Cowboy Strong

by Stacy Finz

  Gina sat there, her entire equilibrium off-balance. What just happened? She traced her finger over her swollen bottom lip, trying to pull herself together. Trying to quell the ache between her legs.

  The bastard had kissed and run and had left her…well, she wouldn’t say unsatisfied. That had been about the most satisfying kiss she’d ever had. But to just walk away like that…to just leave her in the car all hot and bothered…She had half a mind to go after him and demand that he finish the job.

  She didn’t, of course. She had more pride than that. Instead, she went home and made ice cream, hoping it would cool her off.

  Chapter 10

  “You think it’s legit?” Sawyer stood at Cash’s table, staring at his laptop as his cousin studied the email.

  “I think it’s a legitimate email. The question is whether the sender is legitimate.” Like Sawyer, Cash tried to reply to the message, only to have it bounce back.

  “Is there a way to trace it?” No matter how many times Sawyer reminded himself to be skeptical, even to dismiss the email, something about it told him it was a trail to Angie.

  “Maybe,” Cash said. “I’ll talk to a friend of mine from the Bureau, see what he can do.

  “More than likely it was sent from a disposable email address or a burner. Lots of people are using them now when they sign up for things online to keep from getting spammed. If it’s a burner, it can probably be traced to the owner of the email address.” Jace leaned back on a dining room chair.

  Cash poked Jace in the ribs. “You break that chair and Aubrey will break your legs.” They were supposed to be watching a baseball game while the women had their girls’ night at Jace’s place. Ellie was away at horse camp and the boys had gone on an overnight fishing trip with the family of one of Travis’s best friends.

  “How is it that you’re so up on disposable email addresses and burners, anyway?” Cash asked Jace.

  Sawyer wondered the same thing. There weren’t a lot of cybercrimes for a sheriff in Mill County.

  “When Charlie filed her restraining order against that douchebag, Ainsley, I researched it.”

  Last winter, Charlie had fled her abusive ex and had hidden out on Dry Creek Ranch, where Jace had fallen madly in love with her.

  Sawyer was thrilled that both his cousins had found their soul mates, even if he felt like he was living inside a freaking romance novel. Then again, he had two gorgeous women in his life, who fussed over him.

  Nothing wrong with that.

  He subconsciously touched his lips with his finger, thinking about his and Gina’s kiss. On a scale of ten, the kiss had been a solid fifteen. It had taken all he had not to throw her over his shoulder, caveman style, and carry her up to his loft apartment. Not happening, he reminded himself. His mother would have a meltdown. The kiss was bad enough. And Gina…was a walking aneurism.

  But despite it, he was attracted to her. A lot. Which was weird because she wasn’t even his type. Too high-maintenance, too much of a prima donna. How many times had she made disparaging remarks about Cash’s old cabin and the ranch?

  The Clampetts.

  The Daltons were no Beverly Hillbillies. The Clampetts had at least struck oil on their land.

  “What if it’s a disposable?” Cash asked, bringing Sawyer back to the conversation at hand.

  “Dunno,” Jace said. “That’s as far as I got. Don’t have to worry about it anymore.” His lips curled up into a self-satisfied grin. “Not now that Ainsley is doing life.”

  They were all quiet for a few seconds, remembering one of the worst days in Jace and Charlie’s lives. Everyone had recovered, thanks to Jace. And against all odds, the lovebirds were getting married in October. The best time of year on the ranch. Warm days filled with light.

  “Let me see what Ken can do in the computer forensic lab,” Cash said, breaking the silence. “He owes me a few favors. But Sawyer, my gut tells me this isn’t Angie. Why would she wait five years to contact you? Or any of us, for that matter. Yes, we all questioned her lifestyle choices. But no one, including her, questioned our love for her. She knew there wasn’t anything we wouldn’t do for her.”

  Sawyer had thought the same thing himself when he’d first opened the email. Why now? Why after five years? But on further reflection, he was convinced that the note had something to do with him going to New Mexico and nosing around. He was getting closer to the truth about why his sister disappeared. And someone didn’t want him to. Those six boldfaced words—Stop searching for me. I’m safe—had to be Angie-related.

  In all these years, he’d never lost hope. And that had to mean something.

  “Then who?” Jace asked. “Who would’ve sent it and why?”

  “Could it have something to do with a story you’re working on?” Cash got them all another round of beers from the fridge while the forgotten ball game played in the living room. Sawyer caught glimpses of it from the dining table.

  Though the cabin’s layout was a carbon copy of Gina’s—same open floor plan—the similarities ended there. Aubrey’s magic decorator touch was stamped on every surface: From the refinished floors and brightly colored walls to the painted kitchen cabinets and sophisticated window treatments.

  “Not that I can think of.” And Sawyer had racked his brain trying to find a possibility there. “But half of being a reporter is a fishing expedition. I get a tip, make a lot of calls, and when nothing pans out, I usually stop working on the story. But who knows? I might’ve spoken to someone about something that seemed like a big story at the time and have completely forgotten about it. Still, the message doesn’t make sense for something like that, unless someone’s trying to yank my chain. And I just don’t see it.”

  Jace nodded. “Me neither. It’s either someone pretending to be Angie or it’s Angie.”

  Cash let out a long breath. “I don’t think any of us should get our hopes up. The chance that it’s Angie after all this time…well, it’s a long shot.” That was Cash, always the voice of reason.

  For once, though, Sawyer felt like this could be something solid, something that might at least end the mystery to what had happened to his sister. “How long do you think it will take this buddy of yours to trace the email?”

  Cash popped the cap off his beer. “I’ll ask Ken to make it a priority. But if I know anything about the lab, he’s backed up fifty ways from Sunday. The Northern District has more cybercrime than they can handle.”

  Cash didn’t like to call in favors, especially because he’d left the Bureau on a bad note. The FBI’s fault, not Cash’s. “Thanks for doing this—it means a lot,” Sawyer said.

  Cash scowled. “I’d do anything for Angie. You of all people should know that, Sawyer. We’re family.”

  Sawyer nodded. Cash and Jace were more like brothers than cousins. But they’d been down the Angie bogus-tip road so many times that he wouldn’t blame anyone for giving up. At least this time, Jace didn’t think Sawyer was going off half-cocked. Even Cash, for all his caution, appeared to think there might be something to the email.

  “I’ll wait before I say anything about this to my folks,” Sawyer said. His parents, more than anyone, had been devastated by his sister’s disappearance.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Cash said. “It would be good to have something concrete first, something that won’t end in disappointment.”

  They sat around the table for a while, absorbed in their own thoughts. The ball game continued to play in the background, but no one seemed interested in watching it.

  Sawyer’s mind shifted to his meeting that morning. It still rankled. “I went by Beals Ranch today and Jill all but confirmed that Randy is selling to Mitch,” Sawyer told his cousins.

  Jace flicked his bottle cap across the table and sighed. “Jill would know. What did Randy say?”

  “I didn’t see Randy. I went over there to inquir
e about buying Randy’s stock trailer, but he wasn’t home. Just Jill. She said Brett was in town.”

  “Yeah, we had a couple of beers earlier. But he never said anything about Mitch buying Beals Ranch.”

  “He might not know about it,” Sawyer said. “Jill was vague. She’s probably counting her inheritance.” It wasn’t quite fair. She had moved to the ranch to help her parents to make amends for what she’d done. But Sawyer wasn’t feeling all that forgiving.

  “Sounds like we’ll be living next door to the seventh circle of hell.” Jace shook his head and pointed the tip of his beer bottle at Sawyer. “And I’ll fight it with everything I’ve got.”

  “We’ll fight it,” Cash said, his second reminder of the day that family sticks. As Grandpa Dalton used to say, “Together, we’re cowboy strong.”

  “How is Brett?” Cash asked. “How’s his program going?”

  “It’s going so well that he’s planning to move back next month and start work for his uncle’s cabinet company. He says he’s hoping to work things out with Jill.” Jace scowled. There was no love lost between him and Jill. Understandably, Jace blamed her for delivering the final blow to Brett, who was already on shaky ground to begin with. He’d been deeply depressed even before he’d found out that his wife had been stepping out on him.

  “That’s great,” Cash said. “Carpentry is a good trade.”

  Jace, stoic like their grandfather, gave a faint nod. Sawyer suspected his cousin was still grieving what had happened to Brett in Afghanistan and didn’t want to talk about it. Brett had come back from the war a hero, but a different man than the one Jace had grown up with.

  “Yup.” Jace nodded, then sidetracked. “Saw you driving Gina’s BMW earlier. What’s up with that?”

  “She took me to pick up my Range Rover, which still needs new brake pads. Buck can’t get the parts until tomorrow.”

  “She still peddling that story about being set up?” Jace took a long drag on his beer. “Why don’t you have an expert look at the picture?”

  “Already working on it.”

  “If you need a second opinion I might have a forensic guy who can help,” Cash offered.

  “Thanks.” Sawyer and his cousins didn’t always agree, but they always backed one another up. It had always been that way, even when they were little kids. When Jace’s family had been killed in the auto wreck, they’d spent an entire summer on the ranch, comforting him. When Jace’s wife, Mary Ann, deserted him and their kids, Sawyer and Cash were back at the ranch to support him. When the FBI fired Cash for a case his bosses screwed up, they’d rallied. When Angie went missing, his cousins pooled their law enforcement experience to help find her.

  They were Daltons. Cowboy strong.

  They moved to the living room, but it was the eighth inning and the Giants were so far behind that the game was too painful to watch.

  “They suck this season,” Jace said, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and flicking off the TV. “By the way, I gave the flower girls their options with the numbers we agreed on. They went for the pricier number one—we supply the water. I’m just waiting for the signed contract, but it looks like a thumbs-up on the land lease and shop.”

  “Is that what we’re calling them? The flower girls?” Sawyer suppressed a laugh.

  “Yep. I guess we’re farmers now.”

  Cash feigned a shudder because no self-respecting rancher called himself a farmer. “What do you think Grandpa would’ve thought of what we’re doing?”

  “He would’ve liked it a hell of a lot better than a golf-course community, I can tell you that,” Jace said.

  They were saving the legacy and that’s what mattered. And to Sawyer’s mind, Grandpa Dalton would’ve appreciated the creative way they were going about it. Aubrey and Charlie’s design studio and furniture shop. Even the flowers.

  “I met a saddlemaker who might be interested in studio space and a small storefront.” Cash swung his arm over the back of the sofa. “He’s a hand at one of the ranches I inspect. Does beautiful work and is ready to make a go of it full-time. Good guy; you’ll like him.”

  “I can get behind a saddlemaker.” Jace walked back to the kitchen and stuck his head in the fridge. “You have anything to eat around here that isn’t kale?” Cash was a bit of health nut.

  Cash returned to the kitchen, pulled a bag of chips down from the pantry, and tossed them at Jace. “Here, go ahead and give yourself a heart attack.”

  Sawyer eyed the chips. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and was starved. He remembered Gina’s leftovers in the fridge and got to his feet. “I’m heading out. See you guys tomorrow.”

  As he started for the trail that cut across the field to his place, he stole a glance at Gina’s cabin. The lights were out and her car wasn’t in the driveway. It appeared that she was still with Charlie and Aubrey at Jace’s house. All for the better, he told himself as he crossed the moonlit pasture.

  But the whole way home he thought about their kiss.

  * * * *

  Gina had had three glasses of wine and a margarita and was feeling more than a little tipsy. Her pie, strawberry shortcake, and homemade ice cream had been the hit of the evening. But Charlie’s cheesy beef quesadillas were nothing to sneeze at. In fact, Gina planned to borrow the recipe and put her own spin on it. It would be a nice venture outside the box to cook something other than Italian food, even if it was just for a dinner, alone.

  Danny had called her two more times. But on Sawyer’s advice, she’d let his messages go to voicemail. She agreed with Sawyer. Until she and Danny had a safer way to communicate, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  Sawyer.

  Her thoughts had drifted to him throughout the evening. She suspected he’d met up with his two cousins to watch the ball game at Cash’s place. That’s where Jace had gone, according to Charlie, so the women could have the ranch house to themselves.

  Or maybe Sawyer had a date. He probably had a whole private life she knew nothing about. Right at this very minute, he could be hooking up with one of the locals.

  But there had been the kiss.

  “Maybe FoodFlicks did it to drum up publicity,” Aubrey said, interrupting Gina’s visit down memory lane. Because that kiss was something to remember.

  She’d given them the 411 on her and Danny Clay. Why not? She had done nothing wrong and wanted to shout her innocence from the rooftop. Shockingly, her new friends believed her. If only the rest of America would. But how did you prove something didn’t happen when all the evidence said that it did?

  “Nah, that’s not the kind of publicity a family-friendly network wants.” Charlie uncorked a second bottle of white and refilled their glasses. “Maybe it was one of those tabloids. Don’t they do stuff like that just to get readers?”

  Tabloids certainly played fast and loose with the truth, at least in Gina’s experience. But make things up wholesale? That seemed like a multimillion-dollar lawsuit waiting to happen.

  “I’ve gone through every person I’ve ever met or done business with and no one stands out. In fact, everyone—my investors, my staff, my producers, and the companies I represent—stand to lose. That’s why I can’t figure this out.”

  “Maybe whoever did this is out to get Danny. Or maybe Candace. This has got to be worse than awful for her…Not that it’s not awful for you too.” Charlie began clearing their dinner dishes from the table. “But you know what I mean.”

  “Charlie has a good point. This whole thing could be designed to hurt Candace and you’re just a means to the end. Her husband, her show, her public humiliation all in one fell swoop.” Aubrey shook her head in commiseration with Candace.

  “It would help if I could talk to her and compare notes,” Gina said. “But according to Danny, she’s holed up somewhere and refusing to talk to anyone. I assume when she does, I’ll be the last person
on her list.”

  “Uh-uh,” Aubrey said. “I’m with Sawyer on this. You can’t talk to any of the Clays until the three of you are a united front. Otherwise the press will find out and it’ll look like you and Danny really are an item.”

  “I’m one-hundred percent with Aubrey on this.” Charlie sliced herself a sliver of strawberry shortcake and gave both of them a sheepish grin. “It’s so good I want seconds.”

  “Hey, no judgment here.” Gina was about to go in for thirds. She no longer had to worry about the camera adding ten pounds.

  “I know you’re right,” she continued. “But I’m dying to talk to Candace. First, to plead my innocence. Second, to see if the three of us can figure this out together.”

  Aubrey licked a drop of whipped cream frosting off her finger. “Having once been falsely accused of cheating on my ex-fiancé, I speak from experience. Don’t do anything to fuel the flames. People will believe what they want to believe until you have solid proof.”

  “You were engaged to someone before you married Cash?” It was the first Gina had heard of an ex.

  “It’s a long story.” Aubrey waved her hand in the air dismissively. “What I’m saying is that without proof that the pictures and texts are fake, you’re—”

  “Screwed,” Gina finished. Aubrey was right and it was beyond frustrating. “But how do I get solid proof when I can’t even talk to the other victims?”

  Both women murmured their understanding. It was a challenge, to be sure. But having two women friends to share her angst with was a bonus she’d never expected from hiding away in the boonies. Besides Sawyer, who’d become the object of her late-night fantasies, Charlie and Aubrey had become one of the best perks of temporarily making her home at Dry Creek Ranch. She now had pals, which in her former life hadn’t been the case. No time for girls’ nights out or gossiping on the telephone.

  Or maybe she hadn’t let herself make the time.

  That protective shell she wore like armor wasn’t exactly a friend magnet. But it sure the hell kept her from getting hurt. It took ten years of therapy to learn that she wrapped herself in her accomplishments, instead of human connections. Dr. Peggy Regis, her two-hundred-dollar-an-hour shrink, attributed most of Gina’s fear of relationships to her father’s death and her mother’s disapproval.