by Susan Stoker
“You do realize this is a gun store? I am armed.” She gestured to her waist. “At all times.”
Any Texan worth his salt had a gun handy, but she took it to another level. The woman knew more about guns, weapons, and their capabilities than any person in Brier Creek. She’d threatened more than once to shoot his balls off.
Laz needed to get control of the situation and his reaction. So he pulled out the only tool left in his arsenal, being a hard-ass cop.
“Miss, are you threatening an officer of the law? You do realize that’s a crime.” He put his hands on his hips. “I’m here to investigate. If you are the owner, then I suggest you work with me. I’m Ranger Graham.”
The shock on her face gave way to disbelief and then finally to cold anger. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know who I am?”
“If you’re the owner of this shop, I suggest you enlighten me as to who you are.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. Cool and calm on the outside, rioting emotions deep inside. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, let any of that out. He needed to do his job and get out of there as soon as possible. If his family knew he was in Brier Creek without stopping at the Circle Eight, the hell that would rain down on him would scorch the earth.
“You’re still an asshole, Lazarus Matthew Graham.” She slapped the flyswatter on her leg. “My name is Beatrice Cartwright and I own this shop. Somebody broke in, then proceeded to destroy every piece of glass and steal about five grand in stock.” She waved her arm at the visible damage. “If you’re investigating, then get it done then get the hell out.”
Laz touched the brim of his hat then pulled the notebook out of his shirt pocket. He walked around the store creating a diagram of the interior and noting the damage done. If someone could have flames shoot from their eyes, Bea would certainly have done it. His back burned from the heat of her gaze.
Or perhaps it was guilt.
The truth was, he had made mistakes from the time they had been children. She had always set him off balance and that pricked his pride. Therefore he’d acted like an ass. He’d never apologized for any of his stupidity, which just made things worse. In a perfect world, they might have been friends, or more. Instead they were two people who sniped at each other, never to be more than impolite strangers.
Too bad she was friends with all three of his sisters, particularly Rose. At least he thought they were still friends. Laz hadn’t been back to Brier Creek in almost ten years. Now he’d stepped into the past and opened himself up to a shit storm from multiple directions.
“What time did you close the store the night of the burglary?”
She harrumphed. “Same time as I always do. Six o’clock.”
“Do you have surveillance cameras?” He pointed at the obvious domes on the ceiling. “Or is that for show?”
Her expression hardened. “Yes, I have surveillance. I installed it myself.”
“I have the owner as Patrick Cartwright. Is he here to corroborate your information?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Laz had deliberately closed himself off from Brier Creek and everyone he’d grown up with. He was the black sheep of the great Graham legacy. The rancher’s son who refused to be a rancher. Apparently he’d missed a few bits of information, such as what happened to Bea’s father.
“I’m going by the information the dispatcher had—”
“Shut up, Laz. Just shut up.” She ran her hand down her face and stepped around from behind the display. Bea wore a pair of shorts that revealed more than they covered. His attraction to her hadn’t disappeared and now it notched up even farther.
Shit.
“If you had bothered to come home in the last decade, you’d know that my parents were killed in a plane crash. Both of them died when I was twenty. I’ve been the owner of this shop for eight years. Me. Your dispatcher is an idiot.” She walked through the dark blue curtain covering a doorway and disappeared.
Laz let out a long breath. He’d intended to do his job and leave. When he had been assigned to investigate the crime, which was a string of smash and grabs in the county, he had resisted. A lie. He hadn’t resisted, he’d refused. Then his boss told him in no uncertain terms, he wasn’t allowed to say no. So he had to drive back to Brier Creek, the town he’d avoided since he was eighteen.
Here Laz was, now distracted by a woman who hated him but whom he could spend a week in bed with, and the impending doom of his family discovering he was in town. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be.
Apparently he’d missed a devastating period in her life when her parents had died. Taking on the responsibility of a business—a gun business—at age twenty took big brass balls. Bea was one of the few people with enough gumption and smarts to do it. He was glad for her, even if he could never tell her. Too many years of acrimony had soured any friendship they might have had. And, of course, there was the fact he’d been gone for so long.
Shaking off the past, he focused on what he needed to do and combed over the damage, noting the similarities to the previous crimes. The oddball thing was the other crimes were at different types of businesses. There was a dry cleaner, a craft store, a travel agency, a florist, and now a gun store. The only thing they had in common was they were owned by individuals, not big box stores or chains.
“Miss Cartwright?” he called toward the curtain.
“I’m busy,” came the muffled response.
He supposed he deserved that. Why would he pretend not to know her? That was his first mistake. Now he needed not to make any more stupid moves. She needed his skills as a lawman, not his regret as someone who treated her badly when they were growing up.
“I need to speak with you.” He stood at the edge of the curtain, the linen almost see-through. Her shadow moved within, the spectacular curves not hidden by the fabric.
“I told you I’m busy.” She huffed out an impatient breath, muttering too low for him to understand.
Laz waited a full minute before he pushed the curtain aside and strode into the back room. He’d not been back there before, and had only been in the store a couple times with his father years ago. He was as surprised by his action as she was.
“What?” she scowled.
He took off his hat. “Bea, I’m sorry.” It rolled off his tongue before he could stuff the words back in his mouth.
She blinked. “Did you just call me Bea?”
“I promise I’m not trying to be a dick. I, uh, just want to help you catch the perp.” He managed not to sound like a complete idiot, but it was a near thing.
“And you’re sorry for what? Pretending not to know who I was? Or pretending not to know my parents are dead?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze.
“I didn’t know about your parents, but I’m sorry for your loss. I know what it feels like.” His own mother’s death had been the catalyst for the changes in his life and the direction he’d run. “I apologize for the foolishness out there. I was surprised and I put on my ranger face.”
“I’d say you put on your dickhead face.” Her lips twisted. “Although that just sounds gross so let’s skip it. I accept your apology out of respect for your family, not for you.”
He fiddled with the brim of his hat. “I’m here to investigate the burglary and I’d appreciate your coop—I mean, your help.”
“Fine. But don’t expect me to be nice to you.” She sniffed. “I tried that a long time ago and you shut me down.”
Laz had been an arrogant little son of a bitch and he knew it. His pride had always been his downfall. How could he explain to her that he’d changed, that becoming a man of the law had given him the purpose he’d been lacking? A reason to get up in the morning.
“I’ve changed, and I’m sure you have too. None of us are who we were as children.” He held up his notepad. “Can you walk through this with me so I’m not missing anything?”
She nodded, albeit reluctantly. “The sooner you get what
you need, the sooner you can be on your way.”
She led him to a table farther into the building, one that had four chairs, a gun mat, and a number of sprays, oils, and other gun cleaning supplies. While she folded up the mat and stacked up the others, he sat in a well-worn chair and opened his notes.
This was the last place he’d expected to be when he woke up that morning. Across the table from Queen Bea, the girl who had been his enemy for the last twenty years. But in truth, she had been the one girl he’d been unable to charm as a teenager, and the one he suspected he could have loved.
Chapter Two
‡
Bea tried not to look at him. Lazarus Graham had always been good-looking as a boy, and now, as a grown man, he was ridiculously handsome. She sneaked glances at his thick, dark-brown hair cut in tight near his ears and a little longer on top, with a few stray curls popping up. His jaw was square with a shave of military precision. His lips were full but not too full. But it was his eyes that always got her. Most of the Grahams had this strange blue-green color, some more blue and others more green. Laz’s eyes were the color of the ocean.
She pinched herself to stop cataloging his gorgeous visage and start focusing on the burglary details. The sooner he got what he needed, the sooner he would leave.
The fact he’d pretended not to know her still rankled, although she grudgingly admitted he had, for once, apologized for it. He came back to Brier Creek after ten years for her burglary. What did that mean? Why hadn’t he told his family? Or worse, hadn’t he visited the ranch in all that time?
She was bursting with questions but needed to mind her own business. It was his life, not hers. If he didn’t want to be with his family, it was none of her business. Not a smidge.
“From what I can tell, the perpetrator came in by smashing the front door. Yet I see you have an alarm.” He gestured to the control panel on the wall. “Did it go off?”
She frowned “No, it didn’t. I checked with the alarm company and they said I’d disabled it at two thirty-two in the morning. I wasn’t asleep at that time and I sure as hell wouldn’t have disabled the alarm so the bastard could get in here.”
Laz cocked his head, staring at the panel. “So you’re saying someone came in here and disabled the alarm, and then broke the front door?”
“No, I think someone remotely disabled the alarm, then they took glee in busting every piece of glass in my store. I’d fallen asleep with headphones on listening to music so I didn’t hear a damn thing. From what I can tell, they didn’t even attempt to open the safe.” She pointed at the door at the back of the room, which her father had always called the safe closet. “Untouched and secured with over two hundred thousand in inventory.”
He wrote more in the notepad while she again attempted not to stare at him. Why did the man have to be so blasted good-looking while she was as ordinary as a stalk of wheat? Whoever was handing out the attractive genes surely could have given her a few more.
“Does anyone else know the alarm code for the store?”
She nodded. “Me, Kim, the alarm company of course, but no one else.”
“Kim?”
“Kim Raeford. We went to school together.” She waited to see if he would pretend not to know her too.
“Ah, yes. I remember her. Dressed up like Madonna all the time.”
Bea barked a laugh. “I’d forgotten that. That cone bra was classic, wasn’t it? When she walked into biology class—”
“Can we focus on this?” His tone wasn’t condescending, but it was firm, and damned if it didn’t make her cheeks burn with embarrassment. The man was such an ass.
“By all means.” She examined her fingernails studiously, anything to avoid looking at him.
“If someone has the capability to remotely disable alarms in stores, then there has to be a connection to the alarm company.” He flipped through the notebook for a minute. “I didn’t note anything about the alarm being disabled in the other burglaries, but I’m going to pursue that lead.”
“Other burglaries?” Bea perked up despite her desire to remain indifferent to him.
He glanced up at her and grimaced. “There have been a series of burglaries at small businesses across the county in the last six months. Smash and grabs like this although yours is the most destructive I’ve seen.”
“I remember hearing about a few, but they weren’t gun stores, right? If they’re related that’s why the rangers are involved in such a small event.”
He tilted his head. “I’d say this is far from a small event for you, Bea.”
The sound of her name on his lips made a butterfly dance merrily in her stomach. Well, then, she needed a hard dose of reality to push aside her foolish obsession with his looks.
“No, it pretty well sucks donkey balls. I’d like to get everything cleaned up and repaired so I can make money to pay what will certainly be even more ridiculously high insurance premiums.” She tapped the table. “How long will it take for you to solve this crime?”
“It’s not an exact science. I observe, take notes, follow up, and beat the pavement to track down the perps. There’s no magic date or time.” He turned back to his blasted notes. “Are you a member of any small business association?”
She counted to five before she answered. He was trying to do his job, not make her crazy. At least she hoped he wasn’t or she might have to show him what she learned in boxing class.
“No, I’m not. I’ve been approached by the Rotary, the Chamber of Commerce, and that sort of thing, but I couldn’t afford the time required to be part of them. Not yet. It’s been years since I took over the business, I know, but I still struggle each day to stay afloat.” Her voice thickened and her eyes pricked with tears.
Not now, Bea. Not now! Keep it together!
“Anyone too persistent to get you to join their small business group? Or anyone acting suspicious in the store?” He didn’t call attention to her emotional response, for which she was grateful.
“It’s a gun shop. People can be squirrelly when they come in, especially if they’ve never bought a weapon.” She pointed at the desk in the front of the room. “I’ve got a record of everyone who’s bought anything but not the looky-loos.”
“And your surveillance footage?”
“Stored digitally at an offsite hosting server. Unfortunately, whoever disabled the alarm system also put what looks like cooking spray on the cameras so all you can see in the footage are blurry shadows.” She was certain there was something she was missing in all this, but she didn’t know what it was.
“I’d like to see it anyway, if you don’t mind.” He scribbled away in his notepad. She watched his large hands move with a kind of fluidity she didn’t expect. Then again, Laz Graham moved like a big cat with feline grace.
“Sure. Anything else you need, Captain?” She hadn’t meant to sound testy but somehow the words tumbled out anyway. Her deep-seated issues with the man were from ancient incidents that she couldn’t seem to let go. Bea made herself a promise to look ahead and not behind. Yet one look at Laz Graham and she was ten years old again.
“Ranger Graham, not captain. Or Lazarus. Or Laz.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “Or you can call me Cracker.”
Bea was transported back in time, to Mrs. Lidell’s third grade class and her first day of school in Brier Creek. She’d been chunky as a child, with freckles covering most of her face and hair that would not be tamed by a brush. When a group of boys had approached her on the playground and teased her, she did the only thing she could think of. She called the leader of the group, whose last name was Graham, a cracker, as in graham cracker. It hadn’t gone over well and Laz spent the next ten years teasing the shit out of her.
Now he turned the cracker comment into a joke?
“That’s not funny.” She got to her feet and went to retrieve her laptop. “Do you know how much I went through because you didn’t like my fat face or my smart mouth?” Bea didn’t want for a reply. She willed her h
ands to stop shaking as she returned to the table.
He shook his head. “I’m not that person anymore. Neither are you. I owe people apologies, including you, but I never disliked you because of what you looked like. You were different, new, pretty, and smart, and for that we treated you like an outsider.” Laz tapped his pencil. “I can’t believe I’m discussing third grade with you.”
She slammed her hand down on the table hard enough to reverberate through her bones. “Pretty? Ridiculous nonsense. And it wasn’t just third grade and you know it. How about the incident at the pond on your ranch when we were thirteen?” The memory of that day gave her nightmares and shaped her self-worth for a good ten years.
“Jesus, I never meant to hurt you. I was an idiot boy with a permanent stick in his pants.” He pushed away from the table, his gaze locked on hers. “I’m sorry, Bea.”
“You made fun of me in my bathing suit, called me Queen Bea, all round and fuzzy just like a bee. That name haunted me for years. I never accepted another invitation from Rose to go out to the Circle Eight.” She had put it behind her, she really had, but right now, seeing the man who had been the boy, the humiliation came back to her with a slap.
“I’m sorry, Bea. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. I was a selfish asshole who never thought about anybody but myself. My father certainly told me enough times.” He gestured to the chair across from him. “We’re adults now and maybe we can be who we are now instead of rehashing who we were. I know I don’t want to live in the past.”
“Is that why you disappeared? To run from facing your past?” She didn’t like how bitter she sounded. And she sure as hell didn’t like the way she felt.
“No, I left because I could never be the man my father wanted me to be. I was a failure at being a Graham, so I had to find something else to be.” The naked honesty in his eyes pierced her. She understood all too well about not being who people wanted her to be.
