OUTLAW LAWMAN

by Delores Fossen

  “Maybe to take the fall for Webb’s murder.” He paused, huffed. “But I’m pretty sure we were supposed to die in that motel room.”

  Caitlyn had already come to the same conclusion, but it was a whole new level of fear to hear it spoken aloud. Now the thoughts came at her nonstop. Billy had perhaps set them up and then sent Farris that photo, figuring the crazed stalker would do the killing for him.

  And he’d come darn close to succeeding.

  “Yeah,” Caitlyn mumbled.

  He was examining her face. Her eyes. And he no doubt knew what this was doing to her, because it was doing the same thing to him. Maybe worse. He had family to protect, and it didn’t matter that his brothers were marshals and could take care of themselves. He never wanted to put them in danger, period.

  “What about the motel?” she asked. “Were there any eyewitnesses who can help get us a better description of the shooter?”

  “None. There was a traffic camera on the interstate, but it wasn’t aimed in the direction of the motel.”

  And it was probably why their attacker had chosen to put them there.

  “No sign of Billy yet,” Harlan went on. “But the initial lab results are back, and it appears you and I were drugged with etorphine hydrochloride.”

  “The drug used on animals,” she immediately supplied. “I did an article on it a while back.” She snapped her fingers, trying to recall some details. “Only veterinarians have access to it, so maybe that’s a way to trace our attacker.”

  Harlan was already shaking his head before she finished. “A large supply of it went missing a couple of months ago, and it’s been showing up in black markets all over the country. Anyone with enough cash could have bought it, and I doubt we’ll find a drug dealer willing to rat out a customer.”

  No. And besides, if it was Billy or Farris, they probably would have just hired someone to buy the drug for them so they could stay a step removed from any possible evidence.

  “Do you have any good news?” she asked. And yes, there was frustration in her voice.

  “Maybe. Slade is setting up meetings with both Curtis Newell and Devin Mathis. We’ll see them in the morning.”

  Sherry’s business partner and Tiffany’s fiancé. Both had received threats and both might have information about who was behind the attacks. Might.

  “Please tell me we’re not meeting them here?” Caitlyn asked.

  “No. And we obviously can’t go to the marshals’ building. Slade’s making arrangements for someplace safe.” He took her by the arm again. “Now rest.”

  God, she needed it. Every one of her muscles was stiff and sore. And rest would give her stupid body a chance to cool down from Harlan fantasies. She might have gotten her feet moving toward the stairs if Harlan hadn’t flexed the grip on her forearm, sliding his fingers down, down, down. To her wrist. Then to her hand.

  There was nothing sexual about it. Hand-holding. But he might as well have touched her in the most intimate of places, because her body turned warm and melty.

  Harlan had started it with the hand-holding foreplay, but Caitlyn escalated things. Couldn’t stop herself. That mouth was right there in front her. Mesmerizing. Filled with the hottest memories. So she leaned in. Pressed her lips to his.

  Oh, mercy.

  Big mistake. The contact hit her like a lightning bolt. All the heat, fire and intensity zapped her. Not just her either. Harlan made a sound. That male rumble in his chest and throat, and he dragged her to him. The press of their lips became a full-fledged kiss. French and everything.

  Especially everything.

  His arms were strong. She knew that. But knowing and experiencing it were two different things. Those strong arms drew her in until she was against his body. Not that she needed a punch of heat, but it made the kisses even better.

  Mercy, he was good at this.

  Gentle and rough at the same time. His hand went into her hair, to the back of her head so he could control the movement, angle and pressure. He already controlled everything else, so Caitlyn didn’t even try to resist.

  He tasted good. Like something familiar but forbidden. That was Harlan. A contradiction. Their bodies pressed closer. Until she could feel all those muscles on his chest.

  His zipper, too.

  No cooldown for her. Just the opposite. While her head yelled for her to back away, Caitlyn let her fingers and mouth play with fire. She slid her hand between them and touched. That incredible chest. His stomach—hard and tight.

  She wanted to go lower. Actually, she wanted sex, and clearly Harlan wanted that, too, because his stomach wasn’t the only part of him that was hard.

  Without breaking the kiss, he moved her, turned her, until her bottom was pressed against the edge of the desk. A good angle for sex. Not so good for cashing in on some willpower. The new position put him right between her legs.

  Everything aligned.

  Only the blasted clothes were in the way. And as hot as the kisses had made her, clothing removal was just one touch away.

  Or not.

  Harlan stepped back.

  Not easily. And she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just dive right back at her again.

  Harlan stood there. Breathing hard. Smelling like the sex she wanted to have with him. His hands tightened into fists. Finally one of them had acted like a responsible adult, but Caitlyn was having a hard time remembering why that was important.

  Oh, because they had other things to do. Like clear their names and catch a killer.

  So why did this suddenly seem more important than anything else?

  “We need to agree that was a mistake,” he insisted.

  She glanced at the erection straining the zipper of his jeans. Then at her own nipples, puckered and very visible since she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “A compromise,” she murmured. “Let’s just agree that it was mutual...and really, really good.”

  He laughed. The sound was so unexpected that it took Caitlyn a moment to shake off the tension and smile. Not because there was anything to smile about, but it was impossible to stay in sex-land with that laugh. And that smile. Mercy, the man had some big weapons in his male arsenal, and that smile was one of them. Except the smile didn’t last. It dissolved in the blink of an eye, and the look on his face definitely wasn’t that of a happy man.

  “What the hell is that?” he snapped.

  A jolt of fear went through her. God, she couldn’t take any more bad news.

  Afraid of what she might see, Caitlyn followed his gaze to the laptop screen. The scalding kiss had numbed her brain, because she’d forgotten that was on the screen. The working headline said it all.

  U.S. Marshals’ Cover-Up of Jonah Webb’s Murder?

  The question mark was there for a reason, because she wasn’t at all sure there’d been a cover-up, but Harlan likely wouldn’t even notice it. That was because his attention was nailed to the first paragraph and the other question she’d posed.

  With his foster sons’ help, did retired marshal Kirby Granger get away with murder?

  “I can explain.” But she couldn’t. There was no explanation she could give Harlan that would undo the fury she now saw in his eyes.

  “Save it,” Harlan growled. He grabbed his bag and stormed upstairs.

  Chapter Nine

  “Really?” Caitlyn grumbled. “You couldn’t come up with a better meeting place?”

  For once in the past fourteen hours or so, Harlan agreed with her, but he didn’t mimic the huff she made when Slade turned onto the road at the weathered sign.

  Rocky Creek Children’s Facility.

  Apparently they were headed back for another trip down memory lane. Harlan was more than a little fed up with those—especially the ones that involved Caitlyn. And her apparent need t
o screw over his family any chance she got.

  “I figured this is the last place the Rangers would look for you,” Slade explained. Except he always sounded as if he were picking a fight when he spoke. “Besides, it’s vacant, and Joelle gave me the keys.”

  Joelle, their sister-in-law who’d once honchoed the investigation when it was still in the inquiry stage. That was why Joelle had the keys in the first place. Well, it sure as heck was past that inquiry stage now with the Rangers trying to arrest Caitlyn and him.

  “Rudy Simmons, the caretaker, is away on a trip,” Slade added. “So we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  “Jeez.” Caitlyn forced out several breaths and pressed her hand over her heart. “If I’d known we were coming here, I would have had a shot of tequila or something.”

  Again Harlan agreed. The redbrick building was practically pristine. Grounds, too. Ironic that it looked so welcoming, but if someone had asked him to paint a picture of hell, it’d be Rocky Creek.

  “It doesn’t exactly have good memories for any of us,” Harlan mumbled. Slade added a grunt of agreement.

  Caitlyn mimicked that grunt. “You never did tell me how you ended up here,” she added, glancing at Harlan.

  “Bad luck.” That was Harlan’s usual answer when it came up in conversation. Which wasn’t very often. But Caitlyn already knew that bad luck had played into everyone’s stay at the hellhole. “My mom cut out when I was three, and I lived with my grandmother until she passed away.”

  “How old were you?” She sounded truly interested or maybe she just wanted the distraction. Harlan wouldn’t have minded one either, but he also didn’t want conversation to distract him from keeping them safe.

  “Twelve.” He looked around, trying to see if there were any threats. “By then I was a big kid, and I think that intimidated any potential foster parents. Guess they figured I’d beat them to a pulp or something.”

  “Yeah.” She hesitated, nibbled some more on her bottom lip. “I got the same attitude. The piercings and hair color didn’t help.”

  “All those fights probably didn’t either,” Slade growled, and Caitlyn mumbled an agreement. His phone dinged, and he glanced at the screen before he passed it to Harlan.

  “The background checks on Curtis and Devin,” Harlan relayed.

  That got the worried look off Caitlyn’s face, and she scooted closer to him so she could see. Not that she had to scoot far. They were all sharing the single seat in Slade’s truck and were already way too close. The maneuver put them hip to hip.

  Harlan ignored it.

  Okay, he tried.

  And he focused on the summary that his brother Clayton had done on Curtis Newell. The basics were all there. Age thirty-seven, no criminal history. He had an MBA, and from the looks of it, he’d sunk nearly every penny of his inheritance from his grandmother into the private equity business that he and Sherry had started three years earlier.

  No red flags.

  The business wasn’t exactly thriving, but there were no signs that it was about to go bust either. The only thing that seemed marginally suspect was that even before Sherry’s disappearance, Curtis had been making the bulk of the business decisions despite the fact that she was the majority owner. That could be explained simply because Sherry had delegated that responsibility to him. Of course, it could also mean that Curtis had a lot to gain if Sherry died. He would become the sole owner of their company. People had murdered for a lot less.

  Harlan moved on to the next report, for Devin Mathis.

  “Whoa,” Caitlyn said just seconds into the record.

  Definitely a whoa. “According to the San Antonio cops, Devin initially was a suspect in Tiffany’s car accident,” Harlan said so that Slade would be in on this. “Several of Tiffany’s friends have come forward to say the relationship had soured and that she was about to break off the engagement.”

  He mulled that over, and yes, it was a possible motive for Tiffany’s murder. Love gone wrong always was. But that didn’t explain Sherry’s disappearance and the other things happening to Caitlyn and him.

  “Wait.” Caitlyn pointed toward the next line of the report. “Devin was a suspect, but he has a decent alibi. He was out of town for two days prior to the accident, and witnesses report that Tiffany drove the vehicle during that time.”

  “That only means Devin didn’t tamper with the brakes or anything,” Harlan pointed out. “He could have hired someone to do it for him.”

  Her sound of agreement was laced with frustration, and Harlan knew why. They still didn’t have the answers they needed to make an arrest, and essentially both men had motive. What was missing was any kind of proof.

  Slade pulled his truck to a stop in front of the building, and if he was having any kind of reaction to the place, he didn’t show it.

  “Curtis should be here any minute.” Slade checked his watch and tossed Harlan the key for the front door. “He’s bringing a P.I. friend with him. More like a bodyguard if you ask me. The guy’s scared.”

  Yeah, because of the fingerprints found on the threatening notes. Harlan’s and Caitlyn’s. He didn’t blame the man for not trusting them.

  “I’ll drive back down and wait at the end of the road so I can keep watch,” Slade continued. “Devin Mathis is supposed to be checking into a hotel in town soon. When he arrives, he’s to give me a call, and I’ll let you know. Didn’t figure you’d want to talk to Curtis and Devin together.”

  He didn’t. Harlan wanted to hear what each man had to say about the threats and this entire mess of a situation. Of course, that might be harder because of the whole distrust issue.

  “Thanks, Slade. For everything,” Harlan added. Yeah, he wasn’t exactly comfortable being here, but he was grateful that his brother had been able to set it all up.

  Slade drove away, leaving both Caitlyn and him looking up at the building. “Let’s get in there,” she said under her breath, “and exorcize a few demons and ghosts.”

  Maybe because their kissing session was still hot on his mind, that comment didn’t sound as shaky as her reaction when she’d first realized this was their meeting place. The building had the demons, all right. Probably ghosts, too, and not all bad. After all, this was also where he and Caitlyn had done the deed sixteen years ago.

  They’d been the least likely couple to get together—ever. Her with her reform-school background, goth-girl attitude, piercings and weekly hair-color change. He’d been the Boy Scout. Not literally. No opportunity for that, but he’d never considered himself a bad boy. Still, he and Caitlyn had found their way together.

  And they’d found each other again with that mistake of a kissing session.

  Opposites attract, right?

  But in their case, opposites had to stop attracting. If he could just figure out how.

  “I’m sorry about the article,” she said out of the blue.

  Harlan didn’t look at her. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Sorry I found out or sorry you wrote it?”

  “Both.” She paused. “It was a knee-jerk reaction to those threats. I figured if you were sending them to me, I wanted some kind of insurance. You know, something for the world to read if I ended up dead in a suspicious car accident?”

  Now he looked at her. “When are you going to send it to your boss?”

  “I won’t. I deleted it this morning before we left to come here.”

  It wasn’t the answer he’d expected. “That won’t hurt your career?” And yeah, it was a jab at her earlier excuse for writing the article that had burned him. Except to her it probably wasn’t an excuse.

  And he hated that he could see it from her side.

  “My boss owes me a boatload of favors,” she answered. “So no, pulling one article won’t burn too many bridges.”

  Too many, but it w
ould burn some.

  “Why’d you kill the article?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear this.

  “The kiss,” she readily admitted.

  Harlan cursed. Yeah, that kiss was pretty darn potent, but he didn’t think for one minute that it had changed her mind.

  Had it?

  “Look, you’re not trying to kill me, and I’m not trying to screw you.” She winced at her word choice. “Correction—I’m not trying to get you or your family in judicial hot water.”

  Good to hear. Not sure he totally believed it. “So, you think Kirby’s innocent?”

  “No.” Not a second of hesitation either. “But if he’s guilty, if he did help kill Webb, then I’d rather give him a medal than write one word that might put him behind bars.”

  Harlan figured that was probably the truth, or close enough to it, but he wasn’t about to let go of his anger just yet. The point was—she had written the article. Maybe just days ago. And it was still too recent to have him forgive and forget.

  His phone buzzed, and when he answered it, Harlan heard Slade’s voice. “Curtis Newell’s driving up to the building now.”

  Showtime. Or rather interview time. Harlan put his phone away and popped the snap holder over his gun in his holster. “Just a precaution,” he mumbled when Caitlyn made a sound of surprise.

  Maybe it hadn’t occurred to her that someone could have followed Curtis. Someone who could try to get past Slade. Plus, Harlan didn’t know this man, and he wasn’t going to blindly trust him. Curtis would be in the same mind-set.

  Both he and Caitlyn drew in long breaths at the same time, and they looked out at the car that came to a stop directly in front of the steps. Earlier, Harlan had seen photos of Curtis, so he instantly recognized the stocky ginger-haired man who got out. He was wearing a dark blue suit more appropriate for a business meeting than an abandoned orphanage.

  The second man was tall and bulky, and the jacket he was wearing no doubt concealed a weapon. He didn’t come inside but rather stood in the doorway after his employer entered.