Gambling on a Secret (17 page)

“I brought Dylan Quinn in for public drunkenness. I tried to contact his sister, but she’s not answering either of her phones. I know he’s working for you, so I’m hoping you’d take him home.”

She ran her fingers through the snarled mess of her hair. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Miss Monroe.” Zack hung up.

“Yeah,” she breathed into the dead receiver. The dream came back to her, and she shivered. She pulled her legs up, and wrapped her arms around them. Curled into a ball, she rocked in the middle of the bed and cried.

She nearly gave into the despair, but then remembered the call. Sighing, she pushed herself off the bed and got dressed. Dylan could never love her for what she’d done, but he needed her.

* * * *

“Thanks for coming down at such an ungodly hour, Miss Monroe.” Sheriff Zachery Cartwright led Charli into his office.

She sat down on the edge of the chair in front of the sheriff’s desk. “Dylan isn’t just my employee, he’s my friend.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.” Cartwright cleared his throat. “So, he’s working out?”

“Dylan is a very talented carpenter, and he has a good sense of business.”

“Seeing him like this doesn’t sit right with me. I understand why he tries to drown in a bottle of whiskey, but that’s not the way to go.” Zack moved to the coffee pot in the corner. He held up a Styrofoam cup and the pot of strong smelling brew. “Want some?”

She could use a cup of coffee. “Yes, black, thank you.” Zack handed the steaming cup to her. “You were in the war?”

Zack sat behind the utilitarian desk, set his coffee-stained
World’s Greatest Daddy
mug on the wood surface, and stirred three teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. Several frames holding pictures of a beautiful dark-haired, blue-eyed little girl sat on the corner of his untidy desk.

On the wall behind him were more photographs. The one to draw her attention was of him with two other men in uniform in front of a Humvee with a desolate desert in the background. They held military guns and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with smiles on their faces.

Beside it was a picture of a smiling cowboy accepting a large silver belt buckle in a rodeo arena. From the size of the crowd pictured, she assumed it was taken at the National Finals Rodeo. At first, she couldn’t believe the cowboy was the same man as in the other photo. Or the same man sitting behind the desk.

She looked at him as he said, “Afghanistan, Iraq, and then Afghanistan again. Marines. I was MP–military police. After coming back the last time, I lived in the bottle myself for a while. I was involved in a similar situation to Dylan’s at a checkpoint on the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan.”

“Oh.” She sipped the pungent coffee. “I’m sorry.” What else was she supposed to say? “Thanks for serving.”

Zack nodded and sipped his coffee. After he set his mug on the desk again, he leaned over his folded arms. “I watched my buddy get shot after he pulled me to safety. I should have died. Instead, my friend did, leaving behind a pregnant wife. Then six months after coming home, my wife was killed by a drunk driver. I found myself a single father to my four-year-old daughter. That’s how I know what Dylan’s going through.”

She swallowed hard. No one ever spoke about what had happened to the mayor’s nephew. She remembered her dream and the horrendous cold-blooded murder she’d helped perpetrate. Whether or not she had known Ricardo’s intent was irrelevant. She should have known. Both Zack and Dylan had killed men, but their actions were honorable and sacrificial.

Hers were out of misguided love for a greedy man and addiction to cocaine.

“The best thing that has happened to Dylan in a long time was going to work for you, Miss Monroe. I just want you to know. He needs to realize he’s not to blame for the deaths of those men. The enemy is.”

“Sheriff, I want to help him. But I’m not sure he wants it.”

The sheriff chuckled and finished his coffee. “I didn’t want help either, but I had a daughter to raise. I couldn’t wallow in self-pity, or she would’ve been taken away from me. Sometimes we all need a good kick in the behind, Miss Monroe. Let’s go get Dylan out of here.”

Behind the bars of one of the two holding cells, Dylan lay on his back on a cot, the cell’s only furniture. A toilet and a small sink stood in the corner. A combination of disinfectant, urine, stale booze, and vomit clung to the air. She wrinkled her nose as they walked down the short hallway between the cells.

When he glanced at her, she nodded, and Zack called through the bars, “Hey, Quinn, wake up. Your ride’s here.”

Dylan groaned and mumbled something intelligible. Zack slid open the unlocked door and entered the cell. For a heartbeat, she hesitated before entering and wrapped her arms around herself. The last time she’d been inside a jail cell hit her between the eyes and sent a shiver through her. Her accommodations at the Florence McClure Women's Correctional Center in Nevada had been more comfortable than this. She swore the day she was released she’d never spend another second inside a prison cell. Here she was willingly stepping into one.

“It’s time to check out of my fine establishment.”

Dylan responded to the sheriff by trying to turn over onto his side away from him.

“C’mon, you know the drill. If you stay the night, I have to cite you.”

This time Dylan’s voice was stronger when he mumbled in response, but she didn’t understand the words.

“Aw, c’mon, Captain, I really don’t want to have to book you.”

Dylan opened his eyes and growled, “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.”

Zack’s lips drew into a fine line. “You will always be a captain, Quinn, just like I’ll always be a gunnery sergeant.”

“Fuck you, Cartwright.”

“Geez, Dylan, I think your momma should’ve washed your mouth out with soap more often. You should know that’s no way to talk in front of a lady.”

“Tracy’s my sister.” He sluggishly rolled to a sitting position with his head between his hands. “She’s heard me cuss plenty of times.”

“I wasn’t referring to Tracy.”

The look Dylan narrowed at the sheriff should have scorched his blond hair. Charli’s breath caught when his blistering gaze moved from Zack to her. “What’s she doing here?”

Zack bracketed his waist with his hands and widened his stance. “I couldn’t get hold of Tracy, so I called Miss Monroe. She was kind enough to come down here to get your sorry butt out of the clinker.”

Unsteadily, Dylan stood and moved around the sheriff to stop before her. “I don’t need or want your help.”

The stench of whiskey burned her nose and twisted her already uneasy belly. She straightened her back. “That’s just too damned bad, isn’t it?”

He locked his eyes onto hers for a long moment before turning away with a huff and dropping on the cot. “Why don’t you just go back to your ranch and leave me the hell alone. I quit.”

The sheriff looked upon him with a careworn expression.

She said, “Sheriff, would you please excuse us?”

Zack regarded her for a moment with his lips pressed into a thin line before nodding and leaving them in the open cell.

She put her fists on her hips and squared her shoulders. “I won’t let you quit. I need you to fix my house and run my ranch.”

After standing again, he took a threatening step toward her, but she matched his glower with one of her own. “Why do you care? Hell, why are you even pretending to fix the place up? Ferguson’s gonna get it anyway.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged and ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “Oh, come on, Charli. The flowers, the constant checking up on you...the date.”

“How do you–”

“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off and stepped so close she could see the bloodshot veins in his wintry eyes. “Leon Ferguson’s a parasite. The longer he’s there, the more hold he has on the ranch–and on you.”

She worked to keep her anger from her voice. “Leon isn’t going to get my ranch. He wants me, not my land.”

For a moment, he looked as if she’d slapped him. He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “You aren’t all he wants. Trust me on that one, sweetheart. Ferguson wants your land, and if he gets a woman almost half his age in the sack in the bargain, it’s just one more perk. Shit.” He shook his head and backed away. “If he can’t swindle you out of the land, he’ll marry you for it, and when he’s tired of you, he’ll throw you away. But he’ll make damn sure he keeps the ranch.”

He turned away from her for a moment before looking back. “I never expected you to be a woman who could so easily fall for a smooth talker like Ferguson.”

Her anger boiled over. “You’re a jerk. Leon has been nothing but a gentleman.” She spun on her boot heel and headed for the open cell door. “And if something develops between us and leads to marriage...so be it.”

She should just fire him and cut her losses. Maybe if she tried, she could love Leon. Damn it, she didn’t want to love any man, not Leon and, especially, not Dylan Quinn.

Zack Cartwright’s words echoed through her mind, reminding her of her promise to herself to help Dylan.

She moved through the cell door and glanced over her shoulder. “Come on. I refuse to jeopardize my dreams because my manager is a total jackass.”

Chapter 8

Charli sat on the very edge of the luxury seat and gaped out the tinted window of the limousine. A gold-painted helicopter, with the black logo for Ferguson Industries on its tail, readied for takeoff.

After the limo came to a stop in front of a portico, she waited for the driver to open the door.

Leon helped her out of the car. “Good evening, Charli.”

“So, this is how we’re able to get to Dallas and still have time for dinner.”

With his hand resting on the small of her back, he led her toward the helicopter. “You didn’t think we’d drive to Dallas, did you?”

“I sure as heck didn’t expect to fly there.”

Leon laughed as they stopped just outside the swath of the blades. A crewmember rushed forward and helped them board.

Once inside and buckled in, Leon spoke to the pilot through the microphone of a headset. Soon they rose quickly into the air.

When the helicopter turned and headed north, Leon removed the headset and leaned close. “You’re a vision.”

At first, she didn’t grasp his meaning. “Thanks. I must have tried on ten dresses.”

“The dress is lovely, but not nearly as beautiful as the woman wearing it.”

A giggle escaped from her lips before she could corral it. Heat burned her cheeks, and she ducked her head to look out the window by her side. With the setting sun in the west, the vista was breathtaking. His come-ons were laughable, and she wasn’t falling for them. However, she’d play along. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed hearing his flattery just as much as she loved his gifts. “Oh, you. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I state only the truth.” As he spoke, Leon pulled a long jewelry box from his suit pocket. “This is for you.”

She stared at him before slowly reaching for the black box. “Leon, whatever this is, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, I should. I did. Now open it.”

Her hands shook as she opened the velvet lid. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! Leon, I can’t accept this.”

Leon reached over, took the delicate strand of gleaming diamonds and held it up. “Yes, you can. I’m giving it to you. I ask nothing of you in return, except the chance to get to know you.” He leaned closer and put the necklace around her neck. Their gazes locked, and Leon was close enough to kiss–if she yearned to do so. She trembled as his fingers brushed her skin under her hair while he fastened the closure.

Although the hunger in his eyes frightened her a little, excitement filled her as his lips met hers for a passionate kiss. Despite all her vows of not wanting a man, she wanted to fall for him. He was the right man to love, unlike the one she was so afraid she’d fallen for.

He deepened the kiss as he pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, but she couldn’t make her heart follow her head.

* * * *

Dylan’s gut twisted as Charli drove away in the limo. He pounded his fist into the doorframe of the stable and headed into the dim interior. He had to do something, anything to get her off his mind. He’d tried to keep his distance the past few days, but she was still there, wanting to be his friend.

Maybe she did.

He wished she could be more.

Aurora, Charli’s usual mount, whinnied several times as he led the black mare out into the breezeway. When the sorrel kicked at her stall, he called out, “Sorry, girl, Charli’s not riding with me. She’s too busy being wined and dined out of her clothes and her land.”

His belly did that twisting thing again.
She doesn’t want you, hotshot. Face it and let it go.

He went about saddling the mare Charli had named Artemis. He swung up into the saddle, and his phone rang as he trotted out into the cool evening. After looking at the caller ID and not recognizing the number, he put the phone back into his jeans pocket and headed for the pasture to check on the calves. A few of them had acted odd when he and Kyle had ridden out onto the range to check on them earlier that afternoon.