Pretty Reckless (Entangled Ignite) (18 page)

He sighed and brushed his floppy bangs out of his eyes. “Truthfully, no, but I know what I saw. Luke was out at Arrowhead Range that night. And I think there’s more to the cattle poisoning then anyone is letting on. Please be careful. I wouldn’t trust a single soul in town.” He looked across the lawn at the pickup idling in the storm. “Not even your closest friends, okay?”

I leaned back on my elbows and looked him dead in the eyes. “Don’t get mad,” I said, “but how drunk were you?”

He chewed on his lower lip. “Really…you’re going to go there?”

“Boomer,” I said, trying for a patience I was fast losing, “I have to ask, and you know it. How much did you have to drink?”

He raised a hand and started counting his fingers. I watched them roll down into his palm once, then twice before he gave up, and shook his head in dismay. “Maybe a twelve pack,” he admitted. “Hell, Laney”—his chin dropped into his neck—“there might’ve even been a bottle of whiskey or two.”

I shook my head and peered down into eyes that asked me to believe in him for once. Then I turned away to prop myself against the wall of the house, hoping it would be warmer there. “That’s what I thought.”

“You don’t believe me?” he asked.

“We’ll talk about it later.” I opened the front door and gestured him into the house. “Please just go inside and stay there.”

Not happy about it, he nevertheless did as I asked. I waved at Nathan and picked up my pace down the steps and over to the truck. I heard the screen door crash into the house as I climbed in.

“Is everything okay?” Nathan asked.

Mouth tight, I strapped on my seatbelt. “Couldn’t be peachier,” I snapped, sinking into my seat.

And damn Boomer for being my best friend anyway.

Chapter Fourteen

I tossed about my pillow and turned on my side, rolling into Nathan. He slung his arm across my chest and kissed my rumpled hair.

“Good morning, Laney,” he mumbled at my ear.

“I’ll go get the coffee started,” I said, and began to inch out of his arms.

“What’s the rush?” he asked, tugging me back. “I can’t think of a better reason to be late for work.”

He wrestled with the sheets, pulling them over his head, and lazily slid down on top of me. At the same time that he pressed his tongue into my mouth, he scooted a hand under my nightshirt to cup my breast. I stretched back on the mattress and rested my head on the pillow.

“I love you so much,” he whispered through a smile. Then he tugged off my panties.

A short while later, I pulled the shower curtain closed and allowed myself to soak under the hot water. Nathan’s lovemaking had been rougher and more possessive than usual—not quite a repeat of the other night in the front hall, but not…considerate, either. When I’d finished washing my hair and scrubbing my grimy-feeling skin, I stepped out and quickly dried off, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve navy T-shirt, and stepped into my boots.

Nathan was waiting for me in the kitchen when I came downstairs, sipping on a cup of coffee. He smiled back at me and pecked me on the cheek, then handed me a mug. “So, what are your plans today?” he asked.

Mostly the usual, I thought. Meaning that first, I’d smile at Dobbs’s crabbiness and try not to be rude to Elroy until noon, and lastly, I’d have to force myself to ignore Gunner at all costs. Except that today I also had to follow up on what Boomer’d told me about Luke while making sure Gunner didn’t step in and screw that pooch all to hell.

I sagged against the countertop and sipped my suddenly tasteless coffee. “Not much. It should be a pretty boring.” I shrugged. “I guess the most important thing I need to do is swing by my place to pick up a dress for the Cattlemen’s Ball tonight.”

“Sounds like a busy day.” He rinsed out his coffee cup. “I’ll be home around five.” He tucked my hair behind my ears, smiled, and pressed a hard kiss on my lips.

I stood slack against the counter and watched him snatch his briefcase off the table, yank the clinic keys from the wall peg, then he walked out the backdoor.

Time to bite the bullet.

I dumped my coffee down the drain, grabbed Nathan’s truck keys, and hit the porch steps. I hauled myself up inside the cab, and cranked over the engine, gripping the steering wheel as if it was my damn lifeline. The glimmer of my engagement ring snagged my attention. Fucking sparkly bastard knew I was lying not only to Nathan but to myself. I dreaded my impending nuptials and absolutely did not want to go to the Cattleman’s Ball—not with Nathan, not with anybody.

Especially not Gunner.

“This is ridiculous,” I said out loud, needing these doubts of mine to stop. But no voice filtered through the silence to tell me I was just suffering a case of nerves. That cold feet were normal before a wedding, that the man I intended to marry was a good man…

Who hadn’t tried to hit me the other night or been too roughly possessive with me this morning…

Because I had more guts and respect for myself than to let either of those things happen.

“Shit!”
In a fit of helplessness, I gave the steering wheel a beat-down. In the end, all my little breakdown rewarded me with was a broken nail and a heart that felt like a two-ton brick weighing down my chest.

I stamped a lead foot on the gas and spun the wheels backing out of the drive. Rain splattered the windshield, making visibility almost impossible. I switched on the wipers, smearing dried bug guts across the glass, and clipped the corner down Center Street. When I pulled up outside the station, the Yukon was already parked, taking up two spots. I chugged into the only empty slot and lumbered out of the truck. What I didn’t need was another confrontation with Gunner—we’d beaten that dead horse into the ground.

I pushed through the door, stumbling across the leg Dobbs had sprawled across the doorway while he snoozed at his desk. Unhappy and irritated as hell, I kicked a boot at his leg. Dobbs popped forward in his chair, snorting awake as he spun to face me.

He looked me over then spit a wad of chewing tobacco next to my boot. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he said, swiping his handkerchief across his mouth to blot away the tobacco spit.

“I assume I still work here.”

He rolled back in his chair and pushed himself upright. “Heard the wedding has been moved up to next Saturday, so I thought you’d be planning for the big day.”

“Where did you hear that?” I asked, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

“Sorry, I might’ve let it slip,” Gunner interrupted, rounding the corner with two Styrofoam cups of coffee. He handed one to me. “Coffee?” he asked and sat down beside me.

I grimaced but nodded thanks. I didn’t need this. And I sure didn’t need those tight jeans of his brushing my leg every damn second.

“Good morning, Gunner,” I said as politely as I could and forced down a sip of the bitter stationhouse brew.

He grinned and squeezed my thigh. “Same to you, sweetheart.”

I gave him a nasty look. He didn’t seem to care. I plucked his hand off my leg and let it drop hard against the edge of the desk we were sitting on.

The bastard’s grin got wider.

“Well, since we’ve gone through the morning pleasantries,” Dobbs said, planting himself in front of us, “could y’all inform me what went down in Harper’s Ridge?”

Gunner took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup on the desk. “It’s complicated. They have a photo of a guy I’m assuming is our man.” He rose and stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his tight-assed Wranglers. I gulped and quickly took another drink before my throat went dry. “But Sheriff Neal sent the photo off to Austin and is still waiting on the lab results.”

All the color vanished out of Dobbs’s saggy cheeks. “So you’re telling me no one has a clue as to who our guy is?”

It might have been my imagination, but he didn’t seem the least disappointed by the bad news. Trying to work that one out, I scooted my butt off the desk and tossed my coffee in the trash. “Sheriff Bob said the lab is trying to clean up the photo, and the results should be back in a few days.”

“Dammit, I wanted to call this case closed,” Dobbs grumbled. He sat in his chair and popped his knuckles. “We all know Bosley had his hands in this. Why not just pin the whole damn mess on him and call it a day?”

Gunner slammed his fists down on Dobbs’s desk and leaned into my boss’s face. “That would be a stupid move, old man.”

“Tell me again,” Dobbs said coldly, “why the hell I haven’t shipped your ass back off to Houston.”

“You don’t have the authority, for starters,” Gunner barked, “and someone is still selling the ketamine out on your streets.”

Dobbs laughed. “Like I give a fuck about a few dead whores and druggies,” he said, stretching back in his chair.

I stared at him, appalled. Dobbs was a shitty old man at the best of times, but this was…this was…I had no words for what this was.

“Jimmy Dobbs, you’re the sheriff for crying out loud,” I gasped. “And those hookers and druggies probably have mothers looking for them.”

Dobbs shrugged. “Well, if their mothers are anything like yours, I bet they’re glad to be dead,” he shot back.

I had a mind to toss that crummy paper weight at Dobbs’s squishy face when I felt a tug on my shirt sleeve. “Laney, let’s get some air,” Gunner said and hauled me outside.

We stood at arm’s length from each other, huddled underneath the window awning. Rain rushed over the overhang, cascading in sheets onto the sidewalk. I stepped closer to my cowboy nemesis, looking for shelter…and maybe comfort. The knowledge that Dobbs was even less than I thought him to be was not only painful but disturbing. Previously, I’d been able to shunt aside my disrespect for him as just one of those things I did—I wasn’t a fan of authority, and it generally wasn’t a fan of me, either. Now my distaste for my boss was just one more thing I couldn’t overlook because now I knew there was a reason for it.

The same way I was beginning to understand that there might be a reason I should think twice about marrying Nathan.

Gunner whipped his cowboy hat off and started to rake a hand through his hair. Then he stopped and slowly turned his face to meet my eyes. There was no chance of me outrunning his hand, because he snagged my arm up before I had a chance to retreat. Unhurriedly, he traced a finger down my arm, stopping to circle my elbow, and finally finishing by clasping my hand in his. I didn’t want this, didn’t want his touch, his nearness, or his understanding, but he was giving it, and…

I was comforted.

Damn it!

Smiling sadly, he let go of my hand and settled back against the brick wall again. “I’m not sure,” he said, breaking the deafening silence between us, “but I think Dobbs is dirty.”

“You think?” Not that I’d ever known just how dirty Dobbs was myself, beyond a bit of graft now and then, but hey, I was learning it didn’t pay to give Gunner an inch. “Boy, it took you long enough to figure that one out.”

That got me a scowl. “Among other things, he’s been acting bent out of shape ever since I arrived back in Pistol Rock.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have that effect on people.”

A humorless smile slashed his face. “I heard a nasty rumor the other day.”

After I gave the brick wall a good pounding with my boot, I mumbled under my breath, “You talked to Boomer. That rotten little snitch.”

“I wasn’t talking about Boomer,” his eyes narrowed, “but since you brought it up, what about him?”

I shrugged. “He’s just a drunk.”

“Liar.”

“Cheater.”

“Tease.”

“You’re a horse’s ass.”

Gunner was grinning when he took a step away from the wall. He turned to face me and leaned forward into the wall, propping himself up with an arm.

“Feel better now that you’ve got that off your chest?”

I gave him a pissy look. “Maybe a tad.”

He flipped my hair off my shoulder. “What do you know,” he said, “and don’t try to half- ass it.”

“You first,” I began, then clenched my teeth at a look from him and let it spill out. “Boomer saw Luke out on Arrowhead Range the night of the murder.”

“And what where you planning on doing with this information?” Gunner asked.

“I’d planned on talking to him today.”

Gunner’s jaw locked. “Let me handle it,” he said. “You and Luke don’t really have the cleanest track record.”

Well, that was definitely the pot calling the kettle black, but I nodded anyway. “Sounds like a good plan,” I said.

I didn’t understand where it was coming from, but this feeling of needing to protect Luke’s ass was very unsettling. Almost as unsettling as not being able to snap the top button on my jeans after a night of putting away an entire carton of Blue Bell, mint, chocolate chip ice cream. My stomach twisted, and even though I wasn’t looking, I could sense Gunner staring at me with that mouthwatering smile.

“I should get going,” I said. “You know, three murders to investigate, no time to waste playing…whatever it is we’re playing here—unless you want to tell me about that nasty rumor you mentioned.”

He worked his mouth around the thought, then shook his head. “After what you just told me Boomer said about Luke, I think I might have to revisit that situation before I say anything more.” He shook away thoughtfulness and winked. “Trust me. Maybe we can talk about it tonight.”

“Right,” I said, exasperated. “But you want trust from me, you gotta earn it and return it.” I pulled my keys out of my back pocket and stuck them into the door of the truck. “Behave yourself, Gunner Wilson.” I pointed a stiff finger at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Laney, it’s not like I’m going to sock Nathan in the nose”—a wicked grin slowly formed at his mouth—“I don’t have to. You’ll cave eventually.”

“If driving yourself crazy makes you feel better, then by all means, be my guest.”

I started the truck up, drowning out his laughter, and drove away.

…

I followed up on a few dead end leads, hoping to discover the missing links to Boomer’s memory that would either prove or disprove Luke’s part in Pacey’s death. At the same time, I also tried to figure out if he could be involved in the ketamine trafficking that had gotten Skinny killed. I didn’t really think he had any direct link to Bosley’s shooting, mostly because Luke was an in-your-face kind of guy: if he’d wanted to kill Bosley, he’d have done it, not arranged for a drive-by in which somebody else had all the fun. Also, as much as I didn’t want to find out, I really needed to know if he’d had any kind of hand in Hank’s death. That
“Hand to God, I swear I had nothing to do with Hank”
business in his note was really starting to twist my thoughts all around.

I parked the truck and jogged across the lawn and through my front door to sprint upstairs. I was beat from a day of chasing leads that’d frankly left me with more questions than answers. And now, with the Cattleman’s Ball only an hour away, I needed to bust tail in order to beat Gunner to the punch. Personally, I wasn’t too gung hoe on him questioning Luke without me there to rein in the male testosterone, but at the time, it’d been useless to butt heads with the Texas Ranger. So I folded, knowing I had every intention on whisking Luke away before Gunner got his hands on him. For the most part, Gunner was more of the bust ’em-and-ask-questions-later type of guy, especially when it came to a Wagner. Those two had a bone to pick. I didn’t see the feud ending in the near future, so I concluded my best line of defense was the perfect little dress... and probably a beer to show good faith.

I couldn’t deny that it hurt to think Luke was keeping something from me. All these years I’d believed he’d never once kept a secret from me—especially not one so hurtful. But if Boomer was right, and he was somehow involved in any of the murders I was investigating… Well, I guess he had a good reason to lie. Not even your closest friends shared that kind of information with a cop. I slung open my closet door and stood back, pondering what to wear tonight. I scoured the hangers in search of a respectable dress, pushing aside my black cocktail dress in favor of the red silk. It had a low, scooped neckline and spaghetti straps that crossed in back. I plucked up a pair of black pumps and snatched a bottle of red nail polish from my dresser, then I ambled downstairs.