12-Alarm Cowboys (57 page)

“Hey, Angel,” a voice called from behind him.

Angel shot a glare over his shoulder, instantly wiping his face clear of annoyance when another of the instructors, Mark Saunders, strode toward him wearing a wide grin.

Saunders knocked his shoulder lightly with a balled fist. “See you made it back in one piece after taking the Cordoba woman out for a road trial.”

“Not quite,” Angel murmured, offering a pained smile. “I left my fingertips embedded in the dash.”

Saunders’s smile widened, and his eyebrows waggled. “She seemed a little shaken up when we boxed her in. Did she need a little comfort after her scare?”

Angel grimaced at the crude sentiment gleaming in the other man’s eyes. Like many of the school’s cadre, Saunders was ex-special ops with little couth when talking about the opposite sex.

Not that his own thoughts concerning the woman in question were exactly pure.

Maya had been at the center of most of the instructors’ private conversations. Seemingly, they rarely got a student as attractive or inept.

“I had her on the shooting range yesterday,” Saunders said, his face screwing into grimace. “Had to clear out everyone because she couldn’t remember to keep the barrel of her weapon pointing downrange. Never saw Migelito move so fast as when she waved it at him and let a few rounds fly.”

“Woman’s a menace,” Angel said, then added, “Ever figure out why she’s here in the first place?”

“She mentioned something about scoping out adventure vacations for her clientele.”

Seemed as good a cover as any for a woman who might be the daughter of a notorious drug lord. “What about the other female?”

“Maria Cortez is an ambassador’s daughter,” Mark said. “And a much better shot, although not nearly as interesting.”

Maria’s mousy appearance and demeanor made her seem a far less likely candidate to be the flamboyant Yanez’s flesh and blood, but Angel was never anything but thorough. He’d keep digging into both female’s backgrounds until he figured out which was his target.

“Gonna join us in the cantina for a beer?”

“Maybe later.”

Angel waited until Saunders headed to the mess facility, then backtracked to his room. Maybe he’d hunt down Maya after he’d had a chance to recheck the files on the two women in the administrator’s office. Time to dig a little deeper.

And if he had to sleep with her, he’d just have to remember he was doing it in the service to his country—enjoying himself would just be an unexpected perk to an otherwise uneventful assignment.

Devils on Horseback: Millennium

Beth Williamson

‡

Copyright © 2015 Beth Williamson

Edited by Catherine Wayne

Cover Design and Interior format by The Killion Group

thekilliongroupinc.com

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.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

For more information on the author and her works, please see
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Rejoin the Devils for a contemporary series with the Blackwoods of the new millennium.

Dax Blackwood has more than his share of troubles and then
she
returns to Tanger, Texas, to set his world on its ear. Sophie Evans didn’t plan to ever return to the town she grew up in, but when a suspicious fire destroys a town landmark, she’s assigned to investigate as an insurance investigator. Sparks threaten to flare out of control when this cowboy meets his firefly cowgirl once again.

‡

July, 2015

Tanger, Texas

D
ax Blackwood stared
at the charred remains of Cindy’s Restaurant. He could hardly believe it was gone. It had been owned and operated by his family for generations, since just after the Civil War.

Now it was nothing but an eyesore. It had been a week since the fire but the ashes were still warm. The damn thing went up so fast the volunteer fire department had little chance to stop the blaze. They were able to keep the fire from jumping to nearby buildings, thank God.

As fire chief, it was his job to meet with the investigator from the insurance company at the site. The dude was late and it was damn hot. Scorching heat close to a hundred degrees, if he had to guess.

He took off his hat and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. If the investigator didn’t arrive soon, he’d get on back home and get some chores done. Or maybe have a beer with his dog, Kona.

It was a typical afternoon in sleepy Tanger. The town had maintained its small size despite the massive growth in East Texas. Likely because it was ten miles from the closest highway, not near enough to attract the attention of any of the big chain stores.

In Dax’s mind, that was a good thing. He liked small-town life and had no need to move onto bigger and better things. Unlike some folks, Tanger would remain his home for the rest of his life.

He peered at his watch. It was half past three. The investigator was a full thirty minutes late. That was the end of Dax’s patience. He had too much stress already to wait around for more. Although going home brought him even more stress. His sister Hannah had moved out to the ranch after the restaurant burned. Now she was making him crazy as shit with trying to fix up the house and straighten up everything she saw. Dax didn’t need his house or his life fixed.

He mashed his hat back on his head and spun on his heel to return to his truck. A blue sedan pulled in, stopping him in his tracks. His temper was slow to boil, but waiting in the heat had stirred him up.

The son of a bitch sat in the car, in the air conditioning, something his ratty ride didn’t have, and fiddled with his papers.

Dax stomped over and yanked the door open. “Look, mister, I got shit to do. Get your ass out here and let’s get this over with.”

The person who emerged from the car was not a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a paunch. Far from it. A woman with mahogany hair, eyes deeper than the blackest night sky, skin covered with freckles and a pair of turquoise glasses perched on her perfect nose.

Shit.

“Sophie?”

She pushed up the glasses. “Hi, Dax. My ass is out of the car, as ordered.” Her perfect mouth twisted.

“Don’t tell me you’re the investigator I’ve been waiting for.”

“I won’t tell you since you seem to already know.” She tapped the screen on the tablet in her hand. “Care to join me?” With that, she slammed the car door and walked toward Cindy’s.

Son of a bitch. Sophie Evans. What kind of universe made his ex-girlfriend the fire investigator he had to work with? The last time he’d seen her had been five years earlier, when she left Tanger for Houston. Left him for bigger and better things.

Now she was back.

Double shit.

He put his hands on his hips and tried to keep his temper in check. “Seriously, you’re the investigator?”

She glanced back at him, over the frames of her specs. “Yes, I am. I can give you my business card in a little while.”

Business card? Screw that.

“Jesus Christ, why you? Isn’t there any other available person, like someone recently released from prison? Or possibly one of those ridiculous wives of hockey players from television?” He couldn’t stop the bitterness in his voice. She’d almost destroyed him and now she walked, no she
pranced
, back into Tanger like a fucking princess.

In typical Sophie fashion, she ignored him and whipped out a digital camera. As she snapped images of the ashes, he tried his best not to look at her ass. He’d always had a soft spot for that nicely rounded derriere and damned if she didn’t look just as good as she had the last time he’d seen her. When she walked out of his life.

He couldn’t get himself tangled up over Sophie again. It took him years to get his shit together after she’d stomped all over him. Hell, he’d had only a couple dozen dates in the last couple years, and hadn’t been laid in at least six months. Pitiful to admit, even to himself. Most folks assumed a cowboy like him had plenty of women and an active social life. He snorted at the thought. Truth was, he’d much rather spend a quiet evening at home riding his horse, playing with his dog, or playing cards with his friends.

Women were trouble. This woman was the worst kind of trouble. With a capital T.

He could be a grown-up and a professional about it. Not only did his family own the restaurant, but he was also the fire chief. She would be in his face for everything. Maybe he could ask Hannah to take a hit for the team and speak to her as the owner. That still meant he would have to answer her questions as to how they’d handled the blaze.

She stepped around the remains, her dark jeans stretching taut and her shirt hugging her amazing breasts. He looked away, unable to stop his traitorous dick from twitching at the sight. Had he no pride or self-control?

“Did you determine the cause of the fire?” Her voice carried on the wind, and that whiskey tone sent a frisson of memory down his spine.

“Isn’t that your job?” Damn, he hated the knife-edge in his voice. Dax wasn’t an asshole and he wasn’t a vengeful jerk either. He needed to remember that and pretend to be over her. No, not pretend. He
was
over her.

She paused to enter something into her tablet, her long fingers rapid fire typing the only sound in the mid-afternoon on the near empty street in front of Cindy’s. “How long did the fire burn?”

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists to keep calm. “We got the 9-1-1 call around one in the morning. Firefighters were on the scene within ten minutes with the pumper. The building is old enough it burned hot and fast.”

“It’s customary for me to do my evaluation of the scene before I get a report from the fire chief.”

“Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

She paused her fingers for a moment. “Sure, please continue.” She returned her ticky tap into the tablet. He wanted to throw it on the ground and grind it beneath his shit-covered boots.

“We started hosing down the buildings around it and controlling the spread rather than put it out. My great-great-great grandfather and uncles knew how to build something to last, but the wood was too dry to save.” He’d heard the stories of how the first restaurant burned and was rebuilt by Gideon, Lee and Zeke Blackwood. They were ex-confederate soldiers who’d settled in Tanger after the Civil War.