Dylan laughed and raced after him, and I clucked Firebrand forward to join them. We came upon a large pond, and Dylan veered to the right. Bucky hopped like a bunny three times, kicking his legs out behind him, and then bolted.
“Shit,” Wyatt hissed, and spurred his horse forward. There was no way he could catch her, though.
I coaxed Firebrand into stepping up his pace. By the time I went over the hill and came upon them, Dylan was dismounted, doubled over, and laughing hysterically.
“Dylan, are you okay?” I asked, slowing Firebrand to a stop.
“Ohmigod, that was so fun! This boy has hops and speed.” She leaned against Bucky and rubbed his neck. “I think I’m in love.”
Wyatt shook his head, chuckling. “I told you to watch the turns.”
“And miss out on that action? Never!”
“Yeah, well now you see why we don’t rent him out,” Wyatt said. “Most riders aren’t nearly as crazy as you.”
“Don’t listen to him, Bucky,” Dylan said, pulling the horse’s nose down so she could kiss his forehead. “You’re perfect.”
I shook my head. Only Dylan would think a horse who hopped like a rabbit before bolting was perfect. And somehow, we had to race him like that?
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “You didn’t hit your head, did you?”
“Yeah. Seriously. He’s going to be perfect for what we need.”
“I’m trusting you on this, because I don’t even know how all of this works.”
Wyatt’s expression changed, and I stiffened. “What do you mean you don’t know how any of this works?” he said.
“Well,” I said carefully, “I have never been to a roundup or rodeo or whatever, and I’ve never ridden western, so this buddy pick-up thing is kind of alien to me. I tend to ride straight, not make tight turns around a barrel or jump onto a horse while it’s moving.”
“You’ll ride, I’ll jump,” Dylan said.
“Wait, you’re tellin’ me she’s never done this before?” Wyatt said, looking at Dylan and talking about me like I wasn’t even there. “Has she even run the barrels?”
“Hello?” I asked, waving. “Me? Are you talking about me?”
“She rides English,” Dylan said. “They don’t have barrels. They jump. She knows what she’s doing, though. She’ll be fine.”
“You two do realize I’m right here, right?” I asked.
“On Bucky? Dyl, you saw what he does. Are you tryin’ to get her killed? I’m shuttin’ this down,” Wyatt said.
“Shutting what down?” I asked. “I swear I’m going to kick both of you in the shins if you don’t stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
His gaze finally found me. “Sorry, Addie, but I can’t in good conscience let you ride in a dangerous competition when you don’t know what you’re doing. You could get hurt.”
I frowned in Dylan’s direction and she crossed her arms and glared at Wyatt. What the hell was up with all these men who felt the need to protect me? It was starting to piss me off.
“You don’t really have a say in it,” I snapped.
“My horse, my decision,” he said.
I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I apologize. I think we should go, Dylan.” I turned Firebrand back toward the house and saw a low fence separating the hill from the pasture. It was a similar height to what I used as a beginning rider when I was about five, and I knew that even if Firebrand had never jumped before, he’d be able to do it. Wyatt needed to see what I could do, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to make a western horse jump something he wouldn’t naturally do in the wild or out in the field...either or both of us could get hurt. This little fence would be no sweat for him. I dug my heels in.
Wyatt bellowed a few curses behind me.
This amazing, gorgeous, fabulous animal cleared the fence with quite a bit to spare and I heard Dylan’s excited hoot behind me. I grinned and pulled Firebrand to a walk, cooling him down as we waited for Dylan to mount. Then she and Wyatt caught up to us.
“What the hell was that?” Wyatt snapped. “You could have been hurt. You could have harmed my horse.”
Okay, I really hadn’t expected the rage he exhibited, but I was determined to plead my case. “I would never do anything to harm a horse, Wyatt. Ever. That fence we jumped was just above ground poles, so I knew Firebrand would have no problem clearing it. He’s probably jumped things higher out in the pasture to get to better grass.”
Wyatt scowled.
“Am I wrong?” I challenged.
“She knows what she’s doing Wy,” Dylan piped in. “She’s trained several of her own horses over the years.”
Wyatt muttered under his breath.
Dylan chuckled. “If I’d done that, would you have freaked?”
“I...” He trailed off and she laughed.
“Exactly. Calm down, buddy. Addie’s kinda awesome. She can handle pretty much any horse. Even this beautifully complicated beast.” She scratched behind Bucky’s ears. “She’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t put her in danger. I’ll admit that challenging Brandy wasn’t the smartest thing Addie’s ever done, but she can back up the challenge. We just need practice. We need your help. Come on, Wy. Let’s set up a barrel and make a few trial runs. If they don’t go well, we’ll drop out.”
“Like hell we will,” I said, leaning back. “That Brandy douche-hag is going down.”
Wyatt looked from me to Dylan, and then back to me, shaking his head. I thought he was going to say no, but he held up his hand. “Fine. A couple of practice runs, and if it doesn’t go well...you’ll drop out.”
I started to object to the dropping out part, but Dylan gestured zipping her mouth shut. “Thanks, Wy,” she gushed. “You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah, blondie here just better not die on my watch or my folks will kill me.”
“No dying!” Dylan said, pointing at me.
That I could promise. “All right, no dying.”
“And one condition,” Wyatt said, holding up the picnic basket. “We eat first. I’m starving.”
Dylan
AFTER A FEW hours of training Bucky to do the Barrel Buddy Pick-up, we brushed down the horses, thanked Wyatt, and headed back into town to bribe Sergio. Daylight was waning and I wanted to soak in Epsom salts to work out the damage Bucky had done to my body when I wasn’t secured before he bolted. Wyatt had been all sweet concern about Addison getting hurt, but the bastard laughed himself silly when I hit the dirt. I made a mental note to tell his grandma on him when we hit the nursing home. That’d teach him.
“We have to stop by Dad’s butcher shop first,” I said, heading in that direction. “You want to come in, or you want to sit in the car?”
“How gross is this butcher shop?” Addison asked.
“The store front is like the meat counter of a grocery store. All the gory stuff happens in the back.”
“I can handle that,” she said.
We went in and found Bill behind the counter. Bill was my father’s only employee. They’d grown up together and Bill was balding, beer-bellied, and divorced, with no life whatsoever. He manned the counter and assisted Dad in the back Monday through Friday and they closed up on the weekends.
“Dylan.” He gave me a wide smile and came around the counter to hug me. “I heard you were in town and was hopin’ you’d stop by. Your dad’s not in right now, but I could call him...”
“No, no, that’s not necessary. Bill, this is my friend, Addison. She’s never had any of Dad’s famous venison jerky, so I stopped by to see if I could buy some off you.”
Bill eyed me. “You know he doesn’t let me sell that.”
Yep, I did. The jerky was only for special clients, which is exactly why I needed it. I gave him my sweetest, most innocent smile. “But it’s so good. She can’t come to my home town and not try the jerky I told her so much about.”
I elbowed Addison. She gave a little jump before turning on her charm. “Oh yeah, Dylan doesn’t shut up about th
is stuff, and I’ve been looking forward to it forever.”
Bill went behind the counter and checked his stock. “Well, I suppose I could give you a few strips.”
“You know Dad would if he were here,” I said. “If anything could talk me into moving back, it’s Dad’s jerky.”
That part wasn’t exactly a lie. Dad’s jerky was the thing I missed the most about Lakeview. Bill tossed a couple strips in a bag, waved off my offer of payment, and we were on our way.
“Are you going to let me try it?” Addison asked as I laid the bag on the backseat.
“Not a chance. The stuff is like crack. One bite, and you’re hooked. We need it to bribe Sergio into releasing the security tapes. But we’re gonna have to be stealthy about it.”
“Okay...?”
I giggled. “Silence your phone. This is gonna be fun.”
We grabbed the bag of jerky, approached the front doors of the nursing home, and I asked Addison for a mirror.
“What makes you think I have one?” she asked.
I looked pointedly at the gigantic Kate Spade purse slung over her shoulder.
“Fine,” she said, riffling through it until she produced a hand-held mirror.
“Tell me if you see someone coming, and hold this, please.” I handed her the jerky bag.
Ducking, I crept up to the door, angling the mirror to see in. There were two nurses behind the counter, but thankfully neither was Brandy. One appeared to be playing solitaire on the computer, while the other alternated between staring longingly at the clock and fiddling with her cell phone. The door across from the nurse’s station led to the security room, which was our goal. I slunk back, detailed the plan to Addison, called the nursing home’s main line, and asked for my grandmother’s room. It took me about five minutes to convince Grandma to call in a nurse and keep her busy for a while. Then I crept forward again, using the mirror to watch.
The nurse playing with her phone said something and then headed down the hall. I gestured for Addison to stay low and follow me and we crept in, using the mirror to keep an eye on the other nurse. As we slunk around the counter, the theme song for “The Pink Panther” started playing. Heart racing, I shifted feet and looked to Addison. She pointed at the piano in the common area. A man who had to be pushing a hundred sat on the bench, plunking keys. He winked at us and kept playing.
I took a deep breath and continued. We made it through the door leading to the security area without further incident, and stood, giggling.
“I can’t believe it’s unlocked,” Addison said.
“It’s Lakeview. We don’t lock doors here.” I pointed to the room at the end of the hallway. “Let’s go.”
Sergio was maybe five-foot-five with short dark hair and a bit of a spare tire. He jumped out of his chair, surprised to see us, but grinned when he recognized me. “What are you doing here? And in here?” he asked after we hugged and I introduced him to Addison.
I filled him in on our job and asked for copies of the video surveillance.
“I’d need to clear it with the boss first,” Sergio replied. “It’ll probably take a few days.”
I ran a hand down my face. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’re only going to be in town until Labor Day.”
“And we really want to help those ladies and get them back their jewelry,” Addison added. “Dylan told me all about you and you seem like a great guy who wants to do the same thing.”
He glanced from us to the screens in front of him. “I do, but I could lose my job for this.”
“Remember that time I caught you stealing penny candy from Welches Convenience Store? Did I ever rat you out for that?” I asked.
“No, but you did make me put it back.”
I smiled. “Yep. I single-handedly discouraged your life of crime. You owe me.” I put my hand out to Addison and asked her for the bag. “Besides, I brought something to sweeten the deal.”
Now I had his attention. His eyes were wide as he watched the bag change hands. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep. Just stopped by Dad’s and got it special for you, but if you don’t want it...”
“No, no, I want it.” He was practically slobbering. “I just...I suppose if I burned copies of the dates the jewelry was stolen and someone snuck in here and took them...I couldn’t be responsible for that.”
“I promise I won’t sell you out, Sergio.”
He nodded and gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat. This will take a minute.”
After Sergio made us the tapes, we slipped out the back door.
“Why didn’t we come in this way?” Addison asked.
“What fun would that have been? Besides, it’s a security door and locks automatically. Let’s go back in the front and visit Ms. Long.”
My dad had been good friends with Jeff Long once upon a time, but time and circumstances (okay, really, Dad’s drinking problem) had driven a wedge between them. I remembered Jeff’s aunt from long ago barbecues and church potlucks, though. She’d been a sweet lady with short grey curls and big round glasses who always had a pocketful of hard candy for us kids. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw when I walked into her room.
Ms. Long was in bed with a blanket tucked around her. Her skin was pale and her eyes were glazed over. I almost thought she was dead for a moment, but her lips moved, mumbling something.
“Hello, Ms. Long,” I said, forcing cheerfulness I didn’t feel into my voice.
She didn’t acknowledge my existence, so I closed the distance and repeated myself. Still no response.
“Is she okay?” Addison asked, approaching the foot of the bed. “Should we get a nurse?”
Before I could answer, a nurse walked in. “Hello,” she said, eyeing us. She looked familiar, but she was older than me and I couldn’t remember her name.
“Hi. I’m Dylan James and this is Addison Allen. We’re here to interview Ms. Long about her stolen jewelry,” I explained.
“I heard you were back and poking around,” the nurse replied, elevating the upper portion of Ms. Long’s bed. “This one won’t be able to tell you much, though. Her dementia has taken a turn for the worse. She hasn’t done anything but mutter the past couple days.”
“What’s she saying?” Addison asked.
The nurse shrugged. “Hell if I know. Ms. Long, it’s Nurse Helen. I’m gonna give you your medicine now. I need you to take this all, okay?”
When Ms. Long didn’t answer, Helen took a bottle of pills out of her pocket, compared them with the bracelet around Ms. Long’s wrist, and popped the cap. Addison and I watched as she put two pills on the elderly woman’s tongue and helped her wash them down with a drink of water. Then she evened out the bed again and left.
“Now what?” Addison asked, looking at me.
My body had been tortured today, but I still had a little spirit left in me. Determined to kill it, I said, “Let’s go see Grandma.”
“Lead the way,” Addison said, and waved her hand toward the door.
“God, you two stink to high heaven,” Grandma said when we walked in. Then her eyes widened as she looked over Addison’s attire. “Is that one of those bondage get-ups? You know we don’t allow that Fifty Shades of Grey business here, right?”
“Grandma!” I gasped. “How do you know about Fifty Shades?”
Addison giggled.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a wad. You know I don’t read that filth. I caught Brandy watching the movie at the nurses’ station late one night. That girl.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “Scandalous. You know she won’t tell anyone who the father of her child is?”
“Brandy has a kid?” I asked.
“That explains those hips,” Addison mumbled.
“Yep. He’s almost a year old now. Rumor has it one of the town big shots is the father. Married, to boot. Figure he must be pretty well off to pay for her boob job.”
“Wait, Brandy got a boob job?”
“You really couldn’t tell?” Addison aske
d. “Honey, there’s no way those are real.”
I’m sure the two of them were only trying to be helpful, but conversations like this one had me seriously doubting my life choices. After all, what business did I have becoming a private investigator when I was apparently the least observant person on the planet?
“Any idea who Brandy’s baby-daddy is?” Addison asked, scooting closer to Grandma.
“I don’t listen to gossips,” Grandma said. “But if I did...I’d bet it was either Dicky Jones or Marty Coldwell.”
My jaw dropped.
Addison read my expression and asked, “Should I know those names?”
“The first one’s the district attorney, and the second one’s the county judge,” I answered.
Addison whistled. “Dylan, your home town drama is soap opera quality.”
“You’re tellin’ me. Why do you think I left?” Then I remembered why we’d come to see Grandma in the first place. “Getting back to the subject at hand...we stopped in to see Ms. Long. What happened to her?”
Grandma’s eyes turned sorrowful. “Martha was doin’ well until about a month ago. Doc said the dementia got her. They been upping her prescriptions but if you ask me, they seem to be makin’ her worse.”
“It’s like everyone in here has dementia,” Addison observed.
I filed that little piece of information away, thanked her for her time, and Addison and I headed out. We had a lot of video footage to go over and I still needed that bath.
Addison
“SO, BRANDY’S PUTTING things back?” I asked, staring at the screen. My eyes saw it, but my brain refused to believe it. “On top of that, she’s making out with the district attorney and throwing herself at Wyatt? So, she’s an honest slut?”
“We don’t know that she’s throwing herself at Wyatt. That’s a rumor.”
“You were awake and watching this footage with me, right? She fluffed her breasts before she approached him! Who does that?”
“Uh...” Dylan eyeballed me. “Do you really want me to remind you?”
“Okay, fine. But at least I’ve never kissed a married man. She and the DA were sucking face in the hallway of the nursing home.”
Throw Dylan from the Train Page 12
