The Bodyguard's Return (13 page)

As he turned onto the West property, he thought about going back to the cabin. He knew the place would smell like her, that her scent would linger in the bedroom, amid the sheets.

Damn, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt
so confused, so unsure of his actions and emotions. She’d twisted him up inside in a way nobody had ever done.

Instead of driving by to get to his cabin, he pulled up out front of the big house and parked. For the first time since he’d returned from New York, he didn’t feel like being alone. Judd and Jessie greeted him like old friends, following close at his heels as he went up the porch.

He entered the house and headed directly toward the kitchen where he found Smokey seated at the table, a ranching magazine opened before him.

“Hey, Joshua. What are you up to?” The old man closed the magazine and leaned back in his chair.

“Not much. Where’s everyone else?” Joshua sat in the chair opposite Smokey.

“Your dad decided to call it an early night and has already gone to his room, and I think Meredith went out to the stables. You want something to eat? I’ve got plenty of leftovers from dinner.”

“No, thanks. I ate at the café a little while ago.”

“Where’s your sidekick?”

“I left her at Winnie’s.”

“So, what’s on your mind, son? You got that look in your eyes like you need to talk.”

Joshua smiled and shook his head. Smokey knew him better than anyone, just like Smokey knew all the West kids inside and out. He’d always been able to tell if one of them needed to talk, had always known if one of them had burdens that needed to be shared.

“How about a drink?” Smokey got up and went to one of the cabinets and pulled down a bottle of whiskey. He poured them each a healthy splash of the liquor, then added a couple of ice cubes to each glass and rejoined Joshua at the table.

“Thanks.” Joshua wrapped his hands around the glass. “I’m thinking about working again for the business.”

“It’s about damn time,” Smokey exclaimed. “I don’t know what took you so long to make up your mind.”

“I don’t know. I guess I needed to sort things out in my head.”

“It’s in your blood, Joshua. You were born to work for Wild West Protective Services.”

Smokey’s words shot right to the heart of Joshua’s insecurities. “That’s what bothers me,” he confessed after a moment of hesitation. “The idea that the job is there for me because I was born a West, because it’s what the West boys do and it has nothing to do with my capabilities.”

Smokey stared at him for a long moment, then took a drink and set the glass back down. “What’s the matter with you? Do you really think your father would encourage you to come back to the business if you weren’t capable?”

“Maybe,” Joshua replied faintly, the single word deepening Smokey’s scowl.

“Hell, he loves that business almost as much as he loves you kids. Do you really think he’d jeopar
dize the company reputation by putting you in position as a bodyguard when you aren’t qualified?”

Smokey got up and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the countertop and carried it back to the table. “Damn boy, what did that time in the city do to you?”

He poured himself another shot of the drink and eyed Joshua intently. “If your daddy had any question about your ability as a bodyguard, he’d put you to work as a bookkeeper or a ranch hand. He would never risk anyone’s life by assigning a bodyguard who was inadequately trained, or physically and mentally unprepared.”

Smokey’s words found the tightness that had been in Joshua’s chest for the past couple of weeks and eased it. In his heart Joshua knew the old man was right.

Wild West Protective Services had a stellar reputation. His father had worked most of his life to build a company that was known not only in the United States but worldwide for its security and capability.

Smokey was right. If Joshua wasn’t good enough, he’d be the last man his father would want working for him, no matter how thick the blood they shared.

Joshua stared down into his glass. “It feels like failure, coming back here, coming back into the family fold. But I missed you all more than I thought I would.” He hadn’t realized how heavy the burden of feeling like a failure weighed on him until he’d spoken the words out loud.

“Since when is it a failure for a man to know where he wants to spend his life and who he wants around him? Hell, Joshua, it isn’t a weakness to need the people you love. It isn’t a weakness to surround yourself with people who love you.”

Smokey held his gaze intently. “Does this have something to do with that red-haired chatter box?” Smokey asked. “She got you twisted up inside and doubting yourself?”

“No, it has nothing to do with her.” He couldn’t help but smile at Smokey’s characterization of Savannah. He took a sip of his whiskey and relished the slow burn down to the pit of his stomach, then continued. “It’s just that everything has always come easy for me. I don’t feel like I’ve ever had to really prove myself or my worth.”

Smokey grinned, the gesture lifting his white grisly eyebrows. “You’re right. You were plumb spoiled by everyone and that’s a fact. All of us catered to you, you being the youngest and all. You didn’t have to work real hard to feel special.” Smokey took another swallow of his drink. “Maybe we should have made it a little harder on you, but I suppose there’s worse things than being surrounded by people who dote on you.”

“Yeah, like having nobody who dotes on you.” Once again his thoughts turned to Savannah. What would it have been like to be raised by people who never spoke of your worth, who never made you feel special?

He suspected in most cases it could destroy a
person, but in Savannah he sensed a deep well of strength, a core of identity that nothing and nobody could shake. He respected that in her.

He was also surprised to realize that it bothered him more than a little bit that she so easily had dismissed him, that she’d seemed perfectly content in keeping their relationship nothing more than a mutual lustfest.

“What else is on your mind?” Smokey asked, breaking into his thoughts.

There was no way in hell Joshua was going to confess that a woman he’d known only two short weeks was messing with his mind. Instead he found himself telling Smokey everything they had learned that afternoon and about their interview with Sheila.

“Have you talked to Ramsey about all of this?” Smokey asked, his grizzled eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown.

“Some of it, not all of it. I plan on meeting him first thing in the morning to fill him in on everything.” Joshua finished the last of his whiskey, then leaned back in the chair. “Whatever this is about, Sheila Wadsworth is in it up to her neck.”

“Sheila Wadsworth doesn’t have the imagination or the guts to orchestrate what you think has been happening here,” Smokey scoffed. “She might be in on it, but I’d bet you my good leg that she’s only a grunt. Somebody else is in charge. Somebody here in town.”

“And that’s who I want. I want the man who is re
sponsible for Charlie’s death, for all the deaths that resulted in the sale of that land.” A hard knot formed in his chest. “I’m hoping Dalton can find out something about the MoTwin Corporation. I want to know who’s running it and what they intend to do with the land.”

“If what you believe is true and all those men were murdered, then I’d guess this job is too big for Ramsey, too big for any of the local people to handle. Maybe it’s time to get in touch with the FBI.”

Joshua sighed. “You’re right about this being too big for the local law. Unfortunately, right now all we have is supposition where those deaths are concerned. Knowing what’s happening and proving it are two different things. And it’s not against the law for a corporation to buy land. Until we have some sort of proof, I doubt if we could get the FBI interested.”

“Maybe not officially, but you know we’ve got some contacts there we could call, some markers that could be cashed in,” Smokey reminded him.

Joshua nodded and stood. Certainly over the years of working a variety of bodyguard duties, they had all run into FBI agents. In fact, Dalton had become particularly close to one, a man named Alex Bailey.

“I’ll give it a couple of days and see what Dalton can find out about MoTwin, then I’ll talk to him about him speaking to that buddy of his in the FBI.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Smokey replied.

“I guess I’ll head back to the cabin. Thanks for the drink and the conversation, especially the conversation.”

Smokey grinned. “Hell, boy, I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t know deep in your heart. I’ll let you tell your daddy that you’re coming back into the fold.”

Joshua nodded, then turned and left. A few minutes later he unlocked his cabin door and went inside, instantly assailed by the scent of Savannah that lingered in the air.

It was a good thing that she’d released him from his bodyguard duties, he told himself. She’d been right. It might take some time to get to the bottom of things and he couldn’t spend every minute of every day for the rest of his life in her company.

He wasn’t even sure the two attacks were related to what was happening in Cotter Creek. If what they suspected was true and men had been murdered to get to their land, then why had the person who’d attacked Savannah in her bedroom not killed her?

Why had she just been beaten up rather than shot or stabbed? While the thought made his blood chill, it also gave him pause. If the attacker had been part of the land deal, then certainly another murder wouldn’t have made much difference in the grand scheme of things.

He sat at the table and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. As he had almost every evening for the past week, he punched in Lauren’s phone number. He still couldn’t quite let go of the possibility that Lauren was here in town, that she was behind the attacks.

It rang three times, then she answered. He was so stunned by the sound of her voice, for a moment he couldn’t find his own voice.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” she asked.

“Lauren, it’s me, Joshua.” He sat up straighter in his chair. So, she was still in New York. But had she been there on the night that Savannah had been attacked? Or had she been here in Cotter Creek, exacting some sort of sick revenge on him?

“Well, well, a voice from the not-so-distant past. What do you want, Joshua?”

“I’ve been trying to call you for the past week.”

“I took a week-long cruise, went to the Bahamas and basked on the beaches. The best thing I ever did for myself. Why have you been trying to reach me? Are you still out there in Oklahoma?”

He couldn’t very well tell her he’d suspected that she might have followed him to Cotter Creek and terrorized Savannah. “Yeah, I’m still here. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. The last time I saw you things got pretty ugly.”

There was a long silence, then she sighed. “I’d like nothing better than to forget that night at the restaurant. I’m not proud of the way I acted, Joshua. All I can say now is that I’m sorry and I wish you the best of everything.”

He believed her. He had no real reason to, but he believed that she’d been on a cruise and the only thing she wanted was to forget her bad behavior, forget him. He suddenly realized that
maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed to apologize.

“Lauren, I’m sorry for the way things worked out.”

Again there was another moment of silence before she spoke. “It’s not your fault you didn’t fall in love with me,” she replied softly. “But, let me give you a little unsolicited advice, Joshua. Don’t sleep with a woman and before you’re even out of her bed tell her how much she doesn’t mean to you. It makes her feel stupid and worthless, and no woman in the world deserves to feel that way.”

A vision of Savannah exploded in his head. Was that how he’d made her feel when he’d reiterated that he wanted nothing from her moments after they had made love?

“Thanks for the advice,” he said aloud.

“Goodbye, Joshua. Please don’t call me again. I’m moving on with my life.”

Before he could reply she’d hung up. He replaced the phone in the cradle thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact that he might have made Savannah feel worthless and stupid, or the knowledge that Lauren wasn’t responsible for the attacks on her.

I
t was just after nine when Savannah decided to call it a night and go to bed. Winnie had retired a half hour earlier, and for the past thirty minutes Savannah had been sitting alone at the kitchen table.

The sharpness of her heartache surprised her. She’d never expected anything from Joshua and the fact that he’d really offered her nothing shouldn’t be so painful. But it was.

Falling in love with him had been the last thing she’d expected, the last thing she’d wanted. But he’d snuck into her heart when she hadn’t been looking.

She should have known the moment she met him that he was trouble. She should have never enlisted his aid in her investigation. And yet she knew if she
hadn’t they wouldn’t have discovered everything they had.

She got up from the table and moved to the kitchen window and stared outside. It was an unusually dark night with no moonlight piercing through thick clouds. The darkness mirrored her mood.

The ring of the phone made her jump. She hurried to answer before the blaring noise disturbed Winnie.

“Savannah, it’s Sheila…Sheila Wadsworth.”

Any weariness Savannah might have felt shot away. “Sheila, what’s up?” she asked.

“We need to talk. Just the two of us.” Tension was evident in the woman’s voice.

Savannah clutched the phone more tightly against her ear. “Just tell me when and where.”

“In thirty minutes at Big K’s Truck Stop out off old Highway 10. You know the place?”

“Yes,” Savannah replied.

“Please, come alone and don’t tell anyone you’re meeting me. I’m putting myself at risk. I trust you, Savannah, but I don’t trust anyone else and you shouldn’t either.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in thirty minutes,” Savannah confirmed.

Sheila hung up before Savannah could say another word. Savannah quickly grabbed her purse and her car keys and after scribbling a quick note to Winnie to let her know she’d gone out, Savannah left the house.

It would take her all of the thirty minutes to get
to Big K’s Truck Stop, which was a good twenty or thirty miles south of Cotter Creek.

As she backed out of the driveway, she thought about calling Joshua but decided to wait and call him after she heard what Sheila had to say. She knew if she called Joshua and let him know what was going on, he’d insist on coming with her and Sheila had made it clear she wasn’t going to talk if Savannah wasn’t alone.

Driving out of Cotter Creek, she kept a careful eye on her rearview mirror, making sure that she wasn’t followed. She’d told Joshua she knew how to take care of herself, but there was a little part of her that was uneasy meeting Sheila alone.

Still, the important thing was that she suspected Sheila was going to tell her something that would break the investigation wide open. She couldn’t risk not agreeing to Sheila’s terms.

Besides, she felt somewhat confident in meeting Sheila away from Cotter Creek and any prying eyes that might see them together for this secret meeting. Big K’s was a busy truck stop. There would be plenty of people around.

When she got to Big K’s, if she didn’t like what she saw, she wouldn’t even get out of her car. She wasn’t stupid and wasn’t about to walk into any kind of a trap.

As she drove she couldn’t help the fact that her thoughts returned to Joshua. She’d been right to tell him that she didn’t want him guarding her anymore.
Her heart couldn’t stand the thought of spending each and every day with him by her side.

She didn’t want to fall deeper and deeper in love with him, knowing that there was no future for the two of them. Whatever his personal demons, he didn’t seem inclined to have any kind of meaningful relationship with any woman.

She still was surprised that in such a short span of time a man could get so into her heart. But Joshua had managed to burrow deep inside her soul, and the length of time she’d known him had nothing to do with the strength of her feelings for him.

She consciously willed thoughts of him away as she drew closer and closer to Big K’s. Old Highway 10 was nothing more than a dark two-lane road that was little traveled going from Cotter Creek south. Most of the traffic the truck stop saw came from the north, off a freeway exit.

Adrenaline filled her as she anticipated the meeting with Sheila. Maybe finally she was going to get some answers. Maybe finally she’d know the truth about Charlie’s death. “I’m going to get to the bottom of things, Charlie,” she said aloud. At least his death had sparked a real investigation.

Big K’s Truck Stop sported a huge neon sign announcing hot showers and other amenities for truckers. The parking lot was full of eighteen-wheelers, along with several cars parked in front of the large structure.

Savannah was comforted by the fact that there
were plenty of other people around. What she didn’t see as she parked in front of the building was Sheila’s luxury car. She shut off her engine, then checked her watch. Nine forty-five. Unless Sheila had changed her mind, then she should be arriving at any minute.

As she waited, she tapped her fingernails on the steering wheel and stared inside the windows to make sure she saw nobody from Cotter Creek seated inside.

She saw nobody familiar and that made her relax slightly. If she’d seen anyone from Cotter Creek inside, she would have had second thoughts about going in. Instead she would have turned her car around and headed back to Cotter Creek.

What was Sheila going to tell her? How many questions could Sheila answer about what had been happening? She checked her watch again, hoping that Sheila hadn’t chickened out.

Ten long minutes later she saw Sheila’s big shiny car pulling into a parking space two slots over from where she was parked. Sheila was alone and didn’t appear to notice Savannah as she got out of her car.

Savannah remained in her car and watched as Sheila went inside. She walked with her head down, her steps short and hurried. Once inside she was seated at a booth, then looked at her watch.

Savannah waited several long minutes, watching the people who came and went, checking out the general area for anything or anyone who looked suspicious.

Only then, when Savannah was certain that Sheila was truly alone and nothing looked dangerous, did she get out of her car and go inside.

The place smelled like fried onions and strong coffee and had an underlying scent of motor oil. Most of the occupants were men with tired eyes and stiff shoulders who barely glanced her way as she walked toward the back where Sheila was seated.

“I’m glad you came,” Sheila said as Savannah slid into the seat across from her. “I was beginning to think you might not come.”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t followed,” Savannah said honestly. “What’s going on, Sheila?” She pulled her notepad from her purse.

“No, no notes,” Sheila protested, her eyes dark and worried. “Please, I just want to talk…off the record or whatever. I need to talk to somebody and I don’t know who else to go to.”

Savannah put her notepad back in her purse. “All right, off the record,” she agreed.

At that moment a waitress arrived at their table. They both ordered coffee, then waited until they were served before continuing.

Sheila wrapped her hands around her coffee cup and for a long moment stared out the nearby window. When she finally looked back at Savannah her eyes were filled with stark fear. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said softly. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. People weren’t supposed to die.”

Savannah didn’t say anything. She sensed that Sheila needed to tell her whatever was on her mind without prompting. Patience, she told herself. Patience was always a virtue when conducting an interview.

Sheila raised her cup to her lips, her hand trembling slightly. She took a sip, then carefully placed the cup back on the table.

“I’m scared, Savannah.”

“Tell me,” she urged. “Talk to me, Sheila. We can get through this together.” Savannah felt electrified by the fear that wafted from Sheila.

Sheila released a deep sigh. “It started almost two years ago. I got a phone call from a man named Joe Black. He said he and his partner, Harold Willington were part of a corporation that was looking to buy some land in the area.”

Joe Black and Harold Willington were the two names listed as owners of the property. “MoTwin,” Savannah said.

Sheila nodded. “All he wanted from me was to compile a list of properties that were owned either by men who lived alone or who might be interested in selling out for a decent price. He promised that along with my usual Realtor cut, I’d receive an additional twenty-five thousand dollars for each piece of property the corporation obtained. He told me to go ahead and approach the people I thought might sell, and I did. I talked to Nesmith and Wainfield and most of the others, but none of them were interested in selling despite the fact that ranch life was a struggle.”

“So, what happened next?”

“When Joe Black contacted me again I told him the ranchers weren’t interested. He told me to keep trying and he gave me a cell phone number to call. He said I should give the list of names to the person who answered the cell phone.”

Savannah’s head whirled with the information. “So, you called the cell phone?”

Sheila nodded her head. “I just figured maybe they were going to try a little high-pressure effort. But, soon after that was when they started to die.”

Once again Sheila’s eyes were filled with fear and she reached for her coffee cup, as if needing the warmth to erase a bone chill. “When George Townsend’s place blew up with him in it, I thought it was just what it was reported to be, a tragic accident with a kerosene heater. Then Roy Nesmith supposedly fell to his death from his hay loft, and that’s when I started to get a bad feeling.”

Once again she raised the cup to her mouth and took a sip. “Then more accidents happened, and I knew something bad was happening, something real bad and that somehow I had become a part of it.”

“Why do they want the land?” Savannah asked. “What do they plan to do with it?”

“Build a community of luxury condos and homes. According to what Joe Black told me, it’s a multimillion-dollar deal. They already have a waiting list of people from both coasts who want to buy when construction begins.”

“And who shows up for closing on these deals?”

“Both Joe Black and Harold have shown up for the closings. They fly in, close the deal, then leave town.” Sheila replied.

“Do you think he’s doing the killing?”

Sheila shook her head. “No. I think there is somebody else working in Cotter Creek. A local, somebody who knew those men, somebody those men trusted and that’s the person who has committed the killings.”

Savannah leaned back in the booth, her head working overtime to process everything Sheila was telling her. “Do you have any idea who that person might be?”

Once again Sheila shook her head. “I have no idea. I will tell you this, not only is there a cold-blooded killer somewhere in Cotter Creek, there’s also people who know what’s been going on, people who are in on this whole deal and hoping to cash in big-time. Joe Black was courted by somebody here in town. He didn’t just pull the town of Cotter Creek, Oklahoma, out of a hat.”

For a long moment the two were silent. Sheila stared back out the window, her features sagging and looking older than she had when Savannah had first arrived.

A sense of euphoria filled Savannah as she realized she had the answers she’d sought. She’d been right about a conspiracy. She’d been right about the deaths not being accidents. But, the euphoria
was tempered by the knowledge that good men had died in the name of turning a profit.

“You know you need to go to the sheriff,” Savannah said.

Sheila looked back at her once again, her gaze filled with torment. “What if he’s part of it?”

Savannah frowned. Sheila was right. There was no way of knowing if Ramsey might be part of the conspiracy or not. She leaned forward. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll talk to Joshua and maybe he’ll know who you need to talk to, who would be safe to talk to.”

Sheila worried a paper napkin between her fingers, tearing it into tiny pieces that littered the top of the table. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Savannah answered truthfully. “Maybe you can cut some sort of deal and avoid any real jail time.”

“I swear to God, I never knew this was what would happen. When I realized the men were dying, I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t know who I could trust. I was afraid to talk to anyone.”

“Joshua will know,” Savannah replied.

Sheila nodded. “I’ve got to get home. I need to talk to my husband about what I’ve done.” She motioned for the waitress to bring them their tab.

“I’ll take care of it,” Savannah said. “And I’ll call you as soon as I speak with Joshua. We’ll figure it out, Sheila. You did the right thing, coming to me.”

“I should have told somebody after George
Townsend died.” Sheila stood and grabbed her purse from the booth next to her. “You can’t tell anyone except Joshua that we talked. These people are ruthless, and I don’t want to be the victim of a fatal accident.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I have a plan,” Savannah said, then watched as Sheila left.

Savannah remained seated after Sheila had gone. She grabbed her notepad from her purse and made notes about what Sheila had told her.

She’d keep her promise to Sheila and wouldn’t write a story, but the notes were for herself, to make sure she forgot nothing. This was huge, bigger than she’d even suspected. So many deaths for luxury condos. It made her sick to think that this might be why Charlie had died.

It was just after eleven when she got back into her car to return to Cotter Creek. She’d been so eager to arrive to meet Sheila she hadn’t noticed how little traveled old Highway 10 was. She met no cars as she drove the two-lane road.

Joe Black and Harold Willington
. The two names went around and around in her head. Had those two businessmen known that they were acquiring their property through death, through murder? Or had they been ignorant of how their contact in Cotter Creek was getting results?