Dangerous Refuge

by Elizabeth Lowell

  She looked at her watch and said reluctantly, “We’re late as it is.”

  “What else is August going to do but wait for us?”

  “Start on his pork chops or chicken-fried steak.”

  “I’d rather start on you. And finish.” His breath hissed out in a curse and he did the smart thing—changed the subject. “Is the food where we’re eating any good?”

  “Don’t know about the chops, but the chicken-fried steak with country gravy is awesome. None of this frozen, pre-breaded hamburger garbage. They make their own from scratch, including pounding flour and seasonings into the round steak until it’s tender.”

  Tanner’s mouth watered. He realized that he was hungrier than he’d been in a long time. “Steak it is.”

  The café wasn’t big, and looked even smaller with its dark wood paneling and cast-iron light fixtures shaped like wagon wheels. Photos of several generations of western actors hung everywhere in sight. Many were signed. Despite the photos and movie posters, there was no attempt at glitz. Like the West itself, the café was what it was.

  The early-morning rush had already come and gone, and the breakfast-at-leisure folks weren’t quite ready to venture out yet. All of the patrons looked like they worked and lived locally.

  A waitress—and they were waitresses here, not servers—led them to August’s table, which was next to the back door so that he could make a fast exit without disturbing the other patrons. John Wayne stared down at the booth, young and radiating the quality that had made him a star.

  August radiated the mood of a man with a rock in his boot.

  Having delivered her two charges, the first waitress went back to chat with the patrons at the counter. They were old enough to be her father or grandfather, and she obviously enjoyed their company, smiling and swapping jokes.

  Tanner and Shaye took the same side of the booth.

  “Here y’are, Deputy,” a different waitress said as she slid a steaming plate of pork chops and eggs in front of August. “Gravy on the side just like you like it.”

  “Thank you, Darla,” he said.

  “Can I get you two anything?” the waitress asked.

  Tanner summed up the woman as automatically as he had summed up the café and its patrons. She was around thirty-five, pretty in a lean sort of way, like many of her generation who were raised on ranches.

  “Two coffees and two orders of chicken-fried steak,” Shaye said.

  “Sure you don’t want to split an order? They’re big.”

  “No problem,” Shaye said. “If he can’t eat all of his, I’ll help him.”

  Tanner snickered.

  August shook his head.

  Smiling, the waitress poured two more cups of coffee and left.

  “I shouldn’t be seen taking my breakfast with you two,” he said, reaching for his knife and fork. “Well, at least one of you.”

  “And I have strong feelings about you,” Tanner said. “Yet here we are.”

  “Yeah.” August sawed off a chunk of pork, dipped it in the gravy, chewed with obvious pleasure, and swallowed. “Sheriff won’t be here anytime soon.”

  “And the staff will alert you if he comes into the parking lot,” Tanner said.

  “You don’t miss much, do you?”

  “Only my mama’s cooking.”

  August looked at Shaye. “Never figured you for the type to hook up so quick with a clown.”

  “Aw, how sweet of you to notice,” she said. “Is that why you wanted to see us this morning? Or did you want all the juicy deets about how we spent the night?”

  Under the table, Tanner’s hand clamped on her thigh. Hard.

  “Get to the point, August,” he said.

  The deputy smiled faintly. “Your lady sure has a mouth on her.”

  “And he loves every bit of it,” she assured the deputy.

  Tanner’s hand tightened on her leg as he said, “You wanted to talk, August. Talk.”

  Twenty-five

  The deputy sliced off a neat strip of chop and ladled gravy over it. “Was there frost up in Meyers last night?”

  “What is this fixation with Meyers?” Tanner asked.

  August chewed, swallowed. “They always get frost before we do. I just wanted to know if we’re due.”

  “Try one of the online weather sites,” Tanner suggested.

  “How much did Tony Rua tell you?” August asked, watching him over the rim of his coffee mug.

  Shaye didn’t need Tanner’s fingers squeezing her thigh to know to keep her smart mouth shut.

  “I’ve never talked to Antonio Rua in my life,” Tanner said easily.

  “But you know who he is.”

  “Yeah. He’s the mook who sold some gold coins to Brilliant Moments.”

  “If you thought he stole from Lorne, you should have told me,” August said flatly.

  “Unless and until I prove it, talking is a waste of your time and mine. The sheriff just flat doesn’t want to know.”

  Shaye sipped coffee and hoped her face didn’t show how glad she was not to be the one the deputy was grilling for breakfast.

  “Is that why you went to see Rua last night?” August asked.

  “Who said I did?” Tanner asked.

  The waitress returned with impressive speed, carrying two platters. Tanner would bet the fast service was a tribute to the deputy’s presence, especially because patrons who had been seated earlier still were looking hopefully toward the kitchen. August must eat here often and tip well.

  Shaye took one look at the food and decided she would be too busy eating to talk. She grabbed a knife and fork and focused on breakfast.

  Tanner was already cutting and chewing with the same easy, impressive speed he had showed at the rib place.

  August smiled a faint, hard-edged smile. “Saved by the breakfast bell.”

  Tanner ignored him.

  So did Shaye.

  The deputy began eating his breakfast with the same neat speed that Tanner had. Shaye decided it must come with the badge. Both men finished at about the same moment, leaving her to eat in peace.

  “I’m here on my own time,” August said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “The sheriff doesn’t care about much more than the shine on his badge and his boots. Usually I try to do the same.”

  “Wish I’d learned to be that smart,” Tanner said.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you do. Your new captain sounds like a real prick.”

  Startled, Shaye looked at Tanner.

  “Nobody likes to gossip more than cops,” he said to August. “Are you here to talk shop with me?”

  “I’m here because somebody put three bullets into Tony Rua last night.”

  Shaye’s head snapped up from breakfast.

  Tanner was relieved she was staring at the deputy, not him.

  “Damn, that’s going to make it hard to talk to him,” Tanner said, shaking his head.

  “Real hard. He’s in the morgue.”

  “Huh.” Tanner settled back and waited.

  Shaye chewed and swallowed and chewed and swallowed. Her appetite had taken a hit, but she needed fuel. She and Tanner had spent more time discovering each other than sleeping.

  She couldn’t wait to discover more. She hadn’t had any idea of what she’d been missing in the sex department.

  “That all you have to say?” August asked mildly.

  Tanner sipped coffee. And never took his eyes off Nathan August.

  The deputy glanced around, saw that no one was close enough to overhear, and began talking in a low voice. “Most of the time I can go along and get along with the sheriff, because there’s no real crime worth mentioning. We roust drunks, make life hard on drug dealers and petty thieves, keep the sidewalks clean, and keep the citizens happy.”

  Tanner nodded, watching the other man.

  “But murder pisses me off,” August said. “Your uncle and Rua and the gold coins just keep sticking in my throat.”

  “I hear you,” Tanner said, an
d meant it. “Who found Rua? And where? Was it a bar fight?”

  “It was a cold call to the Tahoe cops. Rua was murdered in his home in Meyers. Were the coins he sold your uncle’s?”

  “They were the same type as the ones that were gone from the family hidey-hole. That’s all I know for sure.”

  “If you’re telling the truth, whoever called was probably the murderer,” August said.

  “Yeah. Try convincing your boss,” Tanner said.

  “I’m not dumb enough to take on hell with a cup of water. I need at least a garden hose.” August finished his coffee and set it very carefully on the table, like a man who wanted to slam it down instead. “Look. I always figured Lorne might have been murdered. I just couldn’t figure out how, much less why.”

  “It wasn’t for the gold,” Tanner said. “Nobody knew about the hidey-hole except family.”

  August grunted. “You’re not helping me. I was hoping that Rua was good for Lorne’s murder and gold was the motive. Now I’ve got squat. And you should be grateful the sheriff isn’t interested. If someone—like the local press or power structure—leans on him, sure as shit he’ll make a connection between you and Rua and mistake a simple solution for a real solution.”

  “What do you mean?” Shaye asked, pushing her plate away.

  “Your new buddy,” August said to her, “had reason to be looking for stolen coins. Ace—remember him?”

  “Yes,” she said impatiently. “We spoke to him yesterday.”

  “Figured. Ace keeps the sheriff in the loop when it comes to bad actors circulating in town. Rua’s face turned up on the fax this morning as a possible receiver of stolen goods, or possibly the thief himself. If and when the sheriff is forced to connect the dots, he’ll do some damn fool thing like arrest your new friend on suspicion of murder and hold you as a material witness, or worse. You two went to see Rua last night, didn’t you?”

  “Sounds like I should call my lawyer,” Tanner said before she could speak.

  “If I thought you did Rua, I’d have you cuffed and in the tank. But I’m not connecting any dots for the sheriff. As long as things stay uncomplicated, my boss won’t be interested in you for anything other than being a pain in the ass.”

  “Your boss and my boss would love each other.”

  “Oh, we know all about KISS, even out here in the sticks,” August said drily. “Just like I know you didn’t mean to knock my brother’s teeth loose when you laid him out after football practice.”

  “What?” Tanner asked, wondering if he had heard right. His football career in high school had been short, mostly due to his having moved soon into it. But there was that one fight . . .

  August put a hand up. “Don’t strain yourself. My mama was married to a different man back then and she took her own name back. You’d have known my brother as William Stewart.”

  “You’ve done some homework.”

  August smiled slightly. “Willie had it coming. Hell, I wanted to shake your hand after the game. My mama told him, ‘Now you’ve gotten your bell rung, maybe you’ll learn you aren’t so tough and shape up.’ I looked you up in the yearbook after you stopped by yesterday. Thought it might’ve been you, but now I’m sure.”

  The waitress came with more coffee, putting a hole in the conversation. When she moved back down the aisle, August started talking again.

  “I’m also sure that if I’d had family killed, I’d want to know why,” he said to Tanner. “You say it wasn’t the gold. Was anything else missing? Did the place look like it had been searched?”

  Tanner shook his head. “Not so far as I can tell. Lorne didn’t have much to take.”

  “Shame that guy who was selling the coins can’t talk. Wonder what he’d have to say.”

  “He’d probably have lawyered up and shut up,” Shaye said, swallowing the last bite of her breakfast. “Or he’d have kicked a hole in the door and run. I did a fast Google-stalk after my shower this morning. Rua was one of those UFC fighters. Or he wanted to be. The best he did was undercard status, whatever that means.”

  “Second string,” Tanner said. “As for the coins, I found one in a pathetic pawnshop on the California side of Tahoe. You might get something useful if you squeeze the old lady who runs it, but I doubt it. We already have Rua. And I have feelers out.”

  August said, “California isn’t my jurisdiction. But Rua’s fight background explains the Ground and Pound.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “A hangout for the aspiring fighters.”

  “That wasn’t on Google,” Shaye said. “He won nine fights and lost ten. And there was a line about being a regular on the small-casino fight circuit.”

  “Hard way to make a living,” August said. “You don’t get paid much for getting the hell beat out of you for a small crowd of drunken gamblers.”

  “This is a Mongolian goat-roping,” Tanner said in disgust. “A lot of people might want to get even with a small-time tough guy.”

  “Smile,” August said. “That’s the good news. The bad news is that once California’s El Dorado County Sheriff runs out of suspects, he’s going to ask for help from Refuge County.”

  “Given how close Meyers is to the state border,” Tanner said, “I’m surprised they haven’t been talking to you already.”

  “Oh, they have. But their sheriff is like ours—a problem won’t become a problem until the easy explanations are all burned up. I’ve got friends up there who told me about Rua’s murder, but it won’t be too long before someone who cares takes a good look at this, and you two. Ace sends his casino alerts to Meyers cops, because it’s a downscale place for those folks who tend to play and prey on the Nevada side.”

  “If that happens, it would help to have a friend in Nevada with a badge,” Tanner said.

  “I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, you might want to check out that gym in person. It’s off Highway 395. Stubby Jasper runs the place, ex-fighter. Might be a good source. Just a suggestion.”

  “Thanks, I’ll—”

  “We’ll,” Shaye cut in.

  Tanner started to argue, knew he would lose, and shut up. The idea of leaving her by herself bothered him on too many levels. Lorne had been alone. Rua had been alone.

  And then they were dead.

  August’s smile was as big as a breakfast platter. “Let me know if anything useful turns up, Ms. Townsend. You’ve got a twist on the L.A. cop that I don’t want to have.”

  Tanner ignored them, took money out of his wallet, and tucked it under the edge of his coffee mug.

  “You keep paying for my food and you’ll go broke,” Shaye said. “I’m not a dainty eater.”

  “I’ll take it out of your silky hide. Every last calorie. Excuse us, Deputy, we have a gym to visit.”

  With a faint smile, August said, “My money is on the lady.” Then the smile faded and he said in a low voice, “While you’re out kicking over beehives, be damned careful. Shaye, you might want to swallow your modern-woman routine and stay home. Safer that way.”

  She started to give him the cutting edge of her tongue.

  “No,” the deputy said. “Two people are dead. All it takes is a bullet to make it three. Think about it.”

  “I already have,” Tanner said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” August gave her a level gaze. “Stay alive. Stay home.”

  “Did Rua live alone?” Shaye asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds like staying home alone can be deadly.”

  August looked at Tanner, but there was no help there.

  “Damn it,” the deputy said under his breath. Then, to Tanner, “She gets hurt and I’ll skin you out like a coyote.”

  “If she gets hurt, it means I’m already dead.”

  Twenty-six

  The Ground & Pound gym sulked in the corner of a mostly abandoned strip mall, notable only for its swath of dirty white stucco and black glass windows. A ragged assortment of pickup trucks beaten into var
ying colors of submission by dirt and sun were parked out front. Lorne’s truck looked right at home.

  A glossy white Lexus LS stood out like a coonhound in a cat show. The license plate read STUBBY.

  “Looks like the boss is in,” Shaye said.

  “You could wait in the truck,” Tanner said.

  “I thought we’d settled this. Twice.”

  “The deputy is right. This isn’t a game.”

  “And we begin one more lap around the track,” she said. “Even if you didn’t need me for my local connections, I’m safer with you than I am driving lonesome back roads and talking to ranchers, which is what Kimberli will have me doing the instant I’m not with you. Whoever the killer is, he or she prefers victims one at a time.”

  Tanner wanted to argue, but Shaye was right.

  “From now on,” he said, “if I tell you to jump, hide, or shut up, promise me you’ll do it.”

  It was her turn to want to argue and discover herself holding the losing hand. “As long as we’re together, fine.”

  That was less than he had asked for and more than he had expected. She was smart and independent, and had guts. Taking orders like a recruit wasn’t her specialty.

  “Unless the guys inside that gym go all gooey and helpful at the sight of a pretty woman,” he said, “I’ll do the talking.”

  She nodded.

  “August would like there to be something between you and him,” Tanner said.

  She blinked at the sudden change of subject. “There isn’t. Not like you mean.”

  “Good. I don’t make a habit of jumping into bed with any female I meet, and after the way we fit together, I’m damn well sure you don’t sleep around.”

  She ignored her blush and said, “So?”

  “You’re an independent woman, I get that. But all the same, I want whatever we have to be exclusive.”

  “You’re bossy. I’m independent.” She unfastened her seat belt. “But the fringe benefits are spectacular. So, yes, whatever we have for as long as it lasts, exclusive.”

  That hadn’t come out the way Tanner had meant, but it would have to do for now. “Okay. I’m not very good with words . . .” He pulled her across the bench seat and kissed her until her hands went to his shirt buttons. “But I sure do know what I like. You.”