Riding Shotgun

by Joanna Wayne

  The weather conditions didn’t really bother Pierce. He was used to extremes in temperature and challenges to his physical endurance that made this seem like a short hike in the sunshine. It didn’t seem to bother the horses, either, now that there was no lightning and thunder to spook them.

  Yet knowing that Grace was dealing with an avalanche of fear again was killing Pierce.

  “You can dismount at the house,” he said. “I’ll take the horses back to their stalls once you realize that all is well with Esther and Jaci.”

  “Thanks.”

  As they got closer, he could see the Christmas lights on the porch and smell the wood smoke drifting from the chimney. Half the lights inside the house were on, too.

  A few minutes later and they had a good view of the Christmas tree through the large family room window, its twinkling lights beckoning them home.

  Home. It did feel that way. Jaci and Grace were the main reason for that.

  “There’s Jaci,” Grace called. “See, she’s standing next to the tree.”

  The joyous relief in her voice eased the tension in his neck and shoulders. He hated to admit it, but Grace’s fear had been contagious, spreading a bit of her anxiety to him.

  The world slid back into a weird kind of normal.

  “Whose car is that parked behind your truck?”

  Pierce turned to check out the car that he hadn’t noticed before. “Probably a neighbor Esther called to come over and see the tree. She’s excited about having all of us here for Christmas.”

  “Jaci is her shiny ornament,” Grace said. “You are the gift she needed to help mend her grief.”

  If that were true, then Grace was the length of shiny ribbon that tied everything together for all of them.

  Tom Lacoste? He was the enemy whose tyrannical reign was about to come to an end. Until it did, Grace would never be able to start putting her fears and nightmares behind her.

  As they approached the porch, Pierce saw the sheriff’s insignia on the door of the car. He seriously doubted Cavazos had driven out on a stormy night to wish them a merry Christmas.

  Here we go again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Grace felt a ripping pain in her chest as she changed into dry clothes. As soon as she’d slipped into a pair of sweats, she hurried back to the family room, where Esther was entertaining the sheriff.

  Pierce had already changed into dry jeans and a pullover and was engaging in small talk with the sheriff.

  She sat down and joined them, her nerves so rattled her stomach was in knots.

  Esther took over from there. “While you guys talk business, I’ll help Jaci with her bath.”

  Jaci marched a brightly painted wise man toward the manger. “I’m not ready for a bath.”

  “But it’s time,” Pierce said. “You’ll need to get lots of sleep tonight. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  Her favorite word.

  “It’s Christmas Eve and you and I have a little shopping to do.”

  “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.” Jaci jumped up, leaving the wise man teetering on the edge of the stable. “Santa Claus comes tomorrow night?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Then I better mind Grandma Esther.”

  She eagerly followed Esther out of the room.

  Jaci wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten that tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Grace hadn’t realized it, either. Time had a new meaning since she’d arrived on the ranch.

  Pierce crossed a bare foot over his knee. “I hope this visit means you located and arrested Reid Peterson.”

  “We’ve located him.”

  “Did you get any indication why he decided to shoot up the town?”

  “No, and we won’t be getting any information from him. His car was found half-submerged in Winding Creek about four miles south of town. Damn car was stuck so deep in the mud we had to have a big-rig tow truck come out from San Antonio to pull it back to dry land.”

  “Where did you find Reid?” Pierce asked.

  “His body was locked inside the trunk.”

  “He’d been murdered,” Grace said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

  “Yep,” Cavazos said. “His ankles were bound and his hands were tied behind his back. Not that he was going anywhere. He had a hole so big in his head that half... Well, you get the picture, Miss Addison. No use in painting you the gore.”

  No use because she’d seen it all before.

  “Do you have any idea who killed him or why?” Pierce asked.

  “Not yet, but the way he was killed fits the mold of other gang-style killings. It’s damn likely this was drug related, too.”

  That was a Lacoste-style killing in Grace’s mind. Her ex-husband may not have committed the act in person, but she was certain he was behind it.

  “As it stands, I don’t expect to find any correlation between the Winding Creek shooting and Reid Peterson’s murder,” the sheriff emphasized. “Well, except that drugs were almost certainly involved in both. We don’t have any forensics info on the death yet.”

  Cavazos might not see the correlation, but Grace did. The bullet that went through the window of the Christmas shop had been meant to kill her. It might have been meant to kill Jaci and Esther, as well.

  Tom had hired Reid Peterson to do his dirty work. Reid had bungled the task, which meant he’d let Tom down, so he had to die.

  It was the Lacoste code.

  But how had Tom tracked her down so quickly? The only reasonable explanation was that the man who’d snapped her photo in the library had managed to follow her to this area, possibly right onto the Double K Ranch.

  Grace barely heard the rest of the conversation between the sheriff and Pierce. She knew what had to be done and the time to do it was running out fast.

  * * *

  PIERCE STEPPED OUTSIDE with the sheriff as he was leaving. Grace stayed behind. Grace walked over to the Christmas tree, her gaze drawn to the silver slippers ornament.

  Jaci’s childlike pronouncement echoed in her troubled mind. The mostest prettiest tree I ever saw. Grace agreed.

  Jaci skipped back into the room in the adorable flannel holiday pajamas Esther had bought for her. Not showing any signs of fatigue, she turned on her electric Santa and started swaying her hips the same way he was.

  “C’mon, dance with me, Grace. It’s fun.”

  “You have Santa. You don’t need another dancer.”

  “Yes, I do.” Jaci stopped gyrating long enough to grab Grace’s hand. “Do it like this.”

  Jaci provided an exaggerated demonstration and started singing along with Santa’s dance music.

  This would be Grace’s last night at the ranch. She might as well spend it dancing.

  She quickly got into the swing of things. They didn’t bother to stop dancing when Pierce stepped back inside. If anything, their moves shifted to the wild side.

  “Three dancing Santas,” Pierce said. “Lucky me.” He planted a kiss on Jaci’s and Grace’s cheeks.

  “Dance with us, Daddy. It’s easy.” She grabbed Pierce’s hand.

  Grace took his other hand. “Once you let go, it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

  The three of them swayed their hips together. Another moment to add to the memories that would live with her forever.

  Esther found them like that. She didn’t try dancing with her weak ankle, but she did sing along with them and Santa in what was surely the most out-of-tune version of the song ever heard.

  “I hate to break up the fun,” Pierce said, “but I think it’s past someone’s bedtime.”

  “Not mine,” Jaci protested. “I’m not sleepy.”

  “You better get lots of rest tonight,” Esther
said. “The next two days are going to be very busy.”

  “’Cause Santa comes,” Jaci squealed. “Will you read me my good-night story, Grace?”

  “I’d love to—if that’s all right with you, Pierce.”

  “Works for me. It will give me a chance to pamper Pansy and Rocket. Never let it be said I let horses be rode hard and put away wet.”

  “What about supper?” Esther asked. “You and Grace must be starving. Jaci and I had a picnic of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fruit and a cookie in front of the Christmas tree tonight, but I can warm you two some leftover soup and corn bread.”

  “Actually, I don’t have much of an appetite,” Grace said. “Maybe I’ll just have toast and a cup of hot tea after I’ve read Jaci’s story.”

  “Pshaw. That’s not enough to keep a bird alive.”

  “Don’t worry about me, either,” Pierce said. “I’ll rustle up something.”

  A few minutes later Grace was propped up beside Jaci in her bed.

  “What shall we read?” Grace asked.

  “Cinderella.” Jaci handed her the book.

  The tattered edges hinted it had been read many times before.

  Grace purposely skipped or changed up a sentence every now and then just to watch how quickly Jaci would correct her. She had every word of the book memorized.

  When they got to the last page, Jaci reached over and touched the silver slippers on Cinderella’s feet.

  “And the prince took Cinderella’s slippers and made her go barefoot ever after.”

  “No,” Jaci corrected. “And the prince and Cinderella lived happily ever after.”

  Grace’s eyes grew moist. She reached over, grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed at her eyes. She was really starting to lose it when a stupid fairy tale’s happy-ever-after got to her like that.

  “Are you crying?” Jaci asked.

  “No, just something in my eye.”

  “Do you have any little boys or little girls at your house to read to?”

  “No, I live alone.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not married.”

  “You could marry my daddy. He needs a wife. Then you could be my second mommy.”

  “I don’t know how your daddy would feel about that.”

  “We could ask him. I have a second grandma now and I’m getting a second daddy soon.”

  “Do you like this second daddy?”

  Jaci nodded enthusiastically. “His name’s Dan and he’s real nice. He doesn’t have horses, but he has a beach house.”

  “Horses and a beach house. That sounds like a nice life.”

  “Mommy says she and Daddy will always be my real parents, but you can’t have too many people that love you. A lot of people love me. Do you?”

  “I definitely love you, Jaci Lawrence.”

  “I love you, too.” Jaci gave her a big hug.

  “Now I have to get out of here and let you get some sleep.” Grace kissed Jaci on the cheek and tucked her in.

  “Your eye’s got something in it again,” Jaci said.

  “Yes, it does.” She grabbed another tissue and hurried away before the tears became sobs.

  She went back to her room and locked the door behind her. If she spent the night in Pierce’s arms, she might never get the strength to do what she had to do.

  She packed a few things in her tote bag and large handbag and laid out the clothes she’d change into in the wee hours of the morning. That was it. She could never look back as she drove away from the Double K Ranch for good.

  * * *

  PANSY AND ROCKET were back in their stalls, looking sleek after their brushing and their fill of fresh drinking water. All the horses munched contentedly on the fresh hay Pierce had added to their feeders. He added an extra helping of Charlie’s special food mix for Pansy and Rocket. They’d earned it tonight.

  What a night it had been. He’d made love with Grace. That ranked right up there with the day he’d seen Jaci for the first time.

  From that point on, the night had plunged downhill like a runaway roller coaster. The sheer magic of their lovemaking had been all but buried in the news he’d had to deliver.

  And then Grace had gotten the double whammy. It hadn’t taken a rocket scientist to read Grace’s mind when she was listening to Cavazos. She was convinced the shooting they’d believed was random and the murder of the shooter were both linked to Tom Lacoste.

  As much as he wanted to, Pierce couldn’t call that far-fetched. He’d have to act accordingly. They would need some security at the ranch.

  When he’d walked out to the car with Cavazos, he’d questioned the sheriff about the possibility of hiring an off-duty policeman to guard the house for a few days.

  Leaving Tom Lacoste out of it for now, Pierce justified the need by saying Esther and Grace had been traumatized by the shooting in town and he wanted them to feel safe while they were coming to grips with it.

  Cavazos wasn’t surprised. He figured it was mostly Esther who was worried, since she had the tomfool idea that Charlie had been murdered on the ranch. Nonetheless, he’d said to give him six to seven hours’ notice and he could have a reliable, highly competent deputy on duty.

  Now Pierce just had to keep Grace on the ranch, so if Tom Lacoste did show up, he could protect her. Basically it all came down to whether she had more trust in Pierce’s ability to keep her safe or in Tom Lacoste’s determination to get revenge.

  His phone vibrated. He checked the caller ID. Andy Malone.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s more what’s gone down,” Andy said. “Are you with Grace right now?”

  “No. I can talk.”

  “Good, since you might want to break this to her gently.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Definitely bad for Calvin Grange but not necessarily for Grace. The bodies of Calvin and his live-in bodyguard were found a few hours ago floating facedown in the lavish swimming pool inside Calvin’s Miami estate.”

  “Guess I’d be pretty safe in assuming this wasn’t an accidental drowning.”

  “Both shot in the head at close range, hands and feet bound and the home safe open and empty.”

  “Any sign of Tom Lacoste?”

  “No, but he’s the number one suspect in the murders.”

  “What does Forensics say about time of death?”

  “Possibly as long as two days ago.”

  Pierce muttered a string of curses. “Then Lacoste wasn’t necessarily in Miami this morning when you and I spoke?”

  “No. No one saw him leave, but if he escaped with the cash from Calvin’s safe, he could be anywhere in the world by now.”

  “Even Texas,” Pierce said.

  “That’s why I gave you a call the minute I got this update.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “A local FBI agent will be in touch with you tomorrow, but odds are Tom and the money have left the country and he’s sunning on a beach in Sicily or Paris.”

  Pierce never liked to play the odds. “Keep me posted.”

  “I will,” Malone promised. “You do the same. And for the record, if I had to deal with Lacoste, I wouldn’t have a worry in the world if you were riding shotgun.”

  “The problem is convincing Grace of that.”

  Pierce checked his watch as he broke the connection with Malone. It was ten before nine. He placed a call to Cavazos’s private number.

  He explained the situation as succinctly as he could. “Can you have an off-duty officer here by daylight tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes and a couple of more deputies keeping an eye on the ranch. If Tom Lacoste shows up here to cause trouble, it’ll be waiting on him.”

  “I
appreciate that. Have the deputy call when he gets here and I’ll meet him by the front gate.”

  “Consider it done.”

  What Pierce would love right now was to go back to the house, shower and climb into bed with Grace. Fat chance she’d be in the mood for that after all she’d been slammed with tonight.

  He didn’t expect to get much, if any, sleep tonight anyway. First watch went to him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  So this was where the bitch had ended up—on a ranch in Podunk, Texas, with an old, half-crippled woman, a no-class cowboy and a kid.

  Tom slowed the Jeep rental vehicle to a crawl to get a better look at the metal gate. Wouldn’t take much to break through that.

  He wouldn’t bother. Reid Peterson had done the legwork for him, mapped out directions to a back gate that was guaranteed to get him inside all that barbwire without anyone noticing.

  Then all he’d have to do was wait for the cowboy to leave the house. He’d kill the old woman and kid first so Grace could watch. He might even make her kill one of them. Kill one to save the other. That would tear the heart right out of that two-timing, double-crossing slut.

  And then he’d kill the one she thought she’d saved. Sweet, sweet revenge. He’d waited years for this. Eaten prison slop with a bunch of stinking thugs when he should have been eating lobster and steak. Drunk water and weak coffee when he was used to the finest wines. Had to barter for a few lousy smokes.

  Worst part of all was having to kowtow to spineless guards that he wouldn’t have taken the time to spit on when he’d held the power.

  He’d owned the streets of New Orleans. His father and uncles had built the business, but they were growing soft even back then. His younger cousins ignored the code. You couldn’t hold the French Quarter much less the Ninth Ward without living up to the code.

  The power would have all belonged to Tom by now if he’d killed the sleaze back then. It was too late to go back, but it was not too late to make her rue the day she’d ever turned on him.

  You double-cross Tom Lacoste, you pay with your life.

  But first he’d put the hurt on her. Put it on her big-time. And then the chartered plane would be waiting on him.