Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (33 page)

“You didn’t call her?” Tag asked.

“I did,” Hank said. “But she didn’t answer. I thought maybe she was still fretting over the rumor and that I should give her some time.”

Tag patted Hank’s arm. “I’ll run up to her apartment and check on her. Maybe she’s just feeling poorly.”

“I’ll go with you,” Rebecca said.

He started to refuse but something in her green eyes stilled his tongue. She looked upset and the beginning edges of panic flitted in her eyes.

“One of those feelings?” he asked softly.

She nodded once.

Tag held up his hand. “Everyone stay here.” He gave Hank, Betty, and the rest a stern glare. “I mean it. I’ll be up and back before you know it.”

He started across the pavilion toward The Page Turner with Rebecca at his heels.

“She lives above the store,” he said as they waited for a car to pass. “What’s bugging you?”

They headed across the street. The storefront had a closed sign on it. Tag peered in but saw only darkness and the glow of Sadie’s computer. He’d warned her a hundred times about leaving it on. That kind of stuff was a tempting beacon for a thief.

“Something’s off with Huber.”

Tag slowly turned around. “What? The man’s been dead over a hundred years. How is that possibly relevant? Let’s go around back. Sadie keeps a spare key in her flower pot for emergencies and deliveries.”

Rebecca’s eyes bugged. “That’s not safe.”

“This isn’t Boston, darlin’, but yeah, I’ve yelled at her about that, too.”

He found the key and inserted it. The lock clicked and he opened the door.

“The stairs to her apartment are back here.”

“How did Huber die?”

Tag looked back at her with a puzzled frown. “In a train robbery. Weren’t you listening to the pastor?”

“Yes,” she said impatiently. “But did you listen to Charles Reynolds this morning?”

Tag froze. He gripped the wooden rail with tight fingers. “What are you talking about?” He tried to replay the conversation but it was a blur of boredom and impatience.

“Just before he left your office, he said that Huber’s wife held séances to contact him in Boston.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Huber’s wife died two years before he did.”

“Yeah. You’d think someone who was researching his
ancestor
would have known that.”

Tag’s gaze shot to the top of the stairs where Sadie’s apartment door stood still and dark. “Stay here,” he told Rebecca.

He drew his weapon and eased up the stairs. He could feel Rebecca following him but couldn’t do anything about it now. He tested the knob.

The door was locked.

He lifted up the frog statue sitting on the floor and pulled out the key. Within seconds, the door swung open.

Only silence met his ears. He held up his palm to Rebecca and she shook her head madly.

Tag ground his teeth with frustration then popped out his Taser and handed it to her.

“Be careful,” he mouthed.

She nodded.

Tag crouched and moved into the room. He visually swept the hallway then ducked his head around the jamb leading into the living room. He didn’t see anything.

The small, neat kitchen and attached dining room were also empty.

He made his way toward Sadie’s bedroom. He turned the knob and pushed open the door as he dropped to one knee.

No one came rushing out and he inspected the area before rising to his feet. All he saw was Sadie’s room as pin neat as ever. Everything looked to be in the right place.

He stepped into the room. “Sadie?” he whispered. There was no answer. Just as he was about to step back he noticed the bed. Sadie’s prized handmade quilt and furry pillows covered the bed just as they always did. But today the diamond pattern in the center of the quilt was slightly askew and pointing toward the far side of the room.

Tag surged forward and rounded the bed.

“Jesus,” he whispered.

“Tag?” Rebecca’s tremulous voice sounded close behind him.

He dropped to his knees and reached out with trembling hands.

He’d found Sadie Rose.

“Damn, I have to get out of this town. They’re going to figure it out soon. Damn old woman. Why’d she have to catch on, damn it?” He hadn’t enjoyed killing her but sometimes his job demanded he do unpleasant things.

He flipped open his suitcase and started packing then remembered the recording from earlier that morning in the sheriff’s office. He grabbed his digital recorder and turned it on. The stupid FBI agent and the delectable deputy never even knew it was going. He’d set it on the desk behind them while he was meeting with the sheriff.

“Anything new on Fischer’s hard drive?” Samantha asked.

He paused in the act of folding a shirt to adjust his crotch. His one regret was not having the proper time to woo the deputy. He’d approached her twice at the Chrome Barrel but she’d politely blown him off. The last time he’d been tempted to wait for her and put a bullet in her head but he managed to calm down.

Women were nothing more than vessels for his satisfaction. He’d find another one elsewhere.

Once I leave this hick town.

He realized he’d missed the entire conversation and had to restart the recording.

“Anything new on Fischer’s hard drive?”

“Wade’s managed to crack it,” Shepherd’s smooth voice replied. “Found a good deal of information that corresponds with what we’ve been able to gather.”

“You think it’s bigger than just a murder, don’t you?”

“You know I’m not going to tell you.”

“Hmm. I bet I could get you to talk.”

A long beat of silence and then another. He stared at the small recorder.

“I
know
I could get you do a lot of things, Samantha. All you have to do is say the word.”

“Forget it, Boone. I told you. I’m not interested.”

“Bullshit.”

“Which is what you’re full of.”

There was a jangle of noise and confusion before he heard the door slam shut.

“Morning, Boone, Sam.”

“Hey, gorgeous,” Shepherd replied. “How was your night? Safe, I assume?”

The words held an underlying meaning but he didn’t have a clue what about.

“Yes,” Rebecca Lyons replied. “Wade says hi. He’s going back to Tag’s to work on the program some more. He’s very close to cracking the whole table. He’s positive he can identify at least two of the people who are on the list.”

He inhaled sharply and grabbed his phone. He turned off the recorder just as the line rang.

“What?”

“I’m leaving Freedom but I have to make a stop.”

“For what?”

“There was information on Fischer’s laptop and that computer teacher figured it out. He’s alone at the sheriff’s house right now. Boss, he’s identified at least two people on the list.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You’ve been very sloppy. I don’t like sloppy.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” Sweat ringed his collar at the threat in the man’s voice. Usually that tone meant very unpleasant things for the person on the other end.

“No. It won’t. Take care of this situation then get your ass back here. I have a drop scheduled for a couple of half-tons and need you to coordinate it. Do you think you can do that?”

The sarcasm actually relieved him because it meant he wasn’t going to die.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely. Are we going through the usual channels?”

“We’ll discuss that at 21:00 tonight.”

The phone clicked off and he shuddered.
Reprieve
flashed in his mind. He didn’t know what had gone so wrong with this mission and that bothered him. How was he supposed to fix it for the next time?

He spent the next ten minutes methodically wiping down the entire room even though he knew he shouldn’t have bothered. The FBI analysis was going to come back to his real name sooner or later and they’d never connect Allen Van Sisk with Charles Reynolds.

He packed the two small bags in his car then drove to the office. Benjamin Whitcombe was behind the counter going through the register with a loupe. He looked up and smiled.

“Mr. Reynolds, how are you today?”

He forced a smile and debated shooting the hotel owner. But like his prints in his room, there was nothing to connect him to his real identity in that register. “Fine, Mr. Whitcombe. I’m ready to check out. Need to head up to Boston for the last bit of research on Alfons.” God, he was sick to death of that damn architect. From everything he’d read the man was a pansy who fainted at the sight of blood and couldn’t live without his wife.

Now there’s a man who was pussy whipped.

“Excellent,” Whitcombe said. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay with us.”

“Yes, thank you.”

The hotel manager pecked on the ancient computer. “We’ll settle everything here plus any incidentals that might have accrued.”

“I didn’t touch the minibar,” Charles assured him. “I spent a lot of time at the Chrome Barrel.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll just double-check and mail you a bill if I find anything.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“I’m surprised you are not at the wedding,” Whitcombe said.

“I have a noon flight out of Austin so I couldn’t attend.”

“Oh, yes, I understand. I would be there myself if not for the Calico Queen. She doesn’t run herself. If you’ll sign here, we’ll be all done.”

Charles signed the bill Whitcombe handed over the counter. “Take care, Mr. Whitcombe,” he said as he pushed out into the Texas sun.

He climbed into his rental and started the car. In less than five minutes Freedom was in his rearview mirror.

“One more detail then I’m home free,” he told himself.

* * * *

“Sadie,” Tag choked out. His fingers trembled as he reached for her carotid artery. He closed his eyes as he touched her paper-thin skin. Her poor neck looked bruised and ragged. “Thank God,” he murmured.

“Is she all right?” Rebecca asked.

He looked up at her. “I have a pulse but it’s faint. Is the ambulance on the way?”

“Yes.” Rebecca’s eyes were wide and filled with fright.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Doc Mayers. “Doc? I need you at Sadie’s apartment. Now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Tag reholstered his phone. “Hang on, Sadie.”

The old woman gasped and arched a little. Her eyes fluttered then she frowned. “Tag?”

His heart skipped a beat and he inched around so he was able to see her face. “Don’t try to move, Sadie. The ambulance is on its way and Doc Mayers will be here soon.”

Her eyes swam for a moment then cleared as they widened. “He hit me.”

Tag tensed. He wanted to question her but he didn’t want to upset her and push her back to unconsciousness. He had a feeling he knew who the “he” was but feelings didn’t make arrests.

“Shhh,” he soothed.

“Don’t…shush…me,” she said haltingly.

Her arms moved and she tried to raise up but Tag placed a tender hand on her shoulder. “Be still. Bex, grab a pillow from the bed, please.” To hell with the crime scene, Sadie needed the comfort.

“Here you go.”

A fuzzy red pair of lips appeared in his vision. His own mouth twitched in response to the god-awful thing. He tucked it under Sadie’s head. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Her reed-thin voice quavered. It was a far cry from the robust and self-assured tone he was accustomed to hearing from her.

“Tag, listen.” She breathed heavily and her eyes fluttered down. “Charles Reynolds did this to me.”

The long sentence was clear and strong. But she didn’t open her eyes again. Her skin was pale, though her jet-black hair could have contributed to the wan look.

Rebecca grabbed his shoulder and he covered her fingers. “She’s still breathing,” he whispered.

“’Course I am,” Sadie muttered. “I’m a Texas woman from a long line of strong Texas women. No two-bit foreigner is gonna get the best of me.”

She was beginning to sound like her old self.

“I was just resting my eyes. I’ve been through a trial. Oh, yes, I have.”

Tag heard the wail of sirens seconds before footsteps pounded up the stairs. He rose. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

“Not going anywhere,” Sadie muttered.

“Tag?”

He squeezed Rebecca’s shoulder as he passed. “Just making sure it’s Mayers and not Reynolds coming back to finish the job.”

Doc Mayers filled Sadie’s open doorway a moment later. His black hair was askew, as were his gold-rimmed glasses. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and his sleeves were rolled up. He carried a brown and beat-up leather satchel. “Where is she?”

“Back here.”

Tag turned and led the way to Sadie’s bedroom. Rebecca had taken his place at the old woman’s head and was stroking her hair. He cringed at the evidence being lost but a warmth blossomed in him at her kindness.

Rebecca stood to let Doc Mayers tend to Sadie. Tag was glad when Bex nestled into his arm. She was shaking and her fingers were cold when she clasped his middle.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Just got here, Tag. Give me a minute to do an initial exam,” Mayers said.

“I’m fine except my back is killing me from lying on this hard floor. Be a good boy and help me up, Calhoun.”

“No, ma’am,” Mayers replied absently. “We’ll wait for the ambulance to move you.” He looked into her eyes with a penlight then had her follow his finger.

Tag nudged Rebecca as the sirens pulled up. “Will you go downstairs and bring them up here? Tell them they’ll need a gurney and backboard.”

“Okay,” she whispered. She kissed him then took off for the front door.

“Can you tell me your name and date of birth?” Mayers asked Sadie.

“Sadie Lee Rose and none of your durn business.”

Tag chuckled.
Yep, she’s well on her way to recovery. I hope.

The clatter and rattle of metal on wood came from downstairs.

“They’re on the way up,” he told Calhoun Mayers.

“Good.” The doctor looked up and for the first time Tag saw the worry in his blue eyes. “She’s got one hell of a goose egg on the back of her head, probably a broken rib and it’s possible that rib punctured a lung. She’s having difficulty breathing and her temperature is too damn low for my liking.”