Jackrabbit Junction Jitters (43 page)

“You already did this morning. If you’re looking for an
official acceptance, you have it. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

His cold tone froze her tongue.

He stood and passed her on his way to the door. “If not, I
need to get back to work.”

“Wait!”

She hadn’t spent hours this afternoon on her nails to be blown
off so quickly. Beating him to the door, Kate leaned against the hard slab and
grabbed the door knob before he could.

“I’m not leaving until you hear why I tried to break into
your house.”

A muscle twitched next to his left eye. “Fine. But make it
quick. I have a lot to do and an early dinner reservation in Yuccaville.”

With Lana? Kate blinked, trying to evict the brunette from
her thoughts for the time being.

“Okay, here’s the deal. Somebody is trying to steal one of
Ruby’s mines out from under her and I thought …”

Butch raised his brows. “And you thought it was me?”

“Well, yeah. Kind of.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What in the hell would
I want with a mine?”

“I don’t know. It just seemed like all of the clues I found
pointed to you.”

“What clues?”

“Well, your driver’s license for one thing. It has Valentine
on it, not Butch. For all I knew, you were using an alias when making your
crooked deals.”

“Of course, my crooked deals.”

Kate ignored his smirk. “Then there’s that Copper Snake
Mining Company business card in your wallet.”

Butch fished his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it
open. Leaning forward, Kate pointed out the suspicion-causing card tucked into
one of the narrow pockets.

He drew the card out and flipped it over, showing her the
address and phone number on the back. “It’s from one of the miners. The guy
brews his own beer and wants me to try selling it here.” He handed her the
card. “It’s just a generic business card.”

Sure enough, the mining company’s name and address were the only
words printed on the front. Kate’s forehead and nose roasted. Why couldn’t she
blush like a normal person?

“Then Betty Boop asked how the takeover was going and you
stated your lawyer said it would be all wrapped up by the end of this month,
which correlated with the attorney’s letter Ruby received listing a similar
court date for when the mine’s ownership would be determined.”

“Betty Boop?”

“Yes. She also mentioned something about contacting her when
it was all over and you two could play with some numbers.”

“You must mean Sally, my accountant.”

“Sure, if your accountant likes to ogle your ass when you’re
not looking. I figured you were probably sleeping with her, too.”

A grin surfaced on Butch’s lips. “Too? Who all do you think
I’m sleeping with, Kate?”

“Never mind.” Kate returned to the task at hand. “Then Lana
called and you dropped everything to talk to her.”

His grin spread wider. “You don’t know Lana.”

“So, as far as I could see, all signs pointed to you being
the one trying to take Ruby’s mine from her.” Kate blushed harder when she
noticed the mirth flickering in his eyes, but continued in spite of it. “Claire
told me I was crazy, but then we saw your beautiful house and Joe’s old El
Camino in your garage, and even she admitted that it was odd for a bar owner to
have so much money. Why do you have Joe’s car, anyway? I thought Sophy owned
it.”

“Sophy needed the cash and I wanted the car.”

“Oh. So what takeover were you talking about?”

“The one involving my business back home.”

“You mean VC Industries?”

Butch’s eyes widened for a split second. “Wow, you really
did your homework on me.”

“Jackrabbit Junction doesn’t offer a lot of distractions.”

“Yes, VC Industries. The company my brother heads up is
buying me out at my request. The paperwork should be finalized by the end of
August, and then I’m free.”

“So you didn’t buy that house with income from The Shaft?”

“Hell, no. This place is more of a hobby than a business.”

“And that greenhouse in your garage?”

“I like plants. If I can make a buck or two selling them,
even better.”

Kate stared at him, speechless. She decided not to bring up
her suspicions about the mummified hand, his black market alliance with Joe, or
her conclusions about why he had a key to Sophy’s place.

“So, am I cleared of all of my fictional crimes?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind …” He grasped the door knob.

“Butch.” She clamped her hand over his. His knuckles felt
rough against the soft skin of her palm. God, he smelled good enough to eat.

His gaze dipped to her lips for several heartbeats. When he
raised his eyes back to hers, the intent smoldering in them turned her knees to
Play-Doh.

“Yes, Kate?”

She took a deep breath, plugged her nose, and dove off the
high dive. “I like you.”

“Gee, that’s swell, Peggy Sue.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “I mean, I really, really like you.
If you’d give me another chance, I want to make up for all of my craziness by
showing you how much I really like you.”

He leaned in so close Kate could feel the heat radiating off
his skin. “Define ‘showing.’”

Licking her suddenly parched lips, Kate gulped. “Dinner,
maybe some dancing, maybe something else.”

“What else?” He leaned lower, his mouth hovering over hers.

“Sex,” she whispered, waiting with every tingling nerve in
her body to taste him. Instead, a cool breath of air conditioning swept across
her fevered skin as he stepped back. “Or not.”

“You’d have sex with me just to make up for accusing me of
trying to steal Ruby’s mine?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart still rattling.

His forehead creased.

“I mean, no. Butch, it’s not like that.”

“Forget it, Kate. I don’t want pity sex from you.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’d have sex with you because I
like you.”

“That’s right, you ‘really like’ me. I wonder what you do to
the guys you just kind of like.”

This was not going well at all.

“Look, Butch, I know I probably give off crazy-girl vibes,
but I’m not like that. I’m just an ex-school teacher who came to town for my
grandfather’s wedding and ended up falling for a guy who owns the local bar.”

She closed the distance between them, grabbing his hand,
needing some kind of connection to continue. He didn’t pull away.

“When I’m not doing a horrible job of playing Nancy Drew, I’m
really boring and spend most of my days trying to figure out what I want to do
with my life.”

His silence squished all hope.

She squeezed his hand and got nothing in return.

Damn.

It was time to get the hell out of there with what little
pride she had left. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot and causing you so many
problems. But I’m even sorrier for blowing any chance I had with you.”

She let go of his hand and headed for the door. Her stupid tears
threatening, she reached blindly for the doorknob.

The kitchen was just a blur as she raced for the main
entrance. It wasn’t until she yanked open the Ford’s door that she was able to
breathe under the weight on her chest.

Kate climbed into the cab, slammed her door shut, and burst
into tears. Then she pounded the steering wheel and kicked the dash a few times
for good measure.

God, she needed a drink.

She started the pickup and drove across the highway to Biddy’s
Gas and Carryout. A stiff Bloody Mary—or four—would soothe her bruised ego and
patch up her fractured heart. If not, she’d just crawl under Ruby’s bed and
never come back out.

* * *

“Mac?” Claire called as she stepped into the mouth of the
Lucky Monk mine. Then she remembered the thousands of tons of rock overhead and
clapped her hand over her mouth.

She stood still, the latest downpour dripping from her
raincoat, her breath puffing out her nose in short bursts of steam, and
listened for any sound other than her pulse clamoring in her ears. The stitch
in her side ached.

Silence urged her deeper into the mine. Drawing her
flashlight from the inner pocket of her coat, she crunched across the loose
pebbles strewn just inside the threshold.

“Mac?” This time, she used her inside voice.

Still, nothing but the smell of stale, earthy air greeted
her.

She glanced back at the entrance, debating whether to head
back to his pickup and wait for him.

The rain drizzled over the valley, and after slipping and
sliding her way up to the mine for the last half hour, she wasn’t in a rush to
battle the muddy trail again. Besides, she had the map—albeit waterlogged and
mud-speckled—that Mac had left in his truck to steer her in the right
direction. She also had the package she’d found in Joe’s post office box to
show Mac.

No More Secrets! That was her new policy.

Her decision to stay made, Claire unrolled the map and
spread it out on the floor. With her flashlight, she traced the adit back to
the circle where Mac had told her he’d found the skeleton. She counted the side
tunnels branching off from each side of the main adit and tried to convince
herself that finding the dead guy would be a piece of cake.

She rolled up the map as she stood. Convincing Mac to let
her back in his bed might not be so simple. But if it came down to it, she
could always start removing her clothes. She wasn’t above using whatever
weapons she had in her arsenal to her advantage.

Her flashlight guiding the way, Claire moved deeper into the
Lucky Monk. The shadows flickered, brooding at the edge of her peripheral
vision.

Every five minutes or so, she called Mac’s name, then paused
and listened, straining to hear any sound that confirmed she wasn’t the only
one rattling around in the belly of the mine.

By the time she reached the tunnel that led to the dead man,
she was beginning to have serious doubts about her decision to go searching for
Mac. For all she knew, he’d taken another trail down to the pickup while she
was on her way up to find him and was on his way home to Tucson. She was also
getting hungry for dinner. It had to be getting close to six by now.

She turned a corner and found a huge pile of rocks looming
ahead. Claire’s heart thumped in her chest. What if Mac were trapped on the
other side of the rocks? How much oxygen did he have? Should she try to dig him
out or go get some help?

Then she noticed the hole up near the ceiling and scrambled
up the pile, shining her light through the opening.

“Mac?” she whispered.

Her flashlight lit a wall of boards, a few of which were
missing from the center. She lowered the beam and flinched at the sight of a
dead man staring blindly at the opposite wall.

Wow! She’d anticipated a replica of Mr. Bones, her anatomy
class’s mascot, not a desiccated body covered with scraps of leathered flesh.

She shined her light back on the gaping hole in the boards.
Had Mac gone through there? What was on the other side?

Rocks clattered as she scrambled headfirst through the hole,
scraping her kneecap on a protruding rock along the way. Cursing, she limped up
to the skeleton, curiosity urging her on, and shined her light into the empty
eye sockets. Something moved in amongst the shadows.

Claire screeched and jumped back.

The mine’s silence suddenly seemed ominous, suffocating—giving
her goose bumps.

She peeked through the hole in the boards.

“Mac?”

Boot prints littered the floor. Were they Mac’s?

A waft of musty air slid past her cheeks. She blinked in
surprise. Why would there be a breeze hundreds of feet under the earth?

After one last look at the dead guy to make sure he had both
hands, she climbed between the boards and tiptoed further down the tunnel,
following the boot prints in the dust-coated floor. She’d rounded a couple of
bends when a second pair of footprints split off from the first.

She stopped, squatting. If one set of the prints were Mac’s,
then either he’d been carrying someone on his back until this point, or
somebody else was in the mine.

Claire’s skin tingled. She whipped her light all around,
half-expecting the creature from the Black Lagoon to rush at her from out of
the shadows. Fear locked her legs at the knees. She listened and heard what
sounded like heavy breathing, then pinched herself for freaking out at the
racket of her own breath rushing in and out of her open mouth.

Her logic stepped up to the microphone. Maybe Mac had
actually brought somebody else into the mine—Sheriff Harrison, for example—to
show him the skeleton.

Of course! Mac probably had already contacted the police
about the dead man he’d found.

She chewed on her knuckle as she stared down at the prints. Damn,
he must really be pissed to include the cops before her.

Uncertainty lingering, she inched further along the mine
walls. Even if the prints belonged to the sheriff and not some Ted Bundy
wannabe, it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

Several bends later, she came to another cave-in. This one
had a V-shaped clearing along the left wall.

The air back here was murkier, as if it’d been stirred up.
Her lips tasted like she’d been blowing raspberries on the tunnel floor. Dust
tickled her nose, and she pinched it to hold back a sneeze.

As she tried to sneak through the cleared section, one of
the rocks wobbled loose under her weight and rolled down to the floor with a
loud clackity-clack-clack-clack.

Rooted in mid-wince, Claire waited until silence again
surrounded her, then edged along the wall to the other side of the cave-in.

Still, the only sign of human presence was the footprints.

Further ahead, the tunnel narrowed quickly, the walls jagged
and uneven, the ceiling much lower. Claire felt like Alice, getting closer and
closer to that little door. Too bad she didn’t have any blue or red pills in
her pocket; she could have used something to distort her reality at the moment.