by Lynde Lakes
“I feel so alive with him,” Monica said, her oval face flushed from excitement as she dismounted at the exact spot of her prearranged count.
Sara Jane understood. She experienced the same kind of high every time she rode Demon. She held the horse in place by the bridle. “You and Vision have the best psychic connection I’ve ever seen,” she said, patting the white quarter horse’s neck.
She handed Vision’s reins to Tito who had been waiting to take care of the horse. “Cool him down good,” she told the lanky twelve-year old. The boy would strip and brush the horse before putting him back into his stall. As she and Monica left the corral, she turned on her cell phone and checked the messages. “Hey, there’s one from Duey,” she said, hoping Monica’s brother hadn’t run into trouble.
She quickly dialed the number and got him on the third ring. “Can you give Monica a lift home?” he asked, sounding harried. “Got a flat and damaged my rim.”
“Sure, no problem.” Blast it. The changed plans meant she and Nick would have to take the truck to the junction rather than horses. So much for her decision to avoid riding in the close quarters of a truck cab with Nick. At least, Monica would be a buffer for part of the way.
Thirty minutes later, after a quick shower, she found Nick waiting with Monica in the kitchen. Monica sat at the table with an empty iced tea glass in front of her. Nick leaned against the counter, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. Drops of water glistened on his inky hair. He had on another new shirt and looked clean-shaven. She breathed in his just bathed scent. Hmm, he’d taken two showers, too. “You’re here,” she said, surprised. “Since I hadn’t seen you all morning, I thought I might have to go alone.”
“I’ve been close by. Besides, we had a deal. I don’t renege; do you?” His tone was even, but heat burned in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have left without me?” His voice rose with the question.
“Since you’re here, we’ll never know, will we?” For Monica’s sake, Sara Jane kept the bite out of her tone, replacing it with a gentle teasing lilt.
When the three of them approached the rusty, dented truck, Nick opened the passenger door, took Monica by the waist and lifted her gently into the seat. Sara Jane warmed with his thoughtfulness.
She strode to the driver’s side and opened the door. She heard the low rumble of Nick’s voice, but not his words.
Monica laughed. “I like this guy.”
“Yeah, he’s a charmer.” Sara Jane glanced inside the cab. Her seating choices were: get squeezed in the middle, squashed between Monica and Nick—or as driver, she could press herself tightly against the door and maintain a space between herself and the man who gave off far too much sexual energy. Guilt shot through her. With his wide shoulders it would be cruel to stick him in the middle, still…Trying to relax, she tossed the keys into the air.
Nick dashed round the truck and grabbed them midair. “I’ll drive,” he said flashing deep dimples.
His previous kind acts had made her forget who she was dealing with. She glared at him, wanting to snap at his controlling, bulldozer manner. Only having to maintain a professional facade in front of her client kept her from shouting that he would drive only over her dead body.
Before she could say anything, Nick caught her by the waist and swung her into the seat. “Scoot over and make room for me, but don’t crowd Monica too much,” he said, winking.
“I didn’t need your help,” Sara Jane muttered. “Or your instructions.”
Nick climbed into the cab and slid behind the steering wheel, his shoulders touching hers. The pressure of his body sent a ripple of heat down her side. “Part of the job, ma’am,” he said faking a Texas drawl. The scent of his musky aftershave drifted to Sara Jane’s nostrils, intoxicating her.
Monica laughed. “Don’t stifle the gentleman in the man. It’s far too rare.”
“You got that right,” Sara Jane told Monica, forcing a light tone. Later, she would tell Nick what he could do with his strong-arm tactics.
He revved the engine to life, and they headed down the dirt road, trailing dust clouds. Nick shifted and bumped her knee, sending an electrical charge up her left leg. “Sorry,” he said, his quick glance twinkling.
Unable to move out of the way, all she could do was sit still and fight the stirring low in her belly.
Monica, far too perceptive not to feel the tension, said, “The grapevine says you two are sweet on each other.”
Sara Jane couldn’t give away that he was just her bodyguard. “We’re still sorting that out,” she said.
Monica laughed. “From the vibes in this car, I’d say that might take a lifetime.”
Sara Jane sensed Nick’s glance. But she kept her gaze fixed on the winding, mesquite-lined road ahead. She didn’t want him to read the moment of yearning that shot through her.
Silence rose between the three of them and continued until Sara Jane couldn’t stand it. She cleared her throat and with a cheery voice, said, “I think you and Vision will progress fast. You both have heart and your communication is solid.” Although everything she said was true, Sara Jane felt like she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop. “You know, horses teach us a lot about life, like love those who love you back.”
“But do we pay attention to them?” Monica asked, her humor-filled tone rising as though her question was really about Sara Jane and Nick ignoring that they were falling in love.
Her blind friend’s matchmaking was far too transparent for comfort, and when their truck circled the dirt driveway in front of Monica’s house and finally stopped, Sara Jane breathed a sigh of relief.
Nick squeezed her hand. “Wait here,” he said, “I’ll walk Monica to the door.”
Against Sara Jane’s will, his thoughtfulness touched her. His gallantry had a side benefit. Waiting in the car would give her a moment to steel herself. She didn’t know how she would survive the rest to the drive without a buffer. She scooted over and pressed her side tightly against the passenger door. Nick returned quickly. He slid into the cab and again set off the trip-hammer beat of her pulse.
****
Nick shook his head as he accelerated the car to life. Sara Jane had practically upholstered herself to the passenger door. “I don’t get you,” he said. “Yesterday you caught me in a passionate lip lock and now you act afraid of me.”
“The kiss was a means to get you fired, nothing more. But now that we’re stuck with each other, the rules have changed. And to relieve your mind, I’m not afraid of you—or anyone.”
He laughed. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Guess you’re a suspicious guy. Probably goes with the territory.” She paused and tilted her head. “What made you join the Bureau, anyway?”
Nick shifted in his seat, uncomfortable talking about himself. He glanced at Sara Jane, wondering if a shrug would pacify her. Her big eyes held real interest. Oh, what the heck. Maybe she’d be more cooperative if she knew at least that much about him. “While in Air Force Security, I discovered I liked tracking people down. A major I worked with hired on with the Bureau when he left the air force. He liked the intrigue and convinced me that the job would be a good fit for me.”
“And is it?”
“Protecting people satisfies certain inborn needs.”
She laughed. “Inborn needs, huh? How dark and mysterious. Tell me more about that.”
Her voice was deep and mocking. He grinned at his own pompousness. And her guts to call him on it. “Perhaps that was overstated. Let’s just say that the adventure and travel gets into a man’s blood.”
“Don’t you miss your home and family?” Her tone lost its lightness.
He fought to block out the pain of the question. “My sister is my only family and…” He cleared his throat. “She’s an agent, too, now.” Or was, he thought. But he didn’t want to go there. “So, there’s no home—no waiting family.”
“How sad.”
Her words crashed over him like a landslide. He locke
d his attention on the road, trying to dull the pain of losing Shirl.
“I complain about my relatives sometimes,” she said, “but they mean everything to me.” Sara Jane pointed ahead. “Turn left at the crossroads.”
Ahead were car-sized boulders, their pointed tops resembling fish heads. When Nick came parallel to them, he swung onto another mesquite-dotted bumpy dirt road that looked and felt the same as the one they’d left. With everything in him, he forced the past to the edges of his mind. If he let the memories eat him up, he couldn’t function. Barren, thirsty land swallowed them as their tires kicked up more dust. “Guess a young woman like you looks forward to leaving this dirt-bowl behind for some exciting city life,” he said forcing a cheery tone.
“Never! Who could leave this solitude…this vast beauty?”
Nick laughed in spite of his previous dark thoughts. “Talk about eyes of the beholder.” He sensed more than saw her sharp glance.
“Even if I were too blind to see the wonders of this land,” she said, arching an eyebrow, “like some narrow-minded city men like you, I’d never leave those I love.” Before Nick could recover enough to latch onto a comeback, she added, “You know my Uncle Luke is one of the good guys. He even helped the FBI. And Erik, as much as he annoys me personally, couldn’t harm a field mouse.”
“Maybe we’ll uncover something today to prove that.” Nick understood now. Her anger came from fear. Not for herself, but for her family. He wished he could ease her mind, at least about one of her relatives, but Matt had sworn him to secrecy. Without thinking, Nick reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. A deep warmth rose within him, surpassing his usual support of those he protected. Her wide-eyed glance and flushed cheeks told him that she felt something too. Something wild was building between them, and what made it so dangerous was it was deeper than mere attraction. He was on dangerous ground. Honor would keep him from touching her, but how did he keep his heart from getting entangled? His only defense was to remember they were worlds apart in experience and even more important, what they wanted out of life.
****
Perched on a rise ahead was Stampede Junction, laid out in a horseshoe of shops and offices and anchored in the center by the brightly lit Leila’s Passion Palace and Gambling Hall. Coming in, Sara Jane had been aware of the small church and the homes of merchants clustered together, as though the owners had sought normalcy in a devil-designed town. She looked over at Nick, and he smiled at her. Her awareness of him soared to unbearable heights, her feelings confusing, impractical.
“With the gambling hall centered and all lit up like that,” he said, his deep voice tugging on her emotions, “I guess the town fathers think gambling is the heart of this town.”
Sara Jane laughed, trying to hide the turmoil within her. “They didn’t have much choice. Leila is the prime financial backer and developer of the town. She insisted upon center stage from the get-go, and because she believes twenty-four-hour sparkle brings in tourist business, she keeps the place lit up like Las Vegas around the clock.”
Sara Jane had the feeling by Nick’s bone-melting sidelong glance that he was as aware of her as she was of him. “We’ll have to park in that dirt lot ahead,” she said. “No cars are allowed in the town square.”
Nick helped her out of the truck. She didn’t bother to protest. She needed his cooperation.
She walked beside him in silence, aware of his long-legged stride and wide shoulders. The tension humming between them tore at her calm. In self-defense, Sara Jane scanned the people coming and going on the wooden sidewalk, mostly unshaven cowboys. The few women who had risked the afternoon heat tugged tots by the hands, hurrying them along to the air-conditioned shops ahead. After riding in a hot truck without AC in the hottest part of the day, Sara Jane looked forward to cooling off as well.
“Where do we go first?” A mischievous gleam lit Nick’s eyes. “Leila’s place?”
“It may surprise you, but that’s exactly where I want to go first. If Leila is missing a girl, it’s possible that she’s our faceless woman.”
“Worth a try,” Nick said. Their boots pounded the wooden sidewalk as they passed the sheriff’s office, only about six storefronts from the casino. “Didn’t know the sheriff had an office here.”
“Oh, yes. They need it. It’s even has a two-cell jail in the back. The sheriff keeps a couple of deputies on duty for when there’s trouble at the Palace, which happens a lot. Men get tanked up on hard liquor and start fights. If they think they’ve been cheated, they go plumb berserk.”
Nick’s gaze scanned a brightly displayed dress shop. “Guess the junction has something for the ladies, too.”
Sara Jane looked up into his eyes and felt a connection so strong that, against her best interests, she wished he would hold her hand. “The shopping is handy if there’s any money left. The local women hate having their men lose their paychecks to gambling and cavorting with Leila’s girls.”
Nick glanced at the two dozen horses tied to the railing in front of Leila’s place. “Looks like Leila is right about the bright lights attracting customers.”
Sara Jane had seen a tour bus parked in the dirt lot. The three-story purple monstrosity drew hordes of men, those working on the ranches and those visiting the nearby dude ranch. Sara Jane laughed. “It’s the weekend after pay day. But even on weekdays they don’t hurt for business. Mom says lust and greed keep men coming back.” Sara Jane shook her head. “Imagine the good that could be done with all that money.”
“You don’t like this town much, do you?”
“It has its pluses and minuses. But Leila’s place is bad for families.”
Nick opened his mouth to respond, but as they entered the cool gambling hall an earsplitting ringing announced that someone had hit a jackpot. People pushed past. Nick grabbed Sara Jane’s hand and held it tightly. “We have to stay together.”
She smiled and nodded.
They passed long gaming tables where tense, red-eyed gamblers watched a ball teasing in and out of spinning numbers. The gambling hall and restaurant, gaudy with gold velvet wallpaper, covered the bottom floor. Sara Jane leaned close to Nick and raised her voice slightly. “One of our men said that the bordello upstairs takes up two floors, each with its own sitting room and at least ten exotic bedrooms.” Sara Jane wondered what one of those looked like. “Ever see an exotic bedroom, Nick?”
He shot a hard look at her, and then, rather than answer, stopped a passing cocktail waitress. “Where will we find Lady Leila?”
The long-legged carrot-top gestured with her head toward a caged area. “She has an office behind the cashier. No one is allowed to enter, but if you press the red button on the counter, she’ll come out.”
After about five minutes the brassy blonde madam appeared wearing a long, green velvet gown and gobs of gold jewelry. She was about forty-five with a full figure and shrewd eyes that looked Nick up and down. “You a lawman, honey?” she asked, patting her upswept crown of curls.
“I work for Matt Ryan. Found a dead woman on our spread. Wondered if you had any missing girls? Maybe a brunette built like my girlfriend.” He snaked an arm around Sara Jane’s waist and gave her a little hug. Her breath caught in surprise, and her skin tingled with awareness. She tugged against his hold, but he held her tightly. Heat radiated between them, and Sara Jane wished the feigned affection wasn’t just for show, and that he was a rancher—not an FBI man.
Leila sized Sara Jane up as though inspecting a prospective whore. “I hired a girl about two weeks ago who might look a bit like this pretty lil’ heifer. Called herself Kitty, she did. Worked about ten days then disappeared without pickin’ up her pay.”
Leila was still eyeing Sara Jane, making her shift under the scrutiny.
Nick drew her closer. “Do you have a list of Kitty’s customers?”
Leila let out a boisterous laugh. “No lists, no records. We don’t kiss and tell here at Leila’s.”
Sara Jane cleared her dr
y throat. “Can you at least say if anyone from the Ryan spread ever visited your girls?”
“It would be easier to say who didn’t. Our place is popular with the Ryan cowpokes.”
Van Verdugo’s name popped into Sara Jane’s mind. She would have loved for the picture in the locket to be someone like him rather than Uncle Luke or Erik.
Sara Jane asked a couple more questions, trying to pin Leila down, but found that pressing the shrewd madam was useless. After leaving Leila, they wandered through the casino.
“That was a waste of time,” Nick said. “Now what?”
An image of the words on Sara Jane’s mirror flashed in her mind. Her life and maybe even her uncle’s and cousin’s lives might depend upon her answer. Sara Jane spied a wide stairway. “We have to get upstairs.” Her surge of excitement fed on itself. “If we can trick one of the girls into telling us something…”
A muscle flexed along the tense line of Nick’s jaw. “Are you crazy? No one goes up there except horny men.”
“Then I’ll be a welcome change.” Sara Jane pulled away from him and before Nick could stop her, she ran up the stairway.
“Sara Jane,” he called.
She kept going, hoping she wouldn’t come to regret it. At the top of the stairs, a mammoth muscled cowboy with a bald head and the sleeves torn from his western shirt blocked her way. She faked to the left and charged by him on the right. Sara Jane saw flashes of walls covered with gold and velvet. An open door led to a dimly lit bedroom swathed in red silk.
Sara Jane knew Nick would try to follow her. But the big guy would stop him. The scuffle between the men might give her time to talk to one of the girls. But she was wrong. The big guy came after her. Before she could find a bedroom or sitting room with one of the girls inside, he caught her by the waist. She pounded him with her fists and pulled free. He grabbed again, this time catching her by the arm. He spun her around, shifted his hold to grasp her under the arms, and lifted her from her feet until their faces were only inches part.
