Lone Star Nights (12 page)

Lucky grabbed two of the kennels, Cassie took the third, and with the cats howling now, they raced inside. Of course, they'd have to tell Logan they were there so he didn't think strays had gotten inside the building. Logan's car wasn't in the lot, but there were two others plus a work truck loaded with paint and supplies. No doubt part of the redecorating effort.

There was evidence of that redecorating as soon as Lucky and she went inside. A man on a tall ladder was painting the high ceiling. There was also a tarp covering the floor.

Lucky led her to an office, one totally different from her father's. For one thing, it was clean and perfectly decorated with a high-end desk and bookcases. The windows all overlooked a rose garden. Even his name was on an etched copper plate on the door. Considering the way everything was placed and arranged, she doubted he'd even stepped foot in the place. And he didn't even step foot in it now. He turned the cats loose from the doorway and was in the process of closing it when someone called out his name.

Helene.

Looking more like a cover model than some cover models, Helene breezed toward them. Cassie didn't really know her. Helene's family had sent her to private schools in San Antonio, but of course, Cassie had seen her around town and shopped in her businesses. Helene owned both the antiques store and the clothing boutique, as well as an interior decorating business.

“Cats?” Helene asked, getting a glimpse of them just before Lucky shut the door.

“A temporary fix,” he assured her. “I'll be back later with supplies.”

“No need. I can do that for you. I understand you have your hands full with Mia and Mackenzie.”

It wasn't a question, which meant Helene likely knew all about it. Of course she did. Cassie had heard Della buzzing about Helene staying the night before so certainly Logan would have discussed things with his girlfriend.

Oh, God.

Did that mean Helene also knew about the background check Logan had done on her? Or rather what he'd learned in that background check, about her being sent to Sweet Meadows? Cassie hoped not because she didn't want it getting all over town. If the press picked up on it... Well, Cassie didn't want to think about that.

But she thought about it anyway.

She definitely wouldn't be asked to be on any other talk shows and she'd lose the few clients that she had. She wouldn't mind saying goodbye to Marla, but if she lost the others, she'd lose her source of income.

“I take it you'd like to keep this a secret?” Helene asked. She tipped her head to the office, but she also gave Cassie a lingering glance.

Yes, Helene knew. Things passed between them—woman to woman—and Cassie tried to plead her need for silence without actually saying anything. She didn't want to open this up for discussion.

“Definitely keep it secret,” Lucky insisted. “And especially don't tell Mason-Dixon. If he comes here—”

“He won't get anywhere near your office,” Helene assured them. “Anything else I can do to help?”

Lucky shook his head and turned to leave but then stopped. “Has Logan been having headaches?”

Cassie certainly hadn't expected the question and apparently neither had Helene, and Cassie didn't think the woman's surprise was because she didn't know the answer. “Have you asked Logan about it?” Helene responded.

“Is there something to ask?” Lucky fired right back.

Judging from Helene's sigh, this could go on for a while. “It's not my place to say anything.” She tipped her head to the cats. “I'll see about getting them whatever they need.” And with that, Helene glided up the stairs.

Lucky stood there a moment as if he might call her back, but his phone buzzed before he could say or do anything. He cursed the moment he looked at the text message that popped onto the screen.

“It's from Della,” he said, holding it out so she could see.

But it was hard to read it since Lucky started running toward the exit. Cassie caught up with him, but she didn't get a chance to read it until they were in the car:

We got some problems. Two of them. Get home fast.

* * *

“D
ON
'
T
SPECULATE
,”
Lucky warned Cassie. “It could be just about the cats.”

Though he doubted that would have prompted a text from Della. Heck, Lucky hadn't even known she could text. But he figured it had to be something urgent for the woman not to call him and give him some details. And that something urgent was likely to be that the girls had run away again.

That wasn't even the worst thing he could come up with, though.

After all, there was the possibility that Mackenzie was suicidal. Had she done something to hurt herself?

Lucky cursed, again. He shouldn't have left them. He should have had some friends deal with the cats at the Slippery Pole, or even paid the Nederlands to do it.

Cassie didn't speculate about the possibilities of what Della's text could mean, at least not out loud. But the moment the house came into view, they spotted two cars in the driveway, and one of them was a Spring Hill police cruiser. Maybe Della had already called out a search party. At least there wasn't an ambulance, but Lucky had a sickening thought—maybe the ambulance had already come and gone, and Mackenzie was at the hospital.

Two days.

That's all it had taken for him to have the “lying in a ditch” fear that he'd heard his mother and other parents go on about. Not that he was a parent, but he now had an inkling of what not knowing could do to a person responsible for a child.

Lucky was right behind Cassie when she bolted out of the car, and he raced into the house fully expecting Della to be standing there with the bad news. But it wasn't Della.

Mia and Mackenzie were in the foyer.

Mackenzie didn't appear to be hurt. Neither was Mia. And he was so relieved to see them that he hauled them into his arms. However, Lucky hadn't seen Cassie moving closer to do the same thing, making it a group hug. Mackenzie went stiff, but Mia hugged them right back.

“I thought you'd left,” Lucky admitted. He wouldn't mention the other bad thought he'd had. “I'm glad you didn't. But when Della texted and said there was a problem—”

“Two problems,” Mackenzie interrupted. “The deputy's here, and he's searching for the other cats.”

Della came out from the living room to finish that explanation. “Apparently, Mason-Dixon called him about fifteen minutes ago, and Davy came rushing right over.”

Well, it sure hadn't taken Mason-Dixon long with the Nederland sister.

“I'm gonna find those cats,” Davy called down from the top of the stairs. “And when I do, I'm gonna have to arrest you, Lucky, because I know you're the one who took them.”

Cassie huffed. “And how would you know that? I had more motive to take them than Lucky. They're my grandmother's cats.”

“You're not a troublemaker like Lucky.” Davy gave his head an indignant wobble and hooked his thumbs over his equipment belt. “Go ahead, ask him how many times he's been in jail.”

This wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss in front of the girls, but since Davy had brought it up, Lucky went with it. “And how many times have I been in jail because I stole something?” He made a goose egg with his fingers.

That caused Davy to come back down the stairs. “That doesn't mean you didn't take 'em. Where have you been for the past half hour?”

“With me,” Cassie jumped to answer. Which, of course, wasn't much of an answer at all.

Davy came into the foyer and stared at them, clearly waiting for more. And Cassie gave him more all right. She hooked her arm through Lucky's and got very close. Shoulder to shoulder. Hip to hip.

“Lucky and I wanted a little time alone,” she added. Not exactly a lie, but Cassie probably didn't understand where this would lead.

To gossip and lots of it.

In an hour it would be all over town that Cassie and he were sleeping together, and it didn't help that this attraction was whirling all around them. No doubt leftover lust from that “cuddling” session on the floor of the Slippery Pole. Lucky was certainly still feeling the effects of that. It might take a week for him to go fully soft again.

Davy's gaze whipped back and forth between them as if trying to decide if Cassie was telling the truth. He must have decided that she was because the deputy headed for the door, already taking out his phone. “If those cats don't turn up soon, I'll be back,” he warned them.

Davy would, and that was a reminder for Lucky to move the cats, maybe out of town.

“We could blackmail my father,” Cassie suggested. “We know he was with one of the Nederland sisters, and we could threaten him with that if he doesn't back off.”

Lucky had to nod. No way would Mason-Dixon want that to get around since then he'd have to deal with the Nederland brothers.

“Blackmail?” someone said. It wasn't a voice Lucky recognized. Nor did he recognize the dark-haired man who stepped out of the living room. The guy was tall, moved like a dancer. Sort of looked like one, too, in his blue suit. The wrong color blue to be from around Spring Hill. That suit had big city/expensive tailor written all over it.

“Remember I texted you that there were two problems,” Della said. “Davy was one.” She hitched her thumb to the visitor. “He's the other.”

“Andrew.” Cassie's voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but there was plenty of emotion in it. Mainly surprise. However, Lucky thought he detected some other things, too. Things he couldn't put his finger on.

It took Lucky a moment to make the connection. Dr. Andrew Knight was the person who'd committed Cassie to that “relaxation” place.

And he was her boyfriend.

More or less
.

Andrew came closer, and without even acknowledging that Cassie still had her arm looped through Lucky's, he took hold of her and pulled her into his own arms. Cassie had a similar reaction to Mackenzie's, from when they'd shared that group hug earlier. She went a little stiff, but maybe that didn't have anything to do with an absence of attraction. Maybe she was just uncomfortable because her more-or-less boyfriend had caught her hugging up another man.

“Andrew,” Cassie repeated when he finally let go of her. “Why are you here?”

“Blackmail?” he repeated. He spared the girls a glance. Finally, he spared Lucky one, too. “It sounds as if I got here just in time.” He stepped away from Cassie, extended his hand for Lucky to shake. “I'm Dr. Andrew Knight.”

“Lucky McCord.”

“Interesting nickname,” he said, managing to sound like a pompous ass with just those two words. Lucky's opinion of him didn't improve when Andrew opened his mouth again and continued with, “I understand you ride bulls for a living?”

Yeah, definitely pomp with plenty of ass thrown in.

“Among other things,” Lucky answered.

It would have been so easy to get into a pissing contest with this ding-dong. After all, Lucky co-owned a rodeo promotion business. A successful one. Plus, he was a McCord. That came with trust funds and shit.

Especially the shit.

But even if Lucky hadn't had those things, it still didn't give Andrew the right to look down on him. Or the girls. Though that's what he appeared to be doing when he turned his attention in their direction.

“And you two must be Mia and Mackenzie,” Andrew said.

“Must we?” Mackenzie fired back.

Lucky tried not to laugh. Failed a little. It earned him a nasty side glance from Dr. Dickhead, and the man certainly didn't laugh. He sighed. The kind of sigh a person might make when trying to convey,
I've got my work cut out for me.

“I'm here to help you,” Andrew said to the girls.

“Uh, I called Sarah,” Cassie interrupted. “Child psychology is her area of expertise. Where is she?”

“She won't be coming. Sarah called me after she spoke to you and wanted me to take some of her clients while she was here. I told her that wasn't necessary—that I'd already cleared my schedule and was booking the flight as we spoke.”

Cassie shook her head. “But why?”

His next sigh was more of an
Isn't it obvious?
“Blackmail?” he repeated as if it were some big deal. Maybe to him it was, but Andrew didn't know Mason-Dixon. At least Lucky didn't think he did. Come to think of it, Lucky had no idea just how involved Dr. Dickhead was in Cassie's life.

Hell, she could be in love with the guy.

That notion didn't settle well in his stomach.

“I think it's obvious you have other things you need to be doing,” Andrew said, speaking to Cassie now. “I expected you to be back at Sweet Meadows by now.”

She flinched as if he'd spit on her. Probably because she hadn't wanted him to air her dirty laundry, especially since he'd been the one who'd created the laundry by committing her to that place. Sweet Meadows didn't exactly sound like a loony bin, though, so perhaps Andrew didn't think he was doing her any harm.

“My grandmother died,” Cassie reminded him. “And she made us guardians of the children.”

“Yes, I heard all about that when I called your grandmother's lawyer. You were only supposed to take the children for a day or two at most. It's been two days.”

That was true, but two days hadn't been nearly enough time to find their next of kin. Of course, in the back of Lucky's mind, he'd known it wouldn't be, but he'd still held out hope. Now he was just hoping that it'd be resolved in a week.

“Plus, you should know there's a reporter who's been asking about you,” Andrew went on, still talking to Cassie. “Theo Kervin. But reporter is too generous of a job title for him. He's actually a paparazzi from LA.”

This had to be the same guy who'd called Marlene at the newspaper. Thank God this Theo wasn't in town to get the latest scoop. What with the gossip about Mackenzie and now the cat thievery, Cassie's reputation could be hurt. Of course, if Theo had also gotten word about Cassie being committed to that place, he might be digging for dirt on that, too.