Cowboy Lies

by Lynde Lakes

  The letter explained zip. Was he okay now? Would he be waiting at one of the safe houses? Disappointment washed over her.

  She bit her lip. “Is he all right now?

  “Sure. Don’t look so crushed,” Ed said. “He’ll contact you after the trial.”

  “After the trial?”

  “It’s the way it has to be.”

  Something was wrong here? Was this what he wanted or was someone else pulling the strings. Or was it just like last time. Matt was there for her up to a point, and then ducked out. “Does he know where I am?”

  “No, he’s been ordered not to try to find you. He could be followed. You can’t have contact with anyone until the trial is over.

  She ached to go home. Her wound was healing, and she began to feel like herself again—except more impatient, more restless. She paced a lot. Once the trial was over she never wanted to see a hotel room or an FBI man again. Ramon, Ed, and Gordon were nice enough guys, but they wouldn’t let her out of their sight for even a moment. She was cut off from the world—no phone calls, no letters. No Matt.

  She made a determined effort not to think of Matt, but thoughts of him lurked constantly at the edge of her mind.

  Sara Jane grew to look more like her daddy every day. If Victoria and Gavin could see their granddaughter now, they would notice the resemblance. New fear plagued Molly. Gavin Ryan had once said he would fight to keep his grandchildren on the land. What if he decided to come after Sara Jane? Del Fuego’s men could easily follow him.

  God, being locked up like a prisoner was warping her mind. She shouldn’t feel threatened by a helpless old man who wasn’t even in good health. But were her fears so farfetched? Matt loved Sara Jane. If Gavin believed he could control Matt through the child…

  She knew instinctively that she was off base, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts. Cooped up like this, there wasn’t much else to do except think.

  Perhaps when the trial was over she’d take her baby and just disappear, make a new life far away from crime bosses and FBI men…and a certain FBI cowboy.

  ****

  Matt leaned against the rails of the corral next to Suzy, watching Roberto practice roping a calf. Suzy had a stopwatch in her hand. “He’s a natural, isn’t he, Uncle Matt?” Both Roberto and Suzy had started calling him uncle although there were no blood ties between them.

  “He’s pure lightning,” Matt said, smiling at the idea of being a stand-in uncle to these kids.

  Roberto dismounted and hog-tied the calf, binding three legs. When he threw his hands in the air, Suzy clicked the stopwatch. “Three nine!” she squealed.

  Matt applauded, then left them to their fun. He couldn’t hang around long, or they might sense his deep unhappiness. Let them enjoy every moment of their young romance. They sure as hell didn’t need to know about his grown up troubles.

  Work. That was the only thing that helped. He saw Alfonso heading his way leading Gold King and Arrowstar. “Ready?” Alfonso asked. Matt had promised to ride out to the east sector with him to inspect fences.

  Matt nodded and mounted his quarter horse. They galloped out into the hot, windy morning and spoke in Spanish, the second language of the ranch, before lapsing into English. The arid, white day seemed to smother Matt and put him even more on edge.

  “When’s the trial, señor Matt?”

  “Starts in two weeks.”

  “Bueno. Get it behind you. You haven’t been yourself since you returned.”

  Matt felt a surge of guilt. “I’ve relied on you too much, amigo?”

  “Not enough. You’ve been driving yourself.”

  Matt hunched in the saddle as they inspected some of the more remote parts of his ranch they couldn’t reach in a four-wheel drive. “Have to keep going or go nuts.”

  They repaired a windmill and some fencing, physical work that did little to engage Matt’s mind. By the time they returned to the ranch, shadows had burrowed deep between the barn and ranch house.

  “I’ll head on home,” Alfonso said. “See you in the morning.”

  Matt touched the brim of his Stetson in farewell. Gold King’s weary steps quickened as they got closer to the barn and a trough of fresh hay. Matt welcomed his own weariness. Maybe he’d be so exhausted that he’d actually sleep for a change.

  Horseshoes rang on the concrete floor as they rode into the stable—an empty sound. The barn reeked with hay dust and horse smells. Even the familiar earthy animal smells couldn’t ease Matt’s sense of loss or soothe his soul.

  He dismounted and maneuvered Gold King into a stall. He patted his neck. “Good boy,” he crooned. Matt unsaddled his horse and put the gear away in the tack room and placed the pads on hooks to air out. Then he picked up the currycomb and brushed down Gold King while the horse nosed at the hay Matt had laced with a half cup of oats as a treat. “Pretty good stuff, huh boy?”

  He wondered if it was the same every day for Gold King as it was for him now—one day blending into the next, empty, meaningless. He wished he’d had the chance to tell Molly how brave she was. If she hadn’t charged out into the pasture, he might not have found her in time. He never got to hear the story of how she’d escaped, or of how Del Fuego had treated her. Secondhand news didn’t cut it. The chief said Molly’s wound had healed and Sara Jane hadn’t suffered any aftereffects from the Mexican drug. Matt clenched his hands into fists. Because he might lead Del Fuego to Molly and the baby, he had to grit his teeth and live with Chief Noel’s reassurances.

  Matt left Gold King to his munching and wandered through the barn with a clipboard checking supplies. He entered the area where he kept the mechanical bull and ran his hand across the surface. He had swung Molly up and brought her into position. Warm desire swept over him just thinking about the feel of her buttocks and belly in his hands.

  He climbed on the bull, grabbed the rope around the middle, and flicked the switch. The phony bull began to buck. His pelvis rocked, and the friction of his butt heated the same spot Molly’s had. When she’d told him to turn the switch to high, he’d about busted his shirt snaps with pride. It was that kind of gutsiness that had saved her life. He shut down the machine and leaped off.

  As though in a trance, he grabbed a blanket and climbed the ladder to the loft. He spread the cover over the hay and stretched out on it, while letting the memory of their lovemaking wash over him—the tangled limbs, the sweet sweat of their bodies mingled with the scents of hay and horses, the warmth of her lips, the heat in her gasping breath as they rode the climaxing wave of passion. Her soft little cry of fulfillment…

  Then she’d fallen asleep in his arms. Was she sleeping now, dreaming of him? Maybe to her it would be a nightmare.

  Matt heard Luke below talking to someone. Connie Lou? Or just his horse? Luke was a changed man. Spending a night in jail for Parker’s murder had scared him sober. When he got out of the hospital, he’d checked back into Lone Star Retreat, finished the rehab program, and hadn’t had a drink since. The sheriff dropped all charges against Luke after Santina snitched on Webb Viceman. Luke had been lucky all around. His hearing hadn’t been damaged, and the missing slice from the top of his ear wasn’t too noticeable. Connie Lou said the minor disfigurement gave Luke a rugged look she found downright appealing. With his wife in his corner, Luke had come out of treatment more determined than ever to make things right between them, and it was working.

  Matt envied him. Luke could go on with his life now. Matt doubted he could salvage things with Molly. The longer they were apart, the less likely she’d listen. If he could just talk to her for five minutes, just hold her. But when he weighed his need to see her against his need to protect her, protecting won hands down. He loved her and their baby too much to take the risk. Even at the expense of his heart.

  ****

  The California desert sun felt warm and wonderful on Molly’s back. She dipped Sara Jane’s tiny legs into the children’s wading pool, and the toddler laughed, showing deep dimples. Under different ci
rcumstances, an all-expense-paid winter vacation in Palm Springs would be great. The food was top notch, the hotel one of the best in the area, and she had three attentive men constantly at her side, two of them not bad looking.

  “You look especially fetching in that bikini,” Edward Noble said with a wide grin as he sat down beside her.

  She smiled. “Thanks.” The compliment didn’t mean much. In the past weeks, Ed had said that everything she wore was especially fetching. And Molly liked how he paid a lot of attention to Sara Jane. Talking to him helped pass the long days, but he was an FBI man, and no way would she fall for one of that breed again. “It cinched the sale when the clerk showed me that adorable matching outfit for Sara Jane.”

  “She looks cute as a button,” Ed said.

  Molly had purchased the flowered purple bathing suits at Diane’s Desert Sportswear Shoppe earlier that morning. Although she’d had to shop in disguise, just the act of going into a store and buying play clothes made her feel, for a brief and deceptive moment, that her life was normal again. It was the first time her companions had allowed her near a store. They waited just inside the door with alert eyes and shifting feet like anxious husbands.

  It might seem to onlookers that the men were a watchful trio of admirers. But—except for Ed—their attention was strictly duty. Several tanned beauties enjoying the hotel swimming pool eyed her escorts with interest. Why not? They all looked good in their swim trunks, even skinny Ramon, probably because they worked out every morning.

  She grinned at their out-of-place jackets. “Are navy-blue windbreakers and white towels around the neck the ‘in’ accessories for FBI men to wear poolside?”

  Ed chuckled. “We don’t like to stand out in a crowd.”

  Molly shook her head. “Well, you do,” she said. “Only a blind person wouldn’t notice the bulges of guns and holsters under those zipped-up garbs.”

  Ed looked around to see if anyone had heard her. “Why don’t you use a megaphone, Molly? I think those blondes on the other side of the pool didn’t quite hear you.”

  “Don’t be such a bear. No one heard me.” Molly dried Sara Jane and lavished a second coat of sunscreen on her. “Any news about the court date?”

  “Should hear something by late tomorrow.”

  Molly wanted it to be over. Her guards moved their entourage every couple of weeks. They traveled from state to state, changed rental cars often. Sometimes, they stayed in nondescript fleabag motels, sometimes in medium-priced places, and, as a special treat for her birthday, this luxurious place. She’d had so many different names that she no longer bothered to learn them. She just answered to anything.

  Her baby was safe. That was all that mattered.

  “What’ll you do when this is all over?” Ed asked.

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” But she had. Trying to decide what she really wanted had kept her awake nights, made her dream of Matt, of them together.

  Ed finished the last of his iced tea and held his empty glass up to get the waiter’s attention. He met Molly’s gaze with serious eyes. “Better enjoy all this while you can. We leave tomorrow before dawn.”

  Molly’s pulse quickened. “Routine? Or is there a problem?”

  Ed glanced at the other two agents sitting under an umbrella at a nearby table. “I’m not supposed to say.”

  He had his secrets and she had hers, but she couldn’t let him off the hook on this one. “Hey, this is our lives we’re dealing with here. How much danger are we in?”

  Ed looked down at Sara Jane. “Our rear-shadow said some guys are tracking us—about a day behind.”

  “Del Fuego’s men?”

  “Probably. But we won’t let anything happen to you. Even if we have to move every day.”

  Molly gave a nervous laugh. “I feel like a gypsy.”

  “You’ve been a good sport about all this,” he said. “I know it’s hard to be away from family and everything you know.”

  “Just keep my baby safe.”

  “She’s our top priority, just like she is to you. Ramon told me how you carried her across the pasture. Even after you took a shot in the shoulder, you kept right on running, determined to stop them from selling your baby.”

  “Any mother would do the same.” She’d learned just how single-minded and determined she could be when the stakes were high.

  “Maybe any mother would want to. But how many could actually pull it off?”

  “Okay, you buttered me up enough. You can have my dessert at dinner.”

  Ed laughed. “You’re okay, kid.” He was looking at her as if he’d rather have her for dessert. She had to squelch this attraction quickly because she was starting to like him, too—and that bothered her.

  “Have you heard from Agent Ryan?”

  Ed lit a cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. “Only indirectly. He’s back at the ranch and fully recovered from the infection.”

  Her heart pounded. “What infection?”

  Ed shook his head. “Damn, talking to you is like running through a blasted minefield.”

  “Don’t clam up now, buddy.”

  “You’re getting me in trouble here, lady.” He started to get up.

  She grabbed his arm. “I think a tough guy like you can handle it. Come on. Show me that underneath that mechanical FBI facade lurks a real human being.”

  He sighed. “Okay. Matt didn’t get proper medical care soon enough, and his bullet wound got infected. He was still hospitalized when we left.”

  “Oh, God. I didn’t know.” There might be other things they are keeping from me. “Are you sure he’s all right?”

  “Yeah. He’s tough as nails.”

  Even nails could get badly bent. She had to find out for herself how he was. Her opportunity would come only if something distracted her protectors. She watched for that moment. Finally one came. A guy grabbed the arm of one of the blondes by the pool. Another guy objected and the two men began to argue and push each other. A chair tipped over. Her protectors turned to see what was going on. This wasn’t much of a distraction, but it might be the only chance she’d get.

  Their poolside suite was nearby. Holding her toddler close to her chest, she slipped away. The agents would miss her within seconds. She’d have to hurry.

  Molly put Sara Jane in the play pen by the couch and grabbed the phone. Many times over the months, she’d hoped for this opportunity. One of the bodyguards was always there to take the phone out of her grasp. Molly’s hand trembled. The line rang repeatedly. “Come on, come on,” she whispered.

  Ramon stepped through the patio doors, his eyes flashing. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled, jabbing down the disconnect button. “If you thought you could slip away without us seeing you, you have a mighty low opinion of us.”

  “No. I just—”

  “Damn it, we have enough to deal with without you sabotaging our mission.”

  “It was a safe call—Matt’s private cell phone. He saved our lives. He was shot protecting us. Hospitalized. I feel I owe him a call at least.”

  “There are no safe calls! Del Fuego had an inside man at Matt’s ranch. We got the guy, but there could be others.” Ramon yanked the phone line from the wall. “For your baby’s sake, you’ll have to wait until after the trial to express your gratitude.” He paused and met her gaze with a stony look. “I hate to hit below the belt, but Clancy and Murphy might still be alive if you hadn’t made unauthorized calls.” Ramon’s voice deepened. “None of us wants to end up in the obituary column.”

  Molly closed her eyes as pain and guilt shot through her. She’d thought this time was different, safe, but maybe it wasn’t. Would it ever be? She rubbed her forehead, fighting a headache. “You win. I’ll stay away from phones.” She owed the men risking their lives for her and Sara Jane that much. And more.

  ****

  “She and the baby are fine,” the chief told Matt. “You don’t need to call every flipping day. We’ve got three cautious men on the
job.”

  Matt slammed the receiver down. He began to pace. What if Molly decided to disappear again after the trial? He couldn’t risk that. He needed a plan. The phone rang before he could form one. It was a collect call from Santina.

  “What kind of deal can I get for primo information, señor?”

  “What’ve you got?” Matt asked, trying to tamp down his impatience.

  “Not so fast. I want a minimum sentence and cash to get out of the country.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I need assurances, señor.”

  Matt drummed his fingers on his desk. “Spill it, or quit wasting my time.”

  The line went silent. Seconds ticked by. Then Santina sighed and said, “Bueno. I’ll trust you. Two of our men are on Molly’s trail. But the Feds keep moving her.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “Patience, señor. Since they can’t find her on the road, the hit is planned for the first morning of the trial.”

  Matt’s stomach knotted. “I need names, descriptions.”

  “Rico Cardosa and Hermano Garcia.” Santina gave descriptions that matched half the Mexican population.

  “Do these guys have records?”

  “Long as a life sentence.”

  Good. There’d be pictures on file. He asked Santina a half-dozen questions about the men’s background and ended with, “If you get an update on their plans, or if there are any changes, call me immediately.”

  Matt punched in his chief’s number and told him about the planned hit. “Molly’s guards need to be on high alert.”

  “They already are. That’s why those bastards haven’t been able to find her.”

  Matt felt frustration building in him like pressure in an oil well about to blow. “Del Fuego doesn’t want her to testify, and he isn’t giving up.”

  “I’ll run a check and put out an APB,” the chief said. “If we can find Cardosa and Garcia, we’ll pick them up.”

  “What if you can’t find them?”

  “We’ll handle it, Matt. I know sitting on the sidelines is rough, but it’s for the best. Now relax. We’ve got top men on the job.”