Her Heart-Stealing Cowboys [Hellfire Ranch 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (21 page)

Patty shook her head then blinked rapidly and uncurled her fingers. The redhead’s face slammed toward the ground but she stopped just before hitting a pile of shells.

“That’s good. Now stand up. Slowly. Take your foot off her butt,” he chided.

The crowd of men chuckled and Tag spared them an irritated glare. They dissipated to various parts of the bar.

At last both women were on their feet.

“What’s going on here?”

They started yelling at the same time and he held up his palms until they quieted. He pointed a finger at the redhead. “You. Name.”

She licked her lips. “Tanya Kale.”

“All right, Tanya. Since it appears you were on the wrong end of that half nelson, how about you explain?”

She gave Patty a triumphant sneer then launched into a tirade about the wedding, a dress, some guy named Jason, and a dog. Patty lunged for her but Tag caught her arm and held her back.

“Simmer down,” he ordered. “Simmer the hell down.” He looked around the bar. “Where is Antoine?”

“I’m tending the bar, Sheriff,” he called out.

“Well, get over here.”

Antoine wiped his big meaty hands on a white bar towel as he ambled over. The short, black man had a bowlegged gait and a wide, friendly smile. Sweat gleamed on the top of his bald pate. “Thanks for coming so quick,” he said when he reached them.

“How much damage do you have?” he asked.

Antoine looked around. “They flat-out destroyed two chairs and about a dozen glasses and mugs. The rest just needs to be set back up. Probably two hundred bucks or so.”

“She did it,” Patty said and pointed at Tanya.

Tag glared her into silence. “Want to press charges? I’ve got room in the jail right now. I can let ’em cool their heels in there for a couple of days as restitution.”

Tanya echoed Patty’s gasp. She shook her head. “We can’t go to jail, Sheriff. Patty’s the maid of honor. Even though it should have been me. I’m a bridesmaid. The wedding is tomorrow. We can’t go to jail,” she wailed again.

Patty squirmed past him and clung to Tanya. “We’re sorry, Sheriff. We’ll clean it all up and pay Mr. Bayez whatever we owe. Honest.”

He shared a look with Antoine. “You okay with that?”

The black man rubbed his palm over his bald head. “I guess so, Sheriff. Long as they promise to behave from here on out.”

“We will,” the women said together.

Tag hid a grin.
If only all my calls were this easy.

He waggled a finger at them. “I hear one word about you stepping out of line and I’ll haul you both in. Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” Patty said.

Tanya nodded so fiercely that a peanut shell flew from her hair and dinked him on the chest. Tag let the shell fall to the floor and spared them both a stern look.

“All right. Guess I’m done here.”

He shook hands with Antoine and headed for the door when another wail caused him to stop and whirl around.

Patty sat at a table with her head in her hands. Tanya patted her back. She had a panicked look on her face.

“Now what?” Tag demanded.

Tanya bit her lip. “During our fight Patty threw Angela’s wedding ring into the trash dumpster out back.”

Tag sighed. “Then I guess she’d better get in there and get it back out.”

Patty shuddered and lifted a mascara-streaked face. “I’m claustrophobic,” she said. “It’s so dark and dirty in there. And Tanya can’t do it, either.”

“Why not?” Antoine asked.

“She’s just getting over the flu. The dirt might make her sick again.”

“Then I guess you’d better get one of the others over here to find it.”

“No!” Patty yelled. “If Angela finds out what we did, she’ll kick us out of the wedding.” She turned her sparkling blue gaze full on Antoine.

Tag winced and almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.

“Please, Mr. Bayez. Will you go find it for us? It should be easy to find. It’s still in its box.” She stood and hugged him hard. Tanya followed suit. She towered over Antoine by a good six inches. Her boobs pressed close to his jawline. Poor Antoine’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull.

Then his arm snaked around Patty’s waist. “All right, all right.”

Tanya pressed a kiss to his head. “Thank you.”

Tag chuckled. “You’re a sucker, Antoine.”

He grinned. “I know. I’ll be right back, ladies.”

Tag turned to leave again only to find Alcott standing in his way. The kid’s shoulders bunched and flexed beneath his orange polo.

When the hell had he gotten there?

“Heard the news, Sheriff. Congratulations.”

Tag nodded. The reporter didn’t move. Instead he smirked.

“I did some research on you, Sheriff Cain. You’ve had an interesting life.”

The jukebox fired up and Johnny Cash started singing about a Ring of Fire. A frisson of tension snaked up Tag’s spine. The kid
was
a reporter, and while Tag had never publicized his past, he hadn’t tried to hide it either.

Had Alcott found out?

“Lots of people have,” Tag said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He brushed past the reporter and slammed his palm hard to the wooden part of the door and shoved outward. The sun blinded him and he fumbled for his shades. They dropped on the ground.

“God damn it,” he muttered and stooped to a knee.

He picked them up just as a pair of hiking boots and blond, hairy legs entered his view.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff. Lose something?”

Tag rose and settled the glasses on his nose. He gave Charles Reynolds a brief smile. “Afternoon, Mr. Reynolds.”

The man’s smile was nearly as brilliant as the sun. “Please, call me Charles.”

Tag nodded. “Well, good day to you.”

“Running, Sheriff?”

Tag stiffened and pivoted to face Alcott.

The young man sauntered into the parking lot. A couple of local men trailed behind him. They looked at Tag with wide, shocked eyes.

Fuck. Looks like Alcott ran his damn mouth.

“Sheriff,” Reynolds said from behind him. “Could we talk about the arrangements for visiting your jail? I call your secretary’s line but it is always a machine picking up.”

Tag stared down Alcott and spoke over his shoulder. “I have a murderer to catch, Charles.”

“Oh?” The man’s voice sounded pinched. Gravel scuttled and Charles popped up. He stood next to the silent Alcott. “I was under the impression you were still chained to your desk while the FBI investigated.”

Alcott grinned, though little humor reached his eyes. “Haven’t you heard?” he asked. “Sheriff Cain here has been cleared. Of
this
murder.”

Rage nearly blinded Tag. His chest felt like it was caving in and the pressure forced all the air out of his lungs. It was worse than the time he nearly failed out of boot camp with the Marines because he couldn’t complete the swim test. Two hundred fucking meters and he’d nearly drowned. If not for the quick thinking of Gideon Masters, he would have.

“What?” Charles sounded so shocked it brought Tag back to the moment with the force of an elephant kick.

“Yeah. Surprised you haven’t heard from Miss Sadie yet.”

Charles’s face reddened. “I believe Miss Sadie is a bit annoyed with me at the moment.”

Alcott looked interested and for the moment his gaze drifted downward. The two men were almost the same height but Alcott stood just a couple inches taller than the older man. They both shared a love of bodybuilding, though. That much was obvious in the breadth of their chests and the rippling muscles on their arms.

Alcott looked like he could crush windpipes with his elbow. Reynolds appeared just as fit.

“Why is she mad?” Tag asked. He wasn’t really interested but he still needed a moment to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was to fly off the handle and coldcock the damn reporter. He didn’t give a damn what the kid knew.

“She thinks I kissed Miss Hank.”

Alcott chuckled. “Yeah, that would do it. I hear Miss Sadie is a real firecracker.”

Reynolds glared and waggled a finger at the younger man. “You keep a civil tongue in your head, pup.”

Alcott lifted a brow. “Or what?”

Tag growled. “Enough. I’ve already busted up one fight. I won’t hesitate to take you both to jail and
not
for a pleasure visit.”

Reynolds frowned. “I will not stand by and allow a woman’s honor to be ravaged, Sheriff.”

Alcott spread his hands. “Hey, man, sorry. I didn’t mean anything. I just heard she was a real pistol as my mama used to say. No offense intended.”

“There’s a first,” Tag muttered.

Alcott swung his gaze back to him. “Sheriff. I would like to talk to you about what I found out.”

Tag heard the implied
or else
in his voice. What would the kid do? Dredge up a decades-old story that couldn’t hurt anyone but him anymore?

His parents were both dead. His cousins were long gone and out of touch. Nope, it was only him.

Then Rebecca’s sweet face appeared in his mind’s eye. He’d just found her. He didn’t bother to remind himself of his promise never to marry again. Rebecca managed to sweep that pledge out to sea with one sultry look and the sweetness of her delectable mouth. But if she found out the truth she’d probably leave on her own.

Acid churned in his stomach.

“Fine,” he snapped to Alcott. “Stop by the office tomorrow. I’ll be there around seven in the morning.”

Alcott’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tag said. “Really.”

“Sheriff?” Reynolds stepped forward. His chest was puffed out and a frown marred his face. “What of me? When shall I come to see you? I have to leave Freedom and return east very soon. It would be a shame to do so without learning everything I can about my dear ancestor.”

Tag gritted his teeth. “How about eight tomorrow?”

Reynolds beamed. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Tag nodded and turned around. He just reached his car when Antoine stopped him. “Sheriff, sheriff!”

“For the love of—”

He spun around. “What?”

Antoine ran across the parking lot. A stream of people including Tanya and Patty surged with him. The women looked pale and ill at ease. Antoine’s face was nearly gray. Alcott and Reynolds followed behind. Tag saw Alcott whip out a small notebook.

Antoine stumbled then stilled and bent over as he gasped for breath. “I. Found. Something.”

Tag looked at the women then back at Antoine. “I take it you didn’t find the ring?”

“Got it,” Tanya said and waved a small box.

Tag frowned and looked down at Antoine. “What did you find?”

The small black man slowly lifted his chest and held out his hand. On his palm was a crumpled bit of plastic smudged with mud. A fly buzzed over Antoine’s hand even as Tag realized what he was staring at.

A bloody latex glove.

* * * *

“Need a refill on that wine?” Wade called from the kitchen.

“No, thanks,” Rebecca replied.

Wade grabbed another beer and sauntered back into the living room. He dropped on the couch next to her and popped the top.

She lifted her wine. “I still have half a glass. This stuff is delicious but kinda potent.”

Wade grinned. “Yep. That’s the way we do things around here. Blow your mind good.”

She sipped and her eyes sparkled over the rim. “Mm-hmm.”

Wade’s phone buzzed and he shifted his hip to dig in his pocket. He glanced at the screen. “Hey, Tag. You about ready to come home?” He sure as hell hoped so. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his hands off the lovely Rebecca. It was almost three o’clock in the afternoon.

“No,” Tag replied.

Wade straightened at the tight note in his friend’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Rebecca bolted to the edge of the couch. Her wineglass dangled, forgotten between her fingers.

“I need you and Rebecca to come down to my office.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

Tag hung up without further explanation.

Wade set down his barely touched beer. “We need to go.”

She stood immediately. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know. Tag wouldn’t say. Just that he wants us at the sheriff’s office.”

They bolted from the house. Wade locked the door then helped her into his truck. “Hold on,” he said.

She lifted a brow. “Gonna speed?”

“Yep.”

He hit the gas and rattled down the streets until he hit the blacktop. By the time they reached Tag’s office a mere ten minutes later, Rebecca’s grip was so tight on her door that he thought he might need WD-40 to pry her loose.

“You okay?” he asked.

She slowly turned her head to glare at him. “You are never allowed to drive me anywhere again. Ever.”

He lifted a hand in protest. “Hey, we made it in one piece.”

She shoved her door open. “Except for my stomach, which is somewhere back on Pearson Street.”

He chuckled as he settled his palm to the small of her back and guided her into the office.

Tag strode down the small aisle. Deputy Carson was seated at one of the desks with Boone in one right next to her. Wade noticed that for once the big FBI man wasn’t chatting the deputy up.

Another man sat at a third desk. Wade thought he looked familiar but couldn’t quite place him.

“You made good time,” Tag said. “Get any tickets?”

Wade grinned. “From who? Your whole staff is here.”

Tag nodded then waved them back to his office. “Boone, Carson, let’s go.”

Boone rose and snapped his laptop shut then followed Carson to the office.

Tag looked at the new deputy. “Stewart, you got the radio?”

The other man nodded and the name jogged Wade’s memory. Eric Stewart was the father of one of his ex-students. He’d been an involved and interested parent. The best kind in Wade’s opinion. He knew Stewart was a stand-up guy. The deputy’s uniform he wore was what had thrown him.

He’d only ever seen Stewart in jeans and pullovers. He’d been a stay-at-home dad.

Wade nodded as he passed him. Stewart nodded back but his face was grave.