Cowboy Conspiracy

by Joanna Wayne

  “Did you work solely at the New Orleans location?” Wyatt asked.

  “Yes, I wasn’t aware of the other money laundering operations until after I started talking to the FBI. The shop where I was employed specialized in expensive one-of-a-kind jewelry items. The customer base was small but extremely wealthy.”

  “Were you a clerk?”

  “I’m a jewelry designer with a flair for the unusual. I designed everything from diamond tiaras to earrings in the shapes of crabs and fleurs-de-lis.”

  “Do you have any idea how they decided on you for the job?”

  “I had a booth at Jazz Fest. Luther saw my work and seemed impressed.”

  “How did you finally meet Emanuel?”

  “He came into the shop four weeks after I started working there. He introduced himself as Van O’Neil and told me what a great job I was doing. I hadn’t realized that the name was one of many aliases. Nor did I realize that Luther’s name was only an alias, but after working with him for two years, I still think of him as Luther Bonner.”

  “What happened after Emanuel introduced himself?”

  “He and Luther disappeared behind closed doors for a few hours. Emanuel was there off and on for the next three days. He spent most of that time in the back office conducting business with people I’d never seen in the shop before. That was the pattern throughout the two years I worked there. Fly in for a few days, meet with what I thought were business cronies and then fly out again.”

  “That didn’t make you suspicious?”

  “A little. I asked Luther about him. He said Van had other business responsibilities and that he left the running of the jewelry store to him. He made it clear that what Van O’Neil did was none of my business and that I should never confront him.”

  “So you let it go at that?”

  “Don’t sound so condescending, Wyatt. I liked my job. It paid well and I had a daughter to support. So, yes. I let it go at that.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as a jerk. I’m just trying to get a handle on this. What finally happened to change the status quo?”

  “I came back to the shop one night after dinner to put the finishing touches on a diamond-and-ruby necklace that had to be ready for the Queen of Rex the next morning. Emanuel didn’t hear me come in. I overheard a heated argument between him and someone whose voice I didn’t recognize.”

  “What were they arguing about?”

  “Emanuel was complaining that his last supply of diamonds had been inferior. The other man accused him of lying and demanded immediate delivery of his order. He had a plane waiting at the airport and assurance that there would be no border patrol interference. I sneaked out without their knowing I’d been there.”

  And if she hadn’t and they’d thought she’d overheard, she’d be dead now and Jaci would be an orphan. That was the way Emanuel worked.

  “Did you go to the local police or directly to the FBI?”

  “To the FBI since Emanuel and this guy were obviously smuggling something across the border.”

  “Did they arrest Leaky that night?”

  “No, but they intercepted the outgoing plane and discovered a cache of automatic weapons.”

  “Did Emanuel suspect you tipped them off?”

  “No, I continued to work for him for another six months while the FBI conducted the investigation that resulted in the arrest of both Emanuel and Luther on charges of smuggling diamonds into the country from Africa and smuggling illegal arms out of the country to Mexican drug cartels.”

  Wyatt reconstructed the picture in his mind from what he knew of the trial, what he’d heard earlier tonight and what he’d just heard from Kelly. There were still a few gaping holes.

  “Why did the FBI decide not to use you as a witness?”

  “After Luther cooperated with them, they didn’t think they needed me to get a conviction.”

  “But still, they kept you protected until after the trial?”

  “I was their ace in the hole in case any other part of the case fell through. Since they didn’t make me testify, Emanuel has no way of knowing that I was the one who originally blew the whistle on him.”

  “He could find out you were in witness protection as easily as I did. You disappeared without a paper trail.”

  “But the FBI intentionally leaked information to Luther early on that I didn’t know jack about the operation and that I was an unfriendly witness. They were sure that went directly back to Emanuel.”

  So all the bases were covered. Hopefully the FBI had that right.

  “So when the trial was over and Emanuel Leaky was sentenced, you were dropped from protection?”

  “Yes. That’s when I decided to move back to Mustang Run. The house Grams had left me is sitting empty so I don’t have to worry about rent while I get my career reestablished. So, in spite of my complete meltdown earlier, I’m really not homeless or helpless, Wyatt.

  “Well, I might be temporarily homeless, but I’ll look for another place to rent tomorrow. And I’m not in danger. I just had my car stolen. It happens to people every day.”

  Wyatt still had reservations about the danger aspect, but he was a naturally suspicious kind of guy. It went with the territory he roamed.

  But admittedly it would be difficult to think she was any more than a random victim today considering that the thief was in the truck stop before she arrived. He’d have had no way of knowing she would stop there.

  Only now the thief had her computer. “Was there anything in your computer that could tie you to Emanuel?”

  “Absolutely not. The computer is brand-new and I was thoroughly indoctrinated by the FBI on what not to post in any internet medium.”

  Kelly stretched her arms over her head, making her nipples aim at him like bullets. He clenched his fists and ignored a stirring in another part of his body.

  What the hell was wrong with him that he kept reacting to Kelly as if he hadn’t been with a woman in months? Oh, yeah. He hadn’t.

  Still, he was around women all the time at the station. No one else had turned him on like this.

  Maybe his protective instincts were getting confused with his libido.

  “So now you have the rest of the story,” Kelly said. “And confession must be good for the appetite as well as the soul. Suddenly, I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Wyatt admitted. He opened the refrigerator and began checking out options.

  Kelly checked the pantry. “I found some syrup and a box of pancake mix.” She read the directions. “All we need are an egg and some milk and we’re in business.”

  “Eggs… Check. Milk… Check.” Wyatt opened the fresh-meat drawer. “And pork sausage and turkey and regular bacon. I suspect the pork is for guests, since Troy had a heart attack a year ago.”

  With the discussion changed from crime to food, the mood instantly lifted. Wyatt located a square grill and a round, flat griddle. He set them both on top of the range, setting the heat to low under the grill.

  He started forming sausage patties, but his gaze kept shifting from the meat to Kelly. He liked her hair. It was shiny and touchable, as if it were waiting for his fingers to tangle with the loose curls. He was captivated by the cute tilt of her nose and her full lips without a trace of makeup. He loved that her shirt brushed her nipples, giving just a hint of the perky mounds waiting to be discovered.

  Discovered, but not by him.

  At least not anytime soon.

  He was here on a mission, and he wouldn’t let anything interfere with that. Being back in this house with Troy made the need to find the truth about his mother’s murder more pressing than ever. His mother deserved that and if Troy was innocent, he deserved it, too.

  Still, as the kitchen filled with sizzling sounds and tantalizing odors, Wyatt couldn’t help but think about how long it had been since he’d shared a kitchen with a woman. And never with one who was as tantalizingly tempting as Kelly.

  He reached around her to get a spatu
la for the sausage. She turned at the same time. Her face ended up mere inches from his.

  Desire flamed, hot and instant. He took a deep breath and managed to move away without giving in to the lure of her seductive lips.

  Think skunks, old boy. Think skunks.

  FULL AND SATISFIED, at least as far as her stomach was concerned, Kelly kicked off her shoes and started the water running in the old claw-foot tub. Normally, she would have had a quick shower, but the nagging ache in muscles that had been tense for too long, the deep tub and the convenient bottle of inviting bubble bath made a soak a temptation she couldn’t resist.

  Her resolve to keep everything secret about her connection with Emanuel Leaky had quickly gone astray. She should have known that hooking up on any level with a cop would backfire.

  Yet, she felt an unexpected sense of relief now that she’d finally talked about it with someone outside the FBI. She was more relaxed this minute than she had been in weeks.

  Unfortunately, her problems would all be waiting for her when she woke up in the morning. No car. No house. And no Wyatt once she left the Willow Creek Ranch.

  She checked her reflection in the mirror as she wiggled out of her jeans. It was positively not her best night in the looks department. And yet Wyatt had come within a heartbeat of kissing her while they were cooking. He’d backed off quickly enough, but there was no denying the heat that had passed between them.

  Kelly finished undressing, pausing to study her breasts in the narrow mirror as the bra fell to the floor. They weren’t huge, but they filled out a C cup. They were still perky. Likely they were still on the erogenous radar, though she couldn’t guarantee that.

  Other than her yearly gynecology exam, her breasts hadn’t been touched by a pair of male hands in years. Nor had any other of her intimate zones. It was only natural she’d react to the sexy cowboy lawman who’d come riding to her rescue in a black pickup truck.

  Only, if she were honest with herself, she’d admit it was more than just physical attraction. Wyatt was like no one she’d ever met before. Laid-back. Cool under stress. He had that take-charge cop manner about him without being boorish. Protective, but not authoritative. Sexy, but not arrogant.

  Of course, she barely knew him, so that might all be a practiced facade.

  Kelly stepped into the tub and slid beneath the water, letting the fragrant heat caress her. She closed her eyes and let the strain seep from her muscles and rational thoughts regain control of her mind.

  She was a bit infatuated with the Atlanta detective who knew his way around a skillet, but she wouldn’t have to deal with that for long. She’d likely never see him again after tomorrow. He had his problems. She had hers.

  Her traitorous thoughts betrayed her as she slid the soapy cloth over her abdomen. What would it have been like if Wyatt had actually kissed her?

  Passionate and fiery or slow, wet and romantic? Or maybe he’d be a downright lousy kisser like the quarterback she’d dated in high school who’d taken icky to new levels of disgusting.

  Somehow she couldn’t imagine Wyatt as icky, but perhaps she should kiss him goodbye when she left him tomorrow and find out. Solely in the name of research.

  Chapter Seven

  Wyatt jerked awake, lurching for the covers as they were being jerked off the bed. “What the hell?”

  “Morning, bro. You’re on ranch time now. Gotta make hay while the sun shines, or at least grab a pitchfork and toss some of it around.”

  “Watch it, half-pint. I can still wrestle you to the ground with one arm.”

  “Try it.”

  Wyatt jumped out of bed in his boxers and greeted Dakota with a quick manly hug and a couple of arm punches. The actions didn’t begin to convey how glad he was to see his championship bull-rider younger brother.

  “How did you find out this early that I was here? It’s…” He reached for his watch and checked the time. “Nine o’clock! I figured it was about six. This old bed must be more comfortable than I remembered it being.”

  “It’s eight our time.”

  “Right. I forgot to reset the watch when I changed time zones. Still early for a house call. What time did Troy phone you?”

  “He didn’t. I was headed over to Bob Adkins’s spread. He’s having trouble with the gears in one of his tractors and I promised to take a look at it.”

  “Still handy with a wrench, I see.”

  “Comes from taking my bike apart when I was five and from watching Dad work on that old Chevy he had when we were kids. You remember that rattletrap?”

  “I remember.” Wyatt had learned to drive in that car years before he was old enough to have a driver’s license. Not that he was ever allowed to venture outside the main gate of the ranch.

  “Bob Adkins?” he asked Dakota. “That name sounds familiar.”

  “He owns a neighboring ranch. He and Dad have apparently been friends for years. Anyway I saw a new truck parked in Dad’s drive and stopped to check it out.”

  “No secrets on the ranch.”

  “We look out for one another. I thought he was kidding when he said the pickup belonged to you. But he was too excited for it not to be true.”

  “I tend to excite people. It’s a curse.”

  “You tend to be full of bull.”

  Wyatt raked his fingers through his short, unruly hair, knowing from experience he’d likely only rumpled it more. It was easy being with Dakota, a total contrast from his reunion with Troy. With Dakota, he felt like family. With Troy…

  No use to go there again.

  “What’s it like sleeping in your old bedroom?”

  “I didn’t worry until I started craving baseball cards and stale Halloween candy,” Troy said, keeping it light.

  “Did you look? There might be an old Tootsie Pop hidden in here. Dad said I should let you sleep, that you’d gotten in late last night.”

  “You were never great about following instructions.”

  “That’s what Viviana says. But, hey, I brought coffee.” He reached behind him to the top of the bureau where he’d obviously set two pottery mugs of brew while he’d jerked the covers from the bed. He handed one to Wyatt.

  Wyatt sipped and swallowed. “Hot, strong and black, just the way I like it.”

  Dakota straddled an old straight-back desk chair that Wyatt used to sit in to do his homework. “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming for a visit?”

  “I was afraid you guys would do something stupid, like rush into my room while I was peacefully sleeping and jerk the covers off of me.”

  “Where would you get a weird idea like that?” Dakota drank his coffee while Wyatt pulled on the jeans he’d thrown across the foot of the bed when he’d shed them last night. He’d crashed after the pancakes, too tired to shower.

  And then he’d lain awake a solid hour fighting back good and bad memories and trying to figure out his unreasonable attraction to a woman he’d just met.

  “Dad says you showed up last night with a good-looking damsel in distress and her kid in tow.”

  Right on cue. “Did Troy mention that there’s a gigantic tree through the roof of the house they were moving into?”

  “He did, and that her car had been stolen. She was lucky you were at the truck stop.”

  “I was thinking you, me and Dylan might be able to clear that tree off her roof.”

  “We could, but a job like that is a lot easier to do with the proper equipment,” Dakota said.

  “Meaning more than what we have here at the ranch?”

  Dakota nodded. “I have an ex-bull-rider friend with a tree trimming and removal business just north of Mustang Run. I don’t think he gets a lot of business in January. I can check and see when he can get to it. I’ll let him know it’s an emergency.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Kelly might see this as overstepping the bounds of their fragile relationship, but she needed the hole covered before more rain, sleet, squirrels, birds and who knew what else dropped into the
house.

  “We’re flush with power tools and expertise, though,” Dakota said. “Just in case you decide to help her with repairs. Dad and Dylan not only built Dylan and Collette’s house but they built a starter cabin for Tyler and Julie, all before I got here. They had some help with the finishing, but did all the foundation and framing work themselves.

  “And in the past six months, they’ve helped me build a cozy cabin for Viviana, Briana and me.”

  Wyatt knew the full story of how his bull-rider brother had found out he had a kid with the beautiful Dr. Viviana Mancini, months after the birth of his daughter, Briana. He’d saved both their lives and from the phone conversations he’d had with Dakota, he knew that the guy was absolutely mad for Viviana and loved his daughter with a passion that had even surprised him.

  “We decided to start small and add on to our cabin later,” Dakota continued. “Just a kitchen, living area, master bedroom and a nursery for Briana for now, but it sits on top of a hill with a view of Dowman Lake.”

  Dowman Lake, Troy’s favorite fishing spot when Wyatt was a boy. He’d kept a small motorboat there, only big enough for two. Wyatt had felt like he was ten feet tall when Troy had taken him along. They’d talked about man things like the Longhorns’ chances for having a winning season and how to clean and skin a catfish.

  A lifetime ago. Wyatt finished his coffee. “Sounds as if you’ve decided to live on the ranch permanently. You were undecided last I heard.”

  “We’ll likely have at least a condo in Austin. My gorgeous physician bride is taking some time off, but eventually she wants to join the E.R. staff of a major hospital on a part-time basis. She loves her work and she’s good at it.”

  Viviana. Briana. Julie. Wyatt might need a scorecard to keep up with the family if it kept growing. And it obviously was, since Dylan’s wife, Collette, was expecting.

  “What about you, Dakota? Giving the bulls a hiatus?”

  “Had to.” Dakota grinned. “I’m still on my honeymoon.”