The Sheriff's Secret Wife

by Christyne Butler

  "Nothing. It's no big deal."

  He was lying. It looked like someone had clocked him hard, but Gage moved on. "You mind telling me where you were Friday night?"

  "Working."

  He popped a French fry into his mouth. "Until when?"

  "The Creek closes at 2:00 a.m. on the weekends, you know that." Justin's voice remained steady and even. "The kitchen stops serving at midnight. By the time I finish cleaning, it's time to help clean up the main bar."

  "What'd you do after that? Between two-thirty and dawn?"

  "Why? What are you—is this about the fire at Racy's?" Justin sat up straighter in his seat. "What in the hell are you accusing me of?"

  A second fry paused on the way to his mouth. "I'm not accusing you of anything." Gage chewed quickly, then took a sip of water. "So?"

  "I was here the whole time. Played some pool and went to bed," he finally said.

  "Alone?"

  Justin's hands curled into fists. "Yes."

  "No."

  Justin's head snapped to the side. Gage's did too at the familiar voice.

  Gina.

  He noticed Justin looked as thunderstruck as he felt at the sight of his sister standing there, wringing her hands together. The black Blue Creek T-shirt she wore was cinched behind her back, allowing a sliver of skin to show at her waist.

  Gage couldn't believe what he'd heard. "What did you say?"

  She licked her lips and took a couple steps forward until she stood at the table. "I said, no, he wasn't alone."

  Gage hoped his features didn't reflect his astonishment. "Would you care to explain that statement?"

  "I also worked Friday night. After we cleaned up, I left, but then I realized I'd forgotten my purse and came back inside. We…ah, we ended up…playing a few games of pool—"

  "That's not what he's talking about," Justin said.

  Gage looked at him, but Justin's gaze was locked with his sister's.

  "Look, I know you said you didn't want anyone to know about what happened…about us, but this is important." Gina's gaze went from Justin back to him. "You think Justin is somehow connected to the fire at Racy's, right? Well, he's not because I was here…with him…all night."

  This time Gage couldn't hold back a groan. He'd known nothing good would come from his sister working here, but this? He watched Justin's eyes narrow. At what? The sheriff's sister admitting she'd spent the night with him?

  "She's lying," Justin said.

  She spun to face him, hands on her hips. "I am not!"

  Silence reigned. Gage kept his gaze on his sister and asked, "So what happened?"

  She relaxed her stance, sliding her hands from her hips to the tops of her thighs. From the corner of his eye, he saw Justin watching her every move. Gina must've noticed, too, because a pink stain crept across her cheeks. "Well?"

  "Like I said, we were playing pool. I'm not very good so Justin showed me a few moves. Well, one thing led to another and we ended uh—upstairs in his room…you know, this really is none of your business. I'm not a little girl anymore. I can s-spend the night—" Gina paused. "You don't really want details, do you?"

  No, he didn't.

  And as much as he hated to admit it, he hoped whatever had happened between them was just a onetime thing. Justin Dillon was the last person Gina should get involved with.

  He glanced at Justin again. "Did you do that to him?"

  Confusion filled his sister's eyes for a moment. "What are you—no! You're talking about his face? No, of course not!"

  "You think your sister had to fight me off?"

  No, he didn't. The intimate vibes between these two were too strong and Gina's shock at his suggestion was too genuine.

  Gage sighed, and put his mind back on his job. "When did you leave?"

  "Around 9:00 a.m. on Saturday."

  Which meant Justin couldn't have been with Billy Joe. Damn, who would've thought his sister would end up being Justin's alibi. "You sure about this?"

  "The sheets on his bed are a deep forest green, he prefers English tea to coffee and there's an alligator in his bathroom," Gina shot back. "You want to go check it out?"

  This time Gage looked at Justin. "An alligator?"

  Justin's eyes narrowed. "It's a stuffed animal and it was a gift from the daughter of a fellow in—an old friend."

  "So, are we finished?" Gina said, with a false brightness. "Need me to put it in writing? Sign with my blood? If so, we need to get moving. My shift starts…now."

  "We're finished," Gage said, then waited until Gina hurried away before he turned back to Justin. "You're free to go, too."

  "You never told me what this has to do with the fire at my sister's place."

  "No, I didn't."

  "Is Racy in danger?"

  He hoped not, but he wasn't sure. "Officially, I have to say no."

  Justin sat forward. "And unofficially?"

  Just because he hadn't been at Racy's place Saturday morning, didn't mean Justin didn't know what his brother was up to. "It's still an open investigation."

  Justin waited a moment, then he shook his head and left the booth, heading back toward the kitchen.

  Gage picked at the food, but the hamburger and fries now looked less than appetizing. He'd rather deal with Billy Joe on an empty stomach anyway. He spotted Gina on the other side of the dance floor. She looked up, but not at him. Her gaze locked on Justin as he disappeared behind the swinging door.

  She followed.

  Gage counted to ten before he got up, dropped enough cash on the table to cover the food and headed in the same direction. He figured he could leave the back way. He pushed through the door leading to the back hall and found the two of them in a heated discussion at the other end.

  When Justin took a step closer, easily towering over his sister, Gage moved forward. Suddenly, Gina spun away, horror on her face, but stopped when she saw him. He watched her struggle with the choice of which way to go, then continued to head toward him.

  "Just like I expected a little girl to react. If you're worried about me going after your sister, lawman, don't be." Justin's voice carried down the hall. "Naïveté isn't a turn-on."

  Gina rushed past him and disappeared behind a door marked Staff Only. Gage wanted to follow, to make sure she was okay but he knew it was the last thing she'd want.

  He headed for Justin instead.

  "Must be something in the water today," Justin said. "Racy just about knocked me to the floor when she ran out of here."

  Gage tried to keep up as the man switched gears on him. "Racy was here? When?"

  "Earlier this morning." Justin jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I saw her on the phone when I walked by her office. She didn't seem very happy. Next thing I know she's pushing past me to get out the door. Must've been at least a half hour ago."

  Instinct told Gage this wasn't good. She could be anywhere by now. He headed for the exit, then paused and looked back.

  "Hey, Dillon."

  Justin looked at him.

  "Next time, sleep on the damn pool table. Alone."

  Chapter Fourteen

  A fter all she'd been through and now this?

  She was going to kill him!

  Racy's Mustang zoomed up Razor Hill Road. She negotiated the curves like a seasoned race car driver, flashing back to high school when she and Bobby Winslow had raced on this country road. Leeann, as always, with Bobby, and Maggie riding shotgun next to her. Her daddy's truck had been fast, but she rarely beat Bobby's souped-up '75 Plymouth Duster, a car he'd loved almost as much as he'd loved Leeann.

  She'd left the comfortable bubble of Leeann's house this morning, having worked up the courage to go by her place—what was left of it—only to be turned away. It would be a few more days before she could start picking through the ashes.

  Afterward she'd gone to The Blue Creek, and miracle of miracles, hadn't seen Gage at all. Not that she'd expected to. While it seemed as if everyone in town had stopped by Sunday to c
heck on her and drop off food, Gage hadn't. She'd hated that she'd found herself straining to hear his low-timbred voice every time the front door had opened. When she'd stepped into her office, she'd found a sealed envelope on her desk, her name written in a bold, masculine scrawl. The divorce papers.

  She'd ignored the sharp pain that had jabbed at her stomach as she'd yanked out the paperwork, going straight to the last page. He'd signed them. Unfolding the additional piece of paper that had fallen from the tattered envelope, she'd found their original marriage license from Vegas.

  Damn him!

  She'd rubbed her finger over the embossed stamp in the corner and stared at their names until her ringing cell phone had broken through her daze. She'd answered the call and at first thought it was a joke. Then the picture had arrived with a text message and she'd shoved the paperwork in her purse and raced out the back door.

  Jack's life was in danger.

  Her stomach clenched so hard it hurt to breathe. What kind of person did something like this?

  The ringtone of The Hollies' classic "Long Cool Woman" filled the car's interior. She looked at her cell phone's display. Restricted number. "Hello?"

  "Where are you?"

  "On Razor Hill Road, just past the turnoff to Becker's Ridge. Where are you?"

  Billy Joe's manic laugh sent chills up her spine, but she ignored it and concentrated on the directions he gave before he hung up on her. Bastard. Why was he dragging her poor puppy into this? And way out here? And how had he discovered the amount of money in her bank account?

  The old mailbox and tree stump he told her to look for came into view. She turned down a dirt road, following the deep ruts made by another vehicle.

  Her cell phone went off again. "Listen, you jerk, I just made the turnoff. I'll be there in a few minutes."

  "Racy?"

  Ohmigod, Gage.

  "Racy? Where are you?"

  "What do you want? I'm busy."

  "Look something's come up. I need to talk to you."

  She thought back to the marriage license. "I think we've said all we need to say."

  "It's important. Where are you?"

  One jerk at a time. "I'm dealing with Billy Joe. I'll see you when I get back—"

  "Are you at his place over Mason's Garage?"

  "No, he's got me driving out here in the middle of nowhere." Grooves and snow-covered rocks jerked the wheels to the left. She fought for control as she steered with one hand. "Ah, my poor Mustang isn't built for this damn road."

  "Racy, tell me where you are. Now."

  She hit the speakerphone button and propped the cell phone in her coffee mug holder. Much better. "Why? What's going on—"

  "A witness placed your brother at your house the morning of the fire." She heard the suppressed alarm in Gage's voice. Her foot eased off the gas. "I've seen the preliminary reports. It states your furnace was the cause, but he was seen carting boxes out of your basement."

  A trigger of fear mixed with anger. That's how he knew about her money. The bastard must have read through the bank paperwork she'd left on the kitchen table. But what the hell had he taken from her home besides Jack?

  "Racy, you…there?"

  Damn mountaintop reception. "You're breaking up, Gage. I'm off Razor Hill Road. Heading for the Mason hunting cabin."

  "Dammit, stop…turn around."

  She eyed the narrow road and the thick forest surrounding her. There was no room to maneuver her car. Not that she would have even if there was. "I can't. He's got Jack."

  "What?"

  "Billy Joe took Jack. He wants twenty-five thousand dollars or he's—" She bit back the panic in her voice and tried to stay calm, but she couldn't stop the sharp sting of tears. "He said he's going to kill my dog if I don't give him the money." Praying he could hear her, she rattled off Billy Joe's directions. A wooden shack came into view. "Did you get that?"

  "I'm on my way, but you need to get out of there. Now."

  Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She shouldn't have rushed out of the bar half-cocked and hell-bent because of her brother's idiotic, rambling call. But it was the photo he'd sent, of Jack, muzzled with a gun pressed to his head, that had her racing out to the cabin.

  Panic flooded her veins. "I can't turn back. I need to get Jack."

  "Racy, you should've called me."

  "I can take care of this myself. I don't need your help."

  Gage's sigh reached over the airwaves. "I know how much you love that dog, but please wait until I get there. We'll come up with something, a plan to save—"

  "Too late." She pulled into the clearing, noting the pickup there. "Billy Joe just walked outside."

  "Don't get out of the car. Lock your doors."

  She hit the brakes. Her Mustang lurched to a stop. Clothes disheveled and a scraggly beard on his too-pale face, her brother looked like he hadn't slept in days. But it was what he held in his hands that took her breath. "H-he's got a gun. He's waving it at me and yelling for me to get out."

  "Racy, don't—"

  "I'm leaving my phone on so you can t-track me." She barely moved her lips, hoping Gage could still hear her. "I'll do what I do best and keep him talking."

  "Racy—"

  "Hurry, okay?"

  The words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them, exposing her fear but also her belief that he'd get here in time. She knew he would.

  Blinking hard, Racy slammed the lid on the riot of emotions battling inside and opened the car door. After a deep breath, she greeted her brother like he'd expect her to. "What in the hell are you doing, Billy Joe?"

  "It's about time you showed up." He staggered in the snow and used the gun to point at the cabin's doorway. "Give me your keys and get inside."

  Her fingers tightened, the metal of her keys biting into her skin. Was he drunk, too? With a loaded gun?

  "It's freezing up here. Let's go somewhere else and talk."

  "Like your place?" Another burst of frenzied laughter. "Oh, yeah, you don't have a place anymore. Come on, toss over the keys and get your ass inside. Your precious pooch is waiting for you." This time the gun stopped waving. He aimed directly at her as his voice turned deadly. "Now."

  Her heart jumped to her throat, cutting off her ability to speak. She tossed her key ring at him, then headed for the door.

  Once inside, she went straight for Jack, who sat in the middle of the room leashed to a cold woodstove. Trying to wrestle his way out of the muzzle over his snout, he greeted her with a thumping tail.

  Her fingers worked on the leather straps as Billy Joe walked in and kicked the door shut. "Why are you doing this?" she asked him.

  "You know why. What are you doing?"

  "Jack can't breathe properly. I'm taking this damn thing off."

  "Girl, you are just like a mama to that beast." Billy Joe bent over and grabbed a beer from the top of an old ice chest. It was the only thing in the room. Other than an old metal bed covered with a sleeping bag—and the many empties on the floor. "I knew that mutt would get me what I wanted. How'd you get all that money you've got stashed away? Whatcha been doing? Skimming from the bar?"

  "I've been saving."

  Billy Joe snorted. "Yeah, right. Don't lie to me, girlie."

  Racy looked at him, but her gaze caught on the open door behind him. It had failed to catch after Billy Joe had entered, and it had bounced open again. It was their only way out. "I won big in Vegas last summer. Playing poker. Remember when Daddy taught you, me and Justin how to play?"

  "Yeah, I remember. He taught us how to cheat."

  "I didn't cheat. I won it fair and square." She finally got the muzzle free and yanked it from Jack's head. He rewarded her with a flurry of kisses.

  "Who cares? You got a check for me?"

  "Billy, I have plans for that money."

  "Me, too. I'm heading for Canada and that's gonna help me set up my new operation."

  "What operation?" She kept her hand on Jack's collar, ready
to release him from his leash.

  "God, you are dumb." He moved closer. "You never go into your basement, do ya?"