Cowboy Lies

by Lynde Lakes

  Matt thrust the memories back to a safe corner of his mind and took the velvet pouch from her hand. He shook out the coins and examined them. The coins were highly polished and could pass for new quarters except—

  “See this?” When he bent close, Molly’s fragrance wafted around him. Her skin, still warm from the blistering sun, carried an enticing musky scent, uniquely Molly. He cleared his throat. “This coin has a series of almost imperceptible grooves around its edge, like it’s been split in two and then put back together. I think we’ve got something here.”

  Matt snaked his free arm around her and gave Molly’s waist an affectionate squeeze. Their gazes met, which sent a jolt of electricity charging between them. Her eyes were unfathomable green pools that darkened, softened, and dared him to take the plunge. He traced his thumb over the pulse throbbing in her neck and groaned at the softness of her skin. Then he dug his fingers into her silky hair.

  Months of longing evaporated. The memory of the last time they were together between rumpled sheets pushed up, consumed him, stole the air from his lungs. He desired her now even more. Molly’s warm hands slid up his chest, gliding over his shoulders, circling the back of his neck. She moistened her lips, parted them, tempting him. He reached behind her and dropped the coins and pouch on the dresser. The coins came to rest with a soft jingle.

  Then he kissed her. Forgetting everything but here and now and how much he wanted her. The texture of her lips, familiar as his own, and the taste of her rushed through him with the force of flood waters, taking him along, sweeping him away on raging currents.

  His cell phone rang. He ignored it.

  Sara Jane began to whimper from the crib by the window. For a moment, caught up in a stampede of passion, they both ignored the cries.

  Breathless and flushed, Molly pulled away. “I have to go to Sara Jane.” She gestured with her head toward the ringing that came from inside his duffel bag. “You’d better get that. It might be important.”

  Matt cursed under his breath. He’d almost stepped over a line that shouldn’t be crossed until she had full memory recall. “Damned interruptions,” he muttered, although he knew he should welcome them for forcing him back to sanity. He grabbed the cell phone from his duffel bag and savagely punched a button. “Matt here,” he growled.

  “Matt, we got problems,” Alfonso said.

  He was instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

  “Some of the vaqueros saw Webb and his pilot, Paulo, hanging around again. I sent some men out to the west sector to look for them. Want me to hold a hard line with those buzzards?”

  “Yeah, I do. Call the sheriff. As far as I’m concerned, they’re trespassing.” Matt frowned. He’d like to be the one to find those bastards and personally run them off for good. But at the moment, he had a more important job to do.

  “One more thing,” Alfonso said. “The hombres from Lone Star Retreat took Parker and Luke away in a helicopter. Your brothers were so borracho they thought it was a big joke. But when they sober up, you’re in for trouble.”

  “You think I did the wrong thing?”

  “No. They’ll thank you some day.”

  “I won’t hold my breath. I’ll go see them when they’ve had a day or two to dry out.”

  “When are you coming home?”

  “Not soon. I have to make a quick flight to San Antonio. Besides, with those guys lurking around, I can’t bring Molly back there. My first priority is to keep her and the baby safe.”

  Matt flipped his cell phone closed and turned at a sound behind him. Molly stood in the doorway. How much had she heard? “Throw a couple of things together and some formula for Sara Jane,” he said. “We’re flying these coins to the federal lab in San Antonio, and we might have to stay overnight.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’d be uneasy trusting them to anyone but you.”

  Matt’s heart swelled at her words, but after that earth-moving kiss, how uneasy would she be spending the night in a hotel with a cowboy who wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman?

  ****

  In San Antonio, Matt and Molly turned the coins over to a micro-technician in a white lab coat who had them split open in no time. Placing them under a powerful microscope, he pointed with a long thin metal instrument and explained to Matt and Molly what they were looking at. “Looks like an integrated circuit with the capacity to hold reams of data.”

  “Can you extract the data?”

  “It can be decoded and read with a probe scanner. How soon do you need it?”

  “Yesterday,” Matt said, feeling the pressure of time.

  “Retrieval must be done with great care to avoid losing the data. Needs special equipment. I’ll have to send it to our main lab.”

  Matt was disappointed at the delay, but encouraged to learn the coins were definitely camouflaged microchips. He took the baby from Molly’s arms and the three of them returned to their rented car.

  Molly sighed. “I thought the lab tech would do the work on site and get back to us within the hour.”

  Matt laughed as he buckled Sara Jane into the infant car seat. “Like taking film to a one-hour processor?”

  Molly darted a sharp look at him. “Are you laughing at me, Matt Ryan?”

  “With you, darlin’.” He winked. “Never at you.”

  They took the freeway and in the glow of an orange-colored setting sun, a panoramic view of San Antonio’s skyline and the Tower of the Americas glistened before them.

  “You know what I’d like to do when Del Fuego’s behind bars? Go to the observation deck of that tower,” Molly said.

  Matt changed lanes and headed for an off ramp. “Why wait? We can go now.”

  They went to the top, and with Sara Jane in one arm and his other around Molly, he watched lights blink on throughout the city. He helped Molly pick out the approximate location of the Alamo, the cradle of Texas history. “Too late to visit there today,” he said.

  “I’m too bushed anyway. I just want to take a hot bath and crawl into bed.”

  Finding a place to stay turned out to be more difficult than Matt expected. He regretted not making reservations before leaving Buck’s ranch. Exhausted, they checked into a cheap motel by the airport, the only vacancy they could find on short notice. The room was about the size of a postage stamp and had twin beds. The rattling air-conditioner spewed damp, moldy air.

  “I’ll make this up to you, Molly, I swear,” Matt said, taking in the patches on the bedspreads and the dirty threadbare carpet.

  “This is okay. Really,” Molly assured him. “But I’m starved. Call for some pizza or something, will you? After I bathe Sara Jane and put her down with a bottle, we can eat.”

  Matt ordered the food, then joined Molly in the bathroom where she was on her knees leaning over the tub bathing Sara Jane. Her jeans molded to the cute bottom he’d always loved. His fatigue miraculously lifted, and he felt his body grow rigid with desire. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans to keep his hands out of trouble.

  “Mind if I help?” Did she notice the huskiness in his voice? The bulge at his zipper? “I’m a great bath-giver.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’ll bet. You can hand me a towel in a minute. I’m almost finished.”

  He grabbed the towel and held it in front of him. The cramped quarters forced Matt to sit on the lid of the toilet to stay out of her way. The walls seemed to close in and wrap them in a halo of humid air and intimacy.

  Molly supported her tiny daughter with one hand while she washed her with the other. The baby’s hair glistened with bubbles. She was cooing, not minding the bath one bit. Molly was a great mother, loving, gentle. Through all the trouble, she’d shown courage and determination that swelled his heart.

  He already felt married to Molly. It was hard to remember he wasn’t. And he felt altogether too comfortable in his role as the baby’s father. He couldn’t feel closer to her if he really was her father. Molly lifted Sara Jane out o
f the tub, and he opened the towel and took the dripping baby confidently into his arms. Playing daddy felt so right—so very, very right.

  Later, while they ate pizza and sipped colas, worries about the coins nagged at the edges of Matt’s mind. He’d been so excited about what they could be that he hadn’t thought any further. “Your source—the one who gave you the coins—do you remember his name?”

  “Maybe Ernie…or Arnie. He was a detective. I remember that much. But he’s like a shadow, and I can’t bring his face into focus.”

  Molly’s dossier said that she’d been meeting with a detective. Only the dead agents knew the guy’s name. It was suspected—supposed, really—that he might be Sara Jane’s father.

  Matt was strangely encouraged by Molly’s inability to bring the guy’s face forward from her hazy memories. If they’d been lovers, her memory loss wasn’t good for the guy, whoever he was. “You lived in so many cities while in hiding; he could be from any of them. But you worked in Dallas so we’ll start there.”

  Molly dabbed at the pizza sauce clinging to her lips. “Start what?”

  “I’ll get a list of all the local private investigators from my Dallas contact. If you don’t recognize any of the names, we’ll widen the search.”

  “Why is it important? You look worried.”

  Matt considered keeping his concerns to himself, then remembered his vow to her. “I am worried. Somehow, this guy got the coins for you, and just the fact that they passed through his hands makes him a possible target. We need to get him some protection.”

  “Oh, God. I hadn’t thought of that. He could be murdered!”

  Matt touched her hand. “Easy. I’ll get the list faxed to me. We’ll have it by morning. Maybe seeing the names will trigger the right one.” He wanted to get her mind off this. No sense in allowing her to stew about it all night. “What about other memories?” Seeing her on her knees earlier had brought questions of another sort to the forefront. Do you remember how good we were together? How good we could be again if only—

  She shook her head, dashing his hopes.

  After they took separate showers—his a cold one—they fell into their respective beds. Matt tossed and turned. He was acutely aware of Molly less than an arm’s length away, of her soft breathing and of his married feeling and desires. Not tonight, he chanted to himself, as if some sort of self-hypnosis might quell the raging emotions. After a couple of hours of repeating the mantra, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

  The next morning, after checking with the lab technician and being assured that the microchip data was top priority, they flew back to Buck’s ranch. The list of Dallas private investigators was waiting. Molly scanned it and came up with the name Arnold Kenner. They called him at once and got only an answering machine.

  “I’ll send a couple of agents to locate him.” Matt had a bad feeling that it might be too late already. But he didn’t want to worry Molly until he knew for sure. “When the agents find Arnie, we’ll go talk to him. He could have some of the missing answers.”

  Molly nodded, seemingly satisfied that he’d done all he could. And he had. But would it be enough?

  Matt waited another day before he called Lone Star Retreat. Before anyone could answer, he hung up. Damn yellowbelly, that’s what he was. He paced for a couple of minutes, and then placed the call again.

  The news wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. With a little intimidation, his brothers had signed themselves in. Although they grumbled and threatened bodily harm to everyone they met, they were at least attending the rehabilitation sessions. Matt still didn’t know if he’d done the right thing by them or not—only time would tell. But there was just too much else going on to have to deal with his jackass brothers’ drunken antics. At least they were out of harm’s way, and getting the treatment they needed.

  Now he could concentrate on Molly. He didn’t want to leave her alone, not for a moment, and he slept on a daybed in the same room with her and Sara Jane. For the next couple of nights, he asked her the same question—had she remembered anything more? She would tell him about the latest memories that, one by one, were beginning to surface—but they weren’t the ones he most wanted—and needed to hear.

  Chapter Eight

  In many ways, the rodeo was a blessing. It meant getting up early and going to bed late bone-tired. Even though Matt and Molly had missed a day of it while away in San Antonio, Wanda and Buck welcomed all the help they could get. Molly enjoyed the varied jobs, from cooking to pitching hay to currying horses. She was willing to do anything that allowed her to keep busy, to keep her mind occupied, and to keep Sara Jane in sight.

  In the few days they’d been here on the ranch, she’d learned more about ranching than she’d ever thought she wanted to know. The funny thing was—she loved it, especially working with horses. Matt was always nearby, encouraging, teaching. He made her feel safe. If Ramon was one of Del Fuego’s men, then it was a sure bet he had told the crime boss where she was. Del Fuego might send someone after her and her baby at any time.

  She wasn’t overly concerned at the moment. She and Sara Jane were always surrounded by a horde of people in the daytime, and Matt stayed close after dark. Sharing a room with Matt became more difficult each night. He was more than a guard. He helped bathe and feed Sara Jane, rocked her to sleep in Wanda’s old rocker, and sang to her in deep vibrant tones. Just like a father…like a husband helping his wife.

  Molly picked up the scent of his maleness the moment he entered the room and felt the room contract with his larger-than-life presence. But it was no longer smothering or confining—he made her feel safe. He’d taken to showering in the adjoining bathroom and was in there now, humming, filling the place with the fragrance of the masculine-scented soap he favored. She could imagine him behind that closed door breathing in steam, soaping his virile nude body, running the sponge over his lean muscles…

  Her heart pounded wildly. She couldn’t face him in her present frame of mind; it was too dangerous to his self-control—to her self-control. Molly settled Sara Jane down for the night, turned the light low, removed her cotton robe, and scurried into bed. She closed her eyes, then opened them a slit when the bathroom door rattled. Matt came out shirtless, his sun-bronzed skin glistening with droplets of water. His muscular shoulders were wide, smooth, his abdomen lean and flat. He was magnificent.

  Matt went to the crib and brushed the soft curls from Sara Jane’s forehead. “’Night, sunshine,” he whispered. He then moved in silence to the king-size bed where Molly lay motionless and stood so close she could hear him breathing. He covered her shoulder with the sheet and turned out the light. “Sweet dreams, little darlin’,” he said, barely audible, and then turned away.

  What a shame for him to sleep on that narrow daybed alone when she had a whole king-size bed to share. In that moment, she hated her doubts and his control—but not him.

  When sleep finally came, it brought a flood of dreams. She woke up from the last one trembling. She couldn’t recall the details of the dream, but it had triggered something in her brain. And she remembered making love with Matt—and that she’d loved him to the bottom of her soul. She remembered him leaving. He’d told her it was to keep her safe. Del Fuego’s men would be watching him. He could inadvertently lead them right to her. She hadn’t cried, but her heart had shattered.

  She lay very still. Something else lurked at the edge of her mind, tried to break through. Something important. Rubbing her aching head, she struggled to pull the memory forward. Was it about Del Fuego—or Matt? She wanted to wake Matt and talk to him about it. It seemed important. She slipped from her bed. With soft moonlight illuminating her path, she tiptoed to his side and looked down at him. The sheet rested below his belly button. One of his legs was bent and exposed. Emotions—desire, fear—warred within her. She stepped back and considered the consequences of waking him.

  Her failure to remember how it had been between them was all that kept them apart. Pain shot t
hrough her. As long as there was a chance that she’d have to stay in a Witness Protection Program, there was a chance he’d turn her protection over to someone else and leave her again. Nothing had changed on that score. He had his job and the ranch. And she had no guarantees.

  ****

  The day after the rodeo was over, Buck’s entire group of family and guests piled into the old school bus and traveled forty miles to Mitchell’s Corner—an oasis surrounded by wilderness. Matt had always liked the small horseshoe-shaped town. The businesses consisted of a one-story general store at the center of the closed end of the U, with smaller specialty shops painted barn red on both sides of the dirt road. The enterprises were all connected by cedar shingled awnings and mesquite wood sidewalks and hitching rails. Buck parked in a dirt lot at the edge of the open end of the U. No vehicles were allowed in the shopping area, only horses.

  Buck and his son, Davy, left the group to get haircuts. Matt followed the women, and waited outside the shops while they bought new clothes and whatever else ladies purchased when they got together to shop. To be near Suzy, Roberto tagged along, too.

  While they were all busy, Matt slipped into a jewelry store and bought a gold heart-shaped locket for Molly. He knew just the message he wanted to convey—something to show her she had his heart. With his purchase tucked in the shirt pocket over his heart, Matt, glad to have time to himself to make some calls without the others around, leaned against the hitching rail and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. There had been no report on the coins, and he was getting itchy.

  “What’s the scoop?” he asked when he got the lab technician on the line.

  “Not back from the main lab yet,” the tech said. “Retrieving the info can be touch and go and requires patience. They don’t want to inadvertently destroy the data. Give them a few more days.”

  Damn. “Call me the minute you have something, anything, day or night.” If the chip contained the information he hoped it did, Del Fuego would have a helluva lot more to worry about than chasing after Molly and her baby.