Boots and Leather: Ugly Stick Saloon, Book 2

by Myla Jackson

  “But she’ll leave and we won’t know where to find her.” Luke gripped the bars in his fists, testing their strength, wishing he could bend them and escape.

  “If she leaves, it’s her choice,” Mark said. “We can’t hold her. Haven’t you been saying that all along?”

  Luke hung his head. “Yeah. But we needed more time with her.”

  “Goddamit, if my daughter leaves town before I get out of here, I’ll sue this city for everything it’s worth, do you hear me?” The businessman grabbed the bars and tried to shake them.

  None of the sheriff’s deputies listened.

  “Two years,” the man shouted to the air. “It’s taken me two years to find her, and I finally catch up to her in this godforsaken town.”

  “They’re not listening.” Mark glanced at the man who’d arrived last.

  “Two years?” Luke recalled something Libby had said their first night together about two years.

  “Hey, aren’t you the man who was shouting at the Ugly Stick Saloon for someone to get off the bar?” Mark asked.

  The man kicked the bars and winced, reaching for his foot and the patent leather shoe he’d scuffed in the process. “What’s it to you?”

  “We were there. Who were you yelling at?” Luke shoved his hand through his hair, trying to get his mind off Libby and failing miserably.

  “My daughter, Elizabeth. She was dancing on the bar dressed as a goddamn whore.”

  Mark sighed and dropped onto a bench, burying his face in his hands. “It was Cowboy Masquerade night at the Ugly Stick Saloon. Audrey has her staff dress the part of saloon girls.”

  “Elizabeth?” Luke shook his head, a chill slithering across his skin. “None of the girls who work at the saloon go by that name. Perhaps you were mistaken.”

  The businessman frowned and paced the length of the cell, stepping over the legs of a man passed out on the floor. “I know my daughter. She was up there, acting like a tramp. You’d think she would have a little more pride than to do what she was doing.”

  “What was wrong with what they were doing?” Luke asked. “The girls hire on because they can dance or sing. It’s part of the requirement. Not everyone makes the cut. And the pay’s good.”

  “I didn’t pay good money on classical ballet lessons for my daughter to dance burlesque in a saloon.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want to dance ballet.” Mark stared up at the man. “Maybe she likes burlesque. Did you ever consider what she likes?”

  “A Stratton does not exhibit disgusting behavior in public. It’s okay behind closed bedroom doors, but not where the paparazzi can get hold of it and plaster it all over the newspapers. It’ll ruin her reputation.”

  Luke stared at the man. Something about his green eyes and the stubborn way he lifted his chin looked strangely familiar.

  No. Luke shook his head. He was seeing things that weren’t there. Wasn’t he? “Sounds like you’re more worried about what others think than whether or not your daughter is happy.”

  “What do you know?” The man’s sneer told Luke exactly what this man’s opinion was of him. “You’re nothing but a beer-drinking, skirt-chasing cowboy. Look where you are—in a jail cell with a bunch of drunken misfits.”

  Mark laughed out loud. “Careful pointing fingers, mister. You’re in the same jail cell.”

  The man opened his mouth, his face reddening. He must have thought better of saying anything because he closed his mouth and sat on the other end of the bench Mark was seated on. “I don’t know what to do to get through to her.”

  “We know the feeling,” Mark commiserated.

  “I haven’t seen my daughter in two years, and she has me thrown in jail for trying to talk sense into her. I just want her to come home.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and scrubbed his hands across his face, looking older than he had when he entered the cell.

  Luke leaned his back against the bars. “Did you ever think your daughter might not want the kind of life you lead?”

  The man snorted. “It’s for the best.”

  “The best for who?”

  “How can I keep her safe, if I don’t know where she is? She needs protection.” Stratton looked up at Luke, his face gaunt, his eyes almost sunken.

  “From what?” Luke held his hands out. “Even a gilded cage is still a cage.”

  The older man who’d come in blustering and demanding justice now sat with his head in his hands. “I can’t lose her again. She’s all I have left.”

  “You’ve been looking for two years?” Mark straightened, his eyes narrowing. “Sir, which one of the girls on the bar tonight is your daughter?”

  “Elizabeth, the pretty one.”

  Damn, had his instincts had been right? Luke held his breath knowing what was coming next.

  “The one with the red hair and green eyes.” He smiled, a single tear trailing down his wrinkled cheek. “Looks just like her mother, God rest her soul. But she has my eyes.”

  “Holy hell.” Mark stared across at Luke. “Libby.”

  The old man sighed. “The confounded woman at the hospital said her name was Libby Jones. Well, it’s not. It’s Elizabeth Stratton, of the Manhattan Strattons.”

  All the air left Luke’s lungs as if someone had punched him again in the breadbasket. “Libby is Elizabeth Stratton? The heiress who disappeared from New York City two years ago?”

  The man nodded, glancing across at him. “Do you know her? My private investigators got a tip from a cop at my local Manhattan precinct that the deputy sheriff from this town was searching through New York City missing persons looking for a woman meeting my daughter’s description. It’s the first lead I’ve had worth following in a long time. I couldn’t believe it. She must be really down on her luck to have ended up here.”

  “Why do you say that?” Luke stood tall. “Temptation is a much nicer place to live than in a high-rise in a huge city.”

  “How do you know?” John Stratton asked. “Have you ever lived in a high-rise? There is so much more to offer in a big city than in a hole in the wall like this.”

  “Hole In The Wall is on the other side of the county line and it’s not such a bad place either.” Mark stood, his chest swelling out. “Sir, you need to test the water before you declare it unfit to drink.”

  “Elizabeth has a fine education. She’s wasting it in a saloon. She could be—should be—training to run Stratton Enterprises when I step down.”

  “Again, what if she doesn’t want it?” Luke asked.

  “Damn it, what she wants doesn’t matter!” The older man stood, frowning fiercely, his fists clenched.

  Luke faced him, standing toe-to-toe, his cowboy boots lining up with the man’s expensive leather dress shoes. “You don’t know your daughter at all, do you, Mr. Stratton?”

  “I know she doesn’t belong in this godforsaken town,” he said, his nose inches from Luke’s.

  Mark stood beside Luke in a stare-down with the billionaire John Stratton, his face set in stone, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I can see why she ran away from you, and I feel really sorry for her if you end up dragging her back to the city.”

  Stratton pulled himself up straight, his shoulders back. “It’s where she belongs.”

  “We don’t think so,” Luke said.

  “Are you the man she fancies herself in love with?” The old man’s eyes narrowed as he faced Luke. “I’m warning you, don’t get between me and my daughter.”

  “Or what?” Luke crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Or I’ll make your life miserable.”

  Luke shook his head. “I doubt you could make my life as miserable as you’ve made your own.”

  Stratton shook his head. “Wanna bet?”

  Mark poked a finger in Stratton’s chest. “From what we’ve learned about Libby—”

  “Her name’s Elizabeth, not Libby.” Stratton’s nose and lip twitched into a sneer.

  Mark continued as if Stratton had never spoken, “Libby va
lues her freedom so much, she’ll keep moving rather than give it up.”

  “Are you willing to lose her again?” Luke asked.

  “I have detectives and private investigators.”

  “They took two years to find her this time.” Mark’s brows rose. “Are you willing to wait another two years to see your daughter again?”

  Stratton breathed out his nose like a bull in the ring, once, twice, then backed up and sighed. “No.”

  “And we don’t want to lose her either.” Luke laid a hand on Stratton’s arm. “If you truly want your daughter to be a part of your life, you’ll have to give her the freedom she has worked so hard to preserve.”

  “And you?” he asked. “Which one of you is in love with my daughter?”

  “I am.” Luke said at the same time as his brother.

  John Stratton laughed and shook his head. “You both can’t have her.”

  Mark grinned. “We think we can.”

  The older man coughed and sputtered. “Both? It’s indecent, if you ask me.”

  “We love her,” Luke said. “Which seems to be more than can be said for you.”

  “I love my daughter,” John Stratton stated. “I want only what’s best for her.”

  Luke squeezed the man’s arm. “Then let her go.”

  “No.” The older man shook his head. “I can’t. And what makes you think you can hold her any more than I could?”

  “We wouldn’t try to hold her.” Luke spread his hands out wide. “She would have to make a choice to stay. That will be completely up to her.”

  “Mark, Luke, you’re sprung.” Jackson and one of the deputies entered the corridor between the jail cells. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go home.”

  The deputy unlocked the cell and jerked his head. “The twins can go.”

  When Stratton made a move to leave the cell with them, the deputy stepped in front of him. “Not you.”

  Luke stuck out a hand to stop his older brother from leaving. “Jackson, you got enough money to bail this man out?”

  Mark glared at his twin. “What are you doing?”

  “He’s Libby’s father.” Luke looked back at the older man, who seemed to be aging by the second.

  Mark snorted. “And if he has his way, he’ll take her back to New York. You know she’d hate it.”

  “I know.” Luke tipped his head toward the older Stratton. “I also know that she won’t stop running until her father stops chasing her.”

  Mark stared at his brother long and hard before he nodded. “Damn, I hate it when you’re right.” He turned to his older brother. “Jackson, can you spring the old man?”

  Jackson’s brows rose. “I don’t know. How much will it take?”

  “I don’t want your damn charity,” Stratton said. “My people will front the money.”

  “When you get a hold of them.” Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. “From what the sheriff told me, your bodyguards are in the jail in Hole In The Wall, not much good they’re doing you there.”

  The businessman straightened his collar, pushing his shoulders back. “My lawyer will take care of everything.”

  The deputy shook his head. “I called that number you gave us several times. All I got was an answering machine. You’ll be waiting until morning.”

  Stratton’s lips thinned and he stared through the bars at the Gray Wolf brothers.

  Luke almost laughed at the disgusted look of desperation on Stratton’s face.

  The old man hated asking for help, but Luke had no doubt he would, if he wanted to see his daughter badly enough.

  “Do you want our help or not?” Mark demanded.

  “Yes,” Stratton said grudgingly.

  “Then say please.” Luke spoke quietly, but his words held a hint of steel.

  The old man sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Please.”

  Jackson wrote a check to bail John Stratton out of jail.

  Once outside, Stratton glanced around at Main Street in the small town of Temptation. “What now?”

  “You’re going to our house with Jackson. Mark and I are going after Libby.”

  “I can’t stand by and risk losing her again,” Stratton said. “I want to go with you.”

  Luke shook his head. “Not this time.”

  “But I need to talk to her.”

  “And if you can promise not to threaten her with taking her back to New York, we’ll do our best to get her to talk to you.” Luke’s brows dipped. “Can you make that promise?”

  Stratton frowned deeply and nodded. “I promise.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Mark said.

  The older man pulled himself up to stand eye-to-eye with Mark, every bit as tall as the Gray Wolfs. “A Stratton’s word is gold.”

  “And gold didn’t buy your daughter’s love, did it?” Luke nodded. “In the meantime, we need a ride to the Ugly Stick so we can get our truck.”

  Jackson dropped them off at the saloon and took off to the Gray Wolf Ranch with an unhappy John Stratton.

  “Think he’ll keep his promise?” Mark asked.

  Luke grinned. “A Stratton’s promise is gold. Come on, we have to find Libby before she makes a run for it.” Luke jogged to the back of the building and was standing there, his heart fluttering inside his chest when Mark caught up. “Her bike’s gone.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s made it out of town yet.” Mark grabbed Luke’s arm and pulled him back around the front to their truck. “She’ll want to pack a few things first.”

  Luke climbed into the truck and sat behind the steering wheel, his fingers on the keys in the ignition, his chest tight, a lump forming in his throat. “We can’t let her leave without at least talking to her first.”

  “I’m on it.” Mark pulled his cell phone and punched in some numbers. “Cramer, it’s Mark Gray Wolf. I need you to put out an APB or whatever it takes on a woman driving a Harley Davidson headed out of town. I don’t care which way she’s heading, just stop her and call me ASAP. You owe me for throwing me in jail. Six years is a long time to hold a grudge. I’ll tell your wife why you jailed me if you don’t do this little favor for me.” Mark paused. “Thought so. Thanks, pal.” He clicked the off button. “That should keep her from making it out of town before we have a chance to talk to her.”

  Luke shifted into drive and spun out of the gravel parking lot. “Where do you think she’s gone?”

  Mark stared out the windshield, his gaze and focus on the road ahead. “Let’s hit her apartment first.”

  After Audrey had dropped her off at her bike, Libby had swung by her apartment and shoved as much as she could in one bag. Leaving an envelope on the counter for her landlord with the next month’s rent money, she left the apartment and pushed the key through the mail slot. A lump rose in her throat. This had been her home for eight months, the longest she’d stayed anywhere in her two-year stint in hiding. Well, it couldn’t be helped. If she wanted to retain her freedom, moving on was the only answer.

  To keep from being seen by any of her father’s stalkers, Libby had parked at the rear of the old house that had been divided into four individual apartments. As she strapped her bag to the back of her motorcycle seat, she glanced around several times, fully expecting someone to jump out, grab her and drag her kicking and screaming back to New York.

  “What am I doing?” She straightened, her hands falling to her sides, the realization that she didn’t have to go with her father really sinking in for the first time. He didn’t have that kind of hold on her anymore and hadn’t since she’d turned eighteen. She was an adult now, and didn’t have to run from her father’s influence. Then why was she?

  Libby stared at her apartment building, a ramshackle old house built in the fifties, and she almost cried. Why did she have to leave? She was twenty-five, fully capable of making her own decisions, of living her own life and finding her own way. She’d changed her name to avoid the paparazzi, and so far that had been enough to keep her well below the
radar of the media. But not her father’s investigators.

  So what? Maybe it was time to push back, time to stop running and stand up to her father and the media nightmare that was part of being a Stratton. She’d taken the first step in the hospital by telling her father that she wasn’t going with him. Hell, she’d had him hauled off to jail.

  A twinge of guilt twisted around her heart. Knowing her father’s lawyers, he’d be out before the night was over. The news reporters would get wind and make a big story about nothing, and Libby’s cover would probably be blown, but it didn’t matter.

  She liked it here in Temptation, working at the Ugly Stick Saloon, seeing the Gray Wolf brothers.

  Libby sighed, wishing they were there now. When she was with Mark and Luke, they gave her all the affection she craved, without crowding her, letting her know that she could call the shots, that she could leave whenever she liked. They didn’t want to be with her because she was the daughter of a very wealthy man. They wanted to be with her because they liked her for who she was. She smiled. They’d wanted to take her out since the day she’d started work at the saloon. How stupid to have put them off for so long.

  Damn it, she wanted to stay and see where things would go with the twins. A flutter of excitement hit her full in the gut, spreading warmth lower to the junction of her thighs. She’d never be bored with Mark and Luke, never feel the wanderlust so many of the men she’d met had inspired.

  “I’m not leaving.” She spoke into the night sky, as if by saying the words out loud, she couldn’t take them back.

  Standing beside her bike, she stared up at the old house and swore. Since she’d pushed her key back into her apartment, she was locked out and refused to call the landlord in the middle of the night to let her in.

  She still had the key to the Ugly Stick Saloon she’d meant to drop off on her way out of town. If she wanted, she could camp out there for the night and contact her landlord in the morning. Her head tipped back, and she stared up at the stars, washed out by the streetlights. Suddenly it seemed very important that she see the stars, free of the lights from town. Stars she’d never seen from the streets of New York City, the city that never slept. A city plagued with light pollution to the point that the night sky was only the dark abyss beyond the neon signs and glare.