High-Stakes Loving [King's Bluff, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  The audience applauded Adelaide, who bowed graciously to the crowd. Reagan, President of the Bound by the Books Club, didn’t dare disagree.

  A quick glance at the far wall clock told her there was less than a minute to go. She glanced over to Ryan, who raised his brow in silent question. She smiled and mouthed “one more.”

  Ryan pulled out a name. His frown didn’t bode well. “Darcy Richards.”

  Icy shivers crawled up her spine like a spider with its eight furry legs tapping against her skin.

  Darcy stood, waiting until every pair of eyes in the room was centered on her before speaking.

  “Reagan, it’s come to my attention that under your management, the library’s financial accounts had a few…irregularities that were only picked up in a yearly audit. That’s a serious matter.” Darcy looked around the audience as if silently asking them if they agreed.

  Her stomach rolled. Coldness seeped into her limbs.

  Several heads turned to face Reagan. The previous open friendliness on their faces was gone, replaced by wariness, and in some cases outright distrust.

  Darcy continued. “Considering your failure to properly manage those accounts, how can you expect us voters to trust you with the affairs of our town?”

  “I, uh.” Reagan broke off. Swallowed. “There was an administrative error, a genuine oversight that was corrected due to our open audit process.” She glanced at Vicki, who’d taken over entering the accounts as a favor for Reagan when she nursed her father during those dark, dark final weeks before his passing.

  The poor woman stared up at Reagan, her face deathly white. What could she do, throw the woman to the mercy of Darcy?

  No. And the responsibility rested on her shoulders. She was the manager.

  Reagan lifted her gaze back to the room. “It, ah, was corrected. And as I said, a simple administrative error.”

  Darcy lifted her brows. “Hmm, we’ll just have to take your word for that, won’t we?”

  Murmuring filled the room.

  Darcy had scored her knockout punch.

  Absently, Reagan heard Parker thank everyone for coming. The sound of chairs scraping over the checkerboard vinyl briefly drowned out the pounding of blood in her ears.

  She took a step toward Vicki. “Please, don’t worry, we’ll—”

  “I have to go. Leonard.” The volunteer called her husband who frowned before nodding vaguely at Reagan as he followed his wife out of the diner.

  A pair of hands gripped her shoulders, turned her around.

  Quinn, his forehead marred with lines, gazed down at her. “Are you okay, sugar?”

  “Nothing happened, Quinn.” Christ, she wanted to curse the desperation in her voice. “It really was a simple oversight.”

  “I know, baby.” His hands framed her face. “Here’s the thing. You have people waiting to speak with you. You ready for that?”

  Or was she going to let Darcy win? She stiffened her spine. “I’m ready.”

  Approval shone in his gaze, setting her shoulders just that bit straighter.

  She moved between her volunteers, thanking them for their time, assuring them that Darcy’s allegations wouldn’t gain traction with voters.

  Caleb and Jackson each hugged her and bid their farewells, both men doing their best to boost her confidence and tell her Darcy’s accusations would fall flat.

  Reagan received hugs from all three of the elder Gordons. She thanked them for their generosity in closing the diner and holding the Q&A meeting. They waived off her thanks with smiles and easy affection. Finally, more tired than she’d felt in the last few weeks, Reagan, Quinn, and Mike made their way to the parking lot. Noah, Chloe, and Purdy joined them.

  Purdy was getting a lift home with Noah and Chloe. As they all stood beside Noah’s truck, Purdy hugged Quinn and then Mike, both men seeming to enfold the tiny woman with their huge bodies. Once free, she faced Reagan.

  “It’s going to be okay, Reagan. We’ll get the local business owners that are aligned with us to put the word out that they trust you.” Purdy wrapped her arms around Reagan, squeezing hard before setting her away. “Every campaign has their ‘wardrobe malfunction’ moment. This was ours.” Her dimples were on show even in the faint light from the parking lot. “Hey, at least nobody got to see your nipples.”

  This was why she loved Purdy Daniels. Nobody could envisage a silver lining quite like this particular blonde imp.

  “God, you’re an idiot, but I love you.” Reagan kissed her cheek then did the same for Chloe. She was just about to do the same with Noah when she caught sight of his face.

  The big Aussie’s teeth were bared as he glared over her shoulder. “Bastard.”

  “What?” She spun around. Wagner, his arm around Darcy, was walking her back to her car. He opened the front passenger door. Before she stepped in, she dropped a kiss on Wagner’s mouth. Then she whispered something in his ear. They both laughed, as if sharing a secret joke.

  Reagan swallowed down the urge to vomit.

  “Come on, sweetness. As much as I want to punch the daylights out of the bastard, that won’t help you.” Mike wrapped an arm behind her and steered her away. “Quinn, let’s go.” His last words were clipped.

  Reagan looked over her shoulder to see Noah and Quinn standing together, Quinn with his hands fisted. Both men’s bodies were rigid, as if warring within not to storm over and confront Wagner.

  With a disgusted sigh, Quinn unclenched his fingers. He nodded to Noah and Chloe, then joined her and Mike at his truck.

  He pushed the remote key lock. “You’re twice the candidate he could ever hope to be, Reagan. Don’t think any more about it.”

  Sure. Easier said than done. Darcy Richards had thrown doubt over her trustworthiness and her ability to hold such an important office. That was some freaking wardrobe malfunction.

  Reagan allowed Mike to lift her into the front bench seat, her smile barely moving the muscles in her face as he helped her with her seat belt.

  Her gut churned. If she didn’t claw back the ground she’d lost tonight, then it was game over. She was out of a job. The library would close. And more importantly, King’s Bluff may lose all the ground it had gained with its rejuvenation due to the bitter and twisted view of Wagner and his cronies.

  There was everything to play for. This town was not just her past. It represented her future, one shared with her men. She’d fight to win.

  * * * *

  Quinn leaned back in his seat as he sat around the kitchen table at King’s Haven. Once more he checked his cards. Two. Six. Hearts and spades. Another crap hand. Good thing their monthly game of Texas Hold’em was more a social event than a group of men baring their hairy chests and proving who was the manliest.

  Caleb, sitting three places down from Jackson—this game’s dealer—was the designated player to either call or raise now that they each had their two cards.

  “Raise. A big blue one.” He twirled the chip between his fingers before tossing it into the center of the table. He lounged back against his seat and absently scratched his stomach through his black Army Rangers T-shirt. His stare fixed on Noah.

  Yeah, not a hairy chest in sight.

  “Well?” Jackson asked Noah, who hadn’t blinked under Caleb’s challenging gaze.

  One corner of the Aussie’s lips turned up. “You’re on, blondie. Call.” He pushed a blue one dollar chip into the center with the tip of his finger.

  Mike studied his cards. “Call.” His bid joined the pot.

  There it was. It happened so quick you had to know to look for it. The muscles around Mike’s eyes tightened a tiny fraction.

  He’s bluffing.

  Quinn smiled inwardly as he sipped his beer. Studying his opponents was far more satisfying than playing the game.

  Jackson, who had won the last two games and therefore was testing the limits of friendship, sighed. “I’m in.” His despondent voice didn’t fool anyone as he added his blue chip.

  �
��I fold.” Quinn threw his cards facedown on the table. He’d lost his twenty-five-cent small blind.

  “Me too.” Flynn’s cards joined Quinn’s. And Flynn said good-bye to his fifty-cent big blind.

  And that was the luck of the game.

  Now is when things usually got interesting. The doc dealt three cards faceup on the table.

  Ace of clubs. Ten of hearts, eight of hearts.

  Caleb stared. Noah ignored. Jackson sighed. Mike folded.

  By the time the fourth card, a three of spades, was dealt and turned over, only Caleb and Noah remained.

  Noah waited for Caleb to make his move, his face impassive. They joked it was his trademark when it came to poker. It made it damn hard when playing against the Aussie and if Quinn was being honest, it pissed him off too.

  The sheriff tapped the side of his thumb on the table. Ah, Caleb’s tell. Unsure. He flicked a quick glance over at Noah. “Bet.” Two more blue chips joined the pot.

  “I’m in.” Noah tossed his bid to the center and then glanced over to Jackson.

  The doc nodded. “Here we are, gentlemen.” He turned over the eight of spades.

  Quinn studied the five cards before Jackson. At the least he had one pair.

  Time for the big reveal. And which player could make the most out of the seven cards available? Quinn’s money was on Noah.

  And as the last player to bet in the final round, he showed his cards first.

  Two of hearts. Three of clubs.

  The Aussie had a pair. Not bad.

  Caleb reached for his cards. His too obvious reluctance shot a warning through Quinn.

  Six of clubs. Ten of diamonds.

  Another pair. And damn Caleb’s shit-eating grin, but tens beat threes.

  “Well, hell,” Quinn muttered.

  “Good game, mate.” Noah grinned at Caleb’s frown.

  “You just like playing with my mind, don’t you, you bastard.” Caleb chuckled as he passed his cards over to Jackson.

  “It helps pass the time between beers.” Noah stood, stretched his arms above his head. Heading to the fridge, he called out over his shoulder, “Anyone want another?”

  Mike and Caleb both said yes. There were always spare beds available on poker night in case anyone wanted to indulge in a few drinks. Jackson declined as he was on-call at the clinic.

  Flynn grabbed a tray of deli sandwiches from Noah, placing them in the middle of the table. He fed a roast beef sandwich to the ever faithful Digger, who sat at his feet. Earlier, the brown lab had scored pretzels from Quinn and before that a handful of potato chips from Caleb. This dog had poker night covered.

  “What’s the tally for tonight?” Flynn asked Jackson.

  All the monies “won” during each poker night were donated to local charities. The player with the most wins of the night got to choose the beneficiary for that month.

  “One hundred and twenty-eight dollars.” Jackson nodded in apparent satisfaction. Since he had the most chips, it was no wonder.

  “We do good work.” Quinn lifted his beer, his second and last for the night. “Who’s going to get our blessings, Doc?”

  “I was thinking the Ladies Auxiliary. They’re buying more wool to crochet lap blankets for the elderly patients who visit our clinic. Some of them don’t get many visitors except our volunteers and the community nurse.”

  Quinn didn’t doubt it. Getting old could be cruel. He could only hope he and Mike lived to be old and wrinkly with Reagan right there between them.

  “That’s a fine idea, Jackson,” Noah said as he passed beers to Mike and Caleb.

  “Agreed,” Mike said as he pulled the tab back on his can. “Reagan’s told us some of the old dears have cakes waiting for her when she visits as part of the remote library service.”

  Caleb snagged a sandwich from the tray and grabbed a napkin from the pile nearby. “Talking of Reagan, how’s she doing? I’m sorry I had to rush out at the end of the meeting, but my deputy covered for me as a favor and his wife was unwell.”

  Quinn sighed. “She’s doing okay, using business owners that are her supporters to spread the word that she’s trustworthy and can be relied upon. Her volunteers are doing the same. In the end, people will believe what they want. And the last thing she can do is name Vicki and make her look like a scapegoat.”

  Caleb finished his mouthful of sandwich. “Yeah, Mike told us about Vicki doing the accounts while Reagan nursed her dad. What a fucked up situation. Can you believe Wagner’s made new posters calling himself ‘The Candidate You Can Trust’?” His sigh seemed to spread out and cover the table. “Darcy’s a bitch of the first order. She and her cadre of mean girls made Reagan’s teenage years a living hell.”

  “That’s true.” Regret filled Jackson’s voice. “Purdy tells me that you guys spotted Darcy with Wagner after the meeting?” His brows drew into a dark line. “Jesus, those two together form one evil alliance. Neither of them has any scruples.”

  Flynn shook his head. “Wagner I understand, but what’s the deal with Darcy Richards?”

  Mike’s mouth hardened. “From the intelligence Quinn’s gathered on her, she received a healthy settlement from her ex in their divorce. Moved back in with her parents. A real daddy’s girl. It’s not like Wagner needs to pay her for her services.” He screwed up his mouth in distaste. “We assume she’s teamed up with him out of a hunger to feed her vicious streak and to get back at Reagan’s mother through her daughter.”

  Caleb dropped his sandwich on the napkin, his appetite apparently vanished. “That makes sense. Darcy’s mother hated that her husband couldn’t take his eyes off of Julie Edwards. She poisoned her daughter’s view of the world.”

  Hell, after seeing the woman in action, it wasn’t that hard to believe.

  Noah leaned forward, his crossed arms resting on the table as he fixed his gaze first on Caleb and then Quinn. “You checked the senior Richards for alibis on the day Julie was killed?”

  “As soon as we heard about Daddy’s roving eye. The family was out that day in Sheridan. Plenty of witnesses.” Even now, Quinn couldn’t hide the frustration in his voice.

  Jackson turned his head to face Caleb. “So what’s happening at your end?”

  He seemed to hedge before speaking. “There are some things I can’t share.”

  Flynn shrugged. “We understand.”

  “The coroner’s office has finished its report. They’ve determined the cause of death was the wound to the back of Julie’s skull. We haven’t released that information to the public but that’ll happen tomorrow. So keep it to yourself and act shocked when it hits the gossip superhighway.”

  “No bullets.” Noah frowned.

  “Correct,” Caleb said. “There were no casings found near the body and no bullets lodged in bone or nestled in the skeleton.”

  Quinn kept silent. Caleb had already shared the details with him. It had been in all their interests to keep those facts under wraps, including from Reagan. The need to share those details with others, more for her comfort, would likely have proven too great.

  Caleb grabbed another napkin, using it to wipe his hands. “We’re releasing information to the public in the hope we’ll put pressure on the killer, maybe jog someone’s memory. They could have seen someone have words with Julie and not realize the significance. You’d be surprised at what some people can explain away to themselves until prodded.”

  The kitchen clock chimed midnight. Its short peals seemed to nudge everyone into cleaning up and getting ready to leave.

  Quinn stood on the front porch with Flynn, Noah, Mike, and Caleb. The taillights of Jackson’s truck were disappearing down the drive.

  “Hey, I forgot.” Flynn turned to Mike, his face lit up under the porch lights, revealing his wide smile. “You’ve got Danny Scott and his mom coming for a visit tomorrow morning.”

  “Make that later today.” Mike chuckled ruefully. “I didn’t get a chance to meet his mom at Wednesday’s Q&A night, but she agreed to
drive Danny out so he can spend the day helping Reagan and me with our new veggie garden.”

  Quinn couldn’t hold back his groan.

  “You’re not happy with Danny’s visit?” Flynn’s body stiffened. He didn’t bother to hide the hard edge to his voice.

  Quinn jumped in before Mike could speak. Now was the time to set out some facts. “I’m more than happy to have Danny visit. Having spent time with him at the youth center, I think he’s a great kid. What I’m not looking forward to is when Mike’s two pint-sized accomplices try to drag me into their botanical nightmare.” He waited for Flynn’s face to lose its granite-like hardness.

  Then he continued. “And so we’re clear, I’m backing Mike in his new career choice one hundred percent. He wasn’t fulfilled doing the investigative work, and that was hanging heavy on both our shoulders.”

  Flynn had the audacity to smirk. “You don’t want to kick my arse for taking him and dumping you with all the work?”

  “Oh, I definitely want to kick your ass over that but it will wait.” Quinn allowed his laugh to seep out in the night.

  Caleb said, “If and when you’re ready to hire, I know someone who has the appropriate skill set.”

  He’d have to hire on eventually. Quinn nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The lights of an approaching vehicle came past the stables. Chloe, returning from her evening with Reagan at the cabin.

  Their cue to leave.

  He shook hands with Caleb. “Later, gentlemen.”

  Noah was rubbing his hands together, his gaze focused on his beloved wife as she trotted over to them. “Yeah, bye.”

  Flynn gave them an absent wave, already within three feet of Chloe.

  Hell, who could blame them? They’d found the woman they loved, battled for her to have a place in their lives and won.

  The image of their own sweet sub waiting for them back home compelled Quinn to walk faster toward his pickup. As he fired up the engine, he faced Mike.