"Of course not! That would be excessive force in the case of a simple burglary."
"Burglary?"
"The door was open and the lights out. I thought..." She lifted her hands in a gesture of apology.
Tyler sucked in an audible breath. "Could you be a little more careful with that stuff?"
"Sorry." She re-engaged the safety on the pepper spray and stowed it back in her purse.
"You were going to blast me?"
"Not unless you attacked."
He snorted, running a hand across his hair, and gave her something almost like a real smile. "Good thing you weren't carrying it last night."
CHAPTER TEN
The adrenaline drained out of Shannon in a knee gelling whoosh! She braced a hand against the door frame. "What are you doing up here in the dark?"
"Hanging out with all my friends." He bent and picked up the stool, setting it upright. "I'm not fit company for anyone else."
"Oh. Well, I should leave you..." Shannon took a step back but he stopped her.
"Are you allowed to have a beer on the job?" he asked.
"A beer?"
Three longneck bottles were lined up on the counter near where he sat. A fourth had toppled onto the floor and spewed foam. From the size of the puddle, Shannon guessed it had been nearly empty before she'd made him drop it. He reached into a small plastic cooler near his feet and pulled out a fifth, extending it toward her.
She made no move to accept. "Why?"
His hand dropped to dangle the bottle from his fingers. "Why am I doing my damnedest to get drunk, or why did I offer to share?"
Ah, yes. Now that her pulse was no longer pounding in her ears, she could hear the effect of the alcohol, blurring the already velvety edges of his words. He wasn't just trying to get drunk. He had already arrived.
"Both," she said.
He propped his hips on the stool. "I was hopin' it might stop my brain from runnin' in circles, imaginin' what might go down tomorrow if you're right about those stolen horses."
"How's that working out?"
"Not worth a shit." He blew out a yeasty, beer-scented sigh. "I should know by now the booze only makes it worse. 'Specially drinking alone."
"I'm sorry. I wish there was another way, but if you tell anyone..."
"Yeah. I get it. But I've been there and done that, and it sucks. If I could save Bud and Judy even a little of what my mother went through..."
Her stomach clenched at the hollow echo of pain in his words. Then her mind snagged on what he hadn't quite said. "You think it's Danny."
"I..." He trailed off, scraped at the label on the neck of the beer bottle with his thumbnail, then reluctantly met her gaze. "I don't have any proof."
"But you know."
He sighed, then nodded. "The whole time we were growing up, things had a bad habit of disappearing when Danny was around."
"He doesn't have a record."
"Not as an adult. He got caught peddling stolen saddles when we were fifteen. Bud and Judy called in some favors, persuaded the cowboys involved not to press charges as long as they got their stuff back."
"So even if it is on the books somewhere, he was a juvenile and it would be sealed," Shannon said, her mind shuffling this new information into place.
"I suppose. They shipped Danny down to live with his uncle in Texas, figuring a change of scenery might straighten him out. Or at least keep him from getting his neck wrung by somebody up here." Tyler hitched a shoulder, the movement causing him to list slightly. "If I had to bet, I'd say the only thing Danny learned in Texas was how to be a smarter crook."
Hell and damnation. She'd been hoping—praying, even—that her instincts were off. If Danny truly was involved in the horse thefts and her operation went as planned...well, heartbreak would be the least of Bud and Judy's problems.
Tyler extended the bottle toward her. "Sure you won't join me?"
She hesitated, then stepped closer to take the icy cold bottle. The first sip was heaven for her tight, parched throat. She slid onto the stool nearest the door, keeping the third—Judy's—between them. Tyler had opened one of the big plywood shutters on the front of the announcer's stand, probably an attempt to let in the non-existent breeze. Dim, bluish light streamed through from the halogen lamps mounted on poles around the beer garden directly across the arena, lighting one side of his face. The corner where Shannon sat was deep in shadow, a tactical advantage for which she was grateful. She could see him, read him, better than he could see her.
Tyler fished the last beer out of the cooler and twisted off the top, but didn't take a drink. "Do you carry a gun?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever had to shoot someone?"
No. She hadn't had the chance, hadn't even made sure her mace was handy, because she'd failed to anticipate that Chuck Potter would carry a concealed weapon. Idiot. She'd slipped in unarmed, ahead of the officers sent to apprehend him, gambling that she could get the information she needed just before they pounded on his door, arrogant in her assumption that if it went sideways, the cavalry would arrive in the nick of time to save her.
Assumptions that had nearly proven fatal.
"My job is to gather and evaluate information. I leave the scary stuff to the real cops."
He cocked his head. "I thought you were state police."
"Not like the guys who are out there every day, putting their lives on the line. This is my first job in the field since..." Damn. She hadn't meant to let that slip. And she sure as hell wasn't going to explain exactly why. Or that, if she screwed up again, this might be her last field trip.
Tyler seemed to consider asking another question, then took a sip of his beer instead.
"Do you miss auctioneering?" she asked, a desperate bid to change the subject before his questions got any more specific.
"A little." His head bowed as he twirled the beer bottle between his fingers. "Not as much as I should."
"It was never your first choice." Something he'd confided during one of those picnics in the park.
His head dipped a notch lower, along with his voice, the dejected curve of his neck making her fingers twitch to stroke him there. "I'm the older brother. I should have spent more time at home. Paid attention to what Kevin was doing, instead of making tracks to the next rodeo the minute I had a chance."
Now the family legacy was dead and gone, the buildings razed to make way for yet another luxury RV dealership—just what the Flathead Valley needed. She wanted to point out that he hadn't wished the sale barn into oblivion, but maybe he had, if not in so many words. There must have been times he'd had to turn down opportunities as rodeo announcer to fulfill his responsibility at home. Times he'd resented the shackle around his leg with its very short chain.
She could feel the waves of shame rolling off him like a physical thing, reaching out across the space between them. Demanding that she do something to ease the pain so palpable it was like the searing heat of a branding fire against her skin.
She gripped the side of the stool to keep herself in place, took a breath, and then took a chance at being told to go to hell. "When we locked your brother up...we set you free. Do you have an ulcer yet? I assume the guilt is eating a hole in your gut."
His head snapped up, eyes glinting like steel. "What would you know about guilt?"
"I’ve crossed paths with it once or twice." She tossed in a casual shrug. "I'm double-bred Irish Catholic. I was spoon fed guilt along with my daily ration of potatoes."
He continued to stare at her, eyes narrowed, and even with four beers on board the brain behind them was much too shrewd. "Do you feel bad about the collateral damage from your busts?"
"I do have a soul, despite what you seem to think." She didn't have to consider her next words. It was a conversation she had with her conscience on a daily basis. "What's the alternative? Let the bad guys keep hurting innocent people?"
He studied her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he gave a single, slow nod. "Ba
sically, you can't win either way."
"Not in cases like this one."
Or yours.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Or yours.
He heard the words as clearly as if she'd spoken them, even through the alcoholic haze. "Helluva a job you've got there."
"It's not always this way.” Her sigh was almost inaudible. “Sometimes we get the bad guy, the owners get their livestock back, and everybody goes home happy."
The wistful note in her voice said it wasn't often enough for her peace of mind. Or that the other times over-shadowed the good days. Her face was a pale blur in the dark corner, but he suspected he'd learn more from listening anyway. Without the distraction of that direct, mesmerizing gaze, he could hear the subtle nuances, less controlled than her expression.
"What about you, Shannon?" he asked softly. "Do you get to live happily ever after?"
He felt more than saw the jerk of her shrug. "Sure. Just like in the movies.
If it hadn't been such a blatant lie he would have been hurt, thinking she'd been doing just great without him. Now he just wanted answers. "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"
Why didn't you come back when I needed you?
"I meant to." Her stool creaked as she shifted her weight. "Things didn't turn out quite the way I planned. I was...there was an emergency, and I had to go."
Emergency. Tyler's heart gave a hard thump. "One of the arresting officers was critically wounded. Your dad?"
"No. It was...I just had to be there. And later, when things were better…it was too late. They told me how furious you were and how upset about your mother. The best thing I could do was to stay away."
I just had to be there.
For someone else. A man? The thought hit so hard Tyler had to grab onto his stool to keep his balance. "Are you married?"
"No!" The indignation rang clear and true. "Do you actually think I would have..."
His body went limp with relief. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium. "I didn't know what to believe, and no one would tell me anything."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let things between us go that far. I made some not-so-great decisions, and next thing I knew..." She gave another of those nearly invisible shrugs.
He squinted, thinking back on one of their earlier conversations. "You said this was your first time in the field since our case. Did you get in trouble because of me? Suspended or something?"
"You could say that."
And a lot more. He could hear the weight in her voice, layered with another truth that knocked him sideways.
"We were under surveillance, weren’t we? To be sure nobody snuck away before the guys with the search warrant showed up." The realization crawled up his spine like a spider. "When you agreed to come home with me that night, you knew you couldn't keep it a secret."
"Yes."
The simple admission left him floundering, as if the soapbox he'd been standing on for better than a year had suddenly been kicked out from under him. Shannon, unscathed? Hardly. She'd known full well she was putting her job on the line when she'd slipped into his arms. His bed. And she'd done it anyway.
Then she'd left, convinced he wasn't man enough to forgive her for doing what was necessary to put Chuck Potter behind bars, even if it included lying to Tyler.
Son-of-a-bitch.
They lapsed into silence, unhappy memories painting the night around them a deeper shade of gray. The band at the beer garden brought a rock-a-billy song to a close with a crash of drums. In the brief lull, a woman's laughter pealed, shrill with excess alcohol. Then the opening strains of a melancholy ballad floated across the arena.
Tyler reached over and tugged the beer bottle from Shannon's hand. He took a generous gulp, then set it on the counter and stood. "Dance with me?"
She went utterly still, as if she'd even stopped breathing. Finally, she said, "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Me neither, but right this minute, I can't imagine how it could hurt any worse."
She made a noise that might have been a laugh, or possibly a small sob, but let him pull her to her feet and into his arms. He made no pretense of polite distance, cupping a hand low on her back and cradling her hips against him. At the contact, his entire body went ahh!, a relief as intense as that time the doctor had put his dislocated shoulder back in place.
A sudden end of the sick, wrong emptiness.
He felt the tremor that shivered through her body as his thigh slipped between hers. A low groan, somewhere between pleasure and desperation, vibrated in his chest. The hand that had rested in the middle of his back slid to the nape of his neck and she burrowed her head into the curve of his shoulder.
"This is only going to make it worse in the end," she whispered.
"Shhhhh." He stroked his hand over her hair, down the elegant curve of her spine and back up again, his fingers bumping over the more prominent ridges of her spine. He didn't want to think about endings. He didn't want to think at all. "I'm tired, Shannon. So damn tired of being alone. Wondering. Wanting. I need to rest. Will you rest with me?"
Her cheek rubbed his chest as she nodded. He folded her closer, leaned his temple against her hair, and tried to soak her in through his pores, so the next time he was in a strange town, an empty hotel room, he could summon up this moment. This feeling.
This kiss.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tyler's mouth closed over hers and she was lost, totally enveloped in him. His body hot under her hands as the rough silk of his tongue plumbed every corner of her mouth, leaving her no place to hide the intensity of her response. His voice, murmuring secret wishes, wound like a dark, velvet ribbon through the depths of her soul. His hands skimming over her, his touch as dangerously sweet as his words.
She smoothed the crisp cotton of his shirt over the hard planes of his chest and the long, lean line of his back, pausing only briefly before sliding lower to curl around the firm flesh beneath the rear pockets of his jeans.
Tyler gave a deep, hungry growl. She felt the bite of cool air against overheated skin as he tugged her blouse free from her jeans. Then his hand was there, warm and insistent, his thumb arcing higher and higher with each stroke, until it grazed the underside of her breast. She gasped.
He froze. Jerked out of the moment, Shannon realized where his hand was, what he must feel. Dammit. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would make her invisible, but he stepped back, pulling her with him into the light and pushing up the hem of her blouse.
Not, unfortunately, to get a look at her boobs.
One fingertip traced the length of her scar, from the bottom of her ribs to where her jeans rode low on her waist. His voice sounded odd. Tight. "What happened?"
"I had surgery." She forced her eyes open and met his gaze. "It's fine now."
"It looks scary."
Yeah, well, lucky for me, I wasn't conscious at the time. She spread her hands. "Good as new."
His eyes narrowed, measuring her from top to bottom. "Is that why you're so skinny?"
"I lost some weight after the surgery." A little over thirty pounds, but who was counting? "I'm gaining it back, little by little. Hard though, in this heat. I have no appetite."
He opened his mouth to ask more, but a heavy tread on the stairs had them both jerking around.
"Tyler?" Bud West called. "You up there?"
Shannon yanked her blouse down and backed into the corner. Tyler ran one hand over his hair, adjusted the front of his jeans, then stepped forward and opened the door, which hid her from view.
"Hey, Bud," he said, doing a credible job of sounding casual. "I was just locking up."
Bud's tone was skeptical. "What cha doin' here so late?"
"Going through my music. I update my playlists every couple of weeks so I don’t get bored with the same old songs. What about you?"
"Checking the stock one last time before I head for bed. You always work in the dark?"
"I just shut the computer
down. Don't need more than that on a night like tonight. Even a light bulb puts out too much heat."
"Yeah. Damn clouds didn't do anything but make it more muggy."
Shannon's heart thumped against her ribs and she held her breath, expecting to hear the sound of Bud's boots continuing up the steps. She could imagine Judy's sly digs tomorrow if Bud told her he'd caught Tyler and Shannon drinking beer in the announcer's stand like a couple of juvenile delinquents.
"It’s supposed to be a little cooler tomorrow," Tyler said. "Meantime, I'm gonna head to my room for a cold shower."
Shannon almost snorted out loud. Tyler wasn't the only one who could use a little extra cool down.
Bud grunted in agreement. Shannon let out a silent sigh of relief, then sucked it back in when Bud asked, "Have you seen Shannon? Her car is still here."
Tyler's hand tightened on the door, but he managed a casual shrug. "She said something about going over to the concession stand for a burger. Maybe Danny and the boys dragged her to the dance."
"Maybe." Bud sounded doubtful.
"I'll walk over and check if you want," Tyler offered.
Bud hesitated, then said, "Thanks. I guess she's old enough to take care of herself, but you know how Judy is. Damned mother hen when it comes to these girls who work for her."
Tyler's grin flashed in the darkness as Bud’s footsteps retreated. Shannon smiled too. Uh-huh. As if Judy was the only one who worried. Tyler drew back far enough to wink at her. "No problem. I'll make sure Shannon gets to bed safe and sound."
She bit her lip, stifling a laugh and a rush of desire that threatened to short circuit her synapses. Lord, what she'd give to slid between cool sheets with Tyler and work up a sweat. She vividly remembered the feel of his skin, his muscles, his mouth on her...everywhere.
Yes! her body screamed.
No, her mind insisted, reminding her of the row of beer bottles on the counter. Tyler had been drinking, enough to impair his judgment. This whole episode might be nothing but alcohol-induced insanity on his part. And once again there were eyes out there in the darkness, watching their every move. Just spending this much time in the announcer's stand with him could be enough to get her dragged over the coals.
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