by Gayle Wilson
“I was good to you.”
“You aren’t good to anybody,” Nicki denied. “We’re all dispensable to you. It won’t take you long to find somebody to replace me.”
She began to move forward again, leaning heavily on Michael’s arm. If he hadn’t been afraid to leave her alone, he would have gone to get the pickup and come back for her. With what had happened tonight, that wasn’t an option.
So they walked on, his limping gait matching her now slowed stride. They passed Mapes, hovering near the burned-out shell of the trailer that had undoubtedly held everything he owned.
Michael knew, with a certainty that made his throat close, that as soon as those ruins cooled enough to allow it, Ralph would be searching through the rubble for anything he could salvage. The old man, intent on the destruction of what was left of his world, didn’t even look up as they trudged by.
IT TOOK MICHAEL less than ten minutes to throw everything he’d brought to the Half Spur back into his bag. In the course of packing, he discovered that someone had searched his belongings again. It didn’t matter, since he’d already hidden the blood samples in a security box hidden in the truck.
Nicki sat on the edge of the bunk watching as he cleaned out the small chest, tossing socks and jeans and underwear into the waiting bag. Periodically she coughed or cleared her raw, smoke-damaged throat.
“What now?” she’d asked finally as he’d opened and shut drawers and cabinets one last time in an effort to make sure they were as empty as the day he’d moved in.
Less than two weeks ago, he realized with a sense of wonder. It felt like a lifetime.
“We deliver the samples in person,” he said, unwilling to think much past getting her away from here.
He had known from the time she’d whispered her accusation that he was going to take her to the Royal Flush, but he had yet to acknowledge the significance of that. All he had admitted to himself was that he was again going home after another failed mission. Cutting his losses and admitting defeat. And it wasn’t any easier because he’d now had some practice at it.
“And then?”
“We see how things have developed on the other fronts, I guess.”
“What other fronts?”
“I was sent here to see if there was any connection between this place and the missing Langworthy baby.”
“Langworthy as in the Langworthys?”
“Gettys’s rival,” he explained, throwing the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder.
“What baby?”
“It’s a long story,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’ll tell you on the way.”
She put her fingers in his, but she made no move to rise, simply holding them instead. At least hers had stopped shaking.
“You came in to find me, didn’t you? I haven’t thanked you for that.”
“I was the first one there,” he said.
“Implying that anyone would have come into a burning trailer? One that was equipped with a propane tank?”
“We have to go,” he said, ignoring her question as he applied an upward pressure to the hand he held.
She responded by getting up off the bunk, but she didn’t move forward.
“Thank you,” she repeated.
“Come on.”
She didn’t refuse this time, but released his hand to lead the way to the door and down the steps. He threw the bag into the back of the pickup before he opened the passenger door and helped her inside. The pall of smoke left from the fire hung heavy on the night air.
Before he closed the door, he leaned inside to secure the seat belt around her body. As he did, she put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
He had already stepped away from the car when something about her face, cruelly exposed by the truck’s unshielded dome light, stopped him. He ducked his head, inserting the upper half of his body inside the cab again.
Her eyes opened when she felt his movement. He put his hand against her cheek, his thumb on the other side of her chin, and gently turned her face toward him. He studied her features in the too-revealing glare before he bent forward the few inches required to fit his mouth over hers.
For a heartbeat she failed to respond. Then her lips opened under his, warm and sensuous. Tasting of smoke.
The brief kiss was devoid of passion. It was more a benediction. Almost reverent. When it was over, her fingers lay along his cheek, which was prickly with late night whiskers.
“No one else would have come inside to find me,” she said softly. “No one but you.”
“You were safe here until I showed up.” He’d been thinking that from the time he’d seen her body crumpled on the floor. There was a sense of relief in putting that guilt into words.
“As long as I was willing to be Nate Beaumont. Until you got here, I didn’t realize how unwilling I was to go on playing that role.”
“Then I guess it’s good we’re leaving,” he said, smiling at her.
She said nothing, her eyes questioning. Whatever she wanted to ask, she decided not to. Her hand fell, releasing him.
He slammed the door and walked around behind the truck, scanning the area around his trailer. He didn’t relax that vigilance until he was in the driver’s seat with his own seat belt fastened.
He couldn’t believe Quarrels and the others were going to let them go, but as he turned the key in the ignition, it seemed increasingly likely that would be the case. Maybe Quarrels wasn’t authorized to act on his own. Maybe he was down at the compound right now, putting in the call to whoever would tell him what to do next. By the time he had that answer, however, they’d be long gone.
He backed the truck into the turnaround, but instead of heading toward the compound and the road that led off the Half Spur, he headed back up the trail they’d just walked down. The pickup’s headlights cut like twin lasers through the smoke that drifted in front of them.
“What are you doing?” Nicki asked as they bumped over the uneven ground.
“Going to get Mapes. He can’t stay here.”
He was aware that she had turned to look at him then, but he kept his eyes focused on the smoke-shrouded darkness in front of them. After a moment, she unbuckled her seat belt and slid across the bench-type seat until she was sitting beside him, her denim clad thigh resting against his.
“Where will you take us?” she asked, as the headlights picked the old man out of the shadows cast by the few remaining trees. He was standing exactly where he’d been when they’d walked past, his eyes on the smoldering ruins of his trailer. Waiting.
“Home,” Michael said simply as he pulled the truck up beside Ralph Mapes.
And for the first time in more than a decade, the word felt right on his tongue, and more important, in his heart.
Chapter Fifteen
“We stopped in Granby to get Nicki checked out and to talk to the sheriff about the possibility of arson. Then I brought them here.”
Michael raised the bourbon his sister had handed him to his mouth, examining Colleen’s face over the rim of the glass as he drank. He couldn’t tell from her expression what she thought about his bare-bones recital of events at the Half Spur. Maybe what a mistake she’d made in entrusting any part of the operation to him. He couldn’t blame her for that.
“I’m glad you did. I hope you believe me about that, but whether you do or not, remember that this is your home, too. You have a right to bring anyone you wish here.”
He hadn’t felt that right, not in the long years since his father’s will had made his exile from the Royal Flush so public. Maybe Colleen meant what she’d just said. In this case, it hardly mattered because he hadn’t had any choice. He’d literally had nowhere else to take them.
“I appreciate that,” he said, his tone more grudging than he’d intended. “As soon as this is cleared up, I’m sure Nicki will opt for a return…to her former life.”
That hadn’t come out exactly as he’d intended. If Colleen noticed the awkward phrasing
, she didn’t comment.
He continued quickly to cover the gaffe. “Mapes, however… If you could find him some kind of job here, nothing too strenuous, I’d be grateful.”
“Consider it done,” his sister said. “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse, and there’s always a need for another set of hands. Especially experienced ones.”
“I don’t know how much work he’s capable of right now—”
“Michael,” Colleen interrupted before he could add another caveat to his request. “It doesn’t matter. He’s welcome. Nicki’s welcome. And you’re especially welcome. I have to confess, I’ve been worried about you. You came here to recover, and I shamelessly took advantage of you.”
“As I remember it, I volunteered,” he said, ignoring her expression of concern. It was the last thing he needed to hear right now. “And I brought the samples I promised you. They’re in the pickup. Quicker than sending them by mail, I guess.” He lifted the glass again.
“What happened to your hand?”
He shifted his drink to the left hand, holding out the right, fingers extended. There were a few nicks and scrapes from the work he’d done at the Half Spur. None of them were as noticeable as the angry red marks on the back.
“Nothing serious,” he said dismissively.
“Are those burns?”
“Probably.”
“Then they probably need some antibiotic ointment. Come to the bathroom with me—”
“I’ll take care of it later,” he said, cutting her short. He didn’t want her playing big sister right now. “Why don’t I go ahead and take the samples to the CDC.”
“We’ll take care of those. Shawn’s been chomping at the bit for something interesting to do. I think he’s feeling left out.”
“Anything turn up on the other fronts? News about the baby?”
She shook her head, one quick negative motion, as her lips tightened. “I was hoping for a quick resolution to this, for everyone’s sake, but it doesn’t look as if that will be the case.”
“What can I help with?”
“I can’t think of a thing. At least not until we get the results back from the lab at Fort Collins.”
Clearly she didn’t intend for him to have any further involvement in her investigation. Just as he’d made up his mind to that, she surprised him.
“Would you care to speculate about what’s really going on at Gettys’s ranch?”
He shook his head, thinking about everything that he’d seen. “I don’t have a clue. I can tell you that some part of the operation changed after I got there. Given the daylight visit of the helicopter and the subsequent fire, I’d say something made them nervous. Or maybe that was coincidental to my arrival.”
“But you don’t believe that.”
He shook his head again. “I don’t think it had anything to do with me taking the samples. I don’t believe the foreman has a clue about that.”
“Then what?”
“Maybe Nicki searching the office. One of his right-hand men caught her in there. Or maybe Mapes talked too much. It’s a failing. Maybe he told them I’d been asking questions. I’d like a chance to find out what tipped them off.”
“What kind of chance?”
“To go back without Nicki or the old man.”
That way he wouldn’t have anyone else to worry about. If he couldn’t talk his way back into a job on the ranch, he could at least do some exploring on his own, especially now that he was more familiar with the lay of the land. Actually that might be a better plan than hiring on again.
“But you saw no sign that the baby had ever been there?” Colleen asked.
He shook his head again. “I can’t see any connection between the two, other than the wool found in the crib. And Gettys’s operation certainly isn’t the only sheep ranch in Colorado.”
“Then why go back?”
“Because it’s possible somebody there tried to murder an old man and a woman. And because they’re too secretive for something not to be going on.”
“Something you think has nothing to do with the kidnapping,” his sister clarified again.
“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t need investigating,” he insisted stubbornly.
“One windmill at a time,” Colleen said, smiling at him. “Colorado Confidential is stretched pretty thin.”
“I didn’t mean as part of some official investigation. I’d be working on my own.”
Another silence, this one tense.
“I don’t have any authority over you, and I know that,” Colleen said, “but I thought you signed on for this assignment.”
“Meaning you’re against my going back.”
“For now.” Her voice was carefully neutral. “First of all, I’d like you to take a couple of days to recuperate.”
“I’m fine.”
“And then I’d like you to provide security for Nicki,” Colleen continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I think she’s key to our figuring out what Gettys’s involvement in this is. If anything happens to her, our chances for discovering that are considerably lessened.”
“Nobody knows she’s here. Even if her disguise was penetrated, there’s no way to tie her to the Royal Flush.”
“Not unless they’ve tied you to the Half Spur.”
And had then traced her here because of him? That would mean his visit to the ranch had been an even bigger fiasco than he’d imagined.
“No way,” he said, mentally reviewing the precautions he’d taken.
“Nicki had hidden there for months,” Colleen reminded him. “Almost as soon as you show up, things start to happen. As you said, a little too coincidental. If, by sending you to the Half Spur, I put her into danger, then I feel responsible for keeping her safe until we figure out how all these seemingly unrelated pieces fit together.”
He said nothing, looking down on the remaining bourbon in the bottom of his glass as he tried to work out how Quarrels, or whoever he was working for, could have figured out that the notorious Nicola Carson was hiding in their midst.
“Or do you want me to give the assignment to someone else?”
That threat brought his eyes up. Colleen would do it, he knew. If there was one thing that had been consistent about his sister her entire life, it was her strong sense of responsibility. If she thought their investigation of the Langworthy kidnapping might have inadvertently put Nicki at risk, she’d see to it that Colorado Confidential did everything in their power to make the situation right.
Shawn’s been chomping at the bit for something interesting to do, Colleen had said.
Suddenly Michael was determined that Jameson wasn’t going to be playing bodyguard to Nicki. If Colleen was serious about the assignment, no one was going to do that but him.
THE DRAPES had been pulled across the wide bedroom windows, but the afternoon sun was too strong and their fabric too sheer to cast the room into darkness. The resulting dimness was soothing, as was the subtle scent of lavender that emanated from the bed linens.
Underlying that was something that suggested citrus. Maybe bath salts, Michael thought, noticing the open bathroom door.
That would have been the first thing Nicki did after their arrival. Wash off the stench of smoke. And along with it, he hoped, the horror of being locked inside that inferno.
The quiet luxury of the guest suite seemed a world away from the deprivations of the Half Spur. He’d only spent a couple of weeks there. He couldn’t imagine how she must feel to have finally escaped.
He crossed to the bed, bootheels silent over the lush carpeting. He stood looking down on her as she slept, feeling a little like a voyeur, but unwilling to deny himself the pleasure.
Her face, totally relaxed in sleep, seemed almost childlike. Devoid of makeup, hair badly cropped, there was still an innate femininity in her features that made him wonder how in the world she had fooled Quarrels and his cronies so long.
She had washed most of the artificial color from her hair. Not as pale as th
e line of silver-gilt he’d glimpsed that first day, it was definitely blond again and tousled artlessly around her face. Unable to resist, he reached down and swept a strand away from her temple.
His fingers looked dark and rough against the smoothness of her skin. His hand was still hovering in midair when she moved.
Rolling onto her back, she looked up at him, eyes wide, though clouded with sleep. As soon as she recognized him, her lips tilted, aligning into a smile.
He let his hand fall to his side. He met her eyes, hiding nothing, but he refused to allow his mouth to respond to the curve of hers. After a second or two, her smile faded.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Colleen thinks you should stay here for a while.”
There was a small silence as she thought about it.
“And you object to that?”
“I thought you might.”
“Someone tried to kill me. I still don’t know who or why. Until I do… I have nowhere else to go.”
He nodded as if she’d just agreed to something.
“She asked me to look after you.”
For some reason, the blue eyes filled with moisture, just as they had on the trail that day. Blinking to control the tears, Nicki reached up and took the hand with which he’d brushed the tendril away from her face.
Her gaze touched on the burn marks before it lifted to his face. “You’ve already been doing that.”
“Not in any official capacity.”
“And this is official?”
He gently freed his fingers before he answered. “Colleen runs an investigative agency that operates under the auspices of the Department of Public Safety. Until they complete their investigation of the Langworthy kidnapping, she wants you under protection.”
“You work for her.”
“For now.”
“And all those other things you told me—”
“Part of my checkered past. I thought I’d retired.”
“Because of your knee.”
“Among other things.”
When she spoke again, it wasn’t, thankfully, to ask what those “things” were.
