Taming The Cowboy (She's in Charge Book 4)

by Layla Valentine

  And she had been the one to recommend the ranch to me. She had been the one who knew about it. Unless someone else in the meeting had gotten on the phone and told whoever was behind this. But that would mean someone on the board, or Gregory, if not her.

  I exhaled through my nose as I set my phone down. That still makes her our prime suspect. But I won’t act on that until I have more proof.

  I couldn’t afford the possibility that she was innocent. If I falsely accused her, it would ruin our friendship and our working relationship—for good.

  I was doing better, despite the headache. I had a sense of accomplishment from getting through that stack of work, and from getting through my conversation with Bella without raising any suspicions. I hadn’t broken down completely.

  But I had peered over the edge into that abyss more than once since this mess started. When some crazed man had shown up in my condo’s lobby with a gun, it hadn’t upset me as much as Dallas’s betrayal. The one was a blind stab at anyone female, successful, and outspoken by an unbalanced person. But Dallas’s tricking me had been calculated. And it was much more personal.

  I still wondered how much of what he’d said while stammering out his explanations and reassurances was true. Had he been instructed to use devices to hack my computer? Had he chosen not to invade my privacy in that and several other ways? Or was it all bullshit to make himself look better?

  What would he tell them?

  No way of knowing until my enemies acted. Until then, unless I decided to call him, I would just have to wait.

  But the thought of calling him was tempting. Especially since I couldn’t get him out of my head, and most especially because this time at least I wouldn’t risk discussing my sexual encounter in front of an embarrassed Gregory.

  Later. I’m just not together enough now. But he definitely owes me a much better explanation than he gave on that damn porch.

  And if he was lying about his feelings for me, I’m going to want to tell him personally to go to hell.

  The next few days went on like that. I worked remotely, sometimes Gregory or Bella checked in with me, and I stayed in my new place to keep up the illusion that I was holed up sick. And I thought about Calvin…all the damn time.

  It didn’t get any better. I went back and forth between being furious at him and wondering if I could judge him for being exploited when he had been desperate. Had he dug in his heels on spying on me because he loved me—or had that just been another layer of steamy Texas horseshit?

  I didn’t know. I knew that I might never know. But until I found out, it felt like I would never sleep soundly again.

  Six days after I left the ranch in tears, Gregory called me in the afternoon. It was raining again, big heatwave-destroying droplets blurring the view outside my new kitchen. It wasn’t the standalone house I had wanted, but it was very private, my downstairs neighbors housed nothing but daytime offices and my security team, and anyone who threatened me would have several stories of angry neighbors and business security teams to get through.

  When he called, I was cutting up an avocado for my salad. I set the knife down and picked up the phone. “What’s the latest?” I asked without preamble.

  “I know who hired Calvin Dawson to commit industrial espionage against you,” he said, a bit of excitement showing in his voice.

  That caught my attention as much as his words. He usually did his best to be all business. “Oh? Lay it on me.”

  “It’s Star of Texas, Ruth. It’s Arthur Kendall.”

  I sat down slowly in one of the kitchen chairs. Kendall. Maybe I should have expected it; the man was twice my age, enjoyed half my success, and acted childish and snotty whenever we crossed paths at industry events. He didn’t like the idea of a woman dominating “his” market, and he had made that very clear on more than one occasion.

  “My God,” I said. “Okay. Now we have to figure out how to get enough above-board information about his activities to get him in some serious trouble.” My heart was beating fast. I struggled to even my breathing.

  “We already have one witness who is willing to testify, as well as possibly get us more information. It’s the guy who informed on Kendall in the first place.”

  Gregory sounded pretty confident, and I felt my spirits lifting by the second.

  “That sounds great. Is he willing to talk to me?” I grabbed my tablet to take down the name and details.

  “Oh, I’d say that he’s pretty impatient to talk to you, if you’re willing to talk to him.” Why did he sound a little bit amused?

  My brows drew together. “Okay, so what’s his name?”

  “Calvin Dawson.”

  I almost dropped my phone.

  Chapter 16

  Calvin

  I drank myself sick the night Ruth left. I knew that I deserved her anger, her hatred; I had been a coward. I should have quit the job and told her from the beginning. But I had let the idea of not being financially desperate eclipse every other goddamn thing, even my morals.

  And now, I had lost the most amazing woman I had ever met.

  I remembered slogging back to the ranch house with her giant bodyguard escorting me partway. As we had parted company, he had stopped me first and tucked something into the pocket of my work shirt.

  “If you’re serious about fixing this, there’s only one way. You don’t bother her, you don’t leave her messages, you don’t mess her up any further than you’ve already done,” he had told me, with all the sternness of an angry, protective father. “You go through me. And you come back with something we can use to catch this guy. Or you don’t come back at all. Are we clear?”

  I’d nodded rapidly. He had walked away, shoulders high, hands in his pockets. I had known right then that he had wanted to beat the hell out of me for making Ruth cry. And I hadn’t been able to blame him at all.

  I’d killed the rest of my Four Roses and a couple of leftover beers in search of sleep. It hadn’t come for a long time.

  When I woke up the next morning—hungover to hell and back, the bodyguard’s business card on my counter—my phone was ringing. I checked my screen and scowled: my agent. Fuck.

  I picked up. “What’s up, Marty. It’s seven in the fucking morning.”

  He didn’t bother with niceties. “I got a call from our client. He wants to know why you didn’t report in on the fact that our target left in a helicopter yesterday afternoon.” He sounded worried. “He’s threatening to pull the plug on the whole thing if you screwed it up.”

  I thought fast. Marty was a scumbag. A charismatic, persuasive scumbag, but still. “Look, I didn’t have anything to do with her leaving. She got sick. Far as I know, she’s in bed at home and will be for at least a week.”

  A long pause. I had either just done something brilliant, or utterly fucked myself.

  “She got sick? Shit. That’s bad luck. So did you manage to close the deal before you saw her off?”

  “Close the deal, how? I have information on her if that’s what you mean.” I played dumb, buying time. Inside, as we talked, I was debating.

  I had lost Ruth, probably for good, because I had sat on the fence too long, intimidated by these bastards, desperate for money, but haunted by the wrongness of doing anything like this to her. Or in general, once I really thought about it. But the fact that it was Ruth who got hurt bothered me most. I was tired of fence-sitting, tired of letting these bastards yank my leash for money.

  And Marty here had been complicit in all of it.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he drawled, “information’s good, but does she want to see you again? You got any chance of pumping her for more?”

  The way he said “pumping” made me glad the fucker wasn’t in front of me. And weirdly enough, that was what decided things for me.

  It was a small offense. But it tipped me over the edge. And then, I noticed the writing on the strange business card: Ruth’s bodyguard had left his contact info. I must have fished it out when I had taken my shirt off
.

  And right then and there, my scowl slowly turned into a smile.

  You want me to lie for money, asshole? You want me to put on a performance? Trick someone? Manipulate someone?

  Ha! That was exactly what he and this mystery client were going to get. Aimed right at them, with absolutely nothing held back. My last performance in this shitty industry was to be my finest ever.

  Time for a taste of the medicine you fuckers wanted me to spoon-feed to Ruth.

  “Oh yeah, we’re seeing each other again as soon as she’s feeling better. She can’t get enough of me, after all.” And I chuckled, low and conspiratorial.

  He echoed it. “That’s my guy. You’re finally figuring out how this industry works. That’s big news, buddy. You learn to play the game, and with your looks and charm, your star’s gonna rise fast.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” I said, all fake warmth. “So yeah. We don’t have a problem here. I worked my magic, so now, flu or no flu, we have a delay. Not a deal-breaker.”

  “Good, good.” I heard him rub his meaty hands together. “The client wants another meeting between us and his rep. You got anything juicy to give us?”

  “Yep. I’m sure that he’ll be happy with what I have for him.” In my mind, I was sharpening a knife. Whetting it, polishing it, getting ready to strike a blow for the lady whose side I should have been on to begin with.

  “All right. The rep’s gonna be in the area tomorrow. But I’m back over here on the West Coast dealing with that damn movie deal I told you about. I gotta stop working with these prima donna starlets, man.”

  I made sympathetic noises, smiling even wider. “You want me to take care of the rep for you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, show her around, feed her some barbecue and give her what you got. Once she knows more will be coming, I’m sure her boss will stop giving me shit.” He stifled a yawn. “Glad to hear you’re on top of it.”

  “Of course. With the bank they’re paying us, you know I’m not blowing this deal.” It was a decent amount—enough that I could live on it for several months while I got the family ranch back into working condition. I had told the truth to Ruth when I had admitted that I would rather shovel real horse shit daily than deal with the horseshit coming out of Hollywood.

  Meanwhile, though, I had work to do. And if I could milk these pigs for another fat payout while they swallowed my lies, all the better.

  I continued going through the motions at the ranch, helped by the four hands that had been hired as living set dressing along with the animals. Fortunately, they knew what they were doing, and the horses were all pretty easygoing. Working like that helped me get my head back together, even as I sweated out my hangover and rehydrated with sports drinks I brought out for all of us.

  “So what happened to that cute lady you kept having over?” The youngest, a slim guy named Billy with wide brown eyes, took one of the drinks with a grateful nod.

  “She wasn’t feeling too good, so she went home to convalesce. Kinda wish she could have stayed longer.” I gave him a grim little smile.

  “Yeah, she sure prettied up the place,” Billy said, and I nodded.

  “Yeah, well…I do have her phone number.” I winked, and he laughed, and we drank our drinks and went back to work.

  I wasn’t calling that number yet, though. When the time came, I would call that Gregory guy and tell him what I had been working on. I might never get Ruth back, but I can at least try and redeem myself.

  The next day, the helicopter from my mysterious client set down in the middle of one of the unused pastures, blowing dust and bits of straw all over the place. I stood at the gate to greet whoever came out, disappointed to see that the helicopter had no company markings on it. Of course it won’t be that easy. I’m never that lucky.

  The representative they had sent this time was a tired-looking church mouse in a dull brown bun and dull brown suit, eyes a blurry hazel behind thick-rimmed glasses. She had a small, pinched mouth that relaxed a little as her eyes roamed over me.

  I had dressed the part: clean jeans that were just tight enough, cowboy boots, a ten-gallon hat, and a billowy white work shirt that was unbuttoned partway in front. I saw her gaze chase down into the shadow between my pecs and knew I had her right where I wanted her.

  “I can see why they sent you for this job,” she commented as she walked up. She had her laptop clutched to her breasts like a shield, but she couldn’t conceal what her eyes were doing. Still roaming…and dilating. Yeah, she liked what she saw.

  And the more flustered she was, the less focused…the less guarded.

  I gave her my best Hollywood smile and saw her swallow. “I didn’t get this far in my career on smooth delivery alone, ma’am.”

  She blushed and looked away when I winked. “Let’s…um…get back to the house and go over what you have found out so far,” she murmured.

  I made sure to walk a little ahead of her the whole way, and I felt her eyes on me. I would have felt bad, but like the assistant who had accompanied Marty in roping me into this, she was complicit too. Just another foot soldier in the ranks of the enemy.

  Besides, all I was going to do was trick her into letting more slip than she ever intended. If I did it right, she wouldn’t even notice.

  I got her a cold lemonade and one for myself before sitting her down at the kitchen table for a little exchange of information. She didn’t have any way of checking into the lies I would be feeding her, mixed with verifiable truth. It was the same trick that these bastards had instructed me to use on Ruth. I had just mixed in far more truth talking to her than they had ever intended.

  But not enough. And that, I regretted just as keenly as I had watched her helicopter fly away.

  “Our inside source corroborated your statement that the target fell ill and is currently working from home. Did she, by any chance, give you her new address?” Her gaze searched my face as she tapped away at her laptop.

  I managed to keep my friendly, slightly flirty expression on, but my gut tightened hard. Shit. I had gotten lucky; apparently they had spies everywhere, and Ruth really was working from home. But I still felt terrible.

  She wasn’t sick, and I knew it, and I felt horrible about it. If she was holed up, it was because I had broken her heart and she was too damn depressed to face people. I had seriously hurt her. And for what? Money? Ruth must think that I’m a real asshole. God. I just hope what I’m doing now will start to make it up to her.

  “Just her phone number. She was between places, but I can get the new address soon enough once she’s well. Trust me, she’s very interested in seeing me again.” I offered a lopsided grin that made the timid woman fumble with her typing and repeatedly tap the delete key.

  “That’s good to know,” the rep said quietly. “My employer also wanted to know if you had been able to clone her telephone yet.”

  “Well, problem is, little lady, she was only asleep around me the one time, and that was while she was starting to get sick. There hasn’t been a chance yet, but I’m in under her guard. I’m sure she’ll trust me around her stuff a lot more once I work on her.” I kept my smile on.

  She nodded, taking a few more notes. “I understand. This illness has disrupted our timetable some, but it’s good that you’ve developed an ongoing relationship with our target. That should make it a lot easier to get what we need.”

  “Good to hear. I wouldn’t want to think that the whole shebang got ruined because of a case of the flu.”

  She nodded. “There’s a bonus in it for you if you can complete the list of requests by the end of the month.” And saying that, she opened her briefcase and fumbled with some of the papers. “Darn. Give me a moment.”

  “Take your time, ma’am,” I said gently and saw her swallow again.

  I didn’t actually like manipulating women with my sexuality. But some degree of that was necessary when you were an actor. Until we got well established, we banked as much on sex appeal as charm and skill, and
I knew my trade.

  And my audience.

  This poor woman wore a wedding ring and twiddled with it now and again as she talked to me, but her eyes were on me every moment that they weren’t on her papers. She got clumsier the longer the silence stretched between us. I tried to imagine her life: a full-time-or-more job working for assholes, keeping God knows how many ugly secrets for them, only to come home to some guy who clearly bored her to tears. Or cheated. Or was just useless.

  I knew the look of an unsatisfied woman, all right.

  “Are you all right?” I asked her finally as she fumbled.

  My gentle tone did the trick; she nearly knocked the briefcase off the table entirely with her fumbling, and several papers went fluttering to the floor. “Oh, rats,” she said in dismay.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  I got up at once and crouched to retrieve the papers; some of them had letterhead on them. I took a good look at them as I handed them back up to her. She seemed too flustered by having me crouching at her feet to notice that I was reading them.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so scattered today,” she stammered out, and I beamed up at her as I handed her back the last of her papers.

  “Not a problem. Take your time. We’re both on the same team here, after all.” This time, my smile was genuine. But it had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was a smile of triumph.

  Star of Texas Marketing. I’ve got you, you bastards.

  And that was how I ended up on the phone with Ruth’s giant security guy with the name of the scumbag they had been looking for. The one who had hired me through proxies, sworn my own agency to secrecy—and ended up compromised because of some poor rep who badly needed to get laid properly.

  “Arthur Kendall, Star of Texas Marketing.”

  The guy—Gregory, that was his name—grunted acknowledgment. I heard the scratch of a pencil. “So you really did find out the fucker’s name. Not bad.” His tone was still flat. “Don’t expect this alone to get you back in the boss’s good books,” he warned. “But it’s a start.”