Cowboy Famous: Book 4 (Cowboy Justice Association) (6 page)

Again? They had to do it again? Holy fuck.

“I’m okay. I just need something to drink.” She held up the bottle and took a big swig from it, the frosty liquid sliding down her parched throat. It did nothing to calm the trip of her heart as the sheriff regarded her closely. She swallowed hard and fidgeted in her chair under his intense gaze. She bet criminals didn’t last long in his interrogations. She was ready to spill her guts and he hadn’t even asked her a question.

“So why did you steal my phone?” he asked, his tone soft. He didn’t sound accusatory, mostly just curious, as if he was asking directions.

Her chest tightened and her stomach flipped. Wiping her palms on her shorts, she licked her lips nervously. She was an actress and it was time to pull out some skills.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The sheriff chuckled and lifted the water bottle to his full lips, swallowing down half the contents. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Tony laid down the rules this morning and already you’re breaking them. I’m just wondering what’s so important you’d risk getting kicked out the first day.”

Jazz rubbed the back of her neck, wet with sweat. She didn’t enjoy lying. She especially didn’t like lying to this man who already may not have the best impression of her so far.

“I need to call my agent,” she admitted with a sigh of resignation. “I had several auditions before I left Los Angeles and I was hoping to have work when I get back. It’s how I pay the bills. I’m an actress. When Tony said we’d be cut off, I guess I didn’t really process what that meant.”

The sheriff pursed his lips in thought and then nodded before standing up. “An actress, huh? I’ll leave you to it then. Just leave the phone on the table when you’re done. I’ll keep people out for ten minutes, but after that you’re on your own.”

Shock rippled through her and her hand went reflexively to where the phone was nestled. “Really? You’re not going to tell on me?”

This time he smiled and she finally got to see what he looked like when he wasn’t stone-faced. Holy smokes he was gorgeous. He probably had women lining up just for a date. Or more.

“I won’t rat you out. I have other ways of making my point.” Now he was grinning and she was beginning to worry. “Looks like your first patrol will be with me. Tonight. Be ready and in uniform at four o’clock at the station. I’ll let Tony and Dare know.”

“With you?” she echoed. “Tonight?”

“Yep. We’re short of deputies but it’s really bad now that Dare and I have to spend so much time with the show. I have to take a shift tonight since my usual guy worked during the day. Four to midnight. Don’t be late.”

“But we have class at eight in the morning,” she gasped finally realizing he’d cornered her nicely. She couldn’t protest without revealing what she’d been doing in the tent.

“We’re going to miss some sleep.” The sheriff nodded as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Welcome to the wonderful world of small town law enforcement. I’d get used to it if I was you. Ten minutes, Jazz.”

He ducked out of the tent before she could argue. Not that she had the time. She’d need every second of the few moments he’d allocated to her. She pulled the phone from under her shirt and typed out her agent’s number. Crossing her fingers, she prayed for good news.

She hung up just as her time elapsed, depressed and deflated. Nothing. Nada. Zip. At this rate, her best chance of getting a job was winning this show and working as a deputy.

Groaning, she got to her feet and headed out of the tent. It was going to be a long day and even longer shift tonight. Going out on patrol with her sort-of boss on her very first day didn’t sound like a good idea in the least.

She simply couldn’t catch a break.

Chapter Six

I
t wasn’t the most boring thing Jazz had ever done in her life but it was definitely in the top ten or so. In the last hour of patrol with the sheriff they’d driven around, checked on a few homes and businesses to make sure the doors were locked, and pulled over a truckload of teenagers for going a few miles over the speed limit. He hadn’t even given them a ticket. Instead, she’d sat in the SUV while he chatted with them and gave them a good-hearted warning about the dangers of speeding and driving while intoxicated.

If this was what his job entailed, he was wildly overpaid.

But then again the cameraman Jerry sitting in the backseat doing nothing but filming them might qualify for that title as well. He’d only said one sentence when he’d joined them in the SUV.

“Forget I’m here.”

If only she could.

“Thirsty? Hungry?” Griffin asked, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to glance her way. “I’m going to stop and get a quick bite at the diner.”

The diner was on the main road, and based on the food she’d had this morning not a bad place to eat. It had a typical decor of Art Deco design with old Coke signs on the walls and a jukebox playing country songs for a quarter. She hadn’t eaten since noon and she was starving. They’d spent the afternoon going over police procedure and she hadn’t had a chance to grab a bite before patrol.

“I could eat.”

He didn’t say anything else until they were seated in a back booth and had ordered a couple of iced teas and cheeseburgers. He’d exchanged pleasantries with the waitress before pulling his hat off and placing it on the vinyl seat next to him. Jerry sat in the booth across, the camera aimed directly at them. Apparently he didn’t get to eat but the waitress did promise to bring him a glass of ice water.

“Why don’t you call me Griffin, okay?”

His expression and body language were relaxed and open, not uptight and tense as it had been earlier in the day. He really was a startlingly good looking man with his dark hair and light eyes. Sitting across from him, she could study his features up close without it seeming strange. In addition to his crooked nose, he had a small scar on his chin. Quelling the urge to trace it with her fingertips, she instead tried to get him to talk about himself.

“Thank you, I will. So Griffin, why don’t you want all of us here? Don’t like reality television? Or should I take it personally?”

If she’d surprised him, he didn’t show it. “Am I that transparent? Guess I’d never make it as an actor, would I?”

The waitress slid their teas in front of them and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Actually, you’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it but I study body language. Yours clearly says that you’re not comfortable with all this. How come?”

Griffin sat back and rubbed the scar absently. She’d have to find out how he’d acquired it. “It’s nothing personal. You seem like a nice woman. All of you do. But I like things quiet in my town. Hell, you’d probably call it boring. I like being able to go fishing in the mornings and visit the schools. Talk to the kids. I just like things peaceful.”

“And it’s not peaceful anymore?” she asked, trying to draw him out further. She liked listening to him speak, his voice deep and controlled.

Griffin grimaced. “Did you see the crowd of people gathered to watch the obstacle course this morning? Or the mob around the sheriff’s station this afternoon? I have a feeling it will only get worse before it gets better.”

He was probably right. If Tony had his way, they would draw crowds from miles around. It made for better ratings.

“Then why do the show?”

“Money,” he replied flatly. “The town desperately needs the money. They’ve been pressuring me to cut a deputy and we’re short-handed as it is. I’d like to hire a couple more people but there’s been a real budget crunch since the economy tanked. Believe me, I didn’t want to agree but I had no choice. Shit, Tony wants to
interview
me. Ask me about my life.”

From the grim line of his jaw she could see the truth of his words. He would do it but he didn’t have to be excited about it. Pretty much every guy Jazz knew would be thrilled about being on television. Griffin Sawyer was different and she kind of liked it.

“You could be a star if you wanted to,” she challenged. “You’ve got the looks. Why not?”

He looked at her like she had three heads and six arms. “Are you kidding? That sounds like hell to me. I don’t want people sticking their nose into my business.” He tilted his head and gave her an appraising look. “Is that what you want? You’re an actress, right?”

“Attention doesn’t bother me.” Jazz shrugged, not wanting to explain the childhood that had shaped her. “I like acting. I like pretending to be someone else.”

If only for a little while.

“Not for me.” Griffin shook his head. “I’m quite happy with who I am.”

“I am too,” she argued, sitting straight up in the booth. He’d misunderstood. “It’s not like that.”

One eyebrow rose slightly but he didn’t push. “I didn’t say you weren’t happy. I only said I was. Touchy, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t about to answer.

“So what are we going to do tomorrow?” Jazz held her breath, waiting for him to change the subject back to happiness and all that entailed.

He grinned, obviously knowing what she was doing but letting it slide. She kind of liked the fact that he didn’t feel the need to be right all of the time or to needle her into admitting her deep dark secrets. He was content to let people be. It was a refreshing change.

“I’m going to let you look through some cold cases. Each one of you will get to choose one to work on.”

An assignment. That might be something she could sink her teeth into better than running an obstacle course. “What’s a cold case?”

“A case that has gone unsolved for an extended period of time. No new leads to follow up on. The trail has gone cold.”

The burgers were placed in front of them and the heavenly smell of chargrilled meat and deep-fried potatoes made her stomach growl. Griffin laughed and popped a fry into his mouth.

“I’m hungry too. We need to eat quickly and get back on patrol.”

She was just finishing the last bite of her burger when the radio on his shoulder beeped. He answered in short, clipped tones, obviously understanding the cop shorthand used by the dispatcher. One thing was clear—they were on the move. Finally something was actually happening.

Griffin threw some money on the table and grabbed the two to-go iced teas from the waitress. He’d obviously eaten here a time or two.

“We need to go.”

Jazz fumbled for some cash in her pocket. “I just need to–”

“Relax, I’ve got it. We need to hustle, Jazz.”

She didn’t like the idea of him buying her a meal but the urgency in his voice won out. She slid across the booth and headed straight for the door trailing right behind him, hurrying to keep up, Jerry jogging behind her. They climbed into the SUV and he turned on the sirens and lights as they backed out of the parking lot.

“I want you to stay put in the truck. Got it? I don’t want to be worrying where you are and if you’re all right. That goes for you too, Jerry. This is a show about Jazz, not a show about crime.”

Jerry grunted and she couldn’t tell if he’d agreed or not. Jazz nodded but then realized all his attention was focused on the road considering they were going over a hundred miles per hour. Adrenaline kicked in and her stomach fluttered at the unknown. She’d seen cops work on television but tonight she would be up close and personal.

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever we’re heading toward. By the way, just what is the trouble? A robbery or something?”

“I wish.” His jaw was tight and a pulse beat at his temple. “Domestic disturbance. I’ve been there way too many times.”

She had no frame of reference for that, didn’t know what to say. Her father and mother had never argued, their relationship close and loving to the point of cutting everyone else out. Even after her father had died, her mother hadn’t used physical violence against Jazz. No, her mother had used a much more effective weapon to batter Jazz’s psyche. Jane Oliver had simply ignored Jazz as if she didn’t exist.

Griffin pulled up in the driveway of a lovely ranch style home in an affluent suburb, slamming on the brakes and swearing under his breath. A sobbing woman, her eyes already starting to swell and turn purple, was trying to exit the house through the front door but a larger, red-faced man had a hold of her hair and was yanking it hard. His expression of sheer glee at the pain he was inflicting made Jazz wish she hadn’t promised Griffin to stay in the car. She’d like to smack that look right off his face. Bullies like that needed to be taught a lesson.