Taming a Texas Devil (Bad Boy Ranch Book 5)

by Katie Lane

  “I wasn’t spoiled.” He lifted his eyebrows and she conceded. “Okay, I was a little spoiled. But my mama and daddy believed in making me work hard for what I wanted.”

  “Which explains how you graduated top of your class at the police academy.” It was her turn to lift her eyebrows, and he shrugged. “I looked it up. The only thing you didn’t excel at was firearms training.”

  “Shooting isn’t really my thing.”

  He studied her for a long moment before he closed his laptop with a snap and got to his feet. “I need a break. All the reports are starting to look the same.” He grabbed his hat off the hook and pulled it on, then grabbed hers and tossed it to her. “Well, don’t just sit there, Deputy Meriwether. Let’s go.”

  She got up. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  The surprise turned out to be Lincoln taking her to the same place Dixie still had nightmares about. As soon as they pulled up to the copse of trees, she shook her head. “Oh, no. I want nothing to do with Rattlesnake Springs.”

  He laughed. If she hadn’t been so scared, she might’ve enjoyed the way it transformed his face from serious ranger to impish bad boy. “I figured you might feel that way. Which is why I didn’t tell you where we were going. And it’s called Mesquite Springs, by the way.”

  “I don’t care if it’s called Bunny Rabbit Haven. There are snakes here and I want nothing to do with it or them.”

  He got the look he got on his face whenever he switched into teacher mode. Which had been a lot lately. In fact, ever since she had told the little white lie about having a dream to become a deputy, he’d been giving her lawman lessons. It was starting to get a little old. “You’re a deputy, Dixie. You can’t be afraid of snakes. Nor can you be uncomfortable shooting a gun.”

  “We’re here to shoot rattlesnakes? I don’t like them, but I don’t want to massacre them either.”

  “We aren’t going to massacre snakes. We’re going to shoot at a target.” He opened his door. “Now come on.”

  “I think I’ll just stay here.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’m going to do some target practice. And you’re going to get pretty hot sitting here in the sun.” He grabbed the keys and got out.

  He was right. It was hot sitting in the truck. She couldn’t even roll down the windows, because he had taken the keys. She opened the door but sweat still beaded on her forehead and collected between her boobs. She glanced at the trees that were no doubt teeming with snakes as her mama’s words came back to her. The only thing to fear is lack of courage.

  It took a lot of courage to get out of the truck and even more to walk through the snake-infested trees. She pulled out her gun and held it at the ready just in case she spotted one. When she arrived at the springs, she found Lincoln sitting on a hollowed-out log. He grinned when he saw her.

  “Glad you decided to join me. But the first rule of guns is never pull one out unless you intend to use it.”

  She glanced around the ground. “I do intend to use it. Especially if you’ve seen a snake.”

  “Not a one and I searched the entire area just in case you changed your mind.”

  “You did? You’re not lying?”

  He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. The coast is clear.” He stood and handed her a pair of tiny sponge earplugs. “Put these in and shoot at the knothole in that dead mesquite tree on the other side of the springs.”

  She holstered her gun and took the earplugs. “So you were a boy scout?”

  “No. I was too much of a troublemaker.”

  “Then that promise meant nothing.”

  He laughed again. This time, she enjoyed the crinkles in the corners of his eyes and the way the dimple in his chin flattened and then returned. “Yep, but it got you to trust me. Now show me what you got.”

  She put in the earplugs and then pulled her gun back out. She held the Glock straight out, steadied her arm with her other hand, took aim and a deep breath, then fired. Wood splintered off the very center of the knothole. Her next shot hit as close. As did the next shot and the next shot. By the time she’d finished the clip, the tree had a big splintered spot in the center.

  She holstered her gun, removed her earplugs, and turned to see Lincoln staring at her with wide eyes.

  “Nice shooting, Tex. Now do you care to explain why you didn’t do well on the shooting range at the academy?”

  She blew out her breath. “Because I didn’t like shooting the targets that looked like real people—even if they were pointing a gun at me.”

  Lincoln studied her for a moment before he nodded. ““A good law officer should never feel comfortable about using their gun. Most situations can be dealt with using a cool head and a calm voice. Unfortunately, there are some instances where a gun is needed.”

  “I know that. But knowing it and implementing it are two different things. Have you shot anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  She swallowed. “Fatally?”

  He nodded. “The gunman had already killed his girlfriend and wounded two police officers by the time I took him out. Still, I was pretty screwed up for a good year after it happened. It’s never easy to take a life. Even if you’re saving others.”

  “What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t shoot and innocent people get hurt . . . or killed?”

  “If you need to, you’ll be able to. You have good instincts.”

  “Not like you. You stay calm and cool in all situations. I find it hard to believe you were a troublemaker as a kid. But I guess if you got sent to a boys’ ranch, you must’ve been.”

  “People can change. You did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When was the last time you gave yourself a facial or painted your toes?”

  She glanced down at her chipped fingernail polish. “I’ve been a little too busy for spa days.”

  He smiled. “Exactly. You’ve started to take your job seriously. That’s change.”

  She guessed she had changed, but so had he. “You’ve changed too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You don’t look at me like I’m a complete ditz anymore.”

  “I never thought you were stupid, Dixie. Just self-centered.”

  She might’ve been upset about the self-centered thing if it hadn’t been the first time he’d called her Dixie. “So you do know my first name.”

  “I know it. I just think it’s best if I don’t use it.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes turned dark and intense. “You know why.”

  She did know why. Even now her heart thumped in overtime and moist heat settled in her panties. She stepped closer. Using just one finger, she gently touched the scar at the top corner of his mouth.

  “Using my given name won’t make me want you any more, Lincoln,” she said in a soft whisper. “I already want you too much.”

  His long lashes lowered and a sound came from deep in his throat. A sound that was part predatory growl and part needy groan. It was the sexiest sound Dixie had ever heard in her life. When he opened his eyes, he looked like a needy predator. “Damn you,” he said before he jerked her into his arms and kissed her.

  It was a rough, desperate kiss. His lips demanded with hot slides as his tongue invaded with deep thrusts like he wanted to hungrily eat her up until she was completely consumed. She felt consumed. She felt like she was no longer herself. She was Lincoln’s. All Lincoln’s.

  As he kissed her, his large hands roamed over her body—stroking her hair, cupping her breasts, spanning her waist, and finally palming her butt cheeks and lifting her completely off the ground. The feel of his hard erection pressing against the fly of her jeans had her making the growling-groaning sound he’d made earlier. With their lips still locked, they both reached for his belt buckle at the same time. But before they could get it undone, Dixie’s phone started playing “Southern Girl” by Tim McGraw—her mama’s ringtone.

  “Ignore it,” she
muttered against his lips as she continued to unbuckle his belt.

  He grabbed her hands and stopped them as he pulled away from the kiss. “No.” With one steamy dark-eyed look, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there feeling deprived and madder than a hornet about her mother’s bad timing.

  She pulled her phone from the holder and answered. “What, Mama!”

  “Is that anyway to talk to your mother, Dixie Leigh Meriwether? A mother who went through sixteen hours of grueling labor to bring you into this world?”

  “Sorry.” She glanced at Lincoln, who was standing at the edge of the spring with his back to her and his hands on his hips. “I was just busy.”

  “You’re busy all the time. We haven’t had a good long conversation since you became a deputy.”

  Since coming to Simple, Dixie had avoided talking to her mama. She still called her daily, but she kept their conversations brief. She could lie to her daddy, but lying to her mama was a little more difficult. Her mama had always been able to read her like a book.

  She turned and walked along a path that ran next to the springs so Lincoln couldn’t overhear her conversation. “Being a deputy is harder work than I first thought.”

  There was a long silence before her mama spoke. “I can imagine it is. Especially when you only decided to do it to beat your daddy.”

  Dixie froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mama.”

  “Don’t you dare play dumb with me, Dixie Leigh. Did you think for a second that I would believe you had your heart set on being a sheriff?”

  That’s exactly what Dixie had thought. She’d thought her acting skills had been good enough to fool even her mama. Obviously, she had been wrong. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because while I hate the way you decided to go about it, I agree with the point you’re trying to make. Your daddy has no business manipulating you into doing what he wants. You’re a grown woman and you need to make your own decisions. And that’s why I’m calling. You won, Baby Girl. Your father has given up trying to force you to follow in his footsteps. He’s going to give you your inheritance and let you choose what you want to do with it.”

  Dixie should be elated. She’d won. But all she felt was stunned.

  “Dixie Leigh?” Winona said. “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you, Mama. That’s great news.” But even as she said the words, she didn’t feel like it was good news. She felt strange. Like when you unwrap a Christmas present you’ve begged for all year long. Except now that you have it in your hands, you start wondering why you ever wanted it in the first place.

  A splash had her glancing over her shoulder. Lincoln was no longer standing on the bank. He surfaced in the middle of the springs, his dark hair dripping and his naked shoulders glistening. She wanted to strip off her clothes and join him. But she knew their heated moment had passed and he would only reject her again. And it was probably for the best. She would be leaving. Soon.

  She tried to keep up a conversation with her mama for a few more minutes, but her heart wasn’t in it and she finally made her excuses and hung up. She walked back down the path to wait for Lincoln to finish his Olympic swimming feeling gloomy and depressed. She had never felt gloomy and depressed in her life. As she moved toward the shade of the oak tree, she noticed Lincoln’s wallet lying on the ground. It must’ve fallen out when he’d taken off his pants. It was open and his Texas Ranger star gleamed in the sun.

  She’d read somewhere that the oak leaves on the left side of the badge signified strength and the olive branch on the right signified peace. Lincoln was a strong peacekeeper. He was right. Serving and protecting a community was an important job. One she should never have taken lightly.

  She started to close the wallet when she saw the curled edge of a photograph tucked into a side pocket. Was it a picture of his ex-wife? Had he loved her more than he let on? Was that another reason he didn’t want to get involved with Dixie?

  She couldn’t resist slipping the photograph out.

  It was a picture of a man, a woman, and a little boy. But the man wasn’t Lincoln. Even though the man was much younger in this picture than the other pictures Dixie had seen, she recognized Sam Sweeney immediately. He was smiling and had his arm wrapped around the woman. Standing in front of the woman was a little boy.

  A little boy with straight raven hair, a dimple in his chin, and a cut on his upper lip.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Go find another bone, boy.” Lincoln patted Boomer’s head before he released his collar. The dog raced off and Lincoln mounted Doris to follow. They had been doing this same thing every morning since the dog had discovered the femur. Holden would drop the dog off on his way into town and Lincoln would run him around the Double Diamond ranch for a few hours to see if the dog would go back to the place he’d found the bone.

  So far the dog had found four gopher holes, a cow skull, a dead crow, and a bike inner tube. But no more human bones. Lincoln was starting to believe that it was a fruitless exercise. Boomer hadn’t been trained to be a tracking dog. He was still an easily distracted young pup who enjoying racing around the ranch and getting into whatever caught his attention. Still, Lincoln was hoping to get lucky. He wanted more evidence of who the person was.

  He had been so certain the bone was Sam’s, but now he wasn’t so sure. Sam’s truck had been found a good ten miles away. If someone had murdered him, why would they bring the body back here? Why wouldn’t they have buried it somewhere close to the truck? Or in a lake or spring where it wouldn’t be easy to find? Even if Sam had run out of gas and something had happened on his hike to a gas station, like a heart attack or a snakebite, there was no way his body could’ve made it back to this area. Someone would’ve had to bring it here. Someone who had a connection to this land and a strong motive.

  The only person who had both was Lincoln.

  As a kid, he had daydreamed constantly about how he would kill Sam Sweeney. Running over him with a monster truck. Pushing him off the Empire State Building. Carving out his heart with a machete. Filling him full of holes with a machine gun.

  But Sam was long gone by the time Lincoln got big and strong enough to execute any of his plans. It wasn’t until he ran into an old friend of Sam’s and found out where Sam was working that his hatred for the man had resurfaced. At the time, he’d been a troubled teenager giving his grandmother all kinds of grief. It had been easy to convince Granny Hayes that a boy’s ranch was the perfect place for her delinquent grandson to spend the summer. His grandmother had probably looked at it like a God-sent reprieve.

  On the drive to the Double Diamond, Lincoln had gone over and over his plan to make Sam pay for all the physical abuse he’d dished out. But mostly he wanted to punish him for leaving his mother so brokenhearted that she’d never recovered. His childish fantasy of running over Sam with a truck had evolved to just beating the shit out of him. But as soon as he came face to face with Sam, he’d turned back into a frightened little boy and chickened out.

  Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, Sam hadn’t recognized him. Not even with the scar he’d put there. Lincoln had just been another punky kid Sam had pulled pranks on. Before Lincoln could get up the courage to confront him, Sam was gone. Leaving Lincoln to hate Sam even more . . . and himself for not being brave enough to do what he felt he should have done.

  It was Lucas and Chester’s love that had saved Lincoln from being consumed by that hate. They taught him being brave didn’t mean throwing the first punch. Being brave was facing your own weaknesses and doing the right thing even when the wrong thing was much easier. They had taught all the boys that. The last night before they left, he and his friends had sat around a campfire and made a pact that what Chester and Lucas had taught them wouldn’t be in vain.

  The bad boys would become good men.

  But Lincoln didn’t feel like a good man. A good man would’ve told people about his connection to Sam Sweeney. A good man wouldn�
��t hold a grudge against Maisy just because she looked like her father. And a good man wouldn’t be lusting after a woman he was supposed to be protecting.

  And he was lusting after Dixie. His mind was constantly filled with thoughts of touching her, kissing her, and making love to her. For the last few days, he’d had a perpetual hard on just from watching her sit at her computer. She had all kinds of sexy little habits while she worked: twirling a strand of hair around her finger, chewing on her bottom lip, unbuttoning and buttoning the top button of her shirt. They drove him wild with the desire to take over for her—except he didn’t want to be as gentle. He wanted to fist those glorious golden locks in his hands, devour that plump bottom lip, and rip the shirt right off her body. If her phone hadn’t rung the other day at Mesquite Springs, he had little doubt they would’ve ended up on the ground in a tangle of naked limbs and sweet sighs. His desire for her had become a needy ache he couldn’t get rid of no matter how much he tried. And he was getting tired of trying.

  Boomer’s bark pulled him from his thoughts and he clicked the horse to a gallop to discover what the dog had found. It was another gopher family. The dog was playing hide and seek with the critters. He raced over to one hole and stuck his head in, and then when a gopher popped its head out of another hole, he’d race to that one—only to have another gopher pop up in the hole he was just looking in. Lincoln couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the gophers get the best of the hound dog.

  Figuring he wasn’t going to get any more out of the dog today, he started to whistle for Boomer so they could head home when his phone rang. He pulled it from his shirt pocket and looked to see who it was. It was Major Macky.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “What’s going on, Hayes?”

  “I’m waiting to hear back from forensics about the bone. As soon as I do, I’ll fill out a report and get it to you.”

  “A bone? Oh, yes. The missing person’s case. I didn’t call to talk about your case. I called because the chief just called me and chewed my ass out for not having control over my officers. I thought you were going to discourage the senator’s daughter from being a deputy.”