Showdown in West Texas (15 page)

When they finally broke apart, all hot and out of breath, he said, “You're not going to slap me again, are you?”

“No,” she said as she tried to straighten her mussed hair. “But throwing your ass in jail is still a distinct possibility.”

Grace's cell phone roused her from a deep sleep. She glanced at the display, saw that it was from the station, and groaned.

“Steele.”

“This is Sam, Sheriff Steele. I think you better get down to the station ASAP.”

“What's going on?”

“There's something here you're going to want to see.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was showered, dressed and on her way out. Dale's car was still parked at the curb, so he hadn't left, but Grace hoped he'd be on his way soon. For both their sakes. He was nothing but trouble in so many ways she couldn't even begin to count them.

But he sure could kiss.

Oh, boy, could he kiss.

The man was a veritable virtuoso with his tongue. And he had played her like a fiddle, strumming and stroking until her whole body had felt on fire, until it had been all she could do not to rip off all her clothes, throw herself on the bed and demand to know what else he could do with that tongue.

Okay, Grace, just calm down,
her inner voice chided her.
It's not like you've never been kissed before.

But it had been a long time since a first kiss had sent her to the moon and back. Too long, she realized. And now the guy that was pushing her buttons just had to be someone impulsive and undisciplined, who wouldn't know how to exercise good judgment if his life depended on it. Or worse,
her
life.

What kind of man would keep secret the fact that someone had put a hit out on her? That was information she needed to know.

That thought brought her back to earth quickly enough. Someone had put a hit out on her.

Someone had pushed her down the stairs, shot at her truck, and paid a hit man five thousand dollars up front with the promise of five thousand more when the job was finished. That was what her life was worth to someone. Just ten thousand dollars.

When she pulled up at the station, she glanced around the parking lot before she got out. Her hand rested on the handle of her gun as she hurried inside.

Sam Dickerson and Lily were waiting for her. They were both pacing in the lobby, and Lily had the strangest look on her face.

“What's going on?” Grace asked.

“Can we go into your office?”

“Sure.”

She unlocked the door and they followed her inside. “What gives?”

“This was just faxed to us from Presidio County,” Sam said. “Take a look.”

“What is it?”

“In a nutshell? A body that was found at a rest stop off I-10 has been identified as Detective Dale Walsh of the Galveston Police Department.”

 

C
AGE WAS JUST PAST
the city limits when the blue lights came on behind him. He could see the squad car in his rearview, thought that it was a Cochise County sheriff's deputy, but he had no idea why he was being pulled over.

For a split second, he entertained the notion of just flooring the accelerator and seeing what the Caddy could do out on the open road, but the deputy would undoubtedly give chase and somebody could end up hurt.

So Cage did what any law-abiding ex-cop would do. As he pulled off the road, he slipped Dale Walsh's .38 underneath the seat within easy reach, just in case.

He watched in the side mirror as the officer got out of the car. It was Grace. And she had her gun on him as she cautiously approached the car.

“Don't move,” she yelled when he started to turn.

She stood several feet from the door, gun in both hands. “Get out of the car.”

He did as she said. “What's going on—”

“Across the hood. Legs spread, arms behind you. Now!”

When he was spread-eagled on the hood, she kicked his feet apart, frisked him, then cuffed him.

“Do I even get to know what this is all about?” he asked when she jerked him upright.

She responded by reading him his Miranda rights. Then she led him back to the squad car, shoved him inside and slammed the door.

When she'd climbed behind the wheel, he said, “How did you know where to find me?”

“I went by Miss Nelda's. She said you'd just left.”

“I thought I was getting an early start,” he said with a sigh. “Get miles behind me before the sun came up.”

She said nothing, just sat there staring straight ahead.

“Don't I at least get to know what I'm being arrested for?”

She turned, her eyes hard and accusing. “Who are you? And don't tell me you're Dale Walsh because he's dead. His body was found at a rest stop off I-10. And since you've taken his identity and his car, I'm assuming you must have killed him.”

“No, no, no,” he said a little desperately. “I didn't kill anybody. You have to believe me.”

She drew a deep breath and released it. “What I believe is that everything that comes out of your mouth is a damn lie.”

Leaning forward, she started the car, turned off the turret lights and U-turned back toward town.

“Grace, just listen to me, would you? I can explain everything.”

“The only thing I want to know from you before we get back to the station is your name. Your
real
name.”

“Cage Nichols. I'm an ex-cop from Dallas.”

He saw her glance in the mirror. “
Ex
-cop?”

“Ex-SWAT to be exact. I had to leave the force about a year ago after being shot in the knee.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I sell oilfield equipment for my brother-in-law.”

“And now I suppose you're going to try and tell me
that you didn't have anything to do with the real Dale Walsh's death.”

“I didn't, I swear it. I never even met him. The man I told you about who had the heart attack…he said
his
name was Dale Walsh. Everything I told you about him was true. We did meet out on the road. I did open that briefcase trying to find out something about his next of kin. The only difference is, I came to Jericho Pass specifically to warn you about the hit. I could have just kept going, but I didn't. I couldn't.”

“You're a real noble guy, aren't you, Mr. Nichols? We'll see how noble you are when I run your prints and check out your story.”

“You can't do that,” he said. “You can't run my prints.”

“Watch me.”

“If you run my prints, I'm a dead man.”

“I can't wait to hear this one,” she muttered.

 

“Y
OU WANT ME TO CALL
Presidio and tell 'em we got a suspect in custody?” Sam Dickerson asked eagerly.

He and Grace and Lily were all standing outside Cage's cell giving him the evil eye. They had yet to process him, but since Dale Walsh had been killed in another county, Cage would be transferred to their custody before being formally charged.

And as soon as Grace started making those calls, she'd likely bring that San Miguel mess right to her doorstep.

“Sheriff, can I talk to you for a minute?” He stood with his hands draped through the bars as he watched her watch him.

“I'm listening,” she said.

“I need to talk to you alone. Please.”

Grace turned to Lily and Sam. “Don't you two have something better to do than stand around gawking at a suspect?”

“Not really,” Lily said with a smirk. “This is just getting too good. You never suspected a thing, Grace? All that time you two spent together? Man, that must make you feel—”

“Stupid? Gullible? Mad as hell? Yeah, pretty much,” Grace said. “Does that make you feel better?”

Lily shrugged and walked out of the room.

Sam hung by the door for a minute. “Should I call Presidio or not?”

Grace shook her head. “Just hang on. I'll make the call.”

Sam acted as if he didn't want to leave her alone with Cage, even though there wasn't much he could do in his present circumstances.

The deputy said from the doorway, “If he gives you any trouble, just holler.” He rested his hand on the handle of his gun.

And he was itching to use it, too, Cage figured. After all, Sam was the one who'd jumped to the conclusion that Cage was Dale Walsh. He was the one who'd ushered him into the station and introduced him to Grace. In his shoes, Cage wouldn't be feeling too kindly toward him, either.

When they were alone, Grace folded her arms. “This better be good.”

Cage took a breath. “It all started two days ago when my car broke down just outside of a place called San Miguel.”

 

G
RACE TRIED TO LISTEN WITH
an open mind, but it was quite a story. And she had to admit, he'd done a pretty good job of motivating his questionable actions. Trouble was, she had a hard time believing anything he told her now.

To be taken in the way she had been…the way they
all
had been…

A few months earlier, Grace had read in the paper about a fourteen-year-old boy who had walked into a Chicago police station and passed himself off as a cop. He'd even partnered up with an officer and gone out on patrol for five hours. Grace had thought at the time how foolish that officer must have felt when the impersonation was finally discovered. Now that she'd experienced that same humiliation, she had a little more sympathy for the guy. It was no fun being had, and it would be a long time before she heard the last of this.

SWAT, huh? Well, that explained his cowboy attitude, she supposed. Most of the SWAT guys she'd known over the years thought pretty highly of themselves and their abilities. It would take someone with a little swagger and a lot of nerve to pull off such a scam.

“Well?” he said as he stared at her through the bars. “Aren't you going to say anything?”

“You've left me speechless,” she said. “I wouldn't have thought you could top yourself, but you've done it.” She went over and stood in front of the cell door. “So you knew when you saw the dead guy yesterday morning that he was the same man you'd seen in San Miguel. And yet you didn't say a word. A connection to five murders and you keep your mouth zipped.”

“And I just told you why. Those men I saw in San
Miguel were cops. The minute you release my name and my description, I'm a dead man.”

“Quit being so melodramatic,” she said. “You're in my custody. I won't let anything happen to you.”

“You won't be able to stop it. Sooner or later they'll come for me, and if you get in their way…” He gripped the bars, his gaze burning into hers. “The best thing you can do is just let me go. I'm not even asking for myself anymore. I don't want you to get caught up in this. You have enough to deal with.”

“You know I can't let you go,” she said.

“Then we're in big trouble, Grace.”

The sun was just coming up over the horizon as Grace drove south, past the canyon where she and Cage—if that turned out to be his real name—had been shot at and past the site where a dead man named Sergio had been executed.

As she approached the cutoff to the Nance Ranch, she reached over and turned off the news she'd been listening to. Nothing in the broadcast about the killings in San Miguel, but that story was two days old now. There'd been more deaths along the border since then. Every new day brought more violence, Grace thought wearily, and for the first time, she began to question whether she was up for this job. Cage Nichols and all his lies had taken another bite out of her confidence.

She tried to shake it off as she pulled up in front of the house. Killing the engine, she sat there for a moment and tried to figure out how she wanted to handle the situation. She'd come out here early because she wanted to make sure she found Jesse at home and because she also wanted to catch him off guard when
she showed him the copy of the deed. If his reaction was what she thought it would be—what she hoped it would be—then her instincts about him would be proven right. He'd had nothing to do with the canyon shooting, nothing to do with putting a hit out on her.

But if Jesse wasn't responsible…who was?

She squinted into the morning sun as she thought again about that shadow she'd seen at the top of the stairs, the feel of that hand on her back a split second before she tumbled down the steps. And then Lily had come in a few minutes later, not in the least surprised or concerned to hear about Grace's fall.

But her own sister? Grace refused to believe it if for no other reason than a ten thousand dollar payoff would be a little out of her sister's league.

So, who then? Who wanted her dead?

She got out of the squad car and walked up to the porch. The sky was cloudless overhead, a brilliant, seamless blue—empty except for a hawk circling nearby. The breeze out of the east was already hot and dry, and Grace could feel a trickle of sweat down her backbone as she slowly climbed the stairs.

Glancing over her shoulder, she scoured the countryside after she'd knocked. She felt uneasy and exposed all of a sudden, although she could see for miles out into the desert. There seemed to be no life at all—inside the house or out.

She knocked again, hard and fast, then opened the screen door and rapped on the glass inset. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the door opened and Grace stood face-to-face with her ex-husband for the first time in almost fifteen years.

 

C
AGE LAY ON HIS BACK
, hands crossed behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. The bunk mattress was hard and lumpy and probably none too clean, but he ignored the discomfort as he watched the early morning sunlight slant through the tiny window at the top of the cell. He observed the dust motes for a while, then trained his gaze on the ceiling where he counted the tiles and then the water stains.

One of the stains looked like a bird, and he thought of the thunderbird story Grace had told him the day before. And that made him think of Willow Springs and that made him think of last night.

He'd wanted badly to kiss her under the stars. Sitting with her in that old Caddy with the top down and the desert sky overhead and the smell of her perfume filling his nostrils…Cage wasn't going to lie. He'd been caught up in the moment.

And then later, when he'd kissed her in her room, it had been great. A real hot, needy, carried-away-by-lust type of kiss. But he still wanted to kiss her underneath all those stars, with the whisper of ghosts and the scent of desert wildflowers drifting on the night air. Cage had never thought of himself as a romantic, but Grace seemed to bring it out in him. Or maybe it was West Texas.

“Do you want something to eat?”

Cage bolted upright and swung his legs over the cot. He thought the woman standing on the other side of the bars was Grace at first, but then he realized it was Lily.

He got up and walked over to the door. “It's not your job to fetch breakfast, is it?”

She shrugged. “We all pitch in when and where
we're needed. Most everyone else is either out on patrol or hasn't come in yet. Since I'm already here, I thought I'd offer to get you something.”

“You know what I really need?” He wrapped his hand around one of the bars. “I really need to talk to Grace.”

“I doubt she's in the mood to talk to you. You kind of made a fool out of her.”

“And you're enjoying every minute of it, aren't you?”

She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “If she gets a little comeuppance now and then, I'm not going to shed any tears for her.”

“You don't know your sister at all,” Cage said. “You've got some notion that she thinks she's perfect and infallible and above reproach, but that's not the way she sees herself. I've never seen anyone work harder for acceptance than she does.”

“And you've known her, what? All of two days? I'd hardly call you an expert on my sister.”

“I'm not claiming to be an expert,” he said. “But I bet I've learned more about Grace in the past two days than you have in the past twenty years. She's a good person, Lily. Maybe you should think about giving her a chance.”

Her mouth hardened, but Cage thought he saw the flicker of regret in her eyes. It wasn't much, but it was something.

“Will you go tell her I want to see her?”

“I couldn't even if I wanted to. She's not here.”

“Do you know when she'll be back?”

Lily shrugged. “I guess that depends on Jesse.”

Cage's fingers tightened around the steel bar. “Grace went to see Jesse Nance? Why?”

“She said you guys missed him when you were out there yesterday. I guess she still wants to ask him some questions about the body that was found out by the canyon. Or maybe…” The sly smile came back. “Maybe she wants to reminisce about old times.”

“Lily, you have to listen to me,” Cage said.

Something in his voice must have caught her attention, because she took a step closer to the cell. “What?”

“Grace could be in big trouble. You have to get me out of here.”

 

J
ESSE PUSHED THE SCREEN DOOR
open and stepped out on the porch.

Grace resisted the urge to let her hand creep up to her gun where it rested in its holster. As far as she could tell, Jesse was unarmed. He was fully dressed though, even at this time of morning. Grace supposed the responsibilities of the ranch had made an early riser out of him. She could remember coming over here as a teenager and finding him still in bed at noon.

A lot of other things had changed about him, too. He was still an attractive man, but the sparkle of mischief in his eyes had hardened into a cold, brittle gleam. He looked older than his thirty-three years and a little heavier than she remembered, but the smile he flashed her was pure Jesse.

“Look at you, Gracie. All grown up and packing heat. You still know how to get a man's heart racing first thing in the morning.” He leaned a shoulder against a
newel post and crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving hers. “How you been?”

“Not too bad,” she said. “But I'm sorry to say this isn't a social call.”

“Didn't think it was,” he said. “Sookie told me you stopped by yesterday. Something about a body found out by the canyon.”

“You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

He frowned and the gleam in his eyes hardened. “You think I had something to do with that guy's death? Come on, Gracie. You know me better than that.”

“I don't know you at all,” she said. “Fifteen years is a long time.”

“It seems like yesterday to me. We had some good times out here, didn't we? You and me and Colt. But mostly you and me.” He looked her up and down, smiling. “You were something, Gracie. I never did get over you.”

“Is that why you hired someone to kill me?” Grace watched him carefully. She saw surprise flash across his features, and maybe just the barest hint of anger.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know about the deed, Jesse.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his gaze going from Grace out to the desert and then back again. “That was Mama's doing. I guess she didn't trust me with this place. Thought with your name on the deed you'd keep me from selling it and blowing all the money. Pretty slick of her, I guess. I didn't even know about it until after she died.”

“Why didn't you tell me about it?”

His head was slightly bowed and he gazed up at her
through his lashes. “Gracie. Come on. We're talking about a lot of money here.”

“How much?”

“Quarter of a million. And call me crazy,” he said as he straightened, “but I'm not too keen on sharing it with the woman who walked out on me.”

He took a step toward her, and Grace's hand flew to the handle of her gun. “You just stay right where you are, Jesse.”

His gaze dropped to the gun, then slowly raised. “Gracie, Gracie, Gracie. We've got a score to settle, you and me. And it's been a long time coming.”

She heard the creak of the screen door and whirled. No one was there.

“It's just the wind, babe,” Jesse said softly as he slipped up behind her.

 

A
DUST CLOUD ROLLED
over the squad car as Lily slammed the car to a halt in front of the house. She shot Cage a warning look as she reached for the door. “I don't know how I let you talk me into this, but now that we're here, I'm going to handle this my way. You just sit your ass in the car and keep your mouth shut.”

“I thought you brought me out here for backup,” Cage said. “Don't you think you should at least take these off?” He held up his cuffed hands.

Lily laughed. “Oh, God, is that really what you thought? I brought you out here so you could have the pleasure of witnessing Jesse and Grace's tender little reunion. If that doesn't open your eyes, I don't know what will.” She climbed out of the car.

“Hey, Lily?”

She leaned down.

“It's okay to be worried about your sister. After everything I told you, you should be worried.”

She gave him a dirty look. “I need my head examined, is what I need. Let me just say this. If you're conning me like you conned Grace, I will kick your sorry butt six ways to Sunday. And don't think I can't do it.”

Slamming the door shut, she marched across the yard and up the porch steps to knock on the door. While she had her back to him, Cage climbed out of the car, and by the time Jesse Nance appeared in the doorway, Cage was halfway up the porch steps.

“Mornin', Jesse.”

“Well, well, well, it seems to be my lot in life to be constantly sought after by beautiful women. What brings you out here, darlin'?” He opened the screen door and stepped out on the porch. His gaze lit on Cage and he took in the handcuffs with a raised brow. “This guy your prisoner, Lily?”

She shot Cage a murderous look. “Yeah, much to my sorrow.”

“What'd he do?”

“What didn't he do? Stole a car, stole an identity, maybe even killed a guy.”

Jesse whistled. “What's he doing out here then? What are
you
doing out here?”

“I'm looking for Grace. Have you seen her this morning?”

“This morning you say?”

“Just answer the question,” Cage said.

Jesse cut his glance to Lily. “Who is this clown?”

“Answer the question, damn it. Where's Grace?”

“Why is Grace's whereabouts any business of yours?” he demanded. When Cage made a move toward him, he said, “Oh, you want a piece of this? Come on, hotshot. Bring it on.”

Lily threw an arm up and gave Cage a shove in the chest as he lunged up the stairs. “Would you two just knock it off? I do not need this kind of grief. You!” She pointed a finger at Cage. “Get your butt down those steps and stay there. And
you
…” She turned on Jesse. “You tell me right now where Grace is or I might just decide to throw you two in a jail cell and let you duke it out.”

Jesse was still glowering at Cage. “She was out here earlier but she left. And come to think of it, why are you asking me where she is when she left thirty minutes ago to meet you.”

“Me? What makes you think that?”

“Because you called her and told her to meet you at home. At least that's what she told me.”

Lily glanced down the steps at Cage. “I never called Grace.”

“Well, somebody did,” Jesse said. “She stood right here and told me it was you.”

“If you're lying—” Lily was already punching in numbers on her cell phone. She listened for a moment, then disconnected. “She's not answering her phone.”