Renegade: Rodeo Knights, A Western Romance Novel (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 5)

by Laura Marie Altom

  “Like what?” Wide-eyed, she looked up at him with an adoring expectation. As if she trusted this man to not just tell her the truth, but make that truth okay. Who was he? What role did he play in her life?

  “I’m sorry,” he crooned. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not referring to anything in particular, just making a generalization that typically this sort of ugliness is sometimes followed by more.”

  “I need to call Daddy,” she said.

  Sawyer wandered over. “Zeb is on the phone with him now.”

  Ignoring Sawyer, she marched to Zeb, taking his phone before continuing the call behind the RV.

  “New to the circuit?” City Slicker asked Sawyer.

  “Yes and no.” They exchanged names. Though he now knew the man to be Mark Peters, a Denver attorney, Sawyer reckoned he’d stick with City Slicker when not addressing him directly. “Delilah and I were childhood friends. I work in personal protection, so until this whole murder situation is cleared, I’ll be around.”

  “Good.” City Slicker actually clapped. “You don’t know what a relief that is. Del’s a good girl. If something were to happen . . .” He pressed his hands to his chest.

  Jersey said, “This is BS. For all practical purposes, this RV is my home, too.”

  “You live on board?” Sawyer asked, striving for a casual tone when he wanted to strangle the kid.

  He nodded. “Zeb, too.”

  “How much longer is this going to take?” Randy asked. “I’ve got other jobs besides this one.”

  “It will take as long as it takes.” City Slicker morphed from genteel to downright cold. Maybe there was something to like in him, after all.

  Randy held up his hands before heading toward his truck.

  Zeb said, “This is bad. Mr. Bowing confirmed what that guy’s paperwork said. The RV is being repossessed.”

  Jersey whistled.

  City Slicker shook his head.

  A perverted part of Sawyer was freaking thrilled for the great Walter Bowing to have apparently fallen on hard times. But then he glanced up to find Delilah rounding the back of the RV, crying, running for the door.

  “Poor thing,” City said. “I’ll go after her.”

  “Let me,” Zeb turned that way. “I like to think of myself as her grandfather.”

  “Sorry, fellas,” Sawyer said, “but with such a fluid situation, with her personal safety involved, I’m going in.” He didn’t wait around for their inevitable protests and was soon mounting the iron-grate stairs before letting himself inside. It took his eyes too long to adjust from bright sun to the dim multipurpose room. The only sound aside from the A/C’s hum was Delilah crying.

  He took a fortifying breath, then went to her room where she tossed clothes, books and mementos into designer suitcases with all the aplomb one might use for shoving leaves into a black plastic trash bag. To alert her of his presence, he knocked on the open door. “I take it your dad backed up Zeb’s story? The RV is history?”

  “Go away! You’re probably glad Daddy’s broke!”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You might as well. If attendance is down as much as it was last week, there won’t even be a rodeo. Daddy can’t afford the overhead of renting the arena and paying his employees. Oh—then there’s the not-so-little-matter of funding the prize purse.”

  Sawyer whistled. “Prizes are always good. I imagine you’d have a lot of pissed cowboys and cowgirls without them.”

  She looked up from emptying a makeup drawer into a bag and scowled. “You’re not helping.”

  “What can I do? To help?”

  “Pack something. In fact, round up as many folks as you can to help. I’m not sure how long the repo crew will stay patient.”

  “Will do.” Secure in the knowledge that she momentarily might not be happy, but was safe, Sawyer jogged to the door. Planning to go right back to her, he opened it, leaning out to speak. “Hey!” After waving his arm to draw Jersey, Zeb and City closer, he said, “Dee asked me to have all of you lend a hand with packing.”

  “If this is a stall tactic,” Randy said, “and y’all are planning some crazy stunt like driving off, don’t bother. My guy Jimmy drives that Charger over there.” He pointed to a sleek black ride. “He’ll run down your asses.”

  Sawyer rolled his eyes at Randy’s bravado. He and his team used to eat guys like that for breakfast. The best part was that they’d never seen it coming.

  City took three hundreds from his white wallet that matched his boots, handing it to Randy. “Give us an hour. Why don’t you have a nice early supper? Milly’s Steakhouse is open. She makes a mean prime rib.”

  Randy snatched the money, folding it before tucking it into the same shirt pocket holding the repo contract. He glanced at a gold watch, then offered a backhanded wave. “You have one hour. In case you try anything funny, we’ll block you in with our rides.”

  “Fair enough,” City said.

  “Should I make a liquor store run for boxes?” Jersey asked.

  “Please,” Sawyer said.

  “Are the parade and rodeo still being held on Saturday?” City asked.

  “As far as I know.” Sawyer held open the door for Zeb, then City to pass. “Dee says her father is waiting on ticket sale tallies to make a decision.”

  “I’ll start packing my duffle,” Zeb paused in front of what Sawyer assumed was his bunk. “S’pose I’d best grab my books, too.”

  “My word . . .” City shook his head. “This whole situation just went from bad to worse. Delilah, hon?”

  “Back here!”

  City chased toward Delilah’s room.

  Still not trusting anyone, Sawyer followed.

  In the short time he’d been gone, Delilah had made an even bigger mess. The bed was heaped with clothes, boots and half-filled luggage. She said, “This is everything from the cabinets and drawers.”

  “What about your pageant judging gowns and parade gear?” City asked.

  She hugged him. “I almost forgot.” Grabbing a remote from the inset shelf behind the bed, she pressed a button. A narrow panel opened to the left of the door, revealing a closet crammed with long leather and some sequined dresses. A matching panel opened on additional clothes. Embroidered western shirts in a rainbow of colors along with matching pants and leather chaps. A panel dropped from the ceiling that held an array of cowboy hats. Sawyer knew enough about small-town rodeos to remember that each town held a pageant—usually sponsored by a volunteer fire department to raise funds or any other local charity. In some circles, gathering crowns and custom chaps was arguably more popular than prize money.

  Since the age requirements typically ended at twenty-five or younger, Delilah would no longer be eligible to enter, but considering how many crowns she’d won as a teen, she probably still wowed during parades and opening ceremonies.

  “Girl,” City said, “you’ve got some real pretty stuff. Tell you what—since I know you’re judging this week’s pageant, and any of the good B&Bs or hotels are booked, I want you to stay in my RV.”

  “Mark, I couldn’t do that.”

  “Nonsense. My horse trailer has perfectly good sleeping quarters. Besides, I’ll be in town the rest of the week, so you wouldn’t be any trouble. In fact—keep it the rest of the circuit’s season. You’ve got enough on your mind without having to worry about a place to stay.”

  “You are the best friend. Like seriously.” She crushed him in a teary-eyed, sniffling hug.

  “Sawyer,” City turned to him. “Since you’re on protection duty for our girl, of course, you’re also welcome to stay.”

  “Thanks.” When the hug broke, Sawyer extended his hand. “I appreciate it.”

  “Yo!” Jersey bellowed from the RV’s open main door. “Could I get help with boxes?”

  “Coming!” City brushed past Sawyer to lend a hand.

  “He seems like a good guy,” Sawyer rounded the bed to stand opposite of Delilah. He crammed clothes into the nea
rest suitcase. “What’s his story?”

  “He’s a criminal defense attorney. Has a reputation for winning every case. He dates a new woman every week and has a passion for calf roping. He’s been on our circuit for years. A lot of guys ride with us for practice until making the leap to pro, but I think Mark does it for fun and working off stress.”

  “Fair enough.” Not that Sawyer was an expert in killer profiles, but so far, City’s actions weren’t ringing warning bells. However, he was surprised by the fact that he didn’t swing for the home team when it came to dating. White ostrich boots weren’t a big hit in Sawyer’s circles, but it took all types. “How about Jersey?”

  “He can have a hot temper, but has a good heart.” She packed faster.

  “Someone mention my name?” Jersey entered the room, adding a stack of boxes to the bed’s already huge pile.

  “I was just telling Sawyer how much I adore you.” She slipped her arm around him for a sideways hug. “Thank you for the packing supplies.”

  “No problem.” He cracked a smile. “You adore me, huh? Does that mean I’m finally getting a date?”

  “I’ll take it under advisement. But first, we have to clean this place out in—” She looked at her slim gold watch. “—thirty-seven minutes.”

  “We’ll make it,” Jersey said. “Vince down at the liquor store was flush with boxes. Plenty more where this came from. Said he forgot to set them out for pickup this morning, so he’s got everything from this weekend.”

  “Lucky us . . .” Delilah closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. “Still can’t believe this is happening. Jersey, do you think you and Zeb can both fit in Powder Puff’s trailer?”

  “No problem. The camper portion is way nicer than my first apartment.”

  “Thanks for being understanding. I’m praying this is all a big mistake.” She reached for the nearest box, but it turned out to be two—one had been nested inside the other. She tugged as hard as she could, but something was sticky inside—and smelled. She gave the cardboard a final tug, then screamed . . .

  5

  “DON’T TOUCH IT,” Sawyer said.

  Delilah pushed past the men crowding the room to run to the bathroom to throw up.

  A blood-soaked T-shirt had been shoved into a plastic grocery bag. The business-end of a butcher knife had sliced through the bottom right corner, pooling blood and some other foul liquid in the bottom of the box. The cardboard had once held pricey liquor. If it hadn’t had such a shiny finish, the blood probably would have soaked through and dried.

  “You okay?” Jersey asked from behind her. There wasn’t enough room for more than the two of them.

  “Yeah,” she lied. What else could she say? The blood combined with the stench of rotten meat brought the morning of Lola’s death rushing back.

  Just outside the bathroom door, Sawyer said, “Jesse gave me the number for the detective working Lola’s case. We should give him a call. If Lola’s killer travels with the circuit, since you’ve all moved to a fresh location, he might’ve thought this would be a safe place for an evidence dump.”

  “Good thinking,” Mark stood behind him. “Although this puts an interesting spin on the repo process. Do the contents of this box make the RV an official crime scene?”

  Delilah groaned. “Just when I thought this day couldn’t get worse.”

  Jersey rubbed her shoulders. “Relax. Let the police do their job. You do yours.”

  “Sounds good.” What was wrong with her that instead of thinking about helping poor Lola’s case, all Delilah seemed capable of focusing on was how much she’d have rather have Sawyer’s comfort?

  “Before the police get here,” Mark said, “we’ll move all of your essentials to my RV. As long as we don’t touch anything near the box, I can’t see how it would be a problem.”

  Delilah wasn’t so sure. But Mark was an attorney. Especially since he worked criminal law, he should know these kinds of things. “Sawyer? What do you think?”

  He was busy with his phone. “Sounds reasonable.”

  The next thirty minutes passed in a blur.

  While Jersey, Zeb and Mark packed and hauled the RV’s contents, Sawyer talked with the detective who, judging by the conversation, had turned out to be an old friend he’d known from Denver.

  Upon hanging up, once the two of them were alone in her room, he said, “Sorry that took so long. Adam wants me to watch the evidence till he gets here. But since Jersey grabbed the box out from behind the liquor store, transporting it here, the store will be the primary evidence scene—not the RV.”

  She sat hard on her favorite chair. “Randy the repo man will be thrilled.”

  “How are you holding up?” His softened tone soothed her frayed nerves like an exotic incense. He’d always had that effect on her—even back in school. She’d be stressed over a test or poor racing time, yet all it had taken was being in his presence to make her feel better. Maybe it was something about his eyes. Deep brown, his stare held an intensity she’d never noticed in any other man. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world.

  “How crazy would it sound if I told you I don’t know how I’m holding up?”

  “Not crazy at all. You’ve been through a lot. By coming here . . .” He dropped his gaze, leaving her bereft. “Hell, I was going to say I’d hoped to help you, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Part of me wanted—needed—to help myself. I needed to exorcise you from my system.”

  “How’s that working for you?” Look at me, she wanted to scream.

  He opened his mouth to answer, but then the RV door opened and Randy shouted, “Ready or not, it’s time to get this show on the road!”

  Sawyer glanced her way, looked as if he might still say something, but then changed his mind. “Sorry, man. But there’s been a development . . .”

  * * *

  Sawyer had never been more relieved to have the subject changed.

  While helping Delilah remove the last of her suitcases from the RV, her slit-eyed glare made it no mystery that she’d expected more from him. But what if once again breathing the same air as her had dulled his edge? What if the best he’d ever manage wasn’t pretending she’d never existed, but opening himself to the possibility of them one day at least being friends?

  “This is BS,” Randy muttered. “Should’ve been out of here two hours ago.” He slapped a blaze-orange sticker on the RV’s door. It read: Property of Blevins, Bros. LLC. “If I hear you nutjobs somehow manipulated this latest delay. . .”

  “Cool it.” Sawyer set the last load in the bed of City’s pick-up. “As soon as the police get here to handle the evidence, the RV is yours.”

  “Fuck all of you.” Randy turned for his truck.

  Jersey exploded into action, throwing off his black felt hat, then propelling himself forward, shoving the repo man against the side of the RV hard enough to rock the whole thing. Fisting Randy’s shirt, he said in a low lethal tone, “Watch your mouth in the presence of a lady.”

  “Jersey, no!” Delilah shouted.

  Sawyer ran toward him, but as lightning fast as the kid struck, Jersey now stepped clear, holding his hands high as if just having finished a bull ride.

  Jersey turned his back on his victim. Big mistake.

  Randy hurled himself at the young buck, nailing him with a left-right combo that would have flattened a lesser man, but Jersey was merely dazed. Took him less than a second to snap out of it, then drop Randy to the dirt, pummeling his face until his nose spewed blood and both eyes were swollen shut.

  “Stay clear!” Sawyer shouted to Delilah before stepping into the fray. He caught Jersey by his collar, jerking him back. “Knock it off. That’s enough.”

  “He had it coming,” Jersey said. “Del is a princess.” Breathing heavy, he spit out blood. “She deserves some goddamned respect.” As if he’d flipped an internal switch, Jersey once again appeared outwardly calm. He walked the short distance to retrieve his cowboy hat, dusted it off, then s
ettled it back on his head. In front of Delilah, he said, “Sorry, boss lady.”

  “I’m gonna sue you for everything you’ve got!” Randy rolled onto his side. Blood ran from his nose into his mouth. He spit on the ground. “Cocky little prick!”

  “Sticks and stones . . .” Jersey strolled the twenty yards to the horse trailer’s one-ton, climbed in, revved the engine, then drove off toward the rodeo ground’s front entry gate.

  “Should we call you an ambulance?” Delilah asked Randy. She took a roll of paper towels from a box filled with the RV’s kitchen supplies. Kneeling alongside him, she tore off a single sheet, daubing his mouth.

  “Get away from me.” He rolled onto his knees, then pushed himself onto his feet.

  One of his men ran over from his truck. “Boss, what the hell happened? One minute I was playing Candy Crush and the next—”

  “Round up the rest of the crew and help me get this sonofabitch loaded. We’re out of here in fifteen.”

  “Yessir.”

  Sawyer stepped behind Delilah, crouching to tug her upright by her elbows. “How about you chill with Mark in his truck? I have a feeling Randy won’t like it when I remind him the RV’s not going anywhere until police show up to take custody of that bloody shirt and knife.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She had just turned, but then angled back. “Sawyer?”

  “Yeah?” Why did his pulse race from merely hearing her speak his name?

  “Don’t think too poorly of Jersey. He’s a great kid. He just needs a few anger management sessions with a good therapist.”

  “Right.” He was a great kid who damn well could have killed Randy. Not that Sawyer was the repo man’s biggest fan, but he was only trying to do his job. With that temper, Sawyer couldn’t help but wonder if the police had looked into Jersey’s whereabouts at the time of the murders?

  His stomach knotted over the fact that the violent kid had been alone with Delilah too many times to count.

  Randy didn’t take the news that the RV wasn’t going anywhere at all well. He took a swing at Sawyer, but Sawyer easily ducked, avoiding the blow. From that point, Randy retreated to the long bed’s cab.