Accidental Agent (River's End Ranch Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I have some things I need to do,” she said. “Will you survive all on your own?”

  A flicker of disappointment passed over his face, but he pushed it back. “Of course. I noticed the diner’s not open for dinner.”

  “That’s right—just breakfast and lunch.”

  “Well, maybe you could point me to a good pizza parlor in Riston.”

  “You bet. There’s one on Main Street—it’s called Dominic’s, and it’s just beyond the second light as you come into town. You should know, though, that since it’s Thursday night, there’s an informal trivia game going on in the dining room on the ranch, and they make excellent pizza. Just a thought.”

  “Good to know. Well, I guess I’ll see ya?”

  “Yes, you will. I’m opening the diner in the morning, if you want to come in for breakfast.”

  “I’ll be there.” He gave her another smile and walked off toward the bunkhouse. She watched him go, wishing he’d kissed her good-bye, knowing he was trying to respect her wishes, and wondering why she had those wishes in the first place.

  ***

  Liz picked up some Chinese food on her way home and then plopped down on her bed with the fried rice leaning up against her left knee and the sweet and sour pork leaning up against her right. She pulled out the fortune cookie and studied it, wondering if it held any wisdom to see her through this rough patch. She really ought to save it for after the meal, but curiosity got the better of her, and she cracked it open.

  You are full of much beauty and kind words that will win you.

  What? The Golden Palace must have gotten this batch of cookies from a new supplier—their fortunes usually made a lot more sense. It was nice to be complimented on her beauty, though—who wouldn’t want that?

  She took a few bites of pork so she wouldn’t die of hunger, and then she opened the letter again. The letter. The one that had haunted her thoughts all day long and nearly eaten out her liver.

  She hadn’t misread it—they really did want to publish Stab Wound. That had been her first Clint Holly novel, the one she wrote so she’d have a nice way to kill off her ex-boyfriend in effigy. She’d planned it as a standalone novel, but she’d enjoyed writing the main character, Detective Holly, so much that she decided to make it a series—something both May and Kaya approved of, telling her that series sold better than standalones.

  Now she just hoped Fingerprint wanted the whole series.

  She continued to read their letter. They praised her skillful writing, attention to detail, and the way she planted her red herrings. They especially liked her conclusion. They only had one criticism—they wanted her to add more detail to Clint Holly and make him more of a relatable person. She could agree with that—when she first wrote him, he did feel like a Dick Tracy character to her, sharp-witted and savvy, but not realistic. She’d be more than happy to go back and give him more depth.

  They were asking for a reply within three weeks, and they wanted to publish the book in nine months.

  Wow.

  She took a deep breath and set the letter aside while she ate. She could eat and think at the same time—it was one of her talents. She really couldn’t see anything wrong with the contract they’d included. The royalty rate was fair, compared to samples she’d seen online. She’d already investigated their marketing plans and how they treated their authors. She loved their covers, and while she knew the company wasn’t large enough to send her on a worldwide tour, she knew they’d get her into the important markets. And she didn’t want to go on a worldwide tour anyway—that sounded exhausting.

  On the other hand, she didn’t want to take this offer just because it was the first one she’d ever received. That would be foolish.

  But then on the other, other hand, sometimes the right offer was the first offer. Destiny did have some say in things, after all, and if she rejected this just because it was the first one, that would be even foolisher. More foolish. Sheesh—she couldn’t even grammar.

  Okay. She’d finish her food, then she’d scan the letter and the contract and send them over to May and Kaya. They’d help her sort through this. That’s what she paid them the big friendship bucks for, after all.

  She really did need to meet them in real life someday—she just hoped they were as awesome in person as they were in the chat room.

  Chapter Ten

  Jack woke up a few minutes before his alarm clock and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what that day would hold. It had been a little while since he’d looked forward to a new day, and he liked how it felt. He especially liked how it felt to think about Liz and wonder what she was up to. Was she already at the diner, or was she on her way? Was she feeling better, or was her mysterious letter still upsetting her? More than anything, he wanted to find a way to help her, but if he didn’t understand the problem, he could hardly come up with a solution.

  He reached to the side of his bed and grabbed his tablet, then brought up the Internet. That was one thing he had to say about this ranch—it might be pretty rural, but it had great Internet access. He’d google Liz and see if he could gather some insight on her . . . but then he realized that he had no idea what her last name was.

  That would make things harder.

  He drummed his fingers on the side of the tablet for a second, then punched in Liz waitress River’s End Ranch Idaho. He wasn’t expecting to get any hits, but a website for the ranch popped up, and he started scrolling through the pages. Wait—yes, there was a page for the diner, and there off to the left was a picture of the diner staff, with Liz front and center looking friendly and holding a plate of fries. The picture was captioned, but it only listed the staff by their first names. He supposed that was to protect their privacy, but he didn’t want their privacy protected—he wanted to know more about this girl.

  If this was an investigation, he could place a call and have someone hack into the ranch’s computer and bring up payroll and he’d get her name that way, but he’d need a really good reason for doing that, and having a crush on a girl would never pass as a really good reason.

  He paused in his thoughts. Was that what this was? A crush?

  That was a cute way to put it, but no. Crushes were like summer flings, sodas at the mall, a high school dance and then they were over. This was something entirely different, something he wanted to explore. Something that maybe Liz wouldn’t object to because it would have meaning. The investment would pay off.

  Once he decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

  There it was again—that question he kept tossing around in his head, the one that didn’t seem to have a clear-cut answer.

  Maybe a visit to the fairies was in order.

  ***

  Jaclyn looked up from her flowerbed as Jack approached. He’d walked this time, wanting to stretch his legs, and was glad to see that she was out and about—he’d known he was taking a risk heading out so early.

  “The least you could have done was waited until I was out of the shower,” she said as he walked up.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The fairies told me you were coming. I only had enough time to get dressed and start some hot water for cocoa.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll leave and come back again later, if that’s better.”

  She waved that away. “No, you’re here now. But what’s got your knickers in such a knot that you’re gallivanting around before breakfast?”

  Jack squatted down and began pulling some small weeds that were poking up between Jaclyn’s flowers. “You talked about finding myself.”

  “That’s right, I did. I take it you’ve been thinking about that.”

  “I have—quite a lot. And I know what you meant. Liz—you remember I told you about meeting her? Well, she’s turning into a big part of this whole puzzle.”

  Jaclyn gave a knowing nod. “And now you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do with that piece.”

  “Exactly. She says she doesn’t want to get
involved unless it’s going to mean something, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to mean something, but I don’t know how to guarantee that.”

  “Liz isn’t the kind of girl who expects guarantees,” Jaclyn said, taking a broom and cleaning up the edge of her flowerbed where they’d been throwing the weeds. “And she doesn’t expect perfection, either—she’s a smart girl. She just wants someone who will give it their honest best, and for them not to be a dorkface.”

  “A dorkface?”

  “You heard me.” Jaclyn stepped back and surveyed the flowerbed, then gave a nod. “Now, are you going to help me with the rabbits’ litterboxes?”

  “Litterboxes?”

  “You don’t think they piddle just anywhere, do you?” She shook her head. “I worry about you. I hope you appreciate that.”

  Jack followed her wordlessly to the side of the house, where four litterboxes were lined up on the porch. “We’re not scooping today—we’re throwing out everything and starting fresh,” she said. “Pour all the litter into that trash bag, and I’ll get the hose.”

  Jack did as he was told, dumping the contents of all four boxes and then tying a tight knot in the top of the bag. Jaclyn squirted out the boxes and then set them in the sun to dry. “They have a temporary box for now,” she explained as though he’d asked, “but they don’t like it nearly as much. They get habituated, you see, and changes in their schedules and things like that upset them.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an upset rabbit,” Jack replied.

  “Oh, it’s not pretty. They won’t speak to you for days. It’s the most depressing silent treatment I’ve ever experienced. I do what I can to avoid it.” She held out the hose, water still running from the end. “Come wash your hands, and then we’ll go have some hot chocolate. There’s some liquid soap here in this frog-shaped decanter.”

  Moments later, Jack was seated across from Jaclyn at her kitchen table, sipping cocoa. She had the world’s biggest collection of china plates all over her walls, and he couldn’t make sense of them—they didn’t seem to follow any kind of theme or pattern. She probably just liked them all.

  “So, you run the RV park here?”

  “I do. With an iron fist, might I add. The folks who stay here know to follow the rules or they’ll have to leave. As long as everyone does what they’re told, they’ll have a plenty nice time without having to create their own excitement. That’s what will get you in trouble right there.”

  Jack had to agree. He’d seen that sort of thing often enough.

  “Now, about Liz,” Jaclyn said as she took the lid off a tin of cookies. “She’s smart, but she’s fierce. Once she’s in your corner, she will be there for life, and she’ll do anything for you. But it’s that kind of loyalty that’s gotten her burned in the past. If you’re going to love her, you have to deserve that kind of loyalty. Do you?”

  Her question was like a jab. Jack blinked. “Do I love her, or do I deserve it?”

  “Both.”

  “I . . . I think I’m well on my way to falling in love with her, and I’d try my very hardest to deserve it.”

  Jaclyn sat back and surveyed him. “Kind of a wishy-washy answer, but I like it. It’s honest. If you came in here and you were all, ‘Hey, Granny J, I’ve got the goods, I know what’s up,’ I’d be concerned.”

  Jack almost snorted into his cocoa. “Was that you trying to sound street tough or something?” She reminded him of Liz, asking about the gun.

  Jaclyn crossed her arms over her chest. “I watch television. I know how you young people sound today. I have to say, I’m not impressed. Not one little bit.”

  “I promise, I’ll never come in here and say that.”

  “Good. Because that would be very upsetting.” She pushed the cookie tin toward him. “Help yourself, but don’t eat them all. Simon’s coming over later.”

  “Simon?”

  “A gentleman friend. And you don’t need to be so nosy.”

  Jack took two cookies from the tin and set them next to his cocoa cup. He really wanted some bacon and eggs, but he wanted to give Liz a little bit of space, and staying away from the diner was probably a good idea. At least until lunch. “So, about Liz . . .”

  “My goodness. You certainly do have a one-track mind. What is it that you’re wanting to know, exactly? Or do you just like to hear yourself work it out? I know some folks are like that—all they need is a chance to air their problems out loud, and suddenly, the answers come to them. The fairies don’t like that much, though—they like the credit.”

  “I’m sure they have a lot to do with it even when someone thinks of the answer on their own,” Jack replied. “I mean, did the answers just pop into their heads, or did a fairy put them there?”

  “There might be hope for you yet,” Jaclyn said, giving him an approving look.

  “Thank you.” Jack ate his first cookie and followed it with a swig of cocoa. A little too much sweet for him this early in the day, but if this is what it took to win Jaclyn’s friendship—and her wisdom—he’d do it. He needed all the wisdom he could get.

  “When you leave today, think about the two halves of your life and see if they could work together as a whole,” Jaclyn said. “Think of them as the yin and the yang—two pieces that seem so different, and yet they fit together perfectly. Or like chocolate and vanilla. Or Sonny and Cher.”

  “Sonny and Cher?”

  “My goodness. Do you have some sort of mental disability that makes you repeat everything you hear? If that’s the case, have another cookie.”

  Jack slowly shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Well, they’re here if you want them. Just save some for Simon.”

  “I will. So, the yin and yang . . . wait. You said I was leaving today—I’m actually not. I’m planning to be here until Wednesday or so.”

  “That might be what you’re planning, but that’s not what’s happening.” She paused. “Oh, dear. You don’t know yet. Well, just ignore me. I said nothing.”

  “Something’s going to happen?”

  Jaclyn picked up her mug and looked at him demurely. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Jack ate his other cookie and finished his cocoa. Then he rose from the table. “Thank you, Jaclyn. I’m not sure if I understood half of what happened here this morning, but I’m oddly comforted.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” she replied as though she had no idea how very confused he was.

  “So, what’s Liz’s last name?” he asked, pausing by the door.

  “You want to know what it is now? Or are you thinking about what you’d like it to be?”

  He felt his cheeks turn red. “I wouldn’t mind giving her my last name, but yeah, I’d like to know what it is now.”

  Jaclyn smirked. “Colby.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  When Jack left the RV park, he decided to walk down by the bank of the river that ran along the ranch property. He loved the sound of water, the coolness he felt rising from the surface. Why hadn’t he taken time to get out into nature more while he lived in LA? He’d asked himself that very question a dozen times since arriving here, and each time, he had no idea. Well, no idea that seemed reasonable. Of course he could make a long list of excuses—he’d been so busy working, he’d barely had time to grocery shop, he hardly had time to clean his house, he rarely even made it to the gym. Excuses, every one of them. He knew what fed his soul, and yet he hadn’t been doing it. No wonder he felt so messed up now.

  He plopped down on the ground at the river’s edge and lifted his face to the sky. The spring sun warmed his cheeks, and he forced every other thought from his mind. Peace. Calm. Tranquility.

  Just then, his cell phone buzzed.

  Great. A rural ranch out in the middle of nowhere with good cell service. He’d never thought of that as a bad thing until now.

  He pulled it out and saw a text from his special agent in charge. Call in immediately.

  Jack didn’t eve
n have to think about it. He sprang to his feet, started walking back toward the bunkhouse, and called while he walked. “Yeah, boss?”

  “How’s it going, Saunders?”

  “I’m fine, sir.”

  “You sure?”

  Jack paused before answering. He knew his SAC didn’t want a flippant answer, but was looking for the truth. “I might still be a little shaken, but I believe I’m fit.”

  “Good. Listen, we have a lead on the del Gato case, and I want you on it. Can you do it? And can you get back here asap?”

  The del Gato case? Jack felt a surge of adrenaline. They’d been tracking Victor del Gato for five years, trying to make anything stick. They knew he was a criminal. They knew he was behind an entire network of drug dealers and human traffickers. They also knew he was as slippery as an eel and they’d had to watch him slide away time after time. If they had something solid this time, Jack absolutely wanted in.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied. “I can drive there in about seventeen hours or fly there in four or five.”

  “Took your own car?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Leave it there and get here now. I can’t wait seventeen hours.”

  “Yes, sir. On my way.”

  Jack swiped his phone off and headed into the bunkhouse. He told Gwen he was leaving and paid his bill in full, then asked about car storage. She told him he could leave his car behind the cabins—there was some undeveloped land that they often used for overflow parking, and the fee was quite reasonable.

  “I’ll be back to get it as soon as I can,” he said. Then he took the stairs two at a time, changed back into his “agent clothes,” as Liz called them, and shoved his other clothes into the shopping bags he’d gotten at the general store. He’d put those in the trunk of his car and leave them here on the ranch. He had no use for them in LA, and he didn’t want to drag them on the plane so they could sit unused at his apartment.