by Kat Martin
“We thought you might be thirsty,” Tory said, setting the tray down on a piece of plywood on top of a pair of sawhorses.
She poured two glasses and handed one to Noah. Brittany handed the other to Cole, whose eyes turned hot and dark, the attraction between them clear.
They headed for the shade of the cow barn. While Noah chatted with Tory, and Carly and Ivy played with the big yellow cat, Cole and Brittany wandered deeper into the shadows of the barn.
Noah chuckled. “Maybe Cole has finally met a woman who won’t let him give her the brush-off.”
Tory followed his gaze to the couple talking softly, Cole laughing at something Brittany said. “Why would he want to do that?”
“He’s a man with no legs—or at least that’s the way Cole sees himself. In his mind, that makes him less than a man.”
“It’s obvious Brittany doesn’t see him that way,” Tory said.
“Britt’s been crushing on Cole since junior college,” Carly said. “And if you tell him that, Noah, you’re a dead man.”
Noah chuckled. “I won’t tell him. I just hope he’s smart enough to appreciate a beautiful woman like Britt. She’s pretty both inside and out.”
“Yes, she is,” Carly agreed.
They stood in the shade and finished their lemonade. Cole and Brittany joined them, and the men went back to work. Tory walked the women over to Carly’s flashy red convertible.
“I’m really glad we came,” Carly said through the window as they settled inside.
Tory smiled. “Me too. I hope you’ll come again soon.”
“We’ll be here for the barn raising,” Brittany said with a last glance at Cole.
“It’s going to be fun.” Carly cranked the powerful engine and the sports car rumbled to life. “I still can’t believe Linc bought me this. I usually drive one of the company pickups.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“I thought he was crazy when I saw this parked out front Christmas morning, but I totally fell in love with it. I don’t get to drive it that often, but I figured today was the perfect day.”
Now that she was a mother, the car Tory would most love to have was a compact SUV. “It was great having you,” she said. “Come back anytime.”
“Thanks for the lemonade,” Brittany said. “And . . . umm . . . everything else.” A conspiratorial look passed between them and both of them grinned.
Tory waved as Ivy ran up beside her and the Stingray roared back down the dirt road toward the highway. She thought of the friends she had made.
It had been a very good day for her.
She just wished it had been a better day for Josh.
* * *
The service was almost over. Josh stood in a line of soldiers off to one side of the open grave next to Coy, a big, blond, hard-boiled former marine who lived up in Gainesville. A dozen other marines in DBs stood on the grass close by, some of them wounded vets Josh already knew, others soldiers and vets he’d met today.
Pete’s big extended Hispanic family filled rows of white plastic chairs set up beneath a canopy on the lawn, many of them openly crying, not afraid to show emotion. The vets were more stoic. They had learned to deal with loss a long time ago.
The area around the casket was filled with flowers, their sweet scent wafting through the air. The service overflowed with mourners. Pete was a popular guy in the community. An American flag draped over Pete’s coffin.
At the back of the crowd, a couple of men stood out from the rest, guys in dark suits with short-cropped hair. Like a lot of men who had served, Josh could smell law enforcement a mile away. Off-duty police? Detectives, maybe? Feds? He had a hunch it was some of each, couldn’t help wondering why the feds would be there.
So far Pete’s killer hadn’t been apprehended. Maybe they hoped he would show up today to revel in his accomplishment. Sadly, it wasn’t uncommon.
Josh steeled himself as a line of marines raised their rifles and fired three volleys, a final salute to a man who well deserved the honor. The sound recalled the nightmare he had suffered last night, waking covered in sweat to the imagined sound of explosions. He was glad he hadn’t spent the night with Tory.
The chaplain said a final prayer and in the distance, a lone bugle played taps. The flag was folded and presented to Pete’s wife, and the service was over.
As the mourners began to depart, Josh fell in among them. He was only a little surprised when one of the suits singled him out, this guy’s sport coat less expensive, a little rumpled. A local cop, he guessed.
“You’re Cain, right? Joshua Cain?” The man was midthirties, average height, nothing much different about him except his interest.
“That’s right.”
“You were a friend of Pete Saldana’s?” It sounded like a question but it wasn’t.
“Right again. Who are you?”
“Detective Craig Milburn, Fairfield PD. You got a minute?”
“If it’ll help you find the prick who murdered Pete, I’ve got all the time you need.”
They walked a little ways away, out of earshot of the dispersing crowd. Josh lifted his white cap to catch a little of the breeze, then settled it back on his head.
“Any reason you can think of that someone might want to murder your friend?” the detective asked.
Josh shook his head. “Everybody loved Pete. He was just one of those guys, you know? His nickname in the Corp was Amigo. He was a friend to everyone.”
“Yeah, that’s the picture we’ve been getting. You know he was killed execution-style? Forty-five-caliber slug to the back of the head. Looks like he walked out of the bar for a smoke and the guy came up behind him. A hit like that . . . it makes us think he was involved in some kind of criminal activity. Drugs, maybe. Could be a lot of different things.”
Josh started shaking his head. “Not Pete. He was a hero, straight shooter all the way. He had kids. He wanted them to look up to him, be proud of him. He was determined to be a good role model.”
“Good role models don’t usually end up getting their brains blown out.”
Josh’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like this guy or the direction this conversation was taking. And it certainly wasn’t the time or place. “You’re wrong. Do your job and prove it.” Turning, he walked away.
What the hell had happened to Pete? Had he pissed someone off badly enough to get himself killed? Everything inside Josh urged him to find out.
But he wasn’t in the marines anymore and Pete was no longer one of the men who fought beside him. The Josh he was now had responsibilities, a ranch to run, a young woman and her daughter to look after. He needed to let the police handle Pete’s murder.
From the cemetery, he and Coy and the other guys stopped by Pete’s house to pay their respects to Dolores and the rest of Pete’s family. From there they went to one of the local saloons to toast their friend and drown their grief.
Josh had a couple of beers and headed home. As a kid he had never really had a home, just a place to eat and sleep. He and his mom had lived in a fleabag apartment where his drunken dad dropped by once in a while to beat up on his wife and son.
Josh thought of the ranch he was building, thought of Tory and Ivy, and was surprised to discover how eager he was to get back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ham called the next morning, disturbing the big workday Josh had planned, work that needed to be done for the barn raising on Saturday.
According to his last conversation with Ham, there hadn’t been any new leads in the investigation. Lisa had left for New York, but had never recovered her memory.
Josh pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, Ham, what’s up?”
“Could be nothing. Saw something on the news last night. Probably doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Lisa Shane, but I figured you’d want to know.”
Unease crawled through him. “Tell me.”
“A girl went missing. Early twenties, waitress at a dive bar out in Carefree. She lef
t around two A.M. after her shift was over and just disappeared. Apparently, it wasn’t unusual for her to go home with some guy from the bar so no one worried when her car was still in the lot the next day. When she didn’t show up for her next shift, I guess one of her friends got worried. No sign of her since the night she disappeared.”
“Carefree’s not far off I-17. Easy access to the mountains up north. Could be the same guy who took Lisa.”
“Could be. Bridger’s still in Phoenix. I’ve been checking on him off and on. He’s still going to the office, hasn’t changed his routine. I wouldn’t have called except . . .”
“What is it?”
“The thing is, Josh, this girl . . . she was a pretty little redhead about Tory’s size.”
The news felt like a kick in the stomach. “Jesus.”
“Could be a coincidence. Hell, maybe she just took off with some dude and the two of them are shacked up somewhere.”
He relaxed a little. As Ham said, it could be nothing. Even if it turned out to be something, didn’t mean it had anything to do with Tory. Lots of crime in Phoenix. “You’re right. We need more information. Stay on it, will you?”
“I’ve got friends in the Phoenix PD. They promised to give me a heads-up if anything breaks.”
“Really appreciate it. Thanks, Ham.”
“I heard about Pete. Life really sucks sometimes.”
“Yeah, it does.” Josh ended the call and stuck the phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He had work to do, way too much to be worrying about a so-far nonexistent threat.
He wasn’t about to say anything to Tory.
He hoped he’d never have to.
Josh pushed the phone call out of his mind and went back to work. All week, Cole and Noah had been working with a mason, laying the cement-block foundation for the barn he intended to build. A local architect had drawn the plans. The main barn would be serviceable but not overly large, configured so he could add on as his horse-breeding operation developed over the years.
Tory had been amazing, doing all of the organization, making the work look easy while he found the job frustrating and confusing.
Things were moving in the right direction, but there was still the problem of the charges against him in Phoenix, leaving a cloud of worry hanging over his head.
* * *
Thursday afternoon was humid, the damp air hot and sticky as Tory walked next to Josh to the cow barn. She adjusted the white straw cowboy hat he had bought her to protect her fair skin from the sun. The boots she was wearing she had purchased for herself.
They were riding in the pasture now instead of the ring. She had come to love it and she was getting better every day—or at least thought she was. It was pretty much a daily routine, though a couple of times they had gotten distracted and ended up making love in the tack room.
The riding lesson went perfectly. Afterward, they headed for the grassy pasture where Star placidly grazed. In order for the stallion to earn his keep, he needed to be tame enough to work with the people who handled him and not hurt the mares he would be breeding.
If the horse would accept Josh, then maybe he could learn to accept other people, too. Maybe at last Star could fulfill his tremendous potential.
Tory cupped her hand around her mouth to call out to him, but the stallion caught her scent, his head shot up, and his ears flashed forward. With a soft whinny, he galloped toward the fence, slowed to a trot, and walked right up to her. With his gleaming black coat and perfect conformation, he was so beautiful a soft pang throbbed in her heart.
The horse eyed Josh a moment, apparently decided he wasn’t a threat, very carefully picked up the apple Tory had placed in the flat of her hand, and crunched it down.
Josh moved forward, joining Tory at the fence. “Hey, buddy. You like that, don’t you?” His voice was soft and deep, but also firm. She knew from personal experience how hard that voice was to resist.
Josh fed the stallion the other half of the apple and continued rubbing and stroking.
“I’d say we’re making real progress,” he commented as they headed back to the house. “Tomorrow I’m going to try to halter him while you keep him occupied.”
“I think he’s beginning to trust you.”
“Yeah. It’s a good feeling.”
Preparations for the barn raising were coming together the way they’d planned. Better yet, the following morning Nate Temple called—the charges against Josh had been dropped.
Aaron Guinness’s threat to file countercharges, along with Damon’s prior arrest for assault against Tory and the restraining order once granted against him, had apparently been enough for his attorney to convince him. He had a reputation as a businessman to consider, as well as the reputation of his father’s company.
Damon—probably at his father’s insistence—had grudgingly agreed to a dismissal.
According to Guinness, there was a good chance Damon had never intended for the arrest to go any further. He’d just wanted to see Josh handcuffed in front of Tory and hauled off to jail.
Saturday finally arrived and it seemed as if half the town showed up to help build Josh a new barn. To the accompaniment of pounding hammers and buzzing saws, the men scrambled up and down ladders and carried lumber, all of them working together like a perfectly choreographed dance.
By midafternoon, the sides of the barn were in place and half a dozen men slid metal panels into position on the roof, securing them with metal screws.
Tory had everything well-organized, from where to stack the building supplies for easy access, to which crews would work where. She had even assigned young Ty Murphy to handle parking cars in the field in front of the barn.
A group of local women joined Tory, Carly, and Brittany, either working with the men or helping keep everyone fed and hydrated during the hot early June day.
By the time the sun had slipped below the horizon, the barn had been completed exactly as planned. Exhausted men and women gathered around makeshift sawhorse tables where a potluck supper waited. Plastic plates were loaded with slices of beef from the big haunch Josh provided, plus homemade casseroles, salads, and desserts.
Strings of sparkling white lights hung above rented tables and chairs. Everyone grabbed beers or poured glasses of wine from ice-filled tubs, then wandered over and sat down to eat.
Tory and the other moms fed their kids first, then Ivy went to play with friends she had made that afternoon. Tory hadn’t seen her daughter so happy since before she had moved in with Damon.
She sighed. Even if it didn’t work out with Josh, maybe they could stay in Iron Springs. She could rent a place, find a job, make it work.
Tory refused to think how seeing Josh with other women would make her feel. She would handle it, she told herself. Somehow.
She was smiling when she felt Josh’s beautiful blue eyes on her.
“You made this work today,” he said softly. “I don’t think the barn raising would have been half as successful if you hadn’t pulled it all together.”
“I had help. It wasn’t just me.” Still, she couldn’t resist feeling pleased.
“You organized everything. The day ran like clockwork because of you.” He leaned over and kissed her, and something she was afraid to feel stirred deep inside her.
“I’ll be over tonight,” Josh said in that soft, deep voice that sent a warm flush over her skin. “If that’s okay.”
Oh, yeah. It was more than okay. Her body was already thrumming just thinking about it. “Umm . . . sure.”
People stayed awhile longer, but after such a tough day, everyone was exhausted. Families packed up their leftovers, loaded their cold boxes into their cars, and headed home.
Since there was a ton of cleanup, Mrs. Thompson took Ivy home with her. Tory had a hunch Mrs. T. wasn’t just being helpful but doing a little matchmaking, as well.
Cole offered to drive Brittany home, and she was thrilled to accept. Noah and his wife, Natalie, a svelte, black-haired beauty wh
om Tory had liked immediately, also remained.
As Josh and Cole finished folding and stacking tables, Noah walked up. “Looks like we may have a problem.”
“Yeah, what is it?” Josh asked.
“We got company and it doesn’t look friendly.” Noah turned toward the road leading into the ranch, a scowl on his face.
Tory heard the roar of engines growing louder as they approached. In the distance, a group of bikers rolled down the dirt road toward the house, their headlights drilling shafts of white through the darkness.
Her pulse kicked into gear, began to race as fast as the engines. There were eight of them, guys in black leather on low-slung, customized motorcycles with extended front wheels.
“What the hell?” Josh and Noah walked up next to Cole, the three men forming a protective wall against the uninvited visitors.
Tory hurried up on the porch out of the way and Britt and Natalie joined her. Instead of stopping, the bikers revved their engines and began circling the yard, doing wheelies in the dirt, knocking over stacks of chairs, jerking down strings of lights, destroying everything in their path.
One of the bikers deliberately rammed a cold box, smashing it to pieces. Several headed for the supplies left from building the barn. One leaned down to grab a bucket of nails, then tossed the contents all over the ground. Another grabbed a power saw and slammed it against the barn wall, sending pieces of metal flying.
Josh suddenly moved. One of the bikers shouted a curse as Josh grabbed him by the back of his black leather vest and yanked him off the motorcycle, which raced off and slipped over into the dirt. Josh spun him around, drew back and slammed a fist in his face, then swept his legs out from under him as he went down. The biker hit the ground hard, shouting a string of obscenities.
Josh dragged a guy with a handlebar mustache off a metallic red Harley and knocked him down, while Noah hooked his good arm around the neck of a guy with greasy black hair and tattoos, jerking him backward off the bike into the dirt.
Cole took over, grabbing the guy by the front of his black T-shirt, hauling him up, and punching him in the face. When the man swung back, Cole ducked and drove a fist into the guy’s stomach, doubling him over. He followed with a blow that sent the biker sprawling in the dirt.
