Cowboy Bounty Hunter

by Lori Wilde

  Gracie didn't realize she was squeezing Sam's arms until his fingers gently loosened her grip. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Allison made it sound as if Gilbert was in on the entire plan. This had to be a ruse. Maybe Allison did know they were hiding in the closet.

  "The deputy's alive," Dorie replied. "I checked. He's in a wheelchair, but alive. So it's not like we'd be facing murder charges. And it's not like Gilbert hasn't screwed up, either. He's the one who sent that tape to the Delacroix woman."

  "He'll get the tape back," Allison assured her. "Don't worry about that. You just need to take care of everything on your end."

  "That won’t be a problem."

  "Good. Then this thing should be wrapped up by the end of the week. If everything goes as planned, you'll get your share of the money."

  Gracie heard the sound of footsteps and knew they were heading for the door. She resisted the urge to bolt after them and force Allison to admit she was lying about Gilbert's involvement.

  The woman was setting him up; Gracie was sure of it. No doubt Gilbert was just as enamored with Allison as he'd been in high school, too blinded by his own obsession of her to see that she was trouble. Gracie knew she had to find a way to warn him before it was too late.

  They waited several minutes before they finally emerged from the pantry. So much had happened since they'd taken refuge there that Gracie didn't know what to say.

  Sam walked over to the window. "They're gone."

  She straightened her hair, noticing that Sam's shirt was half pulled out of his jeans. Had she done that?

  Her face warmed as she remembered their kiss. Something about that small, dark space had almost made her lose all control. Now she had to think rationally again, to put aside her feelings for Sam long enough to figure out what to do next.

  He still stood at the window, his arms braced on the frame. "What do we do now, Gracie?"

  She wasn't sure if he was talking about their relationship or the case. So, she answered his question with one of her own. "What do you want to do?"

  He turned around, his gaze intent on her face. "I want to take you back home and kiss you again. Hell, I want to do it right here."

  She swallowed hard, but before she could reply, he continued. "But we don't know if or when Allison is coming back.” Sam stepped toward her. “The only thing we do know is that Gilbert is in this thing up to his neck."

  Her warmth toward him chilled at the hard expression she saw on his face. "Don't tell me you believed her?"

  "Didn't you?"

  She shook her head. "Of course not. Gilbert was obviously a dupe in this scheme."

  "It doesn't look that way now."

  "But you got to know him well enough to recognize his favorite candy," Gracie replied, certain she could make him see reason. "You must know he's not the kind of man to get mixed up in something like this."

  "In my job, I meet all kinds of people who do all kinds of things for the craziest reasons. Hell, look at us. I never imagined doing anything like what just happened in that closet." Sam moved toward her. "And I'm sure you feel the same."

  His words seemed to hold a double meaning.

  She stared up at him, wondering if he was using her attraction to him to bolster his case against Gilbert. Just having that thought made Gracie realize she didn’t fully trust Sam. Maybe it was her cautious nature taking hold again, but she wasn't going to gamble with Gilbert's life or her own happiness to fulfill her romantic fantasies, no matter how tempting the prospect.

  "We have a problem," she said, steering the subject back to safe territory. "You think Gilbert's guilty, and I know he's innocent."

  Disappointment flared in his eyes. "That's really all you have to say. About this?" His gaze flicked to the closet, then back again. "About us."

  "Yes." She turned toward the cabin door, not trusting herself enough to look at him, certain she'd falter under the vulnerability she saw in his dark eyes.

  "Gracie, wait..." Sam moved beside her. "You're not going out there alone. In fact, after hearing what Allison had to say, you're not going anywhere alone."

  "Does this mean you're going to help me prove Gilbert innocent?"

  "No," he bit out, closing the cabin door behind him. "I'm going to prove once and for all that you've given your trust to the wrong man."

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next day, Sam was fighting the urge to hit someone, preferably Gilbert Holloway. Instead, he settled for splitting wood in Gracie's backyard. It was hard work, normally hired out to the teenagers next door, according to Gracie.

  But Sam needed to relieve the tension that had been building inside of him since their interlude in the pantry. He just wished the blisters on his hand would take his mind off the ache in other parts of his body.

  Because she'd chosen Gilbert.

  Even after they heard Allison name Holloway as the mastermind in the whole scheme, Gracie still preferred to give her loyalty—and her love—to a man who didn't deserve her.

  Maybe Sam didn't deserve her, either. He picked up the ax and swung it over his head, bringing it down hard against the end of the log. A satisfying crack sounded as the wood split into two pieces. He tossed them onto the pile, then reached for another log.

  The hot May sun beat down on him and he could feel the beginning of a burn across his back and shoulders. He'd taken off his damp shirt an hour ago. Probably not a good idea to expose his bare skin to these merciless Texas rays, but he'd been too hot to care.

  The worst of it was that only a few steps away lay an air-conditioned house and a nice, ice-cold beer in the refrigerator.

  Both tempting, but not as tempting as Gracie. She was in there too, watching that His Girl Friday tape over and over again, looking for some clue that would lead her to Holloway.

  Sam wiped the perspiration off his brow with his forearm, then attacked the next log. He needed to find some way to convince her that Gilbert wasn't the man she remembered. Words obviously didn't work—he'd been arguing his point since they'd left the cabin yesterday.

  Which left him with one other option.

  Despite her loyalty to Gilbert, even Gracie couldn't deny the emotional connection between them. If he could hold her again, break down her defenses until she was willing to listen to reason...

  Sam split the last log, tossing the pieces onto the pile. Then he wedged the ax into a tree stump, his muscles throbbing in his arms. He'd be sore tonight. Hopefully, sore enough to drop into deep, dreamless sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

  He sure as hell didn't want to spend another night awake and alone, not when he could smell the delicate scent of her perfume in every room of the house. It drove him crazy. Almost as crazy as the sight of her freshly laundered lingerie hanging from the shower rod in the bathroom. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was purposely trying to unravel him.

  Wiping his damp hands on his jeans, he moved toward the house, ready to drown himself in a cold beer. He'd follow that with a long, cold shower—once she removed her lingerie from the rod.

  He opened the back door, the hinges squeaking, then walked into the kitchen. The cool air hit him as soon as he stepped inside, a welcome relief from the heat. He just stood there, too hot to move, until he saw the note stuck to the refrigerator door.

  Tossing his shirt over his shoulder, Sam headed for the refrigerator until he was close enough to read it.

  Had to run into work. Be back in time for supper, Gracie

  Short. Impersonal. And directly against his orders. He swore under his breath as he yanked the refrigerator door open and pulled out a frosty beer bottle. He'd made it clear to Gracie that she wasn't to go anywhere alone.

  After twisting off the cap, he took a long swig, the icy amber brew washing down his parched throat. The way he saw it, he had two choices. Go after her or go take that cold shower. In the mood he was in, Sam knew going after her wasn't a good idea.

  He took his time finishing the beer, then headed for the sho
wer. If Gracie was lucky, he'd be in a much better mood by the time she got home.

  #

  If Sam was lucky, she'd be in a much better mood by the time she got home this evening.

  At the moment, she was frustrated that he was too stubborn to listen to reason. She'd talked herself blue in the face since leaving the cabin yesterday, trying to convince him that Gilbert was one of the victims in this case. A victim who was about to be framed if Allison Webb had her way.

  But Sam wouldn't listen to her. He was too caught up in his cowboy pride to be rational. She'd left him chopping enough wood to last her for three Texas winters, all the while demanding that he know her every move so he could protect her.

  "Right," she muttered to herself, crossing the street as the busy afternoon traffic whizzed by, then continuing toward Aunt Jolene’s shop. "The only man I need protection from is him."

  Part of her frustration with Sam stemmed from her attraction to him. She’d been more than a little flustered earlier today, when she’d spied him from the window of her living room. One look at him chopping wood, half-naked and muscles bulging, had driven her straight out the door.

  “Gracie?” An older woman approached her on the sidewalk. “Are you Gracie Delacroix?”

  Surprised, Gracie stopped and said, “Why yes, I am.” She met so many people in her business that she was often approached by them on the street, but she usually remembered their faces if not their names. This woman appeared to be in her early-to-mid seventies, but Gracie couldn’t place her. Although, there was something vaguely familiar about the warmth of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

  The woman clapped her hands together. “I thought it was you! I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper before, and Jolene’s told me so much about you.”

  “You know my aunt?”

  “Yes, we’ve been friends for years. She’s restored some vintage jewelry for me, and I’ve bought quite a few antiques from her.” Then she held out her hand. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Hattie Holden and I live at Elk Creek Ranch, just north of Pine City.”

  “Holden?” Gracie shook her hand. “Do you know Sam Holden?”

  Hattie beamed. “I’ve known him since the day he was born. He’s one of my grandsons. Handsome, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.” A warm blush suffused her cheeks “Very handsome.”

  “I’m so glad you two have met.” Hattie reached out to pat her arm. “And I’ve enjoyed reading all those newspaper articles about your wonderful career. You’re a very impressive young woman.”

  “Thank you,” Gracie replied.

  “Well, I’ve got to run, dear. It was so nice to meet you.” She moved toward a parked car. As she opened the driver’s door, she glanced over her shoulder at Gracie and said, “Please give Sam my best the next time you see him.”

  “I will.” Gracie stood on the sidewalk, still a little perplexed at running into Sam’s grandmother.

  After watching Hattie drive away, she entered the antique shop and was pleased to see that Michael had already arrived.

  She walked over to the antique table where he sat with Aunt Jolene, a file folder lying open in front of him.

  “Michael was just updating me on the two-prong plan he devised to help save my business.” Aunt Jolene pushed her chair back from the table. “I appreciate the help, but I wish you two wouldn’t go to so much trouble just on my account.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Gracie and Michael said in unison.

  Gracie took a seat next to her aunt. “If you won’t take my money, then at least accept our services. Amanda wants to help, too. She put out a call a few days ago to all the real estate agents we know. They’ll notify us about any retail space to lease as soon as it becomes available.”

  “I think one of them already did,” Michael said, reaching into the front pocket of his suit. “The office received a call earlier and an intern wrote this address down.” He pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Gracie. “You may want to check it out.”

  She looked at the address scribbled on the back. “Parvey Road? Where’s that?”

  “I believe it’s on the other side of town,” Michael replied. “I know a spot in downtown Pine City would be preferable for foot traffic, but the Parvey Road location could mean the monthly lease will be cheaper.”

  Gracie tucked the address into her purse. “I’ll head out there this afternoon and take a look at it. Aunt Jolene, would you like to come along?”

  “No, thanks. I’m expecting a call from one of my clients. She just bought a new house and wants me to stop by and give her some decorating ideas.”

  “Okay,” Gracie said. “I’ll take some pictures for you while I’m there.”

  Jolene sighed. “I heard there’s a new development in that area that’s looking for tenants. I suppose that’s an acceptable solution, although it means I’d have to leave this place.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Michael said. “But on a positive note, once this building sells, you’ll be able to pay off all your debt and have plenty left over to place in a cash reserve.”

  Aunt Jolene nodded, but Gracie could see she didn’t look enthusiastic about selling the shop.

  “I truly appreciate y’all giving me options,” Aunt Jolene told them. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how it all turns out.”

  “Don’t forget, there’s still the application to have this building designated as a historical landmark,” Gracie reminded her. Then she turned to Michael. “How’s that going?”

  “I’ve submitted the application to the Texas Historical Commission and contacted one of my sources there. So, I’m hoping that lights a fire under them and we’ll hear something soon.”

  Aunt Jolene stood up. “Well, if this place doesn’t qualify as a historical landmark, I don’t know what building in Pine City would.” She began walking around the perimeter of the shop. “Pioneers settled here in the mid-nineteenth century, and this building was originally the train station. It’s been added to and renovated since then, but the original structure and architecture remains intact.”

  “I think it’s got a good chance,” Michael said.

  Gracie nodded. “So do I. But we don’t have a lot of time to wait for the commission to decide. Not with Merle waiting to pounce. That’s why we need to keep all our options open.”

  “Yes, I know.” Jolene turned to face them. “Let’s see what options are on the table when that time comes, then I’ll make my decision.”

  “Very good.” Michael rose to his feet. “Just give me a call if you have any questions, Jolene. In the meantime, I’ll dig up some local retail lease contracts for comparison in case we come across an acceptable location.”

  Gracie didn’t even want to think about boxing everything up in the shop and hauling it out of here. She loved this place too, and the thought of leaving it behind made her heart ache. But sometimes you had to move on, whether you liked it or not.

  Once Michael had left, Gracie turned to her aunt. “I ran into Sam’s grandmother outside. Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”

  “Hattie?” Aunt Jolene shrugged. “It must have slipped my mind. I’m sure she was probably in the shop when you used to work here, but maybe you two didn’t cross paths.”

  “If we did, I don’t remember it.” Then she smiled. “She’s sure proud of Sam.”

  “Almost as proud as I am of you.” Jolene walked over to Gracie and gave her a hug. “Thank you for doing all this for me. I really do appreciate it, even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes.”

  “I know you don’t want to set up shop someplace else,” Gracie said. “But in my business, it’s all about finding the right fit. We’ll just keep looking until we do.”

  Aunt Jolene took a step back, her hands still clasping Gracie’s shoulders. “And how about Sam? Is he the right fit for you?”

  “Sam?” Gracie cleared her throat, feeling a little flustered. “What makes you say that?”

  “Maybe it’s the way yo
u blush every time his name comes up. Or the new spring in your step ever since he came along.”

  “I just got new shoes...” Gracie stammered.

  Jolene smiled. “Sometimes the right fit is standing right in front of you, girl. You just have to open your eyes to see it.”

  #

  Sam walked into Delacroix Image Consultants that afternoon, refreshed from his cold shower and ready to lay down some ground rules. Gracie might not be ready to admit that Gilbert was guilty of his crimes, but she needed to know that helping Holloway could possibly put her in legal jeopardy. A risk Sam wasn't about to let her take.

  "Hello, I’m Andrew. How may I help you?"

  Sam looked over at the reception desk and saw a teenager standing behind it. Andrew didn’t look old enough to shave, but his fingers flew over the computer keyboard in front of him.

  “Howdy, I’m looking for Gracie Delacroix,” he said, approaching the desk.

  Andrew grinned. "Sounds like you have a hard time keeping track of her. I was here the last time you were looking for her. Girls are like that, aren’t they?"

  “How old are you?” Sam asked, perplexed to find himself dealing with a baby-faced teenager.

  “Sixteen,” Andrew replied, “I got hired as an intern with the IT department this summer.”

  “Well, good for you, kid. And you’re right about girls. Some girls, anyway.”

  Andrew leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “You’re a lot older than me, so I think you’re supposed to call them women. At least, that’s what my mom says.”

  “Does your mom know where I can find Ms. Delacroix?”

  Andrew shook his head. “No, my mom doesn’t work here. But Ms. Delacroix left the office over an hour ago. She didn’t say where she was going.”

  Sam bit back an oath, wondering how he was supposed to protect Gracie when she kept disappearing. "What about Amanda? Would she know where to find her?"

  “No, Amanda got called away too. That's why I'm working desk duty. I'm sure one of them will be back soon."

  Sam reached for the cell phone on his belt but found the clip empty. "Oh no."