Clay: Armed and Dangerous (5 page)

He placed the list on his desk, smoothing out the wrinkles, and he gave Clay his best
canned smile.

Clay waited for the other shoe to drop, the casual mention of how much it might cost
the people for insurance, or fees, or some crap like that. Guys like Guerrero didn’t
give something for nothing.

His low opinion must have showed on his face, because Guerrero’s smile slipped away
and he said, “You have something else on your mind, Sheriff?”

What the hell.
Clay leaned back in his leather chair. Got to start somewhere with everybody in this
town, him included. “Mr. Guerrero, you and I don’t know each other very well. I’ve
got files and rumors and a handful of personal impressions—not much to go on.”

Guerrero folded his hands on his desk. He didn’t look exactly wary, but he wasn’t
all open-and-friendly, either. “And?”

“And you don’t strike me as a man who’d waste his time on small-time truck thefts.
High risk, minimal payoff.”

Guerrero went silent for a few seconds, studying Clay with unreadable black eyes.
Clay couldn’t be sure, but he thought the man might be weighing his options, choosing
his next statement carefully.

What came out was, “I’m not a thief, Mr. Wayland. I’m a businessman.”

“So I’ve heard.” Talking points, just like a damned politician. “And so you keep saying
to anyone who’ll listen.”

The muscles in Guerrero’s face twitched. Again, he studied Clay like he was trying
to choose the right words, or figure the right course of action.

He probably had some kind of deal with my predecessor. Hope he won’t be damned stupid
enough to approach me with that kind of bullshit.

Clay kept his expression amiable enough, but let his eyes speak his mind for him.

“My family has many business interests,” Guerrero said, speaking more slowly than
usual. “At times, my interests align with theirs, primarily when I have no choice.
Mostly, I sell cars, Sheriff Wayland.”

This guy was a true piece of work. Was he trying to say he didn’t want to play ball
with his brothers, that he didn’t want a share of the Guerrero empire?

If so, he was lying through his shiny teeth.

Clay nodded.
Whatever.
For now, he’d play along. At least he hadn’t started talking bribes or posturing like
a bad imitation of the Godfather—that was a plus.

Clay got up to make his exit, and Guerrero stood, displaying, as usual, his impeccable
manners. At the door, Clay made a split-second decision, stopped, turned back to Guerrero,
and left him with, “If you happen on any information that might help our local ranchers,
I’d appreciate hearing about it.”

He stopped short of saying he’d owe the creep a favor. Guerrero wasn’t a man to be
indebted to, not for any reason, no matter what kind of grand con he was trying to
run on Douglas.

Guerrero seemed to hear what he said, and what he didn’t say. “I’ll ask around, but
I doubt I’ll find out anything of interest to you.”

Clay put his hand on the office door again, and Guerrero added, “Whoever is doing
this, I’d say he was desperate for fast cash. Like you mentioned—high risk, little
payoff.”

Clay gave the man a nod, then left his office. He approached Quinn, who was shifting
from foot to foot and actually did have a hair out of place. Two hairs. Maybe three.

“How did he seem to you, Quinn?”

“Relaxed,” the kid said. “It didn’t look like an act.”

Miracles do happen. “That was my take.”

Blalock joined them near the showroom door, and as they stepped back out into the
heat, he said, “The salesmen were all business. They’re well trained, I guess.”

“Or just not concerned,” Clay suggested.

They walked in silence back to the squad cars, and as Clay got to his door, Quinn
said, “Are you thinking Guerrero’s not involved?”

Clay shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

“If it’s a crime and it involves money, he’s got his hand in it somewhere,” Blalock
said. “I mean, that’s my opinion. Sir.”

The younger man glanced at the ground, obviously anxious about offending his new boss.
Quinn held his peace, but he glared back through the plate-glass window and nodded.

“Pisses me off, sir,” Quinn muttered, “that we can’t take them down when we know they’re
dirty. He’s got blood on his hands.”

“His family does,” Clay said. “As for him, sooner or later, we’ll sweep up all the
trash in this town. Blalock, hook up with our contacts at ICE and with the DEA. Stay
on Guerrero, but keep your distance—and keep ICE and DEA in the loop.”

As Blalock nodded, looking like a kid with a brand-new toy to play with, Clay got
in his car. Less than a minute later, his thoughts went straight back to Rylie Thorn.

***

It was late afternoon by the time Rylie was close to finishing her daily chores in
the barn behind the old ranch house. The sun hung low over the Mule Mountains and
the air smelled of fall, mixed with barn smells of dust, manure, and alfalfa hay.

Humming softly to herself, Rylie raked out Sassafras’s stall. Sass was a dappled Appaloosa
mare that more than lived up to her name, but to Rylie the ten-year-old horse was
like a member of the family. Sass had distinctive cream-colored knee-high stockings
on her front legs, but her back legs were solid chocolate brown, as was most of her
coat where she didn’t have cream spots. A diamond blaze was on her sleek muzzle, and
she had a mischievous spark in her intelligent brown eyes.

Rylie loved to ride whenever she got the chance. It had been her favorite activity
as she was growing up, her way to escape the world and her screwed up family life.
She’d done pretty well in rodeo competitions, even beating Skylar MacKenna a few times
in barrel racing.

A couple of stalls down from Sass was Shadow Warrior, a champion stallion they’d had
for eight years. They’d had to sell the rest of their horses when things got tough
and they couldn’t afford the feed or maintenance any longer. They used Warrior primarily
for stud service, as a way to add a little cash to their income. And Sass, well, there
was no way in hell Rylie would ever let her go.

The mare hung her head over the side of the next stall and lipped Rylie’s short blond
hair. “Cut that out.” She grinned and shooed Sass away with a playful pat on the mare’s
muzzle. Sass whickered and tossed her head, acting for all the world like she was
laughing at Rylie.

The entire morning, all Rylie had been able to think about was the stranger from last
night. She had never let any man under her skin, and it was starting to irk her that
she couldn’t get one little sorta-sexual encounter off her mind.

It was different. It was a rush. But, really. All day, circling around the same guy
in her head?

It had to be curiosity. Yeah, that was it. She couldn’t stop wondering what it might
be like to actually have sex with the man. The man who had a voice so deep and sensual
it sent shivers through her just thinking about it.

After Rylie’s experience with the stranger, even Luke Denver, Skylar MacKenna’s ranch
foreman, didn’t seem half as intriguing as before—and Luke was one hot cowboy, with
an incredibly sexy drawl. Rylie had been flirting with Luke since she met him, but
he’d kept his distance, and now he’d gotten married off to Skylar’s little sister
and he was about to take off on a long-delayed honeymoon.

Tingles skittered along Rylie’s spine and she stopped raking when the thought of another
incredible hunk crossed her mind.

It couldn’t have been
him.
Could it?

Yesterday, when she’d met Clay Wayland, both before and after making an ass of herself,
she’d just about melted the instant she’d laid eyes on him. She hadn’t been able to
speak at first, she’d been so totally captured by lust. He had the most amazing crystalline
green eyes, an incredibly deep and thrilling voice, and the sexiest mustache...

Dogs barking and the sound of a truck driving up to the ranch jerked Rylie from her
fantasizing. She propped the rake up against the stall door, pulled off her leather
work gloves, and tossed them onto a hay bale. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she stomped
her boots on the hard-packed dirt floor to kick loose some of the manure.

“Be right back, girl.” Rylie patted Sass’s neck and headed toward the open barn door.

She paused in the shadows, and her heart rate picked up when she saw a truck with
the county sheriff’s logo park in her front yard. And then a warm flush stole over
her as that fine-looking lawman climbed out of it...

Clay Wayland.

Oh. My. God.

It couldn’t have been him last night.

Damn—it had to be.

As she watched the sheriff stride from the truck, Rylie tugged on her ear, a nervous
habit she’d had since she was a child. Sheriff Wayland walked up to Levi, who was
standing in front of the house.

The two knew each other in passing, she remembered, because Wayland had asked Levi
to use his experience from Special Forces and his contacts at the U.S. Marshals to
track down somebody for him a few months ago. Levi hadn’t been able to find the person,
but Wayland had seemed grateful for the favor.

Levi smiled and shook hands with Wayland, and Rylie wished she was closer so that
she could hear what they had to say. If she wasn’t so sweaty and didn’t smell like
the barn, she would have strolled right out. She wanted more of what she knew that
sheriff could give her.

That lawman was one hot hunk of male. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a tight
ass. She had a side view of him, and couldn’t tell what color his hair was because
of his Stetson, but he had a sexy sable mustache and nice big hands. She liked a man
with big—

As if aware of her, Wayland looked straight to where she was hidden in the shadows.
The world stopped on its axis, and for one long moment, she all but forgot how to
breathe.

Prickling erupted at Rylie’s nape and the fine hairs stood up on her arms.

He couldn’t see her, could he?

Her heart beat faster as his eyes seemed to lock with hers. But then he turned back
to Levi and continued talking like nothing strange had just happened.

Nothing
had
happened. Surely it was just her desire and thoughts of what happened last night
that was making her crazy.

Rylie eased back into the barn, her skin tingling. Her normal I-don’t-give-a-damn-what-anyone-thinks
attitude had suddenly taken a hike. She was sweaty, probably had dirt streaked across
her face, and smelled like a horse—not to mention the horseshit. As much as she was
dying to get to know that sexy lawman, now was not the right time.

Biting her bottom lip, Rylie yanked on her gloves and set back to work, determined
not to sneak another peek at the gorgeous man outside.

Sass whickered and moved her head up and down in a kind of horsey nod, as though telling
Rylie she should go out and see him anyway.

Rylie glared at her. “What do you know?” she muttered. “You’re just a horse.”

In response, Sass snorted and blew snot all over Rylie’s shirt. “Brat.” Rylie swiped
at it with her gloves and managed to wipe the worst of it off. “See if you get your
sugar lump later.”

***

There she was.

Clay knew it deep in his gut that Rylie was there as soon as he’d driven up to the
Thorn Ranch. While he talked to Levi Thorn about the truck thefts and the report he
had filed this morning after getting Levi to fax him the vehicle information, Clay’s
instincts had kicked in. And then he’d
felt
Rylie watching him from the barn.

He pushed up the brim of his hat and turned his attention back to Levi. “Anything
else unusual happen on your property that you’re aware of?” Clay asked, watching Levi
for any sign of recognition or discomfort at the questioning. “Anything at all?”

“Other than losing fifteen head of cattle during the rustling mess from last year?”
Levi shook his head, his manner calm and amiable. “Nothing more than the fence being
cut a couple of times. Between the Flying M and our ranch. Luke Denver, the foreman
over at Flying M, he’s riding the line just like me, but he’s getting ready to leave
town for his honeymoon.

“Too damned bad we haven’t been able to catch the bastards in action,” Levi continued.
“Maybe that’s where they came through to get at the trucks, but I didn’t see any tire
tracks around there when I went out this morning.”

Clay nodded. “Mind if I talk with your sister?”

With a shrug, Levi jerked his thumb in the direction of the barn. “Ry’s probably working
with her Appaloosa.”

After thanking Levi and shaking the man’s hand again, Clay strode toward the barn.
Blood thrummed in his veins, the same feeling he always got when he was close to solving
a case.

For more than ten years he’d been a street cop and then a detective with the Tucson
Police Department. He’d served with TPD from the time he was a rookie until he’d decided
to move to the southeastern corner of Arizona to take over as Sierra Vista’s chief
of police, some six years ago.

Needing a new challenge, Clay had decided to run for Cochise County Sheriff and the
previous fall he had beat out the troubled incumbent by a hefty margin. The papers
were making a big deal over the truck thefts, and Clay was determined to seek out
the culprits and lock the bastards up.

In a few strides, he made it to the open barn door. Even before he walked into the
barn, Clay heard the sound of a rake scraping against the ground and a horse’s soft
whicker. When he entered, he stopped for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to
the dimness. His gaze immediately focused on the petite blond who had her back to
him and was raking out a stall.

Clay smiled and his body jerked to attention. He would recognize that fine little
ass anywhere... even without the sexy worn-out jeans.

The Appaloosa raised its head and eyed Clay, but Rylie didn’t seem to realize he was
there. Just like last night.