“Let me get my coat. I’ll go with you.”
Miranda opened her mouth to point out how that was a terrible idea but she realized her effort was futile. Maybe Jeremiah needed some fresh air, too.
Miranda shook her head, exasperated, and headed for the Range Rover, where Jeremiah soon joined her.
“Are you trying for a record of bad decisions?” she asked as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Because this ranks up there with pretty stupid. You’re about to get your ass handed to you for being with me, and yet, here you are...with me again.”
“This is different.”
“Not to whoever ratted us out.”
“We both still have jobs to do and a poaching case that’s still unsolved. I directed you to do some follow-up and Stuart directed me to remain involved in the hopes of garnering some positive press if we manage to solve the case. The way I see it, I’m just doing my job. As long as we don’t end the day with a kiss and a grope I think we’re okay.”
She choked back surprised laughter and caught his subtle smile. “You’re something else, Burke. All right. Well, today we’re going to pay a visit to Rhett Fowler with Big Game Trophy so you can get an idea of some of the bigger names in the area.”
“Good. Anything to take my mind off tomorrow works for me.”
She smiled. They were birds of a feather.
They pulled up to the expansive, lodgelike home of Rhett Fowler and parked right up front. The home looked like an expensive ski lodge out of Vail, Colorado, with its rock face, thick timbers and extreme size, which fit Rhett well. Rhett was a man with a big barrel chest and a thick, booming voice and an even bigger laugh. A house any smaller just would’ve felt like a studio apartment.
Rhett met them at the door and immediately gathered Miranda into a bear hug that lifted her from her feet. “Girl, you’re not eating enough! I can nearly see right through you. You feeding that boy quality protein? I’ve got some caribou steaks I can send home with you if you need,” Rhett said, then turned his attention to Jeremiah. “And you must be that young cat that everyone’s talking about who took Virgil’s place. Nice to meet you,” he said, pumping Jeremiah’s hand with his signature enthusiasm and a wide smile.
Miranda grinned. Maybe she’d forgotten to mention that she’d known Rhett Fowler her entire life and he was crazy about her in a fatherly sort of way.
Jeremiah caught her barely smothered grin and she knew the jig was up, but he smiled at Rhett and allowed him to nearly shake him out of his shoes. “The very same. And you’re Rhett Fowler, owner of Big Game Trophy.”
“It better be me or else I’ve been paying someone else’s taxes all these years!” Rhett’s boom of a laugh bounced off the masculine room filled with the decapitated heads of a variety of animals as he led them into the living room, where rawhide furniture and heated floors awaited.
Rhett gestured to a woman who buzzed by, his third wife, Ambra, and instructed her to get some drinks. “Beer?” he asked Jeremiah. He didn’t need to ask Miranda. He already knew she liked dark German imports if she could get them and Rhett always kept a few in his fridge. Jeremiah hesitated the barest moment but then relented and Rhett approved. “That a boy. I don’t trust a man who doesn’t enjoy a beer now and then. Makes me wonder, what’s his problem? Isn’t he a red-blooded American?”
Ambra returned with beers for everyone and then floated from the room, off to do her own thing. Ambra was a snow bunny Rhett had brought back from his last trip to Switzerland two years ago. She was like a Nordic princess with her long, flowing white hair, pale blue eyes and lean, willowy figure. She was also in her late twenties. “The perks of being filthy rich, eh?” he joked with a knowing wink at Jeremiah.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Shame on you for being a lecherous old man. You’d better be careful—someday you’re going to find out that the women only love you for your money.”
“Honey, money isn’t everything. I keep them happy in other places, too.”
“Gahh!” Miranda plugged her ears for emphasis. “I don’t want to hear about what a stallion you are in the bedroom. I’ve known you since I was a kid.”
He sobered and asked, “How’s your pops?”
Miranda shot him a warning look. She didn’t want to talk about her father in front of Jeremiah.
Rhett took the hint and cleared his throat. “As much as I enjoy a visit from my favorite fish-and-game girl, time is money, love. What can I do for you?”
“The poachers are back,” Miranda said. “We’re basically examining all the old evidence. Jeremiah wanted to meet a lot of the local game outfits personally. I figured you’d be a good place to start.”
“Happy to help. Poachers are bad for business,” he said. “When people think they can just take whatever they like, they decimate the game for the legitimate outfits.”
“Poaching is big business. We believe the poachers are part of a sophisticated ring that is killing the bears for the Asian black market. A bear gallbladder can go for as much as fifteen thousand a piece. That’s big money.” Jeremiah leaned forward and stared hard at Rhett. “Pardon me for asking, but what does it take to run an outfit like this? I imagine the economy has managed to take a bite out of your profits. I’ve checked your permit applications and you’ve had a twenty percent reduction in applications last year, and this year it seems you’re taking a similar hit.”
“Ain’t it a bitch? Yeah, the economy has taken a bite, for sure.” Rhett smiled with a shrug. “But I’ve got a healthy reserve. I assure you I don’t need to start running black-market bear parts.”
Miranda didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Rhett had answered. Her cheeks flushed with anxiety, hating how Jeremiah had put Rhett on the spot with his line of questioning. “I’m sorry.... We had to ask,” Miranda said quietly, glancing at Jeremiah in the hopes that they were finished.
“Girl, don’t worry. It’s your job. I want you to catch those bastards. It’s hard enough to run a legitimate operation without people worrying that we’re just running around willy-nilly. If the animal activists caught wind of an operation like mine doing something like that on the side, they’d delight in skewering my ass to the wood. I’m not about to give those peckerwoods the power to mess with my livelihood. You ask any question you like. I’m an open book.”
“The first kill of the season was discovered last week right before that monster storm blew in. I was tracking them off Woodstock’s Trail and then we lost the trail when the snow started to come down in a blizzard.”
“Freak storm for so early in the season,” Rhett said. “Dangerous.”
Miranda nodded but didn’t elaborate. She didn’t come to chat about the weather and she definitely didn’t want to share how she and Jeremiah had holed up in the search-and-rescue cabin. “I don’t know how they’re getting in and out without being noticed, which makes us wonder if they’re operating under the guise of a legitimate business.”
“There’s a new outfit that just started operating, Vivid Adventures, owned by a gal named Vee Walker. I don’t know much about her aside from the fact that she’s running the prices so low that it’s cutting into business on all sides. My question is, how is she able to operate with such low pricing? I’m not saying she’s the one, but I’d poke my nose into her practices if I were you.”
“Thanks for the tip, Rhett,” Miranda said, looking to Jeremiah.
“We’ll pull a few of her permits and take a look at the volume she’s doing and where. The kills have been in a concentrated area each time. Thanks for your cooperation and the beer.”
They rose and said their goodbyes, but as Jeremiah went ahead of Miranda, Rhett gently held Miranda back to speak to her privately. “Listen, be careful out there. Whenever there’s big money at stake, lives tend to have less value...particularly that of a pair of nosy fish-and-game employe
es. You hear me?”
“I’ll be okay,” she assured her old friend. “Thanks for allowing Jeremiah to grill you.”
“He seems all right,” Rhett said, giving her the unofficial nod of approval. “Take it easy, kid.”
Miranda smiled and joined Jeremiah in the car.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“FOWLER SEEMS LIKE a good guy. Honest.”
“He is. One of the best.”
“How well do you know him?”
Miranda drew a deep breath. “I’ve known him my entire life. He and my dad used to be close.”
“I sensed there was some history there. What happened?”
“When Simone died, my dad changed. He...stopped caring about the things that used to give him joy and started turning his attention to things that his friends didn’t approve of.”
She was phrasing her answer cautiously, which made Jeremiah wonder what she wasn’t saying. He didn’t want to pry but it seemed as if he was missing an important element.
“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she began sharing in a halting voice, “but I trust you.” When she saw that he was listening intently, she continued. “My dad used to carve wooden totems and other types of tourist carvings and he was really good at what he did. At one time his art was everywhere. His carvings were sought after all over Alaska. But then Simone died and it was as if something intrinsic to his art died with her. He started smoking a lot of pot but because he needed an income he started selling it, too. So now he fancies himself a farmer and he’s built an elaborate greenhouse system attached to his shop and that’s where he spends the majority of his time—either stoned out of his gourd or tending to his crop.”
Jeremiah could tell she’d taken a leap of faith sharing that information with him. He had to admit he was a little conflicted. As a federal employee he felt obligated to report such a crime but there was no way in hell he would do that to Miranda. “How does your family feel about your dad’s new profession?”
Miranda barked a short derisive laugh. “You’re being kind. I don’t care what people say about marijuana being nonaddictive. My father is plainly hooked. And my family hates it. My oldest brother, Wade, won’t even speak to my dad. Trace is so embarrassed he won’t admit that it’s even happening, and my mother is so locked in her own delusions that she lives in a house filled with junk and won’t admit that her own husband has effectively moved out into the shop to avoid her.” Miranda wiped the tear falling down her cheek as she laughed again. “I can’t believe this. I’m crying. I never cry. But in the last week and a half I’ve cried more than I have in a lifetime. I don’t know what to do for my family. I’ve called Trace numerous times, trying to get him to come home, but he just won’t. I don’t know what to say or do to get him here and I’ve completely given up on Wade. If you thought I was a mess, you should see my family.”
“Everyone’s family has dysfunction in some way or another.”
“Yeah, but my family could medal in dysfunction.”
Jeremiah chuckled. “I’m sure it feels that way. My family tree has its share of nuts. I’d like to say I’m the normal one but I’ve come to realize that I have my quirks, too.”
“Such as?”
Jeremiah laughed, unsure of how much he should share. He didn’t want to come off as weird so early in their relationship. “Well, if you must know, I have an aversion to the sound of people eating popcorn. Like fingernails on chalkboard for me. All I can think of is all that gnashing and spit flying and dirty fingers plunging into the communal popcorn bucket and I want to puke. Makes it hard to go to movies on a first date,” he admitted with a rueful grin.
At that Miranda laughed. “So what do you do on a first date?”
“Depends. If she’s really set on seeing a movie I’ll suffer through the agony but I’ll suggest a matinee so there are fewer people. Or if she doesn’t care about going to a movie, I try to throw something unique out there, like skating or skiing or a poetry recital.”
Miranda looked aghast. “Poetry recital? Good thing you were on a self-imposed celibacy kick. There is no one who is going to have sex with you after a poetry recital. Talk about boring and very unsexy.”
Jeremiah agreed. “Well, that was an isolated incident. And the woman I was dating was a New Age type who seemed as if she would enjoy something like that. Personally, it wasn’t my cup of tea. But, in all fairness, it wasn’t a terrible night. I had a great time even if I didn’t particularly enjoy the poetry.”
“Aww, what a champion of making lemonade with lemons. But I would never enjoy something like that, just so you know.”
Jeremiah’s ears perked at that small admission. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of first date would you enjoy? Not that I’m looking for information...but you know what I mean.”
Miranda shrugged. “I’m not much of a dater. Small talk bores me. I’m a bit of a workaholic and any free time I have I spend with my son. But I used to enjoy snowboarding when I had the time. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to hit the slopes but if I were looking for an idea to suggest to someone it would definitely be something physical and outdoors.”
“I’ve never snowboarded. But I can ski.”
“I won’t hold that against you,” Miranda teased, then sobered. “Listen, I want to follow up on that tip that Rhett gave us. Honestly, I’ve never heard of Vivid Adventures and I don’t remember a permit with Vee Walker’s name on it.”
Jeremiah agreed. “I have that meeting with Stuart tomorrow otherwise I’d go with you but I definitely think follow-up is a good idea.”
Miranda nodded. “I will. For what it’s worth, I don’t know if Rhett doesn’t like her because she’s cutting into his bottom line or because he knows something that we don’t, but I know that he would never steer me in the wrong direction.”
“Okay. But I want you to take someone with you. How about Mary?”
Miranda grimaced. “Mary hates doing fieldwork. Anything that takes her outside of the comfort of the office is no good for her. I’ll be fine. I don’t need a chaperone.”
“It isn’t about needing a chaperone. It’s about safety. If this woman is involved with the poaching circles she’s not going to like you poking your nose around in her business. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Miranda’s mouth curved in a sweet smile that she couldn’t hold back. And for a long moment Jeremiah fought to keep from closing the distance and sealing his mouth to hers. The one saving grace was that she was still driving and he didn’t want to distract her but, damn, the urge to touch her was overwhelming. Electricity sparked between them and it seemed the cab of the vehicle had become unbearably hot. He broke the spell when he pulled away and cracked the window. “Just be careful out there.”
Miranda didn’t protest this time and simply nodded.
“We make a good team,” Jeremiah said. “I wish things were different.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Me, too.”
At least they were on the same page of a banned book.
* * *
THAT NIGHT MIRANDA couldn’t sleep. A combination of the information Rhett had shared and the knowledge that Jeremiah was going to admit to Stuart his involvement with an employee had her head in a chaotic tangle. Why did Jeremiah have to be so damn noble? He didn’t need to admit to anything. There was no real proof of anything inappropriate. Even as she justified his need to lie to his supervisor, she was a tiny bit proud of his stalwart insistence on telling the truth, no matter the cost.
Johnny had been such a pathological liar that she’d never trusted a word that had come out of his mouth. Jeremiah would never be like that. Not that they were anywhere near similar to one another, but Johnny was the last man she’d shared time with and her relationship with Johnny was the only thing she had to compare to.
How sad was that? Miranda grimaced and flung her arm over her eyes as she lay in the darkness. She missed Jeremiah beside her. When exactly did she become this person who missed cuddling? She shuddered at her own ridiculousness, but even as she derided herself, she longed for Jeremiah’s comforting warmth beside her.
She’d slept so soundly next to him, curled into his body like a matching puzzle piece. Miranda groaned and kicked her feet a little in frustration. Stop. Just stop. Focus on what’s real.
There was no future with Jeremiah. No matter that they were good together, both in bed and in the office. The odds were stacked against them so high that they towered into the sky and touched the clouds.
Miranda squeezed her eyes shut and tried to sleep. Tomorrow was a big day—for her and Jeremiah.
She could only hope he was getting more sleep than she was at the moment; he was going to need his wits about him when he talked with Stuart.
Please let everything work out for once, she said in a silent prayer. Please. Just this once.
She’d never put much store in prayer. After Simone had died, praying to a higher power had seemed a useless waste of time.
But here she was, fervently praying for the first time in eight years that a higher power of some sort would take pity on her and turn everything to her advantage. If her mother knew, she’d scold her for being selfish. She’d say, God had bigger priorities than the mundane details of Miranda Sinclair’s life. Maybe that was so, but Miranda didn’t know what else to do and she had to do something.
When her cell phone trilled to life on her bedside table, she snatched it up, only too eager to do anything aside from try to force sleep. She’d half hoped it was Jeremiah, but when she heard her brother Trace’s voice on the line, she was both relieved and irritated.
“Why can’t you call at a normal hour?” she groused.
“Were you sleeping?”
That Reckless Night Page 19
