Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (3 page)

“Certainly.”

Rebecca looked at Pasquale. His tanned face seemed to have lost a great deal of color and his dark-black eyes burned with a combination of rage and disbelief. She fought the instinctive roll of apprehension in her stomach and cocked her head. She met his stare head-on.

The rage disappeared and a self-deprecating smile replaced the anger. “You should reconsider, Miss Lyons,” he said in his lightly accented voice. She’d never been able to place it beyond European.

Gaughan crossed one leg over the other then toyed with the sharp crease in his gray slacks. “I promise I can make this a very profitable partnership. You are the best criminal defense attorney in Boston. I would very much like to work with you. I have always admired you.”

Rebecca inclined her head. “Thank you, but I’m afraid you’re exaggerating. There are many more proficient lawyers than myself. In fact, they are on the list Ms. Gillette has waiting for you.”

Rebecca stood and held out her hand.

Pasquale remained seated. She saw the gathering anger return.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said softly. “My influence is very great.”

She gave him a cool smile. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Mr. Gaughan. Good luck.”
You’ll need it.

His lips flattened and a hard, ugly look crossed his face. “I can make your life very difficult.”

Another quick wave of fear hit her but Rebecca shoved it down. She hated being bullied. Especially by a man who had a cold reputation for picking on those weaker and less successful than himself. Fortunately she’d been through this type of veiled threat a time or thirty.

She gave him a tight smile. “Mr. Gaughan, I appreciate your verve but we both know I’m not the right person to defend you. You have a good case. Any of the attorneys on the list will do a much better job.”

He rose quickly and she forced herself to remain still and implacable.

“If I insist?”

She shrugged. “I cannot defend you. Good day, Mr. Gaughan. Good luck.”

She skirted her desk and strode across the soft, cream-colored Berber carpet to the door of her office. She grasped the brass handle and tugged inward.

He let out a slow breath before walking forward. He brushed her breast with his elbow as he passed then smirked.

Rebecca gave him an outward cool smile but inside she shuddered and recoiled. She wanted to toss him out into the street like the trash he was.

Annoyance flickered through his gaze once more.

“You’ll regret this,” he snarled. He snatched the paper from Deidre’s hand and stalked from the outer office. The door slammed and windows trembled in the wake of his furious departure.

“What a charmer,” Deidre said.

“Tell me about it,” Rebecca replied. She rubbed her arms to ward off the lingering effects of his presence.

“Boss, I don’t know how you manage to look so serene when dealing with those idiots. I would have popped him for brushing up against me.”

Rebecca ran a hand through the sleek length of her ponytail. “I wanted to poke his damn eyeballs out.”

“What stopped you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Training. My father would have a conniption if he saw me being outright rude. He always said a lady behaves in public and rages in private.”

Deidre’s mouth twisted. “Sounds like a boring way to grow up.”

Rebecca thought of being seven and at the mercy of an addict bent on scoring cash or drugs. The old memory brought another shiver. She couldn’t say she’d had a boring upbringing. “Eh, you learn to adapt.”

Her secretary nodded then looked at her watch. “It’s almost one. I’m going to head to the deli for a sandwich. Want anything?”

As if on cue, Rebecca’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything since half a bagel at seven that morning. “Turkey and Swiss on white bread. Toasted. Extra black olives.”

Deidre smiled. “Why did I even ask?”

“Because you’re a good employee who never takes anything for granted?”

“And don’t you forget it.”

After she left, Rebecca wandered back into her office. She picked up the file her investigator had compiled on Gaughan. On the surface the man shone like a beatific angel. Beneath the sophisticated veneer, however, was a con man of the highest order. All the digging in the world hadn’t produced a shred of evidence against him but she
knew
he was guilty.

Her father called it a gut feeling and cautioned her against listening to it. Rebecca called it sixth sense preservation.

The outer office phone rang. Rebecca hurried around her desk and picked up the receiver.

“Rebecca Lyons.”

“Hello, gorgeous.”

She smiled at the smooth baritone. “Boone! How are you?”

“Doing well. Pretty good actually. Lots of action around here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Surely you didn’t call me to tell me about your sexual exploits?”

“I would but you’d like that too much.”

Heat blossomed in her cheeks and she looked through the door to the empty outer office. She lowered her voice. “Hush, you big mouth.” Boone knew more of her secrets than anyone else in her life. And he loved to use the more titillating ones to tease her mercilessly.

His warm chuckle washed over her and she couldn’t help but smile again.

“Where are you now, or is that hush-hush government information?”

“I’m in Texas, actually. A tiny little town called Freedom.”

Rebecca pulled the phone away and stared at it in surprise before bringing the receiver back to her ear. “What are you doing there?”

“That, I can’t tell you. I think you’d like it down here, though. Beautiful lush hills, lots of cattle and exotic animals, and even more interesting people.”

“Sounds quaint and picturesque.”

“I know you like that,” he murmured. “For all your big-city ways, you pine for the country.”

“As long as I can get my nails done, my hair cut well, and there’s decent shopping, I’m comfortable anywhere.”

Boone laughed. She heard the rumble of a low voice in the background followed by a higher feminine voice.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“I’m at the sheriff’s office. That’s Sheriff Taggart Cain and his secretary, Doreen.”

“The sheriff’s office, huh? You in trouble with the law?”

“Honey, I
am
the law.”

She rolled her eyes even as she chuckled.

“What’s new on your end, Rebecca? Started seeing anyone yet?”

“You know better than that.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “But I was hoping.” His voice gentled. “You’re going to have to open up sometime, kiddo. I know you had a bad spell but there are men out there who would do anything for you.”

“Hush, Boone,” she said again. Embarrassment rushed over her. “I’m content. I have my practice and I socialize. What more do I need?”

The phone muffled and she frowned.

“Rebecca, I’ll tell you what you need.” His voice was even lower and she strained to hear him. “You need a man with a firm hand.”

She choked. “Are you applying for the job?”

His baritone laughter reverberated in her ear. “You know better than that. You’re like my kid sister. You’re beautiful and infinitely sensual, but you’re just not my type.”

She grinned. “Thank God.”

The background voice yelled loudly. She thought the sheriff was cursing but couldn’t quite pick out the words.

“Damn. I have to go, Rebecca. I’ll call you next week.”

The phone clicked and she sighed as she re-cradled it. Boone Shepherd was one of her oldest and best friends. The man knew too many secrets about her, but she didn’t mind. He was also one of the people she trusted most in the world.

Their weekly phone calls were always a bright spot in her day.

She leaned back and looked out the window of her Boston office. Even though the calendar read May 26 the sky outside was dark and dreary with heavy clouds. She hoped they didn’t hold snow. She was ready for something warmer.

“I wonder just how hot it is in Freedom, Texas, right now.”

“How’s the prisoner?” Tag asked as he walked into the small office.

“Hasn’t made a peep,” Doreen said. She popped her gum. “Kinda creepy if you ask me. No hollering to be let out or see his lawyer or anything.”

Tag frowned and looked toward the heavy iron door that led to the four small cells in the back of the building. “You check on him?”

Doreen gaped. “And have you bawl me out for going back there without authority? Are you crazy?”

Tag tapped a blunt fingertip against her desk and tried to hold on to his patience and temper. Both slipped perilously. “Doreen?”

She huffed then patted her hair. “Fine,” she grumbled. “He was doing okay. Just lying on his cot. Didn’t even look at me or nothing.”

“Anything,” Tag corrected absently. “What about his phone call? Has he made that yet?”

“Nope.”

“Damn,” Tag muttered.

Fischer’s silence was strange. Tag had checked on him twice since Doc Mayers had released him. Both times Fischer’s demeanor had been cool and collected. His mocking grin ground on Tag like a fork on china.

“Where’s Deputy Carson?”

Doreen brightened. “She’s over at the Tin Star giving blood. It’s time for the high school’s annual drive.”

Tag shook his head even as he stared at the iron door again. “What drive?”

“The high school’s blood drive. You know. A high school where students go to learn?”

“I know what a school is,” he said.
What in the hell is Fischer up to? Why isn’t he calling an attorney?

She rose and waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”

Tag looked down at her. “What?” he snapped.

Doreen sighed like an emo teenager. “You asked a question, Sheriff. It’s only polite to listen to the answer. I have half a mind to call your mama. If I knew her name or number, that is. You’re awfully closed-mouthed, Sheriff. You know that?”

Tag forced a grin and shoved back the instant dart of decades-old pain. “You call my mother and you’ll be looking for a new job.”

Doreen tossed her hair. “I ain’t scared of you.”

“Now that’s a fool remark,” he said. “You know what kind of reputation I have.”

She grinned and blew a bubble with her gum. “Yeah, except I also know it’s mostly a bunch of crap.”

Tag leaned down. “The key word there is
mostly
.” He straightened up. “Tell me about the blood drive.”

“The high school students have challenged their teachers to see who can raise the most blood donations. Someone goes in to donate and they say which side they’re giving for. The winning side will get the silver bronc statue that used to be outside Brand Withers’s car dealership.”

He snorted. “That’s a dubious reward.”

She tossed her short blonde hair and glowered. “It’s about helping people, Tag. Maljib graciously offered the parking lot of the restaurant to the blood people for their bus. Anyone who donates gets ten percent off their meal, too. You gonna go?”

He resisted the urge to cover his veins. “Uh, I’ll see. Maybe.”

Doreen narrowed her blue-eyed gaze on him. A wicked smile lifted her lips. “You’re scared of needles,” she said. Her grin grew wide as the mighty Brazos River. “I’ll be damned.”

Tag glared down at her. “I’m not scared of needles, Doreen. I have an aversion to vampires. There’s a difference.” He unbuckled his belt. “I’m going to put this in my office then head back to check on Fischer.”

Doreen sat back down and looked at her desk. Without warning her nose reddened and tears swam in her eyes.

Tag’s gut tightened. “What’s wrong?”

“We got a few applications for Deputy Wallace’s position.” Her voice wavered on the words and she gulped then coughed.

Tag figured she must have swallowed her gum because her jaws stopped clacking like an out-of-control locomotive.

“What should I do with them?”

Nausea filled him and he glared once more at the door separating him from the cold-blooded man who’d killed his deputy. Tag looked down at her. “Put them on my desk,” he said softly. “I’ll go through them.”

She nodded and the wan emotions cleared from her face. “Thanks, boss.” She sniffled loudly.

He snatched a box of tissues off the corner of her desk and thrust them at her.

Crying women made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t much for placating with bullshit sentiments. He didn’t have the kind of smooth tongue other men did.

He stalked into his office and carefully hung his belt on the maple coatrack. He set his hat on top of it and moved to his desk. Yellow and pink sticky notes littered the surface. They were reminders from Doreen of the various things he needed to do today.

Fill out incident report re: Fischer arrest.

Sign off on supply requisition—we’re almost out of toilet paper.

Go to blood drive & give!

He shuddered again and crumpled that one in his palm. He’d do it, but he damned sure wouldn’t like it.

Tag sat down in his chair and turned around to face the large map of Texas hanging on his wall above gray file cabinets. He focused on the star denoting Austin as state capital. He drew in a deep breath, sucking air through his nose and as far into his belly as he could. The star wavered as his eyelids went half-mast.

He exhaled in an equally long and controlled burst.

Positive in, negative out.

He repeated the breathing exercise four more times before he figured he was calm enough to see Fischer again.

He rose and headed for the cells.

The iron door opened silently and easily. He saw Fischer lying on his back with one arm draped over his eye. One bootie-covered foot kept rhythm to an inaudible beat.

Tag wished he had his nightstick to bang on the bars and scare the shit out of the little asshole.

“Fischer,” he barked.

The prisoner slowly lifted his arm and eyed him with disdain. “What?”

Tag gritted his teeth. “You gonna call anyone or what?”

“Or what what?”

Tag took a step forward and curled his hands around the cold metal bars. “While I don’t care if you rot in my jail, you need to call someone.”