by Stacy Finz
Last night’s declaration had made it clear he didn’t fully trust her, which was fine because she didn’t fully trust him either. How could any woman ever fully trust again after Evan? But she’d like to get back on the horse, so to speak. She’d always liked sex as long as it was with someone safe and respectful. Flynn felt safe. And he was one of the most respectful men she’d ever met.
Perhaps today she should start looking for a permanent attorney, she joked to herself. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on her priorities, he seemed to be a good lawyer. How could you beat having a defense attorney who was a former FBI agent and a federal prosecutor? Talk about cred.
She pulled on a pair of boots she’d recovered from her urban cowboy phase and headed for the “squeeze chutes,” if only she knew where they were. A while back she’d noticed a metal structure—a pen with gates and ramps—near the hay barn in the south pasture and suspected that was the place.
Sure enough, a group of men on horseback had gathered, including Flynn. He waved his hat at her and she climbed up on the fence to watch. They’d already rounded up a small herd of mamas and their babies and had corralled them in a fenced in area near the chute.
“Am I safe here?” she called to them.
Clay rode up. “You ever seen this before?”
“Can’t say that I have. But Flynn suggested I watch. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“Nah. It’s like getting a shot at the doctor’s office. In a couple of weeks Flynn will dehorn ’em and castrate the males. That might hurt a little.”
She would be sure to miss that part of the program. Clay’s boys were helping, but Gia didn’t recognize the other rider. “Who’s the guy in the black cowboy hat?”
“That’s Lucky Rodriguez. Around here he may be just as famous as you.”
Was he wanted for investment fraud? Gia wanted to ask. “Ah, the rodeo star.”
“Champion bull rider.” Clay grinned and called out to Flynn. “Hey, Barlow, introduce Gia to Lucky.”
The two men trotted over and Lucky swiped off his hat and bent over the side of his horse to give her a bow. “Welcome, neighbor.”
“Nice to meet you, Lucky. I’m Gia.”
“My wife, Tawny, and I have been planning to come over to introduce ourselves, but the cowboy camp is booked solid this month.” His lips curved up into an amazing smile. “Who the hell would’ve thunk it?”
Dana had told her about the camp. Apparently it was a dude ranch, but Lucky didn’t like calling it that. “Congrats on your success.”
“We’re certainly not complaining. But I’ll be bringing the welcome wagon over real soon . . . my daughter, Katie, too.”
Lucky and Clay rode off to shoo a stray into the pen.
Flynn caught her yawning. “You only half-awake?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how you keep these hours. Is there even coffee in the guest apartment?”
“Yep, it’s fully equipped. You’re not working the markets this morning?”
“Nope. I came to watch you instead. I might get a couple of trades in before lunch.” So far she’d had a good week. “When does the fun start?”
“In a few minutes. You didn’t bring a hat?”
“No. What for?”
“The sun’s gonna get you with that fair skin of yours.” He took off his and dropped it on her head. The hat was huge and fell over her eyes. Flynn made a few adjustments. “There you go,” he said and rode away.
A smile rose to her lips and she pushed the Stetson back so she could see better. Clay opened the corral and Flynn herded one of the calves toward the chute. He and Lucky flanked each side of the little guy. Once the calf went in the chute, Clay’s oldest boy, Justin, pulled a lever that held the animal’s head in place. With another lever, he squeezed the bars of the chute closer to the calf’s body, keeping it still for the vaccination. The whole thing took less than five minutes and when they were done, Justin opened the chute and the calf ran out.
Flynn reunited the critter with its mama, moved her out of the corral, and the two wandered off to freedom. Pretty soon the guys were like a well-oiled machine, moving calves in and out faster than Gia could keep track of. She thought it was nice that the neighbors helped out and wondered if Flynn did the same for them.
Occasionally he’d look her way and wave. Gia waved back, and a few times she caught Clay grinning. Clearly, he thought they were an item, which was kind of embarrassing because she and Flynn barely knew each other. She wouldn’t want the good folks of Nugget to think New Yorkers were slutty. It was bad enough they thought she’d helped steal billions of dollars.
By eight o’clock they were done. Lucky and the McCreedys rode off to their respective properties and Flynn cleaned up the unused syringes and the rest of the medical supplies.
“You gonna make me breakfast?” he called as she scrambled down from the fence.
“If you trust my cooking, sure.” She could probably manage toast, bacon, and a couple of fried eggs.
He pointed to his truck, which he’d parked in the pasture and was loading. “You want a ride?”
“Nah, I’ll walk back.” It beat the treadmill in the basement.
“Okay. I’ll let Dude loose and meet you at the house.”
At home she put on a pot of coffee, grabbed the eggs and bacon from the fridge, and a carton of orange juice. Flynn had beaten her back, but he’d gone up to the garage apartment to wash up. She got the bacon going and put down two settings at the center island. The house had a breakfast nook and a formal dining room, but the island worked better because everything was so spread out. The kitchen alone outsized most New York apartments.
Flynn came in through the mudroom.
“I hung your hat in there,” Gia said. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. How do you like your eggs?” She popped a few slices of bread into the toaster.
“Sunny-side up.” He grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate she’d set out and poured them each a cup of coffee. “What did you think of Lucky?”
“He seems nice.” She finished the eggs and plated them.
Flynn covered them in pepper, took a bite, and sopped up the runny yolk with his toast. She liked the efficient way he ate. There was something very manly about it.
“When do you think I should call a meeting about my proposal?” she asked. “Annie said she’d come to talk about the agricultural points.”
“No one will have a problem with your tree farm or growing hay. That’s the easy part,” he said. “You talk to your mom today?”
“Not yet. I’ll call her later.” She looked at the time. “She’s probably playing golf. What time’s your cattlemen’s meeting?”
“This evening. I was thinking about going into town and getting a haircut.”
“From Owen? The man’s nuts. One day he’s offering to be my getaway driver, the next he’s telling me he’s watching me, as if I might steal his wallet when he’s not looking.”
Flynn let out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s different. But folks in the Sierra are. I wouldn’t be offended. Chances are he likes you or he wouldn’t bother with you at all.”
“I’m friends with his daughter, Darla. If I were you, I’d have her cut your hair. She’s very good.”
Flynn got up and stuck two more slices of bread in the toaster.
“You’re still hungry?” The man ate like a horse and didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.
“Yeah. That was hard work this morning.” He grinned. “Want another slice?”
“I’m stuffed,” she said.
“You sure you want to set up this residential program? It may help redeem you in the public eye, but there are easier ways to do that.”
“After everything I told you last night . . . I bought this place to do it. It’s important to me.”
Gia didn’t like talking about how the bank had foreclosed on their house in Bedford and how they’d slept in shelters. But she would do anything to save someone else from poverty . . . from the misery s
he’d suffered.
Flynn came back with his toast and put his hand on her back. Even through her sweatshirt she could feel the warmth and strength of his touch. “I get it. But you’ve got your hands full right now.”
“This has nothing to do with the case.”
“All right, I’ll drop it.” His hand left her back and she felt bereft without it. His touch helped to shore her up. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Dana and I are going to Reno for her wedding dress fitting.”
“Ah, the big wedding I’ve been hearing so much about.”
Gia started to clear away the dishes. “Yep. It’s big news in Nugget. I’m happy for Dana. Aidan is a great guy and she was my first real friend when my life blew up. We were in the Lumber Baron together last summer when an arsonist set it on fire. Did you hear about it?” When he nodded, she said, “Dana got smoke inhalation and had to go to the hospital.”
“So Aidan’s the arson investigator who caught the culprit, huh?”
“Uh-huh. He and Chief Shepard.”
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” He came up behind her as she was rinsing dishes and just stood there. “What do you do at a wedding gown fitting?”
“Drink wine, ooh and ah over the bride, and try on stuff. I gather you’ve never been married.”
“Nope.” He was so close she could feel his body heat.
“How come? You’re almost forty.”
“I don’t have anything against marriage.... It’s hard to date and get serious when you’re running around chasing bad guys. On my days off I was helping with the ranch and before I knew it I was old.”
“You’re not old; far from it,” she said and squeezed around him to turn off the coffeemaker. “Wasn’t there anyone special?”
“There were lots of special women. Just not special enough. How about you? Before Evan, was there someone you were serious with?” He propped his hip against the counter, waiting expectantly.
“Not really. I dated, had boyfriends, but like you, my career came first. And because I don’t want to get married there was no pressure to get serious.”
“Why don’t you want to get married?” he asked, looking at her as if she were alien. “All women want to get married.”
“A: That’s a generalization. And B: It’s sexist. I don’t want to share a bank account with another person. I don’t want to make financial decisions by committee. And I don’t want to be dependent on someone else.” Like her mother was on her father.
“You make marriage sound like a business merger. What about wanting to make a home with someone you love?”
“Wow, aren’t you the romantic.”
“Maybe.” He gave her a crooked smile that she felt to the tips of her toes. “I had good role models. My parents have been married forty-five years. We still catch ’em making out in front of the TV. So your mom never remarried?”
“Nope.” Iris had been too busy surviving.
“Did she and your dad have a good marriage before he died?”
How good could it be when he took their life’s savings and squandered it in bad investments without telling his wife? She shrugged. “I was a kid.”
Flynn studied her but didn’t press; then his phone rang. It sat on the island where he’d been eating, next to his wallet and keys. He reached over, grabbed it, and checked the display.
“I’ve got to take this.”
He wandered into the dining room, where Gia could hear him talking in a muffled voice. She caught words and snippets of conversation. It sounded to her like it was work, but it was hard to tell. She finished tidying up and continued to eavesdrop.
“That was Toad,” Flynn said, coming back into the kitchen. “Your ex-boyfriend managed Cleo’s money. His assets are listed at more than a billion dollars.”
Gia took in a sharp breath. Cleo was one of the biggest philanthropists in the world. His charitable trust gave away millions of dollars in grants to human rights organizations, research centers, even public libraries. “Oh God, Evan stole it all, didn’t he?”
“Dunno. But if Cleo had discovered the fraud and threatened to go to the SEC, that would be a good motive for killing him, wouldn’t it?”
Gia’s eyes widened at what Flynn was suggesting. Evan . . . a murderer?
Chapter 11
On the way to the barbershop, Flynn popped into the police department. He had plenty of time to kill before his meeting and Gia had left to go to Reno with Dana. Despite the complications of it, he liked hanging out with her. Not just because she was beautiful. He knew a lot of beautiful women. But because she challenged him. Their back-and-forth was better than being in a courtroom.
Connie, the receptionist and dispatcher, stood up behind her desk to greet him.
“Is Rhys around?” he asked.
“Why is it that no one ever comes to visit me?”
He’d only known Connie since he’d started grazing his cattle at Rosser Ranch, but he liked the way she bossed Rhys around. She sort of reminded him of Doris, though she was young enough to be her daughter. According to town gossip, she was seeing the cook over at the Ponderosa.
“I’ll take you to lunch after I’m done talking with Rhys and getting my hair cut.” He would too.
She leaned into him ever so slightly. “I’m on to you, Barlow.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“Everyone wants to get in good with the gatekeeper.”
He laughed. She was sassy and he liked that too.
“Let me get the chief for you.”
A few minutes later Rhys came down the corridor and motioned for Flynn to follow him back to his office. “What’s up?”
Flynn made himself at home in one of Rhys’s lumpy chairs. The room was small and cluttered, the way a police chief’s office should be. “Not much; just curious what you thought of that meeting the other day with Gia and the FBI.”
Rhys sat pensive for a moment. “I’m not at liberty to talk about that; in fact, I’m not even confirming it happened.”
Flynn stretched out his legs. “Gia’s retained me as her attorney.”
“That so? Then why did your client lie about not knowing Rufus Cleo?”
“She didn’t lie. Her memory escaped her. On her way home she remembered who he was.”
“Ah, so that’s the story you’re going with. Because even I recognized the dude and I’m just a humble country cop.”
“Fact is, she served on the board of his charitable trust.”
Rhys laughed. “Look, it’s not my jurisdiction and it’s not my case. I was surprised when she asked me to sit in.”
“She trusts you and she doesn’t trust them.”
“Wise woman. No offense, Flynn, but the Bureau is really pissing me off. I don’t like them mucking around my town . . . my residents . . . without giving me a heads-up. It’s common courtesy.”
“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir. When I was an agent I wouldn’t have big-footed you like that. We’re on the same side; tell me what you thought.”
“We used to be on the same side. Not anymore.”
“We’re both on the side of justice.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rhys said. “I thought she was good until she lied. I saw Croce’s eyes light up like Christmas. They want her; they want her bad. Does she know where Laughlin is?”
“Of course she doesn’t. She’s been cooperating since the get-go.”
“Do yourself a favor, Flynn: Don’t get sucked in by a pretty face.”
“I represent lots of pretty faces,” Flynn said.
“But you like this one, I can tell. If she’s clean, I’m all for it. Love is a fine thing. But if she’s not . . .”
“I’m her lawyer.” Flynn got up. “And who said anything about love?”
Rhys walked him out. “You want to come over one night for dinner?”
The folks here certainly made him feel welcome, even if he was from Quincy. “Sure. How’s that kid of yours?”
Rhys bea
med like a proud papa. “Emma’s perfect. You’re around all the time; come join one of our pickup games.”
The chief had turned the blacktop behind the police department into a basketball court. Every afternoon they played ball with whoever showed up.
“I may do that.”
Flynn walked over to Owen’s. There was already someone in the barber’s chair getting a haircut. Flynn took a seat and thumbed through his phone, reading emails. Toad was running background checks on Cleo.
“You sleeping with that financial wiz?”
Flynn popped his head up, wondering if Owen was talking to him. The barber brushed the hairs off the neck of his customer and looked at Flynn expectantly.
“Gia?”
“Yeah,” Owen said. “Everyone says you’re sleeping together.”
“Well everyone’s wrong, though it’s none of their business.”
“No need to get your back up, boy.”
Flynn just shook his head, knowing any effort to deny it was fruitless. He spent a lot of time at Rosser Ranch and people liked to talk. Owen finished with the customer at the cash register and indicated that Flynn was next.
“Where’s Darla?” he asked as he hopped up into Owen’s chair.
“She has the day off. We like to coordinate it so we’re not working at the same time.” Owen snapped a cape on him. “You want to go short?”
“It is short. I just want a trim.”
“Back in my day men wore buzz cuts. Nowadays you’re all trying to look like Fabio.”
Flynn wondered how Owen even knew who Fabio was. He’d probably seen him in one of those I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter commercials. “All I need are the edges cleaned up.”
Owen started snipping. “I tried to help your girl escape from those fan belt . . . uh, FBI agents the other day.”
“She’s not my girl. But yeah, she told me.”
“Big mistake her talking to those agents like that.”
“Why’s that?” Flynn just went along with Owen’s stories for the hell of it.
“Those guys will twist your words.” Owen got out his clippers and began crisping his sides. “You think she’s hiding Laughlin on Ray’s property?”