Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (13 page)

“Can’t get comfortable?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m fine.”

Wade grinned. “Ah, more thinking.”

She chuckled but didn’t confirm. The man was eerily perceptive.

“My turn to ask you a question,” Wade said.

“Shoot.”

“Why did you scream when I knocked on the door?”

She twisted her ponytail and looked out the window. “I told you, I was being silly.”

“Rebecca.”

The firm authority in his tone made her sit up a bit straighter. She looked at him. “Yes?”

“Bullshit.”

“Any word from the FBI lab on those samples?” Tag asked Boone.

“Nope. I told you, when they come in, you’ll be one of the first to know.”

Boone sat at one of the empty desks in the sheriff’s office. He had his feet propped up on the edge and tossed a crumpled piece of paper up and down. “When does the hot deputy get here?”

“Leave her alone, Boone. She’s too good for you.”

“I’m crushed.”

Tag grinned and snagged the paper out of the air and tossed it into the metal trash can with a rimroll. “She’d crush
you
. I’m just trying to save your sorry ass.”

“Uh-huh.” Boone slid his feet back to the floor and stretched.

Tag envied his loose-limbed calmness. The tall Native American looked fresh and relaxed. As usual he had his long, raven black hair in a ponytail that hit him midback. His deep-indigo eyes held both humor and keen intelligence. He wore his expertly tailored suit with ease and comfort. If he hadn’t known of Boone’s past, he would believe the man stepped straight from the same high society Rebecca hailed from.

“Why don’t they make you cut that?” he asked and waved at Boone’s hair.

The man didn’t blink at the random question. “It’s part of my contract. I claim it as religious heritage.”

Tag chuckled. “You never change.”

Boone spread his hands. “Why mess with perfection?”

Before he could form a retort, the office phone rang. Since Doreen was still out on her vacation, Tag answered.

“Sheriff Cain.”

The line hummed with a bit of static then an efficient female voice sounded down the line. “Sheriff, please hold for Colonel Silas Reed.”

“Reed?” Tag asked in surprise. He motioned toward Boone then cupped a hand over the receiver. “Pick up the other line. It’s Colonel Reed.”

Boone lifted a brow and the phone at the same time.

“Cain?” Colonel Reed’s voice barked through the line.

Tag immediately snapped to attention. “Yes, sir, Colonel.”

A warm chuckle filtered to him. “Can the formality,” he said. “Heard you’re in a spot of trouble.”

“Bad news travels fast,” Tag said drily. He shared a puzzled look with Boone. “How did you hear, sir?”

“I have my sources.”

A loud rumbling report echoed on the phone line and the colonel cursed like a sailor who couldn’t find his land legs. Tag thought the noise sounded suspiciously like mortar fire.

“Where are you?” Tag asked.

“Classified,” Reed replied.

Of course. Definitely means he is in a hot zone.

“Listen, Cain. I called to offer my help.”

Tag gripped the butt of his gun and drummed his fingers on the stock. “What sort of help?"

“Anything you need. Give me a quick sit-rep and I can get you the best help available.”

The offer warmed him and Tag felt a flush creep up his neck. He avoided looking at Boone who still listened in. “I haven’t been charged with anything, sir.”

“Good news.”

Another boom sounded in the distance. A cold sweat formed on Tag’s upper lip and he scrubbed the moisture away.

“What kind of evidence have they found, Cain? Blood, prints, DNA, technology, fibers, that sort of stuff? Whatever it is, I have experts in all those fields. We’ll make short work of it and prove your innocence beyond a doubt.”

“Sir?” Boone’s voice snapped over the line.

Tag whirled to look at him and frowned.

“Who’s that?”

“Boone Shepherd.”

“Shepherd.” The older man’s voice shifted and became brusque. “Heard you were in town to investigate that ruckus with Martinez. You’re making me proud with the Feds, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Colonel, but Sheriff Cain can’t give you any information or evidence, but the offer is much appreciated.”

“Ah, you’ve taken over the case. I see. Okay. I understand. Know all about chain of command and territory when it comes to this stuff. But the offer still stands if you need it. I’ve got a crack group of computer forensics guys on my staff here. A specialist in blood spatter and tissue evidence, too.”

“Colonel, what have you heard?” Tag asked. He glared at Boone and motioned for him to put the receiver down.

The jerk just shook his head and tucked the phone between his chin and shoulder before crossing his arms. He looked like he was settling in for a long chat with his grandmother or something.

“Not much. Heard Fischer was behind the attack on Martinez.” Sorrow coated the man’s voice. “Damn shame, that one. He was a good man. I also know he was killed in your jail cell and that you’re suspected in the killing. It’s why I called to help.”

“Colonel, I must ask how you found out,” Boone said.

A rusty chuckle rattled over the line and was obliterated by a much louder boom. The laughter turned to choking and coughing.

“Colonel Reed?” Tag yelled. “Are you all right?”

“That one was too damn close. We have to bug. If either of you change your mind on that help, have Martinez get in touch with me. She knows how.”

The line went dead.

Tag carefully replaced his receiver. He looked at Boone, whose face was indecipherable as usual. The lack of expression immediately put him on the defensive. “He was just calling to help. You heard him.”

Boone shrugged as he walked toward him. He hitched his hip against Tag’s desk and nodded. “The Colonel always was an odd bird. Especially if he thought Fischer was a good man. Good to know you’ve got someone in your corner with that kind of power, though.”

Tag relaxed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re under some stress. I just wish the damned lab would call already.”

The phone rang again. They both looked down then at each other.

Tag snatched up the phone. “Sheriff Cain.”

“May I speak with Agent Shepherd?” The male voice was bland but professional.

Tag thrust the black handled receiver out. “It’s for you.”

Boone took the phone. “Shepherd.”

Tag could hear the murmur of conversation from the other end but couldn’t make out a word the man said. Nor could he interpret anything from Boone’s expression. Once the black eyes flicked up and locked on him but they gave nothing away. Finally he ended the call.

“They were able to pinpoint some foreign DNA from the blood on the bed. They’re running it through CODIS now.”

“Have they compared it to mine?” Tag demanded. “I’m ready for a definitive answer here.”

Boone grinned. “You don’t know if you’re guilty or not?”

Tag shoved him lightly. “Well?”

“Those results aren’t back yet. It takes a little time. Be patient, Tag.”

“As y’all are so fond of telling me, that isn’t a virtue I’ve ever cultivated.”

Boone clapped him on the shoulder. “My grandfather always told me great anger is more destructive than the sword. You have contained the anger you once held. Now, you must work on your waiting skills.”

“Why?” he demanded. “
Impatience
gets me so much more.”

The front office door opened and Deputy Carson walked in. She stilled as she studied them. Then a wide smile lifted her generous lips. “Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?”

Boone’s hand dropped and he shunted away faster than a quarterback chased by a lineman. Tag grinned back at him. “Just a tender moment between friends,” he said.

Boone’s eyes widened and he choked. “Cain, what the hell?”

Tag sauntered to his office and grabbed his sheriff’s hat from the rack. “Don’t worry about the Deputy here, Boone. She’s seen a lot in her day. A few Native American peccadilloes aren’t going to scare her away.” He checked his watch. Twelve fifteen. “I’m heading out to lunch with Wade and Rebecca. Carson, if you need anything, radio me.”

“Roger,” she said. She was still grinning as she walked past Boone and dropped to one of the desks. “Sheriff, have you hired anyone yet?”

Tag groaned and rotated the hat in his fingers. “No.” The process of filling Deputy Wallace’s desk with someone new was heart-rending. In the days since his death, no one had touched his workspace or his locker. His wife couldn’t bear to come to the station to see to his personal items and neither Tag nor Doreen had the stomach for it either. He knew he was going to have to take care of it sooner or later. As far as he was concerned, later worked for him.

Carson frowned up at him. “I know I’m probably out of bounds, Sheriff, but I have a suggestion.”

His head snapped up. “I’m all ears, Deputy.”

The sharp planes of her cheeks darkened with a flush he found unusual and charming. Apparently Boone did too because he lurched forward with dark eyes intent on the deputy.

“Well, sir, how about you hire me full-time? I’m basically doing the job anyway.”

Tag frowned. “While it would make me grin to shaft Sheriff Cranshaw, wouldn’t you be giving up a lot of seniority over there?”

She snorted. “That man would rather give up beer for a year than promote a woman past deputy.” Her blush brightened and she cleared her throat. “That’s just my unofficial opinion, of course.”

Tag blinked. He wasn’t surprised by Cranshaw’s attitude but he was shocked to learn it was so transparent.

“Are you saying he’s discriminated against you?” Boone asked. His voice was as tight as the lines around his mouth.

Carson shrugged. “Nothing provable. He’s an ass, not an idiot.”

“I beg to differ,” Boone muttered.

“Carson, is your resume in that stack on my desk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re hired. Do what you need to get out from under Cranshaw’s thumb. If he gives you any shit, send him to me.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Hell yeah,” he said. “I’d be a fool to let a law officer of your caliber slip through my fingers.” He gave her a snappy salute. “Contrary to popular belief, I am not a fool. I think we’ll still hire one more junior officer. Go through the resumes and pull the ones you think I should interview.” He was pleased with the way he’d deftly delegated the job to his new deputy. He opened the door. “I’m going to lunch.”

* * * *

Rebecca rubbed the inside of her elbow where the bright-yellow duck bandage marked her blood donation. It itched like the dickens. She trembled as she rode between Wade and Tag back to Tag’s house, but it had nothing to do with the needle that had recently been in her arm.

Nor did it have to do with being surrounded by two, strong, attractive men. No, what was keeping her silent and shocked was the small kernel of information she’d just gleaned about Tag.

He had type AB negative blood. Just like the unknown sample at the crime scene.
When he’d given the blood donation nurse that information, Rebecca thought she’d pass out.

She hadn’t though. Tag’s watchful gaze had been zeroed in on her so she’d done her best to plaster a bland expression on her face.

Wade killed the engine in front of Tag’s house. The sudden silence was nearly ear-shattering. Rebecca cast around for something,
anything
, to say but nothing came to mind that didn’t sound stilted.

“It’s early,” Tag said. “You guys want to come in for a beer or something?”

“Yeah,” Wade replied and shoved open his door. “I need a six pack or two.”

Tag looked down at her. His palm covered her knee and squeezed. “Bex?”

“Rebecca,” she muttered automatically then nodded. “Beer with a whisky chaser sounds good to me.”

He looked startled then grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”

Wade pounded on the hood of the truck. “You two coming or what?”

The air inside the cab shifted and grew heavier. Goosebumps raced down her neck and tightened her nipples.

“Come on, let’s get in the house.” He opened the door, slid out then offered her his hand.

His fingers were warm and large and strong as he handed her down.

Rebecca couldn’t contain the burst of awareness that ran through her at his touch.

Tag settled his palm at the small of her back and led her up the flagstone paved walkway to his front porch.

The bright and cheery Hypericum swayed in the gentle May evening breeze. One of the rockers creaked lightly.

Tag opened the door and motioned her inside.

She stepped into the house and once more felt an odd sense of warmth and welcome. Tag’s home was still very unexpected. The leather and wrought-iron décor was nice, but the smaller touches like the rose-patterned tablecloth, gilt-edged picture frames, and multitude of candles in the place made it inviting.

“Let’s go sit in the dining room,” Wade said.

She followed him to the large oval table and sank into the chair he held out for her.

“Bex, you serious about that whisky?” Tag hollered from the kitchen.

She didn’t bother to correct him on the name. She really needed that drink. “Yes. A double sounds good. Hell, bring the whole bottle.”

Wade settled into a chair across from her. His gaze was sharp and intent, which was quite a bit different from his usual laid-back, good-ole-boy approach.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Tag trundled into the room with a six-pack stuffed under one arm, a bottle of whisky in the other, and three tumblers clenched between his fingers.

She shrugged.

Tag set everything down and unscrewed the bottle cap. He gave her a slight smile as he poured the alcohol. The sharp, hot aroma grabbed at her senses.

“It’s okay, Bex. Tell him what’s got you on tenterhooks.”

He slid a full glass her direction then picked another up and sipped.