Zack (Armed and Dangerous Book 1)

by Cheyenne McCray

  “No,” she repeated aloud as she stared at what was now just a pinprick of Wade and his horse. She’d had a hard time believing Wade would even be involved with the rustling. But she’d believe that before she’d even consider him capable of murder.

  All of a sudden the scene in Hector’s hospital room came back to her. What if he hadn’t been asking for water but had been trying to tell her a name? The name of his attacker.

  Wade.

  “No, damnit.” She said the words loud enough that Blue looked at her.

  Was she being fricking naive? She rubbed her forehead with her palm as she pictured Hector’s battered body. Was Wade capable of that kind of violence?

  Should she tell Zack? Or was she just overreacting? Wade hadn’t actually come out and threatened anyone.

  Still...

  “Wu... wu... wu...”

  “Wade?” she said as she stared in the direction he had cantered off with his horse.

  Damn.

  Maybe she should let Zack know of her thought that Hector could have been saying a name instead of asking for water.

  Crazy.

  But what if?

  Sky sucked in her breath so deep her lungs ached. She decided to follow her instincts and tugged her cell phone out of its clip. Again she reached Zack’s voice mail. She let him know about her run-in with Wade.

  She felt silly, but she continued, “I’m wondering if Hector was trying to say a name that started with W instead of asking for water. I’m probably wrong, but the thought occurred to me.

  “If you come over,” she added, “I’m off in the eastern pasture checking the fence line. I needed some fresh air to sort things out.”

  Sky called Luke just to let him know where she was and when he could expect her to be back.

  After she’d shoved her cell phone in its clip she said, “Come on, Empress. Blue. Let’s get to work.”

  Spending time on the fence line this afternoon, and some good, physical labor, was bound to help her work out her frustrations.

  Chapter 25

  Zack made a stop at the assisted-living center and was glad that his mother was having a good day. She deserved so much more than the life she was forced to lead. Every time Zack saw his mother in the condition she was in now, he couldn’t help but mentally curse his father and his stepfather.

  Afterward, Zack spent the morning out in the field, doing a portion of the surveillance.

  Looked like Markson was clean, but the foreclosed ranch wasn’t. Plenty of activity going on there—they almost had enough probable cause for that search warrant they needed.

  And the dirt was the same color of mud they’d found in Sky’s office.

  When Zack made it back into the office, it was late in the afternoon. He finally had time to check his messages, and one of them was from Sky. A warm rush of pleasure went through him when he heard the sensual tone of her voice as she said, “Hi, Zack.”

  She told him Ramirez had been conscious enough to make a sound, probably asking for water. That was good. Maybe Ramirez would be able to give them information soon and tell them who his attacker was.

  But when Zack heard the second message from Sky, the warmth inside him turned into a chill.

  She’d just had a disturbing run-in with Larson. Not only that, but her theory about Ramirez trying to say a name starting with a W had blood pumping faster through Zack’s veins.

  The informant had said someone they knew was involved.

  “Wu ...” Zack made the sound out loud as he looked out the window of his office and stared at the cars in the parking lot. Could Ramirez have been trying to say “Wade”?

  Zack dragged his hand down his face. Shit. Could Larson have attacked Ramirez?

  Was Sky in danger from Larson? But he hadn’t done anything when he met up with her.

  But... shit.

  Zack had to think this through before he reacted. If it wasn’t Larson, it might be someone else they knew, someone close to the operation like the snitch had said.

  “Who have names that start with W?” Zack said as he pinched the bridge of his nose again.

  In his mind he ran through those he could think of.

  As the names churned through his mind only three came to him.

  Wade Larson, Gary Woods, and the sheriff, Clay Wayland. All were close to the case and all had either a first or last name that started with W.

  Shit.

  Might mean something. Might mean nothing. But Zack intended to check out every damn possibility—and in a hurry.

  Torres walked into their shared office.

  “We need to do some quick research,” Zack said. “We’ve got to find out everything we can on Clay Wayland, Gary Woods, and Wade Larson.”

  “The sheriff?” Torres said with raised eyebrows.

  “I cover my bases,” Wayland had said. Zack sure as hell was going to cover his.

  Torres pulled his chair up to his computer while Zack stood behind him. With his arms folded across his chest, Zack stared at the computer monitor. Torres brought up TECS, the Treasury Enforcement Communications System.

  Zack had Torres run Clay Wayland’s name first. No history of violations, but he had a few Currency Transaction Reports.

  “His CTRs show inflow and outflow of some damn good sums of cash, over ten thousand dollars,” Torres said. “A lot of money movement for a sheriff on a modest salary.”

  “Seems I heard that buying, developing, and selling rural properties is how Wayland has made a good living.” Zack shifted to get a better look at the record. “Certainly can’t expect the man to survive on a county sheriff’s salary.”

  NCIC, the National Crime Information Center, was just as clean. The man was golden.

  Too golden?

  And there was still Wade Larson to consider in all this.

  They moved on to Larson next.

  Even though Zack and Wade had never been what anyone would call buddies, Zack had a hard time believing that Wade was capable of crimes like these. But Zack didn’t fool himself for a minute—he’d seen some of the most wholesome-appearing, all-American young men and women turn out to be big-time criminals. And Wade Larson was far from wholesome.

  “TECS is clean on Larson.” Torres rubbed his hand over his military haircut. “No history of investigations for smuggling of any kind—firearms, drugs, undocumented aliens.”

  “At one time his business apparently had some real good years,” Zack said. “Multiple CTRs for well over ten thousand dollars associated with his ranch account.”

  Torres nodded. “Yeah, but the last couple of years don’t look so hot.”

  “Is Larson hurting for money?” Zack said aloud, but to himself. Enough to get caught up in rustling and smuggling beef to Mexico?

  “Check NCIC for a criminal history,” Zack said to Torres, who had it up within in a few seconds.

  “Underage possession of alcohol when he was eighteen and again at twenty.” Zack ran his gaze down the screen. Twenty-one was the legal drinking age in Arizona. A man could die for his country at eighteen but couldn’t legally drink until twenty-one. That was some screwed-up shit. “Hell,” Zack said, “who hasn’t been caught drinking before they were ‘of age?’ ”

  “The man’s been in a couple of brawls.” Torres pointed to the screen. “Disorderly conducts and assault charges.”

  Zack said nothing, but he rubbed the scar across his cheek that burned at the memories. His own NCIC record showed his arrest for just about beating his stepfather to death. The bastard had almost killed Zack’s mother, but Zack was the one with the black mark on his record. Familiar heat and anger pounded in his head.

  “You think Larson is capable of the kind of violence that was used against Hector Ramirez?” Torres asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Zack replied quietly. “We may have to dig deeper and chat with the Douglas P.D.”

  “I can contact Captain Zeke Black,” Torres said with a wry grin. “The sonofabitch can find out anything and ev
erything.” “Larson has motive with his ranch’s cash flow currently at an ebb.” Zack scrubbed his hand over his face. “And he’s got one hell of a temper.” Which Zack did know firsthand from their high school brawls, but in every case they’d come out about even.

  Zack and Torres moved on to Luke Rider. He didn’t have a W name, but Zack had a gut feeling he should check the man out.

  Rider didn’t have any history of smuggling charges but had a long list of large, unexplained transactions of over ten thousand dollars each. In one case over two hundred thousand dollars had been deposited into one of his accounts.

  Torres leaned back in his chair. “That’s a hell of a lot of money for a ranch foreman.”

  Zack’s skin started to grow warm. “I don’t like it.”

  When Torres pulled up Rider’s information from NCIC, Zack narrowed his eyes and his skin went from warm to fire hot.

  “I’ll be fucked,” Zack growled. “Embezzlement. Fraud. Theft.” He looked at the page for a long time. “Shit. The bastard almost had me.” He ground his teeth. “Who knows what he’s done to Sky’s ranch. Or her money.”

  Zack had the sudden urge to get to Sky’s place in a hurry. But there was one more man left to check.

  Zack leaned forward when Torres brought up Gary Woods in TECS. “Well, hell,” Torres muttered. “Isn’t that interesting.” Torres navigated the system as Zack whistled between his teeth. Woods had a hell of a lot of CTRs. Ten, twenty, thirty grand at a time in and out of bank accounts—most of it out, landing in a couple of casinos.

  Zack braced his palms on Torres’s desk as he leaned closer to look at the screen. “Our friendly neighborhood deputy has a bit of a gambling problem.”

  “I wonder just how much he owes.” Torres navigated to the other system. “And now let’s run him through NCIC...”

  Zack scanned the page. “No criminal history.

  “My gut’s telling me we need to dig deeper.” Zack frowned. “Let’s do a little Internet research on Larson and Woods.”

  Torres clicked a few keys and typed in an Internet search. “Here we go. The Douglas Daily Dispatch reported Larson’s last altercations. According to this he came out on the winning side. Put three men into the hospital.” Torres narrowed his gaze as he studied the article. “You think Larson is capable of the kind of violence that was used against Hector Ramirez?”

  “Were the men as badly beaten as Ramirez?” Zack replied quietly.

  Torres shook his head. “Nah. A broken nose in one case, otherwise just beat them black-and-blue. He sustained injuries but did a better job against his opponents than they did on him.”

  A warning in Zack’s gut told him to keep pressing on. “Search for anything on the Internet regarding Woods.”

  “Whoa.” A few moments later, Torres drew back from the computer. “Woods was investigated twice for excessive force when apprehending suspects while serving as a sheriff’s deputy.” “Well, I’ll be goddamned,” Zack said as he stared at the screen that showed a newspaper article from the Dispatch.

  “Creamed both of the men. Pretty bad.” Torres shook his head. “But he got off on both counts.”

  “Wait.” Zack frowned. “One of them was a woman. She just has a man’s name. Alex.”

  Torres’s face flushed as he was obviously pissed. “That fucking son of a bitch. According to this, she attacked him and his excuse was self-defense. Apparently he was a little beat-up himself, but he broke the woman’s jaw.”

  Hair at the nape of Zack’s neck prickled and his shoulders tensed. “When did this happen?”

  “It’s been two and a half years since the first time he was investigated.” Torres pointed to the information on the screen. “But he had his run-in with the woman thirteen months ago.” He glanced up at Zack again. “A couple of months before Wayland was elected sheriff.”

  “Shit.” Zack’s mind raced over the possibilities. “He was late getting to the bunkhouse when Hector was brought in.” What if Woods had something to do with the rustling to pay off gambling debts?

  And what if he decided to go after Sky like the woman he’d beaten up?

  “As far as we know, with these kinds of histories, Woods, Larson, and Rider could all be in on the operation.” Zack clenched his fists. “That would sure make it a lot easier to keep law enforcement from tracking them down.”

  The history of violence Woods and Larson shared caused the prickling on Zack’s skin to grow more intense.

  Sky.

  Out on the range.

  Alone.

  Zack needed to get to her. And he needed to get to her now.

  Chapter 26

  Empress whickered as she picked her way along Catwalk Trail coming down from Sky’s eastern range at the foot of the Chiricahua Mountains. She patted the mare’s neck as they made their way through the growing darkness.

  “Thank God for a little moonlight,” Sky said as they headed down the trail, Blue trotting just ahead of them. “I can’t believe we stayed out so late.” Sky’s stomach growled. “I should have brought us all something extra to eat.” She sighed. “But the time away from the ranch did me some good. I feel like I can face whatever comes next.”

  Strangely enough, no one had contacted her on her cell phone all day, and she considered that a blessing.

  The horse continued on, her gait smooth and fluid beneath Sky. The only sounds in the night were the creak of saddle leather, Empress’s horseshoes’ clonking against small rocks on the trail, and the yelp of coyotes in the distance. The scents of grass, horse, cattle, and mossy water met Sky’s nose as they neared one of the massive metal water troughs next to a stock tank just beyond the rise.

  Sky leaned low in the saddle, trying to peer at the water tower through the brush at the same time. The full moon hung low in the sky, giving a little light to see by whenever it wasn’t hidden by clouds. She saw nothing but part of her herd at the trough, as well as brush and cacti.

  It had been a while since she’d been on such a long ride. Despite being a seasoned rider, her legs ached a little. She looked at Blue, who glanced over his shoulder.

  “Just need to stretch my legs.” Sky dismounted and tethered the Quarter Horse to a paloverde tree and Blue wheeled around to return to her.

  The crunch of rocks beneath her boots seemed loud in the night as she walked a little way down the trail. After she had stretched her arm and leg muscles, she made her way to a close outcropping of boulders. They were about a hundred feet from the water tower and she sat on one of the last remaining smooth, huge rocks before the rangeland. The boulders were large, and she almost felt like a kid, because her feet didn’t touch the ground when she perched on top of one.

  It had to be getting close to eight. Luke would be concerned if he saw her SUV and noticed she wasn’t around. Zack would probably be worried about her, too.

  She withdrew her cell phone and tried to dial both men, but she discovered she didn’t have any signal and the calls wouldn’t go through.

  Sky slid the phone into its clip on her belt. “Damnit.”

  At the same moment, Blue’s entire body stiffened and she immediately felt the dog’s tension. His hackles rose as he fixed his stare in the distance.

  “What is it, boy?” she said, as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

  Then her heart pounded and her mouth grew dry as she heard the crunch of tires on the dirt road leading to the water tower and the low roar of an engine.

  Headlights sliced through the darkness, becoming brighter and brighter as the sound of the vehicle grew louder. A rattling noise accompanied the sounds, as if the truck was pulling some kind of trailer.

  The rustlers. It has to be the rustlers.

  Her chest hurt from the increased thundering of her heart. Before whoever it was could have had a chance to see her, she slipped off the boulder and crouched behind it.

  Blue growled again and she put her hand on his neck. He was so tense she could feel the tightness in his muscles. “I need you
to slip into the bushes and remain quiet.” Blue stopped growling and looked up at her. “Just in case something happens to me, I need you to wait until I call for you.”

  The Border Collie almost seemed to narrow his gaze like a human ready to argue with her. “Go,” she whispered, and pointed toward a clump of bushes. When he retreated and obeyed, she held up her palm, facing him. “Stay.”

  Blue glanced at the approaching vehicle before looking back at her. Without another sound, he blended into the bushes. If these were the rustlers, they might shoot Blue on sight.

  Sky took a deep breath, feeling like she might hyperventilate. She drew the cell phone out of her clip—still no signal.

  Shit, shit, shit!

  The vehicle’s brakes squealed and its tires slid in the dirt as the truck came to a stop. The engine cut off and the lights went out.

  Sky brought her fingers to her throat while she tried to slow her breathing. She forced herself to remain still beside the boulder. She was partially hidden by another paloverde and hoped whoever this was wouldn’t see her.

  She thought she heard a trickle of rocks behind her, and her heart slammed against her ribs. She looked over each shoulder but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. In the distance coyotes howled again, an eerie chorus of voices that crawled along her spine.

  God, she had to calm down instead of feeling like she was going to be jumped.

  And maybe, just maybe, she’d see who the son of a bitch rustlers were and could tell Zack and the sheriff.

  The sound of first one door slamming and then another met her ears, and she took a deep breath. Two men. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans and slowly peeked around the paloverde.

  A one-ton truck was parked maybe fifty feet from where she was hidden. Behind the truck was an enormous stock trailer. A couple of men in baseball caps walked around toward the back of the trailer, and one man stood at the front of the truck as he lit a cigarette. The small flame of the lighter lit up his features for a second, and then he turned and sauntered toward the stock trailer.

  Sky’s gut churned. She didn’t recognize him, damnit. He had an arrogant look to his features, deep-set eyes, and a confident swagger. Her skin prickled and a hot rush of anger flooded her from head to toe. These men were stealing her cattle.