Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (23 page)

Boone’s dark-black gaze traveled slowly up and down her body. Rebecca didn’t think he was aware of what he was doing until the agent winked at Samantha. “I don’t believe it,” Boone said.

The deputy ignored him completely and looked at Tag. She waved a hand at the computer. “May I?”

Wade rose and cracked his back. “Have at it, Deputy,” he said. “I could use a little break.”

“I guess that’s a yes,” Tag said. “Wade, write down that password.”

“Sheriff,” Stewart called out. “There’s a call for you.”

Tag looked from deputy to deputy then at her. Rebecca saw the frustration parked in his eyes. She had also realized about four seconds into his rant about the packages sent to her office that he was letting off steam. It looked like he could still use a release.

She’d give him a release, all right. She preferred the idea of naked bodies, silken sheets, and glorious sex.

“In my office,” Tag said.

Rebecca’s eyes snapped open. “What?” she said on a strangled gasp.

He was already turning away but he grinned back at her. “We’re not finished with that phone call, counselor. What were you thinking?”

She could feel the burn crawling up her cheeks. She’d gained the attention of both Boone and Samantha now.

They studied her with obvious interest.

“Nothing,” Rebecca snapped.

“Oh,” Wade said. “Interesting again, huh?”

Her glare melted when she tried to look at him. Instead she laughed and shook her head. “I say we’re all pretty full of interesting things around here, Wade.”

“Yep.”

“Sam, I’d like both of you working on this at the same time,” Boone said. “Print out a copy for Wade, would you?”

“Sure,” the blonde deputy said. Seconds later the printer clattered and churned.

“Excuse me,” Wade said and scooped up the pages. He flapped them in the air and frowned. “There are six pieces of paper here.”

“Is that a problem?” Rebecca asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe? The shorter length definitely helps us.”

“How?”

“Means there are less possible variables,” Samantha said. “Whatever code he used is probably not so intricate. If it were, there would be a lot more sheets to go through.”

Rebecca tipped her head.

“I don’t like that look,” Wade muttered.

“I’m just thinking,” she said.

“What she means is that she sees at least a dozen holes in your theory and she’s trying to find the best, most polite way to shoot it down,” Boone said.

Rebecca bristled but only because he was right. “Look,” she began. “It’s just a couple of thoughts but it might be important to how you go about cracking the code.”

Deputy Carson sighed. “Such as?”

“Well, what if this is a new file? That would be one he hadn’t had a chance to populate. Or maybe it’s one of several files and the rest are still embedded like this one was.”

Wade and Boone groaned loudly.

“New plan,” Boone said. “Samantha, you take the printout and start going over it. Wade, back on the drive and make sure we have the only file.”

Rebecca eased out of the way as they shifted positions. “I wish there was something I could do to help,” she told Wade. “But I’m pretty bad at computers.”

He shook his head. “I doubt that. You might not know programming but I have a feeling you’ve got depths you’re not letting on about.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Boone said sotto voce. This time he winked at her instead of the blonde deputy.

She glared at him. She knew without a doubt he wasn’t talking about computers but something far more intimate. Boone’s knowledge of her past could be a pain in the ass when he teased her about it but she knew he’d never out her. His discretion and secret-keeping abilities were legendary.

She swept her gaze over Tag and Wade again. Sharing those sensual thoughts and desires with the two of them was something she wanted to delve into even further than they already had. But they were both hip-deep in the case right now and didn’t need the distraction.

She could sure use one, though. She checked her watch and a sudden yearning burst through her. She looked down the small aisle of desks into Tag’s office. He was still on the phone. The top buttons of his wrinkled uniform shirt were open. He’d not put on another undershirt and a shock of his dark chest hair peeped out at her.

Her body thrummed again.

She needed an outlet and fast.

“I imagine you guys are going to be busy for a while,” she said. “It’s almost five. I think I’ll wander down on the Hex. I barely had a chance to look this morning.”

“I don’t think you should be out there on your own,” Wade said and half-stood.

She waved him back down and shared a look with Boone. He also appeared ready to shoot down her idea of leaving. “I’ll be fine,” she said emphatically. “It’s not that far. Just a couple of blocks.”

What she really wanted was a nice long jog but she wasn’t dressed for it. And even though it was nearing evening time, the air outside was still as stifling hot as it had been a few hours ago. She’d probably pass out before she made three miles.

“Look, I have my cell phone. It’ll be fine.”

She looked around for her purse and spotted it on the floor near the door.

“Tag won’t like it,” Wade said.

Rebecca gritted her teeth. “Amazingly enough I happen to be an adult and capable of making my own decisions.” She strode to the door and picked up her purse. Despite her declaration of independence, she did take a quick glimpse into Tag’s office. He was standing with his back to the window. One hand was on his lean hip and the other had the old-fashioned black phone receiver jammed to his ear.

She eased open the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Call me if you need me.”

She stepped outside and hurried down the street toward what she hoped was the Hex. No one chased her down.

Her phone chirped and she fished it from her purse.

Where are you going? Get back here.

Tag’s text message read like a scolding father. She’d never been into Daddy play and she wasn’t about to start now.

She fired off a snappy retort and promised to keep her phone on then shoved it back into the outer pocket of her purse. It immediately buzzed. She ignored it.

It took her another block before she slowed her pace and started to look around. Freedom really was a quaint little place. It might not have the sophisticated allure and soil-deep history of Boston but it had a charm all its own.

Many of the buildings looked original to the town’s founding in 1873. Tag had told her the architectural styles were a mishmash of many different influences but neoclassic was most predominant.

One side of the street held three buildings that reminded her of an Old West soundstage with saloon and old time general store. The wood exteriors were decently maintained but some boards were peeling, while others were in dire need of fresh paint.

On the other side were buildings that more closely resembled those she was accustomed to back east. White stone with wrought iron and symmetrically placed windows. She liked the way they all worked together to create the quirky little town.

She turned onto Sugarberry Street and saw The Page Turner. She hurried forward and tried the handle but it was locked.

“Nuts,” Rebecca said. A small placard on the door read
Will return at 9:00
. She figured it meant nine in the morning. She covered her eyes and peered into the darkened shop. Books as far as she could see littered shelves, cupboards, and the floor. She bet she could find some real treasures in there.

A faint green glow caught her attention and she tried to look off to the right but couldn’t see all the way into the store. Probably a night-light or maybe a computer screen.

Her phone chirped. Her lips tightened and she headed to the next storefront. Old West saloon doors were hung on a small hallway. Intrigued, Rebecca pushed through and found herself in front of a set of locked double doors.
Liquorish
was stenciled in gold with the store hours beneath. Strung across the handles was a sign that said
Grand Opening Friday
. She peered into the glass and saw shelves full of wine, beer, and liquor bottles. A tall, elderly man with a gray halo looked up from a box and waved at her. Rebecca waved back.

He started shuffling toward the door and unlocked it before she had a chance to wave him off.

“Afternoon, Miss Lyons. Nice night for a stroll.”

“How did you know my name?”

The old man grinned and showed a set of missing bottom teeth. “Everyone does.” He held out his wrinkled, bony hand. “Pete Minter at your service.” The words whistled from his mouth. “We’re not open or I’d invite you in. My grandson Josiah and I are getting ready for our grand opening tomorrow. We’re going to have samples of everything in the store. Think you’ll come by?”

She smiled as she shook his hand. “Sounds delightful, Pete. What time?”

“Three p.m.”

“That’s an odd time for a grand opening,” she said.

He grinned and scratched at the pink flesh of his scalp. “Well, we didn’t think many folks would show up until after the wedding.”

Rebecca nodded as if she understood that business logic.

“Gramps,” a deep voice echoed from the back of the store. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Pete hollered over his shoulder. He winked at Rebecca. “Josiah is real protective of me. He’s a good boy, so I let him think I need it.”

Rebecca smiled again. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“Yes, ma’am, looking forward to it.” He waved as he gently shut the door.

Rebecca headed back onto the street and looked up then down. Was nothing open right now?

She saw a gold gilded window with a gorgeous quilt and Tiffany lamp in the display and headed for it. An elegantly hand-lettered oval sign read
The Piquant Peacock
followed by
Open
. She pushed inside. A faint cuckoo sounded over her head.

“Well, hello.”

The cheery voice sounded from her right. A thin, exquisitely put-together woman hurried forward. She was dressed in a pair of white chinos, coupled with a deep-emerald shirt that made her brown eyes look even larger than they were. Her flawlessly applied makeup gave her the appearance of being made up without looking like she’d dived headfirst into a box of crayons. Her brown-and-gold tinged hair was cut in a pixie that showed off her slender neck and angular jaw. Discreet diamond studs glittered in her ears and she wore a matching pendant on a thin chain around her neck.

Her smile was warm and genuine and immediately made her feel at home.

“I’m Jessie Vargas.”

Her handshake was firm without being aggressive. Rebecca liked her immediately.

“I’m Rebecca Lyons,” she said.

Jessie smiled. “Oh, I know who you are, Ms. Lyons. The whole town does. We’re just thrilled you’re here.”

Again, that utter assurance they knew who she was proved a little unsettling. Small towns apparently really
were
like fishbowls. “Please, call me Rebecca.”

“Only if you call me Jessie.” The rustic overhead chandelier glinted prisms of color from her earrings. “Sheriff Cain is a wonderful man. So is Wade Merritt.”

A blush the size of a tsunami crested over Rebecca. She gaped then clamped her mouth shut. Surely she was reading too much into that small comment.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yes, they are.”

Jessie seemed to sense her discomfort. “What brings you into the shop today?”

“Uh, curiosity, mainly. I was just wandering the Hex and saw your store. The display in the window is gorgeous.” She inhaled deeply and the soothing aroma of ginger and peach filled her senses. “What is that wonderful smell?”

Jessie beamed and hurried to the counter. She motioned her along. “I just started stocking these and can hardly keep them in the store.” She pointed to a small ceramic jar painted like the Texas flag. A light bulb burned brightly inside the jar and a small plate held a pool of melted wax. “They’re very upscale warmers. Instead of candles you put these little squares of scented wax in the tray, turn it on, and voila, instant nose happiness.”

Rebecca bent to take a closer look. “I love it. How much are they?”

Jessie rattled off several prices as she held up different styles. The entire time the woman spoke, Rebecca’s phone buzzed. The vibration got to be so annoying that she was tempted to shut the damn thing off. But she didn’t. She had promised and Rebecca never broke her promises.

So far someone—she suspected Tag—was blowing her phone up with text messages. She could see him furiously typing away with his big thumbs as he commanded her back to the sheriff’s office.

“Were you interested in purchasing a warmer?” Jessie asked.

Despite his sometimes overbearing nature, Rebecca knew Tag meant well and was only trying to look out for her. It’d been the same when he demanded to know every word Donovan Garner told her about her threatening packages. He might be heavy handed at times but his bullheadedness stemmed from concern.

She remembered the various candles he’d had littered around his house. All manner and variety of scents and sizes in various stages of being burned down.

“Yes,” she told Jessie. “Do you have something a little more, uh, masculine?”

The saleswoman grinned. “I have a line especially made for men.” She rose on tiptoe and bent over the counter. As her green shirt lifted, Rebecca saw the bottom edges of a tattoo on her ribcage. She only glimpsed blue feathers and a touch of green.

I did not see that coming.

The door cuckooed again and they both turned. Jessie held a glossy pamphlet in her hand and a wide smile graced her lips.

“Come on in,” she said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

The man stopped in the door way and quickly removed his bowler hat. “Good evening, ladies.”

Rebecca smiled at him. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “Goodness, what is that heavenly smell?”

She looked at Jessie and they shared a wide grin.