"But the name..."
"The man who owns it tried to borrow money from the bank to buy the place. The bar that had been in there before closed long ago. The banker at that time told him he'd lend him the money in a pig's eye. Ryan financed him, and the guy got his revenge with the name."
Allison raised an eyebrow. “I didn't realize Ryan had that kind of capital."
"The ranch and his practice do very well. And he doesn't invest in losing propositions."
Allison idly stirred her coffee. “What happened to the ranch they grew up on?"
"They closed it down when their father died. Ryan had already built this place. He took part of the stock for the Circle C and they sold the rest with the ranch."
"You mean him and Morgan?"
"Mm hmm. To a very nice couple. The Hammonds."
Allison continued to move the spoon around in her cup. “So Morgan got part of the money from the sale?"
Paige narrowed her eyes. “I don't discuss Morgan's finances, Allie. If you want to know anything, you'll have to ask him, but that might not be such a smart move."
Allison finally put the spoon on the table. “I'm just being curious. No big deal."
Paige looked at her friend for a long time. “Allie, we've been friends forever and I love you to death, but let me give you some advice. Around here you're judged not by what you've got but by what you are. Both the Cutter men command a lot of respect, but not because of how much money they do or don't have. And Morgan's very touchy about the subject."
Allison raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?"
Paige shook her head. “You'd have to ask him. I'm not so sure you and Morgan would make a good pair, you know. You're used to a different kind of life. A different kind of man. I don't miss the glitz and glamour of the city at all, but what White Tail has to offer might not be for you."
"Gee, thanks for the lecture, Mom. Maybe I should just pack up and go home this morning.” Allison stood up and went to stare out the sliding doors.
In a minute Paige came up beside her. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, kiddo. I'm just saying, maybe it's for the best you and Morgan don't exactly hit it off."
Allison was silent for a long time before she said, “I'm going out with him tonight."
"What?"
"That's what he wanted to ask me when I walked out to the car with him after dinner. Shocked the hell out of me, I can tell you."
"Wait.” Paige went to get the coffee carafe, refilled their mugs and carried them to where Allison was standing. “Okay, I need another jolt of coffee for this. He actually asked you out? On a date?"
"Uh huh."
"Well.” Paige was silent for a moment. “Morgan doesn't date, you know."
Allison turned to her. “Has he sworn off women?"
"In a manner of speaking. When he gets the itch, he calls one of the women he knows in Austin who doesn't expect anything more from him than an overnight visit."
Allison's eyes widened. “Sort of like a hooker but with more class?"
Paige shrugged. “I guess. At least Ryan used to make a pretense of it being a date. I think Morgan's just looking for comfort from someone who won't be demanding or cause a problem."
"But why?” Allison sat back down at the table, poured sweetener in her coffee and picked up her spoon. “I don't believe he's always been like this."
"No. All I can tell you is he had a brief, disastrous marriage. No one gossips about it because they all like him so well. But it nearly destroyed him."
"You know about it,” Allison pointed out.
"Ryan told me, but only because I needed to understand the family dynamics. I never bring it up."
"Well, this evening should be very interesting. I asked him if jeans would be okay and he said fine."
"Allie, jeans will take you just about any place around here, except for church and special events. I'll bet he takes you to Squeaky Pete's."
Allison burst out laughing. “I can honestly say I've never been to a place with a name even closely resembling that. What is it?"
"Barbecue. And damn good, too. Just don't expect too much, okay?"
"If we don't end up stabbing each other with our forks, I'll be ecstatic."
No, that's not true. I want a lot more from Morgan Cutter and I'll be damned if I know why. I'd get fewer prickles from a cactus."
* * * *
"I don't believe this woman has simply disappeared off the face of the earth.” Luis Obradors sat in a huge leather arm chair but he was anything but relaxed.
Neither were the two men standing in front of him. Each wore a heavy sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and they both had trouble looking their boss in the eye.
"Not one of our usual sources has had even a sniff of her,” said Alex Osuna, the taller of the two.
"That's right, boss,” his brother, Jorge, chimed in. “We've checked with everyone."
"Bastante!" Luis took a cigarette from the box on the table next to him and lit it, blowing the smoke at the two men. “I have met this woman. Very flashy, very slick, very clever. But not smart enough to hide from the old man's entire organization."
"It seems she's done it,” Alex pointed out. “We've hit everyone we know, every scumbag in Texas. Any place she could get a new identity. Not a sniff. Es verdad."
"We've had people look in every cubbyhole, boss. Nada."
Luis took a final drag on the cigarette and crushed it in a bronze ash tray. How had God punished him like this? The two men in front of him were the sons of Emilio Escalante's sister, clowns and idiots that el jefe felt a personal responsibility for. But why had he given them to him, Luis, a man who had served Escalante well? Everything they did was a disaster, and now they were about to perpetrate the greatest disaster of all.
He shifted his gaze from one to the other. “Keep looking. El jefe is not in a mood to be placated on this one. If we don't find her, we'll all need a place to hide."
The two men nodded, tripping over each other in their haste to reach the door.
Luis pulled himself out of the deep chair and walked slowly to the built-in bar. He stared thoughtfully at the two fingers of Crown Royal he poured himself, wondering if this stupid woman would bring down the entire structure of the life he'd built for himself with such care.
Emilio Escalante had a well-deserved reputation as the most ambitious, sharpest, most violent drug kingpin in all of Mexico and Central America. His organization rivaled the infamous Medallin cartel in size and scope of activity. Building it from the ground up had required a ruthlessness that was the stuff of legend. No one—absolutely no one—put blinders on Escalante or jerked him around. If they tried, death was the least of their worries. In fact, Luis had heard many of the old man's enemies beg to die.
But Emilio had one weakness. He hungered for the touch of class that all his money couldn't buy him. Even in his custom suits and fine silk shirts, he still had the look of a thug. This woman had possessed the patina of class that Escalante hungered for. Her blonde hair was more silver ash than the brassy bottle color they were used to, her dark brown eyes were framed by thick lashes, and her toned figure was always clothed in conservative suits that still managed to convey a latent sexuality. And she spoke with a husky voice that even when discussing business plans and financial projections promised passionate delights.
The old man had taken one look and been smitten, and she'd played him like a fish on a hook. She'd been all business, showing him the properties, walking him through the glossy brochures, handing him five-year growth projections for development. And not allowing him to get her in his bed until he'd signed the contract and handed over the check for five hundred thousand dollars.
"I'm going to make her my wife,” he'd told Luis. “I will build her the finest house in San Antonio, and a huge ranch in Mexico. We will go to all the high society functions. She'll be my ticket through the door."
But Luis knew a con when he saw one. Smelled one. Yet all his digging hadn't
been able to uncover one piece of history to use against her.
They'd all dined at Escalante's big home in Alamo Heights the night he had put a twelve-carat diamond on her finger. Escalante had slept the sleep of the dead, thanks to the knockout drops she'd put in his drink. The next morning she was gone. And so was the five hundred grand.
Escalante had raged. He'd screamed. He'd rained down curses. But all they'd been able to find was her partner, who hadn't been smart enough either to run when he should have or get his share of the money. The woman had screwed them all.
But the sniveling little coward had provided them with one important fact, as he screamed with agony and begged for his life. He'd given them a most important clue as to where she might seek sanctuary. And so Luis and his underlings had disposed of the partner and dumped his body where they were sure it would be seen as a warning. The problem was, the woman had yet to surface. When she did, the body would most likely be gone, and what would they do then?
Luis knocked back the liquor in one swallow and wiped his lips. If they didn't find this damned woman soon, he'd be the next one out of town. Or under it.
* * * *
Morgan walked into the police station and stopped by the desk of his detective on duty, surprised to find the man sitting there. Knox Handler had been inherited from the pervious chief, but when Morgan returned to White Tail and joined the force, Knox had been his partner, and a good one. Although the detective division, if you could call it that, only had three men, Morgan had put Knox in charge and it had worked out well.
"Since when do you pull weekends?” he asked.
"Oh, well, Johnny Kincaid has the hots to give his girl a ring so I told him I'd cover for him. It's only until seven. Then I'll take the calls at home."
One of the many advantages of a small town force, especially one that saw very little crime, was the flexibility allowed in running the operation. Morgan himself had covered for his men often since Amber had flown the coop. Sitting home alone wasn't a lot of fun. Too much time to think.
"Anything back on that fax we sent out?"
Knox shook his head. “No, and I'm not sure we will. If it's someone on the hot sheet somewhere, we get an answer back within the first twenty four hours. You know that. So I'm getting the feeling this guy isn't high on anyone's list. That photo will sit in someone's in basket until they're bored and looking for something to do."
"Damn it. I'd sure like to get him identified and let him be somebody else's headache."
"I know that feeling.” Knox got up to get a cold drink from the refrigerator in the corner of the big room.
"Give it until tomorrow. If nothing shows up, I'll call the state lab in Austin and give them a present. They're better equipped to search dental records."
"If they know where to start. As bad as that guy's mouth was messed up, I'm not sure they'll find a match anywhere."
"They might be able to match the manner of death with other similar bodies, though. I know it's a long shot, but I'm willing to try anything."
Knox scratched his head. “Maybe I'll make a few calls, see if I can stir someone into action. But no one seems to be looking for him at the moment."
"I'm just puzzled as all hell why anyone would choose White Tail as a spot to dump a body. They'd have to know it would stick out like a sore thumb."
"Maybe they just picked a random spot,” Knox suggested. “Or dumped it out as they drove through town."
Morgan shook his head. “Doesn't track. All the signs say they drove up to the edge of the Rose, left their garbage and went back the way they came. If they drove through town, someone would have spotted them. Emery Grant, for sure. Since his wife told him he can't hang around the house all day, he lives in one of the window booths at the D&D."
"Doesn't make any sense, does it?"
"Not a lot. Well, see what you can do. I'll be out tonight, but I'll have my cell phone if you need me."
"Going out to your brother's to hang out with the lovebirds?” Knox joked.
"No.” Morgan's voice sounded stiff, even to him. “I'm not. But I'll be in range.” He caught Knox's look of curiosity as he walked into his office.
Other than the body with no hands, there was very little for him to do, but he wasn't yet ready to go home and get changed for the evening. He was still debating the wisdom of what he was doing. Allison Moore. She was a complete enigma. On the surface she seemed not much different than Amber—slick, sophisticated, artificial. But in the D&D Restaurant, the day she'd brought Paige back to White Tail, he'd seen a laughing, natural, open woman devoid of artifice and comfortable with people who meant a lot to him.
Then, in the truck going to San Antonio, her flirting and teasing had hit him the wrong way, reminding him of Amber's caustic style. Last night at Ryan's she had been a mixture of both, and he couldn't decide which was real and which was an act.
She made him act impulsively, something foreign to his nature. The ride back to the city, the invitation to dinner, that barest of kisses. The last time he'd given in to impulse he'd married Amber.
Yeah, and look how well that turned out.
But damn, that kiss. Touching her was like trying to bottle lightening. He'd driven home trying to ignore the pain of a throbbing hard-on.
He and Ryan had made a point of playing the field when they were younger. They'd had goals and no time for serious relationships. But when he came home from San Antonio and joined the White Tail force, he'd wanted to settle down. Make his own nest. While Ryan was busy still dating his long-legged women in Austin with no thought of marriage at all, Morgan had been ripe for someone like Amber. Polished, sexy, sophisticated, but with what he thought was a natural warmth, she'd made him feel like a combination of Superman and Clint Eastwood.
Then it had all blown up in his face. Pow!
And now that Ryan had fallen ass over teakettle for Paige and was busy planning their rosy future, Morgan was left with nothing but bitter memories and a scarred heart.
Now he feared he was about to step into the same quicksand, but something about Allison Moore drew him like a magnet to steel.
He tossed the paper clip he'd been bending beyond recognition onto his desk. Maybe his luck was due to change. He could only hope.
Chapter Six
Allison folded her hands in her lap and tried to appear as relaxed as possible. She hadn't been this nervous on a date since she was sixteen years old. Getting dressed hadn't posed too much of a problem, since the wardrobe she had with her was limited. Paige had offered to let her raid her closet, but that presented too many choices.
Finally, buffed and polished, her hair hanging in dark waves around her shoulders as it had been the first day she came to White Tail, her makeup more subtle than usual, she fought off a case of the fidgets until a shiny black pickup came down the driveway and into the turnaround. She raised a questioning eyebrow at Paige and Ryan, tactfully trying to ignore her.
"That's his personal vehicle,” Paige explained. “When he's on his own time he leaves the Expedition in his garage."
Allison had never even sat in a pickup, much less ridden in one. She was astonished at the luxury of the interior.
"Surprised?” Morgan's voice held just a hint of sarcasm.
"That's a loaded question,” she shot back. “If I say yes, you'll think I'm a snob, if I say no, I'm condescending. Let me just comment that this is a fine vehicle."
A smile teased at the corners of his mouth but he said nothing. Now she sat watching him drive, wondering if every time she opened her mouth she'd put her foot in it.
Mistake! Mistake!
But she was determined to get to know this man better, find out what made him tick. Discover if that briefest of kisses was only the thin surface of a wellspring of passion and sensuality.
Tonight he wore soft jeans and a western style denim shirt. The play of muscles under the material as he drove fascinated her, just as her eyes were drawn to the dark, crisp chest hairs visible at the opening
of his shirt. No doubt about it. The man had definite sex appeal. But could they even hold a decent conversation?
She frowned as she realized they had left White Tail behind and were skimming along the highway. “We're not eating in town?"
"The eating choices in White Tail are limited, so when I get the chance I like to branch out. Not that the D&D doesn't feed me well."
"Paige mentioned a barbecue place you like, but she didn't say where it is."
"Actually, we're going someplace away from the spotlight."
Allison twisted her hands together. “Because you don't want to be seen with me?"
"Because I want us to have a chance to get to know each other without the whole town taking notes. Including my brother and your friend."
"Oh.” She lapsed into silence again.
Morgan chuckled, a rusty sound as if he didn't make it too often. “Now who's not being talkative?"
Allison blew out the breath she didn't even now she'd been holding. “To tell you the truth, I'm not exactly sure what to say to you."
"Am I that formidable?” He kept his eyes on the road, not looking at her as he waited for her to answer him.
"No. Yes.” She threw up her hands. “I don't know. I just get the feeling I keep saying all the wrong things to you, and I don't want to upset you."
A muscle jumped on his cheek. “That's my fault. I told you I haven't done this for a long time. And you might as well know I'm overly sensitive when I shouldn't be."
Allison laughed, the sound easing the tension a fraction. “That's an understatement.” The smile disappeared from her face. “I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to insult you."
Morgan slid a glance at her, then reached a hand over and rested it on her clasped ones. “I'm a tough case, Allison, and I know it. But don't let me scare you. My bark is much worse than my bite. And you didn't insult me.” He punched on the radio and slid a CD into the player. “How about some music? They say it soothes the savage beast."
Allison giggled. “If it doesn't I'll just throw you a hunk of raw meat."
Cutter's Law Page 5
