To Catch a Texas Cowboy (Wishing, Texas Book 2)

by Julie Benson

  “Calling dibs? What are we, grade school kids?” AJ tossed back.

  Grace couldn’t keep a lazy smile from spreading across her face as memories of the night she’d confronted him flashed through her mind. Vivid, heated, toe-curling memories: her perched on his lap in the spa, his arms wrapped around her, his throbbing manhood pulsing against her.

  Better find some control quick, girl, you’ll dissolve into a puddle of gooey feminine need.

  He couldn’t have used those words on purpose, could he?

  She peeked at him through her lashes. From the desire flashing in his eyes and his naughty grin, he’d chosen his words carefully. Her heart banged against her ribs, as the world slipped away. His genuine appreciation, for her, and her alone, made Zane’s practiced flirtation about as effective as a knife in a gun battle.

  “I think there’s a private joke here that we’re not clued in on, Coop,” Zane said, snapping the bond between her and AJ.

  “Redundancy, bud. It wouldn’t be a private joke if all of us understood it,” Cooper replied in a dry voice.

  AJ’s attention focused remained on her. “I say the teams are townies versus tourists.”

  “Come on. You can’t toss me aside for him.” Zane hooked a thumb toward AJ and flashed Grace a brilliant smile. One she suspected regularly rendered women more than willing to do his bidding.

  “Give it a rest,” Cooper said with exasperation.

  “Sorry, Zane. I say darts, and I go with townies versus tourists,” Grace replied.

  As they walked toward to the far side of the restaurant where the pool and air hockey tables, as well as dart boards were located, she leaned toward AJ. “You’d better be good, because I don’t like losing.”

  “Babe, I’m better than good.”

  Grace couldn’t breathe. She bet he was, and boy, how she wanted to find out.

  “Want to see my marksman medals?”

  After a few seconds, when she could speak, she said, “That’s all I need to hear.” Then she turned to Zane and Cooper. “We’re going to kick your butts.”

  Deciding on a ladies-go-first policy, Grace started the game, letting a dart fly, and scoring fifteen. “Zane’s in computer gaming. AJ’s in law enforcement. What do you do, Cooper?”

  “I’m a veterinarian. I’m also working on a cooperative project with an A&M engineering professor. We’re developing a device paired with an app for service dogs. I can’t say more until right now.”

  “You finally got more funding?” AJ asked as Zane took his shot.

  Cooper nodded. “The engineer I’m working with has great business contacts. It looks like this is going to become a reality. Finally. It’s hard to believe after all these years.”

  The three men grew serious. Zane slapped Cooper on the back. “I’m glad. You’ve worked damn hard and long for this.”

  “This calls for a toast.” AJ hoisted his beer glass. The rest of them did as well. “To Coop’s hard work and dedication paying off.”

  They all clinked beer glasses, Cooper appearing misty-eyed.

  “And when he’s rolling in the bucks, you buy the drinks,” Zane added, lightening the mood.

  “You all set for the bachelorette party this week?”

  Grace cringed, drained the small amount of beer in her glass, and refilled it, emptying the pitcher. “I need a full glass before I answer that.”

  AJ flagged down a waitress, a striking redhead, a few inches taller than Grace, with porcelain skin, named Cheyenne, according to her name tag, and ordered another pitcher.

  “Cassie’s bachelorette party is going to be historic. Unfortunately, not in a good way. I’m afraid it’ll go down as the lamest one of all time.”

  “Maybe it won’t be bad,” Cooper said.

  “Let me tell you the guest list, and we’ll see if you still say that.” Grace rattled off the attendees names. The Talbot sisters, Maddy, who owned the shop, Wishes and Dreams that sold Cassie’s watercolors and small oil paintings, Joanne from The Lucky Star Café. “The only one under thirty is Ty’s sister, Aubrey.”

  “Better put your officers on alert. They could be a wild and rowdy bunch,” Zane teased.

  “You never know,” Grace said. “We’re having wine, and the night’s big entertainment is watching the movie Magic Mike. We could get real crazy.”

  Not even if someone lit a fire under them. How had she botched her best friend’s bachelorette party so badly? Anxious to change the subject, she said, “How about your plans for the bachelor party?”

  “Speaking of lackluster events.” Zane took his final shot, and tallied up their scores with the first round going to her and AJ. As he returned their darts, he said, “I can still fix that problem.”

  “That’s a tricky situation.” AJ’s voice filled with exasperation.

  Now she understood. The police chief throwing a bachelor party for one of the town’s leading citizens. Tricky wasn’t the word Grace would use to describe the situation. “I bet. What people wouldn’t think of as a big deal becomes a different story when they’re talking about police officers.” She’d wondered how many similar situations had affected her father over the years. She kept coming back to how the problems her father encountered had to be magnified for AJ in a small town where if someone caught a cold, within an hour half the town showed up with chicken soup. Add to that him being single, and people were less likely to cut him slack.

  “I told Ty if he wanted a more traditional bachelor party—”

  “You mean strippers?” She couldn’t resist jerking his chain, but when he winced, she regretted her decision, realizing she’d hit a sore spot.

  He glared at her, but other than that, ignored her comment. “I told him I’d bow out, but he refused.”

  “So we’re hanging out at the ranch,” Zane said. “At least I picked the movies.”

  Thankfully, Cheyenne returned, two pitchers in one hand and a third in the other, to put an end to the topic. As the waitress reached to place the pitcher in her right hand on their table, one cowboy behind her hit a bulls-eye and the table exploded with laughter. In the celebration, the husky cowboy bumped into the waitress’s back. Beer sloshed from the pitchers, most of the yeasty liquid going down Cooper’s shirt, with some flying toward the man who caused the mishap.

  “I’m so sorry,” Cheyenne gushed apologetically to Cooper.

  “No, problem. It wasn’t your fault.” Cooper grabbed napkins off the table, wiped his neck, and blotted the dark oval on his plaid shirt.

  “What the hell? Beer splashed all over my boots.” The young man, barely past his teen years actually, bellowed at Cheyenne. “Do you know how much these cost? They’re alligator! If they’re ruined, you’re buying me new ones.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Cheyenne began.

  “Sorry don’t feed the bulldog. You should’ve watched what you were doing!” His face mottled red from his irritation, he stepped toward the waitress.

  Fed up with the drunken bully, Grace said, “You owe her an apology because you bumped into her.”

  “Stay out of this.” The man stepped toward Grace. The finger he pointed at her shook with his rage.

  Can you say major anger issues? Then she noticed how young he appeared. If he was twenty-one, she was forty.

  “Watch Grace.” AJ issued the command to Zane as he darted around the table.

  Zane nodded, and moved in front of her, as Cooper jumped up, knocking over his chair. Ignoring that, he slid in front of Cheyenne, protecting her. “Stay behind me until he cools off. No sense in taking a chance of you getting hurt.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Cheyenne protested, her chin tilted in the air, her eyes flashing determination.

  “I’m sure you can,” Cooper said. “But this idiot’s drunk, pissed as hell, and outweighs you by a hundred pounds. Stay put.”

  Grace smiled. Cooper might be the quiet one, but when he spoke, he did so with authority, and Cheyenne, realizing that too, dropped the subject.
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  Peeking around Zane’s large frame, Grace noticed AJ stood beside the other table, his feet shoulder width apart, his stance braced, looking every inch the commanding Western lawman. Very reminiscent of the day she’d hit his truck. How had she failed to recognize him as an officer the minute she spotted him?

  “Let’s all take a deep breath, and calm down.”

  The younger man stepped closer to AJ until they stood almost nose to nose. Or would have if the guy was closer to AJ’s height. Instead they stood more nose to Adam’s apple.

  “Get out of my face. This doesn’t concern you.”

  Grace gasped at the younger man’s audacity. Someone really should take the shovel away from the poor guy. She smiled, realizing how much of a Texan she’d already become. When her gaze returned to AJ, the take-charge, no-nonsense gleam in his gaze, told her he was about to grab that shovel.

  “I’m the chief of police in Wishing, and I suggest you take a step back. Otherwise, we’ll have a chat in my office.” His voice level and devoid of emotion, but no one could miss the steel threaded through it.

  The kid took a wobbly step back. AJ turned his attention to the two men at the table. “Any of you from here in town?”

  One friend at the table, a young guy with nondescript brown hair, a slight case of acne, and concern in his wide gaze, raised his hand. “I’m Jake Clemmens. I’m home from UT for the summer. These are my frat brothers, Dillon,” Jake nodded to his friend beside him, “and Chris. They’re visiting for the week.”

  AJ’s hawk-like stare focused on the troublemaker, Chris. “What year are you?”

  When Chris paused, Jake piped in with, “He’ll be a senior this fall.”

  “But you won’t?”

  Grace wondered the same thing.

  Jake shook his head.

  While it wasn’t unheard of for college friends to graduate different years, adding that fact to Jake’s sudden interest in his napkin, and Dillon fiddling with his fork, red flags waved all over the place.

  “I need to see some ID.” And apparently AJ had spotted the flags, too.

  Chris paled, as his Adam’s apple jumped up and down like a fishing bobber. Grace glanced at his friends at the table, noting they had turned ashen as well.

  Grace held her breath, and wondered if AJ was thinking the same thing she was. Could the evidence he needed to nail the forgers just have bumped into them?

  The hairs on the back of AJ’s neck stood at attention, as he watched the smug confidence fade from Chris’s features. “License, please.”

  The young man reached into his back pocket, fumbling to retrieve his wallet. As he dug out his driver’s license, a second card popped out, and landed at Coop’s feet.

  “I’ll get that,” Chris said, his voice a pitch higher than it had been, as he tried to push past AJ. But before Chris finished his sentence, Coop scooped up the card, and handed it to AJ.

  “Here’s my license, Chief,” Chris said, his voice trembling with desperation, as he shoved the license into AJ’s hand.

  When Chris reached for the other card, AJ closed his fist around it. After the student stepped back, AJ examined the small bit of plastic. A Colorado driver’s license. He glanced at the license Chris had handed him. And a Texas one.

  From his investigation, as far as he could tell, the Langstons had been smart enough to avoid peeing in their own pool by refusing to create forged documents for individuals in the immediate area. That was why the case had been hard to solve because he couldn’t locate customers. Until now. After all, what were the odds a fake license purchased from a second forger would show up in Wishing?

  AJ stared long and hard at the Colorado license. The weight and feel seemed right, but he wasn’t familiar enough with the intricacies of a Colorado license to recognize inconsistencies. But considering the Texas license in his other hand, one had to be a forgery.

  And his first piece of concrete evidence. Adrenaline shot through his system, hot and heavy.

  Nailed it. Finally.

  Too bad this little fluke hadn’t come soon enough to save his career.

  Forget about that. Solve this one. Take the consequences, and work your ass off to rebuild.

  Plastering his toughest take-no-prisoners FBI look on his face, AJ turned to Chris. “You, me, and your friends are going to have a talk in my office after all.”

  Five minutes later, AJ sat behind his desk the three UT students seated across from him, appearing much younger than they had at The Horseshoe. He’d considered questioning Chris alone, but doing so would force him to leave his friends with Sawyer. That would entail navigating questions AJ lacked the time and patience to answer.

  As it was, he was racing the clock. Considering how many people had witnessed the incident in The Horseshoe and saw him leave with the three students, the news could be spreading through town. He needed to gather information fast, and call Masters to work on obtaining a search warrant for the Langstons’ business and residence before they heard the news.

  “How much trouble are we in, Chief Quinn?” Jake asked.

  “Depends on how truthful you three are with me.”

  “We’ll tell you everything we know,” Jake said as he flashed Chris a you’d-better-get-with-the-program glare.

  AJ waved the Colorado license in Chris’s direction. “I’m guessing this is a fake you use to get into bars?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kids who purchased fake IDs shied away from neighboring states because bouncers were familiar enough with those to spot fakes. That meant since Chris attended the University of Texas, he’d avoid states with Big Twelve schools for the same reason. The University of Colorado, however, was in the PAC-12, and Colorado State in the Mountain West Conference. Bouncers in Austin weren’t as likely to be familiar with those state licenses. AJ wondered how many of these beauties were floating around the UT campus, and made a note to alert the Austin authorities.

  “What I want to know is where you bought it.”

  The details poured out of the friends faster than the Brazos River moved after a heavy rain. Chris and Dillon obtained their licenses through Jake. When he came home for spring break, he’d complained to a friend in town about missing half the fun in college because he couldn’t get into bars. Turned out this friend, Bryan Langston, worked in his family’s print shop over Christmas break and stumbled onto his parents’ lucrative side business—forging social security and Green Cards, as well as drivers’ licenses.

  “Bryan told me as long as I never used it in Wishing, he could get me a fake ID. I gave him two hundred dollars, and before I went back to school, I had the license.”

  AJ motioned for Jake to give him the license. “Hand it over.”

  While Jake dug the item out of his wallet, AJ turned to Dillon. “Yours, too.” Then he reached into a desk drawer, and pulled out a legal tablet and pens. After tearing off three sheets, he handed one and a pen to each kid. “You’re each going to write down exactly how you obtained your fake license. Only tell me who you spoke to, what was said, and what you did.”

  As Dillon slid his fake license across the table, he said, “I know we’re in trouble for the IDs, but Jake and I weren’t drinking tonight. Only Chris was. He said no one here knew him, and as long as Jake didn’t drink, we’d be fine.”

  And if Chris had been able to control his temper, who knows how long it would’ve taken AJ to catch a break. AJ winced. Add solving the case with dumb luck to his refusing his supervisor’s suggestion to use Grace as an informant, and he’d lucky if an FBI division in rural North Dakota would take him. If he’d set out to destroy his career, he couldn’t have done a better job.

  An hour later AJ was on the phone with Masters. “I’m faxing copies of their fake drivers’ licenses, their legal Texas ones, and their statements. I need a search warrant for the Langston residence and the print shop ASAP. I want to move on this tonight. If we wait until morning they’ll have heard the news. Hell, they might already have, and could
be destroying evidence now.”

  “I’ll get on it. Can you execute it with the personnel you have there?”

  “This couple has lived here all their lives. Taking local officers who know them on a personal level reduces the chances of a violent confrontation.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll go with. I’ll fax the warrant when I have it in hand. When you have the suspects in custody, I’ll arrange for transportation to Houston.” Masters paused. “This doesn’t change anything where your job is concerned.”

  “I didn’t expect it to.”

  “Good, so we’re clear on the issue. I’ll still expect your transfer request within a week of your return.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Grace glanced at the microwave clock on her latest lap around the kitchen. Six-thirty. She, Zane, and Cooper left The Horseshoe at eleven last night. Shouldn’t AJ have returned by now?

  Maybe he’d gone straight to the Carriage House? She rushed through the house toward the front door, peered outside, and saw his truck sitting in the driveway. The tightness in her chest loosened. Then she noticed he was sitting inside.

  She threw open the door and raced outside as he stepped out of his truck. When she reached him, the weariness lining his handsome face shocked her. Had something gone wrong? She placed her hand on his arm, and muscles rippled under her palm from the tension radiating through him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, and pulled away.

  “Let’s go inside. Can I get you anything? Something to drink? Breakfast?” she asked, her voice too high-pitched, too nervous as they walked toward the house.

  He mumbled a quiet no thanks as they went inside. He stumbled into the living room, and collapsed onto the overstuffed chair by the couch. She thought his seat choice odd. Was he trying to put physical distance between them? Or was her imagination working overtime as AJ had so often teased? Brushing her concern aside, she settled on the couch, and unable to contain her curiosity, blurted out, “Was his license a fake? Did he get it from the Langstons? What happened? You were gone so long I was worried.”

  Slow down. The man’s had a long night. Let him catch his breath. You sound like the paparazzi trying to nab a story before the celebrity crawls in his car and drives off.