The Rowdy Coyote Rumble (Jackrabbit Junction Humorous Mystery Book 4)

by Ann Charles

  “Personal needs, huh?” Ronnie smiled up at him. “So you are human after all. And here I’d figured you to have a rusted tin heart in here.” She knocked on his chest.

  “More human than you know.” He leaned down and kissed her, pulling away long before she was ready. “For years I’d been existing. Going to work each day, doing my best to keep the law in this county, and heading home to an empty house every night. I bought this land a couple of years after Elizabeth left, deciding that if this was how I’d be living the rest of my life, then I’d at least make the coming home part less dismal.”

  She could see him with a big dog following him around out here, happy for pats on the head and scratches behind the ears now and then. Or was that her she was thinking of, not a dog? With kisses and caresses instead of pats and scratches?

  No, she blinked that idea away. This was his dream. He wasn’t handing out invitations to live with him, just giving her a view from the visitor’s center window.

  Grady touched her chin. “Then one day, I pulled a woman over for speeding and she tried to bribe her way out of a ticket with fake jewelry.”

  “But it was really good fake jewelry,” she insisted. “Ask your aunt.”

  “And now that same woman has hooked up with my aunt, a fellow borderline criminal.”

  Ronnie chuckled. “Your Aunt Millie is an amazing lady.”

  “You would say that, being you’re a Morgan sister.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” She played dumb, pretty sure she knew exactly what that meant in his eyes and grinned with pride at being part of the family.

  Leaning closer, he threaded his fingers through her hair, his mouth hovering over hers. “From the first time I met you, Veronica, you have been cruising just outside of the law.”

  He was taking too long to kiss her. “What’s wrong with that?” she whispered against his lips and then went up on her toes, making the connection for him. Her hands crept up his shoulders, holding on for dear life as his tongue met hers and then took over, leaving her tingling when he was finished.

  His uneven breath matched hers. “It’s where you and your sisters seem to be most comfortable.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” she tugged his shirt from his jeans, seeking the warmth of his skin.

  “Really?” He gasped at the touch of her cold fingers on his bare stomach but pulled her even closer, sheltering her from the chilly breezes. “Then why don’t you tell me what you’re hiding.”

  She hesitated.

  “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He stole another kiss, lighting fires all over her. “You and my aunt are up to something. Your sisters are probably involved, too. But you won’t fess up because of the badge I wear.”

  It had more to do with not wanting to end up back in a room with a spotlight shining in her eyes and a pack of FBI ass-clowns circling her. Or worse, having someone she loved winding up hurt or even dead due to her past bad decisions—marrying Lyle the crook, for example, or taking those diamond-filled eyeballs.

  She leaned back so she could meet his gaze. “Have you considered that sometimes I keep secrets to protect rather than conceal?”

  “You’re withholding this business with my aunt from me in order to protect someone?”

  “Yes.”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Who? Your family?”

  “And you.”

  “Me? You’re protecting me?” When she nodded, he pressed, “From whom?”

  “If I told you that, I wouldn’t be protecting you, would I?”

  He stilled under her touch, his muscles tightening. “Veronica, if what you’re withholding could endanger your family and me, it also puts my aunt at risk.”

  “I know.”

  “Tell me what it is.”

  She chewed on her lower lip, debating laying her troubles on his capable shoulders. But then she thought of Claire and what her sister would do to her if she found out Ronnie had spilled their troubles to the cops. What that might mean for the future of the R.V. park with the stolen goods stashed here and there. At the least Claire would stop talking to her. At the most Claire would give her a reverse Mohawk and figure out a way to make Ronnie spend the rest of her life taking care of their mother.

  “I can’t.”

  He swore at the moon. “Why must I be hung up on a woman who hates my job and rides roughshod all over the law?”

  Hung up, he said? How hung up were they talking? Hung up as in thinking about her day and night, wondering where she was, who she was with, and when he’d get to see her again? She knew plenty about being hung up.

  “You don’t understand,” she told him.

  “You’re right, I don’t. But what I do understand is that you’re scared enough to get chummy with the FBI now for extra protection, and that makes me want to walk around carrying a big stick, practicing my swing.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said honestly, thinking about how twenty-three stabs with a shiv would feel. Not to mention the bloodshed that had happened across the border. “More than you know.”

  He tucked her under his chin, her ear pressed to his heart. “I hate that you’ve made a new friend.”

  “You mean Mississippi?”

  “Uh-huh. What kind of a name is that?”

  “It’s a family thing. Are you afraid I’ll give him information and leave you out of the loop?”

  “No. I’m afraid he’ll talk you into spending the night in his bed for your protection.”

  “You’re jealous?” She kissed the underside of his taut jaw. “That’s nice. Nobody has been jealous at the thought of me with another man since long before I was married.”

  “It is not nice, Veronica. It’s gut-twisting, and it makes me want to drag you by the hair back to my cave.” He ran his hands down her sides, spanning her hips. “And then you wear something like this.”

  “What’s wrong with my outfit?” It wasn’t low cut or tight or showing too much skin or any of the other complaints he’d made about her choice of clothing in the past.

  His hands moved up to her shoulders, holding her out at arm’s length suddenly. “I want to see you.”

  She looked down over herself, then back up at him. “You are seeing me.” Well, it was a tad dark. Hold on, did he mean he wanted to see her, as in sans clothes?

  “I mean officially.” When she stared at him, unsure of what he was getting at, he added, “In public.”

  Oh, that kind of seeing. Her heart started breakdancing in her chest, but she cut the music before it had a chance to really get bouncing and flopping. Judging from the odd tone in his voice, something wasn’t quite as it seemed. “Why do I detect a ‘but’ in there?”

  “People will talk. They’ll dig into your private life and gossip behind your back.”

  She let out a brittle laugh. “You’re forgetting that once upon a time, before I became a notorious Morgan sister, I used to be a high-society wife. You have no idea how sharp the claws on those rich bitches can be.”

  “Some people might make a spectacle of our relationship,” he added.

  “That might be more of a problem for you than me. I’m a stranger here, and frankly, after the hell Lyle put me through, I could give a flying fuck what any Chatty Cathies have to say about me making whoopee with the Sheriff, especially when I supposedly have hired killers gunning for me.”

  His head cocked to the side. “Did you really just say ‘making whoopee’? Have you been watching Hee-Haw on late-night T.V.?”

  “More like The Benny Hill Show, it’s one of Chester’s favorites.” Ronnie raised her eyebrows. “Tell me the truth, Sheriff? How do you feel about what your deputies and the residents of Cholla County might say when they find out you’re dating me—the ex-wife of a known felon and a member of the notorious Morgan Sisters?”

  Grady’s cellphone rang from his pants pocket.

  “Saved by the bell,” she said.

  “Hold that thought.” He pulled the phone out and frowned
down at the screen. “I need to answer this.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Harrison here.” He listened, his frown deepening. “Come again?” After another pause, he swore and scrubbed his hand across his brow. “Christ. Fine, I’ll be there within a half hour.”

  He hung up. “We have to go to my office.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.” He held the door open for her.

  “I didn’t do it,” she said and climbed up inside.

  He squeezed her knee. “I may need to interrogate you up close and personal later to be sure of that.”

  Rounding the front of the pickup, he joined her in the cab and took off, flying faster than before over the gravel road.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, not wanting to nose into his business after their conversation back there under the moon but curious what had him moving so fast.

  He shrugged. “My deputy is in jail.”

  “What?”

  “He’s managed to lock himself in the holding cell again.”

  Again? Ronnie chuckled. “You need to start calling him Barney Fife.”

  “I’ve already threatened to make him carry his bullets in his pocket.” He shook his head. “He thinks one of my other deputies may have pulled a prank on him. Riley loves practical jokes.”

  “That sounds like something Chester and Manny would do to each other.”

  They rode along in silence until he hit asphalt. Then he glanced her way, his face softened by the glow of the dash lights. “I don’t care.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m tired of living like a monk.”

  Oh, he was referring back to her question. “I can’t guarantee I won’t cause more trouble than I’m worth.”

  His laughter filled the cab. “I’ve already figured that into the equation.”

  “But I will try not to blatantly break the law.”

  “Like throwing litter out the window in front of me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Or flipping me off and calling me a no-good bastard at the top of your lungs?”

  She grimaced. “I’ll work on curbing my tongue, too.” She turned to him. “But you’ll have to make some changes, too.”

  “Such as?”

  “Take me to dinner somewhere nice.”

  “Yuccaville is currently experiencing a shortage of fancy eating joints.”

  “It doesn’t have to be fancy, just somewhere in public. I won’t play the part of your tucked away mistress.”

  “The role of ‘mistress’ is out, got it.” His expression grew serious. “This thing between us has to be exclusive.”

  “Of course.” The thought of him touching and kissing another woman made her want to stroll down Main Street with guns a blazin’.

  “That means no more dates with your FBI buddy.”

  “First, there have been no dates. Second, I’m telling you, Mississippi and I are pretending to be friends. It’s all for show.”

  He slowed as they made it to the Yuccaville city limits. “Show or not, I don’t want to relive the past and put up with the snide looks and smartass jabs about my woman sleeping with another man.”

  Grady’s woman. She tried that on for size. It fit like a glove.

  She reached across the cab and pulled his hand from the wheel, resting his palm over her heart. “I’m not Elizabeth. I won’t do that to you.” She knew exactly how deep infidelity cut thanks to Lyle and his lust for young blondes. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  His gaze bored into hers for a heartbeat or three, and then he looked back out at the empty road in front of them, pulling his hand away. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Quit trying to get me to touch your breast, Ms. Morgan. That’s lewd and inappropriate behavior in the presence of an officer of the law.”

  She laughed. “Wait until you see what other debauchery I have planned for you, Sheriff.”

  He pulled up in front of his office and cut the engine. When she opened the door and joined him on the sidewalk, he glanced down at her. “You’re sure your reputation can handle walking into the Sheriff’s office voluntarily?”

  “It’s all part of my criminal master plan.”

  “That’s what scares me,” he said with a wink.

  She followed him inside, sitting on the edge of his desk as he fished the keys from his drawer. A noise down the short hallway leading to the holding cells made her turn.

  Deputy Dipshit glowered at her through the bars. “What are you doing here?”

  “She’s with me,” Grady said, heading down the hall with keys jangling.

  “With you?” She heard the deputy ask.

  Ronnie glanced down at the floor, not quite comfortable with her new girlfriend role yet. A wadded up paper napkin lay next to the leg of Grady’s desk. From where she sat, she could make out the letters “HE SHAF” in one of the folds.

  What the …

  She knew that napkin. An image of Katie blowing her nose into The Shaft’s branded napkins and then shoving them in her pocket replayed through her thoughts.

  Oh no.

  I found her keys in my pocket. She took Ruby’s pickup. Ronnie remembered Claire’s earlier words. Her pulse picked up speed as Claire’s voice continued, That’s why I asked if you’d seen her. I was hoping she’d explained herself to you.

  Surely Katie hadn’t been here tonight. She’d gone home to rest. Or had she?

  Glancing down the hall to make sure Grady wasn’t looking, she hopped down off his desk and scooped up the napkin, catching sight of a smudge of pink lip gloss on it.

  Oh hell. It was Katie’s color.

  Ronnie wadded the napkin up again and shoved it in her pocket. Strolling over to the Wanted posters, she pretended to read the fine print as Grady and his deputy joined her in the front office.

  “What do you mean she’s with you?” Deputy Dipshit asked. “Did you bring her in for questioning?”

  “No.” Ronnie heard the sound of Grady stuffing the keys back in his drawer. “I was attempting to take Veronica out on a date when you managed to get yourself locked in the cell again and interrupted our evening together.”

  Ronnie watched the deputy, curious how he’d react.

  After pulling his jaw off the floor, he shook his head in surprise. Or maybe that was just a tic he had. “Oh. Wow. Gotcha.” He looked over at Ronnie, checking her out from head to toe as if suddenly realizing she was human. When his beady eyes reached hers, his squint deepened for a moment. His distrust shined through crystal clear. There would be no buddying up to Deputy Dipshit it appeared.

  “When you’re done eyeballing my date, Deputy, could you come over here for a moment?”

  Deputy Dipshit’s cheeks spotted with red. He rushed over to Grady’s desk. “What can I do, Sheriff?”

  “Before you managed to end up locked in the jail cell, did you notice that the surveillance cameras had been disabled?” He plugged in the cord leading to a black box on the shelf behind his desk. Lights lit up the front of the box, a whirring sound coming from the camera in the corner that was aimed at the front doors.

  “No, sir. I heard a noise, but then my walkie-talkie squawked back in the jail cell and distracted me.”

  “And where were you when someone came in?”

  “In the uh …” the deputy glanced at Ronnie and he lowered his voice, “the john, sir.”

  It was hard not to snicker aloud.

  Grady leaned over his keyboard and typed something. The computer screen came to life, lighting his face.

  Ronnie’s pulse picked up speed to a full gallop. Shit! If Katie really had been here, Grady would know within seconds that it wasn’t this Riley guy who had pranked Deputy Dipshit, but a Morgan sister.

  “I need to step outside for a minute,” she said, struggling to breathe suddenly in the middle of the Sheriff’s lair.

  “Okay.” Grady didn’t look up from the screen thankfully, or he might have noticed that her panic was turning her blue. “I
’ll just be a second.”

  She inched toward the door, her feet wanting to flee, her brain holding them in check. She needed to know for sure if it were Katie.

  Behind her, he tapped at the keyboard. “Here we go.”

  Ronnie peeked over her shoulder, watching, waiting for him to look up at her and glare accusingly. This would surely change his mind about getting romantically involved with a Morgan sister.

  Deputy Dipshit leaned closer. “Who is that?”

  “I can’t see through his black hoodie.”

  “It’s Riley. Look at those skinny shoulders.”

  “Maybe.” Grady didn’t sound convinced.

  “It’s Riley.” The deputy sat down on the corner of the desk. “Who else knows about the cameras and our surveillance system?”

  Ronnie gulped. Maybe someone who’d been in jail recently who was mad as a hatter thanks to baby hormones flying around inside of her and who might have Revenge on the top of her To-Do list.

  She pushed out the front door before Grady saw the panic on her face. She needed to talk to Claire asap. God, if she only had a cellphone. Then she remembered that there was a payphone across the street in front of the library. She jaywalked to it, fishing quarters out of her purse. She called The Shaft, counting the rings. “Come on, answer damn it.”

  Arlene’s voice came on the line.

  “Arlene, can I talk to Claire quick? It’s Ronnie.”

  “Sure, hon’.”

  There was a muted scuffle and then Claire picked up. “Hello?”

  “We have a big problem,” Ronnie told her.

  Her sister’s laugh was loaded with sarcasm. “What’s new?”

  Ronnie glanced over her shoulder, making sure Grady hadn’t come up behind her. She saw him still leaning over his desk. “I think Katie was at the Sheriff’s office tonight.”

  “What? Why would she go there?”

  “I don’t know, but someone locked Deputy Dipshit in the holding cell and left him stranded without the keys.” Ronnie had to wait for Claire to stop laughing to continue. “It’s not funny, Claire. If Katie did this, she might have been getting him out of her way so she could do something dangerous. Something that she didn’t want to be caught in the act of doing.”