Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) (26 page)

“
Not doing that,” Twyla replied,
turning toward the door.

“
Five hundred,” he countered, when
she grabbed the door knob.

“
Four hundred,” she volleyed,
without turning around.

“
Four-fifty.”

That’s the amount she had in mind for triple
his fee. It must be more though, if he was settling for that to let
her walk out of here with the truck. Forget it was here meant he’d
just wipe out any record of it to cover his ass. Unless Ryan
reported it stolen, which he wouldn’t, this man was off the hook,
and she had transportation to get to the jail.

It sounded like a bargain to her, and it would
save time. Her other option was getting a cab to the jail, then
bringing Ryan back here to get his truck. That would be cheaper,
and evidently legal, but definitely not more efficient, since the
jail was forty-five minutes away.

Twyla released the door knob and sifted
through the money in the bag to count out the right amount, then
twisted it closed and walked back to the counter. She slapped it
down on the counter. “Keys first, please.”

The way they were doing business was illegal,
and Twyla wasn’t taking the chance of this man trying to scam her.
He could take the money, and then just walk to the back. She
wouldn’t be able to call the police, because the only crime
committed was her trying to buy Ryan’s truck.

He studied her a minute, then turned toward
the doorway. “Only truck I picked up today, so I guess I know which
one you mean,” he grumbled as he disappeared through the doorway.
He reappeared with the keys in his hand and slammed them down on
the counter.

“
Let’s go back to your lot, and
make sure they fit,” Twyla suggested. The man rolled his eyes, but
swept the keys up in his beefy fist, and walked around the counter.
He opened the door for her and Twyla walked through with the
greenbacks clutched in her hand.

Since she’d been around Heather more, Twyla
felt like she was getting a grip on being smarter about the way she
did things, handled people. Even though her friends approach was
don’t trust anyone, so far it was serving her as well as it did
Heather.

The lot was dark, and the cars packed in
tight, but she saw Ryan’s truck at the back, parked crossways
taking up two spots. At least it was backed in so she’d be able to
get the monstrosity out easier. Why that man needed such a big
truck she didn’t know. He was a bronc rider, so he didn’t have a
trailer to haul. The only thing he hauled was his ass and gear from
venue to venue. Twyla knew firsthand that Ryan wasn’t compensating
for shortcomings in another area, like all the cowgirls on the
circuit joked about men who drove big trucks.

That thought brought heat to her cheeks, and a
throb to other areas of her body. It was starting already, and she
hadn’t even gotten to the jail to see him again. Between here and
the jail, Twyla needed to get a grip on herself and the excitement
at seeing him that tickled her insides. If she didn’t, she was in
for a long haul for the next two weeks.

They stopped beside the truck, and he inserted
the keys, leaving them hanging there while he pulled open the door.
He stepped back and held out his hand, palm up, with a
long-suffering look on his lined face. Twyla slapped the bills into
his hand and smiled. “Nice doing business with you,” she said
jerking the keys out of the door.

With a shake of his head, the man turned and
walked back toward the office. Twyla hopped up into the truck, and
inserted the keys feeling a sense of victory she hadn’t felt in a
long time. But then she went to crank the truck, looked down and
saw the stick shift. She had forgotten Ryan’s truck was a stick.
How the hell could she have forgotten? Twyla hadn’t ever driven it
for that reason. She’d only ever driven her beat up old
automatic
truck.

“
Dammit!” she cursed and slammed
her back against the seat to huff out a breath. What the hell was
she going to do now? The truck was too damned big to wing it and
try. She knew she’d end up in a ditch, or stalled in the middle of
the road with someone plowing into the rear end. If that happened,
she’d never get to the jail in time.

Her eyes darted back to the office. She’d bet
that old geezer would know how to drive a stick. If she could get
to Ryan, he could drop the man back off here, or they could pay for
a cab ride for him back here. But Twyla knew he wasn’t going to do
it for free, or for the fifty bucks she had in spare change in the
bag. Getting Ryan out would take twenty-five-hundred dollars even.
The person they’d talk to on the phone said so.

What did she have that she could bargain with
to get him to agree to help her? The vision of his eyes tracking
down her body flitted into her head. Her arm was busted, her lip
was busted, and her cheek was bruised, but he sure hadn’t seemed to
mind when he was eating her up with his eyes earlier. She couldn’t
dance at the Cowgirl in the shape she was in, but she could sure
dance for him. She just hoped he’d go for it. Twyla grabbed the
handle, and then hopped down. She stopped to stuff the sack of
money behind the seat then locked the door.

With purposeful strides, Twyla walked to the
backdoor, and knocked loudly. She reached down to unbutton the top
two buttons of her shirt to show more of her miracle cleavage,
hoping it would perform a miracle and this man would agree to her
proposition. He didn’t open the door, so she knocked again, pounded
her fist on the door.

The door opened, and he stuck his head
outside. “What do you want now?”

“
You ever heard of the Crazy
Cowgirl?”

“
No, but I do know when I’m
looking at one,” he said with a shake of his head. She saw his eyes
track down her body to her toes again, before he dragged them back
up to her breasts. That bra had been worth every penny she spent on
it, Twyla thought, arching her back a little to give him a better
look.

“
Yeah, I am crazy. Because I
forgot that damned truck is standard, and I don’t know how to drive
it. I have a proposition for you, mister. I’m a dancer at the Crazy
Cowgirl, and would give you a dance you’ll never forget, if you
agree to no touching, and that you’ll drive me to the jailhouse
when I’m done.”

He snorted, and his eyes heated. “You’re a
stripper?”

“
No, I’m a dancer, and I won’t be
shucking my clothes,” she clarified, amazed that she had forgotten
that one important fact.

“
Dance in your bra, and I’ll do
it,” he said, and his eyes darkened more.

Twyla gnawed her lower lip and thought about
it. She’d worn her sports bra to dance before. Yeah the one she had
on was a little skimpier, but she definitely needed him to help
her. She was on her own here, and had to figure out something.
“I’ll do it, but I want you to mouth the words. No touching,” she
said firmly, and waited until she heard him repeat them.

Ryan would probably kill her if he found out,
but he wouldn’t find out. She wasn’t about to tell him. But she was
going to get him out of jail come hell or almost-naked breasts. The
man opened the door wider, and Twyla went back inside the even
mustier back office. She held her breath until she reached the
front. Hopping up on the bar, she scrambled up to her feet, and
unbuttoned her shirt.

“
Find some music for me,” she said
sliding the shirt off of her shoulders.

***

Ryan paced the jail cell again, and shoved a
hand through his hair as he made the turn to do it again. He was
sure he’d almost worn the concrete down between the door and the
wall, he’d walked it so many times now. He needed to figure out how
the hell he was going to get out of here. He had to get to Houston
and see about his mother, his wallet was in his damned truck, and
Heather had his cell phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, he had to be
in a cell next to Zack who taunted and threatened every five
minutes.

At least he wasn’t in that cell with him. Ryan
felt for sure they would be having round two of their ‘discussion
about Twyla’ with their fists. No matter how many times Ryan told
Zack that he was sorry, that he had only been trying to work the
situation out himself before telling him, Zack didn’t believe him.
It wasn’t the truth anyway. He never planned on telling Zack at
all. Because he wanted to save Twyla the embarrassment and
harassment that would follow. In the process he’d bought himself an
endless supply of both from her brother.

“
When I get out of here, I’m going
to finish what I started,” Zack growled, standing at the bars with
his teeth bared, and his face pressed to the bars.

“
I’ll be ready for you, buddy,”
Ryan growled, finally tired of ignoring him. Putting up with him
wasn’t shutting him up, and neither were the guards who had to hear
Zack taunting him. This podunk little county jail they’d brought
them to was small, and words echoed through the hallway. He knew,
because he’d heard them talking about some pictures or something
they’d found in Jared Wilkins’ trailer.

“
Bring it on, pussy,” Zack spat
and Ryan snapped.

He stormed the bars and put his nose to
Zack’s. “When my ribs heal, I’ll show you what a pussy is, punk.
I’m tired of this shit, and your mouth! My fucking mother is dead
or dying, and because of you, I’m stuck in this jail cell! I owe
you a good ass whipping.”

Zack just stood there killing him with his
glare, and Ryan had enough of that too. His hand shot through the
bars and grabbed the back of Zack’s hair, jerking his head back,
before quickly slamming his forehead into the metal bars, hoping
that would knock some sense into his former best friend.

Zack howled and staggered back rubbing his
forehead while he cursed a blue streak. “That’s just a taste,
buddy. You want more you know where to find me.”

Ryan gave him one more heated glare then
huffed out a breath. He walked to the single cot against the other
wall and plopped down. He looked up when a guard appeared at the
door, and Ryan thought he was about to get more bogus charges
leveled against him, because of what he’d just done, but the guard
didn’t look pissed.

The officer shoved his keys into the door then
held it open. “You’re out.”

“
Really?” Ryan asked with
surprise, as he shoved up to his feet and almost ran for the door.
He was getting the hell out of there before the man changed his
mind, or discovered he’d made a mistake. Ryan didn’t know who was
responsible for springing him, but he wasn’t asking questions. He
walked very swiftly to the door at the end of the hallway to wait
for the guard.

He heard Zack yelling behind him, “What about
me?!? When am I getting out?” Ryan bit back a laugh when the guard
told Zack he wasn’t getting out.

But Ryan wasn’t going to believe he was
getting out either, until he was beyond this final door. Anything
could happen. The way his luck was running, the odds that something
would
happen were too good. He had no idea who would bail
him out, and not Zack. An angel, that’s who. This had to be a gift
from on-high, because Ryan certainly didn’t deserve to be bailed
out after his stupidity. Maybe the judge had dropped the charges.
That would be the ultimate gift. But that wasn’t likely. Someone
must’ve put up his bail money.

He’d had plenty of time to cool off and think
about it sitting in that cell. Ryan realized he should have just
let the police deal with Jared Wilkins. From what he’d overheard
while he was in that cell, it sounded to him like they were going
to take care of the slimy bastard anyway. If he had just waited a
day or two, he probably wouldn’t be here.

Ryan had just been so pissed after hearing
what happened to Twyla. After seeing her laying in that hospital
bed, he was not in his right mind. All he wanted at that minute was
to feel Jared’s throat under his hands, while he squeezed the life
out of him. He’s damned lucky he hadn’t done that, or he definitely
wouldn’t be getting out of here tonight. Or ever.

The guard finally settled Zack down and came
to open the door. As he walked through the door, Ryan felt like a
heavy lead apron was removed from his shoulders. He closed his eyes
and took a deep breath of freedom. When he opened them again, white
blonde hair caught his attention, and his eyes met Twyla’s across
the room, where she sat beside a very greasy looking man. She
unfolded her arms and stood, then glanced back at the grease
monkey. He stood and smiled with a tooth about every mile in his
mouth.

He stood, and strangely shook her hand.
“Thanks for the dance, Daisy. I’ll be coming to see you at the
Cowgirl.”

Her eyes darted to Ryan then back to the man.
She held out her hand. “Keys, please, Larry. Thanks for driving. Do
you need me to call a cab for you?”

“
No, I’ve got it. Called a friend
to come get me,” he replied with a wink and a wheezy chuckle, as he
dropped Ryan’s keys in her hand. The man’s eyes took a tour of her
body, and Ryan’s fists clenched at his sides. He held himself back,
but just barely. The last thing he needed was more trouble
tonight.

He stomped across the lobby to stand beside
her. “Get me the hell out of here,” he growled, then flashes of her
in that hospital bed made his stomach lurch up to his throat. “And
what the hell are you doing out of bed?!?”