Cowboy Six Pack

by Kari Lynn Dell

  When he turned away from the door and reached for her, she resisted, pressing a hand to his chest to keep her distance.

  "What?" he asked, frowning.

  "Tyler." What she had intended as a reprimand sounded more like a plea for mercy. She tried again. "I can't do this again. To either of us. After last time..."

  He sighed and plopped both hands onto her shoulders, his thumbs toying with the ends of her hair. "You're right. I can't seem to keep my head screwed on straight when you're around."

  "Maybe it's the beer."

  "Darlin', beer's got nothin' on you when it comes to making me lose my common sense." He tugged her closer, leaning in to nibble at the corner of her mouth. "But now that you mention it, I probably am over the legal limit. Think I could talk you into giving me a ride?"

  "I think you could talk the pope into throwing an orgy," she muttered, summoning every bit of her willpower to step out of reach of those talented lips. "And I think I'm going to be the one making sure you get tucked safely into bed."

  His grin widened and he held his arms up in a gesture that rolled invitation and surrender into one. "You can tuck me anywhere you want, sweet Shannon."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The alarm trilled—nearly, but not quite, dragging Shannon from the depths of exhaustion. She reached out and slapped a hand on top of the digital clock. The clock kept clamoring. She slapped it again, but it refused to shut the hell up. She rolled to the edge of the bed and peeled one eyelid open far enough to give it a baleful glare. It squatted in front of her nose, silently declaring the time to be nine forty-three.

  Her other eyelid reeled up to half-mast as her confused gaze searched the room for the source of the noise. Suddenly, recognition dawned, and she scrambled from the bed to grab her purse on the dresser.

  "Hello?" she mumbled into her cell phone, her voice rusty.

  "Dammit, Shannon! I've been calling for an hour," the man on the other end barked.

  She blew out an apologetic breath and scrubbed her hand over her face. "Sorry. I left my phone in my purse."

  "Out a little late last night?"

  "Yeah." If she'd had any doubt whether he'd hear that she'd been with Tyler last night, the acid in his tone erased it. "What's up?"

  "We've got a missing horse. The rest of the team is here in my suite at the Comfort Inn. Any chance you could bless us with your presence?"

  She ignored his sarcasm. "Ten-four."

  "Ten minutes, McKenzie."

  "Yes, sir!" she said to the dial tone.

  She threw on her clothes, scrubbed her teeth, slapped a baseball cap over her hair and arrived at the suite in eight minutes and thirty seconds. She braced herself for another reprimand when the door was jerked open, but Don Murphy simply motioned her inside. The other team members flashed her sympathetic smiles before they all huddled around the table to discuss strategy. Murphy went through the plan point-by-point, person by person.

  "And Shannon." Murphy fixed her with a gut-shriveling glare. "From here on out, you are eyes and ears only. Under no circumstances do you interact with the suspects after tonight's rodeo starts."

  She stared down at her hands and nodded, face stinging, aware that everyone else in the room was shifting uncomfortably and pretending they didn't know why he'd felt the need to stress this particular point. When the meeting concluded, they slipped from the room one by one to avoid attracting attention. As Shannon rose, Don lifted his hand to stop her.

  "I'd like a word with you." He cast a pointed look at the only other remaining man in the room. "Alone."

  "Right." The mock photographer grabbed his camera from the table and wasted no time getting out the door.

  Don turned back to where Shannon was slumped in her chair.

  "I'm sorry," she said, before he could start in on her. "There's no excuse for missing your calls."

  He nodded his agreement as he propped his hips against the dresser and folded his arms across his chest, his face granite-hard as his voice. "Tyler Jernigan."

  She forced herself to meet his gaze head on. "I've got it under control. He won't be a problem."

  "For us? Or for you?"

  Shannon ducked her head. "Neither."

  "Shannie." A deep sigh accompanied her pet name. "Tell me you aren't going to let him hurt you again."

  "He never hurt me before. Not intentionally."

  "Oh. Ri-ight. So that makes it all better."

  "No. But it doesn't make it his fault." She stood and walked straight up to him, wrapping her arms around his thick, sturdy body and resting her head on his rock-hard shoulder. "I'll be okay. I promise."

  He grunted his disbelief, but folded his arms around her. "You follow the plan, Shannon. I want you safe and sound up in that announcer's stand if anything goes sideways tonight."

  "I'll do my best."

  He gave her a bear hug that nearly crushed the air from her lungs. "You're making an old man of me, girl. When you didn’t answer your phone…"

  "I didn’t mean to you worry," she said, smothered against his chest.

  "Do it again and I'll make you even sorrier."

  Shannon smiled at the familiar threat. "I know—you'll tell Mom."

  "You bet your sweet tootsies I will."

  She gave him one last hug, then made a break for the door before he changed his mind and shipped her out of town.

  Bud and Judy West worried about her, too. Took the time to be sure she was safe. They had also earned a chunk of her loyalty. She hadn't lied to her father, only promised to do her best. Unfortunately, the two of them didn't define success in quite the same way. Not that he didn't care about the Wests. He just cared more about seeing justice served and keeping his people safe. If she gave the slightest indication that she might deviate from his orders, he'd boot her butt out of Glendive before noon.

  But she couldn't proceed as planned. And for this particular deviation, she would need help.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Shannon balanced two flat Styrofoam food cartons and a cardboard tray with a pair of coffee cups on one hand while she opened the hotel room door with the other. She stopped dead one step inside, nailed to the floor by sheer, undiluted lust.

  Tyler stood in the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans unbuttoned at the waist, his dark hair wet and rumpled from the shower. Lord, even his bare feet were sexy. Her heart twisted. She'd never seen him like this, sleepy-eyed and damp-skinned, because they'd never had a morning after.

  A slow smile lit his eyes. "I guess I can't complain about you breaking and entering if you're gonna bring breakfast."

  "I'm sorry. I knocked. You didn't answer. I thought you'd gone out for coffee."

  "Didn't hear you. I had the water running." But he didn't seem upset that she'd let herself in. Was that good, or bad? Depended on whether she could keep her hands off him when he looked so incredibly touchable.

  She angled past him, keeping as much distance as possible, and set the cartons on the dresser. "You'll have to settle for plain black coffee."

  "Anything with caffeine will do." She held out the cup, but he reached for her instead, clamping his hands around her hips and pulling her close. "And a good morning kiss."

  Her free hand settled on his shoulder, savoring the ripple of lean muscle beneath her fingers as his mouth brushed over hers. He smelled of that heavenly combination of soap and squeaky clean male flesh. She refrained, barely, from licking up a drop of water caught in the hollow of his collarbone.

  "I don't think this a good idea," she said, cringing at how breathy her voice sounded.

  He grinned. "I think it's the best one I've had in months."

  She pulled back before that voice and that smile made her lose her head and drop the scalding coffee. And her jeans. "I brought biscuits and gravy, eggs, hash browns..."

  "Well, if you put it like that..."

  She handed him the coffee cup and waited until he'd taken a deep, appreciative sip. "We need to talk."

&
nbsp; He choked. "Oh, hell. The words of doom."

  She wished she could tell him different. Instead, she took her breakfast over to the table, putting half the room between them. It wasn't nearly enough to settle her raging hormones, but this little chat ought to do the trick.

  "From the look on your face, I'm guessing I want to be dressed for this." Tyler buttoned his jeans, grabbed a t-shirt and pulled it over his head, to her relief. And disappointment.

  "It does help."

  His mouth crooked, and she realized she'd admitted his naked chest was a distraction. "Is it going to ruin my appetite?"

  "Possibly."

  "Damn." He settled onto the end of the bed and dug into the biscuits and gravy. "Let me at least enjoy the first few bites."

  "Another excellent decision."

  Since there was no rush, Shannon held her tongue until they’d polished off most of their food, accompanied by the patter of the television weather commentators. More hot. More humid. Small chance of actual rain but don't bet your ranch on it. She tried to focus on the television but it was nearly impossible.

  Tyler was normally so pressed and polished. Seeing him this way—rumpled and barefoot in a faded t-shirt—made him seem younger. Easier. She wanted to crawl onto that bed, wrap herself around him and press her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt while she listened to the beat of his heart.

  Pretend that the space inside his arms was territory she could claim for her own.

  Tyler scraped up the last of his hash browns, washed them down with a swig of coffee, then set everything but his cup aside before bracing his shoulders. "Okay. Shoot."

  She got straight to it. "Another horse went missing last night, from a place on the reservation outside of Wolf Point."

  "Shit. That's only three hours from here."

  She nodded. "We don't think it's a coincidence."

  He lowered his eyes, studying his coffee cup as he considered the implications. "So…if Big West is involved, tonight's the night."

  "Yes." She dropped her fork into the carton and closed the lid, then scored lines in the Styrofoam with her fingernail as she laid out her team's strategy. When she was finished, she took a deep breath and met Tyler's gaze. "I could use your help."

  His eyebrows shot up. "Mine? Why? Sounds like you have all the angles covered."

  "Except one."

  "Which is?"

  She took a moment, deciding how best to explain. "Are you aware that Bud and Judy made Big West Rodeo a corporation?"

  "Sure. Rodeo's a high risk sport. The corporation protects their personal assets from a liability suit against Big West."

  "Did you know they gave Danny part interest?"

  His brows snapped together. "Why the hell would they do that?"

  Okay, then. If she’d had any doubts what he thought of Danny West… "Tax purposes, I assume. Probably something to do with estate planning. Whatever the reason, he is a part owner."

  "And?" Tyler cocked his head, eyes narrowing. "Why does that matter?"

  "Because property used in the commission of a crime is subject to seizure by the county in which the subjects are apprehended, unless said property was used without permission of the owner."

  Tyler blinked at her, then shook his head. "Say that again in English."

  "If all goes as planned and arrests are made at the rendezvous point, the truck and all its contents will be confiscated. And could legally be auctioned off by the county."

  Tyler sucked in a breath and let it out on a curse. "That's damn near every horse in the Big West bucking string!"

  "And their truck."

  "Can't you intervene? Tell them Bud and Judy aren't involved?"

  She shrugged helplessly. "The next rodeo is in Wyoming. Once the truck crosses the state line, we have no jurisdiction. We can only detain the suspects and call in the sheriff of whatever county we're in when the exchange takes place. We have no idea who that will be or how hard-assed they are about these things. If Bud and Judy are cleared, chances are they'll release the horses—the county wouldn’t want the hassle of taking care of them—but there's no telling how long that will take. In the meantime..."

  "Big West could be screwed for next week's rodeo." Tyler's face went grim. "Or the rest of the season, if it drags out long enough."

  "Exactly."

  His jaw went hard, his eyes cold. "How do we stop it?"

  "If Danny is behind this…” She drew a deep breath. “We have to make damn sure he doesn't put that horse on the truck—without tipping off his partners."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sitting there in his hotel room, Shannon's eyes had the fierce, sharp gold of an eagle on the hunt, determination quivering in every line of her body. She was fully prepared to thwart her own team in Bud and Judy's defense—and put her own butt on the line in the process.

  How had Tyler believed she lacked compassion?

  "This will get you into serious trouble.”

  She shrugged. "I'll deal with that later."

  "How?"

  She shot him an impatient glance. "Better than I can deal with standing back and letting this happen. Can we concentrate on what we're going to do to stop it?"

  He nodded, but he wasn't happy. After being reprimanded for behaving unprofessionally with him—a damn cold way to refer to a very hot night—could her career withstand another demerit?

  She glared at him, reading his mind. "This is my choice, Tyler. My job. I have to do it in a way I can live with."

  He nodded again, because he had no choice. This Shannon—the doggedly intense version—would carry out her plan with or without him. If he went along, he might find a way to take the blame and shield her from some of the fallout.

  He stood, tossed his coffee cup in the trash and faced her, arms folded. "Tell me what you need."

  If he hadn't been staring at her so intently, he might have missed when her shoulders sagged slightly in relief, and the smile that tried to lift the corners of her mouth before her expression went cool and professional.

  "This is the missing horse." She handed Tyler a color print out. "Plain brown gelding, fifteen hands. The only distinguishing mark besides an almost unreadable hip brand is a scar on his forehead, below his right ear."

  They'd had the occasional horse sale at Jernigan Auction. Tyler was familiar with breed registration papers, and how easy it could be to pass one horse in a plain brown wrapper off as another to a less than discerning buyer. "With no markings they can take a set of papers that are either stolen, forged or belong to another plain brown horse and sell him to a buyer who'll never have a clue."

  "Especially if they sell it in a state that doesn't require a brand inspection. A bill of sale is easy to fake."

  "And even if the cops are stopping every horse trailer on the road to look for him, chances are they aren't going to check a livestock truck full of bucking horses. Finding a spot to unload would be too much of a hassle."

  Shannon nodded. "We think that's why they're using the Big West trucks to get out of town. They hide the stolen horse in with the bucking stock and roll on down the road."

  Tyler cursed again. Goddamn Danny. Didn't he give a flying shit what this would do to his parents? But Tyler already knew the answer. Danny never had cared about anyone but himself.

  He folded his copy of the photo and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Where do we start?"

  "I need to talk to Lonnie Scott. It'll look more natural if you're with me."

  Tyler's eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure? What if he tips Danny off? Lonnie's gotta know what's going on if they're using his truck."

  "Not necessarily." Shannon tapped impatient fingers on the table. "I don’t get that vibe from Lonnie. Danny has found a way to make him believe this is on the up and up."

  "And you know this how?"

  "I'm an excellent judge of character." She gave him a quick, bittersweet twist of a smile that made him feel as if he'd missed a punch line. "So far, I'm batting a thou
sand."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Shannon loved creatures of habit. They made her job infinitely easier. Every week, on the day of the last performance, Lonnie Scott went out to breakfast with Danny and the other driver. Then he returned to the rodeo grounds to clean his truck before crawling in the sleeper to nap, in preparation for the night's drive.

  Since Tyler had left his pickup there the night before, Shannon had the perfect excuse to show up when the office was closed. Even better, Tyler had parked by the trucks, right behind the announcer's stand.

  Now it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment…and keeping her breakfast down. She'd put on a brave face for Tyler, but her stomach churned as she considered the repercussions of her actions. Even if her version of the take-down was a raging success, her failure to follow orders could be the end of her career, not to mention put a serious crimp in her relationship with her father. He'd barely forgiven her for the last time. After this, there was a good chance his would be the boot kicking her ass out the door.

  And it would hurt like hell, but she’d made her choice. Her dad would eventually get over it. If she destroyed Bud and Judy when there was a way around it, Shannon might not.

  The rest of the parking area was nearly empty. Each day's contestants cleared out as soon as the rodeo was over, headed to the next one down the road, and the majority of tonight's competitors wouldn't roll in for hours. Shannon kept the car and the air conditioner running, lurking near the entrance gate where they could hide in a cluster of campers and trailers belonging to the committee members and rodeo queens who were on site for the duration. The hum of portable generators filled the air. Thanks to the heat, everyone was hunkered inside, keeping cool. She and Tyler listened to the radio and sipped iced coffee in a silence that managed to be comfortable even though it was charged with physical awareness.