The Cowboy's Deadly Mission

by Addison Fox

  The response was vintage Tate—evasive and overlaid with that casual charm that made people rarely look deeper.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Of course it’s not.”

  When the usual thread of teasing or light mocking failed to materialize, Belle went for broke. “Are we okay?”

  “You and me are always okay.”

  They’d come to a stop against her car, the cool night air swirling around them. Rain scented the air but that bite of cold that had nipped at them that morning was gone, replaced by the heavy, muggy air. The vagaries of spring weather in Texas at its finest.

  “I’m going to need to spend a few more days at the ranch.”

  “The kitchen’s yours.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “No problem.”

  Annabelle mentally shook her head. Was it even possible she was having such a pedestrian conversation with Tate? Hoyt or Ace, she could see. But Tate? He usually shot first and considered asking questions later. “I’ll do my best to be as unobtrusive as possible. I appreciate your willingness to give your ranch hands the time to talk to me.”

  She turned away from him and reached for her keys, her hand nearly closing over them in the front pocket of her purse before her movements were upended. Tate had her whirled around, his arms wrapping around her and his mouth slamming down on hers.

  The move was overbearing and unexpected and...

  Wonderful.

  The man had the speed and the graceful finesse of a rattler and that should irritate her. But when all that seductive male strength gathered her close, his tongue finding its way into her mouth with artful purpose, Belle forgot to be mad.

  She also nearly forgot to breathe, the urge to devour him coming on as strong and as fast as the kiss. Willing her mind to still, Belle chose to focus on the moment.

  And the way this man made her feel.

  Nothing pedestrian about that.

  It had been like this forever. Even before she’d understood the depths of her feelings and the sexual desire that paired with it, she wanted Tate. Wanted to be around him, despite the taunting and the teasing on the playground. Wanted to be his partner in science lab and his study buddy at the library. She’d even enjoyed going head-to-head when they played sports in gym class, the battle of athletic talent exhilarating and fun.

  If given a choice, she wanted to be in his orbit. Close to him and reveling in the way everything inside of her heightened and sharpened when they were together.

  In so many ways, that was what she’d missed most in their years apart. That sharp, sweet need and awareness that marked their time together.

  Everything else felt like going through the motions.

  Tate shifted closer, his body pressed fully against hers and her back to the car door. She let her hands drift down to grip the edges of his shirt, fisting the soft material in a restless attempt to assuage the fire that burned inside.

  She wanted him. Had never stopped wanting him, really. But this renewed awareness was dangerous. She wouldn’t be able to do her usual avoidance dance, skipping out on events she knew he’d be at or keeping her distance from the end of town that housed Reynolds Station.

  For the next several days and weeks, she’d be back inside the orbit that drew her in so close.

  And she was going to have to do the job of her life to keep herself from getting lost there.

  * * *

  Tate felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. There really wasn’t any other word for it. The tension that had ridden him all day—from the moment Belle had showed up on the ranch, her police-issued vehicle bumping over the uneven ground—finally abated as he gave in to the needs that always hovered so close to the surface.

  Oh, how he wanted this woman.

  The need that burned inside like an out of control fire continued to flicker and flame, drew him toward her. His body was tight, his muscles taut as he held her close and learned once more the achingly familiar shape of her mouth and the lush curves that pressed against him.

  They’d kissed earlier in the kitchen but it was nothing like this. The exhaustion that dragged at them both, the dark that surrounded them and the quiet of the parking lot all combined to loosen the ironclad guard each kept up around the other.

  He felt his weaken and recognized the same in Belle.

  “Tate.” His name was a husky whisper on her lips, but when her hands went to his shoulders to slow him down, he renewed the kiss. There would be time enough tomorrow for recrimination and frustration things had gone this far. Even more time to restore the battle armor they both clung to like lifelines. For now, he just wanted a few more moments with her.

  The pressure on his shoulders shifted, became more of a pull toward her than a push away, and Tate groaned against her lips when she matched the movement with the press of her body against his groin.

  Sparks shot through him and he briefly wondered if she’d manage to unman him still fully clad in his jeans.

  Without warning, all of it stopped. The intimate press against his body. The warm welcome of her lips. Instead, the woman in his arms stiffened, her body shifting from liquid and languid to sharp and alert in the span of a heartbeat.

  “Tate!” Urgency whispered through her quiet tone.

  “Hmmm?”

  He knew he needed to keep up with the change in mood but couldn’t quite understand why. Her lips felt so good and her body was so warm. So welcoming.

  It was only the shift of her hand to cover his ass and the firm squeeze that wasn’t designed to tempt and tease that finally had him opening his eyes. “Stay with me, cowboy, and don’t move.”

  That husky whisper was still in place but the iron beneath her words was all cop. “Tate. Someone’s out there.”

  Her words finally caught up with the shift in mood and Tate focused on her. “What?”

  “Someone’s out there. Watching.” With her free hand, she kept a firm grip on the back of his head, holding him still before he could shift to look around. “Kiss my neck so I can get a look behind you.”

  Tate complied, the light taste of salt from her skin coating his lips. The joy he’d have taken from that move only a few moments before had vanished, replaced by the overwhelming urge to cover her with his body while he wrestled her into the safety of the car.

  “Do you see anything?”

  “No. The lot’s clear and I don’t see anybody walking around.” She arched her neck, the move appearing to anyone watching that she was in the moment, enjoying the pleasures of the man she was with. The bulleted description he received, matched in the rumble of her vocal chords beneath his lips, told another story.

  She was back on the job and his presence had become unnecessary.

  Tate pulled away, that reality as effective as a cold shower. He wasn’t going to apologize for the past few minutes but he was damned if he was going to stand there and play undercover stud either.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You seem to have a handle on things. I don’t think my lips are necessary any longer.”

  “You’re picking a fight with me?”

  “Geez, Belle, I don’t know. One moment we’re kissing each other’s brains out and the next you’re ready to race off into the night. I’m not gonna lie, it messes with a man’s head.”

  “I’m not going to apologize for thinking we were in danger. You of all people should understand that. We found a dead man practically on your property this morning.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Then why the sudden pout?”

  She always knew the right turn of phrase to reduce their exchange to a heated debate and had succeeded once again. Tate turned in a wide arc, his arms held high and his voice rising several decibels. “Anyone out there? Anyone watching?”

  “Tate!” />
  She tugged at him but he stepped out of range, his gaze roaming over the parking lot as he kept up the steady shouting. “Who’s out there? Getting your rocks off on a couple making out in the bar parking lot? Where are you hiding, you bastard?”

  “That’s enough!”

  Belle got a better grip on him this time, dragging on his arm and pulling him toward her. The move was enough to catch him off balance and his other arm windmilled as he stumbled a few feet over the gravel parking lot. He caught himself and added his own personal layer of armor, pushing every ounce of smart ass he had into his tone. “If this is how you get a man on his back, I’d say you’re not very good at this game, Belly.”

  “I’m trying to keep you from being a target.”

  “Of what? Some perv’s attention?”

  “Or a killer.”

  Her heavy hiss struck a chord but he’d be damned if he was going to show it. She’d hurt his feelings—worse, she’d dismissed him and what they’d shared—and he wasn’t ready to think rationally.

  Nor was he willing to be reasonable.

  “Won’t that be nice? One more feather in your cap when you bring down a killer.”

  “I’m looking for justice.”

  “You have fun with that.” He gestured toward the car. “I’m not leaving until your fine ass is in that car, driving away.”

  “I’m a cop. I can handle myself.”

  “And I’m still the gentleman Betsy Reynolds raised.” He crossed his arms, anger and confusion and the sheer agony of having their sweet moments ripped away all churning inside. “The sooner you drive away the sooner I’ll go back into the bar.”

  “Back to Dove?”

  It would be easy—too easy—to use the jab to his favor. Which was the exact reason he didn’t. That and his basic respect for Dove Anthony and the reality that she had nothing to do with what went on between him and Belle. “I said back inside.”

  The light of battle and innate competitiveness flared once more in her gaze before she seemed to come to some sort of internal decision. Belle dug in her purse for her keys, unlocking the car. She climbed into the driver’s seat, the engine rumbling to life beneath her calm, efficient movements. In moments, she was driving away, leaving Tate with nothing but images of their exchange.

  And the memory of how her hand shook when she’d unlocked the car.

  Chapter 8

  Ten days.

  Ten whole days with nothing to show for her efforts, other than a heap of notes and the endless reports those notes generated. The dead body discovered on Reynolds property had long since been released from the coroner’s office, horrified next of kin eventually found and notified. The funeral was scheduled for the weekend to bury one Jesse Abrogato, son of a grieving mother and three heartbroken sisters, and former runner for one of Mexico’s biggest drug lords.

  Belle fought the urge to drop her head to her desk as she flipped to the calendar in her email program. She hadn’t had a day off in three weeks and it didn’t look like she was getting much of one this weekend either.

  She would attend the funeral. She was initially surprised it had been planned in a town an hour away from Midnight Pass instead of in the victim’s native Mexico, but then Abrogato’s chatty youngest sister had informed her the family had moved to Texas to escape some of the unsavory influences of their hometown. She’d then sobbed at how poorly they’d failed.

  Belle shook off the sad conversation and the bone-deep grief that had punctuated the woman’s need to talk. She had a job to do and she needed to focus on finding who murdered Jesse. He may have made poor choices in life, but it was her duty to see he got justice in death. And since there was always a chance the killer would attend the funeral, Belle refused to miss the opportunity to assess the scene and watch carefully in the role of mourner.

  Five o’clock had long since come and gone, and she finally gave in, shutting down her computer and vowing to clear her mind for a few hours. She’d shot off her latest reports to Chief Corden and was nearly out the door when she heard a soft goodbye from the office next to Corden’s.

  “Captain Grantham.” Belle stopped, always happy to spend some time with her captain and all-too-often mentor. His brown eyes and fatherly smile never failed to bring her smile out in return. “You’re working late.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “It’s been a busy few weeks.”

  Grantham nodded, that warm gaze going serious. “Murder’s terrible business. How is the Reynolds family holding up?”

  The heated image of her late-night kisses with Tate in the Border Line parking lot filled her thoughts before Belle resolutely pushed them down. Despite her best intentions, they’d hovered way too close to the surface for the past week and a half. Even as the infuriating man had kept his distance, leaving her to sit in his kitchen day after day with a full pot of coffee, an equally full refrigerator and absolutely no contact whatsoever.

  Jerk.

  She mentally stuck her tongue out before returning her focus to the captain.

  “They’re doing okay. Wary, but moving past it all.”

  “Glad to hear it. Reese said she spoke to Arden. Had the same impression that they’re handling it.”

  Belle thought of the chief’s daughter, Reese, a few years younger than her and one of the town’s favorite teachers. She was a kind woman and had borne up under an unbearable tragedy of her own when her brother had succumbed to a drug overdose in high school. She’d become one of Midnight Pass’s biggest anti-drug champions and led several programs in the schools to battle the insidiousness of the trade against their town and along the border.

  Amazingly, her students loved her enough to pay attention and she’d begun to make a real difference at the high school. Drug-related crimes among the students had dropped off significantly since Reese had started her initiative three years before.

  “Please tell her I said hi.”

  The captain smiled. “I’ll be sure to. And if you’re looking for something to do to take your mind off things, Reese is neck-deep in building the decorations with the prom committee. I have no doubt she’d love another adult opinion that doesn’t involve high school drama, a push for emoji-based decorations or anything involving teenage rebellion.”

  Belle fought the shudder. “There’s a reason I chose killers over teenagers.”

  Captain Grantham’s grin was broad. “You and me both.”

  She headed off with a smile, feeling considerably better than when she’d shut off her computer. The smile carried her out of the precinct and straight to her car, fading only when she caught sight of Tate leaning against it.

  Something hard and needy clawed at her stomach. The man really was lethal, those long legs clad in faded jeans, pointed cowboy boots on his feet. An afternoon rainstorm had cooled the air but he looked as stormy as the still-cloudy skies, a gray T-shirt spread across his firm, wide chest.

  Boy howdy, but the man looked good.

  “Belle.” He spoke first, his greeting as gruff as the dark look that rode his face.

  “Tate.” She’d been at his house for over a week and then he’d ghosted her. Yet here he was, front and center on a Friday night? “What’s going on?”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not here.”

  Warning bells began clanging in the back of her mind, overshadowing the shot of lust that still stirred in her belly. “Where?”

  “Follow me up to Mesa Creek.”

  Mesa Creek was a small, quiet town about a half hour from the Pass. They’d likely meet no one, which was what made it so perfect. “Manuel’s Kitchen?”

  “Yep.” He nodded as something briefly flickered in his eyes before he shut it down. “We’ll snag the back booth.”

  Belle wasn’t so sure the back booth would
be available on a Friday night but she said nothing. “Want me to drive?”

  “Let’s go separate. No one needs to see us together.”

  She fought the stab of pain conjured by his words and only nodded instead. Whatever mood he was in, she wasn’t going to get him out of it by arguing.

  And at the moment, the exhaustion that had ridden her as she wrapped up her reports returned in full force. She was tired and lonely and hadn’t quite gotten past the anger at their fight in the Border Line parking lot. Maybe some distance from Midnight Pass would do them some good.

  Or maybe it would only add even more between them.

  * * *

  Tate knew he’d hurt Belle’s feelings and he was sorry for it, but he had to talk to her and he didn’t need anyone wondering why he was talking to her. He’d briefly toyed with the idea of trying some sort of pretend date scenario but knew that was as dangerous for himself as it was for her. Letting the entire damn town think they were an item again had a set of risks he wasn’t quite ready to explore yet. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t go there if Tris Bradshaw’s suspicions panned out, but he wasn’t ready for that quite yet.

  So he’d settled on an alternative approach. Years back, they’d spent more than a few evenings shut up in a cozy booth at Manuel’s, away from the prying eyes of the Pass, caught up in each other. They could do it again, keeping their distance from anyone who might take an interest in noticing the two of them together.

  Her headlights trailed behind him as he wound his way out of town, following when he turned onto the highway that led up to Mesa Creek. The drive was quiet, their corner of Texas still not infiltrated by rush hour traffic, crazed commuters or endless waits to get to and from office meccas.

  Even the thought of a life like that gave him the willies. He liked wide open spaces, time spent out and about on Tot and working the land. Being shut up at a desk all day was, to him, the epitome of hell on earth and he’d often wondered what that sort of focus did to a man’s soul.

  He usually shrugged the question off, assuming people were well able to make their own decisions, but had never been able to fully shrug off the idea that a life like that would feel like he lived his days in a coffin.