Run Wild (47 page)

“I’d like that. There’s something I want to talk to you about, and all of you might as well hear this.” Jim had everyone’s attention when he sat, his chair at the end of the table, with Jake and Marc on either side of him.

Trent figured the way Jim would see it, he sat at the head of the table. Once a cattle rancher tycoon, always one. The older gentleman was even dressed up, as if he’d planned on meeting them and on speaking to all of them. For all Trent knew, Jim might very well have planned it.

“I took all the cash that was found on my land to some folks I happen to know in Redding,” he began. “It turns out over half the bills have a face value well over their initial worth.”

“Really?” Trent shook his head. “That’s great, Jim.” It was the least the man deserved.

“The old wives’ tale of Nellie Burrows was that she was buried in cash, literally, meaning when her mama put her to rest she filled that coffin up with all the money she swore no one in her family would ever see. We found the coffin yesterday. I hadn’t had a chance to tell you that, and I shipped it out to be gone over with a fine-tooth comb as well. Turns out all those old wives had their story straight. There was a sizeable amount of dust in the coffin, which turned out to be the cash that wasn’t properly preserved and turned to dust over the years. They did find several more compartments my beloved wife overlooked in the coffin and they were also filled with cash.” Jim paused, accepted the beer the waitress had brought to him with a smile and a wink, then drank.

Trent leaned back and slid his hand under the table, resting it on Natasha’s leg. Her face glowed when she grinned at him. Jim didn’t wait long in building his suspense. Possibly he guessed some of his audience didn’t care as much about money as they did about being alone later.

“Trent, my boy, you’re one hell of a good sheriff, just like your daddy was. And this little lady you’ve found,” Jim added, and lifted his bottle of beer in a silent toast to Natasha, “I’m glad you saw fit to take my advice and not let her get away.”

Natasha looked at Trent. He gave her leg a squeeze and didn’t take his attention off Jim. “It was a no-brainer, Jim,” Trent said easily. “It’s really the only thing a man can do when he finds perfection.”

“Hear! Hear!” Jim agreed, and the King men willingly lifted their drinks and toasted Natasha, the lot of them only getting louder when Natasha protested and warned them to quit embarrassing her.

“I’m going to give you a gift, Sheriff.”

Everyone at the table grew quiet.

“I can tell your woman loves you unconditionally, but a lady does love to make a home her own. God knows with you and your father having hung around in that house alone all these years, she’s got her work cut out for her.” Jim simply pressed on when Trent started to protest, having a good idea where Jim was going with this. “I know what your salary is and you sure don’t have a gold digger by your side, but any young couple finds a better go of it when life is easy.” Jim finished off his beer and stood, making his way to the other end of the table and to Trent. “You’re a good man and even better sheriff.” He looked at Natasha. “Go easy on him, little lady,” he said. “Most of us are completely clueless when we first shack up. Forgive him when he gets too bossy. Hug him when he makes a mess. And most of all, remember your gender is a hell of a lot stronger than ours. You’ll get him trained in no time flat. I see the love and determination in your eyes.” With that he handed Natasha an envelope and headed out of the diner.

Natasha’s family leaned in, encouraging her to open it. She offered it to Trent, but he shook his head. “Go ahead.”

Trent watched Natasha and barely heard her exclaim with excitement over how much the check was for. He was content to simply stare at her, pride and love filling him up inside to where he barely had room for his food. He remembered how Jim had acted differently around his wife. She was a bad seed, but Jim had loved her and might still. The man was powerful, an aggressive businessman, shrewd as hell, and had made an enemy or two along the way. But when it came to his women, his love for them was unconditional. His first wife couldn’t handle illegitimate children. His second wasn’t satisfied with all Jim gave her. Yet he had adored each one. He’d been crushed watching his daughter being arrested. He’d stood tall and silent alongside Ethel. Jim wasn’t a perfect man and had made some serious mistakes in his lifetime, but through all of that, he had been blessed with knowing true love. Trent would never make the mistakes Jim had made but heard the man’s words and saw that inside this imperfect, successful businessman were words of wisdom Trent took to heart.

Natasha leaned into him, showing him the check. “What are we going to do with fifty thousand dollars?” she whispered into his ear.

Trent didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Whatever you say we’re going to do with it.”

Natasha studied him a minute, then smiled. She leaned in to kiss him and Trent wanted to sweep her out of there instantly. “I love you,” he whispered, and believed he truly understood the meaning of those three little words for the first time in his life.

Read on for an excerpt from Lorie O’Clare’s next book

SLOW HEAT

Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Maggie O’Malley glanced up from her books when she heard the cook talking to someone out in the kitchen. Max was back there alone and would be for another hour until the club opened. He worked better alone and did an incredible job of setting up all the meal preparation if he didn’t have to share the work load with anyone else.

She cursed under her breath when Max continued talking to whoever was out in the kitchen with him. Uncle Larry might be an idiot, but she’d sworn more than once that he’d given her this office, right off the kitchen, on purpose. Uncle Larry knew Maggie would jump in and put his kitchen in order once she heard the chaos that occurred there daily once she started working there. And she had. The kitchen was run like a smooth-sailing ship today. It would stay that way, too, damn it!

Heading around her desk, the mixture of Irish and Italian blood inside her brought Maggie’s temper to a quick boil. She would never be like her mother but a glance at the small statue of the Mother Mary holding baby Jesus, a gift from her parents after landing this job, gave her pause.

“Saints preserve me,” she grumbled, crossed herself, then blew out an exasperated breath as she headed out of her office. Max knew he wasn’t allowed to have friends in the kitchen while he was working.

“Max,” she said, using his name as a warning when she stared at the tall, dark-haired man facing Max from across the large, cutting-board counter.

“He showed up at the back door with some questions.” Max stuck his chin out stubbornly and turned to stir something that smelled strongly of garlic and oregano. Max was making his famous spaghetti sauce, one of Uncle Larry’s favorite food items.

“Who are you?” Maggie crossed her arms, possibly more as a shield than out of frustration. The man she stared at was incredibly sexy. There was something in his eyes that bothered her though. They were a soft brown shade and his lashes and eyebrows were a thick black. The lashes didn’t quite hide the way his eyes appeared doused with danger. “What questions do you have?”

“I’m looking for Larry,” the guy said, his deep baritone crisp and a bit too confident.

“Larry isn’t back here. This is the kitchen. Larry would be up front. Are you lost?” She watched something spark in his brown eyes. “And you didn’t say your name.”

“You’re right.” He didn’t look like a vagrant wanting free food, or in need of a job. He looked healthy, very healthy and dangerous. “Are you a cook also?” he asked, and walked around Max’s prep counter, then moved between the stocking shelves.

“I work here and you don’t.” No matter how big, or how muscular this man appeared, Maggie had had her fair share of dealing with bullies. She wasn’t easily daunted or intimidated. Coming from a large family, Maggie had learned at an early age to stand her ground, or she’d never get what she wanted. “Tell me your name, why you’re here, and what you want—or leave.”

She met him at the end of the short aisle where cooking supplies were stocked on shelves. He didn’t appear interested in anything on the shelves but reached the end of the aisle and turned, then stopped when she blocked him.

The top of Maggie’s head probably wouldn’t have touched this man’s nose. He was tall. And muscular, damn! When she stared at him straight on, she got an eyeful of roped muscle pressing against his t-shirt. Where his shirt sleeves ended, corded biceps began. He had a tan, and she noticed a couple small puckers, old scars remaining from some previous trauma in his life. She imagined him fighting like a mercenary late at night on some loading dock against bad guys.

“If you want to go out front, you can leave the way you came and walk around the building.” She again crossed her arms, but this time felt the solid beat of her heart grow stronger against her chest. “The back door is that way.” She nodded in the direction of the door, proud of herself for not trembling as adrenaline started pumping through her.

He glanced at her for only a moment before looking over her shoulder. Maggie couldn’t physically stop him and wasn’t sure touching him would be to her advantage. The way he brushed against her when he walked past her suggested he wanted her doing just that.

“Is there a place we can talk?” he asked and took determined steps toward her office.

“Stop, now!” she ordered, hurrying after him and grabbing the door, then damn near skidding in front of him before facing him again.

The amusement in his eyes pissed her off. Who the hell was this guy?

“Anything you want me to do?” Max asked from behind the man. His voice was a lot deeper and meaner than he usually sounded.

“I don’t know yet, Max,” she said, focusing on the man facing her. She caught him glancing down her body before meeting her gaze. No way would she look away, but she was very grateful for Max being close, just in case. “Who do you think you are prancing in here as if you had a right?”

The man stepped closer, moving into her space, and lowered his head so when he spoke, his breath tickled her skin. “Because criminals don’t have rights. The police are going to be here any minute.”

Oh God! This man really was dangerous. The law was looking for him and he had to choose her place to hide. Maggie had to think fast. She hadn’t made the deposit yet. No way in hell would he take her and Max hostage. Not if she could outthink him.

“Why are they coming here?” she asked, trying to match his cool, soft tone.

“They’re about to make an arrest.” Now he looked amused, as if her question were ludicrous.

Maybe it was. Hell, she didn’t have a clue how to talk to a criminal.

“Oh, really?” she asked, wondering how genuine this man was. “And you sauntered into the back door of my kitchen just to tell me that?”

“Your kitchen? I thought Larry Santinos ran this place.”

“He does.” She didn’t need to explain herself to him, and apparently the look on her face made that clear.

The buzzer next to her desk went off, letting her know someone had just come in the front door. She turned, glanced at it, and shifted her attention to the small box next to her phone. A second later it beeped, letting her know Larry was here.

“Who do they want to arrest?” she asked, trying for a different tactic.

“Is that telling you Larry is here?” the man asked, nodding at the devices on her desk.

“That’s enough.” She pointed behind him. “Turn around and march out that door. Now.”

“I will in a minute.”

When he reached for his back pocket, Max moved faster than Maggie had ever seen the man move. For a giant black man, his looks could intimidate. But in the year and a half that he’d been their cook, all Maggie had seen was an over-sized teddy bear with a heart of gold. At the moment, though, he looked terrifying enough that Maggie took a step backward. Max grabbed the man before he could get his hand to his back pocket.

Max stood over six feet tall and this man was as tall as Max. Where Max was very large, Maggie imagined this man would be all steel and packed muscle. Instead of struggling, the stranger stepped to the side, turning to face Max and holding his hands up in surrender. Max looked mean as hell. The stranger didn’t look scared. That same annoying, amused look was still on his face.

“Easy now,” the man said, holding his hands out in front of him when he slipped out of Max’s grasp.

Maggie noticed he was now also in her office.

“I was just taking out my ID to show the lady here who I am,” the man said. “Is she your boss? You’re a good man to keep an eye on her.”

Max grabbed the man. His expression never changed, and again, he moved so fast a cry escaped Maggie’s lips before she could hold it back. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she stepped backward until she leaned against her desk. Did she have time to call 911?

Max flipped the man around and her office wall shook when he shoved him against it. The man’s face was turned to the side, his cheek against her wall, terribly close to the crucifix hanging there. The amused look was gone. He blinked once, twice, and exhaled. Maggie swore she could see his brain working through the expressions that changed on his face. He was trying to decide if he should try throwing Max off him or not.