“Were the burglars ever caught? How many were there?”
“No. There were two. It’s been speculated that they were passing through town.”
“How old was he when it happened?”
“Fourteen.”
Fourteen. He was just a boy. A boy who’d hidden while his family had been tortured and slaughtered. He’d survived and they’d all died. It was a horror she couldn’t begin to imagine. He must have issues with guilt. How could he not? Though there had been nothing he could have done to save them, he might blame himself for not trying. It explained his evasiveness, his refusal to talk about his family.
“That poor man.”
“Don’t feel sorry for him. He’s made a life out of avenging them.”
That was no way to make a life.
Sitting back against her seat, Gemma could see how Ford would bottle something like that up, and she could also see how it would lead him to consume himself with law enforcement. But to carry that torch the rest of his life? That heavy burden? A debt he felt he owed? Didn’t he see what he was giving up? What did he want out of life? It was one thing to want a career in law enforcement, and quite another to do it out of obligation, forsaking his other needs.
“Ford’s a good man, Gemma. You couldn’t be in more capable hands.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“And you’re going to be the envy of every single woman in town. A handsome cop staying at your house. Protecting you. How romantic!”
“Needing protection because my ex-husband is trying to kill me isn’t what I’d call romantic.”
“I saw the way you looked at Ford when you met him.”
“Good evening, everyone,” the boisterous voice of Samuel Grayson boomed through the microphone. His tall, fit frame moved fluidly across the stage. Not a strand of dark hair was out of place, and his suit was of the finest materials.
“You have the power.” He pointed to the audience. “Each and every one of you.” He strode to one side of the stage, stopped and strode to the middle again, where he faced forward and turned his head to scan the auditorium.
“You have the power to stop your ego from controlling your thoughts and actions.” He strode to the other side of the stage now. “Your ego is hungry for gratification,” he nearly shouted, walking back to the center. “It will seek out that gratification at any cost. It will throw you in front of a bus. It will lash out at those around you. Give less to receive more.”
Gemma leaned closer to Lacy. “He must be talking about my ex-husband.”
Lacy snickered behind her hand.
“Don’t ask what your ego wants,” Samuel continued. “Ask what you want, my fellow citizens.” He looked from one side of the auditorium to the other. “What do you want?”
“I want a boyfriend,” Lacy whispered.
I want Ford, Gemma almost replied.
* * *
Ford spotted Bo, dressed in a black uniform and wearing his badge, standing next to Grayson’s spread of tables underneath a huge white canopy at the center of the park. Similar in height to Grayson but brawny and unapproachable, Bo was bland in contrast to the community leader’s popular appeal. Swarms of admirers flocked near him. This was the place to be if you were anyone in Cold Plains. How many of them had a D on their hips?
He guided Gemma underneath the canopy. She wore a crinkly white sundress that scooped low in the front, hinting at bare breasts underneath. Her dainty leather sandals revealed painted toenails and she moved that petite, fit body of hers with smooth and feminine strides, no longer hindered by the injuries she’d sustained from her ex. The healing cuts and bruises on her face were letting her beauty shine through. She looked as hot as the ninety-five-degree day. He was still sweating, and not just from the temperature. It hadn’t helped that she’d kept looking over at him, checking out his uniform all the way here, as though his being a cop turned her on.
Reaching Bo and Grayson, Ford braced himself for the show he’d have to put on. They both thought he was their man. He’d like to inform them that he was his own man. But there was a reason he hadn’t quit by now.
Passing a table of seafood and a fountain of tonic water, Ford stopped at Samuel, who had his arms around two women smiling and leaning against him, practically drooling in worship. Dressed without a wrinkle in tan slacks and a short-sleeved dark blue shirt, he laughed at something Bo said.
“Gemma,” Samuel greeted with the full force of his charismatic presence, removing his arms from the women to approach her. She was the sole focus of his attention now.
Ford watched her warm to it, smiling as she leaned into his embrace. How could it be so easy for her to fall for his bull?
Reminded of her abusive ex-husband, he gave her an allowance. Samuel preyed on people in weakened states like hers. He bolstered them with his seminars and then lured them into his demented circle. He hoped it wasn’t too late to save her.
Samuel eased back from Gemma. “I trust Ford is treating you well?”
“I’m never out of his sight.” She beamed her radiant smile at Ford, making him falter.
“Good. I’d hate to see you suffer through any more hardship. No woman of Cold Plains should have to go through what you have.”
Ford imagined himself throwing up all over the man’s overpriced shoes. Or better yet, hauling him off in handcuffs.
“I appreciate your consideration.”
Hearing the hint of stiffness in her response, Ford looked over at her. Had she noticed something wrong with Samuel’s concern? Did she see it for the manipulative tool it was?
“You deserve a fresh start and I want my town to give that to you. Cold Plains gave that to me when I first arrived. And I’m proud to be a part of such a fine place. Proud of its growth and proud of its people. Everyone should feel safe here.”
She smiled warmly, sucked right back into his scheming charm. “Music to my ears.”
Ford hoped she was smarter than to allow Samuel to control her the way he did others. That’s how he worked. He drew them in and then snared them.
“That’s why we have our best watching over you,” Bo chimed in.
It was like long fingernails raking a clean chalkboard.
“Catching Jed is only part of the problem,” Ford pointed out. “Everyone seems to forget there are five unsolved murders linked to Cold Plains.”
“Five?” Gemma queried.
“His Jane Doe is one of them,” Bo sneered, and then said more gently to Gemma, “None of them were murdered in Cold Plains.”
“Like I said, they’re linked.”
“How so?” Gemma asked.
“Samuel, you could probably answer that for her,” Ford said. He knew he was pushing it, but he felt it was time to let them both know he wasn’t their pawn.
“I’m not familiar with those murders,” Samuel said. “They have nothing to do with Cold Plains.”
“They all lived here.”
“And they all left before they were killed,” Bo countered.
All five bodies had been found miles away from Cold Plains, but all five had had a D tattooed on their hips. Except one. Jane Doe’s D had been drawn on with a marker. If Samuel hadn’t killed them, he knew who had.
“What about Jane Doe?” Ford asked, watching Grayson. He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he appeared bored with the topic. Complacent. He thought he was untouchable right now. Some day his luck would run out.
“Have you made any progress with that computer-enhanced photo?” Bo asked, sounding professional. He easily fell into that role, and it had been convincing when Ford had first started to work for him. Now he knew it was only a facade.
“Not yet.”
“Give it a rest for a while. There are more important th
ings to concentrate on right now.”
Give it a rest. This wasn’t the first time Bo had tried to get him to back off with his investigations, particularly Jane Doe’s. And that only made Ford want to work harder to solve her murder.
“Yes, and one of them is standing right next to you,” Samuel added, all enchantment and misleading goodwill.
“I don’t want to get in the way of Ford’s job,” Gemma demurred. “He must be very busy.” She turned to him. “Five murders. Wow. So many.”
“You’re his job right now,” Bo said. “There are other officers working the murders.”
“Of course. I should have thought of that.”
“Any sign of Jed Johnson, Ford?” Samuel expertly intervened.
“Not yet.” Ford hoped it wouldn’t be long before he did have some sign. Living with Gemma was going to be a constant provocation. Keeping his hands off her especially. “But I’m sure he’ll turn up soon, and when he does, I’ll be ready.”
Samuel nodded. “I knew you’d be the best man for the job. I can always count on you.”
To do what? The predictable? No one knew he had a private agenda. Well, very few did. Hawk Bledsoe knew, the man the FBI had sent to investigate Samuel Grayson’s cult.
Bo and Grayson were suspicious of Ford. They knew he wondered if Grayson was involved in the murders, but were confident he wouldn’t get any closer. That kind of ballsy arrogance got to him. Any criminal who thought they could get away with murder got to him. Both men underestimated him.
“Shall we?” he said to Gemma. And then to the two men, “Quite a celebration you have going here.”
“Enjoy. Help yourselves,” Grayson said, stretching his arm to indicate the tables full of food and that hideous fountain of tonic water. People flocked to it, believing it had some kind of magical power to keep them young and healthy. Fools. All of them. He’d like nothing more than to open their eyes to the truth. Save the entire town from Grayson.
“Thank you,” Ford said, putting his hand on Gemma’s lower back to steer her away.
She walked close to him, making him aware of her all over again, particularly the neckline of her white sundress. She lifted her hand and shaded her eyes. He noticed a bracelet on her wrist. An expensive one. She wore it a lot.
“Is that Martha’s granddaughter?” she asked, stopping.
Following her look, he spotted Hallie and Dillon sitting together on a blanket, talking and eating sandwiches from a picnic cooler.
“Sure is. With Dillon Monroe.”
“Monroe… I met his parents the other night. Nice couple.”
Ford ignored her reference to those damn seminars, noticing how Dillon watched Grayson’s canopy with a low brow. He’d sensed similar tension from him after Gemma had been attacked. Hallie said something to him and his gaze shifted to Ford.
Ford lifted his hand in a salute. Dillon gave a nod of acknowledgment and seemed to regard him differently than he had Grayson. Most in town didn’t know which side Ford was on. Those closest to him knew he wasn’t a Devotee and never would be. Grayson kept secret the ones he privately tattooed, branded as his own. Sometimes Ford could recognize the ones who didn’t belong to that delusional club. Had Dillon recognized the same about him?
Maybe he’d pay the boy a visit. Ask him what his story was when it came to Grayson. He may have a good reason to despise the man, with parents who frequented the community center.
Ford took a step toward the row of vendors cooking food on one side of Grayson’s canopy, but Gemma smiled and hooked her arm with his.
“We can’t pass up this great food.”
He could pass up anything related to Grayson, but her enthusiasm was infectious. Why did she do that to him? Her whole face lit up, reaching deep into her eyes. So genuine. Maybe that was it. When she smiled, she wasn’t faking it, and the result was devastating, for him anyway.
At the seafood table, he picked up a paper plate after she did. They had a couple of hours before the fireworks started. Might as well enjoy it. Trays of salmon, crab legs and tuna were mouthwatering. Gemma obviously had the same tastes as him. She loaded her plate with all the offerings, leaving a little room for pasta salad and steak. She grabbed a roll and would have gone to the tonic-water fountain if Ford hadn’t steered her clear of it.
“I’ll get us something.”
Following her with their identical plates of food to a table under the canopy, he put his down and headed for a smaller tent next to Grayson’s. It was selling beer. He got one for Gemma and two waters. Even if she didn’t drink it, it’d be worth getting a rise out of Grayson.
Placing the bottle of beer in front of her and then the bottles of regular spring water, not Samuel’s tonic water, he caught her look of surprise.
“I’m on duty, but you aren’t,” he said, sitting next to her. Sticking his fork into the pasta salad, he looked over at Grayson and Bo.
Grayson wore a disapproving frown and Bo sent him a narrow-eyed scowl. Ford inwardly cheered.
A big man with a mobster’s face and a barrel stomach approached Grayson. He leaned to his ear and said something. Grayson replied and turned to Bo, giving what appeared to be an order. Ford surveyed everyone around them. No one was close enough to hear the conversation. The two women who’d flirted with Grayson earlier were drinking tonic water from tall crystal flutes with four other women of varying ages.
Bo happened to catch Ford watching. He stared a moment but true to his cocky nature, he dismissed his second-in-command as a threat and lifted his glass of tonic water in greeting. Ford returned the gesture. Bo returned his attention to Grayson and the henchman holding a dark brew.
“Have you tried the crab yet?” Gemma asked.
When he looked over at her, she held a claw in her juice-drenched fingers and her lips were moist. Ford had to gear down. The sight almost gave him a physical jolt.
Putting the shell of the claw onto her plate, she licked her fingers, her soft brown eyes half-closed with pleasure.
Damn.
Her finger-licking slowed as she saw him. Then that smile did its number on him as she laughed at herself.
“Try it!” she protested.
Unable to resist her, he picked up a crab leg and pried it apart. Taking off a bite of the rich, sweet meat with his teeth, he had to agree. Samuel was good for something today.
Finishing his crab, he moved onto the salmon, piling it onto a small piece of toasted rye bread with red onion, cream cheese and capers. He’d rather not get into a discussion on the fact that they had the same taste in food.
“When I first came to Cold Plains, one of the first things I did was find a really expensive restaurant. I spent hundreds of dollars on a lobster dinner. Appetizer. The best wine they had. And dessert. It was fabulous.”
She had a thing for spending lots of money.
“Have you ever done that?” she asked.
“Not alone.”
“I went with Lacy.”
Lacy. He didn’t like how close she was getting to her. He’d seen her with Grayson and his crowd. She couldn’t be trusted.
“Jed hated taking me out to dinner.”
“It’s only natural that you’d want to do everything he hated.”
“Like spend his money.”
“It’s yours, too.”
“It doesn’t feel that way. I didn’t earn it.”
She felt because she hadn’t actually worked for it that it wasn’t hers. He commended her for having that integrity, but Jed had been her husband.
“You aren’t a special case, Gemma. The law typically divides assets. Fifty-fifty.”
“You’d better be careful. Pretty soon you’re going to start helping me more than the seminars.”
�
�Then maybe I should be more reckless.” He’d rather be the one to help her than those seminars.
“Sounds tempting.”
Time to slow this fireball down. “I’m on duty.” He tapped his badge.
Her gaze fell to it, then lifted, fueling the fireball. If he had known pointing to his badge would do that to her he never would have done it.
He turned away, watching Bo and Grayson again.
“Don’t you ever have any fun?”
Why was she asking that? “When I’m off duty.”
That didn’t seem to appease her. There was something else she wanted to know.
“Lacy told me about your family.”
Assaulted by the uprising of grief that always struck him when he was cornered like this, Ford ignored her, hoping she’d get the hint. Too personal.
“Have you always been in law enforcement?”
That he could answer. “I went to college after the Army and then decided to come home.”
“What did you study in college?”
“Criminal science.”
“And now you’re a cop.”
He let her state the obvious.
“You devoted your life to your work,” she pressed, and now he saw where she was headed.
He’d devoted his life to law enforcement because of the way his family had died. Clamping down on the flare of resentment she stirred by digging, he leaned back against his chair and waited for her to do what everyone else did.
“What would you have done if that hadn’t happened?”
“Can we talk about something else?”
Her brown eyes registered his emotion and she averted her gaze to the throng of delusional, Cold Plains culties. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. It’s just…it’s just…”
“You know what it’s like to be a victim?”
“No, I didn’t mean that…I…” She looked down at the half-eaten food on her plate and it was a moment before she lifted her head.
The sight of her contrition, as genuine as her smile, slammed his defenses. Nothing could change the tortuous sense of loss he felt whenever he was forced to talk about his family, but something about Gemma defused that.
Perfect Wyoming Complete Collection: Special Agent's Perfect Cover ; Rancher's Perfect Baby Rescue ; A Daughter's Perfect Secret ; Lawman's Perfect Surrender ; The Perfect Outsider ; Mercenary's Perfect Mission Page 57
