by Cheryl Biggs
She moved back into the shadows beneath the announcer’s booth.
Shane bent and whispered something in the woman’s ear.
She laughed and, drawing back from him, playfully slapped his shoulder.
“Are you sure Tim’s okay?” the woman asked.
“Yeah. The only reason he’s in the med trailer at all is because he’s got the red hots for the nurse on duty,” Shane said.
“Well, you shouldn’t have ridden, you know. Not after what happened this afternoon. The doctors told you to take it easy.”
“Yeah, well, if I can get an eighty-eight with my head pounding like it is, maybe you should just knock me alongside the temples with a hammer before each ride, huh?”
They laughed again and Shane slid an arm around her waist. “Come on, beautiful, I need to sit down.” The two turned and walked toward the parking lot, where Kate knew Shane’s trailer was parked.
Jealousy, hot and consuming, burned through Kate. She had no right to feel that way, she knew, but at the moment she didn’t really care.
The rest of the evening passed in agonizing slowness for Kate as she tried to function, but everything proved extremely difficult with her thoughts centered on Shane, who hadn’t returned to the arena after leaving with the petite brunette barrel racer.
Kate rode in her event, but not very well, her concentration so scattered she didn’t tuck her foot and accidentally knocked over a barrel.
She met people whose names she forgot almost the moment they said them, walked through the carnival and craft booth areas looking for anything or anyone suspicious, and ended up seeing everything and comprehending nothing.
She was on her way back to stall Dancer for the night when the woman she’d seen leave with Shane earlier rode past on a large, flashy quarter horse. Tying Dancer to the hitching rack next to the Snack Shack, Kate hurried to the rails, just in time to hear the announcer introduce the next rider as Dee Brant.
The words were barely out of his mouth when the flag went down and horse and rider broke into the arena.
Dee was as small as her horse was large, and when they broke into the arena it was obvious to all that they were out to win. The chestnut-and-white horse was like a blur of color as he skirted each barrel, while his rider’s orange sequin-trimmed shirt reflected the overhead arena lights in a dazzling display of color, and her dark hair flew out behind her from beneath a snow-white hat.
Kate turned away, feeling unreasonably dejected, and walked back to retrieve Dancer. An hour later, after brushing down her horse, muttering several curses against her boss, and reminding herself at least a thousand times that she was only at the rodeo on assignment, she was still a cop, she had a case to work, there was nothing between her and Shane anymore, and never could be, she felt no better. In fact, if possible, she felt worse.
She wanted to go home, pack a bag, and ride out into the mountains. Just disappear from society for a few days. Maybe even from herself. Instead, she went to Jim Hodges’s office. With his help, she soon had the grip rope that had broken during Tim’s ride, and a scraping of the pink paint used on the bull Shane had ridden.
Kate left the fairgrounds, drove downtown to the station and went directly to the lab. No one was there, which was fine. For what she wanted to do, she didn’t need anyone. She slid onto a chair, placed the rope under a microscope, and began examining it. Ten minutes later she looked up, rubbed the back of her neck, then rose and began to pace the room. It was the same as the rope that had broken while Shane was calf roping. At a casual glance it appeared frayed, but a closer look showed it had been cut.
Kate paused and stared at the rope. This time there was a difference: Tim could have been killed. A deep frown cut into her forehead as a dozen possible scenarios took form. Was Shane the real target and all the other incidents merely intended to throw everyone’s suspicions off? Or had he just been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time more often than anyone else? Doubts about their saboteur’s intentions, and target, had crowded their way into her thoughts when she’d seen Tim’s rope snap apart. He’d only had the wind knocked out of him, but he could just as easily be dead.
She banged a fist down on the lab table. If she didn’t find something soon, this might turn into a murder case. A coldness crept around her heart at the thought, especially since she knew the victim could very well be Shane.
“Blast it all,” she snapped, her voice echoing off the tiled walls, “who’s doing this? And why?”
Silence was her only answer.
Scribbling a note to the lab tech to run some tests on the paint scraping, she left it on his table.
Shane stretched out on his bed, sighing as his body relaxed into the mattress.
“You okay?” Dee asked, handing him an icebag for his head.
“Yeah, just dandy,” Shane quipped. “My horse was nearly asphyxiated by smoke, my truck is now sitting in a junkyard, and my head is throbbing.” And Kate Morgan is in love with somebody else, he added silently.
“And you just rode one heck of a ride,” she reminded him softly.
Shane grinned from beneath the icebag pressed to his forehead. “Yeah, I guess I did, huh?”
“You shouldn’t have though. The doctor said you could have a mild concussion.”
“Nothing I haven’t had before, only worse,” Shane said. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“I love you, you know, you pigheaded galoot.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “You want something?”
“Can’t I tell you I love you,” she said, sounding indignant, “without you thinking I want something from you?”
He smiled and let his eyes drift closed again. “Sorry. I love you too, sweetheart.”
“So, what are you going to do about the truck? You can’t exactly pull this trailer with your teeth.”
“I ordered one from a local dealership after I got back here earlier. They’re supposed to deliver it first thing in the morning.”
“You want me to stick around for a while tonight, in case you need anything else? I saw Cody disappearing with one of the other barrel racers, so I doubt you’ll see him before morning.”
Shane smiled and, looking up now, grabbed her hand. “No. Go on and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?” Dee said, worry in her eyes.
“I’m sure,” Shane echoed, figuring it was true, he would be fine, as long as he didn’t dream about Kate. “Now go on. You need your rest as much as I do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She laughed. “Right I’m not the one who wrapped my pickup around a pole, then rode a ton of bull a few hours later, remember?”
“I’m trying not to,” Shane mumbled. “Now, good night.”
Moonlight danced in her eyes, and touched her hair, transforming each strand to flame. Desire sped through his veins like a wild fire leaping across a dry Kansas meadow. It burned his blood, scorched his flesh from the inside out, and filled him with a need that refused to be ignored. She was everything he’d ever wanted...the incarnation of every fantasy he’d ever had...the dream lover who lived within his passion...the enchantress that could tease his senses beyond reason...soothe his scarred soul, and make him whole.
She reached up and touched his face with her fingertips, a light touch that sent a shiver of want coursing through him.
Passion filled them both and infused the room like an erotic, and translucent veil that clouded their senses.
Shane dragged her into his arms and crushed her body to his. “It’s been too long,” he whispered softly, his lips moving against her hair.
“Shane,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck. “Love me.”
His name on her lips, her plea for him to love her was a pull on his heart he couldn’t, and had no wish to, resist. It was what he’d longed to hear for more days than he could remember. She was all that mattered.
Shane’s mouth covered hers, and a new, devastating hunger flared dee
p within him.
She kissed him back, ravishing his mouth as he did hers, taking from him as much as she gave, as much as he demanded.
Hot waves of need ripped through Shane, slashed at his gut, flowed through his veins. His hands moved to her bare breasts.
“Shane.”
He woke up with a start, bolting to a sitting position, looked around, then groaned and flopped back down on the bed. Would his dreams of her never give him any peace?
“Shane, dammit,” Cody yelled. “Open the door.” He rattled the knob. “I forgot my key.”
The next afternoon Kate stopped by police headquarters to examine the lab results. The technician’s work had been unproductive. She had hoped for at least a few fingerprints around the scene of the fire, or on the leather section of Tim’s broken grip rope, but there had been so many prints on the walls of the burnt and adjoining stalls and gates that nothing could be determined. Especially since most were smudged beyond any possibility of identification. And it had proven the same for the grip rope. The spray paint used on the bull was a common brand sold in any number of hardware, variety or hobby stores.
She was right back to where she’d started, which was nowhere.
With a sigh, Kate walked into the officers’ lounge and poured herself a cup of coffee. Her mind flipped through her suspects again. Could she be wrong? Could it be someone not connected with the rodeo? An outsider? She walked back to her desk and sunk into her chair. If she didn’t get a lead soon, Aames was going to start figuring her detection skills were at about minus zero.
“You had a call.”
Kate looked up to see the department secretary standing beside her desk and holding out a pink message slip. She took it and looked at the caller’s name. Jim Hodges.
“And this came in,” the woman said, handing her several files.
Kate took them and quickly glanced at the file’s label. It was the information she’d requested from Oklahoma. She thanked the secretary and hurriedly flipped through the file’s contents. There wasn’t really much beyond what Hodges had already told her. They’d had no real suspect. The only difference was their main victim. She set the folder aside and, checking the message slip, picked up the phone, noting that Hodges had called from the Rodeo Association’s office in town, not from his trailer at the arena. “What’s up?” she said, when he answered a moment later.
“Shane Larrabee.”
Kate instantly tensed and waited for him to continue, fear sweeping over her.
“He was practicing his steer roping and someone evidently let one of the damned bulls loose in the arena while he was out there.”
The breath in Kate’s lungs momentarily stalled.
“Pretty damned nasty situation for a while, I’ll tell you. I don’t need any blood—”
Kate jumped out of her chair, swallowed hard, and fought for her voice. “Blood? He wasn’t—”
“No, he’s fine, thank heavens, just a figure of speech. Sorry. But I can’t have any more of these incidents, Morgan. These things have got to stop. They’re getting too dangerous now. Somebody’s gonna end up—”
“I know,” she said, cutting him off before he could say the one word she didn’t want to hear.
“You know?” he nearly thundered. “Great. But what are you doing about it?”
Kate shoved her paperwork into her desk as another idea came to her. “I’ll be there in a little while.” She dropped the receiver into its cradle before he could ask her anything else. She leafed through her files, found the paper she wanted, then turned to her computer and typed in the E-mail address for the headquarters of the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association in Colorado. Skip Magruder, Tim Norris and Craig Lawyler were Shane’s strongest competition, which meant they had the most reason to want him out of the way. But the same held true for Tim if his name was put at the top of the list instead of Shane’s, and Tim could also have been the one targeted in Oklahoma. Before she talked to them again, she wanted to know who else had been victims of any incidents like this in the past.
As an afterthought, remembering the report that indicated Shane and his brother co-owned some property in Colorado, she added Cody Larrabee’s name to the list. If Shane was the actual target, and the other attacks merely subterfuge, the rodeo might just be a convenient method for getting to him. It might not necessarily be the motive.
But his own brother? She hated that thought, but she couldn’t rule it out.
Two cups of coffee and twenty minutes later she got a response to her E-mail to the PRCA. None of the men she’d listed in her request had ever had any kind of problem on the circuit.
Kate sighed in momentary defeat. So much for that theory. Especially since the background checks the department had already done on the personal lives of the five men had also come up clean.
She looked again at the E-mail message. None of them had any problems in the past, but maybe two of them had a professional reason to hold a grudge against Shane.
Tim Norris had held the PRCA’s top title until Shane took it away from him two years ago. He’d also lost several big endorsements to Shane, and was lagging in points against him again this year.
Then there was Craig Lawyler. He’d come within a few points and bucks of winning the title for himself two years ago, until a bull Shane jumped off turned on him. Craig and several other cowboys had run into the arena to help, and Craig ended up with a gored thigh for his trouble. He’d lost his chance at his final ride for the title, and had spent most of the remainder of that year and part of the next laid up and recuperating.
Kate went over her notes again, but nothing new popped out at her.
She looked up at hearing someone greet the city mayor by name, and saw the man walk into Captain Aames’s office. Kate figured this was as good a time as any to leave, shoved everything into a drawer, and hurried toward the hall.
The first thing she had to do was get to Hodges and find out what the point spread was between Shane and the other men. Then she had to make nice with Tim and Craig and get them talking. If she got nothing there, she’d try talking to Skip Magruder and Cody.
But Hodges wasn’t in his office when she arrived at the fairgrounds. Kate swore softly. Why couldn’t things go the way she needed them to go, just once? She left the manager’s empty trailer and walked through the area behind the east grandstands. It was several hours before the gates would open and the rodeo would start, but behind the scenes the arena was already a bustle of activity. A vet and his assistant were checking the bulls and other stock in the pens, a half-dozen reporters milled around the publicity house, and several flag girls meandered about, their blue-and-white sequined shirts glistening against the quickly waning late afternoon sun as they tried to get the reporters’ attention. A farrier was shoeing a horse in the shadows beneath the announcers’ booth, a young boy was playing with two bedraggled mutts near the concrete rest rooms, and the smell of hot coffee drifted from the Snack Shack to blend with the smells of hay, leather, and warm mountain air.
Not seeing any of the people she wanted to talk to, Kate headed for Dancer’s stall. A short workout would get the kinks out of both of them, and still leave her plenty of time to get to the people she needed to get to before the events started.
She was so deep in thought she didn’t see Shane standing in front of the stalls brushing down Samson until she was only a few feet away.
He looked up and regarded her with what she could only describe as impassive coldness as she approached. Kate felt the hurt stab clear through her heart. But maybe it was better this way, she told herself. She forced a smile to her lips, and in spite of herself, her gaze moved over his tall, lanky form, appreciating the way the setting sun danced within the dark tendrils of his hair, and settled on the impressive breadth of his shoulders.
His eyes were as hooded as a hawk’s, his gaze as cold, his stance as aloof.
She was suddenly reminded of the way he’d looked the night he had walked out of her life. He
had the same angry look in his eyes now as he’d had then. Kate wanted to turn and run, but made herself keep walking toward him. “Pretty good ride last night,” she said, instilling a lightness into her tone that she was far from feeling. “In spite of everything.”
“Yeah.” The word was dark and sullen, and seemed almost begrudgingly given. He turned away and continued to brush Samson.
She couldn’t leave it like this between them. Her mind raced. She had to say something, anything. “So, what color bull are you riding tonight?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she’d had time to stop them, or even think about them. The very movement of her blood seemed to momentarily stop within her veins.
Kate saw his shoulders pull taut, his back stiffen, and the hand wrapped around Samson’s brush stop in mid air.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” she stammered hurriedly, damning her own stupidity and lack of control over her tongue. “I didn’t mean...”
He looked back at her. His dark eyes pierced the distance between them as a smile tugged relentlessly at the corners of his mouth.
Kate stared, the transformation startling and totally unexpected.
“I was thinking of a blinding yellow,” he said, his deep, drawling voice warm and cajoling.
Kate blinked in surprise, then quickly gathered her senses and frowned in mock thought as the tension of only a moment ago flowed away from her. “Yellow?” she repeated slowly, drawing the word out. She shook her head. “I don’t think so. How about a nice, brilliant orange? Maybe circles, with white dots in the middle?”
“Like bull’s-eyes?” Shane said, his grin widening.
His words sent a chill through her heart as the word bull’s-eye reminded her of their saboteur, but then Shane laughed, and the momentary sense of foreboding left her, replaced by a rush of delicious warmth. She had forgotten how much she’d missed the deep, rumbling sound of his laughter. How much she’d yearned for his smile. How much she loved—Kate quickly clamped a lid on that thought before it had time to finish forming in her mind.
Business, she told herself. She had to keep things between herself and Shane strictly business. It was too dangerous any other way.
