One Lucky Cowboy

by Carolyn Brown

  "Not at all. It's Ramona slash Amanda slash Lisa slash a whole bunch more names they were surprised to see. She's the good one. She's been in business for years and they've never gotten close to her. Got one picture from a surveillance camera when she assassinated a United States senator a few years ago. But Interpol and the FBI and every other agency are after her. It's their thinking that she has a new boyfriend slash protégé. She was hired and gave him the job to help him make his bones in the profession. Killing you was supposed to be a clean, easy job and he's botched it, so now she's got to clean it up."

  Jane felt as if someone had just flushed her veins with ice water. "What are they going to do?"

  "Catch her."

  "Today?"

  "Actually, we'll be making a few more calls to Granny if they don't get her in Pensacola."

  "I'm bait!" Her voice echoed in the truck as though it was a volcano she was yelling into.

  "Maybe you better start humming again. I'll stop at the next exit for more food."

  Jane consumed both chicken sandwiches, three pies, and all her coffee before she could trust herself to speak. She stared out the window at the scenery. They bypassed Mobile and she was still silent. They made it to Biloxi, Mississippi before she could find words.

  "Are they calling you when they get them?"

  "Yes."

  "It's my turn to decide where we stay. Why are we going west? I want to go to Savannah, Georgia."

  "Can't. I've been to Savannah."

  "Then New York City."

  "Been there."

  "What in the hell were you doing in New York City?"

  "Would you believe I was chasing women?"

  She ignored him and they kept going west.

  In the middle of the afternoon he took an exit into Baton Rouge. He stopped at a service station for gas and asked her where she wanted to stay for the night.

  "Right here. I'm tired of riding already. I want a shower, a few hours with my book, some time beside the pool, and a television movie tonight."

  "They don't offer all that in a service station. You could take a spit bath in the bathroom, read your book on the way, and maybe get the rest in St. Charles," he said.

  She shot him a go-to-hell look.

  "Okay, you win. I'm not riding in a truck with those looks all afternoon; a motel it is. I saw a sign back there for an Embassy Suites. Will that do for a minnow?"

  "A what?"

  "A minnow. Think Jane. Minnow. Bait."

  He got another look that should have left nothing but a greasy spot on the floor mats.

  "With a pool."

  "Yes, ma'am. I can almost guarantee it at the Embassy."

  "How do you know so much you can make that kind of guarantee?"

  "Chasing women in my past wild days."

  She really didn't know Slade Luckadeau as well as she thought. There were as many layers to him as a good big Vidalia onion and she'd only gotten the first one peeled back. "Then take me there and book us for two nights. I'm tired of outrunning them. Send the FBI right to the hotel. Call Granny and tell her exactly where we are and I'll either walk out in two days or you can come to my funeral in three."

  "What makes you think I'd go to your funeral?" he remarked with a sly grin.

  "Drive," she demanded.

  "Dead or alive in two days, huh? Well, I got to admit that sounds like a winner. You want two rooms this time so when they do you in, I'm not included, or one so that when they try to do you in, their blood gets on the wall? Remember, I still think I can whip his sorry old ass. I might just do it for all the trouble he's put me through here in the middle of hay season."

  She let him park in front of the hotel before she answered. "One room or suite if they have it."

  He nodded.

  They were given a room on the seventh floor at the end of the hall in a suite that included a private bath and bedroom with two queen beds, and a small living area with a second television and seating arrangement. It also offered a desk with one of those ergo chairs Slade hated, but he'd manage for two days. Then the ordeal would be over and she could go her way and he'd go his. She could read her romance novel and he'd get caught up on his sleep. The FBI could lurk around reading papers—or whatever they did these days in an attempt to fit in with their surroundings—and catch the assassins. John would rat out Ramona, who would rat out the stepfather, and all would be solved.

  Jane would go home to her oil company and dude ranch. It couldn't be a real ranch, because no genuine rancher would leave his or her property on a whim with no one to run the cattle or make hay at this time of year. At least he had Marty, who was overseeing everything for him, and Nellie, who knew as much about ranching as anyone in the whole state of Texas. Jane probably didn't know squat about what her foreman was doing. He could be robbing her blind if her own stepfather could rinky-do her into thinking he was taking care of her business while he was putting out a contract on her.

  He threw his suitcase on the sofa, went into the bedroom, and flopped down on one of the beds. "Does this suit her majesty?"

  "If you are talking about me, yes, it does. Now call Nellie and tell her the hotel name and address."

  "You sure about this? We can stay on the go and they'll catch them soon enough. You don't have to put yourself in danger, Jane."

  "I was in danger this morning. I don't like the feeling one damn bit, Slade. Matter of fact, I hate it. I hate not being in control of my own life. I hate the fear. I'm putting an end to it right here and now."

  The phone rang.

  She jumped.

  He grabbed it. "Hello?"

  "This is Agent August. We have the woman in custody. But the man going under the name of John Farris got away. Woman is not talking. Where are you?"

  "Could I call you back in ten minutes?"

  "Sure. Problems?"

  "Decisions."

  "I understand," Agent August said.

  Slade turned to face Jane, who'd sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "Okay, here's the deal. They've got Ramona but John is still out there. You still want to stay here two days, or stay on the run until your birthday?" he asked.

  "What's the story she's telling?" Jane asked.

  "I have no idea other than she's not talking," Slade answered.

  "I want to stay here and get it over with," she said with a sigh.

  Slade punched the right numbers and gave Agent August the information, then listened for a while. When he hung up, he took a deep breath and began to talk.

  "Ramona says that she and John were old friends and that your stepfather was concerned when you went missing. She claims she runs a P.I. business and that checks out to be legitimate. She says that John was heartbroken so, being an old friend, she took him with her. They were simply using any means possible to locate and return you to your worried stepfather."

  "Bullshit."

  "If it smells like bullshit, looks like bullshit, and came out a bull's butt, I expect it is bullshit. And that smells like it, looks like it, and came out of something similar to a bull's ass. I agree it must be the real stuff," Slade said.

  "What do we do?"

  "We go about our lives for the next couple of days like two people on vacation. Swim, eat in the hotel restaurant—which I'm told has excellent food—read books, be lazy. It will drive me crazy." It was his turn to sigh.

  She grinned. "Then I love it."

  "You are just downright mean. Kristy don't have a damn thing on you."

  "Don't you be comparing me to her or I'll…" She couldn't think of anything bad enough to do to him short of killing him.

  "You will what?" he egged her on.

  "I'm not sure but I'll figure something out. Now tell me the rest of it while I think about something ugly to repay you for saying that I'm like that two-bit bitch you were in love with," she said.

  "I didn't say you were like her. I said she didn't have a thing on you when it came to being mean. And I wasn't in love with her," he defen
ded himself.

  "I'm not a gold digger and I don't treat people like shit," Jane said.

  "Have to agree with you there, even though it pains me to do so," Slade said. "Now listen up: two FBI agents will check into the hotel tonight. We won't know them, but they'll be around. It's best, according to Agent August, that we aren't aware of who they are."

  "I'm putting on my swimsuit and going to the pool. What are you going to do?"

  He picked up the remote and, using the stand-up guide to the channels, flipped to the TV Guide station to see what was playing. After four days of tension and riding in the truck with Jane, a little mindless television might settle his nerves. Not that he'd ever let her know how she affected him. Lord, that would be the mistake of a lifetime. That he was so attracted to her that all he could think about was making passionate love to her would set her into a fit of laughter.

  "Cowboy Way!" she squealed when she saw the title roll up. "Let's watch that. I can swim later. I love Pepper."

  "Who?"

  "Pepper Lewis, the part that Woody Harrelson plays. I haven't seen this in ten years. Hurry up and find the right station. It's coming on in two minutes."

  She kicked off her shoes, grabbed all the pillows from both beds, propping them against the headboard in two piles, jerked her duffel bag open, and pulled out a knit nightshirt. By the time the movie opened with two little boys playing with guns and stick horses, she was out of the bathroom, settled in beside Slade on the bed, and already smiling.

  Early in the movie, a grown-up Pepper came out of his house wearing nothing but his boots and a black felt hat in a very strategic place.

  "Bet you couldn't hold up a hat like that," she said when Pepper let go of the hat and it stayed in place.

  "You are blushing," Slade said. "Three good long kisses and darlin', we'll see if I couldn't hold up my hat just like that."

  The blush deepened. Kiss Slade? Gladly! Just to get the itch out of that place so deep in her soul she couldn't scratch it. And when his body responded like Pepper's, she'd gladly take care of that, too.

  In the movie, the lady Pepper had in his house stepped to the door and offered to let Sonny, played by Kiefer Sutherland, come inside and play with them. Sonny reminded her she was married.

  "So are you going to play games after you get married?" Slade asked.

  "Don't reckon I'll have to worry about that. I'm not sure I'll ever trust a man enough to marry him after all this."

  "Don't be lettin' one rotten apple spoil your life," Slade told her.

  They settled into the movie, laughing until they cried at the stereotyped characters and enjoying the antics of two fast friends, angry with each other at the beginning of the movie but back to sharing a lifelong friendship by the end. When it was over, she rolled up next to Slade until their bodies were touching from neck to toes. Just when he thought she was about to kiss him three times just to see if his hat would stay on with no hands, she reached for his cell phone and scooted across the bed to her half.

  He thought the old man in the movie, Nacho, had made her think of Nellie, so he was surprised when she said, "Celia? Hello, this is Ellacyn. I've missed you so much," Jane said.

  "Well, I've missed you, too, but I'm more than a little aggravated at the way you ran out and haven't even called me," Celia said.

  "It's complicated. I'm in Baton Rouge and I couldn't tell you a thing because it was too crazy. I'm at the Embassy with my… I guess you'd call him a bodyguard."

  "John is here beside me. You do owe him an explana tion, you know. He's been crazy with worry," Celia said.

  "John is there with you right now? Celia, you are in danger. Hang up and call the police. Get out of town. Do something!" Jane was shouting loudly and turning pale.

  Slade stood up and reached for the phone.

  "Celia, hush. Don't tell him anything. He's the very person I'm running from," Jane said.

  "Why would you be running from him? You say you're at the Embassy in Baton Rouge?"

  Jane's hands shook. "Celia, listen to me. You are my best friend. Would I run away from my own wedding if I didn't have good cause?"

  "He just ran out the door and jumped in his car. Are you telling me the truth? I think I just made a mistake. What do I need to do?"

  "Nothing. There's nothing you can do."

  "Ellacyn, I'm sorry. I mean it, but why are you running from John?"

  "It's a long story. I've got to go now. I'll call you when I come home."

  She flipped the phone shut, handed it to Slade, rolled up in a ball and sobbed.

  He touched her shoulder but she shrugged him away.

  "Shut up and let me cry. It's been a long time coming and I don't give a damn about why, I just want to cry."

  He moved away and folded his arms across his chest. He ached for Jane and wished he could help, but before he could do that, she had to realize she needed him as much as he needed her.

  His heart skipped a beat and hung for a moment before it picked up again. He needed Jane about like he needed a thirty-eight slug planted between his eyes. Life with her would be a constant emotional roller coaster.

  Life with her would be living, his conscience screamed. There would be no dull moments in or out of bed. The woman has more passion in her toenail than most women have in their whole body.

  It was his turn to blush.

  Finally she sat up, dried her eyes on the corner of the pillowcase, and set her jaw. Slade had seen that look for the first time when he had confronted her about being a con artist that first day—and every day since, in some form or fashion.

  "We're going to catch that son of a bitch, Slade. I'm not running any more. And then I'm staying out of Greenville until my birthday. On that day, I'm burning down the house just like Bob Lee did at the end of that movie we watched—The Shooter."

  "You mean for real or are you speaking in the figurative?"

  "Paul is going to think his ass is on fire. Do you know a damn good lawyer that I can trust with my life?"

  "I do."

  "Get him on the phone. I want to talk."

  Chapter 12

  JANE TALKED FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR IN THE SITTING room outlining everything she wanted to do with her oil company. A few times James Massey asked her to slow down while he caught up on the notes he was taking. He read them back to her; asked her if she wanted to press charges after the audit; if she was truly sincere in selling the entire oil company or if she'd want to keep stock since it had belonged to her grandparents; and if she wanted him to fly into Jackson, drive up to Greenville, and go with her to the first conference. She told him exactly what she wanted done with Paul and he said he would see her in ten days.

  While she talked, Slade watched CMT videos in the bedroom. When she opened the door and handed him the phone, there was a purposeful look on her face he hadn't seen since she'd arrived at the Double L that first day. The fear he'd seen recently was gone. Determination that even the devil in all his forked-tail glory couldn't intimidate had replaced it. His Jane was back.

  That thought shook him to the soles of his feet. She'd never been his Jane and would never hold that title. She was too independent for Slade Luckadeau. He had no doubt she could fend off a forest fire with eight ounces of water. Hells bells, she might scare it into submission with one of her evil glares.

  "What now?" he asked.

  "I'm hungry. Hand me that room service menu."

  She ordered the biggest steak on the menu, French fries, a garden salad, corn on the cob, and strawberry shortcake, and then handed the phone off to Slade, who simply told them to double the order and add a six pack of Coors to it.

  "So you're hungry, too?" She poked buttons on the remote until she found the TV Guide channel.

  "Not particularly, but by the look on your face, I bet not a morsel of the food goes to waste. Why didn't we just go to the restaurant? Maybe they'd have a buffet bar and we could wipe them out?"

  "Or they'd have a real bar and I could get drunk,
" she suggested.

  His blue eyes glittered. "I thought you didn't get drunk. That you could hold your liquor. Want to go for that brag you made about drinking me under the table?"

  She shook her head. "Not today. Maybe later. Right now I want to eat and then lie beside the pool so John can find me when he arrives. I've been run into a corner and it's time to stand up and fight. Besides, I hate the me that's scared to death. I'm ready to get this damn thing finished. Could you get that Agent August on the phone? I'd like to talk to him."