Getting Lucky (A Nugget Romance Book 5) (16 page)

“I want to wring the turkey’s neck,” Jake said to Rhys, who’d joined him in the coffee room of the Plumas County Sheriff ’s Department in Quincy, just a stone’s throw from the jail, where Ray was in custody. Nugget was too small to have its own.

“He’s pretty full of himself,” Rhys said. “His lawyer is a good guy, though. I’ve used him myself.”

Jake pulled back in surprise. “Sounds like a story I want to hear.”

“Nah. He was for my pop. Before we knew my old man had Alzheimer’s, Shep was stealing stuff. Statues and crap he mistakenly thought were his. Dell’s the one who figured out he had dementia.” Shep, Rhys’s dad, had died two summers ago.

“It’ll be interesting to see how he handles Rosser.”

“A prosecutor is on his way too,” Rhys said. “Looks like we’re in for a long night. You tell Lucky he can go home?”

“Yeah. The kid’s been calling me all day. I finally got back to him a few minutes ago.”

“My voice mail is full. Maddy’s threatening to put me on the couch permanently and Clay—I don’t know what he wants—has left four, five messages.”

“Clay is Ray’s neighbor. I’d call him back in case he knows something.”

“I plan on it. Just want to say good night to Emma first.”

Jake couldn’t count how many times he’d missed tucking in his daughters when they were little. The life of a cop.

By the time Dell Webber showed up, the airless interrogation room smelled like a combination of sweat and desperation. It seemed that old Ray was starting to see that he couldn’t buy his way out of this one.

Dell asked to talk to his client alone. Jake and Rhys spent the time tanking up on coffee and junk food from the vending machines. A man in a Western suit, cowboy hat, and lizard-skin boots found them in the coffee room.

“You Chief Shepard?” he asked. “I’m Deputy District Attorney George Williamson.”

Rhys stuck his hand out and introduced Jake.

“I read the file, but why don’t you get me up to speed on the last few hours and the status of the sting operation.”

Rhys pointed out that their open drug case did not appear to be related to Gus Clamper’s shooting. “My experience tells me that after the shooting, our suspected dealers will likely lay low for a while, which means our undercover guys won’t have anything to buy.”

“You’re a former narcotics detective from Houston, right?” George said, and Rhys nodded.

For the next forty minutes Rhys and Jake detailed the evidence they had in the murder case, including an eye witness who saw Ray shoot Gus after an argument, the weapon believed to have been used, and preliminary ballistics.

“The only thing we don’t have is motive,” Rhys said.

Dell sauntered into the room. Like George, he wore a Stetson, giving Jake visions of the old West. Plumas County certainly wasn’t LA.

“Ray is ready to make a statement,” Dell said.

Not surprising, since they had him dead to rights. The three of them followed Dell into the interrogation room, where Rhys asked if it was okay to videotape the interview. Dell gave him a solemn nod and Jake rolled the camera.

“Before you boys start asking a lot of questions, I want Ray to tell you what happened.” Dell gestured for Ray to start talking.

“Night before last, Gus stole a hundred and fifty head of my cattle. He and a couple of men cut the fence on the west side of my property, pulled in a stock trailer, and rounded them up with a three-wheeler. When I went to confront him about it, he denied it. When I threatened to go to the authorities, he attacked me. That’s when I shot him. It was self-defense.”

Jake looked at Rhys and raised his brows. Rhys nodded.

“You have any proof that the cattle were stolen?” Jake asked.

“Proof? Yeah, I used to have them and now I don’t.”

Dell took over. “Ray photographed the cut fence and the tire tracks. The California Department of Food and Ag will confirm that there’s been a rash of cattle rustling across the state, including at Ray’s neighbor, Clay McCreedy’s spread. Same MO.”

Jake looked at Rhys. Okay, now they had motive. Perhaps it would be an early evening after all.

“You went to confront Gus with a loaded gun?” Jake asked Ray.

“No. I went to confront Gus. I always carry a loaded gun. I have a license to carry.”

Why a cattle rancher would be allowed to carry a concealed weapon was beyond Jake, but he planned to check when he got back to the office. “How did you know it was Gus who stole your cattle?”

“The same way I know the sumbitch was dealing dope. I’ve got—” Dell stopped Ray from saying any more.

“Ray has information, including a text from a neighbor,” Dell said. “First we need to know if immunity is on the table.”

“Immunity from the drug case or the murder allegation?” Rhys asked.

Dell slowly took off his hat and laid it on its crown. “Now, Chief, you know damn well Ray doesn’t have anything to do with no drug ring. He’s a long-standing, highly esteemed member of the community.”

Who just shot a man in cold blood
, Jake wanted to say.

George, who’d sat quietly in the corner up to now, said, “No immunity. But if your client has something that will help these boys with their drug case, we’d be willing to listen.”

“That’s mighty big of you, George.” Dell leaned back in his chair. “What kind of charges are we talking about here?”

George snorted. “Sounds like first-degree murder to me. How ’bout you fellows?” He looked over at Jake and Rhys.

“The witness didn’t say anything about an attack,” Jake said. Actually, the worker who’d given Gus first aid hadn’t said much. He’d conveniently missed the reason for the scuffle. But he’d sure been able to identify Ray, right down to his Smith & Wesson.

“The witness is probably one of the damn cattle rustlers,” Ray said, and Dell held up his hand to shut his client up.

“First degree? Then I think we’re done here, George.” Dell put his hat back on and started to stand up.

George shrugged. “See you at the arraignment.”

Ray got red in the face and started breathing hard. Jake worried that he might have a heart attack right there at the table.

“I’m not staying the night in that goddamned jail,” Ray shouted.

“We’ll get you a bail hearing,” Dell said.

“How long will that take?” Ray demanded.

“Not until after your arraignment,” George said. “We might be able to get something on the calendar for next week, but I can’t promise anything.”

“What if I give you some information?” Ray asked, his desperation palpable. “Could I have a bail hearing by tomorrow?”

Dell whispered something in Ray’s ear, but Ray wasn’t having it. “I’m not staying in that goddamn jail any longer than I have to!”

Dell sat back down. “I want it on the record that whatever my client has to say is against my advice.”

Ray ignored him. “Well?” he wanted to know.

“Can’t give you a bail hearing until you’ve been charged with a crime,” George said. Ray was only under arrest. Under state law, the prosecution could hold him for forty-eight hours until it filed an actual case. “We might be willing to cut you loose for now . . . while the investigation is pending. But we’ll require you to hand over your passport and the rest of your firearms. We’ll also need a commitment that you’ll surrender yourself to the court when we do file charges. Of course, letting you go early would depend on what you have.”

“I have a hell of a lot,” Ray said.

“I
t was self-defense.” Raylene kicked off her boots and sat cross-legged on Lucky’s bed. “Gus stole our cattle. My guess is that he was gonna steal yours too.”

“Jesus.” Lucky scrubbed his hand through his hair.

If Gus was really involved with stealing Ray’s and Clay’s cattle, then there was a good chance that the rest of Lucky’s construction crew was in on it too. Apparently these guys liked to diversify. Drugs, livestock theft, who knows what else they dabbled in? He had to fire these yahoos. Get them the hell out of Nugget and get his cowboy camp project back on track.

“What’s going on with your dad, now?” he asked.

“He met with his lawyer, the prosecutor, and the cops tonight. Told them what happened. They’re letting him go until they charge him . . . if they charge him.”

“I’m sorry, Raylene. I hate the man’s guts, but this has got to be hard on you and your ma.”

“Honestly, I think my mother is happy to have him out of the house,” Raylene said. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She unbuttoned her blouse, thrusting out those lace-encased double D’s, and held her arms wide open. “Come to bed.”

But for the first time ever, he had absolutely no desire to sleep with her. He’d like to blame it on stress, but deep down inside he knew he was thinking about another woman. No way would he have sex with one while having feelings for the other. He just wasn’t built that way.

But he couldn’t tell Raylene that. After all these years of loving her, he was having enough trouble dealing with the idea that maybe she wasn’t the one for him after all. For Raylene, it would be the ultimate rejection. Lucky didn’t want to hurt her that way. At least not intentionally and not until he was absolutely sure. For all he knew, this sudden interest in Tawny was a passing fancy. Just a momentary infatuation.

Raylene was still dealing with her ugly divorce from Butch, and it had created a lot of tension between her and Lucky. Perhaps that accounted for his unexpected attraction to Tawny.

“I want to check on the animals—do another set of rounds,” he said, hoping that it would give him enough time to come up with a legitimate excuse for why he wasn’t in the mood to make love to her. Because Lucky was always in the mood.

“You just did it an hour ago,” she complained.

“I’ve got a lot of money invested in that stock. Given what’s been going on around here, a man can’t be too careful.” He sat on the edge of the bed and patted her thigh. “I know you’re beat from everything that has happened today. I won’t be offended if you don’t wait up.”

As it turned out, he didn’t have to make up an excuse. Before he got to the door of the single-wide, Tawny called.

“Katie’s got a high fever,” she said. “I’m taking her to the emergency room at Plumas General.”

“Wait for me,” Lucky told her. “I’ll drive.” He grabbed his hat and wallet off the kitchen table, put on his jacket, and went back to the bedroom to find Raylene curled up in nothing but a filmy nightgown. “Katie is sick. We’re taking her to the hospital.”

“Why can’t Tawny just do it?”

He glared at her and walked out. What kind of person says something like that?

On his way to Tawny’s, he broke every speed limit and traffic law on the books. By the time he pulled into the driveway, Tawny had Katie bundled up and waiting. She bustled her into the backseat of his truck before he could turn off the ignition.

“Go,” she said, and he could see lines of worry etched across her face.

“Take it easy.” He put a consoling hand on her leg while he backed out onto the road. “It’ll be okay.”

She nodded as if she was trying to convince herself. “She was fine right after you left. I checked on her about thirty minutes ago and she was burning up. Just like that time at your mother’s.”

He squeezed her leg. “They’ll bring down her fever at the hospital. Should we call Dr. Laurence?”

She looked at her watch. “It’s late. We’ll see what they say in the emergency room.”

“Okay, but I’d like to light a fire under his ass for those test results.” Lucky looked in his rearview. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

“I don’t feel so good,” Katie said.

“Hang tight,” he told her, trying to sound confident. “The doctors will make you feel better.”

When they got to the hospital, Lucky scooped Katie out of the backseat while Tawny grabbed a duffel he hadn’t noticed when she’d first gotten in the truck. She must’ve seen him looking at it because she said, “In case we have to stay the night.”

This clearly wasn’t her first rodeo. The hell she’d been through with Katie made his insides ache. He should’ve been there for them.

A nurse rushed them back into a room and a doctor came in a few moments later. With all the busted bones and concussions he’d had, Lucky couldn’t remember getting this kind of fast service in an emergency room. Thank goodness the medical staff was being so accommodating with Katie.

After an hour, Katie’s fever was down, but she was anemic. The doctors said it was common in children who suffer from acute myeloid leukemia and wanted to keep her overnight. While they admitted her to a private room, Tawny and Lucky sat in the waiting room.

“You don’t have to wait,” Tawny said. “No need for both of us to be here.”

He tossed her his keys. “Go home then.”

She seemed startled by his reaction. “I was only trying to be considerate. I know that you’ve got a lot on your plate right now with the shooting and all.”

“You think that’s more important than my daughter?” A daughter he was just getting to know. “Why’d you call me if you didn’t want my support?”

“Because you deserve to know,” she said.

“That’s rich coming from the woman who kept my baby from me for nine years.”

“Lucky, I don’t need this right now.” Her hands trembled and he felt like a tool for fighting with her.

“I know, but stop being so damned independent. I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this all the way.” She started to cry and he moved a few seats over so he could be next to her. “Why are you crying?”

“Because it’s always been just me,” she said, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “My mother died when I was a baby. My father died after Katie was born. I’ve come to accept that people don’t stick.”

“I stick,” Lucky said. He got up, walked across the room to grab a box of tissues, and handed it to her. “Get it through your head, Tawny, I’m not going anywhere.”

She blew her nose and they sat in companionable silence until Tawny fell asleep. Lucky found the nurses’ station, got a blanket, and draped it around Tawny, nudging her head onto his shoulder. He watched her sleep, a jumble of emotions swirling through him. The woman was too damned independent for his liking. In this day and age he knew it was backwards, but Lucky had always been attracted to soft women who were just a little bit needy. It made him feel strong and useful and a whole bunch of other things that a shrink would probably have a ball with.

Yet Tawny’s fierce independence was the very thing that fascinated him about her. She was a terrific mom, ran her own business, and wasn’t reliant on anyone.

Shit! Except for the business part, it occurred to Lucky that he’d fallen for his mother, which gave him a slight shudder.

A nurse eventually came into the waiting room, waking Tawny, and told them that Katie had been settled into a room. They gathered up their stuff, Lucky taking the duffel bag from Tawny, and found their way to the fifth-floor pediatric unit. Katie was fast asleep. A nurse brought a cot into the small room and Lucky insisted Tawny take it. He, in the meantime, sprawled out as best he could in a straight-back chair.

By morning, Lucky awoke with a crick in his neck. Nothing that a few stretches wouldn’t cure. He’d felt much worse after eight seconds on a bull. Someone brought in breakfast for Katie and toothbrushes for Tawny and him. They both cleaned up in the room’s miniature bathroom and wandered down to the cafeteria for coffee.

“Katie’s fever is gone,” Tawny said. “But I’m still planning to call Dr. Laurence. Hopefully he’ll have some news.”

“You think they’ll let her go home today?”

“That would be my guess.” She took his arm. “Thank you for being here, Lucky.”

And there she went again, treating him like she would a concerned and helpful neighbor. It pissed Lucky off, but he decided to let it slide. Eventually she’d get it through her thick head that he planned to be a full-fledged father to Katie.

In the cafeteria, Lucky loaded his tray with scrambled eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Tawny got a yogurt and some fruit. When they got to the cash register, she went to pay and Lucky pushed her wallet away.

“You ever think this could be the reason why you’re still single?” It was a mean thing to say and Lucky wished he had bitten his tongue.

But Tawny laughed, seemingly unperturbed. “You ever think that attitude is why you only date buckle bimbos and brainless Barbie dolls?” Then her face turned red. “I didn’t mean Raylene.”

But they both knew she did.

“I’ve dated a lot of educated women,” he said. Well, at least a few. “And guess what? They would’ve let me pay for their five-dollar breakfast.”

“I’m not your date,” Tawny said, finding them a table at the back of the room.

“Why not?”

“Because you have a girlfriend.” She peered at him, challenge in her eyes.

“What if I didn’t? Would you date a guy like me?”

“Probably not,” she said. “Guys like you are heartbreak waiting to happen.”

“That’s a crock.” He was genuinely offended. “I’m steady. Look at my track record. I’ve loved the same woman since before I could shave.” Tawny had been the one to make him question what he’d once thought were unshakable feelings for Raylene.

“Why do you care?” she asked. “Like you said, you’ve got the woman you’ve always wanted.”

That was the problem. Perhaps all this time he’d wanted the wrong woman. “Just curious about the kind of guys you’re into.”

“I don’t have a particular type,” Tawny lied. Her type was Lucky, but she didn’t need to inflate his already fat self-image. He had arm-candy Raylene for that.

“Just not
my
type.” He sounded ticked off, like it was a major shock for him to find out that there were women out there who didn’t want to throw themselves at him. “If I wasn’t hooked up with Raylene and you weren’t such a hard-ass, you might be my type.”

“You hardly know me.” Even though she knew everything about him.

“I’ve known you my whole life, Tawny. We went to grade school together, remember?”

“You didn’t know me. You knew of me. There’s a difference. The night we were together, you hadn’t even realized that I’d dropped out of high school. That’s how invisible I was to you.”

“You’re not invisible to me now.”

Of course she wasn’t, she was the mother of their child. Their very sick child. “We should get back to Katie’s room.”

They bussed their own table and left the cafeteria. When they got to Katie’s room, the doctor was waiting for them.

“Miss Katie here is being cleared for takeoff,” he told them. “I talked to Dr. Laurence. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any news for you yet, but he wants you to keep Katie home, preferably in bed, and out of school for the next couple of days while we monitor the fever.”

Tawny did as the doctor asked and got Katie tucked in as soon as they arrived home. Lucky went to his ranch to feed his stock and check on the progress of the construction, which was scheduled to resume today, with the assurance that he’d be back later to check on Katie. Tawny went into the kitchen to make some tea when she heard a faint knock on the door. Brady stood outside, holding a sack.

“Hi,” she said, letting him in.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard you, Katie, and Lucky spent the night in the hospital.”

Tawny let out an audible sigh. “She had a high fever, so they admitted her. But it’s gone today. She’s in bed now, resting.” She looked at the foil package peeking out of his bag. “What do you have there?” Whatever it was, it smelled fantastic.

“Fresh bread, just out of the oven. And some peach jam I canned over the summer.”

“Seriously.” She sniffed the bag and tugged on his arm. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Tawny put the kettle on the stove to boil, pulled out two mugs, some plates and knives, and set them on the table. Then she unwrapped the bread, letting the yeasty aroma fill her nose.

“I can’t believe you made this,” she said, and held up the jar of jam to the light. “And this.”

“Yeah. I don’t make kick-ass cowboy boots, though.”

“I’m making you a pair,” she said, and cut a piece of the bread, smeared it with jam, and chewed. She closed her eyes for a second. “This is so good. What should I put on them? The boots.”

That’s when one of the many intricate and colorful tattoos on his forearms caught her attention. It was a knife and fork artfully crossed into an X. “That right there.” She pointed. “That’s what I’ll put on them.”

Brady looked down at his arm. “That’ll work. But a loaf of bread and jam doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”

Tawny held up a hunk of the homemade bread. “Have you tasted this?”

Brady’s lips slid up into a smile. “It’s good stuff.”

“Yeah, it is. Sorry, I’m being a pig. You want some?”

“Nope. Have at it.” Brady pulled out two chairs, and they sat. “No word yet on the transplant?”

Katie shook her head. “We’re still waiting.” It seemed like so much had happened since she and Lucky had gone to Palo Alto two days ago.

“Lucky doing okay?”

“Considering someone was killed on his property . . . and Katie . . . he’s been a rock.”

“And his girlfriend’s dad.” Brady shook his head. “Man, that must suck.”

“What are you talking about?” What about Raylene’s dad?