He wished Donna would take her good intentions and leave him the hell alone. He'd enjoyed his misery before. He wanted to enjoy it again. At least being perpetually miserable was a state he could cope with. For a brief moment, as he and Allison connected, he'd thought his life was on the upswing After Amber. He had to accept the fact they were on different electrical currents, and hers had zapped him but good.
"Don't tell me you've already dumped that nice Allison Moore."
"Nice?” He swallowed some coffee, nearly burning his mouth, hot liquid slopping over his wrist. “Not quite the word I'd use for her."
Donna narrowed her eyes. “Morgan Cutter, I've known you since I was in seventh grade, so don't think you can fool me. Something bad happened. What was it?"
Morgan finished blotting his hand with a paper napkin, threw the sodden mess down on the table and looked straight at Donna. “Allison and I don't move in the same circles, Donna. We have nothing in common, and it's better we found out about it now, before either of us got hurt too badly."
"Is that so? Well, it looks to me like you're not feeling any too great here.” She reached across the table and touched his hand briefly. “Morgan, Derek and I are your friends. I'm sorry if I came across as prying, but we just care about you and hate to see you unhappy.” She grabbed the coffee carafe and stood up
"Amber sure did a number on you. She better not ever show up in White Tail or they'll be carrying her out in a garbage sack."
Morgan caught her arm. “Thanks, Donna. I know I'm worse than a prickly cactus, but I've got to work this all out for myself."
"No problem. Just let me say one thing and then I'll leave you alone. You and Allison looked like you had good vibes together. Whatever happened, don't throw the baby out with the bathwater. Make sure you really want to turn your back on what you and she could have."
"Yeah, okay.” He unfolded himself from the booth and dropped two dollar bills on the table. “Thanks for the coffee. It was great as usual. I'll be seeing you.” He clapped his Stetson on his head and made his way heavily to the door.
Slouching behind the wheel of the big Expedition, he forced himself to take a somewhat objective look at the weekend fiasco. On the one hand, he and Allison had once again had the most spectacular sex he could ever remember. More than sex. What they did was a giving and sharing, a blending of their two bodies. How often did you find something like that?
And they did enjoy each other's company. They liked so many of the same things. Being with her was easy ... as long as they were alone.
Face it, Cutter. She loves San Antonio, It's where she socializes and where she does her job. She's not about to give all that up to spend the rest of her life in a place like White Tail. Hell, we even have to go to the next town to go to a movie.
And he certainly couldn't live in San Antonio with her. He had surprised himself by even considering a return to the sheriff's department. He hated the people he came in contact with then and he despised them worse now. Especially after Saturday night.
Yeah, let's look at Saturday night.
He hadn't been in a public brawl since he was in high school. But that jerk had pushed his buttons, and he sure couldn't let him get away with insulting Allison. If she'd only taken his side. Or at least listened to what he had to say. But she jumped to the defense of the people she knew a lot longer than him. That was a pretty clear sign of where her head was.
But damn, he sure did miss her. He could hardly sleep in his bedroom without remembering her naked body in his bed, her impish look as they sat across from each other at breakfast. He certainly had to stay out of the front hall.
Sighing heavily, he turned the ignition key. Maybe something would turn up about his dead body, or the curious break-in at his house, and that part of his life could settle down.
* * * *
The blonde pulled into the truck stop and parked at the side of the lot. With only fifty miles left to go, butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in her stomach. Funny. She never got nervous approaching a mark or pulling the con. The adrenaline rush she always got putting the plan together, assembling the materials, giving her spiel, watching the mark lap it up, submerged any attack of nerves she might have.
But this. This was different. She was going into something where her chance of success was marginal, yet she had to make it work. All she needed was enough time to find that asshole, Jared, split the money and hide herself away for a long time. She had to convince someone who hated her that he was her best and only choice without telling him why.
She pulled one of the throwaway cell phones from her purse and began punching in numbers. Once more she ran down the list Jared had given her. Just like all the other times, no one answered.
Where could he be? There was no way he could have gotten the money without her. Besides, he knew if he did she'd hunt him down and skin him alive. But his continued absence worried her. He'd gone to ground many times before, but she'd always been able to find him. He'd never just fallen off the face of the earth like this before.
Inside she ordered a cheeseburger and milkshake. No coffee. She'd consumed enough of that in the past few days to keep a squadron awake for a week. When she bit into the burger she nearly moaned with pleasure. This was the real thing—rich and meaty, the cheese melting into it, the lettuce and tomato fresh and crisp—not like the fast food junk she'd been living on. And the milkshake. Lordy, it was pure heaven. She'd been afraid to go into any kind of real restaurant for fear Escalante's men would be on her tail. But she hadn't seen them since she left the motel this morning, so she hoped she'd finally shaken them.
The smart thing to do would be to give back the money, but even if they did, there was no guarantee Escalante wouldn't have them killed just as a lesson to others. Or so they could never tell anyone how he'd fallen for their scam. No, this was a problem with only one solution: go to ground until it was safe to move around, find Jared and split the money, and disappear for good. Somehow. Some way.
She paid her check, freshened up in the rest room, and climbed back into her car.
Okay, kiddo. Just think of it as another con—which it is. You can do it.
* * * *
"What do you mean, you lost her again?” Obradors could hardly contain his rage. “You had her right in your sights. We were lucky enough to have someone spot her in El Paso, and keep an eye on her until you could get there. So what happened?"
At the other end of the line Alex gripped the phone to still his trembling hand. They were in big trouble. Mucho trouble. He and Jorge might have to disappear themselves if they wanted to stay alive.
"We are sorry, Senor Luis,” he began, but Obradors cut him off.
"Emilio Escalante is one of the most feared cartel leaders in trade. How do you think it looks to have two idiots like you running around like this? People will think he's lost control of his organization. Other cartels could even challenge him for power."
"We're sorry, Senor Luis,” Alex mumbled. Madre de Dios, just let me get out of this and I'll go back to Mexico and never leave my hut again.
"How did you lose her?” Obradors gritted his teeth.
"She made so many detours, and we got stuck behind a red light."
"Red light? You let a traffic light stop you?"
"You didn't want us to get stopped, did you?"
Obradors knew the man was right. A traffic stop could open up a can of worms. “All right. Here is your last chance before I turn you over to el jefe. She must be headed to the bump in the road we expected before. Go there. Do not under any circumstances call attention to yourselves."
"But how will we do that, Senor Luis? It's such a small town. Everyone knows when strangers show up."
Obradors muttered incantations under his breath. “Try to use what passes for a brain and think of something logical. Scope out the town. Something will come to you. And Jorge?"
"Yes, mi jefe?"
"Don't mess this up."
"Si, mi jefeI"
Obr
adors hung up the phone and tossed back the remains of his drink. It occurred to him that he'd been drinking far too much lately. Not good. It softened the edge.
How the hell had Escalante ever thought these two stooges could handle a job like this?
"You will direct them,” he told Luis. “I trust you to lead them."
Lead them? He'd need a collar and chain to do that. He banged his fist on the little table next to him. There was nothing for it—he'd have to go himself and make sure the job was done right. Finding the woman was only half the battle. Escalante wanted his money back, every dime. Then the woman could join her partner in Hell and they'd be done with it.
Chapter Thirteen
What with one thing and another, it was late morning by the time Allison left San Antonio. The scene at the bank had played out much as Allison had expected. She had been dumping things from her desk into the carton she had with her when Jerry appeared at her office door. His nose was still swollen and the bruising around his eye was beginning to turn an ugly shade of purple. Anger had flashed in his eyes.
"Running off to the cowboy? Be sure he doesn't mistake you for one of his horses.""Shut up, Jerry. You started the whole thing. Cissy Danton was only too happy to give me a blow by blow.""That bitch.” He twisted his lips in a sneer. “She probably wants him for herself. I hear she likes sweaty men who stink."
Allison slammed a clock down on the desk. “For your information, the man you provoked is the chief of police in White Tail, and you're damned lucky he didn't have you arrested."
For a moment Jerry's face paled, then the arrogance returned. “Big deal. How much does it take to be chief of a town no bigger than my thumb nail."
"And where do you get off insulting me like you did? If I'd heard you, you'd be singing in high soprano this morning."
"I don't know why I ever thought I enjoyed going out with you."
Allison restrained herself from slapping his face, hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder and picked up her carton. “Get out of my way. Why did I ever waste my time with a jerk like you? I only wish Morgan had beaten you to a bloody pulp."
She shoved him aside as she left the office, her body shaking with rage.
Darren Scott was out of his office when she stopped there next. She handed her letter of resignation to his secretary, and turned to leave.
"Allison, he specifically said he wanted to talk to you. Just let me find him."
Allison shook her head. “It would be unproductive and a waste of both our time. I have to leave. And there's something I have to do."
She hurried out the door before the woman could try to stop her.
Sitting in her car in the parking lot, she rubbed her forehead and willed away the headache she could feel coming on. Her weekend had been spent in tear-drenched misery, and sleep had been a scarce commodity. Her eyes felt gritty, her body tense, and her heart sorely bruised. Looking at her world through Morgan's eyes had been particularly unpleasant. It wasn't so much the life itself as the people in it, people she'd once thought glamorous and exciting, very “with it."
She'd come to the startling realization that almost everyone she knew, except for Paige, was brittle, artificial, and only out to feather their own nest. They'd sell each other down the river for a bigger office, more perks or just a better seat at a Spurs game.
But could she exist in a place like White Tail, so removed from everything she knew? The people were great, but what kind of life would she have? Would she be just like Amber, one day running away?No! I am not like Amber.
Well there was only one way to find out, and she'd set the wheels in motion with her phone call yesterday morning. Now, three hours after leaving the bank, she was in White Tail, heading for the D&D. “Come here first, Donna had told her."
As she entered the diner, Donna herself came rushing up to greet her with a hug. “I was afraid you'd changed your mind."
"Don't think that wasn't an option. At least ten times after I left the bank I almost turned the car around."
"How did that go, anyway?"
Allison made a face. “About like I expected. I'm just glad to be out of there. That's all."
"Well, I'm glad you're here. Come on, sit down. Let me get you some coffee."
"Thanks.” Allison sat down in the nearest booth and let her eyes drift over the restaurant. The breakfast rush was long over and it was too early for lunch, so the diner was empty. Except, of course, for Emory Grant occupying his usual place by the window.
She'd only been there the one time she'd been in White Tail, but the warmth and friendliness still hung in the air along with the lingering aromas of fresh cinnamon buns and pecan waffles that were among Derek's breakfast specialties. Booths marched along the wall of windows that looked out on Main Street, then made a sharp right angle turn to tuck three small units against the short back wall. One window was filled with flyers advertising the high school play, a square dance, the city council meeting and other town activities. Opposite the windows was a long counter with old fashioned stools. At either end were pastry stands. In the morning they held rolls and buns, but Paige had told Allison at lunch time they were filled with the mouth-watering pies and cakes Derek baked.
"He cooks and Donna waitresses,” Paige had said. “They make a great team, and everyone who comes in there is like family. If you want to find out anything or see anyone or just find out what's happening in White Tail, you'd best get yourself to the D&D. It's better than the newspaper."
Allison leaned back in the booth and let her eyes drift to the street outside. Things she hadn't noticed on previous visits swam into her vision—huge wooden tubs with colorful crepe myrtles marched along the sidewalk, with wrought iron benches in between for resting and chatting. Many of them were occupied now by men in jeans and boots, or women similarly dressed. Paige had said dress in White Tail was “ranch casual” and she was right. This was really Texas, if you got right down to it.
The luscious aroma of frying chicken and rich stew drifted out from the kitchen and Allison could already feel her mouth watering. Donna materialized beside her with two mugs and a fresh carafe of coffee, and sat down on the other side of the booth.
"Here.” She filled both mugs. “A little liquid adrenaline."
"Lord knows I'll need it.” Allison cupped her hands around the hot drink. “I'm just so afraid he won't talk to me—that he'll throw me out before I can speak my piece."
"Allison. Honey.” Donna leaned across the table. “I've known Morgan more than twenty years. He's carrying a big hurt around with him and now his pride's involved again. But he's fair almost to the point of pain. He'll at least let you speak your piece."
"I sure hope you're right.” She pushed her half-full cup away. “I guess I can't sit here hiding in the booth and hoping everything will just go away."
Donna stood up with her and gave her another hug. “Good luck, kiddo. We're rooting for you."
By the time she reached the police station, Allison was a bundle of nerves again. She had to make Morgan listen to her, whatever it took, but first she has to face him. She drew in a deep breath, let it out and pushed through the doors to the station.
"Hi.” She pasted a big smile on her face as she walked up to the desk where a woman was poring over some folders.
The woman looked up. Can I help you?"
"Yes, please. I'd like to see Chief Cutter. Is he in?"
"I'll handle it, Stacy."
Allison looked up to see Morgan striding toward the front from his office.
"What are you doing here?"
His deep voice was as unfriendly as any she'd ever heard, but it was the pain in his eyes that almost floored her.
Don't panic, Allie.
"I-I came to talk to you."
He planted his feet apart and folded his arms over his chest. “Okay. Talk."
Allison looked around. “Could we go in your office? Please?"
For a moment she thought he'd refuse her, then he turned
and left her to follow him.
He sat down behind his desk, rested his hands on the blotter. He clenched his jaw so tightly that a muscle jumped in his cheek. “I can't imagine what we have to say to each other, but go ahead."
Allison closed the door and took another breath. “I came to apologize and throw myself on your mercy. I behaved like the worst kind of jerk and hurt you badly. If I could take it all back, I'd do it right this minute."
He never moved a muscle. “All right. Apology accepted. Goodbye."
She all but fell into the chair in front of his desk, her knees shaking too badly to hold her any longer. “No. I'm not finished. I'm not leaving until I say it all. Then you can throw me out."
When he didn't respond, she hurried on.
"What I did was a stupid, knee-jerk reaction. Instead of appreciating the fact that you stood up for me, and realizing that of course Jerry was the one who provoked things, I turned on you. That makes me no better than all the people I thought were so wonderful."
He sat as if carved in stone. “Okay. You've said your piece. Salved your conscience. Now you can run back to your job and tell everyone the cowboy won't be coming after them with a gun."
"I quit my job this morning.” She saw the shock on his face, and his effort to conceal it. Finally he said, “Why?"
"Because I can't work in a place with people like Jerry Malanski. Because no job is worth it if you lose something important. Because everything I thought was so important to me is nothing if I don't have you.” She swallowed and forced herself to continue. “I had a chance to take a good look at myself this weekend, Morgan, and I didn't much like what I saw. I've been so caught up in my job, my so-called ‘career,’ my lifestyle that I couldn't see things clearly. After Saturday night the blinders came off. I took a long hard look at my life and came to a very unsatisfying conclusion."
"And what would that be?"
She took a deep breath. “All of it isn't worth ten cents, if you want to know the truth. Sure I worked hard to get where I was, and I lived a sort of glamorous life. And I love San Antonio, the city. I always have. But none of it is worth five minutes with you.” She gripped her hands together in her lap, the knuckles white. “I don't know what we've got, Morgan, but whatever it is, I don't want to lose it. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I'd really like for us to start over."
Cutter's Law Page 14
