Tortoise Soup (17 page)

A hot, breathless wind greeted me, working its way from my ankles to the top of my head in a binding rope of heat. I walked toward the car, fully aware that I’d have five defrosted tortoises on my hands by the time I returned from dinner. Grabbing a piece of canvas from the back of the Blazer, I quickly rolled the torts up inside. I only hoped no telltale scent of
eau de torte morte
would give my stash away.

Then I casually strolled back inside, where I was confronted by Dee Salvano, who stared as if aware of what I’d been up to.

“Taking an unauthorized stroll around the grounds?” she asked, smashing a black jelly bean between her thumb and index finger.

“I had a yen to hang out with the haul paks,” I replied fliply. “I didn’t think there’d be a problem with going outside to get some fresh air.”

What I wanted to do more than anything was to jump in my Blazer and take off before anyone realized that the contents of the freezer had been snatched. “Listen, if this meeting is going to go on for a while, maybe it’s best that I leave.”

Dee cut me off. “Yeah. And the air around here is real fresh, and good whiskey is still a buck a shot.”

The phrase ricocheted around my brain. Damn. Whaddaya know: I’d been right after all. I had figured Dee Salvano to be my mystery caller, with her pipeline into the inner workings of the mine and her smart-ass attitude.

I was just about to return a snappy retort when Brian Anderson rounded the corner, cutting off any chance I had to respond.

Fashionably dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves ever so casually rolled, he was wearing jeans that looked as though they had been freshly washed and pressed. A full mane of silky silver hair framed his face. It was that off-handed aren’t-I-attractive look I’d worked all my life to achieve, only to miserably fail. In my mind, the man was the image of what a modern cowboy should be: Tom Selleck and Sam Elliott rolled into one, with the perfect grin of Tom Cruise. Too bad he had a bunch of dead critters stuffed inside his freezer.

Brian took both my hands in his, squeezing them slightly as he greeted me. “Sorry the meeting went on for so long.” He stood back and surveyed me up and down before twirling me around. “I’d have been tempted to skip it altogether if I’d caught a glimpse of you waiting out here looking like this.”

Dee rolled her eyes and my face began to burn. As much as I like compliments, I never believe they’re totally true. But this time, I found myself hoping Brian meant every word. His eyes gazed into mine and a wave of heat raced through me. I was becoming attracted to the man in a major way.

“What say we get out of here? I’ve got the perfect spot in mind,” he said.

Without any warning, Brian leaned over and plucked something from my breast. Already nervous, I jumped back as if I were about to be attacked.

“A feather.” Brian laughed, holding the wispy piece of evidence up to my face. “Your job must follow you wherever you go.” If only he knew.

I wondered if Brian planned to clue me in this evening on the fact that his freezer was fully occupied. I seriously doubted it, though a girl could still dream. I turned back as we headed out the door, catching Dee’s eye. But she gave nothing away.

Brian steered me toward his Jeep. “You can leave your vehicle here,” he said, opening the car door on my side.

“That’s fine with me.” I just hoped none of his employees was as nosy as I was.

The sun was setting blood-red over the mountains as we headed down the road, the colors in the sky pulsating with the intensity of a beating heart. Just as quickly, the palette melted into shimmering twilight. This is when the desert comes alive. Purple mountains stain the landscape, as surreal as three-dimensional punchouts dropped by whimsy onto the desert floor. Gnarled and twisted Joshua trees are transformed into crusty old hermits, their bodies resuscitated by the crystalline night air. And the howls of coyotes turn your blood cold, though the temperature continues to hover at a sultry ninety degrees.

We careened down the deserted highway, passing two young girls on the opposite side of the road, their attire in startling contrast to the barrenness of the landscape around them. Flaunting iridescent blue eye shadow and ruby-red lips, they were decked out in hot pants and strapless tube tops, their hair teased into towering blond swirls. They couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. Leading a forlorn puppy on a rope, they were hitching their way to Vegas, part of the parade caught up in the hype of catching dreams.

“So how did you like my gift?” Brian asked, his eyes flickering over the girls. “Ever have a wolf dog before?”

I’d been so preoccupied with my thoughts that I’d completely forgotten to thank him. I hadn’t had a pet, since the age of thirteen, when my mother got white carpeting and life as I knew it went out the window.

“He took a little getting used to in the beginning,” I confessed. Then I thought of my confrontation with Harley and what might have happened if Pilot hadn’t been there. “But I have to admit, I feel more comfortable with him around.”

“Glad to hear it.” Brian’s teeth grazed lightly against his bottom lip, a movement I found somewhat unnerving. “Have you decided what to call him yet?”

“Pilot.” I felt an unexpected pleasure in saying the name.

Brian gave me a questioning look.

“I have lousy sense of direction,” I explained.

“You could always use a map,” Brian suggested.

I laughed. “You’ve never experienced my map-reading skills. Somehow I always end up heading in the wrong direction. Having a dog could come in handy.”

I was enjoying Brian’s company more than I felt I should. I thought of the tortoises defrosting in the back of my Blazer, and a flash of guilt hit me.

“He’s a wolf dog—there’s a difference,” he stated.

“Hmm. And what’s that?” My body temperature soared as Brian’s gaze traveled the length of my dress.

“Well, they’re smart and they’re loyal and they’ll protect you to the death. Kind of what I look for in a woman.” He nibbled at his lip again, and my nerve endings began to tingle.

“Had any luck yet?” I suddenly felt as if I were being sized for a collar.

“Nope. Not yet. But I’m hoping that will soon change.” He caught my eye and held it, slipping the collar around my neck.

A mixture of attraction and wariness made for a heady brew. I tore my gaze away, deciding to break the spell.

“So have you found any dead wildlife since my last visit?” I asked, playing my own version of Truth or Dare. “Of natural causes, of course.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Brian glanced nonchalantly out the window. “But we still hold a perfect record. Besides, don’t you think Monty Harris would fill you in if anything was found?”

“I don’t know. Would he?” I asked, going for my own casual air.

Brian turned and stared at me, his eyes a stormy gray. “Evidently you don’t think so. Is there something bothering you that I should know about, Rachel?”

I was tempted to confront him on the freezerful of critters and get the matter over with. But thankfully, logic prevailed. Even though the tortoises looked like a clear hit and run, until I had hard-core proof as to what had caused their deaths, I knew there was no case. If I was going to get myself busted, it ought to be for a rock-solid reason. Besides, Lizzie would kill me if I sabotaged the date so early in the evening.

“Sorry. I’ve just had a hectic day,” I replied. “Sometimes I forget there are other things in life besides business.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Brian exhaled a deep breath, as if expelling the day. “What’s say we shelve shop talk for tonight? I think we could both use a break.”

His hand casually brushed along my thigh, causing my body to log in on the Richter scale.

“Where is it that we’re going?” I asked, trying to ignore the tremors.

Brian’s eyes danced, as if he could feel the vibration. “It’s a surprise. Let’s just say it’s a piece of old Nevada that doesn’t exist many places anymore.”

Brian pulled off the highway and steered the Jeep onto a secondary road that skimmed the Arizona border. By now the surrounding landscape was black but for a slip of moon and some stars glittering as shiny as gold nuggets thrown up in the sky. Then the stars hurtled to earth, transformed into the lights of an elegant old hotel that twinkled as though on fire. We pulled into a parking lot filled with pickups and vans.

“You know, you’re right,” Brian said. “You do look tense. We need to do something about that before we sit down to dinner.” His eyes gleamed in the dark, luminescent as twin moons.

“Just what did you have in mind?” I asked, my pulse liquid white lightning, leery of what the answer might be.

“Turn around and face the window,” Brian said softly.

I didn’t move a muscle, choosing instead to study the moonlight at play along the contours of his face.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” He whispered the challenge.

Stars glimmered inside my body, raising the temperature of my blood to over a hundred degrees.

“Not one damn bit,” I evenly replied.

I slowly turned away from him, my body issuing one set of commands even as my mind screamed another. His hands slid onto my shoulders and I nearly jumped out of my dress.

“Not too nervous, are you?” The warmth of his breath set my skin ablaze as his fingers massaged their way down my spine.

I told myself I should stop him—but my body had thoughts of its own. My muscles relaxed with his touch. Not only did the man look good but he gave a hell of a back rub. A slight moan escaped my lips, and embarrassment shot through me. But Brian didn’t say a word as his hands continued to light tiny brushfires under my skin. Just as I felt sure I would melt into a puddle, he had the good sense to stop.

“There. That’s the first part of the evening. Let’s move onto the second.”

What concerned me was what he had planned for the third.

Strains of country western music led the way through the front door into the Eureka Hotel. Once inside, it was as if we had been transported back in time. The hallway was covered from floor to ceiling in elegant red and black wallpaper, whispering intimations of a naughty Victorian brothel. Period furniture added just the right touch.

But it was the smoke-filled bar that recreated the wonders of the old West in glorious Technicolor. Raucous cowboys slugged down beers, laughing and cheering, as five-dollar bills flashed in the air. I stepped inside, curious to see what all the commotion was about. I pushed past startled cowboys too polite to put me in my place until I landed in front of the bar. A live rattlesnake lay coiled inside a large pickle jar. I watched as one cowpoke after another placed a hand on the outside of the container, while the other held a five-dollar bill high in the air.

“Keep your eyes open!” was the chant as the next man came up to bat. The challenge was for each contestant to keep his hand against the glass without flinching, as the snake lashed out in fury, striking against the jar. Cowboy after cowboy pulled back or blinked each time the snake struck, its fangs bared in frustration. A nearby jar filled with five dollar bills affirmed the fact that the snake was the winner.

“That’s some sport they’ve got there,” I commented to Brian. He had edged in behind me as yet another cowboy bit the dust. “Is this what’s considered a good time around here?”

One half-soused cowboy turned to eyeball me. A snake-skin belt with a silver buckle the size of a baseball held up jeans that rested on his hips, leaving breathing room for a stomach that hung like a tired old hound dog. Glancing down, I saw that his boots were made of snakeskin as well.

Hitching his thumbs inside his belt, he moved in close, his beer-breath smack in my face. “You got a problem with this, little lady? What are you? Some kind of animal rights nut?”

After three months in Nevada, I was beginning to tire of the macho cowboy routine. Staring him straight in the eye, I matched him inch for inch, proving I wasn’t so little. “What I am is a federal Fish and Wildlife agent. Have you got a problem with that?”

The cowboy spat on the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Bullshit. You don’t look like no federal agent to me. You look like some pussy city slicker come out to poke fun at us locals.” He bristled. “You think you’re so smart, you stick your damn hand out there. Put your money where your mouth is, girl.”

Brian quickly put an arm around my shoulders in an attempt to steer me away. “She didn’t mean anything by it. No harm done. We’ll be on our way.”

But my cowboy was itching for a fight. “What’s the matter, little lady? You gone and got scared? Not so easy now, is it? Maybe you ought to apologize to all of us here. Or you need your boyfriend there to fight your battles for you?”

An older, broken-down cowpoke sneered, “You better do like he says. Otherwise he might end up sticking you in a jar for us to play with.” He looked around the crowd and flashed a five-dollar bill in the air. “Who’d bet five bucks to see if this lady here would play like a snake and bite?”

A whoop of laughter broke out as Brian pulled on my shoulder, but I refused to budge. I’d had it with cowboy humor.

“What’s the deal?” I asked the first cowpoke.

Leering at me, he flashed a lopsided grin in need of some serious dental work. “We’ve got a live one here, boys! Place your bets now.”

“I asked, what do I get out of this contest, Roy Rogers?” I persisted.

He fixed me in his sights before edging up against me in a game of Mine’s bigger than yours. “You get to walk out of here alive.”

Brian immediately swooped in as my gallant knight on an errant mission. “Back off, buddy. If she’s crazy enough to go through with this, let’s just do it and get it over with.” I turned and shot Sir Galahad a look to kill. “Thanks for the support, but I can handle this on my own.”

Brian threw up his hands in defeat as the crowd roared. They loudly began placing their bets, most of them running against me. I turned back to my Marlboro man and waited for an answer.

He shook his head and chuckled. “I just love easy money.” A dribble of tobacco juice crept out of the corner of his mouth. “The deal is, you stare the snake in the eye, and if you don’t move your hand or flinch when he strikes, you win the pot of gold. But take a good look there, gal. You see all those five-dollar bills? What does that tell you?” He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Let me clue you in. The snake wins all the time.”