“I had a call—need to go to work.” He leaned down and kissed her. Slow and deep. Finally, he stood back up. “Take your time. There’s coffee on, and I think there are bagels in the pantry. Maybe.”
She nodded. “I need to get to work, anyway. Sophie’s exhibition was pushed up, and we have a lot to do.”
He reached in the night-table drawer and secured a knife to slide into the sheath against his calf, below his jeans. Then he stood, his shoulders wide and strong. The man looked every bit as dangerous as he was rumored to be around town. Tough, protective, and merciless if need be. “Tonight, Juliet. We talk.” With a hard look, he turned on his cowboy boot and left the room.
Well, that wasn’t good.
…
The rain drizzled the day into gray. Quinn tipped the brim of his hat to shake off the water, his boots sinking in the soggy weeds. The wind cut through his sheriff’s jacket as if it wanted to draw blood. An abandoned barn crumbled behind him, while a dead body lay before him, pale and wan. It had been a while since he’d seen a dead body.
Male, about six feet tall, long, blond hair. Maybe around thirty? “Bullet hole, back of the head,” Quinn murmured. “Execution style?”
“Probably.” DEA Agent Reese Johnson nodded to the state coroner. “You can take him.”
Federal evidence techs bustled around, collecting evidence from grass and dirt.
Reese’s phone buzzed, and he looked down to read the face. “Prints found a match. Leroy Vondoni, recently paroled from Rikers. Shouldn’t be out of New York state.”
“Rap sheet?” Quinn asked.
“Possession, robbery, intent to sell, assault, attempted murder.” Reese tapped his phone. “Nice guy.”
Why was Vondoni in Maverick? More importantly— “While I appreciate you’re calling me in on this, why is the DEA in my county?” Quinn eyed a man he’d trust with his life…in fact, he had at one time. That didn’t mean the DEA could set up camp in Montana.
Reese tucked his phone in his back pocket. “We got an anonymous tip the body would be here. An hour later, we were wheels up from LA, and here we are. I called from the plane the first chance I found.”
Quinn narrowed his gaze…and waited.
Reese watched the coroner load the body. “I was heading here anyway at the end of the week. Our sources have confirmed there’s a large shipment coming down from Canada, and we think Montana will be the entry point.”
“Drugs?” Irritation washed down Quinn’s throat. What he wouldn’t give for a couple of old guys running moonshine.
“Prescription.” Reese yanked off his Dodger cap and wiped his forehead. “The new front line. Oxy is more valuable than gold on the streets right now, and I’m hoping there isn’t fentanyl thrown in.”
“When is the shipment supposed to come through?” Quinn asked.
“Don’t know. Gut feeling? Soon. What do you think, Sarge? Your gut has to be humming,” Reese said.
“Sheriff,” Quinn said absently. His gut was fucking rolling. A dead body in his county was the last thing he needed right now. “Soon is right.”
Reese cleared his throat. “Are you going to fight me on jurisdiction?”
“No. I don’t have near the resources the feds do. That fingerprint-scanner thing is impressive,” Quinn said.
“The machine is yours if we catch these guys.” The white scar Reese had earned in Iraq stood out on his forehead. “Though why you don’t take one of the many job offers you’ve received from federal law-enforcement agencies, I’ll never understand.”
“I’m home, and I like it here.” Usually. When there weren’t dead bodies dumped on forgotten acreage. “The DEA can have this case, but I want in. I want to know everything,” Quinn said.
“That means lunch is on you,” Reese said.
Quinn gave a short nod, already forming the talking points for his meeting with his deputies later that day. “Tell me this is the first body you’ve seen in connection with whatever’s going on.”
“Third.” Reese rubbed his chin. “These guys use people and then kill quickly. No witnesses.”
Quinn headed for his truck. “How efficient of them. Come into town. I have three deputies I want to bring in on this—we’ll keep it to a small task force.”
“Fair enough. I’ll drive with you. Fill me in on the family. Has Colton graduated yet?” Reese followed, turning to toss his keys at another DEA agent before jumping into the rig.
“He has one more year of graduated school and then wants to study international finance abroad for a year.” Quinn started the engine. “He has already taken over as COO of Freeze-Lodge Investments, and he’s been helping to run the financial end of everything for years.” Quinn grinned. “We won’t give him the salary or the title until he graduates and is home for good, although he doesn’t really care, if you ask me. It’s the game of the markets that he loves.”
“Is he MMA fighting?” Reese asked.
“No. Though he’s a tough bastard. He fought for beer money and just a physical challenge, if you ask me. He’s the mellowest of us all,” Quinn said. Well, until Colton’s very long fuse blew. Then everyone got out of the way.
“I caught one of his fights on ESPN late at night. He was brutal.” Reese settled into the seat. “With all the money you’ve all made with those investments, why do you work the ranch and sport a gun?”
“What else would I do? Sit around and read ledgers?” Quinn mock shivered.
Reese laughed. “Good enough. So, what’s new with you?”
Everything. “Not much.”
“Seeing anyone?” Reese asked.
Hell, yes. Quinn lifted a shoulder. “You’ll meet her, I’m sure. How about you?”
“Hell, no.” Reese shifted his gun away from his hip. “I learned my lesson.”
Quinn chuckled. Sometimes romance snuck up and bit a guy on the ass whether he liked it or not. “How does a hoagie from Mrs. Johnson’s homemade deli sound?”
“Excellent,” Reese said.
“Good. Now start talking. I need to know how much danger my people are in.” Quinn pulled onto the country road.
Chapter Eleven
Several hours after leaving Quinn’s place, Juliet struggled to align the small painting of horses galloping around the shores of Mineral Lake. She and Sophie had worked all day, and the show was coming together. They’d even harassed Colton into helping them with the bigger pieces.
Juliet hadn’t heard from Quinn, but rumor had it a cattle rustling had occurred at the north end of the county, so he’d probably been busy.
He wanted to talk. Perhaps she should come clean and tell him the truth. He deserved the truth, even if he ended up arresting her. Maybe she could talk him out of cuffing her.
Her laugh lacked humor as it echoed around the room. No way. She couldn’t talk him out of an arrest.
She finished fiddling and eyed the main room as a whole. Deep jewel tones splashed across the oil paintings depicting tribal scenes, landscapes, and portraits of fascinating faces. The next room held charcoals, and the final room drawings. Without question, Sophie Lodge was incredibly talented. This showing would put the gallery on the map.
Pride filled Juliet. While she wouldn’t be able to bask in the success, she’d accomplished her goals. She’d actually set out and done it. Now, she had to go break Quinn’s heart. But he deserved to know the truth. It was time to confess everything.
Grabbing her coat, she locked the front door and hustled out of the building. The rain had stopped, but a tension-filled breeze swirled down the street.
She wandered past storefronts, small restaurants, and a couple of delis before reaching the sheriff’s building. Breezing inside the two-story brick building, she nodded at the elderly receptionist, noting that the sprawling reception room was empty. “Hi, Mrs. Wilson,” she said.
> The receptionist pushed her cat’s-eye glasses up her nose. “The day’s chilly, Juliet. You here to visit the sheriff?”
Juliet nodded.
“Go on back. He’s not doing anything,” Mrs. Wilson said.
Juliet doubted that. She skirted the counter and headed down the long hallway, passing several offices and cubicles. His office sat in the northern corner and looked out on the street. She paused at the doorway and gathered her courage.
His unique scent of man and leather hit her the second she stepped inside. The fact that he wasn’t alone hit her next. She faltered.
“Juliet. Did we have plans?” He rose from behind a scarred wooden desk. Lines of fatigue spread out from his eyes, but they warmed on her.
“Um, no.” She glanced at the man rising from the leather guest chair.
Tall, serious, he held himself with coiled strength. Just like Quinn. He held out a hand. “Reese Johnson. I’m an old friend of Quinn’s.”
“Juliet Montgomery.” They shook. She cleared her throat. “Sorry about the interruption. I’ll catch up with you later, Quinn.” She pivoted to go.
“Juliet.” Quinn’s quiet baritone stopped her cold. She turned. He grinned and edged around the desk to lift her chin and brush her lips with his. “You’re not interrupting. What’s going on?”
A man who had no problem touching her, even around an old buddy. Juliet would bet her last penny the old buddy was from the military, too. She forced a smile. “Nothing. Really. I wanted to see if you had dinner plans.”
He frowned. “We’re probably going to work through dinner. Ah, Reese is from the DEA.”
The Drug Enforcement Agency? The words ripped through her with the force of a sledgehammer. “Oh.” She turned another smile on the guest, her posture straightening. Was he in town for her? He couldn’t be, so she focused back on Quinn. “I suppose you have a lot of work to do.”
“Yes.” A puzzled light glimmered in his eyes. He grabbed his coat. “Let me walk you out, darlin’.”
She stumbled as he maneuvered her through the doorway.
Hustling her out of the station, he grasped her coat lapels. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything is lovely.” She donned her smoothest smile.
His dark eyes narrowed. “You’re the most graceful woman I’ve ever met, and you just tripped on a smooth floor. Don’t get all society-like with me. Something is bothering you, and you’ll damn well tell me what it is.”
“Nothing is wrong. I mean, I heard you investigated a cattle-rustling call this morning, and then I didn’t hear from you, so I was worried.” Not true. Not one word was true. She hadn’t worried at all until seeing a DEA Agent in his office.
Quinn cocked his head. “You’re right—I’m sorry for not calling you today.” He tied her scarf more securely. “The call wasn’t for cattle rustling. We found a body on the edge of Miller’s northern pasture.”
She gulped. “A body?”
“Yes. Shot through the head.” He leaned down, his gaze serious. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone for the time being.”
“I won’t.” She took a deep breath. “Why is the DEA involved?”
“We think the deceased was involved with the prescription drug trade,” he said.
So much relief flushed through her, she nearly swayed. Prescriptions had nothing to do with her. Thank goodness her past hadn’t caught up with her. Not yet, anyway.
Quinn tangled his fingers through hers and started down the sidewalk.
She pulled away. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you back to the gallery,” he said.
She tried unsuccessfully to free her hand. “That is not necessary. It’s barely dinnertime, Quinn. I can walk back by myself.”
“No.” He tugged her into a sidewalk, his shoulders blocking the wind.
“You’re a force of nature, Quinn Lodge,” she muttered, stepping over a mud puddle.
He scouted the area on either side of the quiet street. “Thank you.”
“I don’t believe I gave you a compliment.” She sighed. “Is Reese an old military buddy?”
Quinn nodded at a couple of bankers exiting the Maverick Bank for the day. “We served together for five years. He’s a good friend.”
“You really shouldn’t leave him to walk me home. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do,” she said.
“He can make phone calls while I’m gone.” Quinn slid an arm around her shoulders and tugged her into heat. “You’re getting all formal again.” He glanced down. “What I don’t understand is why.”
She was saved from having to answer when they turned the corner and reached her gallery.
Quinn stiffened. “Did you leave the front door unlocked?”
The red door stood slightly ajar. “I don’t think so.” Had she?
He leaned down. Scrape marks slashed from the lock. He pushed her gently toward the road. “Cross the street and go inside the coffee shop. Stay there until I come and get you.” Without taking his eyes off the door, he lifted his phone to his ear and called for backup. Then he pulled his gun free of his waistband.
“Now, Juliet.” His quiet order held bite this time.
Startled, she rushed across the road. The bell above the door of Kurt’s Koffees & Muffins rang when she hustled into the shop. Turning, she all but pressed her face against the window in time to see Quinn nudge the gallery door open with his foot and step inside, his gun sweeping.
He disappeared from sight.
Every ounce of her control went into keeping still, when all she wanted was to run across the street and make sure he was all right. But she’d distract him when he needed to focus. So she remained at the window, not daring to breathe.
Two police cars screeched to a stop, and a myriad of deputies headed toward the building, guns out.
Thank goodness.
Minutes passed, although it seemed like hours. Finally, Quinn stalked outside.
Relief filled her, and she sagged.
His gaze caught hers, he hurried across the street, and shoved open the door. A thick hand banded around her arm. “Come with me, Juliet.”
She nodded, slipping through the doorway. A harsh wind slapped her face. Quinn drew her closer, an arm around her shoulders. “I need you to tell me if anything was taken.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I left the door open?”
“No, sweetheart. You didn’t leave the door open.” He maneuvered her inside. “Somebody picked the lock.”
Dread filled her lungs. “Do you think it was the guys from last year?” Several businesses had been burglarized the previous year by a group of kids from Billings looking for fast cash.
“No. We caught them. Plus, they did the standard smash and grab—broke open the door and grabbed what they could within five minutes. This guy picked the lock carefully. I checked through the gallery, as well as upstairs in your apartment, and didn’t discover anything damaged or missing. But you need to check.”
The air felt different. Cold and out of sync.
“My laptop is gone.” She’d left the HP on the desk by the front door before heading to the sheriff’s office. Her heart beating against her ribs, she rushed through the gallery, her gaze on the walls. Sophie’s paintings stood bright, dark, and dreamy as silent sentinels to the invasion. But they were safe. No art had been touched or taken.
Thank goodness. Juliet’s breath whooshed out. Shaking her hands to release the tension, she followed the sheriff upstairs to her apartment, which appeared untouched. Finally, they ended up in her bright, cheerful kitchen, and she flopped at the table. “I guess they only took the laptop.”
Quinn frowned, scribbling in a notebook. “I find that odd.”
“That someone would take a laptop? It sounds like a smash and grab like last time.” She smoothed
out the flowered tablecloth.
He stopped writing. “I’m not sure. Something’s bothering me about this. Why pick the lock and leave the door open so you knew? It’s like somebody wanted to scare you.”
“The entire situation bothers me.” She sighed. It seemed doubtful her past had finally found her, but she needed to come clean, anyway. She opened her mouth to spill all, when Reese charged into the room.
He removed his baseball cap. “We have another body.”
Juliet’s mouth snapped shut. No way would she tell all in front of the DEA agent.
“Over on the south side of the county.” Reese glanced at his smartphone. “I have techs on the way. You coming, Quinn?”
Quinn nodded and then grimaced as his cell phone buzzed. He yanked it to his ear. “What?” After listening, he closed his eyes and blew out air. “Is Colton with her? Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up and opened his eyes to focus on Juliet. “Rich Jacoby passed away. The ambulance is taking him to the morgue.”
“Is Colton with Melanie?” Juliet stood, her eyes widening. Melanie Jacoby and her grandfather were incredibly close and the only living relative either had. Now poor Melanie was all alone.
“Yes. She called him after calling for an ambulance. I guess Rich was unconscious in the barn, and then he died. Colt will help with the funeral arrangements, I’m sure.” Quinn grasped Juliet’s elbow to escort her to the door. “I’m having a deputy take you to my place. Stay inside until I get home.”
She tugged her arm free. Almost. “No. The showing is tomorrow night, and I have work to do.”
Quinn’s unbreakable grip tightened. “You can finish up tomorrow. For now, I need you safe until I deal with death.”
Well, since he put it like that. Juliet grabbed two notebooks off the counter. She could confirm details via phone from the sheriff’s home office. “Okay.”
Lines cut harsh grooves into the side of his mouth. “When I get home, we’re going to talk.”
Montana Mavericks: a hot cowboy collection Page 27
