Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (8 page)

Wade widened his eyes and flattened his hand over his chest. “I’m crushed by your low opinion of me, Miss Sadie.”

She snorted then winked at Rebecca. “Get the potato salad. It’s divine. Bye, Sheriff.”

“See you later, Sadie,” Tag said.

Wade watched as the Reynolds guy leaped to his feet and pulled out Sadie’s chair when she returned to the table. The guy was fawning all over her like she was the last bowl of banana pudding. The middle of his shoulders burned and he rolled them to ease the tension.

“Okay with the salad?” Catherine asked.

“Uh, sure. Sounds good.”

“Okay. Sheriff?”

“Give me the chicken-fried steak. Mashed potatoes, fried okra, and white gravy on the side.”

She scribbled on her pad and looked at Wade with one brow raised.

“The same,” he said and handed over his menu. He watched her sleek butt as she sashayed away, but it didn’t hold his attention as it normally did. He speared Rebecca with an inquisitive look. “You’re a psychic lawyer?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Tag muttered. “Knock it off. She’s here just in case. I haven’t been charged with anything yet.”

Rebecca sipped her tea but her eloquent eyes were snapping with curiosity and a lingering embarrassment. Wade fought the urge to pat her arm and assure her the folks in the restaurant were just concerned about Tag.

He grew serious and scooted his chair a little closer to the table. He crossed his arms on the red-checked cloth and leaned forward. “Have you been able to see any of the evidence they’ve collected?”

“I can’t discuss that.”

“It’s all right,” Tag said. “Wade’s my best friend. I figure if I end up in jail, he’ll be the one you’ll need to help you out.”

A contemplative look crossed her fine, patrician features. Her nose was perfectly straight but dipped down just enough to ruin the look of stuck-up witch. She had a smattering of freckles just below her eyes, too. He liked them.

Rebecca sighed. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, Tag.”

“You and me both.”

“So, the evidence?”

She shook her head. “No. I have to make my own case and do my own investigations. Because of my past relationship with Boone, I have to tread all the more carefully to avoid any potential hint of impropriety.”

Wade whistled. “You and Boone? Wow. Color me shocked. I would not have pegged that.”

Her pretty mouth dropped open then closed with an audible click. “We were friends in college,” she said. “Nothing more.”

This time Wade felt the heat burn
his
face. He cleared his throat then took a sip of water and looked around the restaurant. The reporter perused a newspaper as he ate, but a notebook lay open beside him. A blue pen sat on top of the crisp pages. Hank, Sadie, and Reynolds lingered over cups of coffee and apple pie.

Next to them, a couple of other strangers sat huddled over a small velvet box. He remembered seeing them in the grocery store the night before, looking for wine. He suspected they were part of the wild wedding party Tag had to put the smack down on so often. He shook his head. They looked to be about twenty or so. Much too young to be getting married.

He should know. He’d just turned twenty when he and Grace had Riley. Not that he regretted his son. He’d move heaven and hell for the little scamp. But he hadn’t been ready for the massive responsibility of raising a child. He sure as shit hadn’t been ready to marry. Thankfully Grace felt the same way. They’d worked out an agreement for joint custody and responsibility and fourteen years later they were still good friends. He shuddered to think what kind of trauma would have been done to his relationship with Riley if they’d married then divorced.

He snuck a peek at Rebecca, who was still shaking her head. Her pretty lips pursed tightly.

Wade cleared his throat. “So, blood drive. You ready to give, Tag?”

“I’m assuming you won’t leave me alone until I do?”

“Got it in one.”

Tag sighed. “Fine. As soon as we eat, I’ll go out to the bus and give, okay?”

“Perfect.”

Catherine arrived with a tray laden with the artery-hardening delicacy that was Maljib’s chicken-fried steak and Rebecca’s much healthier turkey platter. She passed out the plates and refilled their drinks.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Nope,” Tag answered.

Wade cut into his steak then pointed his knife at Rebecca. “Try the potato salad.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said.

“Try it,” he insisted. “It’s awesome.”

“You sound like one of your kids,” Tag muttered.

Rebecca dipped her fork into the salad and brought it to her lips. “You have kids?” she asked Wade then slipped the fork into her mouth.

His dick grew hard again when her tongue came out to lick at a stray bit of creamy mayonnaise on her lip. Then her eyes widened and she looked down at the plate.

“That’s incredible,” she said.

They laughed.

Wade threaded a steak morsel onto his fork then dredged it through the fluffy mashed potatoes.

Just as he lifted the fork, a fracas erupted from the hallway. Then Benjamin Whitcombe burst around the corner. His usually shellacked-into-place white hair was tufted and his bow-tie was askew. He looked wildly around the room before his gaze found their table and he rushed forward.

“Incoming,” Wade said softly.

“Sheriff!” Whitcombe yelled as he wound through the tables. “Sheriff! That, that
man
stayed at my hotel.”

The other diners turned their attention to Whitcombe. Wade saw Sadie yank Hank back into her seat then wave down Mr. Reynolds. Both the reporter and the wedding couple looked up with equally confused expressions.

Arte Kushing sat in a far corner, doodling as always. He pushed his black horn rimmed glasses up his nose and watched the commotion wide-eyed.

Wade knew living in a small town meant everyone knew everyone else’s business, but some days a bit of privacy would be welcome.

Too bad it’ll never happen in Freedom.

Tag rose. “Calm down, Whitty. What are you talking about?”

Whitty’s normally pale face flushed with indignation and fury streamed from his eyes. “That man who was killed in your jail cell, Sheriff. That’s who I’m talking about. He stayed right there in room 120.”

Rebecca inhaled sharply.

“You said he didn’t stay at the Queen. We didn’t find one of your keys on him either.”

“He used an assumed name,” Whitcombe said with a huff. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, raising more tufts. This time he added a couple of deep furrows which revealed his pink scalp.

The man really needs to get out into the sun more.

“What name?” Tag asked. He pulled out his notepad and flipped through it.

Wade saw Donald Alcott surreptitiously pick up his pen.

“Jackson Michaels.”

Tag stilled then snorted. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t question that?”

Whitcombe drew himself up into a stiff pole of quivering pique. “He had the proper identification. Everything went through just fine.”

Tag nodded. “All right, settle down, Whitty. Just asking a question. How did you discover Mr. Michaels and Fischer were the same man?”

“Excuse me.” The young reporter from Bastrop interrupted the tȇte-à-tȇte. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you saying the murdered man was a client of yours?”

“No questions, Junior. Sit back down.”

“But Sheriff, we’d like to know, too,” Sadie protested. She and Hank were hovering at the fringe of an expanding group of people.

Wade caught the rising annoyance on Tag’s face. If he didn’t do something quick, the sheriff would likely blow all his chances at reelection because he pissed off half the county in one fell insult.

“Sadie, Miss Hank, why don’t we go outside and head on over to the donation bus?”

Sadie glared at him. “I told you I already gave, Wade.”

He looked at Hank. “What about you?” He looked at the empty seat. “And your friend Mr. Reynolds? Where did he go? Surely he’ll be happy to donate to the town his great-great-relative helped found.”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Hank said. She took Sadie’s arm. “Let’s go outside and wait, honey. We’ll find out what’s going on later.”

Wade stifled a grin at the true words. The entire town had the news covered from edge to edge between Betty’s Barbershop, Maljib’s diner, and the Chrome Barrel. Nothing escaped the Freedom grapevine.

The older woman hesitated just a moment longer then nodded. She turned her attention to the four surrounding tables and clapped her hands sharply. “Okay, people move along. Let’s give the sheriff some privacy here.”

“But Sadie, I’m not done with my food,” one diner protested.

“Then move to another table. That means you, too,” she said to the wedding party and reporter. “Everyone skedaddle.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the reporter muttered.

The expression Tag gave him was as black and ominous as a Texas thunderstorm. The young cub gulped and flipped his notebook closed. He snatched up his bill and stalked away. “I’ll be in touch, Sheriff,” he said. “The right to information and all that.”

Sadie dusted her hands together. “All right, Tag. The floor is all yours. Come on, Hank. We’ll wait for Charles up front.”

Wade grinned at her military precision in clearing the area. When he looked at Tag, he snorted again. The sheriff’s eyes were closed and he was mouthing numbers.

“Still trying to do that relaxation shit, huh?” he asked softly.

“What relaxation stuff?” Rebecca asked.

Wade touched her elbow. He’d been right. Her skin was smooth and soft and she smelled heavenly. Her light scent reminded him of orange-wrapped cotton.

“After he got out of the military, he attended some classes and one thing they tried to teach him was relaxation through breathing and meditation.”

“Hippie bullshit,” Tag muttered. He looked around then nodded. “Okay, Whitty. We’re gonna call Boone then head on over to the Queen. I’ll lock down the room and search it. You haven’t cleaned it, have you?”

Whitcombe shook his head. “No. The
Do Not Disturb
sign has been on the door for several days. He was scheduled to check out yesterday but he didn’t settle his bill. I saw his car was still in the lot so I figured he just hadn’t had time to finish whatever he was here to do.”

“How did you make the connection?” Rebecca asked.

Whitcombe shrugged. “Well, it just makes sense, doesn’t it? This Michaels man has not been seen in days and you’ve got a dead body in your jail. It has to be the same guy.”

“You mean you’re not sure?” she said.

Wade closed his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say one hundred percent but at least ninety-nine,” Whitty said.

Tag sighed. “All right. I’ll look into it. Sorry, Wade. I won’t make it to your blood drive this evening.”

Wade scowled. “The bus will be here until Maljib closes at ten. Come back after you get off work.”

“Damn, you’re a pain in my ass.”

“Yep.”

“All right.” Tag pulled out his phone and waggled it at Wade. “I’m only doing it because I’m a sucker for a good cause.” He looked at Rebecca. “You stay and finish your lunch with Wade while I take care of this.”

“I’d like to come,” she said.

“No way. Boundaries, remember?”

She nodded. “You’re right, of course. Get as much information as you can then. Look at everything. Take pictures. Sketch the scene. Note all the objects in the room.”

Tag lifted a brow. “Darlin’, this ain’t my first rodeo. I
do
know what I’m doing.” He peeled off a twenty and tossed it to the table. “That’s for dinner. Damn.” He stared mournfully at his half-eaten steak. “That was really good today, too.”

“It is good every day, Sheriff,” Maljib said. “I will send a fresh plate to your office when you are finished at the Queen.”

Wade started at the man’s silent arrival. “You move like a ghost,” he accused. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

Tag waved as he left.

“I do not sneak, Mr. Merritt. You simply do not listen.” Maljib winked at Rebecca and returned to the long hallway. He disappeared around the corner.

Wade looked at Rebecca and inclined his head. “Shall we finish?”

Her smile made his stomach flip with a hunger that had nothing to do with chicken-fried steak. “Sure. You can tell me about your blood drive.” She sat back down and picked up her fork.

Wade moved into Tag’s seat directly across from her and switched their plates. He lifted his tea glass in her direction. “I’d rather talk about you.”

One finely manicured blonde brow rose. “Oh? I’m not very interesting, Mr. Merritt.”

“Wade. I’m afraid I’m going to have to call bullshit on that.”

She laughed and he sank deeper into her allure.

“Were you a siren in a past life?” he asked.

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Oh, I’d love to have you begging. On your knees in front of me with that beautiful mouth open and ready to suck my cock.
Wade shifted in his seat. “You know, a siren? The mermaids who lured sailors to their doom using their beauty and voice?”

Another blush graced her cheeks. “Well, I’d say thank you for the compliment, but I’m not entirely sure that is one.”

“It was, I promise.”

“Uh-huh. So, tell me about this blood drive.”

Wade launched into a lengthy explanation of the contest, the blood drive, their goals, and how the high school teachers were determined to win.

“Are you going to donate?” he asked as they finished their lunch. “We have cookies.”

She cleared her throat. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of needles, too?”

“No, definitely not. I spent way too much time in and around hospitals growing up to develop a fear of them.”

“Why were you in the hospital so much? Are you better? Where did you grow up?”

Rebecca’s gaze slid past his shoulder. Wade turned but didn’t see anyone or anything there. When he returned his attention to her, she’d pasted a bland expression on her face.

“All right. I’m going to assume your background is a touchy subject?”