Cocked And Loaded

by Desiree Holt

  "So what do you do?"

  Skip's smile was equally as humorless as Zane's. “Hack into his phone records just like the warrant says we can do, find the path to his provider, and lay on a digital trap. That way every call in or out to any of his phones will also come to us. Like I told you yesterday, we brought the van with all our comm stuff in it. Is there a place we can set up where people won't be too nosy? I assume you want this as quiet as we can keep it."

  After the morning briefing, he'd called Jimmy Black Crow to compliment him on his discovery the night before. At the same time, he arranged with the eager young deputy to park the van at his house at the edge of town. Set in an enclave of adobe dog run houses inhabited by other Comanches, it offered the perfect location. Even if the vehicle raised questions, no one was going to ask them. And Jimmy, beside himself at being part of whatever was going on, would have succumbed to torture before giving away any information.

  Zane knew some of the other people in the neighborhood. Despite his mother's disdain for what she referred to as ‘the lowest class of our people,’ he had felt a need to connect with them, and Jimmy had been a good conduit.

  "We're trying to raise the image of Native Americans,” Anita pointed out over and over. “Every ethnic group has its lower class. How will you ever get elected to a state office if you don't learn to avoid yours?"

  "I'm not running for state office,” Zane repeated just as many times. “You can take that off the table."

  But it had become a running battle between the two of them, one that often made Zane think about leaving the area and her altogether. But his visits to Jimmy's house and his casual drop-ins to neighborhood events had given the sheriff a certain stature here. It wasn't just Jimmy who would keep these people silent. It was their respect for Zane Cameron.

  "We pulled the LUDS from Ballou's home phone and each of his offices, too, as soon as we got the warrants,” Skip added, handing him another folder. LUD was an acronym for Local Usage Detail and produced a record of every incoming and outgoing call to a certain number for whatever period was requested. “These cover the past two months. The most frequently called number belongs to a cell phone registered to a Manual Alvarado."

  Zane twisted his lips in distaste. “Ballou's errand boy. He started out as a small time thug, and now he's graduated to a big time one, wearing thousand dollar suits and Ferragamo shoes."

  "I requested Alvarado's LUDs, too,” Skip said. “They should be feeding them to us shortly. But the increase in the number of phone calls in the past few days indicates something more than just business as usual."

  "About the time Jamie returned,” Zane realized.

  "She's the one you told us about? The one whose property Ballou keeps trying to buy?"

  Zane nodded. “But that's not all. Plus, I have a sharp young deputy, whose driveway you'll be parking in, who discovered something last night you'll want to know about."

  He filled all three men in on the attack on Jamie as well as what had been found on the Randall property.

  "That attack doesn't fit in with Ballou's normal method of operation,” he told them. “I can see Alvarado hacking up the two Mexicans to prevent identification. Especially if they'd botched the job he sent them to do. Neither Ballou nor Alvarado would have hired him to terrorize Jamie. He's got other methods."

  Skip agreed. “It doesn't seem like the kind of thing a man in Ballou's position would sanction. Is it possible there's another player here? One that's getting impatient? If we can prove illegals are being smuggled over here and sold, one of the customers could be worried Jamie Randall will screw up the nice little thing they've all got going.

  "The first thing we've got to do is prove there's actually an operation and who's behind it. I want to make sure we've handled our end properly if we're going to take on Grayson Ballou."

  "Amen to that.” Zane pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on. “So let's get on with it."

  * * * *

  Kit had already started the coffee when Jamie came downstairs, showered, freshly bandaged, and wearing a pair of Zane's boxers and an old Sheriff's Association T-shirt.

  "I packed a suitcase for you,” Kit told her, taking in her outfit. “Didn't Zane take it up to the room?"

  "Yes. Thank you. But I needed something really loose and soft that wouldn't rub on my bandages."

  "Oh, honey.” She cast a critical eye over her friend. “How are you this morning?"

  "Much better than yesterday,” Jamie assured her.

  Kit gave her a sly grin. “I hope the sheriff didn't rub on the bandages last night."

  Jamie actually felt heat creep up her cheeks. “He took good care of me."

  "I'll just bet he did,” Kit laughed. “Too bad he didn't take such good care of the pantry situation here. I think the man lives on cold cereal and beer."

  "He probably eats out a lot."

  As they stared at the poorly stocked cupboard the doorbell rang. The two women looked at each other.

  "I'll go,” Kit said. “You get ready to hide."

  "From who? Who would be stupid enough to attack me in the sheriff's house?"

  "I'm not taking any chances. Who is it?” she called through the door.

  "Deputy John Rinks, ma'am,” came the earnest reply. “Here's my credentials."

  Kit pulled the curtain away from the tiny window in the door to see an earnest young face and a badge wallet held up to the glass. “All right. Just a minute."

  She waited while Jamie turned off the alarm, then opened the door but left the chain on. The deputy standing there was juggling three grocery bags. “Ma'am, Sheriff Cameron sent me to the store with a list because he didn't have time to go. He said his cupboard was a might bare."

  Kit took the badge wallet and examined it again, then released the chain and swung the door wide. “How right he is. Come right in, Deputy Rinks."

  "I can't believe Zane sent you grocery shopping for us,” Jamie said, unloading the bags. “You must have more important things to do."

  "It was my pleasure. The sheriff is a really good guy. His men would do just about anything for him.” He grinned. “Even grocery shop."

  A warm feeling of pride crept over Jamie. She'd suspected Zane had trained himself to be a top lawman and a good boss, but it was nice to hear it from one of his men.

  She reset the alarm and went to help put the groceries away. Kit insisted on making breakfast, despite Jamie's protests that she felt fine, and they dawdled for a long time over the food, talking about anything and everything except the cloud over Jamie's head and the danger she was in.

  "Once this is all resolved,” Kit said, “and I'm assuming the good sheriff will take care of that, have you thought about what comes next?"

  "What do you mean?” Jamie tore off a piece of toast and chewed on it slowly.

  "Don't give me that, Jamie Randall. You know exactly what I mean. What happens with you and the hunk? And don't try to tell me there's nothing going on. I'd have to be deaf, blind, and stupid not to know what the situation is with you two. Especially after watching him with you at the hospital."

  Jamie sighed. “Lordy, Kit, I just don't know. Staying in Amen doesn't seem nearly as bad to me as it once did. And I don't think I could walk away from Zane again. But then what? Do we even have a life here? I'm still that drunk Frank Randall's daughter, and Anita Cameron is going to do her best to make me the county pariah."

  "I think those are things you need to let Zane worry about, honey. If you want to be together, the rest is just details to work out."

  "You make it sound so easy."

  "And you make it sound so difficult.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe Zane will actually want to leave here and get into law enforcement someplace else."

  Kit insisted on cleaning up when they finished. “Tomorrow you can start pulling your weight."

  Jamie stretched out on the wide leather couch with two throw pillows tucked under her head and flicked on the television. B
ut within minutes she found herself dozing off.

  Zane was walking through a cloud of fog again, naked, his eyes burning with lust. “I'll take care of you, Jamie. Don't you worry."

  "I know.” She reached out her arms to him. There didn't seem to be anything solid beneath her, but she didn't feel unbalanced.

  He lay next to her, floating on air as she was, his mouth kissing her breasts where they'd been bruised. “I'd kill the bastard who did this if he was still alive,” he ground out.

  "Shh,” she told him. “It's all right. I'm fine."

  "I'll never let anyone hurt you again,” he promised.

  "Hold me,” she urged, pulling him toward her.

  He shifted to cradle her with one arm while the other hand drifted down between her thighs. “You're wet.” He lifted his hand and rubbed his fingertips across her lips, painting them with her juices. “Share your taste with me.” He bent and pressed his mouth to hers, licking her lips first with the tip of his tongue, then carrying the flavor into her mouth as his tongue swept inside.

  Pleasure rippled through her, sending a fresh release of cream in her pussy and making her internal muscles clench in expectation.

  "I'm going to fuck you,” he said in a rough tone. “I love to feel my dick inside all that warm, wet heat. Feel you suck me inside you. Your pussy is so tight, darlin'. It just squeezes the life out of me. Does it feel as good to you?"

  "Oh, yes,” she breathed. “Fuck me, Zane. Now. Let me feel you inside of me."

  "Not until I taste you first.” He slipped his hands under her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth. The tip of his tongue swirled around her clit, sent shards of ecstasy through her. Her juices flooded his mouth, and he swallowed them enthusiastically. His tongue probed her wet channel, pushing into it as far as he could then using the tip to reach those tiny sensitive places that sent off rockets in her body.

  When he lifted his head, his mouth and cheeks were shiny with her cream. “You taste like the most delectable treat, Jamie. I could fuck you with my tongue all night, if I didn't want my cock in you so desperately."

  "Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted. “I want it, too. Now, Zane. Fuck me now."

  He moved over her, his breathing uneven, his eyes fiery with need.

  Wrapped in a sensual fog, she was shocked to look over his shoulder and see a black shadow move just beyond them.

  "Get away from her,” a voice shouted. “Right now."

  The figure raised a hand with a gun, a sharp sound split the air, and Zane slumped forward.

  "Zane!” Jamie screamed. “Someone help me. He's bleeding. Help me! Help me!"

  "Jamie, wake up."

  Someone was shaking her. Why didn't they help Zane? “He's bleeding,” she screamed again.

  "Come on, honey. Wake up. Jamie!” Hands shook her, and she opened her eyes to Zane's living room, Kit's scared face staring at her.

  "What? What are you doing?” She pushed Kit away and raked her fingers through her hair.

  "You were screaming the house down.” Kit sat on the edge of the couch next to her. “That must have been some dream you were having. You scared the life out of me."

  It all flashed across her brain, and she grabbed Kit's arm, squeezing her. “Someone's going to kill Zane. And it's because of me."

  Kit brushed stray hair off Jamie's forehead. “Zane knows how to take care of himself, Jamie. Nobody's going to kill him."

  "No, you don't understand.” Jamie shook her head in frustration. “This is the second time I've had the same dream. We're making love and someone kills him. Shoots him.” Her heart rate speeded up as agitation consumed her.

  "Honey, honey, honey,” Kit soothed. “Zane is fine. Will be fine. He has too much going to let someone kill him."

  "Where's my cell?” She looked wildly around. “I want to call him right now."

  "Jamie, I think he's pretty busy right now."

  "He said he'd check in, and I haven't heard from him. I think he's got a phone in the kitchen.” She started to jump up from the couch.

  "Stop.” Kit put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “I'll get you my phone. It's right here."

  Jamie's hands shook so badly she could hardly dial the number for Zane's cell. It took her three tries to get it right, but when she heard his voice she finally let out the breath she'd been holding. “You're all right."

  "Of course I'm all right. Why?” His voice dropped. “Jamie, what's wrong? Has something happened? I've had patrols going by the house—"

  "No, no one's been here except that cute deputy with the groceries. Thanks, by the way."

  "Then tell me what's wrong. You sound rattled."

  "You'll think I'm ridiculous.” And she probably was. A dream was, after all, just that. A dream.

  "Nothing's ridiculous. Tell me."

  "Remember that dream I told you about? The one where you get shot?"

  "Yup. Did you have another one?"

  "Yes, I did.” She swallowed. “In this one, whoever it is yells at you to get away from me, then shoots you in the back."

  There was silence on Zane's end for a long moment.

  "See, I told you I'm being ridiculous."

  "And I told you I believe in premonitions. Could you see who the figure was? Recognize the voice?"

  "No.” She rubbed her hand across her face. “It was just a shadow, and the voice sounded disguised. But, Zane?"

  "Yes, darlin'?"

  "Both times we were making love."

  "Well, there you are.” His tone softened, and she knew he was trying to reassure her. “You don't see me letting anyone into the bedroom with us, do you?"

  "No. I just have this ... awful feeling."

  "I swear I'll be careful. And even if I can't make dinner, I'll stop by so you can see for yourself."

  "Is something happening?” she asked quickly.

  "Not yet, but we're working on it. I'll try to check in more often, okay? And I'll come by about six and bring Chinese."

  "Okay.” She turned so her back was to Kit. “Zane?"

  "Yes, darlin'?"

  "I love you."

  "I love you, too, Jamie.” His voice was low and deep and warm and sent shivers along her spine. “Nothing's going to separate us, you hear?"

  "A-all right."

  Kit took the phone back when she disconnected the call. “Feel better now?"

  "A little. But I'm telling you, Kit. I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach."

  "Well, it's after twelve noon. I think we can allow ourselves a glass of wine. That ought to chase the bogeyman away."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Are you aware the sheriff had men at our drop-off spot this morning?” Gray Ballou's voice was like sharp steel, slicing across the connection.

  "Yes.” Manny was sitting in his house in Copper Ridge. Tonight was the rendezvous, and they were in a world of trouble.

  "That means we won't be able to use it tonight. Do you realize that, you idiot?"

  Of course he realized it. He'd been stewing about it since he got away from the Randall property before the cop could tag him. He hadn't slept a wink, worrying about what they would do. What Gray would say.

  He'd had such a nice little operation going. Smuggle a few illegals across the border and bring them up here. Sell them to the ranchers who wanted cheap labor. Everyone made some bucks and no one got caught. Then Grayson, for whom he did so many other things, got wind of it and decided to cut himself in. But the operation changed.

  Now they were bringing mostly women over, selling them to customers who paid big bucks for them, individually or in groups, depending on what they were being used for. The littlest ones, eleven or twelve years old, brought the highest prices. Manny knew all about that. And the money. Oh, sweet Jesus, the money.

  The money had affected Frank Randall, too. And others. People got too greedy. Manny would give a bundle to know where Frank's stash was. Jamie hadn't been on a spending
spree. Even her furniture had been paid for by her friend. And damn her, she wouldn't go away. Wouldn't sell. Wouldn't leave town.

  Now she and the damn sheriff were thicker than bees on honey. How the shit did that happen? He'd been assured Zane Cameron hated the white trash bitch and that she wouldn't be a problem. So much for taking other people's word.

  He had enough stashed away now that he intended to make tonight's drop the last one. Then he'd disappear and Grayson Ballou could do whatever the hell he wanted to. He hadn't been able to buy the Randall land, so if he kept up the operation, he'd have to move it somewhere else.

  And he'd have to find someone to cover for him as Manny did. It wouldn't do for the big Grayson Ballou to get his name dirtied. Not that Manny cared much. He just wanted to get the hell out of here.

  Shit and damnation.

  "Manny? Are you listening to me?” Gray's voice cut through his mental fog.

  "I'm here."

  "We still haven't found that money. If the sheriff's got it, there could be trouble."

  "I haven't heard a thing,” Manny told him. “And I'm keeping all my antennae out."

  "You better get a few more. And we need a new place for tonight. Do you have one picked out?"

  Manny sighed. There hadn't been a lot of choices. “I have some vacant land for sale halfway between Amen and Copper Ridge, off Eagle Pass Road. I can't get a buyer because there's a crazy Indian who lives a couple of miles away. The stories about him are enough to scare anyone off."

  "I know the place. That's where Nathan Black Crow lives. You're right. There's no traffic around there at all."

  "Everyone can come in from the back end of Eagle Pass. Almost all of the land is covered with trees of one kind or another, and there's a wide spot at one place for the vehicles to pull into. It will work for tonight."

  "I know where it is. All right. I'll call my people. You get hold of yours. Tomorrow we need to have a long talk. And we need to do something about that Randall bitch."

  "Not while she's holed up at the sheriff's house."

  "I think I can handle that,” Gray told him. “Let's just get by tonight. Then she'll be taken care of. Permanently."