"I'm fine."
"You look scared."
Her eyes darted around before returning to his face. "I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a busy few days."
His gaze narrowed. Miley was still fidgeting, playing with the corner of her shirt as she alternated kicking the rock covered driveway with her boot. Something wasn't right, and it bothered him that she was uneasy. Glancing over at her truck, he noticed for the first time that a piece of cardboard had been crudely taped over the passenger window. Lifting his chin toward it, he asked, "What happened to your window?"
She swallowed as she looked up and to the left. His jaw clenched. Part of his SEAL training included interrogation tactics, so he knew she was about to lie to him. True, he didn't know her that well, but he knew enough that she prized her integrity.
"I think some punk kids must have done it. There's a chance of rain in the morning, so I just threw something up until I can talk to my insurance company tomorrow."
"And?"
Miley threw her hands up and huffed. "And what? What do you want me to say, Alcide? My window got broken. It happens. Crime doesn't just happen in big cities, you know. It can happen anywhere. There's nowhere safe. Not even in the middle of Buttcrack Wyoming."
"Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, firecracker. I didn't mean anything by it. You're my sister's friend, and I was worried about you." He reached out, palmed her cheek then gently pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. "If you say it's nothing then okay."
She let out a held breath, closed her eyes and leaned ever so slightly into his palm. It only lasted a second before she drew back. For a moment, she had let him into the impenetrable fortress of her heart. Her trust for that second had made something stir inside. Too soon it was gone.
"It's been a long day, Alcide. I need to get some sleep." She turned to leave. He placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
"When you're ready to talk, Rissa and I are here for you. Whatever it is, it's not too big to share with your friends, okay?"
She glanced back over her shoulder into his eyes. She opened her mouth to say something then stopped as her gaze froze on something behind him. Reaching up, she picked up his hand and pushed it off her shoulder. Raising her voice, she snarled. "I don't need to share anything, Alcide. I'm fine. If you don't mind, take your hands off of me." Whirling around, she fast walked to her camper, thrust the key inside the lock and opened the door. It took only a second for her to climb the three steps, enter and slam the door behind. The click of the lock sounded loud, and he winced.
Turning around, he scratched at his hairline. He wasn't sure what had her so nervous, but that little bullshit detector in the back of his mind was going haywire. Glancing around, looking for whatever had spooked her, he noticed a truck at the stop sign facing them. Squinting his eyes, he read the driver side panel highlighted by the overhead street lamp.
"Double H Ranch," he whispered to himself. As he watched, the truck squealed tires, flew through the stop sign and disappeared back toward Slap Daddy's. Alcide frowned. Something was going on with the new dude ranch and Miley. He didn't know what it was, but he only had a few days to figure it out. Wednesday afternoon would find him back on an airplane to California leaving Miley here alone to deal with whatever trouble had camped out on her doorstep.
Chapter 8
Monday morning sucked.
Miley dragged herself out of bed after the second night of staring at the walls and worrying. The faint stale scent of the bar clung to her skin making her frown. She needed a shower badly. As she bathed, she let the events of the weekend run through her mind and still saw no obvious solution. She had seen the truck from the Double H idling at the stop sign Saturday night. Whoever was watching her saw Alcide there talking with her. The last thing she would do is get him or Rissa involved in this craziness, so she brushed him off. Hopefully whoever was spying on her would believe she hadn't told him anything.
Stepping out of the shower, she dried off, tossed on a matching set of blue underwear then pulled on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt with the clinic's logo over the pocket. Wriggling her sock covered toes into her favorite pair of well broken-in boots, she grabbed her keys and reached for her phone on the charger. Confusion clouded her face before she remembered it had been destroyed, along with the pictures she took of the dumping site. Guess that made her mind up about today. She couldn't survive without a phone, and the nearest dealer was in Cody. With a little luck, she could be there and back before lunch.
Realizing she needed more than soda, Miley poured her travel mug full of coffee, exited her camper and locked the door. The rocks that made her driveway crunched under her booted feet as she approached the back door. Punching in the code, she flung it open and walked in.
"There you are. I was about to come looking for you," Chloe looked much too chipper for eight on a Monday.
"Morning. What's up?" She took a long drink of the cup in her hand and almost moaned in relief as the cobwebs began to recede. "Where's Jessie? I figured he would be here by now."
"We got a call this morning from Yancy. Two more of his cows died. Jessie went to check on the rest of the herd. He tried to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail."
Miley grimaced. "I had a little accident with my cell. I need to get over to Cody to pick up another one. How's this morning looking?"
She shrugged. "Just that one and a message." She picked up a piece of paper, read it and handed it to Miley. "Tariq Hoxha from the Double H needs to talk to you. He said you would know what it's about."
Miley's hand stopped in midair for a moment then continued to take the paper from Chloe. Glancing at it, she stuffed it into her pocket. "Yeah, I'll get back with him," she mumbled. Clearing her throat, she glanced around the front room then back to Chloe. "Do me a favor. Call Jessie and ask him to hold down the fort until I can get back from Cody. If he runs into any problems, Pop-pop is always on standby. I should be home by lunch."
"Will do," Chloe chirped then pulled out the latest Susan Stoker romance novel to read. Within moments she was fully engrossed in the story with a sly sort of smile on her lips. From the well-muscled man on the cover and the exciting blurb on the back, it looked to be a promising read. Once Miley got the crap storm her life had become under control, she'd have to check it out. Just because she didn't want an alpha male hero in her life didn't mean she wouldn't enjoy reading about them.
Satisfied that the clinic would be taken care of today, Miley hurried to her truck and unlocked the door. She laughed to herself when she realized that it didn't matter if she had locked it or not since the passenger window was still broken. If anyone wanted to steal everything she had in the cab, that flap of cardboard wasn't going to keep them out. What did bother her, though, was that she had been in such a hurry to get inside Saturday night, she left her emergency bag in the floorboard. Thankfully, the shower that had peppered the area yesterday didn't seem to have made it inside the cab.
She started to climb into the truck but stopped. Something was wrong. For some reason, it was listing badly to one side as if sitting on uneven ground. Stepping back from the door, she looked down and let the most unprofessional curse she knew blast through her lips. The front driver tire had repeatedly been slashed until it bulged out at the cuts like huge rubber lips puckered for a kiss. She squatted beside it and shook her head. How she had missed that before surprised her. Her breath left in a whoosh as she realized her broken cell phone had been shoved into one of the slits. "Message received," she murmured as she glanced over her shoulder. No one was nearby, but that didn't mean she wasn't being watched.
Luckily, Miley had learned at an early age how to take care of herself and the things around her; that included emergency repairs on her vehicle. Pop-pop had taught her one summer how to change a tire, and she was grateful for that education now. Standing up, she pulled the seat forward and grabbed the jack and a tire iron. She hadn't had to change one in a while, but she did remember how.
&
nbsp; Twenty minutes later, she hefted the tire up into the back of her truck then ran into her camper to wash up and change her shirt. Miley couldn't wait to get out of this town. She needed to think, and the almost hour-long drive to Cody would be just what she needed.
She drove past the post office and the Laundromat as her mind slid into automatic. What was she going to do about the situation she found herself in? Lights flashed behind her as the whoop whoop of a siren caught her attention. "Now what?" she murmured as she pulled onto the shoulder and threw the gear into park. A face appeared beside her and knocked on the window. She pasted a smile on her face and swallowed. Rolling down the window, her eyes flicked to the two officers standing at her door.
"Morning. Is there a problem?"
The younger one, a man close to her age wearing a name tag that said Stanton lifted his chin at her. "Morning, Doc. You got a minute?"
"Yeah, sure." She turned her vehicle into the parking lot indicated and shut off the engine. Getting out, she met the two officers at the front of her vehicle.
Officer Stanton spoke into his portable radio. "Dispatch, we found her. We're in the parking lot of Ellie's Diner."
"Ten Four."
"Officer Stanton? What is this about?"
"Just one minute, Dr. Ellison."
Miley frowned but leaned against the grill of her pickup. The parking lot of Ellie's was busy but not crowded. The delicious fragrances drifting from the building reminded her she hadn't eaten today and her stomach growled in protest. She could pop inside and grab a biscuit to eat on the way. Yeah, she'll do that.
A car pulled up and parked beside her truck behind the police cruiser. The doors opened, and two men exited. One, she had never seen before. The second one - she had.
Tariq Hoxha smiled broadly and stuck his hand out. "Doctor Ellison. I'm so pleased we were able to catch up to you."
She stared down at his hand as if trying to decide if it were deadly or not. Wiping her palm on the thigh of her jeans, she took his and gripped it. His grip crushed her fingers for a brief moment before he let go. He did not introduce his companion.
Hoxha continued. "Please forgive me for asking the police to find you. I tried to call, but you did not answer. I hear your telephone was recently damaged."
"Damaged?" One eyebrow rose incredulously. "You could say that."
The smile on Hoxha's face fell, and his eyes glittered dangerously. "I'm sure it was an accident. Surely you're not insinuating that someone willfully destroyed your property." He lifted his eyes to the cardboard taped to her window.
"No, of course not," she retorted snidely. "What do you want, Mr. Hoxha?"
The large muscled man leaned back and drew a fat cigar out of his pocket. Lighting a match, he bathed the end in flames until he was able to draw smoke into his lungs and let it out in a long stream. "Some of my men were fishing along the Bighorn River and discovered several dead animals. Of course, I was concerned and alerted the authorities immediately." He clamped the cigar between his teeth and pulled out a piece of paper. Unfolding it, Tariq thrust it toward her. "I received this report today and felt it prudent to inform you immediately."
Miley read the report. Disbelief made her gasp as she read the official result printed on EPA stationary. "Toxoplasmosis? Are you freaking kidding me? How is it possible that they came up with this as a result?"
Hoxha grinned maliciously. "You should be happy it is only a simple infection and not worse. I took the liberty of having the affected animals destroyed as not to spread it to the livestock."
Miley felt her ire rise and she narrowed her eyes. "And what about the heavy metal levels in the samples I found in Yancy's herd?"
"My contact within the EPA, Derrick Richards, assures me that the samples will be rechecked immediately. He was concerned that the technician who performed the tests may have contaminated the samples. That laboratory also analyses soil samples from Pavillion. I'm sure this diagnosis will be confirmed. Toxoplasmosis."
Disbelief slammed into her. They were going to blame all the animal deaths on a simple infection that rarely became deadly. She reeled and leaned heavily on her truck. Looking around at the faces, she shook her head. Hoxha shared the same smirk on the face of his friend standing beside him. On Miley's other side, the two officers stood quietly with blank indifference on theirs. Was it possible that Hoxha had the local authorities in his pocket? What about the letter from the EPA still gripped tightly in her fist? Did this Derrick Richards take his cues from Tariq as well?
She needed to get out of here.
"Well, I guess that's that," she quipped sarcastically. Pushing through the circle of men, she reached her door but was stopped by Hoxha's big hand splayed on the window.
"Excuse me, I have things to do," she growled at him.
"I won't keep you but a moment." He removed his hand and puffed on the cigar, blowing smoke into her face causing her to cough and her eyes to water.
Glaring at him, she asked, "Well?"
"I need you to come to the ranch tomorrow. We are ready to welcome our first customers, and I want to be sure the horses are well."
Miley shook her head. "I have small animal clinic tomorrow. I'm sorry."
His face hardened, and his voice lowered into a threatening tone. "I suppose I will have to find another veterinarian. Your grandfather is one, po?"
Fear swarmed inside her. She couldn't... wouldn't let her grandfather get mixed up with these men. She couldn't let Jessie, either. Her mind flew through possible scenarios, and each time, the answer was the same. She didn't know what game he was playing, but she refused to let any of her friends or family become pawns.
"He's retired. However, I can see how much this means to you. I'm not sure how many appointments I have scheduled, but I'll move them around and come out tomorrow afternoon if I can. Would that be acceptable?"
Tariq grinned broadly and patted her on the shoulder. "Perfect," he exclaimed then took a step back.
Miley opened the door and slid in. Regardless of her forced bravado earlier, her fingers trembled so badly, she almost couldn't get the key into the ignition. Flashing what she hoped was a sincere looking smile, she threw the truck into reverse and flew out of the parking lot. All thoughts of one of Ellie's delicious biscuits evaporated as she tried to figure out the odds of her surviving her appointment tomorrow. From the cold look in Hoxha's eyes, she wasn't feeling too confident. Then again, maybe her overactive imagination was kicking into high gear, and there was nothing nefarious going on. She snorted. Yeah, right.
Her stomach fell. What choice did she have? If she didn't go, her grandfather or Jessie could be hurt. Just like Saturday night with Alcide Montgomery, she couldn't let anyone be harmed because of her. The miles on highway fourteen flew by as her mind turned to the brother of her friend Rissa. Alcide was a hot, alpha male serving in one of the branches of the military. She remembered seeing a picture of him taken the day he had finished his basic training. She had to admit; he looked amazing in his dress uniform.
She blew out a breath. Thinking about him wasn't going to get her out of this situation, but it did give her something to consider instead of the impossible pit of hopelessness that threatened to drown her. In another lifetime, where she didn't have the past she did, and he wasn't her friend's brother, she would consider asking him out. He was strong, protective, and knew just how to push her buttons. In response to her thoughts, her body warmed, and tingles of awareness slithered through her veins. Brother or not, Alcide was exactly the kind of man she went for, or rather, used to go for before Jacob. "God, I need a little male TLC, and Rissa's brother isn't the one for that," she muttered to herself. He was handsome, she admitted, but he was also controlling, and that wasn't a situation she would ever let herself get into again.
"Time to get your mind off men," she reprimanded herself, and turned the radio on. Reception could be sketchy on the best of days and the storm clouds gathering overhead wouldn't help matters. Unfortunately, without he
r cell phone, she was stuck with scratchy stations or one of the three CD's she'd inherited from Pop-pop when he gave her this truck - George Jones, Conway Twitty or The Beatles. Eclectic choices.
Shoving Abbey Road into the player, she turned the volume up and began to sing along. Tapping her hands on the steering wheel, she pushed the problems plaguing her to the back of her mind. At least for the next couple of hours she could pretend everything was okay in her world. She would deal with reality when she got home.
She belted out the lyrics to her most favorite Beatles song, Maxwell's Silver Hammer at the top of her lungs when a loud bang echoed through the cabin. Suddenly, the wheel jerked out of her hands and the truck veered sharply to the right. Wrestling the truck under control, Miley managed to pull it off the asphalt and onto the shoulder. Throwing it into park, she hopped out of the cab and cursed. The tire she had just changed was shredded all over the road leaving the rim gouging the hard packed dirt.
"ARGHHHH!" Miley screamed. She propped her elbows on the side of the truck and threw her face into them. She was wrong - this crappy day could get worse.
A crack of thunder sounded overhead, and she lifted her face skyward. Fat drops began to fall.
"You've got to be kidding!" Miley screamed to the heavens. It was official - the universe was making her its bitch. She opened the door and slid in. Laying her head back against the headrest, she tried to figure out what she had done that Karma now rode her shoulders like a jockey on a racehorse. All she wanted was to open a little clinic somewhere close to an ocean where she could treat pets and spend her weekends soaking up the sun. Instead, she was here in the middle of hell, taking care of a practice that left her tired and unfulfilled while dodging what looked like the Albanian mob. Now she was on the side of the road, halfway to nowhere with a flat tire and no cell phone.
"Somebody up there has it in for me," she muttered.
The rain continued to pour as Miley sat in the cab, contemplating her crummy life. A few times, cars had passed by, but none even slowed. She was tempted to get out and wave someone down. Knowing her luck, she would get mowed over by a trucker, and her body wouldn't be found until the coyotes finished snacking on her liver. She giggled at the absurdity of the thought. The giggles turned to laughs which quickly escalated to gut-wrenching sobs. God, her life sucked.
Safeguarding Miley Page 6
