The Great Jackalope Stampede (47 page)

“It looks like s-s-something from the Maya c-c-culture to me.”

“Maya? Here in Arizona?” Still warming her skin with one hand, he ran his finger over the jade. “Something tells me these ladies have been busy getting into trouble elsewhere.”

“There are twelve of th-th-these, and one bigger piece that I think is a s-s-skull.”

“You think?”

She nodded, burying her cold nose in his neck and her hands under his shirt. “They’re all still under the w-water,”

Her breath warmed his neck while her freezing hands on his bare chest stole his breath.

“And where did you find this one?” He had a feeling she had not been doing her best to conserve her heat while he went to get the ladder.

A tremor traveled through her. “I had time to kill while I w-waited for you, so I took a quick swim.”

Mac shook his head. “Do you ever do as I ask, Claire?”

“Sometimes.”

“Like when?”

She pushed away enough to look him in the eye. “Ask me to kiss you.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Actually, that might not be a bad idea health wise. “Kiss me, Claire.”

“You’re supposed to ask.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I—”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “See, I did as you ordered. Happy now?”

“No, that was too fast. I meant like this.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her, slow and soft, tickling her lips the way that usually lit her inner fire. Her mouth seemed clumsy under his at first, but he continued to take it easy, teasing and tasting, yet tender.

Her response grew warmer, her shivers waning. When he pulled back to adjust his sitting position, his lower spine starting to ache where a sharp rock pressed into it, she stared up at him. Her brown eyes had that dreamy look that always turned him inside out.

“Is that it?” she asked. “I was hoping for a little more than just a kiss before we headed to your pickup.”

He knew that teasing smile too well to take her seriously. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“I don’t know. To start with, maybe some proclamations of your everlasting adoration.”

“You’ve had that since the first time you stood in front of me in your tool belt and panties.”

“You mean the time with or without my bra?”

“Yes.”

A moan came from the woman he had knocked out.

Claire threaded her fingers through his. “The woman over by the wall is waking up.”

“I noticed.”

“I think I can walk out of the mine on my own now.”

“Good.” He really wanted to get her into the sunshine and the rest of the way out of those wet clothes.

“What are we going to do about her?”

“Take her with us to see Sheriff Harrison. She can ride in the back.”

“What about the jade piece?”

“We can’t keep it.”

“Maybe Dr. García will know where it’s from,” she said, struggling to her feet.

Mac stood and steadied her, re-draping the towel around her shoulders. “You sure you’re ready?”

“As much as I’m going to be.”

“Hold on.” He checked the bonds of the other woman, making sure they were tight enough to hold. He planned to lead Claire outside and have her wait for him in the warm sunshine while he came back for the woman.

Claire stumbled a little at first as they started out of the mine, but once she got going she had no problems walking on her own.

As they drew near the mouth of the mine, she squeezed his hand. “The next time you want to spend some time alone with me, let’s rent a seedy motel room in Yuccaville, order a huge pepperoni pizza, and rent a sci-fi movie starring a nasty monster from some dying planet.”

He grinned. Her stuttering had stopped. Her shakes seemed to have eased as well. “I love it when you get all romantic on me, Slugger.”

Unfortunately, thanks to the two troublemakers back in the Lucky Monk, he had a feeling it was going to be a long time before they could slip away to that seedy motel room.

He led her outside, pulling her around behind an outcrop that shielded her from view and from the breeze but not the sun. The temperature was about twenty degrees warmer thanks to the heat coming off the rocks.

Claire handed him the towel and unbuttoned her jeans, wiggling out of the wet denim. She stood before him in her lace panties and polka-dot bra and a lot of bare skin. “Will you help me get this bra off, Mac?”

Right words, wrong setting. Damn!

* * *

Tuesday, October 9th

The parking lot at The Shaft was empty when Ronnie got there. She parked Katie’s car close to the front door and shut off the engine.

Yesterday had been a trip. Between the diamond she had found stashed inside of that eyeball and Mac and Claire’s adventures up at the mine, The Dancing Winnebagos R.V. Park had been a whirling dervish long into the early morning hours.

Extracting Katie’s keys, Ronnie headed to the front door. The Shaft needed to be ready to open in a couple of hours for the lunch crowd. If she was going to accomplish every task on the list Katie had written for her, she didn’t have time to sit around reminiscing about yesterday in the warm sunshine and fresh desert air.

As she stepped inside, she could still smell the bleach water Arlene had used to mop up last night, mixed with a hint of stale beer, perfume, and wood—ghosts of scents lying in wait for the party to crank up again. It was no wonder Katie had dreaded coming in here. With her over-sensitive nose right now and constant state of nausea, especially in the early hours, she must spend as much time leaning over the toilet as getting the place ready for the day.

It was a good thing Butch was supposed to be back later today. She had a feeling that was as much the reason Katie begged Ronnie to open the joint as her morning sickness. The big turkey should have told Butch about the baby already.

Ronnie dropped the keys on the counter after locking the door behind her. She grabbed her phone and plugged in her ear phones, cranking up her Favorites playlist. Then she pulled Katie’s list from her skirt pocket and got to work.

A half hour later, the bathrooms were sparkling and ready for stocking and Ronnie had a sheen of sweat on her face. She washed her rubber gloves and then took them off and scrubbed her hands for good measure. When she was done, she rinsed off her face in the sink, glad Katie had suggested she wear the short-sleeve shirt, skirt, and Claire’s flip flops. She would be sweating like crazy in her jeans and boots.

Fixing her ponytail and fast forwarding past a slow love song to another upbeat dance tune, she headed back to the supply room to get some toilet paper, tampons, and condoms.

The cook would be in around ten-thirty, Katie had told her, along with Arlene shortly after. That left Ronnie an hour to prep the bar and get the kitchen grill warmed up and some lettuce washed and chopped.

Singing along under her breath, she pushed through the swinging doors that led to the back, flicking on lights as she went.

The supply room needed an air freshener to get rid of the cardboard and old grease smell. She grabbed a box of tampons and stuffed a handful of condoms in her pocket. Would that be enough? She had no idea how many prophylactics the men in this town went through in a night, but based on Katie’s predicament, more might be needed.

Flipping up the hem of her T-shirt, she filled her makeshift kangaroo pocket with more condoms—mostly the regular sized ones, keeping in mind the gargantuan pickups many of the men drove. Those guys had to be overcompensating for something with those huge rigs.

She turned to grab a couple of rolls of toilet paper from the other side of the room and almost ran into a six foot four wall standing behind her.

Ronnie screamed.

Condoms flew everywhere; the box of tampons crashed to the floor, spilling the mini-rods all over Grady’s boots.

Yanking her ear buds out, she glared up at him, too ticked at nearly being scared to death to be embarrassed about handling such intimate items in front of him. “You scared the holy hell out of me, Grady.”

“I hollered for you, but you didn’t hear me.”

He stood there in his Sheriff’s uniform with his hat in his hand and the star crooked on his wrinkled shirt. His face was more lined than usual, his eyes red-veined, his shoulders drooping. His whole body painted a picture of exhaustion.

Ronnie hadn’t seen him since their women’s bathroom meeting. She wondered with all that had gone on up at the mine if he’d been up for most of the night dealing with the dead woman, or the live one, or both.

“You look tired,” she said, and then wished she hadn’t pointed out the obvious when he pinched the bridge of his nose as if her words had hurt.

“I haven’t been to bed yet.”

“You’re not wearing your gun.” Sheesh! Was there anything else stupid she could come up with to say? How about something he didn’t already know?

“I’m off duty. I was on my way home but wanted to talk to you first.” He rubbed his eyes and then blinked a few times. “Your sister said I would find you here.”

“How did you get in?” Had Arlene or the cook come in early and let him in?

“Butch gave me a key years ago.” His gaze drifted down to her feet, a hint of his smile showing. “You look ten years younger dressed like that.”

And he looked about ten years older after the day and night he’d obviously had. Ronnie wanted to go to him, smooth away some of the lines, make things easier for him somehow, but she didn’t know how. All she had to offer was complications and goons.

“I looked into your dancing buddy in the red pickup,” he told her.

“It was one dance and I was drunk.”

“Right.” He worked a muscle in the back of his neck. “Anyway, he’s not out to kill you.”

“Did you talk to him?”

He nodded. “He’s actually been assigned here to keep an eye on you.”

Keep an eye on her? “You mean the Feds are actually protecting my life now instead of destroying it?”

“Not quite.”

She jammed her hands on her hips. “Why else would he be watching me?” Then it dawned on her. “Am I being used as bait?”

His wince said it all.

“Those fucking, cock-sucking bastards!” She looked around for something to throw or smash or kick.

“They’re expecting some heat to come your way thanks to your ex-husband. It seems he was doing quite a lot of double-dealing over the years to support his expensive cocaine habit, amongst other big ticket vices.”

“If you’re pussy footing about his high-priced mistresses, Grady, you don’t need to. I told you, the Feds had a hell of a good time showing me what Lyle was really up to during our non-legal marriage. They were sure they could get me to roll over on him.” She glared at his crooked star, remembering that hard aluminum chair, the bright lights, the one-way glass mirror. “Unfortunately, I was as clueless as they were on all fronts. That didn’t stop them from giving it their best shot, though.”

“Aren’t you concerned at all about who they think might be coming for you?”

“You mean the husky and the polar bear?”

“Yes. He confirmed that, by the way. Those are the nicknames of two hit men preferred by one of the bosses.”

“Is that the best those two could do? What happened to cool names like Richard ‘The Ice Man’ Kuklinski and Joseph ‘The Animal’ Barboza?”

“You joke, Veronica, but these men may try to kill you. Or worse.”

“I joke, Grady, because it’s all I can do. What do you want me to do? Cry? Cower? Throw myself at you and beg you to keep me safe?” She squatted down and began to box up the tampons. “You aren’t paying attention. I’m being used as bait here. The only thing I can do is keep living. The other option involves a coffin and men in somber suits.”

“What about the Witness Security Program?”

“If these guys really want to find me, they will, no matter where I live or who I pretend to be.” She closed the lid on the box and placed it on the shelf beside her. “If that guy in the red pickup is good at his job, maybe I’ll luck out and he’ll spot the hit men before they corner me. I should start giving him my daily itinerary, make this easier for him.”

Grady dropped down on one knee, helping her pick up the condoms and pile them on the shelf next to the tampons and jugs of bleach. “I don’t like this going on in my county, Veronica.”

Pausing, she shot him a raised brow. “You gonna run me out of town, Sheriff?”

His forehead wrinkled in a series of Vs, like those Russian dolls, one inside of the other. “No. That wouldn’t solve anything.”

“It would keep the trouble from coming to you.”

He stared at her for a few beats, his amber gaze loaded with raw hunger. “She’s already here.”

Lust zapped down through her core leaving her tingly, breathless, and burning for more.

Her eyes lowered to that star pinned to his chest, her brain trying to regain control of the ship, reminding her that he was one of
them
. Besides, throwing herself at him would only leave her embarrassed, even humiliated from his rejection. Just because he found her attractive didn’t mean he wanted it to go anywhere. He had said it before—she was the last person with whom he should get involved. Nothing had changed with her situation. Things had only gotten worse.

She picked up the last three condoms. “What about the pocket watch?”

“What pocket watch?” he stood, moving over by the door.

“The one that I gave …” she looked at him. “What did you do with it?”

“Sent it back.”

Claire might not be happy with that, but Ronnie was glad to have it out of her hair. “Will someone be contacting me?”

“Nope.” He peered out the supply room window. “We have enough trouble in Cholla County. The last thing we need is a few more money-hungry criminals swinging their guns around.”

“I don’t understand.” Why was he looking out the window? Was there someone out there?

“I took a long drive last night after things cooled from the mess up at Ruby’s mine.” He turned around and leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “The watch is going back to its rightful owners in an anonymous package shipped from Phoenix.”

“You went clear to Phoenix?” That was about four hours away.

“Yep.”