “No, you don’t. You work for me now. I meant it that I don’t want you going back to those men. Starting right this minute.”

  Manny’s smile died. “If I don’t show up today, they’ll know.”

  “You said they think you’re a nobody, a lookout they pay whenever you’re around. If you simply stop being around, they’ll forget about you.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Then stay here, go down to the barn, and tell them I said to find chores for you to do. I’m going to call Ross.”

  Manny stared at her for a few heartbeats. Then, as though finally believing that his life might change, he leapt into the air. When he came down he ran with youthful energy for the stable.

  Callie called Ross on his cell phone but it went to voice mail. She tried to keep her voice calm as she left a message for him to call her as soon as possible. He was at work, she told herself. Probably not taking personal calls.

  She understood why Ross wanted to keep things casual with her. He had a dangerous job. If they made their relationship serious, then every time Ross didn’t answer his phone she was going to worry like crazy.

  Too late, she realized sadly as she clicked off the phone. She was worried sick, which meant things had already gone far beyond casual.

  “Ross, you’ve got a visitor.” Mildred, her headphones and mike hanging around her neck, moved past Ross’s desk to the coffee machine. Ross’s pulse jumped.

  Callie? What was she doing here?

  It could only be Callie, from Mildred’s knowing look. If the visitor were his mother or brothers, Mildred would say.

  His chair banged into the wall as he rose, which made Sanchez look up from his computer with an inquiring glance. Ross silenced him with a glare and moved through the thick door that separated the bowels of the sheriff’s department from the rest of the courthouse.

  It was a quiet day in the waiting room, no DUIs arguing that they were fine to drive, really, or Mrs. Kellerson complaining that her twenty-something neighbor—male—was sunbathing in the nude again. Mrs. Kellerson didn’t mind so much, b
ut her husband accused her of staring every time the man was out, and it was wrecking her marriage.

  Callie stood on the other side of the counter, her face composed, her brown and blond hair caught in a sleek bun.

  “Hey.” Ross tried to sound neutral and friendly.

  “Hey, yourself. Is there somewhere we can talk? It’s important.”

  Callie wore riding clothes—that is, English style’s idea of riding clothes—breeches and jodhpur boots, a smooth T-shirt, slim gloves tucked into her belt. She was only missing a helmet.

  Her eyes bore agitation, and Ross decided not to tease her. He took her by the elbow and steered her behind the counter and into a small interview room. “You okay?”

  Callie stood straight, the breeches and shirt outlining every inch of her body. Something to be said for English riding togs. Suede patches lined the insides of her legs, tempting Ross to run his hands over them.

  “I am, but you’re not,” Callie said. “Manny came to see me, all upset.”

  With Manny that could mean anything from his father needing a hospital to him being wrongly accused of shoplifting.

  “About what?”

  Callie rubbed one fist with her other hand. “He’s right to be. Someone’s threatening you.”

  With succinct words, Callie told him that the gang who’d ditched town would target Ross if he ran for sheriff. Her eyes held fear, deep and unfeigned.

  Ross rested his hands on her shoulders, liking the strong but soft body under her sleek shirt. “I hate to break this to you, sugar, but I get threatened all the time. A hazard of being a deputy. I take it seriously—don’t worry—but I don’t let it stop me.”

  “Yes, but …” Callie glanced around, as though afraid of being overheard.

  Which could happen. These rooms were miked and contained cameras, and though Ross hadn’t flipped any switches, they could be controlled in the small room behind them.

  “My shift’s almost done,” Ross said. “We were going to meet for dinner anyway. See you at Mrs. Ward’s?”

  Callie shook her head. “How about the library?”

  Ross blinked. “You know, in my whole life, a girl has never asked me to go on a date to the library.”

  Her eyes softened, as Ross had intended. He didn’t like how stiff her fear made her.

  “It’s quiet, is all I meant. Library closes at eight, but by seven, it’s a ghost town. We can talk. Dena will make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  “First-name basis with the town librarian. I’m moving in some snooty circles now.”

  “When you’re shy and books are your refuge, you get to know the librarian. Dena’s been friends with me for years.”

  Ross took a step back and looked her up and down. Callie touched her face, as she did whenever he regarded her closely.

  “What?” she asked in trepidation.

  “I’m trying to wrap my brain around Callie Jones being shy. Miss Debutante Homecoming Queen.”

  “I was only homecoming queen because people wanted to suck up to my dad. That doesn’t upset me—I’m realistic. Parents told their kids to vote for me, nothing more.”

  “No, it’s because you look good in a tiara, waving like the Queen.” Ross demonstrated a royal wave.

  Callie dissolved into laughter. “You are such a shit.”

  “And you’re too hard on yourself. You were beautiful and generous—even neurotic, self-centered teenage kids understood that. You had my vote, with a big red X in your box.”

  Ross flashed her a grin, and Callie flushed. “You’re still the charming Campbell, aren’t you? Smiling like there’s nothing wrong in the world.”

  “Not while I’m standing next to you.”

  Her blush deepened. “Laying it on with a trowel. I’ll see you at the library.”

  “I’ll be there. Callie,” Ross added as Callie started to leave. “Thank you for telling me. For taking the time to come all the way down here, I mean.”

  Her answering look stole most of his breath. “I owe you big time, Ross. I’d do anything for you.”

  The rest of his breath left him with her declaration, which was delivered with a shrug and a careless smile.

  Somehow, Ross got the door open for her and ushered her out, managing to walk on his feet down the short hall. The passage was narrow, and Callie’s hip bumped him time and again. The ever-efficient Deputy Campbell was about to become a puddle of useless sludge.

  Hennessy stepped out of his office in time to see Ross open the door to lead Callie to the front. His dark eyes narrowed.

  “Socialize on your own time, Campbell,” he snarled.

  Ross chose not to answer, but Callie turned her best gracious look on the sheriff. “I came to make a report, Sheriff. Lost horse. My daddy will be unhappy if it doesn’t turn up. All done now. Please say hello to your wife for me.”

  Ross held his laughter in check until he got Callie out through the counter door and into the main lobby of the courthouse.

  “Now, who’s the shit?” he asked in her ear. Telling the sheriff to say hi to his wife had been the perfect finishing touch.

  “I was just being polite.” Callie leaned to him conspiratorially. “Don’t let anyone go looking for a lost horse, though. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.”

  “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’ll tell them you called back and said he turned up.”

  “She.”

  Ross frowned. “Sorry?”

  “She turned up. It’s the mares that go walkabout when any get loose. The geldings like to stick close to home. Mares have minds of their own.”

  “Do they?”

  Callie’s answering smile made the danger of him falling down return. “Oh, they do. See you later.”

  Watching her walk, the breeches outlining her curves, was like all Ross’s dreams coming true. She gave a little wave over her shoulder to him, completing his meltdown.

  Other men in the lobby glanced after her in appreciation. Ross scowled at them until they suddenly remembered they had other things to do.

  This was going to be his whole life, he realized. Beating other guys away from Callie.

  He had an advantage, though—he could always arrest them.

  He’d have to lock up half the county, in that case. But if that kept her safe, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Riverbend’s library was a square building constructed at the beginning of the last century to house books for the entire county. Two floors held the collection, with a beautiful spindled staircase leading from one level to the next.

  The librarian, a solidly built woman who dyed her gray hair red with blue streaks, sat behind a polished wooden desk near the entrance. Like a sergeant who knew the whereabouts of every single one of her troops, she directed patrons to find what they needed with exactitude. Callie was certain Dena could point to where each book in the library lay and had probably read them all.

  Callie waited for Ross upstairs in the fiction section, having told Dena to send him up when he arrived. Dena, who was Mrs. Ward’s best friend and had given Callie, aged six, her first library card, said she’d be delighted to.

  The second floor held the fiction stacks. Callie knew exactly where each genre was shelved, alphabetically by author, as they had been for the last twenty-odd years. Right now she was in the C’s in mystery, pulling out her favorite Agatha Christies and thumbing through them. She liked the stories that featured the hyper-efficient secretary, Miss Lemon, especially the one in which Hercule Poirot learns Miss Lemon is human enough to not only make mistakes in her typing, but also to have a sister.

  Callie was a few chapters into Hickory Dickory Death when she heard a firm step. She snapped the book closed and slid it back into its precise spot, forgetting all about the story at the sight of Ross closing in on her.

  He’d changed out of his uniform, but he must have done it in a hurry because the collar of his button-down shirt was folded under in one corner and his hair was mussed.

  Callie d
idn’t stop herself reaching to smooth the collar. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Thanks for waiting.” Ross’s eyes were warm blue in the library’s gloom.

  I’ll always wait for you, Callie wanted to say but didn’t.

  “Agatha Christie.” Ross glanced at the shelves beside them. “I hear she was an expert on poison.”

  “She was,” Callie said. “I grew up on her books.” She leaned to him and whispered, “What I wanted to say in private was I think Hennessy tipped off the dealers in White Fork that you were going to raid them.”

  Ross’s mouth set in a grim line. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Callie’s eyes widened. “Does everyone but me know he’s corrupt?”

  “Suspect,” Ross corrected her. “We suspect, but it’s hard to prove. He’s very careful.”

  “Well, you be careful. This is dangerous.”

  “Sweetheart, I’ve been dealing with dangerous people all my life. You’ve met my brothers.”

  He was trying to make her laugh, to diffuse the situation as he always did.

  Callie rested her hand on his chest, liking that it felt natural to touch him. “I worry about you.”

  Ross didn’t move. “That’s real sweet. And thank you for the tip.” He went silent a moment. “But the real reason I rushed over is so I can ask about something else you said.”

  His eyes darkened, and Callie’s heartbeat sped. “What’s that?”

  “That you’d do anything for me.” Ross’s gaze fixed her in place, his lashes very black. “What does this anything consist of?”

  His voice was like velvet in the musty air. Ross didn’t move, didn’t touch her, only held her with a look and a question.

  Callie swallowed. Something in the very back of her brain asked in panic, You’re not going there, are you?

  The tired, lonely, fed-up, young woman even deeper inside snapped back, Yeah, I’m going there.

  She grabbed Ross by the lapels of his shirt, dragged him into the nearest study carrel, slammed the door, and then unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants.

  Chapter Fourteen