Own the Night

by Debbi Rawlins

  With a start, she remembered it was gone. Along with her luggage and laptop and phone. That’s why she was sitting here. She could feel the panic start to rise once more in her throat, in her chest. She lived her life on that phone, on that laptop. She barely knew anyone’s phone number because they were all on speed dial or in her contact list. She hadn’t spent twenty-four hours without access to the internet for longer than she cared to remember.

  Not to mention her clothes or her makeup—which was worth a fortune. Her night cream alone cost a hundred dollars an ounce. She let out a small, pathetic whimper that surprised both of them.

  The sheriff jerked his head up. “You all right?” He pushed away from his desk and got to his feet, his concerned gaze staying on her as he moved to a well-used coffeepot sitting on a metal filing cabinet. “I should’ve offered you something to drink. Water, coffee?”

  What she needed was a good belt of Scotch. She wondered if he had a bottle stashed in his desk, because she sure didn’t have cash to buy herself a drink. “Water,” she said, nodding. “I could use some water.”

  She stared down at her watch. It was too late in New York to call her bank and have money wired. Pam had left yesterday for Europe, so she’d be no help. But it would be all right. Yes, it was an emergency, but Alana was good in emergencies. She had her reservation at the Sundance, which took care of a room and meals. They had her credit card information as a guarantee, since Alana had known she’d be late, after having missed her flight last night….

  “Here you go.”

  The nearness of his voice startled her. She looked up and found him standing next to her, a bottle of water in his hand. He was really tall, well over six feet. She’d noticed when she first entered the office, which was something, considering her state of mind. She managed a smile and accepted the water, trying out one of those deep breathing tricks Pam was always hounding her about. The one that was supposed to calm her body. “Thank you.”

  He swung back around his desk, and she quickly inspected his ass as he pulled out his chair. Impressive. Before he caught her ogling him, she concentrated on uncapping the bottle, then tilting it to her lips. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she’d gulped down half the contents.

  She used her fingertip to dab at the corner of her damp mouth, then met his eyes. Wow, the man was intense. The way he studied her was beginning to make her nervous. It seemed out of place. She’d have expected that intensity in Manhattan, but not ten miles north of nowhere.

  His phone rang and he finally looked away, to answer the call. “Sheriff Calder,” he said into the receiver, his gaze coming back to her, briefly skimming the front of her blouse and then resting on something over her left shoulder. “Anything?” he asked the caller. “Right.” His brows puckered in a slight frown as he listened, and then he leaned way back in his chair, his hand behind his head, making his biceps bunch again.

  Alana didn’t care if he knew she was staring at him. Once she told him what she did for a living he’d understand that her interest was purely professional. Anyway, a man like him had to be used to the stares. So far, with his strong, square jaw and sexy eyes, his wide shoulders, broad chest and flat belly, she hadn’t found a single flaw. The search was the only thing that was keeping her halfway sane.

  It was a bit annoying, really. Unnerving, too, because he wasn’t even her type. He lacked the polished sophistication that normally attracted her. Or if a man could get a reservation at Per Se on a Saturday night, that went a long way in piquing her interest.

  All that crap aside, she’d do the sexy sheriff in a New York minute.

  “What about Gunderson?” he asked the caller, and her gaze shot up to his face. He was watching her again, his eyes probing hers. “Okay. Check back.”

  “Was that about me?” she asked before he replaced the receiver. “Was anything recovered?”

  He shook his head. “That was Deputy Tisdale who called earlier. He’s been talking to the boys who were standing outside the Watering Hole. None of them saw anything.”

  She slumped back. At least Sheriff Calder took this seriously enough to have his deputy on the scene. “That seems impossible. How many people are walking around town rolling a big suitcase behind them?”

  He raised his eyebrows, his dubious expression and head tilt difficult to interpret. It couldn’t be that he didn’t believe her…. Could it?

  Alana straightened. “You can’t possibly think I’m making this up.”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “Why?” She threw up her hands. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “No need to get upset.” He reached for the phone again. “You have family you want to call?”

  “Oh, God, no.” She waved him off. “I remember something else—a loud noise came from the bar, like glass shattering. And there was an alley close to where I was talking to Mr. Gunderson… Did your deputy question him?”

  “He hasn’t been located yet.” The sheriff slowly moved his hand away from the receiver. “What about this noise?”

  “It sounded as if a waitress might have dropped a tray, and everyone turned to look toward the door. That’s when someone could’ve grabbed my suitcase.”

  “By alley, you’re referring to that narrow walkway between Sadie’s and the bank?”

  “I don’t recall what was next door, but it led to a parking lot.”

  Nodding vaguely, he jotted something down at the bottom of the report.

  Alana watched him, the enormity of her situation once again sinking in until she could barely breathe. She had no ID to travel, no money, not even a toothbrush, or a flat iron to straighten her hair. At least she had a place to sleep, she reminded herself before panic could take over. And she had her Rolex for collateral, though she imagined a place like the Sundance would cut her a break. Surely they’d help her arrange for toiletries or clothes or whatever else she needed until she could repay them.

  “You know the people who run the Sundance, right?”

  The sheriff looked up. “The McAllisters.” He nodded. “Good folks.”

  “I was hoping…” She bit her lip. This was new territory for her. She wasn’t in the habit of asking for help, or needing anyone. “I’m going to have to ask them for some assistance.”

  His eyes narrowed, the sudden distrust on his face quite insulting. “Such as?”

  Alana cleared her throat. “I don’t even have a damn toothbrush.”

  “Ah. I can help out with that.”

  “Well, I’ll need a few more things than a toothbrush and toothpaste. Look, I’d like to call the Sundance.” She reached for the phone. “You mind?”

  He hesitated, then lifted the receiver and punched in a number. When it became obvious he was going to play facilitator, she leaned back, more than a little miffed. She hated being at other people’s mercy.

  She hadn’t realized she’d sighed out loud until she met his probing gaze. He was wasting his time in this small town, she decided. With that cool, stoic stare he’d make an excellent big-city detective.

  “Hey, Rachel,” he said into the receiver, and his expression was suddenly transformed. Jesus, he was even better-looking when his features relaxed. “No, haven’t seen him.” He leaned back in his chair again and went into what she now considered his telephone pose—one hand behind his head, biceps bulging, his broad chest tapering to his narrow waist. “Was he planning to stop by?”

  That he was making small talk instead of focusing on her problem took a few seconds to register. Irritation broke through her admiration, and Alana sat up straight, tall and pissed. He seemed to get the drift, but instead of getting down to business, he held up his hand as he continued to chit-chat with the woman. Maybe Rachel was his girlfriend.

  Finally, after a few more moments, Alana noisily cleared her throat.

  Sheriff Calder’s gaze touched on her face, then slid past her without hesitation.

  Good-looking, yes, but he sure could be annoying.

&nb
sp; “I’ll be on the lookout for him,” he said lazily. “Look, Rach, I got a small problem here with one of your guests. What? No.” His attention shot back to the window and his eyes narrowed in frustration. “But I’m warning you, that crap has to stop. Those gals…” He clamped his mouth shut as he resettled himself behind his desk and picked up the report.

  Alana didn’t try to hide her smile. She thought she saw a trace of color underscore his tanned skin, and suspected she knew what that part of the conversation was about. So the sheriff wasn’t impressed with his fan club.

  He focused on the piece of paper in front of him. “Alana Richardson. She hasn’t checked in yet, but—” He frowned at Alana, repeated her name into the receiver, then fell silent.

  She leaned forward. “What?”

  “There’s no reservation under that name.”

  “Yes, there is. I made it yesterday. I have a confirmation number right here…” No, she didn’t. She had no purse, no nothing. “Dammit.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and held out her hand. “May I speak with her?”

  He listened intently for a minute, now holding up one finger instead of his hand, his impassive gaze flickering over her face. “She remembers now. You made a reservation for two, but that was for yesterday. You didn’t show up so she sold the room to someone else.”

  “Because I missed my flight. But I gave her a credit card to guarantee the reservation.” This was a nightmare. A complete and utter nightmare.

  He held his palm over the phone. “Where’s your companion?”

  “What companion?”

  “You booked the reservation for two.”

  “No, I didn’t. She has me confused with someone else. I came alone. I’d like to talk to her.” Alana still had her hand out, and through gritted teeth, added, “Please.”

  “That’s okay,” he said to Rachel. “I’ll take care of it. I’m sure.”

  Alana watched him hang up the phone, her temper near boiling. “I asked to speak with her.”

  “I’m sorry, in the middle of the conversation something came up on her end. But she told me that she’s completely booked. She has no rooms at all.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Sleep in the alley?”

  He smiled. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

  “You think this is funny, Sheriff?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t.” He didn’t seem the slightest bit chastened as he pushed away from the desk and started to stand. But the office door opened, and he stayed right where he was.

  Alana turned to see who’d just wiped the faint smirk off his face. Two of the blondes she’d seen earlier walked in, very perky blondes in their early twenties. They were certainly full of smiles for the sheriff.

  No cheery welcome from him, Alana noticed when she turned back to follow his reaction.

  His mouth was a narrow line, thin and unsmiling. “Yes, ladies, what can I do for you?”

  “We were hoping you’d be getting off work about now,” one of them said. “Doesn’t Roy or Gus have the second shift?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’m still on duty.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “When do you get off, Noah?”

  His gaze flickered to Alana, who wouldn’t give up her front-row seat for anything. She didn’t even turn to check out the woman who was talking. Much more informative to watch him trying not to squirm. Oh, he was good at hiding his reaction, but Alana had no doubt he was not happy with the attention.

  “Is there sheriff’s business I can help you with, ma’am?” he asked evenly, getting up and grabbing his hat off the scarred wooden table that seemed to serve as a credenza.

  “I told you already, you can call me Cindy,” she said with a hint of frustration in her voice.

  Alana pressed her lips together and watched him lazily set the Stetson on his head. She was pretty sure his actions were meant as a dismissal, but the way he looked settling that cowboy hat on his head was not going to get any woman with a pulse to turn around and leave.

  While his attention was directed elsewhere, Alana studied his fancy belt buckle and wondered if he’d won it in a rodeo competition. That would make him very popular in the New York print market. She could see him as the face of one of Ralph Lauren’s colognes. She knew next to nothing about real rodeos or cowboys, only what she’d gleaned from movies she’d watched as a kid. These days, who had time for movies? Certainly not her, though she knew how to appreciate a fine male specimen. But then, that was a trait learned over years of dealing with models and actors. Alana was highly aware that the package had little to do with the contents.

  And his package was exceptional. The way the worn denim caressed his lean hips and hard-looking thighs brought her back to the idea that he’d spent considerable time sitting astride a horse. She’d like to see that, she decided—him riding a large, powerful stallion. She didn’t have the faintest idea why the image suddenly appealed to her. The whole fleeting fantasy of a hot vacation fling was crazy.

  She should be furious with the man for his attitude, his cavalier approach to the theft. The last thing on her mind should be his physique or his discomfort over the attention. And what the hell had happened to her reservation? This whole trip was the worst idea in the history of ideas, and all Alana wanted was to get back on a plane and go home.

  But first, she needed her purse and her luggage, because without her ID, she wasn’t going anywhere. “Can we finish this?” she asked, her patience thinning as he strolled past her toward the other two women.

  He went to the door, opened it. “Ladies, if there’s nothing else, I have business to attend to.”

  The blondes exchanged defeated glances. “If you change your mind we’ll be at the Watering Hole,” Cindy said and led her disappointed friend outside.

  He gave Alana a dry look as he returned to his desk and pulled out his middle drawer.

  “I read the reviews for the Sundance,” she said, knowing it would bother him. “You’re quite popular.”

  He concentrated on whatever he was looking for, but she could see irritation deepen into brackets at the corners of his mouth. “Ready?”

  She sprang up. “Where are we going?”

  “To get you settled in.”

  “Thank you,” she said, heading for the door, and feeling no guilt for having baited him. He had all the power, and that wasn’t something she could easily accept. She’d needed to even things up a bit. Show him she could be indifferent to his charms and that she wasn’t a helpless victim. “I appreciate this, and I’ll certainly reimburse your office for any costs—”

  “Not that way.”

  She hesitated, turned, her gaze darting to the key he held in his hand.

  He motioned with his chin toward the back of the office, where a short hall led to another door. A bathroom? Not that she couldn’t use one about now, but she’d prefer to purchase some toiletries first. Or more likely, his truck was parked out back….

  Alana pulled her blazer more snugly around herself, mostly because she needed something to do with her hands. She was used to carrying a purse or her phone, and she couldn’t shake the odd feeling of having nothing to hold on to.

  The sheriff gestured for her to precede him down the hall. It was a small space and she had to squeeze by him. Her arm brushed his chest, and her hip touched God-knew-what, but the brief contact was enough to quicken her pulse, which was unnerving for a number of reasons. Her appraisal of the sheriff had been strictly professional.

  She grabbed the doorknob, couldn’t budge it, then felt him reach around her.

  “It’s not locked,” he said, his face so close that his warm breath tickled her ear. “It just sticks.” He jiggled the knob, then pushed the door open.

  For a long, absurd moment she hesitated. He’d lightly touched the small of her back, or at least she thought she felt the pressure of his hand, and she had a bit of trouble maintaining her balance. Probably dehydrated, she reasoned, or weak from
hunger. Had she eaten today? Nope, just black coffee on the plane. With as much traveling as she’d done one would think she wouldn’t still have a nervous stomach every time she flew.

  “Ms. Richardson?”

  “What?” Startled, she turned too quickly and had to hold on to the wall for support.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  This time there was no doubt that he’d pressed a palm to her back. “Look at me,” he said, catching her chin and bringing her face around to his. Eyes shaded with concern, he looked deep into hers before moving on to study her face. “You look pale.”

  “It’s nothing.” She jerked her chin away. “I’ve had a long day. It’s not easy getting from New York to Montana at the last minute.”

  “You were in a hurry?” He didn’t look concerned now, just appeared oddly invested in her answer.

  “I suppose you could say that.” She smiled wryly, wondering how her mother had reacted to the cryptic message she had left her. Alana had even gone so far as to tell her housekeeper and doorman she’d be in the Caribbean in case her mother contacted them. Eleanor would be at wit’s end by now, analyzing how she’d lost control of her daughter. “I’d prefer you call me Alana.”

  “All right.” His mouth curved slightly. “Noah is okay with me.”

  His stare was surprisingly captivating, and she forced herself to turn away before she made a fool of herself. God forbid she start acting like one of his groupies. She pushed the door open the rest of the way. Three steps over the threshold, she froze.

  The entire room consisted of two jail cells, each one furnished with nothing more than a cot and a toilet.

  4

  WHEN SHE WOULDN’T MOVE, NOAH sidestepped her and unlocked the cell with the small barred window and the newer cot. He did feel a twinge of guilt for coldcocking her. For one thing, she might be innocent, a tourist in the wrong place at the wrong time, just as she’d claimed. If that proved to be the case, he’d still feel bad for the McAllisters. Rachel had worked hard to build the dude ranch business, and if news of this incident got out, people might not be so anxious to come to Blackfoot Falls.