“What other man?”
“Eli something. He’s staying in the wranglers’ quarters—that’s the old, original Macbride ranch house. It’s on the other road cutting across the property, near my place.” Flora brought the platter to the table, JoJo following. “Anyway, there was a vacant room, and Eli said he’d be more comfortable there than in some fancy house.”
JoJo came to terms with the fact that the man who’d nearly scared the wits out of her the night before might really be Nick’s brother. Maybe. And even if he was, it wouldn’t fully ease her mind. Why would Lucky show up here at the ranch after all these years? Why now? Was he up to something?
Still unsettled, she couldn’t quite give up her inquisition. “But you don’t know who this Eli is supposed to be?”
“Eli Burke’s a friend and business associate,” came a curt reply. “If you want to know more about him, ask me.”
Startled, JoJo whipped around to find Lucky coming straight for her from the front door. So he’d been up and around rather than sleeping.
She couldn’t take her eyes from him.
He was attempting a casual posture that didn’t hide the slight limp she hadn’t noticed the night before. He was fully dressed—jeans, white T-shirt, leather vest and cowboy boots. Daylight was less kind to him than artificial light. She saw with perfect clarity the imperfections of his face. The broken nose. Forehead dominated by a still-pink scar, obviously new. The older white slash across his chin, contrasting with his deep tan, more prominent than she’d remembered.
And yet he wasn’t an unattractive man. Besides which, he was well built and exuded an inexorable strength from within. The kind of man that made a woman stand a little taller, breathe a little deeper. The kind of man who intruded on a woman’s early-morning dreams…and after she’d determined to stay awake all night, too.
JoJo forced away the fleeting memory and sank down into a chair at the table. “What kind of business?” she asked, referring to his relationship with the mysterious Eli.
“We’ve worked together.”
Lucky drew out the chair across from hers and slid into it. The housekeeper set an insulated pot of coffee on the table between them, gave them both cautious looks and backed off.
“At what?” JoJo continued.
“Different things.”
Entertaining fantasies of some young ruffian hooking up with Lucky for all manner of illicit schemes, she raised her eyebrows. “You could be more specific.”
“And you could keep your nose to yourself.”
“This from a man who ransacked my purse last night,” she complained to Flora.
But upon looking around, she realized the housekeeper was slipping out the back door. Undoubtedly, their bickering had made the woman uncomfortable.
“So, you packed or what?”
“What?” she muttered, reaching for the food.
Lucky beat her to it, whipping the platter into his own possession. He began heaping large quantities of everything onto his plate.
If he thought his being rude would chase her off, he was mistaken, JoJo thought, giving him a filthy look. And if he ate all of the food, she would just march over to the stove and cook more herself. But he eventually gave over, and she saw there was enough left for two of her.
“You don’t have any intentions of leaving, do you?” Lucky asked.
“I’m not going anywhere until I’m good and ready,” she informed him.
A devilish grin twitched at his lips. “Maybe that’ll be sooner than you think.”
Was that a warning? Why did he want her to leave so badly, anyway? Alarm flared through JoJo even as she geared up to ask him. But the question never left her mouth. The front door opening interrupted her thoughts.
“Hey, mornin’!”
Lucky glanced over his shoulder. “Eli.”
JoJo took stock of Eli Burke. Not exactly what she’d expected. In his late fifties, he was lean and tough, tanned and leathered. And more than a little bowlegged, to boot. The moment he spotted JoJo, he removed his perspiration-stained Stetson. She noticed that he was balding. And that his hazel eyes were friendly on her.
“Well, well…Lucky, you old son of a bull, you,” Eli said, his voice sounding naturally hoarse. “Found yourself a pretty woman already, did you? What’d you do, slip out to town last night?”
JoJo gaped. He thought she…that Lucky and she…that they were together?
“We had an unforgettable encounter,” Lucky agreed. “Didn’t we, sweetest?”
She gave him a sickly sweet smile. “If you’re trying to take away my appetite, don’t bother.” To prove that he couldn’t shake her, she began stuffing her mouth.
“Ah, and she has a sharp tongue on her. Good girl! I’m Eli Burke, little darlin’,” the older man said, claiming the empty spot at the head of the table. “Don’t you mind Lucky none. He likes to tease, is all.”
“Does he?” Threaten was more like it, if anyone wanted her opinion.
“That he does.” Eli poured himself a cup of coffee, then reached for the remaining eggs, pancakes and sausage, sniffing loudly. “I’m starving. How’s the chow?”
“Good enough for an old dog like you.”
“See what I mean?”
“Yeah, he’s a barrel of laughs.”
Throughout breakfast, however, Eli was the one who made JoJo laugh over stories of his misadventures, first in the Texas oil fields, then on a New Mexican ranch and finally on a rodeo circuit that covered most of the states west of the Mississippi.
“I worked as a rodeo clown,” he said, “which made me a target for angry broncs and bulls. Someone had to save his hide when he got himself into trouble,” he said, pointing a thumb at Lucky.
He’d mentioned Lucky several times in those tall tales, so JoJo got the feeling they were partners of a sort, had been hanging together for years. No wonder Lucky seemed to have “disappeared,” JoJo thought. He’d merely kept moving so often that it would be difficult to track him down. If he was Lucian Donatelli, she reminded herself. Eli could be part of some scheme…
“You shoulda seen Lucky with that bull,” Eli was saying about some recent rodeo. “Any rider with a lick a sense woulda known when to let go and cover his, uh, britches. But not Lucky. That mean old Bushwhacker worked himself into a corner, then gave our friend here what for against the boards. That’s how he got that pretty decoration on his forehead.”
JoJo felt nearly relaxed for the first time since arriving at the Macbride Ranch. She had to admit she liked Eli. But a quick look at Lucky told her he was irritated with his buddy, as if he preferred to remain an enigma. The pink scar nearly glowed against his dark expression, and he looked as if he was working up to something unpleasant.
“Well, I’m full,” JoJo said, pushing away from the table before Lucky could take out his bad spirits on her. Eli had put her in a good mood, and she meant to stay that way. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll walk off some of this food, then maybe go for a ride.”
“Don’t get lost,” Lucky said dryly.
Leaving JoJo with the distinct impression that that’s exactly what he’d like her to do.
IF ELI BURKE HAD BEEN an unexpected ray of sunshine in her morning, Vincent Zamora was a darker cloud than Lucky. When she went to see about getting herself a horse to ride, the cocky young wrangler looked her over through slitted black eyes that undressed her.
“Already heard about you,” he said.
Which made her wonder who’d been talking. Lucky? Is that what he’d been up to before breakfast?
“Good things, I hope,” she said casually.
“Interesting things.”
Vincent’s tone was as oily as the black hair straggling from the back of his hat along his neck. He smiled, his twisted mouth lascivious rather than inviting. JoJo had the distinct impression that he was barely holding back from smacking his lips over her. From his swagger, she also gathered he thought he was something she wouldn’t be able to resist
.
“So you’re a real, live Vegas show girl, huh?”
The way he said it made her skin crawl, as if he thought what she did for a living was sordid.
“I’m a dancer, yeah,” she informed him. “I worked Broadway musicals for years. I moved to Nevada because I needed a change of scene.”
“Oh, right.”
Irritated, JoJo said, “My horse?”
He pointed to a thick-bodied gray mare sunning herself in the pasture behind him. “How about her?”
“She looks a little old and slow.”
“Good beginner’s horse.”
“I’m not exactly a beginner.”
While growing up, she’d visited her grandparents’ farm during summer vacations and had ridden every horse on the property. Plus, she’d had enough opportunities to go riding over the years—including in Central Park—to know that she hadn’t forgotten what she’d learned. Looking over the pasture, she found a horse whose looks she liked, a pretty little chestnut with some spirit. The mare was prancing and tossing her head as though she meant to show off.
“How about her?”
Vincent looked from the horse to JoJo. “Whatever you say.” The mean twist to his mouth was back.
His remark gave JoJo some pause. “She is broken, right?”
“Right.”
But the way he said it made JoJo a little nervous. Still, she wasn’t about to back down.
Retrieving a saddle and leathers from a nearby shed, Vincent set them on a split rail of the fence and proceeded through the gate into the pasture. The land here was flat, unlike the gentle rolls that gave way to hills beyond. Nearly a dozen horses were pastured. Some grazed, while others took shelter from the sun in the shade of a live oak or under the long lean-to, where the water trough and feed barrels had been set. JoJo clambered onto the fence to watch while the wrangler caught and tacked up the chestnut.
And every so often, she glanced back, expecting to see Lucky Donatelli striding from the house, past the barn and other outbuildings, to continue his one-man crusade of giving her a hard time. Because of the nature of her “glamorous” job, she was used to dealing with difficult men, though none had ever gotten to her the way Lucky had. The thought that he might actually show up any minute made her pulse lurch—why, being a mystery to her.
A few minutes later, Vincent passed her, mare in tow. “Okay, here she is.”
JoJo clambered down from the fencing and took the reins the moment he led the mare through the gate opening. “What’s her name?” she asked as the horse did a little dance before settling down.
“Spitfire.”
“Spitfire,” she echoed, rubbing the mare’s nose. “Now, that’s an interesting title.” JoJo let the chestnut nuzzle her arm and chest to get acquainted while she ran her free hand along the fiery mane. “We redheads get an unfair reputation for temper, don’t we?” she murmured into the nearest ear, which twitched in response.
Hoping the mare wasn’t quite as spicy as her name, JoJo took a big breath and mounted. Spitfire pranced as would any spirited animal, but JoJo sat back and held the horse together with firm legs and a steady hand. The mare quieted under her.
And Vincent’s dark eyes registered his surprise.
But rather than congratulating her, he said, “You get turned around out there, you use those mule ears as a marker to get back.”
He pointed to a high rock formation a short distance away that, if one got fanciful, could represent a mule’s head with big, crooked ears.
Remembering Lucky’s warning, she assured him, “I have no intentions of getting lost.”
“A lot of country out there.”
JoJo turned Spitfire and set off. She decided to be extra cautious and not wander far if for no other reason than not wanting to be on a horse too long her first time out. Too much time in the saddle, and she wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.
She skirted the ranch buildings and an enclosed stockade that lay between them and the house, passed a small apple orchard and a neglected vineyard. The scene that unfolded and spread out before her was dazzling. The land dipped into a low valley, edged by a high rock rim.
Taking a well-worn path in that direction, JoJo got in tune with her mount and with the beauty surrounding her. But something kept her from relaxing fully. Something that didn’t feel quite right. The back of her neck prickled. She looked behind her, expecting to see Vincent staring after her. He’d disappeared. She slid her gaze in the direction of the house, wondering if the windows had eyes.
So what if they did? So what if Lucky were watching her?
JoJo chided herself. Her recent experiences had made her too suspicious of men’s motives.
Better to concentrate on Mother Nature. Having loved the outdoors since those days on her grandparents’ farm, she’d picked up some books on the flora and fauna of the Southwest months ago and was pleased to recognize the many life forms she’d read about but had had little occasion to see in person except for a few excursions from Las Vegas.
The valley was dotted with chaparral, low-growing plants like the red-barked manzanita and agave, shrub oak and hackberry. From the bottom of the valley, rolling hills ascended again, eventually giving way to rock formations. The rich green of white pine, gambel oak and dwarf maples contrasted sharply with buff-and-red sandstone.
Leaning forward in her saddle to ease Spitfire’s burden as they took a steep incline, JoJo was startled by a loud crack from somewhere behind them. The mare flattened her ears, whinnied and lost her footing, and would have jounced JoJo loose from the saddle if she hadn’t reacted quickly, tightening her quad muscles and hanging on for all she was worth.
“C’mon, Spitfire, settle down,” she begged, stomach churning, not wanting the ignominious honor of having to walk back. “Thatta girl.”
No sooner did the mare regain her footing and composure and make the lunge to more-even ground, than another sharp crack set the horse off again. This time, JoJo had a hell of a time trying to get her under control. Spitfire lowered her head and bucked and twirled. But JoJo could be as stubborn as any horse. Heart pounding, she clung desperately to the saddle and, realizing Spitfire had the bit between her teeth, didn’t try to muscle her using the reins. Instead, she hung on and made soothing sounds until the mare collected herself and eased her jaw open, letting go of the bit to JoJo’s relief.
“That’s it, settle down.”
JoJo’s heart still raced, however, as she patted the sweat-slicked chestnut neck and looked around for the source of those noises that had spooked the horse. And her. Nothing. No one. Her stomach tied itself in knots as she wondered what the heck was going on. If she didn’t know how unsettled she’d been lately, she’d think she’d heard gunshots.
If so, they hadn’t been aimed at her, JoJo assured herself. The sounds had echoed from some distance. No earth or rock had churned anywhere near her as would have happened if struck by a bullet. Perhaps they hadn’t been gunshots at all. Her imagination was turning into paranoia.
And that worried her.
This was supposed to be a rest cure, a way to center herself, and yet she hadn’t had a moment’s real ease since setting foot on the Macbride Ranch. What was happening to her? Was she losing it, headed for a nervous breakdown? Maybe it was the lack of sleep.
For JoJo could understand why she’d been so jumpy in Las Vegas…but no one around here had any reason to mean her harm.
THE SHOW GIRL WAS nearly as good a rider as she was a dancer. How surprising.
Not so surprising was the fact that JoJo Weston was acting as though she hadn’t made any enemies. She merely gathered her horse under her and set off as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Now that she wasn’t in the spotlight, she could show her true colors, be her arrogant self.
For as long as she lived, that was.
The high-powered binoculars lowered as she disappeared around a curve. No matter. Plenty of time to be up close and personal. Plenty of time to conte
mplate the many ways a tenderfoot could die. A gloved hand lifted the still-warm rifle that had been aimed at the heavens when fired. A bullet could have taken her down, of course, but that would have been too obvious when more subtlety was called for.
A tragic accident.
How thoughtful of her to leave Las Vegas, to choose a place that was perfect in its very isolation. If something unexpected were to happen to the bitch out here, who would ever suspect that her demise had been carefully planned?
More important, who would ever care?
HOURS LATER, after a late-morning nap in a shady place along a creek that crossed the property, a rested and calmed JoJo rode right up to the pasture where Vincent seemed to be waiting for her. He let her dismount before taking Spitfire’s reins.
“Have yourself a good one?”
“Beautiful country.”
“Your lasting so long on Spitfire is a real feat. Don’t get fooled, though. Danger lurks in unexpected places out there.”
Starting, JoJo wondered if she should be reading a deeper meaning into Vincent’s statement. Surely not.
“I’m always careful,” she assured the wrangler.
If there were another meaning to his words, he didn’t let on. He merely gave her an oily smile before leading Spitfire over to the fence.
JoJo watched him loosen the cinch, then turned and jogged back to the ranch house to find the grounds eerily quiet. Next to her cherry red Cherokee sat a dark and dour sedan that she figured belonged to Lucky. It didn’t seem like the type of vehicle he’d drive, but then she’d been fooled by assumptions based on outer trappings before.
Upon entering the house, she had cause to stop in mute surprise. A man with thick dark blond hair and perfect good looks was staring back at her from the breakfront where he poured himself a drink.
He lifted his glass in salute. “Hey, there, you must be JoJo.”
Lucky Devil Page 3
