“And you wanted to do something.”
“Obviously, so did you.” She stared at him, appreciating him for the wonderful compassionate man he was. No rough-and-tumble alpha male here, charging around. Just…Nick, the guy who got the job done and cooked like no other.
“Where do we go from here, Dix?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Because I don’t know how to make whatever is going on between us work. I can’t ask you to stay here. Working at the Whistle Stop isn’t the big newspaper job you always wanted. Even if you broadened the base and united the other newspapers in the surrounding areas so the news included more towns, it would still be a very small-town newspaper.”
“Guess this means you’re not following me to who-knows-where.”
“I hate who-knows-where.”
“I’ll be back and visit. You can make me ziti and I’ll love it.”
He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Sure. It’s a deal. But now we have tonight, all night, unless you’re hell-bent on disrupting your sister and Wes.”
“She’d so wring my neck. You’re stuck with me, Nick Romero.”
“I want longer, Dixie girl. A lot longer. But until I figure out how to make that happen, I’ll settle for us together one night at a time.”
Chapter Ten
Nick stood in the middle of his kitchen and listened to a radio station in Billings that broadcast sports talk shows. With all the voices and chatter coming from this channel, it would sound like a poker game going on tonight even if there wasn’t one.
He puffed on a cigar, trying to enjoy the experience, then studied the glowing tip and frowned. No, nothing had changed from the last time he’d given cigars a whirl while on that job in Miami. He still hated cigars. The back door opened and he puffed the cigar again. If it was Dixie, he didn’t want her hanging around. The smoke and odor would drive her out in record time. He almost left himself. He plastered a smile of enjoyment on his face as his stomach rolled.
“What the hell are you doing?” Wes asked as he came in the door.
Nick dropped the smile. “Getting real sick.” He took another drag. “I can’t do this. You’re my partner. It’s your job to stink up the place.”
Wes frowned. “You’re a little green there, buddy.”
Nick waved the cigar over the kitchen table, strewn with cards, empty beer bottles, chips and half-eaten dip and sandwiches. “Dixie is the soul of nosy. Her dropping by because she or BJ or Maggie can’t get one of us on our cells is a big possibility. This place has to look like we’ve been here and maybe stepped out, or she’ll get suspicious and go snooping the way she always does. It’s just a matter of time before she connects me to the smugglers and puts me on the law-enforcement side of this job, since I didn’t fit on the smuggling side. If that happens, she’ll never let me out of her sight, thinking I can lead her to her story.”
He took one more drag and snuffed out the gross-tasting stogie. “When I have my restaurant, there will be no smoking of any kind anywhere.”
“And where is that going to be? Seems to me the Bend is a regular haven for the ex-macho types. Jack’s doing okay and you know he made his share of enemies in Chicago. Flynn’s been watching soldiers’ backs for almost twenty years and is ready to retire, and I’ll be here. I figured we could kind of look out for one another. Maybe you should consider staying.”
“Three Musketeers style.”
“It can be four…or more.”
Nick studied him. “That means you’ve decided to stay?”
“I’m going to get Gracie to take me if I have to wait till doomsday and woo her with every flower and box of chocolates west of the Mississippi. Her kids are great. Never been around kids much. I regret that. Maybe this is my second chance. I’m sure going to try.”
Footsteps sounded in the front room. Jack, Flynn and another guy about their age crowded into the kitchen. Jack nodded at the table. “Good cover, but we won’t need it. The women are hanging out at Maggie’s tonight, eating chocolate cake, saving none for us, and planning our wedding.”
Flynn slapped him on the back. “Think elopement.”
“Did that the first time and Maggie’s not going to let me get away with it again. She’s inviting the whole damn town. I got her talked out of me wearing a freaking tux. That’s the best break I got.”
A soft grin parted his face. “But she sure is worth all this hassle. And before I get too sappy—” he nodded at the man beside him with the week’s growth of beard, flannel shirt, beat-up cowboy hat, leather vest and piercing blue eyes “—this is Sam Maxwell, Whistlers Bend’s answer to Indiana Jones and then some. He owns and operates Adventures Unlimited, that big log cabin Flynn’s brothers are building up in the mountains.”
Sam nodded and Jack continued. “Roy’s picked up some kind of flu bug, and Sam here’s going to take his place. He knows these mountains the way he knows his name.”
Sam shook hands with Wes and Nick. A grip like that suggested Sam Maxwell didn’t push a pencil for a living; that was for damn sure. “Thanks for helping out,” Nick said.
“Don’t need smugglers giving the Bend and the mountains a bad name,” Sam said. “My customers come to hike, fish, kayak, canoe, camp out and get away from city crime, and here it is on my doorstep.” He rubbed his hand over his beard. “I just got back with a group doing two weeks of canoing and hiking. That’s why I look like hell.”
Jack spread the map over the cards and poker chips. He pointed to the circles he’d drawn two days earlier. “Nick, you cover the area between the old depot and the south road. That’s where Danny’s Delight is. You’ve been over that area before. Wes, you take the roads off the expressways. That way you won’t get lost in the mountains and can keep us posted if you see the trucks heading our way. Sam covers the places around his cabin, down to the expressways, and Flynn and I will take the middle sections.”
Nick opened a backpack and pulled out six cell phones an agent from Billings had dropped off earlier. “These are satellite. Our numbers are taped to the back. No one takes these guys alone. There were five the one time I crossed their path, and it’s a good bet they’re armed. We all meet up, surround them and surprise the hell out of them. They don’t have a chance to get to their weapons. Any questions?”
Flynn shrugged and gave a crooked smile. “No jackets with FBI across the back? No army of a hundred? That’s the usual FBI way, right?”
Wes laughed. “Bells and whistles, except tonight. We’re keeping this low-profile so as not to tip off the source of the smuggling. We get these guys and cut a deal where they rat out their contacts, and we go nail them. We keep it up till we snag the big dogs.”
“Here’s another question,” Jack groused as he crunched a pretzel he’d snagged from an open bag on the table. “When do I get more of this Italian food? I’m starved. Maggie spent all day baking that chocolate cake. I licked the damn spoon and did the dishes.”
Nick chuckled. “I’ll cook for your wedding. How’s that?”
Jack nodded. “You’re on.” He handed Nick and Wes maps, and they all took their phones. “We’ll leave one at a time,” Jack added. “So it doesn’t look like a damn Easter parade marching out of here. Even if it’s night, someone around here’s always watching.”
Jack left, then Wes, followed by Sam and Flynn. Out of habit, Nick checked his pocket for his SIG 226 as he closed the restaurant door behind him. His shotgun was already in the truck under the seat; another gun was laced to his ankle. He hadn’t carried a weapon all the while in the Bend and he’d felt kind of naked. Then he thought about when he really was naked and who he was naked with. Dixie—all warm and soft and making love sounds—sure beat the hell out of the night ahead of him. Later, maybe he’d catch up with her.
Dixie was something else, had her nose into everything, and he was damn glad she was eating chocolate cake with Maggie, BJ and the baby. ’Course, there’d be hell to pay when she found out he hadn’t played poker and had gone after the sm
ugglers without her, but that was just one more deception to add to a really, really long list.
MAGGIE CUT another piece of cake for Dixie as BJ said, “Thought you were going on a diet.”
“I’m trying. I had cereal for breakfast. I’ve got a working night ahead of me. Got to keep up my strength. And I’m drinking a diet cola.” She held it up to prove her point. “What more do you want from me?”
“How about twenty pounds?” BJ countered.
“I think Jack bought our little woman’s night out,” Maggie said. She sat down beside BJ. “He’s not going to be happy when he finds out the truth.” She turned to Dixie. “Nick will probably bust a gut when he hears about you going off into the mountains alone.”
“This is not a problem,” Dixie said as she swiped crumbs from her mouth and congratulated herself on not cutting a third piece of cake. “You didn’t lie. None of us did. This is a woman’s night out, and we are eating the cake like we said. I’m simply leaving a little early and going home by way of some mountain roads.”
“If you think Nick’s going to fall for that line of bull,” Maggie said, “you live in a dream world. He may be the mild-mannered man about town, but I’m sure even he gets upset sometimes, and I bet this is going to be one of those times. If you happen to see Andy, though, let me know. My hands and I are going out tomorrow to round him up. I’ve bought every Peep in three towns to get the job done. I’ve got to get him if Dan Pruitt and I are going to increase our number of beefalo. That boy’s going to work overtime to service all those females waiting impatiently for him.”
BJ fed Angela the last of her bottle. “Sounds like every male’s dream job.”
Dixie laughed and said, “Speaking of males and their dreams…I wonder if Danny and Charity are still at the chalet.”
Maggie glanced her way, eyes wide. “I didn’t know they were at the chalet. Weren’t you and Nick there? Gee, that must have been cozy.”
“Actually, it was…revealing. Danny’s a jerk, and I really get that now, and Nick isn’t, and I get that, too. He cooked breakfast for us.”
“The man’s a saint,” BJ said. “I loved that article you did on him panning for gold and the bear sneaking up on him. The pictures were priceless. Everyone in town laughed and so did Nick. No big ego in the way. The man’s comfortable with who he is.”
“What are you going to do about Mr. Romero?” Maggie added. “Up and leave the best guy who ever entered your life?”
“You’re saying that because you don’t want me to go.”
“There is that. But it is true.”
Dixie pushed the cake around her plate, suddenly not hungry. “So, what about my dream job?”
“What about your dream man?” BJ offered. “He’s the prefect complement to you. You’re a loose cannon and he’s a homebody. Cooks, putters with rehabbing, buys his grandmother nice gifts, and not an aggressive bone in his entire gorgeous, generous body. He’s just what you need. Sedate, responsible, honest, trustworthy, dependable.”
“Sounds like a Boy Scout,” Dixie huffed.
“Bet you don’t think boy after the lights go out,” Maggie said.
“All right, all right.” Dixie threw up her hands. “I get the point. I love you all, too.”
“But do you love Nick?” BJ asked. “That is the real question here, isn’t it?”
Did she? If she loved him, really loved him, she wouldn’t leave him and run off. Then again, if he loved her, wouldn’t he follow her? Except, he hated the big city, for whatever reason. She didn’t hate Whistlers Bend; she just wanted to follow her heart. Was Nick her heart?
Maggie checked her watch. “You better go if you want to get back by midnight.”
Dixie pulled on a black fleece and added a black baseball cap, putting it on backward and tucking her hair underneath. She did a slow turn to show the cap off. “My official snoopy reporter attire.”
“Suits you,” Maggie said. “Keeps those moonbeams off your neck…if there are any out there.” She handed her a plastic Baggie. “Peeps. If you find Andy, give him a treat.” She hugged Dixie. “Two hours and you’re back, okay? Anything longer and I’m calling Jack myself and turning you in. You’re not going to confront the smugglers—just find clues, right?”
Dixie left, got into the Camaro and headed for the back roads, bouncing over ruts till her headlights picked out the old depot. The weathered door swung lazily in the night breeze; the roof drooped a bit more in the front. “I wonder if this old place can withstand another winter,” she said to herself. She’d grown up with that depot; it had been here all her life. And now she wasn’t going to be here.
She pulled around to the rear, killed the engine and decided to walk. She wouldn’t cover as much territory, but a car was a dead giveaway. She swiped her flashlight around the area. Nothing. She’d head down toward Danny’s chalet, keeping off to the side, in the trees. That was where Nick had found the Tiffany bag. Maybe the smugglers would stop there again, or maybe they’d left something else behind.
She tripped twice and stubbed a toe once, but a dozen devoured marshmallows and an hour and a half later, she had zilch to show for her pain. What a completely wasted night. She retraced her steps to the depot, cutting through the trees to the back to save time. She climbed into the Camaro, pulled out her keys, checked her rearview mirror—and saw a strange man with a gun staring back at her. “Didn’t your mama teach you to lock your car?”
“Didn’t yours teach you not to sneak up on people?”
Oh, crap. Dixie felt her heart hit her stomach. She’d wanted to find the smugglers, but she’d had no intention of them finding her. Surprise, surprise!
“Do what I say and I’ll let you go.”
Phew. At least she was safe…sort of.
“Get out of the car and go around to the front so I can keep an eye on you while we finish up business. What the hell are you doing up here at this time of night, anyway? We saw your car and wondered where you were.”
Looking for you! She sure couldn’t say that. Instead, she went with, “Looking for a buffalo.”
She got out of the car and added, “I own a ranch nearby and am raising a new kind of herd, one sired by a buffalo.” She studied the man out of the corner of her eye as they walked in the path of his flashlight. Big flannel shirt, scruffy. Did he buy her story?
“You really expect me to believe you’re here for a buffalo?”
“They’re…nocturnal. And he escaped into the mountains. Do you know how much a buffalo costs? Lots.” She pulled a marshmallow from her pocket. “They love these things. I’ll hold the flashlight. Try some. Pretty good, especially the purple ones. Since you’re not going to shoot me, I’m willing to share.”
He took the purple bunny and she held a flashlight as they walked around the side of the depot to the front. “They’d be better stale,” he said.
“That’s what everyone says.”
Headlights from a small truck illuminated the depot and a younger man joined them. The guy with the gun said to her, “Sit down and don’t move. In twenty minutes this is all over with and you can walk home.”
“I have a car.”
“Not going to be much good to you once I shoot out the tires.”
She tsked. “Do you have to? They cost a hundred bucks a piece.”
The younger man glared at her. “You’d rather we shoot something else?”
“Good point.” What a grouch. No Peeps for him. She offered the older man another one. “All I have left is pink.”
Chewing marshmallows and keeping an eye on her, the man headed toward the truck by the trees and opened the back doors. What sounded like a larger truck approached, headlights cutting the dark. A large paneled truck followed. Three men got out and all came over to the depot. They stood gazing down at her.
Dixie opened the bag. “Peep anyone?”
“What the hell’s this?” a man in a red parka asked. “Martha Stewart’s welcoming committee?”
The guy with
the gun said, “She was up here trying to capture a buffalo when we showed up.”
“A what?” the red-parka man growled. “Are you hitting the sauce again, Tom?”
“A buffalo. That’s what she said, I swear. Did you know buffalo are nocturnal?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Dixie added. Though she made up the nocturnal part. “There really is a buffalo. Andy. And I was out searching for him.”
Parka man shook his head. “We’ve met you—you’re that nosy waitress from the Purple Sage. Always asking questions and poking around. And now you’re after us. I don’t buy that buffalo story for a minute.”
He gave her a wicked laugh that made her skin crawl. “Well, chickie, you went and found us. Now what are you going to do about it?”
“And you’re one of the guys who came after Drew.” She stood and put her hands to her hips, her anger overriding her fear. “How could you scare a little boy like that?”
“Lady, you are one nosy broad. This time a little too nosy for your own good. Sit down and shut up.”
NICK FELT EVERY CELL of his body sizzle as he aimed his binoculars through the trees to Dixie. She stood in the middle of five smugglers, silhouetted in their headlights…feeding them marshmallows? He shook his head to clear his vision, because this really couldn’t be happening, could it? Hell, yes! When it came to Dixie Carmichael, anything was possible.
He could see his report now: The hostage was feeding her captors Peeps.
He hunkered down behind a rock and pressed in Jack’s number, then gave him a quick rundown of the situation. Jack’s graphic response nearly melted the phone and probably sent the satellite into another orbit. He told Nick to sit tight, that he and the rest of the guys would be there in seven minutes flat.
But there was no way Nick was staying put with Dixie in harm’s way. He sure couldn’t go in with guns drawn, but he was going in. He wasn’t about to let her face those guys alone except for a bag of marshmallows.
A Fabulous Wedding Page 14
