Cowboy Bounty Hunter

by Lori Wilde

  He was more intrigued by Gracie than ever—kiss or no kiss—which blew his theory that working with her to find Gilbert would get her out of his system. If they found him tonight, Sam would probably never see her again. The reality of that possibility made him feel oddly hollow inside.

  "How much farther?" he asked, telling himself to concentrate on the case. Her eagerness to find Gilbert dampened any hope that she might feel the same way he did. At every turn, she defended Gilbert. He just couldn’t figure out how the man had inspired such loyalty.

  "About ten miles." Gracie rolled up her window, then switched on the air-conditioning. The Texas heat shimmered on the black top road as they drove out of Pine City and into the scenic countryside.

  "The Holloways have owned this cabin for as long as I can remember," she told him. "It's very secluded. We'll have to park about a mile away and take one of the walking trails to the lake. There aren’t many people around either."

  "It sounds like a good hiding place."

  "It's the only place he could be," Gracie replied. "His parents moved to Florida several years ago and his grandparents passed away long ago. Gilbert doesn't have any other relatives in Texas that I know of.”

  Sam had contacted Gilbert’s parents via email, skillfully asking questions that might expose his location. But sadly, they hadn’t seen nor heard from their son in the past three years either. If nothing else, maybe catching Gilbert would give them some closure and the ability to speak to their son again.

  "I think I should go to the cabin alone," Gracie said, her words yanking him out of his reverie.

  "No way."

  "Just hear me out." She glanced over at him, looking so incredible that she took his breath away. "Gilbert trusts me. He'll be more likely to open the cabin door and let me inside if I'm alone. Then I can explain why you’re here with me and that going into custody is for his own good."

  Sam didn't like the idea of Gracie alone with Gilbert—for more reasons than the issue of her safety. "I underestimated the danger of this case before, and my partner almost died. I'm not going to make that same mistake again."

  Gracie frowned. "I don’t understand. How was his getting shot your fault?"

  Sam sucked in a deep breath, the guilt and remorse still just as strong three years later. "Because I got distracted by texting a woman when it all went down. And Ray paid the price for my mistake. Now he'll never walk again, and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life."

  The trees along the road gradually began to thicken, soon blocking out the sun. The chatter of birds and other animals had grown quieter too. Sam knew critters could sense danger in the air much earlier than any human.

  She kept her eyes on the road. "You can't change the past, Sam. I know that better than anyone. And since you read my emails, you know my mother left me behind. Even worse, she’s never come back to the States or invited me to visit her in Europe. She sends cards and gifts and money, but she doesn’t want what I want most with her.”

  “Time,” Sam said, understanding all too well the precious commodity of time with someone you love.

  His throat tightened but he steeled himself against the emotions welling inside of him. "I may not be able to change the past. But I can keep from making the same mistake twice. That's why you're not going into that cabin alone."

  A lake glimmered in the distance and Gracie pulled her car off the road, dry brush now crunching under the tires as she slowed to a stop. "Okay, this is it. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."

  He climbed out of the car, wondering if he should ask her to stay here. But he knew it would be futile. She might not be a bounty hunter, but she had the instincts down pat.

  Fallen twigs snapped under their feet as they walked into the woods, the air around them fragrant with pine. Despite the narrow dirt path, Sam knew that if Gracie hadn't been in the lead, he might have ended up walking in circles.

  “This really is remote,” he said. “Did you and Gilbert come out here often?”

  "Only a few times," she replied. "He liked to fish for bass and carp. And I liked to float on the lake and dream about my future.”

  Sam studied her as they walked side by side on the path. He was aware of the demands of her career and knew that she was wasting precious time searching for Gilbert. That fact more than any other should tell him how important this guy was to her.

  Gracie suddenly stopped, a puzzled frown appearing on her face as she looked around the path. "You know, I think I drove too far. Let's try going this way."

  "Are you sure?" Sam asked as she veered off the path and moved deeper into the woods.

  "No, I’m not sure." She glanced at him over her shoulder, flashing a smile. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."

  Sam found himself smiling back at her. "How can I be sure you're not going to ditch me here and go after Gilbert yourself?"

  "I considered it," she replied, and something told him that she wasn't joking now. "But we made a deal. I just hope you’re tough enough to handle working with a woman.”

  "I was raised by Henry and Hattie Holden,” he said proudly. “I’m tough enough to handle anything."

  #

  Twenty minutes later, when Sam had almost given up hope, they walked into a clearing where a small cabin stood. All the paint had peeled off, leaving gray, weathered wood. Tall weeds surrounded the house, almost concealing the three crooked steps leading up to the front porch.

  "This is it," Gracie announced, turning to Sam. "The Holloway Hideaway."

  Dark grime covered the windows and he saw a large hole ripped in the screen door. "It sure doesn't look to me like anyone has been living here."

  "Oh, it's always looked like this. The Holloways liked the rustic charm."

  In his opinion, it looked more run-down than rustic, but he had to admit the place would make a great hideout. He followed Gracie up to the front porch, then grasped her arm before she could knock on the door.

  "Let me handle this," he said, attempting to move in front of her.

  “No, Sam.” Gracie successfully blocked his efforts. “Let’s be smart about this. Gilbert won't run if he sees me at the door. I’m his best friend—a familiar face. Just give me a chance to talk to him first."

  Sam wanted to argue with her, but he knew she was right. He stayed close beside her, just in case.

  After turning back to the door, Gracie knocked softly, then called out, "Gilbert, it's me. Gracie."

  They both waited, but no reply came from inside the cabin.

  "Try again," Sam prodded.

  She knocked harder this time. "Gilbert? It's Gracie Delacroix. Please let me in." Then she moved over to a window and rubbed some of the grime away before peering inside. The same grime Gracie had told him she'd found on the envelope sent by Gilbert.

  "Do you see him in there?”

  "No,” she replied, a note of disappointment in her voice. “I think the place is empty."

  Sam walked over to the door and tried the knob. To his surprise, it turned easily in his hand. "Looks like we can see for ourselves."

  With Gracie behind him, Sam walked cautiously over the threshold. For a simple, one-room cabin, it was much nicer on the inside than he'd expected.

  There was an overstuffed plaid sofa and matching chair nestled around the fireplace. Colorful woven rugs covered the polished hardwood floor. The small kitchenette had vintage appliances but appeared to be in working condition. The place was clean, if not modern. Clean enough to make him suspicious.

  "Someone's been here recently," he said, swiping a fingertip over the top of the mantle. Then he showed it to Gracie. "No dust." He walked over to the wastebasket. "And look at this."

  She moved beside him, then bent down to pull out a fistful of empty candy wrappers. "These are Gilbert's favorite."

  "I know," Sam said. "The guy's addicted."

  "But we don't know how long they've been here."

  He took one of the wrappers out of her hand. "You tol
d me Gilbert hasn't been back to this area for ten years."

  "That's what I thought," she replied. "But as you said, it appears there's a lot about Gilbert that I don't know."

  "Well, I do know that this particular flavor is brand new." He smoothed out the wrapper so she could read it.

  "Watermelon-Kiwi?"

  He nodded. "That means he's been here recently."

  She arched a brow. "You rely on a candy wrapper for evidence?"

  He grinned. "When you're a bounty hunter, you take what you can get."

  Gracie turned slowly, studying the entire room. "So, if Gilbert was staying here, then where is he now?"

  "Maybe he's just out for a while,” Sam said, hoping this wasn’t just another wild goose chase. “I suppose we could wait."

  She walked over to the kitchenette, opening the cupboards. "There's no food here. I'd say he's cleared out already, if he was ever here to begin with."

  "But where else would he go?"

  Disappointment shone in her eyes. "I wish I knew."

  Sam knew there had to be more clues here, but he just couldn't see them. All he could see was Gracie. She stood by the sofa now and he wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until nothing mattered anymore.

  Not a smart move.

  But he hadn't been feeling very smart lately. Better to leave before he gave in to temptation. "Okay, are you ready to go?"

  She stood by the window, staring through the grimy glass. "Sam?"

  He saw the color drain from her cheeks as he moved toward her. "What's wrong?"

  "I think there's somebody out there."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gracie stood looking out the cabin window, barely able to see through the layers of dirt coating the glass. But someone was moving out there. No, two people.

  "Do you think it’s Gilbert?" Sam asked, peering through the window.

  "No," she whispered, grabbing his arm as the figures moved closer to the cabin. "It's Allison and there's someone with her. But it's not Gilbert. I think it's a woman."

  "This isn’t good," Sam muttered, looking around the cabin. "I don't want Allison to see you here. She made it clear at the reunion that she resents the hell out of you."

  "Why? She barely knows me. I don’t think we said more than five words to each other back in high school.”

  "Who knows? It seemed she was jealous of your relationship with Gilbert." Sam looked under the bed. "No room to hide there."

  "They're getting closer," Gracie said, still watching them through the window. "It looks like they're arguing about something, but I can't hear a thing."

  He walked over to a small door and opened it, revealing a miniature pantry with shelves lining all three sides. "Do you think we can squeeze in here?"

  She frowned at the tiny space. "Are you serious?"

  "Completely." He glanced out the window. "We don't have much time."

  Footsteps sounded on the porch steps and Gracie knew she didn't have a choice. She dove for the pantry, wedging herself inside. Most of the shelves were empty, but the scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the small space, and she noticed a few spice jars scattered about.

  Sam edged in beside her, his large frame just fitting between the shelves.

  It was so cramped they were barely able to get the door closed. Gracie tried to keep air space between her body and Sam's, but it proved impossible. Her back was pressed hard against the wooden shelves, the edges cutting into her flesh. The front of her body pressed hard against Sam.

  "Can you breathe?" she gasped, wondering how long they were going to have to hide in this small pitch-black space.

  "Barely," he murmured, and then his body tensed. "They're almost here."

  Gracie could hear their voices now as the front door of the cabin opened, then closed again. "Are you sure we shouldn't confront them?" she whispered. “Catch them by surprise?”

  "Let's hear what they have to say first,” he whispered, his mouth right against her ear. “We may learn something valuable."

  She fought for breath, more a result of this physical contact with Sam than lack of breathing space. She shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable position as the contours of their bodies fit more closely together.

  Gracie swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest. This little detour wasn't on the itinerary. But she couldn't do anything about it now—even if she wanted to.

  "You've got some setup here, Allison," said an unfamiliar voice.

  "Nice, isn't it?"

  Even after all these years, Gracie recognized that faint Bronx accent in Allison's Texas drawl that had distinguished her from the rest of her classmates at Hay Springs High. The Webb family had moved to Hay Springs in the middle of Allison’s junior year, and she’d hated the town and the "resident rednecks" as she called them. A fact that she'd made plain to everyone she met.

  Not exactly the way to win a popularity contest in high school, a place that had proved difficult for Gracie to fit in, too. The local students were big on football and tradition, resenting anyone who tried to make waves. And Allison had loved making waves. She'd boycotted pep rallies, mocked the cheerleaders, and wrote scathing editorials in the school newspaper about the lack of culture and refinement in Hay Springs.

  Gilbert had seen her actions as courageous, but Gracie had just thought she was a snob. That opinion had been confirmed the day Allison had laughed in Gilbert's face when he'd asked her for a date.

  Now Allison was in his cabin, something that didn't make any sense to Gracie. When and why had Gilbert let that woman back into his life?

  A cell phone rang and she heard Allison say, "That's Gil. Come outside with me, Dorie. There's better reception."

  Gracie heard them leave the cabin, then the sound of the door closing behind them as their voices faded away. "Who's Dorie?"

  "A cousin, I think," Sam replied. "I researched Allison's family at the library. There's a cousin named Doreen Phillips who lives in Fort Worth. So, it could be her."

  "There's no way to find out in here," Gracie said, achingly aware of how good his body felt pressed against her own. "Now Gilbert's calling her and we can't hear a thing."

  Sam hesitated, then said, "We've got to stay in here and hope they come back inside. If we go out now, we'll scare them off."

  She knew he was right and nodded, bumping the top of her head against his chin. "Sorry," she whispered. "It's a little crowded in here."

  "I noticed."

  Gracie tried not to move, but her arms were trapped between their bodies and starting to grow numb. She wiggled a little, attempting to free them and heard a low moan emanate from Sam's throat.

  "Please don't do that," he rasped.

  "I can't help it. My arms are stuck."

  He shifted slightly, the movement pressing her back into the shelves. Then he gently grasped both her wrists and brought them up around his shoulders. The change in position did give her more room. It also made her acutely aware of the intimacy of holding on to Sam in the dark.

  "Better?" he asked, his mouth so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

  Much better. "Yes, thank you."

  "My pleasure."

  She was so tired of fighting her attraction to him. At this moment she wanted Sam and he was right here in front of her.

  What was she waiting for?

  Gracie knew she shouldn't move, but every nerve fiber in her body vibrated with the need to arch against him. She settled for sliding her hands around his neck and threading her fingers through the thick hair on the back of his neck.

  "Gracie," he said, his voice ragged. "This is... torture."

  At least she wasn't the only one suffering. Neither of them could deny the tension that had been sizzling between them since that night in the hotel room. She'd been fighting it ever since, but that just seemed to give it—and him—more power over her. Maybe it was time she took control.

  "You're a Holden, remember," she whispered against his ear. "Tough enough to han
dle anything."

  Then Gracie recalled Aunt Jolene’s comment that she was too cautious and realized now that she had been right. Nothing like this had ever happened to Gracie before and she found herself reveling in the excitement, the danger, and the uncertainty. It heightened every feeling, including her attraction to Sam.

  She'd been numb for so long, focusing on her career and running her company. Sam made her come alive again. A prospect both terrifying and thrilling at the same time. But that was better than the inertia that had plagued her recently.

  Gracie brushed her cheek over his unshaven jaw until he turned his head and caught her lips with his own. He moaned into her mouth, and she held on as he kissed her with an intensity that touched her soul.

  Gracie had never done anything like this before—never even imagined it. Now she couldn't imagine stopping. The fact that Allison and her companion could return to the cabin at any moment only added to the heated urgency of the moment.

  "You're so beautiful," he whispered into the darkness, bringing his mouth down to nibble on her neck. Soft, tender kisses that heightened the intimacy between them.

  Gracie was still trying to catch her breath when she heard voices inside the cabin once more. She had no idea how long the women had been there or when they'd come back in, gratefully aware that the solid wood door must have concealed any sound she and Sam might have made.

  Sam held her in his arms as they eavesdropped on the conversation.

  "So, it's all set?" Dorie said.

  "Only one more week," Allison replied. "Then I can kiss this Podunk place goodbye once and for all."

  "Don't forget to hand over my share before you and Gilbert ride off into the sunset,” Dorie said, sounding petulant.

  "That's up to Gilbert. He's still not too happy with the way you botched up things before, Dorie."

  "That wasn't my fault!"

  "You're the one who hired that moron," Allison countered. "He was just supposed to cause a distraction so Gilbert could disappear, not barge in with guns blazing."

  "Gilbert got away, didn't he?" Dorie said, her tone defensive now.

  "After that deputy got shot. We still don't know if he's alive or dead."